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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

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friday, i'm in love (eddie munson x reader)

summary: one of these days, you'll talk to the cute boy at your coffee shop. just... not today. (wc: 6.3k+)

order up! i've got one cup of sunshine for @munson-blurbs ♡

Today’s the day.

You take a deep breath, adjusting the strap of your bag as it digs into your shoulder.

Today’s the day.

You pull the door open for your local Starbucks, your preferred study date destination.

Today’s the day.

You smile at one of the other regulars, a kind and older gentleman named Jim. If you focus on Jim, your eyes won’t avert to him.

Today’s the day.

You already know he’s here. You delude yourself into believing you can specifically hear the scratch of his pencil on paper, that every click of a mouse or clack of a keyboard is coming from his laptop. Hell, maybe if you closed your eyes, you’d convince yourself the music humming over the shop’s speakers is actually the muffled tone warbling out of his headphones.

Today’s the day.

You order one of your normal drinks, one brimming with caffeine and drowning in enough sweet caramel drizzle to give you instantaneous cavities. It doesn’t matter – today’s meant to be a sweet day. The weather’s nice, nothing like it was last week when you’d been ordering a hot Earl Grey tea sweetened with honey each day, and you tell the young man taking your order that it’ll be iced.

He’s new. You have no doubt in your mind, because he wasn’t here last week, and one of the baristas you do recognize is hovering to the side as he rings you out.

You’re a creature of habit. All the baristas know you well, other regulars (see: Jim) even recognize you these days. You used to only come in once or twice a week, either to cram for tests or play a morbid game of catchup with all your homework, but something changed in the last two months.

He showed up in the last two months.

Today’s… not the day.

You turn with your overly sweet drink in hand only to be met with sore disappointment. You were right, he is here, already seated at his usual table.

And he’s joined by a girl and boy you’ve never seen before, but he surely has, by the way he’s all smiles and laughter focused directly at the pair.

You try to not let your stomach drop too low, to catch it before it hits the ground and gathers any unwanted attention your way. It’s fine, it’s okay, it’s good – today wasn’t the day, but maybe tomorrow will be. Maybe tomorrow can finally be the day you speak to the boy from the coffee shop who’s overrun your thoughts one day at a time, the boy you see every day like clockwork, the boy you’ve never exchanged a single word with.

“Dingus, you can’t just say that to a girl!” the girl seated in front of him, her back to you, yells as she smacks Dingus on the chest.

Your coffeeshop boy only cackles in delight, and you feel as if the sunshine that has broken through the cloud cover outside has wormed its way into your veins. His laugh is brilliant and warming as it echoes in your chest, and you try to remind your beating heart that it isn’t yours to keep. That doesn’t stop your arteries and veins from wrapping their way around the sound and thrumming to match its pace. It doesn’t stop your ribs from trying to hopelessly capture the sunshine. Maybe one day you’ll make him laugh like that, maybe one day you’ll find the nerve to strike a conversation with him.

Tomorrow has to be the day, since this sunny Monday hasn’t been.

—

Tuesday also isn’t the day.

You don’t even have a good excuse this time. He’s alone today, just as he usually is. His headphones are already in once you’ve arrived and you can hear tinny guitar solos blaring out of them from across the room. You almost convince yourself that that’s a good reason to approach him, to tap his shoulder and let him know how listening to music that loudly can permanently damage your eardrums, y’know?

But then you realized how prissy that made you sound. If you did that, you’re sure Chrissy, one of your favorite baristas here, would absolutely taunt you for days on end, probably making jabs about you being a grandma, going the full mile and offering you a senior discount just for shit and giggles.

So you stay seated. And you meet the peculiar look of Chrissy as she watches you and Eddie, the only two customers in the lobby this time of afternoon, as if she’s waiting for something to happen. Anything. The raise of her eyebrows serves as a painful prodding in your side as if to say “Well? What are you waiting for? Go on.”

You don’t go on. And that’s the issue – for the last two months, you have let the idea of some stranger completely occupy every thought you have to spare without even knowing his name. He was just always here; two months ago, your once quaint and nice study spot was infiltrated by wild curls and drumming fingers, plush pink lips that could make the older ladies that pass through absolutely swoon with a simple smirk and hello. You’d talked the ear off of all your friends for nearly an hour the day he’d worn grey sweatpants in rather than his normal ripped jeans. You’d caught yourself staring intently at the various rings that decorate his left hand on more than one occasion, trying to make out what the various symbols of silver were.

“This is getting painful to watch.”

You hadn’t even noticed Chrissy round the counter and head over to your table with a cloth in hand until she was looking down at you with a soft, childish pout and her big blue eyes framed with furrowed brows.

“What?” you question, putting down the pen you’d been clicking on and off for the last ten minutes, making no move to properly revise and submit the essay lighting up the screen of your laptop.

Chrissy keeps her voice low, moving to lean down closer to you under the guise of wiping the table beside yours, “The two of you. It’s painful, babe. One of you has to stop making eyes and make the first real move eventually.”

Real. A word you had cursed over a glass of wine with your roommate last night.

She’d pointed out the way you only liked the idea of your coffee shop boy thus far, how you had yet to introduce yourself to the real him. Which, she was right, of course. It was easiest this way; from a distance, he can be anything you want. He could be your easy Sunday mornings, sleepy smiles over toast and coffee made at home. He could be your tired Thursday evenings, coming straight home from whatever class or shift had wreaked havoc on your mind and right into his arms, popcorn and a movie already waiting for you to decompress over as you told him about your day. He could be a source of comfort on cold nights, a breath of fresh air on warmer mornings. He could be anything, as long as he continued to be just your coffee shop boy. A fruitless crush you’d always observe from across a bustling lobby. Keeping him at an arm’s length kept both of you safe: from disappointment, from complications, from reality.

“Just because we both come in everyday to use your free wifi and drink your mediocre coffee, doesn’t mean you get to play match-maker when you’re bored,” you try to keep a straight face as you say this, forcing a look of disinterest as Chrissy stares you down.

Normally, this would be the part where you’d snap at Chrissy that if she was so piqued in her interest with your coffeeshop boy, she could ask him out herself. But he wasn’t Chrissy’s type – the round enamel pin on her apron with a faded, baby pink background, multiple cats stacked on top of one another in different shades of pink, orange, and white, told you as much. The heart eyes she’d made at the girl that had been here with him the day before confirmed it.

“Don’t be so pissy,” Chrissy teases, “Or I’ll revoke wifi privileges.”

“You don’t scare me, Chris.”

“I should.”

“You’re all bark, no bite,” you scoff, a bit louder than before, and don’t even notice your boy subtly taking one of his earbuds out, fighting to keep his eyes down to the page he’s scribbling on rather than glancing up at your interaction, “And I use bark sparingly, considering your bubblegum pink aesthetic doesn’t exactly scream scary dog.”

Chrissy grins wider at your words – you’ve never backed down from being brazen with your humor against her. You don’t treat her grossly delicate or thickly lay on fake niceties. You’re genuine. It’s probably a contributing factor to you being her favorite regular.

He snorts, and you just barely catch the echo of the sound, making both you and Chrissy glance in his direction.

His eyes are glued on his notebook as a blush begins to spread up his neck. You can’t help the shy smile that urges the corners of your mouth upwards.

Talk to him, Chrissy mouths obnoxiously as she grabs her rag, taking slow and exaggerated steps backwards before she spins, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she speed-walks back behind the counter.

One day, you’ll talk to him. Soon.

—

Soon comes too soon. Far too soon and far too embarrassing of circumstances.

One moment, your eyes are glued to the statistics textbook in front of you, laptop set off to the side with your headphones connected in and a study playlist queued up on Spotify. The next, someone’s frappucino is spilling across the pages of numbers and percentages, making you gasp and jump back to no avail. The damage is done – your book is ruined, the front of your shirt is soaked, and all of your handwritten notes are now soggy and unreadable.

“Oh, shit!” the poor kid who had been the culprit stands before you, stunned and red with embarrassment as his friends quiet their cackling from behind him. It’s clear the group had been rough-housing, and that’s what led to this accident.

You zero in on a melting glob of whipped cream that settles into the open spine of the textbook, mouth falling agape as tears fill your eyes immediately.

Shit. No. No, no, no. This was a rental.

None of the younger boys are the one to make a move to help you. The baristas don’t stand a chance, delayed in even noticing the commotion. You’re a statue of bleary vision and panicking breaths as you realize the sticky mess is everywhere, including your laptop.

Your coffeeshop boy notices immediately. He’d noticed the moment the young boy had lost his balance beside you, was already scooting out his chair and jumping up before the blended coffee had even made contact with your table.

You come to your senses right around the time he’s at your side, a fistful of napkins, uselessly attempting to save your textbook that was already clearly ruined.

“Ah, fuck,” he whispers as he uses up all the napkins he’d managed to snag, looking up wildly at you, eyes zeroing in on the mess on the front of your shirt. You can’t even relish in the fact that this is the first time you’ve heard his voice so closely; you’re mortified and trembling, still unsure of whether you’re more angry about your textbook, your laptop, or your shirt, “Hey, you okay?”

Tears. There’s tears streaming down your face, hot with embarrassment and anger and defeat. You think the kid whose drink is now in your lap has been apologizing, but you pay him no mind.

“Go get cleaned up,” the coffeeshop boy immediately moves out of the way, motioning you out of your seat, towards the bathrooms, “I’ll watch your stuff, try to clean it up some, too.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re up in an instant, ignoring the stares of the baristas and the other boys, racing to the back corner of the shop where the two single-person bathrooms reside. You rush into one blindly, trying to calm your erratic heart and the impending panic attack.

It takes you twelve minutes to do so. Three splashes of cool water to the face, two pep talks about how it “wasn’t that bad”, and another whole minute of blankly staring into the mirror at the baby-hairs that frame your face that are now wet and plastered to your cheeks and forehead alike, just wondering where you’ll come up with the money for your damaged textbook.

And laptop. It also got on your laptop, son of a bitch.

You also have to come to terms with the fact that you’d burst into silent tears in the middle of your favorite coffee shop. In front of your coffee shop fantasy crush. You may never recover from that embarrassment, if you’re being honest with yourself.

A small knock comes from the door of the bathroom, forcing you to sigh deeply before gathering up all your composure and broken pride.

“Yeah?” you ask through the crack, hardly opening the door.

It’s Chrissy, standing wide-eyed and hopelessly holding two pieces of clothing in her hand, “Okay, so uh, we don’t have any spare shirts here. But… But I have a spare apron? And a spare jacket? I’m sorry, these are awful options.”

“I…” I’d rather die than wear that apron, or ruin someone’s jacket. “It’s fine, Chris. I’ll probably get going anyways.”

“But your shirt is all-” she pauses, and you could burst into tears all over again at the way she scrunches her nose so adorably, “-sticky.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“It’ll get all over your car.”

“It’s already all over my stuff. Might as well go big or go home.”

“I owe you a free coffee now, you know that?” Chrissy’s shoulders finally deflate in defeat, accepting your stubbornness as the winning contender, “Next time you come in, probably tomorrow. Whatever you want. It’s on the house, I sw-”

“Damn, now I wish some twerp spilled their mocha cookie whatever all over me,” it’s him – your coffee shop boy. A boy who came to your rescue, a boy who lives in all your bedtime fantasies, and a boy whose name you still don’t know. Chrissy turns and the two of you both look at him, you opening the bathroom door wider despite your embarrassment. He immediately throws up a hand in surrender, “Sorry, I’m, uh- shit, I’m interrupting. But I just… Uh, well. Okay, this is weird. Really weird. You can ban me if this is too weird,” he turns to Chrissy with wide brown eyes, making her immediately cross her arms across her chest defensively, “Seriously, okay? Say the word, I’ll accept my banishment. I just-”

“What’s behind your back?” Chrissy narrows her eyes. You hadn’t even noticed the boy hiding something, too busy being enamored by his stumbling words and adorable blush. Fuck. You hated it; you hated the fact that everyone was right, and the real him was even more adorable than you could have anticipated.

He brings his arm out from behind him, and when you see what’s in his clutches, you nearly scream in frustration.

He’s not just more adorable than the fantasized versions of him you’ve created – he’s more thoughtful, too. It spells out trouble for you and your restless, irrevocably romantic heart.

“I keep spare shirts in my van,” he explains sheepishly, “I swear it’s clean. It’s for- well, I… It’s for ‘just in case’ situations. Sort of like this one, I guess.”

Chrissy is quick to take it from him, passing it along to you as she keeps staring him down, “How convenient.”

“Very,” he nearly cowers under her stare, swallowing hard before turning to you, “You don’t have to give it back or anything. You can even burn it, for all I care. It’s just some shirt for… for, uh, some shitty band.”

You don’t think too much about the comment, just shut the door and leave Chris alone with the coffeeshop boy, silently praying she doesn’t tear into him unnecessarily after the act of kindness. You change shirts, dabbing at your chest with wet paper towels between peeling off your coffee-stained blouse and switching it for your coffeeshop boy’s shirt.

Corroded Coffin. It’s not a band you recognize, as you read out the jagged writing of the logo across the front of the black t-shirt. The white font pops and you’re already trying to think of an easy segue into maybe discussing whoever this ‘shitty band’ is with coffeeshop boy rather than the mortifying disaster you’d just endured from a group of young teenage boys who knew no better.

But when you leave the bathroom, that group of scoundrels is gone, along with coffeeshop boy. Chrissy wears an apologetic look over the shoulder of a customer she’s taking the order of at the front counter. It does nothing to wear on the sinking feeling of disappointment in your gut, that deflation at realizing he didn’t wait around for you. The customer pays and leaves the counter, and Chrissy almost looks to be expecting you to stop and say something, but you don’t.

You don’t say a single word. Only rush and gather your things off the table, which are surprisingly clean. Coffeeshop boy did a good job.

Too bad you don’t have the chance to tell him.

Reality, you decide, has something in common with the coffee; it’s always going to end with a bitter bite, no matter how much sweetness you suffocate it with.

—

You don’t return for several days after Wednesday’s incident. Thursday turns to Friday, Friday bleeds into Saturday, and by the time Sunday rears its ugly head, you’re still wallowing in self-pity. Embarrassment has a way of sinking deep into your bones, and no amount of curling up in the center of your bed will make it fade. You try to sit up at your desk and finish some of the revisions you’d been working on that awful day before wearing some kid’s frappucino, but you can’t focus. The pages of your rental textbook are still sticky, your S and K keys now only work half the time, and you can’t find the right study playlist. The atmosphere is wrong, the vibe is wrong, everything is just wrong.

At least you hadn’t resorted to wearing Coffeshop Boy’s shirt. You’d thought about it, of course, but you hadn’t hit that low of a point. Not yet, at least.

Your roommate can’t take it. She insists you get out of the house, simply because your moping is “too fucking sad” to witness. To which you obviously had to retort, “how do you think I feel?”.

So now you’ve been standing outside of your usual Starbucks for five minutes. Squinting like a weirdo through the large, front windows, trying to make out if he was there. Or maybe the ‘twerp’ who had spilled the frappucino. You weren’t looking for a fight – you just needed to avoid every individual who had witnessed the most embarrassing day of your life to date.

“He’s not here,” a voice suddenly says from behind you. You jump a fraction before spinning and catching sight of one of those damn witnesses: Chrissy, “He never comes in on Sundays. You don’t, either, by the way. What gives?”

“I’ve come in on Sundays before,” you deflect.

Chrissy laughs, shaking her head, brushing past you with her green apron rolled up into one of her fists, “No, you haven’t. So I’ll ask again,” she pauses, opening one of the front doors and motioning for you to enter first, “What gives?”

Your feet drag as you walk past her, the lobby eerily quiet. At the very least, she’s right – there’s no sign of your coffeeshop boy. Just some old dude with a newspaper in your usual corner, and a girl with a laptop, seemingly in some sort of video meeting, in coffeeshop boy’s usual spot.

“No hidden romance there, unfortunately,” Chrissy notices your staring and waves between the patrons. Neither so much as look up, “You and Eddie are our store’s only modern Romeo and Juliet.”

“Who?”

“Eddie,” she repeats, watching the realization spread across your face. A smirk appears on her glossy lips as she clarifies anyways, “Your knight-in-shining-armor. The boy you’ve been making heart eyes at for weeks. The dude of your dreams-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you cut her off, cheeks already warming as you glance again to the girl and the old man. Still no reaction. Your mortification today, it seems, has no audience.

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

The name thrums through your chest, excitement and a twinge of guilt racing through your veins.

Your coffeeshop boy’s name is Eddie.

“I never knew his name,” you whisper quietly, catching yourself staring in the occupied seat that is usually his. “I… Have you known it this entire time?”

Chrissy shakes her head, “No, I asked him Thursday. You know, the first day of your disappearance.”

You can’t even process her slight jab at you, or the way she tilts her chin as she waits for a reaction. You’re too busy thinking about Eddie. Eddie, who doesn’t come here on Sundays. Eddie, who keeps spare t-shirts in his van– Eddie, who drives a goddamn van.

He’s suddenly tangible. It’s dizzying.

“He asked about you, y’know,” Chrissy’s voice is low and you finally glance back to her, “On Thursday. And Friday. He asked about you.”

Eddie, who you’ve been waiting for the day to introduce yourself to. Eddie, who asked about you.

“What’d he ask? Specifically?” you question, taking a deep breath and trying to clear your thoughts.

“If you’d been in, if I’d seen you. He even asked for your name.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Nope,” she grins, blue eyes sparkling, “I figured I’d give you the honor.”

It’s on Sunday that you decide the next day you see coffeshop boy, that you see Eddie, it will be the day. It’s only fair that he knows your name now that you know his, after all.

—

Monday isn’t the day, and neither is Tuesday. You show up to the Starbucks, you take your usual spot, you spend hours studying – Eddie never shows up. Wednesday and Thursday aren’t the days either, filled with finals and celebratory dinners at twenty-four hour diners with friends.

By Friday, you’re missing your coffeeshop romance terribly.

But Friday, as it turns out, isn’t quite as unlucky as the rest of the week. You wake up that morning, and you can feel it in your bones; today’s the day. You’ll see Eddie today. You’ll introduce yourself to Eddie today, without a Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappucino soaking your shirt. It’s an acknowledge truth in your bones, maybe even in the stars. Everything is aligning, and you were going to stop spending your days with your head in the clouds. Maybe it would fizz out, and the crush that had kept you on the edge of your seat, that had kept you mildly entertained for months would lead to nothing. But maybe, just maybe, this could be a beginning. A leap of faith into reality that could turn into something real.

When you first show up, you don’t see him. It’s during the tail-end of the morning rush that you make your way in, ordering your usual iced coffee and taking your usual seat with the perfect view of Eddie’s usual seat. Customers filter in and out, a line occasionally forming before the baristas take care of it quickly, but not a single person is the one you’re looking for.

You distract yourself. You busy yourself with pulling out your laptop, glancing over whichever grades have been finalized, pondering over the ones that have yet to be set in stone. Once you’ve beat that horse to death and have nothing left but scholarly anxiety bubbling up, you’ve moved on to making a spreadsheet of all the books you want to read during the summer, with all the free hours you definitely weren’t going to waste, and would totally make use of. You even color code by genre.

You think you have more fun making the spreadsheet than you will enjoy the actual reading over the novels you listed.

Just as you’ve finished your iced coffee, ready to move onto looking at goddamn Yahoo news to entertain yourself, a cup is sat down in front of you. A hot grande cup.

You read the sticker turned towards you before you even spare a glance to the person who’d sat down the drink: a grande Earl Grey tea, sweetened with one packet of honey.

“Chrissy, I only get this when it’s rain-” you start, assuming the barista would be the one standing over your table. It isn’t. It’s coffeeshop boy – it’s Eddie. You can’t help the curse that falls from your lips, “Oh, shit.”

“Sorry,” he bites his lip as if holding back a life, hands nervously shoved into the front pockets of his jeans as he rocks on his heels, “I just… I honestly don’t know what you usually get. But your cup was empty when I walked in, and the one time I got here before you, this was the drink you got, but now that I think about it, it was raining that day and that didn’t even cross my mind-”

Your smile is slow as it uncurls, so saccharine and so enamored as you finally cut off his rambling, “Thank you.”

He doesn’t look reassured in the slightest, paling as he stutters out, “Oh, God. I- I’m a creep for remembering that, aren’t I? Fuck, I’m sorry. I just wanted to do something nice because I know Thursday was so rough-” he cuts off at your subtle wince at the reminder of that entire tragedy, “Sorry. God, how many times can I say sorry, am I right?”

Eddie, who is absolutely fumbling over rambles like a fool when he approaches you to talk to you first. Eddie, who is quickly shaping up to be better than even your wildest dreams.

“First of all,” you start, nervously making eye contact, trying to calm your nerves by reminding yourself he’s an even bigger mess than you right now, “You’re not a creep for remembering that. That’s… it’s really thoughtful, actually,” he breaks out into a restrained smile, the smallest glimpse of relief on his face, so you continue, “And second of all… I mean, who knows? Maybe it’ll rain and you saved me some trouble.”

He lets out a bark of laughter at that, and immediately, all frozen awkwardness around the moment shatters. Whatever pedestal you’d set the boy on the last several weeks has crumbled with ease. Reality comes crashing down, and you relish in it.

You relish in the golden streaks through his messy curls, and you drown in the richness of his brown eyes, entrancing this close up. You relish in that dimple in his right cheek, deep enough to swallow you whole as he recollects himself. You relish in the fact that he’s here, it’s Friday, and today is the day.

“There is absolutely rain on the forecast, and you should absolutely just take my word for that and not fact check me,” he jokingly replies, “I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“I know,” you blurt out with thinking, and immediately regret it. You can’t tell if the shock on his face is laced with amusement or not and you panic, desperate to defend yourself, “I- Chrissy told me, I swear. I’m sorry, that was weird, I just-”

He’s the one interrupting apologies now, “It’s okay. Can’t be weirder than knowing a stranger’s rainy day coffee order.”

Grinning. God, you can’t stop grinning, even as you breathe out your name.

“Sorry?” he asks with furrowed brows, hardly catching on to the whispered reveal.

“That’s my name,” you explain before repeating yourself. His cheeks undoubtedly ache the same way yours do, “Now I’m not a stranger. Makes it less weird.”

His smile is downright radiant, and oh, God what you’d given to hear him murmur your name under his breath again in that odd, peculiar manner he just did. As if he’s trying it out, tasting it on his tongue and deciding if it’s worth repeating.

His eyes shine; you have a feeling you will be hearing it again.

“Say, is this seat taken?”

You assume he’s meaning the chair across from you, tucked neatly into the table covered in your belongings, and you immediately shake your head to tell him it’s not, motioning for him to join you.

He wasn’t meaning the chair. He flops himself down beside you on the bench seating, settling into the plastic plush as his thighs brush against yours.

“So,” he starts, propping his elbow up on the table beside your laptop, resting his chin on his fist,“Tell me about yourself, not-stranger.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” he answers, making your heart clench, “But maybe, let’s just start with your coffee order for days that aren’t rainy.”

Hours. You and Eddie spend hours talking. The baristas behind the counter rotate, the sun eventually sets, and you don’t even notice when clouds form and light spatters of rain spit out onto the sidewalk outside. You dive headfirst into reality with Eddie, and it’s like the first breath of Spring.

He wakes you up in a way no shot of espresso ever could. It’s as if something deep inside of you had been sleeping for so long, you’d forgotten it existed until he magically awoke it. Something shining, something wonderful, something new. Something real.

Everyone was right. The tangible Eddie is infinitely better than the idea of coffeeshop boy.

“You know,” you’ve drained your earl grey, laptop long since closed as your body mirrors Eddie’s and twists until your kneecaps press against each other. His arm rests casually along the back of the seat just over your right shoulder, “I’m still curious who Corroded Coffin is. I know you said they’re shitty, but-”

“Oh, God,” Eddie throws his head back in laughter, running his free hand over his face, “So, uh, funny story.”

You quirk an eyebrow, “Funny story?”

“Yes. Hilarious, actually,” he affirms, “Corroded Coffin is… uh, well… Corroded Coffin is my band.”

You can’t stop the snort, realization dawning on you. That’s why Eddie had the spare shirt in his van – it’s his own damn merch.

“I’m going to pretend you’re laughing with me, not at me,” he hums, leaning back and watching your giggles continue to hit you in waves.

“I am-” you start to reassure, broken off by another gasping laugh that even has him chuckling along, “I am, I swear! I just… Why would you tell me you guys are shitty?”

“A bad joke,” he hums, waving his free hand, chuckles still lingering at the edge of his tone, “I tend to tell a lot of those around pretty people.”

Pretty people. He thinks you’re pretty.

“Yeah?” you choke out, laughter abruptly fading as the realization hits you.

He thinks you’re pretty.

“Yeah.”

Oh, God. He thinks you’re pretty. He’s in a band. He remembered the drink you got on a rainy day ages ago (him forgetting the rainy detail can be forgiven because he remembered without even knowing your name). He smells like spice, like everything kind and gentle and warm. It mixes so well with the smell of the coffee already in the air, you wouldn’t have noticed it was his cologne unless you hadn’t spent a better part of the hour leaning in closer and closer to him, the scent getting stronger and stronger.

Maybe reality can be sweet. Maybe it’s not always bitter.

“You know, we have a show coming up,” he continues on, tilting his head at you curiously, “Tomorrow night, actually.”

“You do?” you ask dumbly, not catching on, not yet.

He nods, the corners of his lips curling up, “Yeah. It’s at this venue not far from here, a small bar. It’s not much but it’s an upgrade from where we started…” he trails off, eyes diverting to the wall behind you and across the store, “Uh, you obviously don’t have to… but, I mean, if you’re not busy, I could always add your name to the guest list. It’s no pressure, obviously! I mean, you don’t have to go, it’s just an id-”

“I’d love to,” you stop him with a hand on his knee, grounding him from the returning rambling, “Tell me when and where tomorrow night, and I’ll be there.”

Your heart might just burst.

“Right,” he seems to still entirely beneath your touch, eyes darting down to where your hand rests, “Yeah. I can write it down for you-”

“Or I could give you my number.”

“Or you could give me your number.”

You’re both grinning, blushing fools. He takes a second, just staring at you, seemingly in awe, before you have to remove your hand from his knee and put your palm up as a signal for him to hand over his phone.

He nearly drops it in his flurry to get it into your waiting hand, bouncing his knee the entire time it takes you to put in your contact information. You make a point to add a coffee cup emoji after your name.

“Hey, guys,” the two of you are suddenly interrupted just as you’re giving his phone back. It’s the barista from last Monday – the new one, the one who’d taken your order when you’d been convinced that would be the day you were going to speak to Eddie. Funny how clueless you had been at the time, “Sorry to interrupt, just wanted to let you guys know that we close in about ten minutes.”

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie gasps, sitting up straight as he tucks his phone back into his pocket, “Sorry, man. We’re heading out.”

The new guy’s eyes light up ever so slightly, shrugging off the apology and just nodding with a polite smile.

You wonder if you’ll even get the chance to break the news to Chrissy. Something tells you she’ll be finding out before you see her again.

The boy retreats, and you’re quick to grab your laptop and move to shove it into your bag. Eddie stands and waits, unbothered and encouraging you to take your time before you swing the heavy bag over your shoulder.

Eddie, the boy who’s show you’ll be going to. Eddie, the boy who now has your number.

You don’t think you’ll ever get sick of his name echoing through your mind.

“Thank you again,by the way,” you say as you pick up that empty grande cup, turning for the trash, “The tea was good, even though-”

It’s raining. It’s steadily sprinkling outside, trees shifting with a gentle and stormy breeze. You can tell easily, even with the darkness of the evening having fallen. There’s rogue raindrops racing their ways down the window in front of you. Your reflection stares back faintly, and over your shoulder, you can see Eddie smile shyly.

“It’s raining,” you murmur.

“I told you,” Eddie says softly, “It was on the forecast. Also, I might have noticed the clouds building up on the drive over.”

You turn to face him slowly, heart thumping against your ribs, “Did you… You knew it was my rainy day drink, didn’t you?”

He blinks once, twice, before swallowing hard and nodding, “I did.”

“How?”

“I mean, I wasn’t lying. I did hear them call it out that one time. Also, you always have a hot drink especially when it’s raining.”

He looks like he might pass out from embarrassment, but you just let a grin overtake your features, “Oh?”

“Like I said, it’s creepy. Do I need to apologize again? I can apologize again.”

Oh, your grin grows.

“What else did you notice?”

“Excuse me?”

You shrug, “What else did you notice about me? For example, I’ve always noticed your rings. Also, you listen to your music far too loudly. You’re gonna go deaf one of these days, you know.”

He melts, color returning back to his features as he realizes you’re not upset or creeped out, “You noticed me before the other day?”

“I did,” you try to downplay it, keep an even tone as your heart screams, “And it sounds like you noticed me too.”

A boyish grin and two steps forward, he’s approaching you and evading your space with that warm smell of spice once more.

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, ears and bridge of his nose alike tinged in a spackling of pink, “I noticed the faces you made whenever you’d work on math homework. And the way you’d cringe every time I turned up my music. And the way Chrissy never stopped teasing you, the same way she’d tease me on the days you weren’t here.”

“Wow,” you sigh, looking back down at that empty cup. That goddamn empty cup that just revealed to you that he thought of you just as you’d thought of him, “We’re idiots.”

That feeling that still rings in your bones. No longer just the feeling that today is the day, but that there’s more good things to come. There are lazy Sunday mornings to be had, relaxing Thursday nights to enjoy. There are tangible things to have and to hold in your future, materializing right out of nonsensical ideas you’d clung to just days before.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs in agreement as you toss the cup into the trash, “Yeah, we’re fuckin’ idiots. Don’t tell Chrissy, capiche?”

Today was the day. Today was just the beginning.

“Capiche.”

It’s not until a month later, when you and Eddie come in together on one of your slow Sunday mornings, that Chrissy gets her I told you so moment. After the shock of seeing her two favorite customers on a Sunday, of course.

#3k celebration #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #see? i still write!#proof i'm literate

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theaologies · 9 months

Text

spinning my chair around and sitting in it backwards: GOOOOOD MORNING CLASS

FIRST AND FOREMOST: this is not a panic post. It’s an informational preparedness post. Don’t panic. Just be prepared for this like you’d be prepared for an earthquake but you know it’s coming and it’s wet.

I’m 30, lived in Central Florida for the first 26 years of my life, and have experienced more hurricanes and tropical storms than you can imagine. Never in my life did I think I would have to discuss HURRICANE SAFETY again after moving to LOS ANGELES from FLORIDA and yet HERE WE ARE-

(This information is accurate as of 8/17 at 9am PST)

SO models are still early but it seems like as of last night, Pacific Hurricane Hilary is rapidly intensified AND has shifted its track pretty severely inland. Originally SoCal was predicted to get some bands off the coast but this does NOT seem to be the case anymore

As our good friend Jim Cantore mentioned above, if Hilary DOES make landfall in SoCal, it will be the first tropical storm to do so since 1939. Fucking yikes.

THE GOOD NEWS:

It isn’t looking like Hilary will make landfall anywhere as a strong hurricane. If it makes landfall in central Baja it looks like it’ll be a Cat 2 which isn’t great but still- better than the Cat 5 it’s currently strengthening to.

As for SoCal, we’re not predicted to get anything over a Tropical Storm. And mountains tear up tropical cyclones like crazy. It’ll (probably) be weak and, wind wise, no worse than the Santa Ana’s

THE BAD NEWS:

Our Cone of Uncertainty is currently pretty wide- this fluctuation matters as it determines which side of the storm hits us. Is this significant? Yes. The right side of a Hurricane is considered the “dirty” side- it’s the side that is most likely to produce severe weather, such as severe thunderstorms and tornadoes. It’s still too early to determine what side will affect us the most but it’s something to keep in mind.

Also, I can’t speak for the rest of SoCal, but I would not bet on the LA infrastructure doing well even with a weak tropical storm. Which is why I have brought you here today, to run down the IMPORTANT HURRICANE CHECKLIST

NOTE: I made this several years ago for FLORIDA so not all of it will be accurate to SoCal. Most of us live in apartments and have no say over tree trimmings and the likes. If the storm is feeling like it’s going to get bad, I would recommend moving important things and electronics away from windows and hanging out in areas of the apartment that have the least amount of windows. I don’t think boarding up windows or anything will be necessary but here’s information if you need/want it

ANOTHER NOTE: if you have the means, please check up on your unhoused neighbors and immediate community groups that do so, as well. As always, they will be the ones most affected by severe weather. Tarps, anything that rises up off the ground, waterproof bags, etc would be good to grab for them. I am not an expert here and would recommend following the lead of your community groups that work with your unhoused neighbors to find out what will be needed most.

I don’t at all think we’ll see any shutdowns so if the rain does get bad be prepared for dangerous driving conditions. I know it’s dangerous to drive any time it rains in LA but, you know. The Weather Channel isn’t predicting a TON of rain at the moment (for LA) but, just like our winter/spring this year, be on the look out for flash floods.

And again, this is all JUST IN CASE. It’s better to be prepared than not. SoCal’s infrastructure is not at all prepared to handle a tropical event so who knows! Anything is possible. If I was in Florida I wouldn’t at all be worrying about this but I’m not anymore and our wet winter absolutely fucked our roads in LA so I’d rather everyone be safe than sorry.

I’m sure it’ll all be fine and now you just have more safety information, which is never bad! Because frankly climate change is very real and I would not be surprised to see this happening more and more in the coming years. And it does have me worrying that El Niño this year is going to be worse than we imagined.

#hurricane #hurricane safety #Los Angeles #southern california #san diego #baja california #baja #hurrican Hilary #tropical storm #tropical storm Hilary #Tijuana #Mexicali

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wildflowerluver · 1 year

Text

petals of a flower

emily prentiss x fem!reader

5 times the team suspects emily has a girlfriend and the 1 time it gets confirmed

cw: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as girlfriend, homophobia, case details involving homosexual couples, slight injuries

wc: 3.4k

༺♡༻

emily prentiss is a mystery when she first joins the team.

garcia digs up the standard: parents, place of birth, etc. but the team doesn’t really know her.

they learn a lot about her as she settles into her position over the months. her high school emo phase had been a highlight.

but there was one part of emily’s life the team still didn’t know about.

her sexuality.

it’s not that emily’s ashamed, not in the slightest. she’s just nervous about the response. the bau team is her family and she doesn’t want to lose that.

any girls night or dinner with the team where partners get brought up, emily does everything in her power to change the topic. she’s simply not ready. she’s not ready to tell them about you.

you’re emily’s favorite person. the best girlfriend she could ask for.

she just isn’t ready for her two worlds to collide.

1. flowers

a bouquet of flowers sits on emily’s desk when the agent arrives for work. they’re white lilies, wrapped delicately in brown paper and secured with a thin piece of string. a card is tucked in the top.

“uh oh,” derek muses from his own space. “someone has a secret admirer!”

not secret to her. they’re the ones who don’t know about the sender.

emily stands in front of the bouquet, hiding the card under a folder on her desk. if anyone saw the note, they would demand for her to read it outloud.

“you know white lilies in particular are a popular funeral flower,” spencer jumps in with a fact.

“come on, pretty boy. it’s a romantic gesture. no need to drag down the mood.”

“actually morgan they’re used in weddings too. mainly christian ones but still they’re-”

“reid!”

the sound of derek and spencer’s arguing is drowned out as emily brought the flowers up to her nose.

soft and sweet.

she didn’t even need to read the card to know who they were from.

you had first pointed out white lilies when on your first date with emily.

it was when you were walking downtown after dinner. vendors had set up outside in the shopping district including one of the floral shops.

emily had stopped you in front of the bins of flowers. “which ones are your favorite?”

you didn’t have to think for very long. “white lilies,” you answered honestly. “they represent rebirth and purity.”

she hummed a noise of content beside you.

you reached into your bag to pull out your wallet, quickly grabbing the right amount of cash and handing it to the florist who sat outside.

“to new beginnings,” you beamed, offering the pre-wrapped flowers to emily. her cheeks turned a rosy pink, a stark contrast to the white petals.

she kissed you for the first time that night.

ever since then, white lilies have become your mutual flower.

“any idea who they’re from?”

that’s j.j. who asks after walking over to her with a stack of papers.

“no idea.”

emily hides her smile in the petals.

2. minimal loss

there’s a small group waiting in the quantico parking lot.

it’s late. the lights only illuminate a small section of the space.

you’ve never picked up emily from work after cases. you hadn’t even been near quantico before today. but, this case was different.

emily let you know in advance she was going undercover. it wasn’t supposed to be for long, just enough time for her and her coworker reid to investigate an underground cult in colorado.

it was hard to avoid the details of the case when every news station in the country was reporting on it.

you were cleaning around your apartment and had the news on as background, mostly to just hear the weather report. it had switched to live footage from colorado. your stomach dropped when you remembered that’s where emily was.

“this is a special report from la plata county, colorado.

we're reminded of jim mckay's words from munich– our greatest hopes and our worst fears are seldom realized.

let's hope it's not the latter as we wait to hear the fate of the women, children, and f.b.i.agents inside the building.”

an explosion.

you covered your mouth, stomach churning at the site. emily was inside. oh my god, emily.

you sent a long string of texts; hoping, begging, praying that she was alive.

when your fun buzzes hours later, you race to see what the message is. it’s from emily. she was okay, a little shaken up but okay.

tears well in your eyes. you knew her job was dangerous but this was the closest you had ever gotten to losing her. you offered to pick her up when she landed and she agreed without hesitation.

there were a few other cars in the lot when you arrived.

they had parked relatively close to each other. you stayed a ways away. you didn’t know these people and without talking to emily, you didn’t want to introduce yourself.

they looked familiar but you didn’t quite recognize them. there was a blonde woman and a young boy, another blonde woman with bright accessories, and then a man. who on emily’s team had a kid?

you sat on top of the hood of your car, picking at the skin around your nails as you waited.

it didn’t take long, nor was it difficult to spot the team when they arrived; two black suv’s pulled in one after the other.

you slid down the hood to stand up straight. you need to see her, make sure she was okay.

the team offloaded at once, each member getting out of the vehicle and distributing their luggage.

all eyes went to emily as she stumbled out of the car and hastily grabbed her bags. she had gotten hurt on this case, it was no secret everyone wanted to check up on her. she didn’t say anything before she headed in the direction of the car that was parked slightly away from the rest.

they couldn’t exactly make out the features of the person standing beside it but the way emily walked told them they were someone important.

you surged towards her when she was close enough, taking her face in your hands.

“oh em,” you breathed out, voice wavering with tears.

“i’m okay,” she promised, thumb wiping away the tears that fell.

emily pulled you into her, hand cradling your head as you cried. she knew this was a lot more scary for you than it was for her.

though the team had dispersed to greet their respected family members, no one failed to see the scene unfolding in the distance.

you hugged each other like you would never be able to again.

they all knew that emotion like that wasn’t platonic.

3. ring

a long weekend typically warrants news from some bau member.

whether it’s about a goal jack scored in soccer or a new house derek had renovated, people always seemed to have something going on.

emily sat at her desk and she scribbled away at files. one hand gripped the pen while the other sat on her knee. she twisted a band that sat on her left ring finger. it wasn’t an engagement ring but she liked wearing it on the one finger that connected to her heart.

atop the small gold band sat a gemstone, the one to match the month of your birth.

you had gotten the ring when on a trip. a shop you visited had sold them and you picked out one as a gift. as cliche as it was, you thought of it as a promise ring.

despite emily not being a huge jewelry person, she wore it every day.

the bullpen was a comfortable quiet. other members of the team sat at either their desks or in their office and worked away. the silence made it easy to focus.

a sharp gasp sounded behind her.

penelope had entered the bullpen, presumably to say hi under the false assumption she needed another cup of coffee. both of her hands had covered her mouth, effectively covering her shocked expression. “what is that!”

emily quirked her eyebrow at what the tech analyst was talking about. she was just at her same old desk doing the same old paperwork. she finally saw penelope’s line of vision and followed it down to her hand.

oh. it did kinda look like an engagement ring.

it wouldn’t be the most surprising thing in the world for someone to come back engaged after a long weekend, even if no one had been aware of their relationship.

emily barely had any time to answer before derek was circling his desk to find the source of the commotion.

“what’s all the yelling for?”

“emily has a ring. she has a ring, derek!”

derek’s eyes too fell on her hand. “woah princess! you’re getting hitched and didn’t tell us?”

“who’s getting married?”

the entire team, minus hotch and rossi who remained behind closed doors, had circled emily.

“you didn’t tell us you were dating someone!”

emily held her hands up to silence the group. “guys, guys. it’s not an engagement ring.”

a collective sigh echoed.

“it’s just a ring with my birthstone in it. my parents got it for me when i was younger and i found it when cleaning over the weekend.” emily doesn’t feel guilty for lying. it was a simple white lie, not something detrimental.

the explanation seems to suffice the group who then begins to disperse.

spencer is the only one who picks up that emily’s birthstone is an opal.

and an opal is not the gem on the ring.

4. home

nobody thinks much of it when emily neglects a saturday hang out in favor of having some personal work to get done.

derek, penelope, and j.j. all get together instead.

the girls drag derek around to a few shops they want to go to before penelope stops at a window with a gasp. “oh my god, look! that mug looks exactly like the one emily broke. we have to get it.”

there was no stopping the tech analyst who had a killer memory. it wasn’t false. emily had smashed her favorite mug earlier in the week accidentally and moped for days.

“we should surprise her! she said she had some personal stuff to do so she’s definitely home.”

derek shrugs. “i don’t know, baby girl. she probably doesn’t want to be bothered.”

j.j. digs around in her purse before pulling out a folder. “i did have to drop off her medical forms for her to sign.”

“you two have no boundaries.”

penelope is the one to knock on emily’s apartment door. she’s practically bursting with excitement. she loves her team and knowing how upset emily was over the mug, she can’t wait to give it.

you’re sitting on emily’s couch when there’s a knock at the door.

the two of you haven’t officially moved in together yet, though more times than none you’re at hers. the lease on your own apartment isn’t up yet though once it is, you and her will finally be living together.

saturdays where emily is home are semi-rare. cases often stretch into weekends. she’s thankfully home today, though a few chores around the home dominated her to-do list. she worked upstairs while you relaxed on the couch.

you were slightly confused as to who would be at the door.

“can you get the door, baby?” emily called from upstairs.

“got it!”

you trudged towards the entrance, sliding the peephole cover to the side to peer out. three people stood outside, two women and one man. they looked familiar. you had definitely seen them before.

the picture emily kept of her team on the wall flashed in your memory. that and the time where you had picked her up at quantico. oh, they were members of her team.

you finally opened the door. it was slightly amusing to see the three agents' faces twist in confusion when it was in fact not emily answering the door.

“can i help you?”

none of the three speak for a few moments. they’re clearly trying to rack their brain as you looked familiar to them too.

“oh, um, yes!” the woman with colorful accessories stutters out. “is emily here?”

you open the door a little wider, motioning with your head for them to come in. once the door is closed, you leave them in the entranceway and head in a bit further.

“em!” you call up the stairs. “people are here for you!”

there’s a distance thud. “coming!”

you figure whatever they need to talk about is none of your business. when emily comes downstairs, you smile softly at her. “i’ll leave you all alone. i’ll be upstairs.”

you squeeze her shoulder when you walk by and within a minute, you’re out of sight.

“not to sound rude but why are you guys here? is the team okay?”

derek nods his head. “everything’s good, princess. though i have to ask, who was that?”

emily doesn’t have an excuse. referring to you as ‘just a friend’ feels wrong. plus, she hasn’t discussed if you’re ready for her team to know either. she then notices the package in penelope’s hand.

“what’s that?”

the original question gets blocked out by penelope’s squeal and presentation of the gift.

derek and j.j. share a look. penelope’s not a profiler, she doesn’t pick up on some things, but emily’s deflection tells the agents all they need to know.

they stay quiet, though both of their hearts soar.

no wonder emily has seemed so happy.

5. case

emily’s not one to let her emotions impact a case.

she has a routine to prepare herself: kiss you goodbye, tell you she loves you, go to quantico, read the case, familiarize the victims, solve the case. all in that order.

this one throws her off.

lgbtq couples murdered in their cars, all wearing formal clothing presumably from their date.

emily’s mind immediately goes to you and her. though this case is states away, the unsub doesn’t have a much different mindset than a lot of people.

she internalizes it as best she can, wanting to perform at her best to help solve this case before more people die. it works at first. emily’s able to go to the crime scene, distinguish evidence, and build a profile with ease. that is until two more bodies are discovered.

and one of them looks like you.

j.j. pins the pictures on the board and emily’s stomach drops. she knows it’s not you. you’re miles away and you had just texted her a few minutes ago with a picture of the coffee you had gotten. but the internalized fear is very much present.

theories bounce around the room. why were these two targeted? sexuality aside, what about them was attractive to the unsub?

emily’s throat goes dry. she can’t do this anymore.

“hotch, can i talk to you?”

the room goes quiet. hotch’s eyes flicker back and forth from rossi to j.j. before going back to emily. “of course.”

emily doesn’t stop at an empty conference room. there’s plenty in the precinct and yet they end up outside. emily sits on one of the steps and begins to toy with the ring on her finger.

hotch takes a seat beside her.

“hotch i need to be pulled from this case.”

emily’s surprised she’s able to say the full sentence without breaking down.

“okay,” he begins slowly. “can i ask why?”

internally, hotch knows. he picked up on emily’s behavioral change from the second the case got presented.

“hotch, i-” the words seem to get lost on the tip of her tongue.

she shoves her palms into her eyes. she's flustered, embarrassed, scared.

she should be able to do her job. cases don’t usually get to her. it’s difficult to not feel helpless.

a hand moves to rest on her shoulder.

“it’s okay you know.”

he doesn’t need to finish. what he’s implying is obvious.

the tears brimming in emily’s eyes spill over hot and fast.

hotch moves closer to her, arm circling around her. all superiority dynamics have faded. it’s friend to friend, a moment of vulnerability.

emily’s felt more accepted from his four words than she has in years.

+1 meeting

emily always goes into work before you.

between her commute with traffic and desire to get there a bit early, she’s up and running before you even get out of bed.

naturally, you like to help her out as much as possible.

it comes in the form of packing lunch, organizing files, packing her bag (both personal and one for cases).

this morning was a complete blur. you had worked late the previous night and slept in before work. emily got ready around you, shaking you awake a few moments before she was set to leave.

when emily departed and you made your way downstairs, you noticed what she had forgotten. a brown folder stamped with the fbi logo sat next to an empty lunch bag. you frowned. file aside, you didn’t want her skipping lunch.

you took your phone out and sent her a text.

‘hi baby. you forgot a file and your lunch. can i stop by with them?’

she responds while you’re in the middle of getting dressed for the day.

‘any chance you can bring them at noon-ish? we have meetings all morning but a break for lunch.’

you beam. seeing your girlfriend at her workplace is new. sure you’d seen pictures of the bullpen, mostly when emily showed you her desk whenever you gave her a new trinket to add, but you had never been there.

instead of packing a meal, you stopped downtown at one of emily’s favorite restaurants for take-out. a little surprise.

quantico is intimidating, even from the signage you see on the drive over.

you park in the visitors lot and follow the instructions emily had given you on where to go. security was mandatory and a visitors pass was needed to access the floor.

once exiting the elevator, you stood nervously. emily was at her desk, though so were her coworkers. you look out of place; reusable bag and folder in your hands and casual clothing adorning your body.

she finally looked up and out the glass door, smile enveloping her face as she raised her hand to motion for you to come in. the agents sitting at their desks naturally gravitate towards the commotion. all of them recognized you.

the opal necklace the notice sitting around your neck suddenly makes sense.

“any chance you can get them to stop staring?” you ask once emily stops in front of you.

“hi baby,” she muses, disregarding the question with amusement. “sorry to make you trek all the way out here.”

her hand finds its way to the small of your back, guiding you over to her desk. she lets you have the chair while she sits on the surface. you fight the urge to roll your chair forward and rest your head on her leg. “don’t worry about it. i brought you takeout from that thai place we like.”

emily beams.

“you’re too good to me.”

“you deserve it.”

you stop taking the containers out of the bag and peer up at her.

emily’s hand moves to rest on your cheek before she ducks down to kiss you gently.

it’s revealing. you both know everyone in the room witnessed the act of public affection. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

when the team finally confronts emily, she has no problem boasting.

“this is y/n,” emily introduces. she glances at you to which you tilt your head, lips upturned. the next two words come a moment later. “my girlfriend.”

like white lilies, this was a new beginning. one where she could be more than open about her lover.

maybe the team's suspicion had been right, maybe some of it had been wrong. that didn’t matter now. all emily cared about could be open about your relationship.

rebirth and purity.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x y/n #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss x y/n

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eyesofshinigami · 3 months

Text

Gifts

Rating: T

CW: None

Tags: Established relationship, fluff, minor sexual content

Prompt: For @forgottenkanji "Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy"

WC: 653

Written for Day 29 of @steddielovemonth

He tells himself it’s going to be worth it. Standing here in thirty degree weather, shivering his ass off, waiting for the ticket office to open. Steve can picture the look on Eddie’s face when he shows up on their anniversary with Metallica tickets and that almost makes it worth it.

Three hours he’s been standing out here. The line is getting longer and longer, so he’s glad he made the decision to skip work for the day to come.

Almost. His toes are still fucking freezing.

“Hey man, you in the right line?” a couple of guys behind him snicker, and Steve has to keep from rolling his eyes.

“Sure am. Friend of mine really likes the band and couldn’t make it out, so I figured I would grab tickets for him,” Steve lies smoothly. It’s not really any of these guys’ business, but he’s learned that it’s sometimes the best way to deal with people like this.

The guys are quiet and one finally pipes up, “That’s kind of awesome, man. Sorry.”

Steve waves them off, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. He checks his watch; eight o’clock, the box office should open very soon. He had felt a little bad lying to Eddie, saying that he was going for a run and then had to get to work early, but he’d make it up to him with kisses later on.

He hears cheers go up and the line starts moving, butterflies kicking up in his belly. The counter comes into view and the bored girl at the desk pops her gum as he gets the tickets. Middle seats, nothing fancy, but it’ll be enough to make Eddie lose his mind.

Steve can’t wait.

–

Two weeks later they’re laying in bed, sweaty after sex and full of Jim’s Chinese from down the block. It’s been one of the best anniversaries Steve can remember, and he knows it’s about to get even better.

“Got you a present,” he tells Eddie, reaching over to his nightstand to pull out the envelope he’s been hiding there for the last two weeks. He can’t wait to see the look on Eddie’s face; it’s going to be worth being cold for three hours and the subsequent runny nose that followed.

Eddie grins, eyes shining. “I got you one too.” He reaches over and grabs something from his own bedside table. “On the count of three?”

Together, they say, “One… two… three!”

They each hand the other a similar looking envelope. Eddie opens his first, and lets out a screech of pleasure. “Holy shit!!! Metallica tickets? I thought they sold out!!” He tackles Steve to the bed, kissing his face obnoxiously. “How?”

“Went and waited in line,” Steve replies, because yup, absolutely worth it. “I wanted to get them for you.”

Eddie’s eyes are a little wet and he pulls his hair in front of his face, delighted. “Okay, now you. Then I’m going to ride you into the mattress because I can’t believe you did this for me.”

Heart full, Steve opens up his own envelope, only to find a pair of tickets to go see the Bulls play next Saturday. His eyes go wide. “Eddie, what? You got me Bulls tickets? How-?”

“Asked that guy Jake at your work and I went down the other day and got them. I thought you would like them.”

“But you hate sports!”

Eddie shrugs, looking bashful again. “Yeah, but you don’t. I thought it would nice, you know? We could go together? Unless you want to take like… Jake or something, but-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence. Steve is pulling him close, kissing him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Their bodies press together and Steve is so ready to show Eddie how much he appreciates him. Repeatedly, until neither of them can move.

All in all, a pretty great anniversary, he’d say.

#steddie #steddielovemonth #les writes things

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stealingyourbones · 2 years

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So what if the “No metas in Gotham” thing scared Danny Fenton away from Gotham City?

What if Danny gets a grant or scholarship at Central City University?

What if Danny gets an internship job as an assistant Forensic Scientist at the Central City Police Department?

Ok so hear me out:

The Rouges in Central City are much more chill and jokey than most superhero protected cities and have a good relationship with The Flash and would remind Danny of Amnity in that sense.

Danny’s entire obsession with protection and also a likely mentality of “Police and law enforcement have been horrible to me in the past so I will do everything I can to make sure what happens to me happens to no one else” would make him strive to be an honest protector of the people. He could be a cop and Barry Allen works with him because he knows that Danny isn’t corrupt. A reverse Batman and Jim Gordon if you will. He could also be a Forensic Scientist that recently joined CCPD and Barry Allen is assigned to be his mentor to show him the ropes. Either way The Flash grows to respect and care for this really strange kid who’s eyes sometimes look green as a trick of the light.

Danny using his powers to help solve murders, crimes, and ghostly shenanigans in Central City by talking to the local paranormal entities and recently deceased and pretending that he just is really really good at his job (well he is, but he has a bit of ghostly help.)

The Flash and Kid Flash notice this strange white haired meta zipping around and go to meet him and find out that he’s roughly Wally’s age. The speed force feels a bit strange around this kid, Like he’s been a part of multiple time altering changes. He doesn’t seem malicious though and the kid is really funny so Barry is going to let this ghostly meta do his own thing.

Phantom and The Flash start teaming up. Having an extra person in a battle is always nice. The Flash also notices that this Phantom kid is always DELIGHTED to fight Captain Cold. What The Flash expected to be a long battle that would end in almost frostbite and a long night with little to no sleep ended up being a five minute excursion. The Phantom reveling in the low temperatures and freezing Captain Cold’s cold gun and feet with a more crystalline and shinier type of ice. Instantly ending the battle.

Phantom fights Abra Kadabra and loudly complains to Abra while fighting how stupid Abra’s gimmick is and that it doesn’t look like real magic.

Phantom helps dismantle Weather Wizards plan to blot out the sun by simply turning the giant storm clouds that the Wizard summoned into snow.

The Flash is completely dumbfounded when the Reverse Flash shows up at his work, taunts Barry Allen, when Phantom comes out of nowhere, possesses The Reverse Flash, who then asks the location of the nearest containment facility that’ll house a speedster. Danny/Reverse Flash proceeds to run himself to the location, lock himself in, and exit Thawne’s body. The amount of awe Barry feels can’t even be put to words. Barry Allen’s arch nemesis. Defeated by a ghostly kid who has bi weekly hangouts with his nephew to binge watch D-list horror movies. What the fuck.

Danny has a great relationship with Barry. The two quickly bond over being quippy and aren’t annoyed when the other is consistently late to every possible meet up. Danny is incredibly dexterous and knows his way around the lab and Barry is happy to chat with someone who happily will talk back and ramble on about their life and has a genuine want to help others.

If Barry asks Batman on tips with how to take care of an overworked and constantly exhausted kid that’s between him and the Bat.

Barry mentally adopts this strange coworker and if he spotted the kid behind the CCPD building turning into Phantom? That’s none of his business and for Danny to reveal to him on his own time.

#dc comics #dp x dc #batman #prompt #danny phantom #fanficton prompt #the flash #kid flash #barry allen #dp x dc brainrot is real #Barry Allen and Danny Phantom are a Good Cop and Good Cop dynamic #kid flash and phantom have movie nights and you cannot change my mind

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michaelscottsbreakroom · 9 months

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Uptight – Jim Halpert

This is just a little cutesy one-shot with our favorite golden retriever: Jim Halpert. I think he needs more writings done with readers or even Pam. Honestly, it would just be fun to read about him more. I kinda wanna do a part 2 on this... idk... I hope you like it!!

Everyone knew Jim Halpert. Jim Halpert knew everyone well enough. He talked to people, smiled and laughed with them, and pranked stuck up asses.

Well… except you…

You were uptight, in a work way. You never slacked off, only took off when you were sick. Which was never.

You sat with Jim and Dwight, usually typing and helping clients set up their paper orders.

Jim thought you were beautiful. So average, so basic, so perfect. Sometimes, he would wonder to himself, as he glanced at you, how different would you act outside of work?

His small friendly crush was a secret to everyone, especially you. Jim knew I’d you found out, his life, with you, would be over. Forever.

Today was a normal day in the office— you working your ass off while Jim annoyed Dwight a little by talking louder than usual.

It annoyed you as well, but you didn’t say anything.

“Anyways” Jim said to nobody on the phone, “I cannot believe that that happened!” He half yelled, making you sigh.

Jim glanced at you, his face falling. You were annoyed. He could tell by the cute frown on your face and the face you were chewing your gum a bit harsher then normal.

“I have to get back to you,” he said quietly, glancing away, “bye,”

Although it was a fake call, he set the phone down.

Glancing over at you, seeing that you were already staring back at him, made his heart flutter softly.

“Thanks,” was all you said to him, the first thing you said to him since yesterday, and soon, the receiver was up to your ear from an incoming call.

Jim felt his heart warm at your cold statement. You were like a cat, he was like a dog. How funny.

——

The rest of the day went by smoothly, in your opinion. The room had finally been put at a comfortable temperature, since some people liked it colder than others.

You looked at the clock and hummed. Exactly five, so you got up and grabbed your old red leather purse and the cardigan you brought.

Without saying goodbye, you pushed in your chair and left the office, hearing scrapes from other people’s desk chairs as they left.

Leaving the reception, when you stepped out the rain that was forecasted earlier had come ten times harder than told in the weather news this morning.

Your umbrella was in your car, which was across the street.

“Oh my gosh…” you whispered angrily to yourself, watching the cloud.

Jim walked out a few seconds behind you, seeing that you were trying to drape your favorite cardigan over your head, now looking rather annoyed.

He could help but smile, seeing he could be the knight in shining armor.

“You want me to walk you?” Jim said to your right. You looked up slightly to see the sweet smile of Jim Halpert, holding a black umbrella in between the two of you.

You hummed, looking down to hide a smile. “Yes, please,” you whispered shamefully, “I didn’t know it was going to rain this hard…”

Jim laughed. “Nor did I. This is Michael’s umbrella,”

You gasped, your eyebrows furrowing. “Jim!” You said, about to tell him off.

With the happiest laugh you heard, Jim started chuckling, showing off his cute lopsided smile.

A warmth bubbled in your stomach, your heart beating ever so much faster.

“I’m just joking,” he said cheekily, “let’s go,”

The two walked in silence, you blushing like mad, Jim smiling like a goon. It was cute for the cameras to record.

Michael watched through the blinds with the cameras, sighing.

“Office romance: the sweetest kind of romance, in my opinion."

#jim halpert #jim halpert x reader #jim halpert x you #the office us #michael scott #dwight schrute #you #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #no implication of y/n #jim+halpert+x+reader #oneshot #fluff

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starsandhughes · 11 months

Text

Penalty Box— Cruel Weather (End)

story/original request based off this ask: Reactions to Sissy Getting Hurt

warnings: swearing, accident, mentions of injuries, surgery, mentions of pain medications, crying, anxiety, overall angst

word count: ~7.9k

General Series Masterlist

part one — part two — part three — part four

a/n i did not edit this much at all so excuse all typos!

THERE WILL NOT BE AN EPILOGUE! THIS IS THE HAPPY ENDING! IT’S STILL SAD BUT THIS IS WHAT WE GET!!

————————

You started to hear quiet voices, and then a really pissed off Quinn. You drowned it out, but you couldn’t drown out the pain that shot through you when Trevor was shaken awake. Everybody was suddenly on guard when you cried out in pain. Trevor slowly sat up and smacked Quinn on the arm, “Look what you did!”

“Sissy, I’m–”

“Not your fault,” you grunted out through twinges of pain. You gripped Trevor’s hand with all your might, trying to breathe through it. Your body felt heavy against the pillows when the pain finally dulled. You took deep breaths to relax as Trevor rubbed circles on your hand with his thumb and ran his fingers through your hair in a calming motion. You nodded at him with your eyes closed when you felt better.

“Go back to sleep if you need, sweet girl,” Trevor whispered. “We’ll still be here when you wake up.”

You opened your eyes to look at Quinn, who looked scared out of his mind.

“Come here,” you told him. Quinn carefully stepped towards you, and once he got close, you could see the tears forming in his eyes. “You didn’t know. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Trevor relinquished your hand so Quinn could hold it, “You’re awake.”

“Something like that,” you said drowsily. You turned your head to look at everyone else that was in the room, and you were surprised at how many people were actually here. Your mom, dad, Jack, Luke, Cole, Alex, Jamie, and Matty. “Hi.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. No one could believe it. Luke shoved his way through the small crowd to the side where Quinn and Trevor were and sat down on the edge of your bed. You looked at Quinn, and with that one look he knew that your big sister mode was kicking in. He let go of your hand and you reached out to Luke, who gripped on with both of his hands.

“I’m here,” you said softly. “I’m okay. Okay? I’m not leaving you.”

“You–” Luke got too choked up.

“I know, come here,” you said. “Lay your head down on my chest. Trevor did it last night, it doesn’t hurt.”

Luke was taller and lankier than Trevor, but with Trevor and you guiding him, he got settled. You took some deep breaths and told him to feel your heartbeat, just as you did for Trevor.

“See? My heart’s beating now. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered as you ran your fingers through his curls.

“Promise?” Luke squeaked. He was crying and it broke your heart.

“I promise.”

You couldn’t fight being asleep anymore, and everyone could tell.

“Luke, let’s get off of Sissy so that she can sleep,” Jim said.

You shook your head, “He’s fine. Trevor did it last night. I’m okay.”

And with that, the drugs pulled you under.

– – –

Luke was letting silent tears fall, “Trevor?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“You sure she’s okay?”

“She’s okay,” he assured him.

“Then why do you have an IV again?” Jamie asked him.

Of course Jamie would be the first one to notice. Or the first one to call him out at the very least.

“I uh… they made me step out of the room while they were doing tests and the thing attached to her finger that reads her heartbeat got knocked off. I lost it when I heard the flatline again and couldn’t see her, so I got sedated again,” Trevor explained. “It wasn’t real, it was just…”

“You’re going to be going through this a lot, aren’t you?” Jamie asked him. Trevor sighed and nodded, “Probably.”

Jamie walked over and put his arm around his friend, a simple motion that let Trevor know that that was okay. That they’d get through this together. Not just between everyone, but them specifically. They live together. They’ll be the ones majorly helping Y/N when she’s released from the hospital. Jamie will be the one with him when they have to go on their first away game. Jamie and Trevor will be each other’s rocks.

“You doing alright, Lukey?” Jack asked his brother.

“She’s here,” was all he said.

Quinn patted his back in an attempt to comfort him, “She sure is, Lukey.”

“Mom? Can you go talk to a nurse to get some updates?” Jack asked. She smiled and told the pack of boys that she’d be right back.

The weight of the world fell off everybody’s shoulders. Seeing her awake and hearing her speak was a marvel of a sight. Not a soul in the room could believe it. Not a soul in the room didn’t feel relief.

Ellen came back with a nurse who could update the room on Sissy.

“Everything is looking good for her. Her vitals are great, and we’re keeping her on high, but safe, levels of pain medication. That’s why she’s in and out of consciousness. And all of the medication that affected her from waking up from the anesthesia is out of her system, so she’ll be just fine when it’s time for her shoulder surgery,” she said.

“Woah, woah, woah– next surgery?!” Trevor shouted. “She almost died after your last one and you want to put her under again?!”

Trevor felt like he couldn’t breathe again. He almost lost you to a surgery that was supposed to be no big deal, and they wanted to do it to you again?

“Z, breathe,” Jamie said to him, but Trevor yanked his arm away from his touch.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Trevor repeated. He was slowly backing up against the wall.

“Trevor,” Quinn tried. He wanted to calm him down, but him freaking out was freaking him out, too. Everyone almost lost you. Not just him. “I don’t like the idea either, but she needs this surgery. You don’t want her to be in pain, do you?”

Quin was treating him like a child, but Trevor was looking like he was close to another freak out.

“Z, we can’t sedate you every time you’re feeling like this. You need to learn how to get through this so that you can do it at home. Now, look at me, and breathe with me, okay?”

It took a few tries for Trevor to actually get it together, but he was still crying.

“I don’t want her to be in pain. I love her, but I can’t lose her,” Trevor said.

Quinn nodded and brought him into a hug, “I know. Us, too.”

Since Quinn was able to calm Trevor down, he asked for the IV to be removed since it had drained out anyway. Trevor was exhausted and Ellen told him to go lay down again in the recliner. Luke remained attached to Sissy and was slowly drifting off, too.

“Is anyone not scared about Sissy going in for another surgery?” Jack asked, keeping his voice down for Luke and Trevor.

“I’m trying to focus on the fact that she needs it,” Jamie answered.

The consensus was clear, everyone had at least a sliver of concern for the possibility for things to go wrong. Jim and Ellen remained strong and comforted the boys with the fact that the doctors now know what to use for her so that she wakes up safely and in a reasonable amount of time this round. But even they were worried for the girl that has become their only daughter.

“Remember when we first all played against each other when I was in college?” Quinn piped up, looking for any means to distract himself.

“She wore a shirt that said ‘I just hope both teams have fun!’ How could I forget?” Cole laughed.

“I’m just glad she doesn’t do that now,” Jack said. “Although, for once I’d like her to wear my jersey when we play against the Canucks or Ducks!”

“That’s not going to happen and you know it,” Alex teased him.

“She wears your jersey when we play against you,” Cole offered.

“Yeah, but she wears mine whenever we play against any of you,” Matthew smirked. “Except against Quinn or Trevor. Then it’s theirs.”

“What does she wear when we play against the Canucks?” Jamie asked.

“Z and I have to play air hockey to decide it,” Quinn told them, sending everyone into a fit of laughter. “But she might add you into the mix.”

“She’s something else,” Jamie said.

“You have no idea, Jamie. She’ll get worse,” Jack told him. “But it’ll only make you love her more.”

“Now that, I believe.”

– – –

You woke up to the muffled sounds of your friends talking and laughing. It brought a smile to your face that now that you were awake, your friends could relax a bit. You just hope it sticks.

What is sticking, however, is the dull pain. A dull pain that’s growing. You never tell Luke to let go or to go away if he needs you, but it was too much right now. You felt extra guilty because you were pretty sure that he was still asleep.

“Quintin,” you said. Your voice was strained and so quiet that you weren’t sure that he heard you. You tried again, but when you did the dryness of your throat made you cough, which just added to the pain and you cried out. That got everyone’s attention. “Quintin, I need you to get Luke off me, it’s starting to hurt.”

You were visibly in discomfort, and trying to move was not your friend. Ellen stepped in and eased you while Quinn carefully woke up Luke.

“It really hurts, mom,” you whimpered. She gave you a sad smile and brushed back your hair, “I know, Sissy. It’ll pass. Quinn’s waking him up.”

Luke felt tremendously guilty, and it took you multiple times to assure him that he was completely fine before the pain medications slowly started to wear off. And because you were on such high doses, it wasn’t time for you to safely have another round. So you had to wait.

“Can I get you anything, little mouse?”

You looked over and smiled at Matthew over the nickname, “Water?”

Matthew got up to find you some water, and you looked around the room to try and get a gauge of everyone’s emotions. You were pretty good at reading your friends and family, but the one who stuck out the most to you was Alex.

“Turc? Do you need a moment alone?”

“What?” he asked, caught off guard. “No, I’m fine…I’m–”

“Hey, can I get a second with Alex?” you asked the room. You could tell Alex was embarrassed, but no one else said anything as they left. “Come here.”

Alex got up and moved to the chair that was right next to you. You grabbed his hand and smiled at him in an effort to let him know that it was okay.

“You need another surgery,” he blurted out.

“That’s not all of it and you know it,” you said. You knew him too well.

Alex sighed and bounced his leg, trying to calm down enough to actually tell you what was on his mind.

“Yesterday when you were still in the coma, I couldn’t come talk to you alone. Everyone else did it days before. Yesterday Cole and Matthew did, but I couldn’t. It felt like I would be saying goodbye to you, and I didn’t want to face that,” he admitted.

“So tell me what you would’ve said.”

Alex took a deep breath, “I would’ve told you how much I miss you. And that you mean the world to me and have ever since high school. I would’ve told you that the first time I met you, and I saw how you and Trevor were acting, I knew you were going to be in my life forever because you two are perfect for each other and I knew it before he admitted his feelings to us. I would’ve told you how much I love you. How much I was trying to keep it together but was slowly failing to. And I think I would’ve told you goodbye just in case you flatlined again in the middle of the night and I wouldn’t get a chance to.”

You squeezed his hand when you noticed his tears, “Good thing you get to say hello then.”

“Hello,” he breathed out a small, forced laugh.

“Hi,” you said right back. “You’ll be okay. I’m okay. We’ll all get through this together, alright? And I love you, too.”

– – –

It wasn’t fun hearing what everyone else told you while you were in a coma, but you felt like it needed to be done. Maybe it shouldn’t be your job to help everyone, but you would get the help you’ll need in return. It broke your heart hearing that Luke couldn’t figure out how to be the strong one like everyone was telling him to. It broke your heart hearing that Jack was trying to hold it together for everyone and that he was terrified of having to go back to Jersey before you woke up. How Jamie felt guilty for being one of the reasons you were in the car in the first place. How Quinn was losing his mind and felt so defeated when you squeezed his hand and he learned it was nothing. How Matty was sent here by his coach because he wasn’t playing well. How Cole told you that his life changed forever when you came into it and that his break was hard because he held it in.

Trevor broke your heart the most. It broke you that he was plagued by nightmares when he was only sleeping because he knew you’d want him to. It broke your heart that he went catatonic for a few hours. It broke your heart that he watched your heart flat line. It broke your heart how guilty he felt. You couldn’t bear the thought of your forever getting cut short with him. Trevor almost had to experience that.

You didn’t get much time to be with everyone as a group before a nurse and a doctor came in and asked for everyone but “your emergency contacts” to leave. That meant that only Trevor and your parents could stay in the room.

The doctor began to go over your next surgery with you for your shoulder. It was a shoulder replacement surgery, and you didn’t really pay attention to any of the details. All you knew was that the fractures were bad enough to need it, and that it was scheduled for tomorrow at 1pm.

You just woke up from a roughly two day coma post a surgery and now they wanted to put you under again? And they were just going to hope that if they used different sedatives and started the treatment they used to wake you up immediately it would be okay?

You felt terrified. But you knew everyone else did, too. Probably more than you were, since they were the ones that had to sit idly by while you were unconscious.

You held all your fears in.

For Ellen.

For Jim.

For Jack.

For Cole.

For Alex.

For Matty.

For Jamie.

For Luke.

For Quinn.

For Trevor.

For Trevor. For Trevor. For Trevor.

You could do anything for Trevor, and this will just have to be one of those things.

“Are you okay?” he asked you. He sat on the edge of your bed and held your hand, rubbing circles with his thumb on it. “Do you need a minute before we let everyone else back in?”

You shook your head, “No, I’m alright.”

Trevor eyed you suspiciously, “Don’t lie to me, sweet girl.”

“I’ll be okay, and having everyone in here will help,” you told him. It wasn’t a lie. You will be okay, eventually. And everyone in this small little room will be a lovely distraction. Your surgery isn’t until tomorrow, so all you had to do was make it through the day.

“Sissy, I got someone who wants to talk to you,” Luke said smiling as he came back in.

“Who?” you asked, smiling back. Luke said nothing and just handed you his phone. “Duker!”

“Hey, Sissy, how are you? I’ve been worried sick,” Dylan said.

“I can definitely say I physically haven’t been worse,” you told him.

“That’s the most Y/N answer I’ve ever heard,” he laughed. “Glad the coma didn’t change you!”

“It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than that to change me,” you assured him. And the rest of the room. And yourself.

Mainly yourself. Lord knows you needed it.

“I’m coming tomorrow, okay? I know you miss me!”

“I really do,” you laughed. “Be good, Duker.”

“I think I can make that promise for once,” he joked.

You were getting tired again after finally being given more pain medication. You made grabby hands towards Quinn and motioned for him to lay next to you like Trevor did before visiting hours started.

“Are you sure this doesn’t hurt?” Quinn asked as he cautiously laid down next to you.

“You’re just next to me, Quintin. I promise you, it’s okay,” you told him.

You kept motioning for him to come closer to you until you could comfortably lay your head against his shoulder.

“You haven’t called me Quintin in a while,” he said low. “Not much since you left middle school.”

“Middle school was hard,” you mumbled sleepily. “This is hard.”

Quinn turned his head and kissed your temple, “Quintin it is.”

– – –

Jamie cautiously stepped towards the bed when he knew that Y/N was asleep. He slowly sat down in the chair closest to the head of her bed, right next to Quinn.

“Can I?” Jamie asked him. He took her hand in his when he nodded yes. “I know I haven’t known her as long–”

“That doesn’t matter to her,” Quinn cut him off. “The day she met you, she called me and said I should be worried about you taking my place as her best friend. Sissy loves you, and she knows that you love her. She doesn’t care that you met what, three months ago? She loves everyone fiercely, and you’ve been deemed lucky enough to make that list.”

Trevor got up and placed his hands on Jamie’s shoulders, squeezing them supportively, “It was her idea to move you in.”

“Really?”

“She probably would’ve moved your stuff out from Lindholm’s with or without your permission,” he laughed.

“I’ve even heard about you from her,” Matthew told Jamie. “You’re here for her. You’re going to be one half of the two people taking care of her most of the time. And trust me, she cares about you. As long as you never wrong her, she’s going to be there for you for life.”

Jamie looked down and tried to hide a smile as he played with her fingers. He didn’t know what it was about her, but the second she met somebody, they loved her. Her charm, her humor, her boldness. Sissy is something special. And when she lets you in, truly lets you in, she makes sure you know you’re loved and that she would drop everything for you if you need her.

She loves being needed.

She loves being wanted.

Not everyone knew that this was killing her. Not everyone knew that her needing help and barely being able to do a thing for anyone else was going to be detrimental for her. But Jamie does. He hasn’t known her long, but he knows her. He knows that he might need to act like he needs her for something, even if he doesn’t, just to make her happy.

Jamie would do it for her. He will do it for her. Because everyone was right, once you know her, she’d drop anything for you, and he intends to do the same thing for her.

“Is she scared, Z?” Cole asked. Trevor pursed his lips. He didn’t want to expose her, but he was a terrible liar.

“She won’t tell me, but I saw the look in her eyes. I could feel her fear. I asked if she needed a moment and she told me that she’s fine and everyone back in the room would be a good distraction, but I know she’s petrified.”

“That’s a big word, Mr. Boston,” Quinn teased him. Trevor rolled his eyes and flicked him, not being able to do anything else since Y/N was laying against his shoulder. “She has you, Z. You’ll get her through it.”

“She has you, too. She has all of us,” Trevor added.

“And we have her,” Luke said. He still looked scared.

Jack threw his arm around his little brother, “And we have her.”

— — —

Today’s the day.

Today’s the day you have to go under for another surgery.

And everyone had the same fear. For some, it was slight. For others it was more than slight, but they know she needs the surgery. But the rest? The fear had taken over their entire being. And who are they? Trevor, Quinn, Jack, Luke, and you. They were internally losing their minds. They felt sick. And every tick of the clock made their chests feel tighter and tighter.

Trevor hasn’t done well with you out of his sight and he knows it’s going to be worse this time. He’s determined to not have to be sedated. He’s going to have away games. He’s going to have roadies. He’s going to have to learn how to cope. He can’t be eased into it. You’re going to be gone for hours, and he’ll have to sit by your bedside and wait for you to wake up again. He knows you’ll wake up, but that quiet voice deep inside his head telling him that you won’t is eating him alive.

Quinn had taken over the “Sissy” role. Jack had practically snapped, Luke was a mess and was dead silent when he wasn’t, Trevor couldn’t breathe half the time, and you need him, too. He’s the oldest. He feels like it’s his job. He’s always stepped up. He’s always been the big brother. He’s always done whatever he can and more for you. There’s just no one helping him.

Jack feels like he’s useless. He can’t do anything for you, and he’s going to have to go back to Jersey eventually. Scratch that— he’s going to have to go back soon and he won’t get to help you. He feels like you don’t need him when you have Quinn. You always need him. He’s your best friend, your better half, you’re everything to each other. You won’t need him when you have Trevor. Your boyfriend, your entire world. The person you live with. The person who needs you just as bad as you need him. The person you’ll get through this with. The person who’ll be there for you the entire time. Hell, you won’t need him when you have Jamie. You love him, and you barely know him. And he’s going to be with you the whole time. He doesn’t have to leave.

Luke could barely wrap his head around it. Everything was going too fast and he could barely keep up. He just got you, his sister, back and in a few hours he was going to have to go back to wondering when you’re going to wake up. He couldn’t hold on to your hand. He couldn’t fall asleep on you. He felt like he couldn’t be vulnerable. Not when everyone else is screaming, too. He just told his best friend that you’re going to be okay. He just told his best friend that he’s okay. One of those is a lie. The other one could be, too, only he doesn’t know that answer, yet.

And you? You don’t know that’s how everyone is feeling, because you can’t think of anything else other than your intense fear of not waking up. You couldn’t escape the cage the thought of dying was putting you in. You need this surgery. You need to get better. You know the doctors are prepared this time. You know that your medication has more or less left your system and that everything should be okay. But you don’t want to see everyone’s faces when you wake up again. Full of shock, almost as if they were seeing a ghost. And you know that a couple days after this surgery, you’ll be released. Which means everyone will have to leave you again. You’ve never had to experience anything this traumatic without your brothers. Never. You didn’t want them to go most of all. You’re beyond grateful that you’ll have Trevor, and Jamie told you he won’t be leaving you, but you need your brothers. Facetimes won’t be enough this time.

You were pulled out from your thought prison by a nurse informing you it was almost time for surgery and that everyone will need to clear out so that they can prep you. Everyone said their goodbyes, some longer than others, and Jack was the last one walking out the door. The heart monitor signaled that panic was taking over you and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Jack!” you screamed. Tears were streaming down your face and your free hand was shaking. “Jack don’t–”

Jack pushed aside the nurse in the room and sat on the edge of your bed and gripped onto your hand.

“Sir–”

“She just needs a minute! Please,” Jack begged her. The nurse saw how close you were to a major freakout before Jack got to your side and left to stand outside the door. Jack took your hand in both of his and squeezed it tight, “It’ll be okay, Sissy. It will be. We all asked the surgeon every question possible. He’s done this surgery countless times.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” you asked shakily. “Right here. Holding my hand. Not Trevor or Quinn. You.”

Jack smiled and leaned over to kiss your forehead, “In the chair, or on the bed?”

“On the bed,” you answered.

“Then on the bed holding your hand is where I’ll be the second you open your eyes, Sissy,” Jack assured you. “I promise. Now you gotta be strong for us. Don’t fight the lovely nurses and doctors and surgeons that are here to help you. Just breathe, and now I’ll be sitting right here when it’s over.”

The nurses that came to wheel you off to the surgery unit told Jack he could walk with you until you reached the double doors, so he did. He held onto your hand and called out once again that he’ll be right next to you when you wake up when the doors came. You held back your tears. You wanted to be able to tell Jack that you were strong.

– – –

“Where did you go?” Luke asked Jack when he finally joined them in the waiting room.

“Sissy called out for me, so I calmed her down and walked with her to the surgical unit,” he explained. “I don’t know why–”

“She loves and needs you, too, Jack,” Ellen interrupted her son. “Just like everyone else.”

Jack smiled slightly, semi hating the fact that his mom knew exactly how he was feeling.

“She asked me to be sitting on her bed holding her hand when she wakes up,” he said softly, still happy that she wanted him. That she needed him.

“I’m only allowing that because she asked,” Trevor teased him.

“Of course you are, bud,” Jack laughed.

Jack sat down between his brothers and leaned back in his chair. All that there was to do now was wait. Something that was way too familiar to everyone here.

– – –

It was a long surgery, over four hours. But Jack was true to his word and parked himself on the edge of your bed and held your hand as he waited for you to come to. Every minute passed was agonizing. The doctors told everyone that you’d be waking up within an hour but that you’ll be very out of it and might not be awake for long. At the forty-six minute mark, everyone let out a breath.

Your groans caused all ten heads to snap towards you. Jack inched closer to you and used his free hand to pet your hair in the same way he used to do when he had to wake you up for school when you were sleeping through your endless alarms.

“Sissy?” he whispered. “Are you with us? Can you open your eyes for me?”

You tried to pull away from him but felt a surge of pain when you did. Jack worked to settle you back down and looked to Trevor for help.

“I normally kiss her to wake her up,” Trevor told him. “She calls it ‘waking up Disney princess style.’”

“Be my guest,” Jack laughed.

Trevor softly placed his hand to cup your face and bent down to softly kiss you, “Good morning, sweet girl. Can you open those pretty little eyes for me?”

You clenched your eyes once more before opening them up.

“Are you a Prince?” you asked dreamily. Luke had to hide into his mom’s shoulder to keep from laughing out loud.

“Sorry, sweet girl. I’m just your boyfriend,” Trevor replied.

You looked down when you noticed a hand was holding your hand. You followed the hand to the owner, and it was not the man who just told you he’s your boyfriend.

“Then who are you?” you asked the hand holder.

“I’m Jack, your brother. You asked me to sit on your bed and hold your hand for when you woke up,” the hand holder told you.

“I don’t have a brother,” you said, shaking your head.

Jack’s grip on your hand tightened and you could feel his fear.

“You– you don’t?” he asked tentatively. He was worried that the drugs had temporarily taken your mind back to before you moved in. Before you were old enough to know that family doesn’t have to be blood.

“No. I’m a cloud, I can’t have any brothers,” you said seriously.

“But you can have a boyfriend?” your boyfriend asked.

“You’re a cloud, too,” you told him. “You have fluffy cloud hair, Prince.”

“Trevor,” he told you with a soft laugh.

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m pretty sure your name is Prince. Prince of the clouds. And I’m Princess of the clouds.”

“Clouds can have brothers,” Jack insisted. “You have three.”

Jack was starting to make sense. As you looked around the room at everyone else in the room, you saw two familiar faces that matched Jack’s story.

“I do have three!” you gasped. “Quintin, Jacky Boy, and Lukey Moosey!”

Jack lifted your hand and leaned his head against it, shaking his head and laughing, “I’m Jacky Boy, Sissy. Look at me.”

You looked at him again and really focused this time, “Jacky Boy! I missed you!”

“I missed you, too,” he laughed.

You looked around the room and your smile grew exponentially at every person you saw. You couldn’t believe your whole world was here.

“Hi Mom, and Dad, and Coley, and Turcs, and Quintin, and Lukey Moosey, and Jamie Baby, and my rat! Matty! You’re here! You’re never here!”

Matthew moved over to the end of your bed and placed both hands on the edge of it, “I was worried about you, Little Mouse. That’s why we’re all here.”

Quinn came over next to Jack and Trevor, “You got hurt, remember? You just had another surgery.”

“No, Quintin,” you argued. “I’m a cloud. I can’t get hurt.”

“Well then you’re a medical marvel,” he said. “Because you got super hurt. Are you in pain?”

“Quintin, listen! I just told you, I’m a cloud. And Prince is a cloud. And Coley. I don’t know what the rest of you are, but we’re clouds.”

“What type of clouds are we?” Cole asked you.

“You and Prince look sad, so you’re nimbostratus clouds. But me? I’m a cumulus,” you told them, full of confidence.

“Did she just… use scientific cloud names?” Alex asked, laughing in disbelief.

“I think she did,” Luke said.

“We look sad because you’re hurt, Ms. Cumulus Cloud,” Trevor said. “But I’m really glad you don’t feel it.”

“I’m just doing my cloud thing,” you said as you yawned.

“Sleepy?” Ellen asked.

“Yeah, I’m a sleepy cloud,” you nodded. “But Jacky Boy needs to lay next to me so I can nap.”

“And why’s that?” Jack asked.

“You’re holding my hand. You need me. So you need to sleep next to me to fix that,” you said matter-of-factly.

Trevor and Quinn stepped out of the way so that Jack could carefully lay beside you.

“I’ll protect you,” you told him. “I need everyone to give me a kiss goodnight! Do you need any, Jacky?”

“I think I’m alright,” he smiled.

Jack leaned over and kissed your cheek. You smiled and nodded your head side to side in a dance-like motion as you made everyone else kiss your cheeks and forehead goodnight.

“And you, my Prince, need to kiss me on the lips four times,” you told him. “Because we say something to each other with four words. I don’t know what, but I know there’s four words.”

“I–” kiss. “Love–” kiss. “You–” kiss. “Forever.” kiss.

“What do I say?”

“You say ‘I love you, always,’” he smiled at you.

“I love you, always, Prince!”

“I love you, forever, Princess.”

– – –

The second time you woke up, you were much more lucid and aware of the situation. You weren’t in agony, but you weren’t exactly having fun. You lifted your head off of whoever’s shoulder you were laying on and groaned at the brightness of the room.

“Somebody needs to turn off the sun or I’m going to shoot it down myself,” you grunted with your eyes squeezed shut.

You didn’t know who, but someone fixed your problem, and you were able to slowly open your eyes. You looked out to see the window’s curtains were open and that it was actually dark outside.

One new face was in the room, Dylan.

You smiled at him, “Hi, baby boy.”

“I was kind of hoping I could see you shoot down the sun, but seeing you awake works, too, Sissy,” Dylan joked.

“Are you still a cloud, Princess?” Trevor asked you.

You turned your head to look at him, also acknowledging the fact that it was Jack next to you by a simple squeeze of his hand, confused.

“Cloud?”

“You were still out of it when you first woke up,” Trevor laughed. “You called me Prince, and you were hellbent on the fact that you were a cloud and that you couldn’t possibly be injured because of it.”

“Were we… all clouds?”

“I wish,” Quinn joked. “Only Z and Cole were clouds. Nimbostratus, to be exact. Not sure why you remembered the types of clouds.”

“Clouds are fucking cool, that’s why,” you sassed him.

“You’re lucky you’re hurt,” Quinn said in a jokingly warning tone.

“Or what? You’d lightly shove me? I’m so scared,” you teased him back. “You’re just jealous because I didn’t deem you a cloud. Suck it.”

It was nice finally feeling calm for the first time since you woke up. No one was terrified about the upcoming surgery now that it’s happened. No one was worried that you wouldn’t wake up again now that you have. It was almost fun being with everyone, it was just calmer than it normally is when you’re all together.

You shoved Jack aside so that Dylan could lay next to you because “you’ve missed your baby boy.”

“I’m your twin!” Jack protested.

“You’ve been laying with me,” you told him. “I’ve gone without seeing Duker longer and he’s my baby boy bestie brother!”

“I’m her alliteration,” Dylan said, smiling cheekily.

“Yeah, he’s my alliteration,” you copied his grin.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jack countered.

“You’re just jealous,” Dylan stuck his tongue out at him.

“Alright, alright,” you cut them off. “You’re both my boys, so calm down. You’ve had your turn.”

“Do we all get a turn?” Luke asked jokingly.

“Do we have to reserve times?” Jamie asked, laughing.

“You and Z will get me all season, but the rest of them? Yes. Someone make a list and play rock paper scissors for the order.”

“You’re a mess,” Trevor laughed. “My beautiful mess.”

“Damn right,” you jokingly smirked.

– – –

It wasn’t too long before visiting hours ended and you had to tell everyone goodbye. Trevor now had a bigger blanket for you two in the bed since you’d been cold and he wasted no time crawling in next to you when Quinn (the last one on the list to be next to you) got off the bed.

“Be good!” Quinn called out.

“We physically have to! Otherwise we would not!” you shouted back.

“I didn’t want to know that!”

“You’re welcome! I love you, bubs!”

“I love you, too, Sissy!”

“I’ll never understand you two,” Trevor laughed.

“Quinn and I are something I’ve never seen before. Not even in movies,” you said fondly. “I’m gonna keep it that way.”

“Are we?”

“My love, we’re everything.”

Trevor took your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to it. When he dropped it, you tapped four times on your lips. Trevor smiled and repeated what he did when you first woke up.

“I–” kiss. “Love–” kiss. “You–” kiss. “Forever–” kiss.

“I love you, always,” you whispered to him. “How did you do while I was under?”

“Jamie helped a lot. I don’t know why watching The Hunger Games helps, but it does,” Trevor admitted.

“Because it’s my favorite series, obviously,” you smiled.

“No, I think it’s because there’s a lot of Katniss in you,” he told you. “You’d do anything for those you love, especially your brothers. You stick up for what’s right. You’ve been through hell and you’re still surviving. You’re Katniss.”

You blushed and played with his fingers, unsure of what to say to that.

“Does that make you Peeta?”

“I was thinking I’m more like Finnick,” Trevor laughed.

“Well, he was my first love. So, I guess that’s fitting.”

“Your first love?” Trevor teased you. “Am I nothing to you?”

“Hey! Quinn officiated a wedding for me and Finnick!”

“Then I guess he’ll have to officiate ours,” Trevor smiled.

“Trevor Zegras, are you talking about marriage in a hospital?”

“Not right now, but if this experience has taught me anything, it’s that you’re the one.”

“Sap,” you smiled.

You were beat, and surprised that you’d stayed awake for so long with all the pain medication in you. But now that it was only Trevor with you, you felt safe. You felt at peace. You felt at home. You laid your head on his shoulder and let yourself drift off to the sounds of Catching Fire in the background. You weren’t scared to fall asleep tonight. You weren’t scared that something was going to happen to Trevor. For the first time in three days, you felt good.

– – –

At 9:34am, all of your paperwork was finished and you were free to go home. You, Jamie, Trevor, Ellen, and Jim were all given a breakdown of how to take care of you, pain medication times, and other stuff like that. Jim and Ellen would be staying a little longer with you in the beginning before they’ll have to go back home. Trevor and Jamie would be the ones doing it the most after your parents left, and they needed to be fully prepared to teach Dani when she’d come to help you on roadies. Ellen volunteered, but Dani was quite persistent.

You were sent off with some strong sedatives to help with the car ride home. You were glad, too, because even with them you were still in some major discomfort. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like without them.

Everyone was staying one more night before they had to go back to their own teams. You really didn’t want to have to be moved much, so Trevor and Quinn got you situated in yours and Trevor’s room and everyone would be in there until you decided it was time for bed.

First thing first, however, was a nap. The medication had made you so tired and you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. You had to lay pillows in between you and Trevor, which was terrible, but you could lay directly next to him while you napped since he would be staying awake. Everyone else went to the living room while Trevor gently held your hand and kissed your forehead to send you off to sleep.

– – –

Quinn didn’t wait too long before slipping back into the bedroom, “How’s she doing?”

“She hasn’t had to have the lower pain medications yet, so she's okay,” Trevor told him. “I’m not excited about that.”

“I’m not excited about leaving her,” Quinn said softly.

“Trust me, she isn’t either.”

The two boys talked quietly for a while to distract themselves from the predicament. Trevor couldn’t imagine what Quinn must be feeling. Trevor gets to stay with you; Quinn doesn’t. That’s been a common feeling throughout all of this.

“You’ll take care of her, right?” Quinn asked Trevor with tears threatening to fall out of his eyes.

“I’ll do everything I can and more for her. Always,” Trevor assured him.

“You better,” Quinn said softly.

All Quinn could do was look at you. Your bruised face looked better, but you still looked so frail and small that it hurt him. He had to make tonight and tomorrow count, but he knew that you’d be sleeping through a lot of it.

“Um… listen, if Luke needs her, she will kick you out of this bed. Same if she needs me or Jack or Luke or–”

“You can sleep next to her until you have to leave,” Trevor cut him off. “I know that’s what you really want. I’ll take the floor.”

You roughly heard the last of their conversation as you were slowly waking up, “Did you say Lukey needs me? Trevor, move your ass for him.”

“See?” Quinn laughed. “He doesn’t need you, but I’m sure he’d love to lay with you. Do you want everyone back in here?”

You sleepily nodded and continuously held your arm out until Luke came in.

“Lukey!” you cheered when he entered the room at the end of the herd of your loved ones. Luke laughed as he crawled into the bed and snuggled up close to you, “Good nap, Sissy?”

“Very,” you said.

“Oh! I want in on cuddles!” Dylan shouted. You laughed even more as he settled next to Luke and laid his head on his shoulder.

“You two are a mess,” you shook your head. “I love it.”

“This gonna be us when everyone leaves, Z?” Jamie joked.

“It better be!” you exclaimed.

Because you’d been in a coma for your weekly movie night with Cole and Alex, you decided that you’d watch the movie with everyone in your room. Blankets and pillows were handed out and people were all around the room. Jack and Jamie brought in the two arm chairs from the living room for Jim and Ellen to sit in, and everyone else was roughing it on the floor.

You sent Matty, Quinn, and Cole to get snacks and drinks for everyone, and Alex set the movie up.

“What movie have you deemed worthy enough to watch that’s not The Hunger Games, girly?”

“Top Gun,” you said with a grin.

“Yes! Finally!” Trevor cheered.

You barely watched the movie. You watched your friends and family instead. This experience is just as hard on them as for you, if not more. They deserve peace. They deserve a moment of calm, a moment of happiness. Before they all had to leave and, undoubtedly, worry.

“You okay?” Luke whispered to you.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you whispered back.

And for once, you were.

– – –

The goodbyes were hard, because they lasted all day. First Matty left, then Cole, then Dylan and Luke, then Jack, then Alex. Alex could’ve stayed, and he’ll be back frequently, but Quinn leaving last meant a lot to you. It was needed.

“You’ll call every day, right?” you asked him. Your lip was wobbling and you couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“Every minute that I can. I promise,” Quinn answered. “Be good to Trevor and Jamie.”

“Now that, I can’t promise,” you tried to joke.

Quinn kissed your forehead and squeezed your hand one last time before he left with your parents to go to the airport. You immediately started to sob when the door closed. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. You’d been crying all day as people left, but Quinn made you lose it. Trevor hated it because he couldn’t pull you into his arms and hold you to comfort you. You hated it for the same reason. You had to settle for leaning against his chest with his hand holding your right, and his other petting your hair.

“It’s alright, sweet girl,” Trevor cooed. “He’ll be back soon. We play against the Canucks the first week of November. I know his coach will let him stay here instead of at the hotel. It’s gonna be alright.”

“Say it,” you cried.

“Say what?” he asked, confused. “I love you?”

“No, my name. Say it,” you choked out.

Trevor felt a pang in his heart. This has never happened. You never needed Quinn so much that you wanted Trevor to call you by your nickname.

“It’s gonna be alright, Sissy. I’ll make sure of it,” Trevor said low. “I promise.”

“Do you need anything?” Jamie asked you warily. He’d never seen you cry this hard.

You rapidly shook your head no as you clung to Trevor as much as you could.

“Some ice water,” Trevor said. “With a straw, please.”

Jamie got up and went to the kitchen while Trevor continued to try and sooth you. Jamie was back quick and Trevor gently guided the straw to your mouth.

“Drink for me, sweet girl. That’s all you gotta do.”

The ice always helps. The sudden coldness triggers some slight pain receptors to pull you out of a panicked state, so it was a quick fix when you weren’t too far gone.

“There’s my girl,” Trevor cooed. “It’s okay.”

You calmed down, but some tears were still falling.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled.

“What for?”

“I need you, too. Not just Quinn. I really need you and I don’t want you to think that I–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Trevor interrupted. “I know you do. Quinn’s been with you for the hardest parts of your life. You always cry when he leaves. This isn’t any different. I love you, okay? Forever. You needing Quinn isn’t going to change that.”

“I love you, always,” you whispered.

You were worn out and were falling asleep against Trevor’s chest.

“Jamie Baby,” you weakly called out. “Come to bed. It’s nap time.”

Jamie smiled and slowly got into the bed next to Trevor. He leaned over and kissed your forehead, something you once again demanded, before laying against the pillows.

“I love you, Jamie Baby,” you said. “So, so much.”

“I love you, too, Y/N/N,” Jamie said back.

“And I love you, too, Trevy. Always.”

Trevor tilted your head towards him, “I–” kiss. “Love–” kiss. “You–” kiss. “Forever–” kiss.

———

reblogs appreciated! it helps spread the fic <3

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weirdmorefics · 9 months

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How Are Hands Attractive? (crowleyxreader)

Pronouns-She/Her

Word Count- 1,078

Summary- Reader is a witch and close friends with Aziraphale and works at the bookshop restoring books. Aziraphale asks Y/n for romantic advice for Nina and Maggie which leads to interesting covo about Crowley hands.

The day was stormy there was hardly anybody out on the street because of the terrible thunder and lightning. I was peacefully sipping her cold coffee and restoring an old spellbook that Aziraphale found. The sound of the rain was very soothing and I did not have to worry about Jim short for Gabriel bothering me because Aziraphale told him bookstores are closed on Wednesdays. Aziraphale on the other hand kept interrupting my work so he could get my opinion on most romantic situations for Nina and Maggie.

"Y/n what do you think is the most romantic thing?" Aziraphale asks.

" I don't know. Hmmm maybe leaving me alone so I can finish restoring this book in peace," I respond.

"Seriously, Y/n the book can wait! This matter is of life and death! You are sort of human so you should know more about these things than I." He says looking me very seriously in the eyes.

I sigh and very gently move the book to the side. I take a deep breath " I have personally always found hands very attractive-"

Aziraphale interrupted "How can hands be attractive? They are just helpful tools. Books always say it's the eyes that are the windows to the soul."

"Don't get me wrong eyes are pretty as well but I have always enjoyed hands they help us create they help us hold on to each other. Why did you even ask me anyway if you're just going to think I am wrong. Also, I think we both know I lack any experience or knowledge on romance." I respond annoyed.

Aziraphale smiles at Y/n, "I guess I was just curious." Then his eyes light up like something just clicked in his mind. I think if he was a cartoon a light bulb would have appeared above his head.

"Y/n!" He gasps and I give him an inquisitive look. "You are always staring at Crowley's hands so does that mean!!!"

I quickly crossed my arms across my chest denying the accusation profusely.

Crowley enters the bookshop closing a soaked umbrella, "Who is always staring at my hands."

Y/n's heart nearly pounds out of her chest and she nearly knocks over her coffee.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed-" I quickly cut Aziraphale off

I come out from behind the desk I was working at and take the umbrella from Crowley, "Don't tell me that you were outside in this weather with an umbrella you could have got struck by lightning."

Crowley lifts his glasses down to look ME in the eyes "Are you serious? A demon struck by lightning would do nothing compared to the heat of Hell."

"How should I know I've never been to Hell," I whine.

Crowley kisses the top of my head and says "And you never will."

Aziraphale smiles a plotting a smile that scares me for what he is planning. He cups his chin with both hands and tilts his head "Crowley what do you find most romantic? Y/n has been telling me what she finds most romantic to help Nina and Maggie. I can see she has quite the type. I think we might even know the guy."

Crowley's face seems to turn sour at Aziraphale probably at the notion of discussing romance so I try to assure him it is unneeded to chime in. "Please ignore him he has been like this all day. He has not let me get a single thing done today."

Instead, he completely ignores me and walks up to Aziraphale, "So what does this man that Y/n fancies have for qualities that make her swoon."

"No, I can't say that would be betraying her trust," Aziraphale puts a hand on his chest and makes a big show of it like he didn't just start this whole mess.

"Come on Angel we are all friends here! Right Y/n? What can you tell the Angel that you can't tell me," he pouts.

"You bring up a great point, Crowley! Y/n can certainly tell you about the man she fancies I don't see a reason she could not! Let me start off I know she loves this man's hands she is always staring at them it is so obvious." Aziraphael smiles brightly and if my glare back could kill he would be dead.

Crowley circles me like prey as if my answer could cure him from hunger. "I've never noticed our little sorceress staring at hands that's very impolite to stare you know."

He calls me a nickname he uses for me frequently as he knows it annoys me. "You know what's impolite to spill others secrets Aziraphale" I glare.

Aziraphale straightens his bowtie, "You never said it was a secret if you had I would not have said a peep. I am very good at secrets you know"

"The thing is I just don't understand why there is anything to hide from your good old pals!" Crowley interrupts. "Unless this guy is someone unworthy of our sorceress's heart. Then in that case Aziraphale would have a duty to tell me."

"Do not be concerned this man I have known longer than anyone. No one could compete with him he is very kind." He quickly assures Crowley.

Crowley started to look like that time when Aziraphale took Gabriel under his protection, "So he is an angel... those are the only beings you have known for the longest. I swear to Hell if it's Gabriel he is not kind Aziraphael you have no idea what he said to me when I was you! I can not believe you let him stay here! He is worse than any demon!"

I quickly put my hand on Crowley's shoulder, "It is not Gabriel I would never do that to you."

Crowley's eyes softened as he looked into your eyes but only for a second before they turned into confusion, "What other angel do you even know on a personal level!"

I saw no choice but to come clean, "It's you! You idiot!"

I took a deep breath to prepare myself for the heartbreak because I am no celestial being who will be around forever. I am just a witch I am really not that different from an ordinary human. But the heartbreak never came instead he held my face and kissed me deeply.

I was stunned speechless and he smirked "So you think my hands are romantic you say."

Bonus-

Aziraphael- Now both of you thank me! I also accept books as thank-yous Y/n has a list of the books of that I am on the hunt for! I also made photocopies of the list so you can carry the list with you at all times as a reminder.

Y/n- Shut up, Angel!

Crowley- Thank you, Angel

#crowley x reader #crowley x y/n #crowley good omens #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #good omens imagine #good omens drabble #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale imagine #fanfic blog #good omens crowley

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l0vergirlv0mit · 6 months

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Christmas with gf!Hazel Headcanons

No one yearns like I do I swear

⭑favorite Christmas movie is obviously Jim Carrey’s The Grinch.

⭑Christmas music has been on since November 1st.

⭑singing “Last Christmas” in the car as if you both had just gone through the most devastating life event anyone could ever go through(a tummy ache).

⭑hugs you from behind and hummus softly to Christmas music in your ear. While your making her homemade hot chocolate that she absolutely NEEDED you to make her that moment.

⭑buys you little ornaments of different random objects like a golf ball cause she thinks they’re funny.

⭑absolutely has to mix the sugar cookies for you cause she wants to seem strong.

⭑makes you a burr basket that’s basically your whole Christmas list cause she’s got MONEY money.

⭑takes gingerbread house construction VERY VERY serious like she’s making melted sugar window panes.

⭑zips you into her jacket so she can use your body heat to warm her up when it’s cold outside.

⭑buys the thickest cutest Christmas blanket specifically to snuggle and have a Christmas movie marathon.

⭑love’s Christmas decoration shopping. Takes you to Christmas markets and loses her shit over everything. She really likes the vintage colorful Christmas theme.

⭑when you go to said Christmas market if there’s a Santa she’s taking a photo with him wearing the brightest smile.

⭑her favorite thing to do right now is to say “Hey, he’s watching.” Very seriously over everything. Don’t wanna take a nap together? Yeah he saw that.

⭑hates boring Christmas themes like White Christmas makes her annoyed cause there’s no color.

⭑getting absolutely blasted together at Christmas parties on mulled wine. Somehow making grinding on each other to “All I Want For Christmas Is You” seem completely called for.

⭑your family loves her cause she came over by herself to help them decorate. Had a photo shoot with your grandma in matching Christmas sweater.

⭑made a dance routine to “Santa Baby” and passionately performs it for you. Like wiggling her eyebrows at you and shimmying.

⭑her cheeks and nose get so red and rosy in cold weather you can’t help but kiss them all over.

⭑she loves homemade gifts with a lot of sentimental value. Once you made her a scrapbook of picture of both you, you put little stickers and wrote her little notes as well. She couldn’t stop crying for like 30 minutes.

⭑she’d definitely get you tickets to see your favorite band or singer cause she literally already bought everything you wanted BEFORE Christmas even happened.

⭑insist on leaving cookies out for Santa even though you literally don’t have children. And yes there will be a cookie with a bite taken out of it when you wake up.

⭑matching pjs are a must.

⭑Christmas eve is like a Hallmark movie. Cuddling the whole night watching movies and giggling.

(I need a soft masc so bad.)

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x you

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cupidjyu · 7 months

Text

don't think so

sunwoo x reader

when you hate the man who sits in front of you at the office, but end up getting stuck in a closet with him

genre: office au, enemies to lovers (pretty one-sided), setup like jim and dwight from the office, bickering, close proximity in a closet, teasing, flusteredness notes: hey so.... i don't have any other excuse besides school is trying to murder me. so busy i haven't even been able to keep up with tbz so it's a little hard to write for them at the moment 😭 i hope you enjoy and not sure of the coming months :( word count: 3.1k

Avoiding him was the main goal.

And when you set a goal, you meant it. You would sacrifice anything to achieve it: your sustainment like the lunch breaks that you’ve purposely missed to avoid seeing him, your enjoyment like when you sat in the very back of the meeting rooms where you couldn’t see to avoid sitting next to him, and… your sleep.

It was an ungodly hour in the morning. Your eyes were threatening to glue shut but at least you would be early enough to work that you wouldn’t have to see him.

But then again, there was the disappointing fact that he still sat at the desk in front of yours. Waking up early only stalled your time away from him. When your shift actually started, you would still be forced to look at his obnoxious face.

With a yawn, you walked over to your desk and put your stuff down. When you looked up, you quietly gasped at the sight.

Sunwoo.

Sunwoo was sitting at his desk, you know, the one right in front of yours, dozing off. He was dressed in his usual work attire–a suit and a tie–but the only thing that was different was that his hair was messy. Like he had just woken up recently.

The whole plan was to avoid him yet you still failed. Suppressing a groan, you walked over to him, leaned down, and slapped him right on his cheek. He startled and his eyes shot open.

“What was–” He looked up at you before narrowing his eyes. With a grumble, he thumped his head down onto the desk. “What do you want?”

You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. “You were sleeping. So I woke you up.”

“It’s cause I came early,” He mumbled, ruffling his own hair as he sat back up, leaning back in his office chair.

“And why’d you do that?” You raised an eyebrow, reaching over and purposely knocking over one of his figurines. A raccoon to be exact. It looked like him.

“Because you usually come early,” He bluntly replied, picking up the figurine and threatening to throw it in your face. He smirked when he noticed you flinch, annoyingly enough.

You scoffed. “Yeah, for a reason.”

“The reason is me, I presume?” He looked at you unimpressed.

“Precisely.”

Turning on your heel, you walked back to your desk, narrowly avoiding the fact that he actually ended up throwing the figurine. And apparently, bickering with your office enemy causes time to fly because you already had to start your work. You turned on your computer and began to type, ignoring the man in front of you who was kicking your desk.

Then, you heard footsteps behind you and a cup being placed down on your desk. You widened your eyes, noticing that it was your favorite drink–warm and inviting, perfect for the weather. You looked up, coming face-to-face with Sangyeon leaning against your desk.

“For me?” Your eyes brightened.

He nodded, smiling kindly. “It was on the way.”

“Thank you so much!” You beamed, waving as he walked away. You stared at the drink lovingly. Already, you could feel that it made your day.

After you took a sip, you were about to turn back to your screen when you realized that there was a certain someone glaring daggers at you. His eyebrows were furrowed and he obviously looked annoyed.

You eyed him, your smile souring. “What?”

“Nothing,” He curtly replied. “You’re just irritating when you’re happy.”

You frowned, reaching over and moving his monitor until it completely blocked his face. “Then don’t look at me,” You gritted out.

He peeked around the monitor anyway. “I can’t help it.”

You huffed, choosing to ignore him.

Whenever you were getting focused, you liked to put your hair up. It didn’t matter what style, as long as it didn’t bother you. And so, bringing your hair up, you were about to put it up when you could feel a presence staring at you.

You looked at him, unimpressed.

“You know you’re really creepy right?”

And it seemed that you actually caught him off guard because he quickly sat up and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I wasn’t staring.”

After working with Sunwoo for–unfortunately–a while, you found that he hated it when you showed no interest in him. If you acted unbothered or bored with him, he would quickly become annoyed. That was your favorite way of pestering him.

And so, you simply shrugged, turning away.

“Okay.”

And just like you had expected, he huffed in disbelief. You could tell from your peripheral vision that he was getting irritated.

“Actually,” He decided to speak up. “I was staring at you.”

So, that wasn’t what you expected him to say. You expected a mere insult but for him to admit that he was actually looking at you tying your hair up was something else.

“Sunwoo,” You whispered, getting up from your chair to lean over his desk. “Wanna know something?”

He leaned in to hear you. “What?”

“Shut up.”

He leaned back with a roll of his eyes. “No. Also, there’s a piece of hair sticking out.” He motioned to the side of your head.

You groaned, got up from your desk, and rushed to the bathroom. Except, when you looked in the mirror, you realized that he was in fact, lying. Your hair was perfectly fine.

“That asshole.”

“I don’t think it’s all too bad,” Sangyeon said, sipping on the new flavor of coffee that your boss insisted on replacing the old one with. The old one was perfectly fine.

“It’s not,” You groaned. “The coffee’s the only reason why I come to the break room.”

Sangyeon shrugged, taking the cup from you. You’ve counted that he’s already drank four cups of coffee. This is his fifth. A little worrying in your opinion.

Then, you stood up and twirled for him. Sangyeon lifted an eyebrow at your sudden action. You huffed.

“It’s a new outfit. What do you think?’

“Oh,” Sangyeon laughed. “I was confused for a second. It looks good and suits you well,” He answers, smiling. You were about to thank him but you noticed that he was balancing his coffee in one hand and his computer in the other. He groaned. “Sorry, I have to go now. Eric’s been bothering me on how to send a stupid email.”

You shake your head and say goodbye. Going back to work is the least ideal thing that you wanted to do so you attempted to stay back and look busy. In the break room.

“Someone’s awfully happy to be talking to Sangyeon,” A deep voice sounds from behind you.

You yelp in surprise and quickly turn around only to accidentally elbow Sunwoo in the stomach. At first, you tried to say sorry but when you realized that it was him and that you both mutually hate each other, you kept your mouth shut.

He winced, holding onto the spot that you had just elbowed.

“Why?” He managed to say.

“You scared me.”

He simply hummed as a response. You peered at him curiously, noticing that something was a bit off with him. He looked more grumpy than usual, his eyebrows furrowed with what you could assume to be frustration.

You decided not to beat around the bush. “Why do you look more pissed than usual?”

“Because I am,” He snapped.

Though it was common for Sunwoo to be a bit snarky, you couldn’t help but be a bit taken aback.

“How come?” You tilted your head.

He froze and you could have sworn that his eyes wandered away from your face, down to your outfit. “Just that…” He trailed off, fidgeting nervously. You could tell he was stalling. You could tell that he wanted to run. But instead, you stepped closer, staring straight into his eyes.

“That?”

“That you’re wearing that outfit.”

The small light of hope in your heart quickly dimmed into nothing. You took a step back, a frown taking over your curious smile. “You’re mad because I’m wearing this outfit?”

His eyes widened. “No, I–” But he sighed. Though it almost looked like he wanted to say more.

You stayed quiet, taking even more steps backward. “I mean,” You started, your voice laced with hurt. “If you’re that bothered by my existence, you might as well just stop talking to me at all.” Without giving him a chance to reply, you turned around and walked away.

You laughed, watching as Sangyeon desperately tried to get the printer to work. Then he approached you with a tired look on his face.

“Can you go to the supply closet and get more paper?” He asked, his tired look turning into a pleading one.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

As you got up, you let out a small sigh of relief. Sunwoo’s nowhere to be seen. Good, because you were still angry at him. Of course, you were always annoyed, but this time it was different. Walking past his desk, you headed towards the closet.

It was incredibly small–not the best for people who might be claustrophobic. Still, you just needed to get the paper and get out. But, just as you were leaving and opening the door, you almost ran straight into someone’s chest.

Startled, you were about to apologize, only to realize that of course, it was him.

“What’re you doing here?” You clenched your jaw.

“I have to get a mop,” He calmly replied. “Eric spilled coffee all over the floor.”

But of course, he didn’t let you exit. Instead, he cornered you into the closet. When he noticed you stumbling and backing up against the wall, he smiled in amusement which you grumbled at.

You could hear the door closing behind him, engulfing you two in only the dim light that the closet provided. It was harder to see and so you gulped when he reached around you for the mop, touching your waist briefly before backing away.

Then, he paused, setting it to the side for a second.

“About earlier…”

You frowned, not really in the mood to talk about it right now. “Can we at least argue outside of this small closet?” You didn’t even allow him an answer as you’re already pushing past him. But, as you try to turned the handle, it doesn’t budge. You shook it, pushed down on it, everything, and still, the door refused to open.

That’s when you realized that you’re doomed. You stood there, shoulders stiff and brooding over the handle as you prayed that maybe this was all just a prank.

And what made it worse is that you’re stuck in a closet with the man who you pronounced a long time ago to be your sole enemy. He stood behind you, peering over your shoulder.

“Too weak to open a door?”

You sighed, turning to face him, only for your breath to hitch because you completely forgot just how close he was to you. “It’s locked.”

“It’s what?” He widened his eyes, searching your gaze to make sure you were not messing with him. He reached around you and tried to turn the handle as well. You truly hoped that maybe he had magic and would open the door. But again, it wouldn’t budge.

You hung your head back and leaned against the wall, trying your best not to curse. Meanwhile, Sunwoo turned to you and set a hand on the wall, right next to your ear to keep his balance. That’s when you realized that he was practically pinning you to the wall.

“This is uncomfortable,” You bluntly stated.

He stayed quiet as he tried to move around to create more distance. Instead, he only ended up stepping even closer with most of his body against yours.

“I can’t move,” He sheepishly said.

“Don’t try,” You mumbled, shutting your eyes with embarrassment. And as if it would help at all, you placed your hands on his chest. He stared quietly before looking away. But even under the dim light, you could tell that he was suppressing a shy smile.

“I’m sure someone will start looking for us soon,” He spoke quietly. “Just wait.”

“Fine.” You let your hands fall to your sides. For such an annoying man, he smelled awfully good. And for such an obnoxious man, he was… handsome up close. But before he would tease you for staring, you spoke up again. “So what were you going to say about yesterday?” You looked up into his eyes.

He cleared his throat and quickly broke eye contact. It was almost like he was too… shy to look you in the eye.

“I wanted to apologize.”

You were shocked, to say the least. “Apologize? You?”

“What, is that so shocking?” He grinned. “But seriously, it was all a misunderstanding.”

You tilted your head. “Then what’d you mean to say?”

“I was mad because you… you didn’t ask me what I thought about your outfit.” His voice was quiet before but now it’s barely audible.

You stared at him in surprise. And then your lips began to widen into an amused smile, your eyes twinkling.

“Hold on,” You giggled. “You were jealous of Sangyeon?”

He stuttered profusely, “I wouldn’t put it like that but–” He paused, accepting defeat as his shoulders sunk. “Maybe, I guess.”

You laughed even more at his reply. “Why would I ask you? Don’t we argue all the time?”

“Because,” He sighed. “I was going to say that you look pretty. You would like that wouldn’t you?”

You froze at that and you felt your cheeks warming. You could see and sense the way his eyes wandered over you. Was it always this warm in here?

“I guess I would,” You mumbled, looking down to try to hide your reddening cheeks.

He chuckled. And yet again, he surprised you as you felt a gentle hand come up to your ear, tucking a stray piece of hair. You swallowed thickly, choosing not to look into his eyes. You wondered if he was regarding you with a teasing look or a glare.

But when you gathered the courage to look up, it was neither. Instead, his eyes were soft, full of an emotion that you couldn’t quite name.

Sunwoo, who you pronounced to be your sole enemy, wasn’t all that bad. He liked to bicker with you sure, but he never went too far. He even looked out for you sometimes like the time you tripped and fell. He had put a bandage on your knee.

You stared at him in wonder, seeing him in a new light.

“Sunwoo,” You whispered.

He smiled softly. “Hm?”

“Why do you hate me?”

He paused. You could tell he was getting nervous as he shifted awkwardly.

“Because you’re annoying.”

Except, when you looked closely, you noticed that he was blushing. His eyes were avoidant of yours, his cheeks and ears were flushed… he was shy.

The corner of your lips lifted up with mischievousness. And so, you let your hands crawl back up to rest on your chest and this time, it was you who leaned in closer as you held the eye contact. He inhaled sharply.

“I don’t think that’s why,” You teased.

And you expected him to try to refute. But instead, his eyes only softened further as he gave you a fond look.

“You’re right,” He whispered back. “It’s not.”

Slightly taken aback, you quickly recovered. “Then why do you hate me? And tell the truth this time.”

But then, your composure came crashing down when he leaned closer. It was like a game: who would accidentally initiate a kiss first? He stared down at you with a teasing look, a small smirk on his lips.

“I don’t hate you.”

Your heart thumped in your chest. “Wh–”

Suddenly, the closet was flooded with light. The door was open and the two of you turned to the source. There was Eric, out of breath and full of stress. He also seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that he interrupted a tense moment.

“I found you!” He exclaimed. “I thought you two died!”

Sunwoo looked at him in disbelief. “Why would we?”

You didn’t allow any further conversation. With a new pounding in your heart, you shoved past Sunwoo and made your escape.

The next day, you couldn’t even look Sunwoo in the eye anymore. Every time you tried, you would be reminded of the scent of his cologne, of his teasing smirk when he said that he didn’t hate you, and of the new feelings that had bloomed in your heart.

As you were packing up your things, you realized that Sunwoo already left. But that was when you noticed a cup on your desk. It was your favorite drink.

“So he remembered,” You mumbled to yourself, turning it and picking up a note attached to it.

Meet me outside

When you exited the building, just like he said, he was waiting for you. He was of course still in work attire, leaning against the wall. His hair was slightly tousled and his features shone in the setting sun. He really was handsome when you didn’t hate his guts.

You approached him cautiously.

“Hey,” He greeted.

“Hi.” You offered a small smile. Small steps would do. Step by step.

You saw him hesitate for a moment before pulling out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. He held it out to you.

Okay, so that was a pretty large step.

You stared at it in surprise, the colors pretty and vibrant. “What’s this for?” You gasped.

He smiled charmingly, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“Because you’re annoying.”

You huffed in amusement, rolling your eyes. Still, you took it and smiled at him.

“I don’t think so.”

“Right,” He whispered, leaning closer just like before.

This time, you laughed and took his hand in yours. No more small steps–might as well be bold. You enjoyed the sight of a flustered Sunwoo staring down at your connected hands. Swinging his hand, you started walking home together.

–

A thump on your desk.

Sangyeon’s hand as he leaned against it.

“Y/n,” He warned. “I have something to ask.”

“Hm?” You turned away from your computer.

“I went to the convenience store yesterday.”

You stared at him, bored. “Is that the question?”

“No,” He laughed. “But that’s on your way to your apartment, right?”

You paused and looked at him in confusion. “Yeah, why?”

And then he smiled teasingly. “So why did I see you pressing a kiss to Sunwoo’s cheek?”

It was like an arrow straight through your chest. Standing up, you slammed on the desk, causing everyone in the office to look at you.

“We were–”

Sangyeon smiled wider. “Your collar’s messed up by the way.”

You looked down at it before flushing and turning away. But just as you did, you caught a glimpse of a smug Sunwoo, sitting at his desk, watching the whole ordeal. You mouthed to him a silent, “I hate you.”

“Admit it, I’m a great kisser,” He mouthed back.

You couldn’t respond to that.

#the boyz imagines #the boyz reactions #the boyz fluff #tbz fluff #tbz imagines #the boyz x reader #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo fluff #tbz x reader #the boyz scenarios #drabbles 💞#requests 💞

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jimhopperlova · 6 months

Text

- Power Damage (18+)

18+ MDNI!!

Pairing(s): helping!jim hopper, helpless! fem reader

Summary: when reader comes home after a long shift at the diner, she finds her power is non-existent. she asks the local chief to help, but find out he helps in more ways than one.

Warning(s): large age gap (reader is 22, hop is 41), masturbation (f receiving), unprotected p in v.

i hope you enjoy! ive wrote something similar to this, but this ones a lot better. more love making than actual sex.

‘10 minutes and i can take a nice hot shower.’ you said to yourself, finishing up cleaning the tables you had. you had to be the busser and the server of course, cause why not? you sighed, continuing to look at the clock ahead of you. no, you can’t. the more you look, the more time went by slower.

it was nearing 10 o’clock, you of course having the closing shift. you didn’t mind as your boss was a nice gentleman. he always offered you free food, made sure you were comfortable in any setting, and if any customers got out of line, he was right there in tow. you couldn’t ask for a better boss.

“alright, looks like it’s your time to go. get outta here. get some rest.” speaking of, your boss had said to you as you finished your last table. you smiled brightly, the shower sounding more and more better as the day went on. you quickly put the dirty dishes and rags away where they needed to go, and quickly hung your apron up on the employee break room door. you hurriedly grabbed your winter coat, hat, and gloves. ‘warm shower, warm shower.’ you shouldn’t ask for anything too much, because then your hopes are shattered.

“what?! no!” you had managed to see that your power was off. the lightswitch didn’t work, and the oven didn’t work either. you wouldn’t be able to be warm. you did everything you thought you could to steer away from this very moment. you lived in the midwest, weather was always the worst. when people say it’s bad, it’s worse. and when people say weather is nice, its bad. there was no way of fighting off the inevitable.

great. now what? you weren’t about to sleep in your cold car nor your cold house. start a fire in the house? probably not the smartest idea. go over to everyone’s homes you know of and beg mercilessly to stay at their house until your power’s back on? better idea. but you knew that you would need to get the power back on, so you had managed to helplessly drive to the police station. you didn’t know of anyone capable of helping.. not even a handyman. maybe you can be desperate, especially when talking to the chief.

chief jim hopper was a regular at the diner. he stumbled across you one night when you were his server. clearly you made an impression on him, but of course, you are oblivious, so you didn’t really understand. until tonight when you are talking to flo, hoping the nice old lady would understand.

“listen, i.. i stumbled across a situation and i don’t know of any handyman in town. is there a way you guys could help me? i know you’ll probably tell to screw off and suck it up, but.. i really need your guys’ help. maybe give me a directory?” you asked flo in the most desperate voice you could. you were shaking of cold, and this situation just made things worse.

“ms, our hours are closed. we are only open for emergencies,” flo spoke to you, you looked at her in despair. but this was an emergency! you couldn’t be warm to save your life. maybe you could stay here overnight? pretend to be a criminal. break something. “but.. i can see what i can do.” flo then spoke. you looked at her with a smile, probably thanking her a million times. you sat down on one of the chairs, hugging yourself to try and keep yourself warm. you then watched as a door opened, and out came a tiring chief. you wanted to say hi, but things were more important right now.

“(y/n), what are you doing here? everything alright?” the chief had then asked you, and you could only smile lightly. things were alright you supposed, but you’re freezing in your boots. literally!

“oh, hey jim. yeah, uh.. everything’s fine. except my power’s out, as well as my pipes are burst. maybe i’ll just stay at a motel..” you told yourself. you hadn’t even considered that. you involuntarily facepalmed yourself at the thought of a motel. how dumb could you be?

“well.. i’m just headin’ out now. maybe i’ll stop by and check it out.” jim mentioned. you looked up at him with a wide smile. coming to the police station was the smartest idea you could have thought of.

“sir, you have a call waiting for you-“ flo started to interrupt, basically telling him not to help you. all hope was gone. he had a job to do afterall, not bother with your stupid pipes. oh. you didn’t think that could be dirty until you truly thought about it. your face emitted a deep blush, and tried your best to ignore it.

“it’s alright, flo. this shouldn’t take long.” jim said again, looking down at you as in a ‘let’s get out of here before i get pulled back into the office’. you smiled up at him and stood, leading him out to your car.

“thank you, jim. it really means a lot.” you told the chief who could only smile softly, heading to his blazer. you hopped in your nova and headed towards your home. you didn’t think anything would come between you and jim, so you only treated him as a friend. but you basically owe him a shit ton of favors for doing this for you. you didn’t know what you would do without the chief.

“yep. busted,” jim muttered as he looked underneath your home. you cursed to yourself, shaking your head. god damn it. curse your mother for having old pipes. your mother practically gave you this house in her will, and you had a three bedroom ranch house at the age of 21. being an adult sucks. “and the powerlines are froze. until they thaw out, you’re kinda stuck.” jim explained further, and you shook your head. of course. could this get any worse?

“shit. uh.. okay. i guess i’ll drive around town to see if any motels have vacancy. thanks for helping me, you didn’t have to.” you told the chief who could only shake his head and run his hand through his hair.

“save the gas. the one motel in this town is full. almost the whole town is outta power,” jim explained again, bearing the bad news. so the night really could get worse. you cursed to yourself about a million times before jim could only laugh. you looked at him in bewilderment, wondering what his problem was. “you don’t have any friends or somethin’ to crash with?” he asked you, his hands placed on his hips. you shook your head, hugging yourself again.

“nope. i’ve only been here for a year, if you can’t recall my sob story when you were last at the diner,” you explained to jim. you had a bad time shutting up about how you ended up in hawkins, especially when they ask you about how you ended up here. when someone was new to the town, it sparked up the whole entire town. you didn’t stop explaining where you came from for about a month. “i have coworkers, but they have kids and their house is full. that is if they have power. honestly.. i just need a warm shower.” you laughed softly, and jim lightly scratched the back of his neck, almost in thought.

“well.. my place is trashed. but if ya need.. you can stay. granted, i still have power and water when i get back home.” jim spoke. those were the words you needed to hear after a long debate in your mind of where to go. you smiled brightly and looked at jim with probably the biggest smile.

“oh my gosh, thank you so much! thank you, thank you, thank you!” you told the man and hugged him tightly, despite if he wanted to or not. you let him to and looked up at him. “i’ll go grab some clothes. i’ll be back.” you told him before heading inside your cold home. seconds later, you emerged with a backpack full of clothes for tomorrow and your pajamas.

“leave your car here, you’ll be safe.” jim told you. you couldn’t help but laugh and hop in the car next to the chief. the drive to his place was silent. you couldn’t quite place if it was a good quiet, or a bad quiet. but it was definitely an awkward quiet. meanwhile, jim was deep in thought. his mind continuously wandered about whether it was a good idea to bring you to his place or not. the last thing he wanted was to be judged, especially by you.

for some reason, you were never able to escape his mind. those small little talks and bright smiles at the diner did him dirty. maybe that’s why he continues to go there when he isn’t swamped with paperwork. your bright eyes and that widened smile pulls him right back into the diner, always making sure he left you a generous tip. you were young. and see, that was another problem. he was a 40 year old man, watching over the town, protecting it. you were merely 22, high hopes still ahead of your future. and maybe that’s why he has hesitated asking you out on a proper date.

finally, you two arrived at jim’s trailer. it seemed kinda homey on the outside. however, inside it seemed like a druggie’s fever dream. pill bottles, beer bottles, beer cans, dirty clothes, just.. everywhere. you weren’t expecting the chief to be clean by any means (he’s a busy man), but you didn’t expect it to be this dirty.

“s’cuse the mess,” jim spoke before he looked around and tried his best to move some stuff around so it wasn’t so messy. he didn’t expect to bring you to his trailer tonight, but if he had to be honest, he was glad he had the opportunity to. “you can place your coat and stuff on the couch for now.” he also instructed. you looked around and didn’t know what to say. nice place? nice.. bottles of beer? instead, you took the latter.

“uh.. thanks again for letting me stay. it was really nice of you.” you said awkwardly before disgarding your coat and hat and mittens. you placed them on the couch, feeling the warm air. finally.

“course. not a problem. uh.. bathroom’s over there. i’ll let you take the bed tonight.” jim spoke and you immediately looked at him. ‘i’m used to sleeping on the couch, anyway’ jim had said to himself internally.

“no, its okay. i can sleep on the couch, i don’t mind.” you smiled brightly before excusing yourself to the bathroom. you shut the door behind yourself, and looked in the mirror. you didn’t look too bad, but you didn’t look hot either. the stress made your forehead vein pop, and hopefully after the shower it would be alright. you sighed before disgarding your clothes you had on that day and grabbed the pajamas from the backpack, placing them on the bathroom counter. you turned on the water and felt the way the warm water graced your fingertips. ah. not enough hot water, though.

meanwhile, the chief was sat in his usual spot in the recliner. beer in hand, he channel surfed the tv. he was doing well, he thought. refraining from your good looks, doing his best to not stare too long. but.. could you blame him? it was you. and now you were in his trailer in the shower. naked. he tried his best to let the tv distract him from going in there and spying on you. he really was dirty.

finally, you came out of the shower. you were in a white plain t-shirt and some plaid pajama pants. the perfect outfit to keep warm. you noticed jim was sat in his recliner, watching tv. he was still in his police uniform, and obviously.. you thought the uniform was hot. his pants made his crotch area tighter, so if there was any chance he had any attraction to you.. you would know. the unform defined his muscles well, and he always demanded respect in it. you didn’t know, but you knew a power play was hot.

“i’m uh.. done. it was really nice, thank you,” you told jim softly, slowly reaching to couch and sitting down. jim looked over at you and nodded, going back to the tv. fuck, it was going to be awkward, wasn’t it? what could you do to break this silence thing? “uh.. how’s your job treating you? good, i hope?”

“what?” jim asked and looked at you. you shrugged and looked over at him, hoping to let him know you were just trying to start a conversation. “it’s uh.. same old song and dance. how ‘bout the diner?” he asked you, taking a drink from the beer can. he then reached for the pack of cigarettes, lighting one up. another thing you’re attracted to. the way the cigarette was in between his lips. fuck, you really wished you were that cigarette right now. “hello?” jim had piped up again, and you had to bounce back from your trance. you laughed and shook off the thoughts.

“sorry, uh.. was thinkin’. um.. it’s alright. i mean, it’s gotten better. i got a pay boost, and new clientel has been tipping better.” you told him. you smiled over at him, and jim couldn’t help but smile back at you softly. cigarette still in hand, he took another hit from the cigarette, letting the smoke exhale from his throat. he looked relaxed.. but stressed. you weren’t sure what that was, but you knew that he was kind enough to let you stay in his trailer. you shouldn’t pry.

“that’s good. glad you’re getting what you deserve,” jim spoke. a few more minutes and more staring at him smoking the cigarette, he finished what he was doing and stood from his recliner. he shut the tv off before turning to you. “alright, it’s ‘bout time i head to bed. please, just.. sleep in the bed. it’ll make me feel better.” jim ordered you. you sighed and nodded, standing as well.

“i’m sorry, i just don’t want to be a bother..” you said softly before jim could only think, ‘why would you be a bother?’ nope, personal feelings had to stay far away from his mind. “goodnight, jim. thank you again.” you spoke softly and slowly made your way to the bedroom. jim couldn’t help but watch as you walk to his bedroom. those pajama pants fit you well. he shook the thoughts away again and started to disgard himself of his uniform.

you fell onto his big bed. it was massive. it was cozy, and even smelled like him. despite the piles of dirty clothes and pill bottles everywhere, it felt nice. it would feel way better if he was next to you, though. you sighed and decided to try and fall asleep. an hour passes though, and you’re still awake. not only were you in a foreign place (you didn’t sleep well at places you never stayed at before), but your mind was wide awake. it wouldn’t shut the hell up. thoughts of jim coming in here and making sweet love to you wouldn’t leave. you did your darndest to not masturbate in his bed, but maybe it would relieve some pressure.

you sighed and slowly rolled out of his bed and slowly made your way out to the living room. jim looked asleep on the couch. you ducked behind the corner hoping to not wake him. he looked way less stressed. his eyes were closed, the way his belly went up and down from breathing.. at peace. but you could now get a better visual of him without his uniform on. and for some reason.. it turned you on even more. you swallowed past the lump in your throat and swaddled your way back into his bed.

thoughts danced in the front of your mind, not escaping the wandering of your eyes. what if jim came in here? what if he confessed his feelings and made sweet sweet love? you kept thinking of how he would taste on your lips. his beard would tickle you a little and he would taste of beer and cigarette smoke. but when his head ducked lower, the beard would tickle you even more. lower on your stomach, lower above your navel.. lower on your cunt that is aching to be touched. you swallowed and decided to give it a shot.

your hand ducked underneath your pajama pants, circling around the nerve that wanted to be touched the most. you imagined jim’s finger there instead, the thick digits circling around it. praising you on how good you were doing, confessing his love to you. you let out a soft moan, the thoughts swirling around in your mind. before you knew it, your finger danced around your entrance. you entered one finger inside of you, clearly that not doing much. thoughts of him telling you to beg for it, for him to add just one finger.

“please, please, jim..” you sighed out, begging jim in your mind. you didn’t think you would be loud externally, but it was loud enough for jim to stir in his sleep. he awoke to soft moans coming from his bedroom, curiousity getting the best of him. he stood slowly and walked over to his bedroom, almost forgetting you were in there. but the sight in front of him added a glow to his eyes he hadn’t seen in a long time.

sure, he has pleased lots of women in his spare time. but none of them could have compared to you. the way your hand was underneath your pajama pants, the way your eyes were closed with pleasure.. the way you moaned his name. and my, was that the sweetest way he could have heard anyone say his name. it was almost angelic the way you sounded. he had to palm himself at just the sight, but it came to a shock that he was already hard. what did you even do to him?

“please, i need you, jim..” you moaned out. fuck. jim was at a loss of words. he took a moment to run his hand through his hair, thinking what he should exactly do. he wanted nothing more than to replace your hand with his, whisper sweet nothings in your ear.. however, this was different. he had to remember his morals. “jim.. i’m- i’m gonna cum.” you shrieked out. he wondered if this was some kind of trick, and you weren’t really lost in your mind. except, you really were. you were oblivious to the fact that jim was spying on you. you know what? screw his morals.

jim slowly made his way inside the room, trying his best to not startle you. he wanted to surprise you if you really were about to cum to the thought of him. but when you heard footsteps, your eyes shot open. there was jim, standing there. right in front of the bed. had he been watching you? before you could make any excuse, his hand cupped your mouth. you looked at him with wide eyes, honestly afraid of what he might say. what he might do.

“shh..” jim shushed you, his eyes dancing down to where your hand rested. it was still there, but paused. he looked disappointed. “keep goin’. it’s okay.” he had whispered, and you looked at him confused. you didn’t dare question what he just told you to do. your hand started to rub circles at your clit again, that feeling of cumming being lost. you were startled, and you didn’t think you could muster up that feeling again. especially when he was watching you now.

“jim.. i need.. your help..” you whispered at him, looking at him with doe like eyes. the glow in them.. jim couldn’t resist. he slowly took your hand away, and instead replaced it with yours. his large fingers started to dance around your clit, adding that pressure you were so desperately after. you hummed softly, your eyes shutting softly. the same thoughts filled you, but with the man that was doing this to you, it made it all that much better.

“feel good?” jim whispered in your ear. you nodded desperately, your hands gripping at the sheets. you couldn’t control your moans at this point. you opened your eyes and looked at jim.. he was mesmerized by the way you reacted to his touch. he was curious to see how you would do with himself inside you. he slowly laid down next to you, so he had better access. the motions continued, but you needed more.

“jim.. i need your fingers.. inside me..” you spoke desperately, looking up at him. jim could only accept and nodded softly, one finger sliding inside of you. you moaned softly at the way his finger already managed to find your g-spot, it feeling all too good. he thrusted his finger inside of you, of course slow. he wanted you to be prepared for his cock.

“want another one?” jim asked you, and you nodded. he smirked softly before he looked down at you. he was simply drunk off the way you moaned for him. the way you yearned for his touch. “beg for me..” he instructed and you immediately obliged.

“please jim, i.. i need another finger.. need to feel you..” you moaned out, looking up at him. the two of you locked eyes, and you felt like you were about to cum. that familiar feeling was started to rise, but you needed just a little more to help. “p-please. need your finger to cum..” you begged once more, and immediately he obliged. the second finger added more than what you bargained for. you practically came immediately. “f-fuck, jim- i’m.. cum-cumming..!” you shrieked out, your hands gripping at the sheets on his bed. you were full of him.. his bed, his scent.. his cologne.. and now his fingers deep inside you.

“that’s it. you’re doing so good..” jim praised in your ear. he felt himself get even more hard at the way you spasmed around his fingers, if that was possible. his cock now ached for you. he wanted to be deep inside you, claim you as his. he didn’t care how young you were.. at this very moment, you are all he wanted. and will continue to be, no matter what anyone had thought. once you finished on his fingers, he slowly slid them out of you and licked up the juices. he looked down at you, and noticed how relaxed you were. normally, he would just stick his dick inside and be done with it. but it was.. you. no, he was going to savor this.

“jim.. need.. more of you..” you had managed to whisper out, despite how exhausted you were. you really did want more of him. no matter how overstimulated you got, you needed him inside of you.

“don’t worry, it’s comin’ sweetheart. just need.. to savor you..” and before you knew it, his lips captured yours with his. it was deep, hard, passionate.. and he tasted just like you thought he would. except, a more.. whiskey taste. you were drunk off his lips, the two of you moving in sync. your hand had then palmed at his boxers, feeling the way his cock ached for your touch. you were in heaven. “shit. don’t do that. i need to be inside you..” he hummed against your lips, not wanting to stop. your lips were so addictive. they tasted of coffee.. not only were mornings for coffee and contemplation, it seemed nights were too.

you moaned softly against jim’s own, your hands traveling from his boxers to his chest. hairy. but you didn’t care. he was groomed exceptionally well. his hairy chest fit him, and you were glad for that. eventually, jim took things to the next level. he laid you down fully onto the bed, him on top. he broke the kiss to look down at you, his blue eyes meeting yours. you looked absolutely beautiful.. he wanted you to know this.

“so.. beautiful..” jim hummed out softly before his head ducked down to your neck. he left feather-like kisses, before he left some on your collarbone. you moaned softly, before his hands had found the bottom of your shirt. you helped him take it off, and you didn’t think jim could look more happy until now. his head ducked down to your breasts now, twirling one nipple with his tongue. he made sure the leave equal attention to the other as well, making sure you were left satisfied.

finally, he was getting somewhere. you watched as he started to slide down your pajama pants and underwear. he flung them somewhere in the room, looking down at you. you looked up at him in wonderment, hoping he would do more. you nodded up at him, in hopes he would.

“please, jim.. please.. need to feel you..” you spoke softly, and this was all he needed to hear. he disregarded his boxers, leaving him naked in the moonlight. you watched as he stroked at his cock. it was thick, veiny.. it looked like the perfect puzzle piece.

“i got you. you’re all mine,” jim whispered out before spitting on his hand for lubrication, and then slowly thrusted inside of you. your eyes got big, and he wasn’t even fully inside you. “oh.. fuck. i’m not gonna last long.” jim admitted with a soft chuckle. you fit him so well. so wet, so tight.. it was fucking perfect. you are perfect.

“oh.. jim..” you moaned out softly. you looked up at him, watching the way he shut his eyes softly. when he felt you were well adjusted, he slowly thrusted in more. and eventually, slow thrusts in and out. he then leaned lower down at you, hitting that spot so.. perfectly. “mm.. jim.. it feels so good..” you moaned out, his lips captured onto your neck. his thrusts were gaining at a decent pace now, but he didn’t want to just fuck you. he wanted to make love with you. his hands found yours, and he gripped them tight. your eyes were now shut softly. you then realized.. this was the best sex you have ever had. it was more emotional, more intimate.. chief jim hopper really did have a thing for you.

“fuck.. baby, you’re so.. good. so fuckin’.. perfect..” jim moaned in your ear, getting high off of your own moans. the way you called out his name. the way you accepted his cock inside you. the way you wanted him, and the way he wanted you. with these thoughts in mind, he was getting close, and you were too. again. “i can feel you gettin’ tight.. you gonna cum for me?” jim had asked you, and you immediately nodded.

“y-yes, jim.. i’m gonna cum for you.. fuck it feels.. so good..” you had moaned again, feeling that familiar feeling in your tummy. before you knew it, you were spasming around his cock, you milking yourself on his cock.

“shit, baby. so good, so fucking.. good. can you take my cum?” jim had asked you, and of course you nodded. you wanted his seed deep inside you. you wanted to be his, and wanted nothing more than for him to claim you. with that, he felt himself become undone. your scent, your moans, the way you fucking breathed.. it was over. he emptied himself deep inside you, spasming around your own aching cunt. after he was finished, he laid on top of you, but not fully. he didn’t need you to be struggling to breathe.

“jim.. that felt.. so good.” you managed to break the silence after a few moments, and all jim could so was chuckle. he placed a kiss on top of your head, making sure that you knew you really were safe. with him.

“you’re more than welcome to stay again, y’know. anytime you want.” jim had whispered in your ear. that was his way of telling you his true feelings about you. he wanted you. and you were now grateful for those old pipes your mom put on the house.

#chief jim hopper #david harbour #jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #stranger things

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billthedrake · 8 months

Text

THE VETERAN

(This is an idea I've been batting around for a while. Thanks to @maturedadsandmen for the inspiration to see it through.)

"This round's on me, Ackerman," Jim Bowers said, with a quick squeeze of my shoulder before he went to get us another round of beers. His blue eyes twinkled, and I could see the wrinkles and crows feet on his weathered, tanned face. Bowers held his liquor better than me, but he was definitely buzzed, too.

It had been a long week, but the summer MLB draft was now complete and a lot of the front office guys - and gals, too, but mostly guys - were out celebrating. Only now, some of the guys were heading off to dinner or going home. A few were in a corner trying to hit on some women at the bar. Which left me chatting with Bowers.

I don't know why Jim had decided to be buddy-buddy with me. Over the last month, the sarcastic putdown of calling me Moneyball had somehow turned into a friendly nickname, when he wasn't calling me by last name. But I leaned into it. The man was a former professional player and a legend in Royals history. He'd coached for a good decade once the boredom of retirement finally sunk in, but then the wave of analytics pushed him out the door. So now he was a special advisor to the GM and the face of the business side of the organization. Not exactly a mascot, but Jim brought in more when his gravitas and old-school knowledge of the game mattered. Which wasn't all the time, and Jim knew that.

I tried not to have the hard-drinking ways that a lot of guys in baseball do, but it was a good occasion to let loose. I was feeling good, and I'd probably get drunk by nighttime. Thank god for Uber.

It was well-earned, but the problem was my sexual thoughts were coming to me with less filter than usual. Jim was making those sexual thoughts come hard and fast. I didn't even go for older guys, at least not that much older, not older like Bowers. The man was in his late 60s, old enough to be my granddad. But there was something powerfully sexy about the man. 6'2" and still had a decently muscled build from his daily gym routine, even if yeah, Bowers was getting his granddaddy on, more by the month.

And, damnit, that day, he was going commando in his shorts. I didn't try to scope him out, I swear, but Jim Bowers had a huge package. Thick, heavy genitals that looked obscene in his khaki shorts. Maybe the man was a show-er and not a grower, but the part he was showing looked pretty damn oversized. I'd forever think of him as Big Jim now.

I wasn't some green virgin. I was 28, with one long term relationship under my belt. I'd gotten my PhD in Applied Math at Minnesota and a plum job with the Royals right off the bat. It was why I'd studied what I'd studied. It was my dream job, doing analytics for a major league baseball team. From my little league days and collecting baseball cards, through playing baseball at my prep school to too many hours spent at college playing fantasy teams... it all led up to this.

My boyfriend Tom wasn't eager to switch jobs and move, and I wasn't eager to do the long-distance thing. We talked it out and, a week before I packed up my belongings, we broke up.

Breakups suck, but the consolation prize was rediscovering the world of hookups in a new city. I'd developed a fondness for Midwestern guys, and as a somewhat nerdy Jewish dude from New England I had fun having a different blond hunk every other weekend. I even hooked up with some older guys. I preferred guys my age but responded to a guy's personality and a shared sexual vibe over looks. And sometimes a daddy fit the bill.... Different looks, different body types and different sexual energy. It was all great.

But for me, Daddy meant like 40. Jim Bowers was rearranging my self-identified age range. Or maybe it was the beer.

"Here ya go," he said as he sauntered back with two beers in hand. Goddamn, the veteran looked FINE. I mean, no one would mistake his body for a 40 year old's or even a 50 year olds. It was mature muscle, but fit. Platelike pecs beneath the man's team-logo polo shirt, and pumped arms stretching the tanned, almost leathery skin that was covered in gray hair, matching the thicker silvery fur on his legs.

And, damn, that package: I could make out the contours of Jim Bowers' junk. There had been rumors of his heyday with the groupies. For all I knew he still had 'em, though maybe not like the current players.

We clinked glasses and the man looked me in the eye and said, "Now that the draft is done, you gonna stop being a workaholic, Moneyball?" he teased. "Maybe you can finally get a goddamn boyfriend."

Everyone in the front office knew I was gay and that was never an issue, but I also didn't make it an issue. No talk about my private life, no mention of the gay thing unless it was brought up. I was the epitome of professional, and when it came to happy hour drinks, well, I'd learned straight-dude male bonding as a way of blending in years ago.

"Come on, Jim," I said. And he knew exactly why.

"I know you got your work self and keep the rest private, buddy..." he said. "But, man, you're not as different as you think sometimes."

I don't know that I resented his words, but they rubbed me the wrong way. How was Bowers to know what I dealt with? Maybe if I hadn't been perving on the guy, I would have been more bothered.

"How so?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Take Campbell," he said, referring to Mitch Campbell, who was one of the scouts. "Good looking guy. Goes on dates all the time, but can't think of a goddamn thing to talk about to girls except baseball." Jim gave a smirk. "Girl doesn't call back, and Campbell's back to Square One."

At another moment, Bowers talk would be too old-school I-told-you-so in its condescension. Now, I was amused as hell. "You got Mitch all figured out, huh?" I teased.

Jim's blue eyes lit up some. "Tell me I'm wrong, Moneyball."

I smiled. "You're probably right," I conceded. Then, feeling my guard let down, I added, "You know, with gay guys, they like the idea of a baseball dude, but it's more the fantasy than the reality, you know?" I blushed as I spoke, but something about the drunken happy hour moment was removing my filter. "Maybe if I were a player, they'd be into the jock thing."

Bowers laughed and gave a smirk. He'd been the recipient of jock worship, even if it was from women. "You're just like Campbell, Moneyball... deep down." He patted my back. "But you're a good looking dude, and a good kid... any man would be lucky to land ya, buddy."

I ate up the words but had to reply, "Not the pep talking I was expecting tonight, Jim."

He reflected a second. "Yeah, I guess I dish out the advice easier than I can take it." Bowers had married three times and was now divorced and, as far as I knew, single.

Our conversation shifted subjects, but we got caught up in talking. I ate up his stories from his pro days, and Jim asked me about the math stuff I did. Maybe the man was right, I wasn't good at talking about much other than baseball, but he was a lifer and his whole life was the game, too.

I emptied my pint glass and had to do a mental calculation if I was gonna have another. I was on the fence. I should go home, but if Jim was having another, I knew I would too.

Instead he gave me a questioning look. "Feel like coming back to my place, Ackerman?" he asked. "We can have another one there."

The last part felt like it was added on to save face. In case I wasn't on the same wavelength. Maybe I'd been dumb in not reading the signals. Maybe I was misreading them now. But that was my first inkling that Jim Bowers was making a pass at me.

I blushed as I replied. "Sounds good, Jim," I said. "But neither one of us is driving."

"Yeah," he admitted. He was buzzed all right. He patted my shoulder. Kind of paternal but with a definite look of sexual interest in his gaze. Damn, this was not what I'd been expecting. He broke that look as he pulled out his phone to get an uber.

The guys had all gone by then and we stepped outside to wait for the car, it was getting dark out. We'd been in there a while.

"Damn, I'm starving," Jim said. "Maybe I can order us a pizza."

"Sure," I said. Hands in my pockets out of nervousness more than anything. This was probably a really bad idea, but I felt crazy attracted to Bowers, more than I'd let myself admit before tonight. This was playing out so different than a gay hookup, so I was feeling out the dynamic. But his touch between my shoulder blades as he guided me first toward the car... that touch alone was enough to make me chub.

Jim's place was big, too big for a bachelor. But it felt surprisingly homey.

"Let me get us some waters," he said. I wasn't overly drunk but he was right, it was good to drink something besides beer.

I chugged down a few sips from the plastic bottle and looked at Jim. "Nice place," I said.

"Thanks," Bowers said. Then with a soft voice, he added, "Damn, you're really fucking cute, Dave." He set down his bottle and stepped up to me.

I hadn't expected Bowers to be into dudes, at all, and I definitely didn't expect him to kiss. But he had no hesitation pulling me into a soft, wet kiss. It was a little drunken, but it was the surprise sexual attraction that made my head light. Fit as he may be, Jim was a mature guy, and I knew I was kissing a 60-something man, a man nearing 70. It was a strange thrill.

"You're into this, right?" the man hissed as he pulled back, giving me an up close view of his handsome features: roman nose, round cheeks, and gray hair growing more silver by the year, cut in a medium-short style. His hairline receded just a little but remarkably he still had a full head of hair. "I'm not looking for any HR issues," he chuckled.

"Oh I'm into it," I answered. "I guess it's just between us, right?" I was asking for his assurance as much as I was giving him mine.

"Absolutely," he said. His eyes were on me but his arm was reaching down. In my peripheral vision I could tell he was unzipping. And pulling out his dick. His grin cocked. "I'm really horny, man," he said.

I looked down. There it was, that pro-veteran baller cock. Heavy was an understatement. Jim Bowers packed a very thick, powerful 8 inch tool that jutted out of his open crotch. It was big and spongy and rock hard all at once. I wondered if he took a pill for his erections. I didn't fucking care. Bowers had an amazing cock.

I gave him one last look, a playful, sexy look, then crouched in front of him. I reached out and touched that meat, holding it. It had a soft give to the erection, but also twitched in my hand. It was my first mature cock, and I decided I liked it. Jim was hot to the touch as I angled his erection down to my lips.

"Oh yeah, buddy..." he hissed. "Lick my cock... like that."

The more I ran my tongue up and down his shaft, the bigger and heavier it felt. He tasted salty but then as I bathed his dick the flavor was cleaner. I finally figured I'd given enough foreplay and pulled that dong between my open lips.

He had enough girth to challenge me. I liked sucking dick, but I wasn't an expert at it. I guess lately I'd gotten more into anal and more into topping in my hookups. Even if I still went down on a guy, as foreplay or the main event, Bowers was bigger than I'd encountered.

But it was like riding a bike, I suppose. My initial difficulties gave way to a steady bobbing on his fat rod, feeling a good four or five inches push the confines of my throat with each motion of my mouth. It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling.

Nothing compared to the pleasure Jim was feeling. "Oh God... hell yes... work my fucking cock, man.... like that, yeah.... "

As I bobbed up and down I could see the silvery hair in his crotch, just a few darker hairs among them. And my hands felt up his mature legs, still strong, and now very furry. I was sucking a 68, maybe 69 year old and I realized I fuckin' loved this.

I always figured old guys took a long time to cum. Jim wasn't a quick cummer, but after about three minutes of giving him head I sensed the telltale signs. The urgency in his voice, the quiver in his quad muscle.

"FUCK! Here comes my fucking load, bud," he announced.

That heavy fat mature dong jerked in my throat as Bowers fed me his seed. I did my best to keep working him through that ejaculation, accentuating his orgasm with my mouth and suction.

He finally pushed my off with a friendly laugh. "Easy there, man... I think you got it all."

I looked up, knowing I felt proud. More than I'd been with my hookups. If I was honest, happier in sex than I'd been with my ex Tom. "Fuck, that was hot," I hissed.

Jim nodded. Face flushed red, his gray hair looked whiter. He somehow looked younger and older at the same time.

"Give me a second and I'll take care of you," he announced.

Not what I was expecting but I wasn't going to turn down the offer. I stood up, feeling drunk and light headed from the BJ. I started undoing my shorts and pulling them and my briefs off.

Jim grinned and reached down to grip my boner. "You 27 year olds are always rock hard," he teased, pulling my dick down to let it thwap up at the release.

"28," I corrected. "And how many have there been?" I laughed.

"Enough," he grinned. He gave my meat another look then said, "All right." And like that, the former baseball star, a man whose card I'd collected as a kid, was now getting down to suck me off.

If it hadn't been for the alcohol, I would have blasted in 20 seconds. Instead, now, I enjoyed getting head from Bowers. The slow suckling, the gentle bobs, the vision of his mature muscled bod in front of me. I ran my hands through his silvery hair.

Grandaddy was gonna work for my load, all right, and that idea was enough to get me to cum.

"Jim!" I gasped, surprised at how quickly orgasm snuck up on me and wanting to warn him.

He was a trooper, readying himself or my cum and then steadily sucking it down as I shot good and heavy into his mouth.

"Like I say," he teased when he finally pulled off. "You fucking need a boyfriend, Moneyball." He gave my leg a gentle pat then stood up. Reaching over he picked up his water bottle. To rehydrate or to wash down the flavor of cum, I wasn't sure.

Sheepishly, I pulled my underwear and shorts back on. Crossing some boundaries with Bowers had been naughty fun and all, but this part felt awkward. I started imagining what life was going to be like in the clubhouse from now on.

But Bowers stood in front of me, unabashed being naked from the waist down. His pJim hung fat and heavy, past his low-hanger balls covered in silver hair. He was definitely a show-er, even if his hard on had measured big.

"The offer for pizza still stands, Ackerman," he said, his blue eyes now normal friendly rather than lusty in their gaze. "If you wanna stay."

"You sure?" I asked.

Jim shrugged. "I'm not gonna be offended if you dash off," he said. "I've done it plenty, you know."

"It's not that," I started to say. Then, "Well, maybe it is.... but if you're OK, I could definitely eat."

That made Jim chuckle. "All right. You a peperoni man?"

****

The drunkenness was wearing off as we scarfed down the pizza. As I worked on the last slice, Jim came in with a freshly opened beer can for me, and one for him.

"I promised you a drink," he said.

"I figured that was just a pick up line," I replied. Something about sex made me feel I could be familiar with the man.

"Oh, it absolutely was," he said. "I'm not the most original guy in my lines."

I looked at his body. Relaxed on the couch. I calculated how his current body compared to a couple decades ago. I liked what Bowers had going on now, the contrast of hard and soft, muscled and aging. "You don't need killer lines when you have a killer bod," I said, flirting some.

Jim laughed but seemed into what I was saying. "You think I have a killer bod, Moneyball?"

I nodded. "Definitely." I looked at him openly. I wasn't gonna bone for round too but I was still feeling sexual. "That bug you?"

"Not at all," he said. He took a sip of beer and seemed to be looking me over, too. "You into older guys?"

"Not really," I answered. "At least not before you." I blushed as I admitted that. "Let's just say you're expanding my horizons, Jim."

He seemed to take that in. "You know, I haven't seen all your goods, Ackerman... feel like showing off a little for me?"

"You wanna see my body?" I confirmed.

"Yeah, I wanna see your fucking body," he said, leaning back into the couch cushion and spreading his legs.

I set down my beer and stood up. I peeled off my T-shirt, then undid my shorts. I spent a lot of time in the gym and had a pretty good body. By most standards it would be considered a great body, but being around professional players, I seemed more ordinary in comparison.

"Nice," Jim said. Genuinely into what I had going on. "Not just a pretty face, huh?"

I blushed. "I try, Jim."

"You do more than try... turn around," he instructed. He took in the view of my backside and my ass, before I turned back to face hi.

"Sorry, I'm getting a little chubbed." My dick was rising up and fast.

"That's hot," he said. With a concerted look he peeled off his polo shirt. I practically gasped when I saw that white-furred muscle. It was magnificent and everything I imagined Jim Bowers would be bare chested. Still had a lot of that ball-player power to him.

"Wow," I gasped. My dick was standing full up at the sight. "OK... I definitely have a thing for older men," I said. Then, "I hope you don't mind my saying that, Jim."

He gave a soft smile. "I don't mind, Dave." He leaned back and showed off his upper body some, inviting my gaze before he reached down to undo his shorts once more. They slipped off easily. I noticed that his legs were strong and sinewed but he had more muscle loss there than his upper bod.

His prick was fully and semi-firm but not throwing hard. "Think I can feel up some of that 28-year-old muscle?" he asked. Scooting down, he lay on the couch, face up and bared in his magnificent nakedness.

I took the invitation and went back to the couch to lie on top of this former star. I still had to pinch myself this was happening. The sex, but the whole evening. We both groaned as I made body contact, my hands on his chest and his on mine, while our cocks touched.

"So, Jim..." I started. "I don't wanna kill the vibe, but what's your deal?"

His hand traveled along my upper chest and over my arms. "I guess I reached a certain age and decided to stop having hang ups. Sex with guys is just easier these days."

"Yeah?" I asked.

He nodded. "A young guy... you can fool around with and he doesn't expect anything, you know?" I could feel his dick move against mine and instinctively I knew our heartbeats were synching up. "I'm not gonna lead you on, Ackerman.... not looking to date or anything, you know?"

"No offense, Jim," I said. "But I probably should stick to guys closer my own age to date."

"Probably, yeah," he laughed. His hands were now openly feeling up my back muscle as I lay on top of him. He was taller than me by two inches and had some more weight to him. It felt comforting and relaxed being naked in this position. Sexual but not we-gotta-fuck-now sexual. "If you ever feel like having fun with an old man, though..." he started.

"I definitely do," I answered. "I didn't think I'd be into this, actually," I blushed.

"Be into what?" he asked.

"The age gap," I said.

He got an impish look on his face. "You into the Granddaddies, huh?"

Fuck, I hissed. It was such a naughty thing, but it made my dick jerk, which made Jim laugh.

He patted my bare ass. "Listen, bud. I'm 69. I'm not gonna be able to get it on twice in one night. But if you feel like staying over..."

"Yeah, I'd like that," I said.

He kissed, softly. And soon we were making out. Feeling each other up. I could have gone for a round two for sure, but I didn't need to. And that made this all the better, just connecting nude body to nude body with Jim's mature veteran-baller build.

By the time we got up off the couch, I was dripping precum heavily on that swirl of silvery hair on Jim's stomach. I was rock hard as I helped him up and helped him tidy up everything and take plates and cans back to the kitchen. Eventually my erection flagged but Jim didn't make a move to put clothes back on, so I didn't either.

I was starting to second guess myself. This was a man I'd see around work. Maybe this was gonna get complicated, real fast, even if we weren't looking for anything serious.

He had a spare toothbrush for me and set out some towels if I wanted to use them. I looked in myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. I often went back and forth in my self esteem, feeling cocky about my looks, then feeling all sorts of self doubt about my body and how I compared to whatever perfect guy I imagined or lusted after. But I saw myself in Jim's eyes. Maybe he went for me because I was an out gay guy, maybe an easy target. Maybe he liked that I had that nerdy but fit thing going on. Whatever it was, I was glad I'd spent the last couple of years hitting the weights and eating well.

He was already under the covers when I joined him in the king sized bed.

"Thanks for a fun evening, Ackerman," he said, his voice now sleepy. It was later than I realized.

"God, Jim, it's been wild."

"I don't normally have guys sleep over," he said. Maybe wanting me not to get any ideas.

"I don't always sleep over when they ask," I said.

He smirked. "All right, bud... ready for some sleep?"

"Yeah," I said.

And I watched his thick muscle bunch as he leaned over to turn off the light.

"Hey buddy," Jim Bowers said as he ushered me inside. I didn't always come over to his place. Sometimes the legendary veteran would swing by my condo for some no-strings fun before work, or after playing golf. I'd enjoying giving him a nice BJ - it was kind of my big challenge and thrill, getting used the girth and length of Big Jim's meat and getting off on our age gap. The latter was just as thrilling when Jim would have me kick back for his turn at reciprocating.

We even snuck in a BJ in a parking lot once, but while the risk felt fun, it was, well, risky.

I'd worried this would mess up things at work. Bowers wasn't my boss, but he held a senior position in the front office org chart, an advisor to my big boss. Yet the man was completely normal after our first hook up. It relaxed me for when he hit me up for a second time. Then another.

Sometimes it felt like a booty call, sometimes we grabbed a bite and a beer after sex. It was all good.

But today was different. Big Jim said he wanted to fuck me.

He was looking incredible now, shirtless and showing off that mature muscle, dusted with silver hair.

"Hey Jim," I said, stepping in. We met for a quick kiss, which became not a quick one. I could tell the ex-pro was really worked up today, and despite my nervousness, I was, too. We laughed a little at how horny we were when I finally broke the connection and stepped back.

"You look amazing," I said.

He flexed a little. Best of all, I could see that heavy dick in his mesh shorts. Not hanging either but boned up into a hard ridge. The man was in heat.

"How much you work out?" I asked. It had been on my mind for a while. For a man his age, Bowers was very well preserved.

Big Jim didn't miss a beat. "A hell of a lot, Moneyball," he said with a smirk. He cocked his head back toward his bedroom. "Feel like getting down to it? Or you want a drink or something?"

My heart fluttered a little bit. "I'm horny as fuck," I replied. "But I won't lie: I'm a little scared."

"Scared? Why?" Jim asked. I realized he was sincere in his question. Like it hadn't occurred to him.

"For starters, I don't bottom much," I said, then nodded down to his crotch. "And then there's that beast you got between your legs."

That made Bowers smile. I probably wasn't the first to compliment his endowment and wouldn't be the last. But the ego boost was appreciated. "You seem to like it."

"Hell yeah I like," I said. "I love it," I added in admission. "But that's a lot of dick to take."

He chuckled, stepping up to me, and running his fingers along my cheek. "You're overthinking it, Ackerman. Let's just enjoy this."

Easy for him to say, I thought. But something about him was charming me. The weathered face, the sea blue eyes, the craggly voice. I was gonna go with it. "All right, lead the way," I hissed.

I peeled off my T-shirt and shorts as I stepped into his bedroom. I'd learned to go commando for these hookups and as I freed my meat, my dick firmed up quickly as Jim pulled down the sheets and then slid down his shorts.

I saw one reason for that massive hardon. Bowers had a cock ring on, which made that dick firmer than normal. He saw where I was looking. "Hope you don't mind the ring, bud. Just gives a little more insurance at my age."

I crawled on the bed and showed how little I minded it. Scooting forward, I let Big Jim guide that hard meat to my mouth.

"Yes...." he grunted as I sucked in a few inches, then choked down another. I was getting better at this. My face blushed as I sucked, my bare ass up for Jim's gaze. I wasn't used for being so bottomy, so open in servicing with a guy, but it was a fun new mode. Particularly as I smelled Bowers' clean soapy scent and could see the silvery crotch hair in front of me.

He put his hands on his hips and let me do the work. The man loved a BJ. I mean, who doesn't? But Jim seemed to really crave oral sex. I half thought he'd change his mind today and let me get him off with my mouth. I'd cleaned myself out and prepped for anal, but a part of me wouldn't have been upset with a change of plans.

But I felt his hand on my head, nudging me back.

"Lie back," he urged.

I scrambled back, letting Big Jim see my naked body. The man got off on my youth, on the fact he had a 20-something stud in his bed. He'd told me as much, but his eyes confirmed it now as he stood next to the bed and pumped some lube into his hand, fisting that rock hard granddaddy meat.

"I hope to god you don't think you're just gonna ram that thing up me," I said in a nervous joking tone.

He grinned and shook his head. "Relax, Ackerman, I know what I'm doing." He got on the bed, his core contracting as he shifted his weight forward. Our lips met for a second and I took a moment to feel up that mature brawn. It was still a head fuck that I was having sex with THE Jim Bowers. Even if he wasn't quite my main childhood idle or on my favorite team growing up, I used to watch watch him play all the time, and it felt like I was in the presence of a legend.

He leaned up and I took in that view of Bowers's strong shoulder muscle and thick arms. He gave a couple of soft kisses along my abs as he scooted down. "Lift 'em up, buddy," he urged.

I was nervous but I wanted this, I decided. It had been a solid year since I'd bottomed, but I was getting in the mood now. As I pulled back my legs, Big Jim was gonna get me all the way there. He leaned in and I felt his breath and his five o clock stubble before his tongue darted out to lick me.

Here was a man of surprises, all right. Jim Bowers was really into eating ass. It tickled at first, and I fought to keep the tickling sensation from overwhelming me. It was just my body's defensiveness. It was half mental, but also the unfamiliarity of having my ass stimulated. But Jim's tongue pressed deeper in, and the feeling changed. Rawer, more overtly sexual.

"God," I grunted. It was a mind fuck, too, looking down at this older man, almost 70, going to town on my hole. And me letting him.

He took his time but I could tell he was horny now. After a minute or so he leaned up and let out a soft growl of approval. "Hot hole, Dave," he said, timing the pressing of his first finger perfectly. It was lubed, and I enjoyed the thickness of his digit entering me. He dug around some, worming my sphincter open more before diving in for another rim job.

"You got nice and clean for me, buddy," he said with approval.

"Yeah," I replied, holding my legs back and letting him prepare me. Alternating rimming with more fingering. Pretty soon he was focused on the latter, two then three then two then three fingers, drizzling more lube at the connecting spot.

He looked down at me, horny. Maybe that cock was viagra-ed up or maybe the cock ring was doing all the work. But it was steel rigid.

He pulled his hand back and lined up that heavy, hard meat. "You got this, man..." was all he said, before I felt that dull stinging of his penetration.

"Fuck!" I cried. Not in pain but more in fear.

He held steady, an inch of that fat dick wedged in my ring. "You're tight as hell," he observed. "Just relax, Ackerman."

"I'm trying!" I laughed.

Jim smiled. God he was so handsome and sexy. I didn't think I'd ever be into a guy pushing 70, but at that moment I knew I really was. He pulled back and fisted that big meat. I felt bad I was extra work to get in. But he leaned in and kissed me some. Sensual, tongue-heavy kissing while his fingers went back down to work my hole again.

I was ready this time. He broke the kiss but didn't pull back entirely. Deftly he placed that dong at my hole and applied just the right amount of force. And like that I had three solid inches of Jim Bowers' fatness in me.

I clenched my teeth and gripped his biceps in automatic response.

His eyes challenged mine. "You got this," he assured me. More confident than I was. More pressure was pushing that very wet, very lubed phallus into me. I was tight but also enjoying that stretching feeling. Maybe because Big Jim was going slow.

He nodded at me, his face now serious, not very sexual and horny. "You feel SO fucking good on my dick buddy," he growled in a low voice. That gravely Bowers voice. "You gonna make your Granddad feel good?"

We'd tossed back the granddaddy term. For me it was an extension of "daddy" - a daddy with a few extra years. Mature like Jim. But now that term hit me in a pervy place. My bowels unclenched and welcomed all of that magnificent cock into me.

"Yeah you are," Big Jim hissed.

"God, Granddad..." I moaned, hesitant at first, trying it out.

"I got ya, boy," he said, more aloud as he began his first thrust. Not hard, but a real fuck thrust into me. With Jim's size, it felt like a lot and was rapidly rearranging my previous assumptions - of being mostly top, of not being into grandpas.

His hips swiveled slowly as I held his muscular body and welcomed him into me. I felt like we weren't just having sex. We were mating. I was being owned from the inside out. I didn't normally feel whorish with a guy, but Big Jim was pushing some button deep inside me. Physically and psychologically.

"Fuck me, Jim!" I said, more assertively now. "Fuck me, Granddad."

His lips curled up and he threw more force into his thrusts. I was ready for it now. Unbelievably I was enjoying this. It was intense as hell, like it could become uncomfortable at any moment, but my ass felt alive, and I felt alive beneath this man, who was fucking for his pleasure. The lube on his cock kept my guts from clenching down too hard on his pistoning shaft, or when I did they didn't have anything to grip onto. The man was fucking me unimpeded.

I looked into his wrinkled, weathered, handsome face. Imagining how many groupies he'd nailed over the years. How easy it must have been for him to get laid in his prime. How easy it was for him now.

I didn't think a hands-free cum was a possibility for me. Maybe technically it wasn't since Big Jim's soft belly fur and belly were rubbing against my rigid cock. But I started cumming hard.

"Jim!" I exclaimed, feeling that immense pleasure rising up from deep within me.

That excited him all right. He fucked me and fucked me hard. Fast even, eager to maximize the sensations on his mature cock. "Right behind ya, kid," he grunted.

The idea he was gonna nut in me thrilled me and made another shot of cum push out of my cock.

I love watching men cum and seeing Big Jim in full orgasm was incredible. His older muscle tensing up and his voice sounding older as he cried out. Then him relaxing in tired stillness on top of me for a second before he moved his head to give me a soft kiss and pushed up to relieve the brunt of his bulk on top of me.

I felt that thickness retreat and plop out of me. I felt slutty and maybe not in a good way as Big Jim's cum ran out of my used hole. But in every other way I felt happy and satisfied. Especially seing the smile on the man's face as he rolled off and lay next to me, nudging my chin playfully.

"You were a trooper, Moneyball," he said finally.

"I don't know if I should have enjoyed that so much," I admitted.

"Why the hell not?" Big Jim challenged me.

"Long answer or short answer?" I replied.

"Let's start with the short."

"Maybe I'm a little kinkier than I realized."

Jim shrugged and leaned up, sitting back against one of the pillows. "Nothing wrong with that, fella."

I copied his move, but not before shaking out the cramps from my legs. My ass hole felt loose and wet but the new sitting position made it less exposed. "So the Granddad thing..." I didn't even know what I wanted to ask, but I knew I had to check in with Jim.

He chuckled. "Seems to get you going, buddy. It's a little weird, I guess," he added. "I mean, I have grandkids and all. But I figure this is something different altogether."

"It is," I assured him. I looked down at my body. Dick well sated, cum smeared on my belly and chest. "I'm a fricking mess."

Jim agreed. "Let's get you cleaned up, Moneyball." He slid out of bed and extended his hand to help me up. At that moment, despite being much younger I felt weaker from the sexual exhaustion. "If you have evening plans, that's cool, but I feel like I owe you a nice dinner for putting out like that."

I enjoyed this camaraderie and enjoyed the shower we shared together. A chance to soap up his mature body. A part of me worried if I should be seen in public extensively with Bowers, alone with him, but we did work together and I'm sure could come up with a reason if anyone saw us.

Then as Jim soaped me up from behind and pulled me into his sudsy wet body, that fat dong there, the one that had given me what felt like a second deflowering... I realized Big Jim was right. I was overthinking it.

#drakestories

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