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thefreakandthehair · 4 months

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steddie | rating: m | wc: 955 | tags: established relationship, use of cake as a metaphor, they're so in love your honor | art credit: @firefly-party

Eddie Munson celebrates two birthdays every year: the day he was actually born, December 19th, and the day he woke up in the hospital, April 8th. Funny enough, the latter is usually a bigger celebration. Family and friends that no longer exist in separate groups come together with all of Eddie’s foods and drinks, small gifts and sometimes, a bigger gift from the collective.

Try as they might, they’ve yet to top the Metallica tickets.

But today is Eddie’s original birthday. December 19th— the one that’s usually swallowed up by the holidays, the one that really doesn’t mean all that much to him because, well, compared to waking up after saving the world, why would it? The last few celebrations have been tight-knit, mostly just himself, Wayne, and Steve either at Wayne’s trailer or the tiny little apartment Steve and Eddie managed to find for themselves.

This year, it’s just the two of them with no one to blame but Mother Nature. A blizzard drops nearly three feet of snow over northeastern Indiana and no one is going anywhere, least of all Wayne whose getting up there in years. We'll make up for it later, Eddie assures him when he calls with a stream of apologies.

How can he complain though? Wayne will make up for it, he’s snowed in with the love of his life, and the apartment smells like his favorite pasta sauce, the one he knows takes Steve hours to simmer. So no, he’s not disappointed. Not in the slightest.

“Sorry your day got snowed out,” Steve sighs, plopping down onto the couch and draping an arm along the back of the couch, toying with the ends of Eddie’s hair. “I did get you a surprise though.”

Eddie’s brow furrows, knitting tightly above his nose. There’s been no mail for two days, and their apartment doesn’t exactly lend itself to keeping secrets. “A surprise? What kinda surprise?”

“Well,” Steve smirks, confident in the way that always makes something stir in Eddie’s chest. “It’s not a birthday without a cake.”

He’s so fucking lost.

“A cake? We’ve been snowed in since Sunday and I would’ve smelled you baking in here. Also, I would’ve tasted it already, or at least demanded to lick the spoon so— wait, what are you doing?”

Steve stands up and walks around the back of the couch, just behind Eddie. “Just close your eyes, okay? Or do I need to blindfold you?”

He can hear Steve’s smug grin without even seeing his face and now it’s not just his chest stirring. Eddie shifts I’m his seat.

“No, no I can just close my eyes. Put a pin in the blindfold idea though.“

With his eyes closed, all he can do is imagine what the rustling is behind him, scenarios that will never compare to the sight he sees when Steve gives him the all clear.

“Okay,” Steve says, his voice now coming from directly in front of Eddie. “Open.”

Very funny, brain, he thinks. My entire life since the demobats has to have been just one long, final burst of dopamine before kicking the bucket because there’s absolutely no way this is fucking real.

Steve’s standing in front of him, shirtless, in nothing but some of the tightest shorts he’s seen Steve wear since the time he blindly walked into Scoops Ahoy asking for rum raisin and instead, got a fucking show. They’re dark maroon in hue with the word Cake printed in white script across the entirety of Steve’s ass. Moles litter his skin from the base of his neck down the flesh of his thighs, and the small indentation in his lower back is highlighted by the low waistband. Barely noticeable cuts in the sides expose what looks like black lace detailing.

“Holy shit,” Eddie groans, unable to stop himself from reaching out and touching the soft, cotton material.

“Yeah?” Steve looks over his shoulder with a knowing smile. “You like it?”

Eddie fingers trace the font and he doesn’t even dare to blink. If it is a coma dream, he doesn’t want to risk waking up. “Do I like it? If I ever say no to that, Steve, take me into a field and off me because I’ve been replaced by the body snatchers.”

Steve laughs and Eddie pulls him in closer, one hand on Steve’s hip and the other working its way up Steve’s thigh and beneath the fabric.

“Y’know,” Eddie starts, swallowing with a dry mouth around the lump in his throat. “There’s just one little problem with this birthday cake.”

“What?” Steve looks back over his shoulder again, this time confused.

He gives his right cheek a light tap, just enough to relish in the way the plush flesh moves. “It’s not finished.”

“Oh yeah? What’s it need?”

“You know I need my cakes frosted. And c’mon,” he leans forward and presses a kiss to Steve’s hairy thigh, just below the hem of the shorts. “Where’s the candle?”

Steve turns with a teasing grimace. “Did you just compare your dick to a candle?”

“Sure did. Is it working?” He smiles with his bottom lip between his teeth as he stands and places both hands in Steve’s hips.

“I can’t believe it, but yeah, it kinda is.” Steve’s eyes flicker down to Eddie’s lips and back up.

Eddie can barely get his thoughts in order, placing both hands on either side of Steve’s face and kissing him between words.

“Best.” He kisses his forehead. “Birthday.” He kisses his nose. “Ever.” He kisses his lips.

They make their way back to the bedroom and no one can blame him for leaving Steve’s ass littered in purpling hickies and love bites.

It’s a cake, after all.

art by @firefly-party to celebrate @sidekick-hero's birthday today! here's a little collaboration to honor our favorite Cake Enthusiast! Sandy, we love you and hope you have the absolute best day. go give her some love, everyone!

#please rb if you enjoy!!#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanart #steddie art #steddie fanart #stranger things fanart #myblurbs

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jobean12-blog · 4 months

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A Place Made for Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (No-outbreak Joel)

Word Count: 5,081

Summary: You're new to the small town Joel's lived in all his life and just the sight of you has him feeling a certain way so when he learns that you've bought the old bookshop and you're moving into the apartment above, it turns his familiar world upside down.

Author's Note: This one got away from me. I love the idea of Joel just living his life and doing construction and being grumpy and then reader comes along and really gives him a run for his money. Had to include a bookshop for this because along with Joel, it's one of my favorite things. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always!❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 🥰

PS Bold font means texts and anything italics is like an inner thought lol

Warnings: grumpy Joel, sassy reader, tension, flirting, softness and smiles, fluff and sweetness

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You trudge down the canned food aisle feeling completely indecisive but hungry and growing more aggravated by the second.

As you round the next corner you’re sifting through the contents of your basket when you walk headfirst into what feels like the wall.

“Ow!” you yelp as you stumble back.

A strong arm wraps around your waist to steady you and you look up, blinking.

“Better watch where you’re goin’ there darlin’.”

Your body tenses at the feel of him pressed against you and you mutter something inaudible under your breath before slipping from his grasp.

“Not even a thank you,” he muses as he turns to follow you.

“Weren’t you going the other way?” you shoot back.

“Just realized I forgot the pasta,” he says, leaning over your shoulder to whisper the words close to your ear.

You force your betraying body to remain calm at his proximity and then ignore the comment.

“What the hell are you gonna make with that mish mosh?” he asks as he peeks into your basket.

“Why do you care?” you counter with a brittle smirk.

He shrugs as the corners of his mouth turn up into a grin.

“Maybe something to poison you with…that would be nice.”

Your sassy remark makes his whole face light up with a smile and it momentarily roots you to the spot.

With one last disgruntled glance you stomp off in the other direction. “Since I’m new here you’d think you’d be a little more neighborly!”

“Fuck,” Joel mutters as he follows you.

“Ok darlin’.”

“Ok what?” you ask as you turn to face him.

“Maybe…” and he paused, studying you. “I could be a bit more friendly.”

He looks back down at your basket.

“You know if you grab some beans and a pepper you’ll be well on your way to making a great chili.”

“Chili,” you repeat.

You look between him and the basket. “That works. Although…”

“You’ve never made it before?”

At his question you fight back a sigh.

“No. I haven’t. But I’m capable of looking up a recipe.”

“Or I could just tell you about some good take-out places.”

You roll your eyes.

“I can manage to cook my own dinner, thanks!”

At the sarcasm in your tone his grin widens before he starts to step around you, his arm brushing yours with the motion.

“Great darlin.’ Just don’t burn the place down or anything. It’s the only bookshop in the neighborhood and we all love it.”

He winks and saunters off.

The urge to turn around and watch him is almost overwhelming but you square your shoulder and keep your chin up. “I can make chili,” you assure yourself.

Joel sits across from Tommy and sips his beer, waiting for his brother to make a dinner choice.

If Tommy notices Joel glancing too many times at the small bookshop across the street, he doesn’t mention it.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Tommy remarks as he drops the menu and leans back. “What’s on your mind?”

Joel grunts before looking across the street again. “Work.”

“This new job we have is a big one. I want it to go perfectly so they hire us for the rest of it.” Joel continues.

Tommy nods in agreement but he’s battling a smile.

“Somethin’ you wanna say brother?” Joel asks.

Tommy grins. “I might have somethin’ to say.”

Joel grinds his teeth and tightens his grip on the beer bottle.

“Heard you had a little exchange with our new bookshop owner at the grocery store this mornin’.”

“Who said?” Joel asks, pinning Tommy with dark eyes.

“No one of importance,” Tommy shrugs. “You’re starin’ a hole through the window.”

Tommy’s eyes glitter. He’s clearly enjoying himself. “Heard she didn’t back down and run off over your…charm.”

“You’re worse than a school girl. Spreadin’ gossip around.”

That makes Tommy laugh and he takes a swig of his drink.

“Still,” Tommy says. “I can’t blame you…she’s real nice to look at and probably a lot of fun when you get her goin’…which you seem to enjoy doin’.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns as his jaw tightens. “Don’t go sniffin’ around any of that and don’t ask me to explain why.”

Tommy dips his head in understanding, his mouth tight in a straight line but his eyes bright with amusement.

“Not a single sniff. You’ve got my word brother…”

Tommy’s head swings around and his attention settles on something happening in the street. “What the hell…?”

Joel jerks his head in the same direction and in matter of seconds he’s out of his chair and charging through the door.

Without thinking he runs toward you and let’s out a breath when he looks you over, the large pot between your fingers and a garbage bag over your shoulder.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” you breathe, staring at him. “Where the hell did you come from?”

His relief at the fact that you’re unharmed is obvious even as he takes the pot from you and grabs your wrists, turning your hands over to check.

His skin is warm and his fingers are calloused. The sensations cause your mind to go blank and you stand there motionless.

Once he’s satisfied he looks down at the pot and the black contents inside. He’s still holding your wrists.

“I burnt it,” you say quietly. “The whole upstairs apartment smells awful so I thought I’d better get rid of it quick before the shop started to stink.”

“I can take care…” Tommy begins to speak and Joel whips his head around just now realizing he was even standing there and glares so Tommy snaps his mouth shut.

Joel looks back at you and slowly releases you, the loss of his touch something you instantly feel.

Tommy covers a cough and you drag your eyes away from Joel to glance at his younger brother.

“Hey,” Tommy says and extends his hand.

You reach out and shake it to introduce yourself.

“I was saying I could help you out with that but I think my brother here has it under control,” Tommy quips.

“Damn right I do,” Joel says, hands on his hips.

“Thanks Tommy, I appreciate the offer,” you smile.

Tommy tips his head and walks back across the street to the bar.

Joel’s hard eyes turn to you in an assessing way but he remains silent.

“Aren’t you going to make some shitty remark about my cooking skills,” you snip.

His broad shoulders slump and he holds out his hand.

“Here, give me the bag.”

You hand the bag over and watch as he empties what he can of the contents and then stares down at it with pursed lips.

“Might have to…” he starts.

“You can just get rid…” you say at the same time.

He drops the pot into the bag with a laugh.

It catches you off guard and when he meets your eyes again the surprise is evident in your wide-eyed expression.

“No shitty remarks darlin.’ Just glad you’re ok…and you didn’t burn the place down.”

The last part of his comment trails off into quiet mumblings but you still catch it.

“Couldn’t help yourself huh?” you say but you’re fighting back a small smile.

The two of you stand there on the sidewalk for what feels like forever until Joel clears his throat and you look up at him through your lashes.

“Guess your dinner’s ruined,” he states.

“You could say that. I’ll have to go aimlessly walk around the grocery store some more in the hopes of finding food.”

His large hand runs through his already mussed hair before it settles on the back of his head and he shoves his free hand into his jeans pocket.

“Hey uh, listen darlin’…I’m sorry if I was rude earlier…at the store…and the other times before that. It was wrong of me.”

Your expression softens.

“Thank you, I accept.”

Joel hums and flicks his head toward the bar. “I had just ordered dinner before you came running out. Go in and eat it.”

When you stare at him he plays back his words and realizes they came out as a demand.

“If you want to,” he adds. “Join me. For food.”

You smile and slide past him. Your distinct and soft scent wafts up to his nose and he instinctively inhales, his eyes closing briefly before he starts to move to follow you.

He motions to the small table and pulls out your chair, waiting for you to sit before he does the same. His thick fingers wrap around the fork, making it look comically small, before he hands it to you and pushes the plate closer.

You stab a French fry and pop it in your mouth.

“So Tommy…you guys work together?”

“Yeah. Construction. We actually have a big project coming up in the city. Working on one of the new fancy hotel buildings.

“That sounds exciting. I guess it’s not really a 9-5 job then?”

“Nah, not really. Some days we spend doing small, odd jobs around the neighborhood and other times we’ll be on one job for weeks or months.”

You nod. “What do you do in your spare time? Besides follow women around the grocery store and make snarky comment on their food choices.”

“Gonna hold that over my head for long?” he asks.

You look him over and pretend to think about it. “Not sure yet.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs, noticing you stopped eating and nudging your arm with his elbow. “Eat.”

“Are you always this bossy?” you ask as you chew.

His eyes drop to your mouth and the way you lick the salt from your lips.

“Maybe,” he replies, the sides of his mouth twitching with a smile.

“Fair enough,” you tell him, mirroring his earlier words.

The whites of his teeth appear with his lopsided smile

“You plannin’ on trying to cook chili again?”

“Maybe,” you answer, loving the way his eyes crinkle at your repeated and mocking words.

“So now that you know a little more about me why not tell me why you’re here in our little town?”

He settles his forearms on the table and leans in, watching you with intense eyes.

“Well,” you start with a sigh. “I’ve always wanted to run or own a bookshop but my job in the city was keeping me so busy I barely had time to read and of course it’s easier said than done. For a while I didn’t mind…the work that is. Sure I was busy but I figured my life was just what it was supposed to be. Had a nice apartment, steady job, steady boyfriend…until I didn’t. He broke up with me over a text and then refused to answer my calls and explain why. After that, my job became less and less appealing as did living in the city so when his opportunity came up I had to jump on it as scary as all the change is.”

You wait and hold his gaze. “What are you thinking?” you ask.

“I’m thinking a lot of things,” he says quietly before stealing a fry off the plate.

“Like?” you ask.

Like where I can find your ex-boyfriend so I can give him a proper beating.

When he still doesn’t speak you continue talking. “I’m thinking about the renovations I want to make to the bookshop. It’s nothing crazy. Just some minor changes to make it more of a cozy space.”

“That sounds nice,” he answers. “It could use some upgrades.”

“Definitely. And the door to my apartment upstairs doesn’t even lock! I need to get that fixed first.”

Joel’s eyes narrow at your statement. “That’s not safe.”

You smirk and steal the next fry that’s dangling between his fingers as they hover over the plate.

“Maybe I’ll look up some cute contractors online to come help me.”

He sits back, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his legs wider under the table. Your gaze moves to the way his biceps pop under the tight fabric of his shirt.

“You could. If you wanted the job done poorly.”

“Are you saying you’d be able to do a better job?”

“Damn right darlin.”

Was this still about renovations to the shop?

With that thought still floating around in his brain he watches you stand and pop one last fry into your mouth.

“Thank you for sharing your dinner with me,” you say before rounding the table. “I like it when you’re nice.”

And I even like it when you’re bossy. Maybe too much.

You kept that last thought tucked away and lean down to kiss him on the cheek before lightly brushing your hand over his shoulder and walking out the door.

Tommy drops into the now empty seat, grinning ear to ear.

“How’d that go boss?” he asks.

“Shut it,” Joel growls.

Later that week with the sun just peeking above the horizon you hear a knock at your door. It startles you into alertness and you sit up with a gasp, dropping your book to the bed.

Your feet hit the cool floor and you ask, “who’s there?,” hoping to keep the shakiness from your voice.

“It’s Joel.”

“Oh,” you whisper, now suddenly even more alert but much less jumpy.

Before you open the door you quickly run a hand over your face and scrub away the sleepiness. You turn the knob and have it halfway open before you realize you’re barely dressed, the only thing covering your body is the old tee shirt that hits way above your knees.

You stop and peek through.

“I’m um…I’m not really dressed. I was in bed reading.”

“Shit,” Joel mutters. “Sorry darlin.’ I didn’t even realize the time. I can wait till you’ve put somethin’ on.”

He doesn’t move away from the door and you open it a little wider before slipping away to grab shorts.

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly but not quietly enough and your lips turn up into a triumphant smile.

When you return you open the door invitingly and then notice the toolbox at his feet and meet his eyes.

His cheeks are dusted with pink and not even the scruff lining them can cover it. It’s hard to hide your smug satisfaction but you do your best.

“What’s that for?” you ask.

“I came to change the lock for you,” he explains hoarsely.

“Oh,” you answer, feeling your stomach erupt with nervous energy. “Why?”

“I’m leaving this morning. To go to the city and start on that hotel job. Won’t be back for a few days. I just…”

He kneels down and starts rummaging through the tool box, metal clanging against metal so you can barely hear him when he adds, “wanted to make sure this place was safe and secure.”

Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your old shirt.

“That’s really nice of you.”

“Well.” He stands and starts working on the door. “I saw you hadn’t done it yet and I didn’t want you calling any random guys.”

“Because you can do it better. Right?”

He doesn’t look up from his work and just grunts his acknowledgement.

You take the opportunity to move toward the small kitchen area and start making some coffee.

“Coffee?” you offer.

He looks up at you as you lean against the counter with your bare legs on display. His eyes drag down the length of them before he shakes his head no.

“Already had a cup thanks.”

He finishes the lock and puts his tools away before approaching. His hand moves to his back pocket and he pulls out some folded papers, setting them on the counter.

“I brought some take out menus.”

“It’s probably too early to be insulted.”

“This isn’t me telling you not to cook. These are just in case you don’t want to cook.”

“Ah,” you answer. “I could have just looked this up online.”

“Yeah well I don’t have your number so how would you know the best places to get take out.”

You stare at him from over the rim of your steaming mug.

“Maybe you should take it,” he says abruptly. “My number…in case…”

“I need cooking advice again?”

He makes an affirmative nod and smiles.

“Ok, what’s your number?” you ask as you reach for your phone.

The relief on his face doesn’t go unnoticed by you and he recites the digits as you punch them in.

When you hit dial on his contact his eyebrows draw together as if he’s trying to figure out where the sound is coming from.

“That’s you. Now you’ll have my number too.”

You giggle and the corner of his mouth lifts a little. “Right.”

You set your coffee down and push yourself up onto the countertop.

With one more almost imperceptible sweep of your legs he coughs into his fist and turns toward the door.

“Thanks Joel!” you call after him.

He waves with barely a turn and flies down the steps.

The rest of your day is spent figuring out the renovations for the bookshop space downstairs. You clean, declutter, and really start to map things out in your head. By the time the late afternoon sun is setting you realize you’ve missed lunch and you’re starving.

“I should try chili again,” you say to yourself.

After a quick and much less exciting visit to the grocery store you head back with a bag full of Joel’s recommended ingredients and get to work.

Two hours later you have a large pot of bubbling and unburnt chili on the stove.

Without thinking too much into it you snap a picture of the food and send it to Joel with the caption, “I did it! And it smells amazing!”

Before you even put your phone down his response dings in.

“Wow darlin.’ Looks amazing. Save me some.”

You’re about to reply that you definitely will when another text comes through.

“And I’m hoping you didn’t burn anything down?”

He follows it with a silly smiling emoji and you answer with, “nope! Everything and everyone is intact,” including your own smiley face emoji.

“Perfect. And I meant it. Save me some.”

“Please…” you type and then send another message saying, “so bossy!”

He responds quickly. “Save me some. Please.”

He adds a kissy smiley face and you giggle before sending one back with a thumbs up.

It’s easy to flirt over text. You aren’t overwhelmed by his masculine and sexy presence. By the smell of him. Woodsy and spicy. And his hands aren’t there teasing to touch you.

All you can think of while you enjoy your bowl of chili is how you can’t wait for him to come back this weekend.

When Joel returns from his trip he rushes home to shower and change. It’s already late but he needs to see you and you should have a bowl of chili waiting for him.

When he pulls up to the bookshop and parks his pickup he frowns at the darkened space.

Maybe you’re out? With someone…

Pushing the invasive thoughts aside he gets out and walks to the large windows, peering inside.

Nothing.

The scuffle of feet pulls his attention away and he catches sight of you sitting across the street by the park, your feet dangling along the pavement.

He approaches slowly, making noise so you don’t get scared. You look up and tense but instantly relax at the sight of him.

“Was wonderin’ where you were,” he murmurs.

“You’re back,” you say. “I have chili for you.”

You half smile but your eyes fall.

His chest tightens.

“Darlin’?” he asks before sitting down next to you.

His thigh brushes yours and his arm is close enough that you feel his warmth.

Your sniffle and hug your arms around your body.

Hesitantly he lifts his arm and rests it lightly across your shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

When you don’t pull away and instead lean into his strength he tugs you closer.

“I tried to start doing some work on the bookshop. I just wanted to take off the old and peeling wall paper but I think I fucked things up. I’m not sure how to fix it and really I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s a mess.”

Your confession softens him and he runs his calloused fingertips along your smooth skin, sneaking them under the sleeve of your shirt.

“I’ll take a look at it. I’m sure we can fix it.”

You were so soft. It took everything in him not to pull you even closer and wrap you in his arms.

“It’s a mess. I’m a mess. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing!”

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t put yourself down. It pisses me off.”

You look up at him and gasp. “You? Pissed off? That’s new.”

The corner of his lips lift and his eyes sparkle. “I deserve that.”

You wipe your nose and give him a smile.

“Maybe. But only a little.”

You lean your head on his shoulder and sigh.

“We’ll sort it out,” he assures you.

You look at him with soft eyes full of gratefulness. His gaze moves lower…to your mouth and his lips part as if to speak but the sound of a loud car horn makes you jump apart.

“How about that chili?” you ask as you start to stand.

“Sounds great darlin’.”

You walk toward the building, tensing at his side the closer you get, knowing he’s going to see the disaster you’ve made.

He stops you with a hand over yours.

“For what it’s worth,” he whispers. “I think you’re really brave for comin’ here to start over.”

The tension slips from your shoulders and you take his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You did it,” you murmur. “I’m still upset but…I feel better. More hopeful.”

He smiles before you turn to unlock the door and your hyperaware of the feel of his hard body behind you. It takes everything in you not to turn around and throw yourself at him but you manage to get the door open and offer him some chili.

The next day, being Sunday, should be a day of rest but your new-found determination has you up and out of bed bright and early, ready to conquer the wallpaper debacle and then some.

You’re saved from wondering where to start when the front door of the shop opens and in walks Joel with a tray of coffee and a bakery bag.

“Hey there darlin’,” he says. “Thought you’d be up and ready to work.”

“Hey back,” you wave.

He fills the doorway with his body and you try to focus on the smell of fresh coffee and sugar.

“That for me?” you ask and point to the tray in his hand.

“Yeah.”

He crosses the small distance and places the tray down on one of the old tables. You reach for the coffee and open the top, inspecting the contents of the cup.

“You know how I take my coffee?” you ask, raising a brow.

“I pay attention,” is all the answer you get.

You stood dumbfounded for a moment until you remembered that you had made coffee the other morning when he fixed the lock on the door upstairs.

“Thank you.”

Your gaze travels to his and there is some kind of silent communication between you. You can’t believe how much he can convey without actually speaking. Your breathing becomes shallower as he continues to look at you and you know, by the determined set of his jaw and confidence simmering in his gaze that things have really shifted.

When he finally pulls his eyes away you let out an audible breath and take a sip of your coffee.

“What’s happening here?” he asks as he looks over the mess of a wall. “You want to get rid of this?”

He moves closer and toys with the wallpaper.

“Yes and then I want to…”

You start rattling off your ideas in a long run-on rambling sentence without taking a break and when you’re finally done you find him eyeing you with both an amused and thoughtful expression.

“Right,” he said. “Well I know a good place to get lumber and all that so we can shop later but for now let’s get this cleaned up.”

He turns and strides for the exit, passing your trash bag from yesterday that was too heavy for you to lift.

“You want this out for pick up?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you respond.

With zero effort, he tosses the bag over his shoulder and walks out. When he returns he’s carrying his toolbox.

You peer through the window and see his pickup truck and one trip at a time, he brings more supplies and tools.

Grabbing the back of his sweatshirt he drags it up and off, bringing his tee shirt underneath along with it, and you catch a glimpse of what’s beneath.

“Shit,” you mutter.

Now that he’s only in a tee shirt you can see the deep cut of his triceps and forearm muscles every time he lifts or handles something.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“You alright there darlin’?” he asks when he hears your quiet reflections.

“Huh? Me? Oh yeah, just fine thanks. Um…I want to help so just tell me what to do…you know be bossy. You’re good at that.”

He steps closer with a sideways smirk, his warmth coasting over you, and his gaze falls to your mouth, taking it’s time before finding your eyes again.

“Keep ripping that wallpaper down. I know it looks a mess but you’re doing it right.”

The words themselves hold no sensuality at all but the way he says them, the way he leans in close and whispers them along your ear…it sends a shiver right down your spine.

As the days pass you continue to work and make progress on the shop. Some days it’s just you and Joel and other days Tommy joins you both to help. On the days when Joel has to work he gives you detailed instructions on what to do and how to do it. You’re proud of how much you’ve accomplished together but also on your own.

At the end of the week, with the late afternoon sun already making it’s way toward the horizon, you notice the shop is oddly quiet. No sound of the saw or hammer.

“I have something to show you.”

His low and gravelly voice pulls you from your current task of polishing the small table tops and your nerves fire up.

When you stand and walk closer he looks you over from head to toe. You’re covered in dust and your skin is glowing with a light sheen of sweat.

You look down at yourself then back up at him.

“Is it that bad?” you ask with a halfhearted smile.

“You look beautiful.”

He holds his hand out and you take it, letting him pull you toward the back of the shop.

You step behind the last row of bookshelves and stop short.

“Joel…”

The large bay window is now framed by two brand new floor to ceiling dark shelves. The polished wood gleams in the setting sun and every beautiful accent swirl and grain is highlighted.

“It’s amazing! I just…I love it. Thank you!”

He takes the rag from his back pocket and cleans his hands while he watches you from under the dark strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead.

“Glad you like it darlin’.”

“No. I love it Joel. How can I ever thank you.”

“Have dinner with me…and not here…on the floor of the shop like we do some days. A real date.”

You suck in a small breath and curl your fingers together. “Did you think you needed to build me this to convince me to go on a date with you?”

“No,” he says as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I was workin’ up the nerve to ask you and this was a good distraction.”

“Oh…” You say the words and your mouth forms a little ‘o’ shape. “I…I mean…of course. I’d love to have dinner with you.”

He looks down at his feet and nods firmly, a smile playing on his lips. “Alright then.”

He starts to gather and pack up his tools. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six.”

You shake your head yes and realize you’re not speaking and as he turns to walk away you move forward while calling his name.

One second he’s holding the tool box and the next it’s on the ground next to him and he’s turning toward you. Your momentum brings you right into his chest and his arm wraps around your lower back.

He waits for you to speak, his eyes wandering over the features of your face before focusing in on your parted lips. His fingers splayed along your lower back dig into your skin and he tugs you closer as he dips his head.

Your palms land flat on his hard chest and slowly dance upward along his broad shoulders.

“Thank you.”

The words are just a whisper but you manage to get them passed your lips and he looks like he’s about to speak but instead covers your mouth with his.

The kiss is worshipful but you can feel his restraint in the tense and flexing muscles of his body and your fingers find purchase at the back of his neck and comb through his hair.

His hand slides up your back and he presses you closer as he lifts the other to cup your jaw. The callouses on the pad of his thumb scrape deliciously across your soft skin and he moans like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

When the need for air finally takes over he releases your mouth just long enough to look into your eyes before he dives back in, stealing your breath all over again.

The door to the shop opens, the newly installed bell atop it ringing loud and clear through your kiss filled haze.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Tommy says sheepishly when he appears by the window.

Joel breaks the kiss, his chest heaving with harsh breaths and he stares at your mouth for a few long moments while you cling to him. His hand eventually drops away from your back and his fingers trace along your jaw and then down your neck to pull your ear to his lips.

“Tomorrow night,” he murmurs. “Six.”

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @lizette50 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #bookshop

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happywebdesign · 11 months

Photo

https://www.pimpinella.cooking/

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sant-riley · 1 year

Text

[Ghost, Soap and Price when you ask them "would you get my name tattooed on you?"] headcanons

A/N: This is for fun, no one requested it but I love tattoos and I got some soooooo here we go!

A/N 2: this was started back in December lmfao whoops, anyways this is just some random thoughts .

Ghost:

Ghost is gonna either A) look at you like you're stupid as fuck or B) call you stupid as fuck for even asking if you two are not close.

However, you are close so he humors you, despite not saying a for sure yes or no.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because you love me~"

"You think I love you?" Dude is making heart eyes at you as y'all speak, he's full of shit.

You pester him and poke at his chest, telling him you want your name here or there and he just rolls his eyes when he lays on his back.

He makes grunts and snarky remarks like he'd cut the skin off and belly laughs when you pout and can't help but flick your forehead and say it wouldn't happen.

A liar, he's gonna get a tattoo to symbolize you, just not your name. In y'alls line of work it's too dangerous, he's a known soldier and he has a target on his back. Whatever hyperfixation you have, whatever special interest, is something he'd get inked on him, probably on the inside of his arm to keep it hidden.

He runs his fingers across it before and after a mission, even if you're there with him. It's a habit that he'll probably never break. (I'm imagining him with Optimus tattoo for me I'm crying)

Soap:

He's been waiting. He is absolutely saying yes. He's been thinking about it for awhile and has been designing in his little journal what fonts he would get.

You cannot tell me that this man wouldn't get his loved ones name on him bc he absolutely WOULD.

He doesn't care if it's bad luck to get your partners name on you, as far as he's concerned he's yours for as long as you'll have him and you both work together, been through hell together. He's sure of it if you are okay with it.

He's the guy to get your name over his heart 😭 probably also with some flowers/symbols that represent you around it as well.

He presents it to you all giddy and laughs loud when you throw your arms around his neck hugging him.

"You like it? Now you're stuck with me 'orever~" while he gives you kisses all over your face.

Soap proudly flaunts when he's shirtless, his dog tags and your name on his chest make him so egotistical (it's warranted he's so fucking hot)

Would be very happy if you were to get his name but would never pressure you, however if you were, he'd need to design it for you <3

Price:

Price is on the fence, he's not a tattoo man and never has been. But he loves you, more than he's ever loved anyone so it's a firm maybe.

It'll have to be a couple of years before he genuinely will sit down and consider it.

Wouldn't get your name but instead your initial, probably on the inside of his finger or on some easily hidden slice of skin.

You don't even fucking see it until months pass and he's changing.

"Oh that? Got it back on downtime between missions." Motherfucker.

He grumbles as you steal whatever limb it's on but he's happy you're so so ecstatic and he thinks the glowing smile you send him makes it worth it.

@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess @stupid-ninja @milkmily @lune-la-chanson @tamayakii @teacupcollector @perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains @marsbar127xx @baddump @xncasi @king-cookiex @palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky �� @wolfyland07 @diejager @hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom @solarslushee @areislol @cluelessyasmin @sesshomaruwaifu @chaos-unchecked @kalamataolivesssss @arunasmisfortune @tbrfics @117s-girl @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @sparrowwithaquill @justtiredandvibing

#ghost <3 #soap <3 #price <3 #call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kayla writes <3 #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #john price x reader #john price #captain price #price x reader #captain price x female reader #gn reader

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sin-djarin · 8 months

Text

Video Nasty (Joel Miller x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit 18+. MDNI.

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Your quest to clear out the basement leads to an unexpected discovery.

Warnings: SMUT, porn with minimal plot, unspecified era, mentions of food, no mention of age (reader is in late 20s), unprotected P in V sex (don't do this, be safe), sweat, creampie. No use of y/n.

A/N: Listen. I don't know anymore. Forgive me for any typos or grammar errors please.

You can read other snippets from this here:

Video Nasty II: Restricted Viewing

PLEASE PUT YOUR AGES IN YOUR BIO. I REALLY DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO BLOCK ANYONE.

Reblog and comment to make your writer's day.

There was one task you had been putting off every weekend since you got here – going through the boxes of stuff in the basement. That’s all it was known to you as – stuff. Stuff and probably junk. About six or seven cardboard boxes - only identifiable with your name or Joel’s on written in marker on the front of them. All of them holding your belongings that had yet to be sorted through waiting to be assigned their places throughout the house.

When the seasons changed you wondered where that certain cosy sweater might be or where the mug you’d had since college went. You just never looked for it. Only the essentials had been taken out of their boxes – enough plates and glasses to eat and drink with along with some other day to day necessities like underwear and socks.

But today you were taking the plunge. The day passes you by as you sort boxes of your old jeans, bras that no longer held their shape, notebooks and sketchpads full of doodles, and piles of CDs and cassette tapes. It took so long because every time you pulled something out a decision had to be made – keep it or donate it. In other words; keep the memory or lose it. When you pulled up a t-shirt, it’s too easy to relive the moment you wore it to that fourth of July party ten years ago. And that’s all of this is now – memories. You sigh at the thought but find a small mercy in the fact you can always make new ones.

Joel’s boxes are easier to go through than yours. Mountains of entangled cables each with an unknown function, screwdriver sets with some parts missing, dozens of old different sized and shaped batteries. Most of this, you guessed, could go straight in the trash. As you come to the end of his second box, a smell of pepper and basil hits your nose. Hours have gone by.

“Dinner” his voice booms from the top of the basement stairs, calling you to the kitchen.

“Just a second” you reply.

There are only a few items left in the box. If you finish, you can eat dinner with a sense of accomplishment. Quickly you take out the stacks at the bottom and start to make decisions about the various sheets of papers in your hands. A few old drill manuals – he doesn’t use this brand anymore – trash. Baseball cards – keep – they could be worth something.

The last thing in your grip is a square white envelope that’s beaten up. But it’s sturdy. Flipping it around, the view through its clear plastic window makes your jaw drop. It’s a DVD. The disc itself is white with big red letters that say NASTY NURSES VOL VI. In a smaller font underneath reads five minute preview – not for resale. A giggle escapes you at the thought of Joel watching something so cliché. Opening the envelope to pull the disc out to get a better look you can see it’s been used – the scratches and fingerprints make that clear.

“Hey” you jump as he calls for you a second time.

“Coming!”

You shove the disc in the front pocket of your sweatshirt and climb the stairs to the kitchen.

He’s already sat at the small dining table, hunched over and half way through a plate loaded with pasta in a tomato sauce and chicken. Taking your seat opposite him, you try to hide the grin that threatens to spread across your face. You know something he doesn’t.

“How’d it go?” he asks, with a mouth full of food, his head only inches from the dish.

“Yeah. Went through everything” you tell him. Your chewing making it easier to disguise your smile.

“You look pretty happy about it. Are we keeping a lot?”

“Not really. Tried to get rid of as much as I could”

“Right” he nods and continues to shovel forkfuls of pasta into his mouth.

You’re starving but you only pick at your dinner. Your thoughts are stolen by what could possibly be on that DVD. More than likely, it’s not anything brilliant. But the idea of what Joel did while watching it is all consuming. It’s not a taboo image – him getting off to porn. But it is distracting, more tempting than the food on your plate. And he notices.

“What’s wrong? Too much salt?” he asks, one eyebrow arched.

“No, no. It’s great” you bite your lip, trying to stifle that same smirk.

“You should eat” he points to your plate with the silver fork. “Been down there for hours and it’s late”

He’s right; it is late. Late for eating dinner anyway. You take his advice and eat until you’re comfortably full. When you’re done, you lean back into the wooden chair and he carries your plate away to the sink. Watching him clean up doesn’t help, it only sends your mind into a whirl. His broad back is turned to you – one arm holding the plate steady under the running water, the other moving backwards and forwards holding a sponge while his head bows, looking down at what he’s doing.

He shuts off the faucet and spins back around to you, wiping his hands with a towel.

“What’s that?” he points to your stomach.

You look down, expecting to find a mess of sauce down your black hoodie but it there isn’t one. But there is the corner of the envelope peeking out of your pocket. Fuck.

“Just uh…something I found” you say, hoping your answer would satisfy him.

“Can I see?” he rolls his eyes.

You hesitate for a second, quickly running through the outcomes of showing him the secret you had inherited from him. He could be embarrassed, he could feign ignorance and claim it’s not his – that it just fell into a box of his stuff.

You take it out and hand it over to him. His eyes fall down to study it, eyebrows knit together as he recalls the moving pictures. He runs a hand over his mouth and it falls to his side again before his eyes dart to yours to see what you’re thinking.

“I, um” he clears his throat, his Adams apple bouncing up and down in his throat as he does.

“It’s okay, Joel” you smile reassuringly.

“Yeah, no. I-“ he shifts his weight on his heavy boots.

You stand and run a hand down his arm not wanting him to become uncomfortable about it. Because he shouldn’t be. It’s an acceptable activity. You start to walk away from him towards the stairs with the smile very much settled on your face now.

“This what you were smilin’ at?” his voice comes from behind you as you leave him along in the kitchen.

________

The hot water of the shower blasts away all the dust and fluff that gathered on you on your journey to declutter. It feels like a weight has been lifted, as you mentally check the day’s activity off your to do list. While you throw on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of underwear for bed, you think about your discovery. You didn’t think he was too embarrassed, but you do assume that it’s something neither of you will bring up again.

When you step out of the bathroom, Joel has already changed out of jeans and flannel shirt and swapped them for his usual sleep outfit of a tank top and heather gray boxer briefs that both hug his muscular body. He sits on the edge of the bed, one leg resting on it and his other foot planted to the floor. The only light on in the room is the lamp on your beside table as you make your way over to your side and sit back against the headboard, taking your pot of moisturizer from the drawer of the nightstand and begin applying it to your calves.

Joel hasn’t moved an inch. When you glance at him his lips are pursed as he combs his fingers back and forth through his moustache, eyes focused on nothing in particular ahead of him. Your intention wasn’t to embarrass him, but maybe you had.

Screwing the lid of your body cream back on and tucking it back into the drawer, you attempt to spark up a conversation about the whole affair but he beats you to it.

“Think we should watch it?” he mutters into his fingers, his gaze still targeted ahead of him.

Your brows raise at the question. This was taking a different route than you had mapped out for yourself.

“Do you want to watch it?” you counter.

“I mean. If you want to y’know, I just-“ he swallows hard. “Haven’t seen it in years” he explains, his voice is unsteady, like he’s trying to convince himself of the idea.

Shit. It must be that good. All five minutes of it. Of course there’s no denying it – you’re curious. he knows what’s on that DVD and you don’t – it could be anything. And the earlier idea of making new memories is more appealing now than ever. He wants to share it with you.

“Put it in” you smile.

He gets up to and inserts the DVD into the side of the TV – a feature that you had never really used for anything other than rewatching movies that had grown to be a comfort to you on a bad day.

He resumes his position, sitting on the bed bent forward with one elbow resting on his knee while the other holds the remote. You brace yourself, sitting back against your pillows. He scrolls through the output options and selects DVD from the menu. With one final look over his shoulder at you, he presses play.

Immediately after the rated R disclaimer, overly enthusiastic moans blare from the speakers. A blonde woman dressed in a flimsy white nurse outfit that stops just above the knee appears. The camera pans down her legs to show off her matching white lace stockings. The next clip has her on her back on a gurney, legs spread open wide as she plays with herself. She’s interrupted by another actor, dressed in a lab coat. You can see where this is going…

Joel is completely focused on the screen, eyes are narrowed and his teeth terrorize his bottom lip. It’s difficult to tell if he’s enjoying it or not.

Meanwhile, the next clip has started. The nurse has shed all her clothes apart from her stockings and the doctors face is buried in her pussy. It’s unclear if she’s having a good time either. Her expression looks forced and you can’t see a thing he’s doing for the back of his head – you find yourself unable to compare his technique to Joel’s. Before you know it, she’s bent over and he’s pumping in and out of her from behind.

It’s all jump cuts - from scene to seedy scene and gratuitous oohs and aahs echo through the bedroom. Then she’s on top, after that she’s on her knees as the doctor stands above her as she moans something along the lines of give it to me. And right before the money shot – the DVD stops.

Joel leans back on the bed as the movie returns to the DVD menu that’s similar in design to the front of the disc. You’re not a porn connoisseur, but you’ve indulged enough to know that that was not quality viewing. You wouldn’t class it as sexy, just rough and ready. There’s no plot, no story and no happy endings for anyone. It’s just…porn.

“So what was your favorite part?” you question him, eager to know just why it showed so much wear and tear on the shiny plastic of the back of it.

He shakes his head. “Dunno” he sighs. He’s disappointed; his viewing experience wasn’t like he remembered it to be. Maybe there were too many people present to enjoy it.

“But you must have liked it before”

“Before, yeah” he agrees and lays down fully on his back beside you.

“Why? What was your favorite part?” he probes you now.

“I kinda liked it when she was on top of him”

“That right?” he turns his head towards you, ears pricking at your admission. “Why’s that?”

“You know why, Joel”

“No I don’t, baby. Gonna need you to explain that to me real good” he drawls, reaching over to grab your leg and maneuver you on top of his hips in a swift movement.

His palms run up and down your thighs that spread wide across his waist. You feel him becoming stiff underneath you already. The feeling of it and image of him broad, and willing beneath you is enough to send a warmth to your pussy.

“C’mon, now. Tell me” he pleads.

“Can feel it better”

“Feel what better?”

Fed up of waiting for clarification, his fingertips slide underneath the fabric of your underwear and you jolt as they brush over your clit, travelling down to part you. He licks his lips as your slick coats their skin. Slowly, you start to rock against the heel of his palm, evoking a high pitched moan at his touch. He stares up at you, eyelids heavy with lust over brown eyes as he watches you move at your own speed, allowing you to take what you need.

“Feel this better?” he rasps as his middle finger slips into you.

“Yeah” you breathe, leaning on his toughened chest for support as you vary your movements, alternating between up and down and back and forth, keen to feel as much of him as possible.

His ring finger enters you next and the sudden fullness makes you gasp but the stretch is wonderful. But it’s not long before the heat of both of you grows to be too much for him. He removes his hand and pushes at your sides so you stand above him. You can see the patch of gray material that’s become a darker shade around his leaking tip that’s been confined to his underwear.

He’s quick to remedy it though – pulling down your underwear and his before lowering you back down on top of him, only straightening back up for a second to pull your t-shirt over your head. You bend forward to wrap your hands around his neck he raises his head slightly to meet your mouth for a hungry kiss. It’s fiery and uncoordinated – all teeth and tongue but you both meet each other's deep moans at the sensation.

His fingers dig and curl themselves into the hair at the back of your head while you start to slide your slick folds along the thick length of his cock, the smooth head of it making a delicious contact with your aching clit.

“Can you cum like this, darlin’?” he wonders, purring into your neck while his hands slither down your ribcage to knead your breasts.

Instead of an answer, you raise up off him to anchor yourself with your knees either side of his hips and rest your hands on his shoulders, pinning him in place to feel the friction of his bare cock against your clit. His hands travel to the curve of your ass to guide you along.

“God” you pant. “Yeah, Joel” you warn him as that spark begins to ignite in your abdomen.

You push your hips harder into him, desperately chasing your orgasm now. The growing heat of it creeps up your back and he swipes the hair out of your face to see your eyes tighten and your mouth fall open when it finally crashes over you and you’re left breathless, pulsing on his cock.

Joel lets you catch your breath for a minute, calloused fingertips skating over the soft skin of your back as you recover from your release.

“Think you can take me? It’s okay if you can’t” he cups your jaw to look at him.

You steady your breathing. He’s not done yet, despite his cotton tank top that’s ridden half way up his stomach growing damp with sweat as it clings to his torso. Tiny pebbles of it forming on his forehead. And truthfully, you weren’t finished yet either. Not with him under you like this –still leaking against his belly – needy.

He offers you his hand to help you position yourself over him, knowing your legs aren’t to be trusted after moments ago. His free hand wraps around his cock, holding it steady for you to slide onto. Inch by inch it stretches and fills you, your soft walls encasing him. He grunts through gritted teeth, head pushes back into the mattress once he bottoms out. It takes a second for you to adjust to this new fullness.

“Jesus, baby. Fuck” he hisses as you slowly start to rock, bodies finding a synchronized rhythm.

Every time your hips rise and sink back down on him the head of his cock hits that spot at front. He’d asked, but you couldn’t articulate why it feels better. Joel can only watch as with each bounce you become a little bit more breathless and your movements a little less graceful trying to angle him perfectly below you. You’re lost in all of it; the filthy slick sounds, the vibrations of his deep hums and the swell of him inside you.

He interprets it well, you think when he brings his hand to his mouth to lick his thumb and starts to massage your clit with the soaking pad of it. He applies enough pressure to draw you dangerously close to another orgasm.

This picture of Joel through bleary eyes writhing below you is more sinful than anything your mind had created when you imagined him watching that DVD by himself. The lamp throwing light from behind him highlights the flexing muscles in each bicep and forearm as they work to hold you. The speed of his chest rising and falling faster underneath his tank top that is virtually stuck to him like another layer of skin is mouthwatering. You did that – not a DVD. The thought of that alone coaxes another tidal wave of pleasure to rip through every nerve ending. There’s no energy left to scream, you only manage a choked cry through a dry mouth while the aftershocks of it cause you to clench around his thickness.

Your body hangs heavy over him as he moves his hands to grip the meat of your ass, lifting you ever so slightly and begins to thrust at his desired pace. The veins and tendons in his neck bulge as he pistons in and out of you, hunting for his own orgasm. With every stab his fingers dig deeper into your skin.

“Hmm. Fuck” he curses and whines, air puffing from his flared nostrils as it hits him.

You feel him spill inside you, its heat coats you. One hand leaves your ass to push your shoulder back, signaling you to sit back and be fast about it.

“N-no. I’m not done” he warns and dips his waist to pull himself out of you. Another two ropes spray over your lower belly and drips down your thighs. Your heavy eyes widen at the sight of it, skin burning at the feeling of it, taking you both by surprise.

You collapse on top of him and lay your head on his shoulder. His heart is hammering against his sternum but yours is matching it beat for beat. Both of your bodies are spent, only focused on stabilizing your breaths in a rooms that feels likes it’s starved of oxygen. Your earlier shower was futile you think as you lie messy on top of him.

“Maybe we can watch something you like next time” he heaves a deep, satisfied breath.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic

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natlovesls2 · 3 months

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Right Where You Left Me

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Warning: no use of y/n, swearing, some angst, all images used are not mine and are from pinterest, possible grammatical errors, mentions of blood once or twice, randomly changes pov, brief mention of mental illness (and the slight misunderstanding it/ disregarding it), I'm American (I think that should be a warning 🤷‍♀️ ), a little rushed, there might be more that I missed, feel free to correct me

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Lando living in the past or literally Taylor Swifts RWYLM

Quick note: italics are flashbacks and normal font is present time

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Lando sat on the bar stool at the restaurant you both had frequented during the relationship, a place of sentimental value. He stared at the table where it had all happened– where your relationship had started and where it had ended. The table next to the window that overlooked the bustling streets, where on that rainy day he had mustered all his courage and asked you to be his girlfriend. The small table that barely fit both of your food and was often uncomfortable to fit at. The table with the mix-match chairs because the original were old and Lando had broken one of the chairs on your first date. The same table that he continued to seek out despite its lack of hope.

He looked up from his menu and stared at you, admiring how your face filled with concentration and indecision despite frequently eating there. You would sit there staring at the menu for minutes, occasionally asking for his opinion on what to order, asking the waitress for more time when she approached to take your order. It was the same routine every time the two of you went out, he knew you would eventually sigh and order some type of pasta.

“Okay, okay– I’ll just get the soup of the day,” you said, catching him off guard. He quickly looked up from his own menu, brows furrowed in confusion at your choice of food.

“Soup?” he asked, tilting his head as he asked, watching as you nodded and looked at the window being hit by a steady stream of rain.

“It’s cold outside,” you said with a shrug and a soft smile that reminded Lando of all the reasons he had fallen for you. He watched as you smiled at the elderly couple beside you and the way you quickly stood up to help the man when he dropped his silverware.

“How long have you been married for?” you asked the couple as you placed the silverwave back on their table. The dinner went on with you occasionally making conversation with the elderly couple, smiling widely at them. You would turn to Lando a few times, whispering about wanting to be exactly like them when you both got older.

“Marry her, don’t let her get away,” the older man said to Lando, patting him on the back as he and his wife left, causing Lando to chuckle.

“He’s not wrong… I shouldn’t let you go,” he said, nervously playing with the food on his plate. There was silence– not an awkward unmanageable silence but the thoughtful, yet comforting type. He glanced up from the table, noticing your small smile and it gave him enough courage to finally ask; “Well, I guess what I’m trying to say… umm– will you be my girlfriend?” he whispered, quickly averting his gaze back to his plate.

“If you’re not joking right now, I would love to be your girlfriend.”

The couple that approached the table and sat there brought him back to his senses, forcing him to turn away, reminding him that the table and its memories no longer belonged to him. The table had been snatched from him, you had taken it and destroyed every last bit of it. Using its worn wood to make a boat which you had used to sail away from his life– metaphorically of course.

He supposes he doesn’t know the exact point in which the relationship started to deteriorate. One moment you both seemed to be hopelessly in love with one another, and the next you were distancing yourself from Lando and your shared friendships– playing it off as being busy focused on your work and studies. He could still somehow vividly remember the day you left– still feeling the weight of the night suffocating him.

“Let’s just go and have dinner, if you still feel bad we could leave early,” Lando whispered as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head against your back.

The drive to the restaurant was silent– the type of silence that made anyone feel uneasy. The type of silence that would push you to nervously pick at the skin around your nails until it bled.

“Do you want me to order for you?” Lando asked, looking up from his menu to see you staring down at your hands as you continued to quickly and nervously pick at your skin. “Hey are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine– you wouldn’t mind ordering for me would you?” you asked him, your voice sounding distant and void of emotion as you finally noticed the small pricks of blood– carelessly wiping it off on your jeans.

“I don’t mind at all… are you sure you’re okay?”

“I think we should break up,” you impulsively said, nervously running your hands along your thighs in order to stop the urge to continue to pick at your skin.

“If this is because of your… issues then we can work through it together. You don't have to struggle alone,” he whispered, desperately attempting to save the relationship, which he thought was stronger than ever.

“That's not what this is about, Lando–”

“Then what is it? Because I don't see why we have to break up. I love you and I thought you felt the same way.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Then what do you expect me to do? I’m not going to sit back and watch you destroy this because you’re going through a mood” he reaches over the table to grab your hands in his own, as an attempt to calm you.

“I don’t… I don’t find joy in this anymore– it has nothing to do with my mental health. We aren’t the people we were when we first got together, Lando. I want more than this– I know I want more than this” you responded, moving your hands out of his own.

“And I can’t give you more?”

“I’m sorry” you abruptly stood from your chair, walking out of the restaurant. Lando stayed there for what felt like an eternity, body frozen with shock and slight embarrassment.

He felt the eyes of their waiter, who you had become rather close with over the years, sympathetic eyes that made contact with his own as he attempted to keep himself together.

“Haven’t seen you here in a while, you want the usual or something new?” Alex, the waiter who had witnessed the whole relationship, asked.

“You still remember my order?”

“Of course I do,” Alex let out a small laugh, “You and… you practically lived here before you stopped coming.”

“Yeah, I guess I did. I’ll take the usual then” Lando turned to look at the table once more, envying the happy couple that now claimed the weathered table as their own.

“I don't mean to overstep but I’ve seen her come with some guy. I think it's time for you to move on– I mean, clearly she has”

Lando nodded, slowly turning away from the table watching as Alex sadly smiled at him before walking towards the kitchen. You had been here with another man– moved on, as Alex had put it. He struggled to look straight ahead, the table in some weird way had a sort of magnetic pull on him. It urged him to take one final look at it– it wanted to taunt him with what ifs and happy painful memories. The sound of cheers finally pushed him to turn towards the table once more. Watching as the couple that sat there promised to marry one another– the table had issued one final blow. A reminder to Lando that you would never want that with him, he would never be able to promise himself to you at that damned table– it now belonged to someone else.

He supposed it never really belonged to him to begin with. He had been stupid to think that a table would be the glue that would forever hold your relationship together. Of course, he would be lying if he said he didn't still love you or yearn for your affection. If you ever thought you were wrong about your decision that night, he would take you back in an instant. But as he sat there in the suffocatingly happy atmosphere, he couldn't help but think that perhaps the table wasn’t as important as he had thought it to be. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to move on– to start over.

“Hey,” said a voice from beside him.

He couldn’t help the smile that came to his face as he turned to look at the source of the soft voice, “Hey.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 au #right where you left me

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