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peachesofteal · 2 months

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ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here

Six thirty in the morning might be your favorite time of day.

It’s the before.

Before anyone else comes in, before the morning rush, before the chime of the front door’s bell, before the shop is filled with lines of people, before it all upends you.

At six thirty in the morning, you sit in the back, perched on the prep table, with a fresh cup of coffee. You leave the side door open, screen separating you from the world, fresh air mixing with the smell of strawberry basil scones, cinnamon coffee cake and mini kolaches, fruited with whatever jam you’ve managed to throw together. Steam rises, semolina spills, the sun dawns, and the world wakes… all well after you’ve had your breakfast.

This corner of the city is busy, and the shop always hums like a well-oiled machine in the dregs of a rush, the front counter team churning out specialty coffees and teas effortlessly. It’s cyclical, similar faces every day, morning commuters rushing in and out, locals settling in a nook with their laptops and lattes, people swinging in for a quick bite. You hide in the back, usually, elbow deep in sudsy warm water with your mountain of dishes, answering the occasional shout of 'do we have more of-' and 'just sold the last-'

This morning in particular, cranberry orange scones, pumpkin muffins and mini quiches are the only things left cooling on the speed racks, waiting patiently for their turn to be placed in the display case, an endless cycle of replenishment lasting until the rush dies down, morning fading into afternoon, triple shot monstrosities turning into decaf coffees.

It’s laborious, this routine. Five, six, sometimes seven days a week, going to bed with the sun, rising before it. Your wrists ache from rolling dough, cutting dough, scraping dough. Your back weeps when you lift the bowl from the mixer stand every morning, and your joints fare no better. You need new boots, and new insoles for your new boots, and probably a new standing mat, though you know your boss will never go for it.

You’re tired.

The exhaustion settles into your bones easily today, wearing you down until you’re allowing your eyes to close, wilting atop the butcher’s block-

The shop phone rings.

You heave yourself down and swing through the double doors to the front, scrambling for the classic corded receiver, nearly fumbling it in your hands.

“Hello?” Shit. You always forget to answer with the shop’s name. You’re not exactly the customer facing part of the operation. “Galaxy’s.” You correct and… wait.

There’s no response.

You think you can hear someone breathing, something rustling, but it’s too faint and difficult to make out.

“’Lo?” You try again, but still, there’s silence. It’s an unending moment, you on one end… who knows what on the other, and you hold your breath, straining to hear, to listen.

The line clicks dead in the next second.

Odd.

The shop girl is chewing gum.

You’ve told her a million times not to chew gum when she’s working the counter, but clearly, she’s never heard of norovirus, and you’re not the boss, or the owner, so being the broken record only gets you so far.

“There’s someone out front to see you.” She snaps it between her front teeth, and your molars grind together like stone.

“Who?” You toss a clean towel on the stainless steel table in the middle of the kitchen with a frown. You don’t really get visitors here, most of your friends are in the same industry, and either work the line too late to be up in time to even get coffee somewhere, or are already at work, buried beneath a bain-marie and the never-ending sound of a ticket printer.

There’s dried, caulked dough caked to your fingers, shoved up underneath your nails, and you brush them self-consciously against the ratty old apron stretched across your waist.

The surprise lingers on your tongue, and then explodes when you spot the massive dusky blonde from the other day, the one who was with the guy who split the coffee all over your favorite dress. He’s too tall, and too broad, and too imposing, everything in your sense of self-preservation screaming at you to run when he notices you approaching, gleam of a predator sparkling in his eyes.

Still, somewhere, tucked away, it thrills you, the idea of them, the balancing act, two halves of a whole. He’s etched from stone, strong and steady, while his partner is saporous, vibrant, and riotous, crystal blue eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun.

You wonder what they're like. What they talk about. What they do.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Your skin prickles once you fall into his orbit, immobilized by the molten toffee pooling around his irises. You float for a second, tracing his knife’s edged jaw, the fullness of his lips, imperfect pieces puzzled together to make a masterpiece, and then crash back to earth quickly, realizing you’re standing in front of him… staring.

“Uh. Hi.” What is he doing here? How did he know where to find you?

“Sorry to barge in on you at work.” He starts immediately, wallet appearing from his back pocket like a magic trick. “Wanted to make sure we settled up.” Thick fingers hold a folded nest of notes, and you stare down at them, slowly processing what he means.

Cash?

“Oh, I… I have… venmo. Or we could use apple pay, you didn’t have to come all the-“

“Don’t have venmo.” His mouth tilts, and you go with it, head listing to the side like a wayward buoy. “This is easier.” He pushes it into your hand, peeling your fingers back to enclose the money in your palm, heat sparking up your spine.

“How did you know where I worked?” You blurt, unable to keep it at bay any longer. The question singes, settles uncomfortably in the sparks between you.

“Saw you in the back yesterday, when we were in for a cuppa.” Oh. Suspicion sheds, snakeskin left behind on a cold, dusty trail, suspension of disbelief settling in the back of your mind. Sure. After all, this is where you ran into them last week, on your day off. They do come here.

“Well. Thanks.”

“It’s our pleasure. Hope the stain came out okay.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s… still at the cleaners.” This is absolutely false, but he doesn’t need to know that. The spare bills will probably go towards your energy bill, and the ruined dress will go in the trash.

It is what it is.

“Couldn’t help but notice when I was comin’ through the parking lot that the back door is open.” His voice swoops low, dropping into a rumble, and you blink, lips parting.

“Oh, um y-yeah. I like the breeze.” He shakes his head, a simple rejection, leaving you spinning.

“City’s not the safest right now, yeah?” Oh, yeah. Of course, you knew. Rival factions of organized crime were leaving a red sea of bodies in their wake all over town, a new murder popping up in the headlines nearly every week.

But you were safe. You were fine. Galaxy’s had never been stained with the bloody touch of any of them, and you took it as fact. Permanence.

You agree reluctantly, watching the storm clouds roil on across his expression before evaporating. You shrug, hands clutched in your apron, doubt and skepticism clear on your face.

His expression shutters. His eyes turn cold.

His thumb and forefinger dart through the air, latching onto your chin.

You freeze. You should tug away, jerk backwards, yell and scream and hiss, but all you can do is stand there, caught in a trap and trembling as he leans forward to murmur in your ear.

“Lock the door, little doe.”

#peaches writes #guess the au?#ghoap x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #still written on the phone so #mind the mistakes

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wannab3-writer · 28 days

Text

Country Club Rivalry

PATRICK ZWEIG X CHILDHOOD FRIEND READER (some Art x reader)

NOTES : GOD, how I tried to make this an Art x Reader because I'm an Art GIRLIE, but Pat just had to come out on top for this one, truly…"

WARNINGS — 18 + content mdni, fem!reader, not proofread

wc: 5.3k

description:

When three friends work at the same country club, things are bound to get messy—especially when they have a bet about who can win over the reader first.

The Oakridge Country Club was bustling with its usual summer energy. Guests lounged by the pool, chatting under the striped umbrellas, while golf carts zipped along the winding paths. The sun blazed overhead, casting sharp shadows on the clay tennis courts where Patrick and Art were finishing their morning lessons.

You stood at the server station near the patio, jotting down drink orders on your notepad. It wasn't your first summer at the country club, but you still enjoyed the easy rhythm of the job—the way the breeze rustled through the trees, the laughter of kids playing by the pool, and the familiar faces of the regulars.

Patrick waved at you from across the tennis courts, his hair tousled from teaching. He was grinning like he always did when he'd just finished a good session. Art stood beside him, spinning his racket in his hand, looking relaxed and effortlessly charming.

"Hey, how's your section?" Patrick called, jogging over with Art trailing behind. He was wearing his usual tennis gear, white shirt, and shorts, with a blue visor to keep the sun out of his eyes.

"Pretty good," you replied, glancing at your notepad. "Mrs. Anderson is on her third mimosa, so I'm expecting a big tip."

Art laughed. "Better watch out, she's got a mean backhand when she's tipsy. I saw her smack a golf ball into the pond last week. Her caddie still hasn't recovered."

Patrick chuckled, shaking his head. "Classic Mrs. Anderson. Did you know she was a tennis champion back in the day? She could probably still give us a run for our money."

Art leaned in, lowering his voice. "Speaking of giving people a run for their money, I heard you've been racking up the tips lately. What's your secret?"

You shrugged with a playful smile. "Just being nice to people, Art. You should try it sometime."

Patrick laughed and nudged Art's shoulder. "Yeah, Art, maybe if you focused less on flirting with every guest and more on your job, you'd make some tips, too."

Art feigned shock. "Me? Flirting? I don't know what you're talking about." He turned to you with a charming grin. "Do you think I'm a flirt?"

You raised an eyebrow. "A little, but that's your thing, right? I mean, it's not like you're betting on who can get the most milfs phone numbers or anything." Clearly sarcastic.

Patrick shot Art a look, then quickly turned to you with a smile. "Yeah, nothing like that. We just... like to keep things interesting."

Art nodded, but you noticed a brief flicker of guilt in his eyes. It was subtle, but it made you wonder if there was more to their competition than met the eye.

"Well, whatever it is, just don't bring any drama into my section, okay?" you said, playfully tapping your notepad against Art's chest. "I've got enough to deal with without you two causing trouble."

Patrick raised his hands in mock surrender. "No drama, I promise. We'll be on our best behavior."

Art winked. "Scout's honor."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. Despite the teasing and the occasional competitive streak, you knew they meant well. It was just another summer at the country club, where the days were long, the sun was hot, and anything could happen.

Anything.

---

The Club had settled into its evening rhythm by the time you reached the bar. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, casting soft glimmers on the stone patio. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine and freshly cut grass. A live band played classic rock covers, the gentle strum of guitars mingling with the murmur of patrons relaxing after a day of golf and tennis.

Patrick was at a corner table, nursing a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He looked up from his phone and waved you over, a broad smile lighting up his face. He'd changed out of his tennis instructor uniform into a casual blue polo and jeans, his hair still damp from a quick shower.

"Hey, there you are!" he said, using his foot to pull out a chair for you. "I was starting to think you forgot about me."

You shook your head with a grin. "Please, I could hear your bad jokes all the way from the kitchen. Had to come and see what was so funny."

Patrick laughed, setting his phone aside. "You know I'm hilarious. You just pretend not to appreciate my sense of humor."

You took a seat and glanced around. The bar was lively but not overcrowded. A group of older couples was playing cards at a nearby table, and a few teenagers from the tennis program were playing darts in the corner. It felt like the perfect end to a busy day.

"So, what are we drinking tonight?" Patrick asked, gesturing to the menu. "I've got whiskey, but I hear the margaritas are pretty good."

You considered for a moment. "Let's go with the margaritas. I need something fruity after today."

Patrick flagged down the bartender, who quickly mixed up a pitcher of margaritas with a generous splash of tequila. He poured you a glass and handed it over with a mock bow. "Your drink, my liege. May it bring you all the fruitiness you desire."

You raised your glass with a chuckle. "Thank you, William,” you turn towards the brunet “To Patrick, who somehow managed not to break any tennis rackets today. It's a new record!"

Patrick clinked his whiskey against your glass. "And to you, for not spilling any drinks on Mrs. Anderson. She's still mad about last summer's 'mimosa incident.'"

You rolled your eyes, remembering the time you accidentally spilled a tray of drinks on Mrs. Anderson's white dress during a particularly hectic brunch. "Don't remind me. I had to run for cover like I was in a war zone. I thought she’d have my head.”

Patrick laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "You should've seen her face. It was like you'd ruined her entire day. But hey, at least you got to keep your job."

As the two of you shared stories and relived old memories, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the patio. The band transitioned to a slower song, adding a mellow vibe to the evening.

Art arrived a little later, his tennis gear replaced by a button-down snap back and jeans. He had a confident stride and a smile that seemed to draw attention wherever he went. He slid into the seat next to you, his presence bringing a shift in the energy at the table.

"What's up, party people?" he said, his voice smooth and inviting. "I hope you saved some margaritas for me."

Patrick handed him a glass. "Of course, wouldn't want our little Arty to feel left out.” He added leaning into Art smirking. “What took you so long anyways, Shelly needed some one-on-one time to work on her underhand? Or what. ”

You smirked. "You really think He’s that charming, huh?” she turns towards Art looking into his eyes “What’s your secret hmm? Is it the cologne?"

Art leaned in with a grin. "It's all about confidence. And maybe a little bit of cologne. But mostly confidence."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "Right, because confidence is what you exude. You should've seen Art on the tennis court today. He was so confident he almost hit a kid with a tennis ball."

Art raised an eyebrow. "Almost. That's the key word. No harm, no foul."

The banter continued, the three of you falling into an easy rhythm. Art's charm contrasted with Patrick's laid-back, cheeky style, and you found yourself enjoying the playful back-and-forth.

As the evening progressed, you noticed Patrick watching Art with a hint of unease. It was subtle, like a flicker in his eyes whenever Art made you laugh a little too hard or leaned in a little too close.

---

"All right, we're here. Try not to break anything, okay? Last time you were here, my mom couldn't find her favorite vase for a week."

Art smirked, stepping inside. "That wasn't my fault! How was I supposed to know it was on top of the fridge? Who puts a vase on the fridge, anyway?"

Art dropped his bag in his Patrick’s room and looked around. The place had an eclectic charm—walls lined with tennis trophies, faded concert posters, and family photos. A stack of video games sat beside the TV.

Patrick led the way into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge. He tossed one to Art, who caught it with ease. "So, what are you in the mood for? I was thinking pizza, but we can order something else if you're not into it."

Art popped open the bear and took a sip. "Pizza sounds good. Just no anchovies, okay? That stuff is nasty."

Patrick laughed, opening his own soda. "You're missing out, man. Anchovies are a delicacy." He grabbed the phone and dialed the pizza place, ordering a large with pepperoni and sausage. "There, something a bit more your speed. Happy now?"

Art nodded, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, that'll work. So, you ready for tomorrow? Two-on-two is serious business. We can't afford to slack off."

Patrick waved a hand dismissively. "Please, I'm always ready. Besides, we've got the advantage. I mean, have you seen the other teams? Half of them can't even hit a backhand."

Art chuckled. "You're so modest, Patrick. What would you do without me to keep you humble?"

Patrick shrugged with a grin. "Probably win more matches.”

Art threw a punch at Patrick's shoulder, and Patrick pretended to wince. They both laughed, the kind of easy camaraderie that came from years of friendship and shared jokes. But there was also a subtle tension in the air, like they were both aware of the unspoken rivalry that had been growing between them.

"So," Patrick said, leaning back against the kitchen island, biting his lip "you and […] seemed pretty chummy tonight. What's the story there? You trying to make a move, or what?" The familiar smirk making its way to his face.

Art raised an eyebrow, his expression guarded. "We're just talking. Nothing wrong with getting to know someone, right?" He finished wetting his lips.

Patrick smirked. "Sure, nothing wrong with that.” He shrugged. “But you're not just getting to know her. You're flirting, and we both know it." He took a couple steps forward “Basically eye fucking her, to be honest” He only smiled.

Art shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Oh, come on Pat, maybe, She's just fun to be around, you know. No need to be gross." Art gave him a wry smile. "You know me. I just go with the flow. If she likes hanging out with me, who am I to complain?"

Patrick leaned in, lowering his voice. "Or maybe, you think she's interested in you. Is that what this is about? You think you've got a shot?" His eyes scanning arts face.

Art met his gaze, his expression calm but with a hint of challenge. "I don't know, man. Maybe I do. What does it matter to you huh? You think you've got the inside track because you've known her longer?"

Patrick grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I mean, it doesn't hurt. We've got a lot of history. I'm charming, good-looking, and I've got the best jokes. What's not to like?" he goes back to lean on the counter. “Besides, I’ve seen the real her, all of it, kinda gives me a little advantage don’t you think.”

Art halts, stops chewing his gum, straitening himself up. “What’s that supposed to mean Patrick.”

“Exactly what it you think.” He kissed his teeth, kicking off the counter and going back to looking inside the fridge.

Art chuckled, but there was a hint of envy in his laugh. "Well, if you're so confident, maybe we should make it interesting. How about a little bet? See who can win her over first?"

Patrick waved his hand dismissively. "Little Arty wants a bet he’ll lose?” He chuckles. “No games. Just a simple bet. May the best man win."

Art held out his hand, and Patrick shook it with a grin. The bet was sealed, but there was an underlying seriousness in Art's eyes. As they waited for the pizza, the two friends continued their banter, but there was a new edge to their jokes—like the stakes had just gotten a little higher.

---

A week after their doubles match, the annual Oakridge Country Club gala was in full swing, the ballroom bustling with elegantly dressed members and guests. The chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting warm light onto the neatly set tables, while smooth jazz played in the background. You stood near the entrance, surveying the glamorous crowd, your fitted dress drawing approving glances from a few partygoers.

Art was the first to spot you, leaning against a wall with a cocktail in hand, chatting up club regulars. He was dressed in a sharp suit, but he carried himself with a boyish charm. His grin was wide as he motioned for you to come over, his eyes moving from your head to your heels in a way that felt like a visual undressing.

"Wow," he said, raising his glass, "you clean up nice. I was expecting you to show up in your waiter outfit or something. I'm glad you went with the dress, though. Much more... appealing."

You gave him a playful smirk, stepping up to the bar. "Thanks, Art. I do my best to impress." You glanced at his drink. "Are you trying to get a head start on the partying? We haven't even hit the dance floor yet."

He took a sip, his gaze lingering on your lips. "Hey, I like to loosen up a bit before the main event. Keeps things interesting. Besides, you can't blame a guy for wanting to enjoy himself, right? You gonna help me enjoy my night and keep me company?"

Patrick, who was laughing with a group nearby, walked over just in time to catch Art’s comment. He gave Art a look of mild disapproval, then turned to you with a sly smile.

"Don't listen to him. He's just trying to get you alone so he can talk your ear off about his latest tennis game.” Patrick shrugged, looking at Art with a smirk. "So boring. I was thinking we could have some real fun; you know? A little adventure never hurt anyone." He leaned closer, his voice barely audible over the music. "Besides, I know all the best spots around here. Private spots. You'd love it."

Art shook his head, clearly not amused. "Come on, Patrick. We're here to enjoy the gala, not to sneak off like we're in high school. Why don't we all just enjoy the party and see what happens?"

Patrick grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Art. But if you change your mind,” he turn towards her. “You know where to find me. I'll be the one having a good time." He turned to you with a suggestive wink while walking backwards to god knows where.

Art rolled his eyes, then smiled at you in a more relaxed manner. "Sorry about him, he’s not really allowed to leave the house. He's a good guy, but he doesn't always know when to tone it down. If you want, I can keep him from getting too out of hand. I wouldn't want him to scare you off." He says mocking Patrick as he walked away.

You laugh full heartedly glancing at Patrick, who was already chatting with a couple of other guests, his flirtatious demeanor on full display. " Thanks so for watching out for me. It can get a little overwhelming with him around." You continued smiling.

Art nodded smiling, his expression kind. " I was thinking we could get some food, maybe hit the dance floor. What do you think?" Art suggested, leading the way. "I'm sure Patrick will join us once he's done charming the entire room."

Patrick shot Art a mischievous look but didn't follow immediately. You could tell he was reveling in the attention, his flirtatious behavior attracting more than a few curious glances from the other guests.

The band switched to a slow, romantic melody, and Art extended his hand to you with a charming smile. "Care to dance?" he asked, his eyes warm and inviting.

You nodded, accepting his offer, and he led you onto the dance floor. His touch was gentle yet confident as he pulled you close, swaying to the music with practiced ease.

As you danced with Art, you felt yourself relaxing into his embrace. His presence was comforting, his movements smooth and graceful. You couldn't help but smile as you looked up at him, feeling a somewhat new sense of closeness.

Halfway through the song, Patrick appeared out of nowhere, a cocky grin on his lips. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

Before you could respond, he swept you away from Art, taking you into his arms with a boldness that made you some type of way. His touch was hot, his body pressed close to yours as he guided you across the dance floor.

"So, you replacing your best friend with that ginger?" he asked, his voice low and suggestive. "Boring you to tears yet?" He raised a brow.

You laughed, unable to resist his playfulness. "Hmm maybe. He's actually a great dancer, unlike some people."

Patrick smirked, pulling you even closer. "Yeah, but can he do this?" With a sudden flourish, he spun you around, his movements fluid and confident. "Do I need to remind you why I’m better.” He paused.

“How, I��m better.”

You chuckled rolling your eyes, enjoying the thrill of dancing with Patrick. He was unpredictable, to say the least, his smile contagious. But as much as you were drawn to him, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for leaving Art behind.

Patrick reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and offering you one with a sly grin. "Care for a smoke?" he asked, lighting his own with practiced ease.

You just shook your head with hesitant smile. “I really shouldn’t, Pat. You know I’m trying to quit.”

He looks you up and down with a seductive look.

“We’ve all got our guilty pleasures, darling.”

As the song came to an end, Patrick took your hand, leading you away from the dance floor and out onto the club’s private beach. The cool breeze off the ocean felt refreshing against your skin, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was soothing.

You hesitated for a moment, then accepted the offer, taking the cigarette from him and inhaling deeply. The nicotine hit you like a rush of adrenaline, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration as you exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night air.

"So, what do you think?" Patrick asked, his eyes searching yours. "Having fun yet?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of liberation wash over you. "Yeah, I am. Thanks for... you know, stealing me away." You added motioning to the cigarette.

Patrick grinned, leaning in closer. "Anytime, sweetheart. Just say the word, and I'll whisk you away to paradise."

You laughed, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest.

Patrick decided to sit down in the sand, his cigarette glowing in the darkness as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. You sat beside him, savoring the familiar scent of his cologne.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, then shot you a sidelong glance. "You know, I was just thinking about that first summer at tennis camp," he said, his voice low and playful. "I mean, it's where it all started, right? Just a couple of kids swinging rackets and making trouble."

You smiled at the memory. "Yeah, it's crazy to think about how much has changed since then. Who would've thought you'd actually make it big in tennis? Meanwhile, I could barely keep the ball on the court."

Patrick laughed, a warm, hearty sound that cut through the night air. "Yeah, well, I guess I had a little more motivation to stick with it. You were off climbing trees and playing in the woods, and I was stuck with a bunch of coaches yelling at me to hit harder."

"Hey," you replied with a smirk, "it's not like I was useless. I remember showing you all the best spots to hide when you wanted to skip practice."

Patrick nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I remember. You were the queen of avoiding responsibility. If it weren't for you, I'd probably have become a strait-laced tennis prodigy. Instead, you dragged me into the wilderness to make forts and find weird bugs."

You both chuckled, reminiscing about those lazy summer days when tennis camp was more of a suggestion than a requirement. But then Patrick's expression turned sly, and he leaned in a bit closer.

"Speaking of weird things from our past," he said, his voice dripping with playful insinuation, he nudged you. "You remember that bet we made? The one about if we were both green by the time you turned 16, we'd, you know, be each other's first?"

Your face grew warm at the memory. It had been a silly bet between two best friends who figured they'd never find anyone else in their small circle. But the fact that you followed through with it made it more than just a joke.

"Yeah," you replied, pretending to be nonchalant, "I remember, Pat we’re not that old. It was a dumb bet, but I guess we kept our word, didn't we?"

Patrick nodded, a cheeky grin spreading across his lips. "We sure did. And you know, I wasn't expecting it to be so... memorable. I thought we'd just laugh about it later, but it was kind of nice. You know, like a rite of passage or something."

You laughed, trying to deflect his innuendo. "A rite of passage? Yeah, right. More like a hilarious disaster. I mean, you had no idea what you were doing."

Patrick raised an eyebrow, his grin growing wider. "Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad. Besides, you were just as clueless. At least I managed to keep my cool, mostly."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile at his cockiness. "Mostly, huh? If I remember correctly, you tripped over your own shoes and nearly fell face first."

Patrick groaned, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Okay, maybe I was a little clumsy. But you have to admit, it was an experience neither of us will forget. And hey, we did it together. That's gotta count for something, right?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of nostalgia and fondness. "Yeah, it does. I'm just glad it didn't ruin our friendship. It could've been awkward, but it wasn't."

Patrick leaned in, his gaze locking with yours. "Of course it wasn't. We were best friends. We still are. And besides, even if it was a bit awkward, it was worth it. You know, just to say we did it." He flicked the ash from his cigarette, then added with a wink, "And hey, I was your first. That's something not everyone can say."

You laughed, pushing him lightly on the shoulder. "Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head. You still have a long way to go before you become a pro. But if you need any advice on how to avoid tripping over your own shoes, I'm here for you."

Patrick grinned, taking a final drag from his cigarette before tossing it into the sand. " If you ever want to make another bet, I'm always up for it. " He Looks at you seductively, his eyes full of mischief. " I think if you were to give me another chance, you’d find that I’ve improved quite a bit. " He gives you his signature smirk.

You scan his face trying to find sincerity in his words, not sure how you’d feel if he was. “What are you trying to get at Patrick?”

“Nothing at all.” He raised his hands in a surrender, cigarette in mouth looking away. “I’m just saying, I feel like I deserve a redemption arc,” He takes his cigarette putting out in the sand. “I wasn’t the most…giving you can say.” He looks back at you, under his brows. “And I just want to show you that I’ve changed, for the better.” He offers a smile.

You just nod your head in fake agreement. “Uhh, how much have you had to drink tonight pat? Is it time to call you a cab?” You questioned with a week smile.

“Oh, shut up, I’m dead sober.” He said leaning in. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Besides, what's life without a little adventure?"

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his touch. It was a simple gesture, but there was something in the way he did it that made your heart skip a beat. Patrick had always had a way of pushing boundaries, but tonight, he seemed more deliberate, more intent.

"Adventure?" you replied, your voice slightly breathless. "Are you planning something?"

Patrick's smile grew, his eyes locking with yours. "Maybe. But you know me—always full of surprises." He stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your waist. "But I promise, it'll be a good one."

You felt a rush of heat at his touch, the closeness between you stirring something deep within. Patrick leaned in, his lips just inches from yours. "So, do you trust me?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "No I don’t, Patrick, because I know you. Why? What are you up to?"

Patrick's gaze grew more intense, his eyes fixed on yours. "I just wanted to try something." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of electricity through you.

The kiss deepened, the heat between you building as Patrick pulled you closer. His hand slid around your waist, holding you firmly as he kissed you with a newfound intensity. The sound of the waves seemed to fade away, replaced by the pounding of your own heart.

Patrick's other hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle yet assertive. His kiss was slow and deliberate, each movement a carefully orchestrated dance that left you breathless. As his lips moved against yours, you felt a rush of desire, a connection that seemed to transcend words.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with emotion. He looked at you, his lips slightly parted, as if he was trying to read your thoughts.

“Show me.” You said looking him deep in his eyes barley a millimetre away from his lips.

“Show you what darling?” He question with a smile gracing his lips

“How you’re better than Art.”

That’s not what he was expecting at all. Maybe a ‘show me how you’ve improved.’ But certainly not you using his own words against him, That’s for sure.

That didn’t stop Patrick's smile from getting bigger though, as he moved his hands all over you, bringing you in for another wet and sloppy kiss. He slowly laid you down into the sand using his teeth to slide up your dress around your waits.

He slowly kissed your stomach stopping at the hem of your thong. Moving it to the side, he slides one of his digits up and down your slit.

Looking up to you with a sly smile, he lets out a contented sigh. " Give me some of this sweet pussy." With the excited flattening of his tongue, he dives right in, right there, on the beach. Before you even having a chance to fully lay down, Patrick slides his arms beneath your legs and pulls you in.

As you begin to grind into him and yearn for more of his tongue, you play with one of your tits. Suddenly too shy to look him in the eye, you reach down and tug on his hair. You can feel your cheeks getting hot with shame at how quickly you folded for him. “Tongue fuck me, please, Pat. When did you get so good at this?”

he consumes you. his hands are playing with your ass and thighs. He kneads the skin and spreading you out. He trust his tongue into your entrance and explores your pussy. Less than a minute later, your walls start to twitch around his tongue. He takes in all your cum. When he looks up back at you, he just gives you a sly smirk.

Patrick rolled onto his back beside you, his chest heaving slightly from the intensity of what just happened. You try to get your breathing back to normal when suddenly you let out a random laugh.

Patrick turned his head, raising an eyebrow. "What's so funny?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, but his face still wet from your essence.

You shrugged, trying to stifle your laughter. "I don't know, it just hit me—how did we end up here? One minute we're at the gala, and the next we're... well, doing this." You gestured at the beach, and your unruly appearance.

Patrick grinned, rolling onto his side to face you. "Maybe it's fate," he said, his voice soft and playful. "Or maybe it's just because I couldn't resist pulling you away for a little... private time." He winked, his cheeky grin only growing wider.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the warmth that spread through your chest. "Or maybe it’s because you and Art have a weird little bet going on, and for some reason, I’m in the middle of it." you replied, a teasing edge to your tone.

Patrick frowns sitting up to look at you properly. " You know about that?" He’s confused.

You let out a chuckle. "Patrick, I’m not a dumbass, like i said, i know you. And i know Art, you guys have been total try hards for the last week, sure, you’re just a whore and will flirt with anything that has a vagina, but even Art was over doing it." You swatted at his shoulder, trying to hide your smile. "Patrick, seriously," you said, though your tone lacked any real reprimand. "You always push your luck, you know that? You leaned in a little closer, your eyes locking with his.

Patrick's grin softened, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Yeah, well, sometimes you need a little excitement," he replied, his hand resting on your hip, a gentle reminder of his presence. "And you can't deny that you like it when I take charge. Right?" His fingers traced a light pattern along your hipbone, his touch both playful and suggestive.

You sighed, the subtle tension between you becoming more palpable. "Maybe," you replied, your voice low and teasing. "But don't think I'll always let you get away with it. Sometimes, you need to earn it."

Patrick laughed, a deep, rich sound that seemed to carry on the breeze. "Oh, don't worry," he said, his eyes narrowing with that familiar mischievous look. "I'll work for it. You just let me know when you want me to turn on the charm." He leaned in again, his lips hovering near yours, the warmth of his breath a tantalizing invitation.

You closed the gap, letting his lips meet yours in a brief, soft kiss. It was playful but laced with an underlying intensity, a promise of more to come. When you pulled back, you saw the surprise in his eyes, followed by that trademark grin.

"Consider it a preview," you said, giving him a gentle nudge. "But don't get too cocky, or I’ll make sure you lose this bet."

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

Thank you for reading! Please leave comments, likes, and reblogs; all are appreciated! Also, feel free to send requests!

#art donaldson fic #patrick zweig fic #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #challengers fic #mike faist x reader #challengers #art donaldson x reader #josh o'connor #josh o'connor fic #x reader #wannab3-writer

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honeyhenry · 1 year

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Apple Pie and You and I

A little story of the Seresins aka Hangman being a softie for his girl. Fluff, no warnings, please enjoy!

Jake Seresin, a lone star state boy through and though, always found himself feeling closer to home with a warm apple pie and a country song playing with a gentle thrum on his Pop’s old record player in the room next door.

The only time he felt closer to a sense of home was with you - his lovely lady who had managed to lure and capture the Hangman hook line and sinker by batting her pretty lashes and making him work hard for her attention. It had taken him 3 weeks of smirks that turned to smiles, and insistence that turned into nothing shy of begging, for you to agree to a date. The only holding back he’d done was in omitting to state the thought that had urged him to act in the first place; “Oh, she's gonna be my wife someday.”

The typically cocksure brazen pilot hadn’t the need to utter those words for another 14 months, past the utterly exclusive dating period, nor in between months of loved up sweetness and the pained inevitability of month-long deployments. He’d told you the very moment after his 1 month deployment - which had extended into 7 and a half weeks - of a monogamous routine, where a few pictures and fond memories were just not cutting it any more.

The tarmac had scratched the khaki material of his bags as he'd dropped them with a heavy thud to the ground, only eager to reach your arms sooner. Your little sundress catching in the soft wind, the warmth of the sun heating your cheeks and nose as he engulfs you in his arms, holding tight before he'd pulled his head away to take a proper long look at your pretty face - and then brought your lips to his. He'd kissed you over and over and over, the smile on his face growing every time, your eyes clear and watering, having waited for this moment.

And quietly, once the decision was made to catch your breaths, he'd whispered, lips ghosting over yours, that you were it for him. That he was going to marry you.

According to the Navy, Hangman had no one at home, no next of kin unless you provided the contacts of his parents down in their ranch a few states away should there ever be the need for the passing over of belongings and dog tags to fatefully occur. But Jake Seresin? He had a whole life to get back to; one he needed to kick start with a ring and a question.

The ring itself would be an heirloom, no doubt about it, and had required a trip back to Texas to see his family and share with them his upcoming plans. Having met you a handful of times over Christmas and on big family birthdays, the Seresins were entirely on board. Jake's Momma had given him a close hug with tears in her eyes while his Dad and siblings cheered and grinned the classic Seresin smile. Their family often grew each year, but his Momma and Grammie had worried that their headstrong, flirtatious boy would get too caught up in the ways of the world to settle down. He was a softie at heart, and you had been the best thing to ever happen to him.

They adored you. Enough for Grammie to take her grandson into her study, and open the jewellery box safely nestled inside a locked cupboard door. "This one is a diamond", she'd said as she'd taken out a piece." It's been in the family since before I was born. It's even got the family name engraved inside." Jake had taken it, listening respectfully to his Grammie but still lost in the thought of how the ring would look so beautiful on your finger. Thinking of you being his, forever.

That had been 18 months ago now, and the glinting stone on your ring finger, alongside a shiny golden wedding band, showing that all had gone to plan. Hangman proudly wears his ring too, occasionally looping it around his dog tags if need be. However currently, in the Lone Star state, the dog tags are off and his ring fits snugly on his fourth finger as he holds you close.

It's campfire night at the ranch, and you sit on his lap, curled in and admiring the way his face has caught the sun, inspecting every detail of him in the glow of the fire he had helped to start. He looks between his family; uncles, cousins, grandparents, now and then but his main focus is always you. Your hands clasp his left one as he uses the other to nurse a beer after working up a sweat teaching his youngest nephews to play football earlier that day. It had been so endearing to watch as you'd prepared the barbecue and baked fresh cookies using the special Seresin recipe, with his Momma and sisters.

"I got the recipe from your Mom, for the cookies, so we can have them at home." You'd whispered sweetly as the chatter around the fire continued. "Do you know", Jake murmured, looking deep into your eyes as his green ones pierced into your soul. "Do you know how much I love you?"

Your giggle had been soft and the eye roll that followed made Jake smirk lovingly. Still in awe of how he got the girl that barely spoke to him but was still batting her lashes and playing hard to get. He brings your hand to his lips, kissing the point just above where your rings lay on your finger.

"The kids'll love 'em. You're gonna be a great Mom." He stops smirking and now looks at you, fully focused with a soft, genuine smile. Placing the beer down, he rests his hand on your stomach, underneath the sweatshirt of his you've borrowed that splashes the words University of Texas, Austin on the front. It's old and thinning out but it smells of Jake, so it's something you will happily bask in and nap in and snuggle in until you have to leave his family home once more.

"Shhhh. I already think Grammie knows", you scold him. And she does. Grammie knows and as his Momma watches the two of you interact now, she's certain that she knows too. Call it a Mother's instinct. Jake's little check-ins throughout the day had not gone unnoticed, nor had your daily naps that you blamed on the heat, despite it only being the middle of May.

"But Grammie knows everything, a few more days and I can finally tell 'em all. Been dyin' to sweetheart." His hand rubs your stomach gently, not to raise suspicion but also to comfort you. Sure, as the cookies and apple pie were brought out, he had felt a little nostalgia, but with you in his lap wearing his ring, and his baby in your belly, Jake Seresin had never felt more at home than in that moment.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick fic #unsure what else to tag but i wanted to write a little something #so surprise ? i need a snack now so i'll post and hope for the best

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munsonthings86 · 3 months

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we've been celestial even before this

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after she has a particularly rough day, steve takes his girl stargazing

warnings: cursing, fluff, soft!steve, established relationship (but still fairly new), oversimplified summary, reader depicted to be nineteen, these two being the biggest lovesick idiots for each other

an: i've been having a lot of fun writing about these two. they own my entire heart. hope you guys enjoy this one * don't copy my work *

wc: 6.1k

steve and sunshine's timeline

The trembling flame of the Coffee House scented candle illuminated your messy bedroom in a flickering, warm, honey light. The smell of the candle resembled nothing of coffee, more like hot cocoa or caramel you thought, but it did its job of calming your rattled nerves, nonetheless. Most of your wooden floor was hidden beneath neglected pieces of clothing that you'd pulled from your closet in a hopeless attempt to string together a decent outfit that morning. I'll tidy up tomorrow, you shrugged, though knowing you, there was a high possibility that "tomorrow" would turn into next week.

Procrastination was a terrible habit of yours, and the tension that the day left you with was doing very little to diminish it. Your early morning shift at Family Video was borderline torturous; Keith saw to that when he scheduled you sans Steve and Robin and had two inept new hires shadow you. Sure they were nice and all, from what you can recall anyway, but you were too out of it to bestow on them the patience you typically had.

Once the stint came to its much desired end, a dreadful date at the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles awaited you. In your venture to become more of an independent and responsible "adult" (being merely nineteen, the word made your blood run cold), the goal of obtaining your permit was set in stone. The written test was passed with flying colors, but like any classic BMV nightmare, you'd forgotten a required document to actually get the damn permit.

Nearly plunging to your knees, you begged the grumpy old woman behind the counter to let you run back to your apartment that was “just down the street”. Truthfully, it was a thirty minute trip on foot, but she didn't need to know that. If you ran, you could make it back in twenty.

But, again, like any classic BMV nightmare, all she left you with was a hardly sympathetic, "Sorry ma'am, but if you don't have all the required documents, I'm afraid you'll have to come back tomorrow. The office closes in fifteen minutes." Through clenched teeth, you thanked her for her time, though she neglected to return the gesture, squawking "Next in line!" in a tone that was poles apart from her customer service voice.

Mercifully, your day wasn't all terrible. On the way back home, you stopped by the library to return a week's long overdue book and, instead of crucifying you for it, the lovely librarian recommended a novel she thought you'd appreciate. Rose in Splendor by Laura Parker. Unbeknownst to her, you'd been dying to read it ever since it was published last year. The grouch over at the BMV could definitely take a page out of her book. No pun intended.

Curled into bed and tucked under your beloved ivory crotched blanket, you thumbed along the pages through gravelly, blurry eyes. You kept promising yourself "one more page", but that was well over ten pages ago.

The male love interest was recounted having perfectly tousled brown hair with a body to die for, and you couldn't help but to think of your Steve. You missed him terribly in that moment and the one thing that kept your woe at bay was the anticipation of you two's nightly phone call. It was the selling point of all your days spent without him, truth be told.

The chime of the landline in the hallway between your kitchen and bedroom pierced through the otherwise silence of your apartment, prompting you to glance at the clock on your wall. 9:32 p.m.

Speak of the devil.

Folding a little doggy ear onto the page to preserve your place, the blanket keeping your legs warm was tossed among your strewn out clothes as you nearly slipped, scurrying to answer the phone. You couldn't bite back your smile as you pressed the receiving end against your ear, hearing the music that was Steve's voice, fill your mind.

"Hi, sunshine."

A breath that was unknowingly caged, freed itself at the sound. "You're nearly on time," you teased, referring to earlier today when Steve promised to call you at 9:30 sharp tonight. Usually, he called you earlier than this, but he was jammed with babysitting duties for the six kids you were considering adopting for yourself at this point.

"I know, I'm sorry," he chuckled. "They finally fixed that game at the arcade that's been down for the past few weeks. Gaga, I think it's called."

"Galaga," you corrected, giggling to yourself. It wasn't a rare occurrence whenever the kids would drag you along on one of their many hangouts, so you were rather well-versed in their nerdy recreations. "Yeah, that's the one. I could barely pry their grubby little hands off the thing. Especially Dustin."

Based on his tone, the roll of Steve's eyes as he spoke was nearly audible. As much as he complained about constantly having to be the one to look after the party, there was a part of him that covertly loved the fact that they depended on him so much. Not only was it somewhat of an ego boost, but he's always dreamed of having little nuggets of his own to protect and guide and treasure.

The daydream of Steve being the ideal father, unlike his own dad ever was, reeled your bottom lip between your teeth as the cord of the landline fell into the trap of your twirling fingers. It was so vivid; a shirtless Steve wearing blue jeans that hugged his bottom so perfectly, driving a rackety lawn mower along the wild grass of the front yard to the house you may or may not have pictured the pair of you living in.

In that utopia, the children that you may or may not have pictured parenting with Steve, sat behind the lemonade stand that was built by their father, giggling and toying with a leaky hose as they awaited customers. You'd be watching your little family from the boxy window of the kitchen, fixing them an afternoon snack, unable to contain your laugh when the hose goes haywire, soaking your lover from head to toe.

The imagery made you giggle out loud, head falling against the wall as your stomach cramped. "What?" Steve asked, laughing along with you though it's purely out of instinct, because of course he didn't know what you were laughing about. But hearing your audible delight was contagious. He couldn't help it.

"It's nothing," you assured, smiling softly before continuing, "just hoping your day was better than mine was."

"Well I don't like the sound of that," he frowned, sneakers squeaking against his floor as he shifted his weight onto his other leg. He watched as the days worth of dirt that'd found solace on his shoes, abandon patterned scuffs on the wood. Memories of the pointed sound of his mothers voice demanding no shoes in the house rang through his head like a siren at the sight. He would've ditched his footwear at the door, but he knew he was running late for his phone date.

"What happened?"

Commencing your response with a weary sigh, you shrugged, laughing dryly, "A lot. It's not even funny how exhausted I am right now."

Steve's chest tightened. He hated when you had a bad day; it left a bad taste in his mouth. Even worse, whenever Steve would make an effort to get to the bottom of what ailed his girl, he had a less than impressive success rate, seeing as vulnerability was one of your shortcomings. Steve knew better than to pry. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to do his damnedest to make these final hours of the day your best.

"I'm sorry to hear that, honey," he lowered his head, offering a comforting smile that though you couldn't see, you could hear in his voice. "'S alright," he heard you murmur.

It fell silent for a beat before Steve inquired, "When are you comin' home?", to which you furrowed your eyebrows, letting out a confused chuckle. "Uh, I am home."

Jokingly, the boy scanned his apartment and though he saw some of your forgotten belongings from previous visits, he couldn't seem to pinpoint you. "That's weird, I don't see ya. You hiding somewhere?"

The laugh that erupts from your core at your sappy boyfriend is inescapable. Your shoulders quake as you snicker and Steve's never heard a sound so sweet. Mission accomplished. For now, anyway. "You're an idiot."

"For you, yeah," he retorts, "thought we already established that." The apples of your cheeks are growing sore as Steve's honeyed words denies your smile the chance to falter. Any inconvenience that was precedent to this very moment was long forgotten by virtue of the prince charming that was your boyfriend.

"I'll come see you soon, lover boy," you quipped.

"You makin' fun of me?" He was completely unoffended. Prior to the few weeks of you dating, Steve spent the better part of the past decade containing his cascading love for you behind the dire dam of the friendzone. Despite delay, the dam was broken and there was no playing "Mr. Cool Guy". Steve was crazy about you. And he'd be even crazier to not show it.

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't," you teased. "I'm gonna head to bed, though. I have another shift in the mornin'. That damn Keith," you rolled your eyes, groaning as Steve laughed through his nose.

"Alright, sunshine, I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," you glowed. "G'night, Stevie." You waited for him to respond with a "goodnight" of his own before returning the phone back to its base, already pining for your boyfriend's presence again. Though you poked fun at it, what Steve said about you not being "home" wasn't just him being sappy. You were feeling the same way.

No matter where you were, whether it was school, work, the arcade, shit, you could be in the Upside Down, but as long as Steve was there, you felt at home. It made you reflect on the times where you'd be lying in bed, unable to slip into a slumber as you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to go home, though geographically, that's exactly where you were. It was because you missed Steve. And any place where he was absent, was no home of yours.

Sauntering back into your bedroom and kicking away garments to clear a path, you cocooned your body into the blanket that was now stained with the scent of your burning candle, and continued from where you left off in your book. You figured you'd make some decent progress to hopefully avoid another late fee at the library.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It'd been forty minutes later, give or take, when you stood on sore legs, cleansing and moisturizing your face before calling it a night. Your dull eyes wore dark and heavy circles like a hideous skirt, a clear manifestation of the fatigue you were weathering. You rubbed at them unkindly with the hopes of looking even a little more lively, but to no avail.

The bulb of the bathroom went out like a flame once you flicked the switch off, and you abandoned the journey back to your room at the sound of a series of knocks to the front door. Clasping the opening of your robe with shaky hands, you wondered who could be here at this hour. You weren't expecting any visitors. Approaching the door with hushed footsteps, a miniscule view of none other than Steve Harrington could be seen through the peephole of your door.

The tension in your shoulders dissipated, ribs doing their best to cage your fluttering heart. You squealed, fingers fumbling with the lock and you could swear the metal thing had something against you, the way it stalled to unlatch. Steve smiled from the other side of the door as he watched the knob twist and jangle, warmed to know that you were just as eager to see him as he was to see you.

The brown lettering that labeled the white entryway '2F' swung out of view and Steve made eye contact with you for a split second before stumbling back a bit when you threw yourself into him.

Elevating yourself with the tips of your toes to reach him, you trapped his neck between your arms as he returned your hug with one arm, the other remaining properly tucked behind his back. "Hello to you too," he laughed breathlessly before briefly stamping a kiss to your shoulder.

"What're you doing here?" you buzzed, pressing little pecks to as much of his dotted skin as you could. You were suddenly a ball of energy. Finally at home. "When you said later, I thought you meant, like, tomorrow or something."

"Well, I missed you," a kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Wanted to come see ya."

The smile he wore carved thin lines into his cheeks as he spoke, walking your tangled bodies back into the quietude of your apartment. He stopped at your cutesy welcome mat, kicking his shoes off before revealing his arm that held a bouquet of just about the prettiest flowers you'd ever seen.

"Steve," you pouted, releasing your hold on his shoulders, "they're gorgeous." Cradling the peach hued roses dressed in a newspaper-style wrapping paper, your eyebrows scrunched together as you reminded yourself of the time. "What florist is open at 10 p.m.?"

The boy chuckled, locking the door behind him. The plaid pajama pants he wore swung loosely on his legs as he approached you. "There isn't," he ran fingers through his disheveled hair that was long overdue for a trim, "I saw them while I was out with the kids and I thought of you, so I got 'em." He shrugged like it was nothing.

"I was gonna surprise you with them at work tomorrow, but I figured I'd just give 'em to you now, ya' know, all things considered."

Heat rushed to your chest and face as you ogled him, filled with an overwhelming sense of luck to be his. Your feelings toward him felt so immense that at times, you could barely articulate yourself. Words of love and adoration raced through your mind a million miles a second yet you always found yourself terribly speechless.

Steve was so open with his affection for you. It’s a love people pray to experience at least once in their lifetime. And what a heaven-sent gift it was to earn that kind of love from Steve.

These would look perfect by the living room, you thought, turning to the kitchen to retrieve a vase after slipping him a fleeting kiss.

Scouring the white cabinets, you almost failed to remember that you didn't particularly own a vase, given the fact that you'd never actually received flowers before. The realization dejected you a bit.

Steve trailed behind you mindlessly, a frown weighing on his lips as he watched your shoulders droop. Leaning against the space on the counter next to you, he slid down a little, leveling with you, "What's wrong, honey?"

A mumbled, "I've never gotten flowers before," left a pang in his chest, your eyes never leaving the shelves of your cluttered cupboard. "Never needed a vase before."

It was now Steve's turn to slump his shoulders while he gazed at you with sad eyes. How could someone so lovely, so divine as you, not be treated the way you deserved? He would buy you flowers every day if you wanted and he had to bite his tongue when he almost cursed himself for not doing it already. But it's okay. He was here now.

Luring your waist into his body with those burly hands of his, he spoke with assurance laced in his voice, "Well, that's okay," he cooed. "Here, use one of these for now," he pulled a mug that you would've otherwise had trouble reaching, as it sat on the very top shelf, "and tomorrow we'll pick out a nice pretty vase for ya'."

Filling the black cup with water, he planted the roses down as neatly as he could. The flowers sat in the mug awkwardly, all splayed out with the stems way too long for your liking. But somehow, it still managed to be nothing short of perfect. "Cute, a little weird," you shrugged, a smile teasing your mouth, "but cute."

Steve chuckled lowly, situating himself between your legs once you sat on the surface of the tile countertop. "That's funny."

"What is?"

"I said the same about you when I first met you," he laughed, unable to contain his smile before getting the joke out. The face you made didn't help. "Shut up, Harrington," you jab at his shoulder softly, cracking a smile of your own.

Though there was a newfound romance, the typical banter that was mutually exchanged wasn't going anywhere. You were glad that nothing changed between you when you started dating.

Toying with the drawstrings on Steve's Gap hoodie, you began zoning out, the thought of going to bed while cuddled up with your boyfriend, sounding all too alluring. Looking up at him, he was already intently staring at you with painfully adoring eyes and you couldn't help but melt under his heated gaze. "Hi," you muttered, shyness clouding you.

"Hi, sunshine," he smiled, adjusting the collar of your robe with careful fingers. "I'm sorry your day sucked."

"It doesn't, anymore," you replied, sincerely. Steve's eyes lit up at that. It wasn't a secret to anyone that his presence alone seemed to be the antidote for some of your worst days. You'd even admitted it yourself, once or twice. But it never failed to ignite the nerves in Steve's body with fervor.

Although you were completely honest that your mood had gone up about ten octaves since he'd been there, Steve didn't want to just be there. He wanted to do more. It was what you deserved.

"You up for a little adventure?"

"Depends," you squinted. "What kinda adventure are we talking about?" He shifted his weight onto his other leg as his eyes veered off to the ceiling, thinking.

Steve happened to have a few tricks up his sleeve.

"There's somewhere I wanna take you," he drummed a rhythmless beat on your thigh with his fingers. The sneaky expression on Steve's face told you everything you needed to know. He was up to no good. As much as you wanted to go on a late night escapade with your boyfriend, you had to be somewhat, even a little, responsible.

"Steve, it's late and we both have work in the morning," you huffed, losing your grip on the strings you'd been distracting yourself with.

Steve playfully rolled his eyes, flinging his body out of your clutches dramatically. He was going to get you to cave. Whether you already knew it or not. "Alright, grandma, I promise to have you back home at a reasonable hour. Deal?"

The internal battle on whether you should stay or go was evident in your features, though, realistically you had already come to the conclusion that you'd humor him. The "grandma" bit is what really did it for you.

"This is a dumb idea."

"I'll be waiting by the car," he smiled an accomplished smile before leaving the kitchen. Letting out another sharp exhale, you hauled your body off the counter and headed towards your bedroom, discerning that a robe probably wasn't the dress code for wherever it was Steve was taking you.

Concealing your underlying tank top with a hoodie almost similar to Steve's, you threw on some sneakers before snuffing out the diminishing candle. Giving your appearance a once-over in the mirror, you wondered what you'd just gotten yourself into. Though any time with Steve was time well spent, you couldn't help but to look at your bed longingly as you shut off the lights to your apartment, meeting Steve outside.

He stood by the passenger side of the car, fiddling with a loose thread by the end of his sleeve. The fall season brought a night frigid breeze that blew his hair over his eyes like a curtain, making him pout. You hugged your body as you neared him, brushing his brown tresses from his face, though the wind reversed your efforts in no time.

He pressed a kiss to your palm as he became a puddle under your touch, appreciating the way your toasty hand felt against his icy skin. Steve took his own turn rubbing at your arms when he saw you visibly shiver, teeth nearly chattering. "You wanna tell me where we're goin'?" Misty clouds left short-lived trails in the air between the two of you when you spoke.

"Now where's the fun in spoiling the surprise now?" He opened the car door to punctuate his sentence, gesturing you inside. You could only rebut with a roll of your eyes as you entered, though you and Steve both knew you were loving every bit of this. It warmed your heart knowing he was so keen on saving your day from the horror it started it out to be.

Digging through the glove compartment, you sifted through old receipts and other rubbish that really needed to be thrown away, searching for the mixtape you and Steve made for little times like these. Moments that may now seem small, but would soon become memories that you'd cherish for years to come. It served as a little time capsule; hearing the songs you two carefully picked, easily transporting you to these times even when you'd become gray and old.

As Steve began driving off, your fingers found the sneaky cassette that was scribbled with yours and Steve's initials along with doodles of suns, to represent you, and poorly drawn anchors in honor of Steve's Scoop Ahoy era, to represent him.

Regardless of Steve's slight disdain for that period of time, it was one of your favorites and obviously that was due to the fact that the uniform he wore, showed off his legs in the best way possible. It was the perfect eye candy that summer.

The low sound of Bob Marley singing Could You Be Loved floated through the quietness of the car, easing away any tension within you that might've still been trapped. You admired the way the town was so still. The time was hardly 11 p.m., yet there wasn't a soul to be seen; only lonely litter that drifted through the breeze, aimlessly. It was a stark difference from just a few hours ago when you had to dodge shoulders as you cut through the crowded streets on your way home.

The sky was dark and empty apart from the glowing crescent moon that seemed to be chasing you as you drove. It was the only light source you had aside from the street lights that lined the sidewalks. You started counting them and even got to as far as nineteen, but soon lost count once Steve picked up his speed a bit.

Your eyelids threatened to close as the calming drive coupled with the music, fought to lull you to sleep. But instead, bright neon lights stung your sensitive eyes that grew accustomed to the darkness. Squinting, you read the colorful sign labeled "Darling's Diner", and nostalgia strikes you. It had been years. Too many years since you and Steve had been here last.

"Holy shit," you glimmered, hurriedly unbuckling your seatbelt. Steve's hand that found comfort on your thigh during the ride gave it a squeeze before he put the car in park, rushing over to open your car door. He took your hand in his, adoring the way your stunned face gleamed under the glow of the pink and blue neon bulbs. "Surprise," he cheered in a low tone, lightly bumping his shoulder against yours.

The smile you had burned your cheeks but the elation you felt made it all too easy to ignore. The feeling you got whenever you came to Darling's was something indescribable. There were countless fond memories attached to this place and it left you all soft and gooey inside to know that Steve planned on making more with you here. Instinctively, you practically dragged Steve behind you as you rushed inside, the homey scent of burgers, fries, and shakes wafting to your nose.

The floors were still the black and white checkered tiles you remembered them to be; stained with drops of grease and sprinkled with deserted fries. Walls were not much neater, though they were messy with posters and vinyl records instead.

"Want the usual?" Your nod was immediate and shortly after, Steve approached the busy woman impatiently pressing buttons on the register. Wisps of hair fell out of her ponytail and clung onto the film of sweat developing across her forehead. She visibly shrunk into herself as she heard the bell above the door ring, signaling new customers. It was a much busier night than usual.

Regardless of the surge of patrons, the booth you and Steve usually sat in once upon a time, wasn't occupied. The wears and tears corroding the red leather almost served as a name tag, assigning the seat for you two. It was impossible to forget the days Steve came here with you after school, carelessly doing homework while listening to whatever song played on the jukebox.

The table was tidy apart from laminated menus and coloring sheets scattered across the surface. You smirked thinking of the times you and Steve swore you could be the next Picassos, the way you took those things so seriously. As if they'd be hung in museums, you did your best to color them, but not without the added challenge of switching papers with Steve every few minutes. A fun little game you played.

Colored pencils sat by the condiments and you made yourself busy adding hue to the Back to the Future poster, sliding Steve a sheet with some random sports car you didn't know the name of, when he made his way over. He traded you with a cup of hot cocoa with jumbo marshmallows that threatened to abandon ship. "Thanks, Stevie."

"Anytime," he smiled, biting at the cherry that was kissed with a touch of the whipped cream that sat atop of his strawberry milkshake. His long legs brushed against yours as he sat next to you, knees finding mutual rest against each other.

A waitress on pink roller skates offered a kind smile as she brought over a basket of fries that Steve and you snacked on while you chatted and giggled, coloring your own and each other's papers as time seemingly flew by.

"How long has it been since we've last been here?"

"I couldn't tell you. Anything before senior year is such a blur," you responded, adding finishing touches to Steve's car before taking the last sip of your now barely hot, hot chocolate. "I'm just sad we stopped coming here."

"Me too," he swung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for an apologetic kiss to your temple. "But I promise to bring you a little more often. It was our spot when we were kids and it'll be our spot now."

You looked at him with bright eyes while hugging his torso, despite the awkward position. Trying to understand what you did to deserve someone like Steve was a dead mission, as you could never fully wrap your head around it. How does one try to understand why they've gotten so lucky?

He kissed away the marshmallow mustache idling on your upper lip before tapping your leg twice, "C'mon, we've got one more stop to make."

The spot he sat in was quickly losing its fever as he stood, holding a hand out for you to take, but you just stared at him with a face that was an odd marriage of scolding and amusement. "Steve," you warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you can yell at me about it later. But I promise you'll love it." Waving his hand to urge yours into his, you accepted it with little hesitation at his grin. You wished the woman at the front a good night as you left the bistro, while Steve dropped a tip in the jar next to her.

He didn't let your hand go until you were sat in the passenger seat, subsequently getting behind the steering wheel, inserting the key in the ignition. You could tell Steve was tired too, the way he full-body stretched as he yawned, rubbing at his eyes that were getting a bit red from fatigue. He wanted to go to bed and cuddle and forget about the world just as much as you did. So why were you still out there?

"What's all this for, Harrington?"

He answered your question with another one of his own, "What's all of what for?"

"Tonight. Everything. The flowers, the diner, and now something else. I'm really grateful for it, don't get me wrong," you warmed his hand when you held it, "but why so much?"

Steve shrugged, averting his gaze to the gear shift sitting between you two. He softly rubbed at your knuckles while he gathered his thoughts.

"Well, you told me that you had a shit day. Just wanted to change that. I like when you're happy."

Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself and your chest stung when tears pricked at your eyes. Steve looked back at you affectionately, the voice of his eyes telling you just how much he cared for you. It made your heart so full. It was too much to handle sometimes.

"I like when you're happy too, Stevie," you beamed, blinking away the pool by your bottom eyelashes. Cupping his cheek, you pushed your plump lips against his that were a little chapped, though you didn't seem to mind at all. Reluctantly, you pull away and Steve doesn't think it was nearly long enough as he sneaks in a few extra pecks.

The drive to wherever on Earth it was that Steve was taking you, was much different compared to the one prior. It almost didn't look like Hawkins. For the past couple miles, Steve's burgundy BMW had been the only car on the road. The trees were taller, a darker green and stronger in numbers than the ones you were used to. The street lamps were less abundant and dimmer than usual, and the animal crossing signs told you that you were more than just a little ways from home.

You had almost said something until Steve pulled off to the side, parking the car on an empty hill just off the road that overlooked Hawkins and the neighboring city. It looked so small from here. Steve smirked at the puzzled expression you threw his way as you removed your seatbelt.

"Before you ask, just come outside. There's something I wanna show you."

You didn't bother waiting for Steve to open the door for you, as you stepped out, attempting to conjure up what he could possibly be wanting to show you out here. There was nothing to be seen but dirt and fallen leaves and branches. "What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Look up," he responded, leaning against the hood of the car.

Your furrowed eyebrows relaxed as a gasp fell from your lips at the sight of the cloudless sky, lighting up with numerous twinkling stars, an image you could only dream of seeing for yourself since you were a little girl. The mighty city that sat so close to Hawkins fostered light pollution that made it nearly impossible to see the stars at night. If you were lucky, you were only able to make out about one or two, though you weren't sure if they had been stars or planets, instead. Either way, it ignited your soul to be able to see such a bright and beautiful piece of the universe, making you feel so small in the best way possible.

That didn't nearly amount to this very moment though, where there were more stars that you could count, sitting so prettily in the midnight sky.

Mouth still agape, you utter, "Steve, it's beautiful," and other than that, you were rendered speechless. You couldn't dare to tear your eyes from it, worried that if you did, it would all disappear, proving to be a mere hallucination from your tiredness. Steve adored the way you stared at the heavens, noticing the way it was the same way you looked at him. All he could see was a clear reflection of the stars in your eyes, and it perfectly spoke to the way he felt about you.

He saw everything when he looked at you. The sun, the moon, the stars, the universe, even the galaxy. His past, his present, his future. All of it. To him, you encompassed everything beautiful and divine. He was convinced you were too good for this planet. Too extraordinary. How did he get so lucky?

"Look," you pointed at two stars that sat close to one another, shining impossibly brighter than the others, "do you think that's us in another universe?"

Steve smiled at your question, cherishing how whimsical you could be sometimes. Your voice was soft and full of wonder and he couldn't be more content in this moment. "Yeah," he nodded at you, "I'm yours in every universe, sunshine." He kissed the back of your hand, holding your intertwined hands against his chest.

"Y'know I was thinking to myself the other day about how weird relationships are," he stated, looking down at his feet. You peeled your eyes away from the sky, gazing at your boyfriend for the first time since you stepped out of the car. "Weird, how?"

"I don't know, like how you randomly meet someone and get to know them really well and one day just decide, 'I like this human. I'm gonna spend all my time with them and take care of them.' Maybe weird isn't the word, but it's definitely interesting," he rambled, talking with his hands, even the one that was still laced through yours.

You nodded along, understanding where he was coming from. It was something you'd thought about yourself. He continued, "Like, I look at us and how far we've come and it scares me a little 'cause I see how my parents are now. They were best friends before they got married and now I can count on only one hand the amount of times I've seen them hug or kiss. Freaks me out."

This was one of the few times Steve spilled what was weighing on his mind. You could always tell when something bothered him and though he'd give you bits and pieces when you asked what was wrong, it was never anything as nuanced as this. It made you proud to see him develop so much.

"We're not them, Steve. It's like you said, I'm yours in every universe. Maybe they aren't each others every universe," you sighed, "We won't end up like them, I promise"

You always knew how to reassure him. It was one of the things Steve loved so much about you; your way with words. Nothing sort of a poet, he thought. He engulfed your face with his palms, kissing you with every ounce of passion he had.

Lowly in the background, you could hear the song Just the Two of Us by Grover Washington, as the mixtape was still playing in his car. "It's our song," you smiled against his lips when you pulled away. You took his hands from your face, grasping them when you asked him, "Dance with me?"

He nodded, holding your body against his as your head fell against his chest, looking down at the sleeping town that felt so far away. You swayed back and forth, finding comfort in the near silence, listening to the rhythmic beating of Steve's heart. "Thank you for this, Steve," you whispered. "I'm lucky to be yours."

"Even if you weren't, I'd still do it for you," he admitted, running hand across your back, tenderly.

The little sentence made you think. Steve has been in your life for well over a decade now and he never failed to be there for you even when you didn't know how to ask for it. He was the one who took care of you whenever you found it a little difficult to take care of yourself. The one who never dared to leave your side.

You and Steve were in love even before you were. You'd been celestial even before this.

"I love you, sunshine," he murmured, head resting on top of yours.

"I love you back, Stevie."

💌 1 new message from jojo: pls pls pls comment/reblog (or both teehee) if you enjoyed, it means a lot! inbox is open!

#steve harrington #steve and sunshine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x poc!reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington headcanon #soft!steve harrington #joe keery #stranger things

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berriwritertingz · 4 months

Text

the summer i wrote | one

content: future smut, fluff, angst, basically all of it

pairing: milo manheim x afab!reader & ross lynch x afab!reader

summary: every summer, you travel to dahlia's beach to reunite with your mother's closest friend and her son. but this year he unexpectedly brings a friend along. caught in the gentle waves of affection and longing, you find yourself navigating uncharted waters where the boundaries of friendship blur.

notes: this is loosely based on the summer i turned pretty. i just watched the second season and lawwwd i wanted to make a ff soo bad. plus milo and ross have absolutely none anywhere.

masterlist

You loved Dahlia's beach. It always smelled salty with a hint of expensive barbeque if you were in the city. But near the countryside there was the sweet smell of honeysuckle. That's where you would rather be, where the tall grass met the sandy dunes. The sounds of hooves on pavement and bustle around the farmers market on a hot weekend afternoon.

This summer was no different. Your stomach churned, rumbling in excitement as you neared the beach house. It was huge. Five bedrooms with enough bathrooms. Too many patios surrounding it. Turquoise colored pool with a small waterfall. The house was a blueish gray color with white accents. Calm and minimalistic, much unlike the other grand colorful houses on the street. It sat like a diamond around other stones in a non normal way. The most priceless of them all. Placed directly in front of the beach but not close enough to tourist spots so it was always quiet. It was always such an amazing way to spend the three months in between school. You looked forward to it every year.

But that wasn't all you looked forward to.

Your mom honked as you guys entered the driveway. A wide smile plastered on her face. Your mom seemed to love this place more than she loved you, even if she denied it when you asked. You knew the truth. Summers at the beach house were the only time she got to see her best friend, Camryn.

"Hey!" A voice squealed from the porch. You shuffled out of the car, legs aching after a long 5 hours. As you stretched you were met with Cam, arms spread jumping for joy. Practically knocking you over. They were best friends from high school. Going to college together and even sharing a dorm room. With how they acted every time they met, you were convinced they had separation anxiety. They didn't get to see each other throughout the year. Other than here of course. For they lived states apart, Dahlia's being a quiet beach town that was located in the middle.

Camryn engulfed you in a bear hug first, gushing about how pretty you are. Making you do a spin in your dress. Once she pulled away she did the same to your mom whose high pitched voice could be heard from the beach. As they talked about how ‘different’ each other looked. You watched as they walked inside hand in hand when your eyes met his.

Milo.

He radiantly smiled as he trotted over to you. The classic hands in pockets, ruffled hair, and expensive glasses. It was like he had a glow up every year whether it was him dressing better or maybe getting a bit taller.

"Hi" He cooed embracing you in a tight hug. The smell of his overpriced cologne filled your nose. It reminded you of sugary trees and cool waves. Much like the beach house. He was another reason you loved the beach house so much. Without him you were stuck with two middle aged ladies whose celebrity crush was Liam Neeson and only watched tv shows made by Shonda Rhimes. He was fun. He never made you feel left out or alone. He was everything any girl could wish for. Tall, smart, rich, and incredibly good eye candy.

"Hello, Milo." You smiled as he let you go.

He ran a hand threw his hair looking down at you. Eyes trailing down your body strangely. His expression was unrecognizable. Your face heated up turning your head to avoid his gaze. He touched the bottom of your dress. Yanking the fabric gently.

"This is a little short isn't it?" He questioned eyes meeting yours. Lips curled up in a sly smile. Rolling your eyes you scoffed slapping his hand away. He acted like a big brother sometimes. Especially with your clothes. Every summer complaining about how short your shorts were or how revealing your bathing suit was.

"Oh shut up you do this every-" The sight of someone else on the porch caught your eye. "Who's that?" You questioned raising an eyebrow.

Milo turned around and nodded in acknowledgement as the boy made his way down the stairs. Bleached blond hair slightly overgrown and wide smile on display as he made his way towards you two.

"Y/N this is Ross, Ross Y/N. He's staying the summer with us this year." Ross reached his hand out to you. Clad in silver rings that looked a bit out of your price range. Does Milo have any Middle Class friends? It was unusual. No one ever came to the beach house from back home. It was like a unsaid rule between everyone. Written in big red letters 'No Strangers'. The dads didn't even bother coming even though Milo's paid for it.

"Nice to meet you." He looked you up and down a tongue swiping over his lips. "Milo didn't tell me how pretty you are."

"Dude!" Milo exclaimed punching his shoulder rolling his eyes.

"Thank you." You beamed softening your voice. Milo scoffed walking towards the trunk slightly bumping into Ross. But he didn't seem to mind, hazel eyes still trained on you.

"So where are you fr-" Ross was cut off by a slightly pissed off Milo. "Are you guys serious? C'mon Ross help me with these bags." Ross walked away backwards eyes still focused on you with that addicting smile of his.

"See you inside?" He whispered loud enough for you to hear him.

You didn't respond. Only nodding as you strolled inside.

a/n: soooo what do you guys think? im still trying to figure out this tumblr writing stuff im so used to just reading ive never written and posted anything on here lololol. pls be patient with me! a few tips and tricks would be greatly appreciated!!

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cillianhead · 7 months

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you could write a little smutty/angsty something for Neil Lewis. Maybe bestfriend!reader, who recently got with some other man, and Neil is incredibly jealous and maybe... possessive. 👀 Some angst heated argument finished with a smut would be lovely. 🤭

Thank you!

Of course, of course!

Thank you for your request!

You're The Only One Who Makes Me Feel Alive || Neil Lewis x Reader

warnings: Smut, angst, best friends to lovers, swearing, slight (?) drug use (marijuana), jealousy, unprotected P in V, Neil is quite obsessed with reader's boobs (because c'mon, NEIL IS A BOOB MAN!!!) like sort of switch!neil but not quite, adult content!

18+ Minors DNI

It was a slow Friday night at Gumshoe Video. You had closed by now, though. You sat between Lucien and Jonathan, a bit stoned, and watched some horrible Horror-Parody film called 'Bad Taste'. You had zoned out, drowning out Jonathan and Lucien's incessant bickering about the film and whether it was good or bad.

"-It's Peter Jackson, for Christ's sake. It's a masterpiece of its time or whatever," Lucien argued. Jonathan just scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's supposed to be ridiculous!" Lucien protested.

"Are we watching the same movie?" Jonathan grunted with a hint of amusement. "How the hell did someone see this and think... 'yeah, that's the guy we're getting for Lord of the fucking Rings'!"

Lucien quipped back something particularly witty and sarcastic, but it all turned into one big blur of words to you. You were incredibly bored and stoned that none of what was happening on the TV screen made sense. You looked like a zombie, lips parted and an expression of awe on your face.

"Not this stupid movie," You heard the sound of Neil's voice from behind you. Quickly sitting up and turning to look at him, like an expectant dog when its owner comes home. "I've got the snacks if you guys even care." Lucien and Jonathan grumble their words of appreciation while you just sat and smiled at your best friend.

You all had smoked together, but you hadn't really prepared for the munchies that would come along with it. So you flipped a coin, and poor little Neil was the one who had to go to the nearest convenience store and buy as much junk food as he could carry. Two seafoam green plastic grocery bags were hanging off of Neil's sturdy forearms that said 'Recycle Me!' on them while he stood, smiling back at you.

"What'd you get Neily-poo?" You hummed, standing up and approaching him.

"I hate it when you call me that," Neil grumbled before handing you one of the bags. "I just got all the classic snacks... Cheetos, Twizzlers, Lucien's favorite white chocolate... and of course, I got your favorite..."

You squealed out of delight, lunging on Neil and wrapping your arms around him. "Did you really?" You said, pulling away with your arms still around his neck. Neil hummed while pulling the familiar mouth-watering box of Swedish Fish out of the grocery bag.

You properly pulled away now and snatched it out of his hand greedily. "Hey...! Wait... where's my thanks?" He tilted his head, tapping his pointer finger on the apple of his cheek. You rolled your eyes playfully before placing a grateful peck on his cheek.

You two sat on the spare couch together. You leaned against Neil, as you always do, your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you. It had always been that way with you two, both very physically affectionate with each other. Though not when Neil was in a relationship, you knew how threatened his girlfriends felt by you, though you never understood why... Neil was always insistent on how you were just a friend, even going as far as to say you were like a sister to him.

When the movie ended and Neil had a bit more to smoke, you all sat around munching on your snacks, thinking of what to do next.

"Do you guys wanna come over to my place, and we can do this again tomorrow night?" Neil asked, scratching at his chin.

"Sure, I'd love that, dude," Jonathan nodded before popping a handful of peanut M&M's into his mouth. "Sounds great." He said with his mouth full.

"Gross!" You scolded, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. "Don't eat with your mouth full..."

"What did you just say?" Lucien laughed.

"I mean... don't talk with your mouth full!" You corrected, and everyone sat around giggling at that. "You knew what I meant!" Your cheeks heated up with embarrassment at your mistake.

"...and yeah, I'll come over tomorrow night." Lucien said to Neil. Neil gave him a thumbs up before turning his head over to you.

"How about you, Y/N?" Neil hummed, sighing as he leaned his head against the couch, cheek smushing a bit as he smiled softly down at you. He's so pretty, I just wanna kiss him, You thought."You wanna come over?" Yikes, you thought. You bit your lip and sucked in a breath. "Well... I... well... actually, I've got plans tomorrow, guys... I'm sorry." You shrugged apologetically.

"What?" Jonathan murmured, mouth still full, chewing obnoxiously loud.

"Since when do you have plans?" Lucien remarked. You gave him a dry smile.

"I'm going on a date... believe it or not," You snorted, looking down at your lap, embarrassed to admit. You never really talked about your love life with the guys, especially not Neil. Things always got awkward. Neil never discussed his with you either; you'd only briefly meet his girlfriends, and then that was it. You didn't understand why it had to be so awkward between you when discussing dating.

The room went silent at that. You looked towards Neil, his arm retracted away from you and tucked back into his side as you noticed the frown on his face. You could see the look on Jonathan and Lucien's faces, eyes flickering between the two of you, trying to gauge some sort of reaction.

"Oh..." Neil mumbled, sounding disappointed, popping a popcorn kernel into his mouth and chewing dryly. "Good for you... congratulations..."

"We're not getting married," You laughed uncomfortably. "Plus, I doubt it's gonna be anything that special... we're going to some downtown dive bar to have drinks and then probably go back to his place or something..." Neil had a visible expression of distaste, fiddling with his thumbs. You didn't get why he was so upset. "What's his name?" He said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Russell."

"Russell." He repeated coldly. Jonathan and Lucien were utterly silent. The tension was thick, and trying to waft through it felt suffocating.

"Why are you upset?" You blurted out. "Can't you at least be happy for me for once that I'm finally fucking going out with somebody?"

""Course I'm happy for you, Y/N, I just don't want you... to get hurt..." Neil muttered. "That's all."

"Right." You scoffed, scooting to the other side of the couch.

The tension was unbearable, and Jonathan shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Things always got weird when you brought up a guy you like or a guy you were seeing. You never got why. Why would Neil be upset that you were seeing somebody? How many girlfriends did you have to sit and watch him be with? How many painful breakups have you comforted him through? How many times had you encouraged him to go over and talk to a girl he thought was pretty? A countless amount of times, that's what. So the fact that the mood visibly shifted as soon as you said you were going on a date... it pissed you off. Neil was never encouraging when it came to putting yourself out there romantically. It was almost like he was jealous, but you knew he had no reason to be.

"How'd you meet?" Lucien cleared his throat, trying to lighten the air.

"Well when I was here alone the other day... he was in the shop-"

"He was in the shop?" Neil interrupted with a whine, eyebrows knitted together.

"Yeah, he was, so what?" You turned and looked at Neil, glaring at him.

"Can't believe you're going out with a customer," Neil muttered. "Thought you were better than that." "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"It... no... nothing, just-" "God forbid I meet someone!" You were standing up now. Lucien and Jonathan had gotten up and wandered over to the other side of the shop, pretending they were browsing the shelves. "How many fucking bimbos have you asked out that had come in here, Neil?" "Y/N-" "I'm leaving." You barked, grabbing your things and rushing out, not before giving Lucien and Jonathan a gentle wave before slamming the door and walking home in the pouring rain.

The walk home was long and treacherous. Usually, Neil would drive you home. But you couldn't stand to be around him right now, not after his hypocritical words. When you got home, you collapsed in bed, still in your wet clothes, and cried your eyes out. Thunder cracked outside, and your windows rattled with the harsh wind. Your phone began to ring, the familiar ringtone you assigned to Neil's contact buzzing through your pocket. You just groaned.

"Go away, Neil." You grunted into your pillow, bickering to no one. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Curling up into a ball, the tears continued to fall. You hated the way you felt towards Neil; you hated that you wanted him to be more than just a friend. Your phone kept ringing, and it only made you cry harder.

You remembered freshman year of high school when you first met Neil; you instantly clicked and were in every class together. Everyone always thought you were dating, and you'd both share a round of 'Ew's and 'That's never gonna happen' and then silently look at each other thinking 'What if' (unbeknownst to each other). You always daydreamed about losing your virginity to Neil, the scrawny, awkward pimply boy who was the sweetest guy you'd ever met, though you ended up losing it to some guy called Lloyd over a dare. It wasn't very romantic, nor was it pleasurable. You just laid there and thought about Neil the whole time.

The sleep you got that night was terrible, but you tried to focus on the positives. You were going on a date! Yay! Not with Neil, though. You spent the day mostly picking out an outfit, mentally scolding yourself for not deciding on it sooner since most of your good clothes were dirty and you were feeling incredibly antsy. Your phone had been blowing up all day. Texts from Neil, Jonathan, and Lucien lit up your screen every other second. You didn't reply, you couldn't, you felt entirely too embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Lucien lounged on the couch at Neil's house, and Jonathan watched Neil pace back and forth in his kitchen while making handmade whipped cream. They were going to make a cake.

"I just don't know what to do, man," Neil huffed, stirring the bowl even more aggressively. Jonathan watched, unsure of how to comfort his friend. "What the fuck do I do? What if this guy is like... her soulmate or something cliche like that?"

"Okay," Jonathan laughed, putting his hand in the air. "Russell is not her soulmate." "How do you know? Have you met him?" Neil hissed back.

"No, but... how do we even know this 'Russell' guy even exists? What if she's just trying to make you jealous?"

"That's a good point!" Lucien quipped in from the other room.

"Thanks, Lucien," Jonathan rolls his eyes before looking back at Neil, who has set the bowl aside, melting to the floor with tears. "Look... dude, I think you should go over there and tell her how you feel... the worst she can say is no..."

"The worst she can say is no," Neil mocked, tears streaming down his face. "Yeah fuckin' right! She's gonna..." Neil sobbed, hiding his hands in his face. "I'll go over there, and she'll... never want to speak to me again... she wouldn't feel the same way... it's impossible!"

Jonathan looked exasperated. It was painfully apparent to everyone but you and Neil that you two were soft for each other. You usually spend every day together. The idea of losing you to some other guy was heartbreaking for Neil. Neil cried like a baby, and Jonathan watched, awkwardly leaning against the counter, unsure what to say.

"Just fucking do it, you fucking idiot!" Jonathan blurted out. "I know she likes you... do you really think Y/N would've stuck around this long with us losers if she didn't feel something for you?"

"I don't know, Jonathan..." Neil whimpers, looking up at Jonathan with the most pitiful eyes anyone has ever seen. He looked straight out of a painting.

"And even if she doesn't feel the same for you..." Jonathan continues, crouching down to be at his height on the floor. "You guys have known each other way too damn long to just throw away a good friendship over you liking her. Y/N's a smart girl. She'll learn to accept it if she doesn't feel the same way."

Neil just buried his face further into his knees, continuing to cry. "Gee, you'd think he just got his period or something." Lucien said unhelpfully.

"Shut up, Lucien!" Neil and Jonathan yelled in unison.

"Listen, I think you should just tell her... she ain't responding to any of my texts... and I don't know how it's gonna go with this Russell guy tonight, so I reckon you should head on over there..." Jonathan rambled. Neil still stayed in the same place, with his head in his hands. "Like right now!" Jonathan yelped, and Neil jumped at the sudden shift in volume and tone.

Neil approached your house as you sat in some dive bar, waiting for your date. His key twisted your locked door. Unbeknownst to him, the house was completely empty. And as he walked in, Russell was yet to arrive, over twenty minutes late to your date. At this point, you'd accepted that you had been stood up and patted yourself down, ensuring you had everything you brought.

"Y/N!" Russell's voice greets you, clearly out of breath. "I'm so sorry for being late... traffic was awful." Yeah, right, you thought. But you gave him a small smile and sat back in your booth. "That's alright," You pressed down your skirt that rested uncomfortably high on your thighs, trying to calm your nerves. The leather of the seats stuck to your thighs as Russell began making small talk. How boring. You found yourself zoning out as you downed the drink Russell had bought you just to try and cope with the terribly grim situation you were dealing with. Russell was some sort of accountant. Just the idea of finance lulled your brain into a state of boredom and borderline sleepiness. Russell's voice was monotone, and the way he licked his cracked lips every time he spoke made you feel queasy.

Meanwhile, Neil sat on your couch, spread out and feeling hopeless. No other person could ever compare to you, never ever, ever, ever. The thought of you meeting this guy he didn't know anything about except for his god-awful name and possibly hitting it off... maybe starting a life with him... the jealousy was sickening. Genuinely sickening.

It was festering within him, after all these years of watching men come into the store and flirt with you, the jealousy... the possessiveness... that another man talking to his Y/N... brought on was just too much for poor little Neil to handle. The jealousy was now fuelling the reason he still stayed. As soon as you walked through that door, with Russell or not, he'd get on his hands and knees... and beg you to love him... beg you to love him the way he loves you.

An hour went by... and then another, by now, it was nearing 10:30 PM, and Neil wasn't even sure if you were coming home. He then remembered your words of 'going back to his place afterwards' and felt like the biggest idiot in the whole world. He felt like he had lost you... like he was mourning you. His heart broke silently, and the heavyweight in his chest grew to be too intense, too blue to even cry. So he stood up and sighed, looking around your apartment before saying his goodbyes. I won't be over much now that she has a boyfriend, Neil thought. But as he turned around, about to walk out the door, there you stood with your key still in the lock looking at him like you'd look at an angel.

"Neil?" You asked softly as if it could possibly be anyone else.

"Y/N," He gasped, rushing to you, hands reaching out to you. "Please listen to what-" "Who's this?" Russell asks with a scoff, leaning on the doorway. Neil backed away like he had just entered a cock-fight he knew he couldn't win.

"Russell..." You shifted to look at him. "I think it's better if you just go... we can... we can see each other another time." "Yeah, alright," Russell shrugged, playing it cool but Neil saw the flicker of annoyance flash through the man's eyes. Russell turned back around and left, leaving the two of you alone.

"What are you doing here, Neil?" You chided, closing the door and deadbolting it behind you before walking over to the couch with Neil.

"I... I need to talk to you..." Neil whispered. You sat right beside each other, staring into each other's eyes. A feeling grew in your chest like you knew what he was about to say. "Y/N..."

"Neil..."

"I..." He faltered, his eyes looking down at his lap as he reached out, holding both your hands in his. Your heart did a spin at this, lips parted as you breathed heavily. What is happening? "I.... fuck... I don't know how to do this," Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, clearly about to cry. "I've watched so many goddamn movies you'd think I... you'd think I'd have the right thing to say."

"Neil," You whispered, your voice coming out like a warning. "Just say it."

Neil looked up at you, speechless. The expression on his face was truly indescribable. Almost like a dramatic build-up, the room was silent, giving each other this look. This look you had never openly given to each other before.

"I don't want to kill my time with anybody else," Neil began, taking deep breaths. The sounds of cars passing by and trees swaying in the wind could be heard, along with the pounding of your heart. "You're the only one who makes me feel alive."

"Neil," You warned, looking away from him. "Why now?" You blurted out, quickly smacking your hand over your loose mouth.

"Wha...?" Neil asked, torn completely out of the moment by just those two words.

"Why are you telling me this now?" You questioned. Your hands ran down your face. "Why, Neil, Why?"

"What do you mean?" Neil shook his head, eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?!"

You were standing up now, you couldn't be close to him, you felt too dizzy. "After all these years... why are you only telling me this now?"

"I-I... I..." Neil stammered, utterly speechless this time. He wasn't expecting this reaction, he couldn't quite place what you were feeling. "I was afraid, Y/N."

"Of what?" You raised your voice and he flinched and suddenly the guilt hit you like a freight train. Tears fell down your face, ruining your makeup.

"Of losing you! Losing the only person in my life who actually matters!" Neil stood up as well, approaching you. Like a game of cat and mouse, you stepped away while he kept trying to round the coffee table to get to you. "I need you, Y/N. I need you to know how badly," He pleaded with you, but you couldn't find a way to let him further into your heart. He'd hit bone if he went any further into it.

"Neil, I don't know anymore! You're so confusing!" You screeched as he bumped into you, knocking you down onto the couch and he knelt in front of you, pleading eyes staring up at you. "I don't know what you want from me!" You cried.

"I want everything," He whispered, hands placed on both of your thighs. "I want to be yours... I want you to be mine. How do I make this any clearer?"

"I don't... I don't have you," You felt like you were being torn apart. "You don't want me. You just... you're just confused! You don't want me! You want..." You closed your eyes, thinking about the women Neil had dated. You felt like he wouldn't be satisfied with you... you felt like you weren't pretty enough or you were too boring or too familiar. "I don't have you... Neil... and I never will."

"You've always had me. Every second of every day... you've had me. I'm yours." Neil whispered, hands squeezing your thighs. "Please. I need to know."

"Need to know what?" "That you'll take me," His fingers travelled further up your goosebump-covered skin. "That you'll let me in, Y/N."

"How?" Your hands shook as you looked him in the eye again. This time... it felt like you were looking at a completely different man. It was no longer just your best friend you were looking at... but the man pleading with you to love him as if you hadn't been silently loving him from afar... all these years.

"Please let me show you."

Neil used his hands to balanced himself as he slowly and intimately leaned in, lips brushing yours every-so slightly. "Neil..." You whispered.

"Shh...." He hushed.

And your lips joined together. It felt like your body had let him in, like he was rewriting your DNA and letting every part of him consume you. He sat beside you now, cradling you in his arms as you kissed slowly. This was all so new to you, unlike any other kiss you had ever experienced. Every other kiss before this just felt like you were trying to negotiate something... but this... this kiss felt like your body had found its missing limb like it had found what it had been lacking all these years.

A string of spit connects the two of you as Neil softly pulls away, panting for breath. "Am I in yet?" He chuckled.

You tilted your head, squinting and stroking your chin, pretending you were struggling to decide. "Maybe... I don't know yet... think you'll have to try harder..." Your voice was still a bit shaky from crying. "Alright," He snorts before diving back in and kissing you rougher this time but still in that romantic, slow way. One hand placed on your hip and the other guiding the back of your head as you made out. Tongues pawing at each other like they were getting acquainted.

"Please touch me," Neil whimpered into your lips, and oh fuck, that was the most divine noise you had ever heard. "Please." "Only 'cause you asked so nicely..." You hummed, pushing him down and straddling him. You watched as he threw his head back, biting his lip and holding back the noises he so desperately wanted to make at the feeling of you sitting on him. Your fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, watching him writhe underneath you at only the slightest touch. You popped each button out individually and slowly until Neil was groaning with annoyance.

"Don't be such a tease, Y/N," Neil grunted from behind gritted teeth once you had his shirt off. "If you felt how hard my dick was right now-"

"Oh, I do!" You giggled cheekily, slowly rolling your pelvis in a slow circle right over the tent in his trousers that poked into your thigh.

"You fucker-" He groaned, reaching his arms up and grabbing your head roughly and pulling you into a soul-sucking kiss, tongue grappling at yours desperately.

You moaned through dancing lips as you had the most delicious friction going. Neil was being just as loud as you, whimpers vibrating through your sternum and into your soul. Neil bucks his hips up pathetically before he breaks the kiss abruptly.

"You've gotta stop or I'm... I'm gonna..." He buried his muzzle in your neck and moaned. "I'm gonna fuckin cum in my pants." "Oh yeah?" You grinned, grinding your hips even faster.

"That means stop!" He grabs ahold of your wrists and flips you around like you were in a wrestling competition. You gasped out as he had you down against your couch, panting heavily above you with that frustrated-and-horny look. "I knew you'd be a little brat." He spat menacingly before grinning like a puppy, leaning down and kissing you heavily.

You ran your hands up your shirt, trying to pull your shirt off which made Neil pull away slowly when he realized you were taking your top off. "Are you sure?" He said breathily, above you, mouth wide open and his eyes glued on every inch of skin that was slowly being revealed more and more. You just nodded your head and smiled. "Oh fuck, you're showing me your boobs." Neil's eyes lit up like a kid in a candy shop. "Neil," You giggled as you got the top off and out came your tits, and there was Neil sitting there in disbelief at the sight of your boobs. "Neil!" You laughed, hitting him with a cushion; he smacked it away before looking back down at them with this look that almost resembled a look of horror. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Fucking hell, this is the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil chirped. "Fuck... please, Y/N... please let me squeeze them."

"Go ahead, Neil, touch me," You hummed, raising your arms above your head and leaning back with a Cheshire cat grin as his hands slowly and cautiously cusp your boobs. He let out a soft moan and let his eyes flutter shut as he slid his hands over your breasts, you could hear his breath hitch as his thumb slid over your hard nipples. "You're acting like you haven't touched a boob before," You snickered.

"Oh, believe me, I have..." Neil nodded, eyes open now and staring at your tits like he was high. "Just none as good as these..." He leaned in, hot breath fanning your left breast, lips parted but he doesn't go any further than that.

"Put it in your mouth, pretty boy," You demanded, and like the sub you always thought he was, he obeyed with a smile. "Fuck... that's it." The tops of his cheeks were flushed a gentle pink as he sucked and swirled his tongue around your nipple. "Mmm...." He hummed, eyes closed. His full body weight was resting on you while he sucked on your tits, switching between them. You laid there for quite a while and wondered how long he could do this. You braided your fingers through his hair before tugging it back roughly, and he unwillingly popped off your tit with a loud and whoreish whine.

"Hey!" He complained with eyebrows knitted together as his eyes looked between your eyes and spit-covered tits. He's so spoiled.

"I always knew you'd be a little brat." You said, repeating what he said to you earlier.

Neil drools on you helplessly, groaning as you pull on his hair more until you two are sitting up facing each other. You grin once more and lean in, giving him a sweet little kiss. His hands cupping your tits desperately.

"Carry me to the bedroom." You hummed dramatically, raising your arms in the air, and Neil shook his head and chuckled as he leaned down and wrapped you up in his arms.

"I'm so glad you're my best friend," Neil murmured into your warm shoulder as he padded you guys down to the bedroom he had been in countless times.

"Not just best friends, though," You remarked as he laid you down on the bed with your legs over his shoulders. He reached towards your bedside table.

"Condoms?" He hummed, searching through your drawers, but found nothing.

"Birth control... you should know this you idiot!" You giggled at Neil realizing what you just said.

"Can I...?"

"Yes!"

"Like... inside?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes!" You nodded your head, laughing wildly.

"Fuck you're gonna be the best girlfriend ever!" Neil grunted happily before leaning in and kissing you like you were his last meal.

Meanwhile, he slid your skirt down and unzipped his trousers. You caught a glimpse of his thick cock straining against his briefs and found yourself growing wetter.

"Let me make you mine, Y/N..." He whispered. "Let me finally make you mine."

"I've been yours," You caressed his face. You were both out of your underwear now. The tip of his prick nudging your clit as you looked up at him with so much love. "Please... Neil... please... I need you so bad."

Neil nodded silently, closing his eyes as he lined up his aching cock with your dripping cunt. The initial push in made your mind go blank and your spine arch even further into his touch, Neil moaned as he pushed himself into you fully.

"I can't believe this is happening..." Neil whispered. "This is so much better than I ever imagined it to be."

"You thought about me?" You grinned idiotically, high on the way he was stretching you out.

"Fuck," He groaned, hair falling over his pretty face. "Every fuckin' night."

"Me too."

His hands were placed firmly on your hips, and as he receded back until it was just the head of his cock in you, his fingers slid up to grope at your tits that his eyes had been practically glued on all night. Neil fucked you nice and slow, relishing in the way your pussy felt around him. Your hands were gripping the sheets, legs still thrown over his shoulders and mouth spewing incoherent words of pleasure.

"Neil... baby... oh my god," Your eyes so desperately wanted to shut but you wanted to enjoy how pretty he looked above you. "I love you."

Those words hung heavy in the air for a moment, Neil's hips never faltering as he leaned down and kissed you. "I love you, Y/N." Neil whispered against your hot mouth.

That was all you needed to hear. His cock slid in and out of you, both groaning and moaning as your bodies finally became one. Neil's mouth hung agape against yours, breathing in each other's air. Neil's face was flushed a bright red, pupils blown wide, and his hair messy from how you ran your fingers through it. Your noses brushed together as his pelvis rutted against your clit, dick still so deep inside you.

"I love you so much," Neil panted, thrusting into you desperately. "I always have..."

"Love you..." You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut and your arms slithering around his neck as the pleasure consumed you from the inside out. "So much... Neil..."

Neil pressed a kiss to your cheek, nuzzling your face as he ground into you. "Fuck, please let me cum inside you."

"I'm so close, Neil..." You whispered. "Just hold on a little longer."

Neil grunted. A pyramid of pleasure building within you, ready to crash down and crumble inside of you. Your orgasm grew like a million tiny vines curling around each individual nerve until you saw colors you had never seen before.

"Squeezing me so tight," Neil whined. "I need to cum... please..."

"Cum," You commanded and he did.

Coming undone together felt like it was truly sealing your fate. You had never felt so close to him; you knew you could and would spend the rest of your life with him. He mewled into the crook of your neck, cum spilling into you as you convulsed, orgasm swallowing you whole and ridding you of all your senses. All you felt was him and the impending pleasure devouring you. Neil's whimpers only further pushed you over the edge.

"Y/N," He moaned like a whore. "Fuck... Y/N..." He whined right into your ear as his cock continued to fill you with his warm cum.

Your brain couldn't conceive a proper thought. You couldn't will yourself to speak as he collapsed on top of you. You smile as you lay there together, skin on skin, hearts pounding in sync. Neil pulled out of you with a quiet hiss, picking you up and curling up with you under the sheets.

You looked at each other silently, both still calming down. Your thumb drew infinity signs onto his cheekbone, slowly blinking at the boy you had always wanted- no, needed.

"That was the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil whispered, sleepy eyes looking at you full of adoration. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me." Neil pecked you softly on the lips. "I can't believe it took me this long to tell you... I... I'm sorry." "Shh..." You hushed. "It's okay... we're together now... that's all that matters."

You lay in silence once more, hearts still pounding in your chests. You took in every detail of him, which you had memorized countless times before, but this time it was different. It felt much more intimate. Every crease, every freckle... every tiny minuscule detail of him was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

"Does this mean we're boyfriend-girlfriend now?" Neil chuckled, rolling over onto his back, pulling you into his side.

"Shut up, Neil," You giggled. "You're such a dork."

"You love it." He quipped.

"I do," You agreed. "I love you."

"I love you," Neil smiled sweetly, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, you were quickly interrupted by the sound of Neil's phone ringing. "Fuck me," He grunted, reaching down to grab at his jeans where his phone was. "Hello?" He said with a sour face. "Hi, Jonathan, everything is okay... yes, she's here with me..." Neil looked down at you with a smirk. "Yes, Lucien can borrow my goggles... I don't care... can we talk about this later?" Neil hung up and tossed his phone aside before looking back at you with a sheepish smile.

"What was that about?"

"Well... erm... Jonathan just asked if everything went well... between us..." Neil blushed.

"He knows you're here?"

"He's the reason I came over... he gave me the courage to... y'know... tell you how I feel."

You rolled your eyes and laughed before kissing him deeply. You felt like everything was okay. Now that you had Neil in your arms, you could handle anything that life threw at you. Neil was already planning your wedding in his head as you shared the love between you in a kiss. You wouldn't want it to be anyone else

I NEED NEIL LEWIS.... LIKE RIGHT NOW!!! Ugh, I love him so much. Anyway, hope you enjoyed <3

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy fanfic #neil lewis #watching the detectives #neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #cillian x fem!reader

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