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chastiefoul · 1 year

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stood up.

characters: ayato & alhaitham

summary:

Your boyfriend promised a long overdue date on the winter season—albeit how busy he was.

But as you waited and waited for him on the agreed spot, why does it look like he’s not coming?

tags: a lil angsty, comfort would be on part 2

Alhaitham

You were giddy as you woke up, immediately getting ready for the long awaited date you both have today. Amidst the research he’s been busy working with at the time, he finally managed to take a brief break and told you he missed you wanted to spend time with you which you couldn’t possibly refuse since you missed him just as much.

It was heavily snowing outside—you took a mental note as you pick a warm outfit for today. You were very excited about the date that you had arrived fifteen minutes early, silently hoping maybe your boyfriend would come a little early too since it’s been a while that you both spend a quality time.

☘

“I need coffee,” Alhaitham groaned as he went out from his room, completely exhausted and sleep-deprived. Kaveh who coincidentally was in the dining room just stared at him as if saying ‘then pour it yourself tf?’. Alhaitham made a cup for himself and took a sip. “It’s noon, and you’re just waking up?” the blond said disapprovingly while the grey-haired man only sighed. “It can’t be helped that I needed to sleep late every day for the past week. Also mind your own business, don’t you have that presentation you’ve deemed all week as important today?” He asked, annoyed. “Huh? That was yesterday.” Kaveh said, confused. Alhaitham widened his eyes. “What?” Panic rises inside Alhaitham’s chest as he asked.

“What date is it today?” His stomach dropped, refusing to believe that he had mixed up such an important date only because he was dwelled to deep on his research, even though he promised to meet you. He looked at the clock, 12 p.m, you both agreed to meet at 9 a.m.

“Seventeenth.” Kaveh confirmed, quickly snapping Alhaitham’s useless idle thought.

The scribe cursed out loud then went to grab the first coat he saw and swiftly go out.

Please still be there, please still be there.

He ran full speed at the agreed spot. He so wanted you to still be there but perhaps it would be too cruel at your side since you’d be standing still at the same spot waiting in the cold for three whole hours.

Then he saw you there, standing as you had your hands deep on your pocket, your nose red from the cold.

“(y/n)!” Alhaitham called out, but you didn’t budge at the noise. He approached you, overwhelmed with guilt. “I’m sor-“

“I told you before that we didn’t have to meet if you’re busy, I told you I could wait.” You said, uncharacteristically slow that it was unnerving. “But I didn’t mean it like this,” you whispered, finally losing it. Alhaitham’s heart broke at the tone, but he knew he didn’t have the right. “Waiting here for three whole hours that people from shop nearby talked to me and said I should warm myself up for a moment and I stupidly refuse, scared that you’d come while I was gone and you’d think I forgot about today..” you paused.

“I looked like a fool—no, I was an utter fool.”

“Please. I can explain-“

“Gosh what an interesting way to apologize,” your eyes hot with tears that were threatening to spill. “Seeing you now, clearly just waking up with no effort whatsoever to get yourself ready.. just how pathetic do you want me to feel, Alhaitham?” you sniffled, feeling uncomfortable and heartbroken. The fact that you were looking forward to today for days and he did not even bother to remember. That fact cuts deep.

The man’s heart ached more by the sudden call of his full name, not the usual endearing nickname of ‘haitham’.

You walked away, wiping your tears. Alhaitham who witness your back getting smaller as you take a step after another could only stand still, quietly searching for the words he could find to first and foremost apologize, then to find a way to make it all up to you.

Ayato

It was definitely not easy, being by Ayato’s side, but you made it work—you always do. And Ayato couldn’t hope for more of an understanding partner—and he didn’t let you forget that, but this made you reluctant to voice your worries, scared that he would picture you as this selfish person. But if you were given a wish, perhaps you’d want to be able to spend a little more time with your boyfriend. Just a little.

☘

When there’s patience, there’s too, a limit.

You’re currently waiting for Ayato at the meeting spot you both agreed on the day before. You wouldn’t mind a ten or fifteen minutes tardiness, anyone could’ve make such mistake, but feeling how stiff your fingers were and seeing the sun position, it’s safe to say you’ve been waiting for more than four hours. There are strangers who passed by earlier, and when the same people witnessed you still glued in the same spot they saw you, you couldn’t help but look down.

A quiet but incisive sense of shame overwhelmed you, that you had such faith in this man that you were willing to wait even hours on such weather, not even knowing that if Ayato had felt the same anticipation—clearly not, since him or even his retainer that usually gave you news about his well-being was nowhere in sight. You couldn’t help but laugh self-deprecatingly at your foolishness as you finally decided to give up and go home, not even thinking about the reason why he had forgotten about the date. The bottom line was that he stood you up, whether it was unintentional at the end of the day, you were hurt. And it was finally time to tell him that he would not get away with it.

☘

The next day, your body had to pay up the price of waiting on such a snowy weather that you caught a fever. It wasn’t worth it in the slightest but at least this way you don’t have to face him for a while, since you don’t really have anything nice to say if forced to see his face.

That thought was short-lived however, seeing that Ayato had decided to come, on a day where you both didn’t agree to meet up on. You were laying down, even with the thick layers of clothing you still felt somewhat cold.

“You didn’t come this morning as you usually do, so I got worried,” he explained the sudden visit. Your head hurt, but truly it was incomparable to the ache you’re experiencing on your chest. Ayato seemed to had completely forgotten the fact that he was supposed to meet you yesterday. “What were you doing that you’ve become this ill, love?” There was nothing but pure concern in his voice but this made you more spiteful, more infuriated.

“I was waiting for someone for hours out in the cold yesterday.” You said, still burying yourself in the blanket, not bothering to make eye contact with the man. At this he was thinking back that perhaps you had tell him about this engagement, but his expression quickly drop, as he remembered. You wanted to laugh at it since you’ve never seen such face on him, but that was a luxury you had to postpone until a later date where you had felt a little better.

“Sweethe-“ He quickly said but you cut him off. “Don’t call me that. And don’t even think about touching me.” You said sternly, as he swiftly retracted the hand that was about to touch your head.

“(y/n), I apologize but I-“

And you’ve had about enough of his exuses—no matter how important, you don’t even care anymore, you just wanted Ayato out of your sight.

“It’s always something with you, isn’t it? I’m tired, Ayato.” You said meekly, truly exhausted by the way he always had something to say, a way to get out of being berated, reasons that you had to understand even though it was the same as saying that he had put you second—or maybe below that yet again. “I don’t want to understand it anymore, I give up.” You finally said, and only at this point Ayato had realized just how much he had hurt you over the course of you dating him.

“I’m done being your loyal dog that you can treat however you please, Ayato. Leave.”

“(y/n)-“

“I said, leave.” You repeated.

Ayato could only stand up and got out as guilt was eating him away slowly. It wouldn’t be an understatement to say that he had taken advantage of your kindness and took you for granted. The regrets tasted bitter on his tongue. As he went out from your haven there was only one thing running through his mind. How could he possibly fix this?

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x you #genshin fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin angst #ayato x y/n #ayato x reader #ayato x you #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader

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liveontelevision · 1 month

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Suffer Pt. 4 | Lucifer x Reader

The time has come, babes, this could be the final part

I wanna say this part is 18+ , so MINORS go away

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

♡♡♡

"I'll see you, Lucifer."

"I hope so."

Even with high hopes, Lucifer anxiously paces his own workshop, twisting his grip on his cane and watching the minutes pass by. Literally. He would either pull out his phone and check the time, or peak up at the novelty clock hanging nearby, and scoff at how little time has passed since the last time he decided to look. To occupy his time, he would rummage through his piles of squeaky creations, scanning over them as if he had anything on his mind other than you. He'd walk in front of a mirror, fixing his lapels, straightening his tie, then questioning whether or not he should just change entirely. With one more pacing lap around the small room, he stopped in front of the mirror again, while brushing his hair back with his claws. The sudden glimmer of his wedding band reflecting some light caught his attention. He froze in front of his reflection, then shifted his gaze down to his left hand. He twisted it around as if he never noticed it until now, even after wearing it for 10,000 years. Why is it bugging him now?

Oh, yeah. He was about to see you in just a few minutes.

But that shouldn't upset him, you two were becoming friends again.

Lucifer broke his gaze from his hand and looked towards the large family painting still hung on the wall. He couldn't take it down. He had no idea why Lillith left, for all he knows, it could've been a perfectly valid reason. But she looks so happy in that picture. In fact, they all looked so happy. How did that happen? A combination of the clock chiming, and an alarm he set the day before, going off at the same time made him jump. He fumbled his phone into his suddenly sweaty claws, letting out a nervous yelp.

3:01PM

"Aw, Hell! I'm late!" Before snapping his fingers to open a portal to the hotel, he mindlessly slipped the ring off his finger and placed it carefully on his desk, leaving it alongside a family portrait.

—

You hummed your usual tune, the same one that calmed you and young Charlie, as you twisted and turned to examine your outfit. You were almost as nervous as Lucifer was. Well.. not really. He was a wreck. But why should you be nervous? Why would he be nervous? You two only agreed to meet up at the hotel and.. catch up some more. No activities were really planned, it was as if you simply wanted to hear each other's voices again. As if the late-night calls you were having weren't enough. It was a nice change though. No matter how late you were talking to each other, you slept like a rock the rest of the night. No need for some silly radio anymore.

Speaking of,

"Alastor, what did I say about knocking? Or even going through the door in general?" You questioned out loud, not even looking away from your figure in the reflection. The radio on your nightstand suddenly started playing a barely recognizable old-timey tune, and you could feel the radio static sensation growing in your chest, so you felt no need to break your concentration to look his way. You heard your bed creek next, only peeking in your reflection for a moment to catch Alastor sitting cross-legged on the edge of your bed.

"Isn't today your weekly Rosie visit? What do you want?" It's not like he was bugging you, but recently Alastor had been keeping close quarters. You found him sitting next to you a lot, a little too close, during exercises. Which was strange, considering he never really attended exercises until recently.

Obviously, he's been inviting himself into your room without permission, which caused him to interrupt some phone calls with the king. He's also been inviting you out to Cannibal Town more often, and even bringing some unannounced fresh-cooked meals for you. You wouldn't admit to the cannibal thing, but it's hard to avoid it after working in that bakery for so long. You didn't mind it, as long as it wasn't.. rare. So, you suppose it was nice of him to cook for you.

"Indeed! I’m assuming you'll be joining me, that is why you’re dressing so formally, correct? Rosie's been talking about you quite a lot, considering you've missed our last few outings." You could hear his teeth clench while he spoke his final words.

"All good things, I hope?" You had moved on to looking through a little jewelry box, occasionally pulling out necklaces and holding them up in the mirror to see how it'd look on you.

"Of course!" Alastor reassures, rising from the bed to stand behind you, his hands gently placed on your shoulders. He has to bend at the hips a bit to see his own face in the shorter mirror.

"Then, I'm sure she can handle one more lunch date without me. I'll join next time." You said, still rummaging through the little trinket box. With a victorious hum, you pulled out a little golden chain, with a snake charm that swirled into an S shape.

As you held it up to your neck, like you did with the rest, you felt Alastor's hands shift from your shoulders to take each end of the necklace, carefully pulling the chain around your neck to fasten it in the back. With a quick thank you, you pulled your hair to the side to assist him. His breath was hot against the back of your neck, sending an instinctive shiver down your spine. Alastor started to feel a bit flushed at the sensation, which surprised even him. The thought of sinking his teeth into the softest part of your neck, doing anything to keep your mind off of that damned angel, immediately flooded his mind. He fastened the necklace quickly, pulling away as fast as he could after that grotesque thought crossed his mind. He was sure that he was just hungry. He cleared his throat, stepping a good few feet away from you.

"So? How's this? Does it look okay with the dress?" Oh, it did. You tried your best to not concern yourself over what you wore, but Lucifer was always one to dress in his finest suits, so you'd hope to meet him at least halfway. Excuse the phrasing, but God bless Angel and his eye for fashion. You arrived in Hell before Charlie was even born, then essentially worked in uniforms up until you arrived in the hotel. Emphasizing that this was not a date, Angel found you a pretty little purple dress. It was perfectly fine as is, with thin straps, a skirt hugging your hips just slightly and stopping right below where your thighs meet. But he insisted you "spice it up", accessorizing you with a patterned corset, decorated in leafy designs and tied together with a silky ribbon at your back. It took you hours of convincing to even put it on for today. All this for just a hangout. What would you even do? Have dinner? Would Lucifer go into Pentagram City with you? What would happen if you stayed in the hotel?

"Not exactly my style, I prefer something with more.. coverage. But you look lovely either way." Alastor's words broke your train of thought and you immediately turned red, embarrassed by how lost in your own thoughts you got. You recovered and rolled your eyes at him, finding your phone and looking through it.

"I don't know why I asked, it's not like I'm dressing up for you." You said, Alastor watching you as you swipe through something and then smile at your phone.

"Then who might you be dressing up for, might I ask?" He asked with a sly grin, leaning foward on his cane, craning his neck to look at your whatever could be making you smile so brightly. You pulled your phone to your chest and glared at him.

"No one! ..Me! I'm dressing for myself! Is there a problem with that, Al?" You let out a little humph, before checking the time on your phone.

"He should be here soon.." you said softly, almost hoping he didn't hear you. "Tell Rosie I said hi, will you? I'm seeing Lucifer today." You said quickly as you left your room, hoping you could avoid his response by leaving in a hurry. Luckily you did. You felt the static running through you soften as you went down the stairs, looking at your phone as you did. With one more mental pep talk, you took a deep breath and opened the hotel's double doors.

"Heyyyy! You!" Lucifer stood eagerly, without a ring to fiddle with, he toyed with his clawed hands behind his back. You should respond. You should greet him, say hi, welcome him in, anything. But he stood there wearing a plum and black purple blazer, that stopped just at his waist. It was fitted nicely over a ruffled black top and dark trousers. Before you could stop yourself, you realized you had let your eyes trace his body up and down. Quickly meeting his eyes with a reddened face, you nervously chuckle, stepping aside to let him in.

"S-Sorry.. I- uhh.. Hi. Lucifer." You finally greet him, shutting the door as he enters the hotel.

"You look nice. Purple always looked good on you." He stated out loud. Purple? When was the last time you wore anything purple? Looking around the hotel, he examined any detail he might have missed from his last visit. Of course, that wasn't what he was really doing. He was trying his hardest to keep his eyes off of you, needing to let his heart rate slow.

After finally calming himself down, he turns to you with a grin, opening his mouth to say something- but what he saw was you gripping onto the hem of your skirt with a nervous look on your face, your eyes wide.

Purple always looked good on you.

"Are you okay? Sorry, did I - uh.. should I - " you quickly step away from him, waving your hands.

"N-No! You're fine! I'm okay, I just uh.. dinner! You want something to eat? Or.. we can check out the city-" Desperately trying to take the topic off your feelings, you threw out some ideas for the night.

"Oh! Okay, Dinner sounds great! We should probably stay in the hotel, but will.. will anyone else be joining us..?" He looked around the clearly empty room.

"Charlie and Vaggie just left to try and recruit some sinners, Angel's working and Husk avoids people if no one's the bar, so.. I think that it might just be us." You smiled. Why were you smiling? Maybe because they're contagious.

Alastor. The familiar grinning face comes trailing down the stairs, greeting you and you alone.

"Oh! Your Highness, I had no idea we'd have company!" He walked behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders again as he looked down at Lucifer.

"Al, I told you he was coming by." You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. Lucifer glared, immediately breaking the contact from him to look at you.

"Will he be joining?" Lucifer asked, in an agitated low tone.

"No, he's busy. Right? You were just leaving for Cannibal Town." You stressed, turning your head to look up at the towering demon. Lucifer wondered how you weren't intimidated by him? Your head barely reached the center of his chest.

"Of course, I wouldn't want to intrude! Just be careful with our little doll here, your majesty." He says, then leans closer to the crook of your neck. "And I thought I'd bring your cardigan, dear, it's a tad cold today." The sweater suddenly appears in his hands and he drapes it over your shoulders. It felt heavier than usual.

"Oh, um.. thanks.. Al." You clear your throat, shooting him the best smile you could muster in this embarrassing moment.

"Have fun with Rosie!" You finally said, essentially pushing Alastor out of the hotel's doors. None of that had to happen, he could've easily phased his way out of the hotel and you knew that. With a final sigh, you went back to Lucifer, taking off the sweater and folding it, before draping it over the couch in the lobby.

"What, not cold anymore? He was just trying to be nice." As much as you'd like to hear that as a joke, it had a sense of discomfort to it. You knew Lucifer didn't like Alastor; he made that clear multiple times. Considering he's been so kind to you though, you thought you had to at least try to defend him. But with Alastor's recent actions, and just how.. touchy... he's been, it's getter harder to try and explain his actions.

"It's Hell, Lucifer, it's never cold. It doesn't go with the dress anyway. Now, c’mon. I can make something quick in the kitchen." Trying to move past the subject, you take hold of his hand and guide him to the kitchen area.

You definitely cooked a lot more since you stayed in the hotel. Despite your mild cannibalistic tendencies, you loved making regular, flesh-free, food for everyone else. It was just who you are, you loved to dote. At this point, you were making meals for everyone, cooking specific courses for certain demons. Specializing in their favorites. It was no different than how you were when you were taking care of Charlie. A messy toddler had a constantly changing appetite, and Lucifer always seemed to admire how well you could keep up with that. I mean.. despite kissing a married king, who was also your boss, you were actually good at your job.

The cooking process went by fast, you put on an apron before starting to cook, which Lucifer could argue looked adorable on you. But he would never admit it. He simply sat on a nearby counter, his legs crossed over each other as he leaned back on the palm of his hands. You recreated something that used to be a favorite back at the manor, and of course, it was delicious. The two of you didn't even make it to the table. You plated everything and went towards the door, but before you could leave, you turned to see Lucifer already working on his plate as he sat on the counter. You laughed at him, before attempting to join his side. This was probably for the best, sitting at a table while eating seemed so.. Date-y.

You struggled to hop up to the counter without flashing anyone. Dammit, Angel. With a quick motion, Lucifer had his hands on your waist and he lifted you with ease onto the cold tabletop. With a nervous exchange of thanks, he hikes back up the counter and sits next to you. It felt ridiculous to examine the entire moment. Here you are, sitting on the edge of the damn kitchen counters with Lucifer, kicking your legs every now and then, laughing at jokes and just.. enjoying everything. He made you glad you lived in Hell.

The plates now set aside, Lucifer had turned to face you, his crossed leg lightly brushing against yours as he recalled some embarrassing things that Charlie did when she was growing up. Things that happened after you left.

"Oh it was bad, we don't even know what she used to dye her hair but it was not easy to get out. You know.. Teenager stuff, I guess." He showed off some images from his phone, making you lean into his shoulder to catch a better glance. You found yourself leaning past Lucifer, your sides fully together at this point. Lucifer braces himself up with his hand behind your back. When you finally had enough of the pictures of Charlie in her emo-phase, you sat straight, making Lucifer's arm shift to the small of your back. You hummed quietly at his touch.

Don't do this. Don't ruin this, not again.

"Dishes! I'll um.. let me clean up and we can find somewhere with actual chairs.." You hopped off the counter, stumbling a bit before leaning into the sink and starting the water. Before you could even start scrubbing, the dishes simply poofed from your hands and into the drying rack at the side of the sink, sparkling clean.

"Oh, right.. Angelic powers." You laughed nervously, looking around the room for a moment.

Finally deciding that the air was too thick with some kind of tension, you gestured him out of the room and showed him off to the small book room. You didn't go in here often, but it was either this or your bedroom.. Obviously, that wouldn’t end well.

Taking a seat on the little sofa in the room, you managed to get the conversation back on a regular topic, complaining about some customers you used to deal with while working in Cannibal Town. He finally went on a rant about his rubber duck fixation, which baffled you but didn't really surprise you.

The conversations didn't last long. It was bound to happen. Alone in the hotel? Catching up after all these years of built-up tension? It started with Lucifer placing his hand on the small of your back, something that has always given you butterflies. It didn't feel the same when Alastor would do it. Lucifer's hands were obviously smaller, but they were so gentle. And he had no intent on pulling you closer or keeping you sitting upright, he was doing it just so he could touch you. Your hands had traveled in between the two of you, supporting you as you leaned into him. The room was silent, but your thoughts were screaming in your head. He's hurt you before. He's just been alone for too long, this isn't anything special. Don't make the same mistake.

Staring into each other's glazed-over eyes, unsure of how to proceed but unwilling to move away, he finally bites the bullet. Raising his free hand to caress the side of your face, brushing a few strands of hair away, you place your hand overtop of his, relishing in his gentle touch. You felt his hand flinch a bit at your actions, but when you fluttered your eyes shut and leaned into his palm, he immediately felt at ease. He moves his hand towards him just slightly to better bring you closer. Your foreheads now pressed together, all your concerns went away. This wasn't like before. You felt so safe with him, there was no fear of things going wrong or being ruined. Not anymore. Not at this moment. Your comfort was disrupted by his quiet voice.

"A-Are you sure about this.? Can I.. Maybe we should just-" Shut him up. You muffled any other worried thoughts he might have by placing a gentle and quick kiss on his lips. His eyes widened just for a moment, looking surprised despite all that's happened beforehand. Suddenly desperate, he pulls you in, making your lips meet again in a long, long, overdue embrace.

You were just as desperate for this. All you could think of was how gentle he was being, even with the eagerness of his quickening breath. You leaned in more, forcing Lucifer to prop himself up with his hand beside him. You kept leaning. At this point he's taken both his hands off of you, needing to brace himself up. Your lips never pull apart. You placed your hands on his chest, moving underneath his jacket, and onto his shirt, just to be even the slightest bit closer to him. Suddenly processing the position, Lucifer shifted his leg to allow you to crawl closer to him. You were careful, you knew this was long overdue, but it'd be a bad idea to do anything too intense right now. It would overwhelm both of you. Still, finally breaking your kiss, you pushed back to assess his beautiful expression. He looked disappointed. Almost runny eyes, he was propped up by his elbows while you kelt your hands placed on his chest. His porcelain skin contrasted with the red glow across his cheeks.

"You okay, Lucifer?" You asked softly, reaching a hand to brush some strands of hair back into place. He only nodded, before returning a hand onto your back and pulling you on top of him, deepening the kiss you had so rudely interrupted. You felt his hand pull away for a moment, and heard him snap his fingers. You heard the door shut. Then you heard it lock. That made you as nervous as it did relieved. Pulling away for a moment you decide to tease him.

"What, you couldn't have done that before?" You said slyly with a smirk on your face. With a sarcastic laugh, he pressed a kiss onto your smile. Neither of you could believe what was going on right now.

Both your breaths were becoming heavy, Lucifer had scooted to rest his back on the arm of the couch, he pulled you closer and rested his hands around your waist. Neither of you had made the decision to go any farther than enjoying each other's lips yet, but at the same time, you wouldn't complain about staying connected to him like this forever. He reached back and tugged on the silky ribbon of your corset, maybe not as an invitation, but to find something to fiddle with to keep his nerves at bay. You weren't sure. But there was no harm in assuming, right? You took hold of his hand, which still held one of the laces, and guided it to pull it completely loose. It wasn't covering anything, it just loosened the fit of your dress. It wasn't like you were stripping for him. But his face was absolutely flushed by the action.

Letting the corset belt drop to the ground, you leaned forward and ran your hands up his chest. Moving to the inside of his coat, you slipped your fingers over his shoulders to guide the jacket off of him. With some more shifting and adjusting, you both sat straight. Lucifer found himself dragging his lips to your chin, then your jawline, guiding your head to tilt back for easier access. Pulling your body against his with one hand, he cradled your head with the other, running his claws gently across your scalp before doing so. The action sent shivers down your spine, almost a relieving sensation to your hot skin.

He speckled kisses down your neck, taking his time to cover every inch of you. You could feel his labored breath against your skin every time you let out a little moan or hum. He ran his hand down your shoulder, hooking the strap of your dress with his thumb and moving it aside, careful not to undress too much. Not yet. With the newfound space, he nipped at your skin, making you yelp quietly. You quickly place a hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the sounds coming from you. Lucifer was not going to let that happen. He traced your arm, running his fingers along your skin, and gently pulled your hand away from your mouth.

"W-What - " You could barely question him, before he forced another yelp from you, sinking his teeth into your shoulder just a bit deeper this time. He hummed at your finally unmuffled voice, taking your hand that he had been holding and guiding it to his head. You immediately took hold of his hair, gripping just lightly, something to keep you from floating away, while he continued to work across your collarbone. Feeling a light suction, you gasped and yanked on his hair, pulling his face away from your chest.

"N-No, no marks! Don't be.. mm... s-stupid.." you scolded, as he leaned down, and ran his tongue up the length of your neck.

"What if I put them somewhere only I can see?" He had moved to your ear at this point, kissing the crook of your jaw as he spoke so sweetly against your skin. Ooh, fuck, you wanted that. Bad.

You took a hold of his jaw and pulled him back up to your lips. Placing your thumb along the bottom of his lip, you opened his mouth a bit, inviting yourself into his mouth. Tracing his lower lip with your tongue, you slid inside, his tongue feverishly following suit. The sensation forced a quiet whimper out of Lucifer, you felt his body weight droop for a moment, falling forward and pushing you onto your back. Caging you in with his arms, he refused to pull away, even if he needed to breathe.

You pushed his chest slightly, and he immediately pulled away, his lustful gaze turning to concern. You watched him catch his breath. While he was panting, you could see his forked tongue just slightly hanging from his lips, which were glossy from the messy and desperate kisses you'd been exchanging. You looked up and down his body for a second. Keeping your hands on his chest, you smoothed over his shoulders, before pulling him back in for another kiss. With your hands still near his chest, you reached towards the clasps of his shirt, beginning to work the expensive feeling fabric off of him. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin. You ran your closer hands across his bare chest, once completely undone. He was overheated and panting, you were just helping him, obviously. You'd say anything to convince yourself that what your doing was okay. Why wasn't it okay, again?

"It's okay, babe, we'll try again later." A saddened groan was muffled through the closed door. Oh. Right. You heard Vaggie comforting a frustrated Charlie just outside the room. You both looked at each other with widened eyes, probably for longer than you should’ve. It was a mixture of disappointment and anxiety. And a little bit of consideration, that maybe they won't check the room if you're quiet. The set of footsteps was coming closer, possibly passing the room to go up the stairs, but it finally forced you out of your head.

You pushed him off of you, desperately making as much distance as possible. The motion of pushing him from his chest, which your hands were so sweetly caressing moments before, took the air out of his lungs, forcing out a loud groan. Hushing him as if you weren't the reason he was wheezing, you struggle to get your corset back on. Finally giving in, you threw it over the back of the couch and took hold of your trusty sweater that was still draped over the back of the couch. You scrambled to put it on. Lucifer simply snapped his fingers to fix up his hair and return his suddenly clean and crisp top back on him. You also heard him unlocking the door.

"Fucking angelic magic.." you muttered, out of breath from your little frantic display. He lets out a cocky chuckle. Taking the risk, he pulls you in for one more quick kiss. His hand lingered on your cheek for a moment, his eyes absolutely sparkling just at the sight of you.

His hand slipped away quickly once the door opened.

"Holy shit- dad?? You didn't tell me you were visiting!" Charlie held onto the handle as the door was opened, Vaggie stood beside her looking just as confused. Before you could acknowledge it, Lucifer gestured to the little coffee table in front of the couch, with some random board game sprawled out on it. When did that get there?

"Heyy Sweetie- well, I-I uh.. we were just catching up, ya know, playing some games. The.. usual.." He grinned nervously, picking up some random game piece and observing it like he knew what it was for.

"Yeah, don't worry Charlie, I'm kicking his ass." You said smoothly, smiling at him when he turned towards you with a glare. You were definitely better at acting casual than he was.

"Oh! Well.. okay, then! Maybe we can all get a game in before you go!" Charlie planned out, already walking off. Lucifer sent a sweet smile and a little wave to Vaggie. She returned the greeting, a comforted smile on her face as she followed after Charlie.

"Well! That was-" Lucifer turned to you with a nervous expression, scratching at the top of his hand.

"- A close call?" you said through some chuckles, "but.. good. It was good." You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with a smile you couldn't shake off. You looked at him nervously fidgeting with his hands, your eyes widening at the sight of his ring-less finger. Blinking a few times, thinking that maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, you couldn't stop yourself from turning red.

"Just good? I'm offended, sweetheart, I thought I did a pretty amazing job there." He boasts, crossing his arms across his chest. Jokes were another coping mechanism Lucifer used often. But you weren't caught up on that.

Sweetheart. You sucked in your lips to hold back a ridiculously wide grin.

Awkwardly clearing his throat when you didn't respond, he clasps his hands together in his lap.

"Sooo.. what now..?" He asked sheepishly. He sounded nervous asking that. You took a hold of his hand and kissed his knuckles, before standing and taking him along with you.

"Now, we have to play some random board game with Charlie. That's your fault, by the way." He laughed after letting out a sigh of relief, following behind as you left the room.

Things were really looking up after that. The board game was awful, and you had to avoid eye contact with Lucifer the rest of the night, the sight of him turning you red immediately. His lips were all over you literal minutes before this, yet he’s acting much calmer than you. It almost frustrated you. Charlie even asked if you were feeling sick at some point. What a fucking nightmare.

Besides that, the unavoidable tragic events proceeding with the extermination day came and went. You did everything in your power to defend the hotel alongside Charlie and your newfound family. During the battle, you found yourself getting distracted by Lucifer's little fight with Adam. It's not like Adam wasn't getting a few hits in, but Lucifer seemed completely unphased. Sometimes you forget. You've seen him as a nervous, loving father, with a habit of making too many ridiculous jokes, but at the end of the day, he was powerful. He was more powerful than anything else in this realm. It was kinda hot..

A spear flying by your head snapped you out of your thoughts, and you groaned, simply embarrassed by your own mind.

The construction of the hotel went the same, he was creating endless materials amd assistance for the crew and you couldn't help but appreciate his strength and abilities. You assisted Charlie to keep your mind from thinking about Lucifer's teeth sinking into your shoulder or how smooth and warm his bare skin felt underneath your hands. But you found yourself chatting it up or helping Lucifer with some tasks every now and then.

Still, you had your fun during the process, sneaking off every now and then to "recharge". A single kiss on the cheek gets this man going, but you kept it at that. You weren't willing to risk any more run-ins.

Finally, the renovations were nearly finished, you were walking the halls just looking for any little things that may need to be cleaned up before you were meant to meet outside for the finale touches. Humming and scanning the area for any debris, you were stopped in your tracks feeling a fuzzy static sensation. It didn't feel like Alastor's usual presence, it was uneven and wavering. You looked around, finally finding him leaning against a wall with a hand clutched over his chest.

"Holy shit- Al! We thought you died, what happened?Oh my god, are you hurt? I mean everyone's gonna be relieved that you're okay, but we have to get you patched up soon or-" you rushed towards him as you spoke, watching a new pocket of blood seep through his coat. Attempting to reach for the wound, his hands came to your shoulders, Holding you with a bruising strength.

"A-Al, that hurts.." you gripped his wrists, attempting to pull him off of you.

"I hate to do this, love, but it appears I'm desperate. In exchange for my silence, you said you owe me one. Now, do me a favor. Stay away from that pompous king." Before you could say anything else, a whirring green smoke encased you both, finalizing the deal.

"What? Hold on, what did you do? Alastor, what's going on?" You questioned him desperately as he released his hands from your shoulders.

What just happened?

"Hm. Don't make such a fuss, I'm just helping you. Unless I'm forgetting, I'm quite sure he did something to hurt you in the past. So it's probably for the best to keep your distance. Ah! I believe they're looking for us, outside, dear! Shall we?" Alastor brushes off his suit, covering the stain with his overcoat and suddenly dropping the injured act. He hooks your arm into his and the two of you melt away into the shadows before you could protest to anything that just happened.

♡♡♡

lmao jk there's more parts coming

( Just an extra extra note, it honestly takes me awhile to write, I usually work on it piece by piece over a few days, then it takes me a day or two to finish editing it, plus it all depends on what's motivating me that day :') PLEASE keep sending more requests and I really appreciate everyone who has already sent one in being so patient )

!Taglist! (Some of the blogs aren't tagging and I have no idea why if anyone knows why please lmk :,)

( @vififofum @thornwolfy235 @tinywolfiegirl @chipper-chip @bat-boness @misfitgirlwrites @nayomi247 @lonelynmisunderstood @escapistoftherealworld @b4ts1e @hamthepan @kyo-kyo1 @looking1016 @polytheatrix @littledolly2345 @lillianastuff @yourlocalcryptidbee

@0strawberrysorbet0 @themageofblood @jayyyayaysblog @floralsightings @azmosposts @8har0ley8 @actuallyspiderwoman @sirenetheblogger @christineblood @kaytemchugh @cimadreamer @simpdevil66 @azmosposts @m3ow1 @acrazyartist @redfoxwritesstuff @4k1to @meesachan @corvusskid @alientee @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @alon3lylov3r @sapphireravensworld @phamtasic @mjmdragons )

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cheriladycl01 · 4 months

Text

When at work - Lando Norris x UniStudent! Reader Part 2

Plot: Lando has known you since you were born, literally childhood friends. You went to every karting weekend with him until he started to travel more. As childhood lovers who have been dating for 8 years what happens when the general public find out about you?

Credit to landooscurls for the GIF

You'd been taken home by an officer in his car. He'd attempted to calm you down offering to stop at a petrol forecourt and get you a snack to help you blood sugars come back up.

Apparently you looked ghostly pale.

After a Wispa chocolate bar and a Lucozade was brought for you, and you sat in the car just chatting they pulled out and went back onto driving you home.

Once you'd been dropped at the door of your place that you shared with Lando the officers asked you a final few questions. Just if you had good security systems, or someone to stay with you tonight so you weren't alone.

They also explained that you would no longer be safe working there, and even a transfer wouldn't be safe. They asked about your income and whether you'd be able to afford the loss.

Obviously you and Lando would have to talk to each other once he came back to the UK to see what you'd both do and if there was anyway Red Bull or McLaren would take you early as a work from home sort of offer until you graduated and could commit to the seasonal travel.

You shut the door after the officers left, making sure to lock it with the bolt. You sloppily chucked your keys into the dish that was on the cabinet in the entry way before hanging your coat up in the cupboard and kicking your shoes off.

You run straight up into the bedroom, the ensuite door was open and you trudged through staring at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds. Your mascara and eyeliner had run, and you resembled a Panda right now.

You jump into the shower, wanting to wash the days grot and smell of coffee beans and marzipan away. You make sure to wash of the makeup from your face before getting out the shower and wrapping a towel around your hair and body.

You start to go through your skincare routine, making sure to add your little yellow star pimple patch on at the end. You walk back down to the main room where you and Lando spent most of you time in the house.

You grabbed a large blanket from the hamper wrapping it around yourself before curling up on the sofa into yourself.

You sat there silently for a little while before the hot tears started to roll down your face.

You couldn't tell why you were getting so emotional over it. It was scary yes, but it was over now and the police had been very quick getting to the scene.

After 20 minutes of your own mind and a large nap, you woke around 2am. You felt awful knowing that you'd slept on the sofa and had missed dinner. You decided to make yourself a 'breakfast dinner' as you and Lando would sometimes call it depending on his sleep schedule.

You did some chores around the house, like the laundry from before Lando had gone to Australia and washed up the dishes you'd just used and changed the bed sheets. And finished off with some studying for some upcoming exams you had.

As the clock hit 5.30am you started to prepare yourself. You knew seeing Lando race would make you feel much better. You caught yourself up on positions using the F1 app to find out where Lando and Oscar would be starting. You made yourself a tea and got some of you favorite snacks before seating yourself up all comfy on the sofa.

Once you hear the 'It's lights out and away we go' all your worries seem to just melt. You keep your eyes on both the Papaya coloured cars. Only breaking away to message Lily, you had actually met her somehow before you met Oscar which was very strange but you hit it off immediately and would no stop text each other throughout races if you weren't together.

Lando ended up coming 6th, Oscar only a car between them in 8th. The Mclaren didn't have pace this year and you could really tell but both the boys were pushing it as hard as they could without breaking it and messing up their races.

And just like that, 2 days later, Lando was on his flight home. You'd prepared everything for him. Got food that you knew his trainer would approve of, but he would as well. You made sure that everything was perfect.

You drove to the airport in his car, you wanted to see him as soon as possible so picking him up seemed like the best option.

You got through security easily, Lando had phone ahead telling them to let you into the private part of the airport, not wanting to risk crowds around you again.

You waited for him, as he came through the door you couldn't help but run up to him, flinging your arms around him. He knew you well enough that he braced himself for your launching hug, being able to catch you and hold you up as you wrapped around him like a koala does to a tree.

"Baby i missed you so much" you sob, pushing your face into his hoodie covered neck as you cry into him. You hold him so tightly and he squeezes you back, whispering little things to you to get you to calm down.

You hear people walking around, you know its his team, taking his bags away so you didn't knock them over and just to help him in general.

"Okay baby, lets go home" he smiles and he keeps a hold of you sighing as you look at him with a pouty frown and a shake of you head.

"You don't want to go home? Then we cant cuddle on the sofa and have food" he smiles down at you. You let out a small huff before untangling your legs from around his waist before placing a dainty peck on his lips.

"Do you need help?" you politely ask the Mclaren worker, offering to take some of Lando's bags to which she thanks you shaking her head explaining that you didn't have to help.

"I parked the car not far. report security were very helpful!" you smiled taking his hand while dragging his suitcase in the other.

"Yeah I asked for them to come meet you. I didn't want a repeat of the other day" he frowns, and looks at you in the eyes. You knew what this meant, he'd want to talk about it the minute you got home.

The drive home was quiet but comfortable. He left a hand on your thigh as you concentrated on the driver back home.

"So, we should talk about why you felt in necessary to get a job" he says squeezing you leg lightly as he looks over at you.

"I- I didn't want to give the fans another reason to assume I'm leeching off of you. And i feel bad asking my mum and dad, like I'm supposed to be an independent adult ... I'm 22" you say sadly and you hear him sigh.

"Baby, 22 is still so so young and you shouldn't have all that pressure on yourself ... please" he begs.

"I've been talking to Zac and Christian about opportunity i could do from home with them. Even Suzie reached out to me about F1 Academy" you explain, knowing you had options that didn't involve Lando and his finances.

"Baby, I know you don't want to be seen using me for my money, but holy shit you've got so much pressure on yourself right now. You don't need to add to it. I dont know how you did it for as long as you have been... how long did you work there?" he asks, having no clue how long you'd not told him you had a job for.

"About 3 months" you say, checking the wing mirrors before turning left down your road.

"3 MONTHS?" he asks in shock, you were nearly finished with university, surely you could have held out until graduation.

"Baby, you've only got like a month until you've finished all your exams and you'll join me!" he frowns, you pull up into the driveway with a sigh and a nod of acknowledgement.

"I know, i know! And I'm sorry i didn't ask for help and I'm sorry I didn't tell you I'd got a job" you say tears brimming your eyes before he pulls you into a hug over the gear stick.

"Oh, my sweet sweet girl. It's okay, I understand but please never ever feel like you cant ask for me to help you. That comes in the job description of boyfriend" he smiles at you, kissing your forehead making you melt at his touch.

This is what it felt like to be loved and cared for by Lando Norris.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando imagine #lando x reader #lando #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x reader #ln4 fluff

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kennahjune · 7 months

Text

Part 2 of my s3 Steddie :D

Tag list: @anaibis @marklee-blackmore @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @swimmingbirdrunningrock @clumsiluni @just-a-tiny-void @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @mugloversonly @skyewaytohell @lololol-1234 @conversationswithamillennial @maya-custodios-dionach @nuggies4life @luthienstormblessed @blu3stars @samsoble @finntheehumaneater @thatonebirthstone @bird-with-pencils @swiftielouie55 @queenie-ofthe-void @paintsplatteredandimperfect @monsterloverforhire @krazyperson @literatelobster @jaytriesstuff @hippieg1rl420 @beawritingbooks @nightoffury @irregular-child @colidamae @stevieboyscoffee @martinskis-lydias

Holy shit!! I’ve never made a tag list before?? Thank you guys sm for being so into it!! And without further ado;

…

Steve woke up with the initial thought of “what the fuck”. So he could automatically assume his day was going to go great.

Out of his room, down the hall, down the stairs, through the living room and into the kitchen is where he finds Jonathan and— oddly enough— Robin.

Steve was used to finding Jonathan with him after one of his “episodes”. Usually he or Nancy will help him through it the best they can, laying with him or sitting with him wherever he is.

The idea of Robin in his house doesn’t even occur to Steve as weird until Robin says, “Sorry for the intrusion, uh… you really freaking worried me, man.”

Steve blinked— then, without taking his eyes off of Robin, asked Jonathan “Where did I have my episode at last night?”

Jonathan had the decency to look sheepish about it. “Uh— pfsshh, you had it at work, Steve.”

“And how bad was it?” He looked at Jonathan.

“You collapsed and had to be carried to the break room to rest. And the fact that you don’t seem to remember much of anything is also saying a lot.”

Steve stood there, thinking long and hard about yesterdays events.

“I remember Billy coming in and saying something about Max. Then he said something about Dustin that pissed me off. I don’t know. After that… who the hell?..”

Munson.

Holy shit.

Jonathan must’ve clocked the moment of realization cause he walked over and patted him on the shoulder. “Yeah, man.”

Steve groaned and hurried his face in his hands. “That’s so embarrassing!” Was his muffled complaint. Robin— the asshole— had the nerve to snort at him.

“Hush, Buckley! Ugh I hate this.”

Jonathan was rubbing his back now, barely hiding his own snickers and laughs. “Come on—“

“I have to go,” Steve said quickly and went to turn around to leave.

“Where are you going? This is your house!” Robin retorted.

“I have to go apologize!”

Jonathan snagged Steve’s wrist and prevented him from going any further. “Go sit down, Steve. You can apologize later.”

Steve begrudgingly obliged, sitting at the small kitchen table that was usually used for his dads drinking. He crossed his arms and put his head down. He’d fucked up his vision again when he spun around too fast to leave. Jonathan sighed and came up to rub his back again. Physical touch helped Steve a lot during times like these. Especially during the vertigo.

Robin took the seat next to him. “So, two concussions? If you were having such a bad time why didn’t you just call in?”

“Cause I’m constantly late to work and the only reason I haven’t been fired and kicked on my ass is because you keep covering for me so I figured I had to return the favor,” he replied in one breath.

They were silent for a couple of minutes, just basking the each others presence. Until Jonathan stopped rubbing Steve’s back, let his hand rest there, and then patted between his shoulder blades twice before going over to the pantry.

“You need to eat something before you do anything. Robin can you get him a cup of water, please?”

Robin nodded and stood to get it. Steve groaned. “I can get my own water, Jon.” but he’d made no attempts to move from his seat. Jonathan muttered something about toast.

“Considering the fact that yesterday you just about passed out on your feet and how a few minutes ago you nearly fell over just by turning too fast, I’d like to differ.”

Steve huffed, knowing he was right. He heard the toaster start and glass was set down gently in front of him. He lifted his head and eyed the water.

“I didn’t poison the damn thing, dingus.” Robin tapped her fingers on the table.

Steve snorted and finally took the glass. He was done with it in seconds.

“Christ,” Robin muttered while refilling it for him.

When Steve was just about done eating his toast and downing another cup of water his house phone went off.

“I’ve got it.” Jonathan stood.

Steve shrugged and stood himself— slowly this time— to put his dishes away. Robin remained seated and watched him.

Jonathan huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Steve furrowed his eyebrows and walked over, trying to hear the conversation.

“Yeah— no I’ve got it, don’t worry. I love you to. Bye.” Jonathan hung up and sighed heavily.

“You alright?” Steve leaned on the wall next to him.

“Yep. Great. That was my mom, by the way. And apparently the kids are all on the loose in Forest Hills, looking for Eddie.”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah.”

“So…” Robin stood. “I’m going with Steve?”

…

Max was curious. They all were. Just who the hell was Eddie Munson? Steve had never mentioned him before, but from the looks of it both Jonathan and Steve knew him.

Will had wanted to ask Nancy about him, saying how Jonathan said they all went to school together, but Mike refused to ask Nancy about any of this other than asking about migraines.

So they were on their own.

Max took her skateboard and the boys took their bikes (Will riding with Mike) and the four of them made their way to the trailer park.

Max was running on borrowed time, telling Billy that she was going over to the Byers’. And if that’s not where she is in the next 2-3 hours when he comes to pick her up then she’s done for.

But it’s fine. They figure out where Eddie Munson lives in no time. It’s not a very big trailer park, and “Eddie Munson” seems to be a pretty recognizable name. A nice old lady named Miss. Bottomette pointed them right down the street from her own trailer.

The four of them made their way over, dumping their bikes (and skateboard) in the yard— not bothering with kickstands. Max and Mike shoved their way in front of the other two, both going to knock at the same time.

Mike gently shoved Max to the side when the door opened, now all three of them being behind him. Standing at the door wasn’t Eddie Munson, unless he’d aged 50 years in past 24 hours. The new man was a lot older, and was just a bit taller than Mike. He looked the four of them up and down before leaning on the doorway and crossing his arms.

“What can I help you kids with?”

Will gulped. He didn’t like adults and especially not ones with heavy western accents that look like they’d kill him if he so much as breathed wrong.

“Um— we’re just looking for an uh, an Eddie Munson, sir,” Max tagged on from behind Mike. Will reached over subtly and grabbed someone’s hand, he thinks it’s was Lucas’. Why the hell was this guy so scary?

The man had a gleam in his— something like amusement. It kind of pissed Mike off but he knew better than to get pissy with an adult he’d just met. Especially with how Will was reacting to him.

“Well,” the man chuckled, “I’m not sure what you kids need with ‘im, but he’s not here right now. So why don’t you go back home, huh?”

He went to close the door but Mike spoke up. “Wait! Please— we uh— we really, really need to talk to him. Even if it’s just for a couple of seconds!”

“If he’s not here do you know where he is?” asked Lucas.

The man studied them all closely, his eyes raking over them each individually. As if they were threats. Mike nearly scoffed to himself.

Finally the man gave in and sighed. “Why do you wanna see Ed so bad?”

Max tapped her foot really hard on the wooden porch. When everyone jumped and looked at her she put her hands up. “Sorry! Got excited.”

Lucas spoke up this time. “We, um— wanna thank him? And ask him a few questions I guess. He helped out one of our friends yesterday and we really really just want to talk to him, please. Sir.” he tagged on the “sir” like an after thought.

In the next few moments, they found themselves piling into the very small, very cramped trailer living room.

“I’m Wayne, by the way. Wayne Munson, Eddie’s uncle.” he finally introduced himself. He raised his eyebrow at them. Oh yeah, they have to introduce themselves as well.

“Oh! Um— I’m Lucas. Lucas Sinclair.”

“Er— Max Mayfield.” she crossed her arms.

“Mike Wheeler.”

“Um, uh—“ Will grabbed Mikes hand “—Will Byers.”

Mr. Munson’s eyes seemed to study Will extra hard. Mike gripped his hand and squeezed to let him know he was there. Even Max and Lucas moved in slightly closer to Will. They didn’t understand why this guy seemed to come off so mean.

“Hey Uncle Wayne! What’s taking you so long at the door, man?” The man of the hour showed his face at the end of a small hallway. His brain seemed to short circuit at the sight of all the kids in his very small and very cramped living room.

“Um, hi?” Lucas greeted awkwardly.

Eddie leisurely made his way into the room with him. “Aren’t you Harrington’s kids from last night?”

“We’re not his kids,” Mike grumbled under his breath. But he couldn’t deny the spike of joy that came with the title.

Mr. Munson looked at Eddie like he’d lost his mind. “Harrington’s kids?” he put extra emphasis on “Harrington”, as if it was actually so weird.

Max rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Harrington’s kids,” she said under her breath with heavy sarcasm.

Lucas shot her a glare and she grunted.

“Well—“ Eddie clapped his hands “—what can I help you kids with?”

Mike and Max eyed each other, trying to decide who was going to start. Turns out; it was Will.

“We wanted to talk to you about yesterday,” he spoke up timidly. Mike squeezed his hand.

“Ok,” Eddie accepted. “Hit me. What’s up?”

Lucas was the first this time. “Why were you so willing to help Steve?”

…

When Wayne went to get the door Eddie didn’t think it’d take 20 minutes. And he also didn’t think that going out to check on him would lead him to finding four little kids in his living room. More specifically Steve Harrington’s kids.

He should’ve known it was to be bombarded with questions.

“Why were you so willing to help Steve?”

Well shit.

“Cause I’ve had an undying crush on him since he first came to the high school in his freshman year and I wasn’t going to turn up a chance to help him out and maybe talk to him and then I realized it was actually a lot worse than I thought so I stuck around to make sure he was ok.”

Yeah absolutely not.

“Because he needed help. The guy couldn’t even stand on his own.”

Lucas eyed him but handed it over to Max.

“Why were you so chill about his migraine? I mean you said it yourself: he could barely stand on his own. Most people would’ve left the moment someone else got there if not before.”

Little Red held a strong point.

“Cause I knew he needed help. Simple as that.”

No. Not “simple as that”.

“Did you know him in high school? Back when he was dating Nancy?” Little Wheeler asked.

Now this; this was a conversation he really didn’t want to have. He sighed, maybe a little harsher than intended, and answered “Yes. I knew him in high school and when he was dating your sister.”

At this point Wayne had left to the kitchen. But Eddie knew he was listening in, making sure they didn’t cross any lines.

“So if you knew him in high school, when he was an asshole— don’t kick me he was!— then why were you so nice? Cause most people he talks to from high school seem to hate his guts.”

“Jonathan doesn’t hate his guts!”

“I said “most people”, Will!”

Well golly damn they hold a lot of good points today. Before he got to answering the question there was another knock on the door. Max flinched and moved closer to Lucas.

“I got it,” Wayne said as he made his way over.

When he opened the door Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, and Jonathan Byers were all there on the porch. Wayne looked back and forth between the two groups before sighing and saying, “Why don’t we all step outside? Trailer ain’t big enough for all of ya.”

So that’s where they all went, outside on the front yard. Wayne sat on the porch steps while Eddie hung back.

“What the hell was the point in this?” Asked Steve, scolding the kids.

“We just wanted to ask him some questions!” defended Lucas. Will hung back by Jonathan but nodded his head.

“Questions.” Steve deadpanned.

Max huffed and Steve’s glare turned on her. She crossed her arms and looked away, seeming to close in on herself.

Steve sighed and pinched his nose, turning around and grunting before turning back around. “Ok, here’s the game plan.” he clapped his hands. “You four—“ he pointed at each of the kids “— are going to apologize to Mr. Munson and Eddie.”

The kids all started to grumble and protest.

“AND THEN—“ he continued loudly over them, making them shut up “—you are going to all go home to your own houses. We will talk about this tomorrow when I don’t want to fucking strangle you.”

“I can’t.” Max huffed.

“Cant what?” Steve asked.

“Go home. Especially not with you. I told Billy I’d be at the Byers’ and he’s expecting me to be there in the next half hour.”

Steve’s entire face dropped and he rubbed a hand over his face. “Max.”

She folded her arms and looked down. Steve sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “Ok, it’s fine. Change of plans; we’re all going to the Byers’! You four go apologize now and then load your bikes and board into my car as best you can.”

Eddie stood through their half-assed apologies while Steve stood back conversing with Jonathan. When the kids made their move to get their bikes and skateboard Eddie moved over to stand next to Steve. While the kids loitered around for a moment. Steve turned on him when he noticed his approach.

“What were they bothering you about that was so important Max lied to Billy?”

Eddie smirked and answered “oh you know; questions.”

Steve groaned.

They stood in silence while Steve watched Jonathan quietly scold Mike and Max for something.

“You can use my van.”

“What?”

“My van. To bring their bikes? There’s no way in hell they’re all fitting into your’s or Byers’s car.”

Steve watched as Mike and Lucas argued about the bikes while Max and Will talked behind them. He sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face in agitation. Steve placed his hands on his hips again and hit the inside of his cheek. Eddie watched him closely, finally noticing the ruffled hair and the plain gray t-shirt and way to short basketball shorts.

“Did you come over here straight from bed?” he asked.

Steve looked at him, squinting in the sun. “Yeah? What of it?”

“Dude it’s like 2pm.”

“Migraines knock me out.” he shrugged.

Another moment of silence went by until Steve sighed. “If you really don’t mind, letting us use your van would be great.”

Eddie watched Mike’s bike fall out for the fourth time and nodded. Just in time for Mike and Max to both call out in a whiny tone “STEEEEVEEEE!!”

Steve huffed and whined back “WHAAAAAT?” Eddie snickered.

“The bikes aren’t going to fit!” Lucas yelled, throwing his bike on the yard.

“Yeah I realized that. Thankfully, Eddie’s very nice and has offered to let us use his van.”

Mike and Lucas’ eyes lit up. “Can we—“

“Absolutely not.” Steve shut them down. “You four are going to ride with Jonathan and Robin back to the Byers’ while I run around with Eddie to drop off your bikes.”

Eddie nodded, not knowing what else to do.

Mike huffed.

“Steve,” Max called out quietly. “You’re not dropping mine off, right?”

Steve’s face softened and he smiled at her exasperatedly. “No, Max, you can toss your board in Jon’s trunk.”

She nodded and looked hesitant to walk away. The boys had already gotten in the car, and with one look around Max gave in and quickly hugged Steve. He patted her back and ruffled her hair and then she ran off to the car.

With final goodbyes and a promise to Robin to just call in sick next time, Steve and Eddie were left alone, Wayne going inside to take a nap.

Steve clapped Eddie on the shoulder. “Looks like it’s just me and you now, Munson.”

Oh boy.

…

Guess I am gonna need that part three 😭😭

I’ll take tags for part 3 if you guys want :)

Part 3 :)

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ivymarquis · 6 months

Text

A Little Death

Pairing| Ghost x F!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 7k Kinks/Content/Warnings| The author has decided she can't be assed to edit this, Chubby!Reader, Kidnapping, nondescript mentions of torture. Ambiguous mentions of S/A (vague enough you can chose to ignore that part if you want tbh), Reader is traumatized from her ordeal but working through it. Fingering, PiV, riding, squirting, Simon has a moment where he's worried he triggered reader after sex but that is an incorrect assumption on his part.

On days like this Simon can almost pretend he’s normal.

The game’s on, a beer in one hand while the other has been commandeered by his girlfriend with a simple “Gimmie.”

Simon has never been one to worry about his nails beyond clipping them for practicality’s sake.

Having a SAS lieutenant for a boyfriend means she deals with what she insists is Simon’s paranoia and he insists is a healthy level of suspicion about the outside world. Having a nail technician for a girlfriend means every so often she’ll commandeer his hands to ensure they’re up to her standards. As it turned out, adhering to regulations wasn’t up to par for her.

His neighbor is a popular woman.

It sets him on edge, all the traffic. One or two people at a time, usually other women- sometimes with a man in tow, other times not. They show up, they stay for maybe an hour or maybe 4, and they leave. Within 30 minutes someone else is knocking on her door.

Normal men humor their partners about things they don’t particularly give a fuck about when left to their own devices, as an acknowledgment of its importance to them.

And so he sits, beer in one hand as she works on the other. Once she’s finished she gathers up the towel that acts as a catch for the various clips and trimmings before making her move to switch sides, Simon easily acquiescing to her whim.

“I’m not keeping you up, am I?” She asks one night. Music plays lowly from a laptop on her patio as he steps onto his for a smoke break. Just because he’s got his vice doesn’t mean he wants the whole flat smelling like it.

“Don’t sleep much anyway, pet. Bit of music won’t change that one way or another.”

Despite his insistence that he’s merely humoring her, he soaks up the attention she readily gives him. When she’s done and tidied after herself she returns with a small bottle of lotion.

He’s got one arm wrapped around her shoulders, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her head as she massages his hand. If he plays his cards right tonight he can probably get her to soothe some of the aches and stiff muscles that always plague him. For now he melts as she seems to know exactly what points to hit in his palm and forearm.

It’s domestic and normal and Simon can almost ignore the burner phone he keeps on him at all times.

It goes off at 5am on a Sunday, Simon already awake and having been watching the ceiling fan since 4:30. He can’t fall back asleep but can’t bring himself to separate from her.

She burrows further into his chest as his shifting disrupts her. He’s fairly certain she would crawl inside his ribcage if she could, curl up right next to his heart and never leave.

Simon would gladly let her.

She’s a nail technician, he comes to learn. Sure as shit, he eventually memorizes the traffic that comes and goes on a roughly two week interval. Some of them are steadfast in their appointments. 2 o clock every other Thursday. 4 o clock every other Friday. Others not so much- they come around frequently but the days and times are random after the 14 day mark.

The familiarity of some of the faces takes him slightly less on edge. He will never relax, not truly, but it settles him down now that he knows the pattern.

It also explains why her hands have two completely different designs on each one. Color, pattern, the shape of the nails. Her left and right hand look like they belong to two different people.

Simon doesn’t use social media, for obvious reasons. His little neighbor has formed an entire career for herself based off of it.

But the phone buzzes on the nightstand, an omniscient presence that always hovers heavy in the air.

“Price?” Is all he gives for a greeting. Trying to keep his words short and concise. He doesn’t want to wake her, still under the lull she draws him into without trying.

He keeps his work and his personal life separate with no intention of ever melding the two.

“Laswell’s got intel. We meet in 2 days, back on base at 06:00.”

He is about to respond, both an acknowledgment and a hopeful end to the conversation, when she stretches next to him with a groan of protest at being awoken so early.

“Tell your other girlfriend I said hi,” she grumbles, already knowing it’s Price on the phone and that the clock is officially counting down on the time they have left together.

“You know at a certain point I'm going to just decide you’ve got a whole secret life with a wife and kids and a picket fence.”

He doesn’t want his work to ever follow him home. Not to her. He keeps them strictly separate. She knows he’s military- specifically SAS- and that he works in counter terrorism and that’s about all he’s willing to tell. She doesn’t need to know details. And more importantly the details don’t ever need to know about her.

His past missions have haunted him in the worst way possible. He’s finally rebuilt something for himself as the ghost of a dead man, and doesn’t want anything to ever tarnish what he’s found.

He can’t entirely blame her. It takes a leap of faith to accept the little he offers her. What does he have? A dead man’s name and most likely a violent end waiting for him.

Eventually he does offer a small peace offering. Price is enough to settle the concerns that she hides as jokes. Provides enough credibility that she can let go of the concern that he’s living a double life.

Well, he is. But not the kind that nags at her.

Price knows her; Gaz and Soap know that he’s got someone waiting for him at home, but Simon is already at his limit of how much intermingling he can handle. They’re both compromising, both making allowances for their comfort levels for the sake of the other. But he has to draw the line somewhere.

If Simon had his way Gaz and Soap would be none the wiser, but a night of frantic coupling before he’d left had Simon bearing marks that are incredibly obvious in the changing room.

“Steamin’ Jesus L.T.! You get jumped by a wildcat?” The chortle from the Scot makes it obvious that Johnny is yet again not afraid to push Simon’s buttons.

There’s no denying what they are, nor how he got them. Neither Soap nor Gaz are stupid.

Long, red scratch marks criss cross the broad expanse of his scarred back. He certainly hadn’t complained when his lovely girl had left her mark on him- those nails dragging across his skin had only encouraged him as his hips clapped wetly against hers, hands gripping her knees as he pressed them to her shoulders.

Most nights he is soft and gentle and strokes her skin while his lips press either in her hair or the soft expanse of her neck. He doesn’t roughhouse her tonight, but the knowledge he’ll be gone for weeks and tonight is their last together for the foreseeable future?

Well, the pair of them are a bit amped about the impending separation. It’s a good thing neither of them are particularly known for their good sleeping habits, because there’s not a lot of that usually happening on the nights before Simon leaves.

Leaving without waking her up is an impossible task but he tries anyway.

Whereas Simon finds sleep difficult to achieve and eventually sleeps like the dead once he finds it, she drifts readily enough but will wake at the drop of a hat.

Usually she’ll settle soon after. Eyes following his form in the dark, waiting expectantly for him to come back after he dresses to kiss her goodbye.

They carve out a routine for themselves. One for when Simon is home, and one for when he’s preparing to walk out the door until eventually coming back through it.

His therapist is equal parts shocked and pleased to hear that Simon is taking the leap and opening himself up emotionally to someone.

His therapist is less pleased about the way he simply buries himself in her life when he’s on leave.

Simon is nothing- has nothing- when he is not acting in the line of duty. He is a dead man with nothing to his name and no one who gives a fuck if he ever walks back through the door that isn’t tied to his military career.

He thrives on the stability and schedule on base. On the simplicity of nights spent out on the field. Wake up, piss, dont die, go to sleep. Wake up, repeat.

Some days the only thing keeping him from trying to end it all (again, he bitterly acknowledges) when he’s gotten too far into a bottle of bourbon is his therapist and the thought of his team’s face at the news.

Until, at least, he meets her.

The mission is brief but successful. Simon is pleased.

The deepest of the scratch marks has just finished healing and he’s already missing the sensation of her nails dragging against his skin- and he’s not picky about the context, either.

There have been plenty of nights he’s fallen asleep with his face buried in her chest with one of her hands scratching gently at his scalp and the other tracing in broad strokes across his back.

Of course those nails also feel divine scratching at his abdomen while she is on her knees for him.

There’s a process he goes through when he gets home. It lets him shed the mantle of Ghost- to calm down as much as he’s able and be better equipped to deal with civilian life. Helps him give her the illusion that she is with a normal man who’s not holding onto himself with a death grip, desperately trying to keep the pieces together.

He feels fine when he leaves base and heads home. Everything is normal.

Until he turns the corner and sees the door ajar.

Fear runs ice cold in his veins, hackles raised and on guard.

I’m just being paranoid, he tries to self soothe as he steps towards the door. She tells me all the time.

Course, it was one thing when he gripes about how she answers the door without looking to see who it is. She doesn’t leave the fucking door open.

“Wish you’d at least look at the peep hole before just opening the bloody door,” he grouses into her hair, pulling her in so she’s tucked up to his side.

“If I’m expecting someone to come at 3 and there’s a knock at 3, I already know who it is, Si.”

There are times when he is grateful that she has, by comparison, lived a life where she thinks he is paranoid and needlessly worries. She hasn’t had the experiences he has, and he doesn’t wish that upon her. He’s grateful with the knowledge that every time he’s sent out, thus far, that she’s been tucked away safe and sound until he returns.

But of course the other shoe was always going to drop eventually.

“Price?” Simon doesn’t know who else to call.

He’s standing in the middle of his flat, evidence of an altercation scattered around the living room.

She put up a fight if the state of the flat is anything to go by. He wants to be proud of that at least, use it as hope-

He just feels hollow.

A group the 141 has dealt with prior are the ones all the signs point to. They wanted the team’s attention and by God they fucking got it.

Simon doesn’t understand how they found she has any ties to him. He’s so careful- keeps her tucked away and hidden from any potential cross over with his work.

The next few days are a blur and Simon’s mental health has seen better days.

He resigns himself, even when Laswell gets a hit and the 141 are loaded into a helo, to the fact that at best this will be a body retrieval mission.

Even as Soap gives a reassuring knock into his shoulder- we’ll get her back, LT- as confident as ever.

His sweet girl is dead, just like every other person Simon has ever cared about.

He doesn’t understand what he’s done to deserve losing them all. The only ones he has left are his team, and that’s a tenuous state at best. His family was good. They were normal people with normal lives. She is good and a normal person.

Her only sin is being foolish enough to love him.

Some time between getting on the bird and offloading, Simon forces the thoughts in a corner and blocks them off.

Simon, the terrified boyfriend, gives way to Ghost so he can get through this in one piece. He just wants to find her, bring her home and bury her body. He’s numb to anything beyond the scope of the plan he’s formed in his mind.

It’s laughably easy. A fringe group the 141 has had altercations with- she’s not exactly a high profile prisoner. They just wanted to fuck with Simon.

There’s no satisfaction or vindication as they clear the building floor by floor.

He feels nothing.

The further they venture into the building with no sign of her, the pit in his stomach sinks just as far. There’s no sign of anything concrete or anywhere they’d keep a prisoner.

And then there, in a corner of a hallway, Ghost spots it-

An acrylic nail lying broken on the ground, dried blood clotted on the tips.

For the first time in days, Simon feels something.

It’s not hope. He doesn’t dare hope.

But it’s confirmation that she has, at some point, been in the building.

It’s also confirmation that she gave it a fighting chance.

She’s a civilian- nothing much she can do against professional criminals. But she tried and Simon has to find something in that.

They split into pairs down a hallway clearing rooms. Every door that opens only to not have her in it is like a knife that keeps twisting in his abdomen.

Just let him have this one thing.

It’s just as Ghost and Soap have called out clear on another room that he hears Price’s voice call to him down the hall.

There’s only one reason Price would be calling for him specifically.

As he approaches he can hear the captain again, softer this time. Can’t make out what he’s saying but everything feels slow; like he’s moving under water.

As his mind prepares him for every horrific potential image waiting for him beyond the threshold of the door- there’s nothing that prepares him for what he sees.

She’s alive.

Wide eyed and panicked, which is to be expected all things considered, but she’s here and she’s breathing.

Simon forgets himself entirely. He swings wildly from feeling nothing to feeling everything and it bubbles up all at once as he barrels towards her.

He forgets that while she knows Simon is SAS she knows nothing of Ghost. Simon works in counter terrorism, yes, but she knows nothing about the mask.

So after being kidnapped and going through God-knows-what in her absence, she’s got no fucking clue the 6’4 fucker with the skull mask gunning for her is her boyfriend.

The sharp, croaked “Stay the fuck away from me!” doesn’t cut but it does jog his memory enough to know she’s absolutely terrified.

Again there’s that part of him that is proud of her. After everything she’s been through even if she wouldn’t stand a chance in an actual altercation- She’s not huddled in the corner. She looks willing to fight him, until Simon rips the mask off his face. “It’s me, love! It’s me.”

“Simon? What the fuck is that?!”

Rather than scrambling to get away she turns to launch herself at him, a tangle of limbs as they cling to each other and reassure themselves that yes this is real and yes the other is there. That this fucking nightmare is over.

Simon buries his nose in her hair- was so certain he’d be bringing her home in a body bag he almost doesn’t know what to do with himself. She’s shaking in his grip, sobs ripping through her as he shushes her gently and murmurs “It’s alright, love. I’ve got you now.”

“As much as I love a good reunion- we need to get going, Ghost.” Price is ever the voice of reason, because Simon’s head is not in the game right now.

He wants to cling to her and never let her go- he needs to pull his head out of his ass.

Price isn’t wrong. As much as he has to fight off the impulse to tuck her against his side and keep her there, they have shit to do.

He won’t truly be able to relax until she’s safely stowed on the helo and they’re on their way back.

It’s a bit easier once he puts the mask on. His brain is trained to focus on work and not let his personal life muddy the waters. Where Simon can’t help but falter, Ghost is dauntless.

Simon can barely string a thought together now that he has her back in his arms. Simon still cannot believe she’s alive and breathing even after touching, smelling and hearing her.

But Ghost can focus on getting her to the helo.

Everything is a blur as Price and Gaz lead with Soap bringing up the rear.

Ghost can’t quite decide where he wants her- keeps alternating between keeping her behind him in the event they get blindsided, that he’ll take any hits that go past Price or Gaz, or getting her in front of him so he can keep an eye on her, and there’s two SAS soldiers in front of her and two behind.

The hostiles in the building wanted the 141’s attention. Mission fucking accomplished.

The ones they chance across are dropped with ease. Simon is no stranger to returning to a location and making his point. Right now he’s got bigger concerns to be worried about.

A knot of anxiety lodges itself on his ribcage as they move through the building that doesn’t unwind until he’s got her strapped to her seat in the helo.

For the first time in days he can breathe. The knot slowly untangles as they ascend.

It finally settles in for both of them that she is out and she is safe. She’s been quiet the whole trek to the helo but Price, Soap, and Gaz have been on enough hostage recovery missions to not be caught off guard as she bursts into tears and buries her face in Ghost’s vest.

It’s finally safe for her to do so, the adrenaline wearing off as she sobs.

For the most part the other three men try to avert their eyes and not intrude.

Simon’s always been reserved about his life off base and watching him soothe his partner is bordering too personal for the others to witness.

It comes and goes in waves; Simon will settle her down, crooning quietly in her ear too low for the others to hear. She’ll stifle her tears for a bit as he soothes her. They go straight to medical after landing to have her looked at. She starts up again while waiting for the nurse to come back, trying to apologize to Simon through choked sobs.

He won’t hear it, softly but firmly brushing her apologies to the side and assuring her everything’s fine now, love. No need to apologize.

He feels physically ill when the nurse delicately asks if she needs a rape kit or screenings done.

The rest of the 141 gives them a wide berth- which is a marked accomplishment because all too often Soap and Gaz are trailing behind him and finding some sort of shenanigans to get up to. Simon is perfectly content with the arrangement. He wants to focus his attention on her and that’s easier to do without the sergeants under foot.

His room on base is much like his entire apartment was before she moved in.

It’s 3am, Simon needs to take a piss and as he’s doing so, he’s not-quite eye level with a sign that says

“★★★★★ -

Would poop here again”

He’s got no idea when or where she found that, let alone put it up, but rolls his eyes good naturedly as he tucks himself away.

Normal people have bathroom decor.

Simon can appreciate a bit or a joke as much as the next person- but while this space is his it’s not something he’s ever felt the need to decorate. It’s a bed for him to crash on in between missions or if he’s too bloody exhausted to safely make the trek home.

There’s only one piece of any sort of personal touch to the room- a framed photo of her.

Simon intends to see her through the next few days- they’ll head home in the morning and realistically there’s only so long John can hold off on calling the boys in again. But the captain says he’ll do what he can to keep Simon home while they settle back in. He’s been due for some leave anyway.

He doesn’t sleep the first night. She swings drastically between being knocked out and jolting awake screaming and crying. Even once she’s gotten over the initial shock of her rescue it still takes time for her nervous system to calm down.

“I’ve got you, love- you’re safe here” he murmurs into her ear as she trembles like a leaf. “We’ll be home soon, yeah? You’ll feel better once you’re in our bed.”

The question is twofold- it is to soothe her, and also to gauge her reaction to the prospect of going home. Simon won’t hesitate to set the flat ablaze if it makes her feel better.

Start fresh.

For now she seems to sleep better if he’s got her pinned up against the wall- the bulk of him a physical barrier to anything that might enter the room.

He’s always slept between her and the door so that’s no hardship- it just takes time to realize she feels safer trapped between him and the wall.

They make it through the first night in one piece, although the next morning she will not stop chewing on her nails. With someone else, he wouldn’t necessarily be surprised- but she’s never been a nail biter.

It dawns on him, as she sits on the couch and bursts into tears, that she wants the nails (or at least the ones that survived the ordeal) off, and is winding herself up too much to take them off the way she knows she should.

Simon goes to her office; he’s watched her enough that he knows the steps and the materials she’ll need, gathering them up before coaxing her to the table.

There’s no interest in redoing them but Simon manages to get the current sets off of her so she doesn’t damage her nail beds- assuming she stops chewing on them (which she does).

Over the next few days he lets her set the pace. She’s jumpy at home and calmer when he takes her out to run errands or just to stretch their legs.

Maybe he will propose moving sooner rather than later. Their building is a shithole anyway.

He puts her in therapy after a week. It’s the only time he’s away from her. Realistically he knows it’s not good to have her so used to always being within arms length or eyesight of him- it’s not sustainable when eventually he will be called back in. But he has no qualms for the coddling he subjects her to while he’s able to. She’s quiet and comfortable with his hovering in a way she’d never tolerate before she was abducted- he figures he’ll know when she’s feeling a bit like herself again when she starts complaining about him not giving her any space.

Knowing she’s got the therapist gives him some security on how she’ll mentally cope when eventually he needs to leave again.

Her bursting into tears occurs less frequently. If Simon has to pry himself away from her to take a piss in the middle of the night she’s not up, back ramrod straight and waiting for him to come back with wet, teary eyes.

As the days tick on, bleeding into months later, Simon idly acknowledges that-short of when he’s on deployment- this is the longest they’ve gone without having sex. There’s nothing else that goes with that acknowledgement- he’s far more concerned with her well being than he is getting his kicks. He’s just taking stock of all their ‘normals’ and prior to her abduction they’d had quite the active sex life.

It’s one day as they’re watching a movie that it’s apparent Simon isn’t the only one aware of their dry spell.

They’re laying on the couch, her back pressed against his front with one of his heavy arms draped across her rib cage to keep her snuggled up against him as they watch the screen in front.

At first he thinks that she’s repositioning- thinks nothing of it and lifts his arm just enough to allow her the freedom to wiggle to a more comfortable spot. She keeps wiggling though and Simon is trying to keep his mind off the sensation of her arse grinding into his groin. Trying to ignore the way his dick twitches in interest, because- God help him- he's not dead and the love of his life is grinding her arse on him. Bodies are going to do what bodies do, and he can feel himself stiffening in response.

“Sweetheart, you need to sit still,” he whispers the plea into her ear.

Her head tilts back towards him and lust jolts through his body at the look in her eyes while she still continues to grind against him.

“I miss you, Simon,” and given how he is rarely further than grabbing distance from her, there’s very few other ways to interpret what exactly it is that she is missing.

He’s a goner when she gives him that wide, doe eyed expression paired with the prettiest “Please?” he’s ever heard in his life.

One moment they’re quiet and content laying on their sides on the couch- the next Simon’s gripping her arm and pulling her on top of him as he settles onto his back. She follows his lead and moves so her weight is settled on his hips as his hands grip hers.

It is no hardship on his end to wait for her- the patience never truly even registered in his brain. She can have as much time as she needs and Simon will give it to her gladly.

But his pretty girl batting her eyes at him and pleading softly for him? His patience isn’t the only thing he’s willing to give her.

“Are you sure?” He doesn’t mean to second guess her or make her question herself but he does want to make sure that she’s not acting on obligation.

“Yes, Simon- Please,” and who is he to deny her?

His hands are on her immediately- pulling her towards him and encouraging her to grind, knowing her sweet clit will light up at the friction of her soft panties dragging across the rough material of his jeans.

His lips find hers, separating only briefly as he hauls her dress up and over her head, happily discarding the material in a heap on the floor.

His hands grip her hips, Simon relaxing into the couch while his fingers dug into the pillow soft skin perching above him. He’s straining against the fabric of his jeans- knows the tip of his erection is leaking clear pre and it’s not just going to be her being the reason the fabric has a wet spot.

The couch is certainly not the worst place to be, his beautiful girlfriend’s tits in his face as she grinds down in his lap with little hitching breaths.

“Just like that, pretty,” he encourages, kissing down her jawbone, the length of her neck and across her collar bone before happily mouthing at her breasts which are blessedly right in his face.

Simon groans in pleasure as he teases one nipple, her sweet mewls and the grip on his hair only spurring him on.

Grabbing a handful of her plush arse, he groans in anticipation while switching from one breast to the other.

It’s been a fair while since his back has been shredded by her nails and he can’t wait to feel the bite of them dragging down the length of his spine.

“Lift up, sweetheart,” he instructs, somewhat loath to release her plump bottom but eager to get her dripping for him.

She pulls up enough for him to slip one hand between her legs. Exploring fingers are quick to spread her wetness, dipping between her folds and dragging back up to circle her clit softly.

“Fuck- Simon!” she whines in his ear.

He knows enough by now what makes her tick. Once she’s all warmed up and ready to roll, that sweet cunt of hers could take a thrashing. But warming up involves feather-light touches to get her squirming and squealing for him.

“Feels good, pretty?” he asks despite knowing the answer in the way her arms wrap around his neck and she sags against him, hips twitching as she lets him tease her.

“Ye-yeah,” she murmurs, and presses her lips against his neck as he takes another pass- finger pulling away from her clit just to draw shivers from her as he traces back down her folds and presses ever so lightly against the entrance on her- just to the first knuckle- and making his way back to tease her clit.

Each pass has her rocking her hips more as he slips more of his finger inside, eventually adding a second that has her mewling and squirming in his lap.

He’s going to have one hell of a hickey from how she’s sucking on his neck, but Simon can’t bring himself to care. Not when his ears are graced with the delightful little noises she makes- whimpers of protest as he pulls his fingers out of her, the shaky inhales as he circles her clit and the trembling moan when he once again slides his fingers inside of her to give a few pointed strokes to her g-spot just to get her shivering and blinking up at him with lust-blown eyes.

“Fuck you’re wet,” there’s absolutely zero resistance now, even when he slides a third finger inside her.

“Please,” she mewls into his skin, hips rocking in time with the thrust of his fingers into her.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.” He’s always found her an absolute delight to tease- she gets so flustered and stares at him with that doe eyed, betrayed look- how dare he make her ask for anything when it’s obvious what she wants.

“Please let me cum,” she pants as her eyes screw up in pleasure while his fingers trace and circle her clit for several passes.

“You wanna cum, love?” His tone is just a bit too soft to be a mocking tease despite the way she glares at him. Spoiled little thing so easily sliding back into her old habits.

“I’m going to bite you,” she grumbles in bemused annoyance, brows furrowing as she tries to follow his hand while teasing her.

He doesn’t doubt his little viper for a second, mollifying her displeasure with three fingers digging for that spot that makes her see stars.

“Oh~,” she mewls against him as he stokes the fires of her orgasm with a vengeance. He doesn’t stop, angling his hand so his thumb can stroke against her clit and enjoying the way she trembles against him like a leaf caught in a windstorm.

“That the spot, hm? Right there, innit?” He rumbles low in her ear, a satisfied smirk on his face as she nods in a big sweeping motion against his neck. “Come on, pretty. You wanna cum so badly? Do it.” he baits.

Mission accomplished.

Fuck he’ll remember the vision of her crying and cumming and trembling in his hold, soaking his forearm and abdomen as she squirts, for the rest of his days. His free hand runs soothingly down her back for a few passes before pulling both hands away from her.

She’s immediately whining against him, upset at having his touch taken away. “Simon, please-”

He shushes her with a kiss to her temple, “I know what you need, sweetheart,” he murmurs while deftly undoing his pants and freeing his cock.

It only takes a few strokes, already straining and ready to perform, before they’re shuffling as he pulls and maneuvers her so she’s hovering above him and Oh fuck has Simon missed this as she sinks down on him.

It always takes a couple attempts- he’s not a small man, and doesn’t want to risk injury. Not to mention there’s just something fucking delicious about only giving her a few inches, pulling back and feeding her just a few more. Slow, short, steady thrusts that get deeper bit by bit, having Simon ready to melt into the couch at the bliss of being buried in her by the time she sinks all of her weight onto him, her groin pressing against his.

She’s so fucking warm and wet, clinging to him as she shuffles to get good leverage on top of him to bounce.

Bloody fucking hell does she feel good. “That’s it, pretty. Take it all,” he encourages her while she whimpers above him- if he angles himself just right he can grind her clit against him in a way that has her sucking down air and shivering.

She’s so good for him but he knows there’s only so long she can bounce in his lap- even resting on one knee on the couch and her other foot on the floor so she can shift her weight and give leg a break every now and then, Simon throwing his head back and groaning loudly.

It’s one of the only times he’s particularly verbose- Usually content to be silent and broody unless he has a specific question in mind, the bedroom (or in this case the living room) is the one place where he is a chatterbox. The mouth on him is surreal at times, and while one would think his sweet girl would be use to the filth every now and then he’ll catch her off guard with some particularly out of pocket comment.

For now though, he’s a bit reserved- doesn’t want to go from zero to a hundred out of nowhere.

No, for now his attention is focused on the goddess bouncing on his cock, wondering if he can get her to squirt a second time if he just- he shifts underneath her, changing the angle and fucking hell does that seem to do the trick for her. Swiping one of his thumbs across his tongue before pressing it to her clit and circling again, Simon can’t help the smug look on his face when she squeals. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck,” he grunts as he thrusts up into her. From how those pretty thighs are trembling, her legs are about to give out as he fucks into her.

“Simon!” She’s yelping his name with glassy eyes and a clenching cunt “Fuck- Simon! Please-”

She doesn’t have the energy to get herself back up again- poor thing, her thighs must be burning, and he can’t help but be a cocky fuck about the fact that she loves riding his dick to the point that she physically can’t keep going.

“On your back, sweetheart,” he instructs with a light swat to her ass- appreciating the way her body jiggles at the impact.

His sweet girl has done so well and worked so hard, it’s only right that he rewards her. Once she’s on her back he grips her under her knees and folds her legs back- gives himself room between those gorgeous thighs.

“Fuck, baby- please don’t stop,” she pants underneath him, back arching in pleasure as his mouth drops to her breasts again. Her arms wrap loosely around his neck, and he twitches in anticipation at the feel of her nails tracing ever so lightly against his back.

“Not gonna stop, pretty girl.” he groans against her skin, alternating between which nipple he has between his teeth.

Fuck she’s clenching down on him like a vice. He knows she’s getting close; squirming in his grip, keeping her legs nice and spread for him. The feel of her nails reaching down his back and dragging up his spine pulls a groan that would be embarrassing if Simon could find it within himself to care in the slightest. The slight pain encourages him as he cants against her.

“Simon!” The sound of his hips knocking into the back of her thighs is loud and messy. Fuck he’s such a goner when she looks up at him with that sweet expression on her face- pure adoration and wonder in her eyes.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Fucking hell, love,” he grunts out, a second wind reinvigorating him when she starts shaking. Those plush thighs shaking in his hold as he knocks the sense out of her pretty head, he’s so fucking close he can taste it but is determined to get her across the finish line first.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he purrs in her ear, “You feel fucking perfect taking my cock. This wet cunt’s all mine, innit?”

All she can do is chant “Yes! Yes! Yes!” over and over again- Simon’s not sure if even she is certain if she’s repeating the word to answer him, or if she’s just babbling because he’s making her feel good and she’s getting close.

“You gonna cum again love? Gonna soak me, hm?” He’s just running his mouth now- knows the shit she likes to hear, reaffirmed by the way she’s shivering in his hold and crying for it with a glassy eyed gaze.

Whatever she is going to respond with is cut off with a squeal. Simon rears back, enjoying the show as she makes a mess all over his cock with her eyes rolled back. He lets go of one of her legs in favor of teasing her clit just shy of overstimulation to prolong her orgasm- she lets him for a time before her hands abandon shredding his back in favor of wrapping around his wrist in a plea for mercy.

“Simon it’s too much,” she laments with teary eyes as he pulls his hand away with a chuckle and a chaste kiss.

He stays curled over her, hips driving into hers. “Tell me where you want it,” he instructs.

“Inside! Please, I want it inside!” Her answer is sharp and immediate, the leg not pinned to her chest wrapping around his waist like she is daring him to even try to pull out.

And fuck there is something cathartic about his orgasm when it hits. Burying his face in her soft body while his hips snapped into hers a few times, Simon groans as his vision damn near whites out for a second.

Simon knows better than most that there’s good days and bad days- and a presumed good day can become a bad day quicker than one can blink. But overall he feels like consistently she’s doing better all around. They take their time calming down, Simon showering her in attention and getting a feel for where her head is at. Praising her for how well she did and making sure she feels stable.

He lets out a breath, feeling confident that she’s settled, having a good day, and everything is fine for now.

And it is. Until about two hours later.

One moment they’re finishing the movie they’d initially started before the impromptu romp on the couch, and then Simon has a 3 second warning of her sniffling as she obviously tries to fight back the tears and then she’s sobbing harder than she has in weeks.

Simon goes from content to concerned in a second, his blood turning to ice in his veins. His immediate assumption is that their prior activities finally caught up with her mentally and now that she’s had time to think it over it wasn’t good. It was too fucking soon to have sex. He should have told her no, should have been gentler, should have-

“Sweetheart? Talk to me,” his voice is tinged with a thinly controlled concern (not panic he convinces himself) and while he means to comfort her, she can hear his tone and that just sets her off anew.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she blubbers, turning to face him. “I don’t know why I’m crying!”

That settles Simon’s nerves somewhat, stroking her back and pulling her close to comfort her. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” he soothes her, listening to her sniffle against his shirt after shoving her into the crook of his neck.

“I just want to feel normal again,” she sobs into his collar.

“You will, love,” he assures her- never mind that ‘normal’ is something that even he struggles with on a near daily basis. “It’ll take time but you’ll get there. I promise.”

He’s a bastard for making a promise to her that he can’t guarantee to keep. There’s a part of him that knows that- hell, he’s been working on his shit for years and he still doesn’t feel normal most days.

But while he can’t promise that she’ll ever get back to feeling exactly the same as she did before all of this happened, he can promise that he’ll be by her side and ensure she’s adjusting. It will take time, and work, but Simon will make sure she gets there one step at a time.

#my writing #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #x chubby reader #cw sa implied

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ultimate-chickennougat · 3 months

Text

| Your Salaryman Husband | (Vol 5)

Vol 1 Vol 2 Vol 3 Vol 4 (Not Required) Vol 6 Vol 7 Vol 8 Vol 9

Salaryman!Kento x Housewife!Reader

Visiting Nanami at work...

Word Count: 1.5k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, fem!Reader, slightly slightly suggestive, office things

A/n: The pacing is a bit off in this, I'll do Gojo in the next volume (which will hopefully be better).

Within your last three months of marriage, it had become even more clear to you just how organized your husband Nanami was.

The talented Jujutsu Sorcerer, and current salaryman, was always on time to wake up, go to work, and come home, never varying more than a couple of minutes. It was easy to plan things that way, knowing exactly when to greet him and have dinner ready.

He kept to the usual schedule, drinking his morning coffee on the living room table while looking over some documents on his computer. It was a simple part of his routine, and while rather mundane, it somehow produced some much needed peace before heading to work.

He had gotten used to the banging of pots and pans, and the subtle hums that came out of your mouth as you cooked, having finished making breakfast and packing his lunch box for the day. You carefully balanced his plate and the basket of bread in your arms, safely setting them on the table next to his coffee cup, and made the second trip to grab your own, while he packed up his things.

Sitting down, you couldn’t help but smile watching Nanami eat the food you made. He had a long day of work to go, various meetings to attend and many papers to read. To give him the gift of a good breakfast every morning was one of the greatest joys you had, knowing that he would need it in the hours to come, along with his lunch of course.

There wasn’t much left for Nanami to do that morning. His clothes had been picked out by you and placed neatly in a pile, his breakfast was made, also by you, and his briefcase and shoes were set by the door for when he left. Despite your husband’s usual organized manner, he seemed to have forgotten one important thing as he stepped out the door, another boring work day ahead of him.

You had already moved on to get the morning chores done, scrubbing down the bathroom tiles and sink, and throwing the dirty clothes into the laundry. You watched out the window while wiping the dishes with soapy water, taking a deep sigh of relief knowing you were almost done. The sky was blue and the sun was shining brightly throughout the house, and while the weather was lovely, rain hadn’t fallen on your plants in quite a while. So you took a watering can and went outside, tending to the fruits and vegetables and harvesting the ripe ones.

Time really does fly when you’re having fun, which you were, seeing the variety of colors fill the basket, a testament of your hard work and care. When you got back into the house, fully prepared to relax on the couch and read, you noticed something peculiar on the kitchen counter.

A lunch box. It was none other than your husband, Kento Nanami’s, lunch box.

The clock read 11:12, meaning less than an hour until his lunch break. Of course this was not a regular occurrence, so the thoughts that went through your head were a bit past rational. “What if he doesn’t have money with him… or doesn’t have time to go to a store?” you mumbled to yourself, pacing around the kitchen.

There was only one thing to do, in your mind. You could just bring the lunchbox to Nanami, right? So you quickly grabbed a bag and placed the box into it, as well as your wallet, and got out the door. It was about a 20 minute walk to the station at your speed, and a 15 minute ride to get to his building.

Stepping out of the station, you gazed widely at the imposing building that Nanami worked in. Though you had seen it before, then it wasn’t surrounded by large crowds of people walking around the city.

You dashed inside the building, the lobby filled with salarymen grabbing coffee from the shop on the first floor. To that you had to facepalm, seeing the menu had sandwiches and other savory items. Of course he would have the opportunity to get lunch, all the other workers did it.

Turning back was an option, in your dress and flats you looked quite out of place, but it was 11:55, and Nanami would be on break in 5 minutes. It would be a waste of money to buy a sandwich, when you had an even better lunchbox waiting for him.

When the clock struck 12:00, you started to find your way throughout the massive building, to the secretary’s desk. Nanami and the rest of his department would be on break, so you could visit him in his office.

The secretary buzzed you up to his floor, and you wandered around past the mass of people heading to the elevator. Peaking around each doorway you looked for Nanami’s blonde hair and dark gray suit, having not seem him leave. The striking figure of your husband was hard to miss.

Nanami sat hunched over in his chair, rummaging through his things in search of something. He was the only one who hadn’t left the room yet, letting out a grunt when his hands came up empty. You silently walked over to him, happy that you were able to find him so quickly.

“Kento, darling,” you stated meekly, smiling to greet Nanami. He looked over his shoulder in surprise, you had never been to his office before. “Y/n, what are you doing here?” He inquired, eyeing you. It couldn’t have been easy, figuring out where everything was and making the journey here.

He smoothed his hand over his neck, leaning to the side. “I appear to have forgotten my lunch, could that be it?” he asked, not waiting for your response. You nodded, reaching into your bag to hand him the box. “Right on time, thank you, my love,” he reciprocated your smile, the shyness knocked off your face. “While you’re always welcome to come visit me, you really don’t have to come all this way for something like this…” he started clearing the papers off his desk. “I didn’t realize you had a cafe downstairs,” you laughed, “and that the streets here are so busy during the day.”

“Their sandwiches are fine, but I’d still rather have this - it certainly has more nutritional value,” Nanami relaxed, setting his lunchbox on the desk. “I don’t know what slipped my mind, I’m sorry you had to come deliver this, Y/n,” he stood up, adjusting his tie with his hand.

“I should probably be getting back now, Kento,” you frowned, not having much of any reason to stay. Your own lunch was at home, and the train would only get busier. Nanami gently gripped your shoulder, leading you to sit down in the chair in front of his desk.

“It tends to settle down a little while people are eating, why don’t you stay a bit longer? Only a few minutes - I enjoy your company, afterall,” he smirked as you took in the office around you. “The view is beautiful,” you looked out the window, your hand mindlessly fiddling with your other one as you avoided his gaze, towering over you until he sat down. It was the same sky and weather that was at home, but you were with him, and that made it so much better.

“Though it makes getting around a bit longer, this office has the best view, and is quite secluded,” he picked up his fork and took a bite of food. “For the many meetings with clients I have, it works out well as a background, and for soundproofing,” you nodded, listening intently. “My other coworkers are on this floor, and the one below it,” he mentioned, eating more. You continued your conversation a short while longer.

“It’s already 12:20, I’ll let you leave now,” he stared at his watch, slightly annoyed that the second hand kept ticking. You stood up, feeling the lack of weight on your shoulder as your bag was nearly empty. A reminder of your purpose for being in the office in the first place.

“Do other wives visit often?” you asked, curious, as Nanami joined you. “A few, but mostly at the end of the day,” he took your hand, as the two of you walked out into the rest of the floor. “Most of my coworkers are single,” he sighed, as you looked a bit surprised.

“Maybe I should start forgetting my lunch more often,” Nanami met your flustered gaze, you didn’t want to say goodbye and wait for hours for him to come home. “You could see more of the work we do here,” he smiled, pulling you into a hug, “and all those dull trainees could see what a beautiful wife I have,” you blushed red.

“Goodbye, Kento, I love you,” you started walking out the building, cheeks flushed and a smile not leaving your face. “Stay safe, Y/n, I love you too,” he replied, watching you leave. “Only a few more hours…” he mumbled in his head, “a few more hours…”

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #kento nanami #kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kento #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami #jjk x reader

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soft-girl-musings · 5 months

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Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 1 (Strangers In The Night)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N

wc: 2,222

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

A/N: can't believe this is the product of covid-induced hcs and thots between me and @mrs-lockley, thank you so much for encouraging this buddy (also @lunar-ghoulie if i had a nickel for each time you've sent an ask/dm about a WIP and it ended up being where i put all my energy, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's hilarious that it's happened twice).

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On nights like tonight, Jake Lockley regrets his choice of profession.

It’s a dreary November evening, darkening by the second as the New York streets grow damp and cold. The wise had decided not to venture out; the blindsided rush across slick pavement to whatever shelter they can find. The desperate stay on the clock and curse their luck.

He should know by now that when a client says they’ll be “just a minute,” it’s a boldfaced lie: even if they have every intention of being efficient, he’s been stranded on the curb more times than he can count.

So he keeps the meter running. He’s seen the duds his regular client has on each week; the man could afford to fork over a few extra bucks. Might even build character.

The steady rhythm of the rain had been fine at first, but after half an hour parked beneath the neon sign of The Paper Moon– hat, coat and gloves doing nothing to ward off the chill creeping into his cab– every raindrop taunts him in his isolation.

To hell with this.

He shuts off the engine, pops his collar, and braces himself before stepping out onto the street. The rain falls fast and hard, so he rushes toward the brick exterior of The Paper Moon. He’s never been inside, but the glowing crescent of the sign had piqued his interest the first time he’d dropped his client here. He may as well see what all the fuss is about.

The doorman– a tall, dapperly dressed unit with a neutral grimace– casts a wary look his way. Jake ducks into the alley beside the building. Guess it’s exclusive.

Through the rain he spots a side door with a meagerly covered stoop, upon which is hunched a smaller, yet equally well-dressed figure. The young man’s tawny complexion pops against the emerald green of his just-too-big blazer, mist gathering in the dark brown waves slicked back from his creased brow. He grips a cigarette between clenched teeth, stuttering curses around it as he strikes a flimsy matchbook to no avail.

“¿Necesitas un fuego?”

At his offer, Jake is met by startled, impossibly wide brown eyes. The shock turns to glee as his face breaks into a toothy smile.

“Sí– sí sería genial, señor.” He makes room on the stoop, his dimpled cheeks betraying his youth. Jake pulls out a lighter and deftly lights the end of his cigarette, earning another dimpled grin after a few christening puffs. “Muchísimas gracias.”

“No hay problema.”

He lights one of his own, the smoke mixing with the fog of his breath as he holds out his free hand. “Jake.”

“Mauricio.” His newfound companion grips his hand and shakes vigorously.

They sit in silence for a few moments, their subtle exhalations and the slowing rain the only sounds between them.

The mood is disrupted by shouting from the other side of the door, followed by clattering and the unmistakable sound of someone falling. The door behind them flies open and a lanky, dark skinned man in a matching green blazer pokes his head outside.

“You’d better get your tail in here, Maurie. She’s in one of her moods tonight.”

“Rats, alright,” he groans, taking one last drag of his cigarette before stamping it out with his heel. Mauricio straightens his blazer and pushes a hand through his hair. He pauses at the door and looks back at Jake.

“Do you wanna come inside, dry off for a spell? We put on a mean show,” he swears. The kid's face isn't one Jake imagines people say “no” to very often.

“...Yeah, alright. Thanks.”

“Great! There’s a couple of tables toward the back that should still be free, you can sneak in there no problem.” Mauricio holds the door open a bit wider for Jake to step through. “If anyone gives you any trouble, just tell ‘em you’re with me.” With a wink and another winning smile, he darts off to follow the other blazer.

Jake finds his spot easily enough, taking in the atmosphere as he weaves between tables and patrons. So this is The Paper Moon.

The building’s drab exterior is deceptive: inside is a small lounge, bustling with activity and humming with life. Richly draped walls envelop the space, with ornate lamps and soft candlelight radiating from every table. The room looks as warm as it feels, a welcome relief from Jake’s prior solitude.

He takes off his soaked coat and loosens his tie. Across the room Jake sees his client– a cold, calculating Mr. Wesley– who gives a curt nod, as if granting his permission to take a load off (for now).

He orders a drink from a slightly bewildered waiter and continues to survey the space. People of all shapes and sizes occupy tables and barstools, with the chatter of at least three languages creating a dizzying buzz around him. The crowd dies down when stage lights flash on at the far end of the room.

Out marches the band: the guy who'd clambered to the back door sits at the piano, cracking his knuckles before playing a few notes on the keys; an older man with a similar complexion props an upright bass in position, riffing along with the scattered piano melody; an impressively mustachioed fellow polishes the mouthpiece of his trumpet; Mauricio settles in behind a set of drums, waving a stick in the air when he spots Jake.

As warm as he's gotten after coming inside, the temperature seems to skyrocket as the click of heels and the shimmer of the last band member crossing the stage sends his heartbeat right into his throat. In walks– no, floats – a vision, evening gown the same color as the richly painted lips that curl into a smile as easily as breathing. Something Jake seems to have forgotten how to do.

He can’t take his eyes off you.

----------

There’s something in the air tonight.

Maybe it’s the smoke lingering on Mauricio’s jacket (you’ve told him time and time again how smoking before a show irritates you; he must have snuck a pack backstage), or maybe the weather has you out of sorts. Whatever it is, you’re one false step away from losing your cool. Which, of course, cannot happen. Not onstage.

As the band warms up, you take one last look in your compact mirror, blot your lipstick, and take a deep breath. It’s showtime.

The moment you step onstage, you turn on the charm. Nothing can touch you up here. Not when there’s music to play, a band to lead. A night to make unforgettable.

You approach the microphone and smile. “Hello again, darlings. Did you miss us while we were away?”

Applause and cheers echo back to you from the audience. There’s a distinct two-toned whistle that rises above the noise, but you don’t think anything of it.

Not until you scan the crowd and see something– someone – that doesn’t belong.

Lounging at the previously unoccupied back table is a man you’ve never seen before. Which wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t know the face and name of everyone who enters your club.

His eyes stay trained on you as you nod to the band to begin. One outlier a bad night will not make– you’ll deal with him later. For now, you let the caress of the opening notes ease the new tension in your body, and you start to sing.

With six shows a week, one would think the routine would become tedious. Quite the opposite: any night you play the same standards with the band is bound to be a good night. The chemistry between you and your boys is perfect– even on an off night like tonight, you still manage to follow each other and make the same hour of music sound brand new.

You lead one song, then another, completely in your own world. Of course, the constant cheers and occasional audience participation don’t hurt. But just when you hit your stride and forget your troubles, that whistle rings out above the noise.

The stranger's on the edge of his seat, rapt attention never leaving the stage. Seems innocent enough, but you’re still on high alert.

The set comes to a close, ending with a vibrant flourish. The band improvises a steady beat as you take a sip of water, then smile once more into the microphone.

“Oh, stop. Really…. well, alright, you can keep going,” you croon at the crowd as they cheer louder.

You gesture to the band. “Let’s give a big round of applause to The Jays, what do you say?”

“On piano we have the dazzling Jackie Thomas,” you call out as he trills a fancy melody a little louder than the rest. “Followed by this absolute Adonis on the bass, Benny Hayes,” you add as the smooth licks of his instrument sound out a reply.

“Let’s hear it for Leo Castellón and his magnificent mustache on the trumpet,” you tease as he blasts out a tune. “And our baby bird on drums, Mauricio Farrés!” You raise your voice as the youth bangs out a closing rhythm.

“And as always, I’m Ms. Songbird. We hope you’ll join us again soon, my doves. Goodnight!”

The band plays themselves out as you descend downstage to the front of the room. Time for the next act.

You know how to work a crowd both on and offstage; hospitality is as much a part of the gig as the music. Tonight’s a full house, but you take your time gliding past each table, front to back. Does everyone have their preferred drink? How’s the food? Was the music to their liking? All questions you ask with genuine interest, but you know the answer: everything is perfect.

"Hey, little songbird," a voice calls above the noise.

Everything except him.

You've been avoiding the back table for a while, trying to collect your thoughts before confronting him. No time like the present, I suppose.

You turn to see the outlier standing by the table he’d commandeered, a shimmering bundle of rhinestones dangling from his hand. The glint of a grin catches the low light the same way your traitorous earring does.

You touch your ear and your face grows hot. “Where did you–”

“Fell off as you floated by the last few tables, angel.”

Your heels tap out a warning as you approach. Toe-to-toe, with the added height of your shoes, you practically tower over him. Your brow furrows as you size him up: too forward to have something to hide, too laissez-faire to be up to any obvious trouble. All the same, you don't trust him.

You look him up and down; he does the same. "You're not very tall, are you?" More of a challenge than a question as you reach for the rhinestones in his hand.

Leaning back against the table, jewelry dangling just out of reach, his sly smile grows. "Well, miss, I tried to be."

"Right." You snatch the earring back before he says anything else. "I see you also tried to be discreet, and that didn't go so well for you, did it Chuck?"

"Actually, it's–"

“–club policy to check your coat at the door. Something our hostess would have insisted upon, meaning you– ” you emphasize as you lean in, fingertips pressed to the tabletop by his side, "–slipped in under the wire." You search his face for anything to betray his intentions. "Now how did you manage that?”

The stranger lowers himself into his seat, hands raised in surrender. "A little backstage access, courtesy of your drummer there." He nods toward the stage: you catch a glimpse of Mauricio clumsily ducking back behind the curtain. You'll scold him later.

His gaze shifts across the room. “See that fella over there– the one who looks like it'd kill him to smile? I’m just waiting to drive him home, like I do every week.” He grins again, that same look in his eyes. A look that sets you on edge. “Just a humble cab driver, miss– nothing up my sleeves.”

“Didn't know cabbies could be so exclusive,” you say, still eyeing him. James Wesley has been a regular for a few weeks, but you've never met his driver.

“With what he tips? Doll, I'd do damn near anything he asked.” The stranger chuckles, sipping his drink.

You know what he means: the wait staff has noted a major uptick in gratuities since Mr. Wesley has started frequenting the lounge.

“Very well,” you offer stiffly. It all checks out, but you get the feeling there's something he's not telling you. “I hope everything is to your liking.”

You turn to leave, but he takes your hand before you can go far.

“Oh believe me, it is… Ms. Songbird. ” A wink and a smile play on his lips as he swiftly presses them to your knuckles, letting go just as fast. You storm away before giving the satisfaction of showing how flustered you are.

“Mr. Manalo,” you beckon a waiter as he passes. He stands at attention. You gesture to the table you’d just left, not bothering to look and see if his eyes are still on you.

“Watch out for this one, will you? I get the feeling he isn’t just here for the music.”

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A/N: !!!! every story i write becomes my new favorite, but Noir!Jake has carved a pretty special spot in my heart this autumn. so excited to share more of him with y'all!

as always, thank you for reading :)

addtl tag list: @fandxmslxt69 @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

#my works #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight au #jake lockley #jake lockley fanfiction #noir!jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x woc!reader #jake lockley x poc!reader #jake lockley/reader #jake lockley/fem!reader #jake lockley/woc! reader #jake lockley/poc!reader

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rebel-walnut · 1 year

Text

Let's Do The Time Warp Again

steddie time travel s3 ficlet, Part 1

Ao3, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4

"Harrington! Customers!"

Pins and needles flood Steve's limbs as Robin's voice slowly comes into focus, his eyes still scrunched closed with sleep. The tiredness is heavy in his bones, like he's been asleep for years in the oddly cold back room of Family Video.

"Dingus!"

Steve doesn't even remember falling asleep on his break. Actually, he doesn't remember taking his break at all. Or even coming into Family Video. In fact, the last thing he remembers was covered in black and red slime-

"DINGUS! YOUR BREAK IS SO OVER!"

Steve forces his eyes open to witness the too-white walls of a break room that burned down a year ago. Frantic hands run over the garish blue and red of the tacky sailor uniform he hated, the same uniform he lit on fire in his backyard with Robin before the start of her senior year. Somehow, it's back. All of it. It's all come back to haunt him.

Robin from a year ago seems to also be back to haunt him -or maybe she's here as his savior- either way, she's just as loud as ever as she kicks the swinging door to the cramped back room in. It hits the wall with a crack, causing a jolt of both familiarity and dread to shoot up Steve's spine.

He waits for the tell-tale chime of a clock that was still ringing in his ears before he woke up in the summer of '85 or Robin's face to start warping into the melted mass of tentacles hiding in the Creel attic that will certainly become a common occurrence in his nightmares, but the only thing in front of him is Robin's all too common apathetic yet disappointed stare.

"I gave you an extra 7 minutes to sleep, but that little sampling-brat and her terror-troop are back for more and I swear to God, Harrington, I cannot deal with her again today, I just can't-"

Steve cuts off her ramble by scrambling out of his seat with more effort than either of them had ever put into this job, squeezing past her and out of the small doorway.

"Steve, where are you- hey!" Robin says as she latches into Steve's shoulder before he can finish his beeline out the door.

"I'll explain later if you still exist," Steve responds as he turns out of her grasp, shoving past the group of teens making their way into the store. He can hear Robin's small shouts after him, but her exasperation with him is nothing new and frankly the least of his worries.

Starcourt, somehow, is still standing. Clamping down on his rising heart rate, Steve glances around for any sign of the current date, or even year. Everything is exactly the same as it was a year ago, but Steve knows nothing he sees can be trusted. Not with the visions Max described, that's for goddamn certain. While he doesn't know enough science fiction shit like Dustin to know if he jumped universes or is in a different reality or whatever the fuck, he can at least place a little bit of faith in his ability to distinguish dreams and visions from reality.

His frantic pace along with the extremely out of place sailor costume draws in a few curious stares, but again, least of his worries. No one's faces warp into slimy horrors and none of the walls start crawling with vines, no flickering lights, no distorted voices in his head, no signs of the upside down at all. As comforting as that should be in theory, that means it's something else entirely and definitely something Steve can't figure out on his own.

He finds himself leaving a trail of pinches down his arm as he reaches the far side of the mall, posters for the theater coming into view. A particular poster catches his eye, BACK TO THE FUTURE highlighted in yellow and orange in all its sci-fi font glory.

Fuck. 1985. Again.

He presses his fingertips into the glass covering the poster as his breaths come out raggedy and sharp. C'mon, wake up man. It's all some weird ass fever dream, you probably just hit your head again.

He waits a few seconds and prays to wake up. Nothing. Obviously, he thinks. He's stuck, somehow, a year ago, with no clue how it happened or how to fix it or if anything here is even real in the first place.

Steve isn't the guy who comes up with plans, okay? That's more of a Nance thing, and Steve is totally fine with his role as the muscle. Unfortunately, right now there seems to be absolutely no Nancy Wheeler, and Steve has no fucking clue what the fuck is going on.

He steps back from the entrance to the theater and spins around probably faster than he should for someone who maybe just got shot through time, and comes face to face with a small music store labeled Hot Wax Records in some sort of groovy 70's style font. That's not what gets him though.

Steve stops dead in his tracks as he makes eye contact with the guy at the front desk. His hair's a little shorter than he last remembers it, hitting just above his shoulders instead of just below them. The man is wearing a familiar denim vest with slightly fewer patches and less grime than was on it when it was adorning Steve's shoulders, but familiar all the same. What gets Steve though is that the man at the counter is white-knuckling the edge with one hand while the other braces and claws itself around his neck, a look of equal parts horror and recognition strewn across his features. He looks on the verge of screaming, yet his eyes are forcefully locked into Steve's with a determination Steve had only seen from him once before.

They both falter a half step forward as Steve struggles to find his tongue.

"Eddie?"

#steddie #steddie au #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #Shovel writes

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eddies-house · 9 months

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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Three - Two Old Fashioneds

W/C: 5.2K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Your first shift at The Bourbon goes less than smoothly and more chaotic. Does the town's hard-ass really have his shit together like he leads everyone to believe?

A/N: guys I'm so excited for this to pick up even more (i want to make them kiss like barbies but all in good time)

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The ins and outs of a bar were something you could have never anticipated and while similar in certain ways to a diner, there was a distinct line that separated the two. A diner had grumpy old men complaining about not getting their coffee soon enough. The bar had grumpy old men slurring their words, groaning about their lives and insisting that a ‘cute lil thing like you’ would fix everything. You had to stop yourself from gagging, plaster a smile on your face, and carry on. Because one complaint and you could be out of a job, only proving that you couldn’t handle the ‘rowdy’ customers as disclosed by the boss, who now that you thought about, hadn’t seen in the last forty minutes.

Not one other server was on staff to at least show you the ropes, it seemed like you were the first one. One of the bartenders, Jett, who had been the one you’d seen working the day before, was unfortunately selected to both train you and run the bar for the most part tonight, no time for a proper introduction before you were thrown into the deep end, only a quick exchange of names. It was a Thursday night but apparently to people in Knife’s Edge that meant the weekend started early. Poor Jett was nineteen years old and the whole bar depended on you two ever since 8:00 PM when you clocked in for your very first shift. It was nauseating having to ask him stupid questions in between attempting to serve tables while he made drink after drink, desperately trying to keep up with each order and delivering them to the right customer, even going as far to step out from behind the bar to tend to some of your tables. You assume he was probably used to it, what with how he did it without hesitation and seemed to have his own little system in place.

It wasn’t your fault, he assured you. It’s just that you happened to pick up your first shift the very night that the kitchen ran out of beef which also happened to be the main ingredient of one of The Bourbon’s only menu items, the famous Shreddar Burger topped with an ungodly amount of cheese and jalapenos. Turns out the customers went wild for it. It didn’t seem appetizing but you weren’t going to argue with the crowd favorite. And now it was being requested left and right, the explanation that the kitchen was currently out but should be back to whipping up another round soon, not enough for their hungry bellies. The best you could offer was a basket of fries until the beef magically showed up, Jett insisting that someone was taking care of it and that the cook would be back to whipping them up as planned sooner than later. You were beginning to lose faith in his promises but proceeded one step at a time regardless.

Just one more task and then the beef will be here and I won’t have to hear another damn grievance over a heartburn-inducing burger.

Yet it seemed to never come to an end, table after table requesting the very same order each time; only for you or Jett to break the news that their precious burger would have to wait and that again, the best you could offer were some fries or chicken wings, neither measuring up to the pedestal they held this burger on.

By around 9:15 PM, out came Eddie from the kitchen, door swinging behind him as sweat dripped from his brow. He was out of breath, chest heaving while he gestured for you and Jett to come over to which you obeyed, zigzagging around tables in a hurry with a tray tucked under your arm, brows pinched together stressfully. A new party of eight had just arrived which prompted you to push three tables together to accompany them, their drink order hadn’t even been taken yet and Eddie seemed to pick the worst time to call an impromptu meeting, in the middle of a never ending rush. Burgerless.

“Beef’s here. Jett, I need you to help with the rest of the boxes so we can get burgers going.” He instructs, the boy immediately following orders and frantically heading through the swinging door at full speed, very aware that he still had the front of house to attend to. “And you, Bambi, change of plans. I need you in the kitchen.”

So much to unpack in just one sentence. The kitchen? Bambi?

“Well–I-I thought I was just a server–”

“I said change of plans, I need you in the kitchen.” Before you could ask further questions, he disappears into the kitchen and for a split second you turn to glance at the full bar awaiting service only to wince and follow him. No one was managing the front and that made your nerves twitch but you suppose the boss knows what he’s doing. At least you hope. Your first hour or so had been a shit show.

Pans clanked against the metal worktop as he shoved them out of the way, clearing the space and igniting the flat top all while not batting an eye at you or caring to further explain. You could just make out the formation of numbers on his lips, no sound coming out, but he was distinctly lip syncing the numbers one through three over and over. It was strange though you didn’t have much time to process it, instead opting to internally lose it over the sheer idea of filling in for another position. You didn’t sign up to be a cook and this was way out of your scope of skills. He deemed you as incapable of being a server and now he was putting the foundation of this place on your shoulders.

“Randy, our cook left.” He begins, oiling up the surface, his focus never faltering. “Don’t know why, don’t know where. All I know is I went to pick up beef and when I came back he was gone.”

Jett scrambles near the back door, hauling boxes of beef into the walkin freezer as your eyes dart between him and Eddie, a certain queasiness forming in your stomach. Eddie continues pulling supplies out and though it's within your rights to demand to return to your original position in the front, you can’t, the words won’t come out.

“So you’re gonna flip burgers, Jett and I will be in and out to help while also holding it down out there.”

“I don’t even know how to ‘flip burgers’!”

It comes out less hostile and more alarmed, your eyes feigning apprehension at the current inconsistency of the place. In any other circumstance you should leave, quit with your dignity intact however that is not an option and you are in no position to be calling any shots; you begged for this job, afterall.

“You don’t know how to flip burgers.” He deadpans.

“I-”

“You ever flipped a pancake?”

It’s not a genuine question, more of a mockery of your simpleminded excuse. His head drops to catch your line of sight that had been previously shooting around the colorless kitchen, saturated in grays and whites that would drive anyone mad.

“That’s not what I meant–” You proclaim, setting your tray on an unoccupied work top.

“Just–cook the meat. Make sure it’s not raw.”

As if that wasn’t the whole point of ‘cooking’ it. This guy must have thought you had mush for brains yet he was the one with a crumbling structure of a business just based on what you’ve experienced in one night. One hour, even. You were starting to miss the senior citizens from the previous evening that appeared to have had a great deal of patience in comparison to the younger crowd that seemed to have more audacity and a shorter attention span.

“But what about–”

“Stop asking questions! Just follow my lead.” He demands, rushing out to the back, the door propped open so he could assist Jett in retrieving the remaining boxes from his truck.

What lead? There was no lead. Only chaos.

You idled next to the grill, shuffling your feet against the grimy tiles beneath you and taking notice of the astonishingly disgusting drain on the floor, coated in some kind of copper-colored grease. At least if Eddie came back in to yell at you for not doing anything, you had the excuse of manning the grill, ensuring his precious bar didn’t burn to the ground though metaphorically, it already was. What else were you supposed to do?

–

You were sure the smell of beef, onions and cheese were going to be crusted into your hair for eternity when all was said and done. Eddie and Jett had been taking turns walking you through the steps of creating this so-called famous burger and after a few mutilated testers, you eventually got the hang of it and it became a game of rinse and repeat. Sometimes an order for a rare cooked burger would come in and you could only hope that you cooked it just enough that it wouldn’t bring on a nasty case of food poisoning to whoever had requested it.

Eddie stood behind you at the fryer, back to you while putting together another batch of fries to store under the heat lamps while you pieced together yet another burger, setting it along the space designated for finished meals along with its corresponding ticket underneath. Eddie dumped some fries onto the plate before swiping it up and delivering it to its table. When he quickly came back in to repeat the same motions, a question lingered in the back of your mind and it only made sense to ask it.

“Why am I on burger duty?” You question, mentally facepalming at the phrasing you chose.

“Come again?” He gives you another chance.

“I-I mean, if I’m brand new, why put me in charge of one of the most important things on the menu? Why don’t you cook and I keep serving?”

It seemed like a valid concern, only your first day and suddenly you’ve moved up to head of the kitchen? Okay, maybe not head of the kitchen but that’s how it felt when thing one and thing two were constantly rotating out and mainly only managing fries and other small bar foods that were simple enough to make in big batches. The grease from it all felt prominent on your skin, and you feared your sweat was going to become one with the vegetable oil.

“Every person out there knows me. And I know them. I know how to butter them up.” He explains, a rogue curl escaping his messy bun in the mayhem of it all as he dumps another large portion of potatoes into the fryer. “You…well, you know.”

It’s uncertain whether that was meant to be an insult or simply him losing his train of thought. Either way, you didn’t read much into it, only nodding hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll throw you back to the wolves in no time.” Eddie half jokes, exiting the kitchen once again, this time with plates balanced on his forearms and palms, Jett zooming past him to start up another round of wings.

“So, how are you enjoying hell?” He laughs, giving his hands a good scrub down.

“Oh, it’s amazing.” You exaggerate, piling some cheddar cheese high on top of the charred meat, topping it off with jalapenos and a bun, then plating it up with some fries.

“Well, I promise it’s not like this every shift. And contrary to what you may have seen tonight, Eddie’s a good boss. Just kinda cranky but you learn to ignore it.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” The man in question rushes by, heading for the walk-in freezer, yet again counting in threes, this time using his fingers as well.

–

As promised, you were sent back up to the front once things had slowed down, the bar emptying out aside from a few regulars that had straggled behind. It was a manageable workload between three people, plus Jett was able to offer a little more in depth training behind the bar as well as giving you the official tour of The Bourbon.

There was the main room where all the action was, dimly lit to create a nice ambience littered in knick knacks that decorated the walls, torn band posters covering the ceiling along with some Christmas lights. Of course there was a pool table though you hadn’t witnessed any intense games in your short time here. Jett took the liberty of educating you on the kitchen a little further should anything of tonight’s nature happen again. You learned where everything was kept for their small but cherished menu, where the storage closet containing all the cleaning supplies was as well as the back office which was only reserved for Eddie according to Jett. Lastly, he showed you the dumpsters, in case you happened to be on trash duty and he even gave you strict instructions on how to close them back up so animals wouldn’t rummage.

Now you were back behind the bar, being taught to make the signature drink, an old fashioned containing cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger. You could appreciate it, a bit spicy and a touch smooth, accompanying that burnt wood taste that would get you there fast. It wasn’t a difficult drink to make however, perfecting the presentation was what set you back. You couldn’t simply toss a cherry and an orange twist into the liquor, it had to be done tastefully. Or that’s how Jett explained it, claiming that those were Eddie’s words. The drink was in a way, an art and you couldn’t be sloppy with it, not by The Bourbon’s standards.

A hectic night of becoming a makeshift cook, training as a server, and an intake of so much new information would do a number on anyone and the bags under your eyes clearly showed the physical exhaustion you were experiencing. You didn’t think you ever worked so hard even at the diner back at home during rush hour.

“Little lamb made it through the night.”

Tilting your head up from the cocktail before you momentarily, you’re met with that pair of intimidating but gorgeous eyes, nearly black in the low lighting of the bar. It was interesting, you’d seen many brown eyes in your lifetime but none of them resembled something quite like the universe he held in his, his outlook on things noticeably different from the average person. He had taken a seat at one of the stools on the opposite side of the bar from you, some paperwork laid out in front of him as he began scribbling something down. All you could offer him was the raise of your brow in acknowledgement of his presence, too engaged in perfecting the cherries on the toothpick just right, balancing them on the rim of the glass like a circus act.

“They’re too close together.” Eddie remarks, his gaze glued to the paper he had been marking up, an inventory list you notice at a second glance.

“Hmm?” You might as well have been in your own world, some kind of trance caused by fatigue pulling at your muscles and overworked mind.

“Cherries. They’re unbalanced.”

For a man of such few words, he still seemed to say a lot. The attitude ingrained in his tone never appeared to let up and it felt as if something was either always bugging him or losing his interest. Never content, always sour and sharp-tongued.

“Oh.” You sigh in defeat, as if it were impossible to simply pick up the toothpick resting against the glass and your finger and move the cherries, solving the case of the wobbling toothpick.

Jett emerged next to you after participating in some small talk with a regular at the end of the bar, a grin on his youthful face despite what a shit show the night had been. So far you observed that he was something of an optimist, smiling his way through tough situations. It was refreshing.

“There you go!” He praises, gesturing greatly to the drink you’d just created. Your third try at it.

“Jett, you’re bein’ a shitty example. Leaving your sheep unattended.” Eddie grumbles, sticking a toothpick in his mouth. You’d be lying if you said you wished he’d stop sticking toothpicks in his damn mouth. Well, half-lying. You’d admit he looked good chewing on a tiny piece of wood but he did it far too often.

Wait…sheep? Were you the sheep? Was this a jab at you? You’d just spent the night keeping this place afloat and he was insulting you once again?

“Munson, I’d say I’m doing just fine considering you left us without a fuckin’ cook the whole night.” Jett defends. You want to grimace, knowing this wasn’t the standard when talking to your boss but Eddie seemed unphased while the boy kept grinning at him as he leaned against the bar. “Plus, it seems like this sheep kicked ass on only her first day.” He nudges your shoulder with his, sliding the drink you’d just concocted in front of Eddie. You smiled in appreciation of his kind words.

“I didn’t leave you without a cook. Cook fuckin’ left without telling anyone.” He reasons, immediately throwing half the drink back in one swig.

Please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty.

“And I guess you proved not to be as dainty as I thought.” Eddie admits to you, throwing the rest of the drink back. No complaints yet. Only what you could make out to be a compliment.

“So can she stay?” Jett pleads, bottom lip jutted out for emphasis. He seemed to have taken a liking to you but then again, the place was short staffed so maybe he was just desperate to have anyone help out.

Eddie looks up from his list, pen tapping against the bar top with annoyance. There was still no indication whether the old fashioned had been any good or not, seemingly forgotten about amongst the conversation and it was quietly eating at you. The need for validation.

“That’s up to her, kid.”

Both pairs of eyes landed on you, anticipating your answer.

“Well, uh, I dunno.” You shrug. “Was I even any good at making a drink?” Like you had a choice in accepting the job, this is all you had.

“I dunno.” Eddie replies, sliding the glass back over to you. “Try again, let's see.”

“That’s a yes.” Jett chimes in. “Big boy wants a refill.”

“Jett, I will personally give you a swirly.” There’s a glimpse of humor in Eddie’s tone, the smallest you’ve seen within him so far though you refrained from giggling.

“Oh, a swirly? Real mature.” Jett mocks, Eddie quietly snorting a laugh in response.

His smile was cute.

And it may be the first time you’d seen a genuine one from him. He had dimples, deep, deep dimples. It was a wonder why he didn’t put them on display more.

In the midst of the banter, you began whipping up another old fashioned, The Bourbon way. You figured it wouldn’t be your place to insert yourself among the jokes, being the new girl. It was best to keep quiet until you blended in a bit more. Several customers throughout the night had already initiated conversation stating they’d never seen you before and you didn’t need to draw any more attention to yourself than you’d already received.

“Make it a double?” Eddie interrupts your process.

Again you look up to meet those large eyes, practically black holes absorbing any and all light aside from a tiny sparkle you found that survived within them. He was asking and not demanding. He owned the whole damn place and yet he was asking you to make it a double when he could very well just tell you.

“Yeah.” You whisper, unsure of yourself. A double just meant…well, double, right?

So you turn to Jett who was now scrubbing at an especially sticky spot on the bar. He didn’t take any notice in your silent plea much to your regret. You looked like an idiot, pondering over what exactly the measurements should be since today's training didn’t exactly cover what to do should someone ask for a double. At least you knew how to use the entirety of the kitchen though…

“Just another shot.” Eddie instructs, emotionless.

With a nod, you kick right into action, using what you learned and putting it to use while remembering to add an additional shot and not completely overlook it in your uneasiness. You didn’t care to peer up at him once more, uncertain if he was still watching your every move and unsure whether he would reprimand you for making one mistake in crafting his drink. He said nothing so it was safe to assume he had resumed filling out his boring paperwork.

“See, she’s a natural!” Jett applauds upon turning back toward you as you carefully pierce the cherries with a toothpick, balancing them just how Eddie had taught you.

It really wasn’t rocket science and you could feel the humiliation seep into your bones at the thought of him judging you for simply not being able to figure out why they kept falling in before. You were by no means a natural.

“You’re gonna be the new favorite, I can already tell. Everyone’s gonna love ya.” Though Jett’s words are appreciated and far too kind, you can’t help but doubt his confidence in you.

You were used to being a fly on the wall, observing and keeping to yourself among loud personalities. And you were okay with that. Being so removed grants you the ability to perceive everyone else without barely even being perceived yourself. It was flattering, the way Jett talked you up having only known you for a few hours but you knew you were nothing special. He was just being nice and most likely picked up on your anxious undertones.

Eddie remained mute, continuing to scribble away at the paper in front of him as if you and Jett weren’t there. Just as silent, you slid the drink over into his peripheral before occupying your hands with a rag to wipe up any remnants caused by your shaky hands. He only scanned the drink over once before tapping his pen against the counter, three times. Always in threes.

Awaiting his consensus on your bartending, you pretend to pay no mind, as though his opinion is the last thing on earth you would want. Really, it’s all you want. To know if you exceeded at crafting the bar’s signature drink or if you failed so miserably that he wouldn't let you behind the bar again. After all, your official job title would be ‘server’ and server’s didn’t generally make drinks, they served. But this wasn’t a normal bar and it seemed everyone was performing more than one job at a time so if you had to make drinks you might as well be somewhat good at it. And if not, it could render you useless in his perception, seeing as he’d already underestimated you before.

When he finally takes a sip, large hand wrapped around the glass, you refrain from sucking in a breath because although he had already had one, he gulped it down like water. This time it seemed he was performing a quality check.

“Good.” His monotone voice doesn’t convey much other than you’ve at least satisfied him to some extent. But that's it.

Next to you, Jett celebrates again before tending to another customer and then yelling out for the last call. Eddie’s focus doesn’t budge from his work while he sips away at his drink, this time nurturing it rather than greedily throwing it all back.

–

Some time around 12:30 AM Jett had dashed out after the bar received a phone call from his mom complaining that the racoons had stormed their barn and came too close to threatening their chicken coop again. With all patrons now gone and only cleaning and closing left to be done, Eddie dismissed him from work and told him to get a better handle on the raccoon situation seeing as it happened three times in the past month. Jett muttered something about how raccoons are relentless and how they will find a way if they really want to on his way out.

With one last wipe down of the tables and a thorough cleaning of the bar top, all that was left on your mental checklist given to you courtesy of Eddie was making sure behind the bar was organized and pristine for the following day, bottles accounted for, and glasses washed and dried. He was absent for a good thirty minutes but you concluded he was doing his share in the kitchen as you heard the clanging of metal on metal and a few curses every now and then when there was an extra loud crash.

The sudden crackle of a speaker and booming music startles you, a glass nearly slipping out of your grasp at the sound. A harsh metal song blares through the bar, guitar wailing and bass vibrating, causing a few bottles to gently clink against each other on the shelf. Seconds later, Eddie came sauntering out from the back office with a broom in hand and a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip, unlit.

You try to ignore whatever he may be up to but find it impossible not to look up from the glass you were polishing off. His hair was unruly, now out of the confines of a bun and seeming to have only gotten bigger throughout the night and–he wasn’t using the broom for sweeping. Instead, he crawled on top of a freshly cleaned table with his dirty, clunky boots and poked at something in the rafters, tugging it forward. You wanted to be mad that he was stepping on your freshly scrubbed table but you couldn’t help but be curious, pausing your motions to stare and try to predict his next move.

The end of the broom was looped under the handle of a small wooden box and his arm stretched out to open it before pulling some cash out of his pocket and sticking it in the box. Then he closed it back up and shoved it back into place, out of sight. Once he jumped down off the table, he began walking toward the back again, stopping in his tracks when he realized you were standing there watching him the whole time.

A puff of air escapes his lips, his bangs briefly blowing upward before resting back against his forehead. You tear your gaze away, now more interested in cleaning water droplets off of another glass. Your heart pounding, his footsteps only inch closer and closer and yet again, he is on the opposite side of the bar from you, staring you down. It was obvious he had forgotten you were there. The unlit cigarette is plucked from his lips in between his fingers and tucked behind his ear.

“You didn’t see that. If it goes missing, I’ll know it was you.” He speaks so gruffly and low, as if someone might hear despite the place being empty.

Nodding in submission, you can’t bring yourself to catch his fierce gaze.

“Yeah?” Eddie pushes for a verbal response, more intensity to his tone.

“Yes.” You chirp. Like a pathetic little bird.

Satisfied with your answer, he hums, resting the broom against a stool before making his way around the bar, pulling a rag out of his back pocket and assisting you with wiping down the remaining glasses. There had to have been at least a dozen left and by the looks of it, he had finished his tasks and wanted to get out of here. So you worked in silence, side by side.

It felt like an eternity but it must have only been two minutes later when you began to feel antsy. Like you were supposed to initiate a friendly conversion. Some kind of bullshit small talk. And then your better judgment kicks in, telling you ‘better not’ since the man beside you didn’t seem like the small talk type. In all fairness you weren’t either but it felt like you had to constantly conform to certain standards. Then your mouth started running without a second thought because one thought provoked you and now you just had to know.

“So…the bingo night…is that a regular thing?”

A side eye from him may as well have shot daggers directly into you, his movements pausing as he scowled. So you backtracked.

“N-nevermind–”

“Yes.” He answers abruptly, much to your surprise.

“Oh.”

Your voice comes out soft, as if trying not to spook an animal. And for as annoyed as he looks, he’s the one who answered after you attempted to give him an out. He was a very conflicting man, hard to read and mysterious.

“Every Wednesday. The senior home wants its residents to get out every now and then.”

“And…they chose a bar?” A smile tugs at your lips, one that you can’t help.

“What’s wrong with that?”

His face shows offense but his tone holds some kind of amusement, the slightest bit of personality seeping through the cracks and exposing itself to you.

“I just–nothing, it’s just, out of every place they could choose…a bar?” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, shaking your head.

“I mean, we’re the only place that offered.”

There’s a genuine kind of hurt behind his words. You’re unable to determine if it was directed toward your question or something else wading through his mind. Or if it was even meant to slip out in any way based on how closed off he was. Your guess was that his sudden projection of an emotion was a slip up and that it was up to you to ignore it otherwise he’d give you an even harder time.

“Oh.” Again, your soft spoken voice carries itself gently to his ears. “That’s…nice. Really nice.” You say honestly, glancing at him.

For having such tough armor and such offputting behavior, Eddie was pretty. His curls were messy and appeared to be pieced apart by his fingers running through them constantly, leaving them fuzzy and unkempt. But still appealing. And his side profile illuminated by the warm lights was soft but still manly, handsome. He was good looking, there was no denying that. His personality was rather repelling though and good looks could only get you so far, not that he was flaunting how attractive he was and using it to his benefit.

Coming out of your trance, you find that you’re both down to the last few glasses, silence taking over once again. Out of the corner of your eye, you take notice of the way Eddie’s mouth forms numbers again, without sound.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

All mouthed as he seems to breathe unevenly. You don’t draw any attention to your observation much like earlier when you’d caught him doing the same thing. There were depths to him that you were beginning to feel were unexplored by anyone other than himself. A loneliness detected beneath the surface of his solid and impenetrable armor.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean@micheledawn1975

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you

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its-been-rose · 2 months

Text

So I spent like 2 hours on this

Anyways, let me explain:

Methodology: to make this map I watched an unedited playthrough of the game and marked down how long it took to get from one scripted event to the next. I then inserted in the known times/save points the game gives you at certain intervals. I then calculated at what time each event would take place given how long the game takes to actually play, and then put those numbers to correspond with the actual in- game clock. All times marked with a ~ are approximate.

What I found:

The game is actually pretty much in real time, with some exceptions. There are some timeskips. If you’re playing a speedrun, you’re gonna come in at like 3:30, and the game ends roughly at 4 am ish. This means that if you do everything super fast and don’t waste any time, the game timeskips about half an hour here and there. I tried to account for these timeskips where they occur in my map like adding two minutes when Roddy’s song is skipped. Some sections also take a bit longer than the in-game time. For example, the time from Maurice to Virginia to Eugene to Murphy is much longer irl than it is in-universe, meaning no matter who is doing what kill, they are BOOKING IT from victim to victim.

Who did what: so my choices of who did what kill rely on two things: one, proximity to the confirmed kills/scripted events, and two, my own personal headcanons for who did which. I will now put the game’s timeline in order as well as who did what. Please keep in mind anything happening within KFAM like ponty’s calls or the little Peggy q and an after Maurice or Forrest being the rizz king to Sandra are not included.

~11:40 pm: sheriff Matthews is killed (Marie) (I didn’t put an actual time on the map for this because i don’t know if it’s right or not but in my HEAD, Marie started her attack at George’s TOD)

~11:55 pm: whatever the opening cutscene is (Henry)

~12:04 am: Leslie is attacked (Marie)

-Marie recovers from being shot at by the Sherriff and tased by leslie

~12:25 am: Sandra is attacked (Marie) (Sandra’s excact location is unknown but I put her by what is presumably a parking lot by the football field near the river running route.) (Sandra is not seen getting into her car because Marie takes a longer time to actually get into the parking lot due to being injured)

~12:25 am: Henry slashes the fire engine tires and makes his way up to Maurice.

~12:47 am: Maurice reports a break in (Henry)

-Henry is locked in the archive for like 10 minutes

-Marie drops off the tape on her way to get Henry

-when she breaks him out, they hear Murphy acting a fool, but Marie tells henry to stick to his current target before going up to the maze.

~1:20 am: Marie calls Virginia because she has the phone and sends Henry on his way (Virginia’s location is also unknown so I just guessed)

~1:35 am: Henry goes to attack Virginia but is scared off by the frat. Immediately books it to Murphy.

~1:40 am: Eugene is attacked (Marie)

-marie, on her way to the graveyard, sees the teens going to the murder house and watches

~1:53 am: Murphy is attacked (Henry)

-Marie sees the prank unfolding and slips into the group

~2:15 am: the teens are attacked (Marie)

-Marie spends a few minutes at the graveyard visiting George and recovering from getting a bookshelf tipped over on top of her

~2:32 am: Forrest spots the whistling man outside KFAM when going to retrieve LRH (Henry)

~2:43 am: Marie and Henry meet outside the gas station to regroup (optional? Idk)

~2:45 am: the bomb is detonated (Marie)

-Henry goes back to KFAM to hang out outside as the last victims are personal to his mother.

~3:10 am: Ricky is attacked (Marie)

~3:18 am: Jason is stabbed in the woods (Marie)

~3:25 am: Casey calls KFAM now inside her house

-Marie kidnaps Teddy on her way to the school gym

~3:45 am: Henry enters KFAM and locks Forrest in the producer booth

~3:46 am: Interview with Teddy begins (Marie)

~3:58 am: Peggy confronts Marie

Thoughts? Do you agree or disagree? What would you change? Do you think this was a complete waste of my Sunday evening? I’d love to hear your thoughts!!

*edited to add: I changed Virginias location to make at least a little more sense lol

#killer frequency #marie campbell #henry barrow #text post #I felt the power of the autism in my veins when I made this lol

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heavyhitterheaux · 10 months

Text

Teenage Woes Part 2

First Babies of Private Garden Fic

AN: Here we gooo

Synopsis: A certain person finds out what the triplets have done and takes matter into her own hands to set them straight while Jack it at his wits end with Axel's antics

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Read Part 1 first

First Babies of Private Garden Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

You had just gotten back from Aruba and it was around four in the morning. Attempting to walk into the house quietly, you took to the steps while dragging your huge suitcase behind you and silently cursed to yourself about how much you bought since your bedroom was in the middle of the hallway and you were doing your best to not have to take breaks.

Once you were finally in your room, Jack was sound asleep as you ventured over to the closet to begin to put your clothes away and peel off the clothes that you had on so you could hop in the shower and quickly get in bed in order to sleep. The goal was to sleep in for as long as you could before waking up your youngest three to help them get ready for the day while the oldest three were on their own. You meant what you had said before you left for your girls trip, that you wouldn’t bend over backwards for them anymore like you had been doing since they acted nothing but ungrateful towards you.

They had to learn the hard way and Jack was also in the same boat right along with them because he had gone behind your back and given them the okay to have their phones as well as their car keys and it wasn’t until you confronted him about it that he quickly took them back.

Once moisturized and in a clean set of pajamas, you looked at your phone to see that it was around 5:30 in the morning and decided to sleep in the guest room not even wanting to be bothered with Jack. All of them had a lot of making up to do in order to get back in your good graces.

It was now close to 8 in the morning when you finally got up and made your way downstairs to see that Jack was packing lunch for Cash and Camden who were sitting at the table fascinated by something on their tablet and eating their breakfast. Once they saw you, they immediately hopped out of their seats in order to greet you.

“Mommy! You’re back.” Jack looked over at you and simply smiled at you which you didn’t bother to return. He would talk to you about it after he dropped the kids off at school.

“We missed you. Daddy can’t cook.” Camden whispered the last part in your ear and all you did was laugh.

“I missed you too. And he’s gotten a little better. Go and finish your food so that I can take you to school.”

“I’ll take them, babe. I know you only got here a few hours ago and you can go back to sleep.”

This caused you to do a double take as you looked over at your husband in disbelief before crossing your arms.

“Worry about your oldest three, not them. I don’t mind.”

“Just let me do this, okay? I took them already and they’ve been on their best behavior since you left..” Jack pleaded with you and you finally agreed.

“Well of course, they’ll always be on their best behavior for their favorite parent. Anyway, where’s Nova?”

“PRESENT! Mommy, you’re back! Can you help me with my hair?” Nova asked you as she came into the kitchen and you immediately nodded.

“Of course, how did you want it?”

“Two French braids please.”

She sat down at the end of the table and handed you the comb in order to part her hair and you quickly braided it. Once finished, you handed her back the comb to put back upstairs in her room and looked over at the clock on the wall to see that everyone needed to leave in the next ten minutes in order to not be late.

Cash got down from the table first taking his bowl with him before going over to Jack so he could put it in the sink while Camden soon followed after he took his last bite.

"Come on, let's wash your hands so we can get in the car and leave." Jack told the two of them and they each moved their step stool in front of the sink to do so while Nova was putting the last of her things in her backpack and you were deciding on what you wanted to eat.

"Say bye to mommy so we can go."

Cash was the first one to hop up into your lap and you proceeded to kiss his cheek as he gave you a hug.

"Love you, mommy."

"Love you too, bubs."

Camden quickly followed suit and soon you were put into a bone crushing hug by Nova. You swore that she grew two inches in the two weeks that you had been gone.

Jack leaned down to kiss the top of your head and bring you into a hug after she had finally let go.

"I'm still mad at you." Was all you said to him and he sighed.

"Babe…."

"No. And I was serious about you using your hand for a month because you are not putting your hands anywhere near me."

"I… let me drop them off and we'll talk about it when I come back."

"There really isn't any to talk about because I made myself clear before I left how this was going to go. As for now I'm hungry and about to make myself food and then go back to sleep."

When Jack had gotten back, he found you in the kitchen making what looked to be brownies and he went to grab one as you quickly slapped his hand away.

"OW!"

"Don't touch that. They aren't for you."

"Baby, can you please tell me what I can do to fix this?" One thing that he hated was the two of you being at odds and he was really feeling it now because he was caught in the middle of what his triplets did.

"I'm just so over the situation that it doesn't even matter."

"Yes it does because my wife is walking around our house upset and all I want to do is make it better."

"You already know the answer so I shouldn't have to tell you. I am literally three seconds away from giving the triplets and you the silent treatment but I'm not going to. I should have stayed away longer."

"We need to make a decision and stick to it no matter what regarding them."

"I told you that you already knew the answer and if Autumn steps another toe out of line, hair out of place…."

"She's not going to. I'll make sure of it."

"If she doesn't like me now, she seriously is not going to like me then." You answered thinking of possible consequences in your head. You had absolutely no problem sending her away until she learned how to respect you as well as the rules that you had set into place.

"She does love you, just…"

"No. You always take up for her and I'm sick and tired of it. You have done that ever since she was little and I distinctly remember you thinking that it was going to be me who let her get away with everything, but look how the tables have turned. I don’t even recognize my once sweet little girl."

The two of you used to be partners in crime until she turned fifteen and then you had no idea what happened. Something had shifted and it wasn’t a good shift.

"Because she literally acts like you. I know you've noticed. She actually came to me and asked what she could do for you to accept her apology."

"But the disrespect towards me? I never did that to my mother or father because I knew better. And it seems like ever since they turned 16, they don't know how to fucking act but for her it started last year. But remember she's not apologizing if she doesn't mean it. I'm not taking care of anyone who is not grateful for all that I do towards them. I love them with everything in me and I do not take for granted the opportunity to be a mother, but they are seriously testing my patience." You answered while placing another batch in the oven.

"I agree that it was uncalled for and she should have never spoken to you like that."

"My patience is gone so…" You said while shrugging and Jack ran a hand through his curls.

"We'll get through this, babe."

"The only way we'll get through it is if we do this as a team."

“I know. So do you want to tell me why you slept in the guest room when you came back this morning?”

“Simple, I didn’t want to look at you.”

“BABY!”

“I’m just being honest. I needed a moment to myself and I really don’t get that anymore. You really made me feel as if what I say doesn’t hold any weight and doesn’t matter. I know you didn’t see it that way and apologized for it but still.”

“We have a surprise for you a little later this week and I think it will help ease some of the tension. But we’re all going to do better moving forward.”

“I’m not going to believe you until someone shows me.”

A few days later, it was Tuesday morning and Jack happened to be driving through Louisville in order to go to your favorite bakery to pick up the blueberry muffins that you like when he spotted Axel standing outside of Carmichael’s with a bunch of his friends and quickly turned around and pulled up outside of the store.

“AXEL WYATT HARLOW GET YOUR ASS IN THIS CAR NOW!”

Axel was startled at the sound of his father’s voice and he turned around to see him red in the face and fuming.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath and sighed before walking to the passenger side of the car and getting in.

Jack started driving and was silent for the entire time they rode to the bakery. Once he parked is when he finally turned to Axel.

“I’m convinced you want your mother to kill both of us.” Jack said while pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Dad…”

“I didn’t ask you to speak. So now we’re skipping school after me and your mother are paying that expensive ass tuition for all THREE of you to go there?”

“Please don’t tell her.”

“HOW CAN I NOT? SO I DROPPED YOU OFF AT SCHOOL THIS MORNING AND YOU DECIDED TO LEAVE AND WASTE MY MONEY IN THE PROCESS.”

“You have more than enough of it.” Axel muttered and Jack did a double take.

“Forget this gentle parenting. What the actual fuck is wrong with you? So you think money grows on trees now?”

“No…”

“Do you not know how hard me and your mother have worked for all six of you to live comfortably and not have a care in the world? I cannot believe that actually came out of your mouth. What happened to my little quiet innocent Axel who used to never talk back, never got an attitude, would always offer to help when you see that me, your mother, or siblings needed it? And you’ve been smoking because I smell it. So, once again you aren’t listening to the rules we’ve set in place.”

All Axel did was stay quiet.

“Being quiet now isn’t an answer. You had so much to say before so speak up. Since you want to step to me like you’re a grown ass man, stand on it. Obviously that means you can provide for yourself now, right?”

“I’m sorry.” Axel quietly said and Jack just shook his head at him.

“Yeah, I bet you are. Go in the bakery and get your mom’s favorite muffins. That will be your peace offering after you tell her what you did and I will be standing there the entire time so try and lie to her if you want.”

Axel took Jack’s credit card and did what he was told and actually came back with two containers of them knowing that one probably wasn’t going to be enough.

Once the two of them reached the house, it was around 12 PM and you were caught off guard as you saw Jack with Axel and he was holding two containers of muffins.

“Jack…” You started to say, but all he did was cross his arms to look at Axel.

“Tell her what you did.”

“Umm…”

“What is going on? Ax, are you okay? Are you hurt?” You asked now, becoming nervous and checking him out for bumps and bruises.

“5….4…3…” Jack began to say, but Axel immediately blurted it out.

“Skipped school and dad caught me in front of Carmichael’s and I was smoking. I got your favorite muffins as a peace offering.” Axel hesitantly said as he placed the muffins on the counter and all you were doing was looking at him.

Nothing was said for a few minutes as you were trying to regulate your breathing and this made both of them become nervous.

You calmly walked past both of them in the direction of the stairs and they were calling out to you in order to get your attention.

“MOM!”

“Babe!”

All you did was go up the steps and proceed to slam your bedroom door and lock it before either of them could get to you.

“Mom! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again, I promise!” Axel said while knocking on your bedroom door while Jack was simply behind him pacing back and forth.

You didn’t give him a response.

“Mom, I know you’re mad, pissed even but…..”

That was when he suddenly heard your voice.

“Axel Wyatt get away from my bedroom door NOW.”

Axel sighed in response before going into his own bedroom and once you heard his footsteps move away from the door, you opened it and was met with Jack who saw your eyes full of tears and you being red in the face from anger.

“Baby girl….”

“I don’t even know what to say anymore. I’m taking the golden girls for a walk.”

Once Ivy and Autumn were picked up by Jack and brought home, Autumn said she had a gift for you and for you to sit in the living room and she would bring it.

As Autumn handed you the box, you immediately knew it was a Birkin and for the first time in your life you weren’t impressed.

Opening it, you saw that it was a shade of baby blue outlining the black material and knew she did this and definitely asked Jack to buy it since this is one of the only colors that you didn’t have.

“Do you like it? I know you don’t have this one so I picked it out for you.” She quietly said and all you did was look at her before placing it back in the box.

“Am I supposed to be impressed by this because I’m not.” Was all you said and she started to look nervous while Ivy and Axel exchanged looks with each other.

“Well… I…. I figured that this was a part of my apology to you. Well all of us really.”

All you did was slide the box back towards her while Jack’s eyes went wide.

The fact that you didn’t even want the Birkin spoke volumes and then he knew that he as well as his three oldest children were in deep shit.

“Hmm, no thanks.”

“But… you love Birkins and have been obsessed with him since forever.” Axel offered and all you did was stare at him.

“Your point?”

“Mommy, we’re really sorry for how we acted. We know that you’re so hard on us because you care about us and only want the best for us.” Ivy finally spoke up, but you weren’t budging.

“Spend time with your favorite parent. I have a nail appointment and then I have to go and get Nova, Cash, and Camden. Oh, and don’t forget that Maggie wants all of you over for dinner later, but just you four are going.”

“Wait, babe. What? Why?” Jack asked and all you did was stare at him before responding.

“You know why. I have things to do so I need to get a move on.”

“But mom…” Axel started to say, but all you did was get up from the table and make your way to your bedroom in order to get dressed.

Once you had left, the triplets looked at their father who immediately sighed.

“I definitely thought the Birkin would work.” Axel said and all of them agreed.

“So, what now?” Ivy asked and for the first time Jack didn’t have an answer.

“This usually always worked so now I don’t have any idea what to do. I swear the three of you better not pull any more shit because she’s going to become unhinged and none of you have truly seen your mother when she’s pissed off.”

Later that evening, once everyone had settled at the dinner table at Maggie and Brian’s house, she was confused on why you as well as her other grandchildren were missing and thought that you would have shown up by now.

“Where’s Y/N and my other babies?” The table was quiet and the triplets didn’t dare make eye contact with her. Jack started to speak, but was immediately cut off by Clay.

“Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but you’re three oldest grandchildren as in Ivy, Axel, and Autumn have been extremely disrespectful towards her and talking back as well as getting suspended for cursing teachers out, fighting, smoking, and also skipping school so she told Jack to deal with them until they can learn to respect her and respect the rules that they set in place for them. Did I get it all, you three?” Clay asked while turning to look at all three of them before looking back at his mother and the look on her face had her ready to body slam them.

“EXCUSE ME? YOU THREE ARE DOING WHAT?”

“Grammy…..”

“Autumn, do NOT. Brian hand me my phone to call Y/N on facetime. One thing I will not tolerate is you disrespecting your parents. Especially my daughter who gave birth to all three of you.”

“Oh, and Autumn also said that they were cut out and not pushed out to her face. Forgot Jack told me that.” Clay added while patting him on the back and all he did was sigh.

You answered on the second ring on facetime when you saw that it was Maggie.

“Hi mom! Are you okay? Why are you making that face?” You asked and she sighed before answering you.

“Clay has told me that those oldest children of yours have been disrespectful towards both you and my oldest child and I had to call you to confirm.”

“Hmm that sounds about right, but your oldest child isn’t innocent either.”

“Oh shit.” Clay muttered while looking down at his plate.

“Oh, really? Tell me more.”

“I took Ivy and Axel’s phones away after they got suspended and told Ax he couldn’t play in his soccer game all for Jackman to turn around and do the complete opposite. They had the nerve to buy me a Birkin like that was going to be a peace offering for the way that they had been acting.”

“If it was me and Y/N…” Clay started to say, but Maggie cut him off.

“Clayborn, SHUT IT.”

Clay simply held up his hands in defense as Jack was simply being interested in his mashed potatoes.

“Where are you right now?”

“Me and the babies are at Vincezo’s having a date night. We got dressed up and everything. Until the four of them act like they have sense, they aren’t allowed to go with me anywhere and yes Jack is included in that. I’m sick and tired of how they’ve been acting and since I don’t want to deal with it, I’m not going to. Oh and Autumn did say Jack was her favorite parent and how people in prison get treated better than they do and she’s not going to apologize because she doesn’t mean it. So they can stay there with their favorite parent while me and the babies go to Six Flags this weekend. All I try to do is the absolute best for them, but if they don’t want me too, that’s fine. Cam, baby let me help you cut that. It’s too big and I don't want you to choke.”

“Okay, sweetheart. That’s all I needed to know. Just make sure the four of you stay safe while I deal with your triplets and my oldest child.”

“Love you mom! Have fun because I think it’ll fall on deaf ears. Tell dad I said hi!”

“Will do, love you too.”

Once Maggie hung up, the room was silent.

“Mom…” Jack started to say and she immediately held up her hand while Brian was scratching the back of his neck looking nervous.

“The three of you have some nerve. Some serious nerve to be acting like this when you all were literally born with a silver spoon in your mouths. I get that you’re teenagers and want a little bit more independence but how is that going to happen when you show your entire ass and show that none of you can conduct yourselves? Autumn, you are the exact replica of your mother, but she never acted as horribly as you are. Yes, she fought, but the fact that you are also having secret boyfriends and going behind your parents backs? And Ivy, I assume you’re the one who cussed out your teacher. When were you taught to do that? And Axel, the quietest of my grandchildren is now smoking and trying to go through the rest of his life without a lung and skipping school and getting caught by your father. And how dare you say that you were cut out. So that makes it easier? Having to visit the three of you in the NICU everyday made it easier? Having postpartum depression from having the three of you made it easier? Putting her career on hold for the three of you so she could be a full time mother made it easier? At one point, we didn’t even know if Axel would still be here! And the fact that you opened your mouth to say it to her face.”

“Um, grandma, Autumn said it, not us.” Axel quietly said, but all she did was glare at him.

“Do you honestly think I care who said what at this point? That doesn’t take away how disrespectful you three were.”

No one spoke for a few minutes as Maggie began massaging her temples.

“You three don’t even know the half of what your mother has gone through to have you as well as keep you. So many times I thought that she would break, but never did and I’m proud to see how far she’s come from that shy little fourteen year old to a grown woman and I will be damned if her own offspring are disrespectful towards her. All three of you be quiet and eat your food and after this conversation tonight, if any of you do the slightest thing that is out of line of what their rules are, I will come and get you and you will be enrolled in Grandma’s boot camp for the rest of the year and you will not like it. Do not try me. And none of you are getting birthday and Christmas gifts this year so don’t bother asking.”

“Yes ma’am.” All three of them said as they continued to eat. Ivy didn’t really have an appetite, but knew that she should eat since you hadn’t been cooking lately and would probably have to eat a frozen burrito.

“Jackman, living room. NOW.”

The two of them were now sitting next to each other and Maggie had her arms crossed while staring at him.

“Mom, I know.”

“Then why did you do that?! The two of you have to be on the same page because they are going to think that they can get away with anything and that’s not the case!”

“It was only the first time for them. Not like Autumn who has been suspended multiple times.”

“There is no reason for them to get a shorter punishment just because it was their first time. You’ve become so lenient with them and Y/N isn’t and I thought when they were born that it would be the opposite. You are not their friend, you are their PARENT. You two need to get on the same page and also text Y/N to bring me and Brian a slice of cheesecake. All four of you have stressed me the hell out tonight and when I call Y/N for an update, this better not happen again.”

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

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@middlechild404

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow fanfiction #first babies of pg #jackman thomas #jackman thomas harlow

281 notes · View notes

beansnsoup · 11 months

Note

hii -🍄

can i request a Reader x Fred Weasley

after a tiring week, on his break they plan to spend time together but something happens at the reader's work (maybe in her own store) and now Fred is a needy mess and impatient for cuddles

when she solves the problem (it didn't take long but I'm sure Fred would scoff that she left him for hours) they just hug and piss each other off

just fluff funny and more fluff fluff pleasee

Fred is so bbg

☆

All Love No Jokes

Summary: Diagon Alley has been very busy the past week or two, and it's caused you and your boyfriend Fred to not have a lot of time to yourselves.

Relationship: Romantic

Character: Fred Weasley

Warnings: fem reader, clingy partner??, fluff

"Thank you, please come again!" You say, handing them their bag. They smile at you, waving food bye as they take the bag.

After the customer leaves, you watch more come into the already packed store. You let out a sigh, you haven't seen your boyfriend, Fred, it days.

He and his brother, George, own the joke shop 2 doors down from yours. The three of you met when they first started setting up the shop after they bought it, and you and Fred had an instant connection.

Recently though the stores have been so packed either of you haven't been able to find the time see eachother.

The holidays were just around the corner, so family and friends were scavenging for the perfect gifts. This is the second most busiest time of the year. It's a close runner-up to back to school shopping.

You hear the door ring as it opens, but ignore it since the grandmother is taking forever to choose a gift, so she's been talking to you for the past 20 minutes to help her pick one.

You finally just convince the lady to pick out the necklace from your sister's jewelry line since not a lot of people have been purchasing from her lately.

You check her out and rub your eyes out of frustration. The people piling up in the shop are causing the volume to rise gradually.

"You're a very amazing businesswoman." You hear a familiar voice call out. You turn around to find Fred.

"When did you get in here?" You ask him as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

"I squeezed in when you looked like you were going to rip your hair out because of that old lady."

You laughed, "Yeah, but she was really sweet. There's just a lot going on in the store today."

"You should close early, and we'll make a night of it, George will cover for me."

"As good as that sounds, this is the most money I've made in a while, I need this."

He sulks, "Okay love, just so you know, I'll be back at your closing time."

You smile at him as his grasp loosens, "Okay."

He makes his way to the door and sends you a small finger wave. When the door shuts, you suddenly feel empty, and you also find yourself looking at the clock every time you aren't helping a customer.

"Just these, please." You hear someone say thag knocks you away from your trance. You smile at them and start to add up and bagging the items.

The whole situation seems like a blur due to you trying to listen to the ticks of the clock and count them as they go.

Once you finally get the last group of customers out and the clock strikes 6 you lock the door up and run to the back door, swinging it open.

"Well, it's nice to see you too, love." Fred says, you smile at him and pull him in for a kiss. You lead him in, locking the door behind the both of you.

Soon enough, the two of you are in the flat above your shop. "Today was wild, I had a woman yell at me because one of the candles I was selling wasn't a color she liked." You started.

Fred laughed at this, "Well, George got slapped by a 12 year old boy because he couldn't get Puking Pastilles for free."

You laughed at this while he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your neck, "You okay?" You ask him.

"Yea, just a long day and I missed you."

"I missed you too, I'm contemplating closing the shop tomorrow or the day after to catch a break."

"That'd be nice. We could finally get some alone time." He said, wiggling his eyebrows.

You cringe and nudge him off you, which is followed by a groan from him. You knew he had a thing for physical touch, and you had a thing for egging it on.

He rubbed your shoulder with his thumb, grazing it up and down. "I missed you."

"I missed you more."

"Wrong, because I missed you most."

I LOVE FRED WEASLEY SM

"Don't start with me."

#harry potter #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x fem!reader

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marie-swriting · 5 months

Text

Everything Will Be Okay | Let's Go Home - Emily Prentiss [2/2]

Masterlist

Part one

Part one - two (french version)

Summary : You've been grieving Emily's death for months when Hotch and JJ tells you what truly happen the day of her death.

Warnings : spoiler 7x01, angst, grief, mention of Doyle, happy ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 2.2k

Song inspiration : Where's My Love by SYML

Everyday is the same thing. Waking up, pain, work, pain.

The piercing sound of your alarm clock screams in your ears. Grumbling lightly, you open your eyes with difficulty. Everytime you feel the cold sheets next to you, you wonder where Emily is before reality hits you. Emily is not, and will never be, by your side anymore. You sigh then look at the ceiling as if you were expecting for the energy to appear. Every morning, the second you wake up, you’re more tired than the day before. Since Emily’s death, the idea of a relaxing sleep has become an utopia. Emily never leaves your mind. Every second is a painful reminder you’ll never see her again.

You turn on your side, Emily’s picture on your nightstand is smiling at you while you struggle to take a deep breath. Everyone keeps saying it becomes easier with time, yet it seems to be the contrary.

After several long minutes, you finally manage to get out of bed. You do your morning routine whilst ignoring the pain in your chest. When you’re drinking your coffee in the kitchen, your eyes are set on the chair in front of you, the chair where Emily used to sit.

After her death, you didn’t have the courage to sell your shared apartment, even if the memories this place holds were like a stab in your chest. Besides, you couldn’t feel at home in the apartment you had taken after your break up so coming back to your old home seemed to be the best choice.

You drink every sip of your coffee slowly, your mind lost in your thoughts. As soon as you realise it’s time to go, you put your mug in the sink, grab your bag and go to work.

At work, you are totally isolated from your colleagues. At first, they left you on your own, judging that was what you needed. After a while, they tried to include you more in the conversations, to invite you for a drink but you always declined. You do what you have to do then you go home where Emily isn’t waiting for you even if you only dream of one thing, for her to come back home to you. Every day, you hold back your tears as best as you can without succeeding.

Everyday is the same thing. Waking up, pain, work, pain.

As for Emily, the routine is the same. Every day, she does everything to survive whilst looking for clues to arrest Doyle. She is losing herself in her quest and in loneliness. She doesn’t know if one day there’ll be an end to it, she hopes there is one. Emily also thinks back to her old life; she often thinks back about the team; she often thinks back about you. She wonders if you understood the reason behind her sudden breakup now that you know Doyle was after her; she wonders if you know she bled just the same as you did the second she said those hurtful words. No matter how many times she tells herself she did the right thing by breaking your heart, she hates herself for the pain she caused you. She doesn’t dare to imagine your reaction when you learned about her “death”.

However, Emily holds on to the hopes of coming back to you. She wants to believe it. She wants to believe she will leave all of this behind her and she will be in your arms again.

Emily keeps a low profile, staying hidden from everyone, even those she loves, even the one she considers as the woman of her life. Every day, her heart bleeds while reminiscing about everything Doyle stole from her.

Everyday is the same thing. Waking up, pain, work, pain.

A September night, you leave work, exhausted. You’re slowly trying to make efforts to have a normal life back so you’re a bit more social though, doing this tires you out even more. Emily is still on your mind however you don’t want the pain of her loss to dictate your life anymore. You have to move on. It’s not healthy to isolate yourself that much and you know it.

Whilst you’re in your car on your way to your apartment, your phone rings and JJ’s number appears. You frown as soon as you see her name, she hasn’t called you in months.

At first, she tried to stay in touch with you but you pushed away everyone so much that she eventually stopped, judging you’d come back to her when you’d be ready. Penelope acted differently, even if you ignored her, she kept sending you messages to make you smile - and it worked sometimes. Rossi was also there for you, helping you with your grief as much as he can. Him and Penelope are part of the few ones who stuck by your side. You never had the courage to fully push them away.

After some seconds of hesitation, you end up answering to JJ - a horrible sensation of déjà vu in your mind except this time, she can’t give you news worse than Emily’s death.

“Hey, JJ, everything alright?”

“I’m fine, thanks. I just wanted to know if you could come to the BAU.”

“Why?” you question, anxiety taking over your body.

“We have to talk to you.”

“About what? Nothing serious, I hope?”

“No, everything is fine, don’t worry.” JJ assures you with a calm voice. “So, can you come?”

“Yes, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

You quickly turn around and drive to the BAU whilst you search for the reason why JJ absolutely wanted to see you.

Arriving at the BAU, JJ greets you and invites you to follow her in Hotch’s office. You’re completely confused. Hotch has his normal grave face but so does JJ and that worries you. No matter what they’re about to say, it’s probably more serious than what JJ suggested. You’re sitting in front of Hotch, JJ standing next to him, then he takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Y/N, we asked you to come because we have something important to tell you. As you know, Emily went after Doyle when he targeted her. In order to arrest him, we had to make a complicated decision.”

“What decision?”

“After her fight with Doyle, Emily was actually stabilised at the hospital.”

“What do you mean?” you question, confused.

“Emily didn’t die.” Hotch informs you, taking you aback. “She survived and-”

“Stop,” you drily interrupt, standing up. “It’s not true. It cannot be true. She is dead. You said it yourself, she never made it off the table.” you retort to JJ.

“We had to fake her death in order to protect her.”

“You’re lying.” you scream, pacing at the opposite of the room. “Emily died six months ago. We buried her. I literally saw her coffin getting under the ground just like you did. You can’t tell me that since the beginning, she was alive.”

Your breath quickens as you try to make sense of what they just told you. You can’t understand how all of this is possible. You’re betrayed, hurt, sad, angry but also relieved. Emily might be alive.

“Y/N, we understand it might be hard to come to terms with this information-” JJ tries to say.

“No! Learning she was the target of a terrorist was hard to come to terms with, what you’re telling me, it’s just madness! If it’s true, why didn’t you tell me before?” you ask with a shaky voice.

“Her death had to be believable.” Hotch answers, stoic. “Emily was in Paris with new identities we knew nothing about for her safety.”

“Doyle had to think she was dead for her own protection.” JJ adds with a calm but firm voice. “Everything we did was to protect her and the people she loves, including you.”

“And you waited six months to tell me?” you reply, angry. “You let me cry her death for six months for nothing? Everyone knew except me?” you mutter with teary eyes and pointing at yourself.

“No, JJ and I were the only ones who knew. The team only learned about it recently. If you want to be mad at someone, it has to be us two, not the others.”

“Why tell me now then? Emily is probably still in danger because of Doyle.” you question, confused.

“No, not anymore. Doyle is dead, Emily came back to DC.”

After hearing Hotch’s last sentence, every negative emotion disappears from your body, relief and impatience being the only ones sticking by you. If it’s true, if Emily is indeed alive, you have to see her now.

“She came back?” you repeat, shocked. “Where is she? Is she here? I need to see her right now!” you order, getting closer to Hotch and JJ.

“I’m going to get her.” Hotch informs before leaving his office.

“Y/N, we’re really sorry for lying to you.” JJ admits, getting closer to you. “Trust me when I say we didn’t like to lie to all of you. It was hard, especially for Emily. She had to be alone for several months. It would have been too dangerous for her to communicate with us.”

As soon as JJ finishes talking, the door opens on Hotch and Emily appears behind him. You put your hands on your mouth when you see Emily. You can’t believe she’s in front of you. You tell yourself you must be dreaming. You've dreamt too many times about this moment so many times, maybe your distress is now making you have hallucinations?

“We’ll leave you alone.” Hotch says before leaving and JJ follows him.

“Hey, Y/N.”

As soon as you hear Emily’s voice for the first time since the split up, you realise it’s really her. Emily is really in front of you, alive. Tears stream down your face and in a second, you’re in her arms. You hug her while you’re sobbing. Emily holds you tighter, tears on her face as well. She strokes your back to calm you whilst you enjoy the feeling of her body against yours, while you smell her scent for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. Emily is really here and nothing else matters.

You stay in each other’s arms for a moment then, you break the embrace though you keep your hands on her arms. You’re afraid she might disappear if you let go of her.

“I thought you were dead. I was sure I lost you.” you sob, looking at her face.

“I know and I’m sorry. I caused you so much pain and I’m sorry. I wish things had gone differently.” Emily apologises, putting her hand on your cheek and wiping some tears.

“You’re here now, that's all that matters. You’re here and you’re not going anywhere, right?”

“Never again.” she confirms, smiling. “I will always stay here. I’m sorry for the way I pushed you away. I was just so scared Doyle would go after you. I don’t know what I would have done if he had attacked you.”

“You don’t have to explain anything. I know why you did it, it’s okay.” you affirm, stroking her hair.

“Still, I’m sorry for everything I told you. I shouldn’t have said I didn’t love you because it’s not true, I loved you and I still do.”

At her last sentence, you feel your heart exploding because of all the joy you're feeling. In the span of a few minutes, you’ve lived everything you thought was lost forever. You thought you’d never see Emily again, never hear a voice again, never touch her again, she’d never say ‘I love you’ again.

“I still love you, too.” you smile, a new tear running down your cheek. “Despite everything that happened, I couldn’t forget you.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Emily begins, nervous, “ but I’m dying to kiss you right now, can I-”

Before she can finish her question, you press your lips against hers. Your kiss is full of passion and love. You need each other right now. You move your lips against hers while Emily gets you closer to her. Nothing else exists around you. It’s only you, Emily and your lips moving together. You both know you should deal with everything you’ve been through first before acting as if everything was normal but you can’t help it. You missed Emily just like she missed you and your love never stopped existing. You can always deal with everything later, right now, you just want Emily close to you. When you need air, you stop kissing, a loving smile on both of your faces.

“I thought I’d never kiss you again.” you say softly.

“I was afraid of this, too. We have a lot of kisses to catch up on.” Emily affirms with a grin.

“Oh, I agree, so we should keep doing it. Let’s go home and we’ll be able to resume peacefully.”

You look into each other’s eyes, a big smile on your lips. Emily takes your hand in hers and at this touch, all the pain you had this past six months is now behind you.

Of course, you know all this story will leave a mark both for Emily and you. The path to find a normal life again won’t be easy but after everything you’ve been through, you can do it. Together, you can, no matter the obstacles.

“You’re right, let’s go home.”

Part one

Masterlist

Tag-list : @emilxprentiss

#marie swriting in english #Spotify #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #criminal minds #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x fem!reader

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