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covetyou · 3 days

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ghosted

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pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (satisfyer "glowing ghost"), unprotected P in V, creampie, oral (f receiving), reader loves floor time (so does Joel), angst (but we fix it), some anxiety/depression adjacent things. word count: 5751 summary: As spring moves into summer, the only thing you're wishing for is to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on. But, by the time the end of May is on the horizon, the time between still isn't enough - You haven't forgotten, and you haven't moved on.

A/N: thank you to everyone still sticking with this sporadic-installment-series-that-was-never-meant-to-be-a-series. our next visit to these two will be 4th July in stars and stripes, but until then, enjoy 💛

(and yes I know I am technically later than planned with this for non Americas folk - I couldn't get the ending to my liking until suddenly I could, and now its gone midnight. whoops!)

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If it was true that time flies when you're having fun, it was safe to say the opposite was true too.

You weren't having fun, and time was well and truly crawling by at a snails pace.

That wasn't for lack of trying. In recent weeks you'd spent more time out of the house than you ever had - lunch with friends, drinks with colleagues, solo trips to bookstores and farmers markets. There was barely a moment of time you hadn't filled with something.

It was probably a shitty coping mechanism, all things considered, but it was the best you had. You couldn't quite bring yourself to confide in anyone your secret shame of letting a stranger into your house and touch you like he belonged there. The even bigger shame of living in a place for so very long and not knowing how the door worked, not knowing the stranger was your neighbor, being so very consumed in your own life - woe is you - that you didn't bother paying attention to the lives of the people around you. So, you kept on willing the passage of time, and filling every moment you could with distractions.

It wasn't that you were usually one for wishing time away. A slow, warm spring before the blazing heat of summer consumed everything would usually be a good thing - even better now that you'd lived and experienced your first Texas summer and were soon to have your second.

What you were really wishing for was to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on.

As it was, by the time the end of May was on the horizon, the time between still wasn't enough. Almost two months to the day, and it still ached and burned in you just as much as it always had, if not more. The embarrassment and shame of not knowing how to work a fucking lock was one thing, the fear of the danger you'd put yourself in was another. Then there was the sadness, the loss, the unexpected emptiness at losing something you weren't even sure you had to begin with. And then, in more recent weeks, was the longing.

And you didn't want to feel any of it.

When Memorial Day Weekend eventually rolls around, the blossoming heat of summer keeping you indoors, you lie there on your living room floor, a fan blowing not quite cool enough air across your sweaty body until a knock at the door disturbs the patterns your eyes were tracing on the ceiling.

The dimness in your vision doesn't go away, even as you blink away the dust and try to get your eyes to adjust. The sun had set, apparently. It wasn't completely dark just yet, but dark enough to cast the lower level of your home in shadow, and you hadn't even noticed. You technically had plans today - plans that had now gone to shit, much like everything else.

Hauling yourself from the ground, you unlock your door, no thought or care of who could be on the other side of it, because one thing was certain - it wouldn't be Joel. You'd lost hope of that weeks ago. Each time you opened it with a fools hope in your mind, you were instead handed a delivery and told to have a good day as you stared out into the street, disappointed that it was only a clitty-blaster-3000, or a new blender, and not Joel.

You mindlessly pull open the door, expecting to be handed a package you hadn't ordered, or to even see a friendly face coming to pull you out for plans you agreed to but didn't really want to do.

But there he is. Two months later - but not too late, you don't think - and entirely out of the blue. Nervous hands are thrust into his pockets with his thumbs twitching on the outside of his jeans, standing there like he didn't belong here at all, when everything in your body was screaming he's home.

This was far from the first time you'd seen him since March. The first time was barely three days after you pushed him away. April Fools' Day, of all days. Fitting, you thought, given how much of a fucking fool you felt whenever you remembered everything you'd done, and said, and felt. It turns out he was the owner of the truck you'd seen parked in a drive a little way down the street, father to the little girl you'd seen bounding out of that house so many times before. Neither thing made the hurt in your chest any less, and you'd driven past with a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes.

The same happens now, but you fight them back so you can see more clearly as his mouth twitches into a small smile, making you freeze on the spot. Your mind was already blank, but that freezes too, and you stare at him dumbstruck for a moment so long you're certain a flicker of concern dances across his eyes.

And you could close the door in his face, push him out and away just like you did on that day over two months ago, but you don't. As you come back around, finally letting your brain reconnect with the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is relief and total utter joy at getting to see him up close again.

There's still shame too. That's been simmering low and mellow in you for so long now that it's fused with your bones - you're not sure you'll ever shake it - but it's the least important thing right now as you stand and look at him, more awkward and uncertain than you've ever seen him.

"Hi."

You're surprised it's you who speaks first, given how dry your mouth is all of a sudden, seeing him up close again and looking as good as, if not better, than he ever has.

"Hey," he says, before clearing his throat. "S'good to see you."

It's a voice you didn't want to forget, but apparently damn near almost had, given the way your body reacts to it. Deep and rumbling, with the slow southern drawl trickling down your spine like honey and settling between your thighs - though in all honesty that might just be sweat. It really is hot in here, worse now that you're standing, and the fan is doing absolutely nothing to help. You look a mess too - your hair, your clothes, your life - but he doesn't seem to mind, and you're grateful, because right now this is as good as you've got.

"Wanted to see how you were doin'. Figured we should talk," he says with another soft smile.

Stepping aside, you give him a small nod as you silently invite him into your home for the first time. Which should be funny, given the unknown number of times he's been through this door, but you're not ready to laugh about any of it just yet.

When the door closes behind him, it's soft and gentle, barely audible over the fan blasting warm air at you, and you wonder if it's always like that. If he's always quiet as a mouse, and you always too oblivious to notice - between the two of you, you didn't stand a hope in hell in figuring it all out until it was too late and blew up in your face. Now, here you are, egg on your face, the heat in the room not helping the heat in your cheeks, trying desperately not to send him away when you've just invited him in.

It would be easier if it all still felt like a dream, but it didn't. That had changed.

Joel had never been much of a normal man in your mind. He was more of a fantasy come to life. A fantasy that was slowly building into something more and more real with each encounter. Even now, stood in normal shoes, wearing a normal t-shirt, and even more normal jeans - just Some Guy by anybodies standard - he looks as beautiful and fantastic as ever.

"Wanted to talk to you sooner. Wanted to leave it up to you given - y'know. Everythin'. Didn't want you to think I was just bargin' in all the time when it was convenient for me," he says, this very normal man already making you feel both silly and elated that he was waiting for you as much as you were waiting for him. Obviously you could have gone to him first. You just couldn't do it. You almost had so many times, but the twist of your key in the door would twist something in the pit of your stomach too, and you'd stop before you even made it out the house.

You knew why. It was always the same thing. You didn't want to talk - not ever. You just wanted things to be okay, or not, and go on with your life. It was one of those childish things you had your mom to thank for - she wasn't great at talking about the important thing either.

The difference now was Joel. You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to work out everything with him rather than alone in your head. But prior to the door incident, that wasn't what this was and after - well, fuck - after, it seemed that it could have been like that all along but you were too damn late to do anything about it.

"Know you were angry with me - maybe still are - and I -"

"I wasn't angry with you," you blurt out, already aware of the lie the moment it leaves your lips. Joel is too, and he raises an eyebrow at you. "Okay. Yes. It pissed me off - you pissed me off. Happy?"

"No. Never wanted to piss you off, darlin'," he murmurs in return, and you can see that he means it by the way all of him softens, drooping in defeat at your admission.

"I... You embarrassed me, Joel. I feel embarrassed, okay? I feel like a stupid idiot, and I -"

You can already feel it all coming back. The swirling in your head, and the heat creeping up your chest and down your arms, not helped by this sweltering fucking house. It's like fainting, but instead of blacking out, a white hot rage is ready to ignite in you. And of everything, it's the thing you most never want to feel again. You'd take all the sadness, loss, emptiness, and longing of the last two months a million times over if it means you never have to feel this again.

" - and it makes me angry. And I hate feeling like that, like this, and I just couldn't come talk to you because I feel so stupid."

"Woah, darlin', c'mon now, we both know you ain't stupid."

"I don't know how to work a fucking door, Joel. Do you know how long people have had doors?"

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes before starting up again, hoping Joel will take the lead and talk for you first, but he doesn't.

"And I thought we were on the same page. That we were both doing the same silly thing, and it was okay that it was silly and fun, because we were both in on the joke. And... I liked seeing you. I liked it when you were here and it just - it just feels like it was a lie, and what I got out of it isn't what you got out of it. And that's okay, but it still feels stupid. I feel like an idiot, and an asshole, and knowing that you knew so much more about me than I knew about you, I just-"

"Do you want to?" he asks. "Do you wanna get to know me? Just gotta say, and it's done. I want you to know about me - I never meant to hide anythin' from you like that. And I don't want you to be mad, and I don't want you to feel embarrassed, cause the way I see it, we both got shit to be embarrassed about. I was breakin' into your house for months, thinkin' I was invited."

You wince a little, and he just smiles, shrugging his broad shoulders that what's done is done, nonchalance easing your anxiety for the first time ever rather than making it worse.

"I used to stand out there in front of your door and talk to your doorbell like you'd talk back to me any minute," Joel says with a laugh. "Course, now I get that you probably ain't got it hooked up. Never did hear the fuckin' thing ring."

Fuck. Right. Yeah, he's got you there. You'd bought it when you moved in, at your mom's insistence, and never got around to connecting it to anything. You figured it just being there would be deterrent enough and, other than visits from Joel, it had been.

He laughs again at your poorly masked grimace, and any other time you'd maybe be infuriated by him finding humor in something you'd been hurting over for weeks. It's not until you meet his eye and see the silliness in it all too - neither of you really did have any hope.

"Right? It's dumb. Not you, not me, it's just dumb. I even used to tell you when I'd be over next, let you know when to expect me. Leave out a key or put the door on the latch if it's okay for me to come by. I thought I was bein' invited in, but I was breakin' in. Shit. You're embarrassed, and I'm a criminal, I guess we're both losers."

Any anger you had is gone in a flash as laughter ripples through your belly and out your throat. In a way, it's all true. Joel was just as fucked as you, had just as much to be embarrassed and fearful about as you. Unknowingly leaving your home vulnerable to intruders is one thing, but being an accidental criminal for months is another.

"I liked it. I... I never knew when you were coming."

"Hey, if that's what gets your rocks off," he says with a wink, and you laugh again. "I ain't one to judge, but we can explore that in safer ways than keepin' a door unlocked day and night."

You both realize what he said the second the word left his lips.

We.

As in us.

As in together.

And you think he might take it back as quick as he said it, but he doesn't. He just looks at you, half fearful that he said the wrong thing, half hopeful that he said the right thing.

"Okay."

With one word he brightens, and you can feel it in you too. Whatever it is is mutual. Has been since the red velvet coat, since the wings, since the bunny ears, and all the spaces in between.

"Yeah? Cause I'd like to start over, if that's okay with you."

"Well, that sounds like a terrible idea," you say bluntly, because honestly you cannot think of anything worse. Joel's slow steps towards you falter for a second as he tries not to let the disappointment in his face show, but you're already smiling. "You can pry Santa, Cupid, and Flopsy from my cold, dead hands."

And his laugh is glorious, cracking open the remnants of the walls you'd put around yourself and letting your bones soak in the warmth of him, just as his arms come to wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. He smells so familiar - that's one thing you know about him. You might not know about his favorite color, or what he likes to eat, or even his daughters name just yet. But you know what he smells like, how his smile lights up his eyes, and how his hands feel on you, anchoring you in place even as you send yourself dizzy breathing him in.

He's going to kiss you too. You know that, and you welcome it, but before he can, you pull back.

"There's so much I want to know, I don't know how I missed so much."

"You get one question before I'm kissin' you."

You think for just a second before looking down to where your fingers curl into his shirt - an old Fleetwood Mac tee, so washed and worn it's like butter beneath your fingers.

With a wry smile, you look up at him from beneath your lashes, unable to hold back the laughter in your voice. "What are you dressed as today? Don't think I know this one, you're usually on theme."

"This? I'm just your plain ol' friendly neighborhood Joel Miller."

His lips are on yours then, pressing a soft kiss into the curve of your mouth, eyes searching yours for one, two, three seconds, before he dives back in, kissing you in earnest, making up for all the in betweens you'd been wishing away.

You wrap yourself around him, clinging to him, damn near wanting to climb up him, as you make out like teenagers in the middle of your living room. His hands wander across your shoulders, down your spine, grasping at any softness he can find along the way until his hands settle - one on your ass, and one gently cupping the back of your neck.

And as you kiss, holding each other close like you were long lost lovers and not whatever this thing between you was, you can't help but think that Joel Miller may just be your favorite Joel yet.

"Now, I got a question for you," he mumbles into your mouth, each word chased by your kisses. You've never wanted to seem desperate before, but right now you don't care, and by the way he's holding you, Joel doesn't mind either.

"Why the fuck do you have a nightlight?"

Shooting him an inquisitive look, you follow his gaze over your shoulder.

There on your counter, little light blinking away, is your very own clitty-blaster-3000, a luminous ghost with its mouth set in a permanent O, glowing brightly in the darkness. Shit. You'd brought it down this morning to charge, needing to keep a watchful eye on it and its janky magnetic charger to make sure it charged fully. You'd totally forgotten about it, and now here it was, glowing like a beacon after being out in the sun all day.

You try to pull away from Joel, but with his arms locked around your body, and his mouth pressing soft whiskered kisses to your neck, you don't have the strength, or the inclination, to move.

"It's not a nightlight, I can go put it away, if you just gimme-"

He tucks you behind him, swatting away your arms as you feebly try to reach around and grab it from him. Truthfully, you quite like the idea of him holding it, using it, but you feel bad that he might not know what it is.

"Not a nightlight, huh?" He says, grabbing the toy from the counter, said charger immediately popping off and clattering to the ground. He inspects it, turning it over in his hands, bringing it so close to his face it casts shadows across his features with its glow. "Oh, I know what this is."

"What is it then, smartass."

"Other than Pac-Man's worst nightmare? It's one of them clitty-blaster-3000 things."

Eyes wide, you double over, cackling and holding desperately onto yourself so you don't totally fall apart in front of him. He laughs with you, though maybe it's a little bit at you too, but you don't mind.

"What?!" he says smiling as he watches you fight to right yourself, gripping his forearm with laugh weakened fingers.

"That's what I call it!"

"Yeah? It good?"

His eyes are burning into yours. You know where this is going, and there's a brief thought that maybe you should stop it, slow things down. But you don't. Instead, you bite your lip and nod, making a noise of confirmation as Joel fiddles with the buttons on the toy.

A second later, it whirrs to life, a gentle throbbing buzz meeting your ears.

Joel puts his thumb over the hole, the suction gently hammering away at his finger tip as he clicks up and up through the intensity until he's well past a level you can use it at.

"Shit, yeah. Can see how that'd feel good."

"I, uhm, like to tease myself with it."

"Yeah?" he says as it clicks back down through the settings and rests on the softest one again. "Is that how you use it? Just to tease yourself?"

"No," you say, gasping a little when he raises the toy to your neck, pressing the mouth of the ghost to you as if pressing a kiss to your skin. "I - I just kinda stick it on there, to be honest. But I go slow with the - with the settings."

Joel clicks up one setting, the gentle thrumming at your neck intensifying a little.

"Yeah? You take your time? Give her what she deserves?"

You forgot what this was like - how easy and good it was to give in to wanting him, and how easy it was to let yourself have him too.

"Mhm."

"Good. Can't say I ain't jealous though. Missed comin' here. Seein' you. Thought about you, thought about comin' to see you but -"

"Thought about you too."

"When you were usin' this?"

You nod, tilting your head to the side and sighing as he glides the tip of the toy across your pulse point, behind your ear, down the column of your throat.

"Can I use it on you?"

You damn near want to tell him he can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but the words are lost when you nod again and he captures your mouth in another kiss, brutal in its softness as he guides you back to your couch and all the plush cushions you have stacked there. Since Christmas, your home décor skills have definitely improved. Things look a little less bare, the place looks a little more lived in. There's still pictures to hang and empty spaces on shelves to fill, but you know those things will come in time. For now, you're grateful for the comfy place you've made on your sofa as Joel sits you down, guiding you down with strong hands.

Your shorts are quickly pulled off, the toy pulled from your neck so Joel can kiss his own better trail across your flesh. You hold him to you, anchor him into your bosom like he might drift off like a spectre in the night if you don't, but he's as latched to you as you are to him.

And then he's on his knees for you, jeans straining as his cock swells, hands gripping your thighs then pushing your shirt up, exposing you for him. Panties soon follow your shorts, yanked down your legs in a joint effort by your left hand and his right as he can't resist lapping at your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours.

He's everything you tried to forget, and some of the things you did. He's strong, and broad. He's gentle too, and soft - his eyes, mostly, but some other parts of him too. He's silly, and playful, smiling into your mouth and nipping at you, the hand by your thigh teasing the buzzing toy over the delicate skin there and delighting in your shudder.

As he moves it closer, the sounds of the suction against your skin making you both giggle, he moves down, burying his face into your neck and breathing in. You already know that it's never been like this before - that this is something new, just like every other time before had been something new.

"So you just stick it on, huh?"

"Lube. With lube."

His face is between your legs in an instant, licking messily around your clit, not really trying to get you off, just aiming to get you wet. When he pulls back, toy in hand, he raises the glowing toy mouth to his own and licks, smiling at the sound of it suctioning to his tongue.

"That good enough?"

And you nod, giving in to his kisses again before he breathlessly spreads you apart with both hands, looking at your cunt like if he blinks it'll all fade away.

"You know I ain't seen this for three months?"

"You been counting?"

"I missed you," he repeats with a breathless kiss to your thigh. "Missed this."

He lights his way with the glow of the toy rumbling in his hand, pulling back your clit for just one second, barely holding in a groan, before he gently holds the mouth of the ghost to you, pressing until the obscene slurp is muffled by full suction on your clit.

And it's divine, just like it always is, but somehow made even better by the man doing it to you. Fascinated eyes don't stop watching as it hammers air lightly at your clit in a constant rhythm, and the sight alone makes you drip. You're grateful for the heat now, and the sheet you'd covered your velvet sofa with, saving you an undoubtedly messy clean up later.

The toy slips when Joel climbs back off his knees to press his mouth to yours, and the air splutters and ripples past your skin again, as Joel laughs into your mouth.

"The sound of this thing, jesus fuckin' christ. Sounds like you're -"

"Don't. Don't make me laugh, you'll distract me."

"I like it when you laugh," but he's already pressing it flush to your skin again, stopping the sound and sending the ripples directly back to your clit.

"Ohh, f- "

"That's it," he says, watching as your hips rock ever so slightly into the throbbing toy sucking away on your clit. "Fuck, that's it. Lettin' me get you off with this thing."

"Think I can get some fingers in and keep this right where you need it?"

"Mm."

"Yeah?" he says, swiping at your entrance with his middle fingers, carefully holding the toy in place with his palm. "Just like that. There we go. Right in there. Fuck, I missed this. Missed bein' in here."

"Fuck."

"That's it. You come on 'em. Wanna feel it."

"Joel, down. Move it down. Ple- ah."

"There?"

"Right there," you sigh, panting and barely making it through the words before your eyes snap shut.

And then Joel is in your ear, his breath fanning against you, cooling you for a second even as his fingers stoke the fire raging in your core.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he murmurs, and you just know he's looking down at you, the picture of a perfect mess. A sheen of sweat on your skin, lips swollen and parted as you gasp, thighs spread wide, hips rocking into Joel's illuminated palm, t-shirt rucked high over your hips, hands on your tits, nipples pinched between your own fingers, moaning, panting, coming.

You twitch in his arms, burying your head in his neck and breathing deep. Something about the position you're in can keep it going longer, can keep that thrumming pressure on your clit right where it is, past your usual limit, dragging your orgasm on and on until you're gasping Joel's name.

He gingerly pulls the glowing toy off of you - its brightness dimmed only slightly since you lost sight of it between your legs - fiddling with buttons until he gives in and throws it to the side to run his hands over you.

With a light kisses to your parted lips, he apologizes, giving you softly muttered sorrys for ever upsetting you, for taking so long to come talk to you, and before you can return the sentiment, he sends you laughing again.

"And I'm sorry for breakin' into your house. Accidentally."

Your laughter makes him shift, and his face contorts as he gasps in discomfort.

"Fuckin' jeans. Pinchin'," is all he says, as he tries to adjust himself. You can see his zipper strain with the weight of his cock, stiff and unattended, behind the thick fabric.

"Take 'em off."

"Came here for you, not me."

"And if I want you to come for me?"

Joel blinks.

"Then I'm takin' my damn pants off," he says, taking his pants off. He sighs in relief when the pressure on his cock is released, groans when your hand palms him over the damp fabric, gasps into your mouth when you slip your fingers beneath his waistband, finding his cock slick and wet with precum, curses into your hair when you lick the salty taste of him from your fingers.

Tugging his boxers down a little more, his cock springs free, slapping his wet tip against his belly. In a blink you're on him, pulling off his shirt as you go to suck wet kisses into his neck, his chest, and letting your fingers toy with his nipples and the other feel down past his boxers, cupping his balls and rolling your thumb across the sensitive flesh before he pushes up into you.

He's solid. You're surprised he didn't come in his pants with how firm he feels slipping against your cunt. You meet his thrust, grinding down into his solid length, trying to hold your own shirt up so you can see the tip of his cock as he ruts against you.

"Does that feel good?"

"Fu - yeah. Y'always feel good."

"Y'know what would feel better," you whisper, scratching gently down his chest and watching goosebumps prickle his skin. With a shift of your hips, his next thrust pushes in, just slightly, before popping out and grinding into your clit again. His next thrust - slower, firmer - notches against your entrance and pushes in, Joel's hands on your ass dragging you down, until you're seated to the root of him.

It's a stretch. It always was. But over three months, and a decline in solo sessions, made it even more so.

Still, even through the stretch, you rock against him, looking into the eyes of Joel Miller, the normal, every day guy who lives down your street, and smile at it all, and the look on his face that says he couldn't be luckier.

"Said I wanted you to come, didn't I?"

And you meant it. You show him how much you mean it as you start to ride him, lifting higher and higher off of him before pushing back down. Your thighs clap against his, wet with sweat and slipping together with each movement, echoing around your living room.

It doesn't last long. It can't. It's too fucking hot, and you're woefully out of practice as the stretch in your pussy turns into a burn in your legs. You can see Joel's face start to pinch and contort, looking between your face, your bouncing tits, and the slip of his cock in and out of you, barely visible in the shadows.

But you can't keep going. You'll pass out if you do. Joel's hands register what you're doing before his face does, gripping tighter and holding you down on him, before his mouth opens in a gasp, his head falling back after losing something he was so close to getting.

You barely pull in a breath of warm air before Joel is dragging you down, flipping you unceremoniously onto your back on the floor.

It's cooler down here, even with Joel's body over yours. It's why you were on the floor to begin with, before he came back, before you let him back in. Joel fumbles against you, the sweat on your body acting more like a full body lube at this point, before he slides back in, knocking the air out of you as he fills you all over again.

Even though his knees will be bruised in the morning and your back will ache, he pounds into you, gripping your shirt and pulling you down with each thrust.

And it's just so fucking good you can't help but practically scream as he fucks you, moaning loudly into his ear as he groans and pants and swears into yours. Your fingers can't find purchase against his back, even as you desperately claw at him. There's too much sweat - it's too fucking hot in here - but you wouldn't change any of the desperate mess that you find yourselves in here on the floor.

He's growling, balls slapping against you, fucking you so hard you have to throw a hand out to hold onto the couch.

"I'm gonna - fuck - look at me. Look. Fuck. Fuck."

He presses in then, spurting deep in you, stealing the air from your mouth, and you from his, as you gasp and groan with each shallow thrust of his hips.

When he pulls out, hands going from bruising grip to gentle strokes, he rolls off of you, his back slapping wetly against the ground just as your pussy makes its own equally wet sound. And you laugh, because it's silly, just like it always has been, with or without a costume or a name that's not quite his own to go with it. Joel chuckles along with you, content and dozy from his orgasm, the evidence of it trickling out of you and making a mess of your floor as your stomach contracts with laughter.

The house cools down in the darkness - not much, but enough. Your hands find each other again too, and you each dance small patterns across each others skin until words come back to you.

You talk there on the floor, sweat drying on your skin, until the rumble of your stomach becomes too distracting to continue. You learn his favorite color, what he does for a living, his daughters name. You even learn the exact make and model of his truck, something you immediately forget.

And when he tries to excuse himself, too frightened of overstaying his welcome, you invite him to stay, and Joel Miller, the best Joel you've ever met, says yes.

next part

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #coveted fics #big bawl jawl #never forget the balls #fic: dress up joel

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barefoothighlander · 1 year

Note

Hi luv! Can you please do some headcanons of ghost having a civilian wife who is an absolute RAY of sunshine, but he keeps the fact that he’s married a secret even from 141. And when they do find out they’re just like??? How??? She’s like so cute???

yes ugh, soft!ghost has my heart, he'd be such a cutie obsessed with his wife, I love this, also obsessed with gossipy Soap and Gaz, they'd be so invested in Ghost's life

warnings: none just fluff

You and Simon had been married 3 years, meeting 5 years ago while he was on leave back home and you were visiting family

You bumped into him on accident after losing all sense of direction on a back street.

He was intrigued because most people are frightened by his outward appearance, but you just smiled at him apologizing profusely.

He had awkwardly asked for your number and you gave it to him, going on a few dates before he fell madly in love with you. Completely enamoured with your smile and personality, always giggling and happy, a stark contrast to how he usually was.

You made him see things in a softer light, constantly dragging him to farmer’s markets and gardens, he followed your every whim, just happy to spend time with you.

He had proposed a year after the two of you became official, deciding he couldn’t go another day without being married to you.

A week after the proposal he had to deploy, it broke his heart to leave you but it made him even more eager to come back to you.

You knew most of what his job consisted of, he spared you the more gory parts as they always made you squeamish. The two of you making it a rule to keep your relationship secret, even from the rest of the team.

After you married he made a point of calling you every day from base just to check in, even though he’d see you right as soon as he got home.

On a particularly difficult mission, Simon had gotten hit in the head, his helmet knocked off and thrown to the dirt, a small piece of paper falling out.

Soap rushed over to him to make sure he was okay, noticing the small paper and grabbing at it as Simon reached to tear it from his hands. It was a photo of you, hair messy from the wind, skin glowing from the sun outside, bright smile plastered on your face as you smiled at your husband behind the camera.

“Lt have’ya a lass,” Soap asked, dodging Ghost’s attempts to retrieve the photo. “Tell me and I’ll give it back”. Sick of Soaps games Ghost submits. “She’s my wife”

Word spread quickly through the team on behalf of Soap’s loudmouth, all the men rushing to question Ghost about his secret relationship.

“No shot you married her, she’s so.. Cute? Smiley? And you’re so” Gaz is cut off by Simon’s dark stare.

All the men pestered Ghost about meeting you as he continued to decline, Price offering a simple ‘congratulations son’

One day you came to base to drop off some gear that Simon forgot at home, immediately greeted by Soap. “No way” he says, stepping towards you with open arms, pulling you into a hug. You hug him back confused. “Sorry, have we met” “No but I’ve heard a lot about you lass”

Simon rushes out of the base practically tearing Soap off you, giving him a warning with a quiet stare as you tug on his jacket, reaching on your toes to lift his mask slightly, planting a kiss to his lips and smiling before handing him the bag of gear which he takes before running a hand softly over your back.

“This is so strange” Soap responds taken aback by the sight of you two, one tall and brooding, face covered by a skull mask and the other a practical ray of sunshine, wearing a long flowing dress that leaves the top of your chest open to the breeze.

“I will say, you’re much prettier in person, the picture doesn’t do justice” “That’ll do” Simon warns as you giggle.

Against Simon’s wishes you invite the team over for a dinner, the weather was too nice to not eat outside as you got to meet each member, learning more about them than Simon would ever tell you.

“I’m sorry it just makes no sense,” Gaz says as you quirk an eyebrow in question. “I just mean you’re so nice, and the Lieutenant is so daunting” you laugh, “trust me, he’s not so scary with the mask off,” He bows his head in embarrassment as you break down his strict facade.

“So what do you two even do? Gasp does Lt cuddle?” Soap asks almost giggling, Simon swears that he could kill Johnny right there. You spare a glance at your husband before meekly nodding in Soap’s direction as he and Gaz are taken in a fit of laughter, you shrug your shoulders in a silent sorry to Simon.

The team made it a tradition to now show up at your home at least once a week to have dinner and some drinks, or just play some board games, intent on getting to know you better, almost punishing Ghost for keeping you a secret.

Cleaning up dinner Simon slides behind you wrapping you in a hug, a small show of affection he had been holding off on while the team was in view. “You’re telling them too much” As he kisses the base of your neck, you turn your body to him, “It’s nice to get to know them, I like seeing you around your friends” he scoffs as the term, then thinks about it shit maybe we are friends.

The time spent after at work Simon was constantly pestered about when he’d make Price and Soap uncles while Gaz had proclaimed himself as your future child’s fairy godmother.

Simon grew tired of the constant interrogation but felt like a weight was off his chest finally being able to be open about your relationship, though he’d never let the team hear the pet names you call him in private, nor would he let them in on the more tender moments of your time spent together.

The team always telling him that he was nicer when you visited or called him, always nagging to see pictures of the two of you (there were barely any, maybe one where he didn't have his mask on but it was kept secure in the house), and wanting to know when you'd visit.

Ghost was relieved that the team was so nice to you, he'd kill them for even saying a bad word, but he wasn't surprised given your ability to get along with almost everyone, always stopping to say good morning to people on the streets.

They teased him for days after you dropped him off some lunch one time, he had acted angry but he loved the domesticity of your lives, he loved seeing you in his office, a bright figure in such a beige world, he couldn't help the smile that crept on his face at the mere thought of you.

So the two of you welcomed the team into your lives, enjoying the company after living rather solitary. Spilling secrets with Soap and Gaz as Price and Simon looked on, Price with a small smirk on his face, happy that Simon finally found the love he deserved, while Simon sat unamused at Soap's jokes.

#simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost cod #cod mw2 #ghost fluff #ghost mw2 #mw2022 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #call of duty mwii #simon ghost riley angst #cod mw x reader #call of duty

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atomicami · 7 months

Note

cami would you write a sub abby? like maybe where she needs your help to get off?🤭🩷

my sweet dani, that mind of yours truly is incredible…i wrote this one just for you querida 🤍

close call

contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader

- summary: it’s the night before the annual bake sale, and abby needs your touch now more than ever.

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, contractor/engineer!abby, texas living, no sarah, joel & jerry are still alive (jerry is not a doctor in this), reader has a business degree, abby gets needy, sneaking out, oral & fingering (a!receiving), masturbation (r), abby whimpering and begging?? and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything

- author’s note: well if i’m being honest i really did not expect to be writing another contractor!abby fic so soon, but this request gives so much desperate contractor!abby energy that i just had to do it. however i do have to clarify that this is not a part 3. i’ve stated this before in one of my asks, but part 3 is going to be more about the bake sale…this is just more of a little bonus chapter i guess.

anyways, this one’s for you dani, and for all of my contractor!abby fans out there that need a little pick me up rn. i hope y’all enjoy it 🫶🏻

You didn’t expect to be doing it again so soon.

After you had snuck your way out of work to go see Abby at her father’s contracting site, you have to admit that the rest of this week flew by surprisingly fast for you.

You had been keeping yourself occupied in the meantime, between doing customer calls at work and preparing for the bake sale, you’ve been quite patient with yourself and didn’t feel the need to have to sneak out again until the next time you’d plan to see Abby. It was almost as if you simply had just been sick that day, and Abby’s touch was the remedy that cured you.

Although…there might be a feeling that you’ve jinxed yourself in saying so when you receive a phone call the night before.

You spent the morning on your work shift as usual, and your dad was generous enough to let you go before lunchtime so you could start baking for the sale tomorrow. After spending the rest of your day prepping, mixing, baking, and decorating, you were left with a variety of fresh pastries by sundown, ready to sell the next morning.

By the time you finished cleaning up the kitchen and getting ready for bed, the clock struck 10 p.m. Normally you’d stay up a little longer, but after the exhausting day you’ve had today, you genuinely needed to rest for tomorrow. You had to be downtown by 7 a.m. to set up at the farmer’s market for the bake sale. Given how weary you were, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

However, you were only able to get a few hours of sleep in before your phone began to ring.

The sound of your ringtone startles you awake. Letting out a tired groan, you muster up the energy to reach over to your nightstand to turn on your light and pick up your phone to see who was calling you.

“Abby?” you whisper to yourself, rubbing your eyes to get a better look at the screen. Once you do, the phone call disappears and your lock screen shows with the missed notification, giving you a chance to look at the time.

It was barely past 1 a.m. Why the hell was she calling you this late?

Her contact name shows up once again in a second call, and this time you swipe to answer.

“Abby…what is it?” you answer groggily to her.

“Hey…are you awake?” she asks shyly.

You roll your eyes before responding. “I am now.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I did wake you up, but I really need you right now…”

Her words start to replay in your head. The tone she had in her voice…she didn’t sound like her usual, cocky self. She sounded desperate…kind of like how you were the last time you saw her.

“Abby, it’s one in the morning…what is it that can’t wait until later?”

You knew what she was asking for, you just needed to make her say it. Kind of like how she made you tell her last time.

“I um…I can’t get myself off,” she muttered back. It was quiet, but not quiet enough to where you couldn’t hear her.

You simply nod, soon remembering that she couldn’t see you right now. “Alright, um…do you have your boxers on, then?”

“No—I mean, yes I do, but I don’t mean this…I need you to come over.”

You scoff at her through the phone. She truly can’t be serious. Having to do this over the phone would already be difficult enough for you. But to sneak yourself out in the middle of the night to do so? It was going to be too much.

“Abby, you can’t be serious right now—“

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that…My dad isn’t even home right now, please?”

“Okay, but my dad is.” You reply to her instantly. “There’s no way I’m gonna be able to get out of my house without waking him up.”

You keep trying to tell her that it’s not going to work out, but Abby continues to beg about it. As much as you wanted to, it clearly wasn't the right time to do so. But eventually, you just had to give in.

“Okay, fine! I’ll come over…” you said, quickly lowering your voice down. “Just…just give me five minutes.”

After hanging up the phone, you get up from your bed, taking the time to stretch in the process. Grabbing the first pair of shoes you find, you quickly slip them on before grabbing your phone and keys and exiting your room.

Once you’ve shut the door, you begin to tiptoe down the hall as to not wake up your father. The door of Joel’s bedroom was slightly cracked open, and you could see that he was fast asleep. You quietly pass by his bedroom and make your way down the stairs, praying that the wood doesn't start creaking from the weight of your footsteps.

Before you know it, you’ve successfully made it out the door, and you begin to cross the street to Abby’s place. Once you’ve made it to her front door, your phone buzzes again.

“Abby: there’s a spare key under the mat.”

Jesus. The least she could’ve done was to have let you in her own house, especially since you had to do most of the work sneaking yourself out.

You reach down and slide your hand under the doormat, quickly finding the key that was hidden underneath before unlocking the door and letting yourself in. It’s the first time you’ve been inside Abby’s house, and you’re not bothered to even get a good look at it, you just needed to find her right now.

After wandering throughout her house for what feels like forever, you finally find her bedroom. Not even bothering to knock, you simply walk in to see Abby lying in the center of her bed, her long blonde locks draped over her shoulders, and her muscle tank covering her top half while the rest of her body was covered with her duvet from the waist down.

“Hey,” she pants out, propping herself up on her bed to get a better look at you. “I’m so sorry I had to—“

“Sit up,” you tell her, cutting off her sentence.

“What?”

“You heard me. Sit up.”

You then walk your way over to the left side of her bed and kneel on the ground, causing Abby to scramble around and sit up from her bed. Once you’re settled on the ground, she’s got her legs hanging off the bed, and you can see that she doesn’t have anything on underneath.

“Thought you said you had your boxers on,” you told her.

“I-I did…I just couldn’t wait for you to get here…” she replies, looking away from you as she does so.

“And you say I’m the needy one…” you mutter to yourself. You then spread Abby’s legs open, revealing her pussy to you. Despite how truly annoyed you were that she made you have to sneak out in the middle of the night, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be touching her like this right now…because your mouth was practically watering at the sight of her wet pussy.

Without hesitation, you insert two of your fingers inside her. Her body jerks back for a moment at the sudden touch, before soon settling down, letting her pussy relax around your fingers.

It seemed like Abby was trying to compose herself right now because you could hear how hard she was trying to hold back her whimpers and whines as you kept slowly pumping your fingers in and out of her.

“M-More…” she whispers out to you, trying her best to not sound needy.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You asked, eyes still fixated on her pussy.

“I-I need more, please…” she responds, her voice just a little louder this time.

You look up at her as your fingers continue to move inside her pussy, your movements not stopping as you maintained eye contact with her. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific than that, Abigail, or else I’m not giving you what you want,” you tell her sternly.

You can easily see her trying to hold back her frustration right now, and you were honestly enjoying it. The fact that you’ve put her in this state of submission outside of her usual cocky persona truly has you beaming with pride.

“I—fuck—I need your mouth, p-please…” she whines out to you, hands gripping onto the sheets as your fingers curl into her g spot.

“See, there you go…That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” you tease back at her before leaning in and attaching your mouth to her clit as you continued to finger her.

It didn’t take long for the speed of your fingers to increase inside her pussy and for your mouth to suck harder on her throbbing clit. Between the pleasure you were giving her and the whimpers and moans that were escaping from her mouth, you can’t help but feel the need to take care of yourself down there.

As you continue to eat Abby out, your non-dominant hand begins to trail its way down into your shorts and slide below your underwear. You instantly feel a sense of relief once your fingertips reach your clit, rubbing it gently as you continued to give Abby the pleasure she needed.

You began to whimper and moan into her pussy, the vibrations from your mouth causing chills to rush through Abby’s body as she tried to chase her orgasm.

Her pussy soon began to clench around your fingers more than usual, indicating that she was close. You briefly removed your mouth from her pussy to speak to her, quickly replacing it with your thumb in the meantime. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?” you asked, looking up at her.

Abby nodded quickly in response. “Y-yes, fuck, p-please don’t stop…” she whined out, quickly grabbing your head with one hand and pushing it back into her pussy while her other hand grips onto the edge of her bed.

You were practically being suffocated in between her strong thighs right now, but you could honestly care less. You weren’t stopping until she finished. You continued to desperately moan and whine into her pussy as you kept rubbing your needy clit with your other hand, trying to chase your orgasm as well.

“Oh fuck, baby, right there, I’m gonna—Fuck!”

Abby tried her best to warn you, she really did, but before you both knew it, her release was already spilling out of her pussy and onto your fingers and mouth, causing you to greedily drink up every last drop of her before slowly removing your mouth and fingers out of her.

Once Abby had recovered from her orgasm, she looked down at you just in time to see you take your other hand out of your shorts. She kept her eyes on your fingers, admiring how they were covered in your release as a result of the pleasure you just gave to her.

She brings her hand down to your chin and lifts it to meet her eyes with yours. The deja vu feeling was hitting her now the second she saw your pupils blown out once again, just like how you were not even a week ago when you went down on her under her desk while she was sitting across from her father.

You hesitate for a moment before soon making the effort to stand up to her height, bringing your two fingers that were coated in your slick up to her lips.

“Clean them up,” you commanded.

Abby nodded as she held the hand that was put to her mouth before parting her lips and sucking your fingers clean. Her eyes were trained on yours, maintaining eye contact as she did so.

“There you go, just like that…” you mutter out to her quietly.

Once they were clean, Abby removed your fingers from her mouth, making a slight pop sound as she did so. You lean in to plant a kiss on her lips, tasting a bit of yourself from her lips and vice versa. You then reach down to grab your phone and keys before walking towards her bedroom door to leave.

However, you pause in your tracks for one moment and turn your head around to look at her fucked out self one more time.

“I’ll see you at the bake sale.” you reminded her, that same smirk appearing now on both of your faces before you turned back around and exited her bedroom, now leaving her by herself.

Well, it’s safe to say that Abby was going to have to return the favor for you real soon.

- a/n: i have to admit this one’s not my best work, it was my first time writing sub abby y’all believe me i tried my best 🙏🏻

also, i don’t usually self promote my fics but i did post my first dina fic the other day, it’s called overnight sensation and it’s a smau series. i’ve spent a lot of time and effort in making that fic so far so it’ll truly mean a lot to me if you guys could check it out 🤍

but other than that, i’ll see you guys in part 3!

tags 🏷️: @abbyscherry @whore4abby @zombholic @aouiaa @uraesthete @lia-winther @gaptoothedlesbo @deadbolted @abbysfavewh0rx @echostinn @mochiivqi @floptron @totallyghostdgirl @swtsuna @bellaramslover @naomis-daydream @ur-fav-pixi @sirenbxby @paprikahoernchen @thesevi0lentdelights @mostlyhornyandsad @tohoko

(^ i think that’s everyone?? let me know if i missed anyone/if you’d like to be tagged in the real part 3 LOL)

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yandere-daydreams · 9 months

Text

tw - sex doll au, implied dub/con, unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, and generally depraved behavior.

You're starting to wonder if you should've gotten a different pair.

You knew what you were getting into when you decided that, of all the androids in Teyvat's stock, you were going to be one of the few brave souls that dared to put two members of the Akademiya Collection that weren't Tighnari and Cyno under the same roof. The salesperson had cringed as you made your selection, your more tech-savvy friends pursed their lips and asked if that was really for the best, and you couldn't mention your specific preferences on any public message board without being berated off the platform entirely. You didn't care, thought. The heart wants what it wants, and apparently, your heart wanted two burnt-out post-grads to rail you into next week.

That's what you told yourself until you got Alhaitham and Kaveh home, at least.

The bickering, you were prepared for. You weren't surprised by the constant passive-aggression, the subtle pokes at Alhaitham's arrogance and Kaveh's bleeding heart, and you managed to stomach it the first time your dreams of a multi-major threesome were dashed because Kaveh mentioned some ancient philosophical principle and Alhaitham couldn't resist the opportunity to correct his wording and you were left bouncing yourself on Alhaitham's cock while he dispassionately flipped through a textbook you haven't opened since you were an under-grad. Minor hiccups, nothing you couldn't forget about when Kaveh buried his face between your thighs or Alhaitham split you open on his fingers while reading your latest research paper aloud, denying you an orgasm for every grammatical error. That part, you wouldn't trade for the world.

The jealousy, though - you could live without that. You've heard that there's supposed to be fail-safes for this kind of thing, measures the developers take to make sure any companion droids can co-exist without tearing each other apart, but their mutual distaste seems strong enough to overwhelm whatever barriers their creators put in place. You've lost count of the number of times there's been a false-alarm in some other part of your apartment while you're on your knees at Alhaitham's feet, how many times Alhaitham's flawless hardware has suddenly 'malfunctioned' while Kaveh has your ankles propped on his shoulders.

Not getting laid, you can deal with, but it's a little hard to be so forgiving when Kaveh spends the better half a day pouting because you took Alhaitham to work and left him at home, when Alhaitham deletes your registered commands from his memory bank because you had the nerve to take Kaveh to a farmer's market that that he'd rather die than step foot in. You've tried to be fair, to divide your time evenly, but they're not happy with that, either. Neither of them would ever say it out loud, but it's clear enough that they both want to be the center of your attention. It'd be cute, if they weren't so spiteful.

The only thing worse than their jealousy is when they put aside their spitefulness, their petty arguments, and decide to agree on the only thing they can ever agree on: that their beloved 'master' should be the one to make up for all those hours of neglect. It's a little like your fantasies, but not quite; your chest pressed against Alhaitham's Kaveh's chin resting on your shoulder, the former inside of you while the latter whispers sweet-nothings against the curve of your throat. It's more violent than anything you ever would've expected from two men so scholarly, more aggressive - teeth buried in your skin, bruises in the shape of their palm painted across your thighs, fingers forcing their way past your lips whenever you so much as consider using your safe-word. You're left strung-out for hours after they're done with you, and Kaveh's free to press himself against your side while Alhaitham tries to pass himself off as the caretaker he so clearly isn't. It's the only time they don't waste their breath on bickering. It's the only time they ever get along.

It's the only time you don't have the strength to focus on anything but your two precious, precious androids.

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qwimchii · 7 months

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𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 4) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘸𝘤 — 3.4k

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

note: omg okay i know this is so short but i promise i will be posting the next part (which is quite long!) in a couple of daysss so here's some more flirting and angst for you!! >< also thank you for all the love and support for this series :,))

you couldn’t keep your sworn promises against Simon for long.

the next day, you were already back in the basement of the church for another support group meeting. it was mid-day, and you were showing the progress of your individual projects in the past week.

Kate had forced you and Simon, re-masked and clad in black, to sit side by side, leaving you itching with exasperation, because if you thought it couldn’t get more awkward than when you first met, it was so much worse now.

he made more progress with the sewing project than you had believed he could—a third of his box already finished, you realized, as he presented its contents to the rest of the girls who practically cooed over him.

they almost went ballistic when he pulled out your old hello kitty pouch you lended to him. his glare boring into the side of your face, you scrambled to explain that he borrowed the materials from you—including the pink pouch. they all deflated, the smiles dropping from their faces, and you bit a snort at the way Simon relaxed back into his seat.

he really hates attention, you noted, then wiped the thought from your mind, because since when were you keeping mental notes on him?

the rest of the meeting continued on, dull and boring, till Kate applauded the group for its progress and announced that you all would be going on a little field trip to the pumpkin patch a couple streets down.

your mouth went stale. pumpkin carving. you almost forgot you’d be sharing that activity with Simon as well.

you glanced at him, finding him already gazing at you, eyes quickly flitting away when your eyes met his. you cocked your brow at him.

weirdo, you thought, though it came out half-hearted and made your stomach feel all warm and gooey.

you attached yourself to Maya and Sarah the whole walk there, Simon a few steps behind, and flanked by some girls who were eager to get in a few words with him. Iris, a married woman, was one of them, you noticed with a little burst of annoyance.

looking back at him from over your shoulder, Iris flush by his side, you sent Simon a nasty glare and his eyes only narrowed, head tilting like he was confused, but your head snapped forward with a hmph, promptly ignoring him again.

you practically stomped the rest of the way, Sarah and Maya locked in conversation with a couple other girls who paid no attention no mind to your strange behavior. by the time you neared the farmer’s market, your outburst had dwindled, and you were conversing with the girls intermittently, craning your head to get a look at the little pumpkin patch.

side-stepping to catch a glimpse of the market’s vegetable booth outfront, you were totally unaware of the biker making his way down the sidewalk from behind, you would’ve crashed into him if a strong arm didn’t hoist you over by your waist.

you shrieked as the biker whizzed by without a second thought, clutching at the arm snug around your waist.

“careful,” Simon hissed, voice rough and throaty in your ear as he set you down. he smoothed your shirt of the creases he had just created, touch warm against your clothes.

scrambling from his grip, you mumbled a meek sorry, flushed with embarrassment as the other girls checked on your well-being.

“are you okay?” Sarah asked, face flicked with concern and you just nodded quickly, throat tight when you noticed Maya’s eyes dart from you to Simon (who you stubbornly ignored) then back to you again.

Sarah followed Maya’s gaze and strung an arm through yours, pulling you close between her and Maya when she whispered, “what’s going on between you and Simon?”

“nothing,” you hissed, knowing how unconvincing it seemed.

Maya eyed you carefully. “what happened when you went home together last night?”

your throat only tightened at the memory. “literally nothing. he was kind enough to offer me a ride home and i invited him inside for one drink. just one.”

she nodded slowly, but looked completely unconvinced.

Sarah added with a sincere look, “i thought you didn’t… you know, hang out with guys.”

you grimaced. “i don’t.”

she pursed her lips, sharing a look with Maya, though it wasn’t unkind.

“i’m happy for you,” she said with a light smile, patting your cheek. “i’m happy you’re friends with Simon now.”

you bit back a groan. “we’re not—”

Kate shushed you from the head of the group and you jolted, completely unaware that she had been talking at all. you screwed your lips together at the glare she sent you, sending her a ferocious one of your own, and her face twitched with brief amusement before turning back to the group and dishing out some instructions.

it was simple—you’d be helping some kids from the local daycare pick out their own pumpkins to paint. not so simple was the part where you’d be helping in pairs.

moping, you trudged over to stand beside Simon, still refusing to look at him, and filed into a line on the sidewalk to cross the street. at the farmer’s market, some kids were running around, screaming and shouting and squealing as they played.

you let the smile creep onto your lips at the sight of one of the little girls in a yellow raincoat and big, red rain boots even though it was sunny as ever outside. she ran past you, slowing with a shy look, curls bouncing against her head, before she ran off again to play with her friends.

soon enough, the group dispersed, moving around with the daycare teachers to help the kids. you stood by Simon for a long moment in silence. taking one glance at the hulking man, covered in black, to decide that he needed to take off the surgical mask.

you pointed to your face, mouthing mask, and you were dismayed when his eyes narrowed, slowly shaking his head.

you rolled your eyes. “it’s for the children.”

he sighed, ripping the black mask from his face and crumpling it into his hand, shoving it into his pocket.

you nodded in approval, moving to help one boy struggling to pick up a pumpkin half the size of him. with the softest words you could muster, and a gentle tap on his shoulder, you willed him to move over and let you do it. he relented, and you picked up the pumpkin with a huff of breath, carrying it over to the pick-up truck on the side of the road where you were instructed to put the pumpkins. the boy happily skipped beside you, singing out a thank you as you pushed the gourd across the bed of the truck, smiling after him as he ran off again.

looking back to where your partner was, you bit back a snort at the sight of a couple kids shyly prodding at him, two running circles around him, another hanging off his outstretched arm.

he stooped down to pick up a big pumpkin when a little girl pointed to one, the little girl in a yellow raincoat and curls, clapping with excitement when he did it with only one hand. the kids bumbled after him as he walked toward you, your heart swelling at the relaxed, content look on his face, saying something to a little boy tugging on his pant leg, another girl clutching at his hand.

when he stopped in front of you, eyes flitting between you and the pumpkin in his hand, you let out a soft oh, snapping out of whatever daze the sight had put you in, and you hoisted up the heavy thing, struggling to push it into the bed of the pick-up truck. two arms came flush around your shoulders and helped you lift it, chest flush to your back and his breath by your ear as he shoved it back so it knocked against the other pumpkins.

“thanks,” he said, voice gravel and breath warm on your neck before he stepped back. your throat closed up, unable to choke anything back except a low hum and nod.

he let the kids drag him back towards the pumpkin patch, a couple of them demanding that they hang from his arms. in response, he held out an arm, and two boys latched on, swinging with squeals as he walked.

your stomach roiled. shit. he was good with kids. in a silent, calm sort of way.

nothing like your own father, an faraway voice ruminated with awe, and you immediately quelled the thought, the fast thud of your heart in your throat deafening. shit. was this what he meant by maturity?

as much as you tried to rid yourself of the thoughts, it was almost impossible, spiraling around your mind as you helped the kids till they had effectively filled the back of the pick-up truck with an array of different shaped gourds of varying colors.

meeting in a big circle to close the event, the pack of daycare kids said their thank yous and bid their goodbyes, that little girl in a yellow raincoat hanging off Simon even as the rest of the kids were following their teachers back to the little daycare. he had to pry her from him, saying something in a low tone that you couldn’t make out from across the circle, till she nodded with hesitancy, sending him one last bashful look, before scurrying off to join the line of kids filing down the sidewalk from the farmer’s market.

beside you, Maya stared at Simon with a sort of reverence you had never seen on her before, and your heart almost shattered at the sight. curling an arm around her shoulders, her eyes dragged from Simon to you with a confused look. you just returned it with a light smile, beginning a ramble about the events of the day that Sarah happily chimed into, adding her own stories and thoughts with an animated nature.

Kate thanked your group for all the help, dismissing you to the rest of your sunday evenings, and you startled when she made a beeline directly for you, plucking you from the conversation as the rest of the girls began discussing where they’d be eating dinner.

“walk with me,” Kate said sharply, a tight smile on her lips as she looped her arm into yours. you had no time to protest before she was tugging you down a path through the pumpkin patch, away from the rest of the group.

when you looked back, you pretended to not notice Simon staring after you, a couple other girls, including Iris, still flush by his side.

“i heard from a little birdie that you and Simon have been getting along well,” Kate said, and you rolled your eyes.

“i know you’re talking about Sarah, Kate.”

she grimaced by your side. “right. Sarah. she told me.”

you gave her a long look. “i know you asked Sarah, Kate.”

she ignored you this time, stopping when you were at the edge of the forested park beyond the farmer’s market. you were ready for her to begin lecturing you—commanding you to explain yourself and the strange, tense atmosphere between you and Simon…

instead, she asked, a foreign tinge of plea in her words, “how is Simon doing?”

you blinked at her. “how is he doing?”

she nodded. “how is he doing?”

“i…” with a murky feeling of guilt, you realized hadn’t really taken the time to consider it. “i think he’s alright.”

she sighed out, fishing around her pocket, pulling a cigarette from it, and a lighter from her breast pocket.

“do you mind?”

you just shrugged. you were used to the smell from working at the auto shop, your dad going through a pack a day bent over cars to complete an endless list of repairs. it’s no wonder he passed so soon.

pushing the old, stale thoughts away, you pried Kate. “why? is everything alright?”

she took a long drag, politely turning her head to the side to exhale out against the chilly fall air. “just between you and me hon’, i worry for him.”

you rolled your eyes, pushing her shoulder playfully. “he’s a big boy. i’m sure he can handle himself.”

she gave you a wistful smile. “something like that.”

your brow quirked, eyeing the tired look on her features carefully. “sounds like there’s stuff you’re not telling me, Kate.”

she sighed long and heavy. “i was the one who kind of forced him to do this thing. i’m surprised he hasn’t walked away screaming bloody murder already.”

your brows raised slightly. “why’s that?”

she just chuckled in a dark, mirthless tone, brushing back her hair. “s’just not in his nature. he refused to go to a personal therapist, so i offered the group thing to him instead. i honestly think he’s just doing it to make me happy. or maybe to make me finally leave him alone.”

you swallowed hard, thinking back to the dirty blonde man, tall with a heavy build, skin surprisingly warm to the touch. you weren’t foreign to the same beliefs, avoiding personal, one-on-one therapy your entire life because the vulnerability of it was too…

you grimaced.

“has he told you anything?” she asked suddenly, and you frowned.

“what do you mean?”

“has he opened up at all?” she rephrased, and you blinked at her, unsure what to say.

“he has,” was all you confirmed, and she nodded, looking a bit relieved.

“good. good to hear.”

with that, the conversation ended, and you walked a step behind Kate to the girls who were still chattering about dinner and, somewhat unsurprisingly, Simon nowhere in sight. though the vacancy of his presence still felt eerie.

Sarah pulled you to her, pointing down the street, saying they’d be going to a comfy little joint known for soups and sandwiches, but after your conversation with Kate, your stomach roiled with discomfort. waving them off, you promised that you’d join next time, feeling guilty from all their kind remarks—no, come with us, no, we’ll miss you—but you took off in the direction of the church, ready to rid yourself of all the crawling, creeping sensations of your body after the day’s events.

in time, the familiar white church emerged from the mist, looking ominous in the foggy weather. you swallowed, pushing through its double doors, a thick, eerie silence muffling any sound in chapel except for your footsteps.

quickly, you descended down the stairs, and strode down the hallway, opening the doors to the meeting room and making a beeline for your box of costumes. Simon’s had already been taken, you noted, assuming he had made early headway back to the church for the materials. with a shiver, you carefully laid out each costume over one another into the box and snapped the lid shut, shivering violently from that draft that passed through the basement as you picked up the box and turned when—

“cold?”

you screamed. a real, long scream ripped from your throat as you scrambled backwards and crashed into a chair, dropping your box that split in half, its contents spilling out over the floor again. you tumbled to the floor, and once the world stopped spinning, you groaned out, forehead against the carpet.

“what the fuck, Simon,” you hissed, pushing yourself slowly off the ground. Simon, remasked, was already half-way to you, holding out a tentative hand that clenched and unclenched in the open air.

you just held up a hand. “don’t.”

he nodded, straightening, before edging closer to you with an open palm.

you sighed out, taking his outstretched hand and letting him pull you to your feet. you rubbed at your shoulder that had slammed against a chair in your fall.

“are you alright?” he asked slowly, voice thick and rough, and you just let out a tight laugh.

“m’fine. don’t worry,” you said, stooping down to pick up the costumes, wincing at the new soreness of your body.

Simon immediately pushed away your hands, crouching down to lay the costumes in your box, so you moved to right the chairs again. but he was over in a flash, doing it for you.

huffing with frustration, you chided him, “Simon.”

but he ignored you, standing up two other chairs before moving back to the halloween costumes strewn over the floor, careful with each one.

“you have really got to stop scaring me like that,” you grumbled, watching him put the lid back on the box, snapping down the sides.

he paused, stock still a moment. when he didn’t respond, and didn’t even move, you stared at the back of his head with a new confusion.

“Simon—?”

“sorry,” he said under his breath, still not moving.

you blinked, shifting closer to him, and edged around so you could see the eerily blank expression on his face as he stared forward on an untrained point.

you dropped to a crouch beside him. “is everything alright—?”

“i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

you stared at the side of his face, your jaw dropping with dismay, then closing again. “it’s okay. you didn’t mean to scare me.”

he shook his head, dark eyes finally moving over to hold your gaze. “i meant yesterday.”

with that, you flushed. “oh.”

he meant last night.

“i shouldn’t have said all that stuff,” he grumbled, avoiding your gaze now.

his words were sharp. “just forget that i said anything.”

a cutting ache speared your chest. forget everything he said?

“you didn’t mean it?” you squeaked, unsure what to say.

he stood, taking your box with him. you straightened slowly, taking the box from his hands. his eyes were on yours but you felt like he was looking straight through you.

“yeah. none of it.”

weakly, you nodded, your whole body feeling heavy as you left the meeting room. a murky, damp feeling weighed down your chest.

you both walked out the church in silence, Simon just a step behind you, and the mist against your skin enveloped you in a bone-chilling suffocation.

you were hyper aware of Simon’s gaze on you as he watched you pop open your trunk and shove the box of costumes inside. closing it, you turned to him, his own box of costumes in his hands. you would’ve laughed at the sight, such a big, burly military man and his own box of sewn items, the pink, hello kitty pouch stacked on top the lid, but the laughter couldn’t find you through the mist.

you don’t need a ride? you had offered, but he had just shook his head, half-turning from you as he jerked his head down the road. s’just a fifteen minute walk.

you had grimaced, pressing, but what if it starts raining?

he had just shrugged. don’t worry about me.

then you had said goodbye, watching him walk away and into the mist. the problem was, whether or not you chose it, half of you had started worrying for him all the time.

you slid into your car, letting the heavy feeling consume you. turning on the ignition, your grip tight on the steering wheel, you bit back tears when the first drops of rain fell onto your windshield. you flicked on the fog lights and backed up out of the parking lot, pulling onto the road, rain coming down quicker now. by the time you reached your townhouse, which was just a block away, it was pelting, and the tears were streaming down your face.

you clutched at your chest, rubbing circles over it like Simon taught you. it didn’t seem to work nearly as much as when you were in his arms. the strong warmth of him pressed into you. his soft words by your ear.

leaning forward in your seat, your forehead came to rest against the horn of the steering wheel, uncaring for your tears that ran down the leather and the loud blare that cut through the evening, hoping the downpour would drown out the sound.

yeah. poor simon's walking home through the rain. he's probably crying too 😇

next part coming very soon you guys!!! happy halloweenings!!! (my senior halloween day is this thursday..... my friends and i are going as 2010 justin bieber and bringing selena gomez cardboard cutouts bc i think that's hilarious)

taglist: @kenma-izhu @actuallyhiswife @froggielottiee @neenieweenie @delaynew @ilovehyperfixating @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @tomorrowseverything @moonlqths @ivybeeloved @babygirl-riley @keiva1000 @arminarlertssword @crowbird @jasonloveclub @karurururu @embers-of-alluring @newsies-pape-girl @suhmie @amberpanda99 @mystsee @cosmoscoffee

@hunterofhonor @wawuwe @kunikku @corvusmorte @hearts4sky @aloudplace @justletmelivethanks @shadowdaddysposts @leclercdream @ayanokomu @thedevillovesflowers @thisuserloveshalloween @soundsfunbutno @enfppixie @tired-bi-ass @http-paprika @xaestheticalien @vonev @garfieldssocks @sapphire-read @moonstonedeluluere @killergoddess97 @cassiecasluciluce @xxkay15xx @mrflyingbanana03 @magneto-was-fucking-right @riverbutghost@palomaxaxaxa @hobiespick

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost angst #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #codmw2fanfic

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thatsdemko · 11 months

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Monaco lover - d.ricciardo

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

summary: with Daniel not racing, he begins to find new hobbies with his wife.

warnings: established relationships + fluff

a/n: only right I post for daniels bday!!

the basket in his hand is beginning to get heavier by the second, as you keep adding fresh fruits and vegetables from the little local farmers market.

you’re more than hours away from the loud music, busy streets, and the infamous Monaco circuit. your new home is a perfect escape from the city of formula 1.

it was Daniels decision to move away from the big lights and party animals after he no longer had a seat on the 2023 grid. he wanted a reset on life, and there was no perfect way to do it than far away from the cameras.

“you think we have enough to feed everyone?” you look at the overgrowing basket in his arms. leaves of lettuce and kale are hanging out brushing against his thighs as you walk up and down the slow streets.

“more than enough.” he assured you with a chuckle. it’s been weird to have Daniel home so often. you don’t hate it, formula 1 once took the man you loved and wore him down into a shell of himself. now away from the McLaren and happily in a reserve seat for Red Bull, you can begin to see that smile brighten everyday.

“well then let’s go home and wash everything, I’m starving.” you loop your arm through his and let him lead the way to your car, one he knows he won’t get caught or stopped in.

it’s not hard to be recognized, he’s had neighbors stop him while mowing the lawn or gardening with you, but they mostly respect your space unlike the people of Monte Carlo, where the flashing of cameras never stop.

“what are you going to eat first? those strawberries looked really tasty.” he sets the basket in the back seat, before opening your passenger door planting a sweet kiss to your lips.

“I was thinking about those peaches, but now that you say the strawberries, I might have to join you on that.”

“not if I finish them first.”

—

you can’t tell if he’s bored or if he genuinely enjoys cutting the grass, gardening, and the small town farmers markets. you know there’s a certain thrill he’s missing, and maybe he does all these things to occupy his mind of the itch to get back.

but right now, he’s deep into a conversation with your neighbors about the lawn and your backyard garden. he’s showing them the vegetables, herbs, fruits, and flowers he’s planted like they are his children.

it’s weird to you, to see him this way, because all you ever knew was Daniel ricciardo, the racer of fast cars. now he’s the friendly helpful neighborhood hand.

“so you and the misuses are going away next week? where to?” you watch Daniel mock the man’s stance, hands on his hips nodding along as they walk to the backyard.

“just Miami, we shouldn’t be gone for too long.”

“Miami? what are you doing down there?” he asks, quizzical look taking his face. the perks of being away from the chaos of Monte Carlo, meant not everyone in this little small town knew Daniel. and that included your elder neighbors who loved you both dearly.

“just some work stuff, nothing crazy.”

“I thought you were unemployed?”

Daniel laughs, you can hear it from where you sit on the couch, “it’s a lot more complicated than unemployed.” and it truly was, while Daniel was bringing home the big bucks from not driving for mclaren, he anxiously awaits an opportunity for a Red Bull seat this season. some say unemployed delusions, Daniel calls it optimism.

he shakes his head, “you kids these days, you keep me on my toes.” he pats Daniels shoulder, “make sure you two come over later for dessert, okay?”

“oh we wouldn’t miss it.” Daniel waves him off before going inside to find you still wrapped up in the blankets, but this time wide awake with a smile.

“you have fun with your friend?” you sit upright crawling onto your knees to meet him for a kiss. he just laughs wrapping his arms around your neck and pressing s kiss to those lovely lips he calls home.

“I hope when I’m older I turn out to be just like him. tan, happy, and always making dessert.” he laughs a little hoping his future turns out like that. he’s already got the most perfect wife, and soon enough he’ll have the most perfect little family.

“he does make some stellar desserts. his wife is lucky, I wonder when my husband will start making me desserts.” you joke recalling when Daniel attempted to make boxed brownies, and somehow burnt them to a cracker.

“I’ll just stick with growing you fresh fruit and veggies, how about that?”

“I’ll take it.”

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soov · 16 days

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KANG’S GARDEN ㅤ. . .ㅤ﹫ kang taehyun ★

꒰ 🧾 ꒱ farmer ! kang taehyun & fem reader, 1000 words. ㅤg fluff, non idol au, meet-cute, drabble. ㅤw brief mentions of food, revamped post from my old account.ㅤlibrary

sundays were your favorite day of the week.

it was on sundays that the town’s farmer’s market took place, where you could enjoy eating samples of fruits and organic jams. not only that, but especially talking to mrs. kang and her husband, the kind old couple that ran their family business “kang’s garden”.

the booth where they sold their products was near the outdoor market’s entrance. with a wooden sign (probably carved manually), a big plant pot, and multiple boxes, the place invited you merrily.

your shopping list for the week was the longest you’ve ever had. your family sent you alone to get the fruits and vegetables, something that you thought was completely unfair, but that’s what happens when you lose a rock paper scissors match against your sibling.

spotting the booth from afar, you clutched onto the eco bags you carried, rays of light kissing your face and feet dragging against the tall grass. as you neared the spot, the kang’s family dog came running up to you, a red bandana dangling from her neck.

“hey, apple! how is my good girl doing?” you beamed, petting the golden retriever happily. she tilted her head to escape from your affection and lick your hand. a laugh passed through your lips.

while looking up at the booth, the sight of beautifully cultivated vegetables greeted you. accompanied by it, the aroma of fresh chives and parsley filled your lungs up.

you leaned over to try to spot mrs. kang’s small frame from behind the counter, but only a tuft of cocoa-colored fluffy hair came into your view. quickly, a young man stood up with a box of tomatoes, glancing at you with wide eyes.

“oh, hello,” he greeted politely, putting the box aside. “welcome to kang’s garden. how may i help you today?”

the man dusted his hands off, fixing his dirty apron and the sleeves of his white button-up shirt, that had its collar poking out. he offered you a kind smile, faint dimples on both sides of his cheeks, just like the ones mrs. kang had. you were sure your mouth was hanging open from how effortlessly handsome the new attendant was.

he seemed a bit taken aback by your presence, though in reality, he simply found you as gorgeous as you found him.

“oh, right! i need everything in this list,” extending your arm to him, you let his calloused hands carefully pick up the paper.

his eyes traveled to each item mentioned, widening when he noticed how many of them you’d buy. “wow, are you planning on buying the whole shop?” he jested with a soft chuckle, handing back your page. “i’m sure i can give you a discount, so don’t worry about it.”

you inevitably pouted at his joke, leaving the paper on the counter, “you sure it’s not a problem? my parents went a bit overboard with the amount of food, no?”

“no, ‘course not.” the mysterious employee dismissed, hesitantly taking a small breath in. “do you want any help? i can grab the first half of the items and you grab the other half. does that sound good?”

“sounds great, thank you!” grinning at him in relief, you started picking up the carrots while he grabbed the bell peppers.

people passed by, and the sound of chatter and coins being tossed around was still booming around you two. the brunet was still fascinated by your nonchalant behavior, and how you seemed so used to being around the booth. taehyun thought he was extremely suave for taking glances at you every now and then, but you could feel his eyes on you easily.

with a last curious peek, he confidently rested his gaze on yours, maintaining the eye contact to strike up a new conversation, “do you like gardening?”

“i find it cool, but i never seem to get the hang of it.” you hummed. “the tomatoes i tried to grow died a week after i planted the cutting… what about you?”

“i do like gardening, but i don’t have much time for it since i’m always busy with college.” he affirmed before leaning back to grab a tomato from the box he brought earlier, showing it proudly to you. “i planted these, though!”

it shone bright red with the sun’s reflection on it, some droplets of water that he might’ve used to wash it dripping from the fruit, “woah, it looks so good.” you commented, not bothered by how he preened himself.

mumbling a shy “thank you”, he retrieved the tomato to its original place.

after a while of some awkward quietude, apple started sniffing you again, jumping on your side as a way to get your attention. you and the man took notice of this at the same time and called out her name — you in a playful tone, him in a reprimanding one.

as he realized you also knew his dog’s name, he frowned slightly, pausing his movements and letting the now beet root in his hand go with the others. happily, the golden retriever walked up to her owner. “you know apple?”

you got shocked by the sudden inquiry but replied nevertheless. “yeah, i’m a regular customer here, so i got to know her.”

“so you must know my parents then, right?” he laughed briefly, head turning down to resume his work.

“your parents…? you mean mr. and mrs. kang?”

he gave you a smile as he turned to you, nodding. however, his face fell and he fastly wiped his palm once again on his clothes. “i’m so sorry, i haven’t introduced myself yet,” he offered his hand to you. “i’m kang taehyun, the owners’ son.”

reality hit you with a truck when you realized he was the beloved son mrs. kang always mentioned, and the comment about college made everything click in your mind. you shook taehyun’s hand back in pure astonishment as if you had just met a celebrity. “y/n. it’s so great to finally meet you. your mom always tells me good things about you.”

“oh, does she?” taehyun scraped the back of his neck embarrassedly, a faint blush on his tanned face. “that sounds like her. she’s very kind to everyone.”

taehyun finished counting the vegetables and telling you the final price with the discount. as you rummaged through your wallet for the money, he realized that his mom did also mention a pretty girl who often visited the booth, and the description did match you. nevertheless, he stayed quiet, just hurriedly scribbling on a post-it note and sneaking it into one of your eco bags.

“thank you for buying with us. i’ll make an effort to be here more often and see you again.” the youngest kang gave you a toothy smile after the exchange ended, waving bashfully. apple barked right after his promise, officializing it.

“thanks, taehyun. i hope we’ll get to see each other soon,” you returned the wave and began to walk away.

“hey, y/n!” taehyun’s voice called out whilst you reached the entrance of the market. you spun around only to see him with an arm raised. “don’t forget to check if you’ve got everything in your bags!”

immediately, you opened the bags, superficially counting the food. a yellow thing caught your eye in one of them. the words you’d use to question him died in your throat, and the only sound that escaped from your lips was a quiet laugh.

“xXx–XxX if you’re free someday, i can teach you some gardening tricks. just call me and i’ll be there :)”

⠀ ⠀ SOOV © 2O24

ㅤ𝗿𝗲𝗶’s notes ⪩⪨ feeling silly for changing the pink hair to brown!!!!!!! sorry pink tae enthusiasts 🙁🙁

#ㅤ𝓡.#tomorrow x together #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt drabbles #txt scenarios #kang taehyun #kang taehyun x reader #kang taehyun fluff #kang taehyun imagines #taehyun x reader #taehyun fluff #txt taehyun #txt #tomorrow by together

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velvetures · 10 months

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Vulnerable pt.1?

A/N: A not-so-little thing I've had for a few weeks, and wanted to see if a part two was something anyone would be interested in reading. If so, please let me know. Summary: You try and get Ghost to relax after a harsh mission and find a bit of a quiet moment. T/W: not proofread :)

Bad intel led to you and your Lieutenant being nearly hunted down and killed by a not-so-small group of arms dealers who caught on quickly to the pair of foreigners lingering just a little bit too close to their sheltered storage garage right in the middle of a market district in the South East. The task force assumed sending in an entire squad would be overkill just for some simple recon information and decided that you and Ghost would be the perfect pair for the job. ‘In and Out…’ Price had said quite offhandedly, sliding the prepared information in two files across the table to you. Only Price’s sources hadn’t double-checked if the area was secure enough for them to enter without full backup on standby. Not necessarily a lethal kind of mistake when bringing you and the Lieutenant into the equation, but there were too many close calls and stray bullets that were clearly heard for either of you to feel super confident in getting away unscathed.

Your only savior was a small farmhouse that had been recently abandoned due to the illegal and dangerous activity that had been surrounding the small city. Modest in size with two bedrooms and running water. Perfect for a makeshift safe house to keep the trackers off your asses until an extraction could be arranged and put into motion. Contrary to belief, the 141 didn’t have the bottomless pit of resources everyone believed they had at their disposal. Which included access to evac and trained air-support teams. This wasn’t a big mission that had a lot of working parts and multiple organizations involved that had enough liquidated funds to through out for a helo and heavy gunners to rescue two operators from the middle of who-the-fuck-knows-where.

That means with busted equipment, inoperable comms, hardly enough ammunition to fight out of a wet paper bag, and zero way of knowing when and if you’d be rescued, there was nothing left to do but try and relax in one of the most difficult predicaments. It left you searching through cabinets for maybe some kind of food to keep the both of you while Ghost did one of his favorite things. Pacing the house from window to window looking for the slightest bit of movement. The trouble being, there wasn’t anything for at least two miles in any direction. The people who owned this place were farmers of some sort, and had placed their home right in the middle of crop fields that gave a very advantageous sightline. While that information gave you quite a bit of comfort, it was not effecting Ghost positively in the slightest.

Your relationship with the Lieutenant was complex, to say the least. When you were first introduced it was for a succession of short co-op missions that were nothing if not brief and very impersonal leaving you with more questions than answers about the man who stayed hidden under the mask. Through some talks that you hadn’t been privy to being in the room for, John Price decided that your skills would be more useful to Task Force 141 than for the U.S. Division of Clandestine Service and offered you a position that you couldn’t possibly decline.

By day-in and day-out contact with Ghost, you got a lot more comfortable with him and learned much of his little idiosyncratic behaviors. Maybe a little too well…. He didn’t particularly act much differently towards you in the grand scheme of things, but something in you felt like trust had been developed to where he could depend on you when the situation called for it.

“Go hit the rack, I’ll take first watch.” He called gruffly from the living room where he had moved a chair from the kitchen to sit facing the front door head on with his MP5 resting lazily on his chest.

You couldn’t help but notice just how damn tired he looked under all that gear and through the black smeared around his eyes. He couldn’t be carrying less than one hundred pounds on him right now; even sitting in that chair with it wasn’t a good enough solution. Let you take a moment or two for yourself, stripping out of your tac vest and heavily weighted gear to drop it on top of the kitchen counter with a little grunt. Two days ago you both got the luxury of sleeping, and since then it’s been nothing but being on the run.

This would be the safest place for you that wasn’t in the belly of an evac bird, and the thought of Ghost not taking the time to sleep sat in your mind like a lead sinker. Leaning against the doorway and watching him for a long moment, you start having thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Ones that normally wouldn’t surface if you’d been able to separate working with Ghost from the more personal aspect of literally sharing almost every part of your life with him. Thoughts about how you could make him feel better… even if just for the night. That no one was around for miles and whatever happened could safely stay between the pair of you.

By utter carelessness of your position with the team or lack of fear about how the Lieutenant might respond, you walk into the living room and kneel down right in front of him with your fingers reaching out to unlace his dusty boots. Off instinct alone, you expected and watched as his foot flinched away from you. His whole body jumps and stiffens at the contact and sight of you kneeling on the floor. He quickly pauses and collects himself, taking several moments before his gravelly voice breaks the silence.

“What’re you doin’ Sergeant?” His eyes grew heavy and showed more expression than the rest of his massive body as they flashed with confusion and a little swell of anger. That aloofness didn’t hide that slight guardedness of something that made him uncomfortable in one way or another.

“I’m perfectly capable of takin’ care of my fuckin’ self.” He adds with zero discernible sign of either offense or gratitude. You can’t help but smile tiredly, feeling like you’re attempting to soothe a feral wolf into letting you pull it’s paw out of trap.

“I never said you couldn’t L.T.,” You reply gently, reaching back to start unhooking the laces from their claws on his left foot. “Just thought you couldn’t use some affection.” Smirking to yourself, you can’t help but think something this small being considered ‘affection’ didn’t fit anyone save for Ghost. He was just too hard to approach. Walls so thick and tall that it would take someone with patience beyond that of a human to break through and see what rested behind all of that brash posturing and icy disposition.

“You know affection is something I’m averse to,” he utters, watching yet making no effort to stop you. “What you’re doin’ is unnecessary.” A small sound close to a growl escapes from behind the mask when my hand reaches to the back of his leg to help aid my effort of pulling his boot off.

Chuckling softly and sitting the boot down at your side you respond, “I know you don’t like affection,” You’re already working on the other one, purposefully moving slowly as not to overwhelm or spook him. “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it, L.T..” You can’t help but look up at him almost exhaustedly yet still trying to be reassuring.

“M’fine without it.” He spits out quickly, looking away from your face back down to your progress on the laces, his masked face otherwise unreadable. “Didn’t ask you for this shit, Sergeant.” Tinged with an undercurrent of irritation his deep voice sounds near the bridge of turning to anger.

“Mothering me isn’t in your best interest.” He growls low and threateningly in your face as he bends down to grab the boot sitting next to you and giving it a quick look of observation before sitting it back down closer to him. You just finish taking off his other boot and sit it down next to the other without much more of a verbal fight and put a hand on his thigh to steady your sore legs as you get back up to your feet.

“I’m younger than you Ghost, I can’t mother you.” You reply, holding out your hand for him.

He doesn’t make note or stop you from using him to help yourself up, however, Ghost follows your movements carefully… closely. He’s doing everything in his power to hide his emotions, but there’s still a faint twitch of his lips when he looks down at his boots sitting at his side. You’d done something very unusual, and he knew berating you was what he should’ve done. Yet a flinch of a smile was what really moved Ghost’s mouth. It’s gone before it even surfaces, pushed down by the sight. of you holding out your little hand in front of him. The sounds of his deep breathing fill the quiet house as you both sit there unflinching of each other. The Lieutenant shifts in his chair, readjusting his rifle on his chest.

“Go to bed. It’s late.” His repeated command felt softer now. Wavering a bit with you hand still held out and your fingers wiggling a little.

“Come on,” You hold steady and patient.

Reward comes in the form of feeling Ghost’s heavy and large hand falling into yours and gripping just hard enough to allow you the phantom sensation that you’re actually helping him up from the chair, hearing a short grunt as his back straightens up. Without explanation, you lead the Lieutenant through the small house back towards the only bedroom in the house with an actual bed left behind by the owners, pulling him to the center of the room and turning around to face him.

“Put your arms up for me.”

“Excuse me?” Ghost’s frown can be heard from behind the mask. Despite his apparent bewilderment, he hesitantly obeys, extending his arms above his head with an exhale of a tense breath, looking down at you with dark and questioning eyes. “What are you doing now?”

You just smile and hum to yourself softly, reaching out to begin unclipping and unzipping the sections of his tac vest holding it on his upper body and the multiple ammo belts. Carefully draping them over you shoulder as you release his body from them one by one. Seeing the way Ghost’s body sinks into itself with the weight being pulled off after days without rest. You feel his eyes scan over you, over your hands finding ways to take off his gear for the first time in your life, feeling your way through sunch an unusual yet careful act.

“Bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous…” He growls, covering up the feelings of not being so concealed by barking at you a little.

“Shhh.” Your hush does enough to stop his quiet and brooding complaints.

Long enough for you to kneel back down at his feet and work at the thigh straps over his pants and even remove the ankle holster you’d left alone while taking off his boots. He doesn’t resist this part, just watching you undress him bit by bit with half a mind questioning just what had happened for you to start acting so strangely. You’d always been sweet. Much nicer than your job allowed for. Yet even this was quite off the edge of the character Ghost had built for you over the years. This felt downright intimate for just two operators to be doing.

Then again your shared situation wasn’t exactly one of professionalism at this point. You’d been improvising for nearly a full day just trying to stay alive. Once back on your feet, you take hold of his hand again, this time with a little less caution since you’d already touched him there, and begin pulling at the fingertips to slide his sand and dirt-cakes gloves off. Even seeing his bare skin under his gloves be seen in the dim lamplight of the house, Ghost doesn’t do more than flex his fingers once you’ve rid him of the stiff material.

Purposefully avoiding his mask, you get Ghost down to nothing more than boxers and a t-shirt, even with his help at certain parts without him growling more or acting like you were irritating him. While he still gave off a feeling of all-around grumpiness and more than a little confused as hell, you paid it no mind as you led him towards the edge of the bed and pointed to it with a short yet polite command for him to ’sit’. Right away you noticed his hesitation and the way that his shoulders and arms tensed, his attention solely on you, flashing between your eyes and mouth like he was trying to reassure himself that he’d heard you correctly. But with one small tug on his hand, he turns around and sits on the bed with his feet resting on the floor and his arms braced on both sides of him a little stiffly.

“Now what?” His voice held a bit of rasp to it as he tracked your movement from his side, seeing you climb up into the bed and position yourself on your knees behind him. The close proximity didn’t go unnoticed by the Lieutenant as he cleared his throat, once again interrupting the calm silence in the house. His tension filled the small space between you, heating the gap of air, almost electrifying it.

“Just relax Ghost.” Easily touching his shoulders, you begin working your palms flat against the slopes of his muscled neck.

Purposefully but gently rubbing at the stiff cords of muscle and introducing the sensation to him as easily as possible in the case that it was a bit too overwhelming for him all at once. You knew you’d pushed the boundaries with him much further past anything you’d expected to achieve in one night. But now that he was sitting here in front of you, it was hard not to smile brightly that he was trusting you so much. Allowing your hands to be on him. Accepting that you had positioned the both of you in a very vulnerable position that could lead to a lot more violent options than affectionate ones. Torture and nightmares had given more than a fair share to Ghost, yet he was patiently staving off his own clear hesitation so that you could play out whatever this was turning out to be.

Your command went unacknowledged just like all of Ghost’s from earlier had; His breathing steadily slowing down into a deep and rich, relaxed sort of rhythm. Power of your hands and calming attitude worked faster than you anticipated, leaving the massive man sitting between your thighs begin to release. Tension falling out of his body not only under your hands but by sight of his jaw loosening. You’re even lucky enough to spot him trying to take glances at you from the corner of his eye, only to look back ahead since you were in quite the blindspot. Taking your thumbs in a sweeping motion from the edges of his shoulders inward, you apply pressure on the back of his neck and experimentally reach higher up under the hem of his mask. A dangerous game to play. Rumbling sounds of appreciation filling your ears are better than any sort of medal you could earn or bet you’d ever cash in. His head rolls back slightly with each small circle of your thumbs and fingers, pushing against you. Silently asking for more pressure.

“Feel good?” You ask at just a whisper, not wanting to disturb the warm sort of feeling the room has right now by speaking too loud.

Under the safety of his mask, Ghost’s mouth curves into a smile hearing you. He rolls his head back again, arching slightly to accommodate your small hands struggling to find good purchase to keep working at the intensity he’d been hinting at. A much less controllable sound escapes his mouth when you begin working at a very sore spot he didn’t even know was present right at the base of his skull.

“Keep going,” His sleepy-sounding mutter makes your chest ache.

Grinning at the feeling of his harsh accent and sudden domestication you work away diligently down his back carefully and methodically so as to not miss a single thing. And while it’s not necessarily going to help him much, you go ahead and use your fingernails to gently scratch up and down. It’s then a groan interrupts your focus and you see Ghost shift on the edge of the bed. Believing you’d found the end of your time, you leaned back on your heels and expected him to get up and leave you in the bedroom alone. Watching him tug at his t-shirt and pull it over his head to toss it somewhere across the room was how you were told that Ghost did indeed want more. Only his shirt was getting in the way of something he wasn’t getting.

Hearing him give a deep sigh when your fingertips returned to his now bared skin gave you a rush of adrenaline and nearly caused you to wiggle happily that you’d been able to share this with Ghost. He leans back into you a little more, letting your hands and arms take more of the weight as he groans out;

“You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, but not for a long time.” You answer, eyes smoothing over the muscles rippling as your hands work at them.

“You’re good,” He grunts, closing his eyes and zeroing in on how to focus his attention between your small hands working so efficiently and the conversation he’d begun. “How’d you get so good at it?” His head turns a little, trying to get at least one good look at you. He keeps shifting now, allowing him to keep you just in the edge of his periphery.

“Had a good teacher for a few years,” You answer, working in tight circles over a large ball of muscle fibers all collected just at the edge of his shoulder blade, earning another growling sound from the Lieutenant.

“Teacher? When?” He asks, giving a slow release of a deep breath giving a short indication that the muscle you’d been working to release was getting a bit uncomfortable. Pulling back for a moment just to give him and your hands a break, you hear him make a noise then lean back a little further, pressing his back against you almost like a dog wanting to be pet more.

“Don’t stop.” He requests in a husky tone. You chuckle aloud, returning your hands and taking a less aggressive approach by smoothing your palms over him in less-than-planned patterns, just enjoying feeling his tattooed and scarred skin under your hands as you think about how to answer him.

“A woman in London taught me,” you start, using your nails again on his skin softly. “In the year or so between my U.S. military discharge and acceptance into the task force with you.” You see the effect of your touch on Ghost as it takes him longer to respond and the way he keeps leaning more and more weight back into you, unable to keep himself from subconsciously trying to get closer. Wanting more whether he’d ever admit it or not. There’s no mistaking it between either of you, he’s enjoying this.

“I assume she was special to you.”

It was your neighbor just across the hallway from you. An older woman named Sarah. Eccentric in modern times, you’d always believed she must’ve been a force to be reckoned with when she wasn’t hindered by an aging body and an even more ailing mind. A massage therapist by trade, and a pianist by heart there wasn’t much that Sarah could accomplish without someone helping her once she became limited in movement living on the eighth floor of the apartment building you shared. Back then you didn’t have much in the way of contacts after leaving the country, and it led to a friendship with the old woman living across from you. Sharing stories, eating dinner together, grocery shopping together when she felt like going out, and trading some skills between each other. After telling Ghost this much with your fingers tracing out letters and shapes over his back, you can sense he’s listening carefully. And Ghost is feeling a slight fuzzy sensation building in the back of his brain, spreading out in a warm wave down to his fingertips and toes.

“She taught me massage since at the time I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my life.” Your head falls to the side, examining how the lamplight shines on ghost and deepens the already significant definition in his physique.

Ghost falls against you even more, and this time he lets his head fall back against you. Trying to counterbalance his weight and keep both of you from falling backwards with just him limp he’s becoming, you wrap on arm around his neck and hold his head in the bend of your arm. He gives another sigh, and settles against you heavily. He. looks at you in silence out of the corner of his eye listening to your explanation.

“Why was she your only friend?” You can’t help but chuckle at his question, resting your chin on his opposite shoulder and bringing your other arm under his to begin scratching and rubbing at his chest, feeling deep and puckered scars littering nearly every inch of him.

“I didn’t know anyone else. And you know me well enough to know that I’m not exactly extroverted.” You smile, tracing lightly up and down his well-defined arm. Ghost couldn’t be more comfortable laid against you.

“Sorry to hear that.” His voice low and husky with his mouth so close to your ear. “She must call or ask about you…”

You shake your head. “No. She died just before I joined you all. Her mind was… failing her. And there was some kind of accident in the middle of the night The police told me she was likely trying to get to the bathroom and fell. She apparently died on impact… they didn’t say what, but I think her head hit something.” You explain quietly. “And you and I both know that means lights out. So she didn’t suffer.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he answers as softly as he can manage after hearing the darker part of your happy memories. “How did it become… intimate, like this?” He asks, nodding to the way you were leaned up against his back with your hand tracing over every inch of him that you could reach. The longer you’ve both let this go, the more boundaries get pushed further out of reach, making it hard for either of you to really know where it could end.

You smile with a blush creeping up your neck onto your cheeks, thankful you’re somewhat hidden out of sight. “This isn’t really what she taught me,” You mutter a bit quiet. “When i was massaging you… yes. That I got taught. But this, it’s… just me.”

Out of your sight Ghost’s face flushes slightly as well, his cheeks a warm rose-color. You’re touching him in a way that he’d never expected. But hearing that you’re not just doing it for… relaxation, it’s a heavy but welcome thought. And Ghost can’t help that his body reacts to it with chills raising all over his skin despite the house being perfectly warm. He lets out a deep breath focusing on your words, repeating him over just to ensure that you’re not saying it one way and him interpreting it differently due to your hands being all over him, making him feel so good. Mind racing, heart pounding, he truly realizes just how vulnerable he is under you at this moment.

“I can stop if you’d like?” You offer, preparing to move away from him.

“No,” His hoarse voice gives away his sudden dry mouth. No matter how much your touch is affecting his body, he’s not willing to stop you right now. You’ve crossed into a level of trust that he can’t think to make you abide by anymore. It’s a foreign feeling for him, but he wants to push through it. Hoping he can feel more of you if he just holds on a little longer to this.

“Don’t stop."

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated <3

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures

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klausinamarink · 4 months

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When Life Gives You Pickles, Make It Into Soup

rating: G | cw: none | wc: 920 | tags: established relationship, domestic bliss, soup | prompt: Love is silently passing them a pickle because you know it’s their favourite

written for @steddielovemonth

“So Gareth was supposed to stay on the drums, right?” Eddie waves his hands in the air where he sits on the counter. “That’s like his whole thing since he joined the band.”

“Okay.” Steve nods, glancing over at Eddie as he starts sliding the chopped carrots and potatoes into the pot from the cutting board.

“But during practice, which was today, he says that he wants to play bass guitar. Which, in another day, I would be completely cool with and the other guys will be like, ‘Yeah, Gareth, follow your heart’s intent and pick another instrument that calls out to you.’”

“That’s what you would say.” Steve points out just because he knows that Eddie’s that kind of person who says such long-winded compliments. He fills the pot with cold water from the sink, just barely remembering to throw in a pound of the meat bones to complete the broth.

“Okay, yeah, I said that.” Eddie rolls his eyes. Then he raises an index finger, pointing it up to the ceiling for no particular reason. “But I didn’t! I said none of that because Gareth said he wanted to change instruments today. The day before we will have our venue show!”

Steve drops his mouth open in a wide ‘O’ because he’s that invested in the secret drama of Eddie’s band. “He didn’t.”

“He did.” Eddie shakes his head mournfully. “You can imagine our reactions.”

Steve hums, opening the jar of pickles and plucking one out to pass it to Eddie. Eddie takes it and bites it without a second thought. There’s a couple pickles left in the jar since Steve had already blended the brine earlier so his boyfriend could finish them.

After a few chews and swallows, Eddie continues his tale of mutual devastation, still oblivious to Steve’s cooking. Good. Because this has been in Steve’s plans for weeks ever since he went to the farmer’s market and struck a lovely conversation with that Polish couple. He watches the boiling pot, making sure his attention is perfectly divided between the timer and Eddie’s story.

“-and then Jeff said, ‘How about I switch with the bass, Frankie does the second guitar, and you do the drums?’ I told him, ‘Don’t you remember my last time playing with the drums?’ Jeff just said, ‘Oh yeah, right.’ Then-”

Setting the stove’s temperature down to shimmer, Steve slowly pours in the blended pickle in the broth, mixing it together. He sees Eddie has finished his pickle so Steve passes him another.

This time, Eddie ferociously tears a chunk off, green acid spitting out as he speaks with a full mouth, “Eventually, it was Gareth who finally stood himself up and said, ‘Yeah, you’re totally right, I shouldn’t switch out before tomorrow’s gig. But I’m still doing bass after that's done.’”

“So who’s doing the drums?” Steve crosses his arms, leaning his hip on the counter besides Eddie.

“That’s the thing!” Eddie throws his hands up. Unfortunately, so does the half-eaten pickle. It hits the ceiling with a tiny splat. The two men stare up at it, Steve with genuine surprise and Eddie with horror. Before Eddie can splutter out apologies, Steve wordlessly kisses him and gives him the last pickle from the jar. Eddie carefully eats the whole thing with a bright-red face and eyes pointed downwards. Cute.

Steve double checks the soup. The lid’s so steamed over that he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s been stained completely white. He takes that cue to take it off and shut the stove for it to cool.

Eddie finally speaks, “Yeah, we have no idea who our drummer could be. Like, Gareth’s good but neither of us are. Frankie has good rhythm but he’s better with guitar. I can’t drum for shit. Same with Jeff.”

“Bet that’s a problem for Future Eddie and his friends.” Steve quips, slowly mixing the soup around.

Eddie barks out a laugh. He hops off the counter and stands behind Steve, peeking over at the pot. “This smells delicious by the way. What soup is it?”

Steve makes a shushing gesture to which Eddie responds by biting his shoulder. Steve rolls his eyes and contemplates if he should put in the half and half cream now. The Polish woman at the market had said it was better to wait for the soup to cool enough before adding the cream and parsley. He shrugs and just dumps it anyway.

He retrieves the bowls and scoops a good amount of the soup. “Careful, it’s still hot.” Steve warns as he passes it to Eddie’s eager hands. “And eat at the table this time.”

Eddie sticks a tongue out at him but does so. Steve watches with bated breath as Eddie carefully blows on his spoon before closing his mouth around it. He sees the exact second when Eddie’s eyes widen and his body going stock still. For a terrifying moment, Steve worries that he had messed up the recipe and Eddie was going to spit it out in disgust.

But within a blink of an eye, Eddie’s standing in front of him. Hands clenching tightly on his shoulders while his eyes start watering.

“Sweetheat,” Eddie says oh-so softly, “did you make soup from pickles… for me?”

Steve smiles at him sweetly and gently squeezes Eddie’s wrists. “Pickles are your favourite after all.”

Naturally, Eddie cries his eyes out with blabbering declarations of his unending love for Steve. Steve is more than happy to hold his boyfriends and return those favors.

#if anyone makes me pickle soup we shall have an autumn wedding #klaus writes #steddie #stranger things #steddielovemonth

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pennylanefics · 9 days

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Farmer's Market - Quinn Hughes

a/n: trying my hardest to find motivation for these so i can keep getting them out :) i'm still 10 days behind but it doesn't entirely matter. anyways. enjoy as always! <3

sumarry: you and quinn tape a trip to your local farmer's market and he buys you a special present when you are distracted

word count: ~1.4k

Every Saturday in your little Vancouver town, there’s a farmer’s market that’s filled with fresh fruits and vegetables, homemade goods like jams, chocolates and baked goods, and even handmade items, ranging from jewelry to shirts, and even decorations.

When you first moved here, Quinn wasn’t too keen on the idea, mainly because he liked to go on a run Saturday mornings and then clean things around the house. But the third week that you had been living there, he agreed to move his routine around and went with you.

Since then, he’s made it a habit of going for a run early in the morning before you are even awake, coming back to shower, get ready with you, and head into town for the market. There are some days where the weather is bad so you are unable to go, but weather permitting, you try to make it every week, just to have some fresh fruit in the house.

Quinn also loves picking out a new dessert to snack on for the week, talking with the people that make his favorite goods about how it was, if he disliked anything about it, and what he was wanting to try this week.

Your favorite item from them was slices of banana bread that they make fresh every Friday, with pieces of walnut mixed into the soft, cake-like structure; that was one thing you made sure to get every week.

As you and Quinn drive into town, it was a cloudy spring day, and both of you were dressed appropriately, in cozy sweaters, yours you actually bought locally made from the market by a vendor who no longer has a stall there due to family emergencies.

Quinn finds a parking spot and you walk around the front of the car to grab his hand, resting your head on his shoulder as you walk to where the stalls are located. You go right to the fruit section, parting ways with your boyfriend to pick out your favorite fruits independently.

He has his reusable tote bag and after paying for everything altogether, he puts the fruit in the bag and guides you over to the vegetables.

“I found this recipe for sautéed green beans and steak that I want to try this week,” he says, walking past a large lot of string beans, pausing to look at the price. He picks out a good handful and sets them in the basket provided. You pick out some cucumbers and broccoli as well, ringing out with that vendor shortly after.

After getting the rest of your usual things, including a new dessert for Quinn, a peach cobbler that they made specially for him, you stroll around, looking at the new stalls and scanning over the handmade items they have.

Quinn spots a new jewelry stand and smiles to himself, suddenly getting an idea

“Hey, weren’t you mentioning how you needed a new bag?” He asks you, pointing in the opposite direction at the stall he was needing to look at. “It looks like they have some new stuff.” You cheer quietly and run off to the booth that has tote bags with different sayings and designs on them.

Quinn waits until you are far enough away to walk to the jewelry stall, looking down at all the silver and gold gemstone rings.

“Wow,” he whispers to himself, picking up a pink sapphire ring.

“All are handmade sterling silver or gold-filled, stones are ethically sourced, and these,” the guy gestures to a different section, “are sea glass I collected from different parts of the world.”

“They’re beautiful, oh my gosh,” Quinn compliments, looking over everything. He glances over his shoulder to make sure you were still distracted. “I’m looking for a ring for my girlfriend as an anniversary present. She loves gems and I think she’d love one of these.”

“Do you have an idea of what color she’d like?”

“I’m not sure…” his voice tapers off, running his fingers over different shades of blue and pink stones, to clear quartz and finally, he lands on a peridot ring, a simple band with a smooth bezel and a hammered band. It was slightly rustic but still quite elegant. “This one.”

The guy looks down at it and smiles.

“That’s peridot.”

“I remember her saying she wanted a green ring because it matches my eyes,” Quinn blushes as he thinks back your words. “It’s perfect.”

“Great! That’ll be…” the guy looks up the price of the ring on a sheet of laminated paper, “Forty-five dollars.”

Quinn sticks out the exact amount of cash to the guy, who carefully sets the ring in a small ring box, handing it off to the brunette.

“I hope she enjoys it,” the guy grins as Quinn drops the box into his bag.

“Thanks so much, I’ll let you know.”

Quinn walks over to you, still standing at the designed tote bags that you have a large collection of at this point, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Find something you like?” He asks, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“I did.” You show him the bag that you spent some time picking out, a simple design on it with some saying about reading. “We can share it.”

He laughs, taking it in his hands to get a better look at it.

“Nice choice. Think we’re done for the day?” He wonders, glancing around at the rather quiet market space. Suddenly, you feel a drop of rain on your forehead, both you and Quinn looking up to the sky and then to each other.

“I guess so,” you giggle, grabbing his hand and heading for his car. The rain picks up rather quickly, but luckily, you shut the doors and are sheltered just as it starts to pour down rain. Quinn looks over at you and laughs loudly, running his hands through his hair.

“Looks like got lucky,” he says, starting the car and putting it in reverse to back out of his spot.

“I didn’t think it was supposed to rain,” you say, staring out the window as he drives back home.

“I thought they said in the afternoon, so it must have changed.”

As soon as you get home, Quinn takes the liberty of stocking the fruits in veggies in the places that you keep them, taking the small black box and putting it in his pocket. He wanted to wait to give it to you, but he was so excited and he knew it was going to be difficult to sit on it.

You step into the kitchen just as he shuts the fridge, walking over to give him a hug. His arms circle around your shoulders, holding you close to him.

“I bought you something today,” he whispers against your forehead. Raising your head, you narrow your eyes at him.

“You were with me the whole time…?” Your voice tapers off into a question, confusion crossing your face.

“Not when you went to go look at tote bags. I got this for you.” He pulls the ring box from his pocket and hands it to you, allowing you to open it up. Your eyebrows furrow together when he places it on your hands, but as you open it, a gasp escapes you and your hand flies up to your face.

“Wh…” you are rendered speechless as you stare at the gorgeous ring in front of you.

“I wanted to give it to you for our anniversary, but I really couldn’t wait, I wanted you to have it,” he says, stepping closer to you and setting his hands on your waist.

“It’s beautiful, Quinn. Where did you even find it?”

“There was a new jewelry stall and I had to distract you, which is why i sent you over to pick out a bag,” he chuckles nervously, his fingertips fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“I love it, holy shit.” He laughs and you slide the ring onto a finger to try and gauge the size, and surprisingly, it fit your ring finger perfectly. Quinn smiles, relief washing over him when he sees that it fits at least one finger, and brings your hand up to his face.

“It looks perfect on you,” he whispers, kissing your knuckles just below the ring, gazing lovingly at you.

“It reminds me of your eyes,” you say, staring down at it, admiring the way it sparkles ever so slightly in the light. Quinn’s cheeks heat up and he looks down at the floor.

“That’s, uh, that’s why I picked it out. I knew you would think that.” Your hands cup your lover’s cheeks and you kiss him sweetly, his hands tightening around your waist.

“You know me so well, darling.”

taglist: @petite-potato4

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfic #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks fanfic #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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ticktokrobotsnot · 11 months

Text

Vapor

This is Part 2

You can read Part 1 here.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: An accountant helps Carmen organize his not-so-shit-restaurant and gets invited over for family dinner.

Word Count: 10k

The sky was blood orange and the reflection on the store window was mesmerizing. Y/n was supposed to be in the office getting ready for the full day ahead of her but she couldn’t resist slacking off for a bit, it was nice to finally enjoy the restaurant with no one inside. Y/n needed to be here early when a potential vendor came by to give some quotes. Carmen’s initial reaction was to stand his ground and act like some faux bodyguard because he couldn't fathom why some “sick fuck” would want to be alone with a woman in a restaurant at the ass crack of dawn without them having bad intentions—said it wasn't safe at all. Y/n had to inform him that the, “sick fuck” was a woman. And as soon as Carmen heard that, and realized they were going to be talking numbers for a while, he ran off to the farmer's market, wanting no part in that snooze fest.

Y/n grabbed her laptop and started reviewing the binders she organized. Just as y/n was about to check her phone for any messages, she heard a knock at the door. A pretty blond woman looks at y/n with a bit of confusion. This woman wasn’t expecting to see y/n and y/n wasn't expecting to see this woman. Y/n walked to the door and opened a crack.

“Who are you?” Y/n questioned.

“I could ask you the same thing.” The women laughed but y/n wasn’t finding this funny.

“Natalie…” Y/n shook her head like a bouncer sending a teeager away without his fake ID.

“Natalie Berzatto.” She clarified and y/n recalled the name as a co-signer for The Beef, now The Bear. Y/n opened the door a bit more to let her in.

Y/n gave her name but she didn’t know what else to say but Natalie was already filling the space.

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you, Carmen won't stop talking about you. You really saved our asses. Especially with the file organizing stuff, I found the old payroll stuff in like a minute, you're a real savant with stuff like that. Carmy is a real sticker for cooking but he is a real shit-”. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Natalie was nervous.

Y/n knew that Natalie was a part of Carmen’s family but she didn’t know how they were connected. One plausible scenario was that she was Micheal’s widowed girlfriend or wife, which would explain why anyone would co-sign the disaster that Micheal had created and promptly left. Y/n wondered why Carmen would be getting so chummy with his widowed sister-in-law, but then again men have done worse.

Y/n bit the bullet, “How do you know Carmen?”

“I'm his sister… Sugar?” Y/n was starting to feel like a real idiot for not being able to piece these easy deductions together, she was losing her edge because it was to fucking early in the morning.

“Yes, Richie told me that “Sugar” was going to stop by this week. What can I do for you?” Y/n didn’t mention that she thought Sugar was going to be a stripper because of the name.

“Actually I came to pick some old tax stuff… Micheal’s tax returns.” Y/n guided her to the office. Even if she didn’t look back she knew that Natalie was spying on her binders and laptop laid out on the counter, trying to find out a bit about y/n.

“So, Carmy tells me that you two used to work together back in New York.”

“Yeah it was only for a few years.”

“Were you close?” Natalie probed.

“We were…strangers at best.” Y/n chose to leave out the messy parts of her and Carmen’s origins.

Natalie shook her head in disbelief. "That can't be true, he actually came to my place one day, pretty late. You know why?" Y/n, not knowing the answer, simply shrugged her shoulders.

"He said he needed to make an important phone call, someone from his old job. He said that he wanted to ask for a bit of help." Natalie continued, her voice tinged with wishfulness "I thought maybe he was finally going to therapy or something." Y/n felt a strange sensation, like she was staring directly into the sun, hope gave Natalie a beautiful glow.

Natalie's smile softened as she added, "And you know what? He made that phone call right on our porch." Her words carried a touch of warmth. "Well, at least he's reaching out for help. It's a good thing, right?"

“I recommended therapy to him too but I think we would need to put a gun to his head for him to actually go." Natalie let out a humored exhale.

There was a lull of silence after she handed the tax returns. Y/n could sense that Natalie wanted to talk some more so y/n directed her to the bar stools out front. She checked her phone and saw that her vendor had a family emergency and needed to reschedule. After shooting a quick ok, she directed herself to face Natalie.

"You can ask me anything. I've got plenty of time to kill." Y/n offered, feeling generous considering the recent kiss shared with Natalie's brother just a week ago.

“I was here a few times but I never had a chance to meet you?”

“I was probably apartment hunting.” Natalie looked like she was debating asking her next question.

“What did you think of Carmen when you guys were back in New York?”

“He was like every other chef.”

“Nothing else? No pulling force?”

“No pulling force.”

“You moved state lines for him and you're saying there was no pulling force?”

“He asked me for help and I gave him some.”

“You chose to stay. There had to be a pull.”

“The restaurant spoke to my soul, I had to stay.” Y/n was bluffing.

“Bullshit, there was a pull.” Natalie said with a self fulfilled smirk like she had won a point in their imaginary game.

Natalie continued, “You know, he won a Michelin star. A man who cooks…is not too bad.”

“I don’t eat gourmet food. It’s pretentious.” Y/n didn’t want to make too much out of the kiss and make Carmen panic.

“I'm sure he can make something you will like.”

“I have yet to eat something of his that would warrant him having a Michelin star.”

“You don’t like his cooking?”

“I don’t like anyone’s cooking.” Natalie couldn’t come up with something else. Point to y/n. A smile spread across y/n’s face and Natalie was relieved to realize that y/n wasn’t being serious.

“What do you like doing?” Natalie probed.

“I spend most of my time working here but I also read.”

“Why did you leave New York?” Natalie blurted out.

“I don’t like working with other people, my boss was all over me. I thought Chicago would be a nice change of pace.”

Y/n saw Natalie unlock her phone to respond to a text from someone named Pete, who had a pink heart near his name. Y/n knew that memorizing people’s passwords was an invasion of their privacy but it was fun to be a bit nosy.

Y/n was also tired of getting the third-degree, she was hoping for a few fun questions asking if she ever murdered anyone or if she ever was contacted to be a part of a bank heist. She would be lying if she wasn’t a bit afraid that whatever she said would be relayed to Carmen so she didn’t want to say anything too damning.

“You read romance?” Y/n saw the book peeking out of Natalie’s bag, it was one that she had read before.

“Yeah, they’re my guilty pleasure.”

“Mine too. I liked that one.” Y/n pointed at the book peaking out.

“I hate it, it's filled with miscommunication. I’m only finishing it to justify the 12 dollars I spent.” Natalie said with a fake pout.

“I love miscommunication because I suck at talking to people too. Much better than the one I just finished.”

“What killed your book?”

“Third-act break up.” Natalie nodded her head, it seems like they agreed.

Y/n couldn't help but feel relieved; while the nature of Y/n's relationship with Carmen remained uncertain, it was evident that Natalie would become a more integral part of the restaurant. Carmen's recent discovery of three hundred thousand dollars hidden in tomato cans had sparked ambitious plans for renovating the place. Even if she ended up being nothing serious with Carmen, she needed to secure a stable support who wouldn’t completely hate her if shit hit the fan.

They continued to talk about a few books that they had read, a few so trashy that they had to hide their faces in embarrassment from each other when reading the summary out loud.

The door chimed and both women looked over to Carmen who was holding a few bags of produce and baked goods. Y/n went over and plucked the receipts for the top of one of the bags, she didn’t bother helping Carmen because he wouldn’t have let her help anyways. Carmen was gracious enough to put all the receipts together so she wasn’t digging to find them, she kept a record of them to write them off as a business deduction.

“Nat, you’re here early?” Carmen spared a glance before opening a box of croissants to share and then disappearing to the kitchen to put everything away.

“Yeah I had to pick something up, y/n was so kind to help me so early in the morning. Isn’t she just the best?”

“Yeah…How did it go with the vendor?” Carmen mindlessly mumbled while busying himself with a notebook of recipe ideas.

“Rescheduled.” Y/n didn’t look up, engrossed in cataloging some expensive mushrooms for record keeping. $268.43 for some mushrooms was honestly so ridiculous y/n needed to squint to see if she was seeing this right.

“I need to return the favor.” Natalie started.

“It was just a few folders, you really don’t-”

“Why don’t you join us for dinner on friday?” Y/n felt like she was performing front and center.

“I couldn’t-.”

“Please, Pete never wants to talk to me about…” Natalie was raising her eyebrows in the most unsubtle way possible so she didn’t expose y/n's softer side and her penchant for reading romance novels. Y/n couldn’t help but hide her face in embarrassment, “Yeah…fine. Just tell me what time.”

Observing the exchange, Carmen couldn't help but wonder if this was how dogs felt when humans engaged in their own incomprehensible conversations.

Y/n was starting to feel like she was edging closer and closer to Carmen’s limit. Kissing in the back alley of a restaurant and on the car ride to and from work was very different from being invited to his sister’s house for dinner. It carried a weight of intimacy, commitment, and solidity that made Y/n slightly uneasy, wondering if this was too much for Carmen. She waited for the other shoe to drop, Carmen would subtly show his discontent by telling Natalie that she shouldn’t force y/n to go to that dinner, which was just an excuse to create some distance. Y/n was surprised when Carmen asked what type of desert he should bring instead.

Y/n kept her cool and excused herself to go to the office so she could get back to work.

Carmen and Natalie moved to the kitchen where Carmen would experiment for a bit. Natalie sat on a stool next to Carmen who started washing produce.

“She is very smart.” Natalie whispered. She took a glance at the closed office door.

“Yeah. Great with the books.” Carmen peeled and diced some garlic.

“Nice too.”

“She is very nice.” Carmen started cutting some nepitella. The additional “very” caused some alarm bells to ring in Natalie’s head. She hid her smirk.

“Everything about her is nice,” Natalie made sure to pay close attention to Carmen’s face, “Nice personality, nice face-” Carmen took a worried glance at the office door and then looked up at Natalie with wide eyes.

“Why, why, what are you-?” He was flustered.

“I’m just sharing my observations. You don’t think she has a nice face-?”

“This is a business, we try to keep professional.” Carmen hid his fumble with fake professionality, unfortunately Natalie saw right through it.

“Try?” Natalie teased. Carmen looked away to pretend to look for some dried porcini. He felt like an idiot. He understood why people used to see him as an easy target when he was younger, he basically showed everyone his buttons, and asked them to get pushed. Carmen continued to chop in silence.

“I'm sorry, I just got a bit excited. I won't push.” Natalie gave her brother the benefit of the doubt, she always thought he would never get into a serious relationship but he liked y/n and y/n seemed like the serious girlfriend type. Natalie couldn’t help but nudge Carmen in the right direction.

Carmen chopped in silence for a few minutes, debating if he should tell Natalie about the kiss. In his mind, he didn’t know if it was too soon for him to introduce his girlfriend to his family. Calling y/n his girlfriend felt unreal, past him wouldn’t believe it even if he saw it.

He handed his notebook to Natalie so she could read measurements to him, he wanted her here for just a bit longer till he gained the courage to tell her about y/n.

Tagliatelle with porcini mushrooms was the first test item of the morning, and he had to soak the dried porcini for 30 minutes, he was bummed that the market didn't have the fresh kind but he knew he would get the real shit when y/n got a hold of that vendor. He looked up at Natalie and tilted his head to indicate that they should leave. Carmen avoided the alley because he knew that y/n would look there first and he didn’t want her to overhear anything. They walked over to a nearby supermarket and started roaming the aisles. It was nearly empty because it was six in the morning.

“I did something…and I need you to not…just listen and don’t make it a big deal.”

“I got it, Carmy.”

“A while ago, I…” Carmen looked at all the different types of instant noodles they had on display. “So, we were in deep shit with these pre-orders and I was a mess and y/n and I were talking after…” Carmen moved over to the boxed pasta, he didn't intend to buy anything but he did read the nutritional facts.

“I umm, asked her to…” Jesus, Carmen wondered, why he didn’t make more friends so he didn’t have to talk to his older sister about something like this. Richie didn’t seem capable of giving any advice that wasn’t, “Just Do It”.

“We ki…” Natalie kept her face hard but the second that Carmen turned around to look at a box of elbow pasta, she couldn't help herself but let out a small, barely audible squeal of delight. Her eyes widened, and a grin threatened to break through her determined facade. Natalie quickly covered her mouth with her hand, trying to contain her elation, making sure not to let Carmen catch a glimpse. She stifled her excitement with every fiber of her being, preserving the illusion of calmness for when Carmen turned back around, none the wiser.

“It’s been a while, and we k…” Carmen didn’t know how he was supposed to maturely ask for advice when he couldn’t even say a kiss in front of his sister while cringing. Carmen couldn’t do this, it was too open, too vulnerable.

Nat cut him some slack and started asking questions instead, “Was it a one time thing?” Carmen subtly shook his head no. Her lips parted as she squeezed a jar of Pego to contain herself.

“Do you regret it?” Carmen didn’t respond but that didn’t mean no, that ment that she was getting closer to the root of the problem.

“Do you think she’s going to regret it?” Carmen’s shoulder’s raised slightly, bingo.

“Why don’t I gauge how she is feeling at dinner.” Nat knew he was about to run away from her for exposing too much and she had to give him an incentive to not follow his instincts.

She continued, “We talked earlier, she said she hates your cooking.” Carmen’s head snapped up, Nat knew that y/n was just joking but it was still a bit funny to mess with Carmen.

The look of shock transported her back to when she was eight sitting next to Carmy and watching Micheal convince him to finish a glass of milk or else he would lose all of his teeth to a calcium deficiency. This wasn’t the time to reminisce but it made her heart warm knowing that even after going through so much, there was still a part of young Carmy that persevered. She was feeling the burning in the back of her eyes, her hormones were making her sentimental.

“Yeah she said that your food fucking blows.” Carmen caught on and let out a small laugh.

They both roamed in the aisle moving on to juices. Sugar free, diet, pineapple, orange. Carmen’s eyebrows raised when he saw the price of orange juice before putting it down and deciding to just make his own.

Carmen started, “She isn’t the type of person who changes her mind easily,” but if she can make that shift to see him in a good light, maybe she'll stick around and eventually see the real Carmen—a pathetic, insecure loser. All he did was make a promise to her but he knew it meant nothing without actions, and he was unsure if he could control his anger or keep his obsessiveness in check when something especially difficult happened. If another shit storm made its rounds in the kitchen, would he really be able to be the bigger person? Carmen doubted it.

Carmen just ripped off the bandaid, “I don’t know how to…I want her to not hate me. I know I'm going to..” Carmen waited till a child next to them moved to the other end of teh aisle towards his dad, “..fuck it up, but I dont want that to happen.”

“What makes you think she is going to hate you?”

“When we were talking…she told me that I should have done better. And that I…needed to be “stable”, but I don’t know how to be that for myself, let alone someone else.”

“She isn’t asking you to do it for her, she wants you to do it for yourself.” Natalie offered.

“Its like having to solve a word search to answer a stupid fucking puzzle. I don’t…” Carmen sighed in defeat. Nat knew that he was strong and it was impossible for her to fix this for him but that still made her palms itch seeing him struggle like this. She racked her brain, desperately seeking any glimmer of a solution that could offer him even a shred of relief.

They both walked out the market towards the restaurant. “It's really hard…and it's not that I don’t want to, it just feels impossible.” Carmen muttered, he was close to giving up.

A burning sensation welled up in the back of Natalie's throat, and she instinctively placed her hand on Carmen's shoulder as a gesture of support and to her surprise Carmen looked at her, saw her glassy eyes and hugged her. The shock knocked a few tears from her eyes..

Carmy was not a selfish person but Nat noticed that he was becoming a bit more aware that he takes up much more space then he originally thought he did. He now knew that his presence was big enough to be able to tear people down but was also big enough to offer meaningful support. He had come to understand his own significance, and this realization struck Natalie like a tidal wave, causing her to burst into uncontrollable sobs.

“Does crying mean I'm fucked, Sugar?” Carmen asked, his voice tinged with humor and uncertainty, as he gently rubbed Natalie's back for comfort. Nat shook her head no.

“You'll be okay. You always are.” Nat wiped her face before continuing to walk back to the restaurant.

Carmen snuck a few glances to see what was making his sister a sobbing mess, she wasn’t the type to break down like that, “Are you good?” Natalie nodded her head.

“Everything good at home?” It felt strange to say the word home, even after visiting multiple countries and living in many different apartments, Carmen couldn’t really call any place home. Home was supposed to be a sanctuary of warmth, Carmen's closest experience to that feeling was back in his family house—a place where the warmth was scalding and suffocating. Where it was a constant waiting game, anticipating the intense heat to escalate and cause everything, and everyone, to boil over.

Carmen was acutely aware that he would never have a home quite like Sugar's. He couldn't help but wonder if he had what it took to be like Pete for someone else—always helpful, kind, and perhaps a little too accommodating. He questioned whether he had the capacity to fulfill that role and maintain his own sense of self. Granted, what about his “self” was worth preserving?

Natalie nodded her head but Carmen wasn’t convinced. “It's just a lot, you know. Seeing the place getting renovated. I used to hate that place, but..” She sighed, “...I picked up Micheal’s tax returns, I didn’t even need them for anything…I just wanted to see them to know what he was going through towards the…'' end. She didn’t need to finish for Carmen to know what she was talking about. They were in front of the restaurant and Carmen gave her a side hug and against his better judgment he tried his hand in verbal reassurance so he could be there for her, fully.

“I think he tried his best to make everything look fine, and it’s nice to know that he was at least able to pretend till the...end.” Sugar looked up at him and didn’t comment on his successful attempt to be her support, not wanting to scare him.

They wordlessly walked in the restaurant and Carmen finished up his dish. He made enough for one plate because he was expecting to have to remake it a few times. He grabbed a small plate and served a separate plate for y/n before knocking on her door. She looked up at him, not hearing him and gave him a “hmm” which echoed in his chest. She sat with them in the kitchen, taking her laptop with her. They all took the first bite together. Carmen watched both women’s reactions to gauge their uncensored reactions. Natalie’s eyebrows raised and she gave him a nod of approval.

Y/n took a bite and looked up from her plate so see Carmen staring at her. “Why are you staring?”

“Do you not like it?”

“It’s good.” Y/n put her fork down and propped up her head on her hand.

“But, you didn’t-”

“I’m not really a foodie, so food is never like…” Y/n made an explosion sound and flicked her hands open, “Good, is the best you going to get out of me.” Natalie wondered how a chef and an anti-gourmet foodie were going to work.

“Is all food just ”good”?” Y/n looked up and tried to think of food that was better than good.

“I like mom's cooking.”

“What is her food like?”

“Intense…subtly in food doesn’t mean anything to me because I don’t taste the difference.” Carmen was waiting for more for y/n.

“I ate a lot of spicy, sour and bitter food growing up. My mom didn’t think that kids should eat different things than everyone else, so I guess pasta and mushrooms will always be just “good”.” Y/n felt like she was just shitting all over his profession but he asked for her opinion so he couldn’t get offended now.

Carmen nodded his head before walking away. Y/n pierced her lips and looked over to Natalie wondering if she hurt Carmen’s feelings. Natalie looked just as bewildered. Just as y/n was about to find Carmen, he came out with a few more ingredients.

“What are you making?”

“Something you will like.”

“I liked what you made-”

“Good is not enough.”

“Come on, Carmen, it's something that everyone will like, it’s going to kill opening day.”

“But you have to like it.” Y/n sighed before indicating that he should continue.

“You won’t be able to serve the food I like to eat, it would be considered a biological weapon.” Y/n was warning him but Carmen thought she was teasing him. He would learn to listen to her warning in the future. He put the porcini mushrooms to the side before getting started on some penne all’arrabbiata.

Y/n laughed at him knowing that he wouldn’t have the courage to spice up a dish to her standard before grabbing her laptop so she could get some work done and also talk to Natalie about contractors.

While Carmen chopped and stirred, y/n subtly glanced up at his flexing back and strong arms. She thought she was hiding it well but when she went to check if Natalie noticed she saw that Natalie was already watching her. Natalie snickered as y/n hid her face behind her laptop to hide her embarrassment. Carmen turned around to see what was so funny but was just met with the view of both of them with their faces hiding behind their hands.

Y/n felt someone pass behind her and knew it was Sydney without having to look up. “Hey guys, what are we making?” She took a bite out of the pasta, which was slightly cooled but she still nodded her head.

“It’s fire, chef. It would be great if it was hot, I want to remake it to see what it was supposed to taste like.”

Y/n couldn’t say that she completely forgave Sydney but y/n did respect that she went to Richie to give some type of apology after a while. Y/n could accept that the two of them wouldn’t be best friends, they just needed to be able to work together.

Y/n went to Carmen’s locker before pulling out a few Tums for everyone, it looks like today was going to be pasta day because of her and she didn’t want to send everyone home with a stomach ache.

Carmen continued with his pasta, and served it in front of y/n. All the women took a bite,

“It’s got a kick to it.” Natalie said while reaching for a food container filled with water while wiping sweat from her brow. Sydney gave Carmen a, “This is fire, chef.” Y/n couldn't help but cringe inwardly at the comment because she knew she couldn't quite match their shared vernacular and the ease with which they expressed themselves with food. What private passion did y/n and Carmen share?

Carmen stared y/n down as she took a bite.

“It’s good.” Carmen waited for her to elaborate. “It’s too subtle.”

Carmen smirked, “Yeah, next time I'll just make you a ball of fire for you to enjoy.” Y/n gave him a shit eating grin, it was just too fun not to mess with him, and when she saw him smile back she felt a bit of imaginary nostalgia, this was what she longed for back in New York.

The restaurant was still closed for renovations and after a while a few other crew members came by to do some demo. Y/n was stuck on hold with the inspector's office when she was approached by Natalie, “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment so I've got to go, I’ll see you on Friday at eight.”

The rest of the week flew by because they were on a very strict time crunch to open in a few months. Y/n wasn’t very worried but she could feel the nerves from everyone else and she knew it would be in bad taste to tell them to toughen up, so she let them be grown ups and deal with their own anxieties.

On Friday, y/n left early to get ready for dinner, she opened an old moving box and pulled out a dress that she wore to an old work function. It was very tasteful because it was freezing outside. Y/n grabbed her gifts before running into Carmen’s car. Y/n took one look at Carmen and had to do a double take to make sure that she went into the right person’s car. Carmen’s hair was lighty slicked back, probably with pomade, and he was wearing a deep blue sweater with a white collar.

“I didn’t know you had clothes other than aprons and Dickies.”

“You look..” Carmen marveled at the way her eyes sparkled with an inner radiance, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He knew he wasn’t able to get the full picture yet because they were in a dark car but he could only imagine what she would do to him when they went to the well lit house. “..great.” Carmen wanted to punch himself for being so unoriginal but he couldn’t focus on anything.

“Thank you, you look good too. Blue is definitely your color..” Carmen’s fingers loosened around the steering wheel, compliments had always made him uneasy; he spent the majority of his life trying to make himself as small as possible and now he was pushed into the spotlight and he wondered if he even liked it?

“Carmen, can you look at me for a second?” And when he swiveled his head towards y/n, she squished his face lighty before giving his puckered lips a soft kiss. Just as she was about to lean back into her seat, Carmen, unable to resist, slipped his hand beneath her hair, grasping the back of her neck and drawing her in for a deeper, more passionate second kiss.

Yeah, he liked it.

“We are going to be late.” Y/n whispered before giving him one last peck. Carmen, still in a daze, fiddled with the radio so he could get his head straight. The ride to his sister’s house was quiet barring the soft jazz. Y/n was very nervous, they never had that conversation that said that they were official and for all she knew she was just a friend that Carmen kissed from time to time. She resisted the urge to ask right now because she was scared to find out that they were nothing more. She would savor the few minutes before she was inevitably introduced as a friend, or worse a co-worker.

They pulled into Natalie’s driveway and got out of the car, y/n grabbed the bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine and they rang the doorbell.

"Why are you holding the tray like that?" Y/n asked, noticing how Carmen clung to it like a shield. Before she could receive a response, Natalie opened the door with a warm greeting, inviting them inside. Y/n handed over the gifts, but Carmen still clung onto his belongings. Just then, Peter descended the stairs, seemingly about to approach Carmen for a hug before his gaze landed on Carmen's protective tray. He hesitated and stepped back, realizing it was acting as a barrier. Y/n stifled a laugh, biting her cheek to prevent herself from laughing at Carmen’s immaturity.

Carmen greeted, “Pete.” Y/n could feel the dislike and she felt bad for Pete because he seemed nice.

“Carmen, it’s good to see you, man.”

“This is my girlfriend, y/n.” A sense of numbness overwhelmed her. It was like when people get run over by a semi and say that they don’t feel anything. Y/n extended her hand to shake Pete's, and she followed him into the living room.

Carmen went into the kitchen to help Natalie and y/n made pleasant conversation with Pete, he seemed a bit soft but she could understand why Natalie might want someone like him. Y/n pretended to be interested when he showed her his Cubs memorabilia, she initially thought the Cubs were a fictional sports team made by the New Girl writers.

Y/n and Pete walked over to the kitchen and asked if they needed any help. Pete looked like he wanted to actually be helpful but y/n had her fingers crossed hoping she didn’t have to do any cooking. It was weird to see Carmen let someone else take the lead while he watched. Even with Sydney, he still watched over everything like a hawk, not because he didn’t trust her, it's just because he wouldn’t let her fail.

Y/n watched as everyone spoke and she wondered where she fit in. Natalie and Carmen were obviously close and Pete was doing his best to get close to Carmen, trying to bridge the obvious gap between them. Y/n had to stop herself from telling Carmen to either be nicer or for Pete to drop it.

Other than being Carmen’s new “girlfriend” and sharing small talk, what else was there for her to talk about? Y/n didn’t know them well but she could tell there was a lot of subtext between the three of them that added weight to their interactions that she wasn’t privy to yet. She was a flame trying to suck in any bubble of oxygen so she could ignite, she needed more information before she could actually join them.

It felt like she was reading Dune for the first time, being dropped in the middle of an already moving plot and she was scrambling to play catch up. Carmen had a lot of triggers and she wondered if Natalie was the same. Even if they acted completely differently, y/n could tell that they were sidestepping something, like they were avoiding talking about a gaping bullet wound, and if siblings were acting like that it means that it's a problem with the parents. Despite the fact that they were in the kitchen, the three of them weren’t talking about the food. Y/n made a mental checklist of a few rules; 1. Don’t bring up parents 2. Don't mention food because it's a trigger 3. Pay attention to Natalie because she was not as good at hiding her feelings as Carmen.

Dinner was served and they all took a seat, y/n took slow sips of wine and saw that Natalie’s wine was slightly darker than hers. Y/n was sitting across Natalie so she recognized the smell too, apple. She was drinking sparkling apple cider. Y/n hid her smirk by talking another sip, she would be a spy or something because she was killing it in the recon department.

Dinner was starting to feel stiff, y/n took a deep breath and turned to Natalie, “Your cooking is to die for.” Natalie tucked in her lips but couldn’t help but hide her smile, y/n never told Carmen anything like that, barring the first day she got to Chicago, it was a petty way of getting back at him for blindsiding her by calling her his girlfriend.

“Thanks, It's a family recipe.” Y/n wanted to stab herself with the fork, she just broke rule one and two. Just as y/n was about to make some asinine comment to change topics, Carmen did it for her.

“Can you pass me the bread, Sugar?” Y/n found her opening.

“Sugar, that’s a nice nickname, what’s the story?”

Natalie paused and y/n had a feeling she fucked up, “We were having this Chrismas family thing and I added a cup of sugar into the gravy instead of salt. The name just stuck.” Y/n definitely fucked up, she was breaking rules left and right. Y/n scrabbled to put herself in the same level as Natalie.

“I’ve been there. My parents were having a few co-worker over for lunch and they brought a box of these expensive mangos and I was told to make some smoothies because it was boiling that day. I filled up the sugar container with salt without noticing and made them smoothies with a ton of salt.” Y/n saw that all eyes were on her and she didn’t allow herself to be nervous because she was trying to get a deeper point across.

Y/n continued, “I have never heard that many people gag all at once.” Their faces broke into a smile.

“What did your mom say?” Bingo, looks like the taboo parent could be narrowed down to their mother.

“She didn’t say anything bad, she and her co-workers just laughed. I mean I was a kid and we all make mistakes. I ended up making lemonade instead.”

Natalie’s eyes lit up,“It’s a shame that all those mangos went to waste.” Natalie joked.

“Waste?” Y/n had a fake offense, “I drank the rest to prove that it wasn’t that bad.”

“Was it that bad?” Pete asked.

“My blood pressure was through the roof. It was the first time I ever got a headache.”

The rest of dinner was a bit more relaxed, y/n was expecting Carmen to talk a bit more because these were his people but it looked like she would have to do the talking for the both of them. They finished up dinner and y/n got up to help them clean up. It was y/n and Carmen alone in the kitchen while Natalie went upstairs to check on something, aka she needed some rest and Pete went to check up on her.

As Carmen washed the dishes, Y/n stood by, towel in hand, drying them. The domestic scene felt comfortable, yet she couldn't determine if she truly enjoyed this newfound domesticity. She wondered if in Carmen’s eyes she was merely playing the role of the perfect partner – someone who could effortlessly navigate his family dynamics, fix his business, and be his own manic pixie dream girl.

A selfish thought crossed Y/n's mind. What was she truly gaining from this relationship? She had been too afraid to make a move with Carmen after the kiss, fearing that one misstep could lead her to being shut out completely. She hesitated to voice her preferences about his food, to ask about the nature of their relationship, or to discuss their future plans if this relationship fell through. Y/n wasn't one to dwell in discomfort, except for her previous job, and she felt frustrated that she had to jump through so many hoops just to ensure that Carmen wouldn't leave.

They finished the dishes and y/n could tell that Carmen wanted to check on Natalie but he didn’t want to leave y/n alone. Y/n being a supportive girlfriend, practically pushed him up the steps before walking out the front door and leaning on the porch. Y/n grabbed her jacket and walked out. She underestimated the frigid Chicago air which felt like a sharp slap to her face, serving as a wake-up call. It reminded her that the warm and fuzzy feeling she had been battling within herself was merely fleeting, and that the reality of the world could be much harsher and more painful.

Y/n couldn’t help but wonder why Carmen was even bothering with her, they had nothing in common but the restaurant. Work was everything for him and Sydney, their shared connection always pulled them together despite both of their volatile personalities. What pulled y/n and Carmen together? They both worked in the restaurant but Carmen didn’t have a passion for running said restaurant, it was a mere obligation that y/n took from him. If she stopped working there, what else did they have in common?

Y/n came to the daunting realization that Carmen picked Sydney because he saw potential in her, a chance to let both him and her grow. However, he didn’t pick y/n because he saw something deeper in her, it was an act of embarrassed desperation.

Was she just a means to help Carmen get his shit together? The restaurant meant a lot to Micheal and after he died Carmen stopped seeing the restaurant as something that was out of his reach but as something to connect him to his brother, a small thread connecting the estranged brothers. Y/n was there to hold up the connection in the vaguest of ways, she kept the restaurant afloat so Carmen could come to terms with Micheals’s legacy, good and bad.

She was lost in thought when she heard the door close, she turned her head to see Carmen was already lighting a cigarette. It was difficult for her to be objective when Carmen locked eyes with her with such intensity. Y/n ripped her eyes from him and faced forward looking at the neighbor's yard, they had nice shrubs.

“I thought you left.” Carmen started as he leaned on the railing with y/n. He looked forward to see what was so interesting that y/n couldn’t look him in the face, it was just some trees.

“I needed some air.”

“You could catch a cold.”

“I don’t get sick, sick is a mindset.” Y/n was obviously joking.

She lowered her head so that she could feel the cold metal on her forehead, maybe a different type of pain would make this conversation easier. Her forehead landed on something warm, the back of Carmen’s hand. She turned her head to its side but remained connected to Carmen’s hand. The warmth radiating on her cheek was making her stomach do backflips. Even if she knew she shouldn’t be indulging like this she couldn’t help it. He felt too good and y/n was getting more and more greedy.

“Hey, Carmen?” Carmen was still staring at y/n. “What do we have in common?” He looked taken aback.

“We like each other…” He was starting to feel the slow slitter of nausea because he knew the other shoe was about to drop.

“If we don’t have much in common, what do we talk about?”

“We can talk about whatever we like. It’s nice to…be with someone who isn't wrapped up in the same things as me.” Carmen expressed a genuine warmth in his voice. Carmen wanted to say that she made him feel like the roof wasn’t going to collapse on him and that the small things weren’t going to destroy him but it felt selfish to describe how much he cared for her based on how she made him feel and not on facts about her.

“I don’t care about fancy food.” Y/n blurted out.

Carmen chuckled, “You know about the vendors, where the supplies are sourced, how much they cost, and a bunch of other stuff. You do care, just in a different way than I do.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It gives me perspective. It’s very realistic and grounded.” Y/n knew he was calling her realistic and grounded.

“I like hearing you talk about my food.” Carmen offered.

“Even if it’s just “good”?”

“Especially if it's just "good". That means you're telling me the truth.” Carmen recalled a ninth grade world history lesson about the Rosetta Stone, an artifact written in three different languages and made it possible to translate some ancient language. Though he hadn't fully paid attention during the lesson, Carmen now saw the parallel. If Y/n had the courage to express her opinions on his food, it meant she was being honest with him about everything else.

Y/n cracked a smile before covering her mouth and started laughing. It was a jarring sound, Carmen couldn’t pinpoint what the laugh was meant to convey but he knew it wasn’t good.

“What?” Carmen asked, Y/n rubbed her face with her cold hands.

“You said that you were scared of me a while back but now…” Y/n's laughter softened into a smaller chuckle, conveying a mix of amusement and irony.

“I’m scared of you.” The weight was lifted off her shoulders and slammed down on Carmen's. Y/n wondered if this is how the rest of their relationship was going to be; one person transferring their hurt to the other till the weight became too much to bear.

"It's... I want to bring so many things up to you but..." Y/n wondered if this counted as an accusation. "..you’re so flighty. I don't know what to say that won't make you..." Y/n struggled to find a word that didn't feel so definitive, but the only word that felt honest was, "...leave."

The porch fell into an uneasy silence, both of them grappling with the weight of Y/n's vulnerability.

"I...I didn't realize..." Carmen stammered, his voice betraying his inner turmoil. "I would never just... leave." They both stared in silence, they knew that wasn’t true. Y/n lifted her head leaving the warmth behind, she knew this wouldn’t work if he made false promises. And against everything telling her to just accept his promise as law and ignore any doubts, she couldn’t fool herself like that.

“That’s such bullshit.” Y/n lighty giggled. It felt as though a shark had promised to stop swimming—it was ingrained in their nature. In that lighthearted moment, a mischievous thought crossed Y/n's mind: What would happen if Carmen actually stopped running away? Would he cease to exist, like a fish in space?

Her playful musings, though immature, offered a brief respite from the weight of their conversation. It was a temporary escape, a way to diffuse the tension. Y/n noticed that she brought all this shit up to comfort herself but she was giggling to make him feel safe. Even when she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn't help but try to make him feel better.

As the laughter subsided, Y/n met Carmen's eyes, she forced herself to ignore the emotions he was conveying and instead tried to match his eyes with things she had seen in the past. If this ended poorly, she would miss his eyes the most and she wanted to know what else could match in intensity in case she never got to see him like this ever again, nothing came to mind.

Carmen felt like he was backed into a corner, he couldn’t promise her anything without her, justifiably, doubting him.

"I don't want to leave you," Carmen offered, his voice carrying a mixture of sincerity and vulnerability. It was the most honest response he could offer at that moment. He couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't feel the urge to run, to escape when things got tough, but he had a genuine desire to stay.

Y/n's eyes met Carmen's, her expression softened. She knew it wasn't a perfect answer, but it was a step forward. It was enough to know that he acknowledged his own complexities and still chose to be present with her.

They stood in the quiet watching neighbors turn off their living room lights and go upstairs. She wanted to test out whether, “They could talk about whatever they wanted too.”

“What do you think they’re doing?” Y/n asked, Carmen parted his lips and turned his face to look at y/n so see if she was serious, she was.

“I think they go to bed and she has this super long night time routine and he is already asleep by the time she gets to bed. You?” Y/n knew that if they ever slept over at each other’s place, that’s exactly what would happen between them.

“She probably got home from a shit day and she starts reading an easy romance book…Do you read any books?”

“They are mostly cooking stuff.” He took a drag from his cigarette.

“You read cookbooks for entertainment?”

“Sometimes, it's a part of the craft.” Carmen realized how fucking pretentious he sounded and was a bit ashamed but seeing y/n refrain from teasing him by bitting her lips made him not want to crawl into a hole and die of shame, her smile was addicting. “…but there is a lot of history and science too. '' Carmen knew he sucked at conversation but he would do anything to keep talking.

“What was your last book?”

Y/n and Carmen kept talking till they lost track of time and eventually when they had reached a comfortable lull, y/n could confidently say that they were in fact capable of holding a conversation about mundane shit.

Against every fiber of her being telling her to end their conversation like this, she couldn’t help but ask, “What happens…if this ends?” Y/n didn’t know if she was supposed to use “if” or “when”; one was cautious, the other was a prophecy.

Carmen didn’t look back at her, instead giving her, “You’ll still have a job…I’m not a dick…all the time.” Y/n lips curved upwards.

“Will you be able to work with someone you’ve been in a relationship with?”

“Yes.” Carmen wondered if the answer could ever be anything other than yes.

Y/n knew that if this ended badly she would be allowed to stick around so that Carmen would have an excuse to throw himself at his work. She would be the catalyst to merge him from an individual to a vague reflection of Micheal’s legacy.

Whether or not Carmen knew it, Micheal was a huge influence in his life and just like Micheal began to isolate himself towards the end, Carmen would do the same if they drifted apart. It was his inherent weakness and a relationship gone sour that would make it difficult for him to break the cycle that Micheal had started.

“I won’t stay if it hurts you, Carmen.”

“I would want you to stay, y/n.”

“There is no trophy that comes with going through unnecessary shit.”

“I know, I would still need you.” Carmen hesitated but eventually placed his hand top on y/n's.

“Because I can do the books?” Y/n rolled her eyes jokingly.

“No…you do more than that. You are…” Carmen read books with a shit ton of adjectives, they had to be descriptive to describe food through text. Despite that, he was at a loss for words to describe her.

"You are..." he began again, this time his voice was a little gentler than before. He took a deep breath, hoping that he could find those words that would express everything he felt.

"You are very important to me,". His voice was soft like he was realizing this for the first time.

The second time was meant for y/n, "You are very important to me." I love you, y/n.

Y/n locked eyes with Carmen for a moment.

"You are important to me too." I love you, Carmen.

Neither of them had the courage to say that to each other, wondering if they were the only one’s feeling like this.

They both had jackets on but y/n’s hands were freezing and she could feel Carmen’s hand was also ice cold. She knew that they had both reached their limits but y/n couldn’t help but relish in the cold for a bit longer.

For y/n, the biting cold was always a catalyst for clarity, stripping away the unnecessary and forcing y/n to distill her focus onto the few things that mattered. Amidst the frost, she found solace in the simplicity. It was within this chilling environment that she discovered a clear chance to confront her inner turmoil head-on and confront the world.

Carmen had always been drawn to the intense heat. It was as if the scorching temperatures matched the fire that burned within him, igniting his passion and driving him forward but leaving him with nothing to look back on. Extreme heat was his poison of choice, his way of confronting the world.

Carmen’s heat was turning her mind into a messy slurry of slush. Y/n had to force herself to focus despite the fact that Carmen’s hand was providing her with a sliver of intoxicating warmth.

“You didn’t ask me to be your girlfriend.” Carmen’s head shot up aback by y/n's words. He was excited to introduce her to his family, and he hadn't thought to ask her permission first. He tried to explain himself, his words coming out in a rush.

"I didn't mean to assume anything. I just thought that since we've been seeing each other for a while now, it was... " He took a moment to catch his breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I think you should try asking first.” Carmen stared at y/n not knowing if this was a trap to get rejected twice. He opted for silence.

“Carmen, ask me if I want to be your girlfriend?” Carmen didn't want to say the wrong thing, not when it was so important, for someone so important. Carmen trusted y/n so he stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray before taking a deep breath and asking, “Will you be my girlfriend, y/n.”

Y/n wrapped her freezing hands around his neck accidentally grazing her finger on his neck making him shiver. She leaned in against his lip and even though they had kissed before this, Carmen felt like he couldn’t think. Y/n lips barely touching Carmen’s before whispering a soft, “Yes, Carmy.”

Carmen closed the small gap between their lips. And y/n felt a gentle heat seep through the folds of her head making it difficult to focus on her freezing fingers, or her numb toes, or her goosebump riddled legs, or her shivering arms. Y/n felt Carmen pull her closer and even though they were as close as physically possible, it wasn’t enough. Carmen’s lips left y/n’s before trailing down the column of her neck, y/n could feel the blossoming of heat radiate from his lips. Y/n’s hands sank down to Carmen’s waist and slowly drifted up his shirt. The cold sent shivers down his spine as y/n’s hands moved at a glacial pace.

Just as Carmen reached the collar of her jacket he looked up at her and y/n had to resist every irrational and reckless part of her that told her to continue. The realization that they were on Carmen’s sister’s porch made y/n look around to ground herself. She landed on a black box right near the door before looking back to Carmen with her mouth agape and her eyes wide open.

“What?” Carmen questioned with furrowed eyebrows.

“We are on your sister's porch.” Y/n said with a thousand yard stare and a distant mutter.

“I’m not a fucking animal, obviously we aren’t going to do this here.” Y/n softly grasped Carmen’s face before turning towards the black box, a doorbell camera.

“Jesus…fuck.” They both looked at each other before y/n scrambled inside with Carmen right behind her. Either they were caught and they had to face Natalie despite the embarrassment or they got to the footage before Natalie saw it.

Y/n let Carmen lead her to Natalie’s room, who thankfully was still laying on her side, Pete had gone to the restroom.

Y/n leaned up to Carmen before whispering, “Distract her.” Carmen sat near Natalie and asked her if she wanted some ginger-ale or if he should stop by a pharmacy.

Natalie's phone was on the nightstand and y/n swiped it when Natalie wasn’t looking before unlocking her phone with the password she acquired from being noisy. She then deleted the footage of the last hour from her Ring app. Y/n wanted to scroll back a few months to watch Carmen call her for the first time but she didn’t have enough time.

Y/n set the phone exactly how she found it and gave Carmen a subtle thumbs up.

“I’m fine, I think I need to sleep this off.” Natalie sat up while glancing at y/n and y/n had to resist freezing like a criminal caught in the spotlight.

“I’m really sorry-” Natalie started.

“Please don’t be. I had a great time. Is there anything we can do for you before we leave?” Y/n felt bad for taking advantage of Natalie’s pregnancy induced sickness but this was a matter of prestige, she wouldn’t be able to set foot in this house if Natalie ever saw the footage.

Natalie shook her head no and they said their goodbye’s before Camren and y/n practically tripped over themselves running out of that house. They sprinted to the car and slammed the doors shut before bursting out laughing. Y/n felt like she was a teenager again, sneaking her boyfriend out the fire escape before her mom walked in. Carmen pushed his forehead into the steering wheel to laugh and the sound that echoed felt like it was melting itself into y/n’s brain, forever branded into her memory.

“How many times have you been here, Carmen? You never noticed the fucking camera, you dick?” Y/n struggled to shake off the heat that pulsed up her body, Camren hadn’t even started the car yet and she was burning up.

“I…I never looked, what kind of freak looks?”Carmen said in between laughs. Y/n gave him a fake look of disapproval.

“Turn the car on, Berzatto, you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

Carmen turned on his car before pulling out of Natalie’s driveway, he was still snickering and in the streetlight y/n could see his neck turn bright red.

“Stop by a CVS or something.” Y/n said while fiddling with the radio.

“You think you caught something from Nat.” Y/n resisted telling him that pregnancy wasn’t contagious, men are so fucking stupid.

“You have condoms on you?” Carmen slammed on the break, lucky they were at a red light.

“N...no.” Scarlet crawled up his neck and up his face. Y/n didn’t know someone’s ears could ever get that red before. Carmen stayed still trying to collect his fractured thoughts.

“It's green, Carmen.”

He stepped on the gas and y/n was glad that the roads were practically empty because he was driving like he had all the insurance in the world. He pulled over to a Walgreens and ran out of the car. Y/n shook her head at his shit parking, he was in between two spots. Carmen came back in a minute with a plastic bag, y/n could decipher from the shapes that he had also bought some gatorades too.

Carmen pulled out of the parking lot.

Y/n didn’t recognize the streets on their ride back, “Your place?”

“Mine is closer.” Carmen replied, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation.

Y/n could help but giggle, she always loved it when he was desperate. She knew it was wrong, but she always felt such a rush of excitement when her control over him was at its pinnacle and they both knew it.

When they reached a stop sign, y/n glanced over at Camren and saw that he was already looking back at her.

They couldn’t seem to care that they were wading in uncharted waters and they couldn’t convince themselves that this was going to end badly enough for them to not at least try. If they looked at each other like that, there was no way they were going to let each other go.

End Notes:

Fire + Ice = Vapor; It took me an embarrassing amount of time to think of that.

There is a lot of tension and maturity that needs to be written in smut for it to be good and I just can’t do that. I tried for this one and I had to close my laptop and take a lap because the second hand embarrassment was too much. So those drafts have been deleted and I’m glad I never have to see them again.

I didn't think people would like Turbulence, I was going to delete it after a few hours and just keep it to myself but i'm glad that people liked it so ig it's here to stay. I tried to keep this one more contained then Turbulence bc writing about multiple days is such a pain.

I really don’t know what else I might write about for these two, or in general, so if you have any suggestions feel free to send them to me. If your suggestion inspires me, you better believe that I'm going to get out of bed at 2 in the morning and start writing. Or we can bury these two in a shallow grave and forget they exist, which is also fine by me because I think fic aged me.

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xxxdreamscapexxx · 28 days

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I don't want to hear thoughts... Unless they're yours.

Chapter 11: Let me help you relax Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Word count: 2.8k Warning: A lot of fluffy moments and slight teasing. Maybe some anxiety and stress, but nothing heavy. Summary: Wanda wanted to live the normal life she was never afforded, but something was always missing. Something she denied herself and buried deep inside. But watching you move next door, she quickly realizes that this may not be possible for much longer. Especially with all the interesting things she found in your thoughts. Chapter summary: After some stressful days, Wanda wants to help you relax. And what better way than flirting and meditation. Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8 ; Part 9; Part 10; Part 11; Series materlist Masterlist of all my works

After coming home that Sunday night, Wanda was exhilarated. She had gotten a taste of you, all willing and ready for her. Your cute little moans, the needy way you scratched at her back, the way you pulled her closer, your sweet taste, the pliable, easy way in which you accepted her dominance… It was all perfect. But as the days of the week started to pass by, Wanda found herself regretting that she didn’t secure that date with you when she had the chance. Every day the two of you saw each-other, shared small conversations and sweet little moments, you talked about your days and about your plans, she learned more about you, through short afternoon conversations on her porch, where she got to hold your hand, but she couldn’t muster up the courage to ask you out and it seemed that even though you thought about it too, you felt just as nervous. It was only through your thoughts that she found comfort during that time. She was in your mind more and more often, drawn to your ideas. You saw yourself sharing meals with her at night, you sent her recipes you thought she might like, while you were at the office, you imagined cute date ideas for the two of you, that she found simply adorable, making her heart flutter with joy. You were such a romantic soul, a sweet, delicate, sensitive one and as she got lost in your ideas, she couldn’t help but think on all the little dates she wanted to take you on. She just knew that you would melt if she took you to the big bookstore on main street, the one full of Paperblanks notebooks and gorgeous ceramic tea mugs. She would let you roam the shelves, telling her about your favorite books and letting you pick new ones, perhaps even picking a few together and she’d slip in a few notebooks and a nice fountain pen for you, before you reached the cash register. She would spoil you with everything you wanted there, knowing you would probably refuse to let her pay… But she had her ways of convincing you. She’d also love to take you to the lake, just outside of town, the two of you watching the sunset together. She’d kiss you slowly to the sound of the crickets and she’ll hold your hand as you walked. She’d take you to her favorite farmers market, buying you honey and cheeses and a bag of delicious apples, and she’ll invite you over to her house, so the two of you could bake a pie together, while the boys played. She’d take you to her favorite restaurant, of course, treat you to dinner and flirting with you, while she pretended that she didn’t undress you with her eyes. Perhaps she’ll start with that one. She wanted to set the right tone. Show you that she wasn’t just homely. Yes, it was better to start with a night out. But she’ll build up to all the rest as well.

By Wednesday night, after a particularly hard day at the office, the thought of Wanda seemed to be your biggest comfort too. You liked the domestic and kind approach the two of you had with each-other, you liked the afternoons you shared, the little kisses she left on your cheeks, liked making her laugh, even if you were telling the stupidest joke. You liked her casual teasing too, the way her voice would get low, when she flirted with you shamelessly, the lingering touches, the smouldering looks. It was driving you crazy in the best way possible, but even that couldn’t save you from the stress of the day. You were late this morning, having to rush out of your house and even that didn’t help. You couldn’t stop for coffee on your way, having to drink whatever they made in the office, you were swamped with work, you had to make last minute changes to key processes, meaning you’d have to document it all and honestly, it was driving you crazy. And yes, some of it was little things, but in the end, it all piled together. You knew that new projects are like this, you expected it, but this Wednesday it bothered you and you couldn’t shake that thought away when you got home 3 hours after the end of your regulated work hours. You were exhausted, yet you couldn’t switch your brain off and even the thoughts of Wanda couldn’t quite calm you down. You were seated near the pool again, a glass of wine next to you and your fingers frantically typing on your laptop, when a voice pulled you from your thoughts and you looked towards the source to see Wanda standing near your fence, her hands resting on it gently. “Good evening, Y/N.” She smiled gently, tentatively, as if unsure if she should be here. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” She looked away for a second, her voice unusually quiet and small. “Hi Wanda.” You smiled, putting your laptop away and approaching her, your hands landing on top of hers. “Is everything ok?” You asked, concerned. “Yes.” She nodded, even if her answer didn’t seem completely sincere. She had heard your frantic thoughts when you came home, followed them throughout the night as they continued to swirl around in your head, feeling your anxiety and stress as if they were her own, yet unable to pull away from you. She couldn’t just disentangle herself from you and leave you to face your inner turmoil and she couldn’t fight the way it affected her either. It was frightening how intertwined the two of you were, how deeply she felt your emotions, as if they were her own. Perhaps that fear didn’t help the way she felt either.

“Late night working?” She asked, trying to break the tension of the moment. “Yes. I couldn’t stop thinking about work, so I thought it’s best if I just help myself and actually do the work.” You admit. “Does it help?” She asks, already knowing the answer. “No. I’m still stressed. But I’m closer to meeting my deadlines.” You admit with a small, dry chuckle. “Perhaps I can help you relax?” Wanda offers boldly and watches the thought of the double meaning behind her words flash behind your eyes for a moment. “How forward of you, Miss Maximoff!” You joke, knowing very well that it’s not what she meant. “Well, what can I say. I can’t help myself. I see something I want and I just have to go after it.” She jokes back, happy to see some of the tension drain from your shoulders and instantly feeling relieved as well. “No, but honestly, have you ever tried meditating?” She asks, changing the subject. “I have.” You nod. “It never really worked for me, though.” You admit. “Well, perhaps I can teach you.” Wanda offers. “Oh really?” You raise a brow at her. You can’t help but notice that you already feel better, simply because she is here with you. “You have so many hidden skills, I see.” You comment as you walk to the nearby door and open it, so Wanda could enter, a small smile appearing on your lips. “You have no idea.” The older woman teases, walking into your yard. She makes a small pause, looking at you, before she speaks again. “It’s good to see you smiling.” She admits, her voice gentle and soft, just like her features. “Thank you.” Her words make you blush, your smile growing wider. Wanda can’t help but think that it’s one of the most beautiful things in the world. She’s tempted to kiss you right then and there, to sweep you off your feet and carry you into the house, so she can lay you down and kiss you, until your lips are swollen and your head is empty. She supposes that it’s a form of relaxation as well. “Can I offer you something to drink?” You ask, trying to distract yourself from the intensity in her gaze. “Whatever you’re having.” Wanda smiles as she follows you.

* * * The two of you sit at the edge of the pool, feet dipped inside the warm water, a couple of glasses filled with wine near you as you talked. Wanda’s presence was enough to anchor you in the present, all your worries melting away, like they never existed. “Thank you for coming over.” You said to her, as you looked into her green eyes. “You always seem to have the best timing.” “I wanted to see you.” Wanda said with a shrug, but her attentive eyes didn’t miss the way you blushed again. “Speaking of which…” She continued. “I also want to ask you out on a proper date.” She tells you, her hand reaching out to take yours, your fingers touching playfully. “Let me take you out to dinner. I know a lovely restaurant in town.” She offers. “Let me spoil you for a night.” She continues, her voice starting to give away her hopeful eagerness. “Let me show you how well I can treat you.” “I’d like that very much.” You nodded, suddenly feeling shy at the woman’s intensity. You’d never met a woman like Wanda before. Someone so sure of themselves, someone who wanted you and wasn’t afraid to show it. “Then I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.” Wanda decided, hiding her smirk behind her glass as she took a small sip of the wine you had poured her. She already made plans in her head, thinking about every small detail about your date tomorrow, delighted that she’ll finally get to have what she had longed for, since you’d moved in. * * * After the two of you finished your wine, Wanda could tell that you were feeling the pleasant buzz of alcohol, your thoughts slowing down, your eyes sparkling more, as you looked at her. She could tell that you wanted her, even without reading your thoughts and she did her best not to find out where those particular ideas were taking you, knowing that the temptation would be too great to resist. Instead, she suggested to step away from the pool, taking your hand and guiding you inside the house, so she’d finally give you that lesson on meditation that she had first offered you. You were sceptical at first, but when she sat down on the couch and spread her legs, leaving room for you to sit between them, you couldn’t help but smirk and do as you’re told. You would have to be crazy to refuse her closeness after all.

You felt a little uncomfortable to sit like that with her, but the moment you felt the warmth of her body envelop you, felt her sure hands secure you in place, all your doubts disappeared. “Close your eyes.” Wanda said softly, almost a whisper in your ear, while her hands guided you closer to her, your back pressed against her front. “Just listen to my voice.” The older woman continued, hands landing on your shoulders. “Let it carry you away, to a place where you feel safe and calm.” She said in an even tone. “Can you picture such a place for me?” Wanda asked, watching you nod slowly. Unbeknownst to you, she was slowly making her way into your mind, eyes swirling with red. She helped you to control your thoughts, breathing evening out, while she kept any of them from reaching you, allowing only that safe place to remain in your mind’s eye. “Try to hold that picture in your mind.” She instructed. Wanda could feel the tension of the day melting away, she could feel your muscles relax under her palms, she could see the image of a river, its clear water racing past you, as you lay on a field of grass, surrounded by treas. You were at peace there, she could tell and she amplified that image, making the colours brighter and more vibrant. She allowed the details to develop, until she hardly had to help you anymore, your mind settling in that place of perfect peace. You felt like you were in a dream. Your head was swimming, surrounded by thoughts, but none could reach you. Even the sounds felt distant, your senses dull. It was almost an out of body experience. A deep sense of calm had taken hold of you, the rest of the world melting away. There was only you and that beautiful place. Even Wanda’s voice felt like a far-away echo, your ears unable to distinguish the words she spoke. Once she felt that your mind had calmed, the redhead pulled away her powers as well, choosing to give you some privacy. She didn’t want to take too much advantage of the trust you placed in her, instead deciding to bask in the wonderful feeling of holding you into her arms.

* * * You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, the warmth of her body enveloping you and your mind staying in its little paradise. You just know that the image eventually started to fade away, Wanda’s words coming into focus again as she coaxed you back into a more aware state of mind. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, after she gave you some time to fully come back to your senses. “Really well rested.” You admitted. “Thank you, Wanda.” “Wait till you get some sleep. You’ll wake up feeling even better tomorrow.” Wanda said with a smile, her eyes wandering over your face, a look of genuine affection clearly showing in her eyes. She had allowed you to sit on your own. Barely. But she was still seated close by. She didn’t want to miss this rare chance to look at you, to touch you and admire you, without having to worry about being seen or interrupted. She wanted to soak up your presence as much as she could. “Oh, I can’t wait for the weekend!” You answered slowly, groggily, like a person half-asleep already. “Sleeping in would be just magical.” Wanda only laughed at that statement. You looked so adorable like this. All sleepy and buzzed from the wine and completely boneless after she’d helped you relax. You were too cute for your own good. At another time, in another life, she wouldn’t hesitate to take you like this. You’d cling to her helplessly, whining for her attention, begging wordlessly for her to stop teasing you and just take you. Perhaps a part of her would still find pleasure in that… “Perhaps I should let you go to bed then.” She says instead, disappointment evident in her eyes, that she has to pull away from you. “You don’t have to go straight away…” You said hopefully, not even sure what you were offering the woman. You just knew that you missed the way she had held you earlier, missed her warmth and her gentleness, missed the way she made you feel safe in her arms. “I should though. I want you well rested for tomorrow.” Wanda winked. She studied your face again at her words, amusement flashing across your face at her teasing, before it was replaced with disappointment to see her go. The evidence was in your eyes and she paused for just a moment, before she lunged forward, her lips landing on yours and giving you a brief, small kiss. A warning of sorts, before another, more sensual kiss came. This time you were prepared. Lips parting for her and kissing her fully, allowing yourself to be guided by her, without a moment of hesitation. When you parted, it took everything in Wanda not to lean back and kiss you again. You were so damn tempting to her. So irresistible. From the first day she heard your thoughts, from that day she met you at your front door, she just couldn’t get enough. “If you want me to rest, you shouldn’t tease me, Wanda.” You said playfully, a mischievous smile on your lips. “I can’t help myself.” The redhead admitted. “Are you always such a sweet-talker?” You asked, your hand reaching out to touch hers, fingers playing together softly. “I haven’t said anything that’s not true.” Wanda retorted, leaning so close she could feel your breath on her skin, she could smell your perfume… Without thinking, she kissed you again. This time she pressed her body against you too, she cradled the back of your head and tangled her fingers in your hair. She kissed you deeply, pouring her passion in every brush of her lips against yours. Each time her tongue glided against yours she felt little jolts of pleasure spreading through her, tempting her to do it again and again, until you were both breathless and panting. “I’ve been wanting to do that for days.” Wanda admitted, straightening herself, even if everything inside her told her to stay, to pull you even closer. “And is it everything you pictured?” You asked playfully. “That and so much more…” Wanda smiled, her lips spreading into a grin, before she was leaning into yet another kiss.

#lesbian #writing #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #top!wanda #bottom!reader #i don't want to hear thoughts...#scarlet witch

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dqrciedaily · 2 months

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day in the life, abj

a/n: first fic! also i know aggie didn’t play in the derby but i’m ignoring that x

“morning everyone welcome back to my channel! today i’m finally going to be doing a day in the life after so many requests to do one!”

at fourteen you started a youtube channel just like all your other friends, making random slime videos and gymnastics tutorials with your cousins. which later turned into a channel with over four hundred thousand subscribers.

the gymnastics tutorials and slime videos long gone but now were replaced by vlogs, get ready with mes and q&as.

as of late the vlogs had some cameos of the blonde girl in the background but the two of you had never explicitly mentioned that you were dating.

the city stirred with the promise of a new day as y/n woke to the gentle rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains. beside her, aggie lay in peaceful slumber, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with each breath. y/n couldn't help but admire the beauty of her girlfriend, her heart swelling with affection.

the camera was already set up and ready to go catching the intimate women between the two lovers.

with a soft smile y/n leaned in to press a tender kiss to aggie’s forehead, eliciting a soft murmur of contentment from her lover. "good morning baby," y/n whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair from aggie’s face.

aggie stirred, her eyes fluttering open to meet y/n’s gaze, a warm smile spreading across her lips. today was special, not just because it was their nine month anniversary, but because they had both decided it was time to officially hard launch their relationship.

after breakfast prepared by y/n, the two set out for a morning stroll through the streets of london. y/n mindlessly spoke to the camera, capturing every moment of their walk, the way aggie's laughter echoed through the streets, the way their fingers intertwined as they walked, the way they stole glances at each other when they thought no one was looking.

after a quick pit stop at the farmers market the duo trudged back to their shared home carrying the heavy paper bags. their second stop of the day was aggie's football match, a london derby at stamford bridge, y/n had been eagerly anticipating for weeks. with her camera rolling, y/n cheered from the stands, her voice heard above the roar of the crowd as aggie showcased her skills.

with each goal chelsea scored, y/n’s pride swelled, her heart bursting with admiration for her talented girlfriend. and when the final whistle blew, signaling chelsea’s victory, y/n couldn't contain her excitement, rushing down to the barriers waiting for aggie so she could wrap aggie in a tight embrace, her camera capturing the raw emotion of the moment.

after the match, aggie and y/n retreated to their apartment, where they indulged in a homemade meal. as they sat across from each other at the table, their conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and shared memories. the moment was featured in the video with soft music over it.

with their hearts full, aggie and y/n settled in on the couch, snuggled up beneath a blanket as they watched their favorite movie. with y/n’s camera capturing their every shared glance and whispered conversation, they lost themselves in the comfort of each other's company, the outside world fading into the background.

as the night wore on and the credits rolled, aggie and y/n found themselves reluctant to leave the warmth of the couch. but eventually, exhaustion crept in, and they made their way to bed, where they curled up together beneath the covers, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

quiet mumbles of goodbyes and thanks for watchings finished off the vlog as in the quiet stillness of the night, aggie and y/n found solace in each other's arms, their breathing syncing in perfect harmony.

#darcie’s drabbles #aggie beever jones #aggie beever jones x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine

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pedroshotwifey · 5 months

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To the Flame Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter tags/warnings: not much yet, age gap, fluff, reader being horny (c'mon y'all it's me what do you expect), Javier being gorgeous, erotic novels honorable mention, mentions of cheating, stuff I'm probably forgetting

Chapter summary: You meet a beautiful stranger at the farmer's market. Is he what you need to get back on your feet?

A/N: Hey, y'all!! I'm so very excited about starting this series! I have so many plans, and I can't wait to share them with you! Please keep in mind that this story will get darker the more it progresses. Thank you for reading!

***

You’ve been back in your hometown for about three months now. Three miserable and exhausting months.

You’ve been working on the family farm four days a week, ten hours a day, every week since you got back. You figure it wouldn’t be so bad if you got to have the other three days off, but no. Those days are spent at the local farmer’s market, sitting in a stiff plastic chair in the sticky Texan heat.

It doesn’t even matter that you wear a tank top and shorts to the market, you feel like you’re going to melt every damn time you have to go. The same goes for working on the farm, only you’re less fortunate in that situation. You know it’s smarter to wear jeans out there, so most of the time you do.

You’re trying to be grateful to your parents, you really are. They just make it so damn hard sometimes. Sure, they gave you a job when you needed one, but they never stop talking about how they were right. And they were, as much as you didn’t want to admit it.

Your mom and dad never approved of your boyfriend, and had told you as much. You chose to ignore that fact considering they said that about every boyfriend you ever had. How the hell were you supposed to know if they were actually concerned, or if they just didn’t want you to date?

They had warned you about him. Told you that he wasn’t genuine, that you need to be careful. They told you the same about your so-called “best friend”, who was the person you found your boyfriend balls deep inside of three months ago.

But, of course, despite their protest, you had moved out with him anyway. Spent your savings on renting an apartment that he put practically nothing into. In retrospect, you really should have known; there were so many signs. You were just too damn stubborn to see them. You never would have guessed that he would go as far as to cheat on you.

Your own poor choices are what ultimately landed you back here, getting out of your dad’s old truck to unload a creaky table to set up the stand at the farmer’s market. Again. You roll your eyes and pop your earbuds in, putting on your favorite playlist.

You open the back of the truck and start to drag the plastic table out. It slides across the bed effortlessly thanks to the morning dew it’s been sitting out in. Unfortunately, that detail is another pain in the ass more than anything, because you end up getting half-soaked as you haul it into the giant tent that makes up the market.

You get it set up in an empty booth, smacking the rusted hinges to get it to stand without risk of collapse. After you lean on it to make sure it won’t fall, you return to the truck to start the endless trips of carrying produce to the stand. You usually make your younger sister help you with this part since she often tags along, but, being a senior in highschool, she couldn’t make it today.

Once you have everything put together and displayed on various shelves, you take a seat in the foldable chair you had brought with you. You expect it will be a slow day, as Mondays usually are, so you brought a book to pass the time.

You rarely sell anything on weekdays, you have no idea why your parents are so adamant about you coming all the way out here every monday since you got here. Maybe it’s just to get you out of the house—you wouldn’t put it past them.

You take one more look around the market to make sure there’s nobody approaching your stand before you open your book to the first page. It’s a newer, trashy romance. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but you like what you like.

Sometimes you swear your love life is awful or boring enough for you to actually wish to be in the place of the girls in your books. At least the fictional men seem genuine. Less likely to cheat on you with your best friend, you think bitterly.

Less likely to manipulate into moving into an expensive apartment without helping, Less likely to treat you like shit. Plus, you probably wouldn’t mind the fact that they all seem to be absolute hunks and amazing in bed.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from your spiraling thoughts, your cheeks reddening once you realize you have been staring blankly at the same page for a good few minutes.

You have to steady yourself so you don’t drop your book on the dirt below you, which has you almost falling out of your chair in the process.

You glance up at the stranger as you situate yourself, which doesn’t do much to help. The man is drop-dead fucking gorgeous. He’s staring down at you, clearly amused. His full lips are tugged up into a half-smirk. You think for a second that he looks familiar, but you would for sure remember seeing a man like this.

His hair is dark, a bit long and shaggy, but in the way that makes you want to run your fingers through it. He wears sunglasses, you notice with disappointment. You don’t know why you have such a strong urge to see what’s hidden under there. You’re guessing they’re brown. He seems to carry a kind aura, it’s a fitting idea that his eyes would be warm.

Even though you sense such a kindness emanating from him, there’s an annoying nagging from the back of your head that makes you uneasy. His stare is almost imposing, the way he carries himself adding so much to the effect. Your stomach bunches up in a frustrating way that signifies both anxiety and lust. You don’t really care much to figure out which is dominant at the moment.

All you know is that you’re drawn to this man like a moth to a flame, and that after all you’ve been through, you deserve to admire him at the very least. It’s not often you come across such a good looking man. A fictional looking man.

He cocks his head after you stare for what could probably be considered a second too long. Your face must be about the shade of a tomato at this point. The weight of an object in your hand quickly reminds you of the task at hand.

This is a potential customer. You need to stop staring like a schoolgirl. Besides, he must be what… ten, fifteen years older than you? God, you can’t even tell. He looks mature, but somehow ageless at the same time. He has strong, masculine features, but a sort of boyish quality, too. If someone told you he was some kind of a god himself, you would have no trouble believing them.

“I-I’m so sorry, let me just put this down,” you say to the god, trying not to stumble over your own words after getting caught ogling.

“No problem at all, sweetheart,” he says, clearly unbothered. Fuck, his voice. It’s deep and rich, and he has some sort of accent, like he grew up speaking another language. Spanish? Probably spanish. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Down, girl.

You take a breath in through your nose, willing yourself to relax as you set your book down on the table in front of you. You resist the urge to shut your eyes out of embarrassment as he looks down at the erotic cover, and then back at you with an arched brow and an amused smile. You move quickly as you snatch the book back to flip it back-side-up.

“What can I get for you, sir?” you quietly attempt to move on from that interaction, trying to reign in some of your composure. He’s standing with one hand on his hip, which is jutted out just slightly. He licks his plush lips and stands up mostly straight before he speaks. He pulls a piece of paper out of his snug back pocket and starts to read off of it.

Your face keeps a nice flush as he reads off of his list. Your core throbs every now and again as he talks, making it a bit hard for you to concentrate, but you’re pretty sure you got everything.

You nod at him to let him know as much before you get up to collect everything. Who knows if your voice even works right now. You do your best to ignore the weight of his stare on your back as you move around.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” he says, obviously wanting to start a conversation. “You been here long?”

“No, not really,” you say, trying to level your voice as you place produce into bags. “Well, kind of. I grew up here but I moved away a few years ago. Only been back for a couple months now. I’m staying to help my parents for a bit before I can get back onto my feet,” you finish as you secure the last bag.

You look up as you place the goods on the table, this time meeting the man’s uncovered eyes. Brown and expressive, just as you imagined. You smile absentmindedly, and he mirrors your action, making your stomach twist once again. What a fucking smile.

“Well, welcome back, then,” he says. “I’m Javier. Prefer it if you would call me Javi, though.”

“Javi it is,” you say, liking the feel of his name on your tongue. You tell him your name and he nods.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Fuck this man, he has to know what he’s doing.

“Thank you,” you say, trying to control the pitch of your voice.

He watches you as you place his bags on the table in front of you, now full of his requested items. As you catch his gaze, everything around you seems to fade to black. No sounds, no movement. All you can focus on is the sudden electric current that is born between the two of you.

A nervous flutter starts in your stomach, but you just can’t bring yourself to look away, as if the attraction would be broken and gone forever if you did. The two of you hold eye contact for what could be a minute or ten before someone walks past your stand, drawing your attention back to reality.

You both let out a breath you’ve been holding, yours probably more shaky than his. You shake your head and start to add up his total after wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts. He stands back on his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watches you work.

It only takes a moment. You tell him his total and he slides his wallet out, handing you the exact cash. You both thank each other at the same time, making you giggle. He smiles wider at the sound.

“You’ve got a nice laugh, sweetheart,” he complements warmly.

“Thank you. I made it myself,” you joke. Javi chuckles to himself, almost like he’s surprised to hear you make a joke. “Sorry,” you say, laughter in your own voice. “That was kind of lame.”

“No, that was pretty clever, actually,” he says through his smile.

You let yourself get one more good look as you reciprocate the gesture, fully expecting him to part ways. He doesn’t though, instead he asks you the one question you had hoped that nobody would ask you.

“What brought you back here?”

Your smile drops slightly and you consider lying to him, telling him that your parents wanted your help and that’s all. You know you can’t, though. There’s no point in trying to hide the truth. Nothing stays hidden in this small town.

So you don’t. You sum up every stupid, unfair thing that made you return home. There’s a flash of sympathy in his gaze that makes you want to shut up, but some sick part of you craves that sympathy at the same time.

It only takes you a couple minutes to have everything out, but he stays quiet and patient the entire time. Never interrupting you once and nodding along at all the right parts to let you know he’s listening.

You haven’t felt this seen in a long time, It feels good. It makes you want to wrap yourself up in this total stranger’s arms and beg him to hold you. Fuck, now you’re picturing that. You need to not picture that. Luckily you don’t have much of a chance to, because he’s responding to you only a few seconds after you finish.

“Well, that’s a damn shame. Fuckin’ boys don’t even know how to treat a sweet girl anymore.” Javi says, making you blush once again.

The attention he gives you feels the same as jumping into a cool pool after being in the sun all day. It’s unbelievably refreshing to hear something like that instead of the usual scolding and ‘I told you so’s.

He seems to put thought into what comes out of his mouth, and it genuinely makes you feel like he cares. Like he wants to make sure you hear what you deserve to hear.

“What makes you so sure I’m sweet?” you ask playfully, trying to change the topic to ignore the craving for more kind words. Might as well flirt a little while you’re at it, you figure. What can it hurt?

“Just a hunch,” he says, his tone the same as yours as his smile crinkled eyes bore into yours. You nod a little, your adoring smile never wavering.

You both notice the small line of people beginning to form behind Javi at the same time. He almost looks disappointed at the sight, like he doesn’t want to leave just yet.

“Just one second, honey,” he says, digging the scrap of paper from before out of his pocket again. Once he has that laid against the table in front of him, he supplies a pen from the front pocket of his shirt. He uses it to scribble something down onto the paper.

You crane your neck slightly to try to catch a peak, but you can’t tell with how fast he’s writing. When he’s done, he folds it once, slides it your way, and gives a singular nod.

“See you around, sweetheart,” he says as he starts to leave.

“Yeah. See you,” you mumble under your breath as you watch him stride away, bags of produce in hand.

A woman walks up to the table, and you quickly turn to her.

“So sorry about that. How can I help you?” you ask quickly, eyeing the paper Javi left behind.

It only takes you a little while to get everyone who was in line checked out, but it feels like it could have been hours. As soon as the last customer starts to walk away, your hands are on the note, shakily unfolding it to reveal Javi’s (suitably) scratchy handwriting.

You see what you can only assume to be his phone number, and above it, there’s a note.

“I would love to see you again, sweet girl. Give me a call?”

Your heart flutters as you bite your lip and read the note over again. There’s no way you’re not taking up that offer.

***

Thank you so much for reading!! I would absolutely love any kind of feedback so I know where everyone's at on this!! I have a tag list open for this series if anybody would like to join <3

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @survivingandenduring @kewwrites (pls lmk if these tags worked!)

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #fluff #dark javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #narcos #javier pena #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #dark pedro pascal

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