Warnings: age gap!! Nothing else, it’s just fluff!
Words: 771
“You sure dis here, miss?” Her uber driver said, his eyebrows lifted all the way up to his hairline at seeing the literal mansion they were driving up towards. Her eyes were just as wide, completely in shock at seeing the absolutely massive home.
The mansion was a beige-y color, in a warm, inviting way. A fancy car was parked in the drive way, beside an old, expensive motorcycle that had clearly stood there for a while.
“Uhm yeah… I suppose…” she sighed, almost dreamily. What guy invited a girl to their house on their first date? Let alone to cook for her. David Rossi was that guy.
After seeing her that first time down at the cafe, he’d returned, hoping to see her again. It had become almost a ritual, the two of them meeting at the cafe. The talked. About nothing and everything, all at once.
He’d asked her out the fourth time they’d met at that coffee shop. Given her his address, and a kiss on the hand.
“You visitin’ family, sugar?” The uber driver murmured, still in awe as he parked the car. “Uh no… first date.” She chuckled nervously, gathering her purse in her lap, taking out what little tip money she had in her purse. “Huh. Guy must really like impressing his women, ey?” The driver hissed out, his eyes never leaving the mansion.
“Sure, yeah… um… here’s a 20. Thanks for the ride.” She smiled shyly, handing the driver the crumpled bill. She stepped out of the car, walking up towards the elevated front door, mouth agape.
Her fist hit the hard wood door, knocking on the hardwood door.
“Dolcezza.” His voice echoed in her ears, as the door opened. He looked handsome, moreso than before somehow.
He was wearing slacks, and a white button up. His heavy, expensive watch sat on his wrist; a watch which probably costs more than her entire rent. “David! Hi!” She said shyly, feeling a bit underdressed for the huge mansion, and the handsome man infront of her.
“You look beautiful.” He said, a smile painting his face, an almost gentle sigh escaping him. “Come in! The sauce is on, and breads in the oven, Bella.” He said, smiling at her.
The mansion smelled HEAVENLY. Like Italian spices, garlic and oregano. Like his cologne and cigar smoke.
“Your house is… beautiful.” She said, eyes trailing along every inch of the entryway. She could’ve sworn that room alone was bigger than her entire apartment.
“Thank you.” He acknowledged, taking her coat and hanging it for her. “You should see my lodge up north, the view from there is breathtaking.” His smile made his entire being glow. “Like you, Tesoro.” He added, making her blush.
“Come sit, sweetheart. I’ll just finish up the sauce.” He guided her towards the large, beautiful kitchen, sitting her down on a barstool by the kitchen island.
An old record was on, spinning endless circles around the record player by the dining table. It was an old Sinatra record, humming softly in the background.
Once the food was ready, he plated it prettily on these gorgeous blue ceramic plates, popping out a bottle of red wine older than her.
He’d cooked for her. Handmade pasta, homemade carbonara sauce and home baked garlic bread. They sat, ate and talked for hours. He made her laugh more than louder than she had laughed in years.
After the dinner, he walked over to the record player, putting on a new vinyl. “Big fan of Sinatra, huh?” She stated with a soft chuckle, unable to tear her gaze off of him.
“You could say so.” He smiled, putting on the smaller record. It was a single, so about the size of a modern CD.
The soft music of Frank Sinatras ‘Something Stupid’ began playing over the little speaker, as he turned up the volume.
“Come dance with me, Bella.” He reached out his hand, letting hers fall gracefully into his. He pulled her close, arm snaking around her waist as they began swaying.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, resting on his shoulders as they slow danced. It was a calm, tender moment. And definitely much more romantic than the usual ‘Wanna hook up?’ She’d gotten from the guy she’d dated before.
The thoughts began running through her head. Of course he was older, more experienced… but he was so romantic, so sweet, thoughtful. And it was the first date, so of course it was stupid to think.
But that moment he’d grabbed her waist, pulled her in for that dance. She’d realized…
I’ve been tagged in a couple of sentences snippet things in the past few days/week by so many lovely and wonderful people @jamieroyjamieroy @bangpop91 @atevanfool @bidisasterevankinard
Thank you so much for the tags! I always appreciate it, even if I keep falling behind on actually doing them lol 😅 So here are some ruca first date sentences, the most recent wip I’ve worked on.
“I know the guy inspires violence nine times out of ten,” Deacon's voice cut into his spiral, “but why are you glaring at him like he just murdered your entire family?”
Luca startled where he was leaning against the workout bench, dragged out of his thoughts. He shot Deacon a sideways look. “Deac.”
Deacon tilted his head toward the sparring ring. “What did Rocker do this time? We haven’t lost another bet, have we?”
“No, no—just the Halloween one,” Luca reassured him as he followed Deacon’s gaze…and immediately regretted it.
Rocker was up in the ring with Tan, boxing gloves on, sweat-slick and laser-focused. Every movement was sharp, power rolling through each jab and block. When he pivoted, the muscles in his back and thighs flexed, catching Luca’s eye in a trap he couldn’t escape.
Ducking one of Tan’s swings, Rocker laughed as he landed a right hook. “Come on, Tan! You got weights on your feet or something?”
That laugh—it was loud, smug, filled with so much self-satisfaction it practically dripped off his body. And it shot straight through Luca like a lightning strike, stirring something deep inside him he really didn’t want to think about. Not here. Definitely not with half the swat members around.
He shifted his towel from his shoulders to his hands, subtly holding it front of him, and kept watching—almost transfixed—as Rocker feinted, grinned, and tapped Tan’s side in three quick jabs. Luca’s throat went dry. He couldn’t look away. Not from the easy confidence, not from the cocky grin, not from the quick flashes of focus that hardened Rocker's whole expression, making him seem untouchable.
Gorgeous, Luca thought—and froze when the word actually formed in his head.
Beside him, Deacon cleared his throat pointedly. “Not anger, then,” he stated, lips quirking in amusement.
Not tagging anyone, because it’s late and I’m too tired to remember who writes lol.
Pre-outbreak/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x Home Depot Worker!f!Reader
Word Count: 5.5k
Summary: Working at Home Depot was lack-luster. The paint department brought in a variety of customers, the majority of them just buying their paint and leaving. Then Joel Miller comes in--looking to repaint his daughters bedroom.
Content Warnings/Tags: Pre-outbreak/No-outbreak, reader works at Home Depot, fluff, meet-cute, rude customer, Joel defends you, eventual smut (next part), eventual first date, no descriptions for reader, no y/n.
A/N: Got this as a request! There will be another part with smut.
“More saving. More doing. That’s the power of the Home Depot.”
The wannabe gruff voice of the Home Depot narrator echoed throughout the large cement warehouse. It was Sunday, only two hours until close, and the store was virtually dead.
A large rectangular box of a warehouse was your place of employment for the time being. Orange decorated aisle after aisle, and employee after employee. Some employees decorated their aprons in paint and pins, showing their years of employment and dedication to their jobs. Others simply had their name written on their apron, just like how they simply showed up to work and left.
After moving out of the house you shared with your ex and into your own place, you needed the extra income to supplement your new rent and the remaining rent you owed on your shared lease.
Home Depot was hiring—and was desperate—because you got employed in the paint department.
Making paint wasn’t hard at all. It was the shitty customers that ruined it. Customers would demand to see a manager after you told them their paint wasn’t ready—even though they asked for three five-gallon buckets, and ten single gallons, fifteen minutes ago. People would order the same amount in a color they swore they would love, and then attempted to return it the next day, even though NO REFUNDS was printed in bold on the Home Depot paint sticker.
But, working behind the paint counter had its perks. You could stay in one place in the store, telling customers who needed help with complicated items that you, “had to stay and watch the desk.” Plus the desk had a phone, which allowed you to call any department, so your more knowledgeable coworkers could take over tough questions.
The only types of customers left at this hour were those that had emergencies, and those that liked to put things off until the last minute.
Getting tired of sitting behind the desk’s computer on your phone, you got up and walked the three aisles that made up the department. Your footsteps lightly tapped against the gray concrete of the floor. With each step, you scanned the shelves and the floor for anything out of place. Returning misplaced items was an easy task that helped you eat away at the remaining time of your shift.
A tube of caulk was placed right in the middle of the gallons of wood stain—classic. You reached downwards to retrieve the tube and stood back up, pacing down the shelves of orange towards the caulking aisle. The music over the loudspeakers was just quiet enough to hear the surrounding conversations in the other aisles.
One voice echoed to you louder than the rest. Randy’s voice.
Randy was a retired mechanic. Most of his skills were applicable to the questions customers often had. The man had wiry, white hair that peaked out from this Home Depot baseball cap he wore everyday. His apron was covered in various stains of grease and dirt, his name scrawled in Sharpie on the upper right corner of the orange fabric.
From a couple aisles over, his gruff voice made its way towards you, “Ah! Paint for a bedroom…Well let’s see, is this a kids bedroom?”
A deep, Texan drawl replied to Randy, “It is, ‘s fer my daughter. She wan’ed her room repainted for her birthday. She’s turnin’ thirteen. Says she needs to get rid’a the ‘baby colors’ from when she was lil’.”
Randy let out a hearty laugh, followed by a muted smack, likely from giving the man a pat on the back, “I know how that feels,” Randy paused to let out another laugh, “My daughter is in her twenties now, but she was the same way as yours. Thirteen hit and she insisted she was allll grown up.”
You retreated to the paint desk with a small smile on your face, it was nice that the man wanted to repaint for his daughter. Your watch told you it was an hour and thirty until close. This customer just had to wait until the last minute, though.
The unknown man let out a chuckle at Randy’s anecdote. Slow, muted steps from both men made their way towards the paint department’s aisles. One of the men let out a deep sigh.
“Thing is, I dunno a single thing ‘bout what colors’ll look nice together.”
The footsteps came closer and the two men appeared in your vision. One central aisle lined up with the paint desk, making somewhat of a runway for customers to walk on to come and request paint. Randy looked down the aisle and his gaze met yours, “Oh! There she is,” Randy said your name to the man, “she knows a ton about colors, I’m sure she could help ya more than I can.”
Randy truly was a nice man. He helped you deal with rude customers. Showed you basic tips and tricks. Ate with you in the break room on occasion.
But, c’mon Randy.
The old man continued walking towards the break room and left the man standing at the end of the aisle. You looked down, pretending you didn’t hear the majority of their conversation. Organizing the paint samples became a very consuming task. Heavy steps made their way closer and closer until your peripheries were consumed with the navy blue color of the Texan’s shirt.
His large hands rested on the desk’s countertop. Thick digits were covered in calluses. Before you could observe his fingers more, he cleared his throat.
“‘Scuse me, miss. S’wondering if you could help me w’ somethin’,” the man drawled out.
Your eyes looked up from the desk, and they widened in surprise. The front of his shirt had orange letters displayed on the front: MILLER CONTRACTING LLC.
Most contractors that ventured into the paint department weren’t as…put together as this man was. The usual paint covered pants and shirt weren’t present on this contractor. The navy blue of his work shirt spanned across his wide chest and even wider shoulders. Sleeves hugged his biceps deliciously. If he moved his arms any more you were worried the sleeves would rip. Not that you’d complain.
Then you looked up to meet his eyes.
His eyes.
Brown irises held eye contact with you. They were deep, warm. Inviting. The color made you think of a teddy bear. Soft and comforting. Brown hair on his head and face matched his eyes. The hair on his head consisted of messy waves combed to one general side, probably from a sweep of his fingers. Short, dark brown hairs made up his beard and mustache. Each facial hair component framed handsome features. A strong jaw was framed by his beard, and plush lips were framed by the ‘stache.
The same lips were forming a smile spanning across his face. His eyes crinkled and displayed slight lines near the corners. Lines developed from years of laughter and smiles.
Realizing you looked at him blankly for a second too long, you snapped out of your trance, “O-of course! What do you need help with?”
His hands came up off of the counter and rested on his hips. “Well, y’see, it’s my daughters thirteenth birthday comin’ up. She’s had this yellow color in ‘er room since she was a baby,” he let out a small sigh, as if he was reminiscing, “an’ she wants ‘er room repainted.”
You heard the conversation he had with Randy before, but you didn’t want to come off as a creep for eavesdropping. “Ah, ok! That’s nice of you, and seems easy enough! Do you know what color she wants?”
He let out another sigh. His eyes met yours. The man looked like a sad, lost puppy. “I know her favorite colors, pink and purple, but there’s just so many options,” he turned and gestured with a broad hand towards the rainbow wall of paint swatches. “An’ darlin’, I tried to do m’own research, watchin’ some Martha Stewart shows, but then Martha started talkin’ about warm colors and cool colors,” he let out a chuckle accompanied by a broad smile, raising his hands in front of his chest, “and then she lost me.”
Darlin’.
Other customers called you that condescendingly. When you didn’t know the difference between one screw and another. But the man’s endearing use of the word made your heart melt.
You smile back at him and lean forward on the counter. “Well, I think the first step is just the color. After that, we can worry about warm tones and cool tones,” you gave him a playful smirk.
He chuckled once more. “Sounds like a plan t’me,” he started walking towards the paint swatches. You snuck out from behind the counter and followed him to the pinks and purples.
“So I was thinkin’ of doin’ both pink and purple, but I dunno what looks good together.” The man started reaching for a card of pink. You took the moment to admire his forearms. Thin, dark hairs covered the surface of his tan skin. Muscles flexed on the front of his arm, displaying the years of manual labor the man has endured.
A pink swatch, Valentine, appeared in front of your face, accompanied by a lavender swatch, Kiss and Tell.
Valentine was bright, Barbie pink. Kiss and Tell was a light purple, the color the wax of a lavender candle would be. You admired his dedication to doing both of his daughter’s favorite colors, but the pair didn’t look too great together. The corner of your mouth perked up, displaying the thought you were putting into the pairing.
“No?” The man asked, a tinge of disappointment in his voice. His brows slanted downwards and his eyes resembled those of a lost puppy.
“Hmmm. Does she usually wear lighter colors,” you pointed towards the lavender swatch, “or brighter colors?” You gestured to the pink swatch.
He looked down at the swatches and his brow furrowed. The man was standing so close, you could smell cedar and musk from his cologne. His large biceps slightly brushed your upper arms as he turned to face you, “I reckon she likes the lighter colors.”
You took the lavender swatch, Kiss and Tell, from the man. Your fingers brushed against his thick, calloused ones as the card came into your possession. “Ok, so we’ll stick with the light purple! Let’s find a pink to match this one,” you smiled at him and he returned the expression.
Turning your body slightly towards the pinks, you started picking swatch after swatch off of the wall. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the man watching you in awe. Once several pink cards were in your hands, you went back to the paint desk.
You laid the cards out on a blank, white piece of paper. Five pink swatches were in a row on the paper with the lavender swatch below them. The man stood next to you and leaned over your shoulder to get a better look. A husky voice drawled in your ear, “So which one d’ya think, darlin’?”
You bit your lip at the warmth in his tone. A small shiver traveled up and down your spine, leaving a tingling in its wake. His tone was warm, and so was his upper arm. It grazed against your arm and left it warm and fuzzy. Brown eyes scanned over the options and then locked with yours.
His gaze was incredibly soft. He looked desperate. The image of a lost puppy crossed your mind yet again. A small smile was spread on his face, roping you further into your tiny crush on the customer.
You give him a small smile, which his eyes crinkled further at, and you inform him, “Unfortunately, I can only give you my opinion. I can’t make the decision for you.” One of the man’s eyebrows raised and he gave you a slight frown. “Why’s that?” His voice lilted in question.
Giving him a slight shrug, you explain, “Well, I’ve made decisions for people before, and sometimes they come back and blame me for ‘ruining their walls’. I can tell you what I think looks good! Buuut I’m not going to decide for you,” you gave him a sweet smile.
Cedar and musk filled your nose again as he leaned closer. Your gaze dipped downard and followed one of his large hands. The calloused fingertips on his thick digits gripped the paper, and dragged in between the two of you.
His opposite hand was set next to yours. A strong arm brushed against you. The hand holding onto the paper spanned across the page, “Well, tell me what’cha think, hon’?”
Hon’.
The feeling was quick, but intense. It washed over you like a soothing, warm bath. Ease seeped into your bones and then crept up into your cheeks. Your face felt hot at the term of endearment. Turning back towards the swatches, your lip found its way behind your front teeth once more.
You went through the details of each potential pairing. Telling him which ones you thought were too warm, too muted, or too cool. The best pairing was with a light, baby pink. The swatch read:
First Date
Reading the color name, of course Behr had a weird color name for a damn light pink, your face got even hotter. Your hands collected the other pinks and set the light pink and light purple next to each other.
The man picked the two cards and held them up to each other in front of his face. His gaze scanned the names of the two cards. “Kiss and Tell,” he softly muttered, his eyes gliding across the other name, “First Date,” he gave a slight smirk. It was as if he read your mind, he bit his lip, then released it. His tongue darted out to soothe the pinch on his bottom lip.
“Ok darlin’,” he started, “how much paint do I need for a ten by ten room?”
“Well, a gallon covers three hundred to four hundred square feet,” you trailed off, “depending on how many coats you want to do, you’ll need one to two gallons.”
His mouth scrunched up to one side and he hummed, “How much is a gallon?”
Your mouth slanted in thought, “Well, it depends on what type of paint you’re looking to get.”
He smiled and tilted his head at your words, “Typa paint? Darlin’, I thought there was just paint,” he softly chuckled out, “an’ I usually make my brother do the paint shoppin’.” His confession brought a smile to your face. It wasn’t uncommon. Whenever people bought paint, they were slightly taken aback at how many questions you needed to ask them.
You started to walk to the left, towards a mat laid out on the paint desk counter. The brown mat displayed different qualities and brands of paint, which increased in price as you looked towards the right end of the lineup. You took a breath to start your usual line of questions, “Okay, so how many coats of paint are you looking to do? These paints,” you slid your finger to the more expensive end of the lineup, “have more primer in them, so they’re thicker. The thicker the paint, the fewer coats you have to do. Some paints have a one coat guarantee,” you finished and looked to his eyes to read his expression.
His mouth repeated its action from earlier, scrunching to the side, “Hmmm, I s’pose one coat would be less work…” He went silent for a moment as he thought. You could almost see him running the numbers in his head. “Alrigh’, I think I’ll go with two gallons of the one coat,” he finished by placing one of his hands down next to yours on the mat. The man’s eyes twinkled as he looked into yours and gave you a soft smile.
The smile he gave you was returned with your own, “Okay! So what sheen do you want the paint to be?” His smile shifted into confusion once more. Lines on his forehead deepened due to his perplexed look. “Sheen?” He asked.
You gave him a soft giggle. Reaching across him and towards a board of wooden paint swatches, you gave him a small, “‘Scuse me,” and his cologne filled your nose once more. Your shoulder brushed against his arm on your way back to your original positioning.
Facing the swatches towards him, you explained, “So sheens are how shiny the paint is once it dries. You can have no shine, which is a flat sheen, and you can go all the way up to very shiny, which is a high gloss. Usually bedrooms are eggshell or satin,” you pointed to the corresponding wood pieces. Tapping one of the shinier samples, you added, “And the shinier the finish, the more durable it is, and the easier it is to wipe, if you wanted to clean the wall.”
You leaned towards him, pointing at one specific wood sample block, “If your daughter likes to draw on the walls, I’d get satin, or even a semi-gloss.”
He huffed in amusement at your suggestion. “Guess I forgot kids draw on walls,” he chuckled, “Sarah’s ‘n angel, she prefers paper instead of drywall.” His wholesome anecdote made you giggle and look into his eyes.
The man gave you a small wink in response to your laughter. Taking a breath in, he pointed to a wooden sample a few spaces above the one you pointed at, “Lets go w’ eggshell.” His finger dwarfed the block of wood as he gave the material two light taps with his fingertip. Gazing at his hands, they were calloused, but also well kept. Fingernails at the ends of his thick digits were trimmed short, utilitarian.
You smiled at his decision, “Okay! Well, I’m going to go make labels for these two gallons and then I’ll mix ‘em up for you!” He beamed at your words and leaned against the counter, “Sounds good t’me, sweetheart.”
Your face flushed with heat at his response, and you hurriedly went to the other side of the counter to enter the two gallons into the computer. A white screen filled your vision as you tapped the different buttons to narrow down which type of paint the computer needed to calculate formulas for.
As you tapped one button, the computer froze for a couple seconds. You frowned, “It always does this,” you thought. Not having to focus on the options on the screen, your vision instead focused on the reflection displaying what was behind you. Your eyes landed on the Texan man.
And his eyes were on you.
You watched as he bit the inside of his cheek, his mind lost in his thoughts. His gaze remained on you until he nodded to himself and looked down. Though he wasn’t observing the different paints on the mat, he was reaching into his pocket.
One of his hands sprawled out on the counter as he held down one of the paint samples and began to write on the paper in black sharpie, the item he retrieved from his jeans. The computer wasn’t too far from the counter, and you were semi-able to see what he was writing.
It was a phone number.
Your eyes widened and you returned your focus to the computer's screen. It definitely loaded a while ago and you hadn’t noticed. You pressed the, “PRINT LABELS” button and tore the stickers from the printer. Not making eye contact with him—still panicking over what you witnessed—you made your way down the center aisle and found the cans needed for the paint colors.
But your lazy coworkers haven’t been downstocking the cans, so they were just out of reach when you were on your tip-toes. You sprawled your fingers up towards the top of the can, hoping to find the handle with your finger tips.
Then heavy steps made their way over to you. The Texan’s signature cologne wafted towards you, “Lemme help ya’ with that, darlin’.” Before you could answer him, he reached and grabbed two gallons down from the just-out-of-reach shelf. He lifted them up so you could see the faces of the can, his face framed by two paint cans, “Are these the right ones?” You nodded, and he made his way back to the paint counter with them. Internally swooning at his help, you followed behind him, but returned to the opposite side of the counter as him.
He set the cans down with a, thunk, thunk, and smiled at you. You gave him a smile as you took the cans, “Thank you,” you said to him. His smile broadened, “‘Course.”
You brought the open gallons underneath the tint dispensers, each gallon getting a small amount of tint. Hammering echoed throughout the store as you closed each gallon, then put them in the paint shakers to mix.
Looking up from the floor, where the paint shakers were, back to the counter, you saw the man’s thick fingers tapping on the surface of it. Your eyes traveled from his fingers to his face. His gaze met yours and his lips parted, “What’cha got goin’ on for the rest of the night?”
You had to force your mouth to not smile too wide as you answered him with a sigh, “Just finishing up my shift, then going home,” you paused to think about what else to say, “I’m just glad I don’t have to work for the next two days,” you chuckled out.
His face and shoulders fell playfully, “Oh, I’m jealous,” he shook his head, “I’ve gotta work the next four days, n’ then I’m off for two.” He shook his head even more. Your lips slanted in sympathy and you were about to offer it, but the man continued, “Never become a contractor hon’,” he let out a breath, “I’s shitty hours ‘n shitty clients.”
Brown eyes widened and then looked at you, he placed a wide palm over his chest, “Sorry sweetheart,” he chuckled, “Jus’ had a long day.”
You laughed at his apologetic behavior, it was endearing, “You don’t have to be sorry!” You continued to laugh, but then lowered your voice. Leaning towards him, you murmured, “Home Depot has shitty hours and shitty clients too,” you winked at him.
His teeth shined in the broad smile he displayed for you. A series of laughs left his chest. Two large hands both rested on the surface of the counter as he looked down and, more quietly, continued his chuckling. After a couple seconds, brown eyes peered back up into yours. The twinkles in his irises matched his smile.
“Hope I’m not a shitty client,” he joked, but his eyebrows faltered in sincerity.
Your head tilted at him with soft eyes. Scrunching your lips to one side, you decided to be somewhat bold, “I think you’re one of the best I’ve had in a while.”
His face relaxed and his soft smile returned. The lines between his eyebrows became more prominent as he gave you those brown, puppy-dog eyes. “Well thank ya’, darlin’,” he drawled. You held his eye contact until you caught movement in your peripheral—his thumb brushed against the light pink paint sample. The dark mustache above his lip twitched as he bit the inside of his cheek again.
Click. Click.
The sounds indicated the timers on the paint shakers were up. And the gallons were done mixing. Breaking eye contact, you bent down to retrieve the gallons from the machines. Opening them up, you put your finger into each can and dotted the color on the top of the can. They were closed once more and you slid them over to the man across the counter.
He looked down at them, and then his face lit up. “Oh! D’ya mind puttin’ these colors on my account?” You were equally lit up at his request, as customers usually didn’t care about the paint accounts they could make to save their paint colors.
Using the computer closest to him, you tapped a few buttons and a series of fields popped up. You pressed on the field for a phone number, “What’s your phone number?” You asked him. Your face heated up at the meaning of the words in a different context.
He told you and you typed them in, pressing enter on your keyboard. One account popped up: JOEL MILLER. “He definitely looked like a Joel,” you thought to yourself. “Joel?” You asked out loud to confirm it was his account. His name tumbling from your lips made his face light up. A charming smile was framed by a dark beard and ‘stache. “That’s me,” he replied.
You clicked on the account and entered the colors under, “Sarah’s Room,” Joel told you. The information was saved after a press of the “SAVE” button. His hands came up to grip the thin, metal handles of the paint gallons. Sliding them off the counter, his mouth opened and then closed again. He bit his lip, then looked at you, “Thank you darlin’, have a good night.”
Your brow dropped a bit, expecting for him to give you his number—for different reasons this time. Before he got too far, you replied, “Of course! Have a good night, Joel!” He threw you a wide, toothed smile over his shoulder. Joel’s smile was wide, but his eyes lacked the same enthusiasm.
—
No one else approached the counter after a couple minutes, so you retreated to the computer to “do your training”. You sat on your phone, letting the training video play in the background—this video was literally anti-union propaganda. Mindlessly scrolling on social media, your thoughts wandered.
You felt dumb for expecting him to give you his number. He could’ve just written something else down on the card. Sighing, you turned and meandered the paint aisles to keep yourself busy. With slow steps you wandered past can after can. You made it to the third aisle, and a man stood at the end of it.
He had dark brown hair, wore a navy t shirt, and was built like Joel. Your footsteps became faster to greet him, but then the man turned and looked at you—it was not Joel.
The man sighed and rolled his eyes, “Finally, I’ve been waiting here for five minutes looking for one of you.”
Your eyes widened, the tone of this customer sharply contrasted the one of your last. Joel’s kind eyes and comforting drawl made this man’s voice compare to nails on a chalkboard. Staring at him, you realized he didn’t look like Joel at all. The rude man’s facial hair was unkempt and scraggly. His teeth must have had the same maintenance as this beard, as they were begging for a trip to the dentist. His hair had no style, not even a brushing of it in a general direction.
The awful whiny, rasp of his voice only heightened your disgust, “I’ve been looking for this thing,” he held his phone out and pointed at his screen, “it says you have it in stock in this aisle but I can’t find it.”
You hummed in response. After asking him to scroll down to view the products information, you typed the SKU for the item into your phone. The Home Depot app on your phone was the only way you could help people, otherwise you'd be lost. You typed the SKU into the app and made sure the app filtered for items in your store, not just the available items online.
OUT OF STOCK displayed under a picture of the item, next to your store name. You sighed, “I’m sorry sir, but it looks like we did have this item, but it's out of stock right now.”
The man’s eyebrows knitted together and he looked at you in shock, “What?” The word shot into your chest. Shit. You thought back to what you said to Joel earlier, “Home Depot has shitty hours and shitty clients too.”
You sighed, “Do you have the right store listed on your phone?” The man snapped his eyes to his screen confusedly. After a moment he held it back out for you to see, “I don’t know, you tell me,” he sneered.
Reading the “130 IN STOCK” on his screen, your vision trailed to the store next to it. That store was in a completely different area. Clearing your throat, you informed him, “Sir, that’s a store one hundred miles from here.” You braced for his reaction.
His screen faced him and he grumbled. “Well why doesn’t your damn app update the location when I search?” He rudely asked. Your breath caught in your throat at his harshness. “Can’t you look in the back if you have it?” He stated, like he worked here.
Another deep breath, “We don’t have a back sir, we do overhead stocking,” you looked up, “and I don’t see the item you’re looking for up there,” you swallowed. Heat flushed into your face in anxiety at the customer’s attitude.
“Fuckin’ useless,” the man spat under his breath at his phone, peering up at you. “Can’t even find a damn item,” he trailed off. Your throat clenched at his words. A shaky breath left your nose.
Heavy footsteps came from behind you and a wave of distaste washed through your bones. You swore if it was another entitled customer, you were going to go insane. Probably cry. Maybe scream. Definitely asking to go home early.
Someone cleared their throat behind you, “You’re bein’ quite harsh to ‘er for somethin’ that ain’t ‘er fault,” a Texan drawl announced. Recognizing the voice, you turned to see Joel’s built figure make its way over to you and the shitty client. A huff from the rude, scraggly man came from your left, “This ain’t any of your business, buddy.”
Your head snapped towards Joel to see his response, “The hell it ain’t,” his voice got slightly louder, “You’re the dumbass that can’t jus’ say you were lookin’ at the wrong goddamn store.” Eyes wide, your gaze shifted from one man to the other. Joel stood tall, brows furrowed, and muscles bulging in the sleeves of his t-shirt.
Scraggly man must have decided the argument wasn’t worth it, as he just grumbled and took his cart down the aisle and away from both of you. Joel sighed beside you, “‘M sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I knew ya coulda handled that, but he shouldn’t have been so rude to ya. Especially over his own damn mistake.”
Relief flooded your body in the absence of the shitty client. Warmth from Joel’s presence began to fill the rest of the space that the relief couldn’t. Then you started thinking, “How’d you know he put the wrong store in the app?” You asked Joel.
The contractor froze. Eyes wide. Brows towards the ceiling. Lips pinched together. He looked down at the cement floor and then back up to you, “I may have been eavesdropping from the aisle over.” He cocked his head towards the aisle he came from.
Joel took a deep breath and then cleared his throat. The same brown, puppy-dog eyes from earlier met your irises. He dug his hand into his front jeans pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. Unfolding it, a light pink—First Date—sample card had a number in black sharpie scrawled across the color. “I came back to give ya this,” he held the paper out for you to take, and you took it from his large digits.
You stared at the card in shock. Okay. So he did plan on giving it to you.
He sighed and rubbed a broad palm over the back of his neck, “I was gonna give it to ya’ earlier but I got nervous,” he chuckled, “I, uh, I jus’ thought, uh, I think, that you’re very pretty, and funny.” He cleared his throat once more and continued, and you tore your gaze away from the paper to meet his eyes, “An’ I’d like to take ya’ out on a date sometime.” A heavy breath left his lungs.
A moment passed before you grinned at him and gave him a little chuckle, “I’d go on a date with you, Joel.” Broad shoulders covered in navy fabric slumped in relief. He grinned at you and his face flushed—he was blushing.
He checked his watch and muttered, “Shit.” Looking at you, his brows furrowed, “Sorry, darlin’, I’ve gotta run. Havin’ family dinner tonight.” Your heart throbbed at the care he had towards his family.
You waved a hand at him, heat rising towards your face at the loose plans you two had, “Well, don’t let me make you late!” He nodded at you, “Have a good night, sweetheart,” he said before slowly walking backwards down the aisle and away from you. “You too, Joel!” You replied before he turned the corner.
About to turn the corner, he shot you a grin with a wink.
Okay. Maybe working at Home Depot did have its perks.
Warnings: Fluff, flirty Jensen, minor language, hints towards fun times.
Summary: Five years ago, Y/N had a choice to make: stay with the man who was breaking her heart or move on. Rather unsuccessfully, she chose the latter. Jensen learned the hard way that you don’t want to let past heartbreaks keep you from finding the one. Having been burned, love is not something either one trusts or feels openly without great hesitation. However, after holding on to what they had and being unable to move on, will Y/N and Jensen finally be able to realize they are better together than they are apart?
(Set in 2015)
Chapter Summary: Jensen takes the reader on their first date as an official couple. He gets flirty with the reader.
A/N: Hey guys, thank you for being so patient waiting for this part. This chapter was a hard one for me to get where I wanted it to go. I have been trying hard to figure out how I want this story to end, and I do think it's coming to an end soon. There is probably two more parts left, but we will see what needs to happen before the end.
Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist
Reader
Unfamiliar buildings and street signs passed by as we made our way to a destination that only Jensen knew. “Where are we going, Jay?” I asked for what felt like the hundredth time, an impatient groan escaping my lips.
His laughter filled the car before fading into a light sigh of his own. “I forgot how impatient you can be. Especially when you have been kept out of the loop.”
“You really aren’t going to tell me, are you?” I pouted.
“And lose the opportunity to see your adorable pouty face? Absolutely not,” Jensen beamed.
Groaning, I stared out the window again hoping to glean any clues that could tell me where we were going. “How’d you even come up with a surprise date idea between last night and this morning?” I grumbled, folding my arms across my chest.
A soft rosy hue heated Jensen’s cheeks as he tried to hide a bashful grin by biting down on his bottom lip. “I’ve had a long list of things I always wanted to do with you since the moment I knew I wanted to spend every moment possible with you for the rest of my life.” His voice grew softer the more he explained.
My breath hitched in my throat, leaving me unable to respond. “When did you realize that?” I breathed out, trying to control the waiver in my voice.
A beat passed as Jensen considered his words. “When you told me you couldn’t be friends with benefits anymore.”
My eyebrows pulled together as I looked closer at his face. “What do you mean?”
“The night you came over to my place,” he started, licking his lips nervously, “I’d been slowly realizing and accepting my feelings for you for weeks at that point. Then you texted me after a week of silence that we needed to talk.” Jensen took a deep breath. “I knew something was off. We had never gone that long, intentionally, without talking. Quickly, I realized that you were going to end things… and it hit me. I never wanted to lose you. I didn’t want to go a day without you in my life. Like an idiot, I realized it too late.”
I swallowed the baseball sized lump in the back of my throat. Flashbacks of that night filtered in the back of my mind. I hadn’t given him a chance to speak that night… The only way I knew I could do what I did is if I controlled the whole situation - when I got there, where I stood, what I said, and when I left. Giving Jensen any opportunity to change my mind wasn’t an option. If I had, I would have caved immediately. Looking back at the night now… maybe it wouldn’t have been such a bad thing.
Swiping my tongue gently over my lips, a slight crease between my eyebrows, I looked at Jensen again. A well hidden sadness had settled in behind his easy-going charm. Something that only came out when we talked about our past. Something that he hadn’t been able to heal from yet.
“I’m so sorry, Jay,” I apologized, my throat tight. Unable to look at him, I stared out the window again trying to keep any tears from forming as the pin-pricks started in the corners of my eyes.
“No,” he said firmly, his hand reaching over and firmly gripping my forearm. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who hurt you. I know this now and I accept it. Losing five years with you, seeing you be happy with other guys…” Jensen looked over at me with pain radiating from his gaze. “Those were my consequences. Believe me, I could have said something that night, or stopped you from leaving, or literally done anything different than what I did. But I didn’t. Because I was upset. Mostly, I was scared that it wouldn’t matter if I said anything anyway.”
Jensen slid his hand down my arm, slipping it into my hand and pulling our hands to rest between us on the center console. I chewed on the inside of my lip as I mulled over his confession.
“All that matters, all that should matter,” he emphasized, “is that we have each other now.”
“We do,” I agree in a whisper.
______________________________________
Multi-color lights twinkled in the trees that surrounded the outdoor mini golf course. I bit my lip, pulling it between my teeth, while bouncing on my toes lightly to try and disguise the excitement bubbling from within me while we waited in line.
“Mini golf?” I asked, the happiness in my voice causing a small lilt in my tone. “This is something you’ve always wanted to do with me?”
A little half smirk, the kind where Jensen knows the truth and it has made him happy, tugged up the corner of his lips. Small wrinkles formed in the crease of his eyes as the twinkling lights lit up his face, and made his green eyes shine.
“You told me when we first met that you’d never gone to play mini-golf. So, naturally, I’m curious to see how terrible you’d be at it,” he joked.
I threw my head back, laughing a little harder than probably necessary. A few people in front of us, looked back towards us to see what the ruckus might have been. From the corner of my eye I noticed a young woman’s eyes widen as she tugged on her friend’s shirt, pointing back at us. Nudging Jensen, a large smile on my face, I nodded my head towards the girls.
We both gave them a wave. “Can’t take this one anywhere,” Jensen joked, winking at the girls.
I scoffed, playfully swatting his bicep as I laughed again. “You know, I could totally ruin this moment for you.”
“How? By telling me you’ve already gone mini-golfing? That you took golf lessons?” Jensen smiled radiantly at me, laughter still dancing in his eyes.
I crossed my arms over my chest, taking a step forward in line as the line moved. “Well, if you’re going to take the fun out of it, I’m not going to tell you.” I stick my tongue out at him.
Jensen chuckled, moving forward again. “I didn’t expect you to not have had opportunities to go after five years of us being apart. Mini golfing is a popular date idea and paparazzi are very good at getting photos of movie stars on, what was it, second dates?”
I looked over at Jensen through narrowed eyes, my eyebrows deeply pulled together. “What are you… Oh… You’ve seen the photos of Chris and me? Yeah, it was our second date,” I replied after taking a moment to think about what Jensen meant. Kicking the gravel beneath our feet, I divert my gaze away from him.
“Hey,” he said softly, pulling my face back gently with a finger under my chin. “It’s okay. I’m not mad… I’m simply fulfilling a dream and making up for lost time. Besides… I bet we are going to have a way more fun time than you did last time.”
“Can’t be too hard to beat,” I laughed softly. “The mini golf course was swarmed by paparazzi, making it impossible for us to play.”
“Perfect,” Jensen beamed with a slight puff of his chest.
I rolled my eyes as we finally made our way to the window. Jensen paid while I looked carefully over the wide variety of colors for golf balls. Feeling his eyes on me, I glanced his way. A dirty smirk danced on his lips as he stared at me.
“Like looking at balls, Y/N?” Jensen teased, his voice low.
I narrowed my eyes at him, scoffing. “Only when they’re pretty.”
Moving to stand behind me, he reached over my shoulder to select a dark blue one. “Mine must be beautiful to you then,” he whispered into my ear, his breath fanning over my neck. “You certainly used to spend a lot of time looking at them.”
Heat flooded my cheeks and chest, trickling down to my core, and scrambling any rational thoughts.
Did he really just say that? Out loud? In public?
A devious chuckle rumbled in his chest behind me. “Pick a ball Y/N, and let the games begin.”
Quickly, I grabbed a ball in front of me, barely noticing it was red. Much like my face. With a small squeak, caused by Jensen’s hand slipping down low on my waist, I headed out towards the first putting green.
Jensen
“You know it’s supposed to go through the tunnel, right?” Y/N giggled on the other end of the green.
I huff, as I line up my shot again. Checking my line with one last glance, I notice Y/N swaying in her spot, her eyes watching me intently. Taking a deep breath, I focused on the ball and my swing. Bringing my club back and following through, I connected with the ball and sent it through the narrow tunnel that sits beneath a plastic boulder that blocks the green on the other side.
“Finally,” I grumble as I count three swings already for this hole. Shaking out my shoulders, I strut towards Y/N as she gets ready to line up her shot. Two feet of putting green is all that stood between her and beating me at this hole with a better score.
I kept the charade of being upset with this hole as Y/N tapped her ball into the hole, hitting par for the first time all night. Secretly, I’ve been screwing it up on purpose after watching her do so well.
“Yes!” she cheered. “Par and a lower score than you!”
The biggest smile brought sunshine to Y/N’s face, making it impossible not to smile back, especially as she broke out into a small victory dance. Soft laughter flowed from my chest. God, if I could make her smile like that every day, I’d be the luckiest and happiest guy alive.
“You got lucky, kid,” I half heartedly grumble.
“Maybe,” she beamed. “And don’t call me kid! I’m only a year younger than you!”
Rolling my eyes with a smirk on my lips, we moved on to the next and final hole on the course. As Y/N lined up her shot, I stood off to the side behind her. My eyes traveled down the length of her body, following every curve and soaking in everything about her. Something in me had been awakened last night during our imbibed makeout session and was now insatiable.
My soul had a taste, a tease, of everything it had been craving since the day she left. It made sense to me now why no one else ever made me feel as good as she did. They weren’t her. They couldn’t provide me the same high that she could. Since last night, every thought I have had has been consumed by her… This side of me had been fairly dormant for months as we got reacquainted, but that kiss… the way she looked at me… Everything changed and now I’m not sure if I can hold back any longer, or if I want to. I will for her until she’s ready, but I can still show her how much I desire her. Otherwise, how else can I prove to her that I’m here to stay?
“Jay, everything okay?” her voice, soft and concerned, drifted into my ears and snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I smile at her, gazing heatedly at her. “Everything is great.”
Y/N steps in front of me, her own gaze a bit more quizzical. She carefully reaches up and runs one of her hands through my hair then down the back of my neck, causing me to shiver. Her pupils enlarge the slightest bit when she realizes what my stare meant, her lips parting slightly as she swipes her tongue over her bottom lip. Slowly, her gaze falls to my lips. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pull Y/N close. Her warm body melts into mine.
“Jay… I still think there’s a lot for us to talk about… but maybe they can wait for one more night,” she breathed out softly. A warm heat radiated from her eyes as she bit down on her bottom lip, pulling it in while she continued to stare at my lips.
“Then what do you say we get out of here?” I ask, my voice husky.
Popcorn: a Byler first date ficlet for @duskandwandlight 🥰
At the exact moment that fire blazes across the swimming pool on the big screen before them, an audience member’s popcorn bag explodes. The girl who was holding it shrieks. Popcorn goes flying in every direction. Chaos ensues.
Mike looks over at El across the theater. She’s sitting to Max’s right. Lucas sits to Max’s left. It’s dark in the theater, but even so, and even across the room, Mike can just barely see that Max is holding both Lucas’s hand and El’s. Mike can guess that Lucas and El were both whispering fervently into Max’s ears, explaining what was happening on screen. Under her sunglasses Max would have been rolling her unseeing eyes, but affectionately, as Max does. Audience members would have been muttering complaints about El and Lucas’s whispering. El would have gotten annoyed.
Cue the popcorn chaos.
But Mike knows that’s not the only reason for the explosion.
He didn’t have to say anything to El. She figured out on her own that this was Mike and Will’s first “official” date. (Either that, or Will told her. Which… upon reflection Mike suspects it’s that one. The two are inseparable, and have an uncanny - and annoying - ability to practically read one another’s minds. Especially after shutting down the upside down together. Real twin stuff, those two.)
Popcorn is still flying into the air and beginning to fall - Mike is still mid-glance over at El. She catches his eye. Smirks. Raises her eyebrows with intention and rolls her eyes dramatically toward the person sitting next to him.
Mike takes the hint. He turns to look at Will, who has also turned to look at El, no doubt also knowing that she was the cause of the commotion. (And probably finding that fact very funny, Mr. Let’s All Get Rich in Vegas.) Will’s face is, therefore, very close to Mike’s when Mike turns his face back the other direction. They practically smack noses in the split second during which Mike turns back around.
Time feels like it’s moving in slow motion. El did say, once, that feelings can change how it seems to be moving.
Will is now staring into his eyes. He glances down then back up. Mike doesn’t hesitate. They won’t get another chance.
He swoops in. Plants a hard and fast smooch on Will’s mouth. Swears to himself “more later” as he immediately pulls back away, already craning his head around to make sure no one saw.
They didn’t. Time seems to snap back. All the popcorn falls to the floor. The exploding-popcorn-bag-girl’s scream ends. Everyone who wasn’t already half-turned in their chairs swings around to face the source of the noise.
Mike and Will’s faces are an inch apart. They’re both grinning. No one is paying them any attention.
No one except El. She smiles, holds Max’s hand tighter. Leans over to whisper something excitedly in her ear, even as choruses of “what happened?” “is she okay?” “what’s going on?” rain down all around them.
Mike and Will see none of El’s whispering. They’re in a tiny bubble, a soft world of their own for one warm moment. Mike reaches out to hold Will’s hand under the arm rest. He leans in to whisper in Will’s ear.
“Happy first official date.” Will smiles, squeezes his boyfriend’s hand, and whispers back the same. Mike’s ear tickles.
He never knew he could be this happy.
Soon the credits roll on “The Kiss” and the five of them head home, throwing popcorn at each other all the way.
Absolutely obsessed with your Jonerys fics truly the fandom is so lucky to have you! As someone who’s favorite holiday is Halloween and loves horror movies I can help but request this prompt for the lovely beans.
117. “i’m not scared but if you are, you can hold my hand.”
Thank you in advance! Have a wonderful day! ❤️
Oh this should be a fun one!
As a rule, Jon hated horror movies. Mainly because he didn't find them scary and the gory ones just seemed to be in it more for the surprise and gross out factor than any actual story telling. In fact, he wasn't exactly a movie person, but preferring television shows. Specifically things like Parks and Rec, The Office, and his newest obsession, Ted Lasso.
But he couldn't tell his brother any of this because Robb didn't listen. Not when his new girlfriend decided that setting Jon up with her friend was necessary. He kept to himself, only went out on a few dates in the last few years, but they eventually all got tired of his stoic silence that they quickly ran away from him. And this was completely unacceptable to Margaery.
She was very pretty, distractingly so, but her cheerful personality grated on his nerves after a while. She always seemed to be performing but he was uncertain who she was performing for. Robb was completely smitten, extolling her virtues to anyone who would listen. Jon was usually the only person who would stick around long enough get an earful about his impressive and beautiful girlfriend. They were blissfully happy, which meant they felt the need to spread the misery around.
So, here he stood, in the lobby of a movie theater, with Robb looking around as Margaery stayed glued to her phone. When she suddenly looked up, her blue eyes were piercing. "She's walking up, now." Margaery stepped forward and brushed a hand over Jon's jacket. "Be charming."
"I'm always charmin'."
Robb snorted but Margaery gave him an indulgent smile. "Of course you are. Dany is my closest friend and I would love it if my closest friend and my boyfriend's brother hit it off."
"Margaery, it's one date, not an arranged marriage. I think I can handle watching a movie."
She only gave him a nervous smile then turned back to Robb. His brother took her by the hand and pressed a kiss to her temple. "It'll be fine, love."
The three of them grew quiet, when suddenly, Margaery waved her hand in the air. And between the people came possibly the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen. Her long blond hair hung in soft waves around her face. She had on the barest traces of make up, but her plump lips were outlined in a shimmering pink gloss. Her perfect little body was wearing a red Kashmir jumper, tight black jeans, and black boots that sat on top up to the knee. She finally reached Margaery and the two women hugged.
"So glad I found you, this place is a mad house."
Jon was struck dumb by her, as her violet eyes moved over the three and settled on him. A soft pink blush appeared on her cheeks and he realized he must look like a crazy person staring at her as he was.
"Dany, this is Jon. Jon, this is Dany."
They locked hands and she smiled. "I've heard a lot about you, Jon. Pleasure to meet you."
"Same," he said with a nod, but could see Robb and Margaery share a look over her shoulder. "You look... amazing."
She smiled. "Thank you. So, do you like popcorn?" she asked and directed them to the booth.
He nodded and pulled out his wallet. "Of course. Movies without popcorn just don't feel as impressive."
She gave a small laugh. "I suppose not." They waited in line and he had to remind himself not to stare at her and let her think he was a total creep. "So, Jon, are you a butter on your popcorn kind of guy?"
He shrugged. "I'm more of a dump gummy bears into it instead kind of guy."
She suddenly smiled. "Gummy bears? I usually Go Reece's Pieces."
He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "We could do both. A gummy/chocolate/popcorn conglomeration."
"Sounds delightful," she said with a bright smile that it was difficult to look away. They stepped up to the counter and he bought and paid for all of the snacks as well as a pack of Twizzlers." She held the candy as he carried the drinks and the popcorn.
"Margaery didn't tell me what movie we were seeing," Dany admitted.
"The Conjuring," he answered as he handed over the tickets.
"You're joking!" She said as she grabbed his forearm.
They didn't want for Margaery and Robb, but walked ahead into the theater. She was silent as they sat and once in their seat, he held the popcorn on his lap and dumped the gummy bears in followed by the Reece's. He noticed how tense she was and frowned. "You alright?"
"Oh! Yeah! Why are they showing this movie again? Isn't it like... ten years old?"
He shrugged. "I think it's a cruel trick on me."
"Why do you think that?" she asked, and he looked up at her with a wary smile.
"I don't like horror movies."
She seemed to sag in relief. "Neither do I. The world is scary enough."
"Exactly. If I want to be scared, I'll start opening my mail to see how much I still owe on student loans."
She laughed then took a drink of her soda. "I suppose that's far more terrifying that demon possession."
"It certainly is to me. When was the last time a demon mentioned paying back thousands of dollars in debt? I don't think it's all that big of an issue to them. But people like me, scariest thing in the world."
The room suddenly went dark as the previews began to play. He handed her a napkin before she grabbed any popcorn, knowing how he hated the combination of butter and salt on his fingers. As the first scene of the movie came up, she leaned into him and pressed her lips to his ear and whispered, "I’m not scared but if you are, you can hold my hand."
He smiled and took her hand in his. She looked over at him as he stared at her, his heart racing, but not because of the creepy doll on the screen. "Terrified."
Written for @buckysbirdie 's Birthday Bash Writing Challenge! So, I used @tinabelcherseroticfriendfiction 's great idea of using d6s & d20s to choose a prompt and I got:
🍨 Paper Bowl: Chris Evans characters outside of the MCU
🍦 Make Your Own (AU)
🥥 First date
🍐 Person A saves Person B’s day
🍊 Picnic
🥝 A catches B singing while doing chores/cooking/ whatever
words: ~800
warnings: a jealous (and a bit possesive) Curtis, mentions of sex (p in v, unprotected, creampie), mostly fluff but it's not a Curtis Everett fic if he doesn't mildly threaten someone 🥰 lol
a/n: Happy Bday Birdie! 🥳💖 This was super fun!! (I might do another one since this one came to me so fast lol)
a/n: unbeta'd & edited by me. moodboard by me. if you see any mistakes, no you didn't :)
18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI. IF YOU INTERACT AND YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR AGE VISIBLE ON YOUR BLOG YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI.
You decided on having a picnic for your first date together. A picnic. Curtis doesn't know if he's ever been on a picnic before.
He's nervously watching from afar, wringing his black beanie in his hands as he stands by the park entrance. You're not too far away. Curtis assumes you picked the spot so he could find you easily when he got there. He wants to run to you but he's calculating all the ways he could screw this up and it's holding him back.
You look too perfect to be real. Sitting on a blanket by the lakeside, peeling and cutting up fruit you brought in a cute wicker basket, and singing. Humming the parts of the song you forgot the words to and singing to yourself like some kind of fairy tale princess.
There's no way an angel like you agreed to go on a date with a grease monkey like him. He barely leaves the garage, he doesn't know how to date. It's a miracle he even saw you in that bar. That you gave him the time of day.
Curtis is a giant in every sense of the word, but he feels like he's light as air when you look at him, breathe near him. He makes up his mind then, that he can't leave you alone. So he's walking, no, floating towards you on a cloud he never wants to come down from.
That is until he sees another man approach you. Some asshole jogging in place in stupidly short running shorts with his shirt off is asking for your number and Curtis sees red. It's only the first date. Why is he like this? He doesn't own you, he's being ridiculous. But the man's eyes drop to the neckline of your pretty floral sundress and your ample curves contained within and Curtis doesn't care anymore if he makes a fool of himself in front of you, he can't let this happen.
"No, I'm waiting for my boyfriend actually."
Those words nearly freeze him in place. He's desperate to hear you claim him as yours over and over again.
Your voice is loud, carrying over the water on purpose so anyone nearby might know how uncomfortable you're being made to feel.
The prick's about to say something in response but he's cut off by Curtis' massive paw clamping down on his shoulder.
"The lady said no, pal. Beat it."
You light up when you hear Curtis' low, growling voice and when your eyes meet, Curtis almost forgets himself. Right, intimidating. Have to be intimidating.
"Did you hear me? I said move."
The man sputters in indignation as he's pushed off down the path by Curtis. "Hey! Get your hands off me, buddy!"
"I'm not your buddy, pal."
Curtis grinds those words through his teeth and you have to jump up and grab his arm to stop him from following after the quickly back pedalling man.
"Curtis, it's okay. I'm okay."
Your hand on his bearded cheek seems to snap him back to reality and his gaze softens on you.
"Sorry, angel. Didn't like him coming on to you like that. Can't even sit in the park without some dick for brains trying to check you out."
You laugh at his poor, jealous pout and rest your head on his chest, your arms wrapping around his thick midsection with a tight squeeze.
"My hero. I should've told him I've still got some of you leaking out of me from last night. Think that would've shut him up?"
You lift your head, biting your lower lip to hold back a smile when you feel a groan rumble through his broad chest. Sure enough Curtis has the same heated gaze pointed at you that he had at the bar last night. The last time he had that look on his face he was taking you back to his place so he could worship every inch of you and keep you so stuffed full of him you thought you might burst.
But he promised, in a sleepy half-drunk haze, that he would go on a real date with you. Anything you wanted he'd be there. And here he was, as promised, about to lay with you in the grass to eat fruit and talk and do whatever other adorable first date stuff you wanted to do.
Your heart and your pussy are having palpitations at the thought of just what this man is willing to do for you. But for now you appease the best with a chaste kiss to his lips and he settles.
Curtis takes a deep breath and sits on the laid out blanket, pulling you down with him. With your back to his chest, sitting between his legs and resting against him like he's some great oak tree, you think this might be the best first date you've ever had.
I started writing this fic prior to tonight's episode (definitely inspired by @hournites post from yesterday). But I also wanted to do a service to the fans. We're all a mess right now after finding out about the cancellation and I wanted to do this for us. We all matter and I wish things were different.
I want you all to know I appreciate everyone who came together the last few years and uplifted this amazing show.
I'll have more to say once we get closer to the finale, but today, I "Got Ya".
(You can also read my fic on my ff.net)
As always, happy reading!
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A soft autumn breeze ruffles the orange and yellow leaves on the black pavement of Blue Valley as day turns to night. The street lamps flicker on one at a time, lighting the litter free streets full of light. A yellow mustang travels down the street at a safe speed, heading to its destination for the evening. Soft music plays in the car, calming the nerves of the teen behind the steering wheel. Ever so often, his hazel eyes would glance at the clock on the dashboard, hoping he’d make it on time to make a good first impression.
The passenger seat was occupied by a single sunflower. Rick glances down at the flower and then back at the road. A soft smile gracing his usually annoyed complexion. Tonight was their first date and he wanted to make sure it was perfect.
You know something will go wrong, Tyler.
Rick shakes himself of his negative thoughts as he pulls up to the old Victorian house. He glances up at the house and sees Beth walking past her bedroom window. His heart jumps to his throat seeing her. He remembers the first time he felt this feeling for her…over two years ago. When he caught her after Yolanda pulled her out of the window and she flipped into his arms. He knew from that moment on he was doomed.
Mustering up all his Hourman courage, he turns his car off and steps out of the vehicle. His converse hitting the ground is the only sound for miles as he makes the long walk up Beth’s driveway.
Taking a deep breath, Rick pushes the doorbell. The sounds was deafening as he can hear a faint “coming!” from somewhere within the house. Rick runs a hand through his dark hair as he waits for his best friend to appear.
Beth had just finished putting on her mascara when she heard the distinct sound of the mustang engine roaring down her block. She walked past her window to see the vintage yellow vehicle parked outside her home.
She giggled to herself as she moved past the bay window and to her white dresser. She looked herself over one last time; Courtney let Beth borrow one of her dresses, a deep orange velvet dress with brown buttons down the middle. She paired it with a white long sleeve shirt underneath to keep warm and a pair of black booties, giving her a few inches of height. Beth blushes when she thinks about what Yolanda said when she handed her the pair of boots.
“You know,” Yolanda teased. “so Rick doesn’t need to lean down too far when he kisses you.”
To say the least, Beth was mortified as she left the Montez household earlier that day.
It was well past six in the evening when the doorbell chimed at the Chapel household. Beth glanced at the clock reading 6:50PM in bright red. Beth smiles knowing Rick made a great effort to be on time. Their movie doesn’t start until eight, but they wanted to stop at Richie’s for a quick dinner before the new superhero movie they planned on seeing.
“Coming!” She yells as she grabs her phone and her small yellow leather crossbody bag. Typically Beth would bring her backpack, but tonight was different.
Tonight everything will change.
She checks to make sure her goggles are in her purse before making her way down the stairs. Beth pauses at the large mahogany door in front of her. She takes a deep breath to calm herself.
It’s just you and Rick. Nothing new…except now your feelings are out there.
Shaking herself from her doubts, Beth opens the door and is rendered speechless.
She knew Rick was handsome, but the boy standing before her is not what she expected. His usual lax style was replaced by a less baggy attire, and more form fitting. His signature hoodie replaced by a brown leather jacket. His old warn jeans replaced by black straight leg jeans and a new dark blue sweater Beth has never seen before.
“Rick…” She steps forwards and tugs at the end of his jacket and then glances up at him. She was surprised by how much effort he put in and her heart swells that he did this for her, for them. “You look very nice.”
He grins bashfully and looks away somewhat embarrassed. “I uh, wanted to look my best for you.” He admits and takes her hand in his. He looks her up and down and smiles, “You look beautiful, Beth.”
The flutter was back in her stomach as she smiles wider at Rick, “Thank you, Courtney and Yolanda were a big help.” And she was glad they intervened when she told them Rick had finally asked her out. She never been more unprepared for a moment like this. But it was worth it, the way he was looking at her…she wanted to remember this moment forever.
Breaking the silence between the two, Rick tugs her hand in the direction of his car. “We should get goin’ so we can grab a bite before the movie.”
Beth nods in agreement and lets him lead the way to his car. He opens the passenger side door, but before she can move to slide in, he reaches down and picks up the sunflower on the seat. Beth feels her breath catch in her throat, he got her a flower. But not any flower, a sunflower. Awhile ago, when she and Rick were at the Pit Stop working on her goggles, she noticed he had put a sunflower next to her name in his phone. She never understood why at the time, but she get is now.
“Is that for me?”
He looks down to the flower between his rough hands and back up to her, “This is gonna sound so stupid…”
Beth tilts her head in curiosity, “No, please tell me.” She steps forward and place her hand atop of his holding the dark green stem of the flower. He looks down at her hand on his.
“Awhile back, you had these sunflower earrings and necklace on and it was just so you. And this was at the beginning of all this. Us becoming a team and friends.” He spoke softly feeling as thought saying this too loud would sound ridiculous to Beth. “And whenever I see sunflowers it always reminds me of you.” He pushes the flower into her hand and grins. “Zeek also said it was improper not to properly woo a lady.” He joked.
Beth laughs, taking the flower from him and hold it close. “Awe, that’s so sweet, Rick!” She brushes a soft kiss across his cheek. Rick’s eyes widen at the surprise affection. It felt like when he turns over the hourglass, a sudden rush of feeling that completely blinds him.
Still standing there in shock, Beth giggles to herself. “We should get going.” She slides in to the car and lets Rick shake himself from his stupor and shuts the door behind her. As he take the walk around his car all he can keep thinking about the small brush of her lips against his cheek and how if she actually kissed him, he would be a goner.
It was almost 11PM when Rick pulled up to Beth’s house. If Rick were being honest, he doesn’t think his life can get any better than this. At the diner, everything felt just right. At first, him and Beth sat across from each other in their usual booth, but when dessert came around, a slice of Maria’s homemade three layer chocolate cake, Beth motioned for Rick to sit next to her to share the dessert. He laid his arm on the back of the booth and Beth settled into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world. He never realized how they always seemed to gravitate towards one another. If anything, he’s noticed more recently during JSA meetings he would pull his stool closer to Beth or sit behind her on the steps. He wanted to be close to her and he thought it was his imagination when she’d lean closer to him or settle back against his leg on the steps.
He genuinely believed he made it all up.
But after tonight, he doesn’t think he can go back to how things were between them. The longing stars from across the garage. The shared looks when Courtney says something ridiculous and they always seem on the same page when it comes to her antics. Or the random or not so random subtle brush of hands when they walk down the hallway at school…
So deep in thought, he didn’t even realize Beth was speaking to him.
“I’m sorry, I totally zone out. What’d you say?” He turns to her, seeing her completely swallowed by his leather jacket. At some point during the movie, he noticed Beth shivering and offered his jacket. When she put it on she pulled it tight around herself and leaned her head against his shoulder. After that, he seemed to forget the movie they were watching and just watched her reacting to it.
Beth giggles, “I said ‘can you walk me to my door?’”
Rick turns his car off, “Yeah, of course.” He hops out of the car and walks over to the passenger side. He holds a hand out to Beth which she gladly accepts and steps out of the vehicle. He shuts the door behind her and they walk hand and hand up to her front door.
Beth puts down the sunflower on the wooden bench outside her door and takes a step closer to Rick. She was close enough that she didn’t have to strain her neck to look up at him, courtesy of the boots she was wearing.
Rick seemed to realize at that same moment how much taller Beth was in those heels too. Not significantly but enough that he can tilt his head down and their lips would brush. Being this close to Beth was already making his brain short circuit, his palms were sweety and his heart racing a mile a minute.
Slowly, Beth trails her hands up his soft blue sweater, settling them against the back of his neck. Instinctually, Rick wraps his arms around her waist, touching the soft velvet of her dress. He tils his head down causing his nose to brushes against hers.
“Is this okay?” he softly asks. He watches the emotions play out on her face before she answers, “Yes. It’s okay.” Hesitantly, Rick eliminates the space between them and pulls her close. He never thought much about who and where he would have his first kiss. But he’s glad it was with his best friend. Someone he knew he couldn’t help but care for and quite possibly be in love with. It wasn’t what he expected it to be like either. He figured he’d be a mess and fumble to get to this point, but Beth always had this aura about her that calms him down and helps him think clearly.
But right now was not a think clearly kind of moment, especially when Beth threads her finger through his hair and tilts her head to deepen the kiss. Any thoughts he had are far gone as he pulls her closer and enjoys this one normal moment in his life.
Beth eventually pulls back and rest her forehead against Rick’s catching her breath. Her hand falls to his heart, feeling his heart beat erratically against his chest.
She gazes into his eyes and smiles, “Well that happened.”
Rick chuckles, “Yeah, it finally did.” He tilts her chin up and brushes a soft kiss across her lips and reluctantly pulls away from her. “I should get going.” Beth nods in agreement and removes herself from him. She picks up her flower and opens her front door. Before she shuts it she turns back to him. He was leaning against the door frame watching her with this serene look in his eyes and a small smile gracing his lips.
He's never looked at me like this before…
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asks hopeful that this wasn’t just one night. That they will continue to have these moments for however long he will let her.
He nods, “See you tomorrow, Chapel.” He winks at her and turns, making his way down her driveway and back to his mustang.
She shuts the door and falls against it, letting out a girlish squeal and runs up the stairs to her room and to her bay window. She watches as Rick looks up to the window and waves before getting into his car and driving off.
A few moments of watching the empty street her phone begins to ring.
INCOMING FACETIME CALL: COURTNEY
Beth stares down at her phone in disbelief, how did they know she was home?
“Hey!”
Her phone populates with Courtney and Yolanda’s faces.
“BETHHOWDIDTHEDATEGOT”
“TELLUSEVERYTHING”
Beth’s eyes widen at the onslaught of questions.
“Whoa guys, one at a time!” Beth says. “Also, how did you know Rick just dropped me off anyways?”
Courtney’s blue eyes widen in disbelief, “Beth Chapel, did you blow curfew?!”
“Beth, is that Rick’s jacket?!” Yolanda gasps. “He gave you his new leather jacket?!”
Beth rolls her eyes, “I’m not telling you guys anything.”
The two teenaged girls groan in unison.
“Oh, c’mon, Beth!” Courtney groans. “You gotta tell us something!”
Beth laughs, “Fine. I’ll tell you one thing and only one thing. Okay?”
Both teens squeal in excitement.
“Yolanda.”
“Yes?”
Beth blushes. “You were right about the shoes.”
Yolanda’s jaw drops. Courtney looks between the two in confusion.
“YOU AND RICK KI—”
Beth ends the call and falls back on her bed with a happy sigh.
You kissed Rick!!
She pulls Rick’s jacket closer to her and smiles to herself feeling over the moon. She never thought she could feel so many emotions all at once, but she’s happy they took this step.
