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#I’m so nervous but oh well do your best boys
minarinnn · 3 months
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“notice me”
luke castellan x aphrodite!reader (pt2 here)
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content/trigger warnings: fem! reader, doesn’t follow the plot of tlt!, mentions of smut, sexual tension, manipulation?, groping, reader making luke jealous
a/n: the show has once again sparked up my love for the percy jackson book saga and charlie bushnell has me weakkk ughhh.. i normally don’t write for pjo characters but oh well, lmk if y’all want a continuation of this or just more luke castellan in general ;)
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you had always been so used to being the center of attention. as a daughter of aphrodite, you had always been the most popular girl in school, and there was no shortage of boys falling for your charms
arriving at camp half-blood didn change that, nothing was different. except that, for the first time in your life, you found yourself chasing after the attention of a certain boy. luke castellan, the son of hermes and the head counselor of his cabin, he just wouldn’t fawn over you like the others would. despite your best efforts, luke had always remained indifferent to your constant flirting, leaving you feeling frustrated and determined to change his mind
you found yourself spending every waking moment trying to get his attention, trying to find some way to charm him and make him see you the way the other boys did. but no matter how hard you tried, luke remained distant and unimpressed
this week you were extremely busy, you were helping out in the infirmary, one of the apollo kids who usually worked in the infirmary had been sent on a quest and you were asked to fill in until they came back. juggling that with all your other responsibilities as counselor had you beyond occupied
during that week, annabeth barged in with two other guys; percy and luke. apparently their sparring session had gone a little out of hand and they were both injured
luke was already aware of how you’ve been trying to get his attention these past few years. he actually seems to quite like having you, the most fawned over girl at camp, fawning over him instead. he liked the attention you gave him, though he knew that if he ever gave in to your charms you would stop, so he didn’t
he was fully prepared and expected you to be the one to tend to him, so when he sees you head to percy and tend to him while an apollo girl tended to him he was confused
what happened? why would you choose percy over him? we’re you tired of him? did you give up on trying to win him over? luke’s confusion quickly turned to frustration, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as he watched you tend to percy’s wounds
"how are you feeling, percy?" you asked, giving him a warm smile, one that always had the boys weak in the knees. "n-not great, but i’ll manage" he laughed awkwardly, suddenly nervous. you put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze "oh, i’m sure you’ll live”
out of the corner of your eye, you saw luke. he was watching you, watching the way you cared for percy. this was the first time you had ever caught him staring at you with such intensity
so you’re plan was working. you had tried everything to get his attention and you had only one trick left in your arsenal; jealosy. no boy is immune to jealousy, and that was exactly how you were gonna get him
in the end, all you had to do was throw some water at percy and he was good to go. luke though, he had to spend the night in the infirmary
the other apollo kid had left a few minutes ago, something about ‘having other things to do’. so it was just luke and you in the infirmary. you walk over to luke's bed and start tending to his wounds
“oh so now you wanna take care of me? how nice of you” he speaks, sarcasm dripping from his words. “you can tough it out, can't you?" you tease, dabbing away at his cuts with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. luke is watching you intently and you can feel the tension in the room increasing, his eyes fixated on your hands as you work
luke’s eyes narrow, and you can see the rage boiling beneath the surface. he’s frustrated, jealous, and he doesn't know what to do with all these emotions. you’ve never seen him like this before, and it's a thrill to know that you have the power to make him feel this way
you try to ignore the tense atmosphere in the room, focusing instead on luke's wounds. you finish cleaning and bandaging the cut on his wrist, holding it up to your face to land a soft kiss on the bandages. “all done” you whisper. he tenses at the feeling of your soft lips, and you can see the anger in his eyes. however, you can also see a hint of something else— desire
you look up at him with a smile, knowing that you've got him right where you want him. his eyes are locked on your every movement. you know that you have him wrapped around your finger, and it's a delicious feeling of power
luke’s expression is one of confusion, a mix of rage and desire. he wants you, and he wants to hate you at the same time. it’s a weird combo, but it's working for you.
you lean closer to him, your lips inches away from each other. you can feel his breath on your skin, the heat of his body as he's lying there
"you’re not stopping me" you state, breaking the silence. it’s a quiet, soft whisper, filled with a tiny bit of amusement
"maybe.. maybe i don’t want you to stop" he says, his eyes locked on yours, voice low and husky. you can see the desire building in him, how his gaze trails down to your lips
luke’s breathing quickened, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. he knew that this was a game for you, a game where you would always be determined to win him over, but now, in this very moment, he felt like he was losing
he lets out a hiss of frustration, of desire, of... something. he’s sure knows that you're proud of it, but he’s not quite sure what to do about it
you leaned in for the kiss, your lips pressing gently against his, your hand running through his hair. you could feel his body tensing, his hands gripping your waist as he attempted to pull you on top of him
you pull away from the kiss slowly, your lips still pressed to his. luke is still trying to catch his breath, his eyes fixed on yours, searching for any hint of what your next move will be
"not bad" you whisper. "you’re playing a dangerous game here” he chuckles lowly, making your lower regions throb. you smirk softly and brush his hair out of his face “i’ll take my chances”
despite being injured, he pulls you on top of him, making you realize just how hard he’s been this whole time. his eyes are dark, and you can see the lust burning within them
you lean in for another kiss, this one soft and gentle. luke groans when he feels you grind against him, his hands moving down to grab hold of your ass
“i need you s’bad” he mutters out. you smirk as you slide off him, making him furrow his brows in confusion. you land a soft kiss on his cheek. “let’s do this when you’re not injured” you whisper in his ear. now he was alone and hard in the infirmary, how nice
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© MINARINNN 2024 - please do not plagiarize or upload my content on any social media platform.
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starkwlkr · 1 month
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hi i love your writing, i have a request could you imagine where ruby talks about being in love with a friend from school, and charles and ruby's uncles are protective and jealous and y/n laugh at the whole situation
the L word | charles leclerc
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“Maman, when did you know you were in love?”
Y/n thought it was such a serious question for an eight year old to ask, but she answered the question anyway.
“Well the first time—”
“You can be in love more than once?”
Y/n chuckled and nodded. “Yes, Ruby, you can. Some people fall in love once, and other don’t.”
“Why?” The girl asked.
“It’s just how life is.”
That stuck with Ruby for a while. Her mother explained the concept of love to her. For being an eight year old, Ruby understood it quite well until she asked if being in love automatically means that you had to marry that person.
“Um . . Not necessarily. Not everyone that’s in love married each other.” Y/n explained.
“Why? They love each other. You and papa love each other and you’re married.” She stated.
“Well not everyone wants to get married. And it doesn’t really work like that. For example, I love you and Mathéo—”
“Don’t forget about Floppy.” Ruby interrupted.
“And Floppy, yes,” Y/n chuckled as the mentioned of the stuffed bunny. “I love my friends and family too. Do you get it?”
Ruby slowly nodded. “I think so. But maman, can I tell you something?”
“Of course, what is it?”
“I think I’m in love.”
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Y/n kept Ruby’s secret until Charles made it back to Monaco for the Grand Prix. Ruby had told her mother about her crush on a classmate from her piano class. Y/n thought it was adorable that her daughter had a crush unlike Charles who thought it was the end of the world.
“She’s too young! She’s my baby!” Charles spoke with Y/n as he got ready for the day. The Monaco Grand Prix was in a few days and he was already stressing about the race, now he had more to stress about.
“She’s eight, Charles. It’s just a little crush. You never had crushes as a kid?” Y/n asked, as she started to make the bed.
“I didn’t care about girls back then, I was too focused on racing.” He admitted. Y/n the stopped what she was doing and stared at him until he said the truth. “Okay, I had one crush, but she didn’t like me back! She liked some boy who stole my favorite pen from school.”
“Poor you.” Y/n chuckled then walked to the bathroom to start doing her hair, Charles walked in with her.
“But now I have the best wife who gave me the best children ever and hopefully she’ll give me more . .” Charles kissed his wife’s cheek repeatedly.
“Keep dreaming, Perceval. Maybe in the future. If we have more, imagine how you’re going to be when they start dating.”
“Oh god.”
After getting ready, the couple and the kids made it to the paddock. Usually, Ruby was energetic and loud, but her behavior that day changed. She was quiet and stayed with her mother holding her hand. When they walked into the Ferrari garage, Carlos was shocked to see a calm Ruby.
“Is she sick?” Carlos asked the parents.
“No, she’s fine she’s just nervous.” Y/n replied.
“Nervous for Charles or Ferrari?”
Charles rolled his eyes. “Actually, she’s nervous for herself. The boy she has a crush on is coming to watch the race, which I’m not happy about so can we please talk about something else?”
“She has a crush? No, she’s too young!” Carlos whisper yelled.
“That’s what I said! Thank you!” Charles brought his teammate in for a hug.
“Unbelievable, come on kids. Let’s go find Aunt Kika.”
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By the time it was time to do interviews, the whole grid seemed to know about Ruby’s crush and each of them reacted similar to Charles and Carlos. Since Ruby’s first paddock appearance, the grid loved her. She had them wrapped around her finger and they didn’t mind one bit.
“What’s his name? How old is he? Do I know his parents? Where does he live?”
“Calm down, Pierre, they’re eight.”
“I need to know who my niece likes! What if he’s not good enough for her? Ruby deserves the world.” Pierre told Y/n as the family and a couple of drivers sat in the Ferrari hospitality.
“They’re eight. Why are all of you on Charles’ side? They’re kids, they’re not going to get married tomorrow.” Kika added.
“I’m not on papa’s side. I’m here for ice cream!” Mathéo said as he continued eating the frozen treat.
“Thank you, Théo. Keep eating, baby.” Y/n kissed her son’s cheek.
“There’s a percentage of people that end up marrying the person they met in their childhood. Ruby could fall into that category.” Charles stated.
“You sound ridiculous right now. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. It’s cute, my childhood crush moved away to Canada or something.” Y/n said casually.
“Is it Lance?” Lando questioned.
“Mate, she said he moved to Canada, I’m pretty sure Lance was born there.” Carlos told Lando.
“Anyways . . . I suggest we keep Ruby in the Ferrari garage at all times then when the race finishes, we take her straight home and we all live happily ever after.” Charles proposed.
“Yeah, that seems dumb. But good luck finding her, she’s been with the boy from her piano class this whole time we’ve been talking. I think Fred is giving them a tour of the garage last I heard.”
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jyoongim · 2 months
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Based on ep 5 
ALASTOR
ALASTOR
BARKK BARK AOOOGAAA
Love a caring, defensive, sadistic, cannibilistic daddy demon
Title: Acts of service
Themes: slight submissive y/n, protective, blood, demon form, fluff, relationship dynamic, implied married couple, human life mentioned
Alastor can take a lot of shit…but even he has a breaking point….
(hehehehehehe)
Charlie’s hotel was not making the progress she wanted and so one day she shocked everyone with four words;
“My dad is coming”
The hotel was in a state of frenzy.
Everyone seemed excited to meet the King of Hell.
For once everyone was on one page and getting the place in tip top shape.
You had finally calmed Charlie down from her nth breakdown and had started primping yourself for the big man’s visit.
“Honestly its about time Luci showed his bright ass around here” you said as you patted some blush on.
Alastor was standing in the corner of your bedroom; oozing darkness menacingly.
He had been rather quiet and for once not making a fuss.
You almost smirked, whether or not he admits it
He adored Charlie 
And HATED being bested in anything.
“Youre glowering dear” you say as you finish applying your flawless makeup.
“I just dont see what all the hoopla is about. So what if the Morningstar is coming…its just charlie’s dad” Alastor grumbled in a rant.
You giggled “Yea but this is important to Charlie so no funny business mister”
His big smile tightened and his eyes narrowed “no promises”
You and Charlie greeted Lucifer
“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”
He damned near choked Charlie in a bear hug before turning to you
“Long time no see Sis” you hummed and gave him a big squeeze, but not before hissing lowly in his ear “do not fuck this up Luci”
He swallowed and you grinned before walking to stand by Alastor.
You nudged him towards Lucifer and reluctantly he introduced himself.
“Alastor sir pleasure to put a face to the name”
Lucifer shot you a look before eyeing Alastor suspiciously
“Uuuhh and you are?”
Alastor eye twitched “i’m the host of the hotel…you might know me from my radio broadcast hmm?”
Lucifer shrugged “nope guess thats why Charlie named it the HAZbin hotel”
You facepalmed and charlie was visibly getting nervous as you could literally see Alastor’s ego flare
“HA HA HA actually i came up with that”
“Ha Ha Ha well it wasnt very clever!”
They were in each other faces now
Alastor growled “ha ha HA fuck you”
You interjected, getting between the two, mostly Alastor
 “Boys Boys reign it in PLEASE” you threw a look at Alastor, who straightened his suit.
You sighed and turned your attention to Charlie 
“Dear why dont you tell your dad the whole point of your hotel” you gave a tense smile.
“Y/n is right dad! Alastor here has been tremendous help with the hotel…i wouldnt have made it this far without him” lucifer made a face.
You could see the wheels turning in Alastor’s head
He was up to no good.
“Yeeeeessss we are all very proud of Charlie. I am honored to fulfill any wish this lovely young lady has” 
He hugged Charlie and it took all of your willpower to not laugh at Lucifer’s annoyed look.
You giggled as he completely ignored Alastor and in turn to the others.
Charlie introduced her girlfriend and you could literally see his shoulders ease.
“OH thank Hell youre a lesbian! Cool cool i totally approve of THIS!”
Lucifer went on to give luxurious suggestions to Charlie, which Alastor shot down.
You sighed lovingly at Alastor’s antics.
He might have been the big bad Radio Demon, but he really was a softie when he wanted to be.
Definitely would have made a great dad…
You blushed at the thought.
Lucifer and Alastor were currently bickering with each other about who was the better father figure.
When suddenly the door flew open and a short, voluptuous, 1920 styled woman bursted in.
Your eyes widened “Mimzy?”
She squealed and embraced you in a tight hug, you kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting
“Ooooh y/n darling how you’ve been? Its been too long” she asked.
You grinned and gave a shrug “ooh it hasnt been that long has it?”
She greeted Alastor and gave you an astonished look “Y/n darling you still with dollface here?” you felt everyone eyes shift to you and you felt your eye twitch a bit but said nothing.
She begged to have you chat with her but you told her youll catch up her later, as you were helping Charlie and Alastor with Lucifer.
Not many people knew what your relationship with Alastor, hell not many people knew about Alastor life in general.
And you kind of liked to keep it that way but Mimzy was a talker if you ever saw one.
But Mimzy was not was one to just show up just out of nowhere…
She wanted something
You and Alaster were trailing behind Charlie as she explained the purpose of the hotel when Husker appeared to the two of you, addressing Alastor
“Boss a word with you” you quirked a brow when Alastor kindly shooed you off to have his discussion. You walked a bit aways before morphing into the wall and listened in on their conversation
“What is it?”
“You and I both know that Mimzy only pops her ass up when she needs somethin, that bitch is trouble and who knows what kind of shit she got into to come running to you”
True. 
“Dont worry so much Husker, its nothing i cant handle, besides who in their right mind would cross me?” 
“I mean…youve been gone a while and it aint like no one knows why-”
He was cut off
“And they dont need to know” that sharp smile was tight
Alastor patted Husker’s head condescendingly; like a pet.
Husker shoved his hand away angrily.
“Big talk for someone who’s also on a leash”
You saw Alastor glitch, eyes turning to black and glowing dials
Uh oh.
“What did you say?”
Your eyes widened as contract chains shot out at Husker, wrapping around his neck
Alastor was menacingly toying with the chain as he growled
“If you ever say that again i will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every disrespectful wretch WHO DARES TO QUESTION ME!”
Husker was shaking like a leaf and you were stunned; Alastor rarely ever lost his composure.
When Alastor disappeared down the hall you morphed to Husker to ease his nerves
“Oh Husker are you ok?” you asked as you tried soothed his nerves.
He shook it off (not really) and grumbled “fucking asshole”
You headed back to the lobby with Husker when a loud BAM was heard.
What the fuck?
“Mimizy you skank c’mon out here!”
You see Mimzy hide behind the bar and raise a eyebrow.
You frown, going to heave her over the counter
“Mimzy care to enlighten me about what the actual fuck is that” 
She sweatdropped “i-i may or may not have borrowed some money from a loan shark”
Your frown deepened “how. Much. money?”
“O-o fifty…grand”
You hissed.
The hotel was shaking and was being heavily damaged
You pulled charlie out of the way as some debris fell from the ceiling and hissed at Lucifer “arent you gonna do something!?”
He was trying to make this a life lesson and now was NOT the time.
You growled and went to march right outside to give those goons a piece of your mind when a clawed hand settled on your shoulder.
“Dont worry dear ill handle this”
“But Alastor…”
His smile turned wild “its about time i reminded everyone why i am here…a reminder to not fuck with the Radio Demon!”
He transformed. Antlers out and black tentacles flaring.
You watch him grow big in size and rip the gangsters apart, eating a few.
You smiled wickedy, hells he was hot
After he had his fun he shrunk back to normal and you launched yourself at him
Lovingly you purred into his neck “you ok now?”
He grinned, nuzzling you “i missed blowing off some steam”
Mimzy approached the two of you and you frowned, opening your mouth to say something but Alastor beat you to it
“I think you should go Mimzy. Now”
She was shocked. Usually Alastor let her off the hook and it was you who normally told people off.
“Y-you cant be serious…”
His eyes narrowed “I mean it. You brought danger to this place just for me to clean up your mess. I wont allow that here”
He was putting his foot down. You leaned into him, happy.
You flashed her a sharp grin “i agree Mimzy, you should go”
She blinked “you backing up your hubby over ya own friend? y/n!”
She hissed at Alastor “you think i dont know you? You cant really give a shit about this place”
You crossed your arms, giving her a pointed look, hissing as you felt your eyes glow in anger “leave Mimzy. While i’m the one being nice”
She huffed and turned to leave, but not before flipping you both off.
You relaxed and turned to Alastor, who was looking smug.
Tugging on his bowtie you craned his neck to your level, purring
 “Bedroom now dear”
His ears perked and his smile grew wider “feeling big emotions doll?”
“Ooh you have no idea”
With a flick of your hand the hotel was restored and you were whisking the lanky red demon upstairs to blow off some steam of your own
….
extra:
"what y/n and Alastor are married?!"
charlie blinked "yea i thought you guys knew that"
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
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waitimcomingtoo · 3 months
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Sugar And Spice
Pairing: Peeta Mellark x reader
Synopsis: Peeta gets jealous when a guy keeps coming into the bakery to flirt with you
Masterlist
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“Can you watch the bakery for a second while I frost a cake?”
“I can do it but I have to warn you. I’m super charming so we’re probably gonna get a bunch of customers and sell out immediately.” You said and held up your hands in defense. Peeta couldn’t help but smile as he watched you tie an apron around your waist. Something about you wearing something that had his last name on it made you even more endearing. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about his best friend like that, but he couldn’t help it.
“I don’t doubt your charm but we haven’t had any customers all day.” He reminded you.
“That’s because you’ve been keeping me in the back. Go frost your cake. This place will be packed when you return. Just watch”. You said and shooed him okay.
“Okay.” He replied sarcastically.
You were only alone in the bakery for a few minutes before someone came in. It was a guy around your age wearing a hard helmet so you could only assume he was a coal miner.
“Hello.” He smiled at you as he walked up the counter.
“Hello.” You replied. “Welcome to Mellark Bakery.”
“Do you guys sell bread?” He asked you.
“Here? At the bakery?” You asked and stepped to the side to give him a full view of all the baskets of bread behind you.
“Okay, it was a dumb question.” He admitted.
“It’s okay. It’s probably the only question you can ask that I could actually answer. I just learned what yeast was a little while ago.”
“Oh, so you don’t usually work here?”
“I don’t. My best friends family owns the place. But his brother gave his mom a cold and then the whole family caught it. I’m just filling in until they’re better.” You explained.
“That’s a shame. I thought I’d have two reasons to come in here now.” The boy said with a coy smile.
“Two reasons?”
“For delicious bread and a chance to see the pretty girl working the counter.” He replied. You raised your eyebrows in surprise at his flirting before smiling. You’d never had a boy flirt with you so boldly so it made you feel good.
“Well, thanks. How can I help you?” You asked him.
“My mother sent me to get that brown bread but I keep forgetting the name of it.”
“Isn’t all bread brown?”
“Well, yes.” He realized. “But she said this one is browner than the others.”
“I actually think I know what you’re talking about. Is it pumpernickel?” You asked and pulled out a loaf of pumpernickel bread.
“Yes! That’s the one. Look at you being smart. I’ll take a loaf of that.” The boy said. You didn’t really like the way he acted like it was shocking you’d say something smart but you didn’t say anything.
“Surely. Anything else I get you?” You asked as you handed him the wrapped up loaf.
“How about your name?” He smiled as he handed you the money.
“It’s Y/n. You?” You said through a nervous laugh. You weren’t entirely sure you liked the attention anymore.
“Hi. I’m Lycan.” He said and extended his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Lycan.” You smiled politely and shook his hand.
“It is nice, isn’t it? Will you be filling in all week?”
“Most likely.” You told him.
“Then I’ll be back. Thanks for the help.” He winked at you just as Peeta came out from the back. He saw the much taller and stronger looking Lycan leaving the bakery and stopped in his tracks.
“No problem.” You called after him. Peeta caught the way Lycan’s eyes lingered on you after he left the shop and he didn’t like it. He got a weird feeling in his stomach when he noticed that you were flustered.
“Who was that?” Peeta asked.
“That was Lycan. And he bought the last loaf of pumpernickel so we knead to make more. And that was a baking pun, by the way. But it would’ve worked better on paper.”
“Oh. Do you always learn the customers names?” Peeta asked as the weird feeling in his stomach grew. He was feeling jealous already and now that he knew you learned that guys name, it was even worse.
“Not always.” You shrugged. “But he asked my name so I asked his.”
“He asked your name? That was nice of him.” Peeta said through a forced smile. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that you had caught the attention of the attractive stranger. Maybe because you’d caught Peeta’s attention years ago but still hadn’t noticed.
“Yeah. I guess he was nice. He called me pretty.” You said and looked at Peeta as if you were expecting him to disagree with that statement. Peeta clenched his jaw but kept a straight face.
“You are pretty.” He insisted. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I don’t know. I guess because no one’s ever just called me pretty before. Except maybe my mother. But I’ve never heard it from a boy. It was kinda, I don’t know, nice.” You said as you stared out the window. Peeta was kicking himself for never vocalizing how beautiful he found you because now you had to cling to the compliment of a stranger.
“I think you’re pretty.” Peeta said quietly. Your head turned to Peeta and you had a surprised smile on your face. Peeta turned a deep red as he waited for your answer.
“You’re pretty pretty yourself, blondie.” You replied as you passed by him. You started to rearrange some of the baked goods but Peeta was still hung up on this stranger who called you pretty.
“Did you like that guy?” Peeta asked you and feared for the answer.
“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “It was nice to be noticed. But I don’t him enough to know if I like him.”
“Right.” He nodded and desperately tried to take his mind off it. You noticed the far off look in Peeta’s eye but didn’t understand what was bothering him.
“So how’s your cake?” You asked.
“Not good. I made the frosting a weird color. Can you go look at it and tell me if I should scrap it or not?”
“Sure. But if you go check on it later and there’s a piece missing, it wasn’t me.” You teased.
“Very funny.” He said sarcastically.
“I know, right?” You laughed and went to the back. Peeta laughed as well but his smile quickly dropped when the door to the bakery opened. Lycan walked back in and Peeta gulped. He’d only seen him through the window before so now he got to see just how tall and handsome this guy was. Peeta nervously fumbled with the tie on his apron and felt a little insecure to be wearing it when this guy was covering in soot and dirt from being down in the mines.
“Hi. How can I help you?” Peeta asked him. Lycan was visibly disappointed to see Peeta there and was ignoring him as he looked around the bakery for you.
“What happened to the girl that was working here just a few minutes ago?” Lycan asked.
“Who’s asking?” Peeta asked without dropping his cheery smile. Lycan looked Peeta up and down and scoffed a little.
“I am.” He replied. “I wanted to ask her where she lives.”
“Why would you want to know that?” Peeta frowned.
“So I could see her again. I was planning on stopping by sometime. I figured she’d like that.” Lycan answered with a smug expression.
“Well I know her well enough to know she wouldn’t want me telling a stranger where she lives so…” Peeta trailed off and let Lycan fill in the blank.
“Hm. You must be the friend she mentioned. I guess I’ll just have to ask her myself. But why don’t you do me a favor and tell her I stopped by?”
“Surely.” Peeta replied. Lycan recognized the same word you had used and narrowed his eyes at Peeta.
“Thanks, baker boy. Bye.” Lycan smirked and left the bakery. Peeta blinked in surprise at the unexpected rude tone. If he was feeling insecure before, he was feeling even worse now that Lycan made it obvious that he looked down on him.
“Who was that?” You asked when you came out from the back.
“No one.” Peeta lied. “How’s the cake?”
“I actually like the grey color. You should leave it as it is.” You told him.
“But it was supposed to be a wedding cake. Won’t the customer be mad?”
“If I was getting married and my cake was baked by you, I wouldn’t care what it looked like because I would already know it was delicious. But you don’t have to worry about that because the cake looked great. Your cakes always look great. You’re the best cake decorator I know. So stop worrying about it.” You said and playfully smacked his chest.
“I’m the only cake decorator you know.” He said with a shy smile.
“That may be true.” You agreed. “But even if I knew more, you’d still be the best. You’re an artist. All your cakes are lovely. I promise.”
“Thanks for saying that.” He blushed. “We can have a grey cake at our wedding then.”
“Oh? Our wedding?” You raised your eyebrows.
“Your wedding.” He quickly corrected. “I meant your wedding. I will make you a grey cake for your wedding.”
“What if my groom wants a white cake?”
“He’ll want whatever you want.” Peeta said confidently.
“What makes you so sure?” You asked skeptically.
“Just a guess.” He said quickly. He wasn’t about to tell you that if he was the groom, you’d get whatever and however many cakes you wanted.
“Well he better. My mother is already on me about finding someone and settling down. That’s all she thinks I’m gonna be apparently. A wife.” You said with a roll of your eyes.
“Oh, yeah? Is there anyone in particular you’re thinking of?” Peeta asked without looking at you.
“I mean, I wouldn’t be against running off and eloping with you to get her off my back.” You joked. Peeta blushed at the joke and hoped there was some truth to it.
“Or maybe I’ll just marry this Lycan guy to shut her up.” You added, making Peeta’s smile drop. He was definitely jealous now and it was only gonna get worse.
The next day, you went to the bakery again and helped Peeta run the shop. He had you handling the customers while he stayed in the back to bake. Even though you had said it as a joke, you actually were bringing in a lot of customers and selling through baked goods fast. Unfortunately, you brought in Peeta’s least favorite customer.
“Oh no.” Peeta said when he saw Lycan through the windows.
“What?” You asked just as the door opened.
“Hello again.” Lycan greeted you and didn’t acknowledge Peeta in any way.
“Oh, hi, Lycan. What can I get for you today?” You asked him.
“How about you get me your favorite thing in the shop?” He asked with that smug look Peeta hated. Peeta rolled his eyes at the lack of manners but held his tongue.
“Well, that’s hard to pick. Peeta bakes everything and it’s all delicious. He’s an amazing baker.” You said and patted Peeta’s back. Peeta and Lycan made eye contact and gave each other tight smiles.
“Oh, so this is your friend who runs the bakery? Did he tell you I stopped by yesterday to see you?” Lycan asked knowing full well Peeta didn’t mention it. You looked at Peeta in surprise and Peeta gave you a sheepish smile.
“Must’ve forgotten to mention that.” He said quietly.
“Right.” You laughed awkwardly. “Well, I love the cinnamon buns Peeta makes. And we just frosted some so I’ll go grab one from the back.”
You went to the back to grab a cinnamon bun, leaving Peeta and Lycan alone together. Peeta kept his eyes down as Lycan stared at him with a smug expression.
“So how come you had her running the shop all alone yesterday?” Lycan asked with judgement in his voice.
“She was fine. She was only alone for a few minutes but she would’ve been perfectly capable of running the shop all day. She’s great at this stuff. She’s better than me and I grew up in this bakery.” Peeta defended you.
“I could tell.” Lycan snorted. “But running a business is no place for a lady. She should’ve been doing the baking while you handled the customers. A girl like that should be able to sit still and look pretty while you man the place, you know what I mean?”
“Um, no, I don’t know what you mean.” Peeta smiled tightly. “She’s not the type to sit still but you wouldn’t know that because you don’t know her. And we “manned”the shop together all day. I just happened to be in the back decorating the cakes when you came in.”
“Oh, so you make all these? Where did you learn how to do that?” Lycan asked with a condescending smile as he looked at the cakes on display.
“My mother taught me.” Peeta said quietly.
“Oh, I see. My mother taught me that a man’s job involves getting your hands dirty but hey, what does she know?” Lycan shrugged.
“Clearly not how to teach her son manners.” Peeta mumbled. You came out from the back and Peeta relaxed.
“Here. One hot cinnamon bun.” You smiled kindly and handed the treat to Lycan.
“Thank you. It looks almost as good as you do.” He said with a much kinder tone than he had given Peeta.
“Oh. Thank you.” You laughed in surprise and looked over at Peeta. Peeta was too busy staring daggers at Lycan to notice.
“See you tomorrow?” Lycan asked you.
“See you then.” You waved as he left the shop. Once he was gone again, Peeta could finally breathe.
“I don’t like that guy.” Peeta shook his head.
“What? Why not? He’s so nice.” You said. As much as Peeta disliked that guy, he wasn’t about to burst your bubble and tell you Lycan had implied you could not and should not run the bakery by yourself.
“He’s too nice.” Peeta insisted. “And I don’t like the way he was looking at you.”
“How was he looking at me?” You frowned.
“The same way every guy looks at you. Only he looks dumb enough to try something.” Peeta mumbled. You let out a laugh and Peeta was confused.
“What?” He wondered.
“Nothing. I’ve just never heard you call someone dumb before. Here I was thinking you were all sunshine and flowers.” You shrugged with an amused smile.
“I can be tough. You don’t think I can be tough?”
“Well, I’m sure you can be. I’ve just never seen it. I’ve only ever seen your good side.”
“I can be tough. I can be a real tough guy.” Peeta insisted but it sounded unnatural coming out of his mouth.
“Okay, tough guy.” You chuckled. “Show me what you got.”
“What do you mean?”
“Say something mean about me.” You said and gestured towards yourself.
“What? I would never do that.” He laughed but meant it.
“I knew it. You’re too sweet. You don’t have a mean bone in your body. You’re all sugar.” You said and squeezed his arm. Peeta blushed at the contact and felt a little better about himself.
“Here’s something mean. That guy just tracked mud all over the floors. Why are coal miners so messy?” He scoffed and grabbed the mop.
“Maybe because they’re in dirty mines all day? Just a thought.” You teased as Peeta cleaned the floor.
“This is just gross.” Peeta huffed. “And did you see his hands? They were filthy.”
“I didn’t notice them.” You shrugged.
“Yeah, cause you were too busy flirting.” Peeta grumbled.
“Flirting?” You laughed. “I was not flirting with that guy.”
“Yes you were. I’ve never seen you bat your eyelashes like that before. And when’s the last time you warmed something up for a customer? You did that to flirt.” He half joked, half meant entirely.
“That wasn’t me flirting. I was just blinking because of all the dust he brought in.” You said simply. Peeta stopped mopping and looked up to see if you were serious.
“You really weren’t flirting with him?” Peeta asked hopefully.
“With a stranger? Who do you think I am?” You scoffed and grabbed the mop from him. You cleaned up the rest of the mud tracks before handing the mop back.
“Okay.” Peeta smiled. “Good.”
“Why’s that good? You didn’t want me to be flirting with him?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Psh. No. I don’t care who you flirt with.” Peeta quickly explained but even he didn’t believe it.
“Don’t you?” You asked and took a step towards him.
“I don’t.” He gulped.
“All right then.” You smiled sadly and went back behind the counter. Peeta looked over at you and wondered if you had wanted him to say that he didn’t want you flirting with anyone else.
The next day, Peeta was hesitant to leave you alone in the bakery in case Lycan came back to ask you out. If he actually made a move on you, Peeta knew he didn’t stand a chance. There weren’t a whole lot of options for dating in your district so if he asked you out, you’d probably say yes. But Peeta couldn’t stay in the front forever and eventually had to go to the back to frost cakes. And as soon as he was gone, the wolves descended.
“Good morning.” Lycan greeted as he came into the bakery. Your heart started to beat faster when he came in but it wasn’t from excitement. His presence was starting to make you anxious and you didn’t know if you liked the attention anymore.
“Good morning. What will it be today?” You asked politely.
“Some more pumpernickel please. But only half a loaf. I had some of my worker friends over last night and we went through it. We just get so hungry being down in the mines all day. You know how real men’s work is. It’s brutal but hey, someone’s gotta do it.” Lycan shrugged and leaned on the counters that you had just cleaned.
“Right.” You said sarcastically. “Anything else?”
“A smile. From you.” Lycan added. You gave him a tight smile back and realized you really didn’t like the attention. At least, not from him.
“Have a great day.” He said as you handed him the loaf and he handed you the money.
“Thanks. You too.”
“I already did. Because I got to see you.” Lycan said and pointed to you. You forced a smile back and watched as he tracked mud on the floor as he left. Peeta came out from the back a little while later and saw the mud.
“I see Lycan returned.” He said stiffly.
“He sure did.” You replied. Peeta rolled his eyes and grabbed the mop before looking at you.
“Don’t give me that look.” You laughed. “It’s not my fault Mr. Muddy Boots keeps coming in here.”
“Yes it is. I heard him telling you to smile. He likes you.” Peeta mumbled and mopped the floor. His jealousy was back and in full force so he kept his head down.
“Maybe he was just being friendly.”
“But he wasn’t being friendly to me. Only you.” Peeta pointed out.
“Okay, true. But that still doesn’t mean anything. He might just want to be friends.”
“No way. No guy wants to be just friends with a girl as interesting and funny as you.”
“What about you? You just want to be friends, don’t you?” You asked and smiled at his words but he didn’t see it. He was too busy keeping his head down so you couldn’t see how much he was blushing over what you asked.
“There. Finally clean. But if he comes in here and gets the floors muddy one more time, I’m gonna ban him from the bakery.” Peeta said to change the subject.
“Maybe he’s had enough of your baked goods and won’t come in anymore.” You shrugged.
“He’ll be back. Although he might stop buying things and just start coming in to stare at you.” Peeta grumbled, making you laugh. When your laughter died down, you thought about what it would mean if this guy actually wanted to be more than friends.
“Do you actually think he likes me?” You asked quietly.
“Of course he does. And I can’t blame him. But I can be annoyed about how often he comes in here.” Peeta said and continued to avoid eye contact with you.
“But him coming in here means you get more customers.” You reminded him. “And what do you mean you can’t blame him?”
“Him coming in here means I have to look at his dumb face while he bumbles around and tries to flirt with you. All while making the bakery muddy. I wouldn’t mind losing him as a customer.” Peeta replied and conveniently ignored the second half of what you said.
“Well we should probably bake another loaf of pumpernickel in case he comes in tomorrow.” You shrugged and started to gather the ingredients. Peeta froze and watched you tie on an apron as jealousy burned a hole inside him.
“What?” You asked when you saw Peeta’s face.
“You want him to come back?” Peeta asked in a soft voice.
“I didn’t say that. But if he does, which I’m assuming he will, we should have bread for him.”
Peeta was quiet again for a minute as he looked at you. He didn’t think you liked this guy back until he watched you gathering ingredients to make something specifically for him.
“Do you, um, do you like him back or something?” Peeta asked you. He didn’t sound angry or anything, just sad.
“What I like is earning money. Which customers bring in. Customers like Lycan.” You said and headed to the back where the oven was.
“Fine. But just don’t bake that with love, okay?” Peeta called after you. He heard you laugh and felt a little better because it reminded him that no one made you laugh quite like he did.
“I’ll try.” You called back.
The next day, Peeta was ready for anything. He asked you to bake some muffins in the back while he dealt with the customers during the evening rush. He had made it through almost the entire day before he saw Lycan coming in to the bakery. He looked around for you as soon as he walked in before walking up the counter.
“How can I help you?” Peeta asked with a forced smile.
“Actually, I was hoping Y/n could help me. She here?” Lycan asked and peered behind the counter.
“She’s busy with the baking in the back.”
“Really? I thought frosting cakes was your job? Tell me, how do you make them look so pretty?” Lycan asked in a mocking tone.
“It takes a steady hand. And a clean one.” Peeta said as his eyes dropped to Lycans dirt covered hands.
“These are workers hands. But you wouldn’t know anything about that would you, baker boy?” Lycan said in a low voice as he leaned on the counter. Peeta gulped but was determined to stand his ground.
“I know about hard work. Just because my work is different from yours doesn’t mean it’s any less important.” He replied.
“Are you serious?” Lycan laughed. “I risk my life everyday to get the coal that you use to bake your pretty little cakes. You’re not important. I mean, your work isn’t important. I know that, and she knows that.” Lycan whispered so only Peeta could hear. His words were getting to Peeta and he wasn’t feeling as confident as before.
“She’d never go for you.” Peeta said quietly.
“What other choice does she have? You?” Lycan scoffed. “I asked around about the two of you, you know. Everyone had the same thing to say. That the bakers boy absolutely adores her but isn’t man enough to do anything about it.”
“I could do something about it.” Peeta insisted.
“Oh really? Then why haven’t you?” Lycan asked him. Peeta opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He had no answer to give.
“That’s what I thought.” Lycan snickered. “She’d never go for you either.”
Peeta looked down at the ground and believed what Lycan was saying. You came out from the back and immediately sensed the awkward tension. You first noticed Peeta’s sad expression and then Lycan’s smug smirk.
“Oh, hi Lycan. Back so soon?” You asked as you looked between the boys and tried to figure out what had just happened between them.
“I just needed to get some bread. And seeing your pretty face never hurts.” Lycan said and switched to a nice smile.
“Aw, thanks.” You said with a fake smile.
“You know, being a coal miner is really dangerous. Nothing like the easy job this guy has.” Lycan said and nodded towards Peeta. “When the boys and I go down into the mines, we never know if we’re gonna get to come back out. So I try to take a minute and appreciate the beautiful things in life as much as I can. And that includes you.”
“Aw, thanks.” You repeated in the same uncomfortable tone. Peeta looked up and saw that Lycan was staring at him with a puffed up smile. In other words, he thought he ate that.
“See you around, doll.” Lycan winked at you before leaving the shop.
“That was painful.” You said once he was gone.
“For us both.” Peeta mumbled.
“I think you were right. I think he may be more than just friendly.” You laughed nervously.
“What gave it away?” Peeta smiled sarcastically.
“I just don’t understand what he wants from me. I don’t even know what to say when he talks like that.” You said and grimaced at the memory of his little speech.
“He probably wants a wife. And he wants you to say it can be you.”
“A wife?” You laughed in shock. “He doesn’t even know me.”
“But he wants to. That’s why he keeps coming in here. He probably wanted to ask you out today but wouldn’t with me in here.”
“Well I wouldn’t say yes even if he did. So there’s nothing to worry about.” You shrugged.
“Don’t tell me there’s nothing to worry about.” Peeta snapped. You were both surprised by his tone and stood in awkward silence following his exclamation. Peeta was too embarrassed to look at you so he kept his head down and played with the ties in his apron. He heard your footsteps coming over to him and suddenly, you were lifting his chin to get him to look at you.
“What’s this about?” You asked quietly. Peeta sighed and looked to the side.
“He works in the mines and risks his life. I work in a bakery and decorate cakes. He’s covered in soot and dirt and I end the day covered in flour and sugar.”
“So?” You laughed.
“So, he’s a real man.” Peeta insisted. “And that’s what you deserve.”
“Do you think I don’t see you as a real man?” You asked and wrapped your arms around Peeta’s neck. He turned bright red and finally looked at you.
“Look at me. And look at him. We’re not the same.” Peeta said softly.
“Just because he works down there and you work up here doesn’t make you any less of a man.” You assured him.
“It feels like it does. Especially when…”
“When what?” You asked when Peeta trailed off.
“When I thought you liked him. I assumed he caught your attention because he’s all big and tough and I’m just…soft.” He shrugged and gave you an embarrassed smile.
“He caught my attention because he’s annoying and dirty. And I happen to like that you’re soft.” You told him.
“You do?” Peeta asked skeptically.
“Of course I do. I like that you never have a mean thing to say about anybody. I like that you decorate cakes and smell like cinnamon all the time. And I like that you stop to pick flowers that you like. But you know what I don’t like?”
“What?”
“That guy. I don’t like how he thinks I shouldn’t run the shop by myself. I don’t like how he can’t compliment me on anything but my looks. I don’t like how he thinks his job makes him superior to us. And I don’t like that he made you feel bad about yourself.” You said. Peeta looked into your eyes and saw how serious you were. A smile tugged at his lips as he believed that he didn’t have anything to worry about.
“He made fun of my cake decorating.” Peeta added with a coy smile.
“What? Now that’s too far. Let’s ban him.” You played along. Peeta laughed and pulled you into a hug.
“I never want you to think you’re not good enough ever again, okay?” You said as you rubbed his back.
“Okay.” Peeta reluctantly replied. You pulled out of the hug and rubbed his shoulders.
“If he comes in here again, I’ll tell him to back off. Of both of us.” You assured Peeta.
“Good. Because I’m not much of a fighter.” He said through a relieved laugh.
“I know. You’re a lover. Thats what I love about you.” You told him and went to go clean the counter. Peeta watched you for a minute with a content smile on his face.
“It is?” He asked in a soft voice.
“Amongst other things, but yes.” You replied.
“There are a lot of things I love about you too.” Peeta said without looking at you.
“Are there?” You asked with piqued interest.
“Of course. Dozens of things.”
“Dozens?” You pretended to gasp and looked over at him.
“Uh huh. A bakers dozen.” He replied with a coy smile.
“Hey.” You laughed. “Baking humor is my thing.”
“I know, I know. But I think that’s another reason Lycan bothered me so much. I thought he was gonna take you away before I got a chance to tell you any of them.” Peeta said simply. Your expression changed but he didn’t catch it as he went to change the sign on the door from “open” to “closed”.
“Well. It’s quitting time.” Peeta sighed and looked the front door.
“Right. We should go.”
The next day, Lycan came in bright and early in the morning. He was the first customer and walked in before you had even arrived yet. Peeta gulped when he saw him and hoped you’d get to the bakery as soon as possible. Then he remembered what you had said about what you loved about him and felt a little braver.
“Hey, Peeta. Just you today?” Lycan asked in a condescending voice.
“For now.” Peeta answered calmly.
“These are nice. You pick them yourself?” Lycan asked as he flicked one of the flowers Peeta had in a vase on the counter.
“As a matter of fact, yes. I did.”
“I thought so. Just when I thought you couldn’t get anymore pathetic. It’s no wonder Y/n doesn’t want you.” Lucan snorted. He hadn’t heard you entering the bakery from the back so when you appeared behind the counter where Peeta was, he gulped.
“Oh, hi, Y/n. Good morning.” He said nervously and hoped you hadn’t heard what he just said. You gave Lycan a big smile before turning to Peeta.
“Good morning.” You greeted Peeta before pulling him into a long kiss. Peeta was stiff with shock at first but then kissed you back as his hands found their place on your waist. Lycan watched this with a dropped jaw and angrily cleared his throat when he felt like it was going on too long. You pulled out of the kiss with a big smile and patted Peeta’s red cheek.
“Sorry about that.” You chuckled as you wrapped an arm around Peeta’s shoulders. Peeta and Lycan were both silent as they processed what had happened. You made your choice loud and clear to the both of them and they were both too stunned to speak. Peeta finally smiled and took one of the flowers out of the vase to place behind your ear as a little thank you. You smiled in appreciation before looking at Lycan.
“So.” You shrugged. “What can we get you?”
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whoetoshaw · 1 month
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ANYWHERE, ANYTIME | h. lewis
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summary: some of your most memorable times with harry. [7k words.]
pairing: reader x bog (W2S.)
notes: smut warning. lazily edited. I’M SO NERVOUS OMFG I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M POSTING THISSSSSS I DONT WANNAAAA 😆 NO COMMENT, GONE INTO HIDING 🏃🏽‍♀️ kidding, let me know what you thought ❤️‍🔥 longly anticipated so enjoy my babies, don’t forget to reblog. <333
“NO, IT’S A REAL THING THAT HAPPENS, I ASSURE YOU.”
“Oh . . ‘I assure you.’”
“No! No! No! Not like that, not like—”
It was February, and the boys had a splendid idea that for a Valentine’s Day Special, the girlfriends would do an episode of Side+ to talk all things love, romance, and date nights.
Well, you’d briefly covered those three – 15 minutes after, you had plunged right into the topic of girl secrets, flawing the boys and the main topic they told you to try as avoid (for probably their own sanity) —sex.
“Are you sure?! I really thought it was a myth!” Faith looked across at you.
“No, it’s real,” you almost rolled your eyes, laughing at her reaction.
“To be fair, I thought it was fake too,” Talia said from your left, Ellie raising her brows surprised whilst Freya tapped her chin in thought with her finger.
“Very messy,” you choked on a laugh, the girls exploding in cackles at your comment. You looked to the cameras shamefully, knowing Harry would probably kill you. “Ok! Ok! Next subject! Next subject!”
“No, I couldn’t be arsed with that. You should see the mood of me when I’ve to change my sheets after putting my tan on, I hate changing the bedding.”
“Could do it elsewhere?” Freya raised her brows, the table filling with giggles again.
“No, I have the back of an 80-year-old as it is at the minute, you’ll not catch me anywhere but my bed,” Talia laughed, twirling the wires of the microphone.
“I don’t know how these people do it in risky places, it baffles my brain,” Ellie shared, the girls nodding in response, “like, do you want to be caught!?!”
“I can’t think of anywhere really spontaneous I’ve done it,” Freya swirled in her chair.
All heads tilted to the centre of the desk where you sat, an embarrassed grin tugging your lips as you dropped your face to your hands, the heat crawling up your neck in your already warm hoodie. “Stop!”
“Y/n, you are so bad!”
“No, the stories I’ve heard from her over the years,” Talia jutted her thumb in your direction.
“You actually give me grey hairs. You actually do,” Freya almost scolded you with amusement in her voice.
“You are a crazy horse, y/n darlin’.”
“FAITH?!”
“What?! The stuff you be telling me has me having a heart attack and I didn’t even do it!”
“Oh my god,” you grumbled, your fingers on your warm cheeks, “there is something wrong with me, I actually do get possessed or something.”
“DEFINITELY!”
“You’re actually not right.”
“Why are you like that?”
You were flabbergasted at these comments when they could all be just as horny as you could be. “I’m a horny person, girls! It’s normal!”
“Not to your extent,” Freya mumbled into her water bottle, “we all like a shag but you act like it’s the end of the world with your carry-on.”
The girls all laughed at you and you did too, dispaired in your seat, you shook your head at their teasing.
“Do you still send nudes?”
“Uh, duh.”
“Not really, no.”
“Never.”
“Rarely.”
What the fuck is wrong with these girls?!
“Where is the craziest place you’ve done it? Or places in general? WAIT NO! Have any of you done it with either set of parents in the house?”
“Obviously.”
“‘Course not.”
“Fuck no!”
“Never!”
Yet again, you were the one who had facepalmed after your confession, clearly thinking you were all on the same page when you were not.
“Y/N!”
“WHAT?! I WAS YOUNG WHEN I MET HIM?!”
“Y/n, I met Josh around the same age as you did and I have never in our 13 years tried to ride him with my parents or his parents under the same roof.”
“Oh my god—” you muttered in your hands.
Maybe did have a problem.
“Where is the best place to have sex? Or best sex you’ve had,” Faith asked, “let’s discuss.”
“No,” you drew on the whiteboards from earlier.
“Yes. In fact, can we rank? Can you pull up like a picture of a bed, of a wall, car and we’ll rank our fav places! Our fav times!” You all watched the diagram form on the screen and laughed at the options. “Yeah, this is great, let’s get it. Let’s start First Time, where’s this going on the table?”
“Is this first time ever or first time with current partner?” Tal asked.
“Either or.”
“Well I don’t count my first time, I don’t count my first few times ‘cause it was fucking shit and I didn’t even get an orgasm so,” you threw your pen down in a huff, “i’m counting mine with Harry’s.”
The girls all laughed, knowing the story all too well of your first time with your ‘first boyfriend’ (a boy you’d been with for 5 months) and how you had almost been put off sex for life because it just wasn’t how you thought it was supposed to be. It was just an interaction of . . in and out . . and you were getting nothing out of it.
“I’d be surprised if your first time wasn’t in a bed, hun.”
“My first time I was on top,” you knew you'd either get laughs or gasps while Frey hit your arm scoldfully, “better still: didn’t use a condom, so—” you tried to shield yourself from her whacking, clearly not approving of this statement in case it were to be taken as advice. Such a mum.
You sat back and pondered, it was hard to think of your favourite time.
THE FIRST TIME
You remembered your first time with Harry like it yesterday, how his mum and dad had gone out for the night and he’d been left to watch Josh and Rosie — except both had gone to their friends’ houses and didn’t plan on coming back ‘til midnight. You remembered not thinking much of it, the whole thing unplanned and naturally occurring, it was sweet. It was a good first time, some giggles and no awkwardness — the only unusual thing that might have occurred was the fact you’d got on top.
“–wait! wait! wait! I don’t know if I can do this,” you panted, your hands wobbling on his broad chest as his palms covered your waist, heat radiating off the two of you as you hovered above Harry and his cock.
“You can, it’s fine, it’s fine!” Harry reassured, moving his hands further to your hips where he slowly guided you back down, “just . . go slow . .”
“I’m SCARED!”
“You can do it, I promise,” he chuckled at your nervousness. There was a reason people didn’t do this during their first time.
You could remember lowering yourself down, eyes locked on him as he slipped in that very first time, shy moans escaping your mouth, you were taken back by how easy he slipped inside you with how wet you were, “oh my god,” you grunted, mouth falling open as he filled you up, inch by inch.
“Fuck me,” he breathed, watching himself disappear in you, almost completely gone, wrapped around your pretty cunt. You were focused on him and those long dark lashes staring down between you, his messy, sweaty hair tangled across his head and those flushed cheeks. You ached for him, and the thought of doing something you knew you shouldn’t be doing because of the opportunity, it felt even better.
“You’re fuckin’ tight,” he mumbled, hands running up and down your legs.
“Sorry,” you confusedly mumbled, too focused trying to hold your weight above you.
You remembered that last inch you couldn’t take, already feeling full with him inside you, but Harry was adamant, he knew you could take him, and looking into those trusting eyes, you remembered the pleasure that fulfilled you when he jutted his hips up into you, filling you whole, allowing you to release those moans all you wanted. You remembered being able to move to a steady rhythm once you adjusted to him, his length snug in you, you began to rock your lower half, his hands controlling your hips, the moans slipped out of you with ease, “—Harry!”
You remembered the eye contact, the proud smiles and messy hair. You remembered feeling safe with your arms locked around his neck when he sat up slightly, connecting your lips as you felt every inch of him in you. “I love you,” you voiced, wet mouth trailing up and down your neck and chest, your tits occupying his hands, you’d never felt like this before.
“I love you more,” he pulled your face closer to his, hot and steamy kisses bruising your lips as you neared the edge.
Gradually, of course, your growth in experience had resulted in beds breaking and headboards chipping paint off the walls with its repetitive banging, the plush mattress would comfort your back while your legs would be up over Harry’s shoulders, eyes dazed and fluttering with each thrust he gave, splitting you in half.
“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”
Each time your voice pitched higher, but to Harry, it was like a symphony.
“You can take it,” one hand would hold onto the headboard while the other held your foot, and you’d have to bite your lip to stop any more sounds leaving, not remembering if Callum had come home yet, but it’d be so hard, and Harry would smile at your struggling, and you’d be smiling up at him, hoping he didn’t stop.
THE FLOOR
It was always so frenetic when it came to you wanting a fuck, so eager, impatient and slightly tilting on the aggressive side because of how desperate you became, it kind of irritated Harry how all patience went out the window – which only worsened things because you loved seeing him all angry at you. “Quick! It doesn’t matter!” You cried, you yanked Harry’s head back from the doorway of the villa, your hair sticking to your back. It was 11:00 at night and still feeling 100 degrees. The group were still clubbing as you’d just stepped through the door, the house empty and silent until you and Harry came stumbling home, escaping the carnage so you could have time to yourselves.
And be as loud as you wanted.
“Quick, Harry,” you begged, rising on your knees as he took himself out of his shorts, the heat getting to you as the straps to your dress fell. You couldn’t even properly undress yourself — you couldn't even make it to the bedroom, you’d latched yourself onto him in the kitchen, swinging you both around in the kitchen, you tumbled to the ground and climbed like it was nothing, your lips hot on his, his movements just as rushed as his hands ran all over and around you, squeezing and gripping your ass, hugging your sides and tits, you rushed to lift the trail of your dress.
Fucking on the floor was an all-time low, the concept so fucking dirty (even in a luxurious villa) but my god, did you love it. You didn’t care, you’d let him fuck you anywhere, any time, even on a dirty, white tiles.
Harry watched how you slapped his hands away from his shorts and began undoing his belt for him, hands shaking, he laughed at your eagerness, “you are a dirty bitch,” the grin grew on his face as your face fell into full concentration, sweat gleaming across your head, “you’re gonna get it, stop rushing,” he pushed your hands back to lift his hips and push himself. He felt your smirk against his mouth as your lips attacked his again, wasting no second slipping your tongue in. You lifted your hips as he guided his cock to your entrance, looking over his shoulder once more to make sure no one was coming through the door before sliding into you. “Fuck me.”
“Oh my GOD!” You remembered fucking him as fast as possible, your hips bucking at a dangerous speed while he met you halfway. You were almost crying in despair for this orgasm, your hands on his shoulders for support. Your eyes watched the door while his eyes grazed your tits which were practically free from your dress, you rode him shamelessly with your cries filling the villa. The idea of someone walking in had your heart racing, but also clenching even tighter around him as you hugged his head close to you, fingers scratching into the back of his head. “Mmm–Harry . . ” you winced, your orgasm close but not close enough.
You remembered your hands slapping onto the ground behind you as he sat forward, taking control with a harsh snap of his hips, his cock pairing right through you. The floor became slippy, your skin on fire. You moaned and moaned and when it was almost over, you felt yourself cumming harder seeing how dirty your hands were, knowing he was the only one to get you like this.
And you’d do it again and again and again.
KITCHEN COUNTER
Seriously, you remembered a wholesome day of showing your friends and families your brand new home and giving them a tour of the place, and whilst your heart was filled with gratitude, you couldn't wait for Harry to fill you up when you entered the kitchen and saw how his hips met the perfect height of the kitchen counter.
“Oh it’s lovely, isn’t it?” His mum ran her hand over the countertop and Harry copied, reaching over to get a good feel while you gulped, wondering why the fuck your mind had to go there.
“Yeah, it is,” you agreed, dragging your nails along the marble slate, and Harry found himself smirking too as his mind intruded with filthy thoughts too.
“—move your legs further apart,” he kicked your feet further away from the other, a firm hold on your hips to stop you from falling. You moaned at the contact of his thickness pushing through, your nails gripping the edge of the countertop in pure bliss at the delicious angle. You moaned as he filled you snug, pushing all the way, you didn’t know if the pressure in your stomach was from him or the countertop, either way, it was so tasty.
“I think I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, a bit amused but more pathetic, you frowned with your cheek pressed into the cold countertop.
“Already?”
Harry’s brow perked cockily although you couldn’t see, but you could hear the humour in his tone and imagine that smug grin on his lips. He pulled a good distance back before ramming back into you, your legs already shaking with pleasure.
“Uh—fuck! Keep doing that!”
“You’re fuckin’ dripping everywhere, you been thinking about this all mornin’?” you moaned at his change in rhythm, the way he quickened his pace and cut his thrusts short, he pushed you further and further into the counter, taking your arms behind your back. You hadn’t felt this sort of intensity in a long time, you were speechless.
“Oi,” a loud smack echoed the room as a gasp tumbled off your lips, your right asscheek stinging red.
“Yes,” you nodded breathlessly, eyes rolling back as he hit your certain spot.
“This the first thing you wanted to do on your new kitchen counter, huh?”
“Mhmm,” you hummed smugly, “had to christen it before I make anything on it, right?”
“You’ll remember that anytime you come in here to make anything for our friends and family,” you just shrugged at his words. You didn’t care. It was your house, you did what you wanted, who would find out anyway?
You tried to lift your leg even more, to get as much of that inviting angle as you could, and Harry helped, holding your ankle to shove it up further onto the kitchen island, putting you in the most awkwardest but exposing angle. “I’m gonna have you walking funny for a week, mate,” his fingers dug into your hips, and you could have come undone all at once, but you refused to let this be over already, so you did your best to hold back as best you could for an even better release, your cries supporting his promise furthermore as he pounded into you.
CLUB WALL
The vibrations of music blasting around the room only made your head fuzzier, your spirit already buzzing from your heavy consumption of drink, floating on cloud 9. You couldn’t remember if it was the club’s wall or in the bathroom stall, didn’t matter either way, you’d done both, drunk enough to not give a fuck but cautious enough to do it somewhere you had a 0% chance of getting caught.
Or maybe 10.
20 even.
30.
Your arms were around his neck, eyes warm with tenderness, he was the only one you could focus on. It was dark, loud, and stuffy but your mind was set on Harry and his hazy eyes, messy hair and strong arms holding you up against the wall. You watched how he struggled to get your skirt up by your hips, the material tight, only making him want to tear it off more. You grunted at his rough hands, the skirt burning your thigh as you kept your legs wrapped around him. You watched him in full focus, the way he was obviously frustratedly impatient, his angry furrowed brows and frown making you want him more. You remembered the feeling, the adrenaline, the race of your heart at the fear of getting caught but not caring enough to take the risk. You remembered his hot kisses, the way you could barely keep up with his lips when he was inside you, taking any last bit of focus you had. Your high-pitched sounds tumbled freely against his mouth, the bass of the music drowning them out. You were sticky, sweaty, and so so turned on.
You could have cried.
You remembered sliding down the wall after, unable to hold yourself when Harry tried to set you down, filled with his cum, legs exhausted. You sat there, heart pounding, legs full with pins and needles, but the sight of him tucking himself back into his pants, the veins still sticking out in his hands, the flushed cheeks and scorned brows – you were willing to stay on your knees and suck him off.
BATHROOM STALL
You’d done a bathroom stall before, but my god, would you never forget that one celebratory party, the one in one of the most extravagant hotel lobbies with the monster nightclub. Dubai, or maybe it was Las Vegas. L.A.? You couldn’t remember, you could just remember the longing you did for your man that night, separated from him for the night as you mingled amongst the girls and celebrities from across the pond while he did the same with the guys. You were bored to fucking death. If anything the martinis were just making you more angsty, a ticking noise playing in your mind as you counted down the seconds this thing was over and you could get back to your man for some real entertainment.
You bumped into him on the way to the toilets, the smirk forming on his face making others wonder if you were two strangers meeting for the first time, eyes dancing with excitement at the sight of the other. “Where you goin?” he asked, subconsciously stepping aside from his friend group, following your direction. He was so handsome, cheeky glint in his eye and that black t-shirt? You wanted to eat him.
“Bathroom. I’m just out?” you smiled as his hands instinctively found your hips, your arm resting over his shoulder with your drink in hand. He kept walking back, keeping eye contact, smiling into a kiss, you looked at him suspiciously as he guided you backwards, back towards the toilets.
There – his mouth attacked yours, his hands bunching as much of your ass as he could. Your back crashed into the door of a stall, your feet stumbling back, you slightly scolded Harry in the midst of your make out sesh, your ankle throbbing from hitting the toilet.
But that long left your memory when he almost broke the door trying to lock the latch so quick, his hands flying to your legs, he dropped to his knees and your eyes widened. You were convinced you’d drooled too. Your skirt was bunched up to your stomach, free from restraint, you could spread them as wide as you wanted. The twinge of pleasure that shot through you made your head spin, his tongue lapping you up like there was no tomorrow, you could have fainted.
Your hands pressed to either side of the stall walls, trying to keep yourself from crumbling under his touch; his actions had your whole lower half twitching, you almost broke into sobs at how good it was.
He was enjoying it too much. He dove his face into you, warm tongue exploring you, his nose repeatedly nudged your clit. “Harry please,” you choked, the pleasure unbearable, and when you came? He didn’t stop.
You did fall slightly, trying to remove yourself from him, but he just kept going. Your hand was gripping his hair, wanting him to stop but at the same time, keep going, it was blissfully overbearing. “Oh my god!” you tensed, surprised you hadn’t crushed his head yet with your thighs, never mind suffocated. You were convinced he wanted to go that way because he didn’t care.
When he stopped, his chin was soaked, and even at that, he still tried to kiss you, but you kept him at bay with a hand on his forehead, needing a second to catch your breath with a heaving chest.
The sight of him made your heart flutter.
CAR
The car wasn’t your favourite, at least for actual sex. Too small, stuffy. Very messy. Plus, Harry hated the way the windows dried with dirty hand prints on them, ignoring when a family member asked about them and he had to lie and say you did it as a joke and that it wasn’t real.
Hm.
The teasing was good, though. You loved Harry driving more than anything, it was a common thing! People liked their man driving! They looked hot doing it!
He rarely drove if ever, so seeing him behind the wheel was hot as it was, the way he gripped the steering wheel or turned it with an open palm - you didn’t understand why it was so fucking sexy.
You remembered his new car, the way you had a long drive one weekend in it for the first time, how it ran smoothly along the quiet roads, relaxing you both, you could have melted into the seats.
It was a playful journey, you’d messed the whole time, giggling and making fun of others, teasing the other for their behaviour and calling them out for their acts, it was such a wholesome journey, your heart full of endearment watching him and his side profile.
London roads were irritating though, once back in the city, and although home was so close, it’d be at least another hour ‘til you got there with the traffic. You were both getting tired, and antsy to get in bed; it was dark and cold outside and you could only see the streetlamps and car lights flashing outside, you didn’t want to drive anymore.
You smirked at the memory of your act, how you kept your head straight ahead when you rubbed and squeezed his thigh, seeing the side glance he gave. It almost made you crack, but he knew you were amused. You didn’t waste a minute, you squeezed him through his sweats, the menace you were, laughing wickedly as he tried to throw your hand off him.
“Fuck off,” he told you, not affording a distraction from the non-moving road, but a grunt caught in his throat when you slid your hand back over, leaning your body with it, watching his Adam’s apple bob as you palmed him through his trousers, feeling him in your hand.
It was dumb to do, but it was the sexiest thing to see him squirm in his seat letting you jack him off, still easily controlling the car with one hand.
You didn’t really care at the thought of someone looking over and seeing your head in his lap or his hand tightly in your hair - you found his multitasking incredibly sexy, and to be honest - you kind of wished they would.
SHOWER
The shower was also a low score, it was hard trying to keep still with a slippy floor and cold wet tiles, but again, when you got the position right – it could be amazing.
You loved roaming your hands all over him, sudding up his chest and stomach, scraping it down his back with your nails with steam circulating off the two do you, you loved looking up and seeing his hair soaking wet, dripping, even more when his hands were feeling you up.
It was more of an intimate thing, the teasing and messing around, trying to wash your own hair without getting groped, but my god, how you loved falling into him when his hands slipped softly up your back around your sides before coming up to your tits, groping him roughly with a sound of a laugh. He loved that, and resting his head on your shoulder, in your neck, watching the water run off you, keeping you warm with his chest pressed into your back, hands and fingers playing with your chest.
Comforting.
JEALOUS SEX
The places didn’t matter so much though, whether in a hot tub with the chance of a £200 fine, the Sidemen office during their lunch break or at your parent’s place trying your best to be quiet — sometimes it was the type of sex you were having, not the position, although let’s face it, they contributed a lot, but the narrative behind it - the emotional drive behind it.
Jealousy sex had to be up there - you were one possessive fucker, but so was Harry.
You weren’t an intimidated person, people confessed their crush on your man all the time but you never felt threatened, and Harry could hardly make eye contact with his reflection, so you didn’t give a fuck as much as he did — the thing that got you both was the audacity of others.
You might not have felt threatened, but you hated seeing girls do everything in their power to try and convince your man, that they were better then you, like they ever stood a chance, but the sight of letting themselves down as women by their desperation. Feeding into the male ego. Making themselves look stupid throwing themselves at him.
Harry rejecting them had to make you the horniest version of yourself ever. He didn’t even have to be a dick about it, an awkward escape or just a friendly wave ‘stop’ of his hand to them and nod to his girlfriend — you were ready to fuck his brains out.
Harry liked when you got jealous, when you got home and he got to see you become the desperate one, even though you played it off for being unbothered, he loved seeing how it got under your skin. He liked to wind you up even further about it.
The worst case of jealousy you’d got had you acting up like a demon though, your rage feeding into the movement of your body when it came to sex. You were known to come across as unbothered online, the topic not even making you flinch – you weren’t nervous in the slightest at the thought of this famous influencer thirsting over your man — didn’t care the whole internet hyped her up to think she was the most hottest thing to walk the planet — didn’t care how she’d stated how you weren’t a problem in her way trying to fuck your man.
Harry didn’t give a shit either, which had you dripping as it was, but still - it was the audacity of her to fearlessly voice her interest in him, how adorably geeky he was as if she was purposefully trying to get a reaction out of you. She managed to get on a nerve, not that you’d ever let her know that.
“She thinks she can do what I do?” you spoke more to yourself, laugh trying to break through, tongue trailing along the happy trail of your man.
Harry used to consider you possessed. You fucked him like you were trying to prove something, like reminding him why he would never leave you - you gave him everything.
But you didn’t need to fuck him to rub it in her face - him holding your hand upon meeting her was the most fulfilling thing he could have done, and you fucked him hard for that like a reward ‘til he couldn’t ever remember meeting her.
ANGRY SEX
Harry’s jealousy was different compared to yours because when Harry got jealous, he was able to put you in a bad mood.
When you got jealous it was hilarious, he could wind you up all he wanted, but god forbid you go there, not one smile could be cracked and then he was angry with you too for not taking him seriously.
He was a petty king and he could go days without talking to you until you said sorry.
“You’re actually digging your grave here.”
He’d thrown the house keys on the counter after almost having to break down the door, it wouldn’t open. The ‘fall out’ had happened after Friday night, after you’d both been out with your friend group, partying it up for some big event for the weekend other few celebs were attending.
You’d had a great time — everyone did! Faith won a £150 bottle of Rosè in some competition, JJ a voucher (like he needed it) and Behz grabbed a pic with Declan Rice.
You got talking to . . an old friend, the conversation not even 10 minutes long and you hadn’t seen Harry since the beginning of the night so it’s not like you ditched and blanked him.
You’d done nothing wrong. You were as friendly and as polite as you would have been to him as you would an old girl friend.
Harry didn’t like him.
He didn’t like the way he looked at you the whole time like you’d be stumbling through the door of his hotel room and show him what was just under that blue, shimmering dress.
“He wasn’t even lookin’ at the dress?!”
“You’re right, he was looking through to your soul to try and get you to fall in love with him.”
You looked at him so oddly.
Right. Ok.
“Seriously, don’t talk to him.”
“Harry, not that I was going to talk to him again, but don’t tell me what to do,” you deadpanned, pulling out his hold in the bathroom.
He hadn’t even been that bothered until the teasing from friends came in . . and then girls bullying him . . and then your comment just set him off.
“He was being friendly!”
“With his fuck me eyes?”
“Those are his friendly eyes,” you chuckled, cupping his face, but he stopped your wrist before you could touch him, his face turning up at your comment.
“What?”
“What?” You were confused.
Then it snowballed, Saturday he’d not spoken to you after you began saying things purposefully to piss him off ‘cause his mood had just worsened:
“Don’t fuckin’ reply to him.”
“Or what?” You grinned, smiling smugly, typing away on your phone.
You were on Facetime to Faith, telling her about the situation (not that it was much of a situation) and she was laughing silently on call to you, not wanting Harry to hear.
“Or what?” He questioned your response, turning around as if he’d heard wrong. “Or your fuckin’ bags are out in the street,” he said, slamming the microwave door harder than it needed to.
“S’alright, I know where to go–where I’ll be wanted,” you said pettily, winking at Faith as if for her to see this, but the way Harry’s eyes shot to you, you knew you’d not just hit a nerve. Even Faith was biting her fist with a smile of shock on her face, knowing how bad Ethan would take that.
He stared at you, silence deafening, and eventually shook his head, but you were just showing off in front of your friend and you’d make it up to him, he knew it was obviously a joke, obviously.
Right?
He told you to say sorry or to not get in bed, and you laughed more, asking him if he was serious.
You were offended he’d thought for one second you were being for real.
“Say you're sorry?” he repeated.
“No?”
Why would you? You had nothing to be sorry for? It was a joke?
You paid the price of it.
That Sunday afternoon rolled around after your final night of the 3-day event. You got home, Harry still quiet with you and you were kind of as irritated with him back as he still believed you owed him an apology.
He got it, because when the possessiveness kicked in: he played dirty to get it.
“—don’t stop, don’t stop!” your knees shook as his head stayed buried between your legs, lapping you up in the kitchen against the counter like it was nobody's business.
Devouring you while you struggled to try and not cum so fast, his actions were rough and messy but so insanely hot.
He built up an orgasm in minutes, you didn’t know if the wetness dripping down your leg was from him or you. “Fuck—uh! Keep going!” You cried, his hair tickling your thighs.
But then in the middle of sucking your sensitive clit, stars in your vision, you felt emptiness, bare, you felt the air on your skin as he pulled away, leaning back on his knees, he got up on his feet, chin still glistening.
He stepped past you, wiping his face, he almost bumped your shoulder, “you know where to go. You know where you’re wanted.”
You remembered almost crying. Looking at him like he was some psychopath.
He definitely wasn’t getting a fucking sorry now.
“He did it better than you anyway,” you rattled off, making it up on the spot.
Harry twirled at that.
He nearly smiled.
It was a lie, but the nerve of you to say it — oh you were brave.
“—he wasn’t better than you, no-one’s – no-one’s better than you!”
You took the pounding, head forced roughly against your kitchen table by the roots of your hair, your cheek flat against the surface, “‘m sorry!” you muffled, “sorry! sorry! I’m sorry!—” eyes rolling in the back of your head with spit sliding down the side of your lips, you were convinced this was the best sex you’d ever have.
He was ramming into you like he could fuck the attitude out of you. Each thrust sent shocks of sharp satisfaction to your stomach, a smack to your ass, straight to your core.
Harry found it the hottest thing ever. The minute you’d said it once, he was happy – to say it again and again each time he hit your g-spot, he was gonna release the biggest load all over you ‘til it was dripping down your legs. He didn’t want to hear you stop saying sorry.
TEETH
There were other times which were just as memorable, whether the time you’d thought he was going bite your nipple like you’d said on the Saving Grace podcast:
“Fuck! . . MM—FUCK!”
Cowgirl.
A long weekend apart.
He fucked you like it’d been weeks.
You could just remember how intensely your orgasm was building, that coil close to snapping, you couldn’t move any faster.
Harry’s big hands held your back, his hips bucking up into you, his hot mouth ran over your bouncing tits as he looked up at you, licking your nipple, and the other, covering them with his saliva. You moaned at the sensation, the way he took them in his mouth. Your head threw back, hair falling over your shoulder, his finger pressed deeper into your shiny skin. You were close. Your arm hung around his neck trying to stay up, your body exhausted from previous rounds, your actions getting sloppy.
Harry but your nipple, the action grabbing your attention and spiking your courage up. You looked at him with furrowed brows, mouth still whimpering moans out, movements quickening again. He looked at you dead in the eye, teeth biting down harder, you didn’t break contact as your moans became ones mixed with both pain and pleasure, blurring well together, you didn’t know what your whines were from. Your heart rate picked up as your hips bucked, moving ferociously to the edge, you felt it coming, voicing it to Harry, you attempted to move away from his mouth but he stayed put, a shriek leaving you as the pain built into your orgasm, blending in with the thrill, it was like he bit harder the closer you got.
You screamed as you came, spasming your hips as you drenched his thighs, he let go with a somewhat slap to the face to break him out of his frenzy. It was probably one of the best orgasms you had, but Jesus Christ, were you scared for a sec.
DRENCHED
Or when you’d unmeaningly confessed your familiarity with squirting . . like now, and how it played a huge factor in Harry’s redundancy for sex:
“–so fucking messy,” he screwed his nose up at your instigation.
“I can’t help it,” you defended, screwing your face up at him.
What guy got annoyed at his girl for being able to make her squirt? You always cleaned it anyway.
You looked at him, leaning on his chest, fingers drawing shapes on it, mentally pleading him.
His nonchalance was the sexiest thing about him. “. . only you can do that to me,” you played on it, finger brushing against his bottom lip.
He looked at you flat faced.
Who was he to deny his girl?
But he did: he hated the squirting.
You came everywhere. Sometimes he liked it but it was such an inconvenience. From his fingers alone, you drenched your bed, the floor - wherever you did it. His face always looked a little pestered during and after, but glancing up at you, cheeks red and breathing heavy after the desired intensity — he broke, smiling, seeing his girl look guilty every time with her innocent expression.
He’d lean in for a kiss, hiding the prideful smile on his face, hands already nearing again.
REUNION SEX
But the best was always reunion sex. I missed you sex. You and Harry hardly spent a lot of time away from each other, not even a month at the most, that is however, excluding when you broke up.
That first time together after almost two years apart, knowing what it was like with other people, realising how rare your bond was — it was like heroin. You could never part from it again.
You could feel the love being shared. The unspoken ‘i missed you.’
It was hard to kiss, you were smiling so hard, wrapped up in his warmth, engulfed by his scent, your heart was happy at the feel of his hands all over you where they belonged. His hold was tight, his movements fast and his strength – the size of him — he was no longer that ignorant and immature boy, this was a man.
Well, still your immature man at times.
You squealed when he picked you up, wrapping your bare legs around his waist, he smiled at that old familiar sound.
You didn’t want to stop kissing him.
Your head spun at moments that felt like deja vu, you remembered sitting on top his hips, giggling nervously completely naked, his own chuckles of laughter leaving him as he lay with his arm over his eyes, both your stomachs nervous with butterflies for some odd reason.
And then you remembered the memory of your first time together, and the nervous giggles, and how you said you didn’t think you could fit all of him in there.
A low groan pulled off Harry’s lips at the feel of your tight walls sucking him in, he couldn’t explain how it made him feel, that this was you, he was with you, he got to do this again. No one else compared.
“Keep going.”
“It’s not all in?!”
Your head snapped to him in shock.
Your hands were shaking on his broad chest, trying to hold up your weight, your eyes wide. You felt pretty fucking full as you were, you must have interpreted him wrong. “No!” He sniggered, keeping a hand on your hip, “nearly.”
Harry was laughing at your facial expression as if you weren’t buying it and turning your face up at the accusation, but . . it had been a long time and . . you’d seen other people and . . settled for less.
Clearly.
The feeling once you took him whole was the most overwhelming ever, the sparks of pleasure shooting around you both, tingles running from your toes to your chest, wrapping all around you. Harry’s palms found his eyes, feeling it was a dream while you slowly began to find a steady flow, grinding your hips seductively slow, twisting round and round, your body fell into a smooth rhythm; rocking your hips, you threw your head back in bliss, hair falling behind your back, you moved your arms behind you on either side, angling yourself enough to feel his thickness stretch to that certain spot.
You controlled the whole lower half of your body, practically just using Harry as he lay there with his hand wandering all over: your hips, thighs, ass, tits — it was the way he liked it -he liked to do the work too, but getting to watch you do it was better.
Watching you made him want to take over, like a flip of possessiveness when he understood how lucky he was to have you: you were fucking celestial, not meant for this world. Nobody on this earth deserved you, let alone deserve to see you in the sacred sight he was seeing right now, it was scarce and undeserving.
He wanted to rail the fucking shit out of you so you’d want no one else.
But he knew you’d never want that anyway.
He was yours and you were his.
No one made him feel like this, and no one made you feel like he did. You both made sure of it.
You were made for each other.
Therefore — every time was your favourite time.
964 notes · View notes
ipegchangbin · 6 months
Text
— it takes two
sub!jisung x dom!reader x sub!jeongin
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You wonder if Jeongin regrets staying on the extra bed of your hotel room with Jisung. Maybe he feels like your getaway is more of a honeymoon he butt himself into. But it isn’t really third wheeling when he gets to join in on the fun too, right?
🗒️ 4.6k
🏷️ fem!reader (she/her pronouns, afab) smut. fluff. porn, no plot. 
🏷️ threesome. petnames “baby boy” and “noona” (reader’s age is never mentioned). tipsy sex (everyone is conscious enough to consent), unprotected sex, perversion, voyeurism, dacryphilia, jeongin is inexperienced, slight member x member, poly/open relationship themes.
📝 this is especially for the one and only @meivida !!! theyre my ride-or-die till the end, this is all for them ! to my proofreader, my twinnie, my bestest friend, the jisung to my changbin, the jeongin to my bang chan—who said that?? otherwise, enjoy!
18+ only. minors do not interact.
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In his hotel room — and yours, and Jisung’s — there were two beds.
The main king-sized glory belonged to you and Jisung, the inseparable couple, and Jeongin claimed his place on the smaller extra bed. There was no reason to fret over anything.
But for some reason, Jeongin did.
He couldn’t seem to shut his mind off. Jeongin unpacked his things slowly and strategically, claiming his spaces in the cozy cabana-style room. It was supposed to be a simple vacation for the eight boys and their plus ones at the five-star resort, all for your well-deserved rest.
For some reason, he couldn’t relax.
Staring at the ceiling fan above him, he pondered the thought. It wasn’t that he had no plus one, nor that he didn’t have his own room. Those were childish things to complain about, and the cabana was too cozy to whine over.
His roommates, you and Jisung, weren’t exactly the source of his worries either. Sometimes you two would bicker and play around, sure, but it wasn’t annoying enough for Jeongin to feel as bothered as he was.
“Y/N, you know how I sleep. I’m taking this end of the bed!” Jisung whined, plopping a stack of his belongings onto the right side of the mattress.
You simply looked at him, astonished.
Again, Jeongin thought as he placed his train of thought back on its tracks; neither of you was exactly the problem. Jisung was his ride-or-die, his best friend for life. They showered butt-naked together multiple times. You weren’t the problem either; you had grown incredibly close with Jeongin to the point where you oftentimes stayed up to drink and plot against common enemies. Closeness wasn’t an issue with either of you; as a couple, he would willingly third-wheel anytime.
What if I’m intruding? What if I’m in the middle of something? What if they had their plans, he thought. He tried his best to wrap his head around the reasons behind feeling this uncomfortable, but nothing seemed to work. He cocked his head to the side, facing you and Jisung’s bed. It’s entertaining to watch you guys argue, but maybe sleeping is too awkward to interfere with. Was it too intimate of an activity? He had no idea, and, frankly, he didn’t think that was the issue.
“Oh, so you can’t even say please?”
You crossed your arms at Jisung, your gaze piercing through the poor boy. He shivered, and his eyes started darting everywhere but your face. You squinted at him, causing your boyfriend to finally freeze and respond.
“P-please? May I please take this side?” Jisung begged. “I-I’ll do…anything…”
The beats of silence that followed were nothing short of intense. Jeongin expected the awkward air to amplify, but it didn’t — instead, he caught himself zoning in on the scene, paying close attention to the both of you.
Your commanding glare softened a little. You almost chuckled at how pathetic Jisung looked, breaking into a nervous sweat, and it didn’t help that you smirked sweetly. Your hand trailed up from his tensed bicep up to his shoulder, his neck, and then his full and soft cheek. Caressing his skin with your thumb, you soothed your nervous wreck of a boyfriend, feeling his skin vibrate from your touch alone.
Jeongin couldn’t peel his eyes away from your movements. The both of you acted as if he wasn’t there; maybe you both thought that he had fallen asleep. Instead of counting sheep, he was counting the beats of the sequence, fully allured by you, and he didn’t understand why. It was as if he would have missed something if he blinked once.
He almost forgot to breathe.
“You’ll do anything for me?”
Jisung’s breath hitched, reminding Jeongin to exhale. “Yes, anything.”
He murmured something after. In a hush under his breath, Jeongin caught what he whispered.
“Anything for you, noona.”
Before Jeongin could even process the thought, you whispered something that he couldn’t quite make out, especially from his skewed, sideways view from the other end of the room. You both smiled, though: you smiled slyly as if you won the lottery, and Jisung smiled like he was obsessed.
Although he was more intrigued to know what you exchanged, you both walked away with your hands held together, making him shut his eyes and curl his head into the pillow to appear asleep.
“Yo, Innie, we’re just gonna grab a few drinks,” Jisung announced. “We’ll be—oh, look, he’s asleep.”
You both turned your heels and opened the door, leaving Jeongin alone and in awe.
Once he knew that you both walked far away enough, he attempted to sit up, only to feel an ache between his legs.
Well, fuck, he got hard, and he didn’t realize how long he had this hard-on.
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Naturally, he ran to the bathroom and tried to take care of it himself. Unnaturally, though, nothing seemed to work.
Minutes ago, Jeongin desperately pulled his shorts down and took his aching cock in his hand. Pumping it slowly, he attempted to relieve himself, humming lowly at the sensations it gave him. He knew that he had to get off before you and Jisung came back.
But he couldn’t.
His cock stayed hard, almost as if it didn’t want to release. He picked up his pace, his long and pretty fingers making their way up to the aching red tip, palming it sometimes, only to slam down to his sturdy and thick base. Jeongin even teased his balls, cupping them slightly before stroking his above-average length. His panting turned into moaning, and when he realized that he wasn’t even close to leaking, he started whining.
“Fuck, why can’t I…” Jeongin started to desperately thrust his hips into his hand, leaning his back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. He met eyes with his reflection in the big mirror in front of him.
Embarrassed at the look of his desperation, he tried to cum with the thought of it. Jeongin hated the thought of being watched right now or being walked right into. You and Jisung could come home drunk, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be embarrassed. You could come home anytime. He had every reason to worry, and he did, and it made him hornier — but he couldn’t quite cum yet.
He’s insanely comfortable with both of you, but to be caught masturbating by his best friend and his best friend’s girlfriend feels leagues worse.
But maybe they both noticed how hard he had been since earlier. He was able to notice the tent under the comforter earlier, so what more is there with either of you? Jeongin started blushing in embarrassment, his ears turning red and the apples of his cheeks flushing shades of warm pink. He sniffled his nose at the warmth of the blood rushing through his veins.
The thoughts couldn’t stop running. Maybe you didn’t notice, though, since you and Jisung were so zoned in on each other earlier. He couldn’t forget the sultry look in your eyes, sending Jisung into a state of panic that Jeongin’s rarely seen before. He never saw his best friend seem so…small. He faltered under your touch so easily, the silly and tough guy persona leaving him for just a single moment. Jeongin remembered how he couldn’t breathe while watching you, his eyes eagerly following your pretty fingers as they danced their way across Jisung’s skin. You put your boyfriend in a trance, but Jeongin was caught in it too.
He wondered if you knew it. He wondered if he missed the way you both glanced at him and smiled.
This is wrong, Jeongin thought. This is wrong, he repeated in his head. “This is fucking wrong!” Jeongin said aloud, panicking yet still pumping his cock at an even faster pace.
He shut his eyes at the overwhelming sensations. It felt like he was being overstimulated despite not cumming yet — except he was; he was finally close to releasing, even leaking solid amounts of precum on the shower tile. He whimpered a string of curses under his breath, letting pathetic whines echo through the shower and the entire bathroom. He was beyond desperate, not caring for how he looked. He pulled his shirt up and bit the bunched fabric, drowning out his noises as the cold air hit his nipples. Jeongin could only focus on the rushes of ecstasy, the pleasure in the pain, the growing release, reaching the point of cumming, until he finally—
“Bro? Innie? You in there?”
Upon hearing the hurried knocks on the door, he pulled his shorts up and fixed himself. He didn’t cum. Instead, he took two breaths to compose himself and respond.
“Yeah! In the bathroom!”
“Oh okay. We’re gonna head to bed. Good night,  Yennie!” You greeted, pushing your slightly off-balanced Jisung onto the right side of the bed.
Jeongin slid his shorts down, not to continue but to stare at his red cock.
He tried to tap the side of it just to let it spill the pent-up cum that he failed to release.
Nothing happened. It remained hard and aching, but he couldn’t cum as if he’d gone back to square one.
Jeongin whispered through clenched teeth, “How am I supposed to sleep now?”
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His walk back was fast yet laughable. He was glad that neither of you saw it since he awkwardly shuffled in his steps, practically jumping into his bed when he reached it.
Trying to hide his erection was one thing he could do, but sleeping with an angry dick felt like hell on earth for him.
He shut his eyes and tried to sleep. Unfortunately for him, the more he dozed off, the worse the pain got.
Jeongin tried to breathe deeply just to ease the ache in his cock, shifting positions so that he could feel more free under the covers. As it happened earlier, nothing worked, and he only felt more stuffy.
He hummed a lullaby in his head. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking like a troubled fox that hadn’t known sleep. He sniffled like one too; his nose still flushed a reddish pink.
Giving up slightly, he carefully and slowly slid his hand down his shorts. His fingers reached his cock, and he had to bite a hiss back. It felt swollen even if it grew to its maximum size, and every single touch felt like fire coursing through his skin. Jeongin took his time to touch himself.
Just like you took your time to touch Jisung.
For some reason, his brain seemed to always want to circle back to the scene. You two had already dozed off, the alcohol in your systems wearing away in your sleep; Jeongin was the restless one about it. He was fixated on your deliberate movements, thinking about how your fingertips must’ve felt warm and ticklish for Jisung. He also couldn’t believe how easily compliant his best friend became. It was a side to him that was new yet interesting, one that Jeongin never knew he wanted to both see and feel for himself.
And why did he enjoy seeing that side of him?
He didn’t know if he wanted to be you or if he wanted to be Jisung, but fuck, he couldn’t help but replay the scene in his mind. It was everything he wanted: the intimate yet powerful touches, the gazes, the closeness, and the shamelessness.
All of it was so wrong.
Jeongin dug his head further into the plush fabric of his pillow. He was under stress yet pleasure, pain yet delectation. He teased his cock and the inner points of his thighs, strolling his fingers down to tease his ass and sliding back up to the overly sensitive tip.
And then he heard a kiss.
His ears perked up at the noise, prompting him to pause. He didn’t fully stop, hoping that his mind was playing tricks on him. He couldn’t look back at your end of the room, instead facing the closed curtains in front of him.
See? You’re already hallucinating and hearing things, he thought to himself.
And then he heard another kiss. And then another.
The smooching was slow and steady; it wasn’t obnoxious in sound, it wasn’t too wet, it didn’t sound forced. They weren’t too calculated but they sounded as warm as love would’ve felt. Passion burned through Jeongin’s nerves with each kiss of the lips. It was so quiet yet it thumped so loud in his ears, ringing throughout his system and echoing through his brain with the strongest reverb. His cock twitched from under the sheets, moving on its own.
Jeongin took the remaining courage he had and turned his head to face you. The ruffling and shuffling of the fabric made the kissing pause for a few solid seconds.
He opened his eyes slightly and, as expected, saw your body sprawled over Jisung’s, angled in such a way that it looked like natural sleep — except that your lips were attached to his.
The moment you both thought that Jeongin had fallen back to sleep, you picked up the pace. Soon enough, Jisung swiped his tongue across your mouth. His neediness was apparent with the way he persistently dug his face closer to yours, but you had the reigns. You took control with your slight bites and nibbles. At that point, you were straddling his hips, grinding ever so slightly on Jisung.
Jeongin could barely see anything but he could hear it.
Soon enough, Jisung pulled your body up and closer to his. He quietly insisted on making you drop your full weight on him. You kissed him passionately until you didn’t, your mouth left with his drool all over it. Licking it up, you started kissing outside his mouth, the perimeters of his lips, the outline of his jaw, the peaks of his cheeks, all the way up to his temples, and down to his neck.
He instinctively jutted his hips upwards, grinding on you from underneath. An apology nearly rolled off his tongue when you caught it, pecking the tip of his tongue and lightly sucking on his bottom lip after. That was when you did the same, fully rolling your hips onto his, making you moan into each other’s mouths.
At this point, Jeongin had shifted his body to the other side to watch. Neither of you seemed to notice — nor care, or so it seemed — which was his go signal to watch with half-opened eyes.
Like earlier, his eyes followed everything. From your hands making their way down to Jisung’s tiny waist, to Jisung himself cupping your breasts ever so softly: the boy watched it all in awe.
Nothing was helping Jeongin’s erection at all.
He started tearing up at the nearly unbearable ache. He needed release but he couldn’t have it even in embarrassing ways. Even then, he simply couldn’t stop watching as you pulled Jisung up. He pulled your shirt over your head as you threw his shirt aside as well. He helped you out of your shorts as you did on him, every single action needy and desperate yet equally as full of love. They seemed to only burn with the risk, whispering things Jeongin couldn’t understand onto each other’s skin. Maybe you were telling him to go slower, maybe he was telling you to be quieter. Maybe you both didn’t care and were teasing each other for it.
Maybe you were plotting. Nevertheless, the poor boy found himself subconsciously rutting on the pillow between his legs.
You positioned yourself between Jisung’s legs, his bare and firm length awaiting your warmth from beneath — finally being met with the plush walls of your pussy. You kissed him hungrily this time and Jisung responded with a shamelessly loud kiss back.
Like a fox, Jeongin could be prey. He salivated at the sight, something he saw in real life for the first time even if he shouldn’t have seen anything.
He straddled the pillow more harshly, wrapping his legs around it underneath the sheets. His lips twitched as he tried his absolute hardest not to moan. He wanted to match your pace with Jisung, but he couldn’t, he shouldn’t.
You could notice him anytime.
And you did.
“Innie,” Jisung spoke up, pulling away from the kiss with a dumb smile. He turned his head to face Jeongin. “Noona’s asking if you wanna come and join.”
You ruffled Jisung’s hair and kissed his head. “Good boy, told your friend as I asked you to.”
Jeongin couldn’t believe anything. A few silent breaths escaped his system.
He was caught. You laughed at his face in the middle of your kisses. You knew, Jisung knew, and Jeongin was the last to realize.
He simply fell silent and the dead air thickened as milliseconds turned into seconds. A minute almost ticked by, causing everything to break. Suddenly, this probably wasn’t a good idea for anybody. You and Jisung grew slightly nervous.
If only you knew how much Jeongin wanted to say yes.
“If you don’t…I-I’m sorry. We don’t…we didn’t mean to invade. Promise. Just forget it if you don’t want to, we’ll take care of ourselves privately…”
Jisung started holding you tighter. You calmed him with soothing circles on the nape of his neck, assuring him to wait for Jeongin. His best friend couldn’t reply. He was too stunned, making you feel guilty for suggesting the sudden invitation in your tipsy thoughts.
“I know we drank, but I promise we’re fine. We’re so sorry it’s so sudden. If you’re uncomfortable—”
“Yes, i-if it’s okay, may I join?”
You and Jisung widened your eyes at Jeongin. The boy was probably also only half-aware of what he was saying but you knew that he meant it.
“I should…be the one saying sorry.” Jeongin sat up from his bed, not minding his erection in full view. he did not need to be embarrassed at this point. “Not gonna lie, I-I’ve been watching you two since earlier.”
It wasn’t jealousy. He didn’t feel jealous that his best friend was getting it on, nor did he envy that you were fucking his best friend right in front of him. It was longing; longing for whether he wanted to be either of you or to be the prey caught right in between.
“I just…w-wanted to be a part…of it…” Jeongin could feel a lump in his throat. His eyes got watery from half-shameless embarrassment and the pain in his cock.
“Well then, what are you waiting for?” You smiled gently and tapped the small space left on the bed. “Come join us, baby.”
Jeongin practically threw his comforter away to stand up. You giggled and the sensation of your body moving against Jisung made him whimper.
While waiting for Jeongin to settle, you turned to face Jisung, your wonderful boyfriend. You cupped his face with gentle hands and watched him smile, soft cheeks filling your palms.
He was excited. He’d been craving a threesome for a long while and he knew that you liked Jeongin enough for it.
You pecked his lips and rolled your hips back, allowing him to fill more of your cunt until he bottomed out. “You’re my good boy. This is your treat.”
“Mhmm, always gonna be noona’s good boy.” Jisung bit his lower lip with a shy smile. “Noona’s baby w-will be good all the time so we can always have this.”
You had to laugh. “Did you hear that, Innie? He wants to have this all the time.”
As you turned, though, you were greeted with the sight of a salivating boy, eyes trained on your pussy as his hand sat still at the base of his cock.
“Need help there?” you suggested, placing your hand around his.
With gentle tugs and feathery touches, you guided his hand up to the tip of his aching dick. You slotted your fingers between his and played with his smooth flesh. He had never had anything like this before and he was too shocked to move without you.
Too dumb to know how to use what’s his.
“A-ah, fuck, n-noona…” Jeongin’s hips jutted forward by instinct. Jisung mirrored the action, pressing his cock deep into your walls.
It wasn’t intentional but it was expected; you’re dealing with two needy guys after all.
“Good boy, you know what to call me already.” Your hand slid down his cock in the same way you moved your hips along your boyfriend’s cock. “You’ve been listening intently, huh?”
You squeezed Jeongin’s cock at his shaft. “Like a pervert?”
“N-no—” you squeezed harder. “Fuck! Yes, yes, I’ve been a pervert!”
You laughed and let go of him, only to slap him right where you left his touch. You clenched your cunt tightly around Jisung at the same time — the two boys moaned and writhed at the same time.
“I’ve been watching since earlier! I’m sorry, noona! M—fuck!” He was on the brink of tears. Precum leaked out of him again but he still couldn’t bring himself to release.
Smack. Smack. Smack. With each hit, he would cry harder. His chest heaved and the tears finally spilled at the fifth turn. Your boyfriend wasn’t suffering any less, though: his hands clung to your hips and tightened with every slap. He flinched even if he wasn’t at the receiving end of pain — or maybe he was since you couldn’t stop clenching and thrusting abruptly too. He started shaking, moaning in higher and higher pitches, the flinches turning into full-body writhing as he mumbled random things that only you understood.
He was close. You pressed down on Jisung’s chest as your thumb covered the hole in Jeongin’s cock, teasing him. Your boyfriend immediately came inside you and allowed all his cum to gush out in the smallest, prettiest series of thrusts.
Jeongin wished to cum that way, but you were literally blocking him.
He didn’t dare let go of you, though, and his shaky hands never left your hips and back. Instead, Jisung opted to stay still inside you. He brought his upper body closer to yours, whispering into the crook of your neck. Jeongin couldn’t hear it through his sniffling but was glad to hear you parrot it back.
“My good baby here said that you should treat noona well. Only then can you cum.”
Jisung hid his face in your skin but only popped his eyes out to watch his best friend. “Sorry, Innie. Please fuck noona well.”
Jeongin couldn’t believe that he had to fuck his best friend’s girlfriend with his cum inside her. Moreover, he couldn’t believe how much it turned him on even more.
“Think you can do it?” You asked with a smirk.
“Y-yes, noona.”
Not even one beat passed and Jisung propped you off of him, guiding you down on the bed. He gave Jeongin a pat on the back of his shoulder, a gesture he’d always done before.
Jisung kissed his cheek too before latching his lips onto your bare nipples for comfort.
Jisung sucked at your supple and plump skin while Jeongin positioned himself in between your pussy’s reddening lips. Even its exterior felt all sorts of soft to him, far from the quality of a silicone fleshlight. Despite this, he still knew that you would treat him like a stupid little fucktoy.
And you did.
You simply pushed Jeongin by his waist down onto your body. Suddenly his tip made its way inside, forced in with an overwhelming amount of ecstasy that Jeongin couldn’t take anymore. He still held back from cumming, breathing deeply and rapidly in a failed attempt to calm himself. He continued to cry as he sank himself further inside you, feeling the mixture of your smooth wetness and Jisung’s thick and creamy cum. It didn’t help that you were moaning so deliciously, roaming your hands around his waist, and Jisung was giggling and smiling contently while playing with your boobs.
It was all too much for Jeongin but he kept going. Your hand squeezes earlier were nothing compared to the grip of your cunt. Nevertheless, he did his best to pull back and push down to fill you up to your limit. He made sure to make you moan as soon as he found your sweet spot — he’s glad that Jisung pressed down on your skin.
“Noona, noona, fuck, god fuck…”
“She’s amazing right?” Your boyfriend smiled until his gums showed and his eyes crinkled.
“I better be,” you teased back.
He laughed in response, licking a heart shape on your nipple with his tongue. “Mhmm. I love my noona.”
“And I love my baby boy.” You signaled him with a finger to turn him around. Jisung showed you his ass and you tapped his round cheek, hitting the mole that cutely reflected his face mole. Before he knew it, you sank two fingers inside his ass.
“I’ll make you cum again, pretty boy. Show me how much you can cum with that pathetic little cunt of yours.” The words echoed through Jisung’s emptying head as he grew more and more in need. You knew that it wouldn’t be long before he was close anyway since his legs were closing and his ass seemed to clench nonstop.
“And Innie baby, please, show me how good you can make me cum.”
At this point, Jeongin truly only felt like he was good for cumming and making you cum. He mindlessly picked up his pace on your cunt, shocking you with how mind-numbingly fast he went. He grew completely desperate the more that he went, pressing every inch of your skin and moaning your name over and over. He was pathetic yet focused.
Jisung came, ass clenching around your fingers, but he couldn’t peel his gaze off the action.
He needed to cum as much as you did. He could feel your walls fluttering around him and your voice seemed to falter slightly as his thrusts became deeper and harder. You didn’t even need to command him. Your boyfriend seemed to help the both of you too, playing with your clit with one hand whilst he praised his best friend endlessly.
“Innie,” you huffed, “Inside. please.”
Jeongin blinked hard, not holding back on his whines, screaming when he finally released inside you.
His cum gushed out with load after load after load. It seemed as if he couldn’t stop, and he never could bring himself to pull out. He simply collapsed on your side, his thick cock still sunken deep inside you. You came at the same time, moaning his sweet little nickname while you felt yourself gush your essence along with his release. Jisung watched the white, creamy cum leak out of you before bringing a finger to it just to taste it.
You all tasted fucking good.
“Oh shit. I’m dizzy.” Jisung plopped his head next to yours and clung to your other side.
Your boyfriend mumbled something about the soju being rough on him before he sleepily told you that he loved you. Jeongin thought that he would be knocked out solidly after, but felt whiplash as soon as Jisung kissed his cheek again and told him the same.
“Love you both. Thank you so, so, so…”
He instantly fell asleep, his face squished next to your cheek.
You laughed lowly and turned slightly toward Jeongin. You held his face with your free hand and stroked his chin. His eyes smiled along with his dimpled cheeks in pure contentment.
“Smile more, baby. Your dimples are cute.”
He blushed hard in response. “Thank you, noona. R-really. Thank you for tonight.”
“Anytime.” You kissed his forehead and then his nose. “I love you, Innie.”
The boy melted at your words with a pretty, full-toothed grin. “I love you too, noona.”
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taglist: @toastyseungmo @hobihearteu @biddes-enthusiast @snow-pegasus @subby-kpop @myrandomthoughtsandhobbies @eggielix @turnipfizzle @hanniecheesecake @chrisbahng @laylasbunbunny @ppiri-bahng @he-they-heathen @chriscentric @svintsandghosts @starryoong @bbyquokka @suengmi @fun-fanfics
this was done for mei’s day, i’m glad you enjoyed again twinnie <3 i owe it to them for being my number one, and for getting me into skz and this horny ass fandom ^^ check my bff meivida out! WISH THEM A HAPPY 20TH!!!
thank you for reading ! consider reblogging and leaving feedback if you loved my work 💗 artwork and writing © ipegchangbin. no reposts and translations.
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verstappen-cult · 22 days
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Hi!! First of all i love your fics🩷
I saw you were asking for petitions about lestappen so how about a meet cute between lestappen and an anonymous reader? Like she’s not famous or the child of anyone famous, she’s just a fan of F1 and they meet in like a library or something like that, maybe even the paddock? I don’t know if this makes any sense, probably not.
“Max, for the hundredth time I swear to God we are in a school book.” Charles walks into the library as Max rolls his eyes, trying to understand why is that so important.
“And that’s relevant because…” He was just trying to buy some groceries and bumped into Charles, who was very excited and dragged him out of there even before he could pay for his food. And he can’t say no to Charlie, so.
“That makes us literally legends,” He says, peering into every bookshelf for the correct one. “kids are learning about racing and us. At school.”
“Yea’ that’s actually pretty cool.”
“Oh.” Charles suddenly stops walking, making Max stop in his tracks, bumping into him.
When Max looks up, he’s met with the prettiest girl he’s laid eyes upon. She has a few books in her arms, and is trying to grab one that is on the top shelf.
“Do you need any help?” Charles takes a step closer and then, she’s facing them. She’s silent for a couple of seconds, looking between the two of them.
Next thing they know, she’s smiling brightly at them. “Yes, please. I just need that one.” She points to a black and red one.
Charles tries to grab the book but it’s a little out of his reach. Max tries to hide a smile behind his hands, and doesn’t say anything when the boy turns around, silently asking him for help.
“That’s actually the book we were looking for.”
“You can have it.” The girl pushes the book against Charles’ chest, but he just gives it back.
“You probably need it for school or something.” Max says, giving her his best smile. “We were just trying to see ourselves in that book.”
She raises her eyebrows, immediately opening the book and looking for the picture. “Oh, that’s why you looked so familiar!” She exclaims, turning the book around to show them the page.
And Charles was right, there is a picture of both of them alongside Checo on the podium in Las Vegas last year. There’s a paragraph talking about what is Formula One and who are they.
Yeah, it’s pretty cool.
“So,” Charles says, cheeks burning red. “Do you need it for school? Are you like in senior year or something like that?” Max laughs because he can’t help it. He has never seen him flirting before.
“No, my nephew needs it. I’m just helping.” She then proceeds to introduce herself, saying her name and waving. Max and Charles find it so cute, they seem to have fallen for her charm. And they just met her.
“It’s your nephew a Formula One fan?”
“Actually,” The beautiful girl pulls her phone out of her bag, showing them her lockscreen. She’s there next to a boy in a kart. “He’s into karting and is gonna be so jealous when I tell him I met you two.”
“Well,” Max tries to sound nonchalant but he’s so nervous. He just hopes she doesn’t notice, or Charles because he’s gonna make fun of him for the rest of their lives. “We would be very happy to meet him.”
“Oh my God, seriously? He’ll be so happy if you come to one of his races. He will lose his mind.”
“I was actually talking about Facetime.” Max hates himself when he sees her face falls, but forgets about it the second she’s blushing.
“Just ignore him. Max is nervous because you’re so pretty and he doesn’t know how to talk with pretty girls.” Max wants to punch him in the face. “And you’re like very pretty.”
“You get nervous around pretty girls too, Charles?”
If looks could kill…
The pretty girl giggles, and they turn to look at her so fast their necks start to hurt. “Why don’t you come to the race this weekend and you can see if I get nervous around pretty boys too?”
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tokyothirstygang · 11 months
Text
Your bff Chifuyu is everything a girl could want: hot, loyal, and adorably stupid. There’s only one problem with your golden boy…he thinks he’s bad in bed. Good thing he has a friend like you willing to help him improve his dick game
You’re lounging around on a Saturday night with your best friend, Chifuyu.
He seems distant as he sits on the couch with you, eyes trained on the TV but clearly spaced out.
“Chifuyu? Hello? Are you okay? You’ve seemed…off all day.”
He doesn’t respond until you grab a pillow and chuck it at his head.
“Hey! What the hell?”
He tries to throw the pillow back at you, but you catch it before it hits you.
“Sorry! I tried talking to you but you didn’t answer. What’s up with you? You’ve been weird since you got here.”
Chifuyu sighs and slumps down further into the couch.
“I can’t tell you. It’s too embarrassing.”
You turn to sit sideways on the couch to face him full on.
“I’ve literally seen you trip, rip your pants then land in dog poop. What could be more embarrassing that?”
His face flames at the memory.
“Hey, you said you’d never bring that up again!”
You fight off a smile, knowing it would only humiliate him further even though it was really funny at the time.
“Chifuyu forget about that. What’s bothering you? We tell each other everything.”
He bites at the cuticle around his thumb and bounces his leg up and down.
“Fine, but this conversation is never ever leaving this room, okay?”
You nod furiously, eager to know his big secret.
“Okay, well…last night I was with Anna, you know that girl I met at the bar? I don’t think she, uh, had a good time when we were together.”
Your eyebrows furrow.
“A good time doing what? Like hanging out with you?”
Chifuyu’s face hits full tomato status.
“No, not hanging out. When we were…” he trails off and it takes a moment for the realization to hit.
“Oh! When you were bed?”
Chifuyu groans in frustration and throws his head back.
“Yeah. It’s just-“ he reaches for a pillow and puts it over his face. “I don’t have that much experience. I know I’m not the best but I can’t be that bad, right?”
You accidentally snort at the question and he groans again.
“Im sorry! It’s just that we’ve never had sex so I wouldn’t really know what you’re like.”
“You know what? I really don’t want to talk about this right now. Forget I ever said anything.”
He leaves the couch and wanders over to the bar cart in the corner. He pours himself a shot of vodka and downs it immediately.
“You want one?” He asks and starts to pour you one before you even reply.
He comes back holding four shots- two for you two for him.
You both throw back all the shots, giggling and coughing the entire time.
When you’re both buzzed and warm, you catch yourself gazing at Chifuyu.
He was an extremely attractive man. Even if he wasn’t the best in bed yet any girl would still be lucky to have even bagged him in the first place.
That’s when your devious little mind gets an idea.
“Chifuyu…” your mouth starts talking before your brain can catch up and without realizing it, you say something that changes you both forever. “What if we had sex? If you think you’re bad in bed, you can practice with me.”
He stares at you, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.
“W-what?”
“I said…” You scoot closer to him.“let’s have sex.”
He still looks startled, but you don’t miss the way his eyes briefly linger on your lips.
“We don’t have to. I wasn’t trying to pressure you I just…I just…” his words gets lost in this throat.
The more he looks at you the more he can’t ignore how soft and inviting your lips look. He also can’t ignore the way your shirt is clinging to your tits or how your eyes are lighting up with that mischievous glint.
“So what if we do have sex? What then? We can’t just be the same after that, can we?”
You know he’s right but the topic has already been put on the table. No going back now.
“Things don’t have to change. You’re just practicing with me. You’re probably just getting nervous when you’re with other girls, but you know me, right? We can just have fun with it. It’ll be like…a science experiment!”
Chifuyu shakes his head at the comparison.
“You’re treating my dick like a science experiment?”
You both fall into a fit of laughter. The whole idea starts to seem ridiculous until you catch sight of Chifuyu nervously bouncing his leg again.
You start to turn your attention back to the TV when Chifuyu’s hand lands gently on your thigh.
When you look at him you see his pupils are dilated and his cheeks are flushed.
“If we do this…promise it won’t ruin things with us.”
“I promise.” You hold out your pinky, and Chifuyu grins as he links his with yours.
“Okay, then.” He shifts himself off the couch and down onto the floor. He’s on his knees in front of you, and you’re confused until he reaches for the waistband of your sweatpants.
“Lift up.” He demands, and you immediately obey. He slides the pants and your underwear off together then gently pulls you to the edge of the couch.
“Spread your legs for me.” A jolt of adrenaline rushes through you as you open your legs and expose yourself to him.
He takes a moment to admire the view in front of him before moving his lips to your inner thighs. He’s making a point of teasing you by giving attention to every spot except for where you need him most.
“Chifuyu… please.” When you lift your hips up, he takes the hint and gives you what you want.
Immediately its clear why someone wanting a quick hook up might hate chifuyu: he eats pussy like he’s in love with you.
He’s making out with it like it’s your mouth, passionately kissing, sucking and sliding his tongue around it like he’s waited his whole life to have you spread out in front of him like this.
He’s slow and intentional about it, holding your hands and listening to every little sound you make to see what you like the most. He’s going to make sure you feel every little thing, and he’s going make sure it feels fucking good.
You writhe beneath him, lifting your hips up to ride his face. He lets you control him. Whenever you push his face in deeper, he happily obliges while securing your thighs around his head with his strong hands.
“Fuck! Chifuyu…”
When you cum, you cum hard. Harder than anyone has ever made you cum from just foreplay alone.
When you finally recover from your orgasm, you’re in complete shock.
If this was any indication of what he was like in bed, all of those other girls were definitely idiots.
Chifuyu was going to ruin you.
“Jesus, Chifuyu. You’re so good at that.”
He blushes at the compliment.
“Really? Thanks, I-I wasn’t sure.”
You sit up, lean forward, and gently grab his face. You kiss him eagerly, not missing the taste of yourself on his tongue.
“Let’s go to my bedroom.” You suggest, and he nods, immediately pressing his lips to yours again as soon as you’re done talking.
You stumble back to your room, feverishly kissing the entire way. When you finally get there, you’re entirely naked and Chifuyu is down to his boxers.
“What position do you want to try first?” You finally pull away from him long enough to catch your breath. You sit down on the edge of the bed and look up at him.
“Uh…I’m not sure. Maybe-“
“Oh my god.” You accidentally cut him off mid sentence. While he was talking you snuck a peek at the bulge in his boxers. Unless your eyes are playing tricks on you, his cock has to be big.
“Wait, let me see.” You reach forward and roll his boxers down his thighs. When you finally get a good look at it, your mouth drops open.
“What? What’s wrong?” Chifuyu’s eyebrows furrow in confusion .
“Nothing, it’s just…huge.”
You’re not exaggerating. It’s a long, thick cock that’s guaranteed to split you in half.
“Is that okay? Do you think you could take it?” His genuine concern is adorable…and sexy.
“Y-yeah we can make it work. Just tell me what you want.”
He decides he wants you from behind first so you get on to your hands and knees and brace yourself for him.
When he tries to enter you, you immediately clench around the tip.
“Oh, shit.” Chifuyu sighs at the friction. “You might be too tight for me.”
“Just go slow. I can take it.” You’ve never had someone as big as Chifuyu and now that you’re presented with the opportunity, you can’t back down.
He reaches around you and starts rubbing circles into your clit.
“Is that better?”
You nod, dizzy at the feeling of being slowly stretched and filled up.
When you manage to take him halfway, he leans down and presses kisses onto your spine.
“You’re doing so good for me. Shit, just keep taking it like that.”
That’s when you know Chifuyu has lost himself to his lust. Level headed Chifuyu would be way too shy to say something like that. You have officially entered uncharted territory with him.
As he sinks in a little more, he tests the waters by giving you two steady, deep thrusts. When you immediately cry out, he smiles to himself.
“Look at you. Already falling apart for me.”
You sigh and bite your lip as you grab a pillow and lie face down ass up.
Chifuyu takes that as a sign you’re ready and willing for him so he starts pounding into you.
Your brain doesn’t even know what sound to focus on: his growls, his hips crashing into you or your own screams of pleasure.
Within minutes he has you cumming all over him, chanting his name and gripping the sheets.
He waits for you to ride out your orgasm before he flips you over on to your back. You’re still seeing stars when he directs your attention to his dick.
"Look what you did to me.”
Around the middle of it is a sticky, white ring.
“Creaming all over my fucking cock when I was barely inside you.”
You’re still in complete awe at the way he’s been talking to you. You initiated the sex thinking you were going to teach him some tricks but instead he was unlocking new kinks for you.
“Come here.” He backs off the bed and stands in front it. He pulls you up and to the edge of the mattress. “Clean up your mess.”
When you look up into his eyes you see they’re dark and animalistic.
Your sweet Chifuyu is gone.
You take him into your mouth, almost immediately gagging because of his size. If you thought taking him into your pussy was hard, this was on a whole other level.
He gently rocks his hips forward, sliding himself in and out of your mouth.
Your eyes are watering and you can barely breathe but he looks so gorgeous with his head thrown back and eyes closed you let him keep using you.
You continue to suck and choke on his cock for a couple of minutes before he finally pulls it out.
“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that. Get back on the bed for me.”
You assume he wants to go back to where you’d left off but he stops you as you try to get back on all fours.
“No, baby. Lie on your back for me.”
You do as he says and before you know he’s got your legs spread open and thrown over his thighs.
“I wanna see your pretty face while you take it.”
Just like that he’s sliding back into you, stretching you and making you feel full before he’s even started fucking.
When he finally does start moving his hips forward, you swear he’s going to rip you in half.
“Fuck! Chifuyu…you’re so…so big...” Your words only encourage him to keep going, and when he miraculously sinks fully into you, you both cry out.
“Shit…you’re the only one who’s been able to take me like this.” He confesses, sliding his hand down to toy with your clit. “Your pussy must be made for me.”
He intently watches your face and when his cock finds the spot that makes your eyes roll back, he keeps hitting it until you’re speechless.
You want to yell his name, moan in pleasure, and tell him you’re about to cum but it feels too good to do anything but just take it.
He feels you getting close and leans down to your eye level. He presses his forehead against yours while he strokes you slow and deep.
“I know you want to cum, baby.” He whispers and your toes curl. “Just let me have it. Make a mess on my cock.”
You find your voice again as your orgasm hits you hard. You scratch at his back as you scream his name over and over.
“Shit…ugh…baby…” Chifuyu pulls out and strokes himself a few times before he cums all over your stomach.
When he flops down in bed next to you, you’re completely confused.
“So, wait a minute…why exactly did you think you’re bad in bed?”
He lets out a shaky laugh as he tilts his head to look at you.
“I don’t know. I could never get it in all the way. I thought maybe they weren’t turned on enough to take it. Like maybe they didn’t really like me or something.”
You smack him with a pillow for the second time that night.
“You idiot! They couldn’t take it because you’re big not because they didn’t like you.”
Chifuyu glances at his dick as he considers it.
“Huh… maybe you’re right?”
You roll your eyes and playfully shove him.
“I think you’ve been in too many fights. Your brain is only operating at 5% these days.”
He chuckles as he rolls out of bed. He leaves the room and returns with a towel for you.
As you clean yourself off, you see Chifuyu sitting on the edge of the bed bouncing his leg again.
“So…how was I? You can tell me the truth.”
It’s baffling that he’s nervous again after everything you’d just gone through together.
“Chifuyu Matsuno, you have officially ruined other men for me.”
____
Shout-out to all the big dick Chifuyu stans I hope everyone survived this story because I was losing my mind writing it 🥵 lmao
____
@sherlockscumslut @tomiokas-lunchbox
@kindbitch
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on-my-vigilante-sht · 3 months
Text
Delicate
Luke Castellan x Reader
Summary: "Is it chill that you're in my head? / Cause I know that it’s delicate"
Warnings: Angst, death, major series spoilers for people who haven't finished the books
Word Count: 2.1k
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Sometimes I wonder, when you sleep / Are you ever dreaming of me?
Luke could admit to himself he wanted his best friend. He had for a long time. In fact everyone could see it, except for her. She seemed blissfully unaware of any feelings Luke had to the point that it made him nervous she was doing it on purpose. But if he couldn’t have her, he’d take the next best thing of being her friend. As long as she was in his life.
It was supposed to be bonfire night but Luke and Y/M had snuck off to the beach. They lay next to each other, staring up at the stars. Well, she was looking up at the stars, Luke was looking at her. They talked for hours about nothing until she finally dozed off.
Given the strict rules about curfew, Luke hardly ever got to see his best friend’s peaceful expression as she slept. Her face relaxed, unburdened by the perils of being a demigod. And as the two oldest at camp, they had a lot of perils.
Luke reached out, stroking her hair. That elicited a content sigh from her and he wondered if she was aware it was him. He wondered if she thought about or dreamed about him nearly as much as he did her. He had an ever present fantasy of absolutely sweeping her off her feet in a moment of glory. One of his favorites was after he won capture the flag, he’d march right up to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and just kiss her.
But of course that would never happen so he kept it stashed in the back of his mind.
He let her sleep for a few more minutes before he finally woke her up. “Hey, you gotta get up or the harpies will get us,” he laughed softly, shaking her awake.
She groaned but opened her eyes nonetheless.
Sometimes when I look into your eyes / I pretend you're mine all the damn time
Her eyes. Luke could probably get lost in them forever. He didn’t even need to watch the stars. He’d much rather watch the reflection of them in her eyes.
Unfortunately, the moment was ruined by one of the Athena boys. “Oh, hey Luke. Um, I just came to find Y/N. Chiron said late curfew starts in five minutes.”
“Really?” she asked, sitting up. “How long was I asleep?”
Luke felt his face get hot. He actually had no idea, he had completely lost track of time while watching her. “Uh not long. I just didn’t want to wake you,” he tried to play it off smoothly.
She gave him a soft smile, her hand finding his knee. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to waste your night.”
“No, no, no,” he quickly corrected. “You’re never a waste of time.”
“So um,” the Athena boy cut in awkwardly. “You want me to walk you to your cabin, Y/N? It’s right across from mine.”
Luke felt a surge of possessiveness. This guy clearly liked her. But before she could answer, Luke did it for her. “We’ll head over in a few minutes but thanks,” he tried to dismiss him.
The boy looked discouraged but tried to play it off. “Oh- uh ok.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Y/N offered, feeling bad for him. He immediately brightened with a smile before retreating back to his cabin.
Luke hated that she always seemed to leave the door open for other guys. They had had numerous conversations about the boys that liked her so he knew she wasn’t doing it on purpose. She just felt bad outright rejecting them so her sugar coating often came across as a signal to try harder. He just wished he could make it clear to them she was taken. Of course, she wasn’t his (yet).
Once Luke was sure he was out of earshot, he brought the topic up again. “He likes you.”
“No he doesn’t,” she immediately dismissed.
“Yes he does, and you trying to make him feel better about rejecting him doesn’t make it any better.”
“I didn’t reject him, you did.”
“Because I know you don’t like him.”
“Who says I don’t like him?” she shrugged.
Luke’s heart stopped. He had been playing defense so well for so long now that it hadn’t even occurred to him that she could like someone else. “What?”
She just shrugged again. “Who’s to say I don’t like him? You chased him away before I could get a word in.”
“D-do you like him?” Luke’s heart was pounding in his chest.
“No, but I’m just saying-”
“Gods, Y/N!” Luke interrupted in relief. “Don’t scare me like that.”
A satisfied look crossed over her face. “Why is that scary?”
He sent her a playful glare. “You know.”
“Tell me,” she pressed.
Is it cool that I said all that? / Is it chill that you're in my head?
Luke’s heart was pounding in his chest. She had basically already confirmed she was into him but the fear still lingered in his chest. He just had to say the words and he’d have his fantasy. She’d be his.
“I like you, Y/N. I have for a long time. I was just always scared you’d… I don’t know, reject me. Or think I was being stupid. But I like you.” Luke looked at her nervously, unsure of what she’d say. His heart was still pounding even when she leaned over and kissed him. As she tried to pull away for air, Luke’s hands found their way to her face, keeping her close. “I’m not done yet,” he mumbled against her lips, eliciting a giggle.
Long night with your hands up in my hair / Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs
That night Luke really didn’t want to leave her but Y/N wasn’t willing to break the rules just yet. He had spent the entire walk back to the cabins trying to convince her to sneak into the Hermes cabin. “Please, I swear no one will snitch on you.”
She laughed, intertwining her fingers into his. “Well what about my siblings when they see I’m not in bed? What will the children think?” By now they reached Cabin 7.
“The children can think whatever they want,” Luke smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips. It was late but several campers were still awake. Word of the couple would spread like wildfire and by the morning, even Chiron would know about the new couple.
But spending every night separately wouldn’t last for long. Y/N normally spent the evenings in the Hermes cabin where they had somehow managed to smuggle many forbidden things in. Like video games and junk food. And every night when the conch blew, signaling that curfew was soon, Luke begged her to stay. “Come on, no one will tell. Will you?” he asked his siblings.
That received a resounding “No!” swearing they’d keep our secret. She looked around the room, her resolve crumbling after weeks of this. “Fine,” she agreed. So many cheers erupted you’d think she just agreed to marry him. “But!” she waited for them to quiet down, “I’m still a counselor and I have to make sure everyone else is in bed.” Luke pouted but let her go nonetheless, promising to drag her back to Cabin 11 if she didn’t come back.
So after putting all the younger kids to bed, Y/N snuck back to Cabin 11. She found it dark but made her way to Luke’s bed. As she reached it, Luke could recognize the outline of her created by the moonlight. “Finally, I was just about to come break down your door.”
“Ha ha,” she laughed sarcastically. “Scoot over,” Luke obliged, sliding against the wall to create room. She slipped under the covers, settling against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her tightly, his face buried in her hair.
“‘M glad you’re staying,” he mumbled. “Feel like it’s easier to fall asleep when you’re with me.” He didn’t say it out loud but he liked having the assurance that she was safe in his arms as they slept.
“Me too,” she mused, her eyes already closed. “But I’ll say you kidnapped me if we get caught.”
“Okay,” Luke chucked. “You can blame me.”
My reputation's never been worse, so / You must like me for me
But those nights were gone now. Luke made his choice but so did she.
“Isn’t it messed up how the gods neglect their kids?” Luke asked as casually as possible, staring out at sea, his fingers tracing the dock.
“Yeah,” she mused. “Can you imagine being an omnipotent, immortal being but you can’t even take the time to tell your kid they belong to you? I mean, Apollo’s been pretty good about it but the others…?”
The pressure in Luke’s chest lessened as she more or less agreed with him. “Or how they treat us as disposable puppets? Like pawns?” He watched her face carefully as she considered it.
“What do you mean?”
Here we go. Luke began chipping at any remaining loyalty she had to the gods. “Well think about it. Thalia? Her godly parents could have saved her. Every demigod who died? Their parent could have saved them. My quest was a joke. All Hermes wanted me to do was repeat one of Heracles’ labors.”
She looked deep in thought. “I guess but why are you asking me about this?”
He took a deep breath before lacing his fingers in hers. “I’ve been uh… talking to someone.” She didn’t say anything but her furrowed brow urged him to continue. “I’ve been told that things don’t have to be the way they are. We don’t have to wait around until we’re killed. The Titan Lord could restore-”
“Shut up right now!” her frightened voice cut him off. She pulled her legs out of the water, shifting her sitting position to face him directly. “Luke! What- how- why are you doing this? So what if you can’t rely on the gods? You certainly can’t trust Kronos anymore.”
He gently grasped her hands. “Y/N, he promised every demigod that joins him immortality and safety. We wouldn’t have to cower in a summer camp with children who most likely won’t make it to their 18th birthdays. Please, come with me.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.” That broke his heart. “Luke, I love you. I really do. But I can’t let you go down this path.”
Through his internal struggle with Kronos, Luke could see Y/N staring at him, pain in her eyes. He gripped Annabeth’s knife tightly, saying a silent goodbye to everyone he loved and a curse to Kronos. “I love you,” he tried to say to her but it came out strained. The blade sunk into his only vulnerable spot under his arm—his Achilles heel.
“No!” he heard her yell. But he was already on the ground, beginning to lose consciousness at the fatal blow. But Y/N was kneeling over him, tears leaving tracks on her dirty face. “No, no, no,” she mumbled. “Why, Luke?” she practically screamed in frustration.
He reached up, wiping her tears and some dirt from her face. “Do you still love me? After everything I did?”
“Of course I love you!” she cried. “I never stopped.”
Despite the pain, he was smiling. “I love you too. I’ll see you in Elysium.”
She nodded, trying to smile too but the sobs were clawing their way of her throat. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Not too soon,” he insisted. “I love you, Y/N.”
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augustinewrites · 10 days
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based on this
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your frowning face appears in the mirror as wriothesley fixes his hair for the third time that afternoon, admiring how the gel he’d borrowed from clorinde was surprisingly adept at slicking back his unruly hair. 
“we can’t be late,” you remind him, fiddling with the collar of your dress. “father despises tardiness…”
“awe, are you worried i’ll make a bad first impression?” he asks, finally turning to face you. “don’t worry, sweetheart. parents love me. well, maybe not my foster parents. but i’m always a hit with other people’s.”
the comment about his…colourful past  goes right over your head. you really are worried. “it’s not you i’m worried about. father can be…intense.”
“i work in a prison. it can’t get more intense than that,” he reminds you, grabbing the gift bag sitting by the door. “besides, once we pull out this bad boy, he’ll be so impressed that he’ll ask me to join you for lunch next week too.” 
of course, he had no actual idea if the wine navia had chosen was any good. though his wallet had come back significantly lighter, so that had to mean it was halfway decent. 
“wriothesley,” you say, still looking deeply concerned. “you do know that father is–”
“intense, babe. i know,” he sighs, cupping your face in his hands and placing a kiss between your furrowed brows. you try to wriggle out of his hold, but he doesn’t let you, gently keeping your focus on him. “don’t worry, alright? i’ll shake his hand, we’ll talk about safe topics like the weather and how great the aquabus is. i’ll even use my best table manners when the food comes.” 
his thumbs gently brush your cheeks as you sigh, shaking your head slightly. “i just really want you two to get along.” 
“i can be plenty charming when i need to be,” he says, only letting you go to pull the front door open. “besides, who wouldn’t want a duke as a son-in-law?”
______
business at café lutece is unusually empty today, wriothesley observes. all of the tables are reserved, but remain empty at the height of the lunch rush. 
you don’t seem to notice this, fingertips drumming the surface of the table 
“quit fidgeting,” wriothesley murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“i’m just nervous,” you mutter, knee beginning to bounce. wriothesley chuckles, stilling it with a firm hand. 
you look up at him, smiling as you place your hand over his. “thanks.”
the waiter comes back with the tea he’d ordered earlier, leaving a teapot and two small jars of sugar and milk. he’s in the middle of pouring you a cup when you suddenly sit up.
“father!”
“oh shit,” the duke mutters, quickly getting on his feet. he glances down at his outfit briefly, making sure his buttons are done up properly and his sleeves are rolled neatly before holding out his hand. “it’s nice to finally meet you–”
wriothesley’s open stance shifts into a protective one, immediately putting himself between you and the knave. 
“well, isn’t this sweet,” the harbinger says, clearly more amused than threatened. 
wriothesley looks back at you, incredulous. “your father is a fatui harbinger?!”
“all children of the house of the hearth refer to me as such,” she answers, gracefully pulling out and taking a seat across from him. “sit, your grace, and prove to me why you should continue to be allowed to court my child.”
_____
sitting face to face with the knave was equal parts exhilarating and nerve-inducing. exhilarating because she was the knave. skilled in combat and espionage and one of the highest ranking harbingers.
nerve-inducing because she was your father. and as much as he wanted to engage her in a battle of wits and fisticuffs, that was not something one did with their father-in-law. 
“i trust business at the fortress is going smoothly, your grace?”
wriothesley casts the harbinger a wary look over his teacup. “you can read about childe’s status in the report i had sent over last week.”
“well, you know better than most that information from inside sources is much more valuable.”
both their gazes drift to you, and you send him an apologetic look.
“oh, relax,” the woman across from him laughs. “i was simply making conversation. since i’m short of time, however, i will make the point of our visit quite brief.”
she leans forward, clasping your hand in hers across the tabletop as she fixes wriothesley with a paragliding glare.
“if you ever hurt my child, or she comes to any harm whilst in your care, there is not a corner of the ocean dark enough for you to hide.”
“father!” you gasp. “you said you wouldn't threaten him.”
it’s almost eerie, how easily the dark expression slips off her visage. “that wasn’t a threat. c'était une promesse.” 
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ellecdc · 15 days
Note
I have been summoned by the Poly!Wolfstar notification!!!!
I’m always a goner for brother’s best friend trope and this time it’s best friends so literally double the fun ☺️ This is just so soft and adorable pls you’re spoiling us, queen!
Part 2 where they tell Jamie and he actually already knew? Cause the joke is always James can be oblivious most of the time, but they don’t know it doesn’t apply to his sister so he already knew, most likely even before she knew herself cause he’s a sweet brother like that.
*sigh* I want a big brother
Love you queen! 💕
hahaha awe you're so right babes. it's really funny because I have this request and then the exact opposite version of this request - so it will be fun to write the other one too! it'll take me a lot longer though, angst always does.
part one here - but can be read as a stand alone
poly!wolfstar x potter!reader - you & the boys tell James
“You’re going to wear a hole in the rug there, dolly.” Sirius drawled in faux nonchalance as the two of you waited in the boys’ dorm room for Remus to return with James.
You were going to do it. Today. You were going to tell your brother you were dating his two best friends.
No big deal, right?
Except it was a big deal and you were absolutely losing your bloody mind.
And then your boyfriend had the audacity to be sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard, casually telling you to relax like he wasn’t also shaking in his boots Doc Marten’s. 
Remus had volunteered to be the one to retrieve James for the lot of you. Mostly because you would have likely broken down in a mental state if it had been you, and Sirius likely would have blurted it out on his way up the stairs.
The door clicked and you could hear the quiet mumbling of your boyfriend and the much louder mumbling of your brother as the two entered the room. Based on the smiles on their faces, particularly James’ who eyes crinkled in delight, they were talking about something funny.
“Oh! Hey bug.” James called to you, seeming surprised you were here but not perturbed. “Hey Pads; Moony said you guys wanted to talk?”
Remus stayed standing near the door and you paused in your nervous pacing whilst Sirius scooted to the end of his bed, elbows on his knees and feet resting on his school trunk.
James didn’t look at all disturbed or uncomfortable. In fact, he looked completely at ease, here in the room with three of his favourite people in the whole world. Remus, the person who he goes to when he needs to feel grounded. Sirius, his best friend and partner in crime. And you, his twin sister and other half.
What were you doing here?
Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t tell him. This could ruin him; this had the potential to ruin three of James’ most precious relationships. How could you have been so selfish? He didn’t need to know, the least the three of you could do is keep this to yourself. Abort, abort, abort.
“So?” James asked, looking around at everyone with a raised eyebrow. “Are you finally going to tell me the three of you are dating?”
You were sure your heart stopped. Remus blew out an exasperated laugh and Sirius choked on air. 
“You knew!?” Sirius screeched.
James smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah?”
“How?” You whispered.
James’ face softened significantly when he took in your face that was drained of all colour. “Well, Pads here is about as subtle as an erumpent. Moony has been mooning over you since like third year. And I’d have to be blind – do not joke about my eyesight – not to notice the way you look at them.” He offered simply.
“So, you’ve known all this time and just let us tiptoe around?” Sirius asked, sounding a little miffed – at his friend for allowing him to make a fool of himself, or at his apparent lack of discrepancy, you weren’t sure.
“I figured you guys would tell me when you were ready.” James said simply again.
“Are you mad?” Remus asked quietly, pointedly looking at you ask he asked. He knew this was your biggest fear, the potential fallout. You weren’t sure what you’d do if James refused to accept your relationship with Remus and Sirius. You couldn’t bear the thought of breaking up their friend group; three people would lose if that was the case, but it would only hurt you if you were the one to step away. 
“No.” James said as he moved his head back and forth slightly. “I guess I was hurt you didn't tell me, but I could also understand why you didn’t. But no, I’m not mad.”
You blew out a breath at that, but it came out incredibly shaky. Unfortunately for you, no one in the room missed it.
“Awe bug. I’m sorry.” James said as he stood and offered his open arms to you. You took him up on his offer and accepted his hug, leaning your head onto his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Jamie.”
“Don’t be, yeah? I’m happy for you, really.” He assured, rubbing roughly on your back. 
“Yeah?” You asked as you pulled back to look at him. You couldn’t see any contradictions on his face, only love.
“’Course. You’re the best, and I want the best for you.” He shook your shoulders a little, smiling like ‘did you seriously think otherwise?’
“Are they good to you?” He whispered, and though you knew your werewolf boyfriend and your canine animagus boyfriend could both likely hear the conversation, they allowed this moment to be yours and James’ alone.
“So good, Jamie. Promise.” You said, feeling tears prick at your eyes. 
“You’ll tell me if they’re not?”
You scoffed and rolled your eyes, but James wouldn’t let you pull away as you wont to do. “I wouldn’t involve you in it, James. They were your friends first; I’m not going to come between you.”
James’ brows furrowed a little as he seemed to ponder your words. “Perhaps...but you were my sister first. If anything, they’d be coming between us.”
You opted to smile at your brother and pinch his side like you knew he hated. “Never. That’s impossible.”
At that he finally let you go, returning your smile ten-fold. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say! So? Are we good?” He asked, turning to the rest of the room.
Remus had a proud and slightly emotional smile on his face while Sirius just stared between the two of you, eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed. 
“I’m sorry. What just happened?” He finally spat.
Remus groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “Sirius, please. This went about as well as we could have hoped.”
James’ head popped up at that. “Oh! Sorry, did I make that too easy on you all?”
Sirius let out a scoff that sounded like “uhm, duh?”
“I could make it harder on you?” James offered.
“Please do.” Sirius said eagerly, causing you and Remus to groan in sync. 
James offered a quick ‘okay’ and cleared his throat, allowing silence to settle throughout the room as he picked up a stray book off his school trunk. 
Suddenly, he threw the book onto the ground, creating a booming thump. “MY SISTER!? ARE YOU KIDDING? YOU’RE DATING MY SISTER!?”
“JAMES PLEASE, JUST HEAR US OUT!” Sirius shouted back just as passionately. 
James scoffed in derision. “HEAR YOU OUT? HEAR YOU OUT. I THINK I’VE HEARD ENOUGH!”
“YOU CAN’T KEEP US APART!” 
“I CAN AND I WILL. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!? I THOUGHT THIS FRIENDSHIP MEANT SOMETHING TO YOU.”
“IT MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME!” Sirius called back, dropping to his knees on the floor in front of James. 
You shared a look with Remus as the theatrics continued, knowing this could go on for hours.
“Should we leave them to their drama?” Remus asked you.
“Please.” You nearly begged, taking his hand and exiting the dorm, catching one last sentence before the door clicked shut behind you.
“I’M IN LOVE WITH HER, JAMES!”
“I DON’T CA- wait are you really? That's so cute!”
531 notes · View notes
zeltqz · 2 months
Text
it girl | sanzu h.
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synopsis. you find sanzu after a fight at a party and end up introducing yourself and helping him patch up. turns out sanzu isn't as extroverted when it comes to speaking to girls, rindou finds out.
contains. smut, first time (sanzu's a virgin), nervous sanzu, bold reader, mentions of violence, busted lips, bruised knuckles, kantou!manji era, nude/explicit photos, oral (m), sanzu gets head for the first time, koko rindou and sanzu are best friends idc.
author's note. sanzu's so pretty but i just know that boy has never felt the touch of a woman, hence why i wrote this lmfao. call it a power move or whatever 🙄 (i wanna see more submissive sanzu honestly). fanart credits: caravaggist
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“My head is fucking killing me,” Sanzu said with a pained groan. He began coughing until he started laughing, running purely on adrenaline. “I beat that fucker’s ass, didja see that?!”
“Shut up, stop being so loud.” Sanzu winced when Rindou smacked him upside the head. He looked down at his busted, bruised knuckles and cursed. “We’re so fucking dead.”
“Told you not to drink that much,” Koko sniped, gesturing with his chin over at Sanzu. “Got us into a goddamn fight.”
“Not my fault you guys are such wimps.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Koko doubled over to catch his breath, slumping against a car. 
“Are you guys okay?” you called out, steadily approaching the three boys. 
Your heart nearly stopped when they all turned to meet your eyes, but there was one you couldn’t take your eyes off of the most. He had green eyes and crazy pink hair tied up into a ponytail. You’d been eyeing him for the majority of the party, just small glances over at whichever end he was loudly talking at. The entire time you had been taking extra shots for courage to approach him but pussied out each time. When you were upstairs, there was loud shouting, chanting, and the sound of things breaking as a group of boys managed to get into a fight. You didn’t see the full thing, only coming down the stairs the exact moment you saw the three of them run outside, tearing down the street and around the block in record time. A quick scan of the party, you saw the pink haired guy was no longer there, so your feet went running before you could even think of what you were doing.
He was much prettier up close, an ethereal kind of beauty you rarely ever see. Not many people can rock long pink hair but he manages to make it work well.
You ran out, taking off after them. It was a miracle you found them, having guessed which direction they must’ve took off in. 
“Who are you?” Kokonoi asked, looking strangely at you.
“I was at the party,” you gestured down the street, “and saw everything. Are you guys okay?” you repeated, walking a little closer to the group. 
Kokonoi’s hostility dropped down a few notches and he nodded. Rindou shrugged and rolled his neck, trying to ease away the stiffness residing in his bones. Sanzu, on the other hand, just stared at you dumbfoundedly. He didn’t say a word, just stared at you with half wide eyes that only widened when you met his gaze. You held eye contact for a few seconds before looking down at his knuckles. Out of the three, Sanzu was probably the most roughed up, having done the most the entire fight and caught the most strays. His lip was busted and his knuckles were bruised.
“Oh that looks really bad. One second,” you said, pulling out a tissue from your pocket “Can I?” you asked, looking into his eyes. He doesn’t say yes or no, and Rindou isn’t even sure he’s breathing anymore. He doesn’t stop you as you hold his bruised hand and lift it up to your face for examination. 
You placed the tissue onto his knuckles. “I’m sorry that happened by the way. I don’t know how it started but I’m sure you guys didn’t deserve it.”
Kokonoi snorted and Rindou elbows him roughly. “Eh it’s whatever. Bottom line is we won, so.”
“You guys shouldn’t be fighting like that though. Especially in public. The police got called and are probably on their way here.”
“Wait seriously?!” Kokonoi whipped his head up at you and you nodded. He cursed under his breath. “We better get going again. Don’t wanna have to get bailed out again.”
Again?
“True that,” Rindou agreed, dusting off his pants. His head was pounding and he might probably have a concussion, but all that didn’t matter to him. He just needed to get out of here. “Call Ran, he’ll come pick us up.”
“He’s gonna fucking kill us,” Kokonoi replied.
“Better him than Mikey.”
“But—”
You tuned out the rest of their conversation and continued dabbing Sanzu’s knuckles, who still hadn’t said a single word since you approached. You blinked up at him and removed the bag from his hand. 
“Your lip is bleeding,” you announced, and he almost flinched away when your thumb rose to his lip. “Does it hurt?” He shook his head. “Can I put this on your lip?” You shook the tissue in your hand.
He nodded slowly and your smile nearly sent him straight to heaven. You pulled a water bottle from your purse and wet the tissue, pressing it on his lip and held onto his chin, tipping his head upright so you could see what you were doing better. Granted the tissue probably weren’t helping at all, but you had to work with what you had. 
“This looks really painful,” you murmured, fixated on the damages done to his face. He has these two pairs of twin scars on both sides of his mouth that you think are so cute. Without thinking, you let your thumb trace the diamond outline gently. You pull the tissue away from his lip and pocket it. “Does your lip hurt?”
Sanzu shook his head and you smiled. “That’s good.”
Rindou looked over at Sanzu weirdly, wondering why the loudest person in the group was suddenly so quiet. He didn’t have time to explore that train of thought deeper because Kokonoi spoke up.
“Rin, Sanzu. Ran’s on his way now. Let’s go.” He pocketed his phone and turned to you. “Thanks for the warning about the cops by the way. Really appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem.”
A black car pulled up to the curb and the window rolled down. “You three are so fucking dead,” Ran said exasperatedly. 
“As long as Mikey doesn’t find out we’re goo—” Kokonoi’s relief came crumbling down as his biggest fear came to light. The passenger seat window rolled down and Mikey’s face came into view. He didn’t look mad, honestly he didn’t look like anything. Just emotionless, but that was enough to scare the absolute shit out of Koko. “Boss, we can explain—”
“Get in the car.”
Kokonoi swallowed but obliged, his feet dragging behind him as he walked around the car to get in.
You looked back over at Sanzu who’s eyes hadn't left yours. “Guess this is goodbye. I’m (Name) by the way. What’s yours?”
Whatever reaction anyone was expecting, it wasn’t for Sanzu to completely stammer over his words, forgetting who he was, or how to form a literate sentence. “Me name? Who is—I—what, huh?”
Rindou looked at him like he grew two heads, even Mikey raised a confused brow. You pressed your lips together in a thin line to stop yourself from laughing and Sanzu’s ears burnt with humiliation. Frankly he was mortified with those being the first words he’s said to you ever. Rindou thankfully saved him from more embarrassment by grabbing the back of his collar hard.
“His name is Sanzu by the way,” he told you before dragging him towards the car, kicking him into the backseat. The door slammed shut and you watched as Rindou entered the front next to his brother and then the car pulled off, recklessly rounding the corner.
You stayed there for a minute, blinking, then smiled giddily down at the floor before making your way back to your friends inside.
~*~
“Yeah they’ve definitely got a concussion,” the nurse said, snapping her gloves off. She stepped away from the three boys at the table and handed them each plastic cups of water. “Make sure you drink plenty of water and get plenty of rest.”
“Thanks doc.” Mikey wrote her a check and she nodded, thanking him before exiting the room. He looked at the three in them in disappointment. They each had an annoying habit of crashing random parties going on in the street and getting shit faced, then turning up to work and events hungover or too exhausted. Now they have hit the final nail in the coffin by getting in a physical altercation with strangers and the police are probably looking for their asses right now.
“I have nothing to say to you three. You heard the woman, get plenty of rest,” he scolded before leaving the room.
“Who wants to bet the medical bills are coming out of our paycheck?” Rindou asked, sliding off the table. He rubbed his head exhaustedly and yawned.
“I might just have a heart attack if I see that,” Kokonoi responded, shuddering.
“That girl…” Sanzu muttered under his breath, scratching his chin.
“What?”
“That girl,” he repeated louder as if he just came to a sudden realisation, “was a fucking angel!”
“Oh. Welcome back to earth Mr. Who me is name I what?” Rindou mocked, amusement written all over his face as Sanzu rolled his eyes.
Kokonoi laughed loudly. “Oh yeah! What the fuck was that all about?”
“Shut up,” Sanzu grumbled and closed his eyes, blocking their mockery out. He tried to picture your face again behind his closed lids but the concussion was slowly getting worse and your face was starting to fade from his memory. “I need to find this girl and redeem myself. What’s her name?” he said snipply, snapping his fingers at the two boys for them to hurry up.
“Stop being a weirdo. You probably blew your chances anyway,” Rindou stated.
“Nah uh! It wasn’t that bad!”
“Who me is name I what?” Kokonoi repeated and Sanzu groaned loudly.
“Keep making fun of me whatever! But when I find her and make her my future wife I don’t want to hear shit from any of you.”
“Wow,” Kokonoi fake gasped. “You can tell your future kids the story of how you met!”
“Future wife huh?” Rindou chuckled. “So we’re just skipping past girlfriend?”
“Gotta aim big.”
Kokonoi shook his head. “That girl wants nothing to do with you.”
“Yeah? Well why did she patch me up and not you two fucking idiots then? HUH?” Sanzu gestured to his busted lip. The two boys had nothing else to say and just rolled their eyes, muttering whatever under their breath. “Exactly, shut the fuck up.”
Sanzu traced his scars with his finger. He could still feel the gentle trail of your finger on his skin and closed his eyes once more, picturing you in front of him, staring up at him with such care in your eyes as you genuinely found yourself worried at his injuries. He looked down at his knuckles, still bruised, and pictured your hand in his. He regretted not saying more to you earlier, regretted not actually having a conversation with you and telling him his injuries looked worse than they actually felt.
Sanzu stood up and Rindou called out to him. “Oi. Where the hell are you going? We’re heading back to mines.”
“I’m going back to that party to redeem myself.”
“It’s been like an hour and it’s almost three am. She’s long gone. Let it go.”
Sanzu shook his head, condescendingly clicking his tongue in a way that ground Rindou’s gears. “Don’t be jealous Rin.”
“Jealous of?”
“I got a girl that wants me for me, not my dick.”
“That’s something only a virgin would say,” Kokonoi inputs, laughing when Sanzu instantly closes his mouth. “No way, are you actually a virgin?”
“No I’m not!”
“Yes you are!”
“I’m not!”
“Who’d you lose it to?”
Sanzu scoffs. “Like anyone remembers that,”
“Okay playboy.” Rindou laughs. “I remember mine.”
“So do I,” Kokonoi high fives Rindou. The two of them look at Sanzu. “Well? What’s her name?”
“I was high. Don’t remember,” Sanzu shrugs. Rindou looks over at Koko who both equally look unimpressed. “ANYWAY! It doesn’t matter because I’m going to find that girl and redeem myself tonight.”
Kakucho enters the room. “Find what girl?”
“Redeem yourself for what?” Kokonoi asks.
Rindou laughs even louder. “Redeem himself for “Oh friend who I am what?””
Sanzu’s ears burn when Koko joins in the laughter. “Alright so just forget my question. Cool,” Kakucho rolls his eyes.
“Sanzu got us into a fight tonight and some girl helped him with his busted lip and now he thinks he’s in love.”
“I don’t think—”
“We know,” Kokonoi interrupts.
Sanzu shoots him a glare. “If you’d let me finish,” he says snarkily. “I don’t think I'm in love. I know I am.”
“In love with a girl you don’t even know the name of?” Kakucho asks hesitantly. He should be used to this by now honestly, it's not the first time Sanzu got hyper fixated over something, except in this case it's someone. In actuality, he should be worried for this girl, knowing how obsessive Sanzu gets at times. Picturing the boy in a relationship was something Kakucho just could not do no matter how hard he tries.
“I’ll find her name. You forget who I am and what I do in this goddamn organisation?”
“Aside from dragging us to useless parties and getting us involved in unnecessary fights?” Rindou asked.
“You had fun tonight, stop acting like you hated it that bad,” Sanzu complained.
“What did this girl look like?” Kakucho asks.
Sanzu describes your appearance from your height all the way down to your eye colour, recounting to his friends every single detail he managed to observe about you the entire time he spent staring at you. They all looked at him with concern.  Sanzu noticed their glare and shrugged. “What?”
“Surprised you didn’t count every single lash of hers honestly,” Kokonoi rubbed his forehead exhaustedly when his head pounded again. “This headache is killing me. Gonna head home.”
They all said goodbye and waited for him to leave the room. 
“I think I know the girl,” Kakucho said, recounting the horrifying moment of Sanzu describing you in as much detail as possible. 
“WHAT?!” Sanzu exclaimed far too loudly for his head and Rindou’s to handle, a sharp pain shooting their heads. “Ah fuck,” he groaned, rubbing his head. 
“Are you serious?” Rindou asked, looking at Kakucho who nodded.
“Yeah. Someone like that lives on my floor. I see her leaving every morning.”
“To Kakucho’s we go!” Sanzu grinned, grabbing the younger boy's hand and dragging him outside. Rindou reluctantly follows behind them, wanting to see where this situation was heading. 
Kakucho ended up being right, and when they entered the lobby of his apartment, they saw you collecting your mail. Sanzu’s feet felt frozen to the floor as he just stared at your side profile. He almost had a stroke when you turned to face in his direction, and he swore you were looking directly at him when you broke out into a smile, waving your hand.
“Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while,” you said and Sanzu was confused. It’s only been a few hours, hasn’t it? 
You were walking and he stood up a little straight when it looked like you were heading towards his direction, only for his heart to do a complete 360 when you hugged Kakucho instead. It wasn’t an affectionate hug, both your hands barely lingered on each other’s body, just an awkward side hug that lasted barely 2 seconds.
“Yeah, you know. I’ve been busy with work and stuff.”
“Ah cool cool. I’ve been collecting your mail though.” You handed him his mail. He thanked you and held them under his arm. 
You looked at two boys next to them and then gasped. “Oh its you!” You pointed between Sanzu and Rindou, who only nodded, asking how you’ve been. Sanzu was frozen again as you and Rindou gave each other basic small talk, only breaking out of his stupor when Rindou elbowed him hard in the stomach. 
You bit down a laugh when you saw Sanzu clutch onto his stomach in pain. “Oh my god, are you alright?” Sanzu could hear the laugh in your voice, but didn’t feel offended the slightest.
“I’m good, yeah. Just distracted.”
“Oh. Am I boring you?”
He was too scared of the fact you thought that about him to notice the playful hint in your voice. “No! Not at all. I just have a concussion that's all.”
“No way. Does it hurt? Are you okay?” You hesitantly lift your hand up and press it on his forehead which is burning up. “You need to get some sleep right now.”
“It’s too late to drive right now.” Kakucho says. “You two can just sleep at mine.”
“Only if I get your bed,” Sanzu adds.
“Fuck that. Sleep on the couch.”
“But I’m concussed.”
“And who’s goddamn fault is that?”
Sanzu rolled his eyes. Kakucho sighed. “Fine. You can get the bed.”
“Let’s fucking go,” Sanzu grinned and started heading towards the elevator. The other two boys followed them and Kakucho looked behind at you. 
“You coming?”
Sanzu pressed the button and turned to look at you and Kakucho as you shook your head. “No, I'm heading back out.”
“Right now?” Kakucho says and looks at his watch, “It’s almost 4 am?”
“I know,” you sigh exhaustedly. “My friend, well kinda friend, I guess wants me to come to his house. Just got his text a few minutes ago.”
“At this hour?” Kaku says sceptically.
“So a booty call?” Rindou says and gets elbowed by Kakucho, telling him to mind his business.
You laugh. “I guess if that's what you want to call it. I don’t sleep with him, he just uses me to impress his friends it feels like.” Your eyes slide over to Sanzu who has a scowl on his face and looks away almost immediately after you make eye contact. “I don’t wanna do it but he scares me so I feel like I have to.”
“What’s his name?” Kakucho asks.
“Why? You gonna hurt him?” you ask back. Though you and Kakucho are only neighbours at best, you’re well aware of what he does and his reputation around town. The Brawler is his nickname, or was, back when he was in Tenjiku. But you didn’t know what his role or job entailed, all you knew he was in some shady shit and you wanted no part of it. 
“Depends if I know the guy or not.”
You roll your eyes. “His name is Osanai.”
“Wait a minute,” Rindou says, “Is he tall? Smokes all the time, blonde hair? Kinda tan?”
“Yeah…” you say slowly, sceptically, “how’d you know?”
“We’ve actually been kinda looking for that guy. Mikey wanted to see him, didn't he?” Rindou asks Kakucho who shrugs and points over to Sanzu who’s been awfully quiet the entire time. “Didn’t he?” Rindou asks Sanzu again.
“Oh. Yes he has.” He looks up and meets your gaze one more time before looking away. 
“Where’s he at?” Rindou asks, approaching you.
“I dunno probably his house?”
“Okay but where genius.”
You give him Osanai’s address and he starts heading outside. “Wait! Don’t kill him or something.”
“Why do you care what we do? Doesn’t he scare you?”
“I mean yes but that doesnt mean I want him dead…”
Kakucho sighs. “Sanzu wait here with (y/n), me and Rindou will sort this out.”
Sanzu instantly looks at Kakucho. “Wait—”
“Just do it,” Rindou snickers before the two of them leave. Sanzu watches them go with a betrayed look on his face, already thinking of 101 different ways to kill Rindou once he got back home.  You look up at Sanzu and smile at him.
“So…you can go home if you want. I don't need a babysitter.”
“No it's fine I'll uh wait here.”
“We can go back to mine?” you ask a little hopeful.
Sanzu opens his mouth to speak but the words can't seem to come out. He resorts to nodding and you smile, taking his hand in yours and walking up to your apartment. 
~*~
Three hours in and you’ve been binging shitty movies together, laughing at the bad plot and horribly written characters. When you first saw Sanzu at the party, he was outgoing and the life of the room honestly. Maybe your opinion is a bit biased because you were focused on nothing but him, but he had this energy that attracted you to him. Now, in front of you, he’s nothing like he was a few hours ago, he seems shy and reserved, keeping to himself but he’s still funny and cracks a few jokes that make you cackle every now and then.
“Wait you got a little, i’ll get it for you,” you say, cupping his chin and turning his face to you. He watches you with wide eyes as your thumb comes up to his lip and wipes some tomato sauce off. you make continuous eye contact with him as you bring your thumb to your mouth and lick the sauce off the tip. Then, you almost give the guy a heart attack when you go back in with your wet thumb and wipe the remnants of the sauce on the corner of his mouth. 
His pizza flops in his hand and something else rises in his pants as you pull back, sitting reasonably closer than you did before, resting your head on his shoulder, continuing to watch the movie. It’s hard for him to even focus on the TV with you sitting this close to him right now. He can smell your shampoo, your perfume, can feel your body heat warming him up and he’s actually going to pass out if you continue clinging to his arm like that. He clears his throat and shifts in his seat a little, hoping his boner goes down and praying you don’t see it. 
Just to be on the safe side, he nonchalantly grabs a couch cushion and places it on his lap, claiming he's cold. You don’t buy it one bit but only smirk at the hidden implications. You let out a fake yawn and shift even closer to him, bringing your feet onto the couch, shifting into a lying position. 
You look up at Sanzu and smile slightly. “Is this okay with you?” you ask, batting your eyes at him.
“Y-yea. It's fine. cool.” He swallows thickly and turns to look back at the TV.
The cushion gets in the way and you click your tongue, sitting upright and almost bashing him in the jaw with your head. You toss the cushion away and Sanzu's about to protest before you lay back down, your head only inches away from his crotch. His erection was going down slowly but now it might as well sprung back up. 
“Oh wait a second,” you said, sitting upright and Sanzu almost panicked when you pointed down at his crotch. “You okay?”
“I—sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it's fine,” you laugh. “These things are uncontrollable, I know.” Sanzu sighs in relief. “Do you need any help?” you ask and he blinks at you.
“What?”
“Nevermind,” you clear your throat. “That was a dumb question.”
“No wait!” he says abruptly, making you jump. “I mean, yeah, if you don’t mind.”
“Really?” you perk up a little. 
“Yeah I guess.”
You move to sit next to him, your head only inches away from his. “This is gonna sound a bit creepy but,” your eyes drop to his lips, “I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you tonight.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” you say absentmindedly, distracted as you ran your finger over his scars. “Thought you were so pretty.”
“Pretty…?”
“Yeah, you’re really pretty Sanzu.”
He bites his lip, fighting the urge to look away from your intense eyes in the dark. You’re leaning in closer and his eyes close and then he feels your lips pressing against his. It starts off with short pecks that linger a little too long before you're actively moving your lips against his. Your hand cups his face and you pull him closer, sucking on his lips and entering your tongue into his mouth. He moans softly when your fingers find their way to his hair, scratching gently at his scalp.
You pull away and plaster kisses to his neck, gently pushing him down onto the couch, your body basically straddling him as you kiss down his throat.
His body feels hot and he can't focus anywhere  but your lips going down his body. Your fingers grab the seam of his shirt and your lips tickle against his skin as you mutter, “Take this off.”
He obediently does as he’s told and lifts his arms up as you help him remove the shirt. You toss it on the other couch and sit upright to examine his chest. His abs were faint but visibly and you bit your lip, running your finger along his chest.
He stares up at you as you look distracted at the sight of his bare chest. You make eye contact and smirk a little before lifting your shirt up and over your head. His eyes go wide at the sight of you in your bra. You go back down and kiss down his stomach, fingers moving to unzip his jeans and pull them down.
“Wait wait wait!” You freeze and look up at the boy in front of you, tilting your head in confusion. He swallows thickly. “I haven't…done this before.”
Your eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”
“Shocking, I know.”
“Oh. It really is. I thought girls would be all over a guy like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like I said before, you’re really pretty Sanzu.” He instantly looks away and you laugh. “You’re shyer than I expected Sanzu. At the party you were really loud and stuff, I didn't expect this. It’s cute.”
“I’m not shy.”
“You said less than 100 words to me tonight and we’ve been hanging out for almost four hours.”
“...”
You laugh and sit upright, leaning back in to kiss him. “Do you still want me to…” Your fingers trail down his body, rubbing the outline of his cock in his briefs.
“If you want to.”
“I obviously do, that's why I'm asking you.”
“Sure then.”
You give him one last kiss before settling back between his lips. His cock has never felt more sensitive than in this moment when your fingers wrap around his cock, pulling it free from his boxers. It stands tall against your face and you lick the tip, not ceasing eye contact. He feels obligated to watch you suck his cock and desperately wants to look away because he knows he will bust in less than ten seconds if you keep staring at him like that.
You take him in your mouth and he moans so loudly, the sound soft and heavenly. You smile around him and begin to suction your cheeks as you take him lower. Your tongue swirled around his shaft every time you bobbed. He was throbbing inside you, your heavy eye contact and warm mouth making him grow harder.
He finally broke the eye contact to throw his head back, a long groan of “fuccccckkkkkkk,” leaving his mouth as he placed his hand on your head, bobbing you up and down. You moaned when his hips bucked up into you.
You pull off his cock and jerk him off, his words dying in his throat when he feels your tongue lick his balls, sucking gently on them.
He sits up and holds the back of your head, his fingers digging into your scalp as he pants heavily. Your eyes squeeze shut as you focus on pleasuring him, putting your mouth back onto his cock and taking him deeper than you did before, your fingers gently massaging his balls.
“I’m gonna—fuck, i’m coming,�� he groans and without warning holds the back of your head, pressing you down and came inside your throat. 
Honestly you were shocked he lasted this long. Your body felt so warm and hot hearing his pretty moans, and the sight of him with his mouth open, head thrown back was something you’d never forget. His grip on your head ceased and you pulled off his cock, eyes teary and watery and mouth full of cum.
“Oh shit,” he mutters, watching you take a minute before swallowing. His dick twitches again. Without thinking, his thumb comes up to the corner of your lip and wipes a stray drop of cum. Before he can remove his thumb, your head turns and you suck the tip of it. “You’re actually trying to kill me, aren’t you,” he groans and you giggle around his thumb.
“Are you a virgin too if you’d never gotten head before?” 
He nods shamefully and you can’t help but kiss him again. “Want me to take it?” you ask, forehead resting against his.
He blinks at you before not-so-subtly dropping his eyes down to your cleavage. “yeah.”
You grin and push him back down onto his back, slipping off the couch. He watches you strip down naked, your bra and panties are tossed to the opposite couch. Thanks to the help of the tv, your body is still a shadow but the outline of your body makes him instantly hard again. You climb back on top of him.
His hands migrate to your hips, and with absolutely zero confidence with what he’s doing, his hand slides towards your clit and you gasp when his thumb snakes its way to your folds. “You’re really wet.”
You squirm, slightly embarrassed but bite your lip, amusement in your voice as you say, “Yeah…that’s supposed to happen.”
“I know that,” he grumbles, still rubbing your clit in circles, wetting his fingers with your arousal. “I’m not an idiot.”
He pulls his hand away and you grab his wrist, guiding his finger into his mouth, watching him suck your juices off his fingers. “God that’s hot,” you pull his fingers out and lean back down to kiss him.
“I'm going to get condoms,” you say against his lips before pulling away. He nods and watches you head down the hallway when his phone buzzes. 
rindou: we found osanai so we’re heading back right now
sanzu: hell no just go home 
rindou: ???? walk home then tf
sanzu: don't think that's an issue honestly think i might be sleeping over if you know what i mean ;)
rindou: what? you’re getting laid? YEAH RIGHT
sanzu: IM NOT LYING
rindou: i never once ever in my entire life found you funny but you’re telling some good jokes right now
sanzu: 1) im always funny, 2) im serious.  i would send you proof but then you’d see my dick and thats gross
rindou: would rather bleach my eyeballs honestly. you could barely look this girl in the eye and you really expect me to believe you’re fucking her?
“I’m back!” you call out making sanzu jump. “What’re you doing on your phone?” you ask, snatching it from his hands and reading the messages. 
It’s a miracle it’s dark right now because Sanzu doesn’t know what he’ll do if you saw him blushing from embarrassment right now.
“He’s fucking rude. Why doesn’t he believe you?” you huff, handing him his phone back before your face lights up. “Wanna show him?”
“Show him what…” He hopes you’re not heading in the direction you’re so obviously going. 
“You know what I mean, c’mere.” You sit back against the couch and pull up the camera app on his phone. You hold the phone out in front of you, “Stick your tongue out.” 
He does so and you stick yours out also, just barely grazing his as you snap a bunch of pictures. You take a couple more in different poses, putting your lips in a kissy face and kissing his cheek, his lips and resting your forehead against his as you smile at the camera. 
You sit upright and scroll through the photos, smiling at each of them. “Send these to me after yeah.” You toss the phone behind you and rip open the condom. You reach behind you and slip it easily down his shaft before aligning it with your pussy. “Ready?”
“Yeah…” The tip nudges your clit before slipping inside, warm heat instantly engulfing the tip of his cock and his mouth falls open, panting breathily as you continue sinking downwards, watching the pleasured look on your face as your pussy squelches trying to accommodate his entire length.
“Oh fuck,” you whimper, fixing your hands onto his chest for support. You bounce experimentally, ripping another moan from your throat it sinks you a little lower. 
“Shit, shit—wait,” He digs his nails into the fat of your ass cushioned against his thighs.
“Sanzu,” you moan, collapsing down onto his chest, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He can hear your breathy pants beside his ear, sending shivers down his spine.
“You feel so fucking good,” He huffs against your ear and you sit upright, pushing your arms behind you to his knees and start swiveling your hips in circles that turn to full on bouncing on his cock. 
His eyes are focused on your tits that swing in motion with your movements and he can’t help but lift you up and down on his cock. “Fuck,” He gropes and squeezes your cheeks as you whimper, clenching around his cock with every bounce.
“Touch me please,” you whimper, looking down at him, grabbing one of his hands and bringing them up to your tits. He squeezes it and runs his thumb along your nipple, sending ripples of pleasure through your body, giving you more motivation to continue bouncing.
“Wait, slow down— oh fuck.” His body was tense, and you were sure he was leaving fingernail shaped dent marks on your hip with how tight his grip was. His cock felt so good, having a slight tilt to it that hit that spot no other guy had been able to reach. You couldn’t stop bouncing, his words falling on deaf ears.
“Wait wait wait stop,” he gasped, his grip getting tighter, bringing you to a stop. Wasting no time, you lean back down and begin kissing along his jaw as he catches his breath, impatiently wiggling your hips just to feel something. “I just came,” he admitted.
You froze and shot up, looking down at him. “For real?” he nodded, wiping a shameful hand over his face. “That's so cute,” you giggle and kiss him. 
You lifted yourself up and off his cock and laid down on top of him. “Did you like it?” you ask, tracing your finger along his chest.
“Yeah, it felt so good.”
“Yay,” you smiled bashfully.
“You didn’t finish though.”
“Eh it's not a big deal. I wanted to make you feel good.”
“Still though…” he mutters, pouting at the fact he didn’t make you feel as good as he felt. 
His phone buzzed and he sat upright to grab it. 
rindou: having fun loverboy??? u busy humping her pillow to text me back? asshole
Sanzu scoffs and you lean your head against his shoulder and read the messages. “Send him the photos.”
He turns to look at you, your lips almost brushing against his in the process. “You sure? You’re kinda naked in them.”
“I don't really care. It’s just a boob. You can crop it out if you’re that worried.”
“Okay…” He crops your chest out of the photo and stares down at the photos once more. He's never deleting these. He sends three different photos to Rindou, not even bothering to caption them and turns his phone off, waiting for his response.
“Oh wait! Gimme your phone!” You hold your hand out as he hands it to you. 
“What’re you doing?”
“Adding my number,” you hum and add your number to his contacts, adding a heart after his name. You’re never usually this forward, but you knew you wanted Sanzu from the moment you saw him, and you weren’t going to let him slip away. “Call me when you get home. okay?” Your forehead brushes against his and your eyes dart down to his lips, fighting the urge to kiss them.
“Okay.”
You give into temptation and kiss him slowly. Your thumbs traced along his jawline as you hum, almost lazily enticing your tongue with his. His hands ran teasingly along your body, cupping your ass and pulling you back on top of him.
The doorbell rang and you sat upright, cursing under your breath. “I’ll get it.” You press one more kiss to his lips and slip off the couch to re-dress. Your shirt was backwards and your pants were inside out, but you didn’t care as you answered the door with a cheery, “yes?”
Kakucho rubbed his forehead with a world heavy sigh and you instantly felt all colour drain from your face. He was with Rindou and probably saw the photos. “How can I help you Kaku?”
“Just…just tell Sanzu to come on, let’s go.”
Sanzu appears behind you,redressed, and gives you a hug goodbye, his arms lingering around your form for much longer than Kakucho considered friendly. You pull away and whisper in his ear for him to call you when he gets home. He nods and you plant another kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Sanzu is about to deepen the kiss before Kakucho grabs him by the back of his shirt and tugs him out of your apartment. 
967 notes · View notes
jobean12-blog · 9 months
Text
Perfect Kind of Trouble
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 4,566
Summary: You’re new to the neighborhood and you’ve landed a great job bartending at one of the local spots. So far it’s been a good change and things are going smoothly, that is, until Bucky Barnes, the neighborhood’s most eligible bachelor, walks into your bar and sets his sights on you. 
Author’s Note: I love the idea of Bucky chasing after a girl who gives him a run for his money! Hope you enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰
Warnings: Lots of fluff, flirting, tension, Bucky might be a bit possessive but in a good way and he definitely goes for what he wants and that’s you, some sass in there, Bucky is protective too :) and Nat is the best wingman ever! 
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“Oh my god, he’s here.”
You stop drying the glass in your hand and go stiff, side eyeing your friend Nat.
“Who Nat?”
She doesn’t answer and instead slides closer to you, leaning her head toward your ear.
“Bucky Barnes.”
“Who?” you ask again, starting to crane your neck to look.
“Don’t!” she snaps then instantly softens her tone. “Just meet me in the back in two minutes and don’t make it look suspicious.”
You give her a tiny nod and go back to your work on the glasses but you can feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. You can feel his stare.
“Ok. What the hell is up with you?” you ask when you shut the door to the back room.
She’s pacing back and forth and it’s making you nervous but when she meets your eyes you relax slightly at the smile on her face.
“Bucky Barnes,” she repeats.
“Yeah? And? I have no idea who that is!”
“Of course you don’t!” she muses. “You wouldn’t know because you only moved here a few weeks ago.”
“Righttt…so, who is he?”
“Just the perfect man.”
“How do you know?”
“Everyone knows.”
You quirk your brow and cross your arms over your chest.
“Well, everyone who lives in the neighborhood,” she laughs.
“If he’s so perfect I’m sure he’s married with two point five kids, a dog and a house with a white picket fence.”
“There are no white picket fences in Brooklyn babe,” she says. “And you’d think that but he’s been a bachelor for as long as we know him.”
“Then he’s probably a player and an asshole!” you state.
“I mean sure, all the women, and men, talk about how hot he is and how much they want a shot and boy do they try but as far as I know he doesn’t date.”
“I don’t get it,” you say.
“Me neither!” she agrees. “But he hasn’t been at this bar in forever…”
“Maybe he wanted a change of scenery?” you say with a shrug.
“OR MAYBEEEEEEEE,” she starts, her grin growing. “He heard there’s a new girl in town and he’s here to see you!”
“You’re insane! And he sounds like a player to me.” you huff. “I’m going back to work. Come on, you have to point him out to me. I at least want a look.”
“I won’t need to. You’ll know who he is…”
At her wistful tone you roll your eyes, pushing open the door and walking out with determined steps.
When you hit the bar you discreetly scan the seats. You don’t see anyone that stands out, mostly just the usual crew that shows up on a Saturday night for four-dollar drafts.
A customer calls you over and you head in his direction with a smile. You’re just greeting him and taking his order when you feel that familiar heat at your back, your skin tingling.
Once you’ve got the drink order you turn toward the bar only to lock eyes with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. It momentarily stops you in your tracks and if it weren’t for Nat lightly bumping your shoulder and whispering, “told ya so,” you would stay rooted to the spot to stare.
Instead you blink several times and look away, trying to remember what drink you’re supposed to make.
When you’ve finished making it you deliver it to the customer and try to take another peek down the bar.
“I’m not taking his drink order,” Nat singsongs when she comes to stand beside you. “That’s all you.”
Your mouth falls open and you give her a glare with narrowed eyes. She just smiles brightly and sashays to the other end of the bar to take another order.
With a huff of annoyance you square your shoulders and turn toward Bucky. As you approach him his eyes light up with his smile.
“Hi, what can I get you?”
He returns your greeting and sticks his hand out.
“I’m James Barnes but you can call me Bucky.”
You wipe your hand on the towel at your side and shake his. The shock of electricity at his touch doesn’t seem to be one sided when you feel the slight squeeze from his hand. You introduce yourself, hoping you don’t come off as confused at his direct attention.
“Apparently you’re rather popular around here?”
It comes out as a question and he chuckles.
“Don’t believe anything you’ve heard,” he says with a wink.
“So what about a drink?” you ask, focusing on doing your job.
He orders and before he can say more you rush off to fix his drink. You drop it off with nothing more than a smile and move toward the next person who calls for your help.
As you’re making your next few drinks you notice Nat chatting with Bucky and you can’t help but wonder what they’re saying.
You move back and forth behind the bar, trying to ignore the feel of Bucky’s eyes, but he finally catches your attention and waves you down.
“Another?” you ask.
“Sure doll, thanks.”
While you’re pouring his drink he tries to keep you engaged.
“So Nat told me you’re new to town?”
“Yeah, moved here at the end of last month.”
“Do you like bartending better here in the city?” he asks.
You look down at the bar and scold with a single name.
“Nat.”
Bucky leans in. “Don’t be mad. She’s just trying to help me out.”
You lean in too, elbows on the bar and your head tilted his way.
“You usually need help? From what I’ve heard you can have your pick of anyone.”
At the slight scrunch of your nose he can tell you’re not saying it with a positive tone.
“Not my style. I’m pickier and right now, I need all the help I can get because I think I’m in real danger of striking out.”
His eyes drop to your lips and when they turn up every so slightly he relaxes.
“What is your type?” you ask. “Maybe I can help you out too.”
He scans you slowly and the proceeds to describe you perfectly, the tension building in the inches between you with his every word.
You steel yourself and lift your chin. “Does that usually work?”
“It’s not a line. Meant every word doll face.”
“Do you use these endearments on all the girls? I bet they love it.”
“Nuh uh,” he answers adamantly.
You nod, looking completely unconvinced.
Nat reappears at your side. “You have no idea how much I hate to interrupt this, but I need three long island iced teas at table four or they’re gonna have a hissy fit.”
You straighten yourself. “Oh sorry! Of course. I’m on it.”
You’re busy for the next forty-five minutes but Bucky never leaves his spot and every time you meet his eyes they are heavy with intention as they follow your every move. You can feel them, the heat singing every inch of your skin.
At least two women have approached him at the bar but they both walked away after a few minutes of mundane conversation and lack of interest on his part.
As much as you hate to admit it you can’t help but steal glances at him too, though you try to keep them quick and subtle.
He’s broad shouldered in the tight tee shirt he’s wearing, his biceps on full display under the stretch of the fabric and his dark hair is loose at his shoulders. His full lips are framed by a dark scruff that also covers his cheeks and is peppered with patches of gray.
Your fingers mindlessly caress the glass you’re holding before you catch yourself and look away.
You drop off another glass of whiskey with a smile and he nurses it, shooting you a cocky half smirk when he catches you staring at him. It’s like the intense silence is some sort of foreplay.
Feeling his gaze along your skin, drinking you in and driving you wild, you do your best to keep up with orders.
When things start to slow down and customers go home, you finally make your way back toward Bucky, drawn to him, despite your best efforts.
“Couldn’t avoid me anymore?”
“I wasn’t really…”
The words taper off at the sharp lift of his eyebrow.
“Sorry,” you mutter.
“Apology accepted,” he smirks. “So, do you have plans when you get off?”
You don’t answer, instead fiddling with his now empty glass. He lays his hand on the bar, his fingers just an inch form yours.
“Are you really gonna ignore my question doll?” he chuckles.
His fingers slide closer and he brushes his thumb over your knuckles, gauging your reaction. You giggle at his second question and his eyes drop to your mouth as he licks his own lips.
You’re almost lost in the bubble but then the world outside comes roaring back into focus when you hear Nat yell “last call.”
“Work…I still have to work.”
His lips part on an exhale but he let’s you go.
You rush around the bar first, clearing glasses and debris before heading over to one of the tables where three guys sit in conversation.
Distracted, you lean over the table, trying not to interrupt them. But the blonde closest to you runs the back of his hand up your arm.
It makes you cringe.
“Hi there,” he says.
“Hey,” you answer coolly, shifting away from him.
One of the blonde’s friend gives you an apologetic look, scolding Rob before he hands you one of the empty glasses that’s far out of reach. You reach for it and as soon as your fingers wrap around it, Rob grabs your hips and yanks you into his lap.
You drop the glass to the floor and it shatters before you push against his chest, loudly yelling, “what the hell?”
Rob starts to speak but you’re suddenly lifted in the air and whirled around then planted gently on your feet behind Bucky’s broad back.
Bucky now has Rob’s tee shirt fisted in one hand as he gets in his face.
The bar goes silent and the next thing you hear is the low growl of Bucky’s order. “Don’t touch.”
Bucky slowly lowers Rob’s feet to the floor, keeping a careful eye on him. His eyes narrow a split second before Rob bellows, “motherfucker!”
The asshole rears back and punches Bucky clean in the jaw.
You gaps in horrified shock, but Bucky grins, his tongue peeking out to test his lip and you can’t help how your eyes linger there.
“You threw the first punch shithead,” Bucky says before winding back and punching Rob in the gut.
All the guys now rush toward their friend, muttering curses at him as they drag him to his feet and eye Bucky warily.
The owner of the bar, and your boss, Barry, comes over and gets in their faces. “Get out and don’t come back!”
They drag their belligerent friend out as quickly as they can, apologizing to you, or maybe Bucky, the whole way.
“What just happened?” you ask, your voice quiet.
Bucky steps close to you, his knuckles brushing over your cheek, light as a feather.
“Are you okay?”
His eyes are filled with emotions. Worry, fury, fear, and tenderness.
“I think so. That was just…crazy.”
Nat wraps her arm around your shoulders comfortingly. “Let’s go get Bucky some ice, ok?”
You glance down at Bucky’s hand, puffy and red.
“Oh no,” you say, gently taking his hand in yours.
He smiles. “It’s fine. Been there, done that.”
You watch him go back and sit at the bar, most of the other customers now cleared out. When you come back out with the ice and ointment your gentle, “you okay?” pulls him from his musings.
“Yeah, no big deal. As long as you’re okay?”
You sit next to him, resting his hand on your thigh and carefully pressing the ice to his knuckles. He stares at his hand on your skin.
“I don’t know if okay is how I would describe how I’m feeling right now…that was…”
Your words trail off when you can’t find a suitable label for the last ten minutes.
“Sexy?” he suggests, deadpan.
Your jaw drops open in offense.
“What? NO!”
He breaks and his lips spread wide in a grin.
You deflate and bump his shoulder, not trying to hide your own smile.
“Seriously though,” you say, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to…why did you do that?”
He looks at you evenly, his voice soft. “Look I’m not some crazy guy who goes around lookin’ to beat people up doll face. But you shouldn’t have to put up with shit like that. I’m sure that wasn’t the first time that piece of shit has pulled a stunt like that, but hopefully next time, he’ll have some decency and sense before laying hands on a woman without an explicit invitation.”
“Well in that case…that’s pretty nice.”
He scoffs with a lopsided smile and his eyes drop to your lips; his hand still pressed to your thigh. His head tilts and he leans in slightly, watching your lips part. He curls his fingers around your thigh but winces at the pull on his knuckles.
You see it and pull back, looking down at his hand.
“Let me get you fixed up.”
Once you have him bandaged up he whispers, “thanks,” still staring at his hand held in yours.
“You ready to go, or do you need to close up first?”
His question is light.
“Go where?”
“Out with me. Ice cream? A walk? Anything you want.”
“It’s the middle of the night. I’m not going anywhere but home.”
“Or we could go to the twenty-four-hour deli on the corner and get ice cream sandwiches then I’ll take you to the roof of my building and we can watch the sunrise.”
Your light touch traces along the calluses on his fingertips.
“Are you usually this friendly to everyone who is new to the neighborhood?” you ask behind a sly smile.
“Not at all doll. Only for you. You’re special.”
Your jaw goes rigid and your eyes narrow. “You can stop whatever game you’re playing.”
You pull back, releasing his hand and starting to put the first aid kit back together.
“What just happened? I’m not playing games,” he says, keeping his voice steady. “But I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”
“It’s fine. I need to go help Nat close up.”
You stand and walk to the door, your head held high. He’s not going to fool you with his sweet words.
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The next evening is slow so you spend most of it helping Nat stock the bar and clean. The hours pass by and nothing exciting happens letting your thoughts wander to Bucky. Then, as if on cue, the door opens, and you automatically look over to see who the latest customer is.
Bucky fills the doorway.
Your breath hitches and you can’t look away. He’s more dressed up tonight. A dark button down opened at the collar and dark jeans that are tight across his thick thighs.
You can’t help but think he’s here to meet someone for a date. The jealousy that surges through you is surprising and infuriating. That is, until he walks up to the bar and sits down. Right in front of you.
“Hey, doll.”
“Hey, Bucky.”
“What can I get you?” you start. “Or are you waiting for someone?”
“Yep,” he says, popping the p. “What time’s your break?”
“Oh,” you breath out. “Um…I don’t really get a long one…”
You start to wipe down the bar aimlessly, remaining quiet while you wait. You can feel him watching you, his eyes tracking your every movement.
He calls over Nat and asks, “can I get two of the special for tonight, please?”
He’s speaking to Nat but looking at you, daring you to disagree.
When you stay quiet, the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly, victory lighting up his eyes.
“If you want to take it to-go for later, that’s fine. But I thought it’d be nice to have dinner together and figured ya wouldn’t want to go out with me after I fucked up last night.”
“So dinner while I’m supposed to be working is a better option?” you shoot back.
He cringes, despite the lack of heat in your accusation then sighs defeatedly.
“I’m trying here. I want to get to know you better. I promise my intentions are good.”
You stare, getting lost in his beautiful eyes before you scan the rest of his face. He seems more vulnerable now and you want to believe him.
Nat comes back with two plates of steaming food and sets them down.
You give in and unwrap the silverware, digging into a bite of baked potato.
“Mmm,” you moan around the taste.
He freezes with his own bite halfway to his mouth, and mutters under his breath. “Are you trying to kill me?”
You fall into easy conversation about what he does for work, how you like living in the city and everything in between.
After you explain why you moved, spilling the truth between bites, he replies with, “I’m glad you picked Brooklyn.”
His fingers slide over yours and the touch is full of heat. His eyes follow the movement and his jaw tightens. He threads his fingers through yours, holding your hand across the bar.
When he meets your eyes, his are hooded and dark. “How about that ice cream tonight with a roof top view doll?”
The ‘yes’ is on the tip of your tongue as your body leans over the bar, but then you remember that you want more than just a fling and even though he said his intentions are good you can’t help but wonder why a guy like him is still single. You’re not looking for a fling.
You untangle your fingers from his, pulling back.
“Thank you, Bucky. Really. But…”
He nods, not letting you finish before he reaches into his back pocket and sets down some cash to cover the dinners.
“See ya soon doll.”
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The bar is closed on Mondays but Tuesday has you running beers up and down the bar for game night. Bucky’s back. Same time, same seat.
“You need a break doll? Something to eat?” Bucky asks before he takes a sip of beer.
He sets it down as he waits for your answer, studying you intently.
You grab a French fry from his plate and wave it around before bringing it to your lips. He grins wolfishly, catching your wrist in his hand and before you know what’s happening, he’s snagged the fry from between your fingers with his teeth. His tongue snakes out to the lick the salt from your fingertips, then he chews with a self-satisfied smile.
“I’ll let you have the rest,” he says, holding one up to your lips.
You tentatively lean forward, watching him warily in case he tries to pull it away, then chomp down.
“Just let me know when you want more,” he croons.
You continue to work, constantly aware of Bucky and the way he never takes his eyes off you. You check on him regularly, engaging in some deep conversation even with the little time you have.
As your shift nears its end he calls you over.
“Ice cream and rooftop tonight?” he asks, setting money down on the bar to pay for his food and drinks.
“I can’t tonight.”
He smiles. “No worries doll face. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
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The next night comes quickly, your tired feet aching from marching back and forth between the bar and the pool tables since it’s half price games tonight.
It’s getting late, and despite your best efforts, you can’t help but wonder where Bucky is. Maybe the last time you turned him down was the final straw. You feel a deep twinge of disappointment at the idea.
The door opens, and you look over, your eyes filled with hope, but it’s just some random couple.
You’re stomach grumbles and you realize you’ve had dinner with Bucky the last few nights and now that it’s late and he hasn’t shown you haven’t eaten.
Checking that everyone has full glasses you wipe your hands and head for the kitchen, hoping to snag something to eat.
The chef, Suzanne, greets you warmly. You ask her for a bowl of the soup and she hums in agreement, yelling out for Charlie.
A guy you’ve never seen before pops around the corner.
“Hey, I’m Charlie, the sometimes kitchen help,” he explains holding out his hand.
“Nice to meet you Charlie.”
You give him your name and tell him you’re the new bartender.
His face changes instantly, eyes going wide and his brows shooting up to his hairline. He pulls his hand back quickly.
He’s still smiling but he seems guarded all of a sudden.
“You forgot to mention the most important part…Bucky’s girl.”
“What?” you say incredulously. “I’m not Bucky’s girl! We’re just friends. He just stops by for dinner and a drink!”
You know it’s more than that. Charlie nods like he knows it’s more than that.
“Sure, whatever you say. But no offense, I’m gonna take his word for it. I’ve never seen him do anything like this before. It has the whole neighborhood talkin’.”
With that he disappears, only reappearing a few moments later with your soup, then he runs off again.
You inhale the soup, not wanting to leave Nat alone and rush back to the bar to check the drink orders.
Nat slides up next to you. “Those drinks for table six?”
You don’t answer her, instead filling her in on what happened in the kitchen.
“Charlie said I’m ‘Bucky’s girl.’ I’m not his girl. What does that even mean?”
“Aw that’s sweet! He’s never said anything like that before and I would know. Been living here my whole life.”
“No it’s not!”
“I think it’s sorta romantic,” she says wistfully. “He’s all in, claiming you far and wide when you haven’t even realized what’s right in front of your face!”
She punctuates the last words of her sentence as she stares you down.
“What’s right in front of my face?” you ask, unwilling to concede that it might be the tiniest bit sweet…in a cave man sort of way.
“He’s here,” Nat whispers, but it’s more of squeal.
You turn toward the door, your whole face lighting up even though you’re still mad at the claim he made. The door is closed, Bucky no where in sight.
Nat’s finger is suddenly in your face. “That! You want to see him. You like him coming here to see you too. Shit, when was the last time someone made this much of an effort for a date!”
She throws her hands up! “Just go out with the man!”
“You mean have sex with him?” you bite out, not forgetting about her earlier warnings.
“Either or, maybe both! What could it hurt?”
“Me!” you say defensively.
Nat’s expression softens. “I think maybe I gave you the wrong idea about him…” she fumbles. “What I really mean is I think maybe we all had the wrong idea about him.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugs with a heavy sigh. “Bucky is man. A hot as fuck man,” she teases. “And he does have a reputation…but only because everyone wishes they could get a piece of him. I really don’t remember the last girl he went out with. So either he’s really quiet about it, but if you haven’t noticed in this neighborhood everyone is up everyone else’s ass, or he hasn’t really dated.”
Nat eyes you carefully, curiously.
“Oh shit,” you mumble, laying your face in your hands. “I do want to go out with him, but I’m scared…have you seen him?”
Nat grins. “Oh yes. I have and…”
“He’s gorgeous. Like drop dead gorgeous,” you finish for her.
“Exactly,” she agrees happily, a dreamy look on her face.
You swat at her shoulder, getting her attention and gesturing to yourself.
“What? You look amazing!” she says. “It’s not like he hasn’t seen you at work before.”
“You don’t think is just a thing because I’m the new girl in the neighborhood?”
“Do people do things like that where you’re from?” she asks. “And no!” she finishes, shaking her head.
Just as her words sink in your heart sinks with them.
“Doesn’t matter anyway. I blew it, he’s not here tonight.”
“Yes he is.”
The door opens and when you look over, it’s him.
Finally!
The air charges across the space between you and you know something has changed and when his eyes meet yours it’s almost as if he knows it too. He nods toward the door, silently asking if you’re ready for that date.
“Hey Nat, you think if I ask Barry to let me off early…”
“I swear if he says no I’ll kick him in the balls myself,” Nat screeches.
You rush back to the office and find Barry sitting behind his desk. Your question rushes out and he holds up a hand to stop you before you even finish.
“Go,” is all he says, but the smile he gives you reaches his eyes.
You cross the room to Bucky, his eyes wandering over you with possessive heat and unguarded want.
When you’re standing right in front of him, your toes touching, he asks, “you ready?”
Your lips lift ever so slightly and when his large hand cups your cheek your eyelashes flutter closed. His motions are slow, teasingly so, but he’s giving you time to stop him. He bends down, letting his intentions be quite clear.
He kisses the corner of your mouth then brushes his lips over yours, so lightly, you can feel his breath. You sigh into him and his hands slide over your curves and down to your waist, his grip tightening.
Nat let’s out a cheer, effectively interrupting the moment but you can’t help but smile at her excitement.
Bucky doesn’t let go of you, his hand sliding into yours as he pulls you out the door and onto the street.
“Hey,” he says soothingly.
“Hi,” you say, tucking your chin.
His fingers press under and he lifts your eyes. “You good?”
He waits patiently for you to formulate a reply.
“I just…I’m not sure…what you expect.”
“Anything, doll. I want to know you, spend time with you.”
Dropping his voice lower and bringing his lips to the shell of your ear, he whispers, “kiss you again…for real this time.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Okay,” he agrees, his voice heavy with intention as he takes you in his arms again and drags you into his chest.
Your lips meet, tender and soft at first but as your fingers dance up his arms and grip his biceps, he growls and takes it deeper.
You moan into his mouth, working your hands higher into the hair that brushes his shoulders.
“Fuck,” he groans when he feels you give his hair a little tug.
He pulls back and you chase him for one last kiss which he happily obliges in.
“I promised you ice cream and a roof top sunrise,” he murmurs. “And I keep my promises doll.”
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@book-dragon-13  @sebstanwhore @late-to-the-party-81 @goldylions @laineyreads @randomfandompenguin @lookiamtrying @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @hallecarey1 @blackwidownat2814 @flordeamatista @buckysdollforlife​
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headkiss · 1 year
Text
give you the moon
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pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader
summary: had you known getting your first tattoo would end up with you being in love with eddie munson, you might have gotten it a lot sooner.
word count: 17.8k
warnings: smut, probably inaccurate descriptions of tattooing processes (i tried my best!), strangers to friends to lovers, fluff
a/n: this one took forever but it’s finally done!!!! i’m sorry for the wait but hopefully u guys like it enough to forgive me :D
You’ve always wanted a tattoo, and you figured now was as good a time as ever. Having just moved to Indianapolis, all by yourself, one change could lead to another.
New city, new apartment, new tattoo.
It may be irresponsible of you, but you settled for the first shop you found, the one closest to where you lived. A short walk away, harder to back out of. You knew you wouldn’t regret getting it, you just had to force yourself to sit through it, to commit.
The wind whips at your cheeks as you make your way to your consultation. You pull your sleeves over your hands and hope that it’ll be warm enough.
Once you’ve made it, the bell above the door rings to signify your entrance. A girl with brown curly hair sits at the front desk, a warm smile on her face. The place has dark floors, walls covered with different sketches that distract you for a moment.
“Hi! How can I help you?” The girl says, drawing your attention back to her. You walk the few steps up to the front desk.
“Hi, um, I’m here for a consultation,” you give her your name and the time of the appointment. “With Eddie.”
She shuffles about for a few seconds before finding what she was looking for, “yep, perfect. I’ll let him know you’re here. I’m Nancy, by the way.”
“Thanks, Nancy.”
She goes to the saloon type doors next to the desk, you watch them swing back and forth. You’re eventually drawn back to the art on the walls, eyes scanning the different styles and images. Your hands fidget with the ends of your sleeves.
A picture of the staff steals your attention next, Nancy standing next to a girl with shorter hair, their hands interlocked. Then, there’s a boy with brown hair and a kind smile. The one who really keeps you looking is the boy with long dark hair, his tattoos the most prominent.
A second later, that same boy is walking through the doors and calling your name.
“Oh, hi. That’s me,” you reply. Then wince at your awkwardness.
“Hi, I’m Eddie,” he gives you a close-mouthed smile, barely there. He’s even prettier in person than he is in that photo. “Follow me.”
He seems distant, sort of cold and you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Your nerves pick up even more.
He ushers you through the saloon doors, then through a room with three tattoo beds that’s filled with the buzzing of the machines and the other people from the picture and their clients. You end up in an office type room, certificates hang on the wall behind the desk.
Eddie takes a seat behind the desk that’s presumably his, papers scattered about and a cup overflowing with pens and pencils sitting atop of it. You stand by the door, shifting on your feet.
“You can have a seat,” he offers, gesturing to the chair facing him. He waits until you’re settled to continue. “So, is this your first tattoo?”
“Yes,” you feel nervous and you’re not sure if it’s the prospect of committing to the tattoo or if it’s the way Eddie’s gaze doesn’t move away from you.
“Well, I’m honored to be your first,” he winks, your heart stumbling at the innuendo. “So, what are we thinking?”
“The moon, on the back of my shoulder,” you pause, but he nods for you to keep going, to give more detail. “I wanted it to be a gibbous moon, almost full but not quite.”
“Alright. Got an idea for size?”
“Uh, kinda small. I think?” You huff, frustrated with your lack of an answer, “sorry I’m not so prepared.”
You stuff your hands under your thighs so that they’ll stop twisting in your lap. You cross your ankles and look down, slightly embarrassed at the way you’re acting in front of him. You were meant to grow in the city, to be better, but so far, not much has changed.
You don’t have friends, your job is slow, and you’re terrible with new people.
“‘S fine,” you think he’s being reassuring. “How’s this sound: we can try some circle stencils on for size now, then we’ll know for your appointment.”
“Okay. Thank you, Eddie.”
“‘Course. I’ll be right back.”
His exit gives you a couple of minutes to try and sort yourself out, to calm down. You want to be able to do this without the stumbles or hiccups that you’re so used to. You blow out a breath and wait for him to come back.
The way he carries himself confuses you, his almost detached nature making you overthink way too much. Although, he’s not being cruel or unkind, he’s just… you’re not sure if there’s a word to describe it.
He comes back with a couple of stencils, some sort of solution, a disposable razor, and paper towels.
“You’re gonna have to take your sweater off,” he says, setting everything down on the desk. When you don’t move to do so right away, he stares at you, waiting.
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
You slip off your sweater, your tank top underneath riding up ever so slightly with the movement. You pull it back down and set your discarded sweater on the chair behind you.
“Which shoulder?” He asks, putting on a pair of medical gloves and grabbing the razor.
“Here,” you slip the straps of both your shirt and your bra off the shoulder you choose, turning in the seat to face away from him so he’s able to do what he needs to.
He brushes your hair towards the front of your shoulder, clearing the spot he needs. He cleans off the area, then shaves it to make sure the stencil will stick, all in silence. He’s quick to apply it, his hands gentle and his breath hitting your skin in a way that has you shifting.
“Don’t move,” he chides quietly.
“Sorry.”
He doesn’t say anything more until he’s done, “okay. Have a look.”
There’s a mirror on one of the walls, and you walk over to get a good look at the size of the circle. You know it’s only the first one, but you think it’s perfect. It looks right and you’re excited to see it when it’s actually the design you want.
“I want this size,” you say, turning to face him.
“Are you sure? It’s only the first one.”
“I know, but it’s good. I like it.”
“I don’t want you changing your mind, okay?”
“I won’t! I’m sure, promise.”
He sighs, then wipes the stencil away and takes off the gloves with a snap. He takes his seat again as you put your sweater back on, goosebumps prickling your skin.
“When did you wanna book it for?” He asks.
“Whenever you’re free is fine, I’m not picky.” You don’t have anywhere else to be, really.
“You’re not the best at answering questions, huh?”
You think he’s trying to make a joke but all you manage to say is, “no, sorry.”
“You apologize a lot. You don’t have to,” he grabs something that looks like a planner then says, “I have a spot next week, if that works.”
Eddie tells you the specific day and time, and you tell him that it works. He hands you some papers to sign and read and bring back with you for next time. “Nancy will sort out payment and stuff at the desk. That’s it for today.”
“Okay. Thank you so much,” you make your way back to the front quickly, eager to go home and try and forget the entire interaction. He certainly wasn’t what you were expecting, and you didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. He was quiet, reserved, and hard to read, but he was good, you knew from the drawings in his office. He was also intriguing; a puzzle you wanted to solve.
You sort out everything with Nancy, who makes you feel a ton better about your consultation. “You look far too worried,” she says.
“I just don’t think he likes me very much.”
“No, trust me, that’s just Eddie. He’ll warm up to you, I’m sure.”
“I hope so. Anyway, thanks, Nancy.”
“See you,” she says as you walk out the door.
That night, you cuddle up and fall asleep thinking about Eddie and his demeanor, his warm hands on your skin.
-
He couldn’t get you out of his head, and that rarely happened to Eddie. He was used to meaningless things and he can’t remember the last time he felt anything for someone.
Not that he felt anything for you. You’d only met once.
Eddie spent the night after your consultation drawing way too many moons in his sketchbook, staining his hands with ink and pencil.
-
It’s two days later when you hear from Eddie again.
Your phone rings just as you’re about to shower before bed, the sun long gone though the city stays bright with lights. You hug your robe tighter around yourself and walk to where the phone hangs on the wall.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” an utterance of your name, a tone you recognize. “It’s Eddie… from Corroded Coffin Tattoos.”
“Of course! Hi, Eddie. Was there something wrong?”
“Oh, no. No,” he pauses, you hear him shuffling around on the other line. “I had a cancellation tomorrow and thought you might want the spot?”
You hate that the fact that he thought of you makes your stomach whirl. Of course, he could’ve called countless clients before you, but you like the idea that he dialed your number first better. You twist the phone cord in your fingers.
“That would be great. Thank you so much for thinking of me.”
If only you knew, he thinks. If only you knew how much he really did think of you—it was almost infuriating. How one person could have such an effect on him when he really doesn’t know them at all. He knows that you’re pretty, and you say ‘sorry’ far too much, and you smell really good, that’s all.
“Yeah. I’ll see you then.”
“Okay, see you-”
He hangs up before you can finish. You stare at the phone for a second after putting it back, wondering if that whole exchange truly happened, if you just dreamt up the whole thing. You pinch yourself until it hurts. You’re definitely awake.
You replay the conversation over and over, wondering why he hung up so abruptly, worrying about how you’re going to act tomorrow.
Eddie called you from his office, even though it was well past closing for the shop. He really needs to get himself together. He can’t be thinking so much about his client. About anyone, really. He can’t.
His head is resting in his arms when the door to his office opens. There’s only one person that never knocks and that’s Steve. He looks up and sees him leaning against the doorframe.
“Why are you still here, Steve?”
“Why are you still here?” He retorts.
“Got some stuff to do,” is all Eddie says.
“Your mood doesn’t have anything to do with the girl you just talked to on the phone, does it?”
Of all the people he could have been friends with, Steve was the most unlikely for Eddie, and yet here they are. Coworkers, and close friends. It’s almost annoying how quickly he can tell what exactly the issue is.
“I dunno. She won’t get out of my head,” Eddie shrugs, glancing down at the sketchbook he has opened on his desk, the one filled with drawings of your tattoo. “It’s annoying.”
“That’s a lot of moons, man,” Steve says as he walks closer.
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying. Maybe this is a good thing. I haven’t seen you with a girlfriend, like, ever.”
“Who said anything about a girlfriend?”
No, if anything, Eddie’s eager to get your appointment over with, to get you out of his head for good.
“Yeah, okay. Can't wait to say ‘I told you so.’ You know it won’t hurt to open up a little, man.”
Steve means well, Eddie knows he does, but the thing is it does hurt him. Or, it used to. He was used to being judged, someone the town saw as a character rather than a human. The best thing he ever did was move away, but that doesn’t mean he left the hurt behind, too.
-
You show up about fifteen minutes early for the appointment. You gave yourself far too much time, you think, because now you just have to sit and wait and the anticipation is making you more nervous the longer it goes.
The front desk was being manned by a different person today, “hi! I’m Robin, how are you?”
She talks quickly and with enthusiasm, like every word is exciting and important. You like her already.
“Hi, I’m good, thanks. I have an appointment with Eddie,” she nods in confirmation, looking down at the schedule in front of her. “I’m a little early though so… no rush.”
“Oh, it’s no problem, gives us more time to sort out the paperwork and stuff. He’s just finishing up with someone else so it won’t be too long.” She smiles at you.
“Here, I have these from my consultation,” you hand her the pages Eddie had given you to sign. You chew at the inside of your cheek as she reads over them hoping you filled everything out correctly.
“That’s great! I’ll just go tell him you’re here,” she goes through the familiar saloon doors, the buzzing of tattoo guns and light conversations slipping through.
When she comes back she informs you that he’s only going to be a couple more minutes, and instead of telling you to go take a seat, she asks, “first tattoo?”
“Yeah, I’m nervous. Mostly excited,” you give her a small smile, one that makes hers widen.
“Don’t worry! I had to take like five breaks for my first one and now here I am.” It’s then that you finally notice the ink peeking from her long-sleeve shirt, at her wrists, and on one side of her neck. “Eddie’s great, and I’m sure you’ve got great pain tolerance—I can sense it.”
You laugh, she’s somehow managed to make you feel much better in the short time you’ve been talking to her. Eddie walks out, greeted by the sound of your laughter and he almost stops in his tracks. Almost.
“Robin, stop chatting up my clients,” he says.
“I’m just being friendly, Eddie! You should try it out,” she replies.
You can tell it’s in good nature, because he ruffles her hair as he passes and leaves it there. From what you’ve seen so far, the workers here are close; a tight-knit group of people and you admire that friendship, long for it.
“Follow me,” he says. It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you because of your distraction, but when you look up you find him staring at you, waiting.
“Okay,” you trail behind him as he leads you to the bed furthest from the doors, the one tucked away in the back of the room.
“You eat and drink water before coming? I don’t want you passing out on me.”
“Yeah. Yes, I’m good.”
He looks at you like he’s unsure, but moves along anyway. Eddie’s only worried because you’re his client and he has to, no other reason. He can’t be worrying because he thinks you’re pretty and sweet and far too kind. There’s absolutely no way.
“So, I did a couple sketches,” a couple is an understatement. “Have a look and let me know which one you wanna go with.”
You take a look at the five he’s laid out, all as you asked. Gibbous moons, both waxing and waning, some shaded more than others, some simple outlines. The one that catches your eye is a happy medium, fine lines with dotting for shading. It’s beautiful, exactly what you envisioned.
“This one. It’s really good.”
He tips his head down, “thanks. I’ll go get my stuff and we’ll get started.”
He’s not gone for very long, though it’s enough time for you to watch one of the artists at work, the boy with the brown hair. You watched the way he moved the needle, only looking away when Eddie came back and grabbed your attention.
“Gonna do the stencil like before, so you’ll need to move your shirt,” he says, looking down at his station and getting everything ready.
“Would it be easier if I just, uh, take it off?”
That makes his hands hover, paused in his task. He tries to shake it off; he’s seen a ton of people shirtless at the job and he’s never been affected by that, so why should he be now?
“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Okay,” you decide it must be easier without your shirt—less things in the way—so you take it off and try not to worry about it.
Eddie applies the stencil just as he did a couple days ago. Gentle, precise hands that you’ll feel the ghost of for hours after your appointment, you’re sure. His head bent close as he pushes the edges down so you can feel him breathing, catch his scent for a moment.
When he’s done, he holds up a wide handheld mirror for you to get a look at it without having to walk all the way to the mirror on the opposite side of the room.
Again, you’re impressed by his drawing, and seeing it on your skin makes you realize that you’ll carry a part of Eddie forever after this. His linework, his trace.
“So,” he prompts you to speak as your thoughts have taken you away, “what do you think?”
“It’s great. Really.”
“You’re sure that’s where you want it?”
He double checks every single detail. That you’ve picked the one you want, that it’s the right size, that you really want to do this. He does so until you’re laying on your stomach on the bed, positioned so he can work comfortably at your side.
“Okay, I’m gonna do a small line, just so you see how it feels,” he warns you, and you tense in anticipation. “Relax.”
“Sorry. ‘M just nervous.”
“You’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
He manages to ease you with very few words.
The sound of the tattoo gun sounds louder when it’s so close, more daunting, but you’re eager to get started only to get rid of the anticipation. He draws a short line after giving you a quiet warning of, “here we go.”
It’s not nearly as bad as you’d expected. A scratch, a small sting, but it’s manageable.
“You okay?” He checks.
“Yeah, it’s not that bad.”
“Told you you’d be fine,” he says so softly you almost miss it.
Your head is turned to the side where he sits, and you can see him in your peripheral vision as he works. His legs clad in dark, ripped denim, the tattoos peeking through. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up to show his forearms. You shut your eyes and try to stop staring.
He works quietly, though you can sometimes hear him humming along to whatever song is playing. You don’t try to make conversation because you don’t want to be a distraction.
It doesn’t take too long before he gets to the shading, telling you, “some people find this part a bit more painful. So you know.”
“Okay, thanks.”
He’s right, it is more painful and you find it harder to keep yourself occupied by looking around. You find it harder to ignore the feeling of the needle.
Eddie notices. He doesn’t know how, but he notices. Maybe it’s the way your eyes are squeezed shut at certain points, the hand of the arm furthest from him bunched in a fist. He decides he wants to ease the process for you in any way he can.
“So, why the moon?” He asks.
“Huh?”
“Why’d you choose the moon?”
“Oh, sorry,” you don’t see him shake his head at your unnecessary apology. “I’ve always loved it, how it has a cycle. The way it looks in the sky. Just, everything. Looking at it was a way of reminding myself I’m alive, kind of. ‘Cause I can still see it. I guess I chose this one to remind myself that even if it’s not whole now, it will be eventually.”
He wants to pick at your brain more, because he thinks it must be a beautiful place to be able to describe things the way you just did. You talk like it means a lot to you and the fact that you shared it with him so openly when you’ve been so quiet isn’t lost on him.
“That’s really…wow.”
“Sorry. I kinda rambled there.”
“No, no. I’ve just never looked at it that way.”
He asks you more questions after that, trying his best to keep your mind off of the needle and on the conversation. He asks how long you’ve been in the city, then, why you moved, and you give him honest answers for all of it.
Not long at all. Because I needed to get out, to be somewhere nobody knows me.
That made him think of Hawkins, of every person there who called him a freak, who looked at him like one. He needed to get out, too.
“Alright, you’re all done, just gotta wrap it up for you,” he says, putting the gun down and wiping over your skin one more time. “Do you wanna have a look first?”
“Please,” you nod.
He likes the way the word sounds coming out of your mouth—he gives himself a mental slap for that.
You sit up and he holds the mirror just as he did before. You can't help but gasp when you see it, exactly what you pictured. He did such a good job that you resist the urge to hug him for it.
“Eddie, it’s beautiful.”
So are you, he thinks.
“I’m glad you like it,” is what he says.
“I love it. Seriously, thank you.”
“It’s my job. Let me wrap it and then you’re good to go.”
He does, carefully and with the same gentle hands that have become far too familiar by now. When he’s done, he takes off his gloves with a snap, and hands you a pamphlet and some cleaning products to use at home.
“Thanks again, Eddie. You’re really good,” you say, putting your shirt back on.
“No problem,” he flashes you a small smile, one you’ll hold onto. “Um, here’s the card for the shop. You know, in case you need anything. Just ask for me, okay?”
“I will, thank you,” you take the card from him, your fingers brush his as you do. The name of the shop is written on it in bold, sharp letters: Corroded Coffin Tattoos. Underneath it, the phone number.
You’re led back through the saloon doors and met with both Robin and Nancy by the desk. They’re talking with wide smiles and rosy cheeks, their hands tangled loosely.
“I don’t pay you two to flirt,” Eddie says, retreating back where the two of you just came from.
Robin slips away, presumably done with her shift at the desk now that Nancy’s back. She gave you a kind goodbye, and makes sure that you promise if you ever want another tattoo to go back there.
“How was it?” Nancy asks you.
“Good! I’m really happy with it.”
“That’s what we like to hear! Eddie’s great. He gave me my first tattoo, too. Robin was mad for ages and then made sure she gave me the next one,” she grins. “Anyway, let’s get you taken care of.”
You pay for the tattoo, and then, you’re off.
It’s times like now that you wish you had someone to talk to, because you’re having way too many thoughts about your tattoo artist that you might never see again and you need to know if you’re reading into things too much. You need to know if his hands linger longer than they need to on other clients, if you imagined the way his eyes stayed on you, too.
You settle for overthinking on your walk home instead.
-
You didn’t think you’d end up using the card Eddie gave you. Not unless you were calling to book another tattoo, but here you were, leaning on the wall by your phone and dialing the number.
It was just a quick question, really, but you were still nervous. You’d only gotten the tattoo yesterday and already you were calling.
You’d realized when reading the aftercare instructions he gave you, that you didn’t have any unscented, gentle lotion like it called for, and you wanted to know if he had any suggestions for what works best. You tried going to the pharmacy, but the options were overwhelming.
You ended up buying something anyway because of how long you spent there. A useless magazine that was the closest thing to you when you noticed how some of the employees were looking at you. Some girl reading way too many lotion labels.
Yeah, definitely embarrassing, and definitely something you won’t let yourself live down.
The phone doesn’t ring for long before someone picks up, “Corroded Coffin Tattoos, Nancy speaking.”
“Hi Nancy,” you tell her your name.
“Hey! How can I help you?”
“Um, Eddie told me to call and ask for him if I had any questions,” you explain. “I was wondering if he’s available for a minute?”
“He did?” She sounds surprised.
“Um. Yeah.”
“Huh. Usually he makes one of us deal with calls instead. I’ll put you on hold and let him know, okay?”
“‘Kay. Thanks, Nancy.”
Desperately, you try not to overthink what she said. That he doesn’t usually get his clients to talk to him for things as minor as this. Why would he want you to, then? You don’t know why every little thing he does sends your mind into a whirlwind of ‘why’s and ‘what does this mean’s.
It’s maybe two minutes—silence filled by your thoughts—before the phone is picked up again.
“Hello?”
You can tell that it’s Eddie.
“Hi. Sorry to bother you but I just had a quick question for you.”
Eddie knows it’s you; he’s not expecting a call from anyone else. Not that he was expecting yours, it’s just that you’re the only client he’s even told to ask for him. He tries to cover that up by saying, “who’s this?”
“Oh, guess I should’ve said. Sorry,” you remind him of your name, as if he could forget it.
“Don’t be sorry. What’s your question?”
He’s quick to get to the point, and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s eager to help, or if it’s that he’s eager to get the conversation over with. Nancy’s words replay in your head. Usually he makes one of us deal with calls instead.
“I noticed that for aftercare, it says to use gentle lotion,” he hums along, urging you to continue. “I wasn’t sure what exactly that meant and I even went to the pharmacy but I didn’t know which one was good-”
“It’s okay,” he cuts you off. “I’ve got some here at the shop. Do you have time today to come pick it up?”
“Yeah! Yes, that’s great. Thanks so much, I promise I’ll get out of your hair after this.”
He doesn’t like the way that sits with him. He doesn’t want you out of his hair. He wants to see you again, he’s realized, and it’s almost too much for him to handle. The way he feels about you is brand new for him—never felt before. He wants to know everything about you.
“‘Course. See you soon, then.”
“Bye, Eddie.”
He hangs up.
You leave a bit after that. Not too soon, because you didn’t want to make it seem like you didn’t have other things to do, even though you didn’t. You’ve memorized the walk to the store at this point, and it doesn’t take you long to get there. You’re greeted by Nancy once again, only in person this time.
“Welcome back,” she says.
“Hi,” you smile at her, you hope it doesn’t look like a nervous grimace. “Um, Eddie told me to come here to pick something up.”
“Right, okay,” she stands, heading in the direction of his office, pausing to say, “he must really like you.”
Great. Some more material for you to analyze about Eddie and how he acts with you. It’s odd to have someone on your mind so constantly, to try and make sense of it. He has something about him that pulls you in, and you’re not sure how, or why, but you let yourself be pulled.
His hair is tied in a low bun when you see him, his bangs and stray strands of hair make it look messy, like he hasn’t had the time to redo it. And yet, he had the time to speak to you on the phone and now.
“Moon girl,” he says, lips turned up just enough to be noticeable.
“Eddie, hi,” your hands twist themselves into the sleeves of your knitted sweater. “Thank you for taking time for me, I know it was a dumb question.”
“It wasn’t. I’m glad you care enough to make sure you’re using the right things,” he says. He holds out the lotion, “speaking of.”
“Perfect. How much do I owe?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He probably shouldn’t make a habit of giving things away for free to girls he thinks are pretty and that confuse him way too much. For you, though, he’ll make an exception. It’s not like anybody else is driving him nuts like you are, anyway.
“No, you’ve done so much already. Please let me pay.”
“It’s fine, I promise that one bottle of lotion won’t hurt me.” But this possibly being the last time I see you might, he thinks.
“If you’re sure.”
“I am,” he confirms. “I’ll see you around then.”
“Bye, Eddie. Thank you.”
“Bye, moon girl.”
You look down at your feet as he walks away, letting your hair curtain your face. You really shouldn’t be feeling so giddy because of a fucking bottle of lotion and a new nickname, but you are.
“Holy shit,” Robin’s voice comes from the front desk. You hadn’t noticed, but she must’ve walked out at some point during your quick interaction with Eddie.
You curse yourself and try to hide the smile that threatens to spread across your face. “Hey, Robin.”
“Well hello,” she’s looking at you like she knows something you don’t, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t know how you did it but he’s never acted like that with any client. Like, ever.”
You don’t say anything, biting the inside of your lip to distract from the butterflies in your stomach.
“And, I’m so glad you’re here,” she changes the subject, thankfully. “Because Eddie mentioned you’re new to the city and god knows I could use friends who don’t work here and I wanted to know if you wanted to come for drinks sometime?”
Eddie spoke about you? Robin wants to be your friend? You can’t wrap your head around either of those things. It’s been so long since you’ve hung out with someone who wasn’t family. And even then, it was tiring, not fun.
You realize she’s still waiting for an answer when she clears her throat.
“Sorry, um. Yeah, that would be nice.”
“Yay!” She cheers. “What’s your number? I’ll call you next time there’s plans.”
You write it down on a scrap piece of paper for her, and she beams at you when she takes it.
“Eddie‘s gonna be thanking me for this one later,” she teases. “I think we’ll be great friends.”
You look at her smile, at her crooked tie that rests atop an oversized button up. You think she might be right about that.
-
As soon as you leave Robin and Nancy go to Eddie’s office. An intervention of sorts. They walk in without knocking (the door was open anyway) and stand in front of him with some look.
He’s pretty sure he knows why they’re both staring at him with knowing smiles, but he tries to ignore them and busy himself with some sketches.
Robin’s not having it, so she sits in the chair across from Eddie, kicking her feet up onto his desk.
“What do you want?” He sighs.
“Um, hello? Are we not gonna pretend that you weren’t flirting with her in your own, weird, Eddie way?” Robin starts.
“Dunno what you’re talking about.”
“Come on,” Nancy joins the conversation, on Robin’s side as always. “You’ve never told a client to ask for you, or given them free stuff.”
“Yeah! And, you were all ‘see you around, moon girl, hey let me stare at you and then not do anything about it,’” Robin lowers her voice, imitating him very inaccurately.
“I don’t know. She was nice, that’s all.”
“Nice enough to break your little rule of being mister nonchalant. I think you like her,” she’s right, but Eddie doesn’t even want to admit that to himself, let alone his friends.
He doesn’t say anything, shifting in his seat. He knows they both mean well, but he doesn’t know what to think and an ambush isn’t necessarily helping that. The pit in his stomach he’s had since he realized he might never see you again hasn't lessened, and the memory of your perfume or the feeling of your skin hasn’t faded.
So, maybe you did have an effect on him, but it doesn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter in the first place because he wouldn’t let it.
“Look, Eddie, we’re not trying to make you admit anything,” Nancy says, “we just noticed that you acted differently with her. Steve did, too, I’m sure. And it was a good different. You seemed less guarded, I guess.”
“What she said!” Robin adds.
“Yeah, thanks guys, but it’s nothing, okay?”
They share a look, one that Eddie doesn’t understand but he’s gotten used to their silent communications over time. He scratches at the back of his neck, nervous about what they’re thinking.
“Anyway, I got her number,” Robin says, holding the small paper you wrote on for Eddie to see.
He grabs it, staring at your handwriting and the small heart you added next to your name. He fights a smile at the sight of it, cute and lopsided and though he doesn’t know you well, it’s very you.
He clears his throat, handing the paper back. “I’ve got her number on file already.”
“It’s not for you! It’s for me and Nance. We’re gonna be friends,” she grins, proud.
“We’re probably gonna invite her next time we go out, and wanted you to know. Just in case you care,” Nancy says, explaining.
Just in case you care.
He does care, he thinks. He cares way too much for someone he’s met three times and knows very little about. He knows you’re pretty, you apologize a ton, you fidget with your hands when you’re nervous, and you like the moon.
He knows that he cares what you think about him, and that when you called the tattoo he gave you beautiful, it meant more to him than most compliments do. ‘Cause it was you who said it. It’s too much for him.
Maybe he’ll skip out on the next outing.
“That’s nice,” he settles for.
“She’s new to the city and she’s cool. Don’t you think, Eddie?” Robin asks.
He swipes her boot-clad feet from his desk in response.
“We just don’t want you to hold yourself back, that’s all. You never go on dates or anything, even though you’ve had many chances,” Nancy says, softer now that she sees Eddie’s mind is full.
“Thanks for caring, you guys, seriously. But I’m fine. I like being single.”
“So, just be friends with her, then,” Robin suggests.
Her and Nancy leave him alone after that, his mind a bigger mess than before and it’s completely surrounding you. He doesn’t understand how someone could make him rethink everything like he is.
I like being single, he’d said.
And yet, when he imagines going on a date with you, giving you flowers, complimenting your dress or your hair, he’s not sure how true that statement is.
-
Your days drag by. You work in a small café, and whenever you’re not there, you’re either wasting away hours in your apartment or taking aimless walks. It’s a never-ending cycle, a carousel spinning round and round.
The only eventful thing that happened to you (other than your new tattoo) was accidentally spilling coffee all over yourself at work and having to stick out the rest of your shift in wet clothes. Not necessarily something you want to remember.
You’re beginning to lose hope that Robin will ever use your number.
It shocks you when your phone finally rings. You try to convince yourself it’s telemarketers, a wrong number, anything not to get your hopes up. Lucky for you, it actually is Robin.
“Hello?” Is your automatic word when you pick up.
“Hi! Listen, I’m so sorry it took so long to call,” she doesn’t have to say it to know it’s her. Robin has a very distinct way of speaking; rushed and animated. “So, I actually lost the paper. Silly me! But, then I found it and I had to convince the others to want to go out. Anyway, you wanna come?”
“Hi, Robin. That’s okay,” you find yourself smiling. Your first real one in a while. “When?”
“Oh! I forgot to say. Tonight?”
“I can do that,” you try to sound excited, you hope she can tell.
“Perfect! Do you have a pen and paper? I’ll tell you the place.”
You reach for your notepad and pen and do your best not to drop the phone in the process. Somehow, you manage.
“Yep, ready.”
She rambles off an address, a meeting time, and then, “shit. Boss is coming, better act like I’m working. Bye!”
She hangs up, and you know who she means when she says ‘boss.’
You’ve been trying your best not to think of Eddie, but it’s easier said than done. You constantly think you see him in crowds that pass by. A head of long, curly hair here, a worn leather jacket there. It’s confusing and almost embarrassing.
This boy who you barely know, taking up so much space in your life.
You’re reminded that you’ll most likely be seeing him tonight, as long as you’re right in assuming that by ‘the others,’ Robin meant her coworkers. The thought makes you nervous, makes your stomach do things you aren’t used to.
Despite the time you had between the phone call and when you had to leave, you’re in a hurry to get ready. Picking your outfit was the hardest part, because you’d never been to the place before. You decided on a dress that was simple enough, a denim jacket that you’d probably end up taking off (you get warm when you drink), and your trusty Doc Martens.
Your makeup is a little messy, but you don’t have enough time to fix it so you act like the smudged eyeliner was purposefully done. Your hair was left down.
Walking through the doors of the bar, you’re a couple minutes late and a little out of breath from your rushing. You look around in search of a familiar face when waving catches your eye.
It’s Robin, who’s waving the most obviously, her arm swinging back and forth until Nancy pulls it down and says something to her. Probably telling her you’ve seen them and she can stop. It’s sweet.
You make your way through the crowd towards the booth they’d secured. The boy, who’s introduced to you as Steve, is sitting in the corner on one side, Robin and Nancy on the other. Eddie’s absence is noted, and you guess you must’ve looked confused because Robin spoke up and said, “he’s just in the bathroom.”
She beckons you to sit with her and Nancy, and you fall into conversation easily. Even Steve is easy to talk to and you’ve only just learned his name. Sometimes you worry you’re intruding in their group, an outsider. In a way, you are, because you don’t work with them nor have you been friends with any of them for a long time, but they have yet to make you feel that way.
It’s a far cry from the friends (or lack thereof) you had back home, in the best way possible.
When Eddie comes back, the first thing he sees is you. He’s shocked. Not because you’re there—he was well aware of you being invited—but because you look like you belong with his friends. You fit right in, and you aren’t even trying. Then, he notices your dress and he wishes he could ignore the feeling he gets.
He’s painfully aware of how pretty you are, and when you look over, as if feeling his eyes on you, you give him a small smile and wave. He walks over and slides into the booth next to Steve as casually as possible.
“You look nice,” he says. It’s the best he can come up with.
“Thank you.”
The two of you are too busy looking at each other and trying to figure out what to say when the others share some kind of look. Knowing.
Your nerves pickup when Eddie’s around and you scold yourself for it. You have no business feeling anything towards him, and yet, his very simple compliment will be the root of your daydreams for days to come.
“I’m gonna get a drink,” you think you need one. “What’s everyone else want?”
“I’ll help you bring them,” Robin says.
You both stand, and everyone tells you what they want. You make your way to the bar and wait your turn. The feelings you have towards Eddie are confusing, and you’re not exactly sure what they even are. Intrigue, attraction, tension. Whatever it is, it’s unfamiliar.
Robin leans on the bar beside you, noticing you looking towards Eddie before even you do. When you pry your eyes away, she’s smirking at you.
“He likes you, you know?”
“Who, Eddie?” You ask even though you know that’s who she’s talking about. “No, he doesn’t. I actually think he dislikes me.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding. I’ve never seen him act like he does around you, and I’ve known him a really long time. Seriously.”
“He’s just being nice,” that’s all it is, you’re convincing her as well as yourself.
“Please. I know he’s hard to read and seems kind of closed-off, but he’s warmer towards you than most people. He barely even talks to clients, usually.”
Everything she’s saying, you can tell she thinks is true, but if you let yourself think it, too, you’d be absolutely fucked. Your mind would go wild with scenarios and imagining what could happen. You’re doing enough of that as is.
“I don’t know, Robin.”
“You’ll see, trust me.”
Unbeknownst to you, a very similar conversation is happening back at the table. Steve and Nancy are trying to knock some sense into Eddie, to get him to realize it’s okay to let someone else in. He denies it all just as you did, his head a mess.
He realizes that you’re not his client anymore, you’re here as a possible friend, and it scares him. There’s no guise to hide under with his urge to care for you.
When you and Robin return with the drinks, you’re the one who hands Eddie his, and when his fingers brush against yours, just barely, he feels them tingle even after the contact ends.
You loosen up a little bit as the night goes on, and you do end up taking your jacket off. The spaghetti straps of your dress leave your tattoo exposed, and Eddie can’t help but look at it. He’s always proud of his work, but seeing it on you is different for him. He likes that his mark is on you.
Nancy and Robin leave first, walking out leaned into each other. The rest of you follow shortly after, Steve slipping out after a quick goodbye. When you stand, you stumble slightly. Eddie catches you, a hand wrapped around your upper arm.
“Let me walk you home,” he says, his hand trailing down your arm lightly before he pulls away completely.
“That’s okay, Eddie. Really.”
You put your jacket back on and struggle to find one of the sleeves, your arm reaching back awkwardly. Once again, Eddie’s quick to help you, pulling your jacket over and guiding your arm to the right spot. You thank him quietly.
“C’mon, it’s dark out.”
“You’re not gonna let me say no, are you?”
He shakes his head, that small smile you so rarely see making an appearance.
The walk is quiet for a bit, the chilled air of the night nipping at your skin, your arms pulling your jacket tight to your chest. He falls into step next to you easily, pace matching yours so he stays right next to you.
He can tell you’re cold, and he resists the urge to throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you closer to warm you up. It’d be weird, he thinks. You barely know him and he’s sure you’d much rather be walking with one of the girls right now than with him.
“Sorry for, like, intruding in your friend group.”
Though you haven’t felt like an outsider, you do feel bad about worming your way into their group that seemed to have stayed the same for so long. You feel bad for the change you caused, the shift.
“What? You’re not,” he says.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, moon girl. I am.”
He knows he might not be the most welcoming person, but he doesn’t mind having you around, really. What he minds is the confusion that comes along with it, which isn’t your fault at all. That’s on him.
“Okay. Thanks for letting me come, then.”
“I think Robin would have smacked me if I didn’t. Besides, you’re nice to have around.”
He doesn’t know if it’s the few drinks or if it’s just a fluke, but the bit of honesty slips out of him with ease. Eddie’s not a trusting person, he’s been through too much for that, but he has never once felt like you were judging him.
The rest of the walk to your apartment is filled with light conversation and small, awkward silences. Having him next to you does make you feel safer, though. You never know what could happen.
He walks you all the way up to your door. You pull out your keys and fiddle with them, your hand shakes when you try to insert it into the lock. You miss a couple of times and feel the embarrassment scorch you. You don’t know if it’s the cold, or the drinks, or if it’s him making your hands unstable. Maybe it’s all of the above.
Yet again, Eddie helps you. He comes up behind you, his chest hovering over your back, close enough to feel the heat of his body, not close enough to touch.
“Here, sweetheart” he wraps his hand around yours and guides the key into the slot, the pet name slipping out without him noticing.
You do notice, though. He says it so softly, and you think it’s your favorite word that’s come out of his mouth so far. It has your heartbeat picking up, a steady thump in your chest.
“Thanks,” you breathe out.
You turn around, leaving the key in the door for now. He’s much closer than you were expecting and he doesn’t back away. Your back against your door, your nose almost touching his.
Then, something shifts, and he’s leaning in and kissing you.
It takes you a second to get over your initial shock, but you recover quickly, winding your arms around his neck and kissing him back. He makes a sound against your mouth when you do, pressing you further into the door. He has a thigh between yours, his hands holding your waist tightly.
He kisses you like he means it, and you forget about everything else. You forget that this Eddie is the same one who puzzles you so much, that not long ago you were convinced that you’d never see him again. And yet, he’s here, kissing you sick in your hallway.
He sucks at your bottom lip, pulling away and letting it snap back into place, opening his eyes to look at you for a second, then he dives back in. Soon enough, he’s licking along the seam of your lips to open you up, and his tongue has your knees weak.
When you whimper into his mouth, he tenses.
He’s snapped back into reality, realizing that he just made out with you against your door. He pulls away, pushing his fingers into his hair. There’s a sudden change, though this one feels much worse than the one where he kissed you.
There are too many things in his head. Thinking he shouldn’t be doing this or that you’ll hate him for it. You’re about to open your mouth and ask him what’s wrong when he speaks first.
“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he steps back until he’s against the wall opposite from you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Eddie-”
“No, shit. I’m sorry. Good night.”
He’s walking away before you can say anything else. You stand frozen for what could be minutes before finally letting yourself into your apartment. Closing and locking the door behind you, you lean your forehead against the wood and wonder what the fuck just happened.
You’re not sure what you did wrong to make him have to leave so suddenly, and you know it’ll torment you constantly. Replaying in the back of your mind. The worst part is, you were ready to invite him inside, to let him do whatever he wanted with you. He was gone before you could even get there.
Eddie feels awful for leaving the way he did, and he thinks about turning around and knocking on your door the whole way home. He never does, though. He’s sure you don’t want to see him.
You both have a fitful sleep that night. Blocks away, both tossing and turning in bed with that kiss plaguing your minds.
-
Robin and Nancy’s calls grow more frequent over the following couple of weeks, and in turn, so do your encounters with Eddie. You’ve become closer, would like to say you’ve become friends, even. Though, nothing like the kiss that the two of you choose to ignore happens again.
You chalked it up to his tipsiness, he tries to forget it altogether.
It’s not because it was bad, or unwanted. It’s quite the opposite, actually. Eddie’s so used to kissing meaning absolutely nothing, leading to more every single time. Your kiss, though, was completely different. It made him feel more than he knew he was capable of.
He’s surprised that you have yet to say something about it, especially considering the way that he left. It’s a two way street; he doesn’t bring it up at all, either.
He wants to. He wants to be able to explain himself to you, to tell you why he had to pull himself away so quickly. Only, he’s not sure how. He doesn’t know how to explain the way he finds himself drawn to you, the reason he kissed you, or the feeling that runs through him every time you lock eyes. If he can’t even make sense of it himself, how is he supposed to make sense of it to you?
He can’t even bring himself to tell anyone about it because he knows, as much as they try, it won’t help.
Tonight, you’re all piled on the couches in Steve’s apartment (it’s the nicest one) eating pizza straight from the box and chatting. It’s nice to be a part of a true friend group. You’ve never had anything like it before.
“Eddie, you left your guitar here, you know?” Steve says.
He plays guitar? Fuck.
“Shit, yeah. I did.”
“You know what that means,” Robin draws out the last word, shimmying her shoulders.
“No. Absolutely not,” Eddie shakes his head.
“Please! Serenade us, Eddie.”
They go back and forth for a bit and your gaze switches between the two of them like you’re watching a game of ping pong.
“I’d like to hear you play,” you pitch in.
Robin—of course—wears a smirk. She’s been trying to get the two of you together since she saw how you interacted, and she knows Eddie won’t say no to you. He couldn’t if he tried.
“Really?” Eddie asks softly.
“Yeah. I didn’t know you played,” you shift in your seat, “I’d love to hear it. If you want.”
He fiddles with his guitar pick necklace, which you catch. Maybe that should’ve been a dead giveaway that he’s a musician, but you’d never noticed it before, usually hidden by the collar of his shirt.
Eddie’s not usually a nervous person, but the prospect of you listening to him play has him feeling that way. He’s never worried so much about how someone looks at him, or what they might think. With you, he worries because he wants to impress you, he’s realized.
“Yeah, okay. Just for you, I’ll go grab it.”
Just for you. You turn your face away to try and hide how it affects you.
He asks Steve where he left it, and goes off to retrieve it. You watch him walk away until he disappears behind a corner. There’s something about him that pulls you in, something you wish you could figure out. You know you like him, it’s quite obvious, but it’s the kind that has thoughts of him crowding your mind and that has you overthinking every word.
“You guys are paining me, I hope you know,” Robin says.
“We’re just friends. Seriously.”
“Are you sure about that?” Steve adds on. Nancy tends to just observe when the topic of you and Eddie is brought up. She’s a rational person, and she’s trying to let it work itself out naturally. Though, she’s sure it will work out eventually. Hopefully sooner than later.
Eddie comes back before you can manage a reply, holding an acoustic guitar decorated with messy, white, painted-on lettering that says ‘this machine slays dragons.’
He sits down and tunes the guitar first, focused on his task. It gives you a chance to look at him closely, lets you get away with it because the others are watching him, too. Waiting for him to start to play. When he does, you’re transfixed.
Your eyes don’t stray from him at all throughout the song he plays. His fingers move with so much ease, his rings catching the light. It’s no surprise that he’s talented with his hands, just look at the art he creates on people’s bodies everyday. But, this is another layer to it, a piece of him that made you want to see more. Made you want to collect every jigsaw piece until you had the whole image.
You think you could listen to him play for hours on end and never get tired of his strumming. Yeah, you really do like him.
When he finishes, everyone gives him a round of applause, and he hopes his hair does enough to cover up the blush that blooms on his cheeks. He looks to you first, and you’re beaming, looking at him like he’s just done something groundbreaking.
“That was amazing, Eddie,” you say.
“It’s nothing special,” he replies.
“It is. You’re really talented,” you sound so sincere it squeezes his heart in a fist. “Double talented, actually.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
He lets it slip again, and you soak it up. Eddie tries to avoid the looks from his friends, especially after the pet name. Surely, they’re all wearing smug smiles and plotting ways to talk him into giving whatever the thing between the two of you is a go.
He sets the guitar aside, clearing his throat amidst the awkward silence. You look at your lap and frown at the run in your tights that you just noticed, avoiding being the first to say anything.
Every new detail you learn about Eddie only makes you like him more. You’re still not sure if he even considers you a friend, but you certainly consider him one. You would ask but decide to save yourself the stress of having to bring it up. The worst part is, the idea of him not liking you hurts more than you’d like to admit.
The silence is eventually broken, and the floodgates of conversation have opened back up. You and Eddie both let out a breath of relief, synchronized in secrecy.
When you get up to leave, Eddie suddenly has the urge to go, too, and he offers to take you home. Much like the time before, he doesn’t let you decline the offer. He’s just being nice, you think to yourself, he would do it for anyone.
This time, he drove, and he opens the passenger door for you when you reach his car. It smells like him inside, sandalwood, something sweet, the underlying smokiness of cigarettes that you don’t mind when it comes to him. He has a pair of dice hanging from his mirror, though they’re twenty-sided instead of your average six.
“You’ll have to give me directions back to yours,” he says, starting the car. “I remember the area, but…”
Yes, he remembers the area all too well. It’s where he lingered after he sprung a kiss on you and then walked away. It’s where he jerked himself around mentally trying to decide whether he should go back to you or just go home.
“Don’t worry, I can be your map.”
The drive is silent save for the music humming through the speakers and your occasional instructions on which turns to take. It isn’t awkward, you don’t think. It’s comfortable in the way that you don’t feel the need to fill it.
One of Eddie’s hands reaches out and lightly tugs on your skirt, “this looks really nice on you.”
He pulls it away after he says it and you wish he didn’t.
“Oh,” you look down at the fabric, something you’ve owned for years, worn when you can’t figure anything else out. It’s never been anything special, but now, you feel like it might be. “Thank you.”
Eddie feels inclined to compliment you all of the time, he’s learned, but he often lets them float in his head rather than say them to you.
He parks on the street by your apartment complex soon after, but you don’t get out right away. You unbuckle your seatbelt and place a hand on the door, but he stops you.
The sight of your building has him thinking about the night you kissed for what feels like the thousandth time. He wants to kiss you again and he clenches his fists to ground himself. If you’re any bit as torn up about it as him, he wants to know. He also wants to try and explain himself to you, even if he still isn’t sure how.
“Hey. About that night,” he doesn’t have to specify. You know exactly what he’s talking about. Your hand lets go of the door handle, settling in your lap. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”
“You are?”
You don’t want him to be sorry, or to feel bad about it. You only want to know what you did to scare him off the way you did. You also want him to kiss you again.
“Um, yeah. I shouldn’t have just sprung onto you like that.”
“Why did you?” Is what you say next.
“I dunno. You just looked so pretty, and I had the urge. The drinks gave me the strength to do it, I guess.”
He hadn’t been drunk, not one bit, but he doesn’t want to use the alternate explanation just yet. He doesn’t want to say ‘I kissed you because you confuse me more than anyone else. Because I’ve never felt so bent out of shape because of one person. Because you were looking at me like you wanted me to, and I can’t say no to you.’
He could, but he doesn’t want to.
“You think I’m pretty?”
He nods, almost ashamed about it.
“I think you’re pretty, too, Eddie,” his eyes lock onto yours, “and I’m not sorry you kissed me at all.”
“What?”
“I liked kissing you. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come inside before you left.”
You don’t know where your candidness is coming from, but you can’t stop yourself anymore. You’ve wondered and wondered what could’ve happened that night had he stayed, and by the way his gaze flicks down to your lips, you think you might find out.
The car suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker, when he asks, “does that offer still stand?”
You nod, he shuts off the car. You both get out, walking up to your place in a sort of haze. Neither of you know what will come from any of this, you’re going in blind and it’s as exciting as it is nerve-wracking.
Things slow down once you’re inside. It’s as if a fog has cleared and now, you’re both painfully aware of everything you’re doing, or saying. His eyes flit around your apartment in silence, looking at your bookshelf, noting the lack of personal photos.
You cut in before he can comment on your place, “can I get you anything? Water, or…”
When he responds, it’s not to your question. Instead, he asks you one: “how’s your tattoo healing?”
He’s been curious about how you’re feeling with it ever since he caught glimpses of it that night at the bar. You pause by your small kitchen island, looking him over before you can manage to reply.
“Oh. Good, I think,” you shrug a shoulder, “I don’t know enough about tattoos but it hasn’t bothered me much.”
“I can look at it, if you want.”
“Are you sure?”
You say it as if he would be going through lots of trouble to do so, when in reality he’s using it as an excuse to get his hands on you. Tattoos are familiar, not foreign the way his feelings for you are. It’s an excuse to ease himself into whatever this is.
“‘Course I am, let me see.”
“Okay. Light’s better in the bathroom.”
He follows you into your bathroom, and you wish you’d taken into account how small it is because you’re forced to be close to him and it’s making you nervous. The anticipation and unknown a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.
“Shirt off,” he says, his voice smooth.
You listen, because it’s hard not to when he sounds the way he does. You turn to face the mirror and peel your shirt away, tossing it to the ground when you do. You’re suddenly very aware that your bra isn’t the nicest you own, and your instinct is to cover it with your arms.
Eddie stops you, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror, his hands wrapping around your wrists gently, pulling them down. “Don’t you dare. You’re beautiful.”
He looks away after he says it, but you can tell he means it. It’s in the way he makes sure you’re looking at him when he speaks, the way he squeezes your wrists reassuringly before letting them go.
For a second, he forgot why you’re even in the position you are. He forgets that he’s meant to be looking at your tattoo until you say, “how is it?”
“Right, yeah,” he looks it over, and he’s satisfied to see that it looks exactly how it should at this stage. “Really good, actually. You’re doing a great job.”
The compliment warms your insides.
“Thank you.”
“Want me to clean it for you?”
“Sure, thanks.”
He does, disinfecting it first, after finding your products on your counter. He’s gentle as usual, his hands a welcome feeling. Then, he applies the layer of lotion slowly, almost like he’s trying to tease you. It’s working.
His hands trail down your arms when he’s done, his head dipping down to press a kiss on the top of your shoulder. The first one is soft, a barely-there push of his lips against your skin. The next is a bit firmer, his confidence growing with each one.
They trail over the curve of your shoulder, his hands still running their paths up and down your arms, raising goosebumps in their wake, his chunky rings cold. He kisses his way up your neck, your head lulling to the side to grant him more access and your eyes fluttering shut.
Everything he does is filing you up more and more and he’s barely even begun.
“Eddie,” you sigh when he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
He has no idea what’s come over him, but there’s no hiding the effect you have over him anymore. As soon as he got his hands on you, even just to clean your tattoo, he knew he’d be addicted.
“What are you doing?”
“Kissing you. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, yes, it’s- feels nice.”
You would be overthinking if you weren’t so distracted by the feeling of his lips on your skin. And when he uses a hand to tilt your face towards his and kisses you, you’re not sure there’s a single thought left in your head.
There’s something about him that makes everything more intense. You feel like all of your senses are captured by him and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The smell of his cologne, the taste on his tongue, the feeling of his hands on you and his long hair tickling your skin. All of it.
Eddie pulls away to let the both of you breathe only when it’s absolutely necessary. He’s drunk on every kiss he gets from you and he doesn’t mind one bit. He wonders what you’re like in bed, what sounds you’d make for him, and he can’t stop himself from asking, “can I fuck you?”
The words are spoken between heavy breaths, puffed out against your lips.
“Yes. Please.”
Please, you say. As if you would even have to beg him. You have no idea what you’re doing to him and it only makes him want you more. He pushes his hips against your ass, letting you feel how hard he is and you whimper, you fucking whimper and he’s so gone.
He pushes you down to bed over the counter with a hand on the center of your back, and you obey easily. You’re practically squirming with want, the dampness in your panties growing with every move he makes.
Then, he flips your skirt up, his hands running over the tights that cover you before ripping them in the middle.
“I’ll buy you new ones,” he says.
He keeps a hand on your back, though its drifted much lower, and the other sneaks its way between your legs, cupping you over your underwear before pressing his fingers against you. You can't help but moan at the feeling.
“Soaking already, sweetheart?” He taunts.
“Eddie, come on.”
“What is it?”
“You’re teasing me,” you huff out, your cheek pressed against your cool countertop.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
He hooks his fingers in the fabric covering you, pulling it aside and going right back to his teasing. His fingers run up and down your slit, dipping into where you’re wet only to pull away and circle your clit; just enough to give you a taste, to have you wanting more.
He’s winding you up and up and up and you think you might pass out if he doesn’t make you come soon.
“Eddie.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve got you.”
It’s then that he pushes one finger in, his rings that still sit around his fingers only add to the intensity. He works a second one in quickly, your cunt sucking him in and he can’t even imagine how good it’ll feel when he gets to fuck you for real.
He’s quick to learn what you like, what makes you pulse around his fingers or moan a little louder. You had no clue that things could ever feel this good and when his thumb finds your clit, you’re absolutely done for.
Your breaths come out hot, bits of condensation gathering on the counter, “fuck. Oh my god.”
“Feel good?” He asks even though he knows damn well it does—your reactions are telling enough. He picks up the pace, his fingers pressing against that spot that has your knees going weak. He wraps his unoccupied arm around your waist to hold you up.
“So, so good, Eddie. Gonna come.”
“Go on, all over my hand, sweetness. Then I’ll fill you right up, how’s that sound?”
Your response is caught in your throat, a whine bubbling out instead.
“Quicker you come, the quicker I’ll give it to you,” he tacks on.
The thought of him fucking you after this drives you nuts because if just his fingers feel this good, you can’t even imagine what his cock will be like. Your orgasm washes over you, eyes rolling back.
He works you through it, steadily slowing down and easing away to give you a break. He pulls his fingers away, chuckling at the noise you make when he does, and sucks them clean. Then, softly, he’s leaning down and kissing his way up your spine.
“Holy shit,” you breathe.
“You okay?”
“More than okay. You’re really good.”
“‘M not done yet, babe.”
He stands back up, but he pulls you along with him so you're no longer resting on the counter. Hands on your hips spin you to face him, and as soon as you do he surges forward to kiss you. It’s quick, like he’s making sure it’s still okay to keep going.
His touch trails up to the band of your bra—which is askew, but still on. “Can I take this off?”
You nod, but he waits for a verbal confirmation before unclasping it and pulling it away from your chest. It joins your shirt on the ground.
You’re suddenly very aware that you’re half-naked and he isn’t. You tug on his shirt, eager to even the score, “you too.”
“Well, it’s only fair, isn’t it?”
He peels his shirt over his head, and you realize that you’ve yet to see his tattoos so closely. You reach out, tracing them lightly with your fingertips. First, the bats that adorn his forearm, working your way up to his shoulder, then down his chest. He lets you, happy to have your hands on him.
While you’re occupied with his tattoos, he looks you over, free to stare without worrying if you’ll notice. His eyes travel across your face, the slope of your nose, the shape of your lips. They go down your neck, a canvas he plans to leave his mark on, and down to your chest that’s now bare.
The sight is enough to remind him of how hard he is, straining against his jeans. He kisses you again, heavier this time, and lets his hands cup your tits, squeezing and thumbing over your nipples. You moan into the kiss and he can’t control himself any longer.
He lifts you up to sit on the counter, close enough to the edge that you’re forced to wrap your legs around him.
“You still want this?” He asks.
Your hands go to his jeans, popping the button open and lowering his zipper slowly, “yeah, Eddie. I want this. I want you.”
I want you. Eddie doesn’t know why the words make his heart go all fluttery, why they make him look at you like you’ve put the stars in the sky just for him. He kisses you all over again.
You fit your hand between his jeans and his boxers, and you gasp into the kiss when you feel just how big he is. He’s wide, and you know the stretch of him will be a kind of burn that hurts so good. You stroke him over his boxers first, but quickly grow impatient to see him.
You tuck your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them and his jeans down enough to free him. You pull back only to be able to look at him properly, leaning your forehead against Eddie’s bare shoulder, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth because he’s pretty everywhere.
He kisses the side of your head, tender in the midst of the heat of it all.
You think, despite his initial distance, Eddie’s one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. He shows it in the small things he does. Offering to take you home, the gentleness of his hands, his constant checking in on you to make sure this is what you wanted.
Yeah, you like him a whole lot.
Your hand wraps around his cock, jerking him slowly at first. A tease, he thinks. And then you pick up your pace just a bit and he thinks he might come before he even gets to be inside you and as much as he would love to see your hand covered in him, it’s not what he wants right now.
He’s never wanted anyone like he does you and he knows that information will have him overthinking later, but right now, it just makes him desperate to have you.
“Fuck,” he grabs a hold of your wrist, “as good as this feels, sweetheart, you gotta stop or I’ll come and this’ll be cut short. You don’t want that do you?”
He tips your chin up with his free hand, pecks your lips quickly before giving you the chance to respond.
“No. Want you to fuck me,” you say.
“Dirty girl.”
He reaches for a condom in one of your drawers when you tell him where to find them. When you bought them, you were almost embarrassed, because what were you expecting? Certainly not this.
He’s back on you before you really feel his absence, running his hands up your thighs, under your skirt, and tearing the hole he’d already made wider.
“You want me to stop, you tell me, okay?”
“Okay.”
Pushing your legs apart further to make room for him, he reaches down to paint himself up and down your slit, pushing himself in only when he’s teased the both of you sufficiently.
It’s a welcome stretch, one that’s better than anything you’ve ever felt in situations like this and you wonder why you didn’t move away sooner, if this is what it led to.
Eddie leans forward, resting his hands on the counter on either side of you, close enough that his arms brush against you. His face is close to yours but he doesn’t kiss you, no, he breathes the air you do, swallowing any sound you make.
His first couple of thrusts are tentative, slow, but when you wrap your arms around his neck and speak a quiet, ‘faster, please,’ he dives right in.
Somehow, he manages to know just what you need, and he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you still as he moves harder, quicker. Both of you are still half dressed, your clothes in disarray and his are pushed to his knees. You’re both so wrapped up in want and it shows.
“Fuck me,” you whine as he hits that spot inside you, like he’s done it a hundred times before.
“Thought that’s what I was doing, sweets.”
“Eddie.”
“I know, baby. You’re doing so good.”
He knows your orgasm is creeping up on you, he can feel it in the way you pulse around him, squeeze him tighter, bury your face in his neck so that your moans are pushed into his skin.
If he could, he thinks he’d get the sound of them permanently etched into his mind.
“Taking it so well. You wanna come, sweet girl?”
You nod against his skin, “yes. Yes, can I?”
He snakes a hand down to rub your clit, to push you over that edge and says, “let go. Give it to me.”
It’s like his words were what you were waiting for, the breaking point to let you finish. It’s enough to make your moans get caught in your throat and your eyes squeeze shut, seeing stars.
“Oh my god,” you choke out.
“That’s it,” he works you through it, and only when he’s sure that you’re on the comedown does he let himself finish, too.
He pulls your head from his neck with a hand cupping the back of yours, kissing you to really seal the deal, coming with a grunt into your mouth.
When he’s spent, he rests his forehead against yours, running his hands up and down your back soothingly, “you okay?”
“Mmm. Amazing,” you reply, dazed with a fucked out smile on your face. “Why’re you good at everything?”
He chuckles, kissing your cheek before pulling out, “maybe I’m just good at them with you.”
Discarding the condom and pulling his boxers back up—removing his jeans completely—he then finds a small towel and wets it in the sink. Meanwhile, you take off the rest of your outfit, figuring he’s seen enough already. He cleans you up first, delicate hands and a soft apology when you wince from the sensitivity.
He picks you up when he’s done, your legs wrapped around his waist and your head dropped against his shoulder. It feels natural, he thinks, to take care of you the way he would a lover. You feel like you belong there, in his hold, and he knows that you’ve changed him in a way.
His reluctance to get into any kind of relationship seems to have flown out the window now.
The door across the hall is the first he tries, and he guessed correctly when he finds your bedroom on the other side of the door.
He lays you down on your bed, and you pull the blankets up over yourself, lazily. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to look at Eddie the same way, but it’s not a bad thing. It’s not because of the sex, though it was notably the best you’ve ever had and you’ll undoubtedly think about it constantly. It’s because you have feelings for him. Real, true, romantic feelings that run far too deep for you to ignore.
He goes to leave, but you catch his wrist, “you can stay.”
“What?”
“I want you to stay with me. If you want to,” you say.
“Yeah, I’ll stay.”
He doesn't even hesitate, and he tries not to think about what that means for this thing he knows is blooming between you, its petals unfurling slow and steady. He slips into bed beside you, welcoming you when you snuggle into his side.
“Goodnight, Eddie.”
“Night, moon girl.”
You’re both fucked, literally and figuratively.
-
You wake up the most well-rested you’ve felt in a while. Flipping onto your back, you stretch out, and it’s only then that you feel the emptiness on the other side of the bed.
For a moment, you’d almost forgotten Eddie had been there in the first place. Then, you remembered you were, in fact, naked. The slight ache between your legs was enough to have last night coming back to you in a rush.
You wonder if maybe Eddie had to leave for work, but you don’t find a note or any indication of his departure. Instead, you hear the clanking of pans and plates coming from the kitchen.
You throw on a fresh pair of underwear and one of your oversized sleep shirts that sits at the top of your thighs. You’re still groggy, mind slower with sleep, but you’re awake enough to hear Eddie humming when you open your bedroom door and step out into the hall.
There he is, standing by your stove, cooking breakfast. You rub your eyes to make sure you’re not dreaming. Or seeing things.
He moves around like he’s been using your kitchen for ages, and his presence warms the space that you’ve had such a hard time getting used to. You recognize the song he’s humming to be the one he played on the guitar. The corners of your mouth lift up.
“Eddie?” You call quietly, careful not to startle him while his back is turned to you.
“Oh,” he faces you, frying pan in his hand, “morning, sweetheart.”
“Hi.”
“I’m making us breakfast, I hope that’s okay.”
Is he kidding? It’s the most okay thing anyone’s done for you in a long time and you don’t know whether you want to cry or kiss him. He’s unlike anyone you’ve known, and you can’t believe how different he is now compared to when you first met.
His guard was up, short responses and little emotion. It’s a stark contrast to now, to the way he stands clad only in his boxers and his shirt from the night before, flipping a pancake like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You don’t know how he could even keep the saccharine boy hidden, it seems to ooze out of him now.
“It’s- Eddie, this is really sweet.”
The tips of his ears go pink.
He doesn’t know what possessed him to cook for you, or why the sincerity in your appreciation makes him blush. All he knows is that he thought it would be nice to make you smile, and that there’s something in his chest that seems to expand when you do.
“I hope you like pancakes,” he says.
That morning is the moment you realize you’re falling in love with Eddie Munson.
-
It’s been weeks since that night, that morning. Somehow, rather than put distance between the two of you, you and Eddie have grown closer. You think he’s one of the best friends you’ve ever had, even though you haven’t known him very long.
You’re not falling in love with him anymore. No, you’re deep in it now.
Of course, Robin was able to draw it out of you, and after all of her assuring you that there’s absolutely no way Eddie doesn’t feel the same, you still can't let yourself believe her. You’ll bever come back from it if you find out he doesn’t when you’ve built up your expectations.
So, you keep them low. He’s your friend, that’s all it’ll ever be and you know it. Or, at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself every time you catch yourself getting a little too lost in him.
You’re meant to be meeting the gang at the tattoo shop and then head somewhere for drinks all together. Because you’re not only close with Eddie now, you’ve found yourself friends that are real and true. Sometimes you find yourself wondering what your life would’ve been like had you been in high school alongside them. You think it would have been much, much better, but you have them now and that’s what matters.
You knock on the door when you get there, the shop already closed and locked up. You’re quickly greeted with Robin’s grinning face on the other side of the glass. She lets you in and wraps you in a brief hug.
“I think you should start working here just so I don’t have to miss you at all in between plans,” she says, stepping back and locking the door again.
“We both know I don’t have the skills for that, but I missed you, too, Robin.”
“Not as much as you missed me, I hope,” is how Eddie chooses to announce his presence.
“Hi, Eddie.”
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Robin scoffs at him, “can you not steal my thunder for once, please.”
“I’m not allowed to say hi to my friend?”
He looks at you when he says friend, like he’s sharing a secret. Only, you have no idea what it might be.
“Whatever. I have to go get Nance since she went home to change,” she gathers her stuff from the desk. Then, she points to you and says, “I better get a very detailed life update later.”
“You know you will,” you say.
“‘Kay, see you soon!”
She leaves after that, and Eddie’s gaze is already fixed on you when you turn towards him.
“C’mere,” he nods towards the doors that lead to the back room, where the station he tattooed you at is all set up.
“What’s this?”
“I want you to give me a tattoo.”
Your eyes widen, “sorry?”
“I’m serious. Doesn’t have to be big, it can be a dot if you want,” he gently nudges your chin with his finger, closing your mouth where it was dropped in surprise. “I wanna teach you.”
Your friendship isn’t the only thing that’s grown since that night. Eddie’s become more touchy with you, too. An arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your thigh or the nape of your neck. Though this touch is small, it doesn’t fail to leave a lasting effect where it was placed, a warmth, like a drop of sunlight. It almost distracts you from what he’s asking.
“Eddie, I can’t. I’ll mess it up.”
“Babe, I’ve got loads of tattoos. Trust me, it’ll be fine,” he moves his hand to your shoulder, gives it a squeeze. “Plus, you’ve got a great teacher.”
It takes a bit longer for him to convince you, but he succeeds in the end. It’s hard to say no to someone you’re in love with, especially if that someone has really good puppy dog eyes.
Before you really even process it, he’s on the tattoo bed, a pant leg rolled up, shaving a small patch for you to use as your canvas. He does all of the prepping necessary, and even goes as far as to put the gloves on for you.
He explains it all slowly, repeats whatever you ask him to, and promises to guide you through it all. You’re incredibly nervous—who wouldn’t be?
“Relax. You’re gonna be a natural, I know it.”
“How do you know that?”
“You’ve got good hands, sweetheart,” he drops one of his eyelids in a wink.
The flirting is something else that’s become more frequent. You think he’s flirting, that is. He doesn’t act the same way with the rest of the group and you know that, but you also need to not get your hopes up. Still, the butterflies come alive.
You draw your stencil, settling on a very simple rendition of the sun. A small circle with short lines as its rays. It’s fitting for him, you think. As much as he seems like midnight on the outside, that boy is dripping in sunshine.
It also goes with the one he gave you, but that’s just a bonus.
Once it’s applied and you’re sat on the stool, in position to begin, he explains it all over again. He knows you’re nervous, but he isn’t at all. He’s excited to have you do this, to wear a piece of you on his skin.
His hand wraps around yours on the tattoo gun for the first line, guiding you so that you can get the feel of it. He lets you take over after that, assuring you that there’s nothing you could mess up enough to have him dislike it, as long as you’re the one doing it.
As he watches you work, your tongue poking out between your lips in focus, he feels his chest swell. He’s never liked anyone the way he does you, and he’s never let someone untrained tattoo him, that’s for sure. There’s something in him that seems to brighten when you’re around, and he doesn’t know how to put it into words.
He wishes he could pluck the moon out of the sky and hold it in his hand, only to be able to give it to you. Since he can’t do that, he hopes his heart will do good enough. He loves you, that he knows, he just can’t bring himself to say the words out loud.
He’s warmed up to you quicker than ever, so much so that the people around him have noticed. That means something and he knows it.
“I think I’m done,” you say after a bit.
“Yeah? Let’s see this work of art then.”
He sits up, bends closer to his leg to get a look at your handiwork. He’s silent at first and it makes you nervous.
“What do you think?”
“It’s perfect,” he says.
You know it’s far from perfect. The lines aren’t even, nor are they all straight. But he says it like he means it, believes it, so you let yourself smile at that.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m super sure.”
He wouldn’t have ever picked out the sun for himself, but knowing that you would has his walls crumbling even more—if that’s even possible with you.
He does the cleaning and the wrapping, and you’re happy to observe. Just as he’s finishing up, Robin and Nancy walk in, Steve not far behind.
“I leave you guys for not even an hour, and now you have a tattoo?” Robin says, though she doesn’t even sound surprised.
-
Eddie thinks his feelings swell and grow every single time he sees you, and he thinks they might just boil over and pour out of him before he even gets to figure out what to say. That won’t do. You deserve more than that.
You deserve to be taken on a date, to be appreciated and taken care of properly, and that’s what he needs to do. The only problem is, he has no idea how to go about it all.
There’s only one person he can think of who will know exactly what to do. The expert in dating; Steve. Eddie calls him into his office.
“What’s up, boss?” Steve says, leaning against the doorway the way he always does.
“Close the door, would you?”
“Shit. Am I in trouble? I may have spilled some ink the other day but you can barely even see it, swears.”
Eddie shakes his head, making note to take a look around his station later. He’s used to Steve’s clumsiness, though, it’s part of the reason he wanted dark floors in the shop.
“No. That’s not- I need your help.”
“Oh. Okay, hit me.”
“I want to ask her out. I just don’t really know, um, where to take her or whatever.”
Eddie doesn’t even have to say your name for Steve to know who he’s talking about. He’s painfully aware that he’s been quite obvious with his affections, especially ever since the night you had sex. He’s always itching to have his hands on you in some way, stealing you away from other conversations, all of it.
That night was like a wake up call for him, a bucket of cold water dumped over his head. He knew there was something about you before that, but it became concrete.
He’d never felt so connected to someone, nor had he been so eager to take care of them afterwards. Hell, he’s never even slept in the same bed as his hookups. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s slept over at all. Then, there was you, asking him to stay and he couldn’t say no to you. He didn’t want to, either.
“You know her better than I do, man. But, flowers, you gotta do. They love that. Do you know her favorites?”
Eddie shakes his head.
“That’s fine. Get a good mix. Other than that, you should just be honest, that’s what Robin always tells me,” he shrugs. “Why don’t you just call her now?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Come on! She’s gonna say yes. She gives you those lovey-dovey eyes all the time.”
“Okay, that’s enough. Out.”
“Not even a thank you?”
“Thanks, Steve. Bye.”
Steve rolls his eyes as he leaves Eddie’s office, shutting the door behind him again. He, along with Nancy and Robin, knows that you and Eddie will end up together, it’s obvious to everyone except you two, they only want to help it along.
Eddie really hopes that their pestering will be worth it in the end. That you’ll feel the same.
He stares at the phone sitting on his desk for what feels like ages before he musters up the courage to actually call you. He had your file open on his desk, your number written out on one of the forms. He finally picks up the phone and dials it.
Luckily, you weren’t at work. You’d been thinking of Eddie more and more each day it seemed. How he looked at you, the secret smiles that he saved just for you, the way he touched you, the way he felt-
The phone ringing cuts off your train of thought. You walk over and pick it up, prepared for it to be Robin or Nancy since they’re the only ones that ever call you besides your boss. The voice on the other line is neither of them.
“Hello?”
“Hey, sweetheart. It’s Eddie.”
As close as you’ve gotten, for some reason, no phone numbers have been exchanged. You wish they had been, because hearing his voice crackle through the phone is a much nicer sound than most.
“Eddie, hi. How’d you get my number?”
He twists one of his rings around with his thumb. He’s glad you can’t actually see him, because you’d surely be able to tell that he’s nervous.
“It’s on file in the shop. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I like talking to you,” you say, soft and sincere. “What’s up?”
“I, uh,” he shakes his head, trying to figure out exactly what to say. “Are you busy tonight?”
“No, I’m not. Do you guys want to do something?”
“Not exactly,” he says.
Your heart beats quicker in your chest, because you think he’s about to ask you out, maybe. If not that, then at least ask you to do something with just him, which is close enough for you to consider it a win. You smile like an idiot.
He clears his throat and continues, “I wanted to know if you’d want to go out… with me.”
It’s happening, you think. Something is shifting as you speak, the feelings you’ve tried to suppress for so long are itching to come out.
“Like a date?” You ask. Just to be sure.
“Yeah, moon girl. Like a date.”
“I’d really, really like that, Eddie.”
He thinks you can probably hear the smile in his voice when he says, “yeah? Me too.”
He tells you he’ll pick you up, to wear whatever you like, not to worry about being over or underdressed, ‘you’ll look pretty either way, trust me,’ he’d said.
When you hang up, you’re trying not to jump around and squeal like a thirteen year old. It’s difficult to contain your excitement, your nerves, your hope. It feels as if a door is opening. A door to more nights like that night, more mornings with shared breakfast, more kissing, more than friends. More, more, more.
Meanwhile, Eddie’s wondering how he’ll get through the rest of the work day when his head is filled with the promise of seeing you.
-
After much debating on what to wear, no thanks to Eddie’s sweet yet vague instructions, the buzzer sounds in your apartment. You make your way over, one shoe on, the other in your hand. You press the button and speak.
“Hello?”
“Hey, moon girl.”
“Eddie,” he only said three words and you’re already smiling. “Come on up.”
You rush to get your other shoe on, luckily finishing up just as he knocks on your door. There’s a moment where you’re almost expecting someone else to be on the other side, to have been dreaming the whole date up. Luckily, it’s real.
Eddie stands in the hall, pretty as ever. His hair is in its usual mess of waves and curls, his classic leather jacket and denim vest duo are on, and in his hand, a bouquet of flowers.
He notices you looking at them and holds them out, “these are for you.”
“This is really nice, Eddie. Thank you.”
You take them from him, holding them up to your nose to smell them (and also to hide how wide your grin is). He stands by the door, a ball of nerves, and watches you put them into a big cup, because you never had a reason to buy a vase until now. He decides next time, he’ll deliver the flowers in a vase just so you have one.
He holds your hand on the way down, opens the car door for you and makes sure your legs are tucked inside before closing it, he tells you in at least three different ways how beautiful you look during the car ride alone, and he drives with a hand resting on your thigh, your fingers toying with his rings.
He’s an absolute dream.
He takes you to a small restaurant, fancy enough for a date—though you think being with Eddie, no matter where, would be enough for you—but casual enough that you aren’t too worried about the people around you being judgemental. You sit in a booth and instead of across, Eddie sits beside you. He keeps a hand on your thigh during your meal, too.
In his car once more, you’re sitting in the parking lot with music playing through the speakers. Eddie hasn’t made a move to start driving you yet, and you haven’t even thought about going home. You haven’t ever been on an official date before, but if you had, you’d say with absolute certainty that this is the best one.
You sit sideways in the passenger seat so you can look at him, and Eddie’s head is turned toward you, his cheek against the headrest.
“Have you had a girlfriend before?” You ask.
You don’t know why the thought comes out of your mouth. You’d been thinking it, though. Robin’s always hinting at how different he is with you, at the fact that Eddie’s never brought a girl he’s liked around his friends. You’re curious.
“No, I haven’t. Why do you seem surprised?”
“It’s just, you’re really good at this.”
“At what, sweetheart?”
“Like, going on a date. And… other stuff, too.”
He shifts in his seat, resting an elbow on the center console and leaning closer to you. Much, much closer. Your noses are almost touching and you can see the way his eyelashes frame his eyes.
He nudges his nose against yours, “what stuff?”
You know he’s teasing you, trying to make you give him more detail because it’ll make you go all shy or embarrassed. To him, it’s cute, and he’s been trying not to kiss you all night. He was going to wait until he dropped you off like a proper gentleman, but he figures making it through dinner is good enough.
“Eddie,” you draw his name out, almost whining.
“Tell me. Come on, please? You can’t just bring it up and not share.”
The hand of his that isn’t resting between you comes up to push your hair over your shoulder, then slides around to hold the back of your neck loosely.
“God, okay. Um, you’re a good kisser. Like, really good,” he leans in and pecks you for that, pulling away just enough to let you keep talking, your lips still brushing against his. “And, I love your hands.”
“My hands?”
“They’re very talented. You know, ‘cause you’re an artist, and all.”
He huffs and shakes his head. Enough of the teasing, he leans in and kisses you deeper this time. Your hands move and grip the sides of his jacket, holding him close to you.
You kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and it’s enough to have you panting and warm all over. His hand squeezes your neck gently before he pulls away, his lips slick with spit, swollen and darker from your kiss. You’re sure yours don’t look much different.
Eddie drops his forehead against yours, takes both of your hands in his, “do you want to go home?”
You shake your head.
“Can I show you my place, then?”
“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”
He’s not saying it to get you in his bed, though there’s no doubt that would be a bonus, but he doesn’t want this date to end. There’s also a part of him that wants to see you in his apartment, let you into more of his life.
He’s only ever been to yours, and he doesn’t have the whole group over at his, so you’ve never seen it. He thinks, if he’s really going to give this a shot, he might as well let another wall crumble down for you.
The drive there is fairly quick, and yet again, his hand finds your thigh. This time, though, he lets his fingers hold on, rather than just rest in your lap. You like it a lot.
-
Eddie’s apartment isn’t what you expect. You thought it’d be decorated like the shop: dark colors, black and white art, hints of red. His place is much warmer, much homier. It suits him perfectly.
He has a huge record collection, a whole wall of his living room dedicated to the shelves and the player itself. He also has a shelf for his books. Some more worn than others, letting you know which are his favorites of the bunch.
You trail your fingers along the spines, admiring his collection. He lets you, standing not too far away, enjoying how you look in his space.
His bathroom is much like yours, small and plain, but it’s tidy save for some products of his strewn about the counter. His bedroom is so obviously his that it makes you smile. From the rings and other jewelry sitting atop his dresser, to his dark gray bedding, to the guitars that are displayed proudly, to the desk pushed into a corner with pages upon pages spread about.
You gravitate towards that desk without a second thought.
There’s something so intimate about seeing his art station in his home, much different to his office at the shop. Here, he can let it be a mess, and can draw whatever he pleases.
“Is it okay if I look at these?” You ask.
“‘Course,” he says. He walks up behind you, lets his hands hold your sides loosely and rests his chin on your shoulder. You revel in the warmth of his chest against your back.
You pick up some of the loose pages, looking at the different pieces. Skulls and flowers and landscapes and so much more. He can do it all, you think. You can see so much detail, the strokes of his pencil, and it’s clear how much talent he has.
“These are all beautiful, Eddie.”
He turns his head to peck your cheek, “thank you, sweetheart.”
You reach for a worn sketchbook next, the cover peeling at the edges and the pages nearly full. It flips open to where it seems to have been used the most, the spine broken. What you see makes you gasp quietly, but Eddie’s close enough to hear it.
Covering the pages are drawings of the moon. Over and over again he drew them. Some are big, taking up an entire page, and some are scrawled into corners and empty spaces, like he couldn’t stop adding them. All of these drawings for your tattoo, and he’d only shown you a few.
“It’s weird, right?” Eddie says, hiding his face in your neck.
If he’s honest, he forgot that sketchbook was even there. He couldn’t forget about the drawings you found—you’d taken up so much of his thoughts after meeting that he couldn’t stop drawing the fucking moon for you. There are so many and he’s embarrassed by it, because he really was screwed after the first day even when he refused to see it.
“No, it’s- these are all for me?”
“Couldn’t stop thinking ‘bout you, so I drew these,” he speaks into your skin. “I was trying to avoid my feelings for you, but clearly, that didn’t work. You wouldn’t get out of my head and I had no idea why.”
You turn in his hold, leaving the sketchbook open on his desk. You look at him, the way his cheeks are pink at your finding of his drawings, the way his eyes flick between yours.
“I love them. Every single one,” I love you. “I thought about you a lot, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm. So much. You made me nervous at first,” you admit, your hands fiddling with the collar of his shirt.
“I’m not used to, um, opening up to people and all. I’ve never even been in a relationship,” his hands come up and grab yours, like he needs the comfort. “You make me want to try, though.”
You have to say it. There’s no way you can’t, not when he’s looking at you with those eyes filled with something.
“I love you, Eddie,” his eyes widen, he freezes. “You don’t have to say it back or anything, I just really needed to tell you. You’re the first sense of comfort I’ve found since I moved, and I don’t think I would have felt at home without you and I love you.”
No matter how scared he is to be with you, because he wants to be someone worth being with and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he can’t ignore the fact that he loves you right back. And he hasn’t said those words to many people in his life.
It’s big for him, so big that he’s stumbling over his words but he tries anyway.
“Oh my god,” he kisses your knuckles, “I love you, sweetheart. My moon girl, fuck, I love you, too. I’ve never done this before, but there’s nobody else I’d want. Nobody.”
You feel so many things at once. Relief and happiness and a thousand fireworks in your gut and in your heart. You grab his face with your hands and drag him down to kiss you.
It’s broken by your smiles, your teeth bumping into each other but neither of you care one bit. He holds your wrists gently, returns your kiss with ease. He’s delicate with his touch, so, so perfect with his lips on yours.
He only pulls away to ask, “will you be mine? Be my girlfriend?”
You nod vehemently, “been yours since you kissed me the first time. Probably even before that.”
You’re not worried about the ‘told you so’s you’re sure to get from your friends, or what happens next because you know whatever it is, Eddie’s gonna be there.
“Think you had me the minute you started talking ‘bout the moon.” He just didn’t know it yet.
if you enjoyed, please leave a reblog or let me know what you thought! it helps loads more than you think <3
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starkwlkr · 25 days
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Hi Jen!!!❤️❤️❤️
I saw your requests were open so possibly, social media au or not, Cillian Murphy’s or Christopher Nolan’s daughter (either one would be fine, but I saw your imagine about Nolan!reader x Cillian so maybe Cillian would be better, either one is fine though) dating Charles Leclerc or lando Norris
(I don’t know if this has been done yet but it feels very random, but it I saw you wrote for F1 and Cillian so I just thought of that crossover. Couldn’t decide which driver I wanted to request for so I’ll leave it up to you between Charles and lando)
But if you do, then thank you!!!
my favorite nepo baby | lando norris
faceclaim saorsie ronan (don’t hate me, yes ik there’s more irish actresses but i love saoirse) also i love this request, mixing random fandoms is my favorite thing ever
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danielricciardo happy birthday, lady bird
mclarentears WHAT
dannyric333 does daniel know everyone??
bottaszz you don’t understand THIS IS IMPORTANT TO ME
landonorris my favorite nepo baby
danielricciardo the nepo baby says thank you
landonorris tell the nepo baby to make an account
danielricciardo no - the nepo baby
landonorris i tried
vettelsbees this is my roman empire
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summer break
Y/n Murphy only knew Daniel Ricciardo because he had friends everywhere. It was only a matter of time before the Irish actress met the famous honey badger. Soon, his friends became her friends and the whole friend group was hanging out everywhere.
One of their hang out spots was the F1 paddock. Daniel insisted for Y/n to come to his favorite race, the Austin Grand Prix. It was no secret that Daniel is secretly a Texan so he wanted his new friend to experience the Texas atmosphere.
“We need to get you some boots and maybe a longhorns jersey. You’ll look so cool, trust me.” Daniel said as him, Heidi and Y/n walked into the AlphaTauri garage.
“He’s going to convert you into a Texan.” Heidi whispered to Y/n.
“Can you imagine me going home to my father speaking with a texas accent? He’ll have a stroke!” Y/n laughed.
“I bet that by the end of the day, you’ll love texas as much as I do.” Daniel smirked. “Maybe you’ll find a country boy you can take home to your old man.”
“Oh god, he’s going to have more strokes, die then come back and have more strokes.”
“Well then I can get you a British boy that won’t make your old man die.”
Y/n knew who Daniel was referring to. On the day of her birthday, which was a few days ago, Daniel showed her the comments that Lando had left on his post.
‘my favorite nepo baby’
While she told everyone she didn’t have an Instagram account, she had a secret one that only had about twenty followers which were close family and friends. She used that account to look at Lando’s account. She was going to lie, he was attractive.
“Just make an instagram! That boy keeps messaging me about you.” Daniel pleaded.
“I don’t use social media, I tried and I didn’t like it.” What a lie.
“Okay well can you at least talk to him? Wait, I should go with you, he might be the one having a stroke.”
So while Heidi stayed back in the garage, Daniel accompanied Y/n to the Mclaren garage so Lando could finally meet his favorite nepo baby. Y/n started to feel nervous, why? She didn’t know, she hardly knew Lando apart from his instagram posts.
“Hey Landoooooo!” Daniel dragged out the o.
“Is that Daniel Ric—” Lando’s voice stopped when he noticed who was standing beside Daniel.
“Is he having a stroke? I can’t tell.” Daniel whispered to Y/n.
“Hi . . . You’re y/n. Wow.” Lando tried to play it cool. “I’m Lando, but I’m guessing you already knew that because of the giant Australian yelling my name. Thank you Daniel.”
“Glad I could be of service. I have to go get ready, but you two go ahead and talk. Y/n, I’ve been told the Mclaren garage is the best spot to watch a race so . . bye!”
And all thanks to Daniel Ricciardo and his match making skills, your dad, Cillian, didn’t have a stroke when he finally met Lando.
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sunderingstars · 18 days
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So how do you think Zayne, Xavier and Rafayel would react when their s/o has a boy best friend, purely platonic but makes other people have second thoughts about their relationship.
Hehehe have a good day, write this if your okay with this 🪐
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boy best friend (l&ds x reader) ♡
what the stars reveal: 1.2k, no gender signifiers used for reader, established relationship, ✨jealousy✨ but with a healthy dose of respect partner juice, surprisingly well-adjusted xav, half-headcanon half-prose, slight allusions to lore if you squint
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ hello !! thank you for giving me an excuse to write jealous rafayel >:3 the love & deepspace brainrot is so real for me right now, hope you enjoy !
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— zayne is really good at hiding it, but his tiny mannerisms bleed through enough to make it clear he’s worried. it’s not that he has an issue with you having guy best friends, it’s just that everyone else seems to assume you two are together despite zayne standing right there. 
Zayne just stares. Blinks. Stares. Blinks again. You have to nudge him as a reminder that he is, in fact, in public, and that introductions are usually reciprocated by both parties. As soon as you make contact, it’s like a switch flips.
He breezes through his name, occupation, and a firm handshake (not too loose, not too tight), making it look so effortless that you almost forget he’d frozen like a statue as soon as he laid eyes on your best friend. Almost.
He does his best to hide it, but it’s clear something’s wrong. The slight clip to his voice, the furrow of his brow, the hesitance in his eyes when he looks at you — they may be imperceptible to the untrained eye, but all the telltale signs are there. It’s only a matter of time before you get an answer out of him.
“I’m an adult. I don’t worry about those kinds of things,” he says when you voice your suspicion a few days later.
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s true,” he continues when you shoot him a disbelieving look, shuffling the papers on his desk in an attempt to seem nonchalant, “I have absolutely no problem with him.”
You don’t say anything else, simply fix him with a deeper look and cross your arms. He doesn’t crack. It takes a whole five minutes of him pretending to go back to work before he sighs and makes a show of signing something.
“I may,” he says, setting the pen down gently, “Be slightly… somewhat…”
“Jealous?” you finish.
“No,” he says. “Annoyed.” Then, quickly, “Not at you. Or him. Just everyone else.”
You don’t quite understand. “Everyone else…?”
Now it’s Zayne’s turn to fix you with a look. “You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
Notice what? you want to ask, but refrain since you don’t want Zayne thinking you’re more oblivious than you already are. You rack your brain for something, anything that you can remember from that day, until…
“Oh,” you say. You do remember getting quite a few stares even before you and your friend coincidentally ran into Zayne. At first, you thought it was because you were still in uniform, but you realize now that it may have been for a completely different reason.
Zayne doesn’t respond, just taps his fingers against the wood of his desk, a nervous tic.
“Those were people who got the wrong idea,” you continue. Then, when his mouth dips into a frown, you move to stand beside him. “I don’t mind hunting them down and telling them just how wrong they were.”
At this, his frown begins to lift. “You don’t need to do that.”
“I would, though.”
He looks at you clearly for the first time in a few days, a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” you say. You maneuver yourself between him and the desk, falling into a half-straddle. “I’d go to their house, knock on the door, and tell them exactly how Dr. Zayne and I make out every Friday eveni—”
You feel his hand brush against your mouth, closing it.
“Alright, alright,” he interrupts with a small smile, “I get it. I’m secure enough in our relationship not to worry.” He pauses for a moment, then says, “Just don’t miss any checkups.”
“I’ll be right on time, as always,” you say, pressing a kiss to his temple. “And if anyone asks, i’ll tell them exactly who my boyfriend is.”
“Thank you.”
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— xavier isn’t sure why you think he’d be annoyed, since your best friend seems nice enough. if anything, you’re the one that seems nervous, broaching the topic with him only to realize he hasn’t minded from the start.
Xavier looks a bit confused. His eyes shuffle between your face, his phone, and the twisting hands in your lap, a small, awkward smile beginning to spread on his face.
“Am I supposed to be… worried?” he asks.
“Are you?” you respond.
This prompts a light chuckle from your boyfriend. He shifts on the couch, turning until his arm rests on the back and his body is angled towards you. “Not really. What about you?”
You shrug. “Maybe a little.”
This seems to surprise Xavier, and you can’t blame him. You’re a bit surprised, too, given that most people’s roles would be flipped in this context.
Still, you can’t help it. Even though you’ve known your best friend for years — much longer than you’ve known Xavier — you don’t want your boyfriend to feel like he’s being overshadowed in his relationship with you. However, it currently seems like those worries are unfounded.
“Well, the way I see it…” Xavier leans in, brushing his lips against your temple, “… it’s wonderful you have so many people to share your life with.”
“You really think so?” you ask, just to make sure.
“Of course. Although…” He leans back, then, mid-afternoon light filtering through the window and washing his features soft gold. His eyes sharpen like sun rays piercing through a cloud. “… if he ever gives you trouble, let me know.”
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— rafayel is very loud and clear about his jealousy, and you can count on him to become clingy after you hang out with your best friend. ultimately, you know he doesn’t mind nearly as much as he says he does, so you’re happy to indulge his want for attention if it means you can comfort him when he’s insecure.
Rafayel, as he is wont to do, makes his feelings known immediately and with such startling clarity that at first you think he’s joking.
“You’re serious?” you finally ask, the corners of your mouth tipping upwards into a smile while his stay fixed, pouting.
“Of course I am,” he says. He glares at the empty air beside you head as if it wronged him in a past life. “I mean, it’s fine and all, I guess, but we haven’t seen each other in four days. You haven’t even taken me plushie hunting. And yet…”
“And yet…?”
He crosses his arms and mumbles. 
“Use your words, Raf.”
He sighs. “You were with him all day. People were staring.”
“And so you’re jealous,” you deadpan, “because my best friend helped me with a case.”
“Yes!” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I could’ve helped too! If you keep going around without me like that, you’ll… you’ll…” Something changes in his eyes, and he clicks his tongue, looking away. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
You know your boyfriend well enough by this point to grasp what he’s hinting at. Putting your own frustration aside, you lean in, the soft fabric of Rafayel’s shirt brushing against your fingertips. You plant a soft kiss on his cheek.
“I’m not going to forget you,” you say. Then, you find his arm, uncrossing it so you can take his pinky in yours. “Promise.”
Slowly, slightly, the tension in his shoulders begins to release. 
“Can we go plushie hunting?” he mumbles. Then, “Just the two of us?”
You smile. “Of course.”
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🩵 bonus hc 🩵: i mentioned it in zayne’s part, but i like to think he drums his fingers against any available surface when he’s nervous or worried. between that, pushing up his glasses, and fiddling with his pen, you can read his mood based off of how much he messes with the objects in his vicinity.
(also also rafayel is so petty when he’s jealous, i know this one is basically canon but i just love it sm ♡)
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© 2024, written by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.
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