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msgexymunson · 19 days

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The Ink Shop Part 2

Description: After your encounter with Eddie, things are beginning to get a bit more complicated; especially when you ask him for another little favour. But, will Eddie go for it?

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI this ain't for you, angst, tiny bit of fluff, smut, fem oral receiving, male masturbation.

A/N: OK when I said this will be in 3 parts I lied, it's totally going to be at least 4, maybe 5! Thank you for the love you've shown the first part, it's incredible! You're superstars.

❤️ If you like it please comment and reblog, it really makes my day!❤️

7k words

Masterlist Part 1

For some reason, the shop seems more welcoming today than ever. It might be the fact that the sun is shining, it might be the radio seemingly playing all your favourite songs, or it might be last night. Either way, you feel loose and free, laughing at jokes, smiling at everyone, and genuinely just happier.

Eddie saunters in thirty minutes late and you barely notice, apart from flashing him a bashful smile.

“Well hello there sweetheart, you seem chipper today.”

You roll your eyes at the obvious insinuation, but your smile is warm. “I had a good night's sleep, that's all.”

“Bet you did,” he grins, “you look real pretty.”

Looking down, you consider your outfit; you'd decided enough of the corporate clothes, this is a tattoo shop after all. So, you'd paired a roll neck sweater with a short jean skirt and sneakers. A more relaxed outfit to go with a more relaxed attitude. Before you can say anything in reply he strolls over to his station.

Right, so a few jabs, but he's being nonchalant. So put it out of your mind.

The morning moves quickly, a messy blur of clients and phone calls. After a fast lunch, the shop finally calms down a little. When you're focusing on sorting the mess of the heavy bookings tome in front of you, Eddie approaches, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“I see London, I see France…”

You follow his bowed head and cross your legs in sheer embarrassment, realising a sliver of your panties must be on display.

“Eddie!”

He simply laughs, throwing his head back far enough that your gaze drifts to his Adam's apple.

“Sorry, I couldn't resist, I'm a big fan of this skirt,” he says, drinking you in with his eyes, “anyway I wanted to ask-”

His sentence is stopped however by the loud ringing of the old corded phone. You and Eddie share a look, yours begging and his smug. Before you can grab it, he picks up the phone, putting on a ridiculous British accent.

“Good Afternoon, London Underground Airways, this is your captain speaking- Oh shit Mac- Yeah she's- I know I'm not supposed to answer- Sorry I- Fine, here.” He brandishes the phone at you.

“Hello? Oh, of course I'll let them know- I understand- It'd be my pleasure- see you soon.” replacing the receiver, you make a note on the pad at your side.

“What'd he say?” Eddie asks, hovering over you.

Not giving him the satisfaction of a look, you continue to make your note, however perfunctory it may be. “Mac's going to be a little late, he told me to tell his next client.”

“He said my name, I heard it. What'd he say?”

Placing your pen down with a loud click, you turn to him.

You tell him as you smile smugly. “He told me to hit you for answering the phone.”

If anything, his grin grows broader. “Oh? Go on then princess, I'd hate for you to break the rules.” He turns his face, no doubt expecting a cuff to the back of the head.

Spinning on your stool, you slap him right across the cheek; not with all your strength, but certainly hard enough to remember. Eddie's face is a picture of shock, pink handprint already flushing his cheek.

But that just makes his smile wider.

“Harder.” He asks, eyes flashing arousal at you.

“Eddie!” you shout, pushing him away, but his laugh echoes through the shop. Before he has a chance to continue, a burly biker type walks right in the door.

“Good afternoon, can I help you?”

“Yeah, It's Jimmy, I'm here for Mac?”

“He's running a little late, but he'll be with you as soon as possible. Can I get you a coffee or something while you wait?”

You can't help but hear a huff from Eddie, but before you can question it he's drawing in his book, entirely oblivious to the outside world.

At the end of the day, you're tired, but still in fairly high spirits. It's the first time you've seen everyone in the shop at once. There's an edge to the air though, as if an expectation hangs over everyone.

So… bar?” Mac asks in a defeated tone, although he's smiling. Everyone reacts; Eddie woops, pumping his fist, even the usually reserved Miranda is clapping quietly. You smile and nod, finally understanding what the atmosphere was about.

As you all enter the dimly lit bar, chatting and laughing, you hear a low huff.

“What did I do to deserve this?” John is standing behind the bar. An imposing figure, his arms crossed and face surly, but there's a kindness in his eyes. Mac leans straight over and hands him a card.

“Easy John, I got this,” he chuckles. The card is accepted gratefully, the gruff demeanour lessening with the promise of payment.

You accept a bottle of beer and slide into a nearby booth, the rest of the group filtering in. Mac walks over, eyes the space next to you, then grabs a stool to sit at the head of the table. It throws you for a minute; surely he knows he can sit there? Before you can tell him so, Eddie waltzes across the room with a tray of tequila shots and all the fixings with a cheeky look in his eyes. He slides right in next to you, tray and all, and places it on the table with exaggerated care.

“Ladies, gentlemen.” He says, gesturing to the tiny glasses like an old timey butler. There's a succession of groans from the party, but despite this they all grab a shot. All except you.

“I don't think I-” you begin, but he's waving a hand in the air.

“Come on, you drink. It's a shot. Never had tequila before?”

Fixing him with a sharp look, your cheeks begin to redden of their own accord. Eddie smirks and tosses his head back, hiding his eyes with one hand.

“Shit princess, what did you do at college?”

“Study.” You say primly, but take a glass tentatively and place it in front of you.

“Right, so for the new guys…“ Eddie smiles right at you and licks his hand between his thumb and pointer finger. That hint of silver mesmerises you, the ball of his tongue piercing catching the light. It's almost sensual the way he does it, your eyes automatically following the movement of his tongue. “salt right here…” he sprinkles some on the spot he moistened, “then, lick, shoot, suck.”

In a few fluid movements he licks the salt from his hand, downs the shot, and sticks a wedge of lime in his mouth. As your brain finally engages after that display, the little show that shouldn't have heated your insides up, you follow along, and take your shot with everyone else. It's easier than you would have thought, the lime easing the burn somewhat.

Eddie squeezes your thigh under the table and whispers low enough for you to hear.

“Good girl.”

Shooting daggers with a simple look, he just smirks, leaving his hand on your bare leg as if challenging you. Dimly, you hear the echoes of a conversation in front of you; it's Julio, arguing about good tequila not needing salt and lime, but you're lost in the deep pools of Eddie's chocolate eyes.

For a moment, your body flashes red hot and you regret your choice of the high necked sweater. Tearing your eyes away you look at something, anything, but Eddie.

The conversation drifts between all manner of subjects and you start to relax, the beer and tequila swimming in your belly loosening your tongue. It's nice, having a chance to chat and giggle with your coworkers in a setting not interrupted by the constant buzzing of tattoo machines.

Julio and Chloe end up in a full scale argument about the karaoke machine in the corner. Before you're subjected to the horror of having to sing in public, you get up to grab another beer. Perching on a stool by the bar with your purse in hand, you're waiting patiently to be served.

Eddie strolls over. You see him in your periphery; that confident walk as if he owns the very ground he walks on. Casually he hops up on the stool next to you, making no effort to hide the way he undresses you with his eyes.

“Quit staring Eddie,” you say testily as you knock the bar with your bank card.

“Now I can't look at you?” He asks with an amused grin.

“I said quit staring, not quit looking,” you huff out.

“What's the difference?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders and scrunching his nose at you.

You groan, turning on your stool to face him. “You are impossible,”

He sticks his long tongue out childishly, flashing his piercing at you.

Thankfully, John's voice cuts through the squabble. “What can I get you?”

“May I have a beer, please?”

“You certainly may.” John cocks his thumb in your direction, addressing Eddie, “I like this one, she's polite. Don't scare her off.”

Eddie dramatically holds his chest. “You wound me, sir!”

Two beers are placed on the bar and John waves your card away. “Don't worry about it, Mac's treating you guys tonight.”

As you swig your beer, you contemplate for a moment, trying to work out something.

“You're staring, sweetheart.” Eddie grins, as he gulps his drink.

“I wasn't staring, I was thinking! I know that's a foreign concept to you.” It's catty, you know that, but he just seems to bring it out in you. No one else has annoyed you so much in your life just by… being.

“That was rude. I thought we were playing nice?” he pouts playfully.

“Sorry. I- Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, shoot.”

Turning to him, you speak what's on your mind. “Why do people get their tongues pierced? No one really sees it. I get like, nose and eyebrow piercings and stuff, but the tongue one I don't understand.”

Eddie's grin is wide as he bites his bottom lip and stares at you. Well, you couldn't call it a grin. It's a flash of teeth, almost wolfish in its delivery.

“Oh princess, you are too cute.”

Staring at him with your brow furrowed, you try to work out what he means, but the longer you take, the more amused he looks.

“What? What is it?”

Sighing, he leans closer, the scent of aftershave, cigarettes and man clouding around you. “It's got a purpose, sweetheart.”

“What, like, kissing?”

Shaking his head, he looks you up and down. “Kinda. Kissing somewhere… specific.”

Realisation breaks across your face, followed by a fierce blush that you can feel to the roots of your hair. Laughing, Eddie pulls away a little and takes a mouthful of beer.

Voice an airy whisper, you lean over to him as you speak. “And girls like that?”

His laugh is so loud it reverberates around the bar.

“Yeah, a lot, in my experience.”

“Oh.”

Well, the thought is there now, and you're pretty sure it won't ever go away, not without some sort of mind bleach. Eddie's head between your legs, his long tongue exploring your sex. The image is burned into the back of your brain, playing on a loop.

“You're looking a little hot there,” he says, as if he can read your thoughts. It's fair to say it wouldn't take a psychic to know what's rattling around your head right now.

“I'm fine, this sweater is too warm,” you shake out, pressing your thighs together.

“Liar.”

Mouth opening and closing like a fish, you finally snap it shut with a crunch. Curiosity is eating away at you, and it's too easy to say what's on your mind after a couple of drinks.

“Eddie, could you… tell me, what- what it's like?”

He chuckles lightly and scoots closer to you. “you know I can't, I've not exactly had the pleasure.”

“I know that, I mean…”

For a second he just gapes at you.

“Wait, princess, are you asking me to tell you or… show you?”

Flustered, you turn away a little. “Sorry that's- that's too much isn't it. It's just you… did such a good job with the, you know, the other thing, I was just curious.”

Eddie bites his lip, puffing out a little breath. “You know, flattery works with me. I did a good job, huh?”

“Well, yeah. I can imagine you'd be really good at… that too. I could, owe you a favour?” It's bold, especially from you, but the way he's looking at you, the slight flush to his cheeks, you'd put money on him agreeing.

Eddie stares at you incredulously. “Wait, you're saying you want me to stick my tongue in the holiest of holes and then you owe me a favour?”

“Yeah? Like a little… arrangement.”

He rubs his face with his hand, his voice muffled as he speaks. “I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you.”

That confuses you for a moment. Surely you were the one who asked him? Hesitantly you reach out and touch soft fingertips to the back of his hand.

“Please?”

“Fuck.” He looks around, and turns to you, gazing into your eyes for a moment.

“Fine. Right now.”

“Oh I didn't-”

“Listen, before I change my mind. Meet me out back. I'll tell the guys you're not feeling well and I'm taking you home.”

Wordlessly, you grab your purse and head to the back door, heart hammering in your ears. It's a little dank out here, with the sound of a dripping pipe and moss covering the cement. Eddie comes out a moment later looking more serious than you've ever seen him.

“You sure about this?” He asks, searching your eyes.

‘Yeah, but…” you look around the small yard, gesturing vaguely.

“Oh. Oh! You thought- oh Christ no, not here. I'm not a complete asshole. Come with me.”

Letting out a relieved breath, you follow him. He walks over to a gate in the fence and opens it, which leads down a narrow alleyway, a little shortcut between yards. That eventually opens up to another road with a couple of apartment blocks. The one he moves towards looks mostly clean, if a bit lifeless, with a creepy looking van parked out the front.

“This way sweetheart,” he says, leading you through the courtyard and to the stairs.

For a second you stop in sheer surprise.

“Wait, you live this close and you still manage to be late for work?”

He chuckles, looking at you over his shoulder. “I have a condition, you know. Chronic tardiness; I'm afraid there's no cure.”

You bat him on the arm playfully and he grasps your wrist, stopping on the stairs briefly, giving you a look that is wickedness personified.

“If you're gonna hit me, do it properly.”

“Eddie!”

He laughs loud and grabs your hand, holding it in his until he reaches his door. That alone is enough to shut you up. It's warm and rough, and the feeling of his skin on yours, no matter how tiny, sends bolts of sensation through you.

“Right, here is my castle,” he says as he opens the door and lets you inside.

Chaos. That's the first word that crosses your mind. It doesn't look dirty, there's just things everywhere. A bookshelf stuffed with books and weird little trinkets placed any which way dominates one wall, and another on the other side with a huge music collection. There's a poky little kitchen with a couple of pots still in the sink, and a big couch with mismatched cushions takes up the remaining space. A tower of board games is precariously leaning next to it, and on the wall over the TV is an honest to goodness sword.

“It's nice,” you say as you walk in, as if you're not mentally organising it in your head.

“You hate it.” He scoffs, pulling his boots off and dumping them by the door.

“No, no, it's very… you.”

“I stand by my previous statement.” He grins at you, clearly indicating he wasn't being entirely serious.

“This is the bedroom.” He walks over and nudges the door open with his foot. Surprisingly, apart from an open clothes rail, an overflowing laundry hamper, and an enormous bed, there's not much in it. The wallpaper is a pretty purple colour, and looks oddly familiar.

“Eddie isn't that the same wallpaper-”

“-As the shop? Yeah. Mac let me have the leftovers. I was broke and this room was fucking pink.”

You snort out a laugh; the thought of Eddie with a pretty pink bedroom was rather unbelievable.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I can live with purple.” He roots around and grabs a pair of sweats. “Make yourself comfortable, I'm gonna change real quick.”

Then he walks out into another doorway, you assume the bathroom. The urge to snoop is real, but you resist. It looks like he spends less time here anyway.

The question is, how comfortable are you supposed to make yourself? Nerves start settling in, the thought of what you've asked him to do is finally sinking its way into your mind and down your jangling spine. What if he doesn't like the underwear you're wearing? God, you've been at work all day, what if you smell bad? Or taste bad? What if-

“You can sit down, princess.”

Eddie saunters back in, shirtless, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging so low on his hips you see his cut groin. A little squeak hiccups out of your throat at the sight. You stay standing, ready to make your excuses and leave, but the signal hasn't reached your legs just yet.

“What's wrong?” his eyes are brimming with concern as he steps toward you.

“No I- I was- maybe this-”

“Hey, look at me,” he says, grabbing both of your hands. You stare up at him, his face gentle.

“Whatever you're worried about, I'm sure it's nothing.”

“But i haven't showered-”

“When did you last?”

“Well… this morning.”

“You're fine. Trust me.”

He backs you up onto the bed, your knees folding as you flop down. The air around you feels full, humid with anticipation. He's so close, your bodies almost pressed together.

“I wanna kiss you.” He says softly, stroking a lock of your hair out of your face. Heart leaping into your throat, you try to suppress the urge to lean forward. The last thing you need is to fall for this man. Chloe's words echo in your head; he's not boyfriend material.

He'll break your heart.

“That's not part of our deal, Eddie.”

A frown flickers across his face. It's just for a second, a flash of vulnerability, before his usual cocky smile returns.

“That's not where I wanna kiss you.” He winks and tugs at your top, “can I take this off?”

Nodding wordlessly, you help him and wriggle it up and over your head.

“God damn.” Eddie props up on an elbow, running a finger between your breasts, before following the edge of your black cotton bra.

He looks up at your face, grinning wide, and points at your neck; little purple marks adorn it. “That why you wore that sweater today?”

Flushing crimson, you run fingers across your neck.

“Yeah, you marked me Eddie. Not exactly discreet.”

He chuckles, stroking the side of your neck. “Sorry sweetheart, I won't do it again. Well, not anywhere that anyone can see.”

Heat floods your stomach, the stark realisation that you want him to mark you clings to your insides. If he notices your reaction he doesn't say, instead he leans toward you pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“You're really pretty. I don't know if I said that before.”

Awash with a new heat in your cheeks, you smile bashfully. “Thanks, I don't get told that very much.”

Staring at you, he shakes his head.

“You should. You should be told every fucking day.”

You open your mouth, but before you can reply he kisses your jaw, running his tongue down your neck, before he presses his mouth to the top of your breast, sucking roughly. A gasp flies out, and your hand makes a decision entirely on its own to grab his hair.

It seems it was the right thing to do, judging by the deep groan that comes from him. It seems to spur him on, and he yanks the cup of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. His tongue teases it, rubbing his piercing over the pebbled nub.

“Oh Holy fuck!” Back arching with the foreign sensation, you revel in it, wriggling underneath him. He smirks against your skin, and takes your nipple between his teeth. Moaning loudly, you pull his hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He looks up at you, pupils blown to black, “can’t hold back if you do that.”

It's not a dare, but it tastes like one, and before you can think you're tugging at it again. Eddie's eyes roll back, and a hard look crosses underneath his eyes.

His actions turn a little feral, pulling you up so he can unhook your bra, practically ripping it off you before his mouth is all over your chest, firm fingers digging into the flesh of your hip.

“Fuck, Eddie” you stutter it out, voice laced with need.

“Yeah?” He whispers out breathlessly between urgent kisses, making his way down your stomach. Suddenly he takes the flesh of your hip in his mouth and bites down little before sucking a bruise as you writhe under him.

He reaches your skirt, hooking fingers into the waistband as he looks up at you, his tone urgent. “Can I?”

As you nod frantically, he reacts immediately, yanking it down along with your underwear.

“Fuck, look at you.”

The urge to close your legs is real, embarrassed at the way he's ogling you right between your thighs. They quiver with tension, but Eddie forces them open with his large palms.

“Don't hide from me. You still want this?”

You nod, and his head snaps up to look at you. His voice is hard, swirling around your insides with an intensity you're not used to from him.

“Say it. You need to say it.”

‘Yes, please Eddie.”

That satisfies him. He leans forward, breath ghosting over your clit. You're waiting for his mouth, his tongue, but that's not what happens. He inhales you, nose so close it's almost touching your sex.

“Jesus Christ, you smell so fucking good.”

“Eddie!” you cry it out, cringing at his words as you bury your face in your hands.

“Relax princess, it's a compliment.”

Before you can retort that it's not a compliment, it's weird, and he's a freak for saying it, it no longer matters. He's licking a fat stripe up the length of your pussy, long tongue pushing against you hard in an animal-like gesture.

The noise that expels from your chest is inhuman, a choked, guttural breath that belongs in a cave somewhere, not a bedroom.

He doesn't relent, his mouth exploring every inch of you with a ferality that has you tingling all the way to your toes. His fierce movements, accentuated by the bump of his piercing, have you nearly leaving the mattress. You're not sure if you're trying to get more, or move away. Not that it matters. His hands are holding you so firmly that all you can do is wriggle helplessly like a fish on a line.

Fingers trace the outside of your entrance before they slide in, beckoning your release. Whimpering, you grasp the bedsheets in a need to keep contact with something real.

“Talk to me,” he says between mind numbing messy kisses to your clit, “good, yeah?”

“Eddie, f-fuck, its incredible, please, oh God, k-keep going!”

You can practically feel the smirk on his face as he dives back in, suckling at your clit with an unmatched fervour, his tongue piercing flicking expertly as he does so. Suddenly, you're not creeping toward your release, you're being hurtled toward it, thrown into the depths of absolute pleasure.

Hands finding their way into Eddie's hair again, you hold on tight, buckling up for the ride. It's almost violent the way he pulls your climax from you, and you scream loudly, almost folding in half before you fall back onto the bed.

Eddie sits up, hands placed on your thighs, as he grins proudly, face shining with your slick.

“You OK princess?”

OK doesn't seem to cover it. You're panting wildly, each breath shallow and ragged, brain melted into soup.

“Think you can go again?”

That gets your attention. You sit up, gaping at him. “Again?”

Chuckling, he runs a finger up your slit and circles your clit in a teasing manner. The slight touch has your thighs trembling.

“I think you've got at least one more in you.”

Without a further word he presses his tongue against you. On instinct you grip his hair once more, bucking your hips up.

“Fuck, that's it sweetheart, ride my face.”

This time he slips his tongue inside as his nose nudges at your clit, the thick muscle curling and writhing. Holding on tight, your hips know what to do, your body reacting and rolling to meet him.

You're yanking his hair hard as you grind against his face, pulling deep grunts and moans from him which vibrate inside of you. It feels primal, sheer need clouding your mind, a fog that rolls into every limb and leaves no part untouched.

“Eddie, fuck!” You moan loudly as your walls clench around his tongue, another climax bubbling its way to the surface. He doubles down with his efforts almost as if he needs this as much as you do.

With one final thrust of his tongue you whine out your orgasm, back finally touching the bed once more. There are no thoughts, only your heavy breath and beating heart keeping you in the moment.

After a few seconds that seem to stretch on for a year, he hovers over your face. He's wiped off your release, but nothing could wipe that smug grin.

“So? Good?”

It's not like he doesn't know. You pat blindly at his arm, words stuck in a puddle on your tongue. In an unexpected tender gesture, he swipes his thumb over your chin, his gaze pensive. You stare back, fingers reaching out to gently touch his cheek.

“Are you going to kiss me?” You whisper, the words pooling from you unbidden.

For a split second you think he's going to lean in and close the gap, but he flashes his teeth at you and flicks the tip of your nose.

“That's not part of the deal.”

Disappointment leaks into your stomach. Which is entirely unfair. He's using your words after all. Fighting the feeling, you force a smile.

“I think I'll need a wheelchair to get home.” You chuckle, indicating to your still twitching legs.

“Stay here. I'll take the couch.”

“Oh, no, Eddie, I couldn't kick you out of your own bed thats-”

“Hey, it's fine, honestly. I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it.” He shrugs and rolls off the bed and onto his feet in one quick movement like a cat. “Here. If you want something to sleep in.” He hands you a faded t-shirt. Hesitating for a moment, your hand hovers over it, but he stuffs it into your grip.

“Honestly, it's fine. I can drop you home before work so you can get changed and stuff. No big deal.”

“What about your chronic tardiness?” You joke, smiling softly at him.

“You're here, I'm sure you'll whip me into shape.”

“You'd probably like that,” you tease.

“More than you know.” He winks again, and walks to the doorway. “Night, princess.”

“Night Eddie.”

When he's gone you shrug the shirt on. It's clean, but there's an undercurrent of pure Eddie still there that's more comforting than you'll care to admit. Then, you lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Well. You certainly weren't expecting to end up in Eddie's room, in his bed, but here you are. You're not sure what this all means just yet and processing it is just hurting your brain. A part of you is saying that you should get out now whilst you can. Another, louder part is telling you this is where you should be. The only problem: is this message coming from your heart, or much lower down?

Chloe drifts into your mind whilst you lay there. Did they hook up in this bed? Are you in the same place she was? And how did that end? Clearly it was on good terms, considering how friendly they are, but how many girls have been where you are right now? A few? A dozen? A hundred?

After a while your thoughts just start to ache, leaving a migraine behind your eyes. Shifting on the bed, you try to get comfortable, but it's no use. You wonder if Eddie is still awake. After all, he's the only one that can answer your questions.

Sitting up a little, you listen intently for any signs of life from the next room, but no matter how hard you strain your ears, you can't hear anything.

As you quietly get up and creep to the door, you press your ear to it. Maybe that was a word you heard, a loud breath, or the signs of an overactive imagination. Turning the doorknob like a safecracker, you inch the door open ever so slightly to peek beyond.

There he is, laying on the couch, eyes tight shut and face contorted in concentration. Odd. You slowly guide the door open a little more and your eyes nearly bug out of your head.

Eddie's laying there, hand down his sweats, tugging at himself like there's no tomorrow.

You almost cry out in shock but manage to swallow the noise just in time. For what feels like a full minute you stand and stare, mouth gaping open. It's like you're hypnotised, unable to tear away from his urgent movements.

A particularly good stroke has him bucking into his hand, and he lets out this strained whimper that shoots directly between your legs.

Right, stop. This is wrong. How would you feel if he caught you? …OK, bad example.

Reluctantly, you close the door again as quietly as you can before climbing back into his bed to stare at the ceiling once more.

It looks like it's going to be a long night.

********************

“You look really great,” Chloe says as she strolls into the shop, handing you a coffee, “like, happier, more relaxed.”

It's a few days after your impromptu sleepover at Eddie's place, and she's absolutely right. You do look more relaxed, even you've noticed the change. There's more confidence in you, and a smile that was once a little forced is warm and genuine.

“Thanks, I think I'm getting more comfortable here.” It's not a lie, exactly, but it's certainly not the whole truth.

“Good, glad to hear it!” She beams at you and heads to her table.

The bell over the door chimes once again startling you. Miranda and Mac are already here and it couldn't possibly be Eddie this early.

“Um… Hi.” A gangly youth walks in, all arms and legs and bright blonde hair. He shuffles over to the counter awkwardly.

“Morning, can I help you?”

“Y-yeah, you do walk-ins today, right?” He asks, brandishing a crumpled flyer at you.

Face lighting up, you fix your best smile.

“Why yes we do, it's walk-in Wednesday. It's a little early though. Can I see some ID?

He hands it over. The guy's freshly 21 and knows it, puffing out his little pigeon chest with pride.

“Excellent. It's about 10 minutes until we open, but Miranda will be with you. Miranda, you got a book for this guy?”

Confusion paints Mirandas's face, but then she smiles.

“A walk in? Wow.” She strolls over and hands him her portfolio of designs, introducing herself.

When Eddie finally turns up, there's another guy waiting.

“You're not my 10:30.”

The poor boy looks at him nervously like he did something wrong.

“Eddie, he's a walk-in.” Mac says, calling over his shoulder.

Eddie smirks at you and leans over the counter.

“Well well, bet you're happy. Atta girl.”

Blushing profusely, you move to tap him on the arm in warning, but he grabs your hand and kisses it. Heat flies straight to your belly at the gesture.

“Let me know when my 10:30 is here, alright sweetheart?”

He's still holding your hand, brushing his fingers over your knuckles. Weakly you nod, gazing at him as your toes curl in your shoes.

Shooting you a wink, he ambles over to his station as you watch him, eyes drawn to the way he moves.

There's three more clients asking about Wednesdays; granted, one didn't have an ID, but the other two were seen and inked, and one even booked a follow up with Miranda.

Buzzing with job satisfaction, you're grinning when you nip to the restroom, walking through the narrow corridor. As you exit, you're immediately accosted by Eddie. He stands close, a hand loosely holding your wrist to keep you there as he bends to whisper in your ear.

“Now, you're not supposed to touch fine art, but someone's gotta pin you against the wall and nail you right.”

“Eddie!” You whisper shout at him, only serving to make him chuckle low in his throat.

“Sorry, couldn't resist. I have an idea, for that favour you owe me?”

Body tensing of its own accord, you look up at him, your cheeks flushed and mouth slightly parted. Before you can ask what it is, a voice cuts through the tension.

“Hey, keep it at home guys.”

Mac's standing at the other end of the corridor with his arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Pursing your lips, you wriggle from Eddie's grip.

“It's not what it looks like Mac, I promise.” You say, shouldering past Eddie.

“Come on sweetheart, don't get all shy on me now!” He shouts, walking after you.

You ignore him, giving Mac an apologetic look, and sit back down at the counter. God, that was embarrassing. Seems like professional and discreet are out the window.

“So, as I was saying-”

“Eddie, stop, not now.” you say, cheeks bright red.

“I was only-”

“Eddie please! I don't want to get into trouble!”

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, but backs off finally.

You make a very clear point of being busy until the rest of the day, completing any ad hoc tasks you can think of. Tidying the stock cupboards, refreshing the consent sheets, and even organising the sparse counter. Anything to avoid further comment from Mac.

When six rolls around you turn to talk to Eddie, but he's already leaving without a glance at you.

Sighing, you make your way outside and home, trying to ignore the little sting in your chest.

********************

It's Saturday before you see him again. Your day off was mostly spent worrying about how you upset him and thinking about everything you could have done differently.

By the morning you're an emotional wreck, anxiety having done her job and left you a bubbling mass of maybes. When Eddie storms in the shop with a proverbial rain cloud over his head your heart pangs in your chest.

He's such a big character, and you didn't realise until now the influence this has on this place. Usually he's energetic and upbeat; however, with this melancholy energy coming from him, everyone seems to stoop a little more, eyes a touch downcast, movements more shuffled and broken. It's like a black hole has descended on the shop, pulling joy from your soul and sucking everything into its gravity.

The tattoo shop is quiet for a Saturday. Not from lack of customers; it's just a more hushed and sullen atmosphere. By the afternoon you decide enough is enough and you grab Eddie's arm between clients.

“Eddie, can I talk to you?”

He gets up, stretching his back in a feline movement, and walks with you slowly to the stockroom.

“Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened on Wednesday, I didn't want to upset you and I can't stand seeing you like this and-”

“Woah, sweetheart, slow down. You been worrying? About me?” He tilts his head, giving you a small lopsided smile.

“Yeah? I thought you were mad at me.” You mumble out.

“Oh, princess, come here.” He wraps you in his arms, holding your head close to his chest. A relieved breath puffs from your chest as you melt into the hug.

“That's not what I'm upset about, I promise.”

You pull from the embrace to look at him, a hopeful smile tugging at your lips.

“Really?”

Stroking your cheek softly, he presses his lips together. “You're adorable,” he moves his hand away and starts waving his arm about as he tells you what's wrong.

“You know I'm in a band? Well we've got this regular gig at Hatters, which is great and all, but I found out they're looking for more bands at The Pit. That big rock club on Main? I've been trying to get hold of the damn owner but he's ignoring all my calls and I'm pissed off.”

Grinning, you grab his arm. “Eddie, I can totally help you with that.”

His gaze is soft and warm as he asks “Really? You'd do that for me?”

“Of course I would. You got their number?”

He digs around in his pocket and passes you a wedge of shiny paper. Unfolding it, you look at the details, smiling even wider when you see they're attempting a ladies night. There's a telephone number at the bottom, the contact listed as William.

“I gotta idea. Just roll with it, OK?”

He looks confused but nods at you. Skipping to the counter, you pick up the phone and dial the number. When it's answered by a young woman, you speak with a nasal voice, sounding almost bored.

“Is Bill there?- Tell him it's Barb- oh trust me he's gonna wanna take this call honey.”

Eddie's staring at you with an amused expression; you look back at him, flashing a smile while you wait.

“Bill! How long has it been! Oh, don't say you don't remember me… oh, you do!- I'm good, I'm good- I'm managing this band, yeah, you've gotta book them- Corroded Coffin- yeah, yeah- They are hot right now, selling out their shows- look I know you're struggling getting the ladies in, but that's about to change. Their lead singer is- well lemme tell you, if I were a younger woman- haha yes, sounds great! Next Saturday?- Nine- Great stuff- I'll speak to you soon.”

Placing the phone down with a little click, you cross your legs and look at Eddie smugly.

His jaw may as well be on the floor, eyebrows so high that he resembles a cartoon character.

“Barb? Selling out their shows? If I were a younger woman? Where the fuck did that come from?”

You giggle, “I thought he'd listen if he thought I was a business connection. I took a shot, a little bullshit can take you far.”

He swoops over to you and grabs you in his arms, lifting you bodily from your seat and swinging you around as you squeal helplessly.

“Saturday? Not even midweek? Princess I owe you big time.”

“Eddie I already owe-”

He's not listening, running over to Mac and bouncing on the spot like a child. “Mac, Mac, did you hear? I'm playing at The Pit!!”

You watch as he explains what just happened; he's so animated, gesticulating wildly as loose locks of hair fly from his bun. Mac beams at him and hugs him in a fatherly motion before Eddie springs back over to you.

“Who the fuck is Barb?”

“I dunno, she sounded worldly.”

He grins, shaking his head, “I can't believe you lied for me. You seem… different lately. More confident. It suits you.”

Blushing, you thank him. For a second you stare at each other, both lost in the other.

Eddie shakes his head, and looks at the time.

“Fuck, right, I got 20 minutes, I'll be back!” He grabs his coat and runs out of the shop shouting “personal errand!”

Chuckling, you sit back down at the counter. Mac approaches, smiling softly.

“You did good Miss, he's really happy.”

“Thanks, I couldn't bear the sulking.”

He laughs and touches your shoulder, “he cares about you. In case you didn't notice.”

He walks away nonchalantly as if he didn't just drop a bomb at your feet. Eddie cares about you? You're still pondering it when he returns a half hour later looking sweaty and dishevelled.

“Princess, I got you a present,” he whispers, brandishing a nondescript black bag at you. You peek inside and shut it immediately.

“Eddie what the fuck!” You whisper, face flooding with blood at the sight as you hide it under the counter. There's a sex toy in the bag, well at least one, but you were so shocked at the sight you didn't get a good look.

He chuckles and leans in close. “Thought you'd like it.”

“Eddie I don't know how to- to use this stuff,” you mumble quietly, looking around to make sure no one's listening.

He smirks at you in response.

“You free tonight? I can show you.”

Taglist

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 3 months

Text

youtube

Very funny Staged-like opening of BAFTAs 2024 with David and Michael! :D ❤

David: Can you hear me? Michael, how is it going.

Michael: Yeah, I don't have time for pleasantries, David. Some of us are big in America. In fact, I have a zoom with LA in ten minutes.

David: It's 04:00 a.m. in LA.

Michael: Well, that was the only time I could fit them in, so they're getting up early. Anyway, look, I just wanted to confirm, I'm going to drop the new dog off on Sunday morning. We've called him Bark Ruffalo. It's cute isn’t it?

David: That is actually quite good. But listen, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm afraid I can’t dog sit on Sunday.

Georgia: Oh, hi, Michael.

Michael: Yeah, hi, Georgia. Look, I don't want any of your excuses, David, you promised. I can't leave him with a neighbour because he peed in her kitchen.

Georgia: Right. Whereas we are desperate for him to come and pee in our kitchen.

David: I know that I did promise to dog sit on Sunday but since I promised, something else has come up and I-

Michael: Well, that sounds like a you problem.

David: Hi, Stan how are things?

Stanley Tucci: Hi, David. How are you?

David: Okay, listen, I need a favour. Michael Sheen has asked me to look after his dog on Sunday, but I agreed to host the BAFTA Film Awards on the same day. I was wondering if you could look after his dog for me?

Stanley Tucci: I would love to do that for you, David.

David: Oh, Stan, you're a lifesaver. Thank you so much.

Stanley Tucci: Is there anything else I can do for you?

David: No, looking after the dog is... I mean, that's obviously amazing.

Stanley Tucci: I could wash your car or something or the windows in your home.

David: You're not really gonna look after the dog, are you?

Stanley Tucci: And the BAFTA for Catching On Very Quickly goes to...

David: Himesh! Oh, Himesh, I think your computer is frozen. Oh, no it’s not frozen because I just saw someone.

Himesh Patel: Look, I know you're just calling because you want something from me.

David: Yeah. What are you doing on Sunday? Oh for crying out loud. Tom Hiddleston!

Tom Hiddleston: Hey, David. What's the pitch?

David: Pitch is dog sitting for Michael Sheen.

Tom Hiddleston: Wow. Okay. Yeah. Interesting. I'm guessing that we're going for, like, funny.

David: Could be funny, it’s a cute dog.

Tom Hiddleston: Yeah, I suppose the dog sitter initially could present as benign, and then he and the dog get up to all kinds of hijinx and ultimately disrupt stuffy old Michael Sheen's boring life. But for the better.

David: Listen did your agent tell you that I wanted to talk to you about a film?

Tom Hiddleston: Well yeah, obviously, unless you're actually, you know, calling me to ask me to dogsit for Michael Sheen.

David: No. Oh. Dame Judi. Long time no see.

Judi Dench: I thought you were going to be that beautiful Michael Sheen. What do you want?

David: Well, I wonder if you'd be up for a bit of dog sitting. I promised to look after Bark Ruffalo for Michael on Sunday, but I'm double booked.

Judi Dench: David. Bark Ruffalo. He pees everywhere. And anyway, I shall be watching a BAFTA Film Awards with a big glass of champagne. What's with the kilt?

David: Wait and see.

Judi Dench: Ooh.

David: Hi, David Tennant signing in. There's a courier here with something for production.

announcement: David Tennant to stage. David Tennant to stage.

David: Hi. Hello. Hi, everyone. Hi. Hi. Hi there.Sorry. I've got-Are you good with dogs? Yeah, and not on your dress. I'm sorry. Thank you. Hi. Hi. Sorry. Hello. Hello. Hi. This is fine. This is fine. This is. Michael? Michael?! What? What is this?

Michael: What are you doing there?

David: I'm hosting the show.

Michael: What?!

David: This is why you wanted me to dog sit, so you could sit there?

Michael: Yeah.

David: You going to have to take the dog.

Michael: What? What if I have to go up on the stage to be given an award? Yeah. All right. Give me.

David: Yeah. Come on. Get that one. You take that. And this weird thing.

Michael: Was this Scottish man mean to you? All right, come on to me. Oh, darling, hello, hello.

David: Never work with animals or Michael Sheen. Not a great start. Not a great start. Don't worry, though, tonight is going to go smoother than Ken's chest. For one thing, he's not a dog anyway. He is actually being played by Andy Serkis. Look at that. What a performance. Andy.

#david tennant #michael sheen #staged #david and michael #funny #videos #transcripts #bafta 2024 #awwwww #stanley tucci #himesh patel #tom hiddleston #judi dench #Youtube

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love-belle · 10 months

Text

good riddance !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their post break-up era is them pretending that they weren't each other's everything.

for when you're too hurt to regret anything. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - hello!!! i hope u like this one!!! thank u so much for reading, i love you <3 just a note, that i will probably not be posting next week bc i have exams but i will be active here so ! if u message me, i'll probably reply, i hope so anyways lol <3

≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, carmenmmundt and 779,617 others

yourusername taylor was so right when she said "oh my love is a lie" bc fr love IS a lie

7,927 comments

username she gets it

username oh this speaks VOLUMES

username bestie u should've just tagged him at this point

username i will never be getting over them u don't get it they were my PARENTS

username girl is heartbroken but still slaying

*liked by yourusername*

username i miss u and danny so much 💔💔💔💔💔💔

lilymhe kids remember to drink rat poison before you fall in love because it never works out!!!

-> yourusername so true gf

-> alex_albon ???

-> lilymhe no babe look away

-> username poor alex omg 💀💀💀

username TAYLOR SWIFT ALWAYS RIGHT

*liked by yourusername*

username im a child of divorce what the fuck

username hits different ://///

username the highkey shade 😭😭😭

landonorris we miss you!!!

-> maxverstappen1 who's we

-> yourusername i will steal jimmy and sassy again don't test me maximus

-> maxverstappen1 for fuck's sake that's NOT my full name

-> yourusername ok maximus.

-> username OH THANK FUCK 🙏🙏🙏 i genuinely thought her friendship with everyone would be all fucked up but im so happy to see this ❤️❤️❤️

-> username they're so precious to me

username missing daniel is the comments simping for her 💔💔💔

username "love exists bc u exist for me" IM CRYING WHAT THR CUCK

-> username how'd we go from THAT to this.

georgerussell63 your hobbies include calling me and carmen at 3 in the morning just to say bonjour in weird accents and then hang up

-> yourusername idk abt u but carmen loves me doing that

-> carmenmmundt can confirm 😘

username nah bc what'd daniel do so bad that y/n started doing STUFF

-> username IM SAYING LIKE 😭😭😭

username missing her in the paddock sm omg ://

username praying she's at the next race 🙏🙏🙏

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 782,526 others

danielricciardo good riddance.

8,626 comments

username PAUSE

username reverse whatcthebfuck

username daniel babe what.

username no bc if i was y/n i would cry maybe that's just my sensitive ass

-> username definitely not just u bc i would SOB

username OH MY GOD

landonorris don't act like i can't hear you singing sad songs to yourself

-> danielricciardo LEAVE ME ALONE

username nah bc what the fucj

username i don't like it one bit 🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤

username NOT MY PARENTS FIGHTING

username love is not real bc if they didn't work out then there's absolutely no hope for me

username i feel so bad :////

charles_leclerc you're lying

-> danielricciardo no i'm not

-> charles_leclerc yes you are, i can see you wipe away your tears

-> danielricciardo STOP EXPOSING ME

-> username PLEASE OH MY GOD

username "good riddance" what if this was my last straw.

username i know he's gasping for air rn knowing he lost a bad bitch like y/n

username ahahahahaha!!! im so okay!!!!!!! just fine!!!!!!! idc abt this!!!!!!!! (im losing my mind)

username someone take away y/n's phone before she sees this PLEASE

username my heart's breaking wtf

username remember when daniel and y/n posted about each other with WHOLESOME captions??????? good times

-> username those were the highlights of my entire week like ://

-> username i miss my mom and dad sm 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

maxverstappen1 nice

*liked by danielricciardo*

username i know max is maaaaaaaaaaad

username the f1 gc is blowing up as we speak rn

-> username real like y/n is like their baby sister 😭😭😭

≡;- ꒰ °text messages ꒱

kelly's bf 👎 - max ; cat stealer ❌ - y/n

cat stealer ❌ : max

kelly's bf 👎 : what

cat stealer ❌ : is kelly with u

kelly's bf 👎 : she's out with p

kelly's bf 👎 : what happened

cat stealer ❌ : just wanted to talk to her

cat stealer ❌ : it's okay, just tell her to give me a call whenever she's back :) tell sweet p i love her and i miss her sm

kelly's bf 👎 : will do

seen 1m ago

kelly's bf 👎 : hey you okay?

kelly's bf 👎 : i saw what daniel posted

kelly's bf 👎 : it's a shit move just saying

kelly's bf 👎 : he's stupid

cat stealer ❌ : yeah idc lol

cat stealer ❌ : "good riddance" ok boy u literally begged me to make it work

cat stealer ❌ : i'm sorry ik he's ur best friend

kelly's bf 👎 : yeah but so are you

cat stealer ❌ : WOAHHH PAUSE

cat stealer ❌ : max being nice for a change?????

cat stealer ❌ : history was made

kelly's bf 👎 : don't make me take it back

kelly's bf 👎 : but yeah

kelly's bf 👎 : don't pay any attention to him, yeah? i'm sure kelly will have a few choice words for him at the next race, along with me. and p probably, she loves her aunt y/n

kelly's bf 👎 : speaking of that, you're coming to the next race right?

cat stealer ❌ : i love u all :// thank u

cat stealer ❌ : and no, i don't think it's a good idea

kelly's bf 👎 : are you sure? you can stay inside the whole time, he won't even see you

cat stealer ❌ : i'll think abt it, im just very overwhelmed rn that's all

kelly's bf 👎 : that's very understandable tbh

cat stealer ❌ : max

kelly's bf 👎 : y/n

cat stealer ❌ : can i ask u something

kelly's bf 👎 : if this is about letting you and kelly give me a makeover, it's no

cat stealer ❌ : we'll convince u someday but that's not what i wanted to ask

kelly's bf 👎 : what is it?

cat stealer ❌ : do u think daniel ever loved me

cat stealer ❌ : like at all???

kelly's bf 👎 : y/n

kelly's bf 👎 : of course he did

kelly's bf 👎 : you were his everything

cat stealer ❌ : then why was it so easy for him to walk out and then say "good riddance"

cat stealer ❌ : he took the easy way out

kelly's bf 👎 : he's a stupid asshole that's all

kelly's bf 👎 : but he truly did love you, he still does. i know i complained a lot, but with the way he spoke of you, like you were truly his everything. it was such a happy site, seeing my two best friends in love

cat stealer ❌ : u called me best friend twice omg

cat stealer ❌ : that's a record

kelly's bf 👎 : shut up

kelly's bf 👎 : my point is

cat stealer ❌ : i need to post something so W

cat stealer ❌ : brb

cat stealer ❌ : kelly's calling me

kelly's bf 👎 : so i was just a placeholder till my girlfriend arrived?

cat stealer ❌ : aw look at u using ur brain

kelly's bf 👎 : this is why daniel broke up with you

cat stealer ❌ : TOO SOON

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by carmenmmundt, lilymhe, charles_leclerc and 736,826 others

yourusername me looking for my last fuck to give

7,927 comments

username SLAYED

username ATE SO HARD OMG

username MOTHER

username i love her sm omg

username she's winning the idgaf war

kellypiquet pretty girl 🤍

*liked by yourusername*

username IM IN LOVE WOAHHHH

username she gagged him y'all

username I LOVE HER SM

username gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf gf

maxverstappen1 👍

-> yourusername 👎

-> maxverstappen1 okay fuck you i was trying to be nice

username HER

username iconic

username exes beefing omg 💀💀💀

lilymhe SLAYED

*liked by yourusername*

lilymhe IN LOVE

*liked by yourusername*

lilymhe on my knees pls marry me

-> yourusername let's go bb i'll get u a ring

-> alex_albon oh

-> lilymhe babe LOOK AWAY

username two artworks in one frame

-> yourusername pls i love u 😭😭😭

username MOTHER IS MOTHERING

username i know he's shaking rn

username no bc the way my jaw dropped and the way i gasped why are u so pretty beautiful gorgeous angelic ethereal breathtaking hot fine amazing

username I WENT TO HEAVEN OMG

username just one chance please

charles_leclerc as lando taught me "slayed the house down 🔥🔥🔥"

-> yourusername PLEASE IM HONOURED

username i adore her friendship with the grid 🫶🏼

username ahsuidsjgsjsjsksisjajsdh

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, landonorris and 796,415 others

danielricciardo ignorance doesn't suit you

comments are disabled for this post

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by francisca.cgomes, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 801,728 others

yourusername honey everything suits me ❤️

tagged danielricciardo

comments are disabled for this post

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #daniel ricciardo blurb #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo instagram au #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo angst #daniel ricciardo au #f1 instagram au #f1 imagine

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finalgilmoregirl · 5 months

Note

omg I loved your grumpy x sunshine Mike and reader work - could you please do another scenario where the sunshine! reader is the one who has a bad day and it’s up to grumpy! Mike to comfort and help out in his own way? :) thanks for sharing your work!

a/n : i'm glad you enjoyed it, thanks for the request. fem!reader, she/her pronouns, mainly just fluff

☆ bad day : grumpy!mike schmidt x sunshine!fem!reader

mike knew something was wrong the moment he closed his door behind him and was greeted with silence has he entered the house.

you were always rushing in to greet him as soon as the sound of his keys against the door knob signaled his arrival, but today that clearly wasn't the case.

"hello?" mike called out and a moment later was met by the sight of abby creeping out of the hallway.

"where's y/n?"

"well hello to you too" the young girl rolled her eyes, walking past mike and heading for the kitchen.

"sorry" he sighed, catching her arm before she got too far and pulling her into his arms for a hug, earning a groan in response. "how was your day?"

"it was okay, but i think y/n/n's sick."

"sick? what do you mean?" mike thought back to when he last saw you just that morning. you were fine, your normally bubbly self despite the early hours, yawning between giggles as you and abby got breakfast prepared.

abby shrugged, "i don't know, she's been in bed since we got home."

mike knew you better than abby to know that you couldn't be sick. even if you were sick, you would protest and continue your daily routine as usual. something had to have been seriously wrong for you to defy from that routine and lay in bed for hours, especially with abby home. you hated to leave her alone and always tried to find something spontaneous and fun for the two of you to do if time permitted.

he warily walked into the direction of your shared bedroom and slowly opened the door that was left ajar. the lights were off and if it wasn't for the glow of the hallway light, he wouldn't have been able to see your figure on the bed in the dimness of the afternoon darkness.

but there you were, laying on your side, facing away from the door. mike could tell you weren't sleeping by the way that you were scratching at the loose threads of the faded colored duvet.

"hey" he called out softly, nearing your spot on the bed where he then took a seat on the edge, softly placing a hand on your shoulder. "you okay?" he asked, trying to gauge your emotions. that quickly cleared up however when he heard a sniffle come from you, followed by a small hiccup. you were crying.

mike leaned over to look at your face and was met with wet eyes and puffy chapped lips. his eyebrows furrowed, "hey hey hey" he said softly, moving you so you were now laying on your back, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to will the tears away. you hated crying, and you knew mike hated to see you cry. "what's wrong? what happened?"

you closed your eyes and let out a deep breath, clearly trying to control yourself. "just...had a bad day." you sighed.

"well, talk to me about it." mike wasn't always the best at dealing with emotions, but he was good at comforting you and abby, always wanting you to open up to him, even if he had trouble doing the same sometimes.

you took in another deep breath and nodded, preparing yourself to tell mike about the worst day you'd had in a while.

"i fell off the front steps after you and abby left this morning. but it was okay" you started, "i laughed, realized i scraped by knees and had to change my pants but that was okay." mike nodded along and listened, rubbing your side as you spoke. "but then i got a flat tire on my way to work." you continued, sighing as you felt the emotions building up again. "that was fine, it took me a while to get it fixed but i mananged and that was taken care of with no problems. but i was late, and usually my boss would let that kind of thing slide, but we had some hire ups there to oversee us and when one of them called me out for not being "better prepared", instead of changing the subject or at the very least, defending me after everything i've done for him, he agreed! then she basically told him that i should either be fired or have my paycheck cut." you finished with a huff and let the fresh tears that had built up in your eyes fall down your face.

mike felt a pang of hurt in his chest as he heard you recount the unfortunate events of your day. you didn't deserve to go through all of that. "why didn't you call me?" he asked, brushing the tears away from your face and attempting to flatten the hairs that had become out of place.

your hands came up to cover your face as you let out a sob. "i forgot to charge my phone!" you cried, earning a soft aww honey from mike as he kissed your temple, allowing for you to let your feelings out. after a minute of you gasping for air through your cries and furiously wiping away tears that just kept coming, you started to relax. you sighed and turned your head to your partner.

"i'm sorry you had to see me like this, how was your day?" you asked, still sniffling. mike shook his head and scoffed a laugh, even in the middle of a breakdown, you still want to talk about him.

"no don't worry about me, it was fine." he said, "how can i help you?"

you shrugged, looking down and beginning to play with mikes fingers where his hand now rested on your stomach.

"come on" he insisted, "you always help me when i'm having a bad way and i want to help you now. do you want a snack? do you want to watch a movie, or go for a drive? anything you want, i'll do it for you."

you let out a small laugh at mike's dedication, causing him to squeeze your side. "i'm serious!"

you looked back up and into his eyes, cracking a small smile. "maybe a movie." you said quietly.

"okay, i can do that." mike spoke, starting to get up from his seat on the bed until he was stopped by your hand on his arm.

"but first can you just hold me for a bit. please?" mike looked down at you with a kind of softness that he ever only reserved for you.

"yeah, i can do that too."

the end ☆

#mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #kelly : mike thoughts 💭

1K notes · View notes

monzabee · 6 months

Text

bad idea right? – ln4

masterlist

Summary: The one where seeing Lando tonight is a bad idea, right?

Pairing: lando norris x ricciardo!reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of breakups and also fighting, cursing, kind of a toxic relationship?, allusion to smut, it's criminal how long it took me to finish this fic

Request: this wasn’t requested, but the idea is veeery loosely from this tiktok right here! (i might def write the scenario in the tiktok in the future though)

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! it has officially been a month since i started my master's programme and i have to say it is absolutely kicking my ass, but thank you all for bearing with me while i adjust! this song has been stuck in my head for the last two-three (?) months and i really wanted to write a fic based on it. i also wanted to say that i've received all of your guys' requests, and i'm working on those, but it's harder for me to get out a request than a fic that just popped in my head because i tend to be more of a perfectionist with those - so, those are definitely on the way, don't worry! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It’s not that you don’t like spending time with your brother and his girlfriend – because you do, but considering the fact that spending a mere hour with them causes you to suddenly question your life choices (of being single), you are very eager to leave them alone for the night. Which brings us to the current situation, with you standing in front of your brother’s apartment complex in one of the hoodies you stole from the sample boxes, waiting for someone you should’ve never hit up in the first place. It was probably not your brightest idea to message Lando to ask him if he wants to go for a ride, especially because a) the last time you saw him a year ago the two of you were yelling and throwing things at each other and b) you’re definitely buzzed from the bottle of wine you hogged upstairs. But you know what they say; absence makes the heart go fonder, right?

So there you are with your phone in your hand, texting Lily in hopes of getting the tiniest bit of reassurance about your decision.

To lily m: i texted lando To lily m: he’s gonna pick me up From lily m: WHAT? NO To lily m: seeing him tonight To lily m: it’s a bad idea, right? From lily m: YES From lily m: DO NOT GET INTO THAT CAR To lily m: yes i know that he’s my ex, but can’t two people reconnect?

Fuck it, it’s fine, you decide as you quickly delete the last two messages. With a soft sigh, you wrap your arms around yourself to shield yourself from the cold air of the night. And while you could just wait for Lando inside the apartment building, you really don’t want to attract more attention to yourself. You can feel yourself getting more and more nervous as the minutes pass by, and you even contemplate cancelling the whole thing and going upstairs to sleep. Just as you’re about to give up on the whole thing, a car honk grabs your attention. When turn to look at the source of the sound, you see Lando’s unamused face through the open window.

He motions you to get in with his head, his voice as equally detached as he calls out, “Get in.”

Rolling your eyes at his behaviour, you do as your told. But you tell yourself that it’s not because he told you to, but because you’re cold. And so you get in the car making sure you slam the door as hard as you can, which makes him scowl as a small smile forms on your lips. “You know, you could really try on being more polite.”

“I’m picking you up in the middle of the night,” he points out as he puts the car on drive and starts driving off, “and put your damn seatbelt on.”

You give him a sideway glance as you put on your seatbelt, letting out a sigh, “Are you okay? I’m sensing some serious undertone.”

Lando doesn’t answer you, mainly because he is smarter than he looks and he knows you’re trying to goad him into another fight. That’s what the two of you had always done, not that he hated you or vice versa, but the two of you mainly got along in fights which ended up in both of you twisted between the sheets of the whatever hotel you were currently staying in. And it had worked for a while, until of course it didn’t, and Lando was mature enough to admit that he had a huge role in fucking up your relationship.

“You changed your car,” you point out.

“Thought you’d appreciate a roof over your head this time,” he replies.

The car is silent as Lando drives down the now empty streets of Monte Carlo, and you find yourself involuntarily checking out his side profile because well, he always looked so good while driving. You suppose it’s only one of the things that didn’t change with time.

“So,” his voice draws you out from your thoughts, “why’d you call me tonight? Are you drunk?”

“I am not drunk,” you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest, “if you don’t feel like being here Lando, I can just get off and go home.”

“Now I didn’t say that, I simply asked a question.” He steals another glance at you, but this time a little smirk forms on his lips when your eyes meet and he sees your scowl. “It was a harmless question, really.”

Your voice comes off as clipped as you answer, “I’m not drunk.”

“Your cheeks are red,” Lando points out but the playfulness from mere seconds ago is gone, in fact, he’s more serious than you’ve probably ever seen him, “you either had wine or your rosacea is acting up.”

It takes a moment for you to take in his words, and there is no humour in his voice or on his face when you look at him to see whether he’s joking or not. “I had some wine,” you confess, voice much lower than before as you add, “but I’m not drunk.” One of his eyebrows rise up, and you find yourself mumbling, “Fine maybe a little bit, but not a lot.”

His jaw ticks as he mumbles, “Okay, whatever you say.” And as you try to assess whether his voice is cold or not, you see his hands tightening around the steering wheel.

“What?” You ask, a bit quicker than necessary (in your opinion), “What did I say?”

Now it’s his turn for his voice to be clipped, and his eyebrows furrow as he asks, “Did you only call me because you’re drunk?”

“No,” your reply is truthful to some extent, you suppose, you would’ve texted him even if you had no alcohol in your system. “I wanted to see you.”

He lets out a hum, “Why?”

It’s a hard question, and you contemplate not being a hundred percent honest – but deep down you know he deserves better, even if you had your differences. So, to reveal the truth, you turn your face away from him to look outside the window, “I missed you.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t turn to see what his reaction will be. Everything is peaceful for a moment.

He takes you to a hill, the very one he took you for your first date. Though, it doesn’t carry the same excitement this time around. The two of you remain in the car with the windows rolled down, but the colder air doesn’t make you chilly. It’s silent, but it’s not an uncomfortable one. Neither of you make the first move to start a conversation, and you don’t know if that’s because you’re both obstinate or he doesn’t want to be there. Though, you suspect he would’ve told you ‘no’ if he didn’t want to be there – not that he could ever tell you ‘no’.

It's unnaturally hard, you realise, not looking at him on purpose when he’s seated so close to you. Especially because you haven’t seen him in months. Not that you’d confess that to him, or let yourself have another weak moment where you say you missed him. Because you can’t. Because it’s not the way the two of you operate. Because he broke your heart but you’re not strong enough to let him go. With that last thought, you take a sharp breath, undo your seatbelt and get out of the car. You lean against the hood of the car and he soon follows suit. But where your hands are splayed behind your back, his arms are crossed over his chest.

“You’ve not been sleeping.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Because he is not dumb (or blind enough) to let the circles under your eyes slide.

And it’s a statement that might be true. You only give him half of a shrug, “So?”

“It means that something is bothering you.” You’re about to object, but he quickly shuts you down, “I once drove you around for four hours so you could sleep in my car, honey,” his fingers move to gently turn your chin towards him so he can look into your eyes, “and that was because you forgot to bring me back junk food from Australia.”

Even if you’re taken aback by his physical touch, you don’t show it as you stubbornly maintain your eye contact. “It’s the jet lag, I haven’t travelled in a while.” You gulp down a breath as you gently push his hand away, “And don’t call me that.”

“Why?” He turns his body to face you, “You’re just as sweet, aren’t you?”

“Lando,” you warn him, “don’t.”

He raises a brow, “Why not?”

“Because we’re friends,” your response comes off in an instant, “I only see you as a friend.” The biggest lie you’ve ever said.

“Friends,” he repeats, tests out the word, then shrugs, “sure. Now tell me what happened tonight that made you call me. Did you and Daniel fight?”

“What?” an involuntary laugh leaves your lips, and you catch the corner of his lips turning upwards just the smallest bit. “No, we didn’t, it’s not about Daniel. Can we just not talk about it, please?”

He gives you a firm nod, and you catch his grimace as he turns his attention back to the view in front of you. “You can tell me, you know,” he mumbles, “you used to.”

He’s right, you realise. You used to tell him all the little thought that popped into your head, whether it was nice or not, and he’d accommodated your thoughts. It was easier to talk to him, once upon a time, and you’re not really sure why it hurts so much right now that you can’t.

“Why do you care?” The question comes out quickly, and your voice is not as strong as you’d like it to be. “After everything, why do you care?”

“We’re friends, right?” The words tastes unbelievably sour in his mouth, and he has to restrain himself from making any sort of face, but it seems harder than it actually is for him to do and he questions whether it is worth it to

“Friends,” this time it’s your turn to test out the word, and it tastes as bitter as they come, “sure, can we ride around a bit more?”

“Fine,” he gives you a nod and motions you to get in the car, “but I have to get gas first.”

The fluorescent lighting of the gas station is definitely not the most flattering thing. So much so that you’re sure the unflattering light outside is exaggerating the bags under your eyes. But that situation of course doesn’t apply to Lando because even under the harsh lighting, he looks too pretty. And compared to earlier in the night, you don’t try to hide the way your eyes focus on him while he’s driving, though you hope you do a much better job at hiding the thoughts that come to your mind. Even after he’s parked the car in the nearest pump, you find yourself staring at his side profile a bit too long, which earns you a sideway smirk and you try your hardest not to react, but the smile you keep trying to fight is too strong and eventually you find yourself with the tiniest smile playing on your lips.

Lando turns towards you, meets your eyes and leans over the console, “Do you want anything from the shop?”

You blink once, trying to come up with anything, twice, then “Can you get me those gummy bears that I like?”

He gives you another nod, reaches into his pocket and then hand you his phone. Ignoring your questioning stare, he explains, “So that you can play music or something, the password is still the same.” Before he gets out of the car, he does the unexpected and leans in just a little bit more to press a feather-light kiss to your temple.

You watch him get out of the car and walk away from you with your mouth slightly hanging open. You contemplate trying to unlock the phone, because why would he tell you that his password is the same? And why would he trust you with his phone when the two of you have been broken up for over a year? With shaky hands, your fingers put in the password, calling Lando’s bluff. Oh shit, you think when the phone unlocks, now what? Throwing the phone out of your hands onto the driver seat, you grab your own and quickly type a new message to Kika, who of course got the news from Lily and has been blowing up your phone, while ignoring her dozen other messages who went unread in your text thread.

To kika: this was a bad idea kika Tokika: a very *very* bad idea From kika: please tell me you’re going home To kika: um… To kika: sure From kika: GET OUT OF THAT CAR AND GET YOUR ASS HOME From kika: NOW!!

Chewing on your lower lip, your eyes linger on the messages spamming your phone, and you contemplate just getting out of the car and trying to find your way back home. But you also can’t help yourself but think… what’s the worst that could happen if you stayed? Clicking the button on the side of your phone, you place it face down on your lap after making sure you silence it for the rest of the night. With the reminder of the abandoned phone on the seat next to yours, you open your window to let some of the night air in. As your phone keeps buzzing on your lap, your eyes focus on the figure that comes out of the convenience store – and by some grace of God, he doesn’t realise the way your eyes basically undress him as he approaches his McLaren.

There’s no smile on his face, in fact, if you didn’t know Lando, you’d say he looks like an asshole; not that he occasionally doesn’t act like one. He gives you that boyish smirk when he’s next to your window, signalling you to roll it down by tapping on it twice. Lando leans against the car, his eyes locked onto yours. “Got your gummy bears,” he says, holding up the package and handing it to you once you roll it down. “It was the last one too, you’re lucky.”

Giving a tight lipped smile to the man looking expectantly at you, you accept the packet of gummy bears. “Thank you, Lando,” the softening look in his eyes is, ironically, strong enough for you to choke on the next words that are on the tip of your tongue. “I–”

“I’m sorry to bother you, are you Lando Norris?” A third voice interrupts you, and you find yourself moving your gaze from Lando to the woman who’s excitedly waiting for a response.

“Yes,” he breathes out, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice polite but he’s also very annoyed at the same time – though the way he eyes up the stranger definitely makes your blood boil.

With his attention on the woman, you find yourself feel the tension in the air and quickly look down at the packet of gummy bears in your hands. You start absentmindedly picking at the wrapper, your mind racing with a mixture of emotions. As the conversation between Lando and the fan continues, you steal glances at them from the corner of your eye. She's gushing about a recent race, talking animatedly about the thrilling moments she witnessed. Lando, for his part, is gracious and engaged, taking the time to listen and respond. And despite the polite exchange, you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. It's a reminder of the world he's a part of, a world where fans approach him with admiration and excitement. A world you used to share, but now only observe from the sidelines.

You watch the woman place her hand on Lando’s bicep, laughing at a (rather mediocre) joke he made about the understeer of the car. It’s not a funny joke by any means, and you are not scared to admit that the woman’s laugh that fills your ears makes your insides twist uncomfortably. You remind yourself that you're here by choice. You could have left at any moment. But there's something about this night, about being with Lando again, that you can't quite let go of. It's a confusing mix of nostalgia and longing, wrapped in a blanket of uncertainty.

The woman’s voice hits your ears as you hear her ask, “Do you want to come back to my place?”

Without letting them both know that you’re actively listening into their conversation, you attempt to subtly let out a warning cough, but Lando covertly smirks as he leans towards the car with his hand grabbing the lowered window – without caring about the possible finger prints he might leave behind, might you add. Without any hesitation, you let your fingers go of the packaging to thread your fingers with his.

While his thumb gently starts to draw circles on the knuckle of your thumb, he does his best to supress the chuckle building up in his throat. “That’s, um, very kind – but I’m with my girl, you see, and we are both pretty tired.”

Maybe you would’ve given her a friendly smile over a misunderstanding if you were in a better mood, but as the woman looks at you with wild eyes, all you can offer her is an annoyed pout, and soon after she leaves after apologising to you both for interrupting your plans. You watch her leave until there is a good enough distance for her to not hear you, and then turn to Lando and give him a glare as you hiss, “I am not ‘your girl’.”

He finally lets out the chuckle he’s been holding as he watches you letting go of his hand with an exaggerated push, and then diverts his amused eyes towards you, “Sure, whatever you say, jealous girl.”

“I am not– I wasn’t jealous!” you exclaim, eyes narrowed. When he starts walking towards the driver’s side, you can’t help but call out, “I’m not jealous!”

Lando is still chuckling to himself when he gets in the car, and even as he starts driving, completely ignoring your whining complaints. “That’s alright, honey,” he says, voice full of condescension, “it was very cute.”

“You are an ass.” You roll your eyes as you cross your arms across your chest. “Maybe I should’ve gotten off when I had the chance, that way you could’ve fucked her in the back seat.”

“Bold of you assume she’s the one I’d want to fuck in my back seat,” he raises an eyebrow, then shrugs “but sure.”

Your face scrunches up in disgust, “You’re, ugh, you’re just the worst, Lando.” Shaking your head in disbelief, you add, “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you over you fucking girls in your car.”

Lando manages to get out a disapproving tut, and then contends, “I never said I’d fuck girls in my car, I’d said I’d rather fuck you in my car.”

Completely baffled by this revelation, not that you should’ve been, you turn to him in disgust, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He shrugs again, noncommittally, and without paying you any mind continues to focus on the road.

“Well,” you laugh, breathlessly, “good thing that’s never happening.” Gently clearing your throat, you later can’t help yourself but add a silent, “Again.”

“If you’d rather a bed, that could also be arranged, honey.” Lando assures you, and you realise the little fucker has a smirk growing on his face.

“As if I’d sleep with you willingly,” you scoff.

A boisterous laugh is what you get from Lando, who tilts his head towards you, “Come on, I’m a good-looking bloke.”

“And I’m sure I’ve seen much hotter man,” you sing, but you just can’t remember when. So deciding to block out what Lando is rambling about, you pull out your phone to message someone who has the answer for you.

To lily m + kika: can you tell me someone who is hotter than lando? From lily m: alex From kika: pierre To lily m + kika: ew, be serious please From kika: what about the guy with the accent, from hungary? From lily m: the doctor? To lily m + kika: i think she meant the reporter From lily m: god no he was a creep From lily m: what about the surfer? From kika: oh yeah he was cute too To lily m + kika: i need someone hot, pleaseee From lily m: THE MODEL FROM MILAN From kika: WITH THE ABS From kika: and also porche From lily m: BUT ALSO THE ABS To lily m + kika: okay thanks To lily m + kika: love you guys

Getting lost in the conversation, with the aid of your ambition to prove yourself right and, naturally, Lando wrong, you don’t realise that he’s actually driven you back to his apartment instead of a bar or literally some other place that sells alcohol in that ungodly hour.

“This isn’t a bar.” You point out, eyebrows furrowed.

Lando dignifies your comment with a scoff, “Well aren’t you quite the detective?”

Crossing your arms across your chest, you basically hiss at him this time, “This is basically kidnapping.”

Lando glances at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “Kidnapping? Really? I thought we were just catching up.”

You shoot him a sarcastic look, but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, sure. Catching up in the middle of the night at your place.”

He parks the car and turns to face you, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Well, here’s my proposal. I’ll go to my apartment and you’re free to either join me or drive my car back to Daniel’s – I’ll come pick it up tomorrow.”

You hesitate for a moment, considering your options as you watch Lando give you an assuring smile and handing you the keys before getting out of the car. Going back to your brother's place doesn't sound all that appealing, and Lando's offer, as questionable and a bad idea as it may be, seems like the lesser of two evils. Though, there is also the reality that if when you go up to his apartment, you’re probably going to do something that either you or your friends will regret tomorrow morning. Watching Lando’s retreating figure move further into the apartment building, you think, fuck it, it’s fine.

So, you wait for a few minutes, anxiously twirling the car keys in your hand to make him wait – but you’re pretty sure it makes you suffer just as much. You take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and then climb out of the car. Locking it behind you, you follow Lando into the building. The familiar scent of his cologne hits you as you step into the elevator, and a wave of nostalgia washes over you. The elevator ride going up to the second floor is pure torture, and it leaves you squirming in your place the whole time. Basically throwing yourself out of the elevator once it lands on the second floor, you realise that Lando has been waiting for you, standing and smiling at his door.

He gives you a teasing look as you approach, clearly amused by your slightly dishevelled state. “Took you long enough,” he remarks, unlocking the door and holding it open for you. But instead of saying anything or retorting back, you quietly follow him inside his apartment. Lando closes the door behind you, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. The dim lighting casts a soft glow, creating an intimate atmosphere. The first thing that catches your eye is the helmet collection he keeps in the living room. Without saying anything, you quickly make your way over to the shelves that display the helmets, trying your best to avoid his approaching footsteps behind you. The familiar design of a particular helmet has you instinctively tracing the number at the top, and the arms that hug your waist from behind makes you freeze for a moment. Lando's touch is both familiar and foreign, stirring up a mix of emotions you thought were long buried.

“That's from Monza, 2021,” he says, his voice close to your ear. The warmth of his breath sends a shiver down your spine.

You clear your throat, attempting to regain composure. “I remember,” you reply, your fingers still lingering on the helmet.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of the past and the uncertainty of the present hangs in the air. Lando breaks the silence, his voice low and measured. “I wasn't sure you'd actually come up.”

You turn to face him, meeting his gaze, but don’t attempt getting out of his arms. “I didn't think so either.”

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly leans in, his lips brushing against yours. It's a tentative touch, a testing of waters, and you find yourself responding to the familiarity of the kiss. The taste of the past lingers, and for a moment, it's as if the years haven't passed. But reality crashes back in, and you pull away, the distance now a necessary boundary. Lando looks at you, a mix of emotions playing on his face. There's longing, regret, and an unspoken acknowledgment of the complexities that bind you.

“I thought we could just catch up,” he says, his tone a mix of apology and yearning.

You turn in your place, facing him. “Catching up was never our strong suit, was it?”

“Not really,” Lando shakes his head, “no.”

You bite down on the corner of your lip, threading your fingers through his curls as you pull his face down to meet yours as you rise on your tiptoes, “It’s a bad idea, right?”

Lando lets out a supportive hum as he lets his lips softly brush against yours, “The worst.” And maybe he should have been the gentleman and pull away, but when he sees your eyes closing, he just leans in further to press his lips against yours – and the way you respond to his kiss? It's as if the world outside ceases to exist. The kiss deepens, each brush of his lips against yours reigniting a long-buried flame. Lando's hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, erasing the physical space between you.

You don’t complain as he pulls you towards his bedroom, or when he gently throws you on his bed, the anticipation hanging thick in the air. As he hovers over you, the weight of the past and the intensity of the present converge. His hands trace the contours of your face, memorizing every curve as if committing it to memory. And when the two of you get lost between each other within his sheets, the only thing that ends up coming from your mouth is either his name, or some sort of encouragement to keep him going. After he manages to wear you out, Lando decides that you’re definitely not going anywhere as he wraps you in his arms around you. The room is filled with the soft sounds of breaths syncing, hearts beating in tandem. Lando's fingers draw absent patterns on your skin while you check the messages that have accumulated in your phone. The glow of your phone illuminates the dim room, creating a subtle contrast to the warmth that envelops you. Lando's presence beside you adds an extra layer of comfort, a silent acknowledgment of the shared intimacy that unfolded moments ago.

From danny: please tell me you didn’t get kidnapped by the organ mafia From danny: wink twice if you’re alive From danny: this is not funny, where are you? From danny: fine i’ll ask alex to ask lily

Rolling your eyes before sending him a text to let your brother know you’re okay, you decide to turn your attention to the group chat with Lily and Kika.

From kika: did you get home safe? From lily m: daniel is pretty stressed about it From lily m: please for the love of god tell us you’re home and not with lando right now To lily m + kika: omg just calm down i’m in bed To lily m + kika: and i’m going to sleep To lily m + kika: love you guys

You catch a glimpse of Lando’s grin over your shoulder as you click your phone off, but he only chuckles as he buries his face into your neck as he leaves small kisses to the skin there. “Well, I’m not lying, I just didn’t specify where I was.”

“Or in whose sheets,” his laugher gets louder as you jokingly slap him on the arm, “go to sleep, honey, we’ll be tired in the morning.”

And it might’ve been a bad idea to message him in the first place, but it certainly doesn’t feel like one.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff

1K notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 3 months

Note

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind.

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup.

“Please, stop apologizing.”

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses.

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...”

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy.

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.”

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.”

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.”

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?”

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks.

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.”

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.”

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat.

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.”

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.”

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically.

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box.

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap.

Says Spencer Reid?

“...sorry?”

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself.

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.”

He swallows and nods.

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.”

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.”

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.”

But you're not crying because he was nice.

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear.

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks.

“I meant every word.”

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say.

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.”

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending.

“Had?”

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart.

“Yeah. You know what changed?”

“What’s that?”

Absolutely nothing.

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.”

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes.

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?”

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.”

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?”

You sniff, looking to the ceiling.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.”

More silence.

“But you don’t believe it.”

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.”

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head.

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?”

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him.

“What?”

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks.

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.”

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.”

“That’s... that’s not how I know.”

Your heart drops as you study his face.

No.

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying.

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be.

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation.

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

“What are you doing? Don’t--”

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks.

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—”

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?”

With nothing left to give, you turn to him.

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.”

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks.

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.”

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible.

“You... you like me?”

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—”

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—”

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.”

“You said you used to like me, past tense—”

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?”

“No, but—”

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?”

“Of course I have.”

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?”

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks.

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.”

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is.

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face.

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.”

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes.

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.”

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine.

“I do.”

“Will you kiss me?”

“If that’s what you want.”

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway.

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to.

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?”

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing.

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.”

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again.

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

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought.

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes.

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!”

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.”

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.”

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.”

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention.

“Spencer?”

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought.

“What does pulchritude mean?”

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair.

“Don’t worry about it.”

And so you let it float away.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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maxtermind · 9 days

Note

hello! i have a request for lewis x wife reader. maybe where reader is pregnant. and lewis is all sweet, protective, and caring about her? very domestic fluff is recommended :))

as bright as the morning

★ : feat :: lewis hamilton x pregnant!wife reader ★ : genre :: fluff ★ : word count :: 650 ★ : a/n :: this took so long because i forgot to schedule the post😔 hope you like this tooth rooting fluff

You stood in the kitchen, the comforting scent of breakfast filling the air as you moved about, your movements slowed by the gentle weight of your growing belly.

It was a rare sight to see you taking charge of breakfast, as he usually insisted on handling everything when he was home, but you decided to relish in this since he was still sleeping.

Oblivious to your man standing just a few feet away, admiring you, the morning sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow around you, enveloping you in a soft halo of light and making his heart swell with love.

”Hey there, beautiful,” you heard Lewis's voice, filled with affection, as he entered the room.

You turned to him, a smile lighting up your face at the sight of your husband.

”Good morning,” you replied, your voice soft with warmth, about to continue, but he crossed the room in a few quick strides, his arms enveloping you in a gentle embrace right that second.

Before you knew it, he was pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch sending a shiver of warmth down your spine. ”How are you feeling today?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with concern as he pulled back to look into your eyes.

You sighed, leaning into his touch. ”A little tired, but otherwise, I'm okay,” you admitted, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling in your bones.

The words were out of your mouth before you could second-guess, and you realized your mistake as soon as Lewis’s eyes widened.

Your husband’s brows furrowed with worry, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. ”You should be resting,” he insisted, his tone gentle yet firm.

You shook your head, a stubborn glint in your eyes. ”I'm fine, Lewis. I can handle it,” you protested, though the weariness in your voice betrayed your true feelings, and he was already leading you away to the other side of the counter. “I want to spend time with you.”

Lewis sighed, knowing that arguing with you would be futile. Instead, he stepped forward, gently taking your hand in his, before pushing you down on the stool behind the corner.

“You both should not be up and working when I'm home,” he offered, his voice soft with sincerity.

Lewis worked efficiently, picking up right where you left off, preparing breakfast as you both conversed with a sense of ease that only comes from years of shared love and companionship.

He kept a watchful eye on you, making sure you didn't overexert yourself, and that made your heart run so fast that you were sure you needed to see your doctor regarding that soon. Lewis was done in no time because you were already halfway done before he woke up.

As he served the food, you stood up to get juice, and Lewis reached out to place a hand on your belly, feeling the soft skin underneath his palm. A heartwarming smile broke out on his face.

”You know I love you both, right?” Lewis murmured, his voice filled with wonder as he looked at you.

You nodded, your eyes shining with joy. ”We love you too, baby,” you agreed, your hand coming to rest atop his.

He bent down to kiss you but you jerked away playfully, startling him before he rolled his eyes at the mischievous smile on your face. His heartbeat pressed against your back, matching yours.

”Oops, sorry,” you teased, ”just heard the baby say that she loves her mumma more.”

Lewis chuckled, his heart overflowing with love for you and his little baby. ”I'll have to have a talk with her about that,” he joked, his voice filled with affection as he pulled you tighter into his arms, making sure to keep the pressure off your belly.

And as you promised yourself to book that cardiologist appointment after all, you kissed Lewis.

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 8 months

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Hello! May I request a steamy # 8 With Carmy? (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Sweet Dreams.

8. "I had a dream about you."

Synopsis - You can't look Carmy in the eye this morning. He's determined to figure out why.

Pairing - Roommate!Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. carmen is a menace.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 1k

Author's Note - the people love carmy!! and I totally understand why. another roommate fic, because everyone adores them - me included!! this takes place in the same universe as Finders, Keepers and Pity Party, but you can decide whether this happens before or after those. your choice!! <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

"The fuck is your problem?"

Carmy has you cornered, backed up against the kitchen counter. You've been avoiding him all morning, and he's finally had enough.

"I... there's... what?" you squeak, taken aback.

He's usually so gentle with you, so careful. You'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying the sudden dominance he's displaying.

"I said," he begins, leaning down so he's nose to nose with you, "what is your problem? The fuck is going on with you?"

When you exhale shakily, he takes a more gentle approach.

"Honey... Did I do something wrong? Have I upset you? You haven't been able to look at me all morning. You're freaking me out."

"No, no!" you rush out. "You haven't done anything wrong. It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"I'm gonna worry, until you explain yourself."

You know he means well, that his concern is coming from a place of love. The problem is, the truth is mortifying. Ridiculously embarrassing. You and Carmy have a good thing going, as roommates, and you don't want to ruin that.

"It's nothing, Carm."

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that."

You flick your eyes up to meet his piercing blue ones, and you hesitate. You've never been in the habit of lying to each other. In fact, you're not sure you're physically capable of it. Those big ocean eyes can see right through you.

"Fine. But you have to promise not to laugh."

"I promise."

You take a breath, and confess as quickly as you can.

"Ihadadreamaboutyou."

The corners of his lips quirk, tilting his head in confusion.

"Say that again. Didn't quite catch it."

You roll your eyes, and commit. You might aswell, at this point.

"I had a dream about you."

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, deliberating what to say.

"What kind of dream?"

Fuck. You were hoping he wouldn't want you to elaborate.

"A good one."

"A good one, huh? Must have been, if you can't even look me in the eye this morning."

You roll your eyes and shove him in the chest lightly.

"I knew you'd be a dick if I told you. Hence why I didn't."

"No, you didn't tell me because you're embarrassed."

He steps closer to you, backing you up against the counter again. He leans in so he's forehead to forehead with you, lips brushing yours everytime he speaks.

"Where does your filthy little mind go when you fall asleep, hmm? Was I at least good, in this dream of yours? Live up to your expectations?"

"You were fine," you mumble.

"Fine? Honey, I'm the best chef in this city. I don't do fine."

"You woke me up with all the noise you were making in the kitchen before I could get to the good part."

"Oh, I left you hanging? Shit, baby. Well we can't have that."

In one fluid motion, Carmy picks you up and sits you on the counter, moving to stand between your legs. You wrap them around his hips instinctively, arms flying up around his neck.

"You gonna let me finish what I started?"

You stare into his eyes for a moment, trying to find any semblance of humour or amusement. All you find is adoration, compassion, and lust.

"You think you can?" you whisper teasingly, knowing exactly which buttons to push.

"Honey, when are you going to learn that I am the best at everything I do?"

Carmy closes the gap between you, smashing his lips to yours. It's all teeth and tongue and nipping and biting, no tenderness to be found. He slips his hand under your sleep shirt, running a finger up the middle of your underwear.

"Fuck," he groans. "Real good dream, huh?"

You nod and buck your hips into his touch, desperate to feel him.

"Right now, I'm gonna take the edge off, okay? And then, I'm gonna spread you out, and make you tell me every single little thing that happened in your dream, so you can experience it properly."

You nod frantically in response, hands clawing at his clothed shoulders. Carmy pulls your underwear down your legs and pushes them apart, wasting no time. He runs two fingers up and down, revelling in the wet warmth.

"Please," you whisper. "Please, Carmy."

He connects his lips to yours as he slides his fingers into you, muffling your sounds against his mouth. As much as you hate to admit it, he's right. He knows what he's doing, and he's good at it.

You've been so worked up all morning that it doesn't take Carmy long to figure out what you like. In no time, he's thrusting and curling his fingers, pressing his thumb onto your clit and making you whine. He's got his other arm wrapped around your middle, keeping you pressed close to him.

"You're close, honey. Can feel you. Come on, this is what you wanted, isn't it? I've got you."

You press your lips to his, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth right as you fall over the edge. Carmy trails kisses down your neck, under your ear, onto your temple, holding you tightly as you find your release. Your toes curl, back arching off the counter as you drop your head onto his chest to catch your breath.

After a couple of minutes, you pull away to look at him, smiling when you find him grinning at you.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs. "I don't tell you enough."

"So are you," you whisper, careful not to break the moment. "You're beautiful, Carm."

He ducks down and kisses you again, sweeter this time.

"Now," he mutters against your lips. "Start from the beginning, in this dream of yours."

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tetsumie · 8 months

Text

“𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘” — 𝐏𝐓 𝟐

read part 1 here!

pairing: kuroo x reader & kenma x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

a/n: hello !! sorry for being gone for soooo long D: i wasn’t doing well and was in a really bad place mentally.. (plus burnout 😓😓) but regardless tysm for all the love in the first part of this fic! i appreciate u all sm and i’ll work on getting asks in! thank u for being so patient w me !! luv u :D

kuroo tetsuro

you woke up late today and weren't surprised that kuroo had already left for work by the time you woke up. but he did leave you a post-it note saying he made breakfast leftovers for you in the fridge.

you smile at the thought that kuroo took the time out of his day to make some food especially in the morning. however, as you're getting ready for the day, your eye catches the lunch bag that's sitting on the kitchen bar countertop.

"this idiot," you mumble, shaking your head with a smile on your face. you pull out your phone and shoot him a text.

y/n: thanks for the breakfast it was really good

tetsu: im glad :)

y/n: also you left your lunch at home stupid

tetsu: oh shit

tetsu: can you drop it off for me? i cant come home to pick up, im in a meeting rn

y/n: yeah that's fine

tetsu: thanks baby ill kiss u when i see u

tetsu: love u 2 the moon and back !!

y/n: ur so weird

y/n: love u 2 the moon and back <3

a few hours pass by and now you're taking the bus to head to kuroo's office with his lunch bag in hand. before leaving the house, you decided to swap his current lunch which was some leftovers with his favorite food, grilled salted mackerel.

you enter his office floor and are greeted by the office receptionist from the floor. "i'm just here to drop off some food for kuroo-san."

"oh yes, right this way," she stands up and opens the office door for you and points out where his room is.

as you're about to knock on his door, you hear his voice from the other side. "i'm not sure if i can come out tonight to eat kenma. y/n probably wants me home, you know how clingy they get sometimes."

your heart sinks to the floor.

has he always thought of me this way? clingy? i didn't mean to act that way? i just like being in his company. i didn't mean to be clingy. i didn't know he felt that way...

"anyways, i'll call you back kenma. i gotta get back to work. see ya later" he ends the call.

you take a deep breath, standing in front of the door, thinking about kuroo's words to his best friend. before you could even knock, the door opens and you're greeted by kuroo.

"oh y/n! you should've texted me you were here!"

you let out a laugh that sort of dies in your throat. "oh um i just wanted to surprise you that's all."

"come in, let's eat together. you can see the beautiful downtown view from here," he tries to usher you inside his personal office room.

you're a little uncomfortable so you hold yourself back from going on, "maybe another time, yeah? i gotta head back. i've got a lot of work to do with college and work and stuff."

"no yeah of course, i get it. work hard! but first..." kuroo smiles and before you can pull away, he kisses you on the head. "i'll see you when i get home. love you!"

too ashamed to even look at him as you walked out of his office, you just wave to him with your back facing him as you walked away.

you're now sitting on the bus on the way home, thinking about the way he called you clingy. "you know how clingy they get.." has he always thought i'm clingy? has he just been putting up with my annoying habits? i thought he liked the way i treated him. i didn't know he thought it was clingy.

you're trying to look back at your actions and now it's all coming back to you.

you're always trying to kiss him, hug him, cuddle him. you're always talking to him about random things from an occurrence at the grocery store to some new show you're watching. literally last night, you both were cuddling while watching a new episode of kuroo's favorite sit-com and you were running your fingers through his hair.

it all made sense.

you were clingy.

and he wanted space.

you were going to respect that.

kuroo comes home later that evening and announces himself with an "i'm home!"

you're on the dining table with the computer open, working on some new assignment and you smile at him. "welcome home," you say with a smile.

he's expecting you to get up and come over and hug him like you usually do but to his surprise, you continue to look back at your computer.

he assumes you're just busy and doesn't think much of it.

kuroo heads into the shared bedroom to unwind from his hectic day at work. he takes a shower and changes into some pajama pants and is now heading back to the living room to see what you're up to.

you're still sitting on the dining table with all your notebooks splayed out and computer open, working on what seems to be some really big project. he plops down next to you and starts squinting at the screen. he starts poking you to grab your attention from the screen.

"the mackerel was really good today."

"that's good."

silence envelops the atmosphere between the both of you until kuroo decides to speak again.

"what are you working on?"

"college stuff."

"maybe take a break now?" he suggests.

"i can't. it's due soon," your voice flat. "if you want dinner, there's some leftovers i made in the fridge."

"alright," he replies, getting up from the chair to the kitchen to warm up some food.

his shoulders droop a little. he was hoping to spend some time with you. but he is aware that something is off with you. he's not sure what it is but he knows something isn't right. you haven't given him a single kiss or even a hug since he's been back and your usual sarcastic remarks are gone.

you've barely even acknowledged his presence.

"maybe it's just an off day?" is what he convinces himself.

but those "off days" are starting to become more consistent.

you're out of bed before he wakes up in the morning and you barely talk to him when he comes home. you always end up sleeping after he falls asleep and he can't even stay up because of how exhausted he gets after work. the amount of physical affection has declined from you and every time he texts or talks to you, your replies are barely existent.

it feels like he's living by himself. when did it get so cold?

on the other hand, you think it's going well! you haven't been all up in his business lately. you're giving him the space he wants. you're hoping that kuroo is feeling much happier since you're smothering him less. sure, you miss getting to hold and cuddle him but this is what he wanted, right?

now that the week is over, kuroo is hoping to spend the weekend with you.

that morning, kuroo sets an alarm to wake up earlier than you in hopes of spending some extra affectionate time with you. however, the moment he wakes up, the other side of the bed is empty and cold.

he has no choice but to get out of bed to see where you are. there's no way you're up right now. at 7 am on a weekend? no way.

he walks out of the room and he feels his heart chip. you're sleeping on the couch, slightly shivering because the blanket you're using barely covers you. have you been sleeping on the couch this past week? why didn't i notice? kuroo begins to internally berate himself right now for letting you sleeping on the couch for this past week right under his nose.

with no hesitation, he bridal-style carries you back into the shared bedroom and tucks you under the duvet cover and comes back into bed.

however, you've already woken up and you sit up on the bed, startled. "w-what? where am i?"

he scoffs, "i brought you in our bedroom idiot."

"oh," you're now grabbing your stuff and climbing out to go back to the couch but kuroo stops you by grabbing your arm.

"where are you going?"

"to the couch?"

"but this is our bedroom?"

"no, this is your bedroom," you emphasize.

"y/n." his tone feels cold to you. "talk to me."

"we are talking, are we not?"

he starts scratching the back of his neck. "yes but you know it's not the same. what's going on baby?"

his hand to tries to reach your cheek to stroke it with his thumb but you turn away and immediately stand up from his bed. "it's okay kuroo, please go back to sleep. it's the weekend, you should rest."

his heart chips at the gesture. why are you avoiding him like this? what did he do? what happened to 'tetsu?'

"it's tetsu to you," he mumbles.

you open your mouth but shut it and cast you eyes away from his stare down at the floor.

"it's always been tetsu to you," he states.

you're still silent and he takes it as his queue to continue speaking.

"baby, everyday i come home from work and you barely acknowledge me. you're always busy doing 'college stuff' or something else. you barely hug me or even kiss me anymore. what happened? what did i do? did i do something wrong? did i overstep my boundaries? are you mad at me about something? please i wanna know what i did wrong so i can fix myself."

your heart softens at his words and you begin to immediately reassure him.

"there's nothing wrong with you... nothing has ever been wrong with you... i just want to work on giving you your space. i know that you think i'm clingy and so i wanted to work on just giving you room to breathe. i know i can be a little too much sometimes. i'm sorry for not realizing how clingy my actions were sooner. i'm sorry i-"

he immediately walks over to you and brings you to his chest, hugging you tightly. your eyes slightly widen. "don't you dare fucking apologize. it's not your fault. shit, it's never been your fault, baby. what made you even think that?"

in embarrassment, you mumble, "i heard you say i'm clingy to kenma. sorry i didn't mean to overhear."

"oh, my love," he pulls away and looks at you with a sad look in his eyes. "it's not what you think."

he sighs and he sits on the side of the bed and taps the bed space in front of him for you to sit down as well. "kenma's been trying to get me to go meet some new volleyball members to affiliate them with the jva and to be honest, i already have so much on my plate with the current affiliates, that i'm really trying to avoid going out for dinner with him. i'm trying to get one of my coworkers to go on my behalf to seal the deal but i can't find anyone willing to."

"i just used your name as an excuse. i swear on my life, i never really meant that. i never ever meant to hurt you."

still finding it hard to believe him, you mumble, "you don't need to lie.. i understand if-"

"y/n, i swear on my mother, i'm not lying," he interrupts. "every single fucking day, the only think i ever look forward to is seeing your beautiful face in my apartment. i look forward to your rambles about the new show you started watching or how the current professor you're shadowing is a douche. i love your bear hugs and i love the way you kiss me all over my face in the mornings. fuck, i love knowing that i get to go to sleep with you every night and i get to wake up to you every morning. i love you, just the way you are. please don't ever change yourself over some fucking lie i said."

"i'm so sorry y/n, so sorry for ever making you doubt my love for you," he intertwines his hand in yours and looks into your eyes. "i'll do anything to regain your trust.

he senses the hesitation in your eyes and honestly, he can't blame you. you've been harboring this guilt for a week and it makes sense that you're still feeling a little uncomfortable around him.

but to his surprise, you inch your way closer to him and hug his chest and the tears begin to fall. his body tenses and he feels so guilty about everything. he rubs reassuring circles on your back and kisses your head every few moments.

after you wipe your tears on his shirt, you look up at him and honestly kuroo hates to admit this but you still look gorgeous even with a tear stained face. he's grinning at you and begins to pepper your face with his kisses.

"love you to the moon and back," he whispers into your ear.

you chuckle and kiss him on the lips. "love you to the moon and back, tetsu."

in that moment, he swears to himself that he'll make sure that you never have to doubt his love for you ever again.

kozume kenma

as the ceo of his own startup company, a youtube streamer, and a college student, kenma can almost never find any time to himself. the only time he really feels at peace is either when he's asleep or when he's with you.

but sometimes things get so hectic and suffocating, he just wants to be alone, away from the world.

after a long day of classes, you walk into your shared apartment and you can hear kenma talking from his bedroom/home office. you try to keep quiet not disturbing him.

in hopes of cheering him up, you decide what better way to do so by making his favorite food: apple pie. you put down your stuff on the living room couch, grab the apron, and get to work.

kenma stays locked up in his bedroom for the majority of time that you're baking and a part of you just hopes that maybe he'll come out to just say "hi" or just accompany you to see what you're up to but unfortunately he doesn't.

after the pie is done baking in the oven and you've brought him a slice so he can get some food in his system because you're sure he hasn't been taking care of himself. you're hoping that maybe, just maybe, the both of you will finally get to spend some time together.

you knock on the door twice.

no response.

you knock once more and call out his name, "kenma, you busy still?"

still no response.

you sigh, realizing there was no hope in knocking, and decide to twist the knob and enter his room. you're greeted with the sight of him sitting on his gaming chair, knees to his chest, headphones over his ears, and slightly biting the eraser top of his pencil.

he must have felt the presence of someone else in the room with him because he looked away from his computer screen and his eyes widened. he slid his headphones off his ear and hung them around his neck.

"how long have you been home?" he bluntly asks.

"for an hour or two now, i think," you reply.

“oh sorry, i didn’t see you,” he mumbles.

you chuckle in response. “i didn’t think you would considering you’ve been cooped up in your room the entire time.”

“well yeah,” he says. “i’m busy.”

as he’s about to put his headphones back on and get back to work, you speak up. “i know you’re busy but do you wanna eat with me? i made-”

“can we talk later? i don’t have time for your clinginess right now.”

oh.

he puts his headphones on and indulges himself back in his work, not even registering the weight of his words.

you slowly walk out of his room, silently close the door, grab yourself a slice of apple pie originally made for the both of you, and plop yourself on the couch to watch some new show on the television.

after working for nearly hours on end, kenma finally finishes the load of work he had piled. now all he wants to do is just spend some time with you before going to bed. he walks out of the bedroom and is greeted by you asleep with the television humming in the background.

he can't help but let a small smile envelop his features. it's such a domestic sight and he wants to photograph this moment in time.

he knows he said some harsh words to you out of frustration but he hopes that you understand that he didn’t truly mean them.

he goes over and kisses your forehead and he smells the distinctive scent of apple pie and his heart softens at the thought that you made him his favorite food.

he goes over to his bedroom, grabs a blanket and lays it over you and goes under the blanket, snuggling himself closer to you. he hasn't felt this relaxed in a while and your presence is just so comforting to him.

he doesn't know what he'd do without you.

the next morning, you wake up and find yourself in an awkward position and your feel arms wrapped around your torso. you look to your left and are greeted by kenma's sleeping figure and you can't help but smile.

but you remind yourself of what he told you yesterday and you silently get up from the couch and begin to get ready for the rest of your day.

his words, "i don't have time for your clinginess right now", really had sent you into a spiral last night and you were too exhausted to think clearly. did you always come off as clingy to him? you were definitely a bit more energetic and enthusiastic than him but you never thought it was clingy?

you can't seem to think straight so you decide to maybe go out for a walk, just to take your mind off things. you just need some time alone, away from your apartment with him.

kenma wakes up only a few minutes later and he feels cold. his neck is sore, considering how he slept in an uncomfortable position because he wanted to sleep with you. however, to his surprise, he doesn't find you asleep next to him.

as he walks around the house, calling your name, a sense of urgency begins to form in the pit of his stomach.

he dials your number and it goes to voicemail.

he does it again. still voicemail.

he's about to call you one more time until he hears the jangle of keys and the door opening. a sigh of relief leaves his mouth and as you're about to turn your keys to open the door, he's a step ahead of you, opening the door for you.

"oh my god, i thought you went missing," kenma hugs you, catching you by surprise. "where'd you go?"

hesitant to reply, you say, "oh just went on a walk, that's all."

"you should've told me, we could've gone together," he states. "i feel like we haven't seen each other in forever."

"it's fine. don't worry about it."

there's something wrong and he can sense it in your demeanor. as you're heading to the master bedroom, he can see the way your shoulders slump as you put your keys back. he doesn't address your distant behavior, thinking that you're just having a rough morning and it'll get better as the day goes on.

unfortunately, it doesn't get better.

you seem to be fine but you just feel incredibly distant.

kenma's been playing games in his room all day and unlike usual, you're not in his bedroom watching him play or sitting on the bed scrolling through your phone. his gaming experience isn't the same when you're not there.

he pauses his game and goes out to the living room to see you lying down on the couch, scrolling through videos on your phone. he wants to ask why you're not staying with him but he doesn't want to make overstep your boundaries, especially since it seems like you're not in a good mood.

but that's anything from what you want.

you want him to ask you to stay in his room and keep you company. but because he hasn't done so, his word "clingy" began to scream louder in your head and to be frank, that's the only thing roaming in your head.

"do you want to do anything today?" he asks. "you know.. because it's the weekend and we can go out if you want? like going out to eat?"

a part of you began to feel guilty considering he was thinking about what you wanted to do and you hated feeling like a burden towards him. he already expressed his disapproval with you when he said he found you clingy so you didn't want to impose any further.

"no it's okay," you reply, eyes glued to your phone. "i don't want to annoy you or anything.. so i'll just go on my own or something..."

he hums in response but his eyebrows furrow as he doesn't seem to move from his spot. he can tell there's something wrong and you're obviously being very dodgy with him about the subject which is why he decides to take a seat on the couch and snatch your phone from your hands before you can even register what's happened.

"hey give me back my phone!" you sit up, stretching yourself over to grab your phone back from him in a failed attempt.

"not until you tell me what's wrong," he says flat.

you sigh, knowing that this conversation isn't inevitable. you can't avoid him forever "you called me clingy yesterday, kenma. sorry that i don't really want to hang out with you right now."

the words that leave your mouth have kenma in a state of shock. you took that seriously? you really thought he meant that? in order to ease his busy day of meetings back to back, you came home baked him some apple pie to ease him from his stresses.

and what did he do in return? called you clingy when you just wanted to spend some well-deserved time with him. god, he was being so ungrateful. his body fills with guilt when he he realizes you took his comment to heart.

“honey, i-” he starts and then is cut off with your words.

"i understand where you were coming from, i like to show my affection with you through physical touch and i know you’ve never been one to really reciprocate that," you begin to ramble. "so i’m really sorry for pushing your boundaries and i’ll give you the space that you need."

guilt is eating him away and he needs to clear the air now, otherwise you might be closed off forever and he’s not sure if he’s ever going to be able to reconnect with you.

“y/n, honey, don't apologize for this. it’s not your fault at all,” he starts. he puts down the phone onto the couch and grabs both of your hands and squeezes them assuringly. “i'm sorry for pushing you away and calling you clingy. you didn't.. you never deserve to be told that."

his hand finds its way to your cheek and he begins to rub comforting slow circles. seeing the sullen look on your face made him realize that he never wants to see you like this ever again. it was like you had lost the light in your eyes. kenma hated how he had diminished that so quickly by making you think that he didn't like your company.

he loves you so much; he could never imagine what life would be like without your presence.

a small smile begins to creep back on to your face and kenma finds himself in a slight sense of relief.

"it's okay," you finally utter out. "do you wanna watch that new episode? apparently there is so much drama now and i'm avoiding socials so i don't get spoiled..."

he chuckles, "i'll do anything with you."

he knows that he can't take back his words from before but as he's sitting on the couch with you in his embrace, he knows he can show you his love through his actions. he'll do anything to bring back that trust to you.

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ellecdc · 2 months

Note

I'm sick rn so I wanted to know if you could do a little comfort fic of moonwater taking care of sick reader or something pls :)

awe so sorry you're unwell babes! hope you feel better soon <33

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who has the flu

Another shiver shook your frame even from your place burrowed deep beneath the thick duvet in your spare bedroom.

You’d woken up a little late this morning; Regulus needed to be in the office early for a meeting, and Remus had a meeting with his publisher, meaning you had been on your own. You felt awful, but ultimately hoped that as the day had continued, you might perk up a bit.

You did not perk up. In fact, you ended up spending so much time in the bathroom that your boss actually suggested you go home for the rest of the day.

Too poorly to feel as embarrassed as you probably ought to, you readily accepted and returned to yours, Regulus’, and Remus’ shared flat.

It took nearly all your effort to change out of your work clothes, change the bedding in your shared bedroom so that the boys wouldn’t have to sleep in your germs, and set yourself up in the guest room with a bucket just in case.

You’d slept on and off quite fitfully, waking up with a start when your fever induced brain concocted the most ridiculous nightmares to alert you to your sweaty and discomfited state.

You were so poorly that you hadn’t even realized anyone was home until Regulus was standing in front of you like a creepy vampire watching you sleep.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Regulus.” You muttered, slapping your hand to your own chest as you tried catching your breath, which caused a small coughing fit.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Your boyfriend asked incredulously.

You groaned as you rolled back onto your side to face him.

“Hello, Regulus. It’s nice to see you.” You deadpanned.

Regulus huffed and dropped his briefcase.

“Hello, amour.” He deadpanned in return. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He asked again as he gently sat on the edge of the bed to place the back of his hand to your forehead, grimacing in response to your sweat or your fever, you weren’t sure.

“I’m sick.”

Regulus made a pathetic cooing sound that was so contrary to his sharp demeanour made all the more severe in his smart work attire, it was almost comical.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You huffed at that. “So, what? So, you could come home and watch me barely sleep? I was fine.”

“Fine.” Regulus scoffed. “You don’t look fine, amour.”

“Words hurt, Reg.” You groaned as the pain behind your eyes grew.

Regulus made another cooing sound and stood.

You thought perhaps he was getting up to change or whatnot but opened your eyes to see him with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Regulus, what are you doing?” You demanded with all the sternness you could muster, which was not much at all in your current state.

“That’s enough out of you.” He muttered quietly as he brought his phone back to his ear.

“Hi love, how are you?” He spoke over your attempted rebuttal.

You could hear your other boyfriends’ low tones responding to Regulus from the other end of the line.

“Good. It went well, thank you. I just got home actually, Y/N’s already here; she’s quite poorly.”

Though you still couldn’t make out the words, Remus’ voice picked up in volume.

“No, she didn��t tell me either.” Regulus commented, sending you a pointed glare.

“Okay, yeah. Alright, we’ll see you soon. Yeah, love you too. Bye.”

You groaned petulantly. “Why’d you do that? He doesn’t have to come home for me.”

“Maybe he’s coming home for me; ever consider that?” He snarked back, pushing some of your sweaty hairs away from your head to press a kiss to your head.

“You’re a furnace, amour. Is it safe for me to assume you haven’t taken any medication?”

He got his answer in the form of a guilty expression.

“Tu vas être ma mort. Tu as de la chance d'être si mignon.” He muttered as he left the room to change and gather some things for your flu.

You came back into consciousness to the sound of Remus and Regulus speaking gently.

“I hate to wake her up, but she really should take something.”

“Has she eaten, though? She shouldn’t take anything on an empty stomach.”

“If that bucket is any indication, I doubt there’s anything in her stomach at all.”

“Can you guys go do your worrying elsewhere, please? I’m trying to die in peace.” You groaned, caused Remus to gasp and Regulus to scoff.

“Dovey! Oh, my poor girl. What happened? Are you okay?” Remus cooed, kneeling on the floor in front of you to start petting at your head.

“I’m okay.” You croaked.

“You’re a liar.” He responded; words pointed but expression loving.

“Do you think you can eat, amour?” Regulus interrupted.

“I don’t want to.” You moaned.

“That’s not what I asked, love.”

Remus tsked at Regulus’ coldness and took your face in his hands.

“Dove, can you try? Please? For me.”

You groaned very petulantly but began sitting yourself upright nonetheless.

You allowed Remus to position your pillows and arrange the tray Regulus had prepared for you on your lap, but you drew the line at him trying to spoon feed you the stew.

“Did you wake up this poorly?” Regulus asked from the end of your bed.

“Sort of, but it got worse at work.”

The air was sucked out of the room as both men turned to look at you incredulously.

“You went to work?!” Regulus gawked.

“Why, dove?”

“Ma MORT, je le jure!” Regulus groaned exasperatedly. “Why didn’t you call us to pick you up?”

“And you took the time to change the bedding and move out of our room when you were like this?” Remus added.

You were beginning to feel embarrassingly teary as you put your spoon down and pushed the tray away from you.

“I didn’t want you guys to get catch this. I just... I was fine.” You sniffled and wiped at your eyes as the first tear fell.

Remus tsked again and rested his forehead against your temple, and you realized then how much cooler his forehead felt against yours.

“Okay.” Regulus said quietly, picking up the tray from your lap and placing it on the dresser. “Can you take these for me, love? Fever reducers and anti-nausea for now; we’ll see how you feel in a few hours.”

He held the pills out to you in his palm and held a glass of water in the other. You hiccupped and sniffled before accepting both, handing him back the glass half full once you were done.

“Thank you.” Regulus whispered gently, kissing your forehead and bringing your tray to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry we scolded you, dovey.” Remus whispered into your cheek, causing new tears to fall. “We just worry; you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” You whimpered, and even you could tell it was sort of pathetic.

“Oh, my poor darling.” Remus cooed, standing from your side to climb in on the opposite side of the bed.

“Don’t, Rem. I don’t want you to get sick.” You whined, though allowed your body to be pulled into his side.

“Tough.” He said simply, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll just get to call in sick too.”

You were sure the tears were mostly from exhaustion and discomfort, but you couldn’t seem to get them to stop.

“What’s the matter, hm?”

“I don’t feel good.” You whined.

“I know, babydove. I’m sorry.”

That’s how Regulus found you when he came back to the room; you crying into Remus’ shirt as he rubbed broad strokes up and down your back.

“Rem, we’re trying to bring her temperature down, love.” He admonished gently, though sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his own soothing strokes on your clammy arm.

“You try denying this sweet girl her cuddles, Reg.” Remus responded.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before placing a cold wet cloth on your head.

“I’m sorry you’re so poorly, amour. And I’m sorry if we made it worse.” He apologized.

You quickly shook your head (which you immediately regretted as the nausea threatened to return). “You didn’t; you don’t.”

“I upset you though, I’m sorry. I’m too rough sometimes.” Regulus admitted, sounding almost as teary as you. Remus tsked and reached one of his hands over you to take Regulus’ hand.

“I know what you’re thinking, love, and you’re wrong.” Remus insisted. “And I know you’re wrong, because your parents wouldn’t have fussed over you at all when you were sick; so there’s no way you could be acting like them right now.”

The fact that Regulus had spent any amount of time worrying that he’d been too harsh with you, that he’d been at all like his awful parents caused your few tears to turn into true crying.

“I’m sorry Reggie.” You cried, turning to look at him. His brows furrowed dramatically, and he looked just as close to crying. “If you weren’t here; I’d be sitting in bed with no food, no medicine, no cloths, and no love.”

“Well, you maybe would have had some love.” Remus argued from your other side.

“I would’ve died.” You insisted.

One tear did fall from Regulus’ eye as he smiled sadly at you. “I just hate to see you so poorly, amour. You should always be happy and lovely.”

“I am. I’m better when you’re here.” You insisted.

“How dare you insinuate that our sweet darling girl could ever possibly be not lovely, Regulus. Absolute blasphemy.” Remus scolded, causing both you and Regulus to chuckle.

“Terribly sorry, you two. I seem to have forgotten myself.” He laughed, turning the cloth over on your head and trailing his fingers down your jaw to massage at your neck.

“Don’t let it happen again.” Remus instructed.

You fell asleep to the sound of Regulus promising that he wouldn’t.

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