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julietsf1 · 2 months ago

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The Idiot I Call Mine - Lando Norris x BestFriend! Reader

summary: best friends are supposed to share laughs, inside jokes, fries and the occasional late-night drive. what they’re not supposed to do is flirt like it’s a competitive sport or make you question every unspoken rule of friendship. at least, unless your name is Lando Norris apparently. (7.1k words)

content: fluff! friends to lovers; flirty dynamic; mutual pining

an: whaaat? a fic about another driver? yes loves. this is me coming forward as a secret Lando fan. I hope you'll enjoy as much as I did writing this :)

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Lando Norris has this annoying habit of always being right. It’s not even about anything important—it’s just little things. Like the time he guessed exactly how long it would take before I caved and ordered dessert, or when he said I’d end up watching a rom-com tonight even though I claimed I wanted “something deep and meaningful.”

“See?” he said smugly, leaning back on the couch as the opening credits of The Holiday played. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Hardly,” I shot back, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “You just know I have a weak spot for Jude Law. That doesn’t make you psychic.”

“No, but it does make me an excellent best friend.” He winked, plucking the popcorn off his lap and popping it into his mouth like the show-off he was.

I rolled my eyes, pretending I wasn’t fighting a grin. Lando and I had been inseparable for years, the kind of best friends who finished each other’s sentences and shared a borderline unhealthy obsession with late-night McDonald’s runs. But lately, something had been… different.

Not bad, exactly. Just different. Maybe? I wasn’t even sure to be honest.

“You’re staring again,” Lando said, breaking into my thoughts. He was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest in a way that felt entirely too casual and yet completely deliberate. His green eyes sparkled with mischief, and his smirk was the kind that could make even the most confident person question their sanity.

“I wasn’t staring,” I lied, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it in my mouth for good measure.

“You were absolutely staring,” he teased, leaning closer. “What’s on your mind, hmm? Thinking about how devastatingly handsome I am? It’s okay—you can admit it.”

“You’re such a joke,” I said, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably. “Devastatingly handsome? Please. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin. “And yet, here you are, spending your Friday night with me. Interesting choice.”

“I’m here for the popcorn,” I deadpanned, though even I didn’t believe myself. “And because you begged me.”

“I didn’t beg,” he protested. “I suggested strongly. There’s a difference.”

This was us—lighthearted insults, jokes at each other’s expense, and an ease in our conversations that felt like home. If there was something different lately, I told myself it was just my imagination running wild.

“Speaking of choices,” I said, leaning back against the couch. “What’s the deal with you and your phone wallpaper?”

“What about it?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Oh, come on, Lando,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You really expect me to believe you just happened to pick a picture of me for your wallpaper?”

“It’s a great photo,” he said with a shrug. “You look happy. And let’s not pretend your wallpaper isn’t me.”

I froze, caught. He was right—my wallpaper was him, but that wasn’t the point.

“That’s different,” I said quickly. “You look stupid in yours. It’s funny.”

“Ah, so I’m your personal clown now?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock offense. “Good to know my humiliation brings you joy.”

“Always,” I said sweetly, tossing another piece of popcorn his way.

The movie played on in the background, but neither of us was really paying attention. We were too busy pushing each other’s buttons, like always.

“Hey,” Lando said after a while, his tone a little softer. “You’re coming to dinner at Mum’s next weekend, right?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “She’s already planning the menu. Something with pasta, probably. You know how she gets when you’re coming over.”

I smiled despite myself. His family had always treated me like one of their own, and his mum had a knack for making me feel special in ways that were both comforting and overwhelming.

“Well, in that case,” I said, pretending to think it over. “I guess I can clear my schedule.”

“Good,” he said, nudging me with his elbow. “I’d be bored without you there.”

It was moments like this—simple and familiar—that stuck with me longer than they should. The way he said things so casually, as if they didn’t carry any weight, even when they somehow did.

“You’ve got something on your face,” I said suddenly, trying to distract myself.

“Where?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Right there,” I said, tapping the corner of my mouth.

He smirked, deliberately licking the spot where I’d pointed. “Better?”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” I said, shoving him away. But I was laughing, and so was he.

“You love it,” he said, and for once, I didn’t argue. Because maybe I did.

As the night went on, the teasing continued, each remark more loaded than the last. By the time the credits rolled, I wasn’t sure if it was the movie or Lando’s lingering glances that had me feeling so off-kilter.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he said, breaking the silence as he stood to clean up the popcorn bowl. “Something on your mind?”

“Just thinking,” I said vaguely, not meeting his gaze.

“About?” he pressed, leaning against the counter with a smirk that said he already knew the answer.

“Nothing important,” I said, grabbing my phone and pretending to scroll.

“Liar,” he said, his voice playful but probing. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know that?”

I glanced up at him, my heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it had been doing lately. He was standing there like he had all the time in the world, his green eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“Goodnight, Lando,” I said finally, brushing past him on my way to the couch.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he called after me, his voice laced with amusement.

…

“You know, for someone who claims to be an athlete, you spend an alarming amount of time eating,” I said, glancing at Lando over the top of my menu.

“Carbs are fuel,” he replied, flashing me a grin. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand that we could’ve gone somewhere normal instead of whatever this place is,” I said, gesturing to the overly fancy restaurant. The kind of place where the wine glasses sparkled brighter than the chandeliers, and the menu was full of words I couldn’t pronounce.

“You’re so ungrateful,” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Do you know how hard it was to get a table here? I had to name-drop myself.”

“Wow,” I said dryly. “The struggle.”

“Exactly. And now you’re here, about to enjoy the finest pasta in town, thanks to me. A little gratitude wouldn’t kill you.”

“Gratitude? You dragged me here under false pretenses. You said this was a ‘low-key spot.’”

“It is low-key,” he argued, gesturing around. “For Monte Carlo standards.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto my face. This was just how things were with Lando—effortless, easy, and borderline ridiculous.

“Alright, what are you getting?” Lando asked, lowering his menu.

“Fettuccine Alfredo,” I said without hesitation.

“Of course you are,” he said, smirking. “Predictable.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I shot back. “What are you getting, then? Something groundbreaking? Life-changing? Revolutionary?”

“Tagliatelle al tartufo,” he said with a mockingly posh accent.

“Wow,” I said, feigning awe. “Truffle pasta. You’re really pushing the boundaries, Norris.”

“Don’t be jealous just because I have sophisticated taste,” he replied, the smirk never leaving his face.

“‘Sophisticated’ is one way to put it,” I muttered, pretending to study the menu again. “Another is ��pretentious.’”

“You’ll be begging for a bite,” he said confidently, setting the menu down.

“Please,” I said, scoffing. “You’ll be stealing mine before the plates even hit the table.”

He leaned forward, his grin widening. “You know me so well.”

The food arrived soon after, and, as predicted, we switched plates halfway through without even discussing it. It was second nature by now, like so many other things about us.

“You know,” Lando said, twirling a forkful of fettuccine, “if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out, I could be a food critic.”

“Sure,” I said, deadpan. “Because people are dying to know what Lando Norris thinks about pasta.”

“They would be,” he said, undeterred. “My palate is unparalleled.”

“Your palate consists of pizza, chicken nuggets, and whatever I’m eating,” I shot back.

“And yet, here we are,” he said, gesturing to the table. “Me, enjoying this culinary masterpiece, and you, enjoying my company. Life is good.”

It was shaping up to be another night of easy conversation and mindless teasing until a voice interrupted us.

“Lando?”

I looked up to see two women standing at the edge of our table. They were both tall, blonde, and effortlessly elegant, the kind of women who looked like they belonged in a magazine spread rather than real life.

“Oh, hey!” Lando said, his face lighting up in recognition.

I glanced at him, watching as his entire demeanor shifted ever so slightly. He straightened up, his grin widening just enough to make my stomach twist.

“We haven’t seen you in forever,” one of the women said, her smile bright and practiced.

“I know,” Lando said, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “It’s been a while.”

“You look great,” one of them said, her smile bright as she leaned in a little too close.

“So do you,” Lando replied, his tone polite but just warm enough to make me suddenly very interested in my water glass. The conversation floated around me, full of laughter and inside jokes I didn’t understand.

“And who’s this?” one of them finally asked, her gaze flicking to me with polite curiosity.

“This is Y/N,” Lando said, gesturing toward me with a casualness that felt too deliberate. “My best friend.”

Best friend. There it was again.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“Likewise,” she replied, her tone perfectly pleasant.

They didn’t linger much longer—just enough to leave their mark before excusing themselves with a wave and a promise to “catch up soon.”

“Old friends of yours?” I asked once they were gone, my voice light but with a slight edge.

“Something like that,” Lando said, taking a sip of his water.

“Something like that?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, his smirk returning. “They’re sisters. I, uh… may have had a thing with both of them. At different times, obviously.”

My fork froze midair. “Both of them?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, laughing. “It’s not that weird.”

“It’s incredibly weird,” I said, shaking my head.

“I mean, it didn’t overlap or anything,” he added, as if that somehow made it better. “But yeah… sisters.”

I stared at him, equal parts amused and horrified. “That’s… impressive? I guess?”

“Thank you,” he said, grinning like he’d just been handed an award. “Think I should call them again?”

“Sure,” I forced a laugh, stabbing at my pasta. “And then ask if they have any other sisters you might’ve missed.”

He chuckled, clearly oblivious to the sarcasm in my tone. “Good idea. Always room for a hat trick.”

My stomach churned uncomfortably, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I focused on my plate, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way my mood had shifted.

…

The paddock was its usual chaotic self—teams rushing to prepare for practice sessions, fans peering over barriers for a glimpse of their favorite drivers, and media personnel darting between interviews. I decided to escape the madness for a bit, heading toward the staff catering building for a much-needed coffee.

The line was mercifully short, but as I joined it, I noticed someone already waiting near the front. Tall, dark-haired, and wearing a Ferrari polo with his name—Marco—stitched neatly on the chest. He turned slightly, catching my eye and offering a polite smile.

“Busy morning?” he asked, his tone warm and conversational.

“Something like that,” I replied with a small smile. “You?”

“Always,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But coffee makes it manageable, no?”

I nodded. “A universal truth.”

Marco stepped aside to let me order, a gesture so casual it almost went unnoticed. As I gave my order to the barista, I felt him glance at me again—not invasive, just curious.

“So, not Ferrari,” he said after I stepped back to wait for my coffee.

“Is it that obvious?” I joked.

“A little,” he admitted, his grin widening. “You’re far too relaxed to be one of us.”

“Should I be offended or flattered?” I asked, tilting my head playfully.

“Flattered,” he said easily. “Relaxed is a good thing.”

We fell into an easy rhythm as we waited. Marco was effortlessly charming, asking questions without prying and tossing in a few self-deprecating remarks about Ferrari’s chaos.

“You’re here with a team?” he asked eventually.

“A friend,” I said vaguely.

“Lucky friend,” he said, his tone light but genuine.

I laughed softly. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

Marco opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a familiar voice cut through the hum of conversation.

“There you are.”

I turned to see Lando approaching, his expression relaxed but his eyes sharper than usual.

“Hey,” I said, surprised. “I thought you were doing media.”

“Finished early,” he said, stepping closer. His gaze flicked briefly to Marco, who stood quietly by my side. “And I figured I’d find you here.”

“Good instincts,” I said lightly, though something about his sudden appearance felt… deliberate.

Marco offered his hand to Lando, ever polite. “Marco. Ferrari engineering.”

“Lando,” he replied, shaking his hand. “McLaren driving.”

Marco chuckled. “I know who you are. Good to meet you.”

“You too,” Lando said, his tone friendly but with an edge I couldn’t quite place.

The barista called my name, and I turned to grab my coffee, giving them a moment to exchange polite words. By the time I returned, Marco was stepping away with his own drink.

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said, offering me a small wave before disappearing into the crowd.

Lando watched him go before turning back to me. “Who was that?”

“Marco,” I said simply.

“And what was Marco talking to you about?” he asked, his tone too casual to be entirely innocent.

I raised an eyebrow. “Coffee, mostly. Why?”

“No reason,” he said quickly, taking a sip of my drink.

I studied him for a moment, noting the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” he said defensively.

“You’re definitely acting weird.”

Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, fine. I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely baffled.

“He was flirting,” Lando said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I blinked. “He was being nice.”

“Nice,” Lando repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. “Sure. That’s one way to put it.”

“Lando, he’s just a guy who works for Ferrari,” I said, shaking my head.

“Exactly,” he said, as if that proved his point.

There was a beat of silence as I processed his words.

“You sound jealous,” I said finally, testing the waters.

“Jealous?” he scoffed, though the flicker of something in his eyes gave him away. “Hardly. I just think you can do way better than some guy who chats you up in the coffee line.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he asked, smirking now.

“Yes,” I said firmly, though the warmth in my chest betrayed me.

We walked back toward the McLaren garage, his mood lightening with every step. By the time we arrived, he was back to his usual self—chatting with the mechanics and laughing at some joke I’d already missed.

But his words stayed with me, replaying in my mind as I sat down with my coffee. My coffee which Lando had somehow already drank half of.

…

The McLaren lounge was a rare oasis of calm in the chaos of a race weekend. Engineers hustled past the windows, radios crackled with updates, and somewhere in the distance, an engine roared to life. But in here, it was all plush couches, soft lighting, and a distinct lack of urgency.

I was curled up on one end of the couch, flipping through a magazine, while Oscar and Lando lounged on the other side. Lando, as usual, couldn’t sit still. He was draped sideways over the armrest, absently spinning a water bottle in his hands.

“Alright,” Lando announced, breaking the comfortable silence. “Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses?”

I looked up from my magazine, narrowing my eyes. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It’s an important question,” he insisted, his grin wide and mischievous.

I pretended to ponder for a moment. “One horse-sized duck. Definitely.”

Lando gaped at me like I’d just declared something outrageous. “Terrible answer. Absolutely terrible.”

“It’s the smart answer,” I shot back, sitting up straighter. “You outmaneuver one big target instead of exhausting yourself trying to wrangle a hundred tiny ones.”

“Do you even know how terrifying a horse-sized duck would be?” Lando asked, his voice rising in mock disbelief.

“And do you know how terrifying a hundred duck-sized horses would be?” I countered, raising an eyebrow.

Lando leaned forward, his grin widening. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’d rather face one giant, angry duck with a wingspan bigger than this couch?”

“Absolutely,” I said confidently. “Ducks aren’t that scary.”

“They can bite, you know,” he shot back, gesturing dramatically. “One snap, and you’re done for.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “I think I’d survive. Besides, I have a secret weapon.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“You,” I said, deadpan. “I’ll just toss you in its path and run.”

Lando gasped, clutching his chest in mock betrayal. “Wow. That’s cold, Y/N. I thought we were a team.”

“We are,” I said, grinning. “But only if you pick the right answer next time.”

For a moment, he was quiet, his grin faltering just slightly as he met my gaze. It wasn’t much, just a flicker of something softer beneath the banter. But it was enough to make my stomach do that annoying little flip I’d been trying to ignore.

“Lando,” Oscar interjected, his tone casual but pointed. “You’re staring.”

“I am not,” Lando said quickly, his ears turning the faintest shade of pink as he looked away.

“You are,” Oscar said, leaning back with a smirk.

“You’re imagining things,” Lando muttered, crossing his arms.

Oscar snorted but didn’t press the issue, instead grabbing his phone and scrolling through it idly. But the look he shot Lando wasn’t lost on me—or Lando, for that matter.

As the banter settled into silence, I decided to grab a drink from the catering area, leaving the two of them alone.

The moment the door swung shut behind me, Oscar struck. “Mate, you’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“About what?” Lando asked, feigning innocence as he fidgeted with the water bottle.

Oscar didn’t even look up from his phone. “About Y/N.”

“What about her?”

Oscar set his phone down, leveling Lando with a knowing look. “You’re acting like a lovesick puppy every time she’s around.”

Lando scoffed, though the tips of his ears betrayed him again. “That’s ridiculous. We’re just friends.”

“Sure,” Oscar said, dragging out the word like he was savoring it. “That’s why you light up like a Christmas tree whenever she walks in the room.”

“I do not,” Lando said defensively, but his voice lacked conviction.

“You do,” Oscar replied, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “Mate, you’re glaring holes into the back of her head every time she talks to someone else. And don’t even get me started on how you were watching her during the duck-and-horse debate like she’d just solved world peace.”

“That’s—” Lando started, then stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Right,” Oscar said, his smirk firmly in place. “It’s exactly like that, but go off.”

Lando opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly searching for the right words. “It’s… we’ve known each other forever. It’s Y/N.”

Oscar nodded, as if that made sense, but his smirk didn’t waver. “Don’t you think it would be time to change that soon? You two are exhausting.”

Lando shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it.

“I’m just saying,” Oscar said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re completely gone for her. Admit it already.”

Lando groaned, leaning back against the couch and running a hand through his hair. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Oscar said, grinning now. “But I’m right.”

Lando didn’t respond, his gaze drifting to the door where I’d just left. And for the first time, he let himself wonder if maybe—just maybe—Oscar was onto something.

…

The moment we walked into George’s celebration, the energy hit like a wave. The room was packed with familiar faces—drivers, engineers, and friends—dressed to the nines in that effortless way people in motorsport always seemed to manage. String lights twinkled across the ceiling, soft jazz played over the speakers, and a steady hum of conversation filled the air.

“You’re going to owe me for this,” I teased, glancing at Lando. “Dragging me here after wasting twenty minutes deciding between two identical shirts.”

“They weren’t identical,” Lando replied with a roll of his eyes, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back as we weaved through the crowd. “One had a darker stitch.”

“Completely life-changing,” I said dryly, though I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

“See? You get it,” he shot back with a grin, steering us toward a booth near the bar.

The way his hand lingered, warm and steady, was something I tried not to think too much about. It was just Lando being Lando—playful, touchy, and completely oblivious to the little flips my stomach insisted on doing whenever he leaned too close.

We found our way to a booth not far from the bar, where Alexandra and Charles were already seated. Charles was gesturing animatedly about something, while Alexandra sat with her usual poised grace, sipping champagne. When she saw us, her face lit up.

“Enfin, vous êtes là !” Alexandra exclaimed, waving us over. (Finally, you’re here!)

“Lando a changé de chemise trois fois,” I replied, throwing him a look. (Lando changed his shirt three times.)

Charles chuckled, leaning back with a smirk. “Toujours dramatique, hein ?” (Always dramatic, huh?)

“English,” Lando whined as we slid into the booth. “You’re ganging up on me in French. It’s not fair.”

“Pauvre bébé,” I teased, patting his arm lightly. (Poor baby.)

“Whatever that means,” he muttered, though the grin tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn’t upset.

The conversation flowed easily between the four of us. Lando, of course, dominated the chatter, weaving an elaborate story about George’s awkward rookie days. His expressions were so animated, his gestures so over-the-top, that even Charles—usually the calm and composed one—was cracking up by the end.

“That’s not true,” I said, nudging Lando with my elbow. “You’re exaggerating again.”

“I’m not!” he protested, his green eyes wide with mock innocence. “It’s all true. Every word.”

“Sure it is,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Back me up here!” he said, turning to Charles.

Charles raised a brow, taking a deliberate sip of his drink. “I wasn’t there, but… I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Alexandra laughed softly, glancing at me. “Toujours l’acteur dramatique, ce Lando.” (Always the drama actor, that Lando.)

“Hey,” Lando said, pointing at her. “I know that wasn’t a compliment.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “It absolutely wasn’t.”

He gasped dramatically, his hand over his chest. “Betrayed by my own friends. I’ll never recover.”

“You’ll survive,” I said, brushing him off, though the warmth in his gaze lingered just a beat too long.

Lando eventually excused himself to grab drinks, leaving me to chat with Alexandra and Charles. As soon as he was out of earshot, Alexandra leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Il est tellement évident qu’il a un faible pour toi,” she said softly, her voice full of amusement. (It’s so obvious he has a thing for you.)

“Quoi?” I asked, my cheeks heating instantly. (What?)

“Ouvre les yeux,” she said, smirking. (Open your eyes.)

Charles chuckled, sipping his drink as he watched the exchange. “C’est écrit partout sur son visage.” (It’s written all over his face.)

“Stop,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re imagining things.”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, her expression saying everything her words didn’t.

At the bar, Lando was cornered by Carlos, who leaned casually against the counter, his expression smug.

“You know,” Carlos said, his tone casual, “you’re not very subtle.”

“What are you talking about?” Lando asked, though his focus kept drifting toward the booth where I was sitting.

Carlos raised his drink, gesturing toward me. “You’ve been staring at her all night, hermano. Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

Lando stiffened, his grin faltering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just tell her,” Carlos said, swirling his drink lazily.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando replied, his voice quieter now.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because if I mess this up, I lose her,” Lando admitted, glancing toward our booth.

Carlos tilted his head, studying him. “You’re scared. That’s what this is.”

“Of course I’m scared,” Lando muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s my best friend. If it doesn’t work—”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Carlos interrupted, his voice softer now. “But you’d better do something soon.”

Carlos’s smirk softened slightly, but before Lando could reply, Liam Lawson appeared at the bar.

“Who’s the girl with Charles and Alexandra?” Liam asked, nodding toward the booth. “She single?”

Carlos grinned mischievously. “Yeah, she is—go for it.”

Lando’s head snapped toward Carlos, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Carlos.”

“What?” Carlos said, feigning innocence. “Just giving the kid a shot.”

…

Liam approached with the kind of confidence that only a Red Bull driver could pull off.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me. “You’re Y/N, right?”

I blinked, momentarily surprised but recovering quickly. “That’s me. And you are?”

“Liam Lawson,” he said, extending a hand.

I shook it, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Nice to meet you.”

“How do you know George?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table as if he had all the time in the world.

“Through Lando,” I replied, keeping my tone polite but measured. His easy demeanor was almost disarming, but there was something about the way he looked at me that made me hyper-aware of my surroundings.

“Ah, Lando,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Lucky guy. You two seem pretty close.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” I said simply, taking a sip of my drink and trying not to overthink his comment.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “his loss if he hasn’t made a move yet.”

That caught me off guard. My gaze flicked to his, searching for any hint of a joke, but he was entirely serious—or at least good at pretending to be.

“Excuse me?” I asked, my voice betraying my surprise.

Liam grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Just saying. If I were him, I wouldn’t be sitting over there, letting someone else steal your attention.”

The comment was bold, and I didn’t quite know how to respond. My thoughts were a mess of confusion, flattery, and something else I didn’t want to name. Before I could formulate a response, the familiar sound of Lando’s voice cut through the air.

“Liam,” he said smoothly, stepping up to the table. His tone was calm, but his green eyes held a sharpness that made me sit up a little straighter.

Liam glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Christian’s looking for you,” Lando said, his tone casual but firm. “Something about debrief notes.”

Liam frowned, clearly reluctant. “Now?”

“Yeah,” Lando said, nodding. “He seemed pretty keen.”

Liam hesitated, his gaze flicking between me and Lando like he was weighing his options. Finally, he sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “Alright. Nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“You too,” I replied, watching him leave with a mixture of relief and something I couldn’t quite pin down.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Lando lingered for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets as he avoided my gaze.

“That,” Charles said, his tone thick with amusement, “was the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Lando shot him a glare, his ears turning faintly red. “Mind your own business, Charles.”

Charles just smirked, raising his glass in mock surrender. “Whatever you say.”

I didn’t say anything, but a flicker of suspicion settled in the back of my mind.

Had Lando just…? No. That would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

“Let’s get a drink,” Alexandra said, pulling me to my feet.

…

As Alexandra and I made our way back toward the booth, she nudged me gently, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Lando looked like he was about to breathe fire earlier,” she said casually, sipping her drink.

I laughed softly, trying to deflect. “He’s always protective. It’s nothing.”

“Protective?” Alexandra repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That was not protective, chérie. That was jealousy.”

I opened my mouth to respond but stopped short as we neared the booth, Lando and Charles’s voices filtering through the hum of the room.

“It will just be awkward, mate,” Lando said, his tone low and almost resigned.

“Just talk about it,” Charles replied simply.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando muttered. “She will never be more than just a friend.”

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. My chest tightened, and the air around me seemed to still. Alexandra’s hand touched my arm gently, but I barely noticed.

“I— I need some air,” I managed, turning away before she could respond.

The ache in my chest grew with every step I took, his words echoing in my head.

She will never be more than just a friend.

And just like that, everything I thought I’d imagined felt painfully real.

…

I turned my phone face down on the table at Gigi’s, willing myself not to glance at the screen again. The missed calls from Lando were piling up, his name lighting up my notifications every half hour like clockwork. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him—I did. But every time I thought about his voice, his laugh, his damn words, the ache in my chest tightened.

She will never be more than just a friend.

I shook my head, forcing the thought away as the waiter arrived with my order. The smell of rich, cheesy pasta wafted up, comforting in the way only food could be. I twirled a forkful absentmindedly, hoping the carbs would somehow fill the space that had been hollowed out the night before.

The familiar growl of an engine outside pulled my attention from my plate. I glanced toward the window and froze.

The unmistakable silhouette of Lando’s Miura parked just outside, sleek and shining even under the soft glow of streetlights. A moment later, the door opened, and there he was, stepping out effortless as usual—but his expression wasn’t the easygoing grin I was used to. He looked… worried.

Before I could decide what to do, he spotted me through the window, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. He pushed through the door, his eyes locking onto mine immediately.

“There you are,” he said, relief evident in his tone as he approached my table.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Lando? What are you doing here?”

He pulled out the chair across from me, sitting down without asking. “Looking for you.”

My heart twisted. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been ignoring me all day,” he said, his voice quieter now.

I looked away, focusing on my fork. “I had my phone off that’s all.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he said finally, his voice softer but steady.

I glanced up, frowning. “What?”

“You always turn to cheesy Italian food when you’re upset,” he said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s your thing.”

The casual observation caught me off guard, a mix of warmth and frustration bubbling in my chest.

“So what?” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. “You’re some kind of expert on me now?”

He sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Y/N, I know you better than anyone. And I know something’s wrong.”

I didn’t answer, twisting my fork in the pasta and pretending to be engrossed in my meal. But the usual comfort it brought was absent, replaced by the uncomfortable weight of his gaze.

“You’re not yourself,” Lando said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, my tone clipped.

“Don’t lie to me,” he replied, his tone more serious than I was used to.

I set my fork down, the clink of metal against porcelain louder than it should have been. “Maybe I just don’t feel like talking.”

His eyes softened, his frustration giving way to concern. “Y/N…”

“Lando, I’m fine,” I interrupted, though the words felt hollow.

He didn’t push further, but I could see the gears turning in his head. He sat back, glancing down at my half-finished plate of pasta before gesturing to the waiter.

“Can we get the check, please?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.

I frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Paying,” he said simply, standing as the waiter approached.

“For me?”

“Yes,” he said, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Come on.”

“Come on where?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

“You’ll see,” he said, extending a hand.

I hesitated for a moment before letting him pull me to my feet.

The warm night air hit us as we stepped out of Gigi’s, the soft sound of waves in the distance mingling with the faint hum of the city. Lando didn’t say anything, his grip on my hand firm but gentle as he led me toward Larvotto Beach, just a short walk away.

“Lando, seriously,” I said as we reached the sand. “What’s going on?”

He stopped, turning to face me, his green eyes brighter under the moonlight.

“We need to talk.” he said simply.

And just like that, my heart started racing, even though I had no idea what he was going to say.

The beach stretched out before us, quiet except for the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. The city lights glittered faintly in the distance, their reflection dancing on the dark water. Lando walked beside me, his shoulders tense, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

For once, I didn’t fill the silence. I didn’t trust myself to. My thoughts were a whirlwind��last night’s overheard words still fresh in my mind, colliding with the unexpected intensity of this moment.

We walked like that for a while, the sand soft beneath our feet, until Lando came to a sudden stop. He turned to face me, his green eyes catching the moonlight in a way that made my stomach twist.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

I crossed my arms, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. “Try the beginning.”

He huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “The beginning’s too far back. I’d be here all night.”

“Good thing I don’t have anywhere else to be,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

For a moment, he just looked at me, his expression softening. “Y/N, I have a lot of friends. Like, a lot of friends.”

I blinked, confused. “Okay?”

“But none of them get to me the way you do,” he said, his voice dropping.

I stared at him, my breath catching. “What are you saying?”

He glanced out at the water, like he was searching for courage in the rolling waves. “I mean… you’re not just anyone to me. You never have been. You’re the first person I think of when something happens—good or bad. And the idea of upsetting you? It’s unbearable.”

My throat tightened as his words sank in.

“Like today,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly. “You ignored my calls, and I couldn’t stop thinking about whether I’d done something wrong. Whether I hurt you somehow. Because if I did…” He stopped, exhaling sharply, and shook his head. “I can’t stand the thought of you being upset because of me.”

I didn’t respond, too caught up in the flood of emotions his words were pulling from me.

“When you’re upset, it breaks my heart,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “And when you laugh… it’s like my entire day gets brighter. When you’re sad, it feels like my world’s falling apart.”

“Lando,” I started, but he held up a hand, shaking his head.

“I’m not done,” he said, his words tumbling out now, faster and more frantic. “I’ve been feeling like this for so long, and I thought I could just push it aside or pretend it didn’t matter, but it does. It matters so much. And if I messed up—if I’ve ruined this somehow—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You didn’t—”

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted, his eyes locking onto mine. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, but I’ve been too scared to admit it. And I know this might change everything, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

I froze, his confession slamming into me with the force of a tidal wave.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know if this makes sense. I just… I can’t lose you, Y/N.”

Without thinking, I stepped closer, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

For a second, he was completely still, caught off guard. But then he kissed me back, his hands slipping to my waist as he pulled me closer. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it deepened quickly, making the world around me disappear.

When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us catching our breath.

“So… I’m guessing you feel the same?” he asked, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re so slow sometimes,” I murmured, shaking my head with a laugh.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes,” I said, smiling.

The relief on his face was almost comical. He pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me tightly like he never wanted to let go.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,” he murmured into my hair.

“And I’ve wanted to hear it,” I admitted, my voice muffled against his chest.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “But… yesterday. Did I say something? Did I—”

I hesitated, my stomach twisting. “I overheard you talking to Charles.”

His face paled. “Oh.”

“You said I’d never be more than a friend,” I said, my voice wavering.

Lando winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “God, Y/N, that’s not how I meant it at all. I said that because I thought I didn’t stand a chance. Like… you’re so important to me, and I didn’t want to mess up what we already had by wanting something I thought I could never have.”

He looked at me with a mix of regret and hope. “I’m an idiot. It wasn’t because I didn’t want more—it’s because I didn’t think I could have it.”

“You are an idiot,” I said, my lips twitching into a small smile. “But you’re my idiot.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yours, huh? Bold claim.”

I tilted my head, my grin widening. “Think you can find someone else to deal with you the way I do?”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Deal with me? You mean worship my charm and tolerate my perfection?”

“Oh, please,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “The only thing I’m worshipping is the patience I’ve built up putting up with you.”

His hands slid to my waist, pulling me slightly closer, his smirk turning more mischievous. “You love me. Admit it.”

“Not a chance,” I said, even as my pulse quickened.

His gaze dropped to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my eyes again, his voice softening but still teasing. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

Before I could respond, he closed the gap, kissing me again with a fierceness that took me by surprise. This wasn’t the hesitant, nervous kiss from before. It was confident, teasing, like everything we’d been holding back had finally snapped into place.

I kissed him back, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. His hands tightened on my waist, grounding me as he smiled against my lips, murmuring, “Still denying it?”

I broke the kiss just long enough to catch my breath, raising an eyebrow. “You think one kiss is going to make me fold?”

“Two,” he said smugly, leaning in for another without waiting for an answer.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t stop him, meeting him halfway this time. His lips curved into a grin mid-kiss, and I could feel his stupid, insufferable smugness radiating off him.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked when we pulled apart, my voice laced with mock annoyance.

“Unbelievably,” he replied, his grin widening as he rested his forehead against mine. “And don’t pretend you’re not.”

“Maybe I am,” I admitted, smirking. “But if you keep talking, I might start regretting it.”

He laughed, pulling me closer. “Alright, no more talking. For now.”

“Good,” I said, leaning in again, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore fading into the background as everything else fell away.

The weight of everything unsaid was gone, replaced by the warmth of realizing we’d both been fighting our way toward the same truth: we’d always belonged to each other.

When we broke apart, Lando’s grin turned mischievous, and I immediately knew he was up to something. Before I could react, he scooped me up effortlessly and started toward the water.

“Lando! Don’t you dare!” I shrieked, squirming in his arms as laughter bubbled out of me.

“Payback for all those times you called me an idiot,” he teased, stopping just as the waves lapped at his shoes.

He finally set me down, his smirk smug and unapologetic. “Admit it. You love me anyway.”

Figures. I’m in love with someone who steals my fries and once confidently argued that dolphins were just “sea dogs.” I wouldn’t have it any other way though.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando x you #lando norris one shot #lando norris imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine

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thethirdtriplet · 11 months ago

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Headcanon for the Bats:

The Bats are absolute menaces to society, in their own weird and unique ways.

—————

Dick refuses to be referred to as anything but “Dick” when in public with his family or even his friends, so no, he will not be referred to by his legal name or any of his common nicknames, but any and all variations or nicknames for “Dick” (Dickie, Dikehead, ect…) are acceptable:

It almost makes Dick a little too happy when any of his siblings yells “Dick” in a crowded room or public place.

One woman actually yelled at Dick and his siblings for their language, that is, until he informed her that Dick is his name. She was so embarrassed she turned a deep shade of red and she apologised.

Dick tried to hide his smirk because he's an absolutely horrible person. His siblings are not impressed, and refuse to admit that it’s kinda funny.

—————

On Father’s Day, Bruce receives a multitude of gifts from his children (whether legal, emotional or biological), as a joke he has to receive at least one gift that has “worst parent ever” on it, from one of them. And while he loves all of the gifts (gag gifts or sentimental) equally, he still has his favourites:

Bruce might enjoy the utter horror and unease a little more than necessary as he uses the thermos Jason bought him for Father’s Day with the words “worst dad ever”, printed on the front, in bright red for all to see.

He is currently forced to endure attending yet another board meeting when one -brave but stupid- new board member made a rather rude comment about how Bruce’s kids shouldn’t disrespect him with such gifts. Which prompts Bruce to go on a tirade about how he should mind his own business, and never speak about any of his kids like that. It got so bad, and he was so furious, that none of the other board members mentioned that the meeting would be ending soon. By the end of Bruce’s speech, their time was up and the meeting had to end.

Not that Bruce was finished. The next day, to work, bruce wore the bright blue tie Dick had gotten him, holding the mug Tim got him that had “Not the best parent, but I am trying my best.” printed on it. And he has continued to wear the things his kids buy him to work, without fail.

No one mentions anything about his clothing choices or the mugs (yes, mugs because there’re multiple mugs with equally concerning words printed on all of them), because if they do, he will go on a tirade about his kids and how much he loves them, and no work will get done.

#tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #duke thomas #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #i will be adding more

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aajjks · 8 months ago

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Just like Candy (m)

synopsis. in which your best friend satoru is determined to prove you wrong by making you cum on his tongue until there’s nothing left.

pairing: gojo x reader

rating: 18+ MDNI. and remember consent is so important.

warnings: 18+ THÈMÈS, èxplïcït p-ssy eàtïng, bèst frïènd göjö, örál sèx (fèm rècïevïng), fïngerïng, hè ïs á mènácè, lôwkèy yándèrè göjö, pösèssïvènèss, lïckïng, sückïng, bïtïng ànd övèrstïmülátïön.

“So you’re saying that I dont look like I’d be good at eating pussy?”

“Yeah.”

So nonchalant. You’re so nonchalant about this- Satoru is so offended right now, so dumbfounded. How can you say something so stupid! So false. Are you trying to hurt his ego? He’s literally notorious for making girls see stars with his tongue, he’s the best at pussy eating. Gojo can’t help but scoff at you as you sit on his bedrooms couch.

“Wow… yn I can’t believe this AT ALL.” His blue eyes are wide, his mouth agape.

“What’s so offensive about it huh? I mean I just think you’re bad at it. You don’t even look like you’d enjoy it.” You shrug, and Satoru gasps.

“I LOVE PUSSY.”

“Ugh whatever let’s drop it already.” You lean back on the couch, browsing through your phone.

“NO.” He argues back, shaking his head, Satoru gets closer to you, he doesn’t understand why you’re messing with him like this.

You’ve been best friends for two years and you always tease him like this, he does it too but he’s just really bad at taking jokes. But you can’t stop either you love messing with him. And he kinda likes it.

He won’t admit it, but he loves it when you mess with him, even though he gets a little annoyed like right now.

You just exactly know what button of his to push. And you have pushed enough of his buttons today.

And now it’s about time he proves you— his best friend, the one he secretly has been liking for the longest time— wrong.

“Oh yn you asked for this.” He bites his lower lip before he falls to his knees, right infront of you. You put your phone down.. seeing your best friend on his knees.

“It’s okay you don’t have to beg for forgiveness haha.” You tease him but when you see a smirk on his face, you’re confused.

What is going on in that brain of Gojo’s?

“What?!”

Gojo’s biceps flex as he groans. “I’m going to prove you fucking wrong.”

Before you can really process- Satoru speaks again, he licks his lips, “I’ll eat you out- please allow me.” He looks directly into your eyes. “Come on.” He asks, waiting for your Yes.

“W-What..?” You question, you’re so confused, what’s gotten into him. You were only joking but- “fine… fine..” you ponder for a moment before replying.

Gojo grins like a cat, it’s so wide, his pearly whites almost blinding.

“Good girl- are you ready to be proven wrong?”

You don’t choose to reply but you spread your legs.

Satorus mouth goes dry as you take off your shorts and now he can see your panties, his mouth agape, his pupils dilated.

“Let’s see what the fuss is about, shall we?” You say, in a quote tone before Gojo grabs the hem of your panties and pulls them down.

You watch him, your heart hammering.

And he feels himself harden.

You’re gorgeous. You’re actually indescribable, he has no idea what to say or think because his mind has officially gone blank.

“W-Wow.” He says before burying his face in your pussy, his face directly into it, and he takes a long sniff before grunting against it.

“Mhmm fuck- you’re gonna be the death of me.” And then you feel the first lick, you shudder at the sensation, a small gasp leaves your mouth.

He licks it again, giving it a few kitten licks before he starts to gently suck on the clit. His hands grab the best of your thighs and you let out a soft noise.

And that’s when he starts to pick up his pace, he’s so experienced, but right now he feels so nervous, he’s going to make you cum on his tongue.

Gojo’s tongue flicks out to lick your cunt before he feels you getting wet and he dives his tongue deep in, he digs his nails into your skin as he begins to eat you out.

“Nghh a-ah…” you moan and it drives him completely over the edge and he aggressively moves his tongue into your heat.

His face tilts and you hear his occasional grunts and moans- your legs begin to shake as his pace gets rough and aggressive, he tries to bury his face deeper between your legs.

Gojo tightens his grip on your legs, “ngh mhmm.” He moans against your pussy as he eats you out like a starved man, his tongue skilled yet sloppy as he moves it.

Your walls clench against his tongue and it’s a delicious treat for him.

“hmph- jus’ like candy…” he shamelessly lets out a guttural moan against your wet pussy. His hot breath only stimulates you more.

But as you feel like you’re going to cum, he detaches his mouth from your needy heat- you whine as gojo smirks, his lips all glossy and drool on the corners of his mouth.

Before you can protest he pushes his large fingers into your pussy, you dry out in pleasure as he moves them, his movements smooth, “ooh look at you- a fuckin mess.” He taunts.

He can feel your taste in his tongue.

You taste like candy, it’s so sweet and so addictive, you would think that he’s over exaggerating but it’s true.

You taste like candy.

Your moans are like music as you arch your back at the fast movements of his fingers.

But as soon your walls clench tighter, he pulls his fingers out before licking them lewdly.

“Wanna cum? Admit it then. Admit that I’m the best at eating your pussy.”

You can’t comprehend because you can’t think- you can’t really see. “Nghh yes please I need your mouth please.”

Gojo coos, “oh I know sweet girl.” You’ve finally admitted it.

And so, he buries his face deep inside your cunt once more, moaning against it like a beast in heat.

“Mhmm yeah- nghh mhmp-~ cum f’me darling- cum all over my tongue.”

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skzdarlings · 1 year ago

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Chan with ❛ that really does make you hard. i can feel you pulsing inside me. ❜

summary: your husband is a university professor. when you sit in on one of his lectures, it gives both of you an idea...

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: husband!chan, kinky professor/student roleplay, though reader is his wife and not actually a student. dom!chan, sub!reader, degrading language (stupid, dumb, slut). corruption kink, power dynamics kink. explicit sexual content. word count: 2380 words.

part of the valentine's day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

Chan is giving a lecture when you reach the university. You kill some time and grab a coffee, ambling around campus and idling in corridors until your wandering leads you to his hall. The main doors are propped open, likely for air circulation with the spring heat, and you smile at his voice spilling into the hallway.

It is a big lecture hall. He is teaching a beginner level so the class is substantially large, a couple hundred freshman packed inside. No one will notice an extra presence. There are a few empty seats scattered across the back row so you slip inside and quietly take one.

You like seeing Chan in his element. Your husband is something of a chameleon, spending his down time in hoodies and baseball caps, listening to music and giggling at his own goofy jokes. You almost forget his professional side, his prestigious and academic character. He loves his research and his work and his students and it shows in every remark and gesticulation.

You adore him. His passion and intelligence never cease to amaze you.

Though right now your loving attention strays to his appearance. You must admit: your husband is a hottie. You suspect the tittering co-eds in the first few rows are not as interested in statistical analysis as their rapt attention might suggest.

Professor Bang Chan stands at the front of the hall, dressed down to his shirtsleeves. His suit jacket has been tossed over the desk. His pants are pressed, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but his neat black hair is just this side of dishevelled, like he has been running his fingers through it.

You slouch in your seat and smile a cheesy smile as you watch him work.

He looks around the hall as he lectures, attentive to every student. In his perusal, his eyes skim the back row. They stop on you.

“And that’s why we, uh, ah…” He stumbles so noticeably that a few heads turn to see what caught his eye. He laughs and waves, drawing their attention again. “Sorry, sorry, as I was saying…”

Your smile only widens. There is a little flutter in your heart as your husband looks at you with a glimmer in his eye. You rest your head on your fist and watch the rest of the lecture without any interruption.

You stay seated when it ends and the students file out. Chan lingers by his desk to sort his papers. You just admire him for a moment, then you make your way down the aisle. He lifts his head, smiling at you.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, shrugging on his jacket. “You’re early.”

“Yeah, I thought traffic would be worse.”

“Hungry?”

“Definitely, Professor,” you say. Your original plans were dinner, but you lift an eyebrow while smirking, suggesting a different kind of hunger entirely.

It makes him laugh, a nervous sort of laugh. You are charmed by the tips of his ears turning red, a testament to your ability to fluster your man well into your marriage.

“What’s wrong, Professor?” you ask, reaching up to touch his face. “Aren’t you hungry too?”

He stares back at you for a moment. His gaze is resolute despite his faint blush. You cannot help your delight.

“Ooh,” you say. “Do you like it when I call you Professor, Professor?”

He finally takes your hand and lowers it.

“I’m a professional,” is what he says, which is definitely not an answer to the question you asked. He kisses your cheek before you can protest his reply, then he winks and grabs his bag. “Come on,” he says, “I just have to put some stuff in my office. Then we’ll go grab dinner.”

You suspend your teasing for the time being, talking about your day as you cross campus in the sunshine. You take the stairs up to the office floor, winding around the labyrinthine assembly of empty offices. It is quite late in the afternoon, plenty of people seemingly packed up and gone for the day.

He unlocks his office and lets you both in. While he goes to his desk to sort his stuff, you close and lock the door. He does not notice your deliberate movements, still talking about mundane nothings. You do love your endless conversations, whether casual or important, but right now you are less preoccupied with Channie than Professor Chan. There is something about seeing your husband like this, smart, competent, confident, and so in charge of his space.

“Baby girl?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow at your slow, slinky approach. “What’s up?”

You circle the desk and lay a hand on his chest, smoothing your palm down his lapel. You swear his eyes somehow darken, narrowing in focus, his whole expression coloured differently than before.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I know you’re married, Professor,” you say, blinking oh-so innocently at him. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable… it’s just that I… I need…”

He lets you nudge him back onto the desk chair behind him. He gazes up as you lean over him.

“Baby,” he says, warningly, but does not move or push your hands away.

“We’re all alone, Professor,” you say. “The door is locked. No one will ever find out.”

“Ah. Is that right?” he asks, looking like he is on the verge of giggles. He sighs instead, dropping his chin and shaking his head, playfully disappointed. With another breath, he lifts his head, and your sweet husband dons a more predatory air.

He does not even have to say anything, does not even have to touch you. He just has to look at you with all that desire in his eyes, turning your insides molten. Every dirty thought is plain in how he checks you out.

“I saw you looking at me in class today,” you say, breathless already. “Did you think I looked pretty, Professor?”

“I think,” he says, “I was impressed you were sitting there, actually listening for once.”

You open your mouth to retort, but he touches a shushing finger to your lips. He shakes his head.

“Nuh-uh,” he says. “Tell me what you want before I throw you out of my office.” He cups your jaw, his gaze so clearly centred on your lips.

“Oh, please, don’t do that,” you say. “I need you, Professor. I mean, I need your help.”

“I think you’re beyond help, baby girl,” he says. He momentarily breaks character to glance at the wall, then he looks at you with a quirked brow. “We are at my work, maybe we should—”

“I know you,” you reply.

Because you do. You and your husband are no strangers to roleplay or kinky fun, your desires and boundaries and safewords known. Your backside is still tender from a good spanking the night before, just enough to leave you squirming today. You were pent-up before you even saw Professor Chan administering his lecture. But now that you have, now that you are here, you cannot let it go. And given the way he is looking at you, he feels the same way.

“You’ve been hard since I called you Professor in the lecture hall,” you say.

“Since I saw you sitting in my classroom, actually,” he corrects. “I could fill in the rest with my own imagination. Just… looking at you…” He takes another breath and looks you over. His gaze is heady. “God, you just get me going every time, you know that?”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” you say with another smirk. Then you pout, batting your eyelashes, as you sink to your knees in front of him. “Please, Professor,” you say. “I’m begging you. I need a good grade or else. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything,” he says. “That’s, ah… that’s a bold statement. Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I am,” you say. You clasp your hands. “Anything at all.”

“You know, a man who is not as nice me could do bad things to you, baby. A pretty girl like you. It’s like you want someone to take advantage of you, yeah?” He cups your jaw and tilts your face up, looking at your mouth thoughtfully, smiling as he circles his thumb over your lips. “They could be really mean to you,” he says. “Make you do things you don’t like. Maybe even hurt you, baby.”

“But you wouldn’t do those things,” you say with a watery sniffle. “You’re a good professor. I can trust you.”

“Of course you can,” he says. With his thumb, he tugs your bottom lip down. It flips back up with a bounce. “I’ll help you then, if you do what I say.”

“Oh yes, of course, Professor, anything,” you say. You start to stand when he puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Naw, naw,” he says. “You stay there for me.”

“On my knees?” You blink up at him. “What for?”

“Tsk. Baby. You know what for.” He pats your head like he would an especially dumb puppy. “You’re just a pretty face,” he says, “but you’re not that stupid. You know what you’re good for at least, don’t you?”

He cups your chin. Before you can reply, his thumb is forcing its way into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You wrap your lips around it, staring up at him while sucking diligently.

“That’s it,” he says, and slides free with a wet little pop. “Good job. See?” He speaks with saccharine sweetness, completely condescending as he pats your cheek. “You are good at something.” He unbuttons your shirt with deft swiftness, your breasts already heaving in your low-cut bra when he pushes the material off your shoulders. He laughs to himself as he says, “It’s just the only thing you’re good at is being a dumb slut, but that’s okay, yeah?”

“I… I guess…”

“Shh, it’s okay.” He covers you whole mouth with his hand, tugging you close while he undoes his belt with the other. “You don’t need to talk,” he says. “No one needs to hear what you think. Open your mouth for me. That’s a good girl. Come on. You can take it.”

With a shuffle, he gets his pants open and partially down, enough to get himself out. He is already rock hard as he guides you forward, sliding into your waiting mouth. He grunts with deep, obvious pleasure.

He lets you take over, sitting back while you suck his cock with expert knowledge of exactly what he likes, when to take him deep, when to lick and suck and swallow. You stop for a breath and his cock smacks your cheek. Then suddenly he is standing and taking you with him, wasting no time bending you over his desk.

“Professor!” you say, pushing your ass out with your theatrically scandalized cry. “Oh no, sir, I’ve never done this before, please, ahh—”

He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties to the side, sliding his fingers through all the wet arousal there. He slides two fingers into you easily, with no resistance at all. He leans down and laughs against the nape of your neck.

“I find that hard to believe,” he says, fucking you steadily with his hand. “I think I’m not the only professor you’ve done this for, am I, baby?”

“Ohh,” is all you manage, out of character and genuinely moaning as he works you towards a quick orgasm. “Channie, you’re gonna make me come,” you warn, wriggling.

Your moans turn to pathetic little whimpers when he wraps a strong arm around you, locking you in place as he lines up behind you.

“What’s that?” he asks, holding you tight. It stops you from writhing while he pushes his wet dick inside you, inch by slow inch. “I’m not Channie, am I?” he says. “What do you call me? Huh? Dumb little girl.” He swats your ass and you yelp, clenching around him. “Try again,” he says.

“Oh, Professor,” you say. Then you cannot help but giggle, recalling his evasion when you teased him in the lecture hall. The evidence of his desire says it all. “That really does make you hard,” you laugh, breathlessly, “I can feel you pulsing inside me.”

You squeak when he pushes you down onto the desk, holding your hips as he thrusts into you with more vigour. Then you are not saying anything, just moaning and riding out every quick snap of his hips. You are not sure how he manages to find the softest, squishiest, more sensitive place inside you, every time, no matter the place or position, sending you hurtling towards to an orgasm at breakneck speed.

“Oh, help, Professor, I’m gonna—”

“Me too, baby,” he says. “All inside you.”

“Ohh, fuck—” You come with a shuddering convulsion, twitching and clenching, your eyes closed as you pant into the wooden surface of his desk. Your orgasm ends and he is still fucking you, drawing it out. Your voice is guttural, low and breathy as you say, “Professor, be careful, we have no protection…”

He lifts you up, arches your back, and covers your mouth.

“I… told… you…” He punctuates each sound with a hard thrust. “To… be… quiet…”

Then he drives into you and stays there, groaning into your neck as he comes and comes. When his hand drops, you take in a gulp of air, shivering from the aftershocks of pleasure. You are spilling out of your bra from all the jostling, your skirt in disarray. You whimper when he pulls out of you, then again when he just covers you back up with your panties. They are soaked in a second.

“Maybe, uh,” he says with one of his funny, embarrassed, little giggles. “Maybe we should stop by home and clean up before we go for dinner.”

You giggle too, turning around to face him. You fix your shirt while he tucks himself back into his pants. He is already blushing and smiling that dimpled smile, looking all sweet and goofy as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out on his desk.

“Good idea,” you say. “That’s why you’re the professor.”

He laughs. Looking at you fondly, he cups your cheek and pulls you in for a long, tender kiss.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #chan x reader #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x you #skz x you #kpop fanfiction #valentinesdaystories #stilestotherescue

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mattsjuul · 1 month ago

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GRAVITY. chris sturniolo

༣ summary: chris is on tour and misses his girlfriend .ᐟ ♡

༣ pairing: clingy!reader & tour!chris

༣ warnings: suggestive, just a cute lil oneshot tbh, pet names ( i think only one tho ), long distance ???? idk

༣ authors note ♡: ok i rlly didnt know what to do for this tbh i js wanted to write for chris lol!!!! this MIIIGHT get a pt 2 tho. so twoshot!

you stand in your kitchen, your mind constantly filled with thoughts of your boyfriend while he's off on tour. is he sleeping? maybe he's eating something. i hope he's enjoying it. is he gonna call me? isnt he in new york? thats three hours ahead. three whole hours. so if its six pm here then its... seven... eight.. nine. nine pm there? so is he asleep? i dont know if tour's got him sleepy. gosh. can he call me? i bet he looks so good right now. fuck. then your thoughts are interrupted by a very specific text tone. it's chris! "Hey" "R u busy imy" you read, causing you to almost start jumping for joy in front of your open fridge. although you do a little squeal instead. "definitely not" "call me im begging" you reply. "I like that" he replies, making you giggle to yourself. seconds later, your screen lights up with a picture of chris with a big smile holding your dear friend, madison, 's cat.

"well hellloooo" you answer with a smile far too big. "hey sexy" he smiles back just as much. "i've been waiting for this call" you admit. "yeah? you been thinking about me?" he asks in a cocky tone. but it was lowkey doing things to you. well. highkey. "you'd like that wouldnt you?" you ask. "yeah." he proudly says. "i was actually about to rub one out since im alone. show me your tits" he jokes. "don't tempt me" you giggle. "i mean.. you're free to do whatever you want. you're an adult with free will in your own home" he babbles on. you take a deep breath, honestly debating it. why not? he's seen them pleennttyy of times. more so, touched them plenty of times.

"ya' know." he interrupts your debating. "i've had lots of time to think. especially to think about you. and ya' know, we're never really apart for longer then a week. and it's made me realize that you really hold me down. i feel like i need at least one night with you every week to function. not like night.. i mean one sleep. i feel like it's made me sleep not so well. is that crazy? i'm not making sense. but then also, it'll be like 10 am here and i'll argue with nick or matt and i cant run to you. you'd be asleep and i dont want you to be upset the moment you wake up. i hate this seperation. i hate making you wait.. like what if you stop liking me before i get back. fuck. you're not hanging out with that actor guy you like, right?" he goes ooonnn n on. well boobs wouldnt be too appropriate right now. "okay.. no" you reply for starters. "and i dont think it's crazy. i get it. but you're veeeryyy cute for thinking all this. i love you chris. i miss you so much." i say. "i love you. can i see your boobs?" he asks, a giggle escaping your lips at his very stupid words.

yet you lift your top up, getting a shocked look from chris. "oh.. i like those.. a lot." he says, a big smile on your face as you shake 'em a little. "just.. stay there for a second" he says, seeing him moving around, clearly pulling his sweats down. "join me, yeah?"

a/n: ohhhhh em geeee.... idk if i like this tbh lol. but lmk if u want a part two w phone sex hehe. im sorry its so so short sad face.. i actually rlly liked writing this tho idk. yaaay hope u like :') ♡ lmk if there r any mistakes pls i didnt proof read!!!!!! (im in class..) 🐻‍❄️

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #Spotify

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eternalguk · 2 months ago

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Pink Hearts & Black Clouds || jjk. — prologue

Love me at my lowest, I’ll love you when you’re barely holding on

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : Jeon Jungkook is the epitome of a brooding grunge. Moody, distant, and always a little too sarcastic. A grumpy, tattooed college student who barely tolerates anyone… except you. Somehow, the girl who’s a whirlwind of pink hearts and strawberry lipgloss is the one who keeps dear Jungkook on his toes.

But you must admit… behind that gruff exterior, there’s a side of him only you get to see—gentle, caring, and ready to spoil you in his own way. Everyone else may see him as the tough guy with a permanent scowl, but you know better. Jungkook’s heart? It’s all yours.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, college au, grunge!bf x bimbo!gf, angst, fluff & smut

↠ Word count : 1.1k

↠ Warnings : none for the prologue! unless you count Jungkook & oc …

↠ A/n : Hi there ; here is the prologue for PHBC! Two different scenarios which show you all what this lovely couple (+ their friends) are like! 🫶🏻 I hope you enjoy this little something before I release the first drabble <3 enjoy the short read & do share your thoughts (please send an ask / comment below for the taglist) 🩷. Seeing some of the enthusiasm already has increased my confidence in this series so much ; forever grateful 🦢.

↠ Song : ‘Closer’ by Jungkook / ‘Good for you’ by Selena G

❧ Prologue : Sunrise & Smoke

Series Masterlist || Teaser || Moodboard || Main Masterlist

You: “So babe, let’s tell them, what was your first impression of me?”

Jungkook: “Loud.”

You: “You’re mean! And fgs, say more than one word.”

Jungkook: “It’s true. You wouldn’t even speak and I’d look over at you and think ‘she’s loud’.”

You: “Well, it’s not my fault I look like I own the place.”

Jungkook: “You don’t.”

You: “Metaphorically, I do.”

Jungkook: [smirking] “And what does metaphorically mean?”

You: “I think you’re obsessed with me.”

Jungkook: [deadpan] “You wish.”

You: “You know.”

Jungkook: “Annoyed sounds better.”

You: [grinning] “Sure. That’s why you spend every second thinking about me.”

Jungkook: “I wouldn’t waste my time doing that.”

You: “What about now?”

Jungkook: [sighing, defeated] “Fine. Maybe a little.”

You: [smiling triumphantly, cheering] “Knew it.”

Jungkook swears he’s never met anyone like you before. Now, when he says that, he doesn’t mean it in a sweeping, romantic way - at least, that’s what he tells himself.

What he means is that you’re infuriating.

Very infuriating.

Almost as infuriating as Taehyung and Jimin, except he’s grown immune to the two of them.

You’re loud where he’s quiet, bold where he’s careful, chaos where he’s calm. It’s as if the universe decided to throw him the ultimate challenge: someone who refuses to be ignored.

And, God, has he tried to ignore you.

At first, he chalked it up to sheer annoyance. The way your laugh carries across the room. The way your jokes are often at his expense. The way you seem to glide through life like you own every inch of it.

But annoyance doesn’t explain the way his eyes always find you in a crowd. It doesn’t explain the way his heart skips when you text him in the middle of the night just to share a stupid TikTok.

And it definitely doesn’t explain the way he’s memorised the exact shade of your eyes in every kind of light… which brings us to your current status.

You’re sprawled across a wooden bench in the campus courtyard, one leg draped over the other, scrolling on your phone. The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow on your skin, and Jungkook wonders, not for the first time, how someone can look so effortlessly radiant while doing absolutely nothing.

“Yah,” you call out when you see him approaching. “Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting forever.”

“It’s been five minutes,” he replies, slipping his hands into his pockets as he stands in front of you. “I went to buy this.”

Jungkook hands you a bottle of strawberry-flavoured water, knowing full well if it was plain, you’d be complaining about how ‘boring’ it is.

“Five minutes too long,” you say, grinning up at him. “I was starting to think you didn’t want to see me again.”

“I didn’t,” he deadpans, but the corner of his mouth twitches, betraying him.

You sit up, patting the space beside you. “Sit down, Bakugo. You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

Jungkook sighs, but takes the seat anyway, his shoulder brushing against yours. “I’m not Bakugo.”

“You totally are,” you tease, leaning into him. “It’s okay, though. Bakugo’s hot. Works for ya.”

You wink.

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

And this is how it’s always been between you and Jungkook - a constant push and pull, a game of who can fluster the other first. It’s messy, it’s ridiculous, and it doesn’t make sense on paper.

But in moments like this, sitting next to him as the world hums softly in the background, you know it’s exactly where you’re meant to be and exactly what your relationship means.

Another instance

You feel his eyes on you again.

Seated at the edge of the graffiti-covered bench outside the university’s art building, you hum softly to yourself, applying another coat of shimmering pink gloss to your already glossy lips.

Jungkook sits next to you, one booted foot propped up on the bench, a cigarette dangling carelessly between his fingers. His usual scowl is firmly in place, but his gaze - dark, intense, and unwavering - is locked on you.

“Are you done yet?” he grumbles, though the corner of his mouth twitches upward, betraying his feigned irritation.

You click the cap of your lip gloss shut with a flourish, turning toward him with an innocent smile. “Done! What do you think, Koo?” You pucker your lips at him, tilting your head like a puppy seeking approval.

He let out a low, dramatic sigh, flicking the ash from his cigarette before leaning in close. The scent of leather and smoke clings to him, but when his lips brush yours, barely a whisper of contact, all you think about is how gentle he always is with you.

“Sticky,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to smirk at your affronted expression.

“It’s not sticky, it’s glossy,” you correct him, arms crossing under your chest as you huff.

Jungkook’s eyes dipped to your lips again, his smirk softening into something almost sweet. “Yeah, whatever. Looks good on you, though.”

“Thanks, Koo!” you chirp, your mood instantly brightened by his rare compliment.

Now, his friends across the courtyard aren’t as charmed S you right now.

Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin lean against the brick wall, watching the scene unfold.

“Unbelievable,” Namjoon scoffs, shaking his head as he adjusted the strap of his guitar case. “He barely speaks to us half the time, but with her? He’s all sunshine and rainbows.”

“More like sunshine and bubblegum flavoured lip gloss,” Taehyung quips, earning a chuckle and shove from Jimin.

Jungkook doesn’t care. He never does.

He simply shoots them a sharp glare, the kind that promises swift retribution if they dare to open their mouths any wider. Then, as if a switch had flipped, he turns back to you and softens instantly.

“Come on,” he says, stubbing out his cigarette on the bench. “Class starts in five and I don’t want you tripping in those ridiculous shoes again.”

“They’re not ridiculous!” you protest, looking down at your baby pink platform heels. “They’re super cute! You just don’t know fashion.”

“Sure, princess.” Jungkook rolls his eyes but reaches out for your hand, easily pulling you to your feet. His fingers curl protectively around yours, his thumb brushing over the rhinestone-studded ring on your index finger.

As the two of you walk off, the boys watched in stunned silence.

“Man, he’s fucking whipped,” Jimin says finally, breaking the spell. “I kinda love it.”

“Yup,” Namjoon agrees, lighting his own cigarette. “She’s got him wrapped around her pinky finger. Literally.”

But as clarified before, this doesn’t affect Jungkook.

Because when you squeeze his hand and look up at him with that wide-eyed, saccharine smile of yours, nothing else matters.

Not his annoying ass friends.

Not his bad mood.

Not even the fact that your lip gloss really was sticky and he hates kissing you with this particular flavour.

Where was your strawberry one today?

Anywho… you were his, and he was yours.

Smoke and sunrise, velvet and venom, perfectly mismatched.

There we go! Please share your thoughts ; I can’t wait to speak with my readers about these two 🥹🩷

↠ Taglist : @bangchanwantsmesobad @rklvez @doulcha @starlight-1010 @mimi1097 @khadeeeeej @jkslvsnella @royalguk @gaebestie (names in italics could not be tagged).

#bts fics #jungkook fics #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook drabbles #jungkook oneshots #jungkook series #bts series

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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 2 months ago

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Keep Your Eyes on Me - pt.ii

tara carpenter x female reader

part i | part ii

summary: Tara begins to question her own emotions, especially when the thought of losing Y/n's attention unexpectedly stirs something deeper.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: slight violence

————

"Is Y/n dying?" Mindy asks with genuine curiosity looking back at you and Tara. "What the fuck is wrong with her face?"

The five of you had just gotten off the subway and exited the station, but your mind was still stuck a few moments behind. Tara had wrapped her arm around yours and spoken the five words that made your heart skip a beat: Keep your eyes on me.

Since then, you hadn’t been able to function. Stiff as a board, your brain was in a daze, replaying those words over and over. Now, you were walking aimlessly, arm-in-arm with Tara, trailing behind Mindy, Chad, and Sam, who were a good distance ahead.

"I think it might have something to do with Tara," Chad chimes in, glancing back at you both.

That comment got Sam's attention and she finally turned to see what was happening. "Yikes she does look—hold on why would Tara be responsible for whatever is going on with Y/n's face?" She asks with a raised brow, looking at the twins genuinely confused.

"Look at her arm," Chad says, pointing at Tara. "It’s wrapped around Y/n’s."

"She's looking up at her like Y/n put the stars in the sky," Mindy laughs.

Sam squints her eyes still confused. "So? Tara's finally warming up to Y/n. I spoke to her a few weeks ago about how Y/n is good for her."

"Her arm is around Y/n's," Chad states again with more emphasis.

"I hold my friends by their arm all the time," Sam shrugs like it's no big deal.

"Oh honey... did you say friends?" Mindy says gently wrapping her arm around Sam's shoulders like she was trying to soften the blow. "You know Y/n has the hots for your sister right?"

Sam wasn't stupid. There was instances in the last six months where the thought had crossed her mind. The way you always glanced at Tara after one of Mindy’s outrageous jokes, just to see her reaction. The way you went silent every time Tara got too close. The way your cheeks flushed crimson whenever Tara did something particularly sweet or kind.

Sam sighs. Deep down, she knew. The way you were attentive to Tara wasn’t just friendly—it was something more.

When she’d encouraged Tara to give you a chance, it wasn’t about dating—it was about letting someone in, letting someone care for her. But now, watching you and Tara in this new light, the possibility of her little sister entering her first relationship suddenly felt real.

That’s what unnerved her. Not you, specifically. She liked you. And if anyone was going to date Tara, she was glad it would be you.

"Don’t worry, Sam," Chad says, trying to reassure her. "Y/n’s a total dork. She can’t even admit to herself that she likes Tara. She just genuinely cares about her, even if she only gets to do that as a friend."

"Dude," Mindy cuts in, laughing so hard she’s clutching her stomach, "you literally helped Y/n get into your sister’s pants!"

“You gave Y/n first class tickets to take your sister to Pound town!” she adds in between laughs.

Chad groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Why are you like this?"

Sam felt her blood run cold. She changed her mind—maybe she did have a problem with you.

————

Meanwhile, about twenty steps behind the group, the younger Carpenter sister was freaking out for a completely different reason.

Sure, she hadn’t expected to enjoy the feeling of her hand resting on your bicep this much. That was its own problem. But what was really throwing her off was the deafening silence. Why weren’t you saying anything?

She’d called your name a few times now, but you hadn’t so much as blinked in response. She considered taking her arm away. Maybe she’d overstepped. It had been a bold move—not just saying what she did but closing the space between you two like this.

It was a stark contrast from what's the usual between you two—her throwing violent insults your way, half the time just to see how you’d react.

Okay maybe it makes sense why you weren't responding. Still, was it too much to ask for a little reaction?

Fearing she’d made you uncomfortable, Tara began to pull her arm away.

"No! Wait—" you blurt out, snapping out of your daze at the loss of contact. The words hang in the air, and the realization of what you just said slaps you in the face. Your face flushes red. "I mean—wait, not no! You can keep your hands to yourself if you want!" you stammer, awkwardly backpedaling as you take a step closer to the road to create a distance between you two.

She just told you that you can keep your eyes on her and you told her she can keep her hands to herself.

In that moment, you’d honestly prefer to be hit by a car than embarrass yourself any further in front of Tara.

You brace yourself, expecting her to roll her eyes, to call you an imbecile, to tell you to get over yourself. Maybe she’d point out that she doesn’t need you to give her permission to keep her hands to herself—that she has full autonomy. Or worse, she’d say something cutting, like how she’d never touch you in a million years, even though she was the one who had grabbed your arm in the first place.

But instead, she laughs.

And it’s not a mean laugh. It’s soft, warm, and unexpectedly genuine, catching you completely off guard.

Not that you were complaining, but

What the fuck is she doing?

————

"What the fuck am I doing?" Tara mumbles to herself.

“That’s what I want to know,” Mindy fires back with a teasing smirk, leaning closer to Tara who was seated across her on the table.

Fortunately for you, soon after you heard the melodic sound of Tara’s laugh that made your brain short-circuit, the bar you were all heading to came into view giving you the perfect excuse not to dwell on it—or, more accurately, to avoid melting into a puddle of feelings. For the first time ever, Tara had laughed because of something you did, and the thought alone made your heart do a happy little somersault.

Upon entering the dive bar, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom while the rest of the group found a table to be seated at. Thankfully, the bathroom was empty, so you were able to think out loud.

“What even is my life right now?” you muttered to yourself as you leaned over the sink with a goofy smile. Catching your reflection in the mirror, your face was beet fucking red. Oh no. Did Tara notice how red you were? You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

How did things change so fast? How had it gone from her hating your guts, calling you Ghostface at every opportunity, and throwing insults your way—barely even sparing you a glance—to this?

Mindy had told you to stop chasing Tara, to ignore her, to let her come to you. You’d managed to stick to that advice for maybe an hour, and somehow, this was where it got you.

Not that you were complaining—oh, you definitely weren’t—but wow, this was a lot to handle. Your heart felt like it might burst from how warm and fluttery it was. Tara was kind of adorable… and terrifying. Mostly adorable. Okay, maybe all adorable.

"Fuck, this girl is going to be the death of me."

————

Outside, Mindy, Chad, and Tara stayed at the table while Sam headed to the bar to scope out the scene.

"Sooo… did I just see you holding Y/n’s arm?" Mindy asked, probing Tara for more answers.

Tara groaned dramatically before dropping her head onto the table with a quiet thud. "Yes," she mumbled, her voice muffled against the surface.

"What the hell happened in the two weeks we didn't hang?" Chad questions. "You couldn't stand her last time we hung out. And you're pulling the Carpenter rizz?"

"I don’t know!" Tara whined, her words still muffled by the table." Sam talked to me okay? And I guess I was being harsh to Y/n."

"Uh-huh, sure," Mindy replied, her grin widening. "But that still doesn’t explain why you were holding her arm. That’s a huge leap from ‘I hate Y/n, she’s totally Ghostface,’ to... this." Mindy explained, clearly enjoying the situation.

"Unless," Chad cut in, his grin matching Mindy’s as he wiggled his eyebrows, "there was always some hidden feelings under your 'supposed' hatred for her..."

Tara’s face shot up from the table, bright red as she glared at them. "There are no hidden feelings!"

Mindy gasped, clutching her chest like she’d uncovered a scandal. "Oh my God, there totally is! Admit it, Tara—you’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time!"

"Absolutely not!" Tara protested, her voice climbing an octave.

"You have," Chad teased, leaning closer with a conspiratorial whisper. "And you loved it."

Tara groaned again, hiding her face in her hands, as Mindy and Chad erupted into laughter.

"Shut up!" Tara muttered, but the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips betrayed her completely. She sighed, trying to compose herself. "I don't like her like that, okay? She was just ignoring me today, and... I guess it sucked not having her care about me like she usually does," she mumbled, hoping the explanation would get the twins off her back.

"Yeah, that makes sense," Mindy replied casually to Tara’s surprise. Well, that was easy.

But then Mindy smirked, leaning back in her chair. "So, it shouldn’t bother you that Y/n’s getting hit on at the bar right now, huh?"

Tara froze. "What?" she snapped, whipping her head around so fast it was a miracle she didn’t pull something. Her eyes darted frantically toward the bar. "Where is she?"

The brunette turned back around so Mindy could answer her, and that’s when she realized—she’d walked right into her trap.

Mindy burst into laughter, slapping the table. "Oh my God, you’re so obvious!"

Tara frowned and crossed her arms as Chad joined in on the laughter, both of them clearly enjoying how flustered she’d become.

————

You finally leave the bathroom once you feel like you can function like a normal human being again. It doesn’t take long to spot your friends at their table—sometimes, you swear you have a built-in Tara radar, always able to sense exactly where she is.

As you make your way over, your eyes are drawn to her, bathed in the soft red glow of the bar lights. She looks stunning, her features highlighted by the warm hue. She’s speaking animatedly to the twins, her hands flying up to cover her face in between bursts of conversation, a mix of shyness and excitement that makes her even more captivating.

Sometimes you wish you weren't the awkward human you were, and met Tara in better circumstances. A world where Ghostface didn't exist as well. Maybe then—maybe then you two could be something?

Your heart leapt at the thought. And you felt almost guilty for thinking the way you do. You never wanted it to seem like you only treated Tara with kindness because you had some sort of ulterior motive. It made you feel guilty. But it was getting difficult denying it any further. Maybe it was seeing her in this setting, so relaxed, so beautiful—maybe it was her touch and words earlier that sealed your fate.

But all you wanted right now was to slide into that booth beside her, feel her hand on your arm again, and be the person she could lean on.

You really liked Tara.

And you also really needed a drink.

————

"Okay, hold on—help me out here," Mindy says, holding her hands up. "If you do have some kind of interest in her, then why, and I say this with love, were you such a massive dick to her?"

Tara groans, letting her head drop back dramatically against the booth. "I wasn’t trying to be! It just... happened," she mumbles, rubbing her hands over her face, as if she could wipe away the embarrassment. "I don’t know, okay? She just gets under my skin. She’s so infuriatingly... nice. And smug. And—"

"Hot?" Chad offers with a teasing grin, earning a glare from Tara.

"I wasn’t going to say that!" Tara snaps defensively, though the red creeping up her neck betrays her.

Mindy snorts. "Oh, sure. That’s why you grabbed her arm like she was the last person on Earth. Real subtle Carpenter."

Tara exhales hard, crossing her arms and slouching down in her seat. "I didn’t plan that, okay? She was ignoring me. I didn’t like it. And I panicked."

Chad raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with that smug big-brother energy. "Sooo, you panicked and held her arm? You panic-flirted?"

"I did not panic-flirt!" Tara protests, sitting up straighter, her voice pitching higher with frustration.

"You so panic-flirted," Mindy grins, leaning closer. "Face it, T. You’ve got it bad. I mean, you did just admit you didn’t like her ignoring you. That’s classic 'please-pay-attention-to-me' behavior."

Tara opens her mouth to argue, but freezes. She can’t deny that part—because it’s true. Too true. She didn’t like the way you’d suddenly stopped caring, stopped looking her way like you always did. It left her feeling... off-balance.

"Fine," she mutters, looking away as her fingers trace patterns on the table. "Maybe I didn’t hate it when she cared."

Chad and Mindy exchange a glance before turning back to her with matching smirks.

"Uh-huh," Mindy drawls. "And maybe you didn’t hate holding her arm."

Tara groans again, sinking lower into the booth like she could disappear into the cushions. "I really need you both to shut up right now."

"Why am I getting interrogated? And more importantly, where are the drinks? Sam? Y/n?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

————

You weave your way through the crowd, finally making it to the bar, where you flag down the bartender and order a drink—something strong to calm the storm brewing inside of you. Taking a seat, you take a deep breath, letting the hum of the bar settle around you.

"Another round," a familiar voice says beside you, and you turn your head to find Sam, casually gesturing for the bartender to line up several drinks. You blink, surprised.

"Sam?" you ask, brow furrowing. "What are you doing?"

Sam doesn’t look at you as she responds, eyes focused ahead, her tone completely serious. “Mourning.”

You stare at her, processing. “Mourning?” you repeat, confused. “Who… who died?”

Sam finally turns to you, expression deadpan. “My baby sister.”

You freeze, mouth opening slightly as your brain short-circuits. “Tara? Tara died?” you ask, voice rising in disbelief as you whip your head toward the booth where Tara is very clearly alive and animated, still talking to the twins.

Sam sighs dramatically, shaking her head. “Not literally. Spiritually. She’s about to get into her first relationship.”

Your face contorts into the human equivalent of the surprised Pikachu meme. “Her what now?”

Sam gives you a look, like you should already know. “Oh, don’t play dumb. You’re the relationship.”

You nearly choke on your drink, sputtering. “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” Sam replies matter-of-factly, grabbing one of the drinks the bartender sets down but not leaving just yet. She leans against the bar, eyeing you like she’s assessing your soul. “And don’t make that face. You’re the one she’s been all smiley and weird about lately.”

You blink at her, utterly lost. “Smile-y? Weird? What—Tara doesn’t even like me like that.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” you insist, though your voice wavers slightly.

Sam just smirks, sipping one of the drinks slowly. “You’re even worse at lying than you are at hiding how red your face is right now.”

Your hand flies to your cheek like you can stop the blush burning there. “It’s the bar lights!” you blurt defensively. “They’re red. They make everything red.”

"But I'm not lying I swear! She hates me remember? I'm supposedly Ghostface?" You ramble, trying to jog Sam's memory, because what in the world is she talking about. Tara likes you?

Sam chuckles under her breath, shaking her head. “You’re a mess.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, sinking further into yourself before glancing up at her. “But seriously… what do you mean me? I thought you were mourning because of some jerk she’s into—”

“Oh, I still think you’re a jerk,” Sam interrupts, though there’s a teasing glint in her eye now. “But you’re a tolerable one.”

You blink again, confused. “I’m… tolerable?”

“For now,” Sam confirms, narrowing her eyes at you in a way that makes you feel like you’re back in high school, being questioned by a teacher. “But listen to me, Y/n—I don’t care how flustered you get or how much you like her, I’m watching you. If you so much as make her frown, I’ll know. You’ll regret it.”

The seriousness of her tone makes you sit up a little straighter, but there’s still something soft in the way she says it—like, beneath the overprotective big-sister act, Sam really does care.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you say quietly, surprising even yourself with how genuine you sound. “I’d never hurt her. Ever.”

Sam studies you for a long moment, like she’s trying to read the truth straight from your eyes. Finally, she gives a small nod, satisfied. “Good. Because she deserves someone who looks at her like she’s the best thing to ever happen to them.”

Your heart stutters at her words, and you look down at your drink, trying not to smile too obviously. “I already do,” you admit softly, almost to yourself.

Sam pauses, her expression softening ever so slightly. “Yeah. That’s what worries me,” she mutters, more to herself than to you, but before you can ask what she means, she straightens up. “Now come on. I’m not carrying all these drinks by myself.”

You blink up at her, still a little dazed by the conversation, but you quickly grab a couple of glasses and stand up to follow Sam back toward the table.

But as you rose, the sudden sound of shattering glass and the murmur of rising voices pull your attention toward the commotion. A crowd begins to form in the center of the bar, the tension thickening with every heated word exchanged. It’s only when the circle shifts slightly that you spot her—Tara, her small frame squared off against a guy who looks a little too angry for the situation, and a girl glaring daggers at her.

You and Sam exchange a glance before rushing over, the protective instinct in both of you kicking in instantly.

“Look, I said I’d buy you another drink,” Tara says, her tone calm but laced with frustration.

“Yeah, well, maybe watch where you’re going next time dumbass,” the guy snaps, his voice dripping with condescension.

“Okay then maybe don’t stand in the middle of the fucking bar like a human traffic cone,” Tara bites back, her words sharper than you’ve ever heard from her.

The guy’s girlfriend steps in, practically seething. “Who do you think you are? Bumping into him like a slut and then acting like it’s his fault? God, you’re so full of yourself!”

Tara rolls her eyes. “Trust me, I do not want your man. This isn’t that deep.”

The guy snickers, leaning closer to Tara. “Yeah, right. With that attitude? You’d be lucky if anyone wanted you.”

You feel your chest tighten with anger, but you force yourself to take a deep breath. You step forward, hands up in a gesture of peace, trying your best not to escalate things.

“Hey, let’s all just calm down,” you say, your voice cracking slightly under the pressure. “I’ll get you a drink, okay? On me. No big deal.”

The guy turns to you, sizing you up before sneering. “Who the hell are you? Her little lapdog?”

That stings more than you’d care to admit, but before you can respond, he takes a step closer to Tara, clearly trying to intimidate her. Tara doesn’t back down, her glare unwavering, but his shoulder roughly “brushes” against hers in what’s definitely not an accident.

The nudge sends Tara stumbling backward, but thankfully, she lands against Sam, who steadies her instantly.

And that’s when all hell breaks loose.

Something snaps inside you, and before you can think it through, your fist is already flying. It connects with the guy’s jaw, sending him reeling back a step. The bar erupts in gasps and shouts as the guy recovers, glaring at you with fire in his eyes.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he growls, lunging at you.

Chaos ensues. Tables scrape against the floor as people back away, forming a wide circle. You’re barely aware of Sam pulling Tara further back, her voice sharp as she tells her to stay put.

The guy swings at you, but you dodge, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I was trying to be nice!” you shout, your voice somehow still awkward despite the situation. “But nooo, you had to go and—”

His next punch grazes your shoulder, and you retaliate, landing another hit square in his side.

“Y/n!” Tara’s voice cuts through the noise, and for a split second, you falter, glancing in her direction.

That’s all the guy needs to get a cheap shot in, his fist connecting with your stomach. You stumble back, the wind knocked out of you, but you manage to stay on your feet steadying yourself by having your palm planted on a nearby table.

Unfortunately luck wasn't on your side, and the table had a broken bottle on it, the jagged glass slices into your palm. You wince, but thankfully, the chaos around you masks the pain, and no one notices it.

Suddenly, Chad steps in between you and the guy, his broad frame blocking any further blows. “Alright, enough,” he says, his voice firm, but not without a hint of warning. “You don’t want to take this any further bro. Trust me.”

Before the guy can respond, Sam steps in too, her hand flashing a taser from her waistband, her expression icy cold. “I suggest you walk away,” she says, her voice steady and threatening. “Unless you want to leave here with more than just a bruised ego.”

The guy hesitates, clearly debating whether to push his luck. But the bartender steps in then, a burly man who looks like he’s seen his fair share of bar fights. “Alright, that’s enough!” he barks. “You—out. Now.”

The guy glares at you one last time before grabbing his girlfriend’s arm and storming out, muttering curses under his breath.

As the crowd disperses and the bar settles back into its usual hum of activity, you turn to Tara, who’s staring at you with wide eyes.

“You okay?” you ask, your voice hoarse.

She nods, her gaze softening as she takes a step closer to you. “Are you?”

You wince, clutching your stomach. “I’ll live. But, uh, maybe next time, don’t antagonize the guy holding the drink?”

Tara scoffs but smiles faintly. “Maybe next time, don’t throw punches for me.”

Sam snorts, crossing her arms. “No, by all means, keep throwing punches. Just learn to dodge better.”

You laugh weakly, glancing between the two Carpenter sisters. “Noted. So… anyone else need a drink, or is it just me?”

Tara shakes her head, her smile growing, her face red. “It’s just you. But… thanks. For standing up for me.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, and despite the ache in your hand, you can’t help but smile back. “Anytime.”

You catch Tara glancing at you, her expression softer then ever, and for a moment, she seems to be looking at you like she’s seeing something more than the awkward dork you think you are.

And in that instant, she can’t help but think you're even more amazing than she already knew. But before she can fully process it, Chad suddenly approaches, glancing at your hand, his face faltering in concern.

“Hey, are you good?” he asks, his eyes scanning your hand. “You look like you're in pain.”

You wince, still trying to play it off as no big deal. But Chad catches sight of the blood trickling from the glass cut on your palm, and his eyes widen. "Holy shit, dude, we need to take you to a hospital."

You shake your head quickly, your voice still a little shaky. “It’s just a scratch, really. I’ll be fine.”

But Tara, her brows furrowing in concern, steps forward, and glances at your hand and gasps. “That’s not just a scratch,” she insists, her voice filled with worry. “You’re bleeding bad. Get up—Mindy call an Uber.”

You open your mouth to protest again, "No hospital, I'm fine I just need a first aid kit." Sam steps in with a calm, no-nonsense tone. “On it, I'll ask the bartender.”

Tara, who’s been silently observing the whole time, takes charge. Her voice is soft but firm as she grabs the first-aid kit from Sam’s hands once she rejoins the group. “I’ll do it,” she says, her gaze never leaving yours. “You’ve done enough tonight. Let me take care of you.”

Mindy, who’s been watching the exchange with a smirk, suddenly chimes in, a teasing edge to her voice. “Look at you, Y/n. Who knew you had this much of a protective streak? Tara’s got you all worried, huh?”

You feel your face flush, but before you can respond, Tara shakes her head at Mindy’s comment, her worry deepening. “She’s hurt, Mindy. It’s not funny.” Her voice softens as she turns back to you, “You’re really gonna be okay, right? I— I don’t want you to be hurt.”

You can see how much she cares, and it makes your chest tighten with emotions. Tara’s usually so tough, so guarded, but right now she’s nothing but concerned.

You try to reassure her, even though the tenderness in her gaze makes it hard to keep your cool. “I’m fine, really. You don’t have to worry so much.”

But Tara doesn’t seem convinced, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I can’t help it,” she admits softly, her voice almost a whisper. "I care."

The weight of her words lingers in the air, and for a moment, everything feels a little clearer between you two. Tara doesn’t just care for your safety—she cares about you.

She gently guides you to an empty booth, pulling you away from the noise and chaos of the bar. It’s just the two of you now, in your own little corner of the world. You slide into one side of the booth while she settles on the other, a table separating you, but it somehow feels closer than ever.

The silence stretches between you both, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. You hold your hand out toward her, palm facing up, your fingers trembling slightly from the sting. Tara’s gaze softens when she sees the injury, and with a quiet sigh, she reaches for the first-aid kit.

Her movements are slow, deliberate, as she opens the kit, pulling out antiseptic and gauze. You watch her, your heart pounding for reasons you can’t quite explain. She carefully dabs the cotton swab in the antiseptic, then presses it gently to the cut. You wince, a sharp sting jolting through your palm.

“Sorry,” Tara murmurs, her voice low and soothing. She frowns, her brows knitting together in concentration as she takes more care, dabbing at the wound more carefully this time. “I’m trying to be gentle. You’re not a fan of this whole ‘injured’ thing, huh?”

You chuckle softly, still feeling the burn of the antiseptic. “Nope. Not my favorite thing," your voice coming out a little more awkward than you intended.

"I can't believe a dork like you got in a fight."

You let out a small laugh, trying to hide the fact that her words have made your heart race. “I’m not a dork,” you protest weakly.

Tara raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye. “Really? Because I could’ve sworn you were about to pass out the second I touched your hand.”

You blush even harder. Tara’s smile is warm, genuine, and it makes the sting of the antiseptic a little easier to bear.

“It’s not the touch,” you mumble, “it’s just... you’re too close.”

She laughs softly, a sound that makes your heart flutter. “Yeah? Guess I’ll just have to keep getting closer, then.”

Her words, teasing as they are, send a warmth rushing through you. You try to play it cool, but inside, you’re an absolute mess. The way she cares for you, even in such a simple moment, makes everything feel... different. It’s like a tiny shift in the air, making you want to stay in this little bubble of quiet with her forever.

Tara looks up at you, the gears turning in her head. Was she being unfair right now? Giving you mixed signals.

She continues cleaning the wound, but now with even more care. She choses her next words carefully not wanting to sour the mood, “I'm really sorry for how I treated you. I think with everything that happened last year, I was scared to let new people in, and so I was wary of you even though you’ve been nothing but amazing to me. I guess I just had my guard up and it was unfair and—"

"I know Tara, I forgive you don't worry," you smile at her. And its pure and genuine, and Tara knows that you mean that whole heartedly.

As Tara finishes bandaging the cut on your palm, she gently flips your hand over to check for any other injuries. Her fingers graze across the back of your hand, and she notices the bruised knuckles. For a split second, she pauses, her breath catching in her throat.

Her eyes linger on your hand—on the faded bruise, evidence of the fight you’d just gotten into—and for some reason, she can’t help but think it’s... hot. The way your hand looks, bruised but still strong, it makes something in her chest tighten. You got into a fight for her.

She quickly shakes her head, trying to push the thought away, but it lingers. What the hell is wrong with me? she thinks, her face flushing slightly. Tara quickly looks up at you, trying to mask her sudden embarrassment with a forced nonchalance. But you're just sat there beaming at her, telling her its okay for how she treated you in the past, that you forgive her.

Suddenly, Tara couldn’t just take it anymore. The way you were looking at her, so soft, so genuine, made her heart flutter in a way she couldn’t ignore. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and then, without warning, she leaned forward, her eyes locking with yours.

“You know,” she started, her voice low and teasing, “Mindy said you were incapable of acting first.”

You blinked, confusion flashing across your face. “What?” you asked, not sure where she was going with this.

Tara smirked, clearly amused. “And that if I wanted something to happen, I’d have to be the initiator.”

You furrowed your brow, still not understanding. “What are you talking about?”

Tara’s smile widened, and she leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping even lower. “I find that hard to believe, given how you just got in a fight for me. I know there’s a little boldness in you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and before you could even process what she was saying, she added, “But I guess so do I.”

Without warning, Tara reached across the table, her hand grabbing the front of your shirt. You froze, your breath catching as she pulled you closer, her face just inches from yours. Your heart raced as she leaned in, and then—before you could even think—her lips were on yours.

It was soft, tentative at first, like she was testing the waters. But then it deepened, and everything around you seemed to fade away. The kiss was warm, gentle, but there was an undeniable intensity to it, as if she was pouring everything she felt into that moment. Your uninjured hand instinctively reached for hers, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat against your fingertips.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you pulled away, breathless. Tara’s eyes were wide, a soft blush coloring her cheeks as she looked at you, her lips still tingling from the kiss.

You blinked, your mind racing, and then you couldn’t help but grin, a nervous laugh escaping you. “Damn... I should’ve gotten into a fight a lot sooner.”

Tara rolled her eyes, but her smile was all warmth, and you could see in her eyes that there was something deeper. Something unspoken, but undeniable.

Something that was always there.

Taglist: @cobaltperun @machyishere @freakshow2501 @nwestra @mcchicken88 @101rizzlrr @snowdrop1026 @ilovesneezing069 @btay3115 @burntoutghost

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hawkinsbnbg · 2 months ago

Text

Eddie who did all kinds of odd jobs for extra cash and ended up acting as a mascot for a football team.

He had to admit while he wasn't the biggest sports fan out there, the chaos and overflowing energy of the games made the blood run hot in his veins. The enthusiasm, the booming cheering and the loud music almost compensated for the stuffy red bird costume he had to squeeze into every couple of days.

The only saving grace was that Eddie always ran cold, so unlike some of his poor co-workers, he didn't sweat buckets during his shift, and he got to revel in the fun while being his dramatic and goofy self. He danced around people, teased them, joked with them, and posed for their photos.

One of many things that he enjoyed was the kiss cam. As much as Eddie tried to pretend otherwise, he was a romantic at heart, and seeing so many people having fun and being in love really made his day.

Sure there were awkward moments as well where family members were mistaken as couples, but it was just another thing to laugh at, just another tale to recall when they gathered around the table and had dinner together some days or some years later.

Perhaps, that was why when the big screen showed a pretty boy—and damn, Eddie could spend forever to wax lyrical about those pouty lips and doe eyes and perfect hair and handsome jawline. And Eddie wished he could trace those cute little moles with his tongue, to draw constellations on that golden skin and find the answers of the universe—who got ignored and then brushed off by his boyfriend despite his attempts to tell the guy they were on kiss cam, Eddie felt so offended on his pretty boy's behalf.

Without hesitation, Eddie stalked over to their row, took the popcorn from Pretty Boy and upended the whole box over the boyfriend's head just as the guy finally looked up from his stupid phone, relishing the cheers the other spectators gave him.

He then booed at the fuming bastard who looked two seconds away from blowing a casket, pulled Pretty Boy into his chest, and nearly bumped his fist into the air when Pretty Boy giggled and hooked their arms together.

He didn't think, really, he just signaled for Bob he had to go for a while and took Pretty Boy back to the staff room where he peeled off the mascot costume and finally revealed himself to Pretty Boy.

Eddie slightly regretted his impulsive decision because he wasn't looking his best right now; his hair was put up in a tight bun, his face was flushed and sticky with sweat. He only had on a black Metallica cut-off, a pair of sweat shorts for easy movements, his rings, and nothing else.

In contrast, Pretty Boy looked like a model walking right out of a magazine with his baby blue striped polo, washout jeans, RayBan perched on coifed chestnut hair, and worn sneakers.

"I'm Eddie," he introduced, panting a little because of the heat and the pace his heart was slamming against his ribcage. "I hope I'm not bothering you, pretty boy."

Smiling coyly, Pretty Boy leaned in his space and holy shit, Eddie had to swallow the pool of spit gather in his mouth when he detected the floral and fruity notes from Pretty Boy's cologne and body wash. This close, he could see how those hazel eyes dilated, how those plush lips parted just slightly, tempting him to take a taste.

"Hi Eddie," Pretty Boy said, glancing up at him through those pretty eyelashes. "I'm Steve. But you can always call me Stevie, sweetheart, baby, or pretty boy."

Eddie couldn't help but laugh at the cheekiness. God, they just met ten minutes ago but this boy was proving to be the death of him.

"Pretty baby, then," Eddie lifted his hand to brush Steve's cheekbone with the back of it, smiling fondly at the blush that crept up on the soft skin. He met Steve's gaze and raised a brow. "What do you think?"

"I think," Steve licked his lips, red and kissable. "I think you should kiss me."

That Eddie could do. He would happily listen to the sweet little noises Steve made for as long as Steve had him.

He told Steve as much and they ended up going back to his apartment where he showed Steve what it felt like to be his boy. His baby.

Some years later, Eddie made sure to kiss the daylight out of his boyfriend when they were caught by the kiss cam. He wanted to brag as loud as he could that he was the man who had bagged Steve Harrington.

And when someone booed at him for showing off, he flipped them a bird through the camera, making Steve giggle against him. He wouldn't have it any other way.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #mascot performer eddie munson #yeah tommy was the shitty ex #steve was just glad that eddie had come and whisked him away #sionewrites #greatly inspired by a youtube short

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changetyre · 1 year ago

Note

Thank you for all of the stories recently! Can you do one where Lando gets tired of you calling him “Little Lando Norris” and decides to show you how big he really is?

L.L.N II Lando Norris ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: Lando doesn't mind you making fun and playing games just as long as you're aware of the truth...and he'll be more than happy to remind you.

WARNINGS: **18+**

A/N: Got some good news so felt inspired to write again ;) Sorry for the delay.

"Aww poor little Lando." You jokingly patted him on the back. "Better luck next time buddy." you laughed as you walked away leaving him fuming.

Once again you'd beat Lando for 3rd place by merely a few seconds, an ongoing rivalry between you both that had everyone at the edge of their seats.

Ever since karting you and Lando had this heated rivalry, always making the other's life impossible and being each other's biggest competition so it was no surprise when it continued onto Formula 1.

To the outside world, it was incredibly entertaining for everyone to see the rivalry between the two of you. The rude remarks and snarky comments you threw at each other during interviews, the hate between you two only brewing stronger with each race.

But little did people know the way you were able to keep the hate at bay and keep yourselves in check. It had all started as a stupid drunk mistake when you found yourselves fucking in a club bathroom. The memory was hazy but you both remembered enough to know that deep down you liked it.

The next time it was a simple rash decision, you didn't think about it when you found yourself waking up in Lando Norris's room naked his arm across your waist, quickly throwing it off before running back to your room.

It was good. The sex was good, and that was the only reason you kept coming back. That's what you both told each other.

But it had become a frequent occurrence now, almost 5 months of quick and meaningless fucks where you could let out the pent-up tension and anger you had for each other.

But this still didn't take away from the fact that you still loved to piss each other off on track. Secretly you'd grown to love doing it more because you felt the direct consequence of it later.

"Lando, how do you feel about yet another close battle today with your biggest rival on track?" The interviewer asked him.

"Yeah, she just got lucky getting the better line around the next corners, but she knows I'm not one to back down, she knows what's coming for her," Lando smirked loving the double meaning behind his words.

He could see you a few feet from him giving your own interview. He just about heard you when once again you'd referred to him as Little Lando Norris, something you'd taken to recently which just irked him a little more than usual.

He watched you carefully, keeping his eyes on you like a hawke which to everyone else looked like pure hatred but truly it was simply because Lando could see the way Pierre got a little too friendly with you for his liking.

Lando would never admit it to you but he truly couldn't control the jealousy that erupted in his stomach whenever he saw you get too friendly with anyone. Whatever you had might have been meaningless but as far as he was concerned you were still his for now.

"Alright thanks, Lando enjoy your break." Lawrence finalized the interview with Lando outside the McLaren hospitality just as he could see you walking out of the press conference room with Pierre quickly by your side.

He didn't hesitate as he stood up with a quick step towards you. His blood boiling when he heard you laugh at something Pierre said.

"I need to talk to you." Lando stood in front of you making you stop abruptly and bump into his chest.

"Oh look hey speaking of the devil." You smirked.

"Little Lando Norris." Pierre joked but for some reason, Lando didn't find it the least bit amusing coming from him.

"Okay well can't talk now so bye." You were about to move past him but Lando grabbed your arm.

"Wasn't asking." Lando was ready to pull you away with him but was stopped by Pierre who grabbed your other hand.

"I actually just asked her for a drink so-" Pierre was quick to tell Lando.

"So she can't right now." Lando didn't let him finish or you protest before whisking you away.

You were completely taken aback as Lando shamelessly dragged you away from Pierre not caring the way there were several eyes on you as he took you towards the McLaren building.

Your heart pounded in your chest rendering you speechless as he walked you all the way into the building past several staff members before reaching his room where he was quick to shut you both inside.

"Lando what the-" you finally regained your voice as the door closed behind you.

"Shut up." Lando pressed his lip to yours as he pressed you to the wall. You had to push through the rush that invaded your body trying not to give in so easily.

"Lando, what has gotten into you?" You asked breathlessly as Lando began kissing down your neck unbuttoning your jeans and dragging them down

"So it's just Lando now?" was all he said.

"What are you- ah fuck." before you could reply again you cut yourself off when Lando began ruthlessly attacking your clit.

Lando basked in the pleasure he could produce on you loving the way you became putty in his hands behind closed doors despite the way you loved to tease him and take control outside.

Lando's pants suddenly felt painfully tight as he continued his attack on you taking the liberty he unbuckled his pants all while still tasting you before pulling his dick out into his hands to give it a few pumps.

Lando didn't stop, not until you had your first orgasm before finally getting up. "Why don't you return the favor baby?" Lando asked despite knowing he didn't have to since you were on your knees before he could even finish asking.

You prepared yourself knowing the ache you would feel from sucking him off having to open wide to take him into your mouth. Lando's eyes showed the smugness in them at watching the way you always struggled initially to take him never able to take him all down until you'd sucked him off for a while.

Lando groaned as you began moving your head up and down, your hands taking care of what you couldn't fit in your mouth for now.

"Nothing so little about that is there?" Lando asked the pride clear in his voice.

Only now did you understand what this was all about but you didn't care to complain since he'd gotten you all worked up.

"Why don't you make it extremely clear for me." You decided to try to have your own way.

"Gadly baby." Lando pulled you up before picking you up and using the wall to support you in his arms before using one of his hands to line himself up against your whole.

"Please-" You pleaded, Lando loved the way you begged every time he got near you like these.

"you ready?" he asked despite feeling your wetness already drip onto him.

"Yes, please fuck me." You sighed as you grabbed Lando's face to kiss him.

Lando used this distraction to push himself all the way inside you swallowing your yelp. "Shit baby you're so wet," Lando whispered knowing he had to keep semi-quiet because of the remaining staff in the building right now. Although half of him hoped everyone could hear what you were doing and the way he was making you feel right now...make it crystal clear to everyone.

"Ah, fuck Lando go faster." You begged him as Lando pushed in and out of you fully and completely at a brutally slow pace.

"Who's making you feel like this baby?" Lando asked not answering to your pleas just yet.

"You Lan...You are." You could almost cry at the torturous pace he'd set.

"not even fucking Pierre can make you feel like this can he?" His words were laced with disgust and anger which made your stomach flutter.

"No...no just you." You replied kissing Lando once again.

This was enough for Lando as he picked up his pace feeling the way you clenched around him and the way you struggled to keep quiet.

"Fu...so good...shit" You moaned in a whisper as Lando kept thrusting faster and faster into you against the wall.

Lando could cum at the sight of you, watching the way your tits would bounce with each thrust, the way your eyes rolled back, and hearing your uneven breaths as you tried to keep quiet while your orgasm quickly approached, feeling the way you held onto him as if your own skin was begging for more. This was it. This was glory to Lando.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1smut #smut #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1fic #formula 1 #changetyre #lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #ln4

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indecisivemuch · 11 months ago

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The Pact

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Seeing you yearn for a relationship and dejected over the lack of one, Luke Castellan proposes a dating pact. Little did you know, he was going to do more than just wait until the day the pact could happen (friends-to-lovers, fluff, pining, a lot of longing, lowkey jealous luke).

Note: Sort of inspired by Monica and Chandler's pact thing from Friends.

Word count: 3.4k

You were spending some time alone near the lake, trying to enjoy mid summer sunlight as well as the silence from the lack of campers and couples around. For some strange reason, the number of people dating at least tripled in the last three weeks. If you were honest, the sight of happy couples was starting to irritate you.

Your eyes glided through the lines in the novel you were reading, though you could barely get past a few pages before a degree of bitterness seeped through. You set the book down and sighed. Your head leaned against the tree behind you while shutting your eyes and furrowing your eyebrows.

Oh, if only someone could love you the same way love was portrayed in books.

Before the scowl could grow permanent on your face, you felt light finger tips setting on the crease between your eyebrows. Instead of getting scared, you remained calm. You knew immediately who it was because there was only one person who would do that. The person sat down next to you and you turned to see them already smiling at you.

To most, Luke Castellan was just the Hermes cabin counselor and best swordsman. But to you, he was a close friend and confidante. He has made it a habit to press softly against your scrunched eyebrows to prevent you from scowling further. It was somewhat sweet to you.

“What’s got you so bothered?” Luke asked, peering at you while tilting his head in a boyish manner. The look alone somehow made you blush. There was no denying that Luke was cute. You knew at least a handful of people at camp who would agree. It honestly surprised you that he was still single. Though you were somewhat relieved at that. For about a year now, you have had a little crush on the Hermes cabin counselor. It was not hard falling for his kind words and sweet actions.

“This is going to sound so stupid…” You let out a deep sigh.

“Oh, come on, since when have I judged you for being stupid?”

“Oh, so you do admit I’m stupid sometimes?”

“Yes, but is that really a problem, considering I find it endearing?” You hope he did not see the way your face heated up at his words.

Little did you know, Luke did notice it, just like he has always noticed little details about you. Knowing he was the reason behind your pink-tinted cheeks filled his heart with joy. In fact, throughout the last year, it got to the point where he would grow very bold with his flirty jokes, disguising his feelings in between them. Honestly, he was surprised you had not caught up to the truth yet.

“Okay, well, so many people have gotten together lately, and it’s got me a little bit annoyed.”

“Why?” Luke questioned.

“Because, I want that experience, you know? The teenage love thing. We already have a strange life, fighting creatures and going on quests that could kill us. I just want to at least experience an aspect of a normal teenage life,” you watched him nod and digest your words. “I didn’t want it, want it. But seeing everybody else experiencing it makes me wonder when it will be my turn, you know?” You sighed before adding, “To make matters worse, it seems like nobody is interested in me that way, so…”

Luke almost let out a chuckle of disbelief at your last remark. Oh, many Demigods found you cute. But if only you knew to look right under your nose. He has always been here. If only you could see him how he wanted you to and give him a chance.

Ever since the day Luke Castellan met you, he became a dreamer. During the night, every dream would be of you, while in the morning, he’d daydream of you until he would see you next. You filled in every thought, walking in his mind like it was your home. But even if it wasn’t your place, he’d still give you the keys without hesitation.

“So…you just want to experience teenage love?”

“Well, that, and ideally, to be loved too. I don’t just want some casual teenage love, but at the same time, I’m tired of waiting around.”

A lightbulb practically lit up inside Luke’s head as an idea popped up. The logical part of his mind was yelling that this was a bad idea, though the more chaotic side was pushing him to just give it a shot. Though, he spent little time contemplating.

“What if we make a pact? By the end of summer - so maybe in about a month - if you haven’t started dating anybody…let’s date each other,” Luke blurted out before his mind could talk him into backing out. It was stupid, and he knew it. But if that was one way to potentially date you, then so be it.

Luke’s heart squeezed when he saw you completely frozen. He started panicking. Maybe he made it too obvious, and perhaps you didn’t like him in that way and were trying to find a way to back out.

“I mean—just so the both of us could experience teenage love, you know? I think it will be great. We already get along well. We’re good friends. What could go wrong?” Luke tried in a more casual voice.

A lot could go wrong — you thought. A possible thing that could go wrong is that you would fall harder for Luke, and that feeling would absolutely destroy you when you two break up because he finally becomes genuinely interested in another girl. Or, it has you so hung up that you would confess to him, only for him to say that whatever you two had was just a pact. But Gods, your heart must actually be a fool to whisper to your brain, ‘I mean…at least you would no longer have to imagine how it would feel like to be his.’

“Sure,” you said before you could think twice about it. “Deal,” you grabbed his hand and shook it.

“Deal.”

Now…Luke just needed to do a couple more things in the meantime.

During the first week, you asked Clarisse to set you up with somebody. She introduced you to one of her friends, Dean. However, when you mentioned Dean to Luke, he clicked his tongue before warning you.

“I just think you deserve better, Y/N. I’ve known him for five years and have never seen him bring one person on a date twice. Last week alone, he went on a date with five people.” Since then, you haven’t spoken to Dean again, deciding that you don’t want to try and date a playboy.

Two weeks later, you asked this guy on a date. He came to the picnic you had set up with a bouquet of flowers. However, your smile faltered slightly when you realized they were the type of flowers you disliked. You shook the negative thoughts away. After all, it’s the effort that counts.

Things quickly went downhill as the guy started sneezing…a lot. His eyes were watering, and it seemed like he was borderline getting sick. You noticed him trying to stop sneezing. You could feel the guy trying—you really did. But the last straw broke when he turned away to sneeze mid-sentence but didn’t do it fast enough.

Three days before the day that marked the day the pact would be able to begin, you attended a party hosted by the Hermes cabin. You were honestly done with trying to find someone to date. Perhaps, this pact thing was not such a bad idea after all, even if Luke might not like you as much as you like him. But at least you knew he would treat you well.

However, your numbers must have turned because somebody had walked up to you and struck up a conversation. With similar humor, your jokes bounced off each other’s, and you almost started crying from laughing at one point.

The sound of your laughter caught the attention of the Hermes cabin counselor. Luke could feel his lips slowly curling up into a smile at the sound of your giggles and laughter. He has always found the sound so endearing.

However, when he turned his gaze over at you, his eyebrows scrunched at the sight of you conversing with another Hermes boy — Oscar, who was also one of his friends. Luke was no longer paying attention to the conversation in his circle right now. His ears were busy trying to make out what that boy was saying to make you laugh like that. However, he almost left his friends when you touched Oscar’s arm while giggling at another one of his jokes.

You always tend to physically react to Luke’s jokes, from small touches while laughing to you playfully slapping his arm at his cheekier jokes. They never fail to make the tip of his ears grow red while his cheeks match the same color. Though Luke swore he had never seen you this way with anybody else. Hence, he was less than enthusiastic at the sight of you doing the same with another guy right now.

You continued talking to Oscar, but your conversation stopped when somebody bumped into Oscar and spilled their drink onto him.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip…” the guy who bumped into Oscar apologized.

“Chris, it’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Oscar said, though a sigh quickly followed his words. “I’ll just go and wash the drink off, but I’ll talk to you in a bit, though?” Oscar looked at you. He smiled when you gave him a sweet nod.

“Sorry again, man,” Chris said before watching Oscar exit the cabin. He turned to you now. “So, how are you? Are you enjoying the party?” You answered Chris and started catching up with him. You and Chris met through Luke, though as the years went on you two became friends as well.

With your focus now on Chris, you did not notice the figure of the Hermes cabin counselor zooming past you two and outside, following a certain someone. However, your conversation with Chris didn’t last long because Clarisse swooped in and borrowed you from Chris.

“So, I saw you talking to Oscar. Give me the details,” she said, dragging you down to sit beside her.

“He’s great! It’s so easy to talk to him and be around him.”

“Easier than with Luke?” you gave her a warning glare. You might have told her about your little crush on Luke, though you confessed that to her out of the belief that nothing would ever happen and that it would pass soon. Fast-forward to a year later, your feelings have not changed.

“...No, but—”

“I’m telling you, Luke’s the best one for you.”

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

“If he doesn’t like you like that, he would have never made that pact with you." When you didn’t reply to her, Clarisse decided to bring something else up. “Alright, let’s move on and talk about something else then…another candidate. Dean told me you didn’t show up.”

“Show up to what?”

“He wrote you a note asking you to meet him?” the look on your face must have told Clarisse you had no idea what she was talking about. “He wanted to ask you out on a date in person after that talk you two had three weeks ago.”

“Where did he leave the note?”

“Apparently, he was planning to get me to give it to you, but he passed Luke on his way to me, who offered to give it to you.”

“Well, I never got the note. I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. Luke told me he’s quite a player.” Clarisse pondered on the information you just provided her. Dean was in no way a player. She knew he has only been on one date with another person at camp. However, the puzzle pieces quickly clicked for Clarisse and she leaned back with a smirk.

Before you could question the look on Clarisse's face, Oscar came back to the party.

“Well, if you don't mind, Oscar is back and I have a good feeling about him. So I'm going to go and talk to him,” you left Clarisse, walking in the direction Oscar did. Meanwhile, Clarisse only silently chuckled. She knew exactly what Luke was up to and it made her shook her head in amusement.

“Hey,” you touched Oscar’s arm, though the cheery grin on your face fell when he slightly flinched and shrugged your hand off. “Uhm, it’s good you got that stain off your shirt,” your eyebrows furrowed when you realized Oscar was not even making eye contact with you.

“So, tell me more about that quest you went on last year?” you asked, hoping to start a conversation again. However, Oscar quickly broke out the truth.

“Listen, you seem very lovely, but I don’t want to put myself in the middle of anything. I don’t want to cause any drama.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not the type of guy to steal girls my friends are talking to or having a thing with,” you scrunch your eyebrow in confusion. Just as you were going to question what Oscar was referring to, his eyes betrayed him and looked at someone. You followed his eyesight only to see Luke already looking at you while glancing between you and Oscar. Though realizing he had been caught, Luke looked away and back to his friends.

That was when everything made sense.

“Uh oh…” Chris’s voice snapped Luke from whatever his friends were saying. He followed his gaze to where Chris was looking, only to see you storming over.

“We need to talk,” Luke tried not to think too much about the way your hand felt on his wrist as you pulled him through the crowd and outside. As always, he blindly followed you to wherever you were taking him.

You released Luke from your grip and stood with hands on your hips. You took a deep breath.

“Are you kidding me? Have you been sabotaging me? You told me Dean plays around, but apparently he doesn’t. He also gave you a note to give to me, but you never did it. Then, Oscar, who I was getting along with, came back acting weird, wouldn’t even look me in the eye, and then told me we have a thing going on?”

Oh, Gods, you found out about what he has been doing.

“Listen…” Luke started off while rubbing his neck, though he was unsure what to say next because he was indeed guilty of every accusation you were throwing towards him. But how was he meant to trust fate that you would still be single by the time the pact would be able to come true?

So, he intervened in his own way. That included throwing away Dean’s note, having Chris spill a drink on Oscar to get the boy away from you so Luke could have a talk with him. He might have also suggested your date two weeks ago to get you flowers, despite knowing that the boy was allergic to flowers.

All he wanted to do was to make sure the pact could happen.

“Luke…why? You know I wanted this. I wanted to experience things and date someone.” You weren’t mad, but you were slightly disappointed and confused. You didn’t understand Luke’s intentions behind his actions.

However, Luke misinterpreted the look on your face. He thought you were genuinely upset, and that alone pinched Luke’s heart. He gulped at the idea that he might have disappointed you or made you sad. Screw waiting until the pact happens before confessing. What use would that be when you might somehow start hating him?

“...Maybe I wanted it to be me,” Luke confessed, watching your eyes widen. “You told me you wanted to experience teenage love and feel loved, and you’re tired of waiting until it’s your turn. But I have never told you what I want.” Luke took a step closer to you before starting.

“I want to be the one to take you on dates and give you your favorite flowers every single time. I want to be your number one supporter and be your shoulder to cry on if you ever need one. I want to sit with you by the lake while you read. I also want to read the books you read and those little annotations you make. I want to learn about the things you love and the things you don’t. I want to do things you love. I want to show and tell you just how amazing you are every single day. I want to let the feelings I have right now grow cause I really like the idea of loving you, and I want to get there someday.”

You stood there shell-shocked. This felt almost surreal, like something you read from one of your novels. You have always wished to have someone who practically walked out of a romance novel.

“I want you.”

And here he was, standing in front of you, begging for a chance to be yours.

“And I know you just want teenage love, and I could offer you that. But just know I’m also offering so much more, even if you don’t treat the pact the same way as I do and will only view it as a casual relationship. But I suggested that pact and chased all those guys away because I like you a lot, Y/N. And in hindsight, it was stupid and selfish. But I did it because I felt like it was the only way I could have you.”

“I like you too, Luke,” the words slipped out so easily like they were always meant to be said. “I want you to be my teenage love. I want you too.” You’ve been walking around asking when it would be your turn. If only you had paid attention and looked closer instead, you might have noticed he felt the same way. You wanted everything he has spoken of and be just the same for him — to be there for him and learn to love the things he does.

“And I look forward to every single one of the things you’ve told me, and be the same for you. I really can’t wait for it. However, there is one thing I really want right now,” you said as you walked closer to him, one hand taking his own into yours.

“What?” Luke rasped out, looking so tentatively at you. Gods, whatever wish that spills from your lips this second will have him scour the world for it—whatever guarantees your happiness.

“I want you to kiss me.”

Oh, you could ask him for a thousand kisses, and he would give you a million.

Luke’s cheeks grew rosy at your request. He stepped closer, tucking your hair behind your ear without breaking eye contact.

“Can I?” He whispered in a honey-like tone, and you knew right then that if he kept talking to you in that voice, you’d do absolutely anything he asked.

“Mhm,” your quiet hum granted Luke permission to his next addiction. Without hesitation, Luke attached your lips together with both hands caressing your face tenderly. In return, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled you both closer until your bodies were flushed against one another. Slowly but surely, you also tangled your fingers in his curls. Luke almost immediately melted against your touch, sighing in contentment against the kiss.

Luke was convinced this was now his new favorite thing to do. He wondered if you could taste it through the kiss—his feelings and borderline infatuation for you. Either way, he intended on making every kiss like this: wholeheartedly and as if it would be your last.

Now, if you were to ask Luke Castellan how to get the person of your dreams, here’s what he’d advise you:

Step 1. Be stupid and propose a dating pact (tick).

Step 2. Chase away every other potential candidate (tick).

Step 3. Confess (tick).

Step 4. Fulfill all those promises you have made about loving the person (To be continued...But, he’s intending to do this for as long as you’ll let him).

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

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fuqnia · 2 months ago

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SP Main Four + butters !College AU Relationship Headcanons

[☆] A/N | hii guys! i recently hit 500 likes on tumblr and i'm like so speechless... i never wouldve thought people would be interested in reading my stupid little writing hehe, so tysm! my long fic, most wanted, is coming to a close soon, and I have been working on another longfic that's a fem!reader insert x main 4 boys in college! i'm also probably going to write a more realistic/sadder headcanons, because this one was toothachingly sweet </3

[☆] C/W | NSFW under the cut, this is also for f!reader, but i'm open to writing a gn!reader or m!reader in the future

[☆] check out my !college au headcanons for the boys + butters here!

☆ stan marsh

hopeless romantic

will definitely do the most cheesy things for you

has a mixtape of songs that remind him of you

writes love letters, but never gives them to you

feels everything deeply, he's a big ol' baby

late night talks about his fears and dreams

craves emotional intimacy and trust w/ you

super duper attentive to your needs

will put you over himself

overthinks

enjoys laid-back dates! like movie dates, thrifting, strolls

gets jealous reallyyy easily

wont outright admit it tho

very insecure, if someone flirts with u, he'll just sulk LOL

avoids confrontations at all costs

not afraid to cry in front of you

vomits on you if you do something really provocative to him

always offer his jacket/hoodie to you

loves holding your hand

laces his fingers thru yours and swings your hands

goofy ah grin when you surprise him with kisses

big on cuddling

gets super flustered when his friends teases him about you

obsessed with your laugh

keeps a picture of you in his wallet

NSFW

sooo nervous during your first time with him

very eager to please!

takes his time learning what you like

kisses every inch of your body

starts with your lips and works his way down

definitely a soft dom

"does this feel good?" "tell me if you want me to stop"

loves holding your hand while in you

eats your p out like your his last meal

i think he would be more into receiving than giving, but doesn't mind giving at all!

gets shy when you compliment him and tell him how good he is making you feel

prefers gentle sex, unless you want it rough

his entire body flushes red when you tease his cock

like palming thru his shorts, or pressing quick kisses to his tip

loves to cum in your mouth

goes crazy if he gets to paint your face tho

i'm sorry but this man is into creampies...

gets turned on when you're really emotional/crying from him pleasuring you

favorite position is definitely cowgirl

definitely an ass man, loves squishing/pinching your skin

kisses your forehead, cheeks and lips after going down on you

i think he would also be kinda quiet, wouldn't let out that many moans

☆ kyle broflovski

shows his love thru actions rather than words

remembers every anniversary, even the little ones :)

makes detailed itineraries for dates

even though he's a yapper, he definitely enjoys listening to you

fiercely loyal

takes no disrespect towards you

ready to work anyone's shit as so much as they look at you funny

probably would like someone who would challenge him intellectually

needs you to have the same core values as him

DO NOT DO PDA WITH THIS MAN

he will just look at you with pure disgust if you even attempt to...

but will secretly hold hands under the table or sneak a kiss when no one is looking

puts too much pressure on himself to be perfect for you

always notices this little things about you

oh you changed your nail color? you applied your makeup differently?

will blush like crazy when you compliment him

awkwardly rubs the back of his neck

will get irrationally jealous

tries to hide it by cracking sarcastic jokes

writes you long thoughtful texts when your apart, updates you about his day, asks you how yours went

becomes super attentive when your sad or stressed

wraps you in a blanket, makes you tea

i feel like he'd hate the feeling of having a crush

but once he's in a relationship, lowkey a romantic, buy you books he'd think you'd like, jewelry that compliments your skin tone

NSFW

overthinks everything at first

constantly asks "is this okay? are you sure?"

like i said, super attentive, he needs to make sure you're okay

loves eye contact while fucking you

gets really shy when you take control but secretly loves it

prefers slow deliberate strokes and touches

has a thing for neck kisses– both giving and receiving

talks your through it

"you're perfect" "you feel so good"

gets competitive if you tease him about lasting longer

please kiss his freckles... he'll go absolutely feral

not afraid to leave hickeys, scratches or nail prints on you

wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck and his life is yours LOL

i think missionary would be his favorite position

needs to see your face

it's his life mission to make you squirt...

loves fingering you

sit on his face ?

super embarrassed about his moans, but lets it out anyways lmfao

loves your titties, no matter the size

will beg you to let him cum in you

☆ kenny mccormick

we all know kenny is a natural flirt

will wink, smirk, and use cheesy pick-up lines to make you blush

loves physical affection

always has an arm around your waist

makes you laugh constantly

goes to extreme lengths to see you smile, whether it's his silly pranks or grand gestures

draws little hearts and doodles on your notebooks/texts

if he's super bored, he'll draw on your skin lmfao

super duper protective— he'll walk you home late at night and make sure you're always safe

loves taking you on adventurous dates, especially sneaking into places you're not supposed to be

calls you "babe," "sweetheart," or "princess" with that drawl of his hehe

not above embarrassing himself, will write cringe worthy poems or songs and serenade you

immediately notices when you're a little bit off

pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back

buys you little trinkets and steals snacks from eric, saying, "i saw this and thought of you!"

obsessed with kissing you, he'll lean in for a quick peck and smirks when he notices your smile

immediately goes back in for a longer kiss

i think he's super good at braiding hair, and loves playing with yours!

please wear his band tees <3

NSFW

super duper confident, definitely knows what he's doing

loves teasing you, using soft kisses and touches to drive you crazy before giving in

worships your body, tracing every curve with his lips and hands

like kyle, adores it when you take charge and being at your mercy

whispers dirty things in your ear, his voice low and sultry

"you're so fuckin' beautiful babe, I can't get enough of you."

VOCAL AS FUCK ! he'll groan, sigh, whisper your name, letting you know exactly how good you're making him feel

has a downright pornographic moan....

obviously a boob guy, he'll suck and manhandle your tits like there's no tomorrow

will cop a feel secretly infront of others as well LOL

also a thigh and neck guy—he'll kiss, nip, and mark you like he's marking a claim on you

definitely cums alot.... i'm sorry lmfao

dirty as fuck as well... spits in your mouth, puts his fingers in your mouth, making you suck him

taps his tip against your tongue, smearing his precum all over your lips

a big fan of sloppy toppy, grabbing your hair and face fucking you

he's tew good with his tongue... and so so messy when eating you out

will not hold back with his noises, literally slurping ???

loves loves loves overstimulation

favorite position is mating press, loves looking at where you guys connect

cusses when he cums

will crack some corny joke afterward to make you laugh,

"so... we're pretty good at this, huh?" and giggles like a schoolgirl

loves cuddling afterwards!

☆ eric cartman

definitely does grand gestures

brags to everyone about being in a relationship

"yeah, she's lucky to have me."

nobody believes that...

hates PDA in theory, but secretly loves it when you grab his hand or kiss his cheek

he'll complain, but his blushing face gives him away

sends you the most random memes and videos throughout the day as his way of saying he's thinking abt you <3

gets ridiculously competitive when it comes to impressing you

if someone else buys you flowers, he'll show up with a bouquet and stuffed animal, screaming profanities at the other person

jealousss to the max

glares daggers at everyone he perceives a threat, coming up with some sick and twisted plan is his head to take 'em down

gets super pouty when you tease him, but loves the banter between the two of you "i'm not fat, i'm big-boned and you know it!"

will absolutely demand you come over to "study", but in reality he just wants to spend time with you hehehe

has a soft spot when you baby him a little

like brushing his hair or adjusting his hoodie, he'll pretend to hate it but he's melting inside

if you're upset, he'll try to cheer you up in his own weird way...

usually a mix of crude jokes and awkward affection ??

please don't cry infront of him, he'll just panic

keeps a picture of you on his phone as his lock screen, and gets super defensive if anyone points it out

"shut up kahl! it's not even a big deal!"

gaslights the hell out of you, but eventually gives in when he realizes you'll just gaslight him back

will bring you up in any and every conversation, and doesn't care if it annoys the fuck out of his friends

proudly shows off your achievements and loudly declare that you're the bestest girlfriend in the world !

until you piss him off...

NSFW

talks a big game about being dominant and kinky

but he's secretly all about soft and sensual moments with you <3

loves loves loves being in control, rarely lets you take the lead

he needs to boost his ego somehow!

will grab your jaw to force you to look at him, his nails pressing hard into your cheeks

"awe, my poor baby is being fucked too dumb, can't even speak properly"

i'm sorry, but this man never shuts up in bed

whether it's dirty talk or low/breathy moans, he's always yapping

really mean too ):

depending on his mood, he'll either take you to pound town, or just veryy lazy sex

gets flustered if you tell him how good he's making you feel, and fails majorly covering it up

"well, duh. i'm amazing."

loves leaving hickeys—he'll mark you in places just barely hidden, so you're always reminded your his.

obsessed with the fat of your ass and tits, doesn't matter the size—he's all about kisses and touches

will 100% lose focus if you whisper in his ear

his cocky demeanor crumbles instantly, and he's completely at your mercy

gets embarrassed easily if you get too emotional, crying and pawing at his chest that you feel too good

this man does not own a single condom... he'll just pull out and paint your stomach

edges you when he's in a particularly bad mood, and only gives in when you're begging

definitely prefers receiving over giving, but likes the feeling of your walls clamping down on his fingers

asks you to stick out your tongue so he can see the load he blew LMFAOO WHY DID I WRITE THIS

i can't decide if he'd prefer doggy style or cowgirl, so ig just depends on his mood?

has a secret stash of candles or mood lighting for when things get "serious"

will deny deny deny it if anyone ever finds out.

his aftercare is surprisingly sweet— he'll tuck you in, grab snacks, and make sure you're comfortable before he starts pretending he doesn't care <3

☆ butters stotch

is THE definition of doting boyfriend

he'll write you sweet notes and hide them in your bag for you to find later

always asks for your opinion on everything

from what outfit he should wear to what movie the two of you should watch

he just wants to make you happy 😭

blushes like crazy when you compliment him, his hands fidgeting nervously as he stammers out a thank you

will call you every nickname under the sun

"sweet pie," "honeybunch," "cutie patootie"

he's so genuine it's impossible not to grab his cheeks and smile

loves holding hands—it makes him feel safe and connected to you

like stan, he'll swing your arms as you walk, grinning ear to ear

will apologize profusely for the tiniest things, even if it's not his fault

"oh, gosh, i’m sorry! did I step on your toe?"

keeps a running list of all your favorite things so he can surprise you with thoughtful gifts or dates!

if you're upset, he'll bake you cookies or cupcakes and sit with you until you feel better

"it's okay to cry, you know. i'm here."

absolutely adores cuddling, but gets super shy at first

once he's comfortable, he's wrapping you in the coziest of hugs

brings you flowers he picked from the campus quad, tied with a little ribbon

"i hope you like ‘em! i thought they were real purdy."

gets starry-eyed whenever you talk about your dreams or passions

he's your biggest cheerleader and believes you can do anything!

definitely giggles as you try to kiss all over his face

allows you to paint his nails, so you both can match

kisses your scratches/bruises whenever you get hurt, then patches you up himself

takes candid photos of you, so he'll always remember the feeling of moments with you <3

NSFW

don't let this man fool you...

he'll act all nervous and shy at first

he'll blush bright red when you undress in front of him

he'll nervously kiss every inch of your skin, murmuring soft compliments as he goes

he'll shyly ask, "is it okay if i touch you there?"

like he's not about to have you begging for him to keep going

once he realizes how much you're into it, he flips a switch

suddenly his shy little kisses turn into biting your lip

pinning you down

murmuring in a low voice, "i'll take care of you, baby"

he'll start slow, watching you squirm under his touch

but he's secretly enjoying the power of making you lose control

SLEEPER AGENT OF KINK

you think he's all soft neck kisses and hand-holding

then he's tugging your hair, love bites on your shoulder

and growling in your ear, "you like that, don't you?"

his hands, his mouth, and his cock alternate between gentle and rough to keep you on edge <3

the moans he'll let out would be so loud and unrestrained

completely enamored with your body

big fan of overstimulation

thrives on praise

eager to learn as well!!

positions where he can see everything—your expressions, your body, the way you react to his touch—drive him wild

not afraid to try something new!

and when it's all over, he's right back to his soft and sweet self

kissing your forehead and pulling you into his arms like he wasn't doing unspeakable things to you five minutes ago.

can you still guess who my favorite is... 💀 also i'm so sorry for whatever this was

#south park x reader #south park x y/n #south park main four #south park college au #stan marsh x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #eric cartman x reader #butters stotch x reader #south park #sp college au #south park headcanons

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livinginshambles · 2 years ago

Text

Not ridiculous at all | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You are part of the marauders, always having felt special when they called you part of the gang, but also consequently too embarrassed to admit to wanting to be more feminine, afraid that they would no longer deem you cool enough to hang out with you. You are hurt by James' comments and James might realise something when you're avoiding him.

Notes: Best friend!James, he's a bit stupid, Lily is a sweet friend, arguments, so maybe a little angsty, but not really, classic cliche tropes like friends to lovers, misunderstandings, pining (I literally just dreamt this so it's a bit patchy) and I know it's very stereotypical but that's why it's just fanfiction :)

(PS) I haven't written before, just wanted to get this out of my system. English is my third language, and this fic is not proofread because I'm way too lazy for that! Enjoy!

Part two Masterlist

__________________

You've grown up with James Potter and have been part of the marauders since the very beginning. You always took 'being one of the guys' or 'part of the gang' as a compliment, it left you feeling giddy as if you were included in some secret group that only you had the privilege of belonging to.

But sometimes you would sit in the girls dormitory and despite your friends laughing and chatting about, you would feel a wave of loneliness wash over you. They often did activities together and by now, 6th year at Hogwarts, they've managed to stop asking you to join them as you've always dutifully replied that it 'wasn't your thing'.

I mean, what would the guys think of you? It would be too embarrassing to admit to them, or anyone for that matter, that you would love to be dolled up for once. To go shopping with your friends, be included in movie nights, asked by Alice if she could test some makeup on you, or read and gossip about the new romance novels that were the new hype.

Especially now when you sat on your bed, part of the circle in which they were discussing plans to go dress shopping.

"You should absolutely join us!" Alice squealed in delight. You were shaken out of your train of thoughts with a huh and realized the conversation had taken a turn somewhere and now included you too. Marlene and Lily nodded fervently in agreement but you bashfully shook your head.

"Nah, can you imagine me in a dress?" You joked, but Dorcas caught the curious and somewhat longing look in your eyes at the mention of getting ready for the Yule ball.

"I think you would look great actually. And besides, you can treat yourself too sometime you know. You're not obligated to stick with the marauders all the time." The girls in the dorm once again all agreed and you smiled at their kindness.

"Since when are you interested in things like the Yule ball?"

You snapped your head up at James to see his questioning eyes and then quickly averted your own in a flustered manner as if one of your greatest secrets had just been uncovered. "I just think it seems nice, that's all, I'm not even going or anything", you defended. You felt slightly embarrassed by James' face which wore a weirded out expression.

"Well you're not really the type to go to such an event anyway right?", James remarked. You did your best to hide your frown at his immediate agreement. Was it that bad that you'd hoped he would say something along the lines of 'what are you talking about, go enjoy yourself at the party' or something like that?

"Besides I can't imagine you in a dress, all made up, it'd just look so ridiculous." James continued. Remus, ever the sweet and attentive boy glanced at you and noticed your slightly sacked shoulders in disappointment at his words.

"I mean you're just not that type of person, you know? Like completely opposite of Lily."

And with that your face felt like it burned from embarrassment. As if you didn't already know. That didn't mean you didn't want to be more like her sometimes.

Peter's eyes flicked with concern from James to you and back.

You felt hurt and forced yourself to stop tears welling up at his words, mustering up a grin, ready to agree with him but were interrupted by Sirius who had now also caught your change in mood.

"Prongs, you really have no tact at all, how are you expecting to even win Evans over with that?" He said in a playful manner as to not offend their whipped friend, but not fully succeeding.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" James looked slightly offended and Remus jumped in the conversation.

"That's just not a nice thing to say. It's different if you call me an ugly toad, but not Y/N! If she wants to go to the Yule Ball all dolled up, she definitely should." He shot you a supportive smile which you returned.

Peter nodded in agreement. "I don't think you'd look ridiculous at all," he told you sincerely. You subtly scooted a little closer to him and Remus.

"But it's Y/N, it'd just look weird, cause she's just not a proper girl like that, no offense." James shot back and gave you a smile at the last two words.

You saw Remus opening his mouth to retort but quickly intervened. "He's right." You told them. You just wanted this conversation to be over with already. It was awkward and painful for you as it was.

James didn't seem to get the memo, however, and kept on going, drilling your confidence further into the ground.

"See, she agrees." He turned to you. "It's not like you're ugly or anything but it'd be ridiculous. Like I said, you're not the type to be all beautiful and dressed up, hair done and all. I mean you're cool, but not pretty like that." He was clearly not done yet and started talking about Lily and her beauty at which point you abruptly got up and left.

"What's gotten into her?" James remarked with a frown.

Sirius and Remus didn't even bother to answer and just stared at him in disbelief.

The girls comforted you as you cried. Marlene barged in with ice cream, stolen from the kitchen in one hand and 5 spoons in the other. "What a jerk." She commented and thrust a spoon in your hand before plopping down in front of you with the rest of your friends.

Lily sighed frustratedly. "See this is why I don't like him at all. He's so rude and arrogant, and he-"

"- is right." You answered dejectedly. "I'm your friend, but not the type to join you guys and belong to your circle."

"Well that's only because you hang around the boys all the time," Alice argued. She nudged you. "But you know what, now that James is being a git, you can hang out with us!"

Dorcas gasped dramatically. "We could do a girls night! Treat ourselves a little", she jumped up. "I'll get the face masks and nail polish!"

Lily let go of you too and told you to sit up. "Come on, let me do your hair," she smiled.

With Marlene feeding you ice cream, your nails being polished by Alice, hair done by Lily and Dorcas reading the latest romance novel out loud while you were all wearing a facemask, you couldn't help but feel all warm inside.

"I love you guys."

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

You laughed and pushed Marlene teasingly off the bed.

"Hey, watch it! I just finished your right hand." Alice complained.

James was a moron. He was kind hearted (to most), popular, captain of the Quidditch team, good looking but a moron nonetheless. So he was absolutely clueless to find you missing from the common room yesterday evening and even more clueless when you were missing from your usual spot next to him at the Gryffindor table in the great hall, because he could not for the life of him think of a reason why you would sit with Alice and Frank instead.

He frowned and felt uneasy at the fact that you hadn't even looked at him, let alone come for a hug with your smile and said 'good morning' like usual. He shook the thoughts away. You were obviously allowed to have your own friends as well and not obligated to spend all your time with him.

The door of the great hall behind him opened and Lily Evans walked in, which was why instead of walking up to you to say something, he habitually turned to Lily instead.

"You look beautiful this morning as usual. I could put in the effort to match you when we go out together?" He shot her a wink and a coy smile but faltered slightly when his attempts at flirting got even less of a reaction out of her than usual.

James turned to Sirius with a questioning look, as if to ask 'you noticed that too right?' but Sirius simply shrugged. When James looked back at Frank and Alice, you were gone, having left the moment you felt his stare.

James started to ponder. 'Were you avoiding him? Surely you wouldn't, right? You two were friends after all, childhood friends. Childhood best friends even, for Merlin's sake! If you were upset with him, you'd definitely let him know.'

A week passed with you, sitting on the opposite sides of the classroom, seemingly having picked partners long before class because how else would you team up with random students before James could even blink?

He had now fully accepted that you were avoiding him. And with that, he meant 'accepting the possibility of that occurrence'. He was by no means going to accept your strange new behavior without doing anything.

The last drop though, was when he heard the news from Peter that you'd already left for Hogsmeade with the girls.

He frowned. 'You were kind', he reasoned. If you were upset with him, then he'd have to apologize. Quickly. Because it's been far too long without his best friend and he realized he missed you. Especially seeing you hang out with others.

"What did I do?" He finally asked his remaining friends.

"Really Prongs?" Remus couldn't help but ask. His friend just gave him a look that said 'well go on then, what is it'.

"How about you think about what you said last week, you know, those rude comments about the Yule ball."

"Yeah, but I already apologized yesterday and told her that I didn't mean to offend her!" James flailed his arms around when he exclaimed it.

"But she's still only hanging out with anyone but me," he whined. "Peter studied with her, Pads got a 'good morning' this morning and you're still talking to eachother.

Remus gave him an unimpressed look at his whining but James was not done complaining yet.

"She keeps spending all her time with the girls while she doesn't even seem to be fully enjoying herself"

This was true. You dearly missed James, so despite your newfound hobbies, a look of sadness sometimes fell over your face, which hadn't escaped James' attention.

"And I just don't understand why she would-" He started but never finished, something dawning on him. "Oh of course! Merlin, I'm so stupid!" He shouted out in epiphany.

"Your words not mine," Sirius quickly took the opportunity.

"Oh bugger off Pads", James laughed and pushed Sirius' arm. And with that, he took off to find you.

Sirius and Remus watched him leave and sighed at the same time. "Do you really think he got it?"

"I bloody hope so, Moony."

"But it's James."

"Yeah, but I mean it's not my fight but even I realize that she's sad that James made fun of the idea of her being more girly when she secretly wants to be. Now she's trying out what she likes, without having to stay within the role of 'one of the guys'. I mean, it's pretty straightforward. I guess a genuine apology and show of support is the solution."

"But it's James."

"Yep, you're right."

Though he hadn't been able to find you, he'd waited patiently for your return in the common room. Staring at the ceiling from his laid back position on the couch.

"Oh there you are, Y/N," He rushed to sit up to face you when you entered the room. If you were surprised by his presence, you didn't show it.

"We need to talk, I wanted to apologize." He breathed out, relieved at himself for having figured it out. "Also, I've missed you so much."

You felt a weight fall off your shoulders. You didn't want to be upset with him and felt incredibly relieved to hear him say that.

"I'm sorry for the things I said. I didn't mean for you to get offended or anything," James began.

"Yeah, you already said that." You frowned. "And I remember I told you that that was not a proper apology."

"I know, I know. It was shitty of me so I wanted to apologize. Properly you know? I'm really really sorry. I was a terrible friend and shouldn't have said the things I said. Please forgive me?" He proceeded to give you Bambi eyes in an attempt to convince you. It unsurprisingly worked.

You softly smiled up at him. "Okay". You barely got the word out before he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

"Great," he said, cutting through the comfortable silence that you two had been hugging in.

"Now you don't have to avoid me anymore, and you can stop sitting with the girls to prove your point, and join us again instead." He triumphantly continued.

What now?

You blanked. "I'm sorry?" You managed to ask.

"I get that I hurt you by saying your weren't a proper girl, but you don't have to pretend to prove your point by trying to be one." James stated, proud of himself that he figured it out.

"Because I can see that you don't like it, like your face gets all gloomy which is understandable because it isn't really your circle of people."

You stared at him, an incredulous look on your face.

"Fuck you James." You said, your voice coming out softer than you'd hoped. Tears were welling up again, but you couldn't help yourself.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I do want that to be my circle of people? That I don't just want to be one of the guys all the time? Is it that crazy to think that I'm still a girl with feelings? That I want to feel pretty too? That I don't like being told by my supposed best friend that I'm basically ugly? That I hate to be compared to other girls like that?"

You were ranting and James had taken a step back, surprised by your outburst.

"No, that's not what I-", James tried to salvage the situation but you weren't having it.

"You've told me that stuff for as long as I can remember and I never told you otherwise because I was scared that you'd no longer want to hang out with me for not being a 'chill friend'. But you know what, I no longer want you to."

At this point, you angrily wiped your eyes to get rid of tears that were threatening to spill. "So fuck you". With that, you brushed past him, escaping upstairs to your room.

James Fleamont Potter felt absolutely miserable.

If anyone told James that you'd ever be more on his mind than Lily, he would call them ridiculous. But here he was, another week had passed and he was staring at your back as you were leaving with your friends for Hogsmeade again.

You weren't wearing your school uniform and robes anymore and James was surprised to see you wearing one of what he knew to be Lily's dresses.

'It suited you more than it suited Lily.' The unwarranted thought flashed through his mind and he shook his head with a scoff to himself. What was going on?

James also noticed that your hair was brushed and shining with a butterfly clip holding your hair in a bun. He wondered when you decided to change your hairstyle because he found that it framed your face perfectly.

'Not ridiculous at all,' he understood.

You looked absolutely perfect.

You turned your face a little and James could feel his head reeling. Have you always been this glowing? Was he just simply missing you? He didn't even realize that he hadn't spared Lily a glance- until Sirius mentioned her while they were having a drink - and a strange feeling washed over him at the thought.

You were running from Filch.

'Fuck I shouldn't have studied after hours, curfew was probably hours ago," you cursed to yourself and took a sharp right turn. You were trying to reach the secret passage right behind the big statue on the fourth floor when you saw the hallway light up because of Filches torch.

Forcing your legs to move faster, you were suddenly grabbed by the wrist. A hand was clasped over your mouth and you felt a heavy cloth fall over you.

You recognised the person pressed to your back immediately and tried not to melt in his embrace as Filch walked straight past the two of you, covered in the invisibility cloak.

You could feel his breath against your temple. His hand had dropped from your mouth, instead draping across your stomach now to rest on your side. The other held out in front of you to create space under the cloak. You shifted a little and finally turned your head and lifted it to look at him and thank him but you were unable to say anything for a moment.

You simply admired him.

The proximity of the two of you in that intimate embrace had something fluttering in your stomach and you harshly jerked away in denial when your feelings hit you.

Oh no.

Now, all suddenly? What changed? Does it really take one random moment to flip your world upside down?

You rushed to push the invisibility cloak out of your way and then left without sparing James another glance.

James couldn't force his legs to move to run after you, still reeling from about the exact same epiphany that you'd just run away from. Your gaze, his fast beating heart and the urge he had felt to lean down for a kiss had confirmed his conflicted feelings of the past few days since he'd seen you leave for Hogsmeade.

The following morning, you'd had the chance to properly process the happenings of last night.

Your conclusion was that you felt guilty that you hadn't even expressed your gratitude. It was rude, you figured. Even if you were overwhelmed by the sudden wave of realization that came crashing down on you, it was rude.

So you pushed your confused feelings aside and marched up to him when you found him in the great hall.

"Thanks, I owe you." You awkwardly said, stopping at his spot at the Gryffindor table. All while absolutely not having forgotten about the fact that the last time you had said something to him, you'd flipped him off and told him to go fuck himself.

James was absolutely beaming. "Yeah you do, but no worries, I'll cash it in right away." This was his chance. He would make up for his behavior and act on his feelings right now.

"How about a date?"

There was a long silence. Your heart plummeted to the ground. Right. James. Lily. Lily and James.

"What am I a magician?" You finally managed to sarcastically retort. "I'm a convincing person but not a miracle worker." You pulled your hand through your hair as you looked around the great hall to see if you could spot Lily.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do." You forced a smile.

James, who had been mostly confused at your words, disregarded it completely in delight at your acceptance to go out with him, even if it seemed somewhat reluctant. Not that it would matter because he was going to prove what an amazing boyfriend he could be. If you'd accept him, of course.

He was grinning from ear to ear, which you mistook as excitement at the prospect of a potential date with Lily. So when you abruptly turned on your heels and marched over to Lily, James watched you confusedly.

And when he heard you try to talk Lily into going out with him, he wanted to crawl in a ditch and die. He stood there, frozen and recounting how you could've interpreted that wrongly.

You returned to him after a while with an apologetic smile. "Yeah sorry Prongs, she-"

"You", he blurted out.

You raised your eyebrows. "Me?" You repeated back.

"The date, I meant you. A-and me of course. Us, like you and me on a date. Together. I thought maybe Hogsmeade?" He managed to force the words out nervously.

There was a long silence and James' shoulders slumped a little. Even more when you finally answered.

"Uh, no?" You said in a questioning manner. James officially wanted to die now.

"You're sweet James, and I don't think you do it on purpose but you're not interested in me like that." You began, trying to convince not only James, but yourself as well.

James opened his mouth to argue but you quickly interrupted him before he could properly do so.

"James, you really don't. And you asking me out on a date when you've quite literally been drooling over Lily just last week as you have been doing for the past 5 years, that's not very nice to me." You frowned.

"Oh." He whispered. He was once again at a lack of words for a moment. Terrible new habit, he thought. This was not how he thought it would go.

"I'd still gladly go with you to Hogsmeade though?" You offered. "Just you know, not as an easy second choice date while you are obviously head over heels with her."

'I'm not', he wanted to tell you, but it was obvious that you wouldn't believe him. "Yeah okay," he weakly smiled. "Just the two of us though."

You nodded and stepped forward, wrapped your arms around him and he leaned into you, returning the hug.

With his face pressed in your hair, eyes closed, he decided that this situation wasn't too bad. He's fought for Lily's affection for years. He'd fight harder for yours.

Part two

#james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #marauders era #marauders #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter fic

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solaceseven · 9 days ago

Text

to all the boys i've loved before

↳ summary: you never meant for anyone to read those letters. they were just old confessions—words left unsaid, feelings you’d long buried. but now, years later, they’re out. and one by one, the men they were meant for are confronting you. some are amused. some are curious. some have been waiting for this moment all along. and the worst part? maybe—just maybe—some feelings never really go away.

pairings: reader x gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, and toji (all separate)

inspired by the novel/movie to all the boys i’ve loved before.

click on the letter for better quality!

GOJO - BROTHER’S BEST FRIEND 💌

you weren’t expecting to see gojo today.

which was why, when you opened your front door and found him standing there—white hair slightly tousled, sunglasses perched on his head, a piece of paper twirling lazily between his fingers—you froze.

it wasn’t just any piece of paper.

it was your letter.

the one you wrote years ago. the one you never meant for him—or anyone—to read.

“hey there, love letter writer,” gojo drawled, grinning. “wanna tell me what this is about?”

your stomach dropped.

“what?” you choked out, blinking.

gojo took a step forward, and you instinctively stepped back. he wasn’t intimidating—not really—but the look in his eyes sent a prickle down your spine. he was enjoying this, enjoying having this over you.

you crossed your arms, feigning indifference. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“oh?” he unfolded the letter—slowly, deliberately—his gaze flicking between the words and you. “so you didn’t write, and i quote—‘i hated that i read into every little thing you did. that i let myself wonder, even for a second, if you ever saw me the way i saw you.’”

“give me that,” you snapped, lunging for the letter.

gojo easily lifted it above his head, laughing as you stretched onto your toes. you huffed, stepping back before you embarrassed yourself further.

"how did hell did you even get this?" you demanded, eyes narrowing. "were you in my room back at my parents' house? you snoop."

gojo chuckled, "tempting, but no. got it in the mail."

your stomach twisted, a slow, creeping dread curling around your ribs. the letters—your letters—were out. exposed. the words you had buried, the confessions you had locked away, now in the hands of the very people they were never meant to reach. the realization hit like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs.

you felt unsteady, like the ground beneath you had shifted without warning. “it wasn’t meant for you,” you muttered, arms crossing tighter, as if that could somehow shield you from the weight of his gaze

he tilted his head. “oh, no? because it sure sounds like it was meant for me.”

you clenched your jaw. “it was a long time ago, gojo. it doesn’t matter anymore.”

he hummed, considering. “see, that’s the thing—i think it does matter.”

you turned on your heel. “whatever. i don’t have time for this.”

before you could take another step, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, firm but not forceful.

“hey.”

the teasing lilt in his voice was gone. when you turned back, his usual grin had softened, something unreadable in his gaze.

“if it doesn’t matter,” he murmured, “then why are you running away from me?”

you swallowed hard. “because… because it’s embarrassing, okay?” the words came out quieter than you intended. “i wrote that when i was stupid and young, and i don’t need you throwing it in my face like some kind of joke.”

gojo didn’t say anything for a moment. his thumb brushed absently over your pulse, like he was memorizing the way it raced beneath his touch.

then, finally, he exhaled, releasing you.

“it’s not a joke,” he said, almost too soft to hear.

you frowned. “what?”

he glanced away, slipping his hands into his pockets. suddenly, he looked almost… hesitant.

“you think i’m teasing you, but i’m not,” he admitted. “i just—” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i guess i didn’t expect to read something like that from you.”

“why?”

gojo let out a quiet laugh, but it lacked his usual cockiness. “because i thought i was the only one who felt that way.”

your heart stumbled.

GETO - THE BOY FROM SEVENTH GRADE 💌

you weren’t expecting to see him again.

not here, not now—not standing in front of your apartment complex like something out of a dream you hadn’t let yourself have in years. not after parting ways after your high school graduation.

but there he was.

suguru geto, leaning against the railing near the entrance, his hands tucked into his pockets, looking just as devastatingly familiar as ever. his hair was longer now, his features sharper, but his eyes—those same deep, knowing eyes—hadn’t changed at all.

and in his hand—your letter.

your stomach twisted. you had already known the letters were out, had already braced yourself for this moment. but knowing didn’t make it any easier.

“you still write letters you never send?” his voice was smooth, teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something quieter, something careful.

you swallowed hard. “how did you find me?”

he lifted a brow. “your brother.”

of course.

geto let the words settle before glancing down at the paper in his hand, running his thumb over its edge. “you looked for me?”

you inhaled sharply, looking away. “it was a long time ago.”

“but you did.” his voice was softer now, but there was something bold in the way he held your gaze, refusing to let you run from this.

you swallowed, fingers curling into fists at your sides. “did you ever look for me?” the words left your mouth before you even realized, unguarded, betraying the uncertainty you hadn’t meant to show.

geto exhaled, eyes flickering with something you couldn’t place. he didn’t answer right away, and for a second, the silence between you felt heavier than the years you’d spent apart.

then, slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and folded.

another letter.

your breath caught.

“i guess we both never learned how to say things out loud, huh?” his smile was softer now, a little bittersweet. he pressed the letter into your palm, his fingers lingering just long enough to make your pulse stutter.

“i don’t know if it changes anything,” he murmured. “but you should know—you were never the only one searching.”

and just like that, you couldn’t breathe.

NANAMI - FORMER TUTOR 💌

you were exhausted.

work had drained every last bit of energy from you, leaving you barely standing. all you wanted was to go home, kick off your shoes, and let the day fade into nothing.

but apparently, the universe wasn’t done with you yet.

because standing in front of you, holding a very familiar envelope in his hands, was nanami kento.

you groaned, dragging a hand down your face.

not again.

“nanami, before you say anything—i know. i know it got sent out. i know it’s embarrassing. i know you probably want to forget this ever happened, and honestly? same.”

nanami didn’t say anything right away. he just looked at you, his expression unreadable as he turned the letter over in his hands. that alone made you even more nervous—he was always so direct, so straightforward, but now he seemed… hesitant.

you shifted uncomfortably. “look, i—i wrote that a long time ago, okay? it doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

his gaze flickered up to meet yours, sharp, unreadable. “did it ever?”

your breath caught in your throat. you weren’t sure how to answer that—because yes, of course it did. every single word in that letter had been real, had been true. you had poured your feelings onto that page, never expecting him to actually read it.

but admitting that now? you weren’t sure you had it in you.

so you did what any rational person would do—you backpedaled. hard.

“uh, no! nope. just silly, dumb, totally meaningless words. you know how it is, youthful foolishness and all that.” you forced a laugh, waving your hand dismissively. “honestly, you should just throw it away. forget it even exists.”

nanami sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “you’re a terrible liar.”

your face burned. “okay, rude.”

for a moment, he didn’t say anything. the silence stretched between you, heavy, suffocating. you wanted to fill it with more rambling, but something in his gaze stopped you.

finally, he spoke.

“i don’t want to throw it away.”

your heart stuttered. “what?”

nanami exhaled, like he was weighing his next words carefully. “if i had known back then…” he trailed off, his fingers tightening around the letter. “i don’t know. maybe things would have been different.”

you swallowed hard. “different how?”

he didn’t answer right away. but then, so quietly you almost missed it, he said—

“i wouldn’t have ignored the way i felt about you.”

your mouth opened, but no words came out. you had prepared for embarrassment, for rejection, for the whole ordeal to end in awkward silence and regret.

but this?

this, you had never even let yourself hope for.

SUKUNA - ACADEMIC RIVALS 💌

you weren’t ready for this conversation.

not now. not ever.

the second you spotted sukuna leaning casually against the hood of your car, arms crossed, an unmistakable smirk playing on his lips, you knew you were screwed.

your feet faltered. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you hadn’t seen him in years—had gone out of your way to avoid him after graduating university—and yet here he was, standing like he belonged there, like no time had passed at all.

and in his hand, twirling lazily between his fingers, was your letter.

your stomach plummeted.

“didn’t know you had such a way with words,” sukuna mused, his voice just as sharp and cocky as you remembered. he flicked the paper open, his eyes gleaming as he read aloud. “i gotta say, i hate you is a hell of an opening line.”

a flush crept up your neck. “you weren’t supposed to receive that.” you choked out, still processing the fact that he had it.

“oh, sweetheart,” he crooned, pushing off your car and strolling toward you. “you really think something this interesting wouldn’t find its way to me?”

you clenched your fists, fighting every instinct to snatch it from his hands. “give it back, sukuna.”

he hummed, as if considering, before his eyes flicked to the letter again. “i hate that i notice you in a room full of people. that i can recognize your voice before i even see you.”

your breath hitched.

“and my personal favorite,” he continued, lifting his gaze to meet yours, heat burning behind his crimson eyes. “i think if you asked, i’d let you ruin me.”

your body went rigid. “sukuna.”

his grin widened. “shit, sweetheart, if i knew you felt that way, i would’ve stopped holding back ages ago.”

a lump lodged itself in your throat. this wasn’t happening. not like this.

“i wrote that a long time ago,” you managed, desperate to regain control. “it doesn’t mean anything now.”

sukuna’s expression shifted—still smug, still infuriating, but there was something else beneath it. something heavier. he took a slow step forward, forcing you to step back.

“so if i kissed you right now,” he murmured, voice dropping into something dangerously soft, “you wouldn’t feel a thing?”

silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t.

his smirk returned, triumphant. “that’s what i thought.”

and just like that, he turned on his heel, walking off like he hadn’t just wrecked you in the span of three minutes.

TOJI - THE DAD OF THE KID YOU USED TO BABYSIT 💌

you hadn’t babysat megumi in years.

university had ended, you had a steady job now, and toji was nothing more than a name from the past—someone you used to see every week when you were younger, back when you were just a broke student watching over his kid.

or at least, that’s what you thought.

until tonight.

you’d just gotten home from work when you heard the knock at your door—loud, deliberate, familiar. and when you opened it, your stomach dropped.

toji fushiguro stood in your doorway, one arm braced against the frame, a piece of paper pinched between his fingers.

the letter.

your heart stuttered.

“long time no see, kid,” he drawled, eyes sharp with amusement.

your mouth went dry. “toji—what are you doing here?”

he let out a low chuckle, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “you tell me.” he held up the letter, giving it a little shake. “didn’t think i’d actually see this in my mail today.”

you winced.

he let the door swing shut behind him, casually tossing the letter onto your coffee table. “didn’t peg you for the sentimental type.”

your face burned. “that was—years ago,” you muttered, arms crossing over your chest. “i didn’t mean for it to be sent.”

“yeah?” he tilted his head, studying you, and god, you hated how easily he could make you squirm. “so what, you don’t still got a thing for me?”

you gawked at him. “are you serious?”

he smirked. “course.”

you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face. this was not how you expected your night to go.

when you looked back at him, his expression had shifted—just slightly, something quieter in his gaze. the teasing edge had softened, like he wasn’t just testing you anymore but offering something real.

he let the silence stretch, watching you, waiting.

then, with a small shrug, he said, “so what do you say? want to give us a shot?”

your breath hitched.

maybe—just maybe—you weren’t ready for this chapter to end yet.

i hope you all enjoy this! i kept the endings a bit open-ended so you can decide who the reader ends up with. but if you’d like, we can do a poll, and whoever wins, i’ll write a short story for their endgame! let me know what you think! :p

— a little backstory on this story! my best friend made me rewatch the movies with her, and somewhere along the way, inspiration struck. i thought, hmm, i want to write a story based on this. so, i created this account just for that—literally. this was actually supposed to be my first post, but i kept editing it because i wasn’t happy with how it turned out. then i kept editing and editing… until i ended up scrapping it altogether. for some reason, i struggled the most with geto’s—i don’t know why, but finding a trope for him that i was satisfied with was so frustrating. it was driving me insane. and after all that, this still didn’t end up being my first post, lmao. even now, i’m not fully happy with gojo’s :/ but i’ve edited it so much at this point that i’m just leaving it as is. that being said, if you ever see gojo’s story change a bit… you know why hehe. long story short! this was originally supposed to be released back in december, but i never got around to it. then i picked it back up in mid-january, and now i’m finally releasing it! :D my favorite one was geto’s 🥺 what about yours?

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x you #💿 — solace seven works

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