#and I’m not even going to talk about the handbag

[sluttery-withoutshame]

I’m sorry, but not even Eric has worn a hat this ridiculous.

[brunchable]

Play Dirty | Steve Rogers x f!reader [18+]

Words: 8.7K Warning: SMUT. Public teasing with use of sex toy, jealous!steve, a bit of gaslighting, steve being very demanding, hard edging, overstimulation, Oral (M and F), Cunnilingus, fingering, tit fucking, deep-throating, dirty talking, spanking, praising, unprotected piv. Sneak Peak: Steve shifted in his seat, his hand slipping casually into his pocket. You didn’t think much of it at first—until a large shock vibrated through your core and made you gasp in surprise from the intense pleasure. For a second, you froze. A wave of heat rushed through your body as you realized exactly what was happening. Steve had the remote—the small, discreet device that was supposed to be in your handbag—and now, he has it and he was using it. Here. In front of everyone. A/N: whew.

Bucky’s grin widened as you approached, his usual charm on full display. “Look who finally decided to show up,” he teased, offering you a drink. You took it, brushing your hand against his as you did, and laughed at something he said, the two of you falling into easy conversation like always.

Steve, standing a few feet away, felt his stomach tighten painfully at the sight. You and Bucky had grown closer—closer than Steve had anticipated, especially since your recent missions together. He hadn’t realized how much that closeness bothered him until tonight. It wasn’t that Steve hadn’t accepted the "break" you both agreed on, but seeing the way you leaned into Bucky’s space, laughing at every joke, brushing your hand against his arm, it was like salt on an open wound.

The knot in his chest tightened further with every glance you gave Bucky. It was the easy way you talked to him, the subtle, lingering touches. Little things that shouldn’t have meant much—unless you knew how Steve was feeling. And God, he was feeling everything right now.

As the evening wore on, the air around Steve grew thick with tension. He wasn’t the only one who noticed. Natasha, ever perceptive, caught Steve’s darkening expression from across the room. She smirked knowingly as she wandered over.

“Cap, you alright?” she asked, keeping her tone light but teasing. She knew exactly what was going on.

Steve grunted, his gaze never leaving you and Bucky. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the edge in his voice made it clear he was anything but.

Natasha chuckled softly. “You sure? Because it looks like you’re about to burn a hole through Barnes with that stare.”

Before Steve could respond, Tony, as usual, appeared just in time to stir the pot. “Hey, Rogers,” he called out, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You don’t look too happy. What’s up? Jealous that your old pal’s getting all the attention?”

Steve clenched his jaw, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m not jealous,” he replied, though the tension in his voice betrayed him.

Tony grinned wider, sensing weakness. “Oh, come on, Cap. It’s written all over your face.”

Steve didn’t respond, but the uneasy feeling only grew as the night wore on. Every laugh you shared with Bucky, every small touch, seemed to deepen the knot in his chest. He hadn’t even meant to dwell on the past, but here it was, staring him in the face. 

The final straw came when Sam, ever the observer, caught on to the tension and decided to add his own bit of teasing. “Hey, Steve,” he called from across the room, “You gonna survive the night? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Bucky’s got quite the new partner-in-crime.”

Bucky, always attuned to the energy around him, caught Steve’s glare. Sensing the tension, he leaned in closer to you, his hand resting gently on your lower back, a gesture that Steve noticed instantly. It was subtle, almost protective, and the sight of it made Steve’s blood boil.

“Yeah,” Bucky added with a playful grin, “We’ve been working very well lately.”

You laughed, completely unaware of the unspoken battle happening right next to you. “Bucky’s a good partner,” you agreed, nudging Bucky playfully.

Steve’s hand clenched in his pocket, fingers wrapping around the outline of the device that you dropped which he still hadn’t returned to you. His composure remained intact, but jealousy and frustration were etched into his features, plain for anyone paying attention to see.

It wasn’t just the obvious things getting to him—the laughing, the touching—it was the small details. The way your smile lit up when you were around Bucky, the way you leaned into his jokes. They might’ve seemed innocent enough, but to Steve, they felt like a subtle reminder of the growing distance between you and him.

Tony, always quick to sense when things could be pushed further, glanced at Steve with a smirk. “Well, Steve,” he said, voice dripping with amusement, “I guess you don’t really have the same… control over things anymore, huh?”

Steve’s eyes darkened, Tony’s words hitting a little too close to home. He said nothing, swallowing down the jealousy and frustration as the night wore on, watching as the bond between you and Bucky only seemed to deepen. The growing distance between you and him was becoming painfully clear, and there was little he could do but stand by and let it unravel in front of him.

× × × ×

You and Bucky sat close on the couch, exchanging teasing comments and unaware of how effortlessly you were riling Steve up. His friends had noticed too, and the teasing directed at Steve had only gotten more relentless as the night wore on. Steve, ever the calm and composed leader, sat across from you, trying to act unbothered as Tony and Sam continued their playful jabs.

“You sure there’s nothing going on, Cap?” Tony asked, grinning as he threw a look between you and Steve. “Because it’s looking like Barnes is making a move.”

Steve’s jaw clenched hard, though his face remained otherwise neutral. “There’s nothing going on,” he said calmly, but the tension in his voice was unmistakable.

Bucky, picking up on the shift in the atmosphere, leaned in just a bit closer to you, giving you a sideways smirk. “You hear that, Y/N? Seems like nothing’s going on with Steve. Guess we’re free to keep having fun, right?”

“Seems that way.” You chuckled softly, leaning into Bucky’s shoulder just a little more while giving his knee a squeeze, knowing exactly what effect it was having on Steve. 

Steve’s eyes flicked to you, his blue gaze intense, his lips curving into a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. You knew that look—like he had something up his sleeve. The game had been fun, but there was always a part of you that wondered when Steve would decide enough was enough.

Steve shifted in his seat, his hand slipping casually into his pocket. You didn’t think much of it at first—until a large shock vibrated through your pussy and made you gasp in surprise from the intense pleasure. 

For a second, you froze. A wave of heat rushed through your body as you realized exactly what was happening. Steve had the remote—the small, discreet device that was supposed to be in your handbag—and now, he has it and he was using it. Here. In front of everyone.

You internally smacked your head for even trying the new toy last minute. You shot him a quick glance, your eyes narrowing, but Steve’s expression remained smooth, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face. He looked completely unfazed, as though he hadn’t just flipped the entire dynamic on its head.

“Something wrong, Y/N?” Steve asked, his voice as casual as ever, but there was a glint in his eyes—he knew exactly what he was doing.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as the buzzing in your panties began again, on a low setting, with more intense pulses spread throughout. It was enough for your lips to part in a sudden gasp, though you promised yourself that you wouldn't allow any other sign of his tormenting you to show. 

One look back at Steve and an unspoken message passed between you. He intended to make this evening as humiliating and tormentful as it would be pleasurable.

“No,” you managed, your voice a little strained, “nothing at all.”

Bucky glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “You sure? You’re looking a little flushed.”

Your cheeks burned, but you quickly shot Bucky a smile, trying to play it off. “Just warm in here.”

Bucky chuckled, completely unaware of what was happening beneath the surface. “Right.”

Meanwhile, Steve’s hand remained in his pocket, casually increasing the intensity just a notch, making it harder for you to focus. Your legs shifted slightly, and you fought to keep your expression neutral, but Steve didn’t let up. His gaze locked on yours, a quiet challenge in his eyes as if daring you to keep up the act.

You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palms to keep from reacting too visibly, but your body was betraying you. The low, steady vibrations were becoming more insistent, and every time you thought you could push it aside, Steve would change the intensity, keeping you on edge.

As your fists clenched on top of your legs Steve felt his cock begin to stiffen in his trousers. A memory of the last time he had plunged his cock into your  tight little pussy swept over him and determined that he shouldn't suffer alone, he cranked the torment up cruelly high.

With satisfaction he watched as your back arched once, against the seat. You calmed yourself as much as you could a moment later. Steve could see the heaviness of your breath and the tell-tail tremors rocking up through your pussy all the way to your shoulders. He longed to bury his fingers in your long hair, while you licked and sucked and pleasured his cock. But he bit back his fantasies for later and stopped the vibrations for the time being. You weren’t going to get off that easy. You were going to suffer this whole evening like his hungry cock was suffering. You weren’t going to orgasm without him buried inside you. No way.

× × × ×

Steve smiled devilishly with smoldering eyes across the room as the heat built unbearably in your pelvis. All evening Steve had now been teasing you, vibing you on soft vibes some of the time and then intense waves so intense you had had to shove a fist in your mouth so as to not cry out. But always, always, he would end the bliss before you reached any sort of climax.

It was devastating and he knew it. You hid your feelings as best you could, but not from him, because he knew what to look for. He could see you biting your lip, and one hand holding the other in a punishing grip to keep it from straying south to finish the job he had started.

Bucky continued chatting away, completely oblivious, while Tony and Sam moved on to a different conversation, leaving you in this silent battle of wills with Steve. 

Finally, unable to take it anymore, you shot Steve a look again—one filled with frustration. He responded by raising an eyebrow, that smirk deepening as he gave the control in his pocket another small flick.

A barely audible gasp escaped you, and Steve’s smirk turned downright devilish. He leaned back, as though nothing unusual was happening, and gave you a look that said New toy huh?—you naughty girl.

You pressed your lips together, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he was affecting you. But Steve didn’t make it easy. He kept the vibrations going, perfectly timed, perfectly controlled, and all you could do was sit there, trying to keep your cool as your pulse quickened.

Satisfaction and possession twisted through him, a darkness that had him yearning to pin yoy down on the floor and fuck you until you screamed. His cock began filling, lengthening in pulses that matched his heartbeat.

Steve finally spoke again, his tone calm and collected as he leaned forward slightly. “You alright, sweetheart? You look like you’ve forgotten something.”

The double meaning wasn’t lost on you, and you shot him a glare, though it was hard to be truly mad when every nerve in your body was buzzing with anticipation.

Bucky, still oblivious to the power struggle happening right in front of him, glanced between you and Steve, looking amused.

You forced a tight smile, barely able to form words. “I’m fine, Steve. Thanks for asking,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tension.

The breathless tone of your voice stilled his fingers. Your chest rose and fell swiftly, and the points of your nipples were evident against the fabric covering you. Steve chuckled softly, his hand still casually in his pocket, the vibrations still going strong. “Are you sure? You seem a little… tense.”

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to react to the next wave of vibration as it hit. “Not quite,” you managed to say, your voice breathless, but with just enough edge to let him know you weren’t backing down.

Steve’s smirk widened. “We’ll see about that.”

Steve had delighted in teasing you by sending vibration after vibration through your slit when you had just opened your mouth to receive food. Several times you had been unable to prevent moans from spilling forth, which had brought the occasional eye from the others. 

Now however, something clicked into place. 

Every time you went further away from where Steve was now stationed—by the cooling balcony—the vibrations had become more intense, and whenever you'd approached Bucky, the waves had been so intense you'd had to hide away until you regained your composure. 

Certainly you didn't want to experience an orgasm in front of all your colleagues. If Steve would let you come that was. Your eyes locked with him and you knew what game he was playing. He was now drawing you in. Enticing you, teasing you, daring you to meet with him.

Your legs felt shaky as you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air doing little to cool the heat raging in your body. Every step closer to Steve, he had intensified the vibrations that pulsed through you, sending you to the brink of losing control several times already. And now, standing here, knowing what he was doing—how he was doing it—you realized he’d been pulling you in, little by little.

He was leaning against the railing when you found him, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips, like he’d been waiting for you all along. His eyes flicked over you, taking in the way your chest rose and fell, the tension in your posture, the faint flush on your cheeks. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched as you struggled to keep your composure.

“Finally,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I was wondering how long it’d take for you to come find me.”

The soft hum of the vibrations continued to pulse between your legs, but here—out on the balcony, away from the others—it was somehow even more intense. Your breath hitched as you pressed your thighs together, trying to resist the overwhelming sensations that had been driving you crazy all night.

“You’re an asshole,” you managed, though your voice came out breathier than you intended. “You have no right to do that. You’ve been torturing me for hours.”

Steve chuckled deeply, pushing himself off the railing and taking a slow step toward you. His eyes were dark with amusement, and something else—something far more dangerous. 

“Torturing you? No, baby. This isn’t torture. It's your fault you dropped your little control for me to find.” He reached out and brushed his fingers down your arm, his touch sending shivers across your skin. “I'm just giving you what you need.”

Your pulse quickened, but you stood your ground, refusing to back away. “And what’s that?”

Steve’s grin widened, his voice dropping even lower. “Pay back. You’ve been playing dirty games all night, teasing me, testing my patience. . . Bet you didn't think I could play dirtier?”

Your breath hitched as the vibrations suddenly increased, the intensity causing you to press your lips together to keep any sounds from escaping. You glanced at the door behind you, knowing the others were just inside, but the fear of being overheard only added to the tension between you and Steve.

“Fuck you, Steve.” 

“By all means,” He took another step closer, his hand finding your waist, pulling you toward him until your bodies were pressed against each other. “I can see it in your eyes, Y/N. Don't pretend you weren’t enjoying it. I bet you were thinking about how you miss my cock inside you.”

You trembled, both from the force of the sensations and the heat of his words. He was right, of course. As much as you hated to admit it, Steve had known exactly what you craved.

His thumb stroked lazily along your hip as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. 

“I'm so surprised you’ve been doing so well tonight,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “But I don’t think you’re ready to come yet, are you?”

You gasped softly, your body tensing as he gave the control another flick, sending a pulse of pleasure through you that had your knees threatening to give out. 

“Damn it, Steve…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

His hand slipped down to the small of your back, holding you up, keeping you steady even as he pushed you further to the edge. You felt him pressing his solid erection on your thigh, your hand seemingly having a mind of its own, palmed his hard erection through the fabric.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his tone teasing but dark with intent. “Say my name again. Remind me who you belong to.”

You clenched your hand around his cock, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but it was slipping fast. “Steve, please…”

“Please what?” he asked, his lips ghosting over your neck, his voice dripping with amusement. “Do you want me to stop? Or do you want me to keep going?”

You didn’t answer right away, your breath coming in a shallow, uneven exhale. You could barely think, let alone form a coherent response. The vibrations continued relentlessly, driving you closer and closer to the edge, but Steve held all the power, and you knew he wasn’t going to let you fall unless he wanted to.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he pulled you tighter against him. “So desperate. So ready to fall apart, but you’re holding back too, aren’t you? You don’t want them to hear you, do you?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you nodded, the humiliation of being overheard mixing with the arousal that Steve’s teasing had been building all night.

He chuckled huskily. “You know what I love about you, baby? You try so hard to pretend like you can control, but right now…” His hand slid lower, his fingers brushing the hem of your dress, teasing. “Right now, you’re mine.”

You whimpered, your body trembling as the vibrations grew even stronger. You were so close, teetering on the edge of release, but Steve wasn’t going to let you go that easily.

“Do you want to come?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck. “Tell me, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.”

You gasped, barely able to form the words, your body aching for release. “Yes…” you breathed, your voice shaky. “Please, Steve.”

He hummed softly, clearly pleased with your answer, but he wasn’t finished with you yet. His hand slid up your thigh, his fingers brushing the sensitive spot between your legs where the vibrations pulsed strongest. 

You whimpered again, your entire body trembling with the effort of holding back. The sensations were too much, too overwhelming, and you were so close, but Steve’s hand on your hip kept you grounded, reminding you that he held all the power.

“Good girl,” he whispered, pressing his lips against your neck,“Now, be patient.”

You let out a soft, broken whine, your head falling back against his chest as you struggled to hold on, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation and desperation.

“Steve,” you whispered, your voice breaking, but he only smirked, his lips still brushing against your ear as his hand stayed poised on the control, his fingers lingering over the button.

“Should we just take this somewhere else?” his voice was dark with satisfaction.

You whimpered, barely able to hold yourself upright. Every nerve in your body was on fire, and all you wanted—all you needed—was for him to let you come. But Steve wasn’t going to give you that satisfaction just yet.

“I think…” he started slowly, his hand sliding down to grip your waist, “you’re not feeling too well, Y/N.” His tone was soft, but there was no mistaking the authority behind his words. He was making the decision for you, and you had no choice but to follow.

You blinked up at him, your body still trembling, trying to understand where he was going with this. “What… what do you mean?” you managed, your breath shaky and uneven.

Steve chuckled, brushing his thumb over your cheek as he pulled you closer, his voice dropping even lower. “You’re going to go home. You’re not feeling well. Isn’t that right?”

It took you a moment to process what he was saying. He wasn’t giving you an option—he was telling you how the rest of the night was going to go. You weren’t going to get your release, not here, not now. Steve was going to draw this out, make you wait, make you need it even more.

Your heart pounded as you nodded, too overwhelmed to argue. “Right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m not feeling well.”

Steve’s smirk deepened, clearly pleased with your compliance. He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing down the side of your neck before stepping back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

Without breaking eye contact, Steve reached into his pocket and pressed the control one last time, sending a sharp, teasing vibration through you that nearly made your knees buckle. You gasped softly, gripping the railing for support as a fresh wave of need coursed through your body.

But just as quickly as it started, Steve turned the control off, leaving you trembling and on the brink, but without the release you so desperately craved. His eyes darkened as he leaned in, his voice low and full of promise. 

“I'll take you home now,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “And when we get there later… then you’ll get what you’ve been begging for, if you remain a good girl.”

The breath caught in your throat at his words, your entire body trembling with anticipation and frustration. Steve pulled back slightly, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as his eyes locked with yours, dark and full of intent.

“You understand me?” he asked softly, his tone a quiet command. You nodded, unable to find your voice, your body still humming with the sensation he’d built up all night. 

“Yes,” you whispered. “I understand.”

Steve smiled softly, almost tenderly, as he straightened up, giving you a once-over before taking your hand. He led you back toward the door, his touch firm and guiding as he stepped inside. The warmth of the party greeted you once again, the noise and chatter a stark contrast to the intimate darkness of the balcony.

But Steve didn’t let go of your hand. 

He glanced around the room, catching Bucky’s eye first, then Sam’s. 

“Y/N’s not feeling well,” he announced, his voice steady, calm, and in complete control. “I’m going to make sure she gets home safe.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly as he glanced between the two of you, suspicion flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t question it. 

“Yeah, alright,” he said slowly, shooting you a quick look. “Take care of her, Cap.”

Steve gave a small nod before turning back to you, his grip tightening just slightly around your hand as he guided you toward the exit. The others said nothing but waved bye as you passed, and you kept your head down, your face flushed and your body still trembling with the effects of his teasing. 

Once outside, the cool air hit your skin again, and for a brief moment, you felt like you could breathe. But the moment was short-lived as Steve led you to the car, his hand still firmly wrapped around yours. 

You had to lean on him a bit as he led you to his car. He helped you inside and strode around to his side exceedingly quickly for someone with a stiff load in their pants. One moment of heavy breathing passed as you looked at each other. You both knew what would happen. He was offering and you were accepting. Though there wasn't really a choice for either of you. 

Steve unzipped his fly challengingly as he pushed the start button and vroomed the engine. You eyed him coyly, and lowered your lips agonizingly slowly onto his full blown erection. He was so big and tall, you'd actually forgotten. Carefully you licked his shaft and caressed it with your hands before dipping the head into your mouth. You looked up innocently towards him, eyes wide, Steve had one hand gripping the steering wheel so hard you thought it would break. He saw the way you were looking at him and in punishment set the controller to one of the higher settings. 

Heat and pleasure spread through your pelvis and you approached his huge cock with a renewed desire. You dipped it in your mouth again and again, licking it, stroking it and teasing it. All the while you were wriggling in your seat with the intense pleasure from the vibrating underwear. 

Steve roared out of the parking lot, eager to reach the destination as soon as possible. And though part of him was worried about causing a car accident due to his distraction, he had a much more pressing sense of urgency. And it's in your mouth. He buried his fingers in your hair as you sucked him off, despite the fact that his cock was far too large for your poor little mouth. But just when his cock was quivering and ready to come and deliver its payload all down your throat, you pulled back and stopped. Mischief in your eyes.

"No coming until you're inside me." You purred. "Your rules, not mine."

He grinned despite himself, and set the control to the highest setting. With pleasure he watched as you writhed in your seat from ecstasy. Your back arched and your hands flew out to hold on to something. One braced you against the roof, and the other against his shoulder. But just like before, just before you came he shut the vibrations off. This time for good. You turned to him indignantly.

"Oh my go—Steve! Please." You begged.

"Almost there." He promised, as he pulled into the driveway.

A quick look out the window revealed to you that you were at his apartment and not yours. You shrugged. So much the better.  

Steve reached out a hand, his eyes locking with yours as he offered a reassuring smile, though the hunger in his gaze was impossible to ignore. You took his hand, but as soon as you swung your legs out of the car and stood up, the overwhelming sensations from earlier came rushing back. Your legs wobbled beneath you, unsteady and weak from the teasing Steve had put you through all night. 

The second you tried to take a step, your knees nearly buckled. A soft gasp escaped you as you stumbled, but before you could collapse down, Steve’s arms were around you, strong and steady. He caught you easily, one arm slipping beneath your knees as he scooped you up without a second thought.

“Easy there princess,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. His lips brushed against your temple as he pulled you against his chest, holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’ve got you.”

You felt the heat of his body against yours, his strength cradling you effortlessly, and for a moment, you melted into him, letting the safety of his embrace calm the lingering tremors in your legs. Your head rested against his chest as he carried you, his footsteps steady and purposeful as he made his way across the driveway.

Steve tossed you onto the large, plush bed. You landed softly against the sheets, breathless as you watched him with eager anticipation. Satisfaction coursed through you as he began to strip, his eyes never leaving yours. 

His jacket was the first to go, shrugged off and dropped to the floor without a second thought. Then came his shirt, fingers working quickly to unbutton it, his shirt slid off, revealing the defined, powerful muscles of his chest and arms—broad shoulders tapering down to sculpted abs that flexed with every movement. His skin was smooth, taut over the ridges of muscle that seemed to ripple with restrained strength. Each breath he took made his chest rise and fall, drawing your eyes to the hard lines of his torso. His biceps, strong and veined, flexed subtly as he tossed it aside, leaving you breathless, completely captivated by the raw power and grace he carried effortlessly in every inch of his body.

Next were his shoes and socks, kicked off with the same impatience, as though every layer of clothing was a barrier between the two of you. His gaze remained locked on yours, intense and commanding, he unbuckled his belt and tugged off his pants in one motion, leaving him standing there, muscles taut.

Jesus Christ, his body was unfair. His flat stomach had more definition than before, his hips more pronounced. That cock, though. Fully hard, it stood out from his body, every bit as perfect as you remembered—more than big enough to be a challenge. You can see his cock jutting out at you, long and girthy. Your pussy clenched, the stretch of his dick having imprinted there, and you had to grip the sheets to keep from lunging at him.

You were breathing hard, and your heart is beating so fast you feel like it might jump out of your chest. You were looking at each other—predator and prey, the conqueror and the conquered. He closed the distance between you hungrily, his powerful body even more beautiful without clothes in the way. You can feel the heat of his body, smell the scent of his skin—male and musky, strangely appealing. His chest muscles flex under your fingers, and you can feel his heart beating faster.

“Your turn.” He growled huskily.

Steve's hands moved to the hem of your dress, pushing it up slowly, his lips leaving soft, lingering pecks along your stomach as he worked his way up to your waist. With deft efficiency, he slipped the dress over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you breathless. Your bra followed just as quickly, discarded with ease, his touch confident and controlled, leaving you exposed beneath his gaze.

Last but not least he lifted your legs and pulled off the vibrating panties, which were soaked. He tossed them away with a rueful smile before spreading you out so that he could admire you. He took in your breasts that fell to a narrow waist, before flaring out in generous hips that echoed your breasts. 

Steve's fingers trailed up your inner thigh and between your legs, and he let his breath warm the skin of your stomach. He brushed his thumb over your slit until he found your clit. He rubbed back and forth a few times, letting you have a taste of the pleasure he planned to give you more of. 

Your eyes spoke of impatience, and then he spoke, almost sounding disappointed.

“You’ve really tested my patience tonight, but I guess we're even. Now, shall I take care of you?” Steve stroked you again, harder this time.

“I-I'm sorry, Steve, please—” you whispered, your body swaying slightly. He kept stroking your clit, the smell of your arousal filling his nostrils and making him crazy. 

“I am dying to taste you. I bet you're dying to know how good it will feel when my tongue flicks your clit.” he rasped, his mouth watering, pushing to his feet. “Be a good girl and go further up the bed.”

You turned and crawled on the bed, nearly making him come with the seductive sway of your ass as you positioned yourself. When you were on your back, he ordered, “Now spread your legs.”

You complied eagerly, showing him the flesh between your thighs, which was already glistening from arousal. He was ready to make a meal out of you. Wedging himself between your thighs, he lowered himself until his stomach met the mattress.

Steve kissed your inner thigh, his strong hands held you in place. Hands that have been calloused through years and years of combat. The tip of Steve's tongue touched your folds—and you jumped. 

“Relax,” he breathed. “Put your hands on your tits and feel what I am doing to you.” 

You cupped your breasts, which were already heavy and aching, and squeezed your nipples. Pleasure streaked through you. Steve dipped his head and licked you, and heat suffused your lower half. Growling, he pressed closer and tongued your entrance. 

“Fuck, you are so wet for me.” Then he began moving his lips and tongue, exploring your folds, until he reached your clit. The first swipe of his tongue over that tiny bundle of nerves caused you to slam your eyelids shut and throw your head back. Tingles ran up and down your legs and you could only lie there as he did it again and again, flicking and circling the nub with his tongue. His finger worked its way into your pussy, stretching me, and you moaned. 

“Oh, my God. Steve!”

The reaction earned you another finger and a long suck of your clit. Your toes curled and you could feel the orgasm building in your belly.

“I’m so close,” you told him. “Keep going, please.”

Unbidden, your hips started rocking against his face, your body desperate for release. You thought you would have to agree to anything at that moment, but luckily Steve didn’t try and take advantage. He continued to work your clit and pump his fingers into your pussy.

It wasn’t enough though. You really wanted him to fuck you. The thought of his muscled body, so manly and strong, pounding into you pushed you over the edge. 

You shouted as your walls convulsed around his fingers, your limbs trembling uncontrollably. The euphoria washed over you, more intense from the teasing he's done to you all night. These weren't the gentle waves of an orgasm. This was a tsunami dragging you to depths you had never imagined before, drowning you in endorphins you hadn’t felt in so long.

When it finally ended, you sagged into the mattress, limp. Steve's mouth gentled but didn’t stop as he lapped up the wetness at your entrance. His eyes were closed as if he were savoring you, and you couldn’t look away from his beautiful face. Why did he have to be so incredibly good looking?

His lids opened and blue eyes pinned you to the spot. They were wild and hungry. Feral. A little scary, even. He continued to taste you while staring up at you, as if he were gauging your reaction. You couldn’t move, your muscles are now lax.

Then he crawled over you, kissing your skin along the way, until he reached your breasts. Your hands were still on your breasts, so he nudged your palm aside with his nose to draw a nipple into his mouth. He sucked hard, with long pulls that echoed between your legs, directly in your clit. 

Everything was heightened, your body even more sensitive now that you'd come, and he seemed in no hurry to move on as he lavished attention on your breast. Soon you were writhing, your heart racing as you panted, your nails digging into his shoulders. He switched to your other breast, his tongue flicking your nipple then biting it before bringing the nipple into his mouth to suck. 

You were a shuddering, mindless mess, unable to stop moaning as it wore on. Was he trying to foreplay you to death? His fingers slipped between your legs, rubbing your clit with light steady pressure, and you came a second time. When you finally calmed, he released your breast and kissed your neck.

Steve crawled over you, not stopping until his knees were on either side of your ribcage, his cock inches away from your face, “Suck my cock and make it slippery for me.” 

You opened your mouth and he thrust inside, the warm salty taste of him gliding across your tongue. Fuck, you liked that. you closed your eyes, but he snapped, “Eyes on me, hands on your tits.”

Your clit pulsed in happiness, your body drunk on him, completely turned on by his dominance. You complied, keeping your gaze on his and putting your hands on your tits, massaging it in circular motions as he started to tunnel in and out of your mouth. You tried to keep your jaw and throat relaxed, and Steve took advantage, thrusting deep until you gagged. 

“That’s it,” he said. “I want to see tears streaming down your cheeks from having your mouth fucked.” 

You couldn’t help it—you moaned. His nostrils flared. He pushed and you gagged, but he didn’t withdraw. Instead, he waited until you recovered and took another breath. Then he advanced a tiny bit more. Tears spilled over your lashes and you struggled to breathe. You started to shake your head no, but Steve just smirked down at you as he held you in place. 

“You can do it. Fill that filthy mouth with my cock.” He shoved in deeper and you tried to relax and breathe through your nose. You tried to swallow, it took a few tries but you managed and he slipped in deeper. Then you couldn’t breathe at all and you started to panic, your eyes searching his face. His expression was soft, pride shining in his eyes as he watched your mouth. You shook your head again, tears falling faster, your hands slapping on the mattress so Steve withdrew himself. 

You coughed violently as he left your mouth, you felt his demeanor shift as he caressed your cheek while shushing you.

“I-I'm sorry.” you tried to say but it came out broken due to the fire in your throat.

“Shh, you’re okay, baby, you're okay.” Steve hunched down and kissed you, long licks of his tongue against yours, it was gentle, your lips locking before he pulled away, “Are you okay?” 

You look him in the eye, nodding with a weak smile, “Yeah, I'm okay—Continue.”

Steve stares at you for a few seconds, raising his eyebrow, “If you say so.”

He gets into position but instead of getting a mouth full of dick, his cock slapped between your breasts. 

“Let’s save that for a different time.” He winks at you, “Now hold them. Press them tight.” 

You squeezed your boobs around his cock, and he groaned, his arousal coming back to him. His stare was fixed on your chest as his hips started to move, his stomach muscles flexing. 

“Tighter,” he rasped. “Pinch your nipples like I would.” 

You did as he asked, gasping at the electricity that jumped in your veins as a result. It was like you were stroking your  clit without using your hands. You pinched harder and your head rolled back as the bliss washed over you. He pushed a thumb into your mouth and you sucked instinctively, swirling your tongue over the rough skin like you couldn’t get enough. Which wasn’t really an act. You were desperate, your sex throbbing for relief, and you craved his touch everywhere. 

“Look at me when you suck,” he ordered and you instantly obeyed. His bright eyes burned fire while he watched your mouth and he reached to stroke two fingers over your clit. You tensed and made a desperate noise in the back of your throat. He continued to pet you, and you could feel how wet and slippery you were, the sounds of your slickness as loud as your breathing. The climax was right there, just a few seconds away….

The fingers between your legs disappeared and you let out an angry growl around his thumb.

“Get up.” he told you, retreating down your body until he stood on the floor. You rose up on your knees, mindless to anything but having your craving satisfied. 

“Feet on the floor.” 

You scrambled to do as he asked, and his hands positioned you between his legs as you leaned over on the bed. You sagged onto the bed and let him do as he wished. His slick erection slid into the crevice between your cheeks, which he pushed together. Then he was sliding between your ass cheeks the same way he’d fucked your tits. His strong hands held you still while his rough thighs met the backs of your legs. It was like he was fucking you from behind, but without the stimulation. 

Miserable, you shoved your ass higher. Hair covered your face and you could feel the sweat on your temples. 

“Roll your hips,” he panted. “Work my cock and I’ll reward you.” 

Steve didn’t need to ask twice. You started rolling your hips, giving him friction while he held still. You were gyrating and sliding your flesh over his, that thick rod hot and heavy between your cheeks. You barely felt his hand leave your skin before he slapped your ass, fire exploding under your skin. 

You sucked in a breath and lost your rhythm. 

“Don’t stop.” Another slap. “Keep going and make me come for you.” The pain from the slaps turned into heat, the kind that made your knees go weak. Your clit throbbed in response, and the slickness between your thighs ran down your legs. You kept moving, and he spanked you again and again, his palm landing blows all over your backside. 

Your body burned, but there was no pain. your skin sang with pleasure, sensitive and bright, and as if on instinct you slid your fingers down between your legs, the need to come undeniable. 

“No,” he said, pinning your arm down as he covered your back. Your sore ass pulsed against his cool skin. “Not yet.” 

You humped the mattress, your urges uncontrollable. This caused his tip to skim the entrance to your pussy. You both froze, the temptation right there.

All he had to do was push a tiny bit forward and he would fill you. Stretch me. Give you every bit of his hard cock. You couldn’t stand it. You needed him like you needed air. “Please, Steve. Put your cock inside me.”

“Are you mine?”

You pressed your lips together, unable to say the words, while you clawed and tore at the comforter, your miserably body at war with itself as your lust remained unfulfilled. 

“I will not fuck you until you tell me. I want to hear the words.” 

“No, please. Just once.” 

“Say it, and I will fuck your pussy. I will make you come so hard.” He teased you with a shift of his hips, the tip of his erection skimming your entrance again. “I will make it so good for you.” 

Your resistance folded. 

“I’m yours, Steve.” You blurted. “Please. I’m yours.” 

Before you could blink, he shoved inside you, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. It wasn’t easy. He was large and you hadn’t been prepared, so it took a few pumps of his hips before he was fully seated. 

“Look at you letting me inside. Sucking me in.” Steve straightened and grabbed your hips with both hands, “Do you like it? Do you like taking my cock in your tight little pussy?”

If only the others knew about his filthy, filthy mouth. But if you’re being honest with yourself, everytime he talks to you like that you would do anything he asks. And he probably knew it.

He drove deeper, making you gasp. 

“Yes,” you whispered, dragging the word out on a long whine. “I like it very much.”

You clutched the duvet, your fingers sinking into the plush fabric, the sensation of having him inside you was something you hadn't felt in so long. You could feel him everywhere, from your swollen lips and aching breasts, to your sore ass and full pussy. It was like an overload for your nerve endings. Then he started moving, and it felt even better. 

Your nipples scraped against the sheets as he worked himself in and out of your body, his grunts mixing with your gasps. 

“So tight. You are squeezing me so hard.” He pulled out slowly, leaving in just the head, and then plunged forward once more until he bottomed out. You both groaned. “Tell me who is fucking your pussy, Y/N. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Steve.” The words fell from your lips, partly because you knew they would drive him wild. And partly because you loved this game you played. 

He spanked you, hard, “That’s right. Now, play with your clit and make yourself come.” 

He didn’t need to tell you twice. Your hand shot between your legs and you circled your clit. Steve spanked you again and again, his palm raining slaps on your butt cheeks. The heat spread from your skin through your groin as your fingers worked over the taut nub. 

When he wrapped your hair around his fist and pulled, using it to jerk you back onto his cock, riding you, you came so hard, the orgasm deep and intense. You clenched around him and he thickened inside you, his hips growing uncoordinated as you heard him suck in air. 

“That’s it come all over my cock, you dirty little slut.” Steve grunted in the heat of the moment.

Steve fucked you like he was punishing you, each punch of his hips slapping into the skin he’d spanked a moment ago. He drove deep, holding your hips still so he could pound as hard as he wanted. You loved it. He was rough and unforgiving, everything you needed. The bed rocked, the frame creaking as he worked himself in and out of your body. 

His fingers slipped between your legs and found your clit. He pinched the swollen nub then circled it, and the world exploded. Sparks shot through your limbs as they convulsed, and your brain completely shut down, the pleasure almost brutal in its intensity. Changing his rhythm, he flexed his hips, withdrawing slightly before returning, the thick length dragging over your sensitive walls. 

“Oh,” you moaned, clenching around him tightly. “I liked that. Will you do it again?” 

“Fuck, Y/N.” he hissed, his eyelids slamming shut as if he were in pain. He hissed through his teeth when your body clamped down on him. “Yes, squeeze my dick again.”

You did it once more and he groaned. 

“You are trying to make me come? Because it is working.” he grunted when you did it a third time he smacked your butt cheek and pulled out. 

He looked bigger than before, you couldn’t do more than roll your head to watch him shuffle to one side of the bed, spitting on his hand before jacking himself, coating his cock and making it slippery. You watched the muscles of his forearm shift as he worked, and you swallowed hard, finding it absolutely hot. You made a mental note to ask him to masturbate in front of you.

“I want you to ride me. I want to see your face when I claim that pussy again.” Steve got into position on the bed, flat on his back, then lifted you over him until you straddled his hips. Bringing you toward his face, he kissed you hard, his tongue invading your mouth and letting you taste his desperation. The tips of his fingers probed your entrance, smoothing, massaging, opening you.

Eager, you rolled your hips, dragging your slick pussy over his shaft. 

“So needy,” he murmured against your mouth when you whimpered. “Don’t worry, princess. I am going to fill you up.” His fingers slipped inside, but there was only pressure. It was as if the pleasure center of your brain was firmly in charge. He pumped his fingers slowly, widening your, while his mouth remained demanding. You took it gladly, letting him use you. 

He broke off and grabbed your hips. “Up, baby. Take me inside.” 

You braced one hand on his stomach, then reached with the other to take his thick cock, lining him up at your entrance. His warm skin was slick and hard, and you began pushing down, hissing when the head slipped in. He threw his head back, his expression nearly feral in its intensity, and you loved watching this powerful man come undone by your body. You dropped down a little more, gave yourself time to adjust, again, then continued, working steadily, with Steve’s big chest heaving the entire time. 

His fingertips sank into your skin, pressing on your hip bones and you knew you would have bruises there tomorrow. The thought sent a punch of arousal through your core and you lowered your hips all the way down, meeting his pelvis. 

“Fuck, Steve, it feels so good,” You whined as your sore ass rubbing against his rough skin. The width of him split you open and you panted, loving the way he overwhelmed you. 

“Baby,” You whispered, hoping he understood. He knew. Of course he did. No one could read you better than Steve. 

He cupped your breasts with both hands, pinching your nipples. “Tell me, baby. Ride me and tell me. Don’t hold anything back from me.” 

You began moving then, churning your hips slowly, dragging his shaft in and out of your pussy, all the while watching his face. His eyes burned hot as they raked over your body, possession stamped on his features, and you let the words fall out. 

“Fuck, I love you and your cock.” His reaction was instant. Snatching you in his big hands, he leaned up and brought you to him for a blistering kiss. Then he braced his feet on the mattress and began pounding into you, his body thrusting upward in short jabs that bounced your tits up and down. His hands kept your hips steady, your bodies straining and working together. Whatever spot he was hitting deep inside you sent sparks down your legs, along your spine, sending you higher and higher.

When you started trembling, he said, “Your clit, baby. Play with it and make yourself come. Right now.” 

You didn’t question him. Your hand flew between your legs and you rubbed your swollen flesh, desperate for release. The rush was instant, a wave of color and light that exploded behind your eyes. Your muscles contracted around him, clamping down, and you heard Steve grunt wildly as his movements became uncoordinated, his cock swelling inside you. Then he held you still, his back arching, as his cock pulsed in your pussy, hot jets filling you. 

Your back arched as you trembled, your walls convulsing around his cock. He threw his head back and shouted, his body sealed tight to yours like he never wanted to leave. Like he didn’t want to waste a single drop, like all his come needed to stay inside your pussy.

“Fuck,” he panted. “I hadn’t expected you to say that.” He pulled you down to lay on top of him and wrapped his arms around you, his cock still buried deep inside you.

You allowed yourself to catch your breath before laying beside him, glancing at Steve, who now looked more like his usual self—calm, collected—not the hungry, sexually frustrated asshole he had been just moments before.

“What now?” he asks, his voice softer now, the tension between you both having settled.

“Yeah, what now?” you echoed, unsure of what to do next but still riding the energy from earlier.

“Are you tired?” he asks, turning his head toward you, a hint of something playful in his eyes.

“No. Are you?” You faced him, the corner of your mouth twitching into a small smile.

“No,” he says, smiling sheepishly, both of you sensing the same lingering spark.

“Should we… take it to the shower?” you suggest, the thought hanging in the air between you.

Steve’s grin widens, a flicker of mischief in his eyes. “After you.”

[ilyrafe]

𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✧ 𝒓. 𝒄.

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader

warnings: brief sexual innuendo, rafe being a softie!!!!

word count: 2.6k (i *might* have gotten carried away i'm so sorry lol)

a/n: this is a sequel to late night and also based on this, so thanks @keziahcore ! your mind is literally everything!

it’s almost like a sixth sense.

rafe feels your absence from the bed, and immediately becomes agitated. he turns on the lamp next to his bed and looks for any sign that you’re still there, and finds your small handbag on the armchair, which makes him just slightly relieved. 

when he looks at the clock, he sees that it is almost two in the morning. the bathroom door is ajar and the lights are off, which means you’re not there. before he can leave his room looking for you, you return, holding a glass of water, wearing only his shirt to cover yourself up.

“where were you? why did you leave me here?”

he can’t control this agony, this anguish that always catches him off guard when he finds himself alone. he can’t help feeling like a time bomb, ready to explode at any moment. the smallest things you do seem to trigger him massively, and he hates that. he hates that he ends up being rude and harsh to you, because you’re always so understanding and sweet.

even he knows he doesn’t deserve you.

“i was thirsty and went downstairs to drink some water.” your tone is sweet and calm, which makes him feel like shit.

his face changes, as he seems to calm down. you didn’t leave him, you just went to get some water. you’re there, your stuff is there, you’re not going anywhere.

“next time, leave a glass here. i don’t like it when you do that.” he says in a much softer tone, but he’s still upset that his sleep got interrupted.

“do what? get hydrated?” you joke, trying to lighten up his mood.

he rolls his eyes and huffs. don’t make him tell the truth.

“go back to bed. i’m tired, alright? i had a long day.”

“actually, i was going to read a book. i’m not sleepy and i don’t want to lie down right now.”

is it so hard to understand that he wants you to be close to him so that he feels safe enough to get a decent night’s sleep?

“you can read on the bed.”

“you won’t mind the lamp on?”

“no, just get the damn book and come back to bed.”

you laugh and nod, picking up the book from his desk and following him to his bed. rafe gets to his spot and as you sit down, he places one hand on your bare thigh and falls back to sleep almost immediately.

while he dives deep into his necessary rest, you start reading. it’s that book, in cold blood by truman capote. you don’t know if rafe is a reader, he never really talks about books with you.

every once in a while, you look down at your thighs to see his hand, firmly holding you, to make sure you won’t leave. this small gesture makes you feel stupid. stupid to believe he might feel something other than lust for you. rafe makes you question your beliefs and that itself makes you feel overwhelmed.

sometimes you want to leave, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. and you have tried countless times. he’s good for you in the same intensity he’s bad. to say you’re scared to ask him what you are would be an understatement, but you just would like some clarification, because you don’t beg the people you’re casually fucking to stay the night almost every night and throw a tantrum when they leave to get some water.

deep down, you know you’re more scared to hear you’re just an easy fuck. at this point, this would tear you apart.

being with rafe is a challenge. it’s like running a marathon you know you will not get to the finish line, and yet, you keep running.

when it’s almost four in the morning, you close the book and turn the lamp off. finally, sleep comes to you, and you settle into his bed, still holding rafe’s hand, which never left your thigh. with the touch, rafe wakes up, and this time he is no longer agitated.

“sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” you say, as you snuggle into the mattress.

“you- what time is it?” he asks, adorably confused and sleepy.

“it’s almost four.”

“and you’re going to sleep now?”

“yeah. go back to sleep, it’s early.” you say softly, placing a hand on his cheek, and he complies, pulling you close.

(...)

rafe’s alarm clock rings promptly at seven in the morning. he turns it off and goes back to his previous position: hugging you.

your hair smells like coconut and your skin is always soft. he never wants to not be touching you. it’s like your body was made to be next to his. for some reason, just your presence is enough to make him feel calm and at peace.

he places the softest kiss on your shoulder, enjoying the quietness that only early mornings can give him. the sweet sound of birds chirping outside makes him forget about everything else. rafe only has you in his mind (and in his arms).

you wake up and soon turn to face him. rafe has the most adorable sleepy face, and you might never stop melting over him. seeing him up close will never not be amazing. he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. he probably has the most beautiful shade of blue in his eyes.

“go back to sleep.” he whispers.

“‘m not sleepy anymore.” you mumble as you rub your eyes, which rafe finds captivating. “hi.”

“hi,” he smiles. “you only slept for three hours, sleep some more.” he insists, and you feel a tone of concern in his voice, but maybe it’s just your sleep giving you that impression.

“i’m okay, rafey.”

rafey. he hates that stupid nickname, but when it comes out of your mouth, he wants to legally change his name to it.

“you’re gonna be tired.”

“no, i’m not. i don’t normally sleep a lot.”

rafe frowns not because he’s confused - he obviously isn’t. he’s just not liking what you’re saying. he doesn’t like the idea of you struggling with whatever that may be. rafe knows damn well how bad it is to be sleep deprived, he doesn’t want you going through that.

“you have insomnia?”

“i guess i do,” you shrug. “i don’t really know. i just don’t sleep a lot. i wish i did, though. i get so jealous when i see you sleeping for hours on end.” you smile sweetly at him. “you’re so relaxed. must be nice…”

you let go of rafe after leaving a timid kiss on his lips, and stretch before getting up and going to his bathroom to start your morning routine.

after a quiet breakfast, rafe gives you a ride home, and he can’t hide his concern about what you said.

“i’ll see you around, yeah?” you tell him, with the sweetest smile you always have.

“of course. uh, about that sleep thing… if you need help with that… i’m here.”

“rafe, i think you might be a sex addict.” you joke, really not understanding what he meant. he isn’t talking about sex. the one time he isn’t talking about sex, you don’t get it.

“well, i’m just one call away.”

you chuckle and intend to kiss his cheek, but rafe is quick enough to turn his face and make you kiss his lips. you laugh at his antics.

silly rafe is your favorite. if only other people got to see this side of him.

he watches you leave his car and get inside your home. the strange feeling of loneliness comes back almost immediately, but it gets him thinking. it has to be some sort of irony that the person that quite literally helps him sleep isn’t sleeping.

(...)

only two days have passed and rafe already needs you to spend the night at his house again. he is so tired and exhausted. he takes out his phone and quickly types a message.

rafe: are u busy right now? can i pick u up?

you don’t tend to take long to respond to his texts, but this time, an hour goes by and nothing, so rafe starts to feel that unbearable anguish again, and starts to think that you left him and that you found someone better to spend you time with.

impulsively, rafe facetimes you, and you answer. from your face alone, he can see the tiredness in your eyes. or rather, in your dark circles. you’re in your bedroom, which makes him feel calmer.

“hi, rafey. sorry, i just got my phone.”

“what are you doing?”

“i’m studying for my exams.”

“i just wanted to know if i could pick you up.”

“i’d love to,” you smile. “but it’s not a good idea, i need to study and i have a mountain of books to read until tomorrow if i want a good grade, which i do.”

“you’re tired, you should rest.” he advises, visibly worried.

“nothing a can of red bull can’t fix.” you say showing him the can.

“y/n, please go to sleep.”

something about his request makes you angry. maybe it’s the stress, or the fact that this time rafe is right.

“rafe, you’re not my boss. i need to hang up, i got shit to do.”

before he can protest, you hang up the call, and surprisingly, rafe doesn’t get angry. this is what it’s like when he’s sleep deprived.

as always, rafe wants to take control of the situation, so he puts on a hoodie, grabs his car keys and leaves his house to go to yours. it’s late at night, and rafe knows your parents are probably asleep.

the path is short, and soon he arrives in front of your house and the light is on in your bedroom, which tells him that you are still up. carefully, rafe gets out of his car and walks to the back of your residence, and climbs the wall, always making sure he doesn’t get caught by anyone. finally, rafe gets on the small balcony of your room and sees you surrounded by papers, books and notebooks. it’s a mess.

he knocks on the glass door, which startles you, but you soon calm down when you see it’s him. you almost run to open the door, but your face isn’t the happiest.

“what are you doing here, rafe?”

“nice to see you, too.” he ironizes as he steps inside your bedroom. “i have a proposition for you.”

“i’m so not in the mood, rafe…”

“listen to me.” he says. “i’ll… i’ll help you out with this stuff, as long as you let me help you sleep.”

“i don’t wanna have sex.”

“i’m not talking about sex.”

oh.

“you mean… sleep? like, really sleep?”

“yeah. i don’t like that you sleep so little. you’re becoming cranky.”

you chuckle at the last bit. you can’t stay mad at him, can you?

“that’s a nice offer, rafe, but what do you know about biology?”

“i’ll have you know i was a good student.” he pouts and you laugh. “even if i don’t know what you’re studying, i’ll help you out.”

it takes you a few seconds, but it’s decided. your body is about to give out, you really need to rest. you can’t absorb any more information. a good sleep might even help you learn whatever you need.

“okay.”

rafe smiles and it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

you begin to organize all your notes and books on your desk and rafe begins to undress down to his underwear, and gets comfortable on your bed. he realizes this is his first time sleeping on your bed, and he already likes the faint smell of rosemary that your bedroom exudes.

you have such a pretty bedroom. the walls are painted in the softest shade of blue, and you have books everywhere. no wonder you’re so smart, you read a lot.

the wooden furniture gives an earthy feel to your room, contrasting with the delicacy of the light blue walls. in the photos of the small mural on the wall, rafe realizes that he wanted to be there, present in the photos, and maybe, in a photo with you. you are always smiling and being hugged by someone, or hugging them. you are like that, you are magnetic.

you finish organizing your things and quickly change into a shirt of rafe’s that you hope he doesn’t recognize. it’s big and comfortable, and it makes you feel close to him when he’s far away.

the lamp next to your bed is on, so you turn off the main light in your room and go to your bed, meeting rafe, and he has the smallest smile on his lips. it’s ironic how having sex and being naked doesn’t feel as intimate as simply sleeping together does.

“are your parents home?” he asks.

“no, why?”

“so i could have come through the door, huh.”

“yeah.” you laugh.

a brief moment of silence sits between you two, as you’re staring at each other’s eyes. rafe is mesmerized and terrified at the same time. this - whatever this is - feels so nice and so foreign. he knows damn well he isn’t one to want to just sleep with someone, let alone climb up a wall to just sleep with someone.

rafe cameron is in love, and he is utterly terrified.

“what are you thinking?” you ask in a whisper.

your blinks are getting slower and slower. rafe begins to run his hand through your hair, combing them back, and touching the skin of your neck and shoulders ever so softly.

thinking about how much i want to be with you and how fucking scared i am.

“nothin’. close your eyes.”

you do, not because he told you to, but because you couldn’t keep them open any longer. 

why do you feel the safest with someone as dangerous as rafe cameron? someone who deals with the shadiest people around, that has anger issues and violent behavior.

that tried to drown his own sister.

why none of that matters when you’re in his arms? are you actually insane?

probably.

(...)

as soon as you wake up, you see your bed empty, and rafe’s clothes are no longer on the floor, where he had left them last night. it was to be expected, but you still feel disappointed. he was so sweet last night.

when you look at the clock, it’s already past nine in the morning, which means you’ve slept, surprisingly, eight hours straight. damn, you really were sleep deprived.

the sound of your stomach begging for food makes you get out of bed.

when you leave your bedroom, you hear the sound of the tv on and get scared. slowly, without making any noise, you go down the stairs, trying to find out if your house has been invaded, but it would be strange, as it is daytime. soon you see rafe walking around your house.

he didn’t leave?

it’s like you’re not even there. you get to watch rafe make himself comfortable in your kitchen, looking for stuff to put on the table. there are two delivery bags on the counter, which means he bought food, but the gesture warms your heart, which was merely shattered.

“the cutlery is in the second drawer next to the sink.” you say, startling him a bit.

“jesus. can you, i don’t know, announce you’re in the room? i almost dropped your coffee.”

you laugh.

“sorry, rafey. what are you doing, i thought you had left.”

“uh, i bought breakfast for y- us.” he says. you look inside the bags and you can tell he ordered possibly everything you have eaten from that place. “c’mon, i ordered that vegan shit you like, your coffee and even a pretzel.”

you follow him to the table and you both begin helping yourselves. this isn’t your first time having breakfast with him, but it does feel like it’s a first.

for the first time, you don’t want to leave him.

i love feedback! let me know your thoughts! <3

[luveline]

oh I think about kbd daily

—Steve has a small surprise for you after dinner. mom!reader, 3k

“What’s wrong with Dove?” you ask. 

Dove lays on the floor. Avery sits beside her, rubbing back with eyes trained on the TV. “Daddy told her no. She wanted to climb on the counter in the kitchen. Then she bit him.” 

You sigh. It’s not the best scene to come home too, but you can make it work. “I got the cherry pops,” you tell her. 

Avery grins. “Awesome.” 

You cross the room and squat in front of them. Avery accepts a kiss on the forehead, but Dove whimpers when you touch her. “Are you sulking, Dovie?” you ask. 

She makes an annoyed sound. 

“You’ve been biting poor daddy?” you ask her. 

“No.” 

“Are you lying to me?”

She cries. You smile ruefully. “I’m just asking if you bit him, baby.” 

“I didn’t.” 

You don’t believe her, but sometimes, sometimes, it’s better to agree with a sulking child rather than tell them off. You don’t want to make a spoiled kid, but you don’t want to make the whole thing into a big scene when Avery’s just trying to watch TV. You’re sure Steve gave Dove his own warning when the bite happened initially. 

You rub her back. 

“How are you, Avery?” you ask softly, looking at your eldest with a fondness yet to waver. Long years of loving her have passed in the blink of an eye.

“I’m okay, mom.”

“Did you have a good day?” 

“It was good! Daddy put those rolled up sandwiches in my lunch and everybody was jealous. And we made paintings, but mine was still wet at home time.” 

You give her a proud kiss. “Good, baby, that’s good. Where’s Bethie, do you know?” 

“In the kitchen.” 

Dove whines. 

You slip a hand under her soft belly and turn her onto her back. She glares at you through pink eyes, clearly tired and not coping with it very well. “It’s okay, honey. I missed you, I wanted to see your beautiful face. Can I make you a buppy?” 

Dove likes the sounds of it, finally sitting up where she’s been lounging on the floor. 

You give Avery another proud kiss. “Thank you for rubbing her back,” you say. 

Avery grins, her hands reaching for you before you can stand for a quick hug. You pat her skinny shoulder, wondering to yourself if she needs to be eating more snacks. “I missed you, too, mom.” 

“Oh, I missed you,” you tell her. She’d never understand just how much. “Do you need anything from the kitchen, mm? Maybe a yoghurt or something?” 

“Dad says dinner is nearly ready.” 

“But do you want yoghurt?” 

She nods her head. 

Pleased with your first assessment of the evening, you dump your keys and handbag and remember to take your shoes off, shoving them half-heartedly near the door. They send a foam soccer ball tumbling toward the corner of the room. 

You drag yourself to the kitchen and press open the ajar door. Steve is not where you’d assumed, but Beth is there at the kitchen table with her unicorn stuffie, it’s purple fur shiny but scruffy under her hand. She’s talking to him, and seems shyly caught when she sees you. 

“Hi, baby. Hi, Snuffles.” 

Beth smiles. “He says hi.” 

You open the cabinet by the fridge and pull out a clean bottle. It isn’t sterilised but it doesn’t need to be for Dove. She isn’t drinking formula, either, just cow’s milk straight from the jug. You grab a yoghurt for Avery while the fridge is open, then remember the box of cherry ice pops in your handbag and double back for them before they can melt. As soon as they’re in, you go back to the fridge for the yoghurts. 

“Beth, you want a yoghurt?” you ask. 

“Dad says dinner’s nearly ready.” 

“I know, but they’re only small. Peach?” you offer. 

Beth reaches for one. You give her a yoghurt and a little spoon, pressing your nose into her hair for a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back to ask about your day, okay?” 

“Okie dokie.” 

“And Snuffles’, too!” 

Beth giggles as you leave. You give Avery her own yoghurt and a spoon, and you give Dove her bottle. She shoves it in without looking and from that moment on her eyes are locked onto the screen. 

There. Complicated, but done. 

You press a hand to your head and think after your husband. He isn’t usually quiet or unseen. Most days you get home to him in the kitchen trying to make dinner, or sitting on the couch with one or three kids in his lap. There are no signs of him, besides his jacket on the hanger by the door. He’s still in the building, you think to yourself with a laugh. 

You turn out of the living room and find him rushing down the stairs. 

“Hey!” he says, scraping wet hair back from his face, his arms already open for you as he reaches the bottom step. 

“Hey!” you say back, smiling, not expecting his arms as they wrap around you. Nice arms. Nice husband. Smells like himself, almost a decade of familiarity in the way he covers your back with his arms. “You’re in a good mood for a chew toy.” 

“Fucking–” Steve laughs and squeezes your waist. “Yeah, I’m in a good mood, my girl’s home.” He gives your head a kiss and peels away, offering his arm out, evidence of little teeth in fat of his forearm. 

“How’d you handle that?” 

“Well, I shrieked like a kid and I did raise my voice, you know, like a super jerk, but she did try to bite through my skin.” 

One of the teeth marks is a puncture, and the rest of the bite will be a purple bruise by tomorrow. 

“I think that’s alright,” you say, touching his bruise, then his chin with the back of your hand. You stroke to his cheek. 

“You’re obsessed with me,” he says. 

“No.” 

“You are. This is sad. This is a level of obsession you should be ashamed of.” 

“No way.” 

“It’s sad,” he whispers, angling his head down to yours. 

You must’ve done something right today, the way he kisses you. Must look cute, or must’ve said the right thing, touched him the right way, his kissing long and gentle and loving, warming, tipping into steadiness as your lips part under his. Honestly, it’s a little shocking how deeply he kisses you, like a window into one of your more tender moments, right there in the middle of the hall. 

When he pulls away, you take his hand. “Are you okay?” you ask. 

“Fine. Just missed you.” 

“Huh…” You press his hand to your stomach. “Long day?” 

“No, it’s been okay, really. Apart from Dove turning cannibal, I have no complaints. Avery’s Avery, and Beth’s Beth.” 

Which is to say, Avery’s a sweetheart and Beth her quiet companion. The girls are actually, somehow, well-behaved, and you don’t have a clue how it happened because Steve aggravates and you think every problem can be solved with a cuddle. Dove seems more accurate to what you’d expected from one of Steve’s children, honestly, which isn’t to say she isn’t lovely or sweet or beautiful, you expected all of that too, but wow, can she get wound up. 

His good mood is too good, though. Yes, your kids are nice, yes, you have a lot to be happy for, but he’s practically beaming as he slips his hand behind your back and guides you to the living room. 

Dove sees her father and goes limp with guilt. She pulls the bottle from her mouth and pouts at him, her eyes silver at the waterline. “Daddy, I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “Are you mad?”

He rubs your back. “You know I’m not mad, it just hurts when somebody bites you, it surprised me. It really hurt, honey.” 

“I’m sorry.”  

“I know,” he says, “wanna kiss it better for me?” 

Dove abandons her bottle on the couch and struggles down to the floor. Even that turns his heart, you can tell, so it doesn’t surprise you when he takes her up into his arms the moment she’s close enough and kisses her cheek. “Me first,” he says. 

“Sorry I bit you,” she mumbles. 

“Daddy’s not mad,” he mumbles back, “it just hurt, that’s the thing. I don’t like being bitten.” 

“I won’t do it again,” she says clumsily. 

“Good! Thank you,” he says, grinning at you as she kisses his cheek, like, look at how freaking adorable she is. “Mom made your buppy? Are you gonna have dinner, honey, or should we sit down for a nap?” 

Steve ends up sequestered with Dove for a nap in the corner of the couch. He looks good, arguably at his finest with Dove tucked under his chin and his hand spread out across her back. She dozes and sniffles. He smiles against her hair. 

You spy on them from the kitchen doorway, sipping a cold glass of water. Dinner’s done, cooling on the counter on sheet trays. Steve’s made the usual, a big tray of buttered, roasted veggies and pot pie. There are pork chops for Beth and a few extra in case anyone wants their own, and there’s a bowl of peas because Dove loves them. He’s such a good guy, you think. You each have jobs to do, he has to make dinner, you have to wash the dishes after, but it doesn’t make it feel less true. He makes coming home the best part of every weekday. 

Another ten minutes and he’s kicked the big bean bag into shape, laying Dove down for a nap there. He spreads her pink baby blanket over her and fawns when it fails to cover her feet. 

“She’s getting so big,” he says, scratching his hand through his hair as he makes his way to you. 

“And so vocal,” you say. 

“I noticed that too, she’s saying more words at one time.” He puts a hand on your waist for no reason at all. 

“Maybe ‘cos Ave was home.” 

“You remember that day she woke up and all her pants didn’t fit anymore?” he asks. “It’s like that.” 

She would have only been four. Beth was still a baby. You’d made your way into Avery’s room as Steve gave a grizzly Beth her bottle, and, upon getting her dressed, discovered all of her pants were now too short. Her legs must’ve grown overnight. She hadn’t felt a thing. 

Beth gets growing pains something awful, but Avery keeps on shooting up without complaint. You’re sure she’ll be taller than Steve by the time she’s in high school. How beautiful she’ll be then. 

“What?” Steve asks you. 

“Nothing, just thinking. Time moves fast.” 

“If you don’t stop and look around–”

“Thanks, Ferris.” 

Steve moves you into the kitchen, tipping your head aside to kiss the line of your neck, and then splitting for the cabinet where you keep the plates. “You’re welcome.” 

You plate dinner. The oldest girls wander in and sit in their seats. Steve fills a carafe with lemonade and laughs when Avery makes a face, her first sip sour, cold, and carbonated. “It’s fizzing,” she says. 

“It’s soda,” Steve says. 

“You should warn me, dad!” 

“Is that okay?” you ask Beth, having cut up her two pork chops into small pieces. “Yeah? Do you want some more broccoli?” 

“Mommy, no one wants more broccoli.” 

“Don’t be like that, you know daddy makes the best broccoli, it’s got honey and salt and pepper–”

“And garlic butter,” Steve says. 

You sit in the chair beside Beth’s and drag your plate in front of you. “I’m gonna have more.” 

“Okay, I will have more too,” she says. 

“Want some green beans?” you ask. 

“Um, no. Just broccoli.”

Avery stabs at her green beans enthusiastically. She eats every bit of food on her plate no matter the colour, and she asks Steve for seconds, which he plates up for her immediately, despite being mid-mouthful. Under the table, he pushes his ankle against yours. It’s a quiet, normal dinner. Even Snuffles gets a bite of pork. 

“That alright?” Steve asks you. 

“Amazing, honey, like usual. Really good, I don’t know how you make vegetables taste unhealthy.” 

“All the butter,” he says, rubbing his ankle against yours. 

“Are you done?” you ask. 

He pushes the serving plate of veggies toward you. “Go ahead, beautiful.” 

You take what’s left of the veggies. Avery gets another slice of pot pie. Beth finishes all of her pork and a few of the potatoes. The broccoli, despite her wanting more, go mostly untouched. All in all, everyone’s fed. 

“You did make a plate for Dove,” you ask suddenly, worried you’ve been greedy. 

“Yeah, I did, don’t worry. I made her enough peas to feed her three times over. And I can make more, if you want more.” 

You try not to flush. It’s not like Steve’s unaware of your appetite, and he doesn’t expect you to survive off of salad and saltines, but you’re still embarrassed enough to shake your head vehemently. “Yikes.” 

“Stop, you’re fine.” He takes a square of roasted potato off of your plate, wipes his hands in a napkin, and squeezes you by the shoulders. “Just gonna check Dove.” 

Beth scrambles off of her seat at the first opening. “I’m done.” 

“Can I make you a PB–”

“No!” She grins at you. “No thanks, I’m full.”

“You gotta have oatmeal later, then.” 

She nods like this is fine. “Yes, thank you.” She leaves for the living room. You hear her shy, “Thanks for dinner, daddy,” and Steve’s adoring, “You’re so welcome, thank you for eating it. Come here, let me give you a kiss.” Giggling and the sound of smacking pecks follows. 

Avery sits up. “Can I have another drink?” 

You cram the last of the broccoli into your mouth and stand. You pour her lemonade and start stacking the plates to carry them over to the sink. 

“No, I’ll help!” Avery says. 

“Baby, it’s okay. Drink your drink and have five minutes. You don’t wanna get sick.” 

“You haven’t had five minutes.” 

You laugh. “My body’s bigger than yours, so it only needs the one. It’s really okay, just finish your dinner and you can help me dry the knives and forks. I’ll save them for last.” 

Steve returns. “Girls,” he says, tucking the chairs under the table, “I didn’t expect you guys to be so hungry, I forgot about the secret.” 

You scrape what’s left on your plate into the trash. “What secret?” 

He beams again. 

“I knew there was something up,” you say, dumping your plate in the sink. 

“I made something else.” 

You lift your head in a rush. You know exactly what he’s gonna say before you ask. “You made–”

“Your favourite,” he says cockily, crossing his arms over his chest. “No biggie. Ave, you got room for dessert, babe?” 

“I think so. You might have to do that thing to my tummy.” 

Steve is a professional at post dinner tummy rubs. What is it about kids and their tummy aches?

After everything —Avery finishing her dinner, washing the dishes, drying and putting them away, turning on the heat for the night, gathering a load of laundry for the machine— Steve sits down in the armchair, and you sit in his lap. A bowl of dessert with two spoons on your chest. 

“If I’m too heavy,” you say. 

“You’re never too heavy, I hate when you say that shit.” 

“You always try to get me in your lap, that’s why.” 

“This is where you’re supposed to be.” He cuts into the ice cream with his spoon. “You’re not heavy. If you ever get too heavy for me, I’ll just get bigger.”

“I’d like to get smaller eventually.” 

“Stop it. You’re perfect.” 

You let your face rest above his shoulder. “Shut up.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, shut up.” 

“I’m never shutting up.” He offers you his spoon. The point of two was to make it so he didn’t do this, but he does it anyway, wiping the corner of your mouth when you pull back. “Messy.” 

“I can’t believe you made this.”

“I knew it’d make you happy.” 

You turn his face and kiss his cheek softly. A lingering kiss, trying to press affection into his every pore. “I love you.” 

“I know.” He shifts your weight, as though hoping to pull you closer despite a lack of space. This close you can see the freckles under his eyes and across his nose, just a couple, light brown and sparse. His eyes are relaxed, his eyelashes long in the corners and tangling with the ones at the bottom. What use does he have for such nice eyes?

“What are we gonna do with the rest of the evening? You’ve already showered,” you say, gaze back to your dessert. 

“I gotta give the bathroom a clean, and then nothing.” He puts his hand to your face, the very side of his palm against your cheek, framing you. He turns his hand completely and rubs your chin with his thumb. “I think I had one of those days where I really missed you.” 

“Like I’d been gone longer than I was.”

“Exactly.”

You hum with the pleasure of being liked so much and close your eyes. Predictable, Steve leans down to kiss you. It’s all he seems to do lately, a hundred kisses a day. 

“Okay, help me eat this so we can snuggle,” he says. 

“I’m not snuggling with you.” 

“Cuddle?” 

“No, don’t think so.” 

“A hug where we’re both laying down?” he suggests. 

“That’s far more reasonable.” 

He laughs, picking up his spoon again. Your face is cold without his touch, the other hand slipping down to your hip. 

When the dessert is done, he sets the bowl aside and pulls you against his, majority of your back to his chest, his face a heat at the side of your own. He crosses his arms over your stomach and holds it. 

“I wouldn’t mind doing this forever,” he says. 

“But who will look after our poor children?” you ask, letting your eyes slip closed in bliss. 

“If we have a couple more they can look after each other.” 

You like the sounds of that. The first part, not so much the second. “Just a couple,” you say. 

—

kbd au

[shares-a-vest]

Wayne shuffles to the door, desperate to answer the incessant knocking that sounds like whoever is on the other side is going to beat the exterior fly screen straight off its hinges. He is greeted by Claudia Henderson, clutching her handbag strap tight across her chest and looking very serious.

Although it might just be his sleep-deprived inability to gauge the emotions of chipper 9-to-5 receptionists who wear cosy sweaters. He checks his watch. He’s only been asleep for about an hour after getting home from night shift - what with waiting for Hurricane Eddie to finally head off for the garage.

“Hello, Wayne,” Claudia nods and purses her lips.

He scrubs a hand over his face but steps back nonetheless to let her in. Claudia is one step in the doorway anyhow.

“Coffee,” he not-so-much asks as he moves to the kitchen.

“No, thank you,” Claudia says politely, “I usually wait for my morning tea break.”

He looks over to find her pulling out his assigned chair at the breakfast table. She looks nervous, if a little pissed off as she gathers her handbag up on her lap. He blinks harshly and pinches his nose enough to press his forefinger and thumb into the inner corners of his eyes. He really needs to wake the hell up a little more, it appears.

“What did Eddie do?” he sighs, looking over the drying rack on the sink for one of the mugs he has in his rotation at the present time.

“Oh, Eddie hasn’t done a thing!” she insists, a smile evident in her voice, “I’m here about Steve.”

Cubs mug it is then...

He frowns again and turns back to Claudia, confused. And the woman looks like she was expecting such a reaction because she huffs and straightens up, looking like she is readying herself to give a sermon on the kid.

“I need you to help me convince that boy to move in with Dustin and me,” she explains, promptly holding up a defensive hand, “Now, I know he stays here, mostly This isn’t about anything to do with you… Or Eddie…”

She tacks that last mention of his nephew on with a tone and a knowing look.

Wayne clears his throat. It’s certainly far too early in the morning for the ins and outs of that conversation. He flicks the kettle on to drown out the awkward silence between them.

“Have you uh...” he hums and scratches the back of his neck as he searches for words, “Have you talked with him about this, at all?”

Claudia squeaks out a noise he assumes is a negative as he quickly spoons coffee into his mug. He’ll settle for black coffee for now - he really cannot be assed to stand up for much longer, even if he did have the sense to quickly step into his comfy slippers when Claudia came a-pounding on the door.

“And you want my help specifically?” he says, raising his voice above the steaming kettle that is whistling away in boiling readiness.

“Yes!”

He waves a hand in the air, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Oh, gosh, no! I can’t talk to that girl,” he barks a laugh that makes Claudia startle in her seat, forcing her to clarify, “I mean she is a steel trap about that boy!”

Wayne smirks and nods as he heads for the table with his piping hot - and hopefully, heavily caffeinated - beverage, “He’s not the biggest talker when it comes to himself.”

“I’m not one to speak ill of other mothers,” Claudia says in a hushed tone, “God knows, I am not perfect. But where are his parents?”

She rocks a little with each word like she has needed to ask that question for a good long while. Of course, Wayne thinks about Steve’s parents. A lot. Because the boy almost never mentions them.

He shrugs, “He says they stayed away on business.”

“After everything that has happened in this town?” she argues, voice growing shrill with worry, “Did he tell you what actually happened with the mall fire? It was more of that other dimension nonsense!”

He almost chokes on his coffee. He knows a little - there was no way around it with Eddie in the hospital surrounded by all those secret nurses and doctors. But he didn’t know Claudia Henderson knew about some of it too. Still, he decides to remain cautious and gestures for her to continue.

“And he’s been concussed more times than he can remember!”

She slumps back in her seat with a look of such horror, Wayne thinks the sweet woman sitting opposite him considers it her closing argument.

Wayne taps on the rim of his coffee cup. They would have to tread carefully, not ambush the kid.

“He does get a lot of migraines - ” is all he can think to say.

“ - And he has dizzy spells,” Claudia cuts in, leaning forward. He can see tears starting to well up, “I just want him to be looked after. I know he’s a young man with his own life and everything, but he still needs a parent to care for him, to support him.”

“Yeah,” Wayne nods firmly, “Yes, he does.”

[kisses4reid]

vision | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

fem!receptionist!reader x spencer, fluff, est relationship

a little draft to tide you all over while i’m on my study break

There was a ringing on your left, which you recognised to be the receptionist’s phone and not your own, but it rang for about 7 seconds before you punched the accept button.

Everything was a blur, and on top of that, all the squinting you had done during the work day was bringing on a headache. Pinching your nose with your freshly manicured fingers, you answered the phone and transferred it as quickly as you possibly could, with all the buttons looking the same that is.

“You forgot your contacts?”

You jump, not even noticing Spencer had been watching you struggle over the desk. He had a smirk on his face, leaning his cheek in one of his hands.

“Jesus, Spence, you scared me,” you can only recognise him by his height and fluffy hair, “Yes, I did. And I left my backup glasses at home.” You whine, leaning back into your wheelie chair and crossing your arms. You can’t see it, but you can tell he’s biting back a chuckle.

As your boyfriend, he should be supportive and help you through daily struggles. But seeing you squint and press wrong buttons after wrong buttons was a sort of entertainment. You distracted him from his workload all the time, but this time it wasn’t to gawk at you.

He had the same affect on you though. Ever since you started working there you found yourself glancing at him whenever something funny happened, or subconsciously taking your breaks at the same time as him. His locks, his eyes, his nose and his jaw, his laugh, his breath, his whistle and his snores, they all lead you to where you are today. Basically blind but happily talking with your boyfriend over the elevated desk you can barely see.

“I can go home and get them if you’d like.” Spencer proposes softly, but you shake your head (butterflies spreading when he refers to your apartment as ‘home’). “I can’t believe you drove like this.”

You look up at him, “I didn’t. Took a cab.”

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I know you worked late last night Spence. I didn’t want to disturb your sleep.”

Your heart warms as he shakes his head. You know he was about to complain about your choices, but your boss cut him off.

“Spencer, do you know if the precinct in Washington sent over their documents yet?”

“They said they’d send it tomorrow morning.”

Your boss snaps his fingers in disappointment and turns away, before signalling every one to leave. And you try to stand up and grab your handbag, but you accidentally grab the stem of a pot plant. “Oh.”

“Here, I’ll get it. Grab my hand and just follow me.” His hand is closer, so it’s easy to see and take it. You hear him take your bag as well as his own from the floor and feel his other hand wrap around your waist for easier control. It was true you could see absolutely nothing and it was true Spencer Reid knew it all too well. There were countless memories of tired mornings and blurry eyes, you trying to search for your glasses but instead slapping his sleeping face. And then his awake one. He found it cute and no doubt hilarious. It gave you a quirk, something that only he would know how to handle.

He insisted you would both leave last, as to not slow down anyone, and you smile at his thoughtfulness. Carefully, Spencer led you out of the office building and into the passenger seat of his 7 year old car, pushing down the urge to lead you into a pole or bush on the way.

taglist (open!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna

[rue-isabelle]

Part 1 Part 3

Aphrodite of Formula 1, Part 2

The Monaco paddock was buzzing, but not with the usual pre-race excitement. The drivers were all acting out of character, their girlfriends were growing increasingly frustrated, and the fans were having a field day tracking every move. The reason? Yn, as always, was oblivious to the chaos surrounding her.

---

Max and Kelly

Max leaned against a railing near the Mercedes garage, completely engrossed in conversation with Yn. She was telling him about the time she had to coordinate a last-minute team dinner for 30 people, her laughter filling the air as she recounted the chaos.

“You’re incredible,” Max said, shaking his head. “I can’t even organize my own breakfast without someone helping me.”

“It’s just practice,” Yn said modestly.

Kelly, meanwhile, stood outside the paddock, furiously scrolling through her phone. Max had promised to pick her up an hour ago, but there was no sign of him. She stormed into the paddock, her heels clicking furiously against the pavement, until she spotted him.

“Max!” she called sharply.

Max blinked, his attention snapping back to reality. “Kelly?”

“Yes, Kelly!” she spat. “The one you were supposed to pick up an hour ago?”

Yn’s smile faltered. “Oh no, Max, if you need to go—”

“No,” Max said quickly. “It’s fine. She doesn't matter as much as she thinks she does.” He turned back to Yn. “So, you were saying about the dinner?”

Kelly’s jaw dropped. “You’re seriously just going to ignore me?”

“I’ll catch up with you later. Go and be a mom for once,” Max said dismissively, earning an incredulous glare from Kelly as she stomped away.

---

Charles and Alexandra

Charles had been in a great mood all day. Why? Yn had laughed at his joke earlier, and the memory had been replaying in his mind ever since. When the day ended, he spotted Yn leaving the paddock and hurried to catch up with her.

“Yn! Do you need a ride?” he asked, his smile wide.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you, but I don’t want to trouble you,” Yn said.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Charles insisted, opening the passenger door of his car.

“Alright, thank you,” Yn said, climbing in.

Meanwhile, Alexandra stood in the paddock, waiting for Charles to take her back to their hotel. A mechanic approached her, not wanting to talk to her but having lost 'rock-paper-scissor' earlier against the others.

“He left,” the mechanic said awkwardly. “With Yn.”

Alexandra’s face turned red with fury. She let out a scream of frustration, startling everyone around her.

“Are you kidding me?!” she shouted. “What is wrong with all of you?! Why does he prefer this stupid bitch over me. I’m the one he should be fucking, not driving this slut home. Oh, she will pay!!”

Phones whipped out, capturing her meltdown as she stormed through the paddock, cursing under her breath.

By the time Alexandra returned to her hotel, videos of her tirade were all over the internet. Fans mocked her relentlessly, calling her a “gold digger” or "the wicked bitch is out again" and posting memes about her jealousy.

Charles, however, didn’t care. Yn had laughed at his joke earlier, and that was all that mattered.

---

Pierre and Kika

Pierre handed Yn a beautifully wrapped gift box, his smile warm. “I saw this and thought of you.”

Yn opened the box to find a limited-edition Hermès handbag. Her eyes widened. “Pierre, this is too much! I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can,” Pierre said. “You deserve it.”

Kika, meanwhile, had been plotting her next move. If Pierre thought a handbag was impressive, she’d go bigger.

The next day, Kika handed Yn a set of car keys.

“What’s this?” Yn asked, confused.

“A Lamborghini,” Kika said proudly. “It’s yours. Matte black, just like I imagined for you.”

Yn stared at the keys, speechless.

Before she could respond, Kika leaned in and kissed her on the lips, letting her tongueget a taste of Yn's sweet mouth. “I hope you like it,” she said with a wink.

Pierre watched the scene unfold, his jaw tightening. “A Lamborghini?” he muttered under his breath.

---

George and Carmen

Yn joined George and Carmen for a rare day off, excited for a relaxed shopping trip. But George had other plans.

As they browsed a boutique, George held up a sleek, form-fitting dress. “Yn, you should try this.”

Yn blinked. “Me? That’s not really my style.”

“It is now,” George said firmly. “You shouldn’t hide your beauty.”

Carmen nodded approvingly. “That’s so thoughtful, George. Always looking out for her.”

Yn reluctantly tried on the dress, emerging from the fitting room. George stepped closer, adjusting the fabric on her chest. He gave her perfect tit's a squeeze, making it look like he was adjusting the area.

“Perfect,” he said softly. His heart was hammering, his hands not wanting to leave her breast. It was only then that he noticed that Yn wasn't wearing a bra. Her peaky nipples winked at him. He softly stroked over them with his thumbs, before catching himself.

Yn laughed. “You’re too much.” She didn't notice anything, to engrossed in her conversation with Carmen.

Carmen, obviously to everything that George just did, smiled, thinking to herself how sweet George was to look out for her pseudo-sister.

---

Oscar and Lily

Oscar was supposed to be taking photos for Lily’s social media, but his camera seemed to have a mind of its own. Every few minutes, it drifted toward Yn, who was seated nearby, absorbed in her work.

“Oscar,” Lily said, tapping her foot. “Hello? I’m over here.”

“Right,” Oscar mumbled, snapping a quick photo of Lily before turning his camera back to Yn.

Lily sighed but didn’t bother protesting. “You’ve got it bad,” she said, shaking her head.

Oscar grinned sheepishly. “She’s just… perfect.”

---

Carlos and Rebecca

Carlos sat in the paddock, scrolling through his phone. His screen was filled with photos of Yn, her smile lighting up every shot. His panst started feeling tighter, his dick fighting to break free from his trousers.

He didn’t notice Rebecca walking up behind him until she leaned over his shoulder.

“Seriously?” Rebecca said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you just popp a boner in public because of a fucking picture?”

Carlos nearly dropped his phone. “I wasn’t—”. He quickly brought his hands in front of his trousers. However, when he made contact with his dick, he couldn't help imagine Yn on her knees for him, making him moan rather loud.

Rebecca just scoffed at him, feeling disgusted that he acted like that towards Yn in public. She looked him up and down, before muttering "Pathetic Pussy" so only Carlos could hear, and left.

That evening, Rebecca found Yn in her hotel room, exhausted. “You need to take better care of yourself, my love,” Rebecca said gently, brushing Yn hair away from her face.

Yn tried to protest, but Rebecca guided her to the bed and began massaging her shoulders. “You’re too kind,” Yn mumbled, her eyes drooping. Slowly, Rebecca brought her hands lower and lower towards her ass, giving it a squeeze and a soft pad, so Yn would stand up.

Rebecca tucked her in, smoothing the blanket over her. “Goodnight,” she whispered, climbing into bed and wrapping her arms around Yn as the big spoon.

Yn, half-asleep, murmured, “Thank you.”

Rebecca smiled. “Anything for you.” Afterwards, while Yn was asleep, he put one hand on Yn book, playing with it. At the same time, she was sucking a hickey carefully on her neck, licking and kissing her neck afterwards.

---

Despite the chaos, Yn remained blissfully unaware of the war raging around her. For her, it was just another busy race weekend. For everyone else, it was a battle to win her heart, no matter the cost.

@omgsuperstarg

@seonghwaexile

[be4chywritez]

tie the knot | logan sargeant

logan sargeant x piastri!reader

You and Logan officially tie the knot.

masterlist!

beachy’s notes🐚: reader is adopted

Logan had been in love with you since the day you punched another kid for calling him a loser.

That was when you were 12 and he was 13. Oscar teased him about it endlessly until Logan finally mustered the courage to ask you out. He remembers it so clearly.

You were both sitting on the dock of a lake where your parents had organized a get-together. Oscar had gotten bored of staring at the water and wandered off. Logan looked over at you and asked, "Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

You looked over, flushed, and shook your head. "No."

"Do you want a boyfriend?" he asked, his eyes flicking nervously to your lips. You scooted closer, your knees brushing against each other, both of you blushing at the contact.

"I think I do," you said, avoiding eye contact and staring off into the water. You heard him take a shallow breath.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

You whipped your head towards him. "You want me to be your girlfriend?" you asked, shocked because the boy you’d had a crush on since you were twelve was asking you to be his girlfriend.

"Yeah, I thought you liked me," he said, flushing deep red and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I do!" you blurted out too quickly. You cleared your throat. "Um, yeah, I do. I want to be your girlfriend." You smiled, and he let out a breath of relief.

"Oh, thank God. I was nervous you didn't like me and that would be—"

You cut him off with a kiss. You weren't sure if you were kissing him right, your lips awkwardly pressing against his. He didn't pull away, but his hands hesitated before gently holding your arms. You pulled away, both of your cheeks flushed. "Was that good?" you asked, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah, it was good," he smiled, looking just as flustered as you felt.

You both went back to watching the lake, sitting closer together now, your shoulders touching shyly. Occasionally, you pointed out a fish flopping in the water, stealing glances at each other and giggling nervously.

Logan watched you talk to Lily, both of you wearing smiles on your faces. You waved goodbye to her as she walked back to the side of Alex’s garage.

Looking back up, you noticed Logan watching you, and you flushed. Even now, he never failed to make you blush. He leaned against the counter, a relaxed smile on his face. “Hey, babe,” he said, reaching over to peck your lips.

“How are you feeling today?” you asked as he pulled away, your hand running along his arm.

“I think we can get up to at least P15,” he said, meeting your gaze and letting out a sigh.

You grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it. “You’re going to score points. I know it,” you said, giving his arm one last squeeze before he was beckoned to his car by the engineers.

You let out a breath, watching him get into the car. Quickly, you sent Oscar a text, knowing he wouldn’t see it until later.

Good luck, Oz. Love you.

Slipping on the headset, you listened in to the engineers. Each time Logan overtook another car, your heart squeezed, and your hands gripped your handbag tightly. By lap 56, Logan was in P10. Nico tried overtaking him, but Logan defended his position brilliantly. You shot up from your seat, cheering, and his mechanics did the same, celebrating his performance.

A few engineers came over to hug you as well. When Logan returned, drenched in sweat, he received pats and hugs from the pit crew members. Making his way towards the back of the garage, he smiled at you. “I’m all sweaty, babe,” he said.

“I don’t care, Logan,” you replied with a smile, pulling him into a hug. You whispered into his ear, “I knew it.”

He pulled away slightly, staring at you with a look of realization and love. In that moment, he knew he was going to propose.

-

You threw a pillow at Oscar’s face. “What should I wear, pants or a dress?” you asked.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Aren’t you just going to dinner?”

You rolled your eyes. “Knowing Logan, he’s going to want to dip his toes in the water.”

Oscar hummed in agreement. “Dress,” he decided, pulling out his phone to text Logan.

She has no clue. Stop stressing.

Logan replied quickly.

What color is she wearing? I want to match.

Oscar groaned. “Gross, happy couples,” he muttered.

You peeked your head out of the bathroom. “What?”

He flushed. “Nothing.”

“So, how do I look?” you asked, stepping out fully dressed. Oscar looked up from his phone lazily, giving you a thumbs-up.

You groaned, throwing another pillow at his head. “You are literally no help.”

Just then, the doorbell rang, and your mom called out that Logan was here. You dashed out of your room, making your way downstairs quickly.

Logan looked dashing, his shirt matching your dress perfectly. He held a bouquet of flowers and smiled warmly when he saw you. “For you, my love,” he said, handing you the flowers.

You pecked him on the lips and handed the flowers to your mom. “Mom, can you put these in water?” you asked.

She nodded, smiling. “Of course. You two have fun.”

Logan walked you to his car, opening the door for you. Once he got into the driver’s seat and started the car, you looked over at him. “So, where are we going?”

“Well, I got us dinner reservations, and then we can go for a walk on the beach,” he said, pulling away from the driveway.

After dinner, Logan drove you to a secluded part of the beach. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting a silvery glow over the sand. He took off his shoes, and you followed suit, both of you walking barefoot along the shore, the cool water lapping at your feet.

As you walked, you noticed a set of candles arranged in a heart shape on the sand ahead. You laughed, nudging Logan playfully. “Looks like someone’s getting proposed to tonight,” you joked.

Logan smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”

You turned to look at him, and your breath caught in your throat. Logan was down on one knee, holding a small box in his hand. “Y/N Piastri,” he began, his voice filled with emotion, “from the moment you stood up for me ten years ago, I knew you were someone special. You’ve been my rock, my best friend, and my greatest supporter.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as he continued. “We’ve grown up together. You make me a better person; I can’t imagine my life without you. You are my everything, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me.”

He opened the box to reveal a beautiful ring. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

You nodded, your hands covering your mouth in shock and joy. “Yes, Logan! Yes, I will marry you!”

He slipped the ring onto your finger and stood up, pulling you into a tight embrace. You kissed, feeling the magic of the moment surround you. The awkwardness of your first kiss was a distant memory, replaced by the deep, unwavering love you shared.

Suddenly, you heard cheers and claps coming from behind the nearby dunes. You turned to see your family and Logan’s family emerging from their hiding spots, all of them beaming with happiness. Oscar was at the front, a proud smile on his face.

“Oh my god, you all were in on this?” you asked, laughing through your tears.

Oscar walked up to you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Of course we were. Logan wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You hugged him back, feeling a surge of gratitude and love. “Thanks, Oz. This means so much to me.”

Oscar pulled back, a teasing glint in his eye. “Just remember, you still owe me for all the times I covered for you two.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Deal.”

Your three sisters ran up to you next, each one taking turns to hug you tightly.

Logan stood back, watching the interaction with a warm smile. He shared a look with his own family, who were all just as thrilled. Your mom and dad approached, hugging both of you tightly.

“We’re so proud of you both,” your mom said, her voice choked with emotion.

Logan’s parents joined in, his mom wiping away tears. “Welcome to the family, Y/N,” she said, her smile radiant.

The moment was beautifully chaotic, with everyone talking, hugging, and celebrating at once. As the group settled down, Logan looked down at you, watching as you animatedly talked to your sister. In that moment, he knew he had made the right decision.

[pitchsidestories]

treat you better II Ingrid Engen x Mapi León x Reader

part 2 I masterlist I word count: 2451

a/n: hi, it's based off this request here, please enjoy. <3

warnings: toxic (ex-)partner, but with a happy ending.

You had been staring on your phone all evening, impatiently waiting to see your girlfriends number appear on the screen. But your phone stayed silent.

Subconsciously, you tapped on the photos icon on your home screen and started to scroll through pictures of you and her together.

Since you parted ways last summer when you moved to Barcelona and she joined Chelsea, you talked less and less. She said she was cool with it but you had the feeling that this lack of communication strained your relationship.

“Y/n?“, Ingrids voice disrupted your thoughts.

“Yes?“ You looked up, surprised about the fact that you were not the only one in the changing room after your late gym session.

The Norwegian sat down on the bench next to you: “Are you still waiting?“

You sighed and forced yourself to put your phone aside: “She promised to call me tonight…“

“You’ve been waiting for hours.“, Mapi reminded you from the other side of the room where she casually leaned against the lockers.

You remained silent. Somehow you felt very stupid in that situation.

Ingrid gently laid a hand on your knee. With slight concern in her voice, she asked: “Have you had dinner yet?“

“No…“, you admitted reluctantly.

With a smirk, Mapi folded her arms across her chest: “Let’s go get some then.“

“Wear something you love. We’ll pick you up later.“, Ingrid winked before taking her bag and leaving the changing room with her girlfriend.

You silently nodded to yourself. They really tricked you into having to go home instead of sitting on the hard bench for hours, waiting for that call.

You followed their instructions as soon as you returned to your apartment and slipped into lacy black top and your favourite suit. You were just in the process of doing your hair when the couple rang at your door.

“I’m ready.“, you called out to them while grabbing a black handbag and slipping on a pair of sneakers.

“Good, lets go.“, Mapi grinned as you joined them outside.

“You look stunning by the way.“, Ingrid complimented your outfit.

You beamed: “Thank you.“

“You both do.“, Mapi joined in, taking both you and Ingrid in.

“Ingrid and you always look so beautiful.“, you said. A lot of people on your team dressed well but you often found yourself in awe of what a gorgeous couple they were. And then you remembered something: “My girlfriend doesn’t like me in suits.“

Mapis smile turned immediately into a frown: “Why not?“

“She said it looks too gay.“, you relayed what your girlfriend had told you several times before.

You noticed Mapi and Ingrid sharing a concerned look.

“But…“, Ingrid began.

“What a weird thing to say!”, the Spanish defender commented outraged on both of their behalf’s.

Her Norwegian girlfriend nodded in silent agreement.

“It kind of is right?”, you bit your lip guiltily while you three took your seats at the table of the restaurant. It was way fancier than you expected. But just like the couple it had an elegant touch to it. The candlelight tinted your faces shine in a warm, soft glow.

“I only know that from people who don’t want other women to notice their girlfriends.”, Mapi admitted, sounding serious.

“Which is weird because no matter how you dress y/n, people will always notice you. You’re always gorgeous.”, the younger woman observed, looking deep into your eyes as she spoke.

These words coming from such a beautiful human herself made your cheeks turn pink. You were never happier for the dimly lit room, so it was hard to see the change of your face colour.

“Exactly, you’re our team Estrella for a reason.”, the heavily tattooed Spaniard reminded you of the nickname you had in your team.

A sad smile appeared on her lips, remembering how you changed since your girlfriend has stepped into your life. The Barcelona girls were all a bit worried as your spark has lessened over the time.

“Although you lost a bit of your light.”, Mapi sighed.

“I didn’t loose my light.”, you protested weakly. Unsure if you really trusted your own words in the situation.

“Y/n, you deserve better.”, Ingrid replied, taking your hand into hers to squeeze it empathetically.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”, you tried to assure them.

“Do you know what you want to order?”, the defender swiftly changed the topic to something more enjoyable.

When the meals arrived, you clapped excitedly into your hands:” This looks so delicious.”

“It’s the best, trust us.”, Mapi grinned.

“I do.”, you answered smiling. Everyone in your team knew that the two women didn’t only have great taste in clothes, but in food as well.

“As you should.”, the Scandinavian chirmed.

Looking around, soaking into the calm atmosphere of your surroundings, you declared:” This is really nice here.”

“It’s our favourite.”, the older woman confessed beaming.

“It’s perfect for dates..”, your heart sank once the sentence was out. Wishing your girlfriend was here in this moment even though you knew deep inside that it was almost more fun with your two teammates, less stressful for you. Their relaxedness rubbed a bit on to you and you felt a sense of calm.

“Yes, very romantic.”, Ingrid answered delighted.

“You two are so cute.”, you hummed.

Mapi exchanged a look with Ingrid before she leaned over the table and whispered: “Ingrid always is when she really likes someone…“

“She’s?“, you asked, not sure what the defender was hinting at.

“I guess thats true, yes.“, Ingrid admitted, slightly flustered. Her long fingers barely touching yours on the table.

You looked up at her: “Oh.“

“Wasn’t your girlfriend supposed to come tomorrow to spend your free weekend together? What did you plan for that?“, Mapi inquired suddenly. She studied your face for any change.

You shrugged nonchalantly as if you had not planned this for over a week now: “Oh, I thought I would show her Barcelona. And then we could have a little picnic down at the beach.“

“Oh my god. That’s so sweet.“, Ingrid squeed.

“I thought she would enjoy that. But she hasn’t confirmed yet that she would be able to make it.“ You tried to keep any disappointment out of your voice.

“If she can’t make it in time, we’d love to come and do it with you.“, Mapi smiled.

“You’d?“

Ingrid confirmed with a nod: “Yes, we would.“

You could feel your heart flutter in your chest. “That’s so nice of you.“

“It’ll be a pleasure, y/n.“, Mapi said, reaching for your hand.

You had such a lovely evening with your teammates that when the call came the next morning, it felt like a shock. You knew what she was about to say before she even greeted you.

“Sorry, y/n. I can’t come… Emma said we need to do extra training on the weekend.“

“Oh… that’s okay. Next time maybe.“, you replied almost automatically.

You knew you should feel sad or disappointed about her cancellation but there was also a part of you that felt nothing but relief in this moment.

You immediately took your phone and messaged Mapi and Ingrid to come down to the beach later today if they were still down for it.

Weirdly, you found yourself less anxious and more excitement for the picnic with the two of them while you started packing everything.

You met Mapi and Ingrid in the late evening. A blanket and a few pillows were already spread out on the fine sand when they arrived. Freshly baked bread, cheese and ham as well as olives and grapes were piled high on plates.

“This is literally perfect.“, Ingrid marvelled at the sight.

Mapi sat down: “I agree, this is so nice.“

“We’ll see the sunset too.“, you added, pointing towards the horizon.

Ingrid popped a piece of cheese into her mouth and laid her head into you lap: “I hope you don’t mind too much that you have to spend the evening with us.“

Absentmindedly, you started to stroke her dark hair: “I mean I’m a bit sad that she couldn’t come but your company definitely makes it better.“

“Don’t worry, we can make sure you have a good time too.”, the Spanish defender promised.

“You already do a great job at that.”, you assured the couple. With a melancholic glance at the sea you added:” I just miss her and being touched, does that sound weird?”

“No, that makes perfect sense.”, the Norwegian told you while simultaneously exchanging a knowing look between her and her girlfriend.

Afterwards a pleasant silence descended upon you three, the only sound came from the waves crashing on the shore, until Mapi raised her voice.

“We’d treat you better.”

“What?”, you looked at her in surprise.

“You’re unhappy with her. She’s been ignoring you, she always wants to have the upper hand.. and we saw that she likes to leave her marks when you saw each other.”, Ingrid listed the reasons why you should break up with your girlfriend on her long, elegant fingers.

“And you two think you can treat me better?”, you nervously licked your lips, too afraid to look directly into their eyes, so you chose to watch at the water instead.

“No. We know we can treat you better.”, the tattooed woman corrected you in a serious tone. Her girlfriend nodded in quiet agreement.

“Which isn’t hard because I’m pretty sure she’s seeing someone else behind your back.”, Mapi continued, there was anger towards your lover swinging in her voice.

“The whole team thinks so.”, the Scandinavian cleared her throat. Every teammate thought that you deserved better than that.

You were startled by your own words coming out of your mouth next:” I suspected it, because I asked Millie if they had training on the weekend, she said no.”

The one thing you were sure was that your England teammate and co-captain would never lie to you.  Remembering the short call made you tear up all over again. Nothing hurt more when knowing that everyone knew someone was betraying you behind your back.

“I’m sorry, amor. But we don’t want to see you suffer any longer.”, empathetically Mapi laid an arm around you:

“I feel so stupid, girls.”, you confessed, trying to swipe away the tears streaming down your cheek.

“You’re not stupid.”, Ingrid pressed a kiss on to your hand before raising up to hug you from the other side.

“We all have been here.”, the defender told you.

“Really?”

“Really.”, she replied.

Suddenly you knew what to do, you didn’t knew where the bravery came from, but you were grateful for it as you announced: “ I’ll tell her that I’m done with her games, the only game I’m interested in is football.”

“That sounds reasonable.”, the Norwegian beamed at you proudly.

“It’s for the best.“, you said quietly, not sure if you were talking to them or to yourself.

Mapi flashed you an encouraging smile: “Yes, but you’ll always have us.“

“Right, you can count on us.“, Ingrid agreed.

“Thank you, girls.“

“You’re welcome.“

You slowly stood up from the blanket, pulling your phone out of your pocket and took a deep breath: “Excuse me. I think I’ll have to make a call.“

Ingrid nodded: “Go on.“

“See you in a minute.“ You forced yourself to a smile.

There was something in the way, they looked at you that gave you the confidence to walk a few steps closer to the water and dial you girlfriends phone number.

“Hi, y/n.“, she greeted you. She never sounded happy when you called, only annoyed as if you were always calling at the wrong time.

“Hey, I need to talk to you about something…“, you came straight to the point. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Sure, but I need to leave soon so you better make it quick.“

In this moment, you knew you made the right decision. There was no fear or doubt, the words just came to you: “I can make it very quick. I want to break up.“

There was a moment of silence on her end and you briefly wondered if she had even heard you. Her voice was high-pitched and she was yelling when she finally replied: “What?! Are you kidding me? I’m the best thing you’ve ever had!“

You remained calm and composed: “You’ve been avoiding me for some time now. I think I deserve better.“

She laughed: “Oh please, you’re so pathetic, y/n.“

“You’re with someone else. I know that. It was pathetic that I believed you.“

“You’ll never find someone as good as me!“, your now ex-girlfriend spat.

Subconsciously, your gaze drifted back to the picnic blanket. You realized that Mapi and Ingrid were no longer sitting there.

Gentle fingers took the phone out of your hand. You looked up to see Mapi speaking into the phone: “Oh, don’t worry. She’s got someone better now. Someone who actually appreciates her.“

Your ex-girlfriend went quiet. “Good luck with that, y/n.“, she said, her voice icy cold before hanging up.

Ingrid stood in front of you, studying your face. You were confused but also relieved. It was finally over.

“Hey, come here. You did so well.“, you felt Ingrids arms wrap around your torso. You held out one arm as an invitation for Mapi to join the hug.

The Spanish defender pressed a kiss to your temple: “You deserve this.“

There was so much you wanted to tell them but you had no words for it. So you just stood there for the moment, grateful and safe in their embrace.

Immediately after the breakup, Mapi and Ingrid started to take you out to more dates. A few months later, you were officially in a relationship with both of them.

You could have never imagined yourself in a polyamorous relationship before but the two of them made it easy. It was probably one of the healthiest relationships you had ever been in. In contrast to your previous relationship, there was no mistrust and no jealousy.

Seeing your girlfriend on the pitch in your Champions League matches agains Chelsea surprisingly did not bother you at all. Especially not, once you knocked them out of the UWCL.

As soon as the final whistle blew, Mapi jogged towards you and kissed you excitedly: “You’ve been amazing, amor!“

“My girls! We won!“, Ingrid joined the two of you.

You turned towards her to give her a celebratory kiss as well.

You could feel your exes angry stares at you but could not care less. You just booked the ticket to the UWCL final with your amazing and supportive girlfriends, there was no space in your life for her anymore.

a/n: we always appreciate comments, likes and reblogs. <3

[lo1k-diamonds]

Be as it must 💜 Part 3

“Is there more to learn about you, Jungkook?”

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: You try to resist the CEO's charms, but it's hard... At least until the other shoe drops.

WORD COUNT: 8.9 k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: tension and teasing, and angst

A.N. A huge thank you to @moonleeai for the beta read💜 This was never supposed to be so long, but I'm a fan of making the reader fall in love too... Before the bomb drops 💣 Enjoy 😉

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

You thought getting kidnapped would be the most bizarre experience you had ever been through, but it seemed like CEO Jeon Jungkook had other thoughts.

If it wasn’t weird that you entered his gigantic Seoul building while unconscious and tied up, it had to be that you exited escorted by the man himself, right into a car that you had only ever seen on television. You shrunk into the back seat, not only feeling weird with the surrounding spacious, immaculate leather, but with the fact that beyond the smoked glass, the CEO was telling something to the driver before he got inside the car.

You refused to look back to confirm whether the CEO had stayed put, watching you go; instead, you closed your eyes and heaved a deep sigh. It was outlandish that you wanted to turn around and see him there, as if you needed reassurance, when in truth, he was part of the problem.

You thought the weirdness would end there, which led you to look outside the window and see the tall buildings reflecting the city lights as the car moved. He was your boss, after all. If anything, he did need you to deal with the American consortium negotiations. And you trusted his word; he said you could leave once it was all said and done, so you weren’t a prisoner.

But you did not expect what he had planned for you.

“CEO Jeon has asked me to convey to you that he means to assure your comfort,” the man, Seung Ji-Young, said after introducing himself as the CEO’s driver and assistant, looking at you through the rearview mirror. You raised an eyebrow. “Given the circumstances, he has made arrangements to have a series of boutiques welcome you so you may relax and feel right at home.”

Your forehead creased as you took a glance at the time displayed on the dashboard, “At this hour?”

“Of course.”

You blinked, glancing again — 20:25. You shook your head, “Why would I need clothes? Unless—” You leaned forward, “What happened to my luggage?”

“We have it, rest assured.”

You couldn’t stop frowning at the weirdness of it all, “Right.”

“If there is somewhere else you’d like to go to relax, like a spa, it is not a problem. I’ve been instructed to drive you wherever you’d like.”

Your lips became an uneasy line, “No, I’m fine.”

The man nodded as he drove with a serious demeanor, “Then may I suggest a Michelin star—”

“No,” you interrupted swiftly, afraid that his offers would never stop. “Just— Just take me home— I mean, where I’m supposed to sleep.”

“Certainly.”

You groaned mutely and rubbed your eyes; now, even you were talking weirdly. But could anyone blame you after everything that had happened?

You stayed quiet as the car drove smoothly through narrower and narrower streets. Despite trusting what the CEO had said, you couldn’t help the uneasiness twisting your guts.

Finally, the car entered an underground garage and you were able to breathe. Mr Seung circled the car to get your small luggage from the back, including your handbag, and you bowed in relief, finding in it all your very important documents and belongings. It certainly comforted you enough to follow Mr Seung across the parking lot and into the elevator with a renewed sureness that you were not a prisoner.

“Would you like to go straight to your suite or take a look at the amenities first?”

His voice was as gentle as ever, and you tried to offer him a small smile, “Straight to bed would be best.” He pressed the keypad to select the 48th floor, and you frowned again, “Shouldn’t I check in first?”

“You mean with the concierge? No, he’s aware of your presence and available 24 hours in case you need anything.”

Your mouth opened, but you quickly closed it; maybe the CEO owned an apartment. That would justify why you weren’t at a hotel right now. You honestly didn’t care as long as you could put that day behind you.

The final straw took form in the quiet, gentle explanation of Mr Seung, “The amenities at your disposal include the residence lounge, gym, movie theater, swimming pool and spa. The latter includes a sauna, whirlpool, jet bath, and steam room at any hour, while the massages and skin and body treatments are available during the day. Of course, given the circumstances, a call can be made to arrange any treatment of your preference within the hour. Anything from a massage to a mud bath can be arranged; please don’t hesitate.”

You nodded respectfully while you screamed in your head — why was this happening? You just wanted your head to hit the pillows. The exhaustion taking over your mind was rendering you out of order, yet that ahjussi was so nice. Why was it all so hard?

“Ah, here we are,” he said as the elevator came to a stop gently with a sweet voice announcing the floor over the speakers. 

You exited the elevator first, though you waited for Mr Seung to indicate to you which of the two doors was intended for you and to type the code in.

Once the door opened, you entered and braced yourself with eyes so wide they were twice the size. The stairs to your left indicated you were in a duplex penthouse, but it was the open concept of the space that floored you. Oak herringbone floors expanded into a panoramic view through floor-to-ceiling windows from one side of the building to the other. The soft touches of the white furniture and long couch in the living room extended into the dining room with a long glass table with an exorbitant vase of flowers that brought a heart stopping pop of color.

You blinked, befuddled, at the luxury surrounding you, and Mr Seung passed by you to indicate the next room, “There is the kitchen, should you need to arrange something, and a private terrace for your enjoyment as well.”

You glanced over the natural stone tops in shades of pure white matching the cabinets and circled the island to check what he was talking about. The view continued on that side of the building, leaving you speechless. From that high, the world looked small. It was as if that place was out of touch with reality.

“But perhaps you’d like to see the guest suite,” he smiled, and you just nodded.

You followed him back towards the staircase, ready to pick up your luggage, when he waved at a paper on the foyer table.

“CEO Jeon wanted you to know the password so you can make use of the apartment as you please. He’s also asked me to inform you that everything is at your disposal, including all snacks and beverages.”

You blinked, trying to keep up through the stupor, “How did he have time to fill up the pantry?”

You were wondering more to yourself, but Mr Seung chuckled, “We do it for him, of course. He particularly likes shrimp crackers, but I’m sure he won’t mind if you take some.”

You could only frown as though the information was odd. Mr Seung grabbed your luggage and started his way up the stairs, and you finally managed to say, “He lives here?”

“Of course, he owns the building.”

He didn’t stop, thus missing the way your grimace spelled a What?! with furrowed eyebrows, wide eyes and parted lips. You looked around you once more, taking in the crazy luxury surrounding you before hurrying up the stairs. You thought he had booked a hotel room for you, at most owned an empty apartment, and that was already in the realm of stupidly crazy rich. But what did he mean, the CEO lived here? Here, as in the building? Or here, as in—

Your breath caught as you reached the upper floor. The wall that faced the floor-to-ceiling window was entirely covered by a dark blue tapestry with glistening silver stars surrounding a central half-moon serving as the base of a vibrant orange tiger lily, shining brighter than any celestial bodies around it. You swallowed hard and looked at the master room across from where Mr Seung had disappeared with your luggage. Someone lived there, and you didn’t need more than the half-moon and dark blue colors to remember the Jeon Family emblem. Still, if that wasn’t enough, his scent reaching your nose told you everything you needed to know.

“Here you have it, the guest suite.”

Mr Seung was smiling as he opened the door to a walk-in closet, a small office, and then, across the room, to the ensuite bathroom. Meanwhile, a view as breathtaking as downstairs greeted you, and you continued to be flabbergasted. 

“I thought he meant a hotel…” you whispered.

“CEO Jeon wanted to make sure of your comfort personally.” 

You glanced at the man, and it was only because he seemed dead serious, almost concerned, that you didn’t throw your hands to the ceiling. Who cared about what the CEO wanted?! You were tired! And overwhelmed! And done with everything being blown out of proportion!

“But, of course, if you are dissatisfied, I can arrange for a five-star—”

“No, no, please,” you found yourself raising a hand and closing your eyes, begging him to stop. “I’ll stay, this is fine. No, perfect. It’s perfect, I’m perfectly happy.”

Mr Seung’s eyes instantly softened, as though you being pleased comforted him deeply. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m usually available to drive CEO Jeon at 6 AM, but should you require me to be available earlier, I’d be happy to assist you.”

You stared at the man, speechless. How was he so kind and sweet, and where did he come from?

“No, I— I can get to the office by mys—” You bit your tongue, then raked your hair back. What was the point, really? “I normally go to the office around eight thirty, so please don’t hurry because of me. I need to sleep. Badly.”

You huffed the last words, but Mr Seung stiffened as though he had been stung, “Of course, I won’t hold you any longer. Have a good night.”

He bowed deeply, making you rush to do the same before he left quietly. Your fingers gripped your hair roots as you looked around you — what the fuck? The incredible cityscape view, the suite that was probably your apartment size, the room across from yours where CEO Jeon slept… Everything was just surreal.

You woke up the next morning with a renewed vitality. Not because that was the best bed you had ever slept in, the biggest shower you had ever used, or the most delicious breakfast you had ever had, but because you had processed things. CEO Jeon Jungkook was an alpha of the Jeon Family who, through medieval means, had committed a crime based solely on your blood. Your rare designation did not excuse it, and as such, he was trying his best to accommodate you to prevent you from causing a scene, suing, exposing, or all of the above. There was a potential additional agenda that involved the traditional matching of an omega to an alpha, but you were in the XXI century. Alphas didn’t have to be with omegas, rare as they were, and you would not be coerced into engaging in such ancient customs. CEO Jeon would respect your wishes, and you believed his word.

He had even entered and left his own apartment without a word or a sound. You had slept like a rock — perhaps surprisingly, you felt safe there — but you had expected to see him at breakfast, at least. In the end, the only proof you had of his fleeting presence was the closed bedroom door and dirty coffee mug at the head of the dining table. You almost felt bad for potentially making him uncomfortable, but then remembered this was all his fault. Plus, he probably made Mr Seung drive him at 6 AM, which was also barbaric.

It brought a smile to your face to see Mr Seung’s happiness when you told him how you had rested well. You believed his care ran deeper than any CEO Jeon’s order, though you couldn’t help wondering if it was because he knew of your designation.

Fortunately, at the office, such things didn’t matter. As soon as you said your name to one of the secretaries on the last floor, she instantly provided you with your own office and badge, explaining how everything worked. You were used to sharing an office, but you had decided not to complain. Live and let live. If the CEO wanted to overbear you with such things, you’d accept them quietly. You just needed to do your job and leave.

Your laptop remained your own, so entering the workflow was seamless. You were pleased to find all the information about the rescheduled meetings, and emails about other projects you were working on. You even made sure to check in and reassure Yoon Minsik, your mentor, before attending the first in-person meeting with the legal team of that office.

Although you had only met most of them online, it was a cordial and nice moment before starting what you hoped would be a fruitful meeting. But then CEO Jeon arrived.

Before, you were just a member of the team, participating in meetings you’d otherwise attend online. After he entered the room, however, you were an omega in the presence of an alpha who easily disrupted the flow of the conversation. 

You didn’t believe he did it on purpose, in his defense. You could smell humans amongst the team, and even they were affected by the CEO’s presence. What you’d like to say is that you, contrary to them, were not impacted in any way, but that was not the case.

You had to clear your voice as you spoke and actively force yourself to pretend he wasn’t there. Inwardly, you kept reassuring yourself that it was just that department meeting to coordinate ongoing projects. He wasn’t usually there, but maybe he had made an exception this time.

Only CEO Jeon was present in every meeting.

It was exhausting to focus on each different project and give your best while trying to ignore him. Not that he spoke a lot, but when he did, it threw your attention completely off. He looked so fine. That black designer suit framed his large shoulders deliciously, making every move as evident as possible. Making you imagine what it would be like to be caged in by said arms, embracing you as if—

“Hey!”

You blinked and looked away as everyone got up from their chairs. You should have noticed the meeting ended and that the CEO had been forced to leave, called by that woman, his secretary — Sunhwa.

You faced one of your colleagues, who was smiling expectantly, “Should we have lunch together?”

It was easy to accede and join her and the team, but your thoughts remained on Sunhwa. She wasn’t present in the meetings, but you had noticed her easily because every single time you had to move between meeting rooms — and the CEO did the same — she showed up to talk to him, pass him a file, or just accompany him. To the point you wondered if he needed a bodyguard and heard whispers of other people potentially commenting the same. You couldn’t help feeling bad for her; you couldn’t decide if she was jealous of you, with all the stink eyes she threw your way at every chance, or overzealous.

Regardless, you thought it didn’t matter because, in the afternoon, things would be different. Those meetings would be all about the American consortium negotiations, both internal and external, and you ran those without the presence of the CEO.

You had to huff quietly as he pulled the chair next to you, oddly sharing with you the head of that meeting room table. Except for a glance and polite smile, you didn’t give him any more of your attention. It was unsettling enough if your boss would accompany you to every meeting as if to assess your worth, but the fact that he was so close, with big brown eyes trained on you while his scent made your head spin… It made it a thousand times harder.

Still, you braved through the meeting, expecting things to go well because that was your element. What you didn’t count on were his interruptions.

“I’m certain we don’t need to renegotiate the time window; they will surely accept it.”

“Have we established concrete rules for the use of prototypes?”

“What about intellectual rights? As the manufacturer, shouldn’t we obtain the rights to all procedures that we optimize during development?”

Your expression softened, “According to agreement stipulations, by signing, we commit to safely keep their intellectual property, which includes all manufacturing processes. If these are optimized, they will be added to the patent. We will, of course, negotiate appropriate compensation should that happen, including access to prototypes and benefits should the production cost or time be reduced.”

The room was quiet after you spoke, but you had forgotten about them. Instead, your eyes were fixed on the CEO’s. Very round and very big, almost sparkling at you, entirely taken by what you had said. His gaze was curious, intense and interested, so you couldn’t be mad about his disruptions.

Still, you sighed. He was distracting.

“Let’s proceed to the financial section,” you asked, waving at the appropriate head of the department to speak up. 

The CEO tapped his tablet to jump to the appropriate page of the document, clearing his throat, and you subtly leaned to whisper into his ear, “Focus.”

Your eyes met when you pulled back, and it was like the record changed. If his questions seemed chaotic and somewhat disconnected before, now they were spot on. From one meeting to the other, including with the American company representatives, every comment was precise, demonstrating flawlessly why the Jeon conglomerate was unavoidable in the South Korean industry.

You were secretly impressed, though you expected nothing less. Perhaps the way you had managed to work together so seamlessly in front of the American company representatives was surprising, but you imagined that a pro like him could make it work with anyone. He wasn’t nicknamed good at everything for nothing.

You assumed he was pleased, too, when the video call ended, and he leaned back into his chair, laughing quietly. His glee made you smile as you gathered your things and closed your laptop, observing everyone else in the room calling it a day while you wondered if Mr Seung would take you home. It was silly of you, but with everything that happened, you didn’t even memorize the address—

“That was so smooth. I think we floored them,” he grinned, getting up to his feet as though he was even more energized than before.

You chuckled and nodded, putting your laptop in your bag. Maybe that was so, but you were ready to go home.

“Have dinner with me.”

You stopped shy of closing the bag and looked at him instantly, batting your eyelashes with all your befuddlement.

“We have to celebrate,” he continued, and his grin reemerged as though he couldn’t contain it.

“They haven’t signed it yet,” you were quiet, instinctively reasoning with him despite not even being able to fully think right now.

He chuckled, “But they will, no doubt. I’m sure we will have a response by tomorrow and a verbal agreement shortly after.”

You nodded and looked down, unable to stop the way your body reacted. He was taller than you, broad, all-encompassing, and smelled strong, sweet...dizzying. There were two sides to that moment: who he was — so destabilizing, you thought there was no avoiding it — and what he was saying — so professional, when you wanted to forget all about it.

Fortunately, in your hazed mind, the latter won. “We’ll wrap up sooner, and I’ll get to return to Busan faster, then.”

Your entranced eyes captured the way his jaw hardened easily. His eyes sparked differently, with a look to them that caused a tingle to go down your spine, but he nodded, “Indeed. So dinner tonight.”

His tone implied you were just giving him more reasons to insist, and the corners of your lips twitched mischievously. Maybe you were; it was hard to resist.

“CEO Jeon?”

You stiffened like you had just been caught stealing candy and didn’t bother to look. You forced the zipper closed and grabbed your bag, purposefully pushing what Sunhwa was telling the CEO to fade with the background noise. Whatever it was, maybe it was a good thing — you needed distance to think, too.

You bowed to both on your way out and didn’t mean to spare a glance, but his voice beckoned you to look back, “Mr Seung is in the parking lot, please go with him.”

You nodded, meaning to appease the worry in his voice and eyes, and melted when you succeeded. His features instantly returned to a confident, dazzling smile before turning to Sunhwa about whatever work-related issue she was referring to, and you had to swallow. You shouldn’t be so attuned to how he felt; it didn’t make any sense. Still, as you made your way to his apartment with his driver, all you could think was that you never officially accepted his invitation.

Jungkook nodded after Mr Seung confirmed that he had dropped you off safely at the apartment, where you had stayed for the last three hours. You hadn’t requested to go anywhere in particular, and arrangements had been made for dinner, so he could relax.

He sighed as he closed his eyes and let the purr of the car lull him. He knew it would be an interesting day, but not even his wildest dreams could have prepared him for it.

First, arriving home the night before to the faint trace of your sweet jasmine scent absolutely threw him off. The whole night he had to keep himself in check; no, he couldn’t follow your delicate perfume to your bed, touch you, or claim you. You probably didn’t trust him after the way you ended up there, and he wasn’t a creep. He could reign in his primal urge and leave the decision up to you. He could show you that being next to him was fate, as intrinsically inescapable as the Earth and Moon orbiting each other. You’d realize that soon enough and ask him to touch you instead.

He could barely sleep, so his second move was to leave the apartment as soon as humanly possible. He needed to review everything about the projects you were working on, plus get his work out of the way so he could attend every meeting of yours and watch you in your element.

Jungkook was frankly impressed; you were like a fish in water, navigating every topic and hurdle effortlessly. He wasn’t sure you noticed how everyone quieted down to listen to you and obliged and interacted every time you requested it, but it was a wonder to see. If he hadn’t smelled your designation, he would have wondered what kind of woman conducted such ease and readiness.

Unfortunately, you were also incredibly distracting. Not only was he probably not of use to you in your work, but he was also falling behind in the slightest with his duties. Sunhwa kept reminding him, of course, and he appreciated it, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry about anything else.

Which made him wonder if you’d be a liability and not an asset if you stayed. However, that was a fleeting thought because as soon as it emerged, it evaporated when you whispered into his ear, “Focus.”

The whiff of your scent hit him so hard he had to close his eyes so no one would see them rolling back. Then he faced you, and your gaze did something to him. It was strong and encouraging, and he was set. Suddenly, he could focus. His mind was clear and everything just worked.

It was incredible, inebriating; better than hitting the jackpot, it was like you were his focus token that increased his abilities by two hundred percent. So inviting you to dinner was as easy as breathing. You mentioning Busan again almost ruined his mood, but then you obliged with big, starry eyes when he asked you to drive with Mr Seung in the exact spot he was in now, going home to you, and he couldn’t help the widest grin. He hadn’t lost you, not yet.

He knew it was late, and he wouldn’t dream of keeping you starving while waiting for him. Your shoes and handbag were by the entrance, so he knew you were inside. There was noise from the kitchen, though that couldn’t be you, so he jumped on the couch and heaved a deep breath, closing his eyes. He loved the sweet scent that lingered around the house because of you; it instantly relaxed him but also gave him a push. Maybe he should check on you—

He heard steps down the stairs at the same time his personal chef exited the kitchen to inform him dinner was ready and on the table.

“Would you like me to stay and serve?”

Jungkook dismissed the chef swiftly and quietly, acknowledging their head bow just in time to turn to you. His hand was on the noose of his tie, instantly loosening it as his mouth watered. He was starving, but it wasn’t food on his mind as he ate up the view.

You were wearing something quite professional — black dress pants with a silk blouse that was a hint of blue. He would have thought you too formal if it weren’t for your bare feet stepping quietly on the wood floor, along with your still-humid hair falling in waves over your shoulders and chest. But like this, he could only smile at you entering the living room and imagine you jumping into his arms to welcome him home after a long day. Then, what you wore wouldn’t matter, not because he’d be free to undress you, but because with your touch, everything would feel whole.

You bowed politely to the chef, watching them go, and it gave Jungkook a moment of clarity: what he felt was beyond simple interest. It wasn’t fascination or attraction, it was everything combined. He didn’t think it was possible; a skeptical part of him still insisted it wasn’t.

But then you opened your mouth and changed the very axis upon which his world spun. “Good evening.”

He could only smirk; the simplest words could escape your lips, and he’d drink them like they were gospel, “Good evening.”

Your astute eyes observed him, and it was like lying down at the beach under the warm sunlight, “Was there a problem at the office?”

He tilted his head, “I needed to finish up some things. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

Your lips twitched as you nodded, “It’s not a problem. In fact, I realized I never accepted your invitation, so I wasn’t sure if it still stood.”

He smirked, “It does, and it looks like you accepted.”

His arms stretched over the back of the couch, and you had to consciously keep your feet from taking you to him. It wasn’t an invitation, no matter how inviting it seemed.

“I thought it was wise to be ready,” you informed, taking a few steps to the side, unable to stay still.

“To have dinner with me?”

“To celebrate,” you corrected, trying to resist his smirk by keeping your expression as neutral as possible.

“By yourself?”

His eyebrow quirked, daring, and you finally smiled, “I was told there is a residence lounge. Thought I could get a drink there, and who knows who could join me.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, and he laughed openly, “You’re right.” He got up, loosening his tie completely and throwing it on the couch. It was enough to tense your back, dissipating your smile as you observed him taking off his suit coat and leaving it next to the tie. “I should have started by offering a drink. Is wine okay?”

Blood spread to your cheeks, but he didn’t notice as he turned around to enter the dining room. It gave you a moment to breathe. “If it’s red. Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave.”

His laughter was music to your ears as you followed him, only to confirm that the person leaving was wearing a white chef coat for good reason. The glass dining table was set for two, at the head and the place to its right, and in between, an assortment of dishes released a delicious warm scent. From meat to shrimp, noodles to rice, boiled, fermented or fried, it seemed the chef had decided to leave you with a big variety just so you could have anything you possibly wanted.

Your eyes turned to him, his back facing you as he got a red wine bottle from the wine cooler. “This is incredible,” you voiced, unafraid of sounding too easily impressed. That table with the panoramic view and the incredible lighting showing his gleeful smile would easily shake anyone.

“I’m happy you like it.”

“Do you always have dinner like this?”

He placed the bottle on the table, twisting the corkscrew to get it open, “No, not at all. I asked for something special tonight.”

You heard the pop of the cork coming off, but that wasn’t why your heart skipped a beat. He reached for a wine glass on the table, poured a line of wine, then swirled it and took a soft sniff, smiling ecstatically after.

He raised the glass to you, and you stepped forward to accept it, entranced. You took a whiff, too, and the sweet, dark fruit aromas made your eyelashes flutter. You detected the blackberries and plums, and surely a trace of cloves.

Your reaction was enough for him to nod and pour a glass for himself. His shifting attention allowed you to swallow and ask, “Was this what you had in mind?”

He smirked, then turned to you, and your heart flipped again. He had shortened the distance between you and cupped your hand around the glass to tilt it forward towards his chest. The wine glugs, filling your glass, were but an afterthought as you looked at him, his eyes so close you could see stars.

“Absolutely,” he said quietly, yet you heard him so clearly. His expression was likely as serious as yours, mirroring the same tension as he took the bottle away. “This was exactly what I had in mind.”

The sound of the bottle being placed on the table didn’t rattle you; nothing was louder than your racing heart. His hand left yours, and although you could see the reluctance, you bit your inner lip to stay quiet. Being that close didn’t mean just having your breath stolen by his sparkly eyes or unique beauty marks; it also meant seeing how red his eyes were.

“I see… but if you're too tired, we can take a rain check.”

You were certain your worry was easily heard in your voice, yet he shook his head with a returning wide smile and raised his glass between you, “Not a chance.”

Your lips twitched, but you nodded and raised your glass to clink his, bringing it to your lips as he did the same. The velvety taste matched its aroma perfectly, but you weren’t paying attention. His eyes were locked with yours as though that tension was unbreakable, and you realized you didn’t know what you were celebrating. He didn’t specify the toast, and somehow, you knew work had stayed in the office tonight.

When you put the glass down, you weren’t sure you were dizzy with the alcohol or the moment, but your cheeks were hot. You ignored it, just to keep staring into the stars in his eyes, when a stomach growl cut the silence.

You looked down at his stomach, covered by a black button shirt, then up, “Woah, that was powerful.”

He smirked and rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry, I’m starving. Let’s dig in.” He waved at you to sit by his side, “Please, go ahead. Take anything you’d like.” 

He held back, even as you took your time to observe the table and take your pick. He adjusted himself on the chair, but it was surprisingly easy to let you start first. It was just right.

“I wanted to have samgyeopsal,” he confessed, smiling sheepishly. “But we’d have to go to a real barbecue for that and—”

Your eyes widened with a spark, a small gasp jerking your shoulders as you reached for a bowl, “Not a problem.”

He raised an eyebrow at your sudden interest, then chuckled, “Do you like japchae that much?”

“My absolute favorite,” you nodded, filling your plate with utmost focus.

“Alright, I’ll make it for you a lot.”

You had started eating but stopped stuffing your face with the delicious noodles, raising your eyebrows at him instead while he served himself. “You can cook?”

He chuckled, “I love cooking. I’d be showing off my skills right now, but I’m more interested in talking to you.” The butterflies in your stomach twirled around as you stared up at him. He only chuckled, “But now I know. Let’s see, what else? What about makguksu? I have an awesome recipe as well.”

It was easy to eat while you discussed food, especially if it was a chance to quiz him and confirm he knew what he was talking about. He did, and you overlooked his initial promise to cook for you in exchange for a normal, healthy culinary debate.

But neither of you wanted to eat or talk about food all night. He ate a lot, you noticed, and by the end, every dish was done. The red bottle was empty too, so it was the perfect moment to get up.

“I’ll grab another one,” he said, waving at the couch while he headed to the wine cooler. It could have been your chance to say goodnight, but you didn’t want to. “Why do you only drink red?” He asked loudly, and you turned to look over your shoulder at him. “Can't it be Lambrusco?”

You chuckled and sat on the couch, “Lambrusco is a red, and it's delicious. Bring it on!”

The sound of the bottle being dragged out of the cooler, placed on the glass dining table, and popped open made your skin tingle pleasurably. It could be his proximity messing with your nerves, or the alcohol. A cautious part of you thought it was best to call it a night, but the bottle was already open, and he was already extending a new glass to you.

You clinked glasses in silence again once he sat down, and this time, you didn’t bother wondering about the occasion.

“Why not white?”

He mused after the sweetness made him click his tongue, and you sighed with a second sip, “Too acidic for me.”

“Noted,” he nodded, his features serious. “I'll get rid of all whites to make space for more Lambrusco.”

You laughed, “Why would you refine your stock based on my taste?”

He laughed with you, then bit his lip. You smiled as you took another sip, and you looked so happy, simply enjoying yourself, that his priorities shifted. “I like learning more about you.”

“You do?”

You sounded surprised, but he didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Well, I haven't learned as much about you,” you scrunched your nose, choosing to take things lightly, and he chuckled.

“I'm sure you already know a lot.”

You tried not to scoff, “I don’t. You think because you’re the CEO, I would know your taste in wine?” Your tone only made him laugh more, leaning back into a pillow that had his abandoned suit coat before he faced you again. “Do you even like reds?”

“Oh yeah, but I prefer beer. Oh, and whiskey.”

“So we know our next drink…”

You hid behind the glass and he smirked, “Good idea. I'll make my specialty cocktail. Only close friends know about it, so know you'll taste something exclusive.”

“Really? I’m flattered; who knew I’d get to know the CEO so well.”

The corner of your mouth raised with mischief as you emptied your glass, and instantly, he was refilling it with a slightly raised eyebrow, “You can call me Jungkook.”

His dark eyes, as he instructed you, released a current down your spine that spread warmth in every direction. There was no way that calling your boss by his first name was a good idea, but you had stopped playing it safe a few glasses ago.

“Is there more to learn about you, Jungkook?” His name on your tongue drew his eyes to your mouth, conveniently about to take another sip. You reveled in the sweetness and tension of that moment, hopefully as much as him. “Something no one else knows.”

His teeth bit into his lower lip to stop a grin, and he nodded, “Certainly.” He placed the glass down on the coffee table and you swallowed. “There’s a lot to find out.”

He unfastened his cuff links, casually folding and pulling the sleeves of his black button shirt to his elbow, and you gasped.

You leaned forward with your free hand, “You have a sleeve?”

He grinned slyly, extending his right arm for you to touch more easily, “I do.”

He was quiet while you explored every tattoo line, from the clock to the letters, stopping to wonder at the tiger lily in bright tones of orange. “Incredible,” you muttered, dragging your finger easily. You were so focused that you missed the goosebumps forming under your touch. He let you turn his arm and even pull the sleeve a bit further up, where you noticed more lines and figures ready to show. You were so insistent you pouted when the fabric got so tight around his bicep it refused to rake further up to his shoulder. 

His chuckle drew your attention, “I can take it off if you’d like to see the rest.”

Your hands withdrew instantly, fingers rubbing on each other needily. Your eyes caught the absence of any other article of clothing underneath his shirt, and you swallowed down your heated longing. “No, I— Of course not.” 

You didn’t bother saying it was inappropriate; you fell back on your side of the couch. Your throat seemed to have blocked, so you cleared it. There was a line you shouldn’t cross, but you also didn’t want to stop whatever you two were doing.

“I don’t have tattoos,” you started, pulling your blouse sleeve. “But I do have this birthmark.”

His eyes followed your fingers, then he grabbed your arm delicately to trace it with his fingers. Your forearm erupted in goosebumps, electrified by his caress, attention, and warmth. It was almost overwhelming, and you had to swallow thickly to keep silent.

“It looks like a butterfly,” he mused, concentrating, and you nodded.

“My mother calls me that.”

He whispered something under his breath, then shifted in his seat, “Look.” 

He brought his forearm next to yours, and you realized what he meant: your birthmark was parallel to his tiger lily. Superposed, your butterfly would find its home in him. It made you shudder from head to toe.

“What ties you to Busan?” His question broke the spell despite his caresses to your arm. You frowned, trying to catch his line of thought. “Friends? Family?”

The Lambrusco swirled a little inside his glass, revealing a short tremble, and your eyes stayed low on his lily, “My mother, mostly. She doesn’t live in Busan, but in a village not too far away.”

Your apprehension was palpable, so you weren’t surprised when he brushed the back of his fingers in a feather-like touch on your forearm, “I understand if it’s too personal, you don’t have to tell me anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

Whether because of his soft touch or warm eyes, you instantly shook your head, “Not uncomfortable, just… I don’t really talk about her. Or my family. She doesn’t like it and—”

Your brow furrowed, and he was ready to reassure you, but you decided to say it.

“And nobody would understand, but maybe you would,” you pushed out, looking into his eyes. Your mom would chastise you for this decision, but it was yours nonetheless. You just felt so alone in all this. “Our family made sacrifices to be eradicated from the registry, and for generations, we’ve been hiding so we wouldn’t be detected.”

He nodded gravely, lowering his eyes to his fingers still touching your milky skin.

“You’re probably the last person I should tell this to,” you chuckled. “But even though times should be different, I was never certain where to draw the line between potential paranoia and it just being like she described. Unfortunately, recent events have made me conclude she was not wrong in wanting us to be cautious.”

“Wait, there’s—” He pressed his lips before he sorted his words, looking at you intently, “There’s something to be said about your mother’s fears and the outdated methods the Family uses to search for omegas. They should know it’s criminal, but it’s how my grandfather found my grandmother, so I suppose that’s why they insist on it.”

“He kidnapped her too?”

“No—” He almost choked. “Hunters found her and brought her to him. They were mates and inseparable.”

“You met her?” 

Your tone was almost anxious, and he smiled with a nod, “The only omega I’ve ever met other than you.” His expression showed fondness, “Grandpa was crazy about her and everyone loved her. She had this… aura to her. I was instantly calm. I was… a bit of a reckless and loud kid, but she never got angry at me. She would just put me on her lap and ask me what happened, and soon after, she was tickling me while I told her all about my adventures.”

You leaned on your side into the couch back, “Adventures, huh?”

It wasn’t hard to imagine, especially when he smirked mischievously, “My knees wouldn't have gotten bruised if I hadn't chased a pirate up a tree.”

“A pirate?”

Your eyebrows jumped, and you both laughed quietly. You were glad to be at ease, folding a leg under you.

“What an exciting childhood you had.”

“What about yours?”

You pursed your lips, “It was just me and my mother. My dad died in a car accident when I was a kid, and my grandma had dementia and died not too long after.”

His eyes softened, “That must have been hard.”

“It was the most on my mom.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen.”

“It must have affected you,” his voice quieted, and you noticed his thumb never stopped brushing your pulse point, soothing you for a while now.

“I grew up fast,” you shrugged, casually letting his touch continue. “It was hard because my mother was paranoid about us being caught, but I was raised around humans, unsure if her stories were true and if I should really just… stay hidden in that village or do something with myself.” He nodded, and you admitted, “That’s why hearing from others that my fate isn’t to be used as a tool, abused, or anything like that is…”

“No,” he pressed his thumb to your wrist, and it seemed to you it was to placate his own anxiety this time. “I promise you, that is not— I would never do that.” 

His voice was firm, but something in your eyes must have given you away. You didn’t want to believe he was lying, but it wasn’t in his best interest to tell you the truth.

“My grandma always said a mate’s love was the foundation of our family and that I shouldn’t give up, even if my father never found her.” His eyes lowered once more to your arm before he faced you, “I grew up with them, seeing what a mate’s bond looks like. I would never hurt an omega, even if she wasn’t my mate.”

“But there are those who would.”

“Maybe once upon a time, but I swear things are different now. It was their mistreatment that led to their extinction. Well, alleged,” he corrected, eying you meaningfully. “The Families had to turn to betas, which was seen mostly as a catastrophe a couple of generations back.”

“Why?”

“It affected the strength of their blood, lines started dying and alpha numbers dwindled too. The egoistical views and attitudes of a few generations almost cost us everything.”

“So shouldn’t the way omegas were treated be the real catastrophe?”

Your tone was rough around the edges, but his eyes remained soft, “Worse than a catastrophe, an atrocity. It hurt so many for so many generations.”

His tone was apologetic as he looked at you, but it didn’t soothe you. Not even his touch on your wrist did. “If you recognize the problem, then you should be the first one to set an example. You acknowledge it was an atrocity, but you still send hunters to kidnap omegas instead of searching for yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

He actually looked lost, so you clarified, “If you don’t want to give up like your grandmother suggested, then maybe you should go down to Busan and search for yourself. Meet people.”

His eyebrows jumped, then he shook his head with an embarrassed smile, “I… never considered it.”

“Imagine if you had.”

Your chest warmed with his gaze on yours. You didn’t know why you were admonishing him for not visiting sooner, borderline implying you would have met differently, just like his grandmother had hoped. The past couldn’t be changed, and nothing would happen regardless.

You cleared your throat, ���Anyway, it's annoying that your secretary keeps calling me fake.”

He huffed, letting his head fall on the back of the couch as though it tired him too.

“I never wanted to be recognized or seen as just my designation, but it is who I am, so she's pissing me off.”

You sneered at the ridiculousness of the situation, and he nodded, “It's because she never met anyone like you… I don't think she's able to really smell it. She's not as sensitive as us. But you don't have to worry about her. I'll handle things with her.”

You took the glass to your mouth, musing over it quietly. “Well, she works for you… and I won't stay long anyway.”

He was drinking when you spoke, his jaw becoming the slightest bit sharper under the light. His thumb still rubbed your pulse point soothingly.

“Actually… I have a question if you don’t mind.”

You pressed your lips sheepishly, and he almost choked in his hurry to nod.

“What do I smell like?” Your eyebrows framed your curious, big eyes, and his lips parted in wonder. “I've asked my mom, but she only tells me I'm sweet. I've never met anyone else I could ask.”

He blinked away his shock, straightening instantly to lean in a bit closer to you. Not that he needed to; effectively, he could pinpoint every trace and note of your unique aroma. But when you let your head fall back the slightest to expose your neck, he couldn’t be stopped. It was the sweetest invitation, baring your neck to him so he could take you in up close and personal.

He almost growled, something so deep inside him stirring he had to grip the glass and keep himself from grabbing your wrist or pressing his face into the crook of your neck. He was certain you’d taste and feel as endlessly delicate as your scent, but he knew the limits. Even if he thought of you as his, it had to come from you. If anything came out of getting to know you, it was that waiting was the only option he had if he ever wanted to welcome his mate by his side. 

So he groaned silently and pulled back; he might not have met you in the right circumstances, but he wasn’t about to fuck this up.

“She’s right, you smell sweet,” he rasped, looking into your beautiful eyes again, so close he could see the black dots hiding among the lights. “Like jasmines — sweet, deep, and fond. And me?” He saw you swallow, but he couldn’t resist, “What do I smell like?”

“I’m sure you know,” you tried, though you didn’t move.

He shook his head, “What do I smell like to you?”

You looked down at his neck with a hint of uneasiness, but his soothing touch calmed you enough to go forward. You leaned into the crook of his neck, so close you felt his body warmth emanating. One deep breath, though, and you almost whimpered. Your free hand gripped his arm as your whole body warmed and thrummed with the heady scent.

“Strong,” you whispered, noticing a moment later his neck was covered in goosebumps. “Earthy.” You couldn’t resist nuzzling his skin the slightest, raising it up his neck until you met his jaw. “Spicy, something so alluring I just…”

You nuzzled his cheek and he turned to face you, with lips so close to yours, his warm breath lulled your eyes closed. You were certain his lips would touch yours, releasing all that tension into a burst that would raze your senses.

But the sounds of a keypad being pressed made you instinctively pull back, and you were happy you did because in mere seconds it was as though the rug was being pulled from under your feet.

The front door burst open, and you jumped to your feet, frightened. Jungkook stood up, too, trying to regain the touch that had been severed in the motion, but it was too late. You both had to face the woman storming inside the apartment, with eyes so wide, and nostrils so wide in fury, it confused you more than anything.

“What the hell?!”

Sunhwa’s outrage wasn’t missed on you, but all you could do was frown, stupefied.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook’s tone was cold, and you weren’t certain if that was the right reaction. Shouldn’t he be pissed that his secretary just stormed into his apartment late at night?

“What am I doing? What are you doing?!”

His eyes hardened as though her question didn’t merit a reply, and she threw the folders in her hand on the coffee table.

“I wanted to update you on the ASICS deal and thought you probably wouldn’t have eaten yet, so I called Chef Jae, and they told me they had prepared the special dinner you asked for!”

You glanced at him, even more confused than before, and his reply came quiet, “You should know better than to just barge in here.”

“You weren’t picking up the phone!”

Her screeches were starting to give you a headache, “Alright, listen. It’s past eleven in the evening, surely there’s nothing that can justify causing a scene like this.”

Her laugh was a shriek, “You have some gall to tell me I can’t cause a scene, huh?! First, you try to seduce him by falsely claiming to be an omega—”

“I am!”

“— and now you’ve invited yourself into his apartment! Do you really have no shame? I won’t stand for this!”

Your eyebrows jumped in pure disbelief, “And who are you to care what an adult man does in his apartment?”

She stomped her foot, fuming as she glared, “I’m his fiancé!”

Your stomach dropped, spreading such coldness through your guts, you froze.

In years of law, despite dealing with senseless clients at times, you had never lost your composure or words, but today was the day. Her words, that scene, and the deceit underlying that whole night gutted you, so you were speechless.

“You don't know what you're saying.”

His tone was firm, but one glance told you he was seething. Your first instinct was to resent him; he should be apologizing, not angry that his fiancé ruined the ruse.

Sunhwa crossed her arms with a laugh, “Oh, so I'm suddenly not?”

“We have a contract.”

“Precisely!”

Her clapback was triumphant, and you stiffened even further.

“This is not what you think,” he said, having turned to you.

You looked at him slowly, but Sunhwa was already stepping closer between you, “This is exactly what you think! He's promised to me! How dare you come in here and try to seduce him with your false claims and—!”

“Enough!”

His roar effectively silenced her, making even the glass in your hand reverberate. It forced you to look away and realize you had no business standing there.

You put the glass on the coffee table, “I see you have things to discuss, so I'll leave you to it.”

You ignored the smothering silence surrounding you and headed up the stairs. 

That silence was dearly missed when the last concrete thing you heard was Sunhwa freaking out, “She's sleeping here?!”

You closed the bedroom door and weighed your options, but then ended up locking the door and hiding with your face into your pillow. You had drunk too much, and it was too late to wander off in the middle of Seoul. For now, you’d just have to stay.

[cllightning81]

Quiet Dates - Part Five [OB38]

Series : Younger Sister

Summary: Ollie takes you on that first date because he won the bet. Takes you to a small cafe so your anxiety doesn't get the best of you and you can enjoy it

Pairing/s: Oliver Bearman x Norris!Reader, Lando Norris x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist Oliver Bearman Masterlist Lando Norris Masterlist Younger Sister Masterlist Tag List

Previous

Standing in the hotel room, Lando was out visiting Carlos and making sure that he was okay. Normal boyfriend duties as you liked to annoy him about. Hungary was fairly warm, so you had decided on a nice outfit that would keep you cool but still allow you to be comfortable in what you were wearing at the same time. 

There was a knock on the door, so you got up from the bed and wandered over to it. Opening the door to see Ollie with a smile on his face wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. 

“Hey” You smiled, opening the door further to let him into the hotel room. Ollie was silent as he followed you back into the hotel room. You turned to look at him as you grabbed your handbag and phone 

“Hey you okay?” You asked him with a frown as you walked over to him. 

“Huh? Yeah, sorry. You just look really good” He smiled, and you blushed, glancing down to the ground before looking up at him 

“You also look very good” You smiled, taking his hand in your own. Ollie blushed as he looked down at you. 

“Thanks. I found a nice little cafe it was really empty when I went past it, and I figured that you’d quite like it” He smiled, and you nodded 

“Sounds perfect” You smiled, walking out of the hotel room with him. 

Walking to the cafe was nice and calm. Ollie made sure that he was holding your hand the whole way there to help ease your nerves as you walked, which you were so thankful for. You hadn’t known each other in person for a long time, but you had been talking over text for ages, which meant you both knew more about each other than you thought. 

You looked up at the little cafe Ollie had found. It looked like a small family fun business that had pictures of the family history dotted around the cafe. Taking you inside, Ollie found a table for you both sitting opposite each other with a smile. 

“So how's the race treating you?” Ollie asked as you looked about the cafe taking in the decor. 

“They’re good. I’m quite enjoying them. Still not so comfortable about trending on social media every time I breathe. but it’s okay. I’m getting used to it. Comes with the job. Although teenage boys and girls who find out you’re hanging out with Formula One drivers aren’t the best. They’ve been blowing my phone up” You chuckled, and he nodded

“Oh I get that. The number of people I’ve had in my text messages from before I left school this weekend is crazy” He laughed, and you nodded, looking at the menu 

“So I believe it’s my turn to pay” You hummed, and he shook his head 

“Got to beat me to it” He hummed, and you rolled your eyes 

“You know I will. You might have the reaction speed, but I’ve got older siblings” You hummed, giving your order to the waitress. Ollie did the same, ordering some tea and a slice of cake 

“Don’t tell my trainer” He joked, and you nodded 

“I don’t even know who your trainer is” You shrugged, and he laughed, holding your hand across the table 

“So I know you probably don’t want anyone to ask you this, but how are you feeling about tomorrow?” You asked, tilting your head slightly to look at him

“I’m scared. More than scared, actually. Formula One is so much different to Formula Two. It’s faster, the cars are different, a lot more g-force, more g-force in crashes. There’s so much that could go wrong” He ran a hand down his face as you gently squeezed his hand. 

“Ollie you’re going to do great. Look at how amazing you did today! I know it was probably a stupid question, and I’ve just made you even more anxious than before, but honestly, I know you’re going to do great. I know you are, and remember we’ve got a deal you need to keep” You hummed, and he smiled at you taking a drink of his tea

“Have you met Charles’ puppy yet?” Ollie asked, changing the subject 

“He’s got a puppy?” You asked now, very excited. Ollie nodded 

“Here let me show you” Ollie showed you a little picture of the puppy

“He’s a little dachshund” You smiled, looking at the picture 

“I can see. He’s very cute. Is he here?” You asked, and Ollie nodded

“Yeah. I’ll let you meet him tomorrow. He wasn’t at quali” You smiled eating a bit of your cake. 

“Want to go for a walk?” Ollie asked once you had both finished your drinks and food.

“Oh that sounds like a good idea” You smiled, getting up and walking to pay. Ollie tried to push you out the way so he could get there first and pay 

“Oh come on, Ollie. You paid for the ice creams” You whined as he paid for the drinks and food. Oliver took your hand as you walked around the park that was next to the cafe. Your energy picked up as you spotted a play park.

 Dropping Ollie’s hand, you skipped over, getting on the swings and starting to swing. Ollie laughed, following behind you in just a walk as you waved him over to come on the swings with you. 

“You have so much energy” He chuckled while getting on the swing next to you. 

“It’s a Norris thing. Actually no it’s not. It’s a Lando and Y/N thing. None of our other siblings have this much energy” You shrugged, enjoying yourself. 

“That’s probably true” He laughed as you tried to get higher than him on the swing, except he was able to get higher faster 

“Oh come on. I just want to go higher” You huffed, and he chuckled, getting off the swing and giving you a push. Your giggles make him smile even more than he already was. 

Getting off the swing, your arms instantly wrapped around him as you regained your balance. Ollie pressed a kiss to your temple before you looked up at him with a smile 

“I want to change our deal” You hummed, and he frowned, looking down at you 

“What why?” He asked, confused, trying to read your face 

“If you finish the race tomorrow, then I’ll go on another date with you. However, I don’t want our relationship to spawn out of a bet for your first ever formula one race. I want that to happen whenever we want that to happen” You explained gently, resting your chin on his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist

“What if I want that to happen tonight?” He asked 

“I think I’d like that” You smiled up at him as he leaned down a little. Your faces hovering above each other 

“Can I kiss you?” Oliver asked, and you nodded 

“I think I’d like that too” You whispered as he leaned down. 

Your lips pressed together gently as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pulled you closer by your waist. You smiled into the kiss, relaxing in his arms as you kissed him. Pulling back after a little while. You rested your head against his chest as you looked up at him 

“Was that okay?” He asked, causing you to nod 

“It definitely was. Although you’ve stolen all my energy now” You joked, and he laughed 

“Good. It means you’ll stop texting me at two in the morning” you smiled up at him as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his body as he started walking with you again. Looking at your phone, Lando had texted to say that he was back in the hotel room now and not to wake him. 

“We both know that I’ll be tired until I get into bed and then I’ll be jumping on Lando again” Ollie laughed as you pulled a hair tie off your wrist and pulled your hair out of your face. 

“I know my dads here, and he’ll be in the garage tomorrow, but I’d really appreciate it if you would be in the Ferrari garage tomorrow. You’ve got this great way of calming me down” You smiled, looking up at him 

“You know I’ll be there if you want me there. Lando really won’t care” You hummed, and he nodded, stopping as you passed a fountain. You looked at him with a frown as he looked down at you with a smile on his face 

“Make a wish” He hummed, and you turned to the fountain and made a wish before starting to walk back to the hotel. Walking you up to the hotel room stopping outside of your room with Ollie, who smiled at you 

“Thank you for coming out with me” He smiled 

“Of course. I really enjoyed it, Ollie. Thank you” You smiled, opening the hotel door up after giving Ollie another hug and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Walking into the hotel room silently, assuming that Lando would be asleep by now. you let out a scream when you saw Lando sat staring at you 

“Jesus fuck Lando” You swore hand going to your chest as Lando laughed at you. There was a knock at the door 

“Y/N?” Ollie called, and you opened up the door to see a worried looking Oliver Bearman. 

“I heard you scream. Are you okay?” He asked, looking to check you for any injuries 

“Yeah. Just got a heart attack from my lovely brother. He told me he’d be sleeping, but he was sat staring at me” You explained as Lando was still laughing in the background 

“Oh good. I’m gonna go back to my room then” he smiled 

“Night Ollie” Shutting the door again, you turned back to Lando, rolling your eyes as you sat on your bed, taking your shoes off 

“How was your date?” Lando asked, raising his eyebrows as he turned in his seat 

“It was good. We went to a little cafe then walked around the park. I got a little too excited when I saw some swings” Lando laughed 

“So you admit it was a date?” He asked, and you rolled your eyes again 

“Yeah. I admit it” You grabbed your clothes walking into the bathroom as Lando cheered obviously very happy with the outcome.

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Tag List

@bearryyy

@molten-m122

@thewannabewriter

@lozzamen3

@barcelonaloverf1life

@hiireadstuff

@mxdi0

@f1kenzzz

@seasonswinter

@ellen3101

@via-ferns

@taygrls

@urfavsgf

@hwalllllllelujah

@vicurious28

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@taronyuhunter

@llando4norris

@sbrn0905

@evie-119

@harrysdimple05

@jisungstuff

@ahgase99

@velocesainz

@ruleroftheuniverse

[paradiseprincesss]

my random jonathan crane headcanons 🦇☕️🩺

i’m bored at work so i decided to jot down some of my personal headcanons & thoughts of our favourite little psycho doctor :] im talking about nolanverse!jonathan crane in these also <3

warning: nsfw themes/18+ MDNI

🧸💌💉🌙

• i think he's a scorpio sun, capricorn moon, and a virgo rising because it just...makes sense

• if we're on the topic of astrology, he'd definitely think it's bullshit - like i know he'd roll his eyes as soon as someone starts to talk about astrology because where's the scientific evidence proving this stuff is legit?

• he drives a mercedes prove me wrong; and i know he'd always pick you up because he insists on doing it. just got off work? he's there. need a lift to class? you best believe he's driving you and picking you up after

• for safety reasons too, of course

• and its tinted like im talking completely blacked out so nobody can see him because he values his privacy or whatever

• despite what everyone thinks, he drinks his coffee with cream and sugar just not overly sweet. he dislikes black coffee because it's just too bitter and i think he wouldn't even bother drinking something that doesn't taste that good if u know what i mean?

• if you brought him coffee AND you remembered his order he would pretend to not care but deep down, his cold heart is melting lol

• he wears mont blanc cologne. no i will not elaborate any further — but he does. specifically mont blanc legend

• he gets flustered when you compliment him on how good he smells i can definitely see him having a hard time accepting compliments from you

• i also think when he compliments you, it's a little stiff or awkward at first because he doesn't really know how to show genuine love because he rarely ever feels this way

• if he was to move in with you, even if you were the girliest girl ever with all the shoes, clothes, and handbags you could dream of... his suit collection would still take up more closet space than your things to the point where you'd probably have to have two walk in closets or separate closets

• he will NOT compromise getting rid of any of his suits to make space for your things, BUT he will buy you another closet/get your place renovated and pay for it so you have more closet space

• he would want a girl who is smart — intellectual stimulation to jonathan is extremely important. you simply cannot be with him unless you're willing to talk about theories, psychology, anatomy, etc with him because who else is going to be able to share his thoughts with?

nsfw themes below

• i think he'd much rather give than receive because he strikes me as a little insecure — if he's eating you out you're focused on the way he's making you feel and he gets to focus on your body, rather than his own

• his stamina is fucking WILD because the self control this man has... like it's insane? could go round after round and will let you have your pleasure before his own, not a selfish lover despite what people think

• i think he's one of if not the most selfless lover in bed because i just know he'd fuck you so good, leave you a mess and make you come over and over again first before letting himself go

• i also think if you aren't into the whole "fear play" thing, he wouldn't force you. he would want you to be kinky and he'd totally experiment with you, but he'd never ever make you uncomfortable or push your limits if you didn't want to or agree to it

• he would 100% pay for your hair, nails, etc whatever is is you want because he thinks it's even sexier when you're all dressed up and done up for him before he ruins you

• especially the whole manicured nails thing...he'd pay for you to have them done because he likes to see them while your hands are wrapped around his cock and you're taking him in your mouth, looking up at him desperately

• buuuuut him actually letting you give him head is kind of...rare? because like i said, he's a lil insecure so he really has to trust you if he's going to let you in like that? and we're not going to talk about how long it takes for him to actually fuck you without any pieces of clothing on

• literally would rather you be naked and him fully dressed for obvious power dynamic reasons, but also because HE LITERALLY IS A NERD LOL he's not confident in his body

• even though you'd die for him and kiss the ground he walked on he's like :[

• lowkey...he's into body worshipping. everyone's like oh he's into bondage, punishment, fear play, all the extremes and stuff - ok sure. yes, but also BODY WORSHIPPING. i already know he falls more in love with you every time you do it to him

• but there's a fine line between body worshipping and letting you take the reins for real. he would rather die than be a sub :]

• lowkey after care is giving!!!

• towels, warm baths, glasses of wine and if you don't feel like drinking, maybe some hot tea and lots of gentle love after

• sigh, you love your little psycho nerdy doctor

• come at me for making him soft but i believe he's like this due to 1) his actual canon backstory and 2) nerds lowkey do it best sorry i don't make the rules

• ps, the glasses STAY on

🧸💌💉🌙

taglist:

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love

[beenbaanbuun]

dancing w/ choi san

words - 2.9k

genre - hurt/comfort

warnings - san is a dick but he’s sorry about it, implications of infidelity

——————————————————————————

The door banged against the wall as you stormed into your apartment, a sheepish San in tow. Rambling apologies spilt from his lips but ultimately fell on deaf ears. You were too upset to even consider listening to him excuse his behaviour from the evening. Besides, even if you did, you were sure the meaningless sorries would only serve to infuriate you further, if that was even possible.

“Sunshine, I’ve said I’m sorry,” you really hated the way the words were so effortlessly spilling from his lips, not a single thought put into any of them. You weren't even sure if he knew what he’d done wrong, and that made your blood boil. So you tried your hardest to keep your cool as he followed you inside and closed the door, much gentler than you’d opened it. At least there were no dents in the wall.

“It’s not enough, San,” you grumbled in response, dropping your handbag down onto the floor. It landed with a thud, the sound rippling through the tense air of the hallway. The sigh San let out when he saw how you’d discarded his gift on the floor let you know that he was growing frustrated too. It was like he was angry at you for being angry at him. Ironic really; if you’d acted as he had, you were sure he’d be in a much worse mood. “I don’t want to talk to you, right now.”

And with that, you started to make your way down to your joint bedroom. You were tired, and all you wanted to do was hole yourself up and cry yourself to sleep. In an ideal world, San would take the hint and move to the spare room for the night. In reality, you knew him too well to think he’d let the two of you go to bed upset. It had always been a rule within your relationship to talk your feelings through with one another, even if you didn't want to. Trust San to do everything he can to make sure your relationship was as healthy as possible.

“Well, that’s mature!” He called after you as you set off down the corridor. You ignored him, instead focusing on the rhythmic clicking of your heels against the wooden floor. You tried to pretend like you didn't hear the sound of his own shoes as he followed you.

The door to your bedroom got much gentler treatment than your front door did. It was opened just wide enough for you to slide in and shut the door behind you straight away. You knew it was childish, but it was your way of creating a barrier between the two of you. Even if it was only a thin piece of wood that could be opened at any time, it made you feel calmer for just a few seconds. It was like you'd sent a message from you to him, one that you hoped he could comprehend: leave me alone.

But whether or not San understood what you were trying to tell him was a mystery. If he did, he ignored it completely, pushing the door open just as you sat on the edge of the bed. You felt a fresh wave of miserable rage rise up within you, only this time, it was accompanied by a familiar lump in the back of your throat, and a painful ache behind your eyes. You prayed that the tears wouldn’t actually fall, but as more seconds passed, the wetter your lashline became.

San just stood in the doorway, the constant stream of pathetic apologies had stopped, since replaced by a frustrated silence. The way he was staring at you with nothing but exasperation was completely unfamiliar, and although you knew your anger was valid, you couldn't seem to stop some guilt from rising within you. It was rare to see the man truly angry, and you hated the idea that you were the one to make his cheerful disposition crumble to nothing. You knew that it wouldn't take long for the evil feeling to root itself deep in your brain, so you tried to push it down and let your anger consume you once more. All it took was a few seconds to think back on the evening, and you were there once more; blood boiling and mind ablaze.

“Go away,” you said, trying to put on a tough facade. Although you knew your attempt was futile, it didn't hurt to try.

“Not until we've talked about this,” you flinched as he spoke, his voice lacking the gentle whininess that it carried as he was desperately begging for your forgiveness just a few moments ago. He sounded stern, and you had no doubt that he meant every word of it; he wasn’t leaving until you’d had an adult conversation.

But for some reason, the thought of talking to him about what was bothering you made you want to sob. Anyone with eyes and a brain should’ve been able to see what he’d done wrong, but apparently, San couldn't. You weren't sure whether he was dumb or just plain ignorant. You didn't know which was worse.

“Why should we talk about this, San? You haven't spoken to me all night and now all of a sudden you do want to speak?” You let out a humourless laugh as you realised just how ridiculous the whole situation was, “If you want to talk to someone, how about you go back to those girls you were dancing with all night? I’m sure they’d be more than happy to share a conversation with you.”

Just as you expected, he had no response, a few stuttered words falling from his lips before he went silent once more. You shot him a glare, daring him to say anything other than a true, meaningful apology. It took him a moment or two to collect his thoughts before he said anything.

“Are you jealous?”

You scoffed because of course you were! And while you knew it was an ugly, relationship-ruining emotion, San only had himself to blame. After all, you never forced San to take that girl's hand and lead her to the dancefloor without so much as a look in your direction, just like you didn’t force him to respond to her shameless flirting by keeping and her friend’s glasses full all evening. It would be silly for him to expect you to feel anything other than jealousy when all you could do was watch on with an empty glass as he had the time of his life with some other women.

“Go away,” you repeated, voice small, as you kicked your heels off, sending them flying to the other side of the room. They hit the wall with a thud, and for a second, you thought you could see San flinch out of the corner of your eye.

A few seconds passed by in silence before San began to shuffle further into the room. You let him, not having the energy to tell him to get out again. You were expecting him to move towards the bed, perhaps taking a seat next to you before continuing the conversation in a calmer manner. But he didn't, instead coming to rest by your shoes on the other side of the room. With a sigh, he picked them up, organising them neatly by your dresser. Not long passed until the ones he was wearing were placed right next to yours.

He remained there for a few moments, back facing towards you, staring at your shoes that sat together. You’d been so excited when he’d suggested wearing matching shoes; even more so when he presented you with the pastel blue heels that matched the accents on his trainers perfectly. All he’d wanted to do was put a smile on your face, but he had to go and mess that up.

Fuck! He really had been an idiot, hadn’t he? He never wanted to take you for granted, and yet he had, all in the name of what? Attention? It seemed cruel to admit, but he could hardly back away from his own actions.

It may have been cruel, but at least it was honest, he supposed. He always had been a sucker for compliments from pretty ladies. Compliments from you especially. Your shy voice as you tell him what niche thing about him you’re obsessing over each day. Your pretty smile as you trace his features with your fingertips. Your gentle lips that press against whichever part of him you find yourself drawn to. He guessed he had forgotten how euphoric it felt to have you fawning over him rather than a few nameless, faceless girls that he couldn't even remember anything about. He didn't have to to know that whatever they were telling him was nowhere near as precious to him as your soft words.

He sighed.

“I’m so sorry for ignoring you all night,” He sighed as he spun around to face you. For the first time all night, you heard some sincerity in his voice as he apologised. This time, it wasn’t just a passing comment he made so that you’d talk to him again; you could feel the remorse in his voice. It only made you cry harder.

You let him walk over to you and crouch down in front of you. His expression was soft as he went to wipe away some of your tears with the sleeve of his top. At first, you tried to pull away, but as he wrapped his other hand around the back of your head, bringing your face back into reach, you realised there was no escape. You tried not to grimace as you saw the black marks on his white t-shirt, left by your mascara. San hadn’t seemed to notice them.

There was a soft look in his eyes as he dabbed at your skin, being as careful as humanly possible. The last thing he wanted was to irritate the already red skin around your eyes. As he worked, the thumb at the back of your head rubbed slow circles into your scalp, working alongside his quiet hushes to soothe you. It wasn’t until your eyes were completely dry that he pulled the sleeve away from your face and stood up once more.

Nothing was said when he left to go into the bathroom, the only thing filling the otherwise silent room was the sound of your quiet sniffles. At least until he turned the tap on. You listened as the water splashed against something for just a few seconds before the tap was turned off once more, and San came back into your eyesight with a dampened flannel in his hand and a pretty smile on his lips.

You matched it with your own, albeit a little more pathetic, as he squatted in front of you once more and guided the flannel to your face. It was soft and warm as he tried his hardest to remove your makeup, but of course, with no cleanser, it didn’t really do a lot. You appreciated the sentiment behind it, though. San was looking after you, just like he usually did whenever you weren't fighting. It was his way of apologising; actions rather than words.

“You’re the prettiest person in the whole world,” he whispered as he dropped the wet flannel to the floor and took your face in his hands, “And I love you more than I have ever loved anyone else. I’m pretty sure that this is it for me, and I’ll be damned if I let my own stupidity fuck that up. I’m so sorry for making you feel unwanted tonight, Sunshine.”

He leant in, face just a few inches from your own, hot breath dancing against your lips. It felt like forever before he closed the gap, but when he finally pressed his soft lips pressed against yours, it was magical. There was so much love in the kiss, mixed together with something that felt a lot like remorse, and you couldn't help but want more. You needed him to hold you in his arms, chest pressed against chest as he showed you just how much he loved you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours, heartbeats intermingling until they became one.

His lips moved slowly, yet confidently against yours, slowly deepening the kiss until he was probing your mouth with his tongue. You let him in, allowing it to dance with your own in a soft fight for dominance. Both of you knew that San was going to win, and both of you knew that that's exactly what you wanted. After all, San was good at taking the reigns and making you feel loved and desired.

As he kissed you, his fingers danced across your jawline before moving swiftly to the back of your head to hold your face still against his own. His fingers tightened in your locks, giving a soft tug. It was so gently domineering that your mind went blank for a few seconds. He always did know which strings to pull, or more importantly which strands to tug, to make you weak at the knees.

“San,” you whined as you pulled away from the kiss. There was a pout on your lips that begged to be kissed again, so San did. It was just a small peck before he pulled back once more, ready to listen. Wide eyes stared you down as you let another sniffle wrack through your body, “you love me, right?”

He cooed. Long and sympathetic, as if he'd just watched a kitten bump it's head or something. With his hand still tightly pressed to the back of your head, it was easy enough to tilt it forwards until your foreheads were touching. He looked blurry from this close, but even that couldn't stop you from noticing the softness in his chocolate eyes.

“What a silly question, my sunshine,” he said, low and rumbling, “you're the only woman in the world for me.”

You only pouted harder, a sour look taking over your expression.

“You can't say that to me right now,” and he knew you were correct; he didn't have the right to say that after what he'd done, “you can tell me you love me, but don't say I'm the only woman in the world when you're so easily swayed.”

“I wasn't swayed,” he hummed, although he could tell you didn't believe him, “you are the only woman for me. And I don't want to diminish your feelings but it was only a dance, my sunshine. Nothing more.”

“But you left me,” you looked down at your hands as your voice quietened to a whisper. It’s low and quiet and if he wasn't invading so much of your personal space, you'd wonder if he even heard you.

He pulls back, just a few inches, until he's far enough away to see your full face. To watch how your bottom lip wobbles as you try to hold in the fresh batch of tears that are threatening to spill. He feels a wave of guilt fill him from top to bottom, and he lets it. It sits heavy in his chest like lead, and tugs in every which direction until his chest aches an unfathomable amount.

He feels like he could cry too, but he won't. He knows that if he does you'd be all over him in seconds trying to soothe him, but that isn't your job. Not right now, anyway. Not when he's in the wrong.

So he sucks it up, takes a deep breath and stands up.

“Come here, sunshine,” his hand reached out for you to take, and although you were angry at him, you weren’t not cruel enough to deny him the opportunity to make it up to you. Not when he’d been trying so hard all night. So you took his hand and let him pull you to your feet. Your knees were a little wobbly, but it didn’t really matter when San was there to hold you up.

Within a few seconds you were pressed to his chest and his lips were on the top of your head. They alternated between gentle kisses and whispering indistinguishable words against the styled mop. You let it happen as you rested your weary head against his chest. There was bound to be yet another makeup stain on the white cotton when you eventually pulled away, but that seemed irrelevant right now.

“I’ll never leave you again,” he said a little louder. It seemed to echo around the room, repeating again and again until it finally sank in. It was a promise, you realised, and San never broke his promises, “the next time a girl comes up to me, I’ll scare them off. Make myself look insane, or something.”

You giggled at that. Part of you wanted to believe it was a joke to get you to giggle, but deep down you knew he was telling the truth. You’d have to fight the ladies off yourself next time, just so your boyfriend didn’t do something to embarrass you both in the middle of a nightclub.

“That won’t be hard,” you replied in jest, “you already look insane.”

He chucked and you could feel the way his lips spread into a smile at the top of your scalp. He pressed another smiley kiss against it before pulling away a little so he could look at you. Still pretty, he thought to himself as he stared at your pouty lips and your puffy eyes. Still the love of his life.

“I must be if I was willing to leave your side,” he caught a stray tear with his thumb, “no sane man would leave the prettiest girl in the club all on her own, right?”

[belokhvostikova]

𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | With the seed planted, Operation Eddie Munson Must Die falls into plan, as—despite your dismay—a double date is secured with Winnie Ambrose, and Small-Town-Hottie Steve Harrington.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, tiniest mention of drugs, alcohol consumption, bits of arguing, insults, overall disrespectfulness, brief moment of a creep, mentions of past bullying, mentions of STDs, and explicit sexual content: oral (male receiving), cum eating, and protected vaginal sex.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Apologies in advance, I found that as I wrote it just kept getting shittier, and shittier. So if it's bad, I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing. Also desperately wanting to make Reader the villain, and have Eddie end up with a girlfriend... who knows :) Big thanks to these lovely anons (you, you, and you) for the plotline suggestions!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 16.2K

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

“God, I told you- I told you just how much of an asshole he was!” The front door shut with a slam, as Winnie’s handbag went flying to the couch in an adrenaline rage. 

Your bottom plopped alongside the discarded purse, where you made the rash endeavor to release your ankles from the tight imprisonment of strappy heels that left your feet sore beyond repair. “C’mon, Winnie, I knew since the first time he left you crying that he was an asshole.” 

With your fingers attempting to mitigate the soles of your feet, your tired eyes had a hard time keeping up with Winnie’s rampant pacing, as the concoction of a martini plus Eddie Munson had her on a buzzing thrill. 

“And you!” Her finger projected to you, tight hands coming to clutch onto your shoulders. “You were incredible! Waving him off, and whatnot! Truly, if it was me, I would have been in his bed by now!” Winnie violently shook your shoulders. “God, he was so desperate, a-and crazy- god, Y/N, you made Eddie Munson crazy!”

“Oh, please, c’mon, Win, Eddie’s not stupid.” You shoved her hands off. “You even said he does this to every girl-”

“Not chase them!” Winnie urged. “For the love of God, he ran into traffic! Eddie Munson doesn’t chase, we chase- I, embarrassingly enough, chased him! That’s his whole game, but you- he went after you!”

You exhaustedly sighed, shoving your fingertips into the skin of your temple. No matter how enthusiastic Winnie’s words came out, your rationale merely vindicated his motives as nothing but self-indulgent and the furthest thing from interest. “Winnie, what kind of girl doesn’t swoon over a big, really stupid gesture? Like I said, Eddie isn’t stupid.”

With a pop, Winnie sunk to her knees, reaching eye level, as her’s unsettlingly burned into yours. “Y/N, believe me, I know Eddie more than you do,” but you knew his type more than she did, “he wanted you. Hell, he’s probably thinking about you right now!”

“Oh, fuck, baby, feels so fucking good, pussy feels so fucking good.” Eddie Munson clinched his eyes closed, as his hips punctured each thrust with a sticky slap of wet skin. 

“Mm! Eddie! Please, don’t stop, ple-”

“Sh! Don’t talk, don’t fucking talk.” His voice grunted, as his heavy hand muffled Santina Rodrigo’s whines into the pillows of his bed. “Just let me fuck you- fuck this pretty pussy until you can’t speak.” The words rolled off his tongue like a studied script. 

If you weren’t going to be in his bed tonight, someone else surely was.

His thrust became harsher. Bumping into the ripple of her ass, as her back curved to the gluttony of her body that just wanted more, and more. Pounding breaths were ripping through his flared nostrils, with pellets of salty sweat bleeding into his mouth, as a firm bite to his lip kept his moans at bay. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby. Eddie, I’m gonna-”

“Cream on my fucking cock, show me how good I’m fucking you. Scream it, sweetheart.” His stomach cramped with each fervent squelch of his dick ramming into her cunt.

You blinked. “You really think he’s thinking about me?” A shy smile unwarrantedly invaded your face. 

Winnie jumped with joy. “Yes! He totally is!” She squealed. “But don’t you dare let that get to your head.” Her hand suddenly came in contact with your forehead. 

“Ow!”

“That’s like strapping steak on your chest, and going into the lion’s den. If you’re not ready to fully face the charming wrath of Eddie Munson, you need to tell me now!” Christ, that accusatory finger was degrading you again with its vicious point. “Okay, you can’t fall for his shit!”

“I- no, n-no, I’m ready, like, so, totally ready.” Your face became stern under her glare. “Yeah, um, very much ready.” Your voice quieted. 

“Remember Y/N, it’s guys like Eddie that get girls to think they’re so datable.” Her eyes dragged to the back of her head. “Okay, all this ‘oh, you’re so special, I’m obsessed with you, I’d do anything for you’ is a little bullshit game that gets girls to fawn over him.” She mocked with such a guttural voice. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect! Perfect just for me! Cum, baby, cum all over my fucking cock.” Eddie’s voice cracked through gritted teeth, as his hands painfully molded to the fat of her ass, squeezing until her skin was tender. 

“Yeah, baby? Fuck, I’m cumming! I’m- aughhh!” Santina mewled into the rumpled sheets that soaked with her perspiration. 

Eddie didn’t give her a minute to spare, as her scalp suddenly burned with the brutal grip of her hair in his hand. Her body nearly collapsed, as she trudged through the attempt of supporting herself on trembling legs, when Eddie forced her face to his body. The stretching of rubber slapped off his cock, as he haphazardly discarded the condom onto the expanse of the bedroom floor. 

“C’mon, baby, open up, lemme cum down that fucking throat.” Her head could barely confirm his request with a nod, before Eddie shoved his length down her airway, with a thick gag to harshly pair with his deep groans. 

Spit slung down the curve of her chin, doubling the stains that had previously bled themselves into his dirty sheets from a week of late night endeavors catered to different women, but always ended the same. 

And Santina Rodrigo was no fool, she was fully capable of grasping the reality of Eddie Munson. 

Which is why this night would end differently. 

“Yeah, I know, which is totally why this date isn’t happening.” You proclaimed. 

But Winnie Ambrose has other plans. “Oh, no, it totally is.”

“What?” You jumped from the couch. “What happened to the, y’know, ‘Eddie wants what he can’t have,’ going on a date with him is giving him exactly what he can’t have?”

Winnie sighed, a shake of disappointment came with the sympathetic look she burdened you with. “Oh, you poor, innocent thing.” Her manicured hand patronizingly caressed your head with pets. “Y/N…” her breath deepened, “…this is all a part of the plan!” She exclaimed. “Remember, you give and you take. Leading Eddie on will only grow his feelings, but never fully giving in will leave him wanting more! This is the basic principle of dating!”

“I don’t like this kind of dating.” 

“Well, it’s what’s gonna work! We have to take him down!” Her hands harshly dug into your shoulders, bulging eyes of crazy staring into your soul. “And we will not back down! Say it with me! We will not back down!”

“Our neighbors are going to think we’re crazy, Winnie.”

“C’mon!” She incited you. “We will not back down! Eddie Munson will come down!” Winnie Ambrose truly had to be drill sergeant in her past life. “We will not back down! Eddie Munson will come down-”

“-Your throat. F-Fuck, gonna cum down your throat. Just keep gaggin’ on my cock, baby.” Eddie held a tight grip to Santina’s head, her hair now in an irreparable state of dishevelment from his unyielding grip that gave him the leverage to pummel his cock down her constricting throat. 

With his balls tensing under the thick globs of spit that squelched his cock towards that buzzing bliss, Eddie suffocated Santina’s nose with the curls of his pubes, as his heavy grunts announced his orgasm, with streams of salty spurts invading her mouth. 

“Mm, fuck, yeah, better swallow that shit down, fuck.” He slowed his movements, until his cock pulled from between her raw lips, as her tongue lapped up the strings of saliva that clung to his dick. 

And here it came. Like clockwork.

“You okay, baby?” A caressing hand; pivotal for the illusion of caring. With his thumb gently stroking the breadth of her cheek, softly swiping the remanments of a blowjob from her lips, Santina Rodrigo melted into his touch. Next, words of affirmation. “Did so good for me, baby. Fuck, that was incredible.” Eddie Munson smiled. “Was that okay for you? Not too hard? You can tell me, sweetheart, want you comfortable, beautiful.” Something to flutter the heart, every person likes being cared for. And with a tired mouth too exhausted to confirm her contentment, Eddie went in for the kill. As Santina peered up at him with the roundest eyes to appeal to him, Eddie cemented this act of love with an intimate kiss on her gleaming forehead. 

It was quite profound, actually. 

Something about his large build hovering over, so easily chalked up to the roughness of man actually being vulnerable enough to express affection. It would have any girl swooning. 

Eddie Munson knew that, but more importantly, Santina Rodrigo knew that. 

So, as his back laid against the cushion of his pillows, his fingers reached for a cigarette to ease his mind of the inevitable downpour of cries that were about to be spewed his way. But the sudden movement beside him had his eyes connecting with hers, Santina. “Listen, sweetheart-”

“I’m off work Saturday.” With his sheets covering her once exposed breasts, she sat with her head held high, eyes unfaltering. 

“I-”

“I understand you put on the theatrics for your gain, but I don’t want it, unless you mean it.” Santina smiled. “Really mean it.” 

Eddie’s brows cinched to the center of his forehead, where his mind blanked at the unheard of bluntness from his—what was supposed to be—one night stand. “What are you getting at here, sweetheart?”

“I want a date on Saturday.” She asserted. “C’mon, you really think I would just let you fuck me, and move one?” Eddie’s face twisted with the laughter that smacked his face. “Grow up, Eddie. This act can’t last you forever.”

His thoughts were invaded with the tumultuous mix of unwanted astonishment that—as much as it pissed him off—sparked a little curiosity in his dazed mind. A laugh scoffed past his lips. “A date? Okay.” If it meant another easy fuck, who was he to give that up over a simple date. 

“And no bullshit, Eddie.” Santina affirmed. “If I’m going to be allowing you to fuck me, it’s just going to be me.”

Eddie laughed. “Hold on now, baby, this,” his finger maneuvered against the space between them, “has only been a one night thing, you can’t, um, you can’t expect me to just stick to one pretty girl, now, c’mon, sweetheart.” He proffered a sly smirk that had her rolling her eyes. 

“None of which will be as good as me.” Her confident stature had Eddie sucking in breath through his teeth-bitten lips. “And you’ll realize that quite quickly, but far too late for me to ever care for. So, Eddie, I suggest you clean yourself up nicely for this date. I don’t like anything cheap.” Stunned, he watched her naked body emerge from his sheets, as she quietly gathered her clothes. Her hand found itself wrapped around Eddie’s chin, nails digging into his skin to keep him face-to-face. “If I were you, I’d reconsider this whole ‘noncommittal’ act you like to screw girls over with.” She smiled, soft breaths against his lips. “I’m different Eddie, and you’re going to respect that. Goodbye.” Santina brandished her lip gloss to his lips with a wet kiss, before her heels clicked their way out of his apartment. 

Eddie Munson blinked, screwing his eyes closed, as he scoffed in disbelief. “What the fuck?” 

“Alright, alright, we’ll take Eddie Munson down.” You shoved your hand over Winnie’s mouth to quiet her voice, only for her muffled squeals of excitement to bleed through. 

“Okay, okay!” She jumped with adrenaline, a bright smile to pair. “We have to be methodical, Y/N. Simply going on the date with Eddie isn’t going to cut it. We have to make sure you’re the only one dating Eddie. He’s never gonna take this seriously, if he’s still seeing other women. We have to cut off the source.”

“The source?”

“The source that makes Eddie Munson so dateable!” She huffed so obviously. “We have to make Eddie undateable.”

“Right, make the tall guy with nice hair, who plays lead guitar of his own band, and just so happens to be known as the man who can make any girl finish undateable. Yeah, that seems totally plausible.” You deadpanned.

Winnie Ambrose sighed. “When will you learn to never underestimate me?”

Next day by brunch, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, Winnie found herself sipping on one too many mimosas, and with the boredom of her lonesome company and the once baby blue polish that was mindlessly chipped to nothing, her endeavors brought her the social setting of Marie Ann’s Nail and Spa. “He gave you what now?!” Suddenly, the nail tech was hesitant to touch Winnie’s fingers.

“Mhm.” Winnie solemnly nodded, as the other women amongst her gasped. “At first, I thought it was just regular discharge, but then it just got worse, and worse!” She dramatically exclaimed. “And then suddenly, I was in pain, it hurt to pee, and I was getting these awful fevers.” Her acting twisted the faces of the fellow patrons to concern. “So, I did what any girl would do, and I went to the doctor, and what do you know it: the clap!”

“And Eddie Munson gave it to you?” Shirley Brinkle, with her toes soaking in the warm water of her chair, massage setting on, interrogated with her manicured hand clutching her necklace. 

“Yup! I mean, he was the only one I’ve ever been with.” Quite the act. “And it checks out, y’know, with all the girls he’s been with, and whatnot.” Winnie fought to hold back a smile, as the ladies around her nodded in agreement. “So, I’m warning you. Do not get with Eddie Munson. He’s, like, a total walking biohazard.”

And it had worked… for some time. With how notorious the playboy had been, word spread quickly through groups of girlfriends who once gossiped about the sheer size of his cock, now having hushed conversations to stay clear of said cock. So, that evening, when Eddie had found himself in flirtations with the lady at the gym, who just looked too good in her gymwear to pass up, his confidence faltered at her sudden departure, when her friend stared him in his eyes, and whispered to her friends. Like, so motion, Eddie heard the quiet word slip from her mouth, “gonorrhea.” Panic.

But rule number one in warfare: never underestimate your opponent.

That Monday to come, Winnie dragged herself through the streets of Indianapolis to clock in her hours at work, though when passing the empty bar that saw its busiest attendance on the particular Saturday nights Corroded Coffin would perform, her body halted. Retaking her steps back, her sunglasses raised, eyes squinting to see if she was really seeing what she was seeing.

Posted on the window, “END THE STIGMA: Let’s talk about gonorrhea.” Eddie and his stupid face plastered on a poster was enough to make Winnie scoff. “Saturday night STD fundraiser! Live show included, here at The Albatross!”

“That conniving, little bitch!” And, of course…

“While an advocate, I, Eddie Munson, do not have gonorrhea or any sexually transmitted diseases.”

And just to rub some salt into the wound, “So sweet, isn’t he?” A stranger—a pretty one at it, too—voiced her admiration to Winnie, as they gazed upon the poster. “He’s, like, the only guy I know who would care about a cause.” 

Damn it, the bar was in hell.

But while Eddie Munson may have gotten the upper hand in this round, he and his confidence in his system of juggling girls could not anticipate the events of Black Tuesday.

-

On Tuesdays like such, customers found little time to meander in the relaxation of the coffeehouse, as midweek work obligations called for the swift in-and-out transaction. 

You quite like Tuesdays like such. 

When little visitors frequented, your boss would tune up the small radio that allowed soft music to linger about, where it once would be drowned under the cacophony of shouting patrons, who took to vividly expressing their lives in conversations.

Spurt. Spurt. You hummed to the voice of Billy Joel, as the fragranced cleaner invaded your noise with lemony pinewood, providing that sleek gloss to the wooden table tops, as your damp rag smeared across the perimeter. Too ingrained with mimicking the tunes of “Vienna,” you hadn’t paid much mind to the chime of the door bell, simply throwing out the usual, “I’ll be with you in a minute,” as you continued the task of swiping away leftover crumbs of pastries that accompanied the light splatters of spilled coffee. 

But turning on your feet to reach the register fell short, when you were suddenly face-to-face with Eddie Munson. “You’re quite hard to get a hold of… Y/N.” Ever so slightly, the sardonic tone of his voice curled his lips upward. 

With a lump caught in your throat, you made the rash decision to merely walk away to the counter, screwing your eyes shut at the sound of following footsteps that stomped behind you. You cleared your throat. “What can I get you?” 

“A date.” He nonchalantly nodded. “As you agreed.” 

“Uh, no, I di-”

“Y’know, after asking you out, I came by Sunday to make plans for our date.” He interjected, as your eyebrows shot into the creases of your forehead. 

“Didn’t work Sunday.” You blunted provided.

Eddie hissed, shaking his head. “Yeah, much to my disappointment.” His hand came up scratching the shavened skin of his cheek. “Though, also kinda lucky.” He laughed off, leaning in close. “Had some mess to deal with, all fixed now, so if you hear otherwise, it’s a lie.”

Oh, Winnie.

You suppressed the bulging of your eyes, and waved off his attempt at a conversation. “What do you want, Eddie?”

“I already told you: my date.” 

“Can’t. Busy.” You turned your back to wipe off the counters that you had already cleaned before his arrival, though luckily, he didn’t know that. 

“Alright, so I’ll accommodate. When do you get off?” With his forearms against the counter, his biceps bulged against his constricting arm sleeves, and maybe, just maybe, Eddie tensed his arms to let those veins pop, as you faced him again.

Annoyance was beginning to bubble in your chest. With what few customers did visit, all seemed to have a stick up their ass with their disrespectful attitude towards you, and you weren’t exactly keen to play into Eddie’s games. “Look, you forcing me to say yes to date, because you did something absolutely stupid is not me actually wanting you, okay? So, unless you’re going to order something, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

Eddie propped to his extended height. “Hey, alright, look, you’re right, I’m sorry.” His ringed hands landed on his chest. “That was real stupid of me, but I meant what I said Saturday, I do have this funny, little feeling that you’re special, so can you really blame a guy?” You wanted to slap that smile off his face. You probably wouldn’t even be able to count how many times that one liner was used on other women, and your face showed it with the scowl that took over. “Alright, so you can blame me.” He laughed. 

“Get out.”

“Hey, no, I’d like a latte, please. My usual, c’mon, Y/N, you know my usual.” Ugh, you did know his usual. 

“It’ll be $5.” 

A scoff chuckled out from his mouth. “What? It’s usually $3.10.”

“Not today.” 

Eddie laughed in disbelief, as he reached for his wallet, slapping two $5 bills onto the counter, and sliding them over. “The extra five is for you, feeling generous.” He cockily shrugged. Degrading and patronizing? To hell with it, you were a service worker, of course, you took the tip. You once again turned, given another distraction of actually concocting his order to find reason not to entertain him. “Think the universe is in my favor, no? Came in Sunday, you weren’t here. Came in Monday… you weren’t here. Why was that anyway?”

“Had class. Got the night shift.” 

“Ah, so you go to university. See, look at us, we could be getting to know each other just like this, but on a date.” You despised the soft laughter that echoed through your nose, something Eddie surely had picked up on with the large smile that took over his face. “But then y’know what? Came in on this fine Tuesday, and what d'ya know? Third times a charm, here you are.” 

“Unfortunately.”

Eddie laughed. “Oh, you’re funny.” Oh, Christ, you were smiling. Thank god your back was turned. “You like the movies, got a favorite film.”

“Hate them, actually.”

“Alright, well, what about dinner?” Eddie proffered. “Got a nice restaurant in mind, could order you some nice steak, ooh, the lobster is always incredible. 

“Don’t eat meat. It’s disgusting.” You lied.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Y/N, sweetheart, you gotta work with me here.”

“I quite literally don’t.” You slid over the plastic cup of coffee. Winnie would be so proud of you. 

“Ooh,” he hissed, “I actually wanted this for here.” Eddie matched your movement, sliding back the latte, as his eyes never left yours. 

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders to match his considerably cool apathy, when in reality you were ready to hurl your guts over the mortifying experience of having to talk to a guy like him. “Well, you should have specified that. Too late now.” You shoved the cup back. 

Eddie smiled that sickly grin, leaning in close enough to have you cowering below him. But your eyes stayed staunch to the confidence you were trying to exude, never forfeiting the staring contest he forced you into. “C’mon, just tell me what I gotta do to get you on a little date with me. What’s it gonna take?” His head tilted with that devious smirk. 

“Well, maybe…” you sincerely sighed, “...if you would just leave.” You round eyes peered up at him.

A guttural laugh bubbled in his chest, as he blushed down with a suppressed smile. “I’m being serious.”

“And who says I’m not?” You smiled back. 

“Alright, look, it’ll all be on your terms. Your wish is my command. Anything you want.” Eddie laid his cards out flat on the table. 

You swallowed thickly, regulating yourself through the heavy breathing of a long sigh that escaped from you. Realistically, being one-on-one with someone like Eddie was a set up for disaster. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you’d only survive this far with the words of Winnie Ambrose playing into your ear, coaching you through the complexity that is Eddie Munson. You give and you take, and so far, the easiest thing was taking away, and even that had your stomach twisting with the gruesomeness of anxiety that left your mind on overdrive with intrusive thoughts. 

What did Eddie Munson think of you? How much of an embarrassment would you make out of yourself suddenly falling into his trap? No, you were better than that. This wasn’t going to be another Dalton Barron moment- ugh, Christ, you don’t even want to think about him. Okay, so you learned from your mistake, it won’t happen again, just don’t trust Eddie Munson. Yeah, don’t trust Eddie Munson. Surely, anyone would agree with you on that one. But what if not trusting him puts him off? What if that’s what drives him away, and Winnie’s plan ultimately fails, because of yo-

“C’mon, Y/N, I think you’re gettin’ a little too into your head here.” He swayed in his stance. Your face frowned, clearly not appreciative of how easily he read that. 

“I don’t- I just don’t want to go on a date with you.” You softly answered, watching his head drop in defeat. “At least, not alone.” He slowly peered back up in interest. 

Eddie nodded to your suggestion. Was it ideal? Definitely not, it’d be quite difficult making the moves on you with people around. But if it meant getting you out with him… “I got a friend.” His fingers snapped at the sudden revelation that hit him. 

“A friend?”

“Yup.” His lips popped with emphasis. “Pretty good looking guy, y’know, nice hair n’ all. Family’s loaded, too, he’s working at the law firm his dad owns back in my hometown.”

“You’re not from here?” You questioned.

Eddie smiled. “See, you’re totally interested in gettin’ to know me.” He teased an eye roll out of you. “But, no, to answer your question, I’m not. Hawkins, in fact. Pretty small town about forty minutes out north west from Indy. A little shitty- well, actually, a lot shitty,” Eddie chuckled, “but it’s quiet at night, which I’ve always liked. So, if it’ll make you a bit more comfortable,” he leaned over, “why don’t you and that roommate of yours come out to Hawkins to hang out with me and my buddy.”

Your eyes softened at the request, as your heartbeat slowly dissipated to the calm rhythm it once was pumping at, before Eddie ruined that for you. “You- you’d be okay with Winnie coming?”

“No.” He laughed. “In fact, I think bringing an old hookup—who just so happens to hate my guts—to a double date sounds absolutely miserable, but I’m willing to be miserable if it means getting to be with you.” No salacious smirk this time, spoken matter-a-factly even, which somehow felt more unsettling. “Hopefully Steve can entertain your friend enough for me.” Eddie shrugged. 

“Steve?”

“Harrington.” He finished off for you. “Quite the ladies man, in fact, so I’m sure he’ll have no problem agreeing to this.” Then, Eddie whispered close. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t steal you off of me.” He winked, before grabbing his drink to take a couple steps back. “You get off by, I don’t know, five?” You couldn’t even fathom words at the moment, only meeting him with a small nod that mindlessly controlled itself. “Perfect, then let’s say about eight. Real casual, nothing too crazy. The Hideout, it’s a little bar. In Hawkins. My treat.” He smiled. “Have a nice day… Y/N.”

Eddie Munson had become quite obsessed with saying your name. 

-

“Steve Harrington? Sounds like some boy-next-door sitcom name.” Winnie laughed, as her mouth crunched down on the handful of chips that stuffed themselves down her mouth. 

“Eddie said he was really good looking, though.” You sat by her propped feet on the coffee table. “And- and, he’s in the whole lawyer business thing.” You offered. 

“He’s a lawyer?” Winnie’s interest piqued at the sudden monetary value of Steve Harrington. 

“Well, Eddie said he worked at a law firm, not entirely sure what he does, but you could totally find out if you go, please, pretty please.” You begged. “Don’t let me go by myself, you know I won’t be able to handle it, I’ll probably panic and say something stupid, and this whole plan will come crashing-”

“Okay, okay.” Winnie gave in, folding over the plastic of her chip bag, as she rid herself the crumbs that stuck around her mouth. “You know what? You’re right, we have to get this date going.” She urgently stood. “We have to go all out. What are we thinking? Skirt? Maybe a dress? Ooh, I’ve been meaning to bust out my new Vivienne Westwoods-”

“Wait, no, Eddie said this was supposed to be casual.” You stopped her. “Just some bar, I think by the sounds of it, in his hometown.”

“Eddie’s bringing you to his hometown?!” Winnie halted, face contorting into the dozen creases of dumbfoundedness. “What the hell?! The first time I got with him, I asked for his last name, and he told me not to push it. Had to hear it from some other girl he was screwing. Holy shit, Eddie Munson’s whipped for you!”

“What? N-No, he’s not.” You tried appeasing her shock. “It’s just like a convenience thing, y’know? For his friend, I assume.”

Winnie laughed in disbelief, shaking her head to dispute your claims. “Oh, this plan is so going to work!” She cheered. “C’mon, we have a first date to ruin!”

By 5:45 P.M, your bathroom steamed with the hotness of condensation, as the aromas of scented body washes and lotions clung to your body. Unlike the preparations of Saturday night, ‘dressing casually’ proved difficult for Winnie, who opted to rummage through your closet. “Ugh, don’t you have anything lacey?”

“Is lacey really casual?” You wondered, as you hopped into your shorts with a shimmy to get them from around your ass.

“It is to me.” Winnie whined, flinging articles of clothing you knew she’d never clean up. 

“What about my maxi skirt right there?” You proffered.

Winnie examined the layered sheer material. It was a sage green. She quite liked green with her auburn hair. “It’s not too hot for this?” She hesitantly questioned.

“Totally not! Enough flow for some airway.” You sold. “Plus, pretty easy to slip off for Mr. Lawyer.” You teased, at least something funny enough to get her to smile.

“Oh, I shouldn’t- well…” You laughed at her contemplation, as you both fell comfortably in the pile of clothes in your disorganized bedroom. “Maybe if he’s, like, really hot. Like, River Phoenix hot. Ooh, that means I should definitely wear my push-up bra, wherever the hell it went.” You dug for a thin sweater to throw on. “No, but wait, would that make a slut?” You laughed at her question. “Like, royal slut for sleeping with two friends?

“Who cares, Win. Have your fun.” You offered in return, watching her shoulders relax. “Eddie’s doing it, anyway. Why can’t you?”

Winnie gasped. “You would sleep with Eddie Munson?!”

Your mouth fell open. “W-What? No, I didn’t say that, like, a-at all. I just- I meant dating.”

“Okay, but would you?” Winnie teased, poking at your belly to rile you up.

Your mind blanked, mouth falling dry through your stutters. “N-No, I don’t even like him like that. You- it’s you making me do this, remember?” You defended. “I wouldn’t have even talked to him if it wasn’t for this idea.” It’d be best if Winnie Ambrose never learned the identity of your mysterious coffeehouse crush that was discovered to be Eddie Munson. Even then, all those barely there, absolutely not deep, totally juvenile feelings vanished when learned that not only had he been sleeping with your best friend, but apparently all of Indianapolis. 

“Well,” Winnie sighed, trusting your word, “you’re stronger than most. Which honestly, is the only thing keeping this plan working, because let’s be honest here, Eddie is going to try to sleep with you sooner or later.” Your stomach churned. “But, remember we can’t let that happen. Best way to go about it is to be, y’know, calm and collected. Brush him off effortlessly.”

“Okay, calm and collected. Like I don’t care. Just be indifferent.” You detail your understanding. 

“Exactly, but don’t totally wave him off! The only thing reeling him in is your slight interest.” You felt like your head was about to explode. “So, just take notes and remember to be caring and passionate. He’s gotta know you’re feeling something, y’know?” No, you don’t know. “But then,” oh, Christ, “you gotta learn when to hit back, okay? Eddie’s an asshole. You know that, I know that, everyone knows that. And that filthy mouth of his is bound to say something gross to get a reaction out of you. So, stand your ground, be proud and aggressive. He’ll easily walk all over you if you’re meek.”

“Okay, well, I rejected him, now I’m going on a date with him, so he thinks I’m “interested,” I just don’t know what to do next.” You frowned in frustration. “This is all a lot, y’know?”

“C’mon, you’ve dated before-”

“Yeah. Though, it was only one, singular, y’know… Dalton.” You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eye sockets to suppress the memories that were trying to hash out that anger for the closure you never got. 

“Exactly!” Winnie snapped with emphasis. “You’ve been down this road before, you know what to expect. And people like Eddie and Dalton need to pay up for what they’ve done! So, don’t strike yourself out, we are women! We are feminists! This is for feminism!”

You huffed out a sardonic chuckle. “I don’t think that’s what feminism means, Winnie.”

“Okay, well, we’re both young women, who are hot as shit, and are not going to let some gross dudes ruin us!” She declared. “So, when you go on this date, you play it aloof. Don’t give him everything, but give him enough.”

“Like what?”

“Like, if he compliments you, don’t shy away, you take it!” She explained. “Oh, and the three seconds rule! You wait three seconds to answer him when you’re talking.”

“Doesn’t that seem a little redundant?” You brows cinched in question. 

“No, it totally works for me!” She protested.

“Winnie,” you sympathetically sighed, “you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Ugh, look, if I wanted to keep them around, I would, because that three seconds rule works! Makes me look cool, Y/N.” Winnie sassed in protest. Before you could retaliate a teasing comment to her skewed views of dating, a knock at the front door had cut your conversation short. “I’ll get it.” Winnie huffed, throwing your maxi skirt in the mountaining pile of clothes, before heading out. While you could, your shirt had shimmied itself off your body to find comfort in a sweater that would suffice for the whole ‘I don’t care’ look you hoped to exude with this forced upon date. Suddenly, Winnie’s feet could be heard shuffling as quickly as possible back to your room. “Fucking flowers?!”

“What?” You questioned, as you fixed your hair from the mess that de-clothing caused. 

In the crinkle of brown tissue paper and twine, a dozen stems of pastel tulips stood lively in Winnie’s hands. “He went full Netherlands on you!”

“Eddie?!” Your brows jumped in perplexion. 

Winnie scoffed in disbelief. “Who else would be E. Munson?!” She pulled out the small envelope that propped itself within the tangle of flowers. You stood from the floor, grabbing the pretty bouquet, as Winnie shuffled to slide the card from the paper encasing. “Ugh, ugh,” she cleared her throat. “To ease your mind, something as pretty as you, Y/N. Let me do things properly, give me a call to pick you up: three, one, seven, blah, blah, blah. Gag.” Winnie rolled her eyes. “Sending you flowers, while taking you to some dingy bar, how chivalrous.” 

“W-Wait a minute,” you snatched the card from her hand, “what? Am I supposed to ride with him now?” Your finger skimmed over the felt-tip pen that bled Eddie’s number to the cardstock of the note.

“No.” Winnie snatched the card, ripping it in half.

“Uh- Winnie! This was actually a little sweet, c’mon.”

“Remember, we’re playing this cool!” She urged. “You already agreed to this date, you can’t feed him more. You’re not accepting any of this- well, keep the flowers, they’d look quite nice on our mantel. But don’t call him, okay? We can drive ourselves. And, like, what the hell? Did he just expect me to tow behind? He, like, totally didn’t think of me at all.” Your brow slowly lifted at her. “Alright, alright, I’ll shut up about myself.”

-

Through the static voices of Skid Row over the radio, you turned about the creased map every which way, trying to read the barely eligible highways with their too tiny of a font names. “Oh, okay, it’s Exit 13A.”

“How far away is it?” Winnie held the steering wheel under a tight grip.

“Um,” you peered up. “it’s right there! Winnie, right lane! Go to the-”

“I’m trying! This slow bastard isn’t moving!” She screamed.

You reached over the console. “Your blinkers!” A quick flip to the handle clicked on the indicators. “They won’t know unless your blinkers are on!”

Meanwhile, Eddie’s foot had anxiously tapped to the ticks of the clock, as his thumb nail was facing the repercussion of his nervous gnawing. 

Where the hell were you? It was nearing a quarter to eight, and your expected phone call hadn’t come by. No bounce of his knee, no hand through his hair, no pacing around could ease the nerves that pissed him off, because he so ardently waited for your call. He stood from his couch, quickly making his way to the phone, but no matter how desperate that itch was telling him to call instead, it all fell into a lost cause, as Eddie didn’t know your number. Eddie didn't know Winnie’s number. Hell, Eddie didn’t know any woman’s number. They called. Not him. Never him. Well, he could go over to your apartment- no, that was on another level of desperation that Eddie felt was too pathetic to ever let his pride commit to. 

“Augh,” he groaned in annoyance, as those anxious nerves were beginning to be taken over by anger. “What a bitc- mm.” He restrained himself with a gruff. “What am I- what am I doing waiting around? Fuck this, I’ll get someone else.” Eddie raged under his breath, as he snatched his jacket, and stomped his way out of the apartment. 

Your eyes followed along the passing trees, as the prussian blue of nighttime was beginning to feed into the amber glow of the leaving sunset. Hawkins had been nothing but a straight highway of nonbeing, as Eddie’s words came into existence: it was quiet at night. Rocks skipped under the fast turning wheels of the car, as you approached the faded sign welcoming you into the solitude of Hawkins, Indiana. When rows of woodlands finally ended, you were met with the expanse of cornfields. 

“So…” Winnie dragged out. “How exactly are we supposed to find this bar?” She questioned, as her eyes fell on the long road ahead. “Maybe we should have taken up Eddie’s offer.” You shot her a look of disbelief. “Okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding, but seriously.”

“Eddie said it was a small town, so I’m sure it won’t take too long. Just look out for bar, preferably with any sign at says ‘The Hideout.’” 

“The Hideout… The Hideout.” She ticked, as she drove wherever the roads guided her. 

Through the unintentional exploration of the suburbs and downtown areas, your destination was found through the environs north front of abandoned diners, lonesome laundromats, and a dilapidated trailer park where rusted car parts littered the dead grass against man made driveways. 

The neon sign buzzed through its draining power. “Some first date.” Winnie groaned, taking in the foundation of stained bricks. 

You shrugged with the bit of optimism you were clawing to hold on to. “M-Maybe it’s quaint.”

“Yeah, for a bunch of hillbilly, old dudes with beer bellies.” She grouched, as her legs dragged her out of the car. You swiftly followed, choosing to subtly cower behind her, as you both loitered the makeshift parking lot of what was just tire tracks and haphazard parking. “These guys better be here already.” Winnie rolled her eyes. Nothing but the running engine of a burgundy Bimmer buzzed through the chilled atmosphere.

And it hadn’t been until the engine was keyed off, with a figure slamming the door shut, that it finally caught your attention. “Hey, hey, wait, you think that’s Steve?” Your hand repeatedly smacked against Winnie’s arms.

Winnie squinted her eyes through the dark. Well, he did have the hair. Great hair, in fact. Totally walked like he could be some wannabe lawyer, especially with the white button-up he adorned; too fancy for a place like such. Could definitely see him being casted as the boy-next-door. And woah, was he pretty. Like, ridiculously pretty. “It better be Steve, fuck me.” Her glossed lips fell open. 

“O-Okay, so, we just, like, ask him-”

“Ayo, Steve!” Winnie’s deepened voice boomed to the likeness of a man, before harshly turning around to avoid being caught. 

“Oh, my god.” You quietly sighed to yourself in embarrassment, as Winnie’s efforts clearly fell short of subtlety, and the now identified Steve Harrington was looking right over. 

Winnie stood stiff, as if to appear invisible. “Well, did he look up?” 

“Yes, he looked up.” You deadpanned. “And right at us, in fact, because that was awful.” An incredulous chuckle scoffed out of you. 

“Aw, great, he probably thinks I sound like a chain smoker now.” She groaned, as you both awkwardly shuffled to his direction. 

He proffered such a boyish smile with a small wave to greet you both, before his arms crossed over his chest, hands tucking under his armpits. “Hey, uh, sorry, this is a bit confusing, you’re here to hang out with Ed and I?” He questioned with a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah.” You softly answered. “I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself. 

Steve flashed you a warm smile, before pointing a curious finger beside you. “Ah, so you’re mine tonight?” He asked for clarification to Winnie, who blushed under his suaveness. 

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be yours any night.” She mindlessly responded, luckily rifting that first-meet-up awkward tension that now dissipated into sincere laughter.   

“Alright then,” Steve’s cheeks plumped under his growing smile. “Wendy, right?”

Winnie rolled her eyes. “That bastard, it’s Winnie.” She beamed.

“Winnie, got it, I apologize.” Steve offered, as she shyly waved him off, truly enamored through her school girl-like crush. “Well, uh, like I was saying, I am a bit confused, ‘cause Eddie had kinda told me you guys bailed on us.”

“What?” You mused over his words in confusion. 

Steve shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not sure, something about you not calling, or just basically canceling, I guess.” You and Winnie slowly looked at one another. “I don’t know, he called me before I clocked off work, but after a shift with my dad,” an airy laugh breathed out of him, “figured I could still go for a drink. So, sorry if I’m a little overdressed.” His hands panned over his suited body. “Yeah, so, I’m assuming some lines of communication got lost. You guys definitely didn’t cancel, right?” 

“No, we were trying to be feminists.” You sarcastically lilted. 

“Right, right.” Steve laughed along. “Well, uh, since this double date is definitely not canceled, why don’t we all head inside? I’ll call up Eddie, see if he picks up, and if not… well, I surely don’t mind taking out two pretty girls, so my treat.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m definitely keeping him.” Winnie whispered into your ear.

Where mandatory I.D checks made up The Albatross, it surely lacked at The Hideout, as nothing but spotted glass door—dirtied by a litter of sticky fingerprints—had fallen easily open to welcome any patron who chose to drown their stress with a bitter bottle of beer. Whatever Top 100 Hits Winnie had been used to listening to during her bar endeavors had been switched to bare the brunt of country rock, as older men and women spaced themselves accordingly, rather than the practical dry humping The Albatross was regularly accustomed to. 

Steve Harrington, the soon to be discovered paralegal, had situated you both to a lonesome table surrounded by four stools, where you received the chance to gaze about the rustic decor of American flags and sports jerseys that complimented the dusty deer head that hung against the dark wood. “Hey, so, you guys have any drink preferences?” His head gestured to the bar. 

“Two beers will be fine.” Winnie’s chipper voice answered, as you nodded in agreement. 

“Perfect, I’ll head up to get our drinks, and see if I can give Eddie a call.” Winnie froze under his innocent hand that landed on her shoulder, before Steve sauntered off. 

“Oh, Christ, I’m gonna marry him.” Winnie groaned into her hands. 

You giggled at her unease. “It’s barely been five minutes.”

“But it’s been a good five minutes.” She protested in defense. 

“Okay, so, um, while you get to enjoy your time with Steve, I mean, what should I do about Eddie?” You talked in hushed whispers, as subtle glances to the bar showed Steve in casual conversation with the bartender. “Like, what if he does come, y’know, he’s gonna be pissed? O-Or, uh, if he doesn’t show, does that mean he’s no longer interested?”

“Okay, shh.” Winnie interrupted your panicked speech. “Look, alright, we kinda did screw over Eddie, but, I mean, who were we to know he thought that was us canceling. If anything, we deserve the right to piss him off, especially me.” She scoffed. “That ‘Wendy’ bullcrap. What, do I look like some freckled, red-head child with braids slapped on some burger wrapper?”

You peered back at the revelation. “Oh, my god, wait, with your hair, you do kinda look like-”

“Shh, lalala, I’m hearing it, that wasn’t the point!” You wiped off the spit that flung from her harsh whispers. “Circling back,” her lips emphasized, “Eddie’s going to come, okay? He’s like every other dude, alright, they can’t take rejection, always have to bother you as to why you don’t want them. So, he’s going to come, and when he does, you have to stand your ground. Alright, no apologizing, no feeling bad, no ‘oh, let me make it up to you.’” She mocked her damsel-in-distress voice. “You better give him the cold shoulder. Anger is still very much an emotion, and if he’s angry that means he cares. It means he has feelings, feelings which you hurt! Like. A. Bad. Ass.”

You chuckled incredulously. “Don’t really think being mean makes me a badass-”

“It does in the case of Eddie Munson, alright?” Winnie cemented. “Clearly, people haven’t been mean enough to him.”

Steve Harrington had given Roger, the bartender, the grace to prioritize the other patrons on their refills, after opening his tab to the orders of you, Winnie, and him—alongside an additional order of generic greasy food—as a phone call to Eddie Munson was surely to last a bit more than a quick ‘hello.’ After gaining permission to use the establishment’s phone, Steve had propped himself against the wall of the back storage room, with the ringing, red phone against his ear.

Perhaps Eddie Munson was trying to overcompensate for the bruised ego caused by your rejection, as he resulted in swallowing the mouth of Jenny Albridge in the center of his living room couch. And I mean really swallowing. Their lips smacked hungrily with too much saliva, forcing Eddie to endure it if it mean fucking his frustrations out. 

And poor Jenny, while she’s heard of the eighth wonder Eddie had added to the world from underneath his pants, she hadn’t actually been with him. It just so happened to be faith that their shoulders collided, while she left her evening pilates class. And hell, after an intense, sweaty workout, she wanted another—albeit slightly different—intense, sweaty workout, especially after the numerous five star ratings. 

Though, maybe she’d just caught him on a bad day. Like, a really, really bad day. But maybe she was supposed to like it? The whole aggressive, teeth clashing, tongue invading, spit drenching make out that would hopefully finally lead to the good part. There was going to be a good part, right?

Ring, ring, ring, ring…

Oh, thank god, Eddie thought, as he finally had an excuse to detach from her lips, giving Jenny the go ahead to catch her breath with a deep gasp of air. He shifted quickly from the couch, walking to the phone, pulling it abruptly to stop the incessant shrilling. “Hello?”

“Ed, man.” Steve stood straight. “Hope you know the girls are here.” He snickered into the phone. 

“Girls?” Eddie wiped the spit from his lips. “What gi-” The revelation backhanded him in the face, as his mouth stooped low with confusion. “What? No, they canceled!”

“I think that’s what they had you thinking, but really they just drove themselves. And now, I’ve just ordered them beers and some food, so unless you’re giving me the grace to talk up your girl and her friend, I’d suggest you come down here as quick as possible.” Steve laughed. 

While he may have lived a couple towns over from the big city, Steve Harrington was no stranger to the name Eddie had given himself in Indianapolis, as periodic visits would consist of his friend recounting the newfound experience he gained with women, to eventually being one another’s wingman. 

In fact, Steve regularly joked about Eddie ‘decrowning’ him as king, as he now flaunted the hookup culture he, so very actively, participated in, thanks to the “bell bottom hippies, who were so desperately horny, they made it a movement.” His words, definitely not any history books’ words. 

“They’re fucking there?! Are you- ugh!” His fingers shoved into his eyes in frustration. “I fucking sent her flowers with the number, and everyth-”

“Woah, you sent her flowers?” Steve interrupted with shock. “Since when do you ever send flowers?”

“I don’t know! This girl is pissing me off, I- I’ll be there, alright!” Jenny Albridge scrunched her face in heavy judgment. “J-Just make sure she doesn’t- I mean, them. Make sure they don't leave!”

Steve chuckled at the stutter of his voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep them entertained.” He laughed. 

Eddie scoffed. “I’m serious, Harrington, no funny business! She already thinks I’m some asshole, and her friend is probably feeding her some more bullshit about how terrible I am.”

Steve playfully rolled his eyes, as he recalled the panicked phone call that transpired a couple hours prior, with Eddie imploring him to agree to a blind double date. Something about fucking some girl, but now wanting said girl’s friend, but said girl’s friend doesn’t want him, because said girl told her friend about him fucking other girls. Whatever it was, it was a big, jumbled mess, and Steve wondered why Eddie ever involved himself in the first place. Though, apparently, it was important enough if Eddie had to send you flowers. “Well, you did kinda screw over Winnie-” 

“Okay, that's not the point!” Eddie spat out in a rush. Maybe it was how alike Winnie Ambrose and Eddie Munson had been that repelled them so harshly from one another. Jenny Albridge was quietly shuffling on her shoes. “Look, I-” He took a deep breath, regulating himself. “I’ll be there. While I’m not going to force you to do anything, it would be greatly appreciated if you helped a friend out, and talked me up.”

“Alright, alright.” Steve agreed. “Just hurry up, I highly doubt you cruising around is gonna better any impression this girl’s already got for you.” With that, Steve cut off any response Eddie had prepared with the buzzing of a dead line, as he hung up the phone. 

Eddie sighed, running his hand through his hair. Turning around, he flinched at the sight of an awkwardly smiling Jenny, as he’d genuinely forgotten about her presence amidst the phone call. Both blinked back-in-forth to one another; a mutual consensus silently understood.

“Yeah, you need to leave.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

-

A basket of chicken tenders and fries had interrupted your conversation short, as they were placed against the table, with Steve arriving with his hand clinging to the necks of three beer bottles, each tucked between the space of his fingers. “Sorry, I know it’s not Michelin Star-esque, but it’s the best this bar’s got, so hopefully it’s enough to satiate any hunger.” He smiled. Steve was hit with an influx of ‘thank you’s’ from the both of you, as the stationary centerpiece of condiments were beginning to fill up the tiny containers that came with the meal. “Oh, and Ed’s on his way, as well.”

“He’s coming?” You questioned.

“Yeah, yeah, told him to come as quick as possible.” Steve answered, as he took his seat next to Winnie. 

Winnie squirted an aggressive amount of ketchup onto her tray, leaving Steve to smile at her antics. “Wait, did he sound mad over the phone?”

“Uh, I mean, he was a little worked up, y’know, in his usual dramatic self.” His answer came with the hesitation of wondering how to play the best wingman to people who clearly hadn’t established the best opinion of him. “But, he’s coming, dropped everything and is on his way.”

“See, I told you.” Winnie nudged your shoulder. 

Steve popped a ranch covered fry into his mouth. “Told her what?” 

“That Eddie being angry means he’s totally into her.” Winnie proudly beamed. 

He laughed. “Oh, yeah, I heard about the whole flowers thing.”

You fervently shook your head. “I’m not exactly trusting anything Eddie does to be in good faith.” You proffered a delicate smile. “I mean, I know what he’s like, so not really trusting him to be this great person.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “So, then, can I ask why you agreed to date him? Like, especially after what he did to you.” 

Both you and Winnie took a second to stare at one another, before she leaned in close. “I know he’s your friend, but you promise not to say anything? Y’know, to him?” Now piqued with interest, Steve stood straight, nodding in agreement. “Okay…” Winnie sighed, “we’re basically trying to take him down.”

Steve laughed, quite amused, and very happy with accepting the request to go on this blind double date. “Wow, okay. A feminist thing?” He chuckled, “How’s that going?”

“Well, we’re only in the beginning stages, but it’s working great so far!” Winnie gloated. “I mean, he was literally begging her to go out on this date! I am a genius!”

“So, then what’s the follow up?”

“Well, I’m sure you know how Eddie is.” Steve confirmed it with a shake of his head. “We are just trying to make him feel how we, as women who have fallen victim to him, feel.” Winnie held her head high. “So, if all things run smoothly, then hopefully he’ll learn to not be such a douchebag.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, “I mean, he’s a good guy.” Winnie raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Well, at least, he used to be.” He clarified. “I think moving to the city was very much a way of letting go of his old life here, which, y’know, I’m proud of, though, I’m sure he’s probably not making the best decisions most of the time.”

“What was he letting go of?” You curiously asked, leaning against the table.

“Well, Eddie hasn’t always exactly been a ladies man.” He breathily chuckled. “Uh, in fact, probably not the most liked guy in town. By girls, or people in general. Just unfortunately got tied to a bad reputation, because of how close-minded Hawkins can be. Y’know, the whole metalhead gig isn’t exactly what the church goers of our town prefer.”

Concern etched across your face. “It got that bad that he wanted to leave?”

Steve nodded. “I mean, people are assholes, gave him grief just to take the piss out of him. I know he didn’t exactly want to leave- or, actually, leave the people in his life behind. He’s got an uncle over here, me and our other friends, his old band members, his little DnD club.” Eddie Munson, the cocky lead singer, played Dungeons and Dragons? You softly laughed, truly believing Eddie was an enigma; such juxtaposition within himself. “But, y’know, he had to do what he had to do. For himself.”

“And now he really does just do everything for himself.” Winnie playfully scoffed. 

“Well, I’m sure he’ll have a change of heart if he continues “seeing” you.” Steve smiled. “I mean, think the last I ever heard of Eddie giving anyone flowers was for this cheerleader he had some crush on, before her boyfriend got wind of it. It turned into this big blow out, Eddie, of course, had already gotten into his fair share of fights before, so pretty easy to say this kid got beat up, until his basketball buddies joined in. That only worsened his image, and pretty much humiliated him, so…”

“Yeah, no wonder he turned into such an asshole.” Winnie inferred, as a deep pit of sorrow buried in your belly for Eddie. Something you severely tried to ignore, given his background had garnered no justification for his current actions. 

“But maybe he’ll turn a new leaf.” His friend felt optimistic. Or, at least, hoped. “He still working down at that tattoo parlor, right?” 

Was he? Despite how much Winnie fed you, you actually knew nothing of him. “Probably.” Winnie’s face stuffed with the crunch of a juicy tender. “What about you, though? Eddie mentioned something about a lawyer?” She sweetly smiled.

Christ. Perhaps bailing on Eddie’s chauffeuring offer only forced you to become a third wheel for the time being. “Oh, definitely not a lawyer, just a paralegal for my dad who is one.”

“Still impressive, though.” She batted her lashes. “I’m sure you’re great at it.” Truthfully, Winnie Ambrose had no clue as to what a paralegal was, but if it made him flash his smile, then she’d gladly continue. 

“What about you two? You guys work?”

“Yeah, just as a barista, while I finish up college.” You concisely answered. 

“Oh, and I finished cosmetology school not too long ago, started working as a hairstylist, so I could totally do your hair, which by the way, you have great hair.” Her fingers delicately played with the few strands that framed his head. 

You hadn’t seen yourself suddenly wishing for Eddie Munson to appear sooner. It was on the sixth chicken tender that you were beginning to lose patience. While Steve Harrington had been the farthest from rude and included you in conversation, you weren’t socially inept to understand that his preferences laid in speaking with the girl he blindly agreed to date. But on the upside, you’d been surprised as to how entertaining it was to dip from between ketchup and ranch to please your taste buds. And washing it down with a cool beer? Surely, this was heaven-

“What happened to you not eating meat?” You felt his hot breath against your ear. 

Your nose nearly bumped his, as your head spun to meet his squinted eyes that scrutinized you through his glare. You had no other choice than to smile, and pop the last bit of the chicken tender into your mouth with a glorious crunch and moan that pissed him off with a smile searing onto his face. 

“Hey, man, you made it.” Steve Harrington had brandished Eddie Munson’s hand with the typical boyish handshake, before Eddie’s jacket met the table, and he took his seat next to you. 

Eddie incredulously chuckled. “Well, y’know, would’ve come sooner, but…” his glare twisted to you, “...apparently reading is a little hard to comprehend for some.”

Gobsmacked, you were ready to smack that smirk off his face, but Winnie had chimed in. “Actually, we did read it, we just didn’t care.” She placed a fry into her mouth. 

“‘We?’” Eddie laughed. “C’mon, Wendy, don’t you know by now no guy would ever give you flowers? That note was for Y/N.” Eddie hadn’t even cared to notice the look of offense that stunned her face, only focusing on whispering into your ear. “And I thought I told you by now to have a mind of your own?”

Your stomach became agitated by his words, and suddenly those six chicken tenders and fries felt like a bad idea. “God, you see how much of an asshole your friend is?” Winnie’s voice felt so distant in your hazed mind. 

“Hey, Ed, c’mon, knock it off.” Steve mediated. “Look, let’s just all start on a clean slate, alright? No more bickering.”

“Alright, then.” He sighed, switching his full attention to you with a sly grin. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.”

The most you could mobilize out of your mouth was a simple, “hi,” in return.

Eddie’s tongue lolled around the inside of his mouth. It was clear you were going to be short with him. “So, uh, new to Hawkins, huh? How’re ya liking it?” Winnie’s words of advice were burdening your overthinking head. Three seconds. One… two- “Uh, okay, I’m glad you could make it. Glad that you agreed most of all. Even if you got here without me.” You gulped. One… two… thr- “Can I get you another drink?” You blinked down at the half filled beer bottle you’ve been nursing. One… two… t- “Okay, don’t answer.” Eddie gave up with an exasperated sigh. 

“Hey, if you two would like another round, I can grab it for you?” Steve proffered, and you watched Winnie subtly nod her head to you in secrecy.

You stuttered back quickly. “Oh, yeah, t-that’d be great. Thank you, Steve.”

Eddie glowered in disbelief, watching as Steve whisked himself away towards the bar. “Y’know, if flowers weren’t your thing, you could’ve ringed me up to let me know?” He suddenly shoved himself in your face. 

“Oh, they are.” Winnie punctuated. “Just not from you.”

Eddie ignored her. He knew what she was doing, and he wasn’t falling under any trap that would subscribe him to that asshole attitude he surely acquired.

So, Eddie Munson’s eyes glued to yours. “Was it the type? Not your favorite? What is? Or, are you into those weird fruit bouquet things? I can get you those if you are? Hell, chocolate even-”

“No, Eddie.” You stopped his questionnaire. “I just- I just felt more comfortable riding with Winnie, s’all. Thought it’d be best. For me.”

For you. Was that enough to, at the very least, show him you did, in fact, totally, very much have a mind of your own…?

“Alright, then.” Eddie sat back, actually accepting your words. “Fair enough.”

“Plus, she just didn’t want to be stuck in a car with some pervy jackass.” Winnie smiled, mindlessly dipping her food into the condiments. 

Eddie chuckled. “Y’know what? I think we kinda got off on the wrong foot here.” He smiled, as she rolled her eyes. “So, I’m here to say I’m sorry. There it is. My formal apology. See? Growth.” Eddie winked over to you. 

“Oh, you’re sorry?” Winnie incredulously laughed. “For what is it exactly, Eddie, that you’re sorry for? For being an asshole? For lying? For leading me on? For having sex with me, then ditching me?”

Eddie pretended to ponder on that thought. “Yeah, sure.” He shrugged, as Winnie scoffed in disgust. “All of the above.” 

“Ugh, you little, piece of shi-” Steve set the bottles of beer down.

“Hey, everything alright here?” He hurriedly intervened. 

Winnie took a deep breath. “Fine, then. Apology accepted.” She ardently sat up straight. “So, how do you guys know each other?” She looked between both men. 

Eddie had been quite quick to answer. “High school.” Bluntly so, too.

“Oh, you mean back when you were a loser?” Winnie smiled.

Eddie’s face dropped. “You told them?!”

Steve exhaustedly sighed, running a stressed hand through his hair. “Dude, I didn’t mean- look, it just came up in conversation, I was just trying to explain things.”

Eddie fell back with a look of unease, shaking his head in disbelief. His expression had vividly written the discontent he had with Winnie bringing up his past, it clearly being something he hadn’t wished to be disclosed to people he barely knew. “Hey, okay, look, we don't have to talk about that.” You interrupted, watching Eddie preoccupy his discomfort by mindlessly picking at a napkin. “Um, Steve said that you worked at a tattoo parlor, is that right?” You softly pried, but your endeavors fell short with his blatant choice to ignore you. “Hey, Eddie, you said you wanted us to get to know each other better, right? Well, now, we’re on a date, so we can.” Your genuine smile was enough to have him slowly eye you. Throwing his words right back into his face, he hated it. 

Eddie slowly began sitting up, even choosing to discard the napkin. “Um, yeah. Alchemy Ink.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s the one down the-”

“-Street from the coffeehouse, yeah.” Eddie finished for you. “It’s, uh, why I go down there for my breaks.” He tried to shrug off.

“Oh, that notebook- the one you, uh, drew those cute, little bats in- the really good ones, is that where you draw, like, your tattoo ideas?” Damn it, you were making it really hard to stay angry with your sweet conversation. His lips twisted inward to suppress his fighting smile. 

You just had to fucking remember those damn bats, huh?

“Uh, yeah, t-the beginning sketches. Just, y’know, to get some ideas flowing, get a feel of what I can work with.” God, with you staring at him, Eddie really wished he had a beer to drown his stupid thoughts. But with how much you hated him, the rational part of his brain crossed off any idea of becoming a drunken asshole on a first date. 

“That’s really cool.” Fuck you for flashing that smile, Eddie thought. “You should tattoo some law scale on Steve.” You joked.

Eddie chuckled. “Already poked ‘KING’ into his ass.”

With Steve shaking his head in disbelief, Winnie gasped, as the act of hiding his face within his hands confirmed Eddie’s words. “You got the word ‘king’ tattooed on your ass?!” She laughed. 

Fair play to Eddie. “Hey, hey, in my defense, we were drunk high schoolers, and it was just some shitty stick-and-poke.” He laughed. “Plus, you have no room to talk, given ‘FREAK’ is permanently on your ass!”

“Freak? Why that of all things?” You questioned through your fits of giggles. 

Eddie flashed you that devilish smile that had you instantly regretting your words. “I can show you more than I can explain it to you.” And his winked was merely met with the annoyed roll of your eye. 

“No, no,” Steve laughed, “it was just some bullshit high school thing.” 

Luckily, any tension of hostility was able to dissolve through the bubbling laughter that naturally came around. Through the round of beers, the stories of which Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson held were animatedly shared in strides to get their dates to laugh. And to their credit, they surely did accomplish such task with recounting the juvenile trouble they encountered during their teenage years, while not stepping too deep into the territory at which Eddie was still visibly uncomfortable with. A part of you had been curious to understand the complexity as to why Eddie hated his past to such a degree. But your mouth stayed quiet, apart from minimal conversation, as you, too, would feel uneasy if anyone had brought up your past.

Which is why you grew stiff when the topic of conversation switched to how you befriended Winnie Ambrose. 

“Much like Harrington and I, you guys seem quite different.” Eddie interrogated. “So, how is it exactly you guys became friends?”

“Um,” Your brain went numb with the racking thoughts that were trying to spew out of your mouth to find anything, literally anything, to not mention him, Dalton…

“Same like you, y’know, high school.” Winnie briefed concisely enough to save you. “Nothing too crazy, really. Definitely not by some third-party freshman.” She joked to derail the conversation.

But ever the curious one, Eddie hadn’t stopped with the prodding, as he became quite serious with his task of getting to know you. Especially given the circumstance that he couldn’t thoroughly do so to his preferred degree, with two people hijacking this supposed date. “So, what? Through a class? A club? Were you in any clubs, Y/N?” You hated how ardent he’d become with eye contact. 

“Uh, n-no, never really was.” You stuttered out. “We just kinda met through friends, I guess. We, uh, knew the same perso- people.” 

“What person?” Eddie had clocked it, and his interest had skyrocketed. 

“Uh…” You swallowed thickly. “Just some ex-boyfriend s’all.” You adamantly tried to brush off with a giant swig of the beer in hand. 

But, of course, with the mention of an ex-partner, Eddie was never going to let it go. “‘Ex-boyfriend?’” He smiled sickly. “Someone I’m gonna need to fight to get to you, huh?” Eddie teased. “What was that relationship like?” He relished in the invasive nature that had your squirming in your seat. 

“Uh, I-I don’t, um-”

“Jeez, they broke up, and moved on. He’s irrelevant.” Winnie interrupted for your sake, as Eddie quietly scoffed to himself. “Are you currently seeing anyone else, Steve?” She turned the focus away. 

“Oh, uh, no, not seriously.” Steve answered. “Just a couple’a first dates the last few weeks, but most of which we’ve agreed to just keep it as such, no second.” 

Winnie flashed an overly bright smile. “See, it’s so attractive when guys actually communicate, and don’t blow off girls.” She couldn’t have been more obvious. “Right, Y/N?”

“Huh?” Suddenly, her elbow was connecting to your rib. “Ugh-um, right, right, so attractive.” You powered through the pain. 

“Respectable job, communicates, respectful, and has incredible hair,” Winnie gushed, “you’re really just, like, the perfect man, right?” She turned to you. 

“Mhm.” You sweetly smiled, choosing to turn your back to Eddie Munson to gaze your full attention to Steve. “Very perfect.”

Had Steve not been notified of this so-called ‘Take Eddie Munson Down’ operation, he surely would have cocked an eyebrow at the weird behavior you both were beginning to show. But the man was merely left blushing behind his hand, with a smile that held back amused laughter.

Because while Steve smiled, Eddie had scowled at your unexpected response.

It became quite evident he hadn’t been all too keen on sharing this night with others. While he understood he suggested the invitation of a stupid double date, it was only spoken as a last resort to finally get with you. And even then, it didn’t mean he had to like it. Especially, when all of sudden, any chance of a potential romance was abruptly shot down with Winnie Ambrose’s interjection to somehow turn the conversation to Steve Harrington, who you suddenly took a liking to?!

If it was the weather, suddenly you both were drooling over how Steve would “totally be, like, the hot weatherman you’d turn on the news for just to gawk over.”

If it was your studies, suddenly you’d exclaim about how Steve “looked just like that one sexy professor in the psychology department.”

If it was Eddie’s job, suddenly both of your attention was turning to Steve to detail “how hot he’d look with tattoos.”

I have tattoos, Eddie screamed in his head. His nostrils were flaring with deep breaths, as he felt his body boiling over the sight of you leaning over the table just to speak to him. By 10:02 P.M, the date had irreparably turned into some flirt fest starring Steve Harrington, and any attempts at having a one-on-one conversation with you had pissed him off to no avail, as you casually shrugged him off as some old pal. 

Eddie’s knee was bouncing by the second, eyes jumping from person to person, as the conversation carried on without him. Had any of you even noticed that he hadn’t spoken a word in five minutes?

“Well, I spent most of my time working with a close buddy of mine at a movie store, just a couple blocks…” Eddie didn’t even try to listen to Steve’s backstory, he couldn't even if he wanted to. His eyes had trained themselves to your side profile, the one that hadn’t looked at him in six minutes and twenty-three seconds in counting—crazy, he knows, but that wasn’t the topic of conversation—as you were too entranced with listening to Steve’s boring story. Eddie Munson had had enough. “...But my father was really hammerin’ on me to pursue something-” The grating noise of chair legs scraping across the floor had interrupted his speaking, as Eddie made the rash decision to pull you closer. 

With the close proximity, his hand secured itself around the back of neck to pull your head close, as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “Finish your food, I’m taking you somewhere else.”

You froze, as Eddie cleared his throat as though nothing happened. “What’s up?” Winnie worriedly questioned. 

“Nothing.” Eddie shrugged, finishing the last bit of his food. “Just taking Y/N somewhere, so we’re,” he gestured to the both of you, “wrapping this up. You lovebirds do as please.” As everyone was slowly accepting the abrupt ending of the double date, Eddie was casually reaching for his wallet to slap the table with a couple of bills. “I asked, so I’ll cover it, Harrington.”

Oh, shit. Winnie hadn’t prepared you for alone time with Eddie Munson. It’s when he strikes best!

“Yeah, thanks, man.” Steve offered in return, before turning to Winnie. “Um, would you be okay with wrapping up as well? You got quite some ride back to Indy, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Winnie solemnly agreed to, as she mentally cursed Eddie for ruining the only good date she’s been on in the last few weeks. 

You stood from your chair, finishing the last swig of your beer that you had left, before Eddie’s hand circled around your waist. “Hey,” he came in close, “It’s been a minute, so I’m just gonna say hello to Rog, and the couple’a people I haven’t seen in a while.” You nodded along, as you took into account the stories he recounted about his days of being a barback. “Here,” his keys dangled before you, “just make yourself comfortable, okay? I won't be long. It’s just the van out front.”

With two pats on the small of your back, all you could muster was a soft, “okay,” before you shuffled to Winnie.

Watching Eddie walk away, you clutched to her arm. “He told me to go to his car, I’m internally panicking right now!” You aggressively whispered.

“Okay, just calm down and go, alright? I’ll meet you out there in a second.”

With Winnie’s words, your legs worked fast to drag you out of the bar, where the gentle breeze slapped you with the needed composure to locate the large van parked a couple feet away. Unlocked, and strapped in, you took a deep breath in the passenger seat of Eddie’s car.

Though, that deep breath was unwarrantedly invaded by the pungent smell of weed and cigarettes, and while you were sure that may have come as a speedy remedy for stress, you weren’t too pleased to be suddenly struck with it at this moment. 

You jammed the key into the ignition, revving the van to life to hopefully clear the smell with the much needed air conditioning, but all you got in return was the thrashing clash of some metal band screaming into your ear from the abrasive volume Eddie chose to listen to his music. 

Jumping to turn it down, you finally settled back against the car seat with a heaving chest. But like clockwork, your nerves were shot with the adrenaline of being horrified from Winnie suddenly opening the car door.

“God, Winnie, you scared me half to death!” You screeched, as she clambered into the front seat. 

“Look, we have to make this quick, Steve’s using the bathroom, and who knows when Eddie’s coming back.” She underlined. “We gotta prepare you, okay? Being alone with Eddie is nothing like being on a double date with Eddie! This- this means he’s really into you!”

“O-Okay, so what now? I wait four seconds to respond?”

“‘Four seconds?’” Winnie looked at you as if you were crazy. “There’s no four seconds, you’re practically seeing Eddie Munson now! This is basically dating!”

“I don’t want to be dating, though!” You implored through round eyes. 

“Well, you’re just gonna have to suck it up!” Winnie set you straight. “Just remember, confidence is key, alright? Don’t let him walk all over you!” She coached. “You be straightforward with your responses, don’t let him intimidate you.”

The panic was beginning to settle too deep. “W-Well, what if he tries to make a move? Is he going to make a move?!”

“Look, just whatever he does, keep it to a minimum. Nothing more than a kiss, alright?” You nodded in agreement. “Are you a good kisser?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Well, I-I don’t know, h-how does anyone know if they’re a good kisser?”

Winnie dramatically sighed. “Well, do you guys tell you you’re a good kisser?”

The sudden revelation hit you like a truck. “Oh, my god, I’m a bad kisser!”

“Sh! Sh!” Winnie tried to calm your trepidation. “Y/N, look, it’s really simple, okay?” She mounted over the center console to set your head straight. “It’s just effortless movements. Light touches, okay? Light.” Her hand gripped to your jaw. “Just lock onto him, nothing too crazy. Grab onto that gorgeous head of hair, but no passion just yet, you have to build it up.” Her face came closer. “Be in control, hold his gaze, it just has to be the temptation,” her breath fanned across your features, as you felt weary as to where this was heading, “just a light brush to leave him wanting more.” Suddenly, Winnie’s lips were planted against yours, and you made your truest effort to follow her guidance, until-

“Holy hell, kiss her again. Do it!”

You and Winnie instantly pulled apart to witness the gross man who stood watching in amusement in front of Eddie’s parked van. “Get out of here, you perv!” You flipped on the headlights to scare the man, who quickly scurried off, when suddenly the beaming headlights showed Eddie coming over. “Oh, shit, Eddie’s coming!”

Winnie freaked, suddenly choosing to scale over the front seats to scramble her way into the messy den that was the back area of Eddie’s car. You sat abnormally stiff once Eddie stepped foot into his van. “Hey, you okay?” He asked, as he settled himself in. 

“Mhm.” You hummed out. 

He took a second. “Um, look, I know it’s probably not the most ideal situation, but I promise it won’t be anything terrible.” You slowly peered at Eddie, who sat cautiously in his seat. “I-I just,” he sighed, “I just want to, at the very least, get a chance to actually speak to you. W-Without Harrington or your friend. Just you.”

“Okay.” You softly nodded to his request, which eased a deep breath from chest. “That’s okay.”

A small smile etched upon Eddie's face, and you hadn’t decided whether to take it innocently or sinisterly. With Eddie Munson, it was almost always the latter. With your approval, Eddie pulled out of the parking lot—unbeknownst to him, with Winnie in tow—to head along the long stretch of highways that traveled along the breadth of Hawkins, Indiana. 

Though, unfortunately, forgotten within the walls of The Hideout, Steve Harrington was flinging his hands dry from water due to the lack of paper towels that were never refilled within the men’s restroom, as he sought his way outside to a dead parking lot. “Win- Winnie?” He turned about. “Eddie? Anyone?”

Eddie’s fingers slowly turned the volume up of his radio. “Did you have a good time, at least?” He asked. 

“Oh, yeah, I quite liked the bar; a lot less crowded, which made it more enjoyable than the one from Saturday night.” 

“Yeah?” He lilted. “Not really into that scene, huh?”

“No.” You chuckled. “Definitely not, but it is yours, no?” You interrogated back, almost accusatory in Eddie’s eyes. “You go there a lot, I’m assuming?” Spoken as if to find a definitive reason to not let this “date” prolong any further than tonight. 

“I, well, um, wouldn’t say a lot.” He searched his way around the words. “Just when needed. For the band.” 

“Huh, okay.” Eddie thought you relented. “Not the best reputation with that band though, right?” You smiled so sickly, Eddie was scoffing out a laugh. 

He hadn’t seen such feistiness from you yet, he was honestly relishing in it. “We just- we just like to have fun, s’all. Don’t you? Unless you’re, like, some total buzzkill.” He smirked back. 

“No, not a buzzkill.” You protested. “Just have self-discipline, you know? Or, wait, do you not know?”

Eddie kissed his teeth with a dimpling grin that was becoming permanent on his face with. “Oh, no, I know.” His finger aggressively tapped against his steering wheel. Because, truthfully, if he hadn’t known, he would have immediately pulled the car over, and shut you up the way he knew best… and, well, did best. “Just, y’know, like to live my life to the fullest with everything accomplished.”

“And everyone apparently, huh?” 

Eddie’s knuckles were fusing white with the tight grip he clutched. “You’re walking on thin fucking ice here, Y/N.” He huffed a laugh from his buzzing body. 

“Why?” You feigned. “I thought you liked having fun?”

Oh, Eddie Munson was so fucked. 

Winnie Ambrose couldn’t have been more proud with the dedication shown by you, as she pushed through the pain of holding back her laughter that threatened to spill with every bump Eddie carelessly passed. She wrestled around the displayed blankets that she felt icky even touching, wondering what unfortunate crusted stains she may have been laying upon. Winnie shifted uncomfortably, as she reached beneath her to wedge out a bra that slung from under. Winnie silently gasped. “That dog.” She mouthed, until her nimble fingers suddenly felt the cushion of thick padding that invaded the bra.

Oh, great… it was her’s, she shamefully tucked the bra under her arm. 

Lover’s Lake had been nothing but a ten minute drive for you and Eddie Munson, but somehow, the tension you both left untouched with silence seemed to make it last an eternity, as you both suffocated in the teasing friction that consumed the air between you two. 

You peered out the window, watching worriedly as Eddie took a turn into a wooded path that left you viewing nothing but dark trees. “It won’t be anything terrible, huh?” You hid your anxiety through forced giggles. 

“Yup.” Eddie did little to denote any further. “There’ll be a time when you’ll finally trust me.” 

You head slumped against the cold glass. “Yeah, doubt it.” You whispered to yourself, unaware of the smile that ate at his face, as he quietly heard your words. 

Much to your dismay, Eddie Munson proved you wrong—though proving your right could have left your name attached to some true crime murder case—as his van parked along the clearing that showcased such a scenic view of a sparkling lake that reflected the crystal tranquility of the moon and stars. Too enthralled, you hadn’t taken notice of Eddie leaving the car, until he approached your side to guide you out. “Is this too terrible for you?” You shook your head. “Perfect, then. One of my favorite places, in fact, so it would have pissed me off if it was.” With the slam of the car door, Winnie peeked up from her hiding place, watching as you and Eddie began walking down west. 

“Do you come here often?” You pondered, taking in the scenery, as your shoes sunk into the mush of muddy grass and moss.

“When I lived here, yeah.” Eddie hopped over strewn branches. “For being so shitty, I gotta admit, this place sure does have some nice hiding spots. 

“You gonna take me to see all your secret hideouts?” You peered up at him. 

Eddie smiled. “When we get there, absolutely.”

“If.” You insisted. 

“When.” He retaliated. 

You rolled your eyes at the tongue-in-cheek attitude he liked to flaunt around, where he found nothing but mirth with every irk he managed to tick out of you. Silence settled through your stroll, until Eddie decided to break it with his unheard of vacillated voice. “So, uh, hey, you said you enjoyed tonight.” You nodded along. “Was that because of Harrington? Did you, like, I don’t know, like Steve?” 

His hands balled behind his back, as his peripheral glued to your face intently. “Oh, yeah, I liked Steve, he was really nice!” You sincerely spoke, as his teeth began sinking into the cracked despair of his bottom lip. 

“Oh,” was all he could proffer in return.

“I feel like it’s my duty to now push Winnie to continue seeing him.” You had no clue how much your giggles eased his mind. “He seems like he could be really nice to her, very sweet he is.”

Eddie huffed out a heavy sigh. “Y-Yeah, it’s nice those guys could hit it off… like us.” He smiled up close to your face, which had you stopping in your tracks.

“Are we hitting it off, Eddie?”

Standing before you, Eddie kissed his teeth with a grin. “I’d say we are, no? Got you out on a date, actually speaking to me, conversing well.”

“Okay.” You simply noted, continuing your walk, as he scurried to follow.

“‘Okay?’” Eddie repeated with the need of elaboration. “I don’t like that I don’t know what you’re thinking, Y/N.”

“Oh, maybe we are hitting it off, I feel the exact same way about you.” You joked through your soft laughter. 

“No, no, I say what I’m thinking.” Eddie maintained his stance. 

You incredulously laughed in return. “But Eddie, everything you say has quite the history of being a lie.” Your reprisal disseminated over any argument he was willing to divulge to support himself. Eddie Munson could only laugh at himself. How stupid of him to believe he could weasel some smooth talking to a girl, who quite literally witnessed him being kicked out of her apartment for being an asshole. “Kinda got my proof with Winnie-”

“Y’know,” he immediately interjected, “I think… you rely too much on her opinion.”

“And I think you’re a jackass.” You defensively snapped back. You hadn’t even expected it to come out so rash. 

Eddie mockingly laughed in your face. “Oh, yeah? You think I’m a jackass? Alright, I’ll be a jackass. What’s up with that ex-boyfriend of yours you got so weird about? He a jackass, too? Hurt you real bad? Did something to make you lose some bullshit trust, so now you rely on your friend to help you through everything? 

You loathed Eddie Munson. “Screw this.” You scoffed back, choosing to turn away from him, and make your steady way back to the van. 

But he had taken a hold of your hand, forcing you back to his vicinity. “Hey! We’re not done here.”

“Okay, fine! What’s up with your past here? You got really worked up over Winnie bringing that up. And I tried to be nice, and not talk about it, but since you’re such an asshole, I truly don’t care anymore.” You retorted. “Steve mentioned how much people hated you here, and honestly I can see why! You are so conceited, and full of yourself. You’re not considerate of anyone’s feelings, and god, you just say the meanest things. I’m pretty sure most people are happy you left this town, since it meant never having to be near you again.”

No longer was this the banter of any light teasing. Eddie had flung your hand from his, as he stared you down. “You don’t have a single fucking clue as to what you’re talking about.” His heavy breathing had to be manually controlled by his self-control, as his aggressive breath blew into your face.

“Oh, what, but you do?!” You derided so scornfully right back at him. 

Nothing but both of your heavy breathing could be heard against the empty lake front. With such intense eye contact that neither of you ever planned on breaking, Eddie was suddenly drawn in with temptation, and inched his head close against yours, as you lured yourself in…

Until your hands slapped against his chest. “What the hell are you doing?” You shoved him away. 

Your push had snapped some sense into Eddie, and his mouth had fallen open with the words that couldn’t be found, as he held his chest with a sincere hand. And it only worsened his case for a cocky grin to creep upon his face towards you. “You so wanted to kiss me.” 

Your mouth dropped at the absurdity of his ridiculing laughter. “Are you insane?! No, I didn’t!” You’d rather drown in Lover’s Lake than ever let him think so. “Christ, would you just get off your high horse for two seconds, and learn that not everyone wants you?”

You stomped on your heel, walking away from him once more. “I don’t have a fucking horse!” God, you could slap the stupidity out of him. “Hey, alright, c’mon, I shouldn’t have done that! Y/N!” His hand latched back onto yours. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Eddie turned you around. “My dad was some absent crook, who ruined my life with his schemes, and everyone in this shit town fucking took it out on me, alright? So, sorry, but it pissed me when you fucking said that shit.” Your brows furrowed at the sudden dump of information he expelled onto you. All while Eddie simply waited. “Well, go on.”

“What?” You questioned. 

“Your turn.” He made it seem so obvious. “You go, say something about that little boyfriend of yours.”

“W-Wha- no, I’m not gonna-”

Eddie dragged his hands over his face. “Oh, my god, just do it!”

“Fine!” You exasperated. “Yes, Eddie, he was a jackass. After two years, he just laid it all out that he never loved me like I love-” Your mouth clamped shut, as your face hid away with humiliation. “Look, I really don’t want to get into this.” You tried to get away, but Eddie had held back your movements. 

“Alright, so we won’t get into this.” He proclaimed. “What’s your favorite color?” 

“What? What are you doing?” You tried to walk around him.

But Eddie was there to keep his pace with you, only to fervently reiterate, “Just like you said, not getting into this. What’s your favorite color?”

You abruptly stopped with a defeated sigh. “Green.”

“Cool, mine’s black. Surprising, huh?” He sardonically smiled. You shook your head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a tiny chuckle. “Alright, let’s see what else… oh! What’s your favorite food? And I already know you eat meat, so don’t fuck with me with that.” 

That, unfortunately, had you quietly giggling, but only at your own humor. “Um, I don’t know, uh, pesto pasta.”

“Ooh.” Eddie snapped his fingers. “I love buttered noodles, close enough, huh?” Christ, that got a laugh from you. “Hell, I’ll even make us some for our second date.”

“We are not going on a second date.” You chuckled, as you began walking away. 

Eddie was quick to follow along your steps. “Sure we are. How else am I gonna find out your favorite hobby?” You had to give him credit, it was quite the perfect invitation for a conversation. 

“I like puzzles.”

Eddie snorted. “Okay, grandma, I can get down with that.” He smiled. 

“Oh, shut up.” You rolled your eyes. “I know your favorite hobby.” You spoke matter-of-factly. 

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie grinned. “And what’s that, Y/N?”

“Dungeons and Dragons, you nerd.” You laughed, as Eddie shook his head in disbelief. It wasn’t exactly the number one thing he wanted women of his interest to know; not exactly the greatest chick magnet out there. 

Eddie feigned anger. “Fucking Harrington. The mouth on that one.” 

Though, with complete transparency, if airing out his so-called embarrassing secrets was needed in order to keep you happy, he was ready to dish out the time his uncle found a number of women’s underwear when visiting his apartment in Indianapolis. Even sat him down with a heart-to-heart to remind Eddie that he’d love him no matter who he was. 

It was cripplingly mortifying to notify his uncle that he, Eddie Munson, was, in fact, just a whore. 

-

Winnie Ambrose had mindlessly pulled apart all the split ends she managed to find in her head of hair, before she exasperatedly sighed with a heavy fall against the van floor. 

It felt like an eternity waiting for you to return. She’d only hoped you’d come with your dignity, and not as another notch on Eddie’s belt. It was only when her entertainment was finally being satisfied through her nosy curiosity of ruffling through Eddie’s belongings did the passenger door finally open.

Winnie laid so stiffly, as she heard you mutter a “thank you” to Eddie’s chivalry. Your eyes briefly connected for the couple seconds it took for Eddie to reach the driver side, with you nodding to the consensus of the thrown up thumbs up Winnie proffered. 

“Ready to head home?” Eddie asked. 

“Mhm, yeah.” You politely answered. 

The forty minute drive to Indianapolis was thus embarked upon, with Winnie having to endure the detailed lore behind Eddie the Head, when one- one, singular Iron Maiden song played. Where Winnie rolled her eyes, you were quite taken aback with how much information he was ready to elaborate upon, just because it was “totally sick that we share the same name!” In the wise words of Eddie Munson. 

Apparently his only motivation to learn anything. 

Rolling into the parking lot of your apartment complex, the sky thundered with the trudging storm the spring season had welcomed. 

Eddie had turned off the rumbling ignition of his car. “Um, w-would you mind just, like, walking with me?” 

Desperately wanting to jump over to your good side, Eddie had no issue with quickly agreeing to your request. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” 

Winnie slowly moved to the back double doors that would become her escape route. With Eddie whisking you away, you subtly peered back to catch glimpses of Winnie inching her legs out of the car, holding her breath, as every movement caused the old thing to creak from the rust. 

“Okay, um, I know things weren’t necessarily ideal, but I still really enjoyed being with you, and um, I’m just really glad you endured staying with me for this long.” He sniffed out a laugh that you followed along with. 

“Y-Yeah, um, I think everything managed to work out okay in the end.” You softly smiled.

Eddie’s hand found its way to the back of his neck, a classic move that not only let him appear nervous for your sympathy, but tactfully allowed his muscle to bulge for your pleasure. “I’ve gotten quite the understanding that you’re not exactly the type of girl to kiss on the first date… much to my dismay.” He dramatically sighed to make you laugh. “So, Y/N,” your name rolled off his tongue so languidly, “actually give me a call, because I’m not above tracking you down for a second date. But I mean it, have a great night, darling.” 

Slamming the door behind her, Winnie’s breath hitched at sudden cause that halted her escape plan. The heavy door closed on the damn maxi skirt you suggested she wear! “Oh, no. No, no, no, no!” She pulled against the threads that refused to stretch any longer. 

Watching her struggle, you panicked with how quickly Eddie was about to turn away, and your mind unanticipatedly resulted to your hand turning his face towards your own.

Nose bumping, breath fanning, you stared into his eyes. “Um,” your throat went dry. Eddie took your unwarranted invitation with his lips coming down slowly to ever so gently graze against yours. 

“C’mon,” yank! “Let,” yank! “Go,” rip! 

Winnie’s skirt clung from Eddie’s back doors, as she quickly scrambled to cover her exposed self. Seeing her scurry into the gated pool area of the complex, you suddenly diverged from the kiss, planting the tiniest peck to the corner of his mouth so quickly. “Okay, um, thanks for tonight, Eddie!” You hurriedly began walking away. “Have a good rest of your night!” You waved, while Eddie stood stunned. 

Utterly frozen. 

“Wasn’t even my date, and he still managed to get me out of my skirt.” Winnie cursed herself. 

A fluttering smile flushed on his face with heat, as his fingers graced on the phantom touch of your lips still lingering on your face. 

His confidence strides led him back to his van, as he felt on top of the world. There wasn’t any girl Eddie Munson couldn’t get, and his ego was relishing in the extra boost from your kiss. But with it came the frightening reality that he wanted more than what you were giving. 

He wanted you.

Revving up his engine, there wasn’t anything stopping in the way of Eddie Munson. Not even Winnie Ambrose’s skirt that slapped along the asphalt of the road with each foot Eddie drove up.

Your mind refused to focus on anything, but your apartment door, as one thought about Eddie was going to make your head spiral out of control. You wielded yourself to swallow away those nauseating butterflies that were exploding in your tummy. 

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. You hated Eddie Munson. 

“And my car is still stuck at some dingy bar. Ugh, I hate Eddie Munson!” Winnie exclaimed. 

There was only one thing for certain: Eddie Munson must die!

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[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible {6} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: Gossiping drivers, alcohol and Charlotte. What could possibly go wrong? Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, cheating, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 4.9k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

Three weeks ago there had been an anonymous complaint raised about your presence in the paddock when you were nothing more than a spectator. Apparently an emotional support animal wasn’t an acceptable reason to travel with Charles and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who laid the complaint.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Charles asked as you placed a plate of food in front of him. 

“I’m getting paid to do what I would normally do anyway,” you pointed out once again. “And dad said I needed to get a job.”

You had been hired by Ferrari to work in the hospitality building; running food orders, making drinks, tidying the driver’s rooms. Okay, maybe the job was more than you would normally do, but not by much. At least you were kept busy and boredom no longer plagued you. 

“I didn’t realise you needed the money,” he murmured as he stabbed a seasoned chicken breast with his fork. His credit card in your handbag was yours to use however you wanted, he had assured you of that time and time again, and it was the only reason his apartment was furnished so brightly. You could never have done that on the measly savings in your bank account. 

“I don’t, but I’m not going back to Monaco on my own.” That was the consequence if you didn’t become an employee, at least while the Covid restrictions were in place. 

“Hmm, god knows what trouble you would get up to there on your own,” he chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Something had been off about him all morning, but you knew he would talk about it when he was ready so you let it drop.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you said with a wink as you leaned closer and laid a napkin on his lap. “I believe you called me a good girl just last night.”

You left the dining area before he could respond and met Sebastian at the beverage station. He was another of the drivers you had befriended, though much like he was to Charles, it was more in a father-figure role. The German was a gentle soul and you always had time for him, even when he called you out for the feelings you thought you were able to conceal in public.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” he commented as you made his coffee - double shot espresso with a dollop of froth, no sugar. 

“You obviously need this coffee to wake you up, Bassy, you are clearly dreaming,” you said as you placed it in front of him and showed your bare arms. “I have no sleeves.”

Sebastian smiled as he lifted the cup to his lips, the words entertaining him but not fooling him. “There is a little get together tonight with some of the other drivers. I think everyone is feeling a little isolated from society right now and could do with socialising. You should come.”

You gave a noncommittal shrug because you weren’t sure if Charles would be one of those other drivers, he hadn’t mentioned anything to you. “Maybe, it depends how busy I am picking up your dirty laundry.”

“My wife trained me well, maybe you are thinking of the wrong room.” He placed the empty mug down and departed with a wink. 

The rest of the day passed quickly and you made yourself comfortable in Charles’ room while you waited for him to finish his media duties. It wasn’t unexpected that he took longer since it was the first of the two Italian GPs, he had given you warning that the team’s homerace would be more hectic. Pierre was the first to invite himself in, lounging on the other seat wanting to know the gossip around the paddock. 

“Don’t lie, I know the best gossip comes from the kitchens,” he begged when you said there was nothing of interest. 

“What can I say? Everyone is tight lipped after Nora and Damien caught covid.”

That had been the hottest gossip of the week because Nora was from Renault and Damien from Racing Point. Both teams were still arguing over who gave it to who and there were talks of suspension because they were sneaking into each other’s rooms instead of isolating. 

“Ah bon,” he huffed. “Are you coming tonight?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t had a chance to ask Charles what the plan is,” you answered as you checked your phone again to see no messages and the afternoon was dragging. “What is taking him so long?”

“You’re waiting here for him?” Pierre frowned as he sat up a little straighter. “He was heading back to the hotel after he finished, he had to go pick up Charlotte from the airport.”

You tried to police your face but from the pity on Pierre’s it was clear you failed to hide the disappointment, shock and betrayal. Charles had been quieter in the last few days but everything you asked what was wrong he said nothing and then distracted you.

“Sorry, I thought you knew and that’s why you were still hiding out here.” He stood up and reached into the pocket of his Toro Rosso jacket to grab his car keys. “Wanna catch a ride with me?”

You didn’t really want to go back to the hotel room you had been sharing with Charles but had no idea where else you could go. You definitely needed to change out of the Ferrari uniform you wore but you didn’t want to see Charlotte if you could help it. Why was she even here?

“I don’t know, but from his mood I’m guessing Charles didn’t invite her.”

You didn’t realise you had asked that aloud and you concentrated on your shoes as you stood up and followed him out to the carpark. You almost asked him to turn around and take you back to the paddock but there would probably be more gossip spread if you slept in Charles’ driver’s room instead of the hotel.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said as you stepped out of Pierre’s car. 

“No problem. Text me if you want a ride to the party.”

You weren’t exactly in the mood to party but the idea of liquor was growing on you so you said maybe and departed. Walking into the hotel, you passed the designer stores that lined the first two floors and felt the black credit card calling, but it was probably the devil whispering in your ear. And not for the first time you listened. 

Charles checked his phone as he received another notification from his bank. One part of him was pleased to know you were at least near the hotel since the charges were to the shops below, but a larger part was sick knowing you were lashing out because of the message he had left in your room down the hall. 

The shower turned off as his phone vibrated again and a bitter laugh bubbled at the $50k debit he saw for Prada before Charlotte appeared from the bathroom. There was a time before you showed up back in his life where he found her beautiful but now he could only imagine your face when he held her. He really had to do something about this because no matter how disinterested or rude he was, she ignored it to remain in his life. Looking away as she reached the bed, he returned his focus to his phone and sent a message to the person he actually wanted to be with.

The hotel room was silent when you finally built up the courage to leave the shops and take the elevator to the higher floors. The housekeepers had swept through and placed everything back where it belonged except for one square sheet of hotel-embossed paper.

Charlotte is here so I will be staying with her for the week. I’m sorry, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you in person. Love, Charles x

You sneered at the paper as your phone vibrated. “Love, my ass.”

Charles: Ma biche, if you are trying to bankrupt me you are going to have to do better than that. 

You: I just want to look good for the party tonight. Never know who I might take back to my room.

You slammed the stack of receipts down beside the note and went to see that his bags were gone from the bedroom. Your lip curled back in disgust and you tore the protective sheath off the little black dress you had purchased with his money. If he was going to be a coward then he would suffer the consequences of it. You were sick of waiting for them to break up, maybe their delusions for a perfect image actually made them perfect for each other.

Charles slammed his phone onto the bedside drawer and pushed Charlotte’s advancing hands away. “I’m not in the mood.”

Rolling her eyes, she settled amongst the pillows and crossed her arms. “You’re never in the mood anymore.”

“Whatever, just get dressed,” Charles ordered as he kicked his suitcase over before unzipping it and grabbing a clean set of clothes. “We’re going out.”

“I just got here.”

“So? It’s a party.” He didn’t even glance her way as he pulled his Ferrari shirt over his head and replaced it with a plain white t-shirt before moving onto his jeans. 

“Will Y/N be there?”

Charles’ foot caught in the legging and he nearly tipped over. “I don’t know,” he lied.

Charlotte knew him well enough to know when he was lying, or telling half truths - those were almost as common as breathing to him lately. 

–

Since social gatherings were frowned upon, the group had met in a large field that the motorhomes parked in near the Monza track. A roughly cut metal oil drum glowed with a fire and golden embers floated off into the evening light as you navigated your way in new heels to the circle of couches around it. 

“I think I overdressed,” you joked to Pierre as a dozen pairs of eyes flickered your way. There was no denying that you looked amazing, but you were more suited for the red carpet than a backyard bonfire. You should have gone with jeans and a shirt like Pierre wore when he picked you up.

“I think you look beautiful,” Max said with a smile as he shifted on his seat to make space for you. “You can sit here.”

You returned the smile and carefully stepped over the legs outstretched to warm by the fire. One pair of eyes burned into you but you pointedly ignored him as he sat opposite the flames with Charlotte on his lap. You stood in front of Max and put your hands on your hips as you cocked an eyebrow at the narrow space between him and the armrest. 

“I have caught you checking out my ass enough times, Verstappen, you know it’s not going to fit there,” you said with a smirk. 

An annoyed humph came from beyond the flames and Charles started to push Charlotte to her feet. “I’ll get you a seat.”

“She can sit here,” Max reiterated as he spread his legs back to get comfortable in his chair and patted his thigh.

“Mate…”

“Such a gentleman.” You turned on your heel, meeting the furious Monegasque whose eyes reflected the fire that was burning within him too. You held his steely gaze as you lowered yourself down onto Max’s lap, feeling the form fitting dress that barely covered your thighs ride even higher. 

“I didn’t think so many of you guys would actually be here,” you said as you draped an arm over Max’s shoulder to help balance on your perch. His arm curled around your back so his hand rested lazily on your hip and his eyes darted to Charles, the blue hue almost screaming at him, ‘what a fool’. 

“I only came for you,” Max admitted as he tore his eyes away to look at you. Those eyes narrowed and he brushed he cupped your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You’re wearing makeup. Why?”

You frowned, wondering if maybe the makeup artist had done a terrible job and Max shook his head. “You look beautiful,” he assured you as he saw the worry-lines crease your forehead. “You always look beautiful, but you don’t need makeup, schat.”

 You didn’t correct him on the endearment and he seemed to take it as a victory as his smile grew wider. Maybe you would have reminded him of the rules on friendship before the interruption, or maybe you would have just tucked the wayward strand of dirty blonde hair back where it had fallen over his face. 

“I’m glad you made it,” Seb said, breaking the tension as he leaned over a cooler and offered a bottle of Jagermeister. “You look like you could use this.”

“Thanks,” you chuckled as you cracked the cap off. “You could have given me a little more information about this ‘party’.”

“Where is the fun in that?” Kimi muttered to himself as he sipped vodka from a teacup. The white china and blue glaze depicted an ancient scene and you stared at it as you took a swig straight from the bottle. Disgust screwed up your face at the taste before shivering, making both of the older men laugh. 

“Ugh, I’ll take the rocket fuel please.” You didn’t give Kimi a chance to pull away as you stole the teacup and handed him the dark green bottle instead, though you were sure with those driver reflexes he could have moved if he wanted to. “That’s better,” you sighed as you tasted the drink to find it was a vodka lemonade mix. “I thought you would drink this stuff straight.”

“I’m not Russian,” he said as he jutted his chin across to Daniil who was in fact drinking pure vodka with Daniel, though the latter was coughing thanks to it. Reaching into the cooler, glass and ceramic clattered before he settled back into his foldout lawn chair with another china teacup that you didn’t bother to question.

Conversations between the drivers flowed, voices cresting and receding with the topics they were passionate about. Your stomach sloshed with alcohol and your body relaxed against Max’s, his smile growing when you rested your cheek on his head as you listened to him talk about the first thing he would do when the restrictions were lifted. It was to go to his friend’s concert, Martin Garrix to be specific.

“No fucking way,” Pierre laughed. “Not this again!”

You lifted your head and peered across the circle to where George and Alex were arguing over the suggested game of Truth or Dare.

“What are you? Prepubescent teenagers?” you teased as Alex took a pro-stance on playing. 

“No, Lando only looks it,” George joked.

“Hey!” The young McLaren driver spluttered with an indignant laugh. “Rude.”

“Leave little Lando alone. He got his first pube just last week,” Daniel chimed in before adding, “I’ll play. Max?”

Max shrugged with a quiet, “Sure.”

Alex grinned wider and elbowed George. “See, it’s fun.”

The younger half of the drivers around the circle started the game, daring each other to do silly little things that their PR teams would frown at or confiding the secrets they answered for a truth. Your ribs hurt from laughing until Daniel called your name. 

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you replied just so you didn’t have to get up from your cosy spot on Max’s lap. 

“Have you kissed a driver here?”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed on you through the flames and you grinned at Daniel as you combed your fingers into the short hair at Max’s nape. “Yes.”

“Who?” Daniel looked at Max, Pierre and Charles before returning to Max.

Your head tipped back with a laugh. “That’s not how the game works, Danny. It’s not your turn anymore. It’s mine. Max?”

“Hmm, yes?” he hummed as he looked into your eyes.

“Truth or dare?”

He debated the option for a moment before exhaling. “Dare.”

“I dare you to take me out.”

“You didn’t need a game for that,” he chuckled. “When?”

“Breakfast, tomorrow.” You leaned in and brushed your lips over his cheeks that flushed pink an instant after you whispered in his ear. “We could even make it breakfast in bed.”

You hadn’t noticed Charles had left his seat until you heard his voice beside you, plonking himself down on the cooler while he sparked up a pointless conversation with Seb. 

“Charles, truth or dare?” Max asked, noticing how still your body went and the stiffening of your spine. 

Charles turned slowly, his eyes drifting over the space where your body met Max’s and a sneer tugged at his lips. “I don’t play childish games.”

“Just the adult kind, right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said with that innocent smile that had fooled you. 

“Of course you don’t.” Max turned his attention to the fire pit and the woman sitting on her own, attempting to hold an air of carefree relaxation despite her gaze always returning to you with a scowl. “Charlotte, truth or dare?”

“Max.” You jumped at the sharp bite to Charles’ reprimand but Max didn’t even glance his way as he waited for the woman to choose.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to finish Kyvat’s drink.”

Pierre’s teammate grinned as he offered the tumbler that was half full of vodka. To give her credit, she only winced with the first swallow but she downed the spirit and cocked an eyebrow that challenged Max, is that all you have for me?

A cruel smile tipped up and she licked the drop of alcohol that clung to her lips, the burn of the vodka quickly hitting her veins and travelling to her head. “My turn.”

Charles abandoned his conversation when Charlotte called your name and the slight shake of his head warned you not to answer. 

But he had pissed you off.

“Truth.”

The choice echoed around the circle as everyone fell silent. Pressure brewed like a lightning storm approaching and everyone felt the charged atmosphere.

Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them, staring you dead in the eye as she found the courage she had been missing for months. “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend?”

Max’s fingers stopped drawing abstract circles on your hip and Charles burst to his feet. “Charlotte!”

“What? It’s just a game, Cha,” she replied with a bland look of boredom. 

“It’s not appropria-”

“3 years,” you cut him off, your eyes never leaving hers. If she wanted the truth then she could have it. “The 8th of August 2017, if you want to count the precise days.”

“What?” Confused murmurs broke around the fire.

“Oh, shit,” Pierre laughed as he looked closer at you then to his friend who had frozen still. “She’s that chick you hooked up with at Jimmyz?”

Charles dragged a hand down his face but ended it with a nod before turning to his girlfriend. “It was before us, mon amour.” 

The way he said it made it appear it was only before they got together, ever the liar, and even you rolled your eyes.

“So you two…and your parents…” Kimi whistled before keeping his mouth busy with a drink. He was quietly enjoying the brimming heat too much for someone nicknamed the Iceman.

“My father was out getting a haircut-“

“-at my mother’s salon-“

“-when we met. I guess they kept in contact after we left.”

Charles turned his attention to Charlotte but she was already storming her way across the field. With a sigh, he made his way after her and you wondered if it was finally the day that you had been holding out for, the one where she would dump him. 

“She should have asked when you last fucked him.” The words were a whisper in your ear as everyone else returned to their own conversations, the game clearly over, but you knew those conversations were about you. Max sensed your discomfort, though even a blind man would have been able to see it. “Want to get out of here?”

“You still want to go somewhere with me?” It seemed unbelievable that he hadn’t thrown you off his lap.

“Everyone has a history,” Max said with a shrug. “I don’t care about your past…just your future.”

You left without a goodbye under the watchful eye of Seb but you didn’t miss the elbow George gave Alex, muttering sarcastically, “Oh yeah, let’s play truth or dare, he said, it will be fun, he said.”

“I didn’t know that was going to happen.” The angry whisper of a reply followed your departure and it seemed Alex was the only one too innocent to see what had been in front of them all along. 

Charles' car was already missing from the makeshift parking lot and you slipped into the passenger seat of Max’s Aston Martin before he closed the door for you. 

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know, can we just drive? I feel like a fucking idiot,” you laughed bitterly. All the memories made with Charles seemed to crumble like sandcastles with the tide as you remembered how he had chased after her. He always did, and it seemed he always would. Actions screamed louder than words. “He’s really not who I thought he was.”

“I’ve known Charles most of his life and I don’t think he even knows who he is,” Max said as he laced his fingers with yours and headed to the city. “Are you hungry?”

“No, but I have a full mini bar that is getting billed to Charles. Want to help me empty it?”

Max shared a conspiratorial grin as he headed to the hotel and when you walked past Charles’ room down the hall, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. 

“What are you doing?” Max asked with a laugh as you hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the front door. You closed the door and leant against it, Max’s eyes following the curve of the Chanel dress, down the length of your legs to the Prada shoes and back up to the Bvlgari diamond necklace that accentuated the valley of your breasts.

“Making sure this party doesn’t get crashed.” 

—

It was a miracle there had been no complaint made as you turned the stereo up and pretended you knew how to mix drinks. 

“Max!” You fell into a fit of laughter as he poured four of the miniature gin bottles into the cocktail shaker, adding it to the three bottles of vodka you had put in. “That is pure alcohol.” 

He shook the container and poured the clear liquid into two glasses, spilling some as he reached the same level of drunkenness as you. “No, it’s just water. Here, taste it.” He tipped his glass back, his face pinching before he blew out a burst of burning air from his throat and spluttered a cough. “Mhmm, good water that.”

“You’re trying to get me drunk,” you shouted over the pounding in your head, but you knocked the drink back anyway. 

“You’re already drunk,” he countered, dropping into the couch and pulling you down with him. Empty bottles littered the coffee table and the dining table, the expensive mini bar almost empty. “I’m just keeping you that way.”

You settled on his lap and fingered the dirty blonde hair that was longest at the top of his head. “Is that so you can have your way with me?”

His eyes danced over your body, lingering on your thighs as your dress barely covered them. “No, schat,” he said with a small shake of his head as he cupped your face. “When I have you I want you to know that you chose me, clear headed and completely sober. Even if I really just want to fucking kiss you right now.”

You drew your lip between your teeth at the thought and his blue eyes darkened with envy. “We could just kiss?” you suggested as you shifted to straddle his hips.

“I don’t think it would be that easy to just stop there.”

“Fine.” Your hands stroked the column of his neck, feeling the cords of muscle that tensed under your touch before you traced his collarbones with your thumbs. “Truth or dare?”

He inhaled sharply and tipped his head back, watching intently as you popped the first button on his shirt and opened the collar wider. He didn't appear to breathe as you kissed the hollow at the base of his throat. He exhaled, knowing what you wanted to hear, “Dare.”

Your teeth grazed his racing pulse and he shuddered beneath you before you pulled back. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Perhaps it took having the flame of Charles extinguished for you to feel the spark of Max because this time when he pulled you close and captured you with a kiss you felt that spark ignite. 

—

You looked around the parking lot seeing all the other mothers dropping their children off for the first day of school. They all kissed their kids on the cheeks after a tight hug and said their goodbyes, complete with teary I love you’s. Confused, you frowned at the large hand that gripped your school bag and followed the arm up to your father. 

“Daddy, why isn’t my mummy here?”

He had known the question was coming, he just didn’t think it would be from his five year old. He thought he had more time to prepare as he dropped to one knee and held your hands. “Your mother was sick and she needed to leave so she could get better.”

“But she never came back.”

“Sometimes, that’s what’s for the best.” He kissed your forehead and draped your backpack over your shoulders, the weight more than just the lunchbox and books it carried. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“I will always be here for you, pumpkin.”

You woke in a cold sweat and felt the haunting thought the dream had inspired linger in your brain as you slipped out of the sheets. Beside you, Max slept soundly with one hand buried under a pillow and the other stretched across the bed as if he was searching for you. 

You didn’t regret sleeping with Max, though part of you felt he surely would, and you watched his back rise and fall a few times as you dressed. You were busy trying to write a note, tearing off each piece that failed to convey what you wanted to say and balling it up, that you didn’t hear Max’s footsteps. You jumped in surprise as his hands came to rest on your hips and his lips teased the same sweet spot beneath your ear that he had found last night. 

“Going somewhere?” he asked as he saw your bags by the door and he saw the latest attempt of a note. Max, thank you for last night. How about a raincheck on our-

“I think it's time to go home,” you admitted as you turned in his arms and draped yours around his neck. “Because the next time we do this, I want you to know that I chose you, clear headed and completely sober.”

He chuckled, surprised you could remember what he said. Then his own hungover haze lifted and he realised what else you said. “Next time?”

“I still want you to take me to breakfast,” you assured him with a smile. “How about you call me when you’re back in Monaco?”

“It’s a date.” He tipped your head back and kissed you with the same passion that left your toes curling and your body warmed with the memory of how that kiss had led to much more last night. But Max was sober and more in control of himself as he reluctantly broke away first.  “Do you want me to take you to the airport?”

“No, thank you, I’m going to drive back. Take a bit of time to myself and figure my shit out.”

Max frowned. “You don’t have a car.”

“Yet,” you said with a wink. “But if the offer for a ride is still on the table…there is somewhere you can drop me off.”

—

Charles woke to a call from his bank and he swallowed deeply as he listened to the request to release $250k to a dealership. There was only one reason you would buy a car and the thought left him feeling empty as the bed he woke up alone in. It was a surprise there was no noise complaint after the argument he had with Charlotte, the one where he snapped and broke things off. She had left in a rage and he didn’t have the decency to ask where she went. 

He had gone to your room, his feet carrying him light on a breeze as he finally had what he wanted. But then he had seen the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and heard your laughter sneak through the panel of wood that separated him from where he should have been. 

Sitting up in bed, he wiped away the tears that had dried on his cheeks overnight. 

“Yes, allow the payment to proceed,” he muttered, though the sound of his voice was no longer one he recognised. 

Charles: Drive safe, ma biche x You: I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you in person.  Charles: I guess I deserved that.

Click here for the final chapter.

[thewriterwithnoplan]

Ferrari's Fairytale (1/3)

Summary: World Championships are the most important part of any Formula One team's history. Except perhaps, Ferrari's. Known for their rabid fans, filthy-rich investors, and pretty boy drivers it shouldn't be a surprise that the team has brought together Soulmates from across the globe. And fate, it seems, is working awfully hard to put all the pieces into place for Ferrari's perfect fairytale - one that's been in the works for decades now.

[Part 1 of Pretty Girls and Ferrari Boys]

Soulmate AU: Soulmates share injuries and pain.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader (Eventual)

Word Count: 1650

Warnings: Swearing, no Charles in this first part sorry it's his epic love story and those take time ;)

Masterlist

There was something wrong with your soulmate.

Really there had been something wrong with them since you were eight years old. But right now, there was something particularly wrong with them.

“Just some bruising over the ribcage, but no actual damage internally.” The medic presses a latex covered hand gently against your ribs.

“They feel broken.” You suck in a pained breath and glare over her shoulder, at the little framed picture of her cat, Terror, on her desk. “You’re sure I’m not about to sneeze and puncture a lung?”

“Funny.” Though the look she gives you as she pulls off her gloves is less than amused. “Which one of us went to medical school again?”

“My best friend. You might know her. She’s stunning, generous, gives me free check-ups, did I say stunning? Goes by Sunny.”

“It’s Doctor Sunny to you.” She slingshots one of the gloves at you. “But it’s good to know you only keep me around for the free check-ups.”

“My soulmate would bankrupt me without you.”

Sunny taps at her computer, “The fee isn’t that high.”

“Sure,” You shrug. “If you aren’t in here every other week.”

“Have we ruled out hitman as their profession?”

“Since we were eight?”

“I don’t know much about hitmen, maybe they start them young.”

You lower yourself carefully from the observation table and move stiffly toward her desk. “Give it to me straight Doc. How much longer have I got?”

“I’m afraid you’ll live, ma’am.” Sunny doesn’t even look up. “A tragedy for all, I know. I can give you a moment if you need time to process– Ow! Bitch.”

She rubs at her shoulder and huffs.

“I’m going to have to log that in the database, you know.” She says.

“Good, maybe we can both find our soulmates and be done with it all.”

“Real romantic, dude.”

“Your soulmate hasn’t been terrorising you since you were a kid.”

“I had my fair share of scraped knees,” Sunny wrinkles her nose when you stick your tongue out. “You do know it won’t stop after the two of you meet, right? That’s a schoolyard myth.”

“After the talking to I’m going to give him, you bet your perky ass it’s going to stop.”

“That’s the second instance of workplace harassment I’ve coped from you in the last minute.”

“Fine. Your ass is not perky.”

“Mature.” She hums, “What time did you say the pain started?”

“Ten-thirty-ish?”

“All good then.” Sunny makes a few more clicks before powering down her computer. “Your chest and my arm, all nice and logged.”

“You know, sometimes I think you became a Match Medic specifically so you could put every little thing into the database to make it easier to find your soulmate.”

“Perks of the job.” She scoops up her handbag. “Come on, let’s bounce before the front desk starts scheduling over my lunch break.”

“You remember how I said you were stunning and generous and stunning?”

“I’m not buying you lunch.”

“Could this week get any worse?” You throw your head back dramatically.

Sunny cracks a smile at your antics, “Only a few more hours and we’re free for the weekend.”

“Are we still on for pamper-night tonight?”

“Always. Mine or yours?”

You end up spending the night in Sunny’s apartment, covered in different rejuvenating oils and masks until you look like low-budget horror movie villains. In your fluffy robes with The Princess Bride on in the background Sunny tries to teach you how to make Hainanese Chicken the way her mother did. Terror cries at your feet when you tell him he can’t have raw chicken. Sunny pops a bottle of cheap champagne that makes you both grimace and promise one another that you would find an excuse to get a nicer bottle soon. You take turns washing the excess from the face, foot, and hair masks off. Then curl up together on the couch, sipping broth, digging into rice and slathering chicken in Sunny’s family’s super-secret chilli sauce. You both fall asleep at a very respectable eleven o’clock.

So, it’s fucking strange when you wake up feeling like you had spent the night inside a paint mixer.

“Are you okay?” Sunny frowns as she stands over a pan of eggs. “You look ill.”

You squint over your coffee cup, “Soulmate is playing up.”

She plates the eggs next to a small stack of bacon before turning to put a hand to your forehead. “They shouldn’t be making you feel sick, illness doesn’t transfer like that. Are you sure it’s coming from them? Could you just be hung over?”

“It’s definitely him, third weekend in a row, like clockwork.” You take your plate gratefully, “It’s like I always tell you. It’s not nausea. It’s more like…”

“Impossible to explain for you and every medical practitioner you’ve ever seen?”

You groan, “It’s like my brain spent the night trying to escape my skull and the muscles in my neck were in on it.”

“It’s not unheard of for soulmates to feel the repercussions of an intense work out. There was this study from four years ago on high performance athletes and their partners that–”

You groan again, “Oh god and now there’s a nerd in my ear!”  

She tosses a gelatinous bit of egg onto your plate. It lands with a splat that makes you fake gag. “Oh, grow up.”

“You should be nice to me,” You lament, “I’m wounded!”

“Your soulmate is wounded.”

“And I’m sure their best friend is taking very good care of them!”

She pulls a face at you but still takes your plate to the dishwasher for you. As she’s rinsing them, she asks, “What’s on for the rest of your weekend?”

“I got a call from my parents on Thursday and guess what?” You sipped at the cold dregs of your coffee, “The dentist finally figured out which one of them the toothache is coming from!”

“That’s great,” Sunny’s smile was genuine. “They’re going in to get it fixed?”

“Tomorrow morning, both going under local anaesthesia.”

You hip checked her lightly out of the way to rinse both your cups. “You want another coffee?”

Sunny propped herself up on the counter, “My caffeine addiction is rubbing off on you I fear.”

“Listen, we have to get through the day somehow.” You coaxed the machine back to life before leaning against the counter to look at Sunny. “Anyway, my parents were supposed to go to this race tomorrow. Dad is particularly devastated and has practically ordered me to represent the family ‘at our home race.’ It’s been tradition for him and mum since they got married. It’s kind of a big deal for him. The man is obsessive.”

“My parents had something similar to say about our family legacy and studying medicine.”

“Speaking of… You remember all the times I sat up with you studying, or brought you food when you forgot to eat, or ran errands for you, or made sure you took breaks, or–”

“Fine, I get it, I’ll go to the stupid race.”

“Oh, how kind of you to offer.” You passed her one of the cups. “It won’t be that bad. Motorsports are supposed to be fun live, right?”

Sunny snorted, “Thank God. Motorsports? I thought you meant like a horse race or a marathon. I was getting war-flashbacks to track-and-field.”

You put a hand to your heart, “You were willing to relive cross country for me?”

“I was willing to ogle fit, sweaty men for you, definitely.”

“Alright, first of all – fuck you. But also same,” You clinked mugs and nodded solemnly at one another, “Maybe we can find some fit, sweaty drivers to ogle instead.”

Sunny hummed, “What do I wear? Is it like sprint cars or more like V8s – ooh is it an illegal drag race?”

“Girl, no.” You swatted at her thigh, “It’s Formula 1, which is perfectly legal and safe and much faster than any of those options.”

“Alright, Miss Daddy’s-Girl, go off.”

“Shut up, I’ve had to hear him go on and on about it my whole life.” You pulled a face at your coffee. “The man has had a hard-on for Ferrari since before he met my mother, and then he met her in the Ferrari hospitality at an F1 race, and he’s fucking worshipped them ever since.”

“Oh my god, why am I only just hearing about this?” She grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks and cooing. “You’re a little Ferrari baby.”

You blew a rather unladylike raspberry at her and knocked her hand away, “Because it’s embarrassing! Dad was only there because he and his friend won tickets. So, when Ferrari marketing caught wind that soulmates had met in their pavilion, they practically fell over themselves.”

“Holy shit!” Sunny practically howled in delight, “Is that where all those baby pictures of you in little Ferrari onesies came from?”

“Ferrari’s own little fairytale, Mr-won-his-way-in and Miss-heir-to-a-real-estate-monopoly. It's like Romeo and Juliet; if Romeo and Juliet survived, had a kid and decided to make it the poster child of their love story.”

“Don’t sound so disgusted, that’s cute as fuck.” Sunny snatches up your empty cup and stacks it next to hers in the dishwasher.

You frown, “Not everything has to be a love story.”

“I don’t know, girl, I’m pretty sure you just asked me to play out your parents first meeting with you tomorrow.” She winks at you over her shoulder as she heads toward her room.

“Oh, fuck off, Sunny.”

“I think this calls for new outfits!” She emerges from her room, towel over one shoulder. “What was your Mum wearing when she met your dad?”

“We are not reenacting my parents meet-cute.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll have your own meet-cute with a certain pain-prone soulmate, hm?” In the moment it takes you to reorientate yourself after her comment, she’s breezing past you with a bright, “I’m having first shower!”

You squark in indignation. Like hell, you’ll let either of those things happen to you this weekend.

(Part 2 : Ferrari's Prince - 03.05.24)