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wholoveseggs · 8 months ago

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Small Victories

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} After a tourney in which Daemon places second, he seeks solace from his loss and finds it in his little northern maid.

♡♡ Hello darlings! I'm branching out slightly and writing about a new character {Don't worry, I'm still writing Elijah} xoxo ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: smutt, size!kink, rough sex, dom!daemon, slight choking, virgin!reader, northern!reader, servant!reader, pre-dance Daemon, huge power imbalance...

♡♡ Hey! I didn't tag anyone because I'm unsure if you want to read Daemon content. If you wish to be tagged in future Daemon let me know ♡♡

You didn't like the Red Keep, it was too grand for your liking. Even with all of the people in it you still felt alone. At night, you could hear voices echoing throughout the halls, sometimes they were singing or laughing and other times they were screaming or moaning.

You could never tell where the sounds were coming from, it gave the place an odd feeling of being haunted. Ghosts weren't something you put your faith in, but that didn't stop the hair from standing up on the back of your neck whenever you heard a strange sound.

If it was up to you, you wouldn't live here. You would be back in the little cottage you grew up in, far into the north and as far away from King's landing as you could possibly be. It was a funny contradiction, that such a grand place in a warm environment could feel so cold, while a small house in the cold north could feel so full of warmth.

The last thing your mother said to you, was that you should be grateful. That your place in the Red Keep was the highest honor your family could ever hope to receive, and that you should do anything to stay here. To be a lady's maid to the queen, was the highest achievement a low born could achieve.

You tried to be, even though your heart yearned for the snowy landscape of your childhood. You wanted to be happy, you were thankful, but you couldn't help the way you missed the north.

So to try and capture just a bit of personal freedom, you would walk the halls at night. It was the only time you could pretend to be somewhere else, even if it was only for a moment. You would close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere new and exciting, and when you opened them you would be reminded of where you really were.

Tonight you were in a particularly adventurous mood, there was a tourney the next day for Prince Viserys and his wife Aemma to celebrate their wedding. The Red Keep would be full of guests and it would be loud and full of life, you were sure to be very busy, and so you decided to stay up late and postpone sleep for a few more hours.

There was a room in the library that had a view of the city, one you liked to frequent often. It had a large window and a balcony that was rarely used. It was a nice place to go to clear your mind and think about home.

When you entered, nobody was around except for a cat that was perched on the windowsill. She was a lovely thing with black fur and bright green eyes, the perfect color of a dark forest at night.

"Hello, beautiful." You greeted her with a smile and a light stroke along her back. You looked out the window with her at your side, watching the moon reflect off the ocean and the waves crashing against the shore.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on a man with a face that made you stand up straight and bow your head.

"Prince Daemon." You greeted him, not looking up from the floor.

"Young maidens like yourself shouldn't be out so late." He said, stepping closer to you. You didn't dare move or even breathe, his presence made you feel like you were caught doing something wrong.

"I couldn't sleep, my lord," You answered, not meeting his eyes. This was your first real meeting with the prince, but you knew the rumors that surrounded him.

He didn't respond to your answer, instead, he turned his attention towards the view. Leaning against the window, his posture was dismissive, as though you weren't there. He gave you a side glance that read, 'leave,' and so you did, not wanting to get in his way.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to intrude." You said, walking past him, heading towards the doorway.

"You are from the north," he spoke, still looking out into the water.

"Yes, my lord," You answered, stopping when he started speaking.

"How did you find yourself as a maid in the south?" He asked, looking at you, his eyes piercing through you.

The truth of the matter made you feel shameful, even though it was beyond your control. So you decided to tell him what you've been telling everyone.

"I was given as a gift for our new queen," You said, looking down at the floor.

"Is that what they call it?" Daemon laughed, his laugh was as harsh as his voice, the kind of laugh that could cut you open if you let it. "I heard you were given away as payment for a debt."

Your cheeks reddened and you looked at the ground, your throat closing up at the mention of your family's failure. Pride wasn't something you could afford anymore, but you couldn't stop the words that came out of your mouth.

"I didn't realize that princes were so fond of gossip." You said, meeting his eyes, your words were meant to cut, and they did.

He stood up straight, his expression unreadable as he closed the distance between the two of you, towering over you.

"Ahh, so they did sell you." He smirked, looking down at you. "Whoring can make you better coin… recover a debt quicker."

Your hands balled up into fists and you took a step closer, a defiant glare on your face.

He chuckled and tilted his head, he reached out and touched your chin, his hand was soft but firm as he turned your face to look at him.

"With a pretty face like yours, I'm sure you would make quite a bit of coin," His voice was a purr, a seductive growl that made your insides feel tight. "I could show you a better use for those lips."

His words were shockingly vulgar, his voice was rough and commanding and his eyes were hungry, but you didn't move away, you stayed still. You knew the dragon prince was a scandalous man, but you didn't think he would ever be so bold.

"There is no honor in a whore's coin." You answered, pushing his hand away from your face.

"Is there honor in emptying the queen's chamber pot?" He retorted, grinning slightly at how red your cheeks had become.

"Not all of us have the opportunity to choose what sort of honor we can acquire,” You said, standing your ground as best as you could.

He towered over you, his tall frame casting a shadow that almost completely covered you. He wasn't like the king or queen, who were kind and generous. There was something dark and malicious about him, as though the great beasts of his house lurked just below his skin, waiting to come out.

"You have a smart mouth, little northerner." He mused, his eyes drifting down to your lips. "It's a wonder that the queen has not put a gag in it."

"It's a poor quality I have yet to overcome." You responded, pulling away from him and putting some distance between the two of you.

He watched you move away, his eyes following your movements and the shape of your body, making you feel hot.

"I will think of you when I win the tourney tomorrow." He said, his tone smug and confident. "A sweet northern flower to bring back with me."

"You will be bringing back nothing, prince Daemon." You said, your voice a warning.

He laughed and looked at you, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"We'll see about that."

And with those final words, he left the room. You felt flustered and annoyed, a strange mixture of feelings that confused and angered you. You didn't like the prince, but he made your heart race, his voice and his eyes made you feel a strange sense of heat.

You wanted to be disgusted, and yet all you could think about was seeing him again.

It was a hectic morning, with all the knights and guests arriving, and you were late. Your tardiness had earned you a sharp reprimand from your head maid, but you were too distracted by the upcoming event to care.

The prospect of seeing the prince again was something you weren't sure you wanted, but couldn't stop thinking about.

You didn't like the way his eyes lingered on you, or how he made you feel things that shouldn't be felt. The rogue prince was indeed a fitting title, he was a scoundrel and a liar, a man of dishonor.

You thought that maybe he was the sort of person that the south created, perhaps they took people like you and turned them into someone like him. But then again, he wasn't really a southerner, no, he was a dragon.

The sound of cheers and laughter outside made your ears perk up. The queen was already seated with the other royals in their viewing box, and you were in a nearby tent, preparing more wine and food.

The tourney had just begun, and so far the knights had all performed well. You had only been paying a bit of attention, trying to do your job and keep out of the way.

The head maid was a cruel, vindictive woman, and she had been taking out her frustration on you all day. Her temper was short and her hands were rough, she was the kind of woman that would slap your hands or pull your hair if she was upset. But today she decided to simply make your life miserable with her words.

She gave you the worst jobs and the heaviest items to carry, and when she did allow you to stand and rest, she would hit your feet with her broom and tell you to get back to work.

"Once you are finished pouring wine, I want you to go to the prince's tent and serve him." She ordered, her eyes were sharp and her words were harsh.

"The prince has a squire to serve him." You protested, the idea of facing Daemon again made your cheeks turn red.

"The prince requested a woman's company,” She smiled, her eyes looking at you with an almost wicked satisfaction.

"I believe what the prince is looking for can be found on the street of silk, not among the ladies maids." You countered, hoping to change her mind.

"It's an honor to serve the prince, and he has specifically asked for a northern girl." The head maid was adamant, not willing to let this go.

You clenched your jaw and took a deep breath, biting your tongue as you looked at the floor.

"Very well, madam."

You held back tears as you climbed the stairs to the viewing box, pouring wine into the cups. Keeping your eyes low and only lifting them when absolutely necessary as you made your way down the line of royals.

Everyone began to stir and chat as the final round was announced. You turned to face the arena, watching as the prince mounted his horse, the sight of him made your heart flutter.

He was a handsome man, there was no denying that, his long blonde hair was braided and tied back, and his purple eyes were focused and determined.

His horse was a massive stallion, black as night, and he rode him as though they were one. He moved with a grace and confidence that was captivating.

The final round began, the two men charging at each other. You were nervous and excited, not knowing what to expect.

The clash of steel was the only sound in the air, it echoed throughout the entire arena. The crowd was silent, their eyes locked on the scene before them.

The two men passed each other, once, twice, three times. The tension building with each near miss, until finally the two knights clashed again.

Daemon's opponent had a slight edge over him, being bigger and stronger, but Daemon was quicker. But on the fourth pass, his opponent managed to catch him off guard, sending him flying into the dirt.

The crowd gasped, their hands covering their mouths as the prince's horse bucked and ran, leaving him in the dust.

You winced at the sight, it wasn't a good fall. He landed on his back, hard, and he lay still for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he caught his breath.

Only when the head maid cleared her throat did you realize you had been holding your breath.

"You are needed in the prince's tent, girl." she commanded, grabbing the jug from your hands and giving you a stern look.

You nodded, taking the tray of food and wine from the table and heading out of the box. Your heart was racing and your palms were sweaty, the thought of seeing Daemon after such a public humiliation was not something you were looking forward to.

The air was alive with the roar of the people, and the thumping of their feet sounded like thunder. They were chanting for the champion, something that would surely upset Daemon even more.

When you got to his tent, you hesitated, taking a moment to calm your nerves. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the noise of the crowd fade away.

You stepped inside, finding him sitting in a chair, his shirt was off and his squire was cleaning a nasty gash on his arm.

"I'm sorry for intruding, Prince Daemon." You said, placing the tray of food on the table and pouring a cup of wine.

"Leave," he barked at his squire, his voice was gruff and his jaw was clenched.

"But my prince-" his squire protested, looking up from the wound he was treating.

"Now."

The boy left quickly, leaving you alone with the brooding prince.

"Would you like some wine, my lord?" You asked, your voice soft and timid, the last thing you wanted was to make him even more upset.

"No," he hissed, his voice sharp as a knife. "Bring me a new shirt."

You did as he asked, walking over to the large chest in the corner. It was full of clothes, the colors and fabrics were fine and beautiful. You selected a clean white shirt and brought it over to him, your eyes focused on the ground.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice was quiet, but it was a demand, not a request.

You lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze. His eyes were cold, the same shade of violet that had captivated you was now a glare.

You did very well, my lord," You tried to reassure him, your voice soft and comforting.

"Is that meant to be comforting?" He asked, his tone was harsh and his expression was a scowl.

"Fine. I have never seen a worse display than the one you put on today," you said, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them.

He smiled, then laughed, his shoulders shaking as his amusement grew. Only his brother the king would ever talk to him this way, and here you were, a young low born northerner, mocking him. He didn't know why he enjoyed it coming from you, perhaps it was because your words meant nothing. You were no one, and he was the prince, and yet he found himself intrigued.

"That was quite a show, wasn't it?" He chuckled, the sound was hollow, not at all humorous.

"It was humiliating," you answered, the words escaping before you could stop them.

"Careful," he warned, his eyes narrowing. "You're lucky I find your insolence amusing."

"I thought it was why you had asked for me," you retorted, setting the shirt on the table and taking a step back.

He stood up from the chair, closing the space between the two of you. The air was thick with tension, his eyes boring into yours, his face was inches from yours.

"I didn't lose the tourney," he stated, his voice a low growl.

"You didn't win either," you countered, your cheeks flushed red, your heart racing in your chest.

He smiled, the gesture was almost predatory, he reached out and grabbed your face, his hands were rough and his grip was tight.

"You are quite the mouthy little wench," his words were a harsh whisper, his breath hot against your skin.

You didn't answer, afraid of what he would do if you spoke. He seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes dancing with amusement as he stared at you.

"On your knees," he ordered, his tone demanding.

"My lord, I-" you protested, trying to pull away.

"Kneel," his voice was louder this time, and you knew that he was not going to repeat himself.

You hesitated for a moment, but he was the prince, and you couldn't disobey him. So you lowered yourself onto your knees, looking up at him, waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

"Is it true that northern girls can take a cock better than southern ones?" He asked, his hand still holding onto your chin.

You didn't know how to respond, his words making your cheeks burn. You could only stare at him, your mind reeling as you tried to figure out what he wanted.

He smiled, and the look in his eyes made your heart race. "Open your mouth, little northerner."

You did as he commanded, your eyes never leaving his. He pushed his thumb past your lips and slowly pressed down onto your tongue, rubbing it in circles before slowly dragging it out.

Your lips parted and your breathing became heavier as he traced his wet thumb across your bottom lip, his eyes fixated on the movement.

"Beautiful." He whispered before sliding his thumb back into your mouth, pushing it all the way into your throat, causing you to gag.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and wiped the spit off on your cheek before grabbing you by the arms and lifting you up, turning you around and pushing you face first into the table.

"My lord," you gasped, struggling against his strong grip.

Daemon laughed at the look of shock on your face, his cock growing harder at the sight. "See? I knew you would make a great whore," he smirked, his words bringing a flush to your face.

He pulled your dress up, exposing your ass and legs. His hands were rough as he groped you, squeezing your thighs and your cheeks.

You pushed against him, trying to free yourself, but his grip was too strong. He pushed your thighs apart, his hand trailing up to your cunt, his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you.

He softened at your defiance, a smirk crossing his lips. "I enjoy you, little northerner. Perhaps I should keep you," he mused.

He slid his finger into your cunt, his touch gentle and slow. You whimpered, pushing against him again.

"You would be my little northern flower," he murmured, his finger moving in and out of your cunt, the pace becoming quicker. "A blue rose in my garden."

You were ashamed of how aroused you were, the prince's touch was intoxicating, and you couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hips against his hand. You had never been with a man before and the pleasure he was giving you was beyond anything you had ever felt.

He slid another finger inside of you, his movements quick and rough. You moaned, biting your lip as you felt yourself getting closer to release.

He suddenly pulled away, the sudden absence of his touch made you whimper. He spun you around, knocking objects off the table and pinning you against it. Your hands went to his chest, pushing him back, but his grip was too strong, his eyes filled with lust.

"You're a feisty one," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you up and pressing you against his hips. "I guess it's true that the fires always burn hotter in the north,"

You shivered as he sucked and bit at the skin on your neck, his teeth scraping across your sensitive flesh, leaving red marks behind. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling was so intense, and the sounds were so sinful.

"My prince... I..." You stuttered, trying to find the words, but he cut you off with a kiss.

The feel of his hands on your body, his lips on yours, his cock hard against you, was intoxicating. You had never felt this way before, this desire, this want. He made you feel like you were drowning in the fire of his touch. He was a dragon, and he would take what he wanted.

You couldn't resist, you gave in, kissing him back, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He smelled of blood, dirt and sweat, a combination that shouldn't have been appealing, but was.

You could taste his lust on your lips, and it made you hungry for more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing yourself closer to him, and he moaned, the sound rumbling in his chest. He was so much larger than you, so much stronger, and you felt so small in his arms.

His hand trailed down your chest, slowly untying the strings that held up your dress, his fingers tracing over the fabric, teasing you.

"Sweet little northern girl," he teased, his voice a low growl. "Are you going to give yourself to me?"

"Yes," you whispered, your cheeks flushed pink.

He kissed you again, his lips rough and demanding, his hand pushing your dress down, exposing your breasts. "You've never touched yourself before, have you?”

"No, my Prince," you whispered, your little hands curled into his chest, your nails digging into his skin.

"That's alright, I'll show you how it's done."

His hands slid down to your thighs, his fingers trailing up, his touch light and teasing. You let out a gasp as his fingers brushed over your cunt, touching a spot that made your body tremble.

"This little spot right here," he said, rubbing his thumb against it, "is the most sensitive part of your body. The more pressure, the better."

You nodded, gasping and moaning as he pressed his thumb against it, circling it. You could feel the heat rising within you, the pleasure building.

"Feels good doesn't it?" He whispered, his voice husky, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Y-yes," you stuttered, your hips moving, grinding against his hand.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Do you like being my little whore, hmm?" He asked, his lips trailing down your neck, his kisses hot and wet.

"N-no," you moaned, pushing him back, trying to fight against him.

He laughed, his teeth nipping at your collarbone. "Liar," he whispered, his tongue licking over the marks he'd made.

His hands reaching down to his waist, undoing his breeches and pulling them off, his cock springing free. You gasped, your eyes wide as you took in the size of him.

He took your hand and placed it on his cock, his eyes burning into yours. "Go on, feel it," he whispered.

Your fingers curled around his cock, your small hand barely able to fit around him. You moved your hand, sliding it down the length of his shaft, his cock thick and pulsing in your hand. His skin was so warm and smooth, his breathing deepening as you began to move your hand up and down, stroking him slowly.

You could see the scars from battle stretched across his chest and torso. Small claw-like marks around his pectoral and a deep line that stretched down the left side of his rib cage. He was a hardened warrior, and you could tell by his scars, he had been through much to get where he was now.

You squeezed his cock, moving your hand up and down, his breathing deepening and his eyes growing hazy. He watched you, his gaze following every movement you made. You were starting to get more comfortable, taking pleasure in watching him, in making him feel good. You found the nerve to press the pad of your thumb against the tip, feeling the moisture leaking from him.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice low and husky.

You felt a wave of pride, knowing that you were pleasing him, that he liked the way you were touching him. You continued to stroke him, squeezing and pulling at his cock, watching his face, seeing the pleasure on his features.

He groaned, his eyes closing and his head tilting back, his breath catching. You could feel his cock throbbing in your hand, and you knew that he was getting close.

He let out a low growl and grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. "If you keep that up, I'm going to spill my seed all over this pretty little dress of yours," he said, his eyes full of heat.

"Is that so, my lord?" You asked, unable to hide the hint of amusement in your voice.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you under him, his body caging you, trapping you beneath him. He was breathing hard, his face flushed, his cock hard and resting on your stomach. His eyes burned into yours, his gaze intense, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady.

You weren't talking back anymore, he could see the fear in your eyes, the hesitance, and that only made him want you more. His hand went to your throat, applying gentle pressure, a silent warning.

He could feel you trembling beneath him, and he tightened his grip, a primal, possessive urge rising within him. Your small hands pushing into his chest, clutching at his heated flesh.

"Open for me," he growled, his eyes fixed on yours.

You parted your thighs, allowing him to press closer to you. He growled, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, his cock brushing against your cunt. He felt you tighten, your eyes widening with trepidation.

He chuckled, loving how terrified and eager you were at the same time. He gave you a moment, and then he slowly pushed into you. You whimpered, your nails digging into his back, your eyes closed, your face twisted in pain.

"Breathe," he said, rubbing his thumb against your cheek, "it will hurt for a just moment and then I will make you feel good,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you felt his cock hit your maidenhead.

"Are you ready, little northerner?" He whispered.

You gripped his forearms and nodded.

He pushed in slowly, breaking through your barrier. You cried out, the pain was intense and immediate. He groaned, the feel of your tight cunt was intoxicating.

He stayed still, giving you time to adjust. Your nails dug into his arms, leaving deep scratches in his flesh.

"Such a pretty, tight little cunt," he growled, nipping at your neck.

You kept your eyes closed, trying to focus on his words and not the pain. He began to move with slow, deep strokes, his cock stretching you, filling you. He was bigger than he felt in your hands, and you swore you could feel him everywhere.

He moaned, his hips rocking into you, his hand still on your throat, making you feel lightheaded. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. You felt so full of him, stretched open, the pain and pleasure mixing into one.

He watched your reaction with a smirk, amused by your shocked, satisfied expression. He was moving slowly, enjoying your warmth and the feel of your cunt clenching around him. He knew you were enjoying it, too, your eyes half-closed, a soft moan escaping your lip. Your small frame was arched to his body, your hands holding on to his neck.

You were surprised at his gentleness. You'd heard that the dragon prince liked to rough up women, but he was being as careful as if you were made of spun sugar. You felt so small and helpless underneath him, his large body nearly engulfing yours, and yet he wasn't hurting you. His touch was delicate, reverent. The way he spoke to you, calling you pet names, made your heart skip a beat.

You arched against him, a soft cry leaving your lips as his strokes got faster, deeper, hitting a place inside you that sent a sharp, hot pleasure through you.

"Does my little northerner like her prince's cock?" He said, a laugh in his voice, he began to pick up the pace, pounding into you.

You squeaked and pushed on his chest, the sensations becoming too much. He grabbed your hips and held you still, fucking you hard and fast, his eyes full of fire.

You felt your release rising up inside you, the tension in your body winding tighter and tighter. You could feel yourself clamping down on his cock, the pleasure almost too much, the sweet pain sending you over the edge.

He groaned at the sight of you coming undone, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you shattered around him. He could feel the tension in your muscles as your climax tore through you. He slowed his movements, easing out the last waves of pleasure, drawing it out until you were a shuddering, moaning mess.

He was close behind, his thrusts erratic, his breathing harsh. He pulled out and spilled his seed across your stomach, his hips bucking. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a contented sigh leaving his lips. At least he had one victory today.

Your face was hot with shame, your mind unable to comprehend what just happened. The prince's seed was cooling on your stomach and chest, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Your hands went to your face, covering it as tears came to your eyes, you had never felt so good and so embarrassed at once.

He moved off of you, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk crossing his lips. He looked satisfied, his gaze wandering over your body, lingering on the wetness between your legs, the mess he'd made of you. He tossed you a cloth to clean yourself with. You wiped his seed off your skin, watching him dress, his blonde hair still braided back, his purple eyes full of lust and desire. He was a warrior, a dragon, he was beauty and strength, power and masculinity. He was everything you wanted and feared, a beast who could destroy you.

He gave you a side glance, his eyes full of amusement. "You may go," he said, shooing you away with a hand.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as you took a shaky breath. You stood up, gathering the pieces of your dress and your underclothes. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt weak, sore, and full of shame.

"Yes, my prince," you said quietly, looking at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, the sound of his voice making you shiver. "Don't be so timid, little northerner. This is the beginning, not the end," he said, his words sending a jolt of fear and excitement through you.

He was right, this was only the beginning. You were his servant, and he could do with you as he pleased. He would have you come to him whenever he chose, on the warmest summer nights and the coldest winter days. He would take what he wanted, when he wanted.

He was a dragon, and his will was as strong as his blood.

And deep down, you knew you would enjoy it. He was the perfect thing to distract you from the mundanity of your life, the endless monotony of serving others.

Perhaps the Red Keep wouldn't be so terrible, not if it meant serving him.

1K notes · View notes

stervrucht · 9 months ago

Text

[AO3]

David Bowie plays on the radio and Steve drums his fingers along the steering wheel of his car as he contemplates. He is truly too good for this world. Now he is running errands for Dustin like some common soccer mom. The kid only had to give him one pout – one! – and Steve felt all his resistance crumbling. So, there he is on a Friday evening, seated in his still-running car in a Hawkin’s trailer park.

He stops his car in front of Eddie’s trailer and listens to the music as he gathers the willpower to leave the car.

Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace, Bowie sings on the radio.

How fitting

Outside, dusk is setting in and the world colors purple. Closing up Family Video had taken longer than he anticipated due to a difficult customer who couldn’t decide between The Thing and The Nightmare on Elm Street and had asked Steve extensive questions to make up his mind.

Steve used to be fine with horror movies, but given recent developments (give or take his life the past few years), he isn’t into horror anymore. Out of the two, The Thing is probably the worst offender. Those crazy fleshy monsters hit a bit too close to home. Although, Freddie Krueger does have some vague Vecna vibes to him.

Steve is so lost in thought he doesn't notice the door of the trailer open until Eddie knocks on his window with his knuckle. With a jolt, Steve turns to roll his car window down. Once it is fully open, Eddie leans forward, his arms resting on the car.

“Sup Harrington.” Eddie’s hair falls forward and the low-cut tank top reveals his chest, framed by the silver chain of a guitar-pick necklace.

Shaved, Steve notes. Then, realizing he is staring, he tears his eyes away, coming face to face with Eddie Munson who gives him an amused look.

“Oh uh, right” – Steve coughs nervously – “Dustin asked me to give you this…” he unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over to the passenger seat where he grabs the cardboard box of some nerdy game.

“Here–” He hands the box to Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Hell yeah, Talisman. Took Henderson long enough.” Eddie pushes himself away from the car and inspects the box for a moment. When he turns back to Steve, his eyes move towards the car radio.

“I didn’t take you for a Bowie fan.”

“Oh, I’m not really … Robin must have left it in. It’s … alright, I suppose.”

“And what type of music does Steve find more than alright?”

Eddie flashes him a cheeky smile and Steve finds himself somewhat intimidated. Whatever his answer, someone like Eddie will probably find it lame. Steve isn’t all that passionate about music anyway and mostly listens to whatever is on the radio.

“Maybe Queen, The Bee Gees…” he lists in no particular order.

Eddie tuts. “Such a proper boy.”

Although he expects it, Steve still winces.

“I should introduce you to some real music,” Eddie says thoughtfully, then – “Wanna come in?”

Steve takes a moment to think. His parents are out, so it isn’t like he’s expected at home. He has nothing to do tonight except watch some movies (perks of the job). Although the prospect of hanging out with Eddie doesn’t thrill him, it might be the more interesting option.

“Sure,” Steve turns his car off, rolls the window back up and opens the car door. Eddie takes a step back, giving Steve some room to get out.

Eddie’s eyes move to his chest and Steve realizes he is still wearing the stupid Family Video vest. He quickly takes it off, crumples it and unceremoniously throws it in his car before shutting the door again. With a quick turn of his key, the car is locked.

Steve follows Eddie towards the trailer. It is a warm summer’s night and the shadows of the trees grow long under the purple sky. The trailer park is surrounded by ample woods and fields from which the sound of crickets flares up.

“You coming?” Eddie waits for him at the door. Steve doesn’t realize he stopped moving and quickly makes his way to where Eddie is standing.

“After you, King Steve,” Eddie says, holding open the door with a dramatic bow.

Damn, Eddie is kind of annoying, isn’t he? No wonder Dustin gets on so well with him. Two peas in a pod. Steve lets out an unamused scoff.

Once inside, Steve stands in the middle of the…living room? Kitchen? He isn’t sure what to call such multifunctional rooms. He crosses his arms and shifts his weight from one leg to the other as he waits for Eddie to put the game away.

The main room is crowded and messy. It is the complete opposite of his parents’ living room, which is kept meticulously clean and organized – with the help of their cleaning lady of course. The coffee table is stained with water circles from mugs and the like. Something unthinkable to Steve. If he ever puts a glass down without a coaster, he will face his mother’s wrath.

“Beer?” Eddie calls from the kitchen. He already turned his back to him to make his way to the under-table fridge.

“Sure.”

Steve is getting sick of standing around and decides to move to the small beige sofa. It is littered with clothes and after a moment of hesitation, he shoves them aside and sits down.

“You’re fucking tense,” Eddie says as he hands Steve a can of beer. He looks down at the pile of clothes and without hesitation grabs them and throws them in a different corner of the room. Then he lets himself fall onto the sofa next to Steve, which objects with a loud creak.

The sofa really is quite small and granted, a bigger one probably wouldn’t fit. The middle of it sagged considerably too, dragging its occupants to the center.

Steve feels the warmth of Eddie’s jeans-clad legs against his own. They are probably sitting a bit too close and Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

The can lets out an audible hiss as Eddie opens it and takes a quick sip from his beer. Then, he puts it down on the table and jumps up again.

“Fuck, I was gonna play you some music.” He hurries past the kitchen into a separate room.

Steve opens his own can – cheap store-brand beer – and takes a nervous gulp as he waits for Eddie to return.

He is starting to reconsider his choices this evening. Perhaps he should just have watched Back to the Future again. Instead, he is in the trailer of some guy he kinda-sorta knows because they have shared custody of some annoying kid (one of Steve’s best friends).

“Oh yes, this will be good.” Eddie re-emerges cradling a few cassettes in his arms like he is holding a baby. He squats in front of the coffee table and releases the collection of plastic cases on top of it. Steve eyes the contents, but he recognises none of it. Then he looks over at Eddie – the flesh of his knee peeks through the hole of his jeans and Steve wonders if Eddie made it himself or if it had naturally torn by use.

Eddie shifts through the cassettes with ring-clad fingers, picking a few up and turning them around to look at the back of the plastic cases.

“Let’s start with Rainbow,” he mumbles to himself, grabbing the cassette (a hand holding a rainbow over mountains on its front). He walks over to a small side table next to the front door where an old-school cassette player stands.

With a loud click, the front of the cassette player opens and Eddie puts the cassette in and closes it again. Immediately, music starts playing.

“Fuck, hold on.”

Eddie rushes over to the kitchen, rummaging through some drawers until he finds what he is looking for.

Victoriously, he holds up a pencil to Steve and clicks his tongue. Steve takes another gulp of his beer as he watches Eddie move through the trailer with a skip in his step. He is actually excited to let Steve hear his music. Steve feels strangely flattered and he lets himself fall back on the sofa.

The music stops and Eddie takes the cassette out. Using the back of the pencil, he rewinds the tape. Steve looks at Eddie’s hands as he works. The rings are kinda cool. Maybe he should let Robin pick out a ring for him too. Although perhaps not with skulls and crosses like Eddie wears. Maybe something more simple, like a signet ring or something.

Steve is pulled from his thoughts when he hears the cassette player click shut again.

“Your player doesn’t rewind?” Steve asks.

“Steve” – Eddie puts the pencil behind his ear and turns to look at him – “I live in a trailer…”

Steve feels heat rise to his cheeks.

Shit, sometimes he forgets his parents are very well off and some things are considered luxuries instead of the default. He made the same mistake with Robin too – multiple times – but it was hard to prevent. He thinks back on his car – not particularly expensive, but also not as beat-up as Jonathan’s. Does Eddie think he is some spoiled rich boy?

“Right, sorry.” Steve takes another mouthful of beer. Eddie turns around again to put the cassette in the cassette player.

A song begins to play, the sound reminds Steve of something alien – not really like music at all. Once the drums kicks in Eddie begins to bob his head on the beat, his hands hitting an invisible drum. He dances across the room, drumming his invisible drumsticks along the wall before falling back onto the sofa, stringing his fingers as if playing a guitar.

“Shit, I should really learn this on the guitar.” He leans forward to grab his can of beer. Condensation forms on the outside and when he picks it up, a wet circle is left on the table.

Eddie kicks his feet up, white sneakers hitting the wood of the coffee table and the cassettes rattle. He takes a deep swig of his beer and audibly sighs.

Steve leans forward, arms resting on his thighs and can between his knees. Once the music actually began, it wasn’t too bad. He didn’t understand the long intros though, and preferred it if music would just start.

“So, what do you think?” Eddie asks.

“Not bad.”

“Not bad” – Eddie scoffs – “You, my friend, have not been exposed to nearly enough good music.”

Steve chuckles. “I thought Bowie was pretty acceptable by –” he looks Eddie up and down demonstratively, “ – your kind.”

“My kind, huh?” a smile plays at the corners of Eddie’s lips. “And what would that be, exactly?”

Well, shit. Steve drove himself straight into possible-insult town. Eddie eyes him curiously, one elbow resting on the sofa’s backrest and his hands holding his can in a way Steve could only describe as cool.

“Well, you know…” he trails off.

“I know…?”

“Eh, metalheads, I guess?”

“Ziggy Stardust isn’t metal, you know that right?”

Steve sighs exasperatedly. “I know, ugh. I mean he’s–”

“Weird?” Eddie finishes.

Steve takes another gulp of beer, desperate to compose himself. “Yeah,” he answers lamely.

“I suppose he’s pretty weird, huh?” Eddie eyes the ceiling of the trailer while taking a lazy sip from his beer. “Did you know he used to be gay?”

Steve looks to Eddie, who is still eying the ceiling, head lying back against the sofa’s backrest.

“Used to be?” If Steve is to believe Robin, there is no ‘used to be ’ when it comes to being gay. You either are or you aren’t. Now he thinks about it, Bowie seems somewhat queer with his tight suits and styled hair, but that is what girls dig, isn't it? He has heard countless girls swoon over men just like that.

“You never had a gay phase, Harrington?”

Steve nearly drops his can.

“Gay….phase?”

“You know, live a little, try some shit, see what sticks –”

“I can’t say I have,” Steve mumbles, his eyes now firmly fixed on the can in his hands. He plays nervously with the lip, pulling it in tandem with the music before taking another sip.

“With a pretty face like yours, you might actually get some good ones.”

Steve chokes on his beer. Actually chokes, and he hits his chest with a fist to get himself to breathe again.

“W-what?”

“How can you know what you like when you never tried it?” Eddie sits up straight, pulling one leg to his chest as he turns to Steve. His dark eyes seem like a bottomless lake and Steve feels small under his gaze.

“H-have you?” Steve stutters and it is utterly embarrassing. Why is he so rattled by some stupid revelation?

Wait, did Eddie just call him pretty?

Eddie smirks at him like they are sharing in a secret, and perhaps they are.

“Fuck yes, if someone tells me not to do something you can bet your ass I will do it. Besides, humans are humans, big fucking deal.”

“So – was it a phase? In your case?” Steve asks carefully. He isn’t really sure why he asks. Maybe it is part curiosity. He never seriously considered relationships with men. Some are nice enough to look at, sure, but marriage, a house, children – that is only meant for a man and a woman right? A world in which someone just casually tries homosexuality seems…foreign.

“Hm, I guess so … Wow, don’t look at me like that Harrington. Are you disappointed?”

“W-what, no!” Steve really doesn’t know why he is getting so flustered. He suddenly feels self-conscious under Eddie’s piercing eyes and runs a hand through his hair – a nervous habit.

“Fuck, you are – well, alright, maybe for you I can arrange an encore.”

Before Steve has time to respond, Eddie pushes himself upright and leans one knee on the sofa between Steve’s legs. He feels the cold metal of Eddie’s rings under his chin as he lays a sprawled hand on his throat and tilts his head.

Steve freezes, air caught in his chest as Eddie leans over his face, his breath hot on his lips. Steve’s right hand uselessly holds on to the near-empty can – afraid to spill it – while his left hand digs into the sofa next to his thighs. Then, Eddie leans down, capturing his lips with practiced ease. Steve feels his long hair tickle his cheeks and the scruff of a five-o-clock shadow grace his chin.

Eddie’s lips move over his, slightly chapped and rough in a way that couldn’t possibly be a girl. Without meaning to, Steve feels his own lips move against Eddie’s.

Well, now he couldn't pretend it was just something happening to him. He had graduated to an active participant.

Kissing Eddie Munson. Eddie freaking Munson.

Robin was going to have a field day.

Perhaps the most surprising part is how he doesn’t hate it. He likes the feeling of stubble on his chin, the hard corners of Eddie’s jaw, the way Eddie pushes him back onto the sofa and he wills Steve’s mouth open with a sweep of a thumb and the cold metal of rings on his face. A hot tongue explores his mouth, stroking it against Steve’s in a way that makes him gasp.

Steve has never experienced anything like it. Usually with the girls he dated, he took the lead. Kisses were usually shy and timid. Eddie is completely different. He knows what he wants and he isn’t afraid to get it. Steve feels something stir in him as he presses back.

Eddie bites his bottom lip, taking it between his lips, and breaks away from him. Steve feels breathless and blinks up at Eddie. His hand reaches over to Steve’s right side, gently taking the can from his hand and setting it away on the coffee table. He turns back, eyes dark and Steve wills his mouth close as he regards him.

Was he gay? Shit, he doesn’t really want to think about it now. Humans are humans was what Eddie had said right?

Steve reaches out, sliding his hands behind Eddie’s neck, and pulls him back. Eddie moves himself into a more comfortable position, placing a knee on either side of Steve’s thighs and straddling him. Eddie’s hands reach for Steve’s temples, threading themselves through Steve’s hair – rings catch on the strands but Steve doesn’t mind the painful sting as it pulls. He just wants to get Eddie’s lips back on his – and so he does.

Their lips meet, fiery and hot. Open-mouthed Steve explores every corner of Eddie. He lowers his hands to Eddie’s back, playing on the edge of his tanktop and the hot skin underneath. If it works for girls, surely it works for guys too right?

He runs his hands up the side of Eddie’s chest, a thumb over a nipple, and Eddie gasps into his mouth. Steve feels heat settle in his crotch and he is glad he chose to wear jeans made of thick fabric rather than thin trousers. Steve’s hands move over Eddie’s chest, feeling the smooth muscle of it and the roughness of regrowing chest hair.

Eddie’s fingers reach the hair on the back of Steve’s head and yank it back, exposing Steve’s throat. He lets out a surprised yelp when he feels Eddie’s mouth latch to the delicate bow of his neck and suck.

Steve is learning a lot about himself in the span of less than an hour. The way Eddie tugs his hair, and has his way with him is sending a pleasant jolt straight to his cock. And Steve can’t help but moan under the ministrations of Eddie’s mouth as he sucks and bites.

“Y-you’re gonna leave a mark,” Steve breathes.

“That’s the plan,” Eddie mouths against his neck. Then, he licks his way up into Steve’s mouth again.

Shit, he is kinda into this. Steve isn’t sure how he could ever go back to girls now he knows what it feels like to be touched by calloused fingers and kissed with such force.

Eddie’s hand leaves his hair and travels down to the rim of his jeans, pulling out his shirt in the process. Steve feels the ghost of fingers running along its edge and the muscles in his stomach tense pleasantly in response.

Eddie breaks away from him, his breath ghosting over his lips as he searches Steve’s eyes.

“You wanna take this further?” Eddie asks, his eyes flitting over Steve’s face.

Steve feels drunk, even though half a can of beer isn’t nearly enough to even get him close to being buzzed. He is also turned on. Ridiculously so. But fuck, what does taking it further even mean in this context. Steve feels like a virgin all over again and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to hide his arousal from Eddie.

Not that they are not actively engaged anymore, anxiety hits Steve like a bag of bricks.

“Uhh…” is all Steve manages to utter.

Eddie throws himself off Steve’s lap onto the empty spot next to him on the sofa. He puts his feet on the table again, hands behind his head.

“You’re right, maybe that’s enough for tonight.”

It doesn’t escape Steve that Eddie’s jeans look a little tighter than usual.

They sit in silence for a moment, only the voice of Rainbow’s singer cutting through the tension.

“I thought you said it was a phase,” Steve asks after he finally gets his breathing under control.

“Oh right, I should have clarified” – Eddie grins up at the ceiling – “The gay thing was a phase. I figured I was into both.”

Both? Wasn’t that something only hippies preached with their free love? Somewhere, Steve feels a wave of relief washes over him. He never seriously considered someone could like both. He has some serious soul-searching to do once he gets home.

“Huh,” is all Steve replies. Eddie’s eyebrow quirks in interest as he side-eyes Steve.

“I, uh…probably should get going.” Steve puts his hands on his thighs and pushes himself up. Eddie doesn’t move from his position, but his eyes follow him with interest.

“If you’re ever in the mood for a sequel, you know where to find me.”

Steve nods, because what else can you do in reply to such a comment? He is baffled at the ease with which the words escape Eddie. There is no shame or self-doubt.

As he lays his hand on the door handle, Steve looks back one final time. Eddie’s feet are bouncing in tandem with the beat of the drums and his eyes are closed. He looks so absolutely unshaken by their encounter that Steve feels almost jealous.

Steve is anything but unshaken.

“See you around,” he offers.

“See you, Harrington,” Eddie’s voice is playful, even though he doesn’t move.

When Steve is safe and sound in the driver’s seat of his car, he leans his head against the steering wheel and stays there for a moment.

What the hell just happened?

He turns his mirror to his neck and traces the hickey that Eddie left on his throat with a finger. He would have to ask Robin for some make-up to cover that up.

She is going to love this story.

Steve sighs and pushes the mirror back into its original position. When he starts the car, Bowie continues to sing like nothing happened.

Yes, he was alright, his song went on forever, Bowie sings and Steve groans as he hits the gas.

***

It is Saturday morning when Steve walks up to the Buckley residence. He passes the garden fence and walks around the house to the backdoor.

Hawkins was struck by the beginning of a heatwave and at this point, the temperature was bearable as long as one didn't move too much. The perfect day for a visit to the pool, but too hot for videos.

Which is why Steve is sure today won’t be too busy at Family Video. Fine by him.

The quiet days he works with Robin are always his favorite. Sometimes Henderson comes over – either with his friends or alone – and they mess around with the cardboard cut-outs or watch a movie on the little TV screen hanging from the ceiling. Steve has zero regrets about missing out on college. Everything he loves is right here in Hawkins.

He pulls at the red handkerchief around his neck. It is against company policy to wear scarves (and probably too hot too) but Steve needs something to cover up the damage of his little adventure with Eddie. At least, until he gets his hands on some skin paint stuff – or whatever girls call that type of make-up.

He enters through the backdoor straight into the kitchen, where he finds Robin’s mother clearing the table of breakfast plates. The room smells faintly like toast.

“Morning, Ms. Buckley!” he calls, already moving towards the hallway. Steve hears her respond, but he's halfway up the stairs by then.

“Rob!”

“Just a second!” Her voice is muffled. She opens her door, fixing an earring. Her eyes flick to his scarf before meeting his gaze.

“Geez, you’re early.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve walks straight past her and throws himself on her unmade bed. Robin pays him no mind and she walks over to her dresser again. From his spot on the bed, Steve can see Robin's face reflected in the mirror as she fusses with her hair. When she reaches for a pouch, Steve is suddenly reminded of why he is early to begin with.

“Do you have that face-stuff?” he asks as he sees Robin pull a pencil from the pouch.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than ‘face stuff’.”

“You know, the skin-colored goo.” Steve makes motions over his face as if he’s painting.

“Concealer?” Robin’s mouth is open in concentration as she lines her waterline with black.

“That’s it!” Steve throws himself off the bed and walks over to Robin.

“Sure, I’ve got some,” Robin puts down her pencil and rummages through the pouch again. She pulls out a small beige bottle and holds it up for Steve. He reaches for it, but Robin pulls away.

“Does this have anything to do with your avant-garde fashion statement today?” She looks at his scarf again.

Steve laughs sheepishly and pulls his scarf aside. Robin’s eyes widen at the dark hickey on his neck.

“Jesus, Steve! It’s massive” – she leans in closer – “Was it Rebecca? Never thought she’d be the type...” Robin reaches for his neck but Steve pulls away.

“What? No!” – Steve lets go of the scarf – “I stopped seeing her like five weeks ago. Get with the times, Rob.”

“Well, sorry I can’t keep up with your busy love life.” Robin turns back to the mirror. She definitely isn’t sorry and Steve wouldn’t exactly call the origin of the hickey ‘love’. A lapse of judgment, maybe, or something uniquely in the corner of Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson.

“Can I get the stuff now?”

“Fine,” she says and she pushes the bottle in his hands.

***

Outside the car, the world passes in a flash of yellow fields. The windows are down and the scent of drying grass fills the air. Steve turns the music up to drown out the thundering sound of the wind as it enters the car and drums his fingers on the steering wheel while he uselessly mouths along with the music. He doesn’t know the lyrics, but that can’t stop him. The fact it annoys Robin when he does so makes it even more fun in his opinion.

“You’re in a good mood,” Robin remarks while she digs through her bag.

“It’s a beautiful day and I’m working with my best friend,” Steve chirps.

“Uhuh, right,” she replies skeptically. She puts her bag back between her legs on the car floor and fiddles with something in her hands.

Steve’s eyes are focused on the road before him when the music suddenly stops.

“Hey! I was listening to that!”

“I thought you said Bowie was ‘overrated trash’” Robin says while opening the case to another cassette.

“I didn’t,”

“You so did, and you called his pants too tight,”

“Whatever, driver decides,”

Robin sighs and pushes the cassette back in. “When I get my license, it will be Blondie all day every day. You better prepare yourself, dingus!”

Steve hums in satisfaction as the music comes back on. Maybe he found it somewhat grating in the beginning, but it was growing on him now. That, of course, had nothing to do with Eddie Munson.

“Did you know he used to be gay?” Steve suddenly says.

“Bisexual, Steve, and of course I know that. The question is, why do you?” From his periphery, he can see Robin staring at him.

“I just heard it somewhere,”

“Somewhere…” Robin repeated. She leans over to put the other cassette back in her bag.

Steve is relieved when he sees Family Video come into view. It’s not like Robin will forget their conversation, she is far too smart for that. And he really does plan on telling her about what happened yesterday, he just has to find the right moment. Hell, maybe it wouldn’t even be today.

Steve pulls into the parking space and hops out of the car. He locks his door and throws the keys over the car to Robin. She fumbles in her attempt to catch it and Steve is once again reminded that Robin is a band dweeb and not an athlete.

“Let’s open this baby up,” he says as he tosses the store keys into the air and catches them overhand.

“You’re such a show-off” – she walks past Steve into the store and continues without looking back – “For your information, there are no girls around…”

“Yet,” Steve finishes and Robin groans in response.

There wouldn’t be any girls around for most of the day as it turned out.

As Steve expected, it was a slow day. The only people who visited were those who probably wouldn’t be found dead sunbathing, nerds who never stepped outside (except to rent a video, apparently), and old people looking for something nice to watch with their grandkids.

Somewhere between the shelves, Robin is putting returned VHS tapes into their rightful place. Meanwhile, Steve sorts through new arrivals and adds them to the computer system. In the back of the shop, a guy has been staring at some science fiction movies for probably half an hour by now. Category basement nerd, Steve decides.

They had been working in relative solitude. Steve looks up as he hears the bell signal someone’s entrance. He is greeted with a curly head of hair.

“Henderson!” Steve stands up and throws himself over the counter. The secret handshake is a must and cannot be skipped.

Shake, box, Star Wars sword thing, guts.

Dustin smiles wildly at him.

Just as Steve is spilling his guts, the bell chimes again. He looks up, readying himself to apologize to the poor customer he has no doubt scared off with his wild gestures when he comes face to face with dark bottomless eyes.

“Munson,” Steve is probably gawking, at least a little and Eddie looks amused at the scene in front of him.

Dustin, oblivious to it all, immediately starts talking.

“I was just about to grab my bike when I ran into Eddie. He offered me a ride in his van. Mom’s at the pool today, says it’s too hot to stay indoors; she practically kicked me out of the house,”

“Right,” Steve wasn’t even looking at Dustin as he yapped on. He somehow couldn’t tear his eyes away from Eddie’s. It was strange seeing him in daylight now. The darkness of dusk had made their whole interaction the night prior seem like a dream. Now, face to face with Eddie, Steve was hit by the reality of what had transpired. He felt profoundly awkward.

“ – You should totally get a van, Steve!” Dustin’s voice pulls Steve from his thoughts and he tears his eyes away.

“Y-yeah, probably not. I like my car,” he composed himself, deciding to focus his attention on Dustin rather than Eddie.

“Hey Dustin” – Robin walks from behind the shelves, carrying a now-empty crate. Her eyes land on Eddie with a hint of surprise – “Hey Eddie,”

“Got anything good yet?” Dustin asks Robin eagerly.

“You’re in luck–” Robin says as she puts the crate away, “We just added The Dark Crystal to our collection,”

“Sweet!” He hears Dustin call when Robin leads him away to one of the shelves in the back.

Steve is left alone with Eddie and doesn’t know how to compose himself. A part of him feels nervous under Eddie’s dark gaze.

Eddie walks over to the counter and leans against it.

“Cool gig,” Eddie says as he looks around the store. “Do you ever get to keep the cardboard cut-outs?” Eddie points his finger at a life-size cut-out of Indiana Jones that stands proudly at the front of the store. Steve’s eyes involuntary drift back to his fingers again and he really ought to stop that. Sooner or later, Eddie will catch him staring.

“I don’t, but Keith does sometimes,”

“Sweet,”

A silence falls between them and Eddie kicks his feet. The guy in the back still hasn’t made up his mind and a little distance away Dustin is eagerly explaining something about the ‘Gelflings’ to Robin.

“Hey, uh, are you doing anything next Friday?” Eddie asks suddenly.

“Nothing yet,” Steve is desperately trying to stop his heart from beating at such an insistent pace and he hopes his voice comes out as nonchalant as he intends it to.

“You wanna…I don’t know…hang out or something?”

‘ Or something’. What does ‘or something’ mean ?

“Yeah, I– …yeah, sure” Steve fumbles a bit, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he doesn’t care. A smile grows on his face.

“Cool,” Eddie says.

He pushes himself away from the counter and walks up to a shelf to inspect some of the movies. He leans forward, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, and hums a song that sounds vaguely familiar. Steve stares at the interlaced fingers behind his back – adorned with silver rings – and shivers at the memory of their coolness against his neck.

“Cool,” Steve echoes.

***

The whole week, Steve had thought of countless excuses to cancel hanging out with Eddie on Friday, but in the end, none of them carried any weight. He couldn’t get Eddie of his freaking mind and the sappy romance movies that played on the television screen at work didn’t help either.

Eddie had visited Family Video again – once – with Dustin to return a movie. Apparently, they regularly hung out when Steve was busy at work and he felt something akin to jealousy. He had always been Dustin’s role model. Heck, the kid even started wearing his hair like him (thank you, Farrah Fawcett). That was until Eddie somehow inserted himself into the equation. Now, Dustin had grown out his hair and was wearing that ridiculous Hellfire shirt religiously; so often, Steve sometimes wondered if it was ever washed at all.

Eddie had corrupted him, and maybe he had corrupted Steve a little bit as well.

“You seem nervous,” Robin remarks as she flips through a folder, biting in the back of a ballpen.

“Well, I’m no–” Before Steve can finish his sentence, Robin continues.

“I haven’t heard you talk about your dates the whole week. Whoever gave you that ridiculous hickey has some serious hold over you –”

Steve feels his shoulders tense. The idea of Eddie having any kind of hold over him was crazy. Steve is cool, Steve is casual. Steve is definitely not nervous about his casual hangout with Eddie tonight.

“ –It’s Friday, aren’t you supposed to be on like three different dates tonight?” she continues.

“Uhm, well–”

“And you’ve been acting weird all week. Things are adding up to a very weird sum. The ‘buying thirty watermelons’ kind of weird sum.”

“You have such a way with words,” Steve rolls his eyes as he finally regains his composure.

“Steve!” Robin throws her pen at his head. He ducks, but the pen hits him anyway.

“Robin!” he mimics her tone.

“It’s someone’s mom, isn’t it? God, Steve–” Robin pulls a face in disgust.

“It’s not someone’s mom! Geez, Rob, what kind of person do you take me for?”

“The kind that acts all mysterious and weird, and suddenly listens to music he hates!”

Maybe going out of his way to buy a Rainbow cassette had been somewhat uncharacteristic. Of course, Robin would pick up on that.

“A guy can expand his tastes…” he trails, hit by the ambiguity of his statement.

Robin sighs, picks up her pen from the floor and gives him an irritated glance.

Steve hears the bell chime just as he closes the door to the vault in which they store cash overnight. It is only a couple of minutes before closing time and Steve grunts audibly as he raises himself into a standing position. Entering a shop this close to closing time is a certified dick move and Steve is not above sending whoever entered away, customer service be damned.

“We’re closed!” he yells as he walks back into the shop from the backroom.

“Eddie’s here for you,” Robin calls without looking back at Steve.

Sure enough, Eddie is standing at the counter. He is wearing a tank top and his hair is pulled up into a messy bun; his skin gleams with sweat from the heat outside and around his neck hangs a wiry set of headphones. Wind from the air conditioner pulls at his hair. When their eyes meet, a smile creeps on his face.

“Sup, Harrington…I’ve brought the van.” He holds the keys up demonstratively, dangling them from his index finger.

"He brought the van!" Robin exclaims looking back at Steve, her eyebrows raised and a sly smile playing on her lips. Steve can almost see the moment of realization dawn upon her as if a lightbulb had been switched on in her mind.

Steve scratches the back of his head. “I promised Robin a ride back–”

“No problem, We’ll drop her off. I’ll bring you back to pick up your car later.”

Steve casts Robin a quick glance and she shrugs in response.

“If Robin’s fine with it…” he trails.

“A van,” Robin whispers as Steve joins her at the counter and elbows him in his arm.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, but still can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

***

Twigs crack under Steve’s shoes as he follows Eddie through the forest. The canopy of the trees offers ample shadow and Steve finds the heat more bearable here than when they had been walking alongside the road. Still, his shirt clings to his back and sweat is slicking his hair as Steve runs a hand through it.

When Eddie asked him to hang out, he didn’t expect they would be hiking through the forest behind the trailer park during a freaking heatwave.

He looks over to Eddie. His bangs cling to his forehead and the veins on his arms are thick as his body fights to keep cool. Despite the oppressive heat, there's a glint of excitement in Eddie's eyes.

“There it is.” Eddie stops and looks somewhere in the distance. Steve squints and follows Eddie’s gaze. Between the trees, he can see the shimmer of water, and he realizes Eddie has taken them to Lover’s lake.

When they near the water, Eddie ups his pace, stepping around some of the bigger rocks and boulders near the lake’s edge like he has done it a thousand times before. Steve tries to keep up, but his unfamiliarity with the landscape slows him down.

At last, he is standing on the pebbled lakeside. The sun is already lowering itself into the embrace of dusk and Steve thinks they have maybe two hours of light left before sundown. He looks to his right where he sees Eddie standing above a pile of wood. When he gets closer, Steve realizes it is actually an old stranded fisher’s boat.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Eddie remarks.

Steve looks the boat over. It’s medium sized and some of its wood has rotted away. A good portion of it is covered in graffiti, and half of it sits in the water. It has probably been there for years.

“You bring all your conquests here?” Steve asks as he watches Eddie climb onto the boat. The question is mostly meant to be lighthearted, yet he feels a sense of anticipation as he waits for Eddie to reach the deck.

Eddie squats and looks down on him. “Nah, just you.”

Somehow, those words make Steve’s heart flutter and his cheeks heat up. He quickly looks away, pretending to search for footing to scale the boat.

When Steve reaches the deck, Eddie is sitting cross-legged facing the lake.

“This is a nice place,” Steve says, sitting next to Eddie. He lets his feet dangle from the side and follows Eddie’s gaze. Across the lake, some people linger, cooling down before heading back to their hot homes. Some children are playing in the shallows and their joyful screams carry over the water.

“Your work?” Steve asks as he gestures to some of the writing on the boat. The wood is covered in crude phrases, names, and dates – some of them are carved, but most look to be written with a sharpie.

“Some of it is.” Eddie pulls out a pocket knife from his jeans and hands it to Steve. “You can add to it if you want.”

Steve turns the knife in his hand. It is a classic red Swiss knife and it lays heavy in his hand.

“Here–” Eddie twists around and Steve follows suit. Eddie’s fingers are tracing the wood behind them, running them over the carvings in the wood. “– I think I did this about a year ago.”

Eddie removes his hands and Steve can finally get a good look. It’s nothing crazy, just a simple ‘Eddie was here’ carved in crude scratches – eternalised in some rotting wood in a town no one cares about.

Eddie holds up his hand to Steve and he realizes he is asking for his knife back. Steve hands it over.

Eddie flips out the knife and bends himself over the carving. Steve turns back around, looking over the lake again as the sound of scratching fills his ears.

“All done!” Eddie says after a while.

When Steve turns back, he sees his name freshly carved into the wood, right above Eddie’s original carving.

Steve + Eddie was here

“You wanted to immortalize this?” Steve asks amused.

Eddie flips the knife closed again and shoves it into his pocket. “A year ago, I’d never thought I’d be sitting here with Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Guess that’s pretty fucking special.” Eddie casts him a toothy grin.

Steve had to agree though. If someone had told him a year ago he would be hanging out with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson on a Friday evening – rather than spend his night on a date or at a party – he would have declared them crazy.

“I suppose so,” Steve replies.

All is quiet for a moment, save the sound of leaves rustling by a welcome breeze. Steve closes his eyes as the wind kisses his sweaty skin.

“I got you something,” Eddie says, breaking the silence and he stands up. Steve’s gaze follows him and his eyes widen when he sees Eddie move his hands over his head to pull his tank top off.

“But let's take a dip first…it’s hot as balls.” He throws the sweaty tank top at Steve, who slaps it out of the air before it can hit him. The fabric lands heavily on the wooden deck.

“I didn’t bring my trunks,”

“You don’t need those here.” Eddie gives him a knowing smile as he kicks on his shoes.

Eddie is lean and he has a nice back, Steve thinks. Not particularly broad like some of his former teammates on the swimming team, but not bad for a guy who spends his time playing board games. His torso is littered with fading scars from the Upside Down and Steve has a fair amount of those himself.

“Get on with it, Harrington!” Eddie is already stripped to his underwear when Steve tears his eyes away and finally tugs his own shirt over his head.

A dip in the lake was a fantastic idea and Steve felt himself relax now that he was slowly but surely cooling down to more humane temperatures.

Steve tries to keep his eyes away from Eddie as they make their way back to the boat. The fabric of his boxers is clinging to his skin.

Eddie lays himself down on the deck, using his jeans as a pillow while he fiddles with his headphones.

“C’mere Steve.” Eddie pats the space next to him and Steve reluctantly seats himself. Eddie is working the buttons of a walkman.

“Remember when I said I got you something?”

“That was like twenty minutes ago,” Steve feels borderline offended at the implication.

Eddie gestures for Steve to lay down as well and Steve complies begrudgingly, resting his head next to Eddie’s on his crumpled jeans while he stares up at the blue sky. He feels exposed in just his boxers and now Eddie wants them to lay side by side.

“Here.” Eddie hands him one half of the headphones while holding the other side to his own ears. Suddenly it dawns on Steve why they’re lying as they are. Eddie wants to let him listen to music. Steve moves half of the headphones to his ear and sure enough music starts playing.

“I put some things together I thought you might like.” Steve can see Eddie turn his head towards him from his periphery and study his face.

“You made me a mixtape?” Steve asks. The idea of Eddie putting together a mixtape for him was…well, really thoughtful.

“Now you say it out loud it sounds kinda lame,” Eddie laughs.

“No, it– it’s really nice.” Steve offers.

He closes his eyes and listens to the unfamiliar tunes. Eddie did quite a good job at picking music that he might like. It is definitely less intense than Rainbow – the voices are less shrill, the guitar less cutting, and the drums beat at a lower frequency. It’s nice, ridiculously nice, and Steve can’t think of an instance when someone has ever taken the time to put something together for him like this – not even his ex-girlfriends.

They lay there for a while, each holding one end of the headphone. The people on the other side of the lake must have left by now because the only things Steve can hear are birdsong, the sound of rustling leaves, and the music that comes from the walkman. The breeze feels cool against his damp body, and he wonders why he had never done this before – stay at the lake until the sun went down.

Steve can almost feel himself drift asleep when Eddie nudges him.

“Steve.” Eddie shakes him gently by his shoulder.

“Hm, lemme be…” he whines without opening his eyes.

“You’re gonna be mosquito food.” Beside him, he hears Eddie getting up and when Steve finally opens his eyes, Eddie is already wearing his tank top.

Steve hadn’t realized how long they had laid there. Only a small line of sun was visible in the distance and Eddie’s figure was dark against the pastel sky.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna need my pants,” Eddie says as he points at Steve’s head.

“Oh right.” Steve finally sits up, handing Eddie the makeshift pillow of his jeans.

Once they’re both dressed, Eddie leads them back through the forest. The sky is pink and the trees form black outlines against it. Steve walks after Eddie, who points out when to be mindful of a hidden boulder or a sudden dip in the forest floor.

They take Eddie’s van back to Family Video so Steve can get his car. The whole car ride, Steve can’t help the feeling of nervousness that sits in his stomach.

Today kinda felt like a date.

Normally he would be on the other end of it – driving a girl home after a movie or something. And then, once he stops the car in front of her house, the girl would fidget and Steve would place his arm on the back of her car seat, confident and reassuring. He would tell her he had a good time and if she did as well, he would seal the deal with a kiss.

But this was Eddie, and they had been just two guys hanging out.

Two guys that had made out a week ago.

But that didn’t mean anything. It had just been Steve’s one-day gay phase and he got it out of his system now, hadn’t he? Eddie had only offered out of a misunderstanding, or maybe some weird kindness.

Shit, this train of thought was not helping Steve whatsoever. If anything, it had just made the nervous flutter in his stomach worse.

Eddie stops the van and the red neon light of Family Video plays with the curves of his face.

“There we are.” Eddie pushes himself back into his seat with his arms stretched on the steering wheel. Steve makes no movement to get out. They sit in silence for a while.

“About last week–” Steve starts. If he doesn’t acknowledge it now, he feels like he might go crazy. Besides, he doesn’t know when or if they’ll have another moment alone.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone. We can forget about it if you want…” Eddie says without looking at him. His shoulders are tense and his grip on the steering wheels seems to harden.

“No…it’s not–” Steve tries, but Eddie cuts him off.

“Don’t worry Steve, I get it. I know what people say about me –”

“But–”

“ –and it doesn’t have to mean anything. People make out all the time–”

Steve unbuckles his seatbelt. He’s kind of sick of Eddie not letting him finish his sentences and is ready to return the favor.

He leans over, turning Eddie’s head towards him and kisses him. Hard.

Eddie’s mouth is parted, mid-sentence, and Steve feels teeth beneath his lips. By all accounts, it’s a shoddy kiss – not his best work – but it seems to do the trick.

Eddie loses his grip on the steering wheel, hands moving to Steve’s shoulders instead as he eagerly returns the sentiment.

“Fuck, Harrington, aren’t you full of surprises,” Eddie breaths against his lips.

Steve leans back into his chair and runs a hand through his hair.

“You talk too much,” he says as he opens the door of the van.

By the time he hears Eddie get out of his van, Steve is already opening the door to his BMW.

“Wait, Steve,” Eddie calls as he jogs over. When he’s standing in front of Steve, he pulls at Steve’s arm, running his hand down and urging Steve’s palm up. He shoves something square in his hand and closes Steve’s fingers around it.

“Next Friday, same time?” Eddie asks him, searching his eyes.

Steve nods silently. He stares after Eddie as he walks back to his van. He opens the door and turns one last time, giving Steve a two-fingered salute before getting in.

Steve hears the sound of the motor swinging on and looks at his hand. In the dim neon light, he stares down at a small cassette. Steve can hardly read the black letters in the red light, but he realizes Eddie has written something on its white label.

From Freak, to Hair.

[AO3]

#steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie #my fics #ster writes steddie

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m0chaminx · 1 year ago

Text

Coriolanus Snow | Roses Grow Thorns

*•.¸♡Request: Pls pls pls do a part 2 too the snow x reader fix it was so amazing and I want more of them 🙏🙏🙏🙏‼️‼️🩷

*•.¸♡Prompts: none

*•.¸♡Warnings: Coriolanus, Cori isn't insane (ish), Snow is slight ooc, jealousy, hurt comfort, fluff ending

*•.¸♡Paring: Coriolanus Snow x F!reader

*•.¸♡Summary: Coriolanus learns his favourite flower grows thorns

You confront Coriolanus about his relationship with Lucy Gray

*•.¸♡Words: 2k

Part 1

People danced, swaying with their partners in a circle as you stood on stage, strumming your guitar and singing to the crowd. Lucy had just finished the first half of her set, so you took the stage to fill the silence. Coriolanus sat with Sejanus at a table across the room, large glasses of some sort of liquor. Coriolanus looked up at you and smiled.

If you like your coffee hot

Let me be your coffee pot

You call the shots, babe

I just wanna be yours

Your voice trailed off slightly as Lucy raced to Coriolanus and Sejanus, throwing her arm around his shoulder and leaning between them. You shook your head and continued to play, trying to ignore Lucy Gray practically hanging from Coriolanus’s arm.

Jealousy, an unwelcome guest, clawed at the edges of your heart, leaving an ache in your chest. No words had been exchanged, and no actions had passed between you two. It overtook the corners of your mind, urging you to believe that Lucy Gray should sense the unspoken connection threading its way between you and Coriolanus.

Each shared trip to the lake, every stolen moment when Coriolanus chose to spend his fleeting free hours with you — these fragments of time saved in your mind like photos in an old book. Yet, as you observed Lucy Gray standing there, a vision of radiant smiles and hushed confidences exchanged with Coriolanus, a wave of emotion surged. It was as if the world momentarily lost its colour, and the whispers of uncertainty left an indelible mark on your heart.

You clenched your hand, trying to ease the shaking in your hands.

Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought

Maybe I just wanna be yours

Every night for the past week following that evening, Coriolanus Snow would tap gently on the glass of your window. You would turn your head and he would smile, the same bright smile that made your stomach flip and fill with butterflies. You crept across the wood floors and opened the window, looking down at the blue-eyed boy. “Are you busy?”

You would simply laugh at him. You grabbed your coat and slipped out the window, Coriolanus gripping your waist to help you down properly. He would smile, slip a scarf under the window to close it without locking it and you would slip away unnoticed, descending into the velvety embrace of the night.

In those quiet moments, Coriolanus would slip your hand in his own, his warm hand covering yours as he laced your fingers together. He guided you through the dense labyrinth of woods, you knew these woods better than he did but through the nights as he led you to the lake, you questioned if you ever knew them at all.

The Mokingjays sang into the night as if calling to the small fireflies to light the way. “I brought matches,” Cori said, looking back at you. He tugged on your hand bringing you closer and you couldn't help but think about Lucy Gray running her hand along his shoulders. “We can light a fire. Maybe catch some fish.” You nodded and Coriolanus smiled.

You reached the lake and Coriolanus set his bag down, quickly gathering everything to start a fire. You walked to the edge of the water, your mind running faster than you could even start to comprehend. “Think we’ll catch anything?” He asked, stopping to look up at you.

You looked back over the water, looking at the fish no bigger than your palm swimming just above the sea floor. You shook your head, keeping your eyes on the moonlight dancing on the waves of the water. “Nothing big enough to eat,” You said. Coriolanus nodded and turned back to the fire.

Once the fire was made you sat on the ground beside him, leaving enough space so your shoulders didn’t touch. You both sat in silence, Coriolanus’s knee bouncing softly.

The flames danced and flickered, the golden glow flickering in Coriolanus’s blue eyes, you settled onto the ground beside him. You shifted slightly, making sure your shoulders didn't touch. The silence stretched between you, Coriolanus's fingers drumming against a stick he held in nervousness.

Coriolanus's knee bounced softly, mirroring the unsteady rhythm of both your hearts. The mere inches that separated you felt like an unbridgeable chasm, as long and confusing as his thoughts. “Did I do something?” His voice cut through the silence like a knife and you turned towards him, your eyebrows furrowed. “You seem distracted. You’re not talking like you usually do. You’re sitting far away.” You bit your lip and shrugged softly. “What’s wrong?”

“What did I sing tonight?” You turned to face Coriolanus. “Tonight. I sang, I wore the red dress so everyone could see the white rose you gave me. But what did I sing?” Coriolanus stammered. “You don’t spare a second glance at me during our shows, you talk to Sejanus when I do perform and you let Lucy Gray hang off your arm like she was yours.”

He spoke your name softly, trying to shuffle closer but you stood quickly. “Don’t do that Cori,” You pleaded. “I’m gonna go home, I’ll see you later.” You turned on your heel. Making your way back through the woods.

Coriolanus sighed, dropping his head into his hands as you walked from his view.

The next morning you stared at the ceiling, stretched out on your small bed. You twisted a small rose between your fingers, the thrones pricking your skin occasionally. The knock at the window made you jump. You turned your head to look at Coriolanus standing on the other side, smiling ever so slightly. You sighed and set the rose aside before walking to the window and pulling it open. “Corio-”

“Don’t talk,” he said quickly. “Don’t say anything, just follow me.”

“Cori-”

“What did I just say?”

A frustrated huff escaped you as you forcefully closed the window, shutting out the annoying sounds of crickets. Pulling the blinds closed with a swift motion covering Coriolanus’s face, but you caught his smile dropping. You donned your jacket and stepped out the front door, stopping in front of Coriolanus just as you turned the corner. He extended his hand, a warm smile playing on his lips. Suppressing the annoyance that still simmered beneath the surface, you offered a muted response, "Just lead the way," your words carrying a hint of resignation.

Coriolanus nodded and started to lead you through the woods, the sun still yet to rise properly. “You sang I Wanna Be Yours,” Coriolanus muttered. “No, I didn't ask Lucy Gray. You wrote it after you met your old girlfriend but you haven't sung it since. That’s why it was so important to you. And why you wanted me to remember it.”

You hummed and tried to hide your smile. “So you were paying attention.”

Coriolanus spoke, low and earnest, his gaze fixed on you. "I always pay attention," he assured, a sincerity etched into his words. The weight of his gaze, coupled with the firmness in his tone, sought to reassure you. "And nothing is happening between Lucy Gray and me. She was helping me with something," he explained, his words carrying the weight of truth and an unspoken plea for understanding.

“Which is?”

Coryo smiled, “Keep following me.”

You followed Coriolanus, walking in silence until the sun rose completely. He stopped at a rock wall, a small dirt trail winding around it. He reached out, slipping his hand into yours and leading you down the track. “Roses don’t grow in 12, the ground is too hard,” Coriolanus started. “Lucy Gray told me just beyond the rock wall there is ground soft enough to grow flowers. Sejanus used his father's money to get some seed and…” Coriolanus stepped aside as you reached the bottom of the track.

You smiled, Coriolanus’s hand slipping from yours as you stepped further into the growing rose field. Dozens of rose bushes had started to grow, small red and white flowers sporting. Small raindrops covered the flowers, the sun reflecting off of them like diamonds. You crouched, smiling as you ran your hand along the rose petals.

A soft smile played on your lips, and Coriolanus's hand tenderly released yours as you ventured deeper into the growing rose field. Rows of rose bushes, adorned with tiny red and white blossoms, unfold before you, blossoming like a garden from the Capitol. Small raindrops adorned the delicate petals, capturing the sunlight in a dance that shined like diamonds. Your heart swelled. You glanced back at Coriolanus who shared the same smile.

You carefully crouched down, your smile growing as you traced the velvet texture of the rose petals with your fingertips, each delicate touch slow and careful as if the rose would fall apart. Coriolanus smiled as he watched you, his stomach filling with butterflies as he waited for you to speak.

"Wait..." The urgency in your voice sliced through the air as you stood, swiftly pivoting to face Coriolanus. His smile disappeared, replaced by a stark seriousness mirrored in your eyes. Your heart fell to your stomach as your voice shook, "You said Sejanus got the seeds from his father. If the Peacemakers find out, they'll take you away." The gravity of your words hung heavily in the charged atmosphere. “Cori, they’ll take you to the hanging tree-”

“They won’t,” Coriolanus said quickly. He stepped forward holding your face in his hands, his thumb tracing the lines of your cheekbones. “No one is going to take me away. No one is taking you. Or Sejanus, or Lucy Gray.” You raised your hand, settling it on top of his. “This place is ours, yours and mine. No one is going to take that.”

Yours and mine.

You smiled, laughing softly as you looked up at Coriolanus, his blue eyes meeting yours. “You got me roses?” You asked.

“You said you liked the Capitol flowers more,” Coriolanus remembered. “I can’t exactly take you to the Capitol, so I thought I’d bring the best part of the Capitol here.”

“Besides yourself.”

A warm smile graced his features as he leaned in, closing the distance until his forehead gently met yours. "Do people in the Capitol kiss differently than the districts?" His inquiry, spoken in a hushed tone, carried a hint of curiosity and a touch of playfulness.

“I think…” you leaned up slightly, bumping your nose against his, “you should find out.”

The brush of his fingertips against your jawline, tracing a delicate path along your skin, igniting a shiver that danced down your spine. As he cradled your face, your breath hitched in anticipation, your eyes staring at his chapped pink lips. Drawing you closer, the final shared breath seemed to linger, suspended in the charged atmosphere, before he sealed the connection with a kiss that felt like a spark that lit a fire. Your heart echoed the rhythm of the thousands of times you had dreamed of this moment and your hands instinctively wound around the back of his neck, the embrace pulling him closer.

Your stomach twirled, filling with butterflies as one of Coryo’s hands moved to wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer. He pulled away, his breath coming out in small pants, your breath in sync with his. You opened your eyes, looking up at his half-closed eyes tracing over every part of your face. “I love you, Coriolanus Snow.”

He whispered it back.

ﾟ°☆Page navigation

#m0chaminx #coriolanus snow x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x lucy gray #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x you #the hunger games #hunger games #ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #Spotify

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rainylana · 10 months ago

Text

“What’s up, baby?”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: a hot day out leads to sex in the van.

warnings: smut, back of the van sex, decrophylia, a single smack, language, smoking. this is kinda self indulgent lmao

The windows are down and the radio is on the highest volume it can possibly go. The wind is blowing your hair in every direction, getting ratted and tangled up, but it’s just too nice out for you too care.

Eddie’s tapping his cigarette on to the dash of his van, nodding along to his favorite Metallica songs on the cd you made him for Christmas last year. You sing along to the song, sweating from the failure of his ac that was going to hell in a hand bucket.

You look over at him and smile, the smell of his cigarette and ashes wafting up your nostrils. He looks so damn cute, sweating and singing. You shamelessly look down at the bulge in his jeans, leaning over to cup him with your palm.

He doesn’t flinch or jolt, but slowly smirks as he sings, turning his head to look down at you through his black sunglasses. “What’s up, baby?”

You look at him playfully, hopeful that he would pull the van over and fuck you in the back. “Play with me?” You bat your lashes.

He chuckled, shaking his head, pulling your hand off his crotch. “Control yourself, honey. I’ll play with you soon enough.”

You try to ease the ache between your legs, crossing them as you smile. You recognize the turn he makes. He’s heading to lovers lake. He had fucked you there plenty of times.

•

“Bend over.”

You blush at the order, the sternness of his voice making you throb pathetically. He’s parked by an abandoned campsite, the back of his van doors open. He’s smirking at you, unbuckling his belt with a line of sweat above his lip that glistened in the sun.

You turn around and grin, laying your head on the hot metal of the van floor. “Thank you.”

He laughs, pulling down your panties as he strokes himself. “You’re so weird. Why do you do that?”

You laugh too, pushing yourself back until his dick was poking at you. “Just fuck me, please?”

You both giggle, but it’s interrupted by simultaneous moans, the relief of him sliding into your warm cunt. Your mouths match, ajar and slack. Eddie let’s himself rest in you for a moment before he slides back out, pushing himself back in. His head lulls back, looking up to the trees and closes his eyes as he fucks you.

It’s a quickie. It’s rough and fast and you can barely breath. The sound of his skin slapping yours is in your ears, along with the sound of a buzzing bee that made it’s way in the front of the van.

“Fuck,” You’re barely audible, but your breathing is loud and sporadic.

“Quiet, baby.” He’s panting, too, squeezing his eyes shut as his belly grows tight, relishing in the feeling of your pussy swelling around his length.

You mewl, your legs twitching and shaking. You can’t control yourself, crying out as you push your ass back into him. He spanks you hard, his grip on your hips tightening. “What did I- say, huh?” He’s out of breath, his own thighs quivering as he curses. “Fuck, your cunts so fuckin’ tight.”

Tears are running down your face. Or maybe it’s sweat. Either way, your eyes are burning. You reach down to touch your clit. “I’m gonna cum, Eddie!”

He nods quickly. “Me too.” His voice his shaking. He leans down so his chest is to your back, holding you up. He thrusts into you sharp and deep, busting his load into your cunt as you both cry out. He lays atop of you for a few seconds before he’s rolling off, laying beside you. You’re sniffling, sobbing from the relief of your orgasm.

He opens his eyes, squinting in the sun. “You good, baby?” He knows how emotional you get after sex.

You nod, laughing through your tears. “I’m good, Ed.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie filth #eddie munson x female reader smut #stranger things #eddie smut #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines

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leaawrites · 6 months ago

Text

Let me love you

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!reader

Summary: one dream and feelings will be spilled from both sides.

Part 2 to Dreams of Forbidden Territory

I hate the ending, so maybe I'll rewrite it again sometime.

Masterlist

The air in the morning was cold, colder than usual. A soft breeze flying over their sleeping bodies, legs tangled up in each other, the blanket only fairly thrown over their bare bodies. Birds were singing outside the still open window. The sun greeting them good morning.

Lando woke first, his eyes opening slowly, squinting shut again at the exposure to the bright light. A pair of feet was heard walking down the stairs, the house coming alive. He looked at the woman next to him, smiling softly at the sight of her. His arm was still holding her by her waist as she turned to him, burring her face in his chest to hide away from the sun. Lando softly laughed at her demeanor, waking her up too.

She didn’t notice what she snuggled up to in her slumber, but now - feeling the chuckle flood through his body, his breath on her skin - she noticed. Bagging away a bit to look at him properly, opening only one eye to make sure it was truly him. The boy she fell asleep to last night.

Lando smiled down at her, his finger softly stroking her skin, along her rib cage and down to her hips. Squeezing her flesh softly every now and then to make sure he was holding her and not just a dream. It felt surreal to both of them, seeing the sight in front of them. Taking it all in.

“How did you sleep?” Lando asked, his voice rough and his accent thicker than she ever heard it before.

“Better than ever before,” she answered, blushing a bit at the words she chose. Was it too much?

“Good to hear,” he answered, smiling still, taking her doubts away.

“What about you?” she asked, her fingers trailing up his arm towards his shoulder blade, tracing the marks she left there the night before. It wasn’t a lot to cover up, it shouldn’t be a problem.

“Better than ever before,” he said back, making her giggle. Her gaze still fixed on his shoulder and collarbone. “Is it bad?” He asked, referring to the hickeys decorating his skin now.

She shook her head, “No.”

“What a disappointment,” Lando said, sighing dramatically. “Gonna have to do it again then, love.”

The nickname made her blush. The heat rising to her cheeks and flooding her system. It was all over her, the passion and feeling of potential love. She knew she liked him for longer than she could remember, but was it love? Could it be love even if you couldn’t show it to the world?

Brushing his nose against her jaw, Lando trailed soft kisses down her skin, lingering on every spot for a bit longer and memorizing the feeling of her skin on his lips. If this would be the last time he would do it, he wanted to remember it.

“You should probably go back to your room,” Y/n said, taking his face in her hands and making him look up at her. Locking eyes and making him understand why. “Nobody will know you slept here.”

“Yeah,” Lando breathed out. Right. Nobody will know. Except he will. And will he be able to forget? Or at least make it look like nothing happened? He doubted it. This was what he wanted, it was what he wished for and now he couldn’t make it known to the world.

Pushing his body up on his arms and sitting on the edge of the bed to put his clothes back on, she watched him. Her hands fell onto the mattress and her eyes lingered on his body until he was out of the door. Not looking back at her as he did so. The door to her room closed and shortly after his own did too.

She laid in bed for another hour before finally standing up, getting dressed and walking downstairs. Lando and Max were already in the kitchen, the latter with his head on the counter, groaning whenever someone made a sound. She looked at Lando in confusion, but he didn’t answer, he just walked past her. Ignoring her.

“Max drank too much,” Pietra answered the girl, making her look from where Lando once stood to her. She was sat on the coach, watching the interaction. “I guess, Lando wasn’t happy with how the night turned out.”

She didn’t know, Y/n told herself. She didn’t know, that’s how it was supposed to be. But maybe she did, her eyes look like she does. Did she know and did she also know that he wasn’t satisfied? Was she not what he wanted?

“You slept pretty long today, I hope you didn’t take one of these lads from the restaurant home with you,” Max grumbled from the kitchen, looking up at her. “You did, didn’t you?”

His eyes laid somewhere on her body.

“I didn’t,” she argued, crossing her arms over her chest.

Max stood up and walked over to her, taking her arms from covering her skin and pointing to somewhere on her rib cage. “Then what is this? And don’t come with the I-hit-myself-somewhere bullshit.”

Looking down on where his finger and eyes lingered she saw the dark bruise forming on her stomach. How could she have not seen that?

The room was filled with silence.

“What are you doing?” Lando asked confused as he came back into the room and saw Max with Y/n’s wrist in his and both holding eye contact for longer than it was good for. He could see the girl slightly trembling and even when he was frustrated by their situation, he couldn’t help but worry.

“Little Y/n here sneaked a boy in and out apparently,” Pietra was once again the one, breaking the news.

Lando looked at the pair in shock. Shit.

“No way,” he said, trying to not seem suspicious by laughing in amusement. He could see Y/n shrink in the corner of his eye, growing smaller by his exclamation. It made her feel worthless, like she was back to being nothing but Max’s little sister. Like they were never more.

“Who was it? I know how you can be. Falling too fast for your own good,” Max said to her. “I mean, you’ve been basically all over Lando ever since 5th grade.”

“Max!” Y/n shouted, eyes wide in shock and embarrassment.

“What? It’s true. Finally you moved on,” he continued talking. “We all knew it would never be something.”

Tears started forming in her eyes. Right. It would never be something, he made that pretty clear.

“Why not?” Lando spoke now, making all of them look at him. He didn’t dare look at Y/n, he knew that if he did he would crack right there and then. “Why not?” He repeated again.

“I mean, mate, you’re you.” Max let go of his sister’s hand. “You don’t really do anything else beside one-night stands.”

Lando’s eyes stayed on Y/n, his eyes burning in her back. Max watched it all happen. How his sister squeezed her eyes shut. How his best friend looked at her with sincere eyes. He feared it would happen sooner or later, he just hoped it would be without him around. He should’ve known better. He should’ve known when Lando asked him to bring her with him.

“Really?” Was all he asked. He didn’t sound angry or surprised. He just wanted clearance about it all.

“We only slept together.” Was what she said.

“I lover her.” Was what he said.

Y/n turned to him startled. Her eyes wide. Her heart beating fast. But he didn’t look back at her. His gaze was focused on Max.

“Max,” he started. “I know that this isn’t what you wanted, it wasn’t planned or anything and I think neither of us thought about it really happening, but it did. And I’m not regretting it. It might be bold to throw such words like ‘love’ around, but I believe that this is what I’m feeling. And if it’s not, then it will be. If you let me love her that is.”

The room stayed silent, only heartbeats filling the space between them.

“I swear if you make out in front of me,” Max said, looking disgusted at even the thought of it happening. He might just throw up if he ever saw it happen in real life.

“Can’t make any promises,” Lando said, smirking at her, but she didn’t look back at him. Her eyes were focused on her hands, picking at the skin of her fingers.

When she felt six pairs of eyes look down at her, she looked up. Being faced with the confession she still couldn’t quite believe to be true. He loved her - wanted to love her - why? Why him? She knew how he could be - everyone did. She heard whatever Max told her over the years; how Lando would constantly stay out late and go home with whoever was willing to take his hand. She knew she wouldn’t last long if that was how he would be.

Still she took his hand in hers and guided him back into the past, a room where they could be purely themselves, opening up fully. She paced around the room, her hands buried in her hair.

“Are you mad at me?” Lando asked, fiddling with the rings on his hands. Twisting them and taking them off and putting them on again. He looked her way but he didn’t look at her. His lip sucked between his teeth, probably drawing blood soon.

“What was that?” She asked, ignoring his question all together. Standing in front of him, she could see the tears slowly forming in his eyes.

“I was just telling the truth,” he whispered, his voice quivering and shaking and breaking. Breaking her heart.

“Was it really the truth?”

Lando looked up at the girl in front of him, seeing her own distress in her slouching posture. He nodded, saying, “Of course it was.”

Y/n took in a deep breath before asking, “You really like me?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” How could someone like her not believe she was worth loving? Lando tried to wrack his brain around it but he couldn’t. There didn’t seem to be a single logical explanation as to why someone should feel that way. someone so funny and nice and beautiful.

Someone so lovable.

“Are you gonna stay?”

“Yes.”

#lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris #lando norizz #f1 fandom #f1 grid #f1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x fem!reader

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htchnr · 6 months ago

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ミ★ too late to turn back now ꜜ LOGAN HOWLETT.

𖦹 masterlist. 𖦹 buy me a ko-fi!

「 ꜜsummary,, sweet moments the morning after your first time together. written with 'Too Late To Turn Back Now' by Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose! give it a listen for those sweet, sappy romantic vibes ;3. 」

「 ꜜcontent,, neighbor!old man!Logan ⋆ tooth rotting fluff ⋆ like fr it's disgusting how cute these two are ⋆ unmentioned age gap ⋆ r in her 20s. ꜜwc,, 0,9k. 」

soft tunes flow through your apartment as you stand at the stove, deftly flipping bacon pancakes in the pan. the windows are open, fresh air mixing with the thick smell of the pancakes.

Logan grunts as he shifts in your bed, face nuzzling against your pillows as he breathes in the comforting smell of your perfume and your scent.

he misses being wrapped in your scent when he gets up and out of bed, making his way to the doorway leading to the kitchen. he leans against the frame, watching you sway your hips as you quietly sing along to the music coming from your record player. he smiles as he watches your figure move, his shirt from last night covering you.

— SINCE I MET THIS LITTLE WOMAN, I BELIEVE IT'S HAPPENED TO ME.

his heart throbs at the lyrics, he knows it's one of the records he gave you a few weeks ago as a 'thank you' for watching his cat— he claimed he had them 'just laying around', but both of you knew better.

— IT'S TOO LATE TO TURN BACK NOW, I BELIEVE, I BELIEVE, I BELIEVE I'M FALLING IN LOVE.

you turn around, moving to grab the large plate you were stacking the pancakes on when you spot him. your eyes widen and you jump a little as you lay your eyes on him— oh he looks too fine. boxers hugging his hips, that broad, hairy and scarred chest on full display.

" hey! hope i didn't wake you with the music. " you sheepishly smile, " m'sorry, it's a routine of mine. " you laugh as you turn back to scooping pancakes onto the plate.

he knows it's a routine, he eagerly listens for the sweet sound of your music each morning from the other side of the large wall separating your apartments. but you don't have to know that.

" don't worry 'bout it, doll. there'r worse ways to wake up. " he smiles. god, his smile.

you smile to yourself, turning away from him to hide your blush as you focus on the last batch of pancakes. you gasp as his big hands smooth over your hips, gently swaying with you to the music.

— AND THERE'S NOTHING THAT I CAN DO, IT'S TOO LATE TO TURN BACK NOW.

he smiles against your hair, it is too late, he thinks to himself. with the way his heart clenches each time he hears you play one of the records he gave you, or when he smells your perfume waft over through his window as you water your plants— he knows he's caught it hard.

— TELL YOU, I CAN'T SLEEP AT NIGHT, FOR WANTING TO HOLD HER TIGHT.

but with the way you're laughing against him as you two sway to the music, trying to focus on not burning the pancakes— he lets his feelings wash over him in pleasant waves. it is indeed, 'too late to turn back now'.

" so, d'you want syrup with 'em? " your syrupy sweet voice pulls him out of his train of thoughts.

he blinks, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. " you're going to mix syrup with bacon pancakes? " he pokes, moving to take both plates of food from you with ease as he sets them on the table.

you laugh, a sound so sweet to him, he won't ever need extra sugar on anything as long as you're around. " oh, honey, " you grin teasingly, setting down a big jug of syrup on the table as you sit next to him. " i promise you'll love it. " you wink, pouring a generous amount over your stack of pancakes.

he hums, savoring the way you call him 'honey'. he watches you cut off a large bite with your fork, holding your hand beneath the dripping pieces, " c'mon, try it. " you grin.

he sighs with a smile, leaning forward to bite off the pieces from your fork. you giggle as some syrup drips onto his beard, leaning over to swipe it away with your thumb and suck off the sweetness.

Logan watches the action with darkening eyes, as you lick off the remainder of the syrup that dripped from the bite you offered him.

— IT'S TOO LATE TO TURN BACK NOW, I BELIEVE, I BELIEVE, I BELIEVE I'M FALLING IN LOVE.

it's safe to say, he's taken a strong liking to bacon pancakes drenched in syrup.

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unabashegirl · 4 months ago

Text

the cover | part 2

Y/N and Harry, lifelong best friends, pretend to be a couple for a family wedding weekend in Edinburgh. As they navigate the event, old feelings resurface, and what starts as an act turns into something real, leading them to confront their true emotions for one another.

Author's note: hello everyone! I hope you are doing as good as expected. Liam's death has been a tough pill to swallow. I can't begin to imagine how his close friends and family might be feeling. I honestly feel like I haven't assimilated. It's just so sudden and unexpected.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all of the one shot (+8K) and exclusive scenes, various one shots and much more :)

word count: 3.3K

The hum of the car engine and the rhythmic sound of tires on the motorway created a comforting backdrop as Harry and Y/N cruised along, leaving the city far behind. The sun dipped low, casting a warm glow over the landscape. The scent of takeaway coffee and crisps filled the air, with the windows cracked open just enough to let in a cool evening breeze.

Harry, who insisted on driving first, had one hand loosely on the steering wheel, his sunglasses perched on his nose. Every now and then, he glanced over at Y/N with a teasing grin.

“You’re quiet for someone who signed up for a whole road trip,” he teased, nudging her with his elbow. “Thought you’d be the one keeping the conversation going.”

Y/N smiled, sinking back into her seat. “Just enjoying the peace before the chaos of my family.”

Harry laughed, the sound warm and comforting. “You act like they’ll eat us alive.”

“They might,” Y/N muttered, earning another chuckle.

Soft music played from the speakers—an eclectic playlist Harry had made, full of road trip classics. When Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac came on, Harry grinned and cranked up the volume.

“Oh, this is a good one,” he said, tapping the steering wheel. “You have to sing along. Road trip rules.”

Y/N tried to hold back a laugh. “I’m not singing.”

Harry, undeterred, started belting out the lyrics dramatically, completely over the top. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, eventually caving and singing along—though much less theatrically.

“There you go!” Harry said, laughing. “Now it’s a real road trip.”

The moment slipped into a comfortable rhythm—the music, the open road, and their easy companionship making the miles disappear. Y/N found herself relaxing, but the weight of the upcoming wedding lingered in the back of her mind.

After a few hours on the road, they pulled off at a small roadside diner nestled in the countryside. The fresh air was a welcome break from the car.

“This looks like a good spot,” Harry said, stretching as they got out. Y/N couldn’t help but glance at him, the sun catching the sharp angles of his face, making his curls look effortlessly perfect.

They walked into the diner, greeted by the soft chime of a bell over the door. The woman behind the counter didn’t seem to recognize Harry, and it was a relief—just two people grabbing a bite, no fuss.

“This is nice,” Harry said, sliding into a booth by the window.

Y/N smiled, knowing what he meant. “It must feel good to just be normal for a minute.”

Harry nodded, leaning back with a content sigh. “No cameras, no pressure… just us.”

They ordered burgers and fries, and Harry insisted on getting milkshakes to complete the meal. The conversation flowed easily, laughter breaking out as Harry joked about the wedding and Y/N’s family.

“You’re terrible,” Y/N said between laughs, wiping her eyes.

“I’m just preparing for what’s ahead,” Harry replied with a smirk. “Perfect fake boyfriend mode.”

After eating, they wandered around the small town nearby, snapping photos of the countryside. Harry held up his phone, grinning. “Stand by that tree,” he directed, and Y/N rolled her eyes but obliged.

“Why are you taking photos of me?” Y/N asked, half-heartedly posing in front of the sprawling oak tree.

“Because,” Harry said with a grin, snapping away, “you’re part of the adventure. Gotta document it.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Fine, but I’m taking one of you too.” She grabbed his phone, snapping a quick photo of him standing with the tree and hills in the background. His goofy smile made her heart warm—Harry, carefree and happy, just her best friend, far from the pressures of fame.

They lingered a bit longer, soaking in the calm before Harry checked his phone. “We should hit the road if we want to make it to Edinburgh before dark.”

Y/N nodded, feeling content as they climbed back into the car. The road trip was turning into something more special than she’d expected. She glanced at Harry as he drummed his fingers along to the music. There was something unspoken between them, as if a shift was happening, slow and subtle, yet undeniable.

As they approached the castle, the setting sun cast a golden glow over the estate, its stone walls and ivy-covered turrets straight out of a fairytale. Y/N’s stomach flipped, nerves kicking in as the car bumped along the gravel driveway.

“We made it,” Harry said, parking the car. “Ready?”

“Not even a little,” Y/N muttered before her door was yanked open, and she was pulled into a whirlwind of hugs and greetings. Her mom was first, squeezing Y/N before pulling back to critique her hair. “Sweetie, a haircut before tomorrow might be good, don’t you think?”

Y/N forced a smile as her aunt chimed in agreement. Her heart sank. Her family always had something to nitpick. It didn’t take long before her cousin brought up a dreaded subject: “One of the groomsmen is single. We thought you two might hit it off.”

Y/N’s stomach clenched, ready to politely deflect, when Harry’s voice cut through. “Hey, love, what did I miss?” He strolled over, all confidence, slipping his arm around her waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I’m Harry,” he introduced himself, leaving her family speechless.

His presence immediately eased the tension, and Y/N leaned into him, grateful. “You alright?” he asked quietly.

“Better now,” she whispered back.

Her mom’s eyes darted between them, clearly surprised. “Harry! I didn’t realize you were coming with Y/N.”

“Yep,” Harry replied smoothly, shaking hands with the rest of her family. “Thought it’d be fun to make a weekend of it.”

Her family exchanged glances, mentally recalculating their plans to set her up with anyone else. Y/N could only smile, leaning into Harry’s warmth, thankful for his perfect timing.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, clutching the edge of her oversized t-shirt as she padded over to the bed. The atmosphere between them was still light, but there was an undercurrent now—an unspoken awareness that lingered with every glance. She climbed into bed, sitting cross-legged as she pulled the covers over her lap.

“This is surreal,” she admitted, running a hand through her hair. “My family, this place… us pretending to be something we’re not. It feels like I’m in a weird dream.”

Harry looked over at her, his phone now abandoned on the nightstand. “It’s not that weird, is it?” he said with a soft chuckle, his voice low in the quiet room. “I mean, we’ve been through worse, right?”

Y/N snorted. “True. But this is different. There’s more at stake here. My family’s already plotting wedding dates for us in their heads, I just know it.”

Harry grinned, shifting to prop himself up on his elbow so he could face her more fully. “Well, let them plan away. They don’t need to know the truth, and if it helps you get through this weekend without the endless setups, I’m happy to keep playing along.”

His words were casual, but the way he looked at her, his eyes soft and reassuring, made something stir in Y/N’s chest. She wasn’t sure if it was the weight of the day, or the strange intimacy of being alone with him in this room, but she felt the pull between them more intensely than before.

“Thanks for that,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here.”

Harry’s gaze lingered on her for a beat longer before he shrugged lightly. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

Friends.

Y/N nodded, trying to shake the feeling that there was something more beneath the surface, something they hadn’t yet addressed. She laid back, sinking into the plush pillows as she stared up at the canopy overhead, trying to quiet her racing thoughts.

“Goodnight, H,” she whispered.

Harry turned off the light, settling beside her as the room plunged into comfortable darkness. “Goodnight, love.”

But long after the room had gone still, Y/N found herself wide awake, her thoughts spinning. The warmth of Harry’s presence beside her was impossible to ignore, and though nothing had changed between them in any outward way, something deep inside her knew that this weekend was going to shift things—whether they wanted it to or not.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as Harry’s arm remained wrapped around her, the subtle weight of it grounding her in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She had always known Harry was protective, the type of friend who would go out of his way to make sure she felt safe. But this—this was different. This was intimate, a closeness that blurred the line between friendship and something more.

She swallowed, trying to focus on anything but the way her body was responding to the warmth of his presence. “You always this smooth?” she asked, half-joking, though her voice wavered slightly.

Harry’s chest rumbled with another quiet laugh. “Only when I’m with you.” His voice was soft, almost teasing, but there was something underneath it that sent a shiver down her spine.

Y/N shifted slightly, feeling her pulse quicken as she let out a quiet sigh. “It’s going to be a long weekend, isn’t it?” she murmured, unsure if she was asking him or herself.

Harry’s hand tightened just a fraction on her waist, his thumb brushing the edge of her ribcage. “It doesn’t have to be,” he whispered, his breath warm against the back of her neck.

Her heart hammered against her chest as she lay still, the weight of his words hanging in the air between them. It felt like an invitation, a choice she didn’t know she’d have to make. She wanted to say something—anything to break the tension that had started to build—but the words caught in her throat, too heavy to speak.

Instead, she stayed silent, her mind spinning with possibilities she didn’t dare entertain.

The moments stretched on, the castle’s wind whispering through the cracks in the stone, a reminder of the world beyond this room. But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, it was just the two of them, wrapped up in a situation neither had prepared for, pretending to be something they weren’t—yet somehow, it felt more real than it should.

Harry’s voice was a quiet hum in the darkness when he finally spoke again. “If it gets to be too much, just let me know. We’ll figure it out together, like we always do.”

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle over her like a blanket. “Yeah,” she whispered. “We always do.”

And despite the uncertainty that lingered, she allowed herself to lean into him just a little more, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull her into a fragile sense of peace.

The next day arrived with the welcome party in full swing. The castle grounds had been transformed into a lavish setting with fairy lights strung between trees, soft music playing in the background, and long tables covered in elaborate floral arrangements. It was all as grand as Y/N expected, but she had other things on her mind.

As they approached the group, Y/N could feel the familiar sense of dread creeping up on her. Her family had always been a bit overwhelming, but with Harry by her side, the stakes felt higher. The weight of their fake relationship loomed over her, making her hyper-aware of every glance, every whispered comment.

Her mom was the first to make the introductions. “Everyone, this is Harry,” she said with an exaggerated flourish, as though presenting some sort of prized possession. “Y/N’s boyfriend.”

The group’s attention shifted to Harry, and Y/N braced herself for the inevitable barrage of questions. Sure enough, her aunt—one of the nosiest people Y/N had ever met—jumped in first.

“So, Harry, how did you and Y/N meet?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but Harry beat her to it, his voice smooth and confident. “We’ve been friends for years,” he said, glancing down at Y/N with a soft smile. “But recently, things just... fell into place.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by how effortlessly he lied. His voice was calm, his words so convincing that even she almost believed them. The way he looked at her, like she was the center of his world, made her heart do a strange little flip.

Her aunt nodded approvingly, clearly buying into the story. “Well, it’s about time, isn’t it? Y/N’s always been too focused on work. It’s nice to see her finally settling down.”

Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Settling down? She wasn’t sure she even believed in that, let alone the idea that her family thought it was long overdue. But she plastered on a polite smile, not wanting to create any tension.

Harry’s hand found its way to the small of her back again, and she felt the warmth of his touch seep through her dress. “I wouldn’t say it’s about settling down,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge. “Y/N’s too ambitious for that. She keeps me on my toes.”

The group chuckled, clearly charmed by his response, but Y/N’s mind was racing. The way Harry was handling the situation, so calm and collected, made her realize how deep into this charade they really were. And while it was supposed to be fake, there was something about the way he was acting—protective, reassuring—that made her wonder if it was more than just a performance.

As the conversation drifted on, Y/N found herself stealing glances at Harry, trying to read the expression on his face. Was he just playing his part, or was there something deeper behind the way he was holding her so close, speaking about her with such genuine affection?

The party continued, with more introductions and obligatory small talk, but Y/N’s mind kept returning to that moment—the way Harry had looked at her, the warmth of his hand on her back, and the weight of the unspoken emotions hanging between them.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the garden, Harry leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. “Want to sneak out of here for a bit?” he asked, his voice low, meant just for her.

Y/N glanced around at the sea of relatives, the endless chatter, and the forced smiles. The idea of escaping, even just for a little while, was tempting. “I thought you’d never ask,” she whispered back, a grin tugging at her lips.

With a quick excuse to her mom about needing some air, they slipped away from the crowd, making their way toward the quieter part of the castle grounds. The noise of the party faded as they walked down a path lined with tall hedges, the soft glow of the fairy lights barely visible behind them.

Once they were far enough away, Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Thank God,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “I thought I was going to lose my mind back there.”

Harry chuckled, his hand still resting lightly on her back as they strolled further from the party. “You held up well,” he said, glancing down at her. “Better than I would’ve.”

Y/N shot him a sideways look. “You? Mr. ‘I can charm anyone’? I don’t believe that for a second.”

He grinned, but there was something in his eyes that softened as he looked at her. “It’s easier when I’ve got you by my side.”

Her heart did that strange flip again, and she cursed herself for letting his words affect her so much. This was all pretend. It wasn’t real. But as they walked together in the fading light, the castle looming in the distance, it was getting harder and harder to remember that.

As the evening drew to a close, the soft glow of fairy lights gave the garden a warm, magical feel. Guests had settled down at their tables, and the soft clinking of glasses quieted as the groom stood up, ready to give his speech.

The crowd hushed, eyes turning to the head table where Y/N’s cousin sat, beaming at her soon-to-be husband. He cleared his throat, his voice steady but emotional as he began to speak about the woman he was marrying.

“When I met her,” he started, looking lovingly at Y/N’s cousin, “I didn’t know what I was missing in my life. She has been my best friend, my confidante, and my greatest supporter. She pushes me to be better every day, encouraging me in everything I do.”

His words hung in the air, and Y/N, sitting beside Harry, shifted uncomfortably. As much as she was happy for her cousin, the familiar ache of longing settled in her chest. This kind of love, this partnership, felt so distant—something she admired but never experienced herself. Her thoughts drifted before she even realized it, thinking of Harry beside her.

She glanced at him quickly, wondering what was going through his mind. He seemed lost in thought, eyes forward but a subtle frown tugging at his lips, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of his glass.

The groom’s voice cracked slightly with emotion as he continued, “In my hardest moments, she was my rock, my stability. I’ve never had someone I could lean on like that until her.”

Those words cut through Y/N like a jolt. Leaning on someone... having that kind of trust, that connection. Her mind swirled with the memory of the night before, of Harry pulling her close in bed, his arms steady around her. For a second, she let herself feel what that could be like if it wasn’t just a game.

She was about to push the thought away when she felt something warm brush her hand. She looked down and saw Harry’s fingers, tentative at first, before gently intertwining with hers. Her pulse quickened as his thumb slowly grazed the back of her hand.

She looked up at him, her breath catching slightly, and saw him already watching her, an unreadable intensity in his eyes. It wasn’t playful or casual like it usually was. There was something else—something that made her heart pound harder in her chest.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the world around them had faded away.

Y/N swallowed, nodding, but her throat felt dry. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she murmured, not entirely sure if she was telling the truth.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Harry’s grip on her hand was firm, his gaze unwavering. The air between them felt charged, thick with the weight of unspoken things.

He didn't say anything else, but he didn’t need to. His hand remained clasped in hers, a silent reassurance, and maybe something more. But they weren’t there yet. Neither was willing to take the leap into what that more could be—at least, not tonight.

The groom’s speech concluded, and the applause broke the moment. Y/N reluctantly pulled her hand from Harry’s, though she could still feel the warmth lingering on her skin. As the attention shifted back to the celebration, she stole one last glance at him, her heart racing for reasons she wasn’t quite ready to admit.

But it was becoming harder to ignore the way Harry’s touch felt like something she’d been missing all along.

--> part 3

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cutiecusp · 1 month ago

Text

Cuffed.

Police Officer Keegan Russ x Reader.

TW. Couple are married. handcuffs, smut, kissing, temp play, light spanking, public play, Officer Russ pulls over wifey late at night... MDNI

based on this thought.

.........................................................................................................................

Flashing lights appeared in your rear view mirror, signalling you to pull over. Pulling into a secluded spot. You smile, and tug your shirt down a little, as the officer approaches your car.

"Do you know why i pulled you over ma'am?" A deep voice rings throughout the car.

You smile at your husband before playing along.

"No, Officer, why have you pulled me over?"

Keegan scoffs, before leaning in through your window, his arm resting above the window frame.

"Well, it's mighty dark outside and i just had to wonder, why a beautiful woman was out driving, all alone." He smiles, his gaze never breaking with yours.

"Well, aren't you kind?" You tease, the sight of your husband in uniform making you blush, your thighs squeezed together.

"My duty to protect and serve." He quips.

"You been drinkin' ma'am?" He asks, noticing your legs squeezed together with a smirk.

You shake your head, the movement causing your top to reveal a little more skin as you lean forward.

His steely gaze flickers to your chest and back to your eyes, a mock stern look on his face.

"You wouldn't be trying to seduce an officer, would you ma'am?" he asks in mock outrage.

"What if i am?" You laugh, a giggle escaping from your throat.

"Well, you'd have to be punished." He quips.

"Get out of the car, ma'am." He asks, stepping back and pulling the door open for you.

On shaky legs you get out, thankful you had time to prepare and wear his favourite skirt.

You notice his eyes travel up your legs, to your body, before settling on your lips.

"Dressed all nice, where were you off to?" He asks, his thumbs hooked into his vest.

You shrug, your cheeks pink as you watch your husbands gaze drink you in. Never had you felt so powerful, or desired, and you loved it.

"Just out." You reply, stepping forward into his space.

His eyebrow raised.

"Out, in this?" he asks, his body close to yours, you can smell the mix of leather and mint gum as you step closer, your bodies practically touching.

"Trying to get lucky, are we?" He laughs, a hand placed on your hip, his eyes searching permission for what comes next.

"Maybe." you lick your bottom lip, your eyes giving him all the permission he needs.

"Well, you've been pulled over and had your time wasted, so i suppose i should compensate you a little." His hand trails up from your hip to the back of your neck, before bringing his head down and sweeping his tongue over your lips, demanding you open your mouth for a deep kiss.

He takes his time, kissing you slowly, allowing your body to wrap around his as his other arm reaches around your waist.

He breaks off the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Turn around, hands where i can see them." he rasps out, his voice deep with need.

You comply, facing your car, you spread your hands out, lowering your front half over the front of the car.

You whimper when he kicks your legs apart, pressing his hard body against yours, his arousal prominent against your ass.

You feel the cold steel clamp around your wrists as Keegan cuffs your hands behind your back, your body arched against his.

"Such a shame to waste this pretty outfit on a random hook up, don't you think?" Keegan teases you, palming your ass through the skirt.

He plays your body like a fiddle, pulling your shirt down, exposing your nipples to the cool metal of the car, before leaning over your body, pressing kisses to your cheek and neck, smoothing your hair out of your face.

"So pretty for me, angel." He murmurs, appreciating your body and the way you are melting under his touch.

You nod, your body singing under the mix of the cool metal on your chest, and his hot hands on your skin as he flips your skirt up.

You let out a satisfied huff when you hear Keegan's breath hitch in his throat.

"Nothing under this cute little skirt, wife?" He moans, his eyes drawn to your exposed pussy.

You squeeze your thighs together the best you can with his frame between them, a mix of shame and arousal flushing your face.

You feel his fingers trace over your back, and as he massages over the globes of your ass, you let out a whimper as he brings his hand down sharply, marking you as his.

"Such a naughty thing, eh?" He asks, as his hands massage the sting away, before bringing his hand down once more, the pink skin grateful for the cool breeze of the night.

You barely get a word out as he slips a finger through your soaked folds, before slowly entering you with his gloved digits.

He bites back a heavy moan as he feels you clench around his finger.

"Forget naughty, such a needy little thing." he admonishes

"You need me to go faster, sweetheart? You need my fingers?" he asks, a full smirk on his face as he catches your blissed out state.

"You like being pulled over, spread over the car where we could be caught?"

You nod, your body arching against his fingers as he adds another to your heat. A dark chuckle came from above, and you opened your eyes to look at Keegan.

"I knew the uniform turned you on, sweetheart, but this side of you? God it gets me so fucking hot."

He teases your spot with his fingers, racing you close to the edge, your voice hoarse as you call out his name, chanting it like a mantra.

"That's a good girl... Let everyone know who makes you feel this good." Keegan murmurs. There isn't a soul for miles, and although you know that, the risk of being caught makes you buck against his hand.

You feel empty when he removes his fingers, you turn your body slightly, pouting up at him, your arms still cuffed behind your back.

"Don't worry, baby. i got you." You hear him say, along with the sound of his zipper being undone.

"You come, you come on my cock, you hear me sweetheart?" He asks, his body lining up with yours as he slides home. Your thighs shake as you feel him inch by inch, your throat dry as your eyes roll in the back of your head.

"Not gonna lie, baby. I can't last with you like this, tied up, under me, looking at me like i gave you the moon." He rasps, his hips snapping to yours at a steady pace.

You nod, what started out as a fantasy you mentioned casually after work once has turned into one of the best nights of your life.

"Me too, Keegan, please.." You beg, your body thrumming in pleasure.

He picks up the pace, gripping the cuffs in one hand, and your hips in another as he pushes you to your peak.

"Come for me, sweetheart, soak my fucking cock." he urges, his resolve long gone.

You sob, the pleasure almost too much as you let wave after wave take over you, your body shaking with the aftershocks.

You feel Keegan undo the cuffs, before spinning you around, still inside you, his dark and hungry gaze feasting on your flushed features.

"One more baby, i know you have one more." He urges as he hits inside you deeper, holding your legs wide open as he takes another orgasm from you, before coming himself, his arms barely holding himself up as he kisses you deeply, both your bodies lay flat on the car.

"Holy shit." he laughs, pulling you close to him, your heartbeats syncing as you come down from your high.

"How about an escort home, Ma'am? You never know what kind of men are out here."

........................................................

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @skeletonsucker

#call of duty #fanfiction #fanfic #keegan x you #keegan russ x reader #cod keegan #keegan p russ #keegan russ

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skzdarlings · 2 years ago

Text

05. sharing a bed series ; skz ; han

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 5/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: han jisung/reader content info: dom!reader. sub!jisung. sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. past misunderstandings, grudges, bickering. femdom feat: face slapping, face sitting, hair pulling, choking, riding, denial-n-cumming-anyway, kneeling, more pussy eating. this one is a little longer. teehee :)

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight…”

Chan’s voice message crackles through your phone speaker but you can barely hear him over the bustling airport. You wait until you are outside in the pick-up zone to try listening again. It is marginally quieter out here, cars coming and going, light snowfall brightening the winter night. With your luggage at your feet, you replay his voice mail.

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight. Something came up at work and I’m not gonna be able to pick you up. I’m really sorry ‘bout it, mate. Jisung is on his way to get you. I know, I know, but he’ll get you home, yeah? If you’re still mad tomorrow, I’ll take you to lunch and you can kill me there. Buh-byyeeeee!”

Oh, that son of a bitch.

The message ends just as a pair of headlights flash over you. You can see through the front window but despite the direct eye contact Jisung still feels the need the honk the horn not once, not twice, but three times.

You stand there with your arms hanging helplessly at your sides. Snow falls on your head and a frown darkens your whole face. Jisung just smiles and waves like an idiot, honking the horn again.

I am going to kill Chan, you think to yourself.

Jisung loves putting you in situations where you are the unrepentant supervillain of his life, so ignoring him and getting in a cab would just play into his horrible little hands. He might look unassuming in his puffy coat and backwards cap, might look soft and friendly with his fair hair and plushy pink smile, might look innocent with his big brown eyes peering at you with cartoonishly saccharine enthusiasm, but in reality none of that is true.

Han Jisung is the worst.

Han Jisung is your nemesis.

Han Jisung honks the horn again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you shout. You roll your eyes and heft your luggage over your shoulder, stomping with an incredible degree of petulance for a woman of your age. You toss your bag in the trunk then slide into the passenger seat.

Jisung honks again.

“Hello, hello, welcome to Flight H.A.N with Jisung airlines, this is your pilot speaking—”

You turn on the radio to shut him up. You are not in the mood for his shenanigans.

Jisung cringes with theatrical chagrin.

“Yikes,” he says with a bubbly laugh. “Tough crowd.”

“Just drive.”

“Yes, mistress, right away, mistress, Jisung lives to serve his mistress, please don’t hurt Jisung or leave him out in the cold tonight—”

You thunk your head against the headrest, glaring ahead as Jisung smoothly joins the traffic flow despite his nonsensical rambling.

You vaguely remember a time when Jisung was shy, back before he made it his life mission to send you hurtling into an annoyance-induced death. You also vaguely remember a time you liked him, him and his quietness, him and his quirky humour, him and his big, stupid, brown eyes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Jisung sings along with the radio so you flip the station to one with talking. He strums his fingers on the steering wheel, lips pursed and eyebrows lifted. He casts you a few side glances that you pointedly ignore. When you see him open his mouth, you hold up a finger.

“Do not even think about it,” you say. “Whatever you were about to say or do… Don’t.”

He presses his lips together and makes an obnoxiously loud pop.

“Kk,” he says. “This should be a fun half hour.”

The airport is outside of the city, a half-hour drive to your downtown apartment. Usually. The weather has traffic horrifically backed up. Half an hour comes and goes and you are barely out of view of the airport.

“We could play a game,” Jisung says, looking at you sideways. “I spy with my little—”

“Nope.”

“Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool.” He nods, strumming the steering wheel again.

The radio blathers on, you barely listening. You scroll through your phone until there are zero notifications, then you scroll through your photo album just for something to look at. Jisung hums to himself and you try not to get annoyed all over again. You exploding at something so inconsequential would give him way too much satisfaction.

The snow comes down harder. It pulls your attention from your phone to the blustery world outside. Everything is a harsh grey, the dark night foggily illuminated by the white snow. Even Jisung is concentrating now, his brow furrowed as he stares through the front window.

“Shit,” he says.

He changes stations to catch a road update. Your jaws drop in unison when the reporter mentions a thirteen hour delay on the main bridge into the city.

“Thirteen fucking hours?” you say. It comes out wheezy. “It’s winter! Why are they always so surprised by the fucking snow! God! What the hell are we gonna do?”

“We’re not going anywhere near the bridge, that’s what we’re gonna do,” Jisung says, flipping the car into reverse and immediately changing course.

“How else are we getting downtown?”

He looks at you like you’re so stupid that he can’t believe it, his eyebrows jumping up his face.

“Uh, hello, welcome back to town, it’s snowing here,” Jisung says. “We’re going downtown tomorrow when it won’t kill us or trap us in a car—”

“I want to go home—”

“Do you want to spend thirteen hours in a car with me?” Jisung asks. “Because that’s what going home will involve right now, k?”

He sounds terse. You feel a little better when he acts short with you too, more justified in your own rudeness.

“Fine,” you say. “What are we doing then?”

A ten minute trip turns into an hour long drive with traffic delays, but eventually you are rolling into the snow-covered parking lot of the only motel with a vacancy sign. You and Jisung do not speak, stepping out of the car and crunching along the snow in silence. The motel parking lot is washed a golden colour, the yellow balcony lights beaming over the white snow. It holds the promise of warmth. You hurry inside.

You shake yourself off in the tiny entryway while Jisung dings the desk bell. Someone appears to check you in.

“You’re a lucky couple,” she says. “Lots of folks have stopped because of the weather. We have exactly one room left available. It’s a nice cozy double bed. Sounds good?”

“Ummm…” You join Jisung at the desk, a million frantic thoughts running through your brain. “Hold on, we’re not—”

“Did you hear that, baby?” Jisung says with exaggerated fondness, because he can’t help but taunt you. “We’re a lucky couple. Isn’t that just our luck the only room available has one bed?”

You step on his foot deliberately and he yelps.

“Is there really no other option?” you ask the attendant with some degree of desperation.

“No, sorry.” She gives you a funny look but shakes her head. “I doubt you’ll have better luck finding a room anywhere else tonight. You can have this one or enjoy a car nap.”

“My beautiful wife and I are happy with a double,” Jisung says, already holding out his credit card. “Right, baby?”

You smack his ass, hard and swift. His eyes widen. You smirk.

“Right, baby,” you say with a snarl.

Tonight’s only saving grace is the hot water; you enjoy a long shower before changing into sleep shorts and a camisole. You join Jisung in the room, finding him sprawled on the double bed with air pods in his ears. He tossed his hat somewhere and is laying there in jeans and a t-shirt – remarkable, as you thought he might strip to his underwear just to be annoying. But no, he lays there peacefully. His fair hair is darker at the root, neatly framing his unfortunately handsome face. He has one arm flexed under his head, the muscle more pronounced than you remember it being. His eyes are closed as he nods along to the music.

You grab a pillow and thwack him in the gut. It startles him to attention, a strangled sound leaving his throat.

“You stay on that side of the bed and you do not move, got it?” you say.

He sticks his tongue out at you.

“Very mature,” you say.

You lay down with your back to him. After twenty minutes, he still has his bedside light on so you snap at him. He whines like a little baby but turns it off, leaving just his phone beaming at his face. You can hear his music but say nothing.

You can’t sleep. You want to roll over but you absolutely refuse to face him.

His phone screen finally goes dark after god knows how long and he puts it aside. There is a long stretch of silence in the dark. You swear you have never been so uncomfortable laying on this side in all your life. Knowing you will not be able to sleep without turning at least once, you decide to roll over. You figure Jisung laid down with his back to you anyway.

He didn’t. He is staring right at you, his big eyes making him look like a pathetic little lemur gawping at a human in the dark.

“Why don’t you like me?” Jisung says.

“Oh no,” you say, immediately rolling onto your back. “Absolutely not. We are not having a heart to heart.”

“Oh come oooon, please,” he whines. “This is the time and place—”

“It really isn’t—”

“It’s a classic story, a boy, and a girl—”

“I don’t like stories—”

“Forced to share a bed and share their secret feelings—”

“Those feelings are disgust, hatred, and revulsion—”

“Opening their hearts and—whoa, wait, what? Hatred? You hate me?” Jisung pushes himself up on one elbow, staring down at you with a completely horrified look on his face.

You try to ignore him and his stupid expressions, glaring at the ceiling as if it can do anything to save you. Your heart is beating fast but it doesn’t feel good. The pounding is coupled with a nauseous turn in your gut.

It is open knowledge that you do not like Han Jisung one bit, but you seldom vocalize it so explicitly. Certainly not to his face. Certainly not beside him in bed.

“That can’t possibly surprise you,” you say.

“Well, it does actually!” Jisung says. “I knew you didn’t like me but hate me? How could you hate me? I’m delightful.”

Even now, the clown is trying to joke. Because that’s all it is to him, isn’t it? Everything is just a joke all the time. Everything and everyone is a punchline waiting to happen. But you aren’t laughing. Your hands close into fists and you dig your nails into your palms to keep your frustration in check. Your neck feels hot and your stomach is still turning. You feel embarrassed about things you haven’t even said yet. Your tongue feels swollen somehow, your throat lined thickly. It takes several deep breaths before you can speak.

“Well,” you say bitterly, “I guess I just can’t help being a massive bitch. The worst you’ve ever met, right?”

There is a beat of silence, then Jisung flips on the bedside light.

You slap your fists down on the bedcovers and glare at him.

“Turn off the light,” you say.

“No way, you were just talking in a voice. What did you mean? Why do you--”

“Jisung, I swear to god, if you don’t turn off that light—”

“Look, can we just—”

You shove the covers down and climb on top of him without thinking, trying to reach the light yourself. He grabs you by the arms and pushes you back. You end up tussling ungracefully, you wriggling around like a worm and Jisung clearly in control but just as clearly trying to go easy on you. It puts you at an impasse. With an angry huff, you push away from him.

“If I said something—” he starts.

You laugh, a joyless cackle.

“If,” you repeat. “You’ve said a lot of somethings over the years, Jisung.”

“I—I didn’t mean it if I—I don’t even know what I—”

You look at him. He seems to be genuinely confounded and more than a little miserable, his eyes darting around as he racks his brain, his brow furrowed with obvious upset. His hand is frozen on his head, a clump of hair feathering through his fingers.

He meets your gaze and you roll your eyes. You feel hot and uncomfortable again, the source of your nausea climbing up and up and up until it is clawing its way past your lips and—

“The day we met,” you say, finally, after years of stamping down the humiliating memory, “you said I was a massive bitch, the worst you had ever met. And it—”

You are not sad. You refuse to be sad. This pain is years old now and it does not hurt you anymore. But you are angry – with him, with yourself, with this whole shitty circumstance, and the angrier you get, the more tears stab at your eyes.

You swallow down a lump in your throat and take a steadying breath. You stare at the wall because his attentive, earnest gaze is too much to bear.

“I know I’m a little awkward when I first meet people,” you say. “I’m shy and weird and sometimes… sometimes people think I’m a bitch when really I’m just quiet. Chan introduced me to you because he said that you were kinda the same, and that we had lots in common, and he thought we would get along. And then we met and—”

“We did,” Jisung says softly.

Your vision is blurry now. You sniff hard, wiping your arm under your nose.

“Yes,” you say. “We did. We got along amazing. We were quiet for a second and then it was like… like we were already friends. As if we always knew each other. I’ve never spoken like that to someone so quickly. It’s like I just forgot to be shy. I was so happy and then—”

“I remember all this,” Jisung says, still sounding confused. “I don’t get it. It was Changbin’s birthday, right? We were talking all night and it was great but then you just left without saying bye. Then the next time we met you already hated me—”

You finally look at him, hitting him with the full force of your emotional expression. He clearly was not expecting the tears because he literally jumps at the sight of you.

“I left after overhearing you talk about me in the kitchen to one of your stupid friends,” you snap. “’That woman is without doubt a totally massive bitch. The worst I’ve ever met.’ And you were laughing. Just… just standing there laughing about it, about me. And I had no idea why. Why? What had I said or done? It was humiliating. And it hurt, and the reason it hurt so bad was because it came from you.” You jab him in the chest, trying to sound angry because your tears are falling now and it just makes you feel pathetic. “It hurt, Jisung,” you say, “because it was you. From anyone else I wouldn’t care. But you were the one person I expected to understand me. The one person who got what it was like. So to hear you saying those things—god. I never wanted to see you again, but then you and Chan started your stupid projects together and I couldn’t get away from you. And you just got more and more in my face no matter what I did—”

“Oh my god.” Jisung slaps both hands to his head. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he is hearing. “Hold on,” he says, abruptly getting out of bed. “Just… just hold on.”

He runs away. You sit there more confused than anything, your face wet, your breathing uneven. He is gone long enough for you to get angry again, glaring at him when he gets back in the bed.

“Here,” he says, giving you the tissue box he evidently retrieved from the bathroom. “Just… here.”

He takes a tissue and awkwardly dabs at your cheek. You snatch it away from him, frowning.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. He gets off the bed again, hovering awkwardly at the side while you wipe your face clean. He waits until you are composed, swaying where he stands, clasping and unclasping his hands. When you stop sniffling, he lets out a huge exhale. “Okay,” he says. “Look. I’m sorry. I’m… I’m really, really fucking sorry. And I want to explain, I really do, but… but if I explain, I think it’s only gonna make you upset.”

You give him a very sarcastic look.

“I’m already upset, you stupid jerk,” you say. “Just spit it out so I can go to sleep.”

“Right.” He runs his hand through his hair again. It falls softly down and flutters when he exhales. “God. Okay. This is gonna sound so stupid. But, yeah, okay, I do remember saying that actually. I didn’t know you heard me but… but that’s not an excuse. I know. I shouldn’t have said it at all. I totally do know that. But also… I said it, but I didn’t. What I mean is, what you heard me saying, I was not actually saying.”

You stare at him for a long moment.

“What,” you say, “the fuck?”

He waves his hands around defensively.

“What I mean is,” he says, “and stay with me… but… I actually meant it as a compliment.”

“A compliment,” you say. “A compliment? You called me a massive bitch as a compliment?”

“Yes.”

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that?” you shout, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at him.

His reflexes are fast. He ducks and the pillow sails over his head, whacking the blinds with a clatter. He looks there then looks at you, just in time for you to throw the tissue box. He dodges that too, ducking down again. The box hits the radiator and thunks to the ground.

“Okay, listen—” he says.

He is not fast enough when you chuck the second pillow.

“Okay, okay, I deserved that,” he says, holding the offending pillow up in surrender. He tentatively approaches the bed with it, eying you as he gently lays it back down.

You glare.

“I promise I can explain,” he says. “And you’re gonna love this explanation, because it is going to completely and totally humiliate me and you will have something to hold over my head for the rest of your life.”

“I’m listening,” you say. You feel embarrassed about crying so the least he can do is embarrass himself too.

“Thank you,” he says. He gets back on the bed, kneeling and tipping his head back. It looks like he’s praying, gathering the strength to admit whatever he is about to admit.

You cross your arms. You are annoyed he is taking so long and also annoyed that you genuinely want to know. Han Jisung has no problem blurting every stupid thought that crosses his mind, at least when it comes to you, so you cannot begin to imagine what dark secret he can’t bring himself to speak out loud.

You are halfway convinced he is trying to come up with a lie when he finally throws his arms out as if in supplication.

“I’m a fucking freak!” he says, with all the verve and jubilation of hallelujah. He closes his eyes and nods his head. “I’m a pervert and I think with my dick like ninety-eight per cent of the time. The other two per cent of the time I am honestly probably thinking with my prostate, though I haven’t really worked that one out yet completely—”

“What?” Your whole face screws tight with bewilderment. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I love bitches. No wait.” He shakes his head. “That came out wrong. Hold on. I love… well, yeah, no, bitches. Mean girls. Bullies. Catwoman.”

“Catwoman.”

“That whip… t-cha.”

“Jisung—”

“Look I was telling my friend about you because Minho’s an even bigger freak than me. He’s the only one who knows my secret and—”

“Your secret,” you say slowly. “That you… like bitches?”

“That I love bitches,” he says. “When I told him that you were the biggest bitch I ever met, it was because we both knew that what I meant was: holy shit dude, I just found my soulmate, she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, I’m getting married tonight, and if she asked me to tattoo her face on my butt right now I would do it.”

You hate that you laugh, but the comment is so unexpected that it sputters out of you.

Jisung smiles, releasing a pent-up breath of relief.

“You were… are… funny, and smart, and yeah a bit quiet but you still don’t let it stop you from defending yourself or someone else when something is wrong. Remember when you told off that creep at the party? The one who was bugging Felix? You don’t take anyone’s shit and then you just move on quietly like it was nothing. I was obsessed with you from the second we started talking. Then I was a stupid horny pervert and opened my big stupid mouth and now you hate me.”

“I’m still not sure I really get it,” you say, admittedly flustered at his admission. You had no idea Jisung saw you that way. The woman he’s describing does sound pretty amazing, and he sounds sincerely infatuated. When your heart starts skipping beats again, it feels different than before. “Explain,” you say.

He slaps his thighs in a motion of surrender.

“Yup,” he says. “Okay. Fine. Cool. I like when women boss me around. I like when they are mean to me. I like when they hurt me and make me cry. It… it gets my dick hard, okay? I love bitches. I LOVE BITCHES—”

You reach out to slap a hand over his mouth, remembering it’s a motel in the middle of the night.

Jisung’s shoulders jump and he laughs into your hand, clearly embarrassed as he remembers where he is. You laugh in spite of yourself, lowering your hand.

“Oops,” he says.

“Oops,” you reply.

Oops, you misunderstood your eavesdropping.

Oops, Jisung never hated you.

Oops, you find yourself staring into his eyes for way too long.

“So just to clarify,” you say. “You’re into, like, female domination stuff, and you called me a bitch as the highest form of compliment in your crazy brain, and then you spent the next two years being as annoying as possible because…”

“I thought you were just, like, crazy edging me or something,” Jisung says, making you laugh helplessly into your hands. He laughs too, even while looking a little pained. “I did! I was like shit, she’s so nasty, she’s really taking me for a fucking ride. I would have kept doing this for the rest of our lives if this conversation didn’t happen. I would’ve been at your wedding like damn, she’s really got me going this time—”

“You’re so stupid,” you say, pushing at his chest without any real animosity.

“I know, I really am,” he says. He draws an X over his chest. “But cross my heart and hope to die, everything I have told you is the complete truth. I’d tell you to slap me because you definitely deserve it but honestly, it would give me a boner and I don’t think either of us wants that since we’re stuck in the same bed all night.”

He says it jokingly, of course. But you can hear the twinge of flirtation and truth under his just kidding.

And maybe you’re still on an adrenaline kick. Maybe your emotions are right at the surface. Maybe you hated him so much because deep down you liked him, and you hated that you liked him because of a misunderstanding.

And maybe, just maybe, those big brown eyes have drawn you in from the second you first saw him.

“Slap you,” you say, as if in deep contemplation. “Slap you where? Your face?”

This clearly catches him off guard. He opens his mouth and a garbled sound comes out. He thumps a fist on his chest.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Sure. Whatever, you know. You know.”

“Mhm.” You move so you are kneeling too, facing each other. You watch as he swallows hard, the gulp going down his throat. All the adrenaline you built up earlier is suffusing into the race of your bloodstream. Heat simmers below the surface of your skin. “And you like that? Getting slapped when you’ve been bad?”

“Oh my god,” he says. “Are you.. are we… is something happening right now? Oh my god. Hold on.” He says that but then all he does is stand up and sit back down again, rekneeling in the exact same position. “Right, okay,” he says. “Slap away.”

You snort, rolling your eyes but smiling. You lift your hand but he is staring at you so expectantly that it just feels weird, not sexy, and you laugh giddily with amusement.

“Aww, come oooon,” he whines, but laughingly too. “Don’t get shy. You were so good at it.”

“I’ve had years of bitchy practice, I guess,” you say with a quirked eyebrow, making him grin. You shake your head. “I dunno. Just. Do something to earn a slap I guess. It’s too weird to just smack you out of nowhere.”

“Do something?” he asks. “Uh, I dunno. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never done anything in my life to earn a slap. I’m seriously the most charming and funny and perfect guy ever and I—”

Your slap him across the face. The sound startles you because it sounds harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.

Jisung looks genuinely surprised. His head turned with the impact of the slap, his jaw falling open. He blinks himself back into focus and you are about to ask if he’s all right, then he looks at you in a way he has never looked at you before. The desire and desperation of his gaze moves right through you, gathering hot in every intimate place.

“Did you like that?” he asks, his voice a little gravelly as it drops low.

“I don’t know,” you say softly. You reach out to touch his chin, a delicate touch that makes him shiver. You turn his face to look at the faint redness on his cheek. “Can I try again to be sure?”

He nods and swallows again.

You don’t ask for build-up this time. You pull your hand back and bring it down sharply on his cheek.

This time it makes him whimper. It flushes you with heat.

“Oh my god,” you say. “What else?”

“Uh, oh, fuck, um.” He touches his cheek and sucks in a breath. He pushes his hair only for it flop back in place. “Um,” he says. “Choking. F-fingers? Fingers in my mouth... Um, haha, I can’t think. Bondage? Yeah. Erm, denial. Overstimulation. Puuussy… yes, um, pussy. On my face please. Uhh… Punishment. Pulling my hair… Oh, hello.”

You take hold of his shoulders and push, guiding him to lay on his back. He is already panting when you straddle him, his eyes wide when you lean down.

“Do you still hate me?” he asks when you are millimetres away from his mouth.

You pretend to think about it.

“Hm,” you say with obvious theatricality, stealing a page from his book. “Yeah. I hate you so much. You’re my worst enemy. Sorry, baby.”

“That’s hot,” he says with a nervous little giggle. “You’re hot. You know I think—mmmf.”

You interrupt whatever long-winded joke was incoming. He does not protest this interruption as it involves a kiss, a good kiss, a deep kiss, one that pushes his head into the plushness of his pillow, one that has him moaning into your mouth. He lifts his hands to touch you, fingertips barely grazing your bare thighs when you seize his wrists. You shove them into the bed, pinned on either side of his head. He bucks under you, his mouth opening under your kiss. You bite at his bottom lip and drag your teeth, making his hips move even more.

You break away quickly and just as quickly slap him. It knocks a surprised breath out of him, his eyes a bit watery when he looks up at you.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, baby,” you say. “I’m just getting started.”

“Oh my god.”

You try not to smile but Jisung makes it hard. You feel flushed with excitement, hot with power and anticipation. You squeeze his hips between your thighs and push the hem of his shirt up and over his chest. He whimpers again but doesn’t move, his eyes closing when you hold down his wrists and duck your head.

“Fuck, oh god,” he murmurs, a constant stream of mumbled expletives as your mouth runs over his chest, kissing and licking and biting, teasing him until he can’t help but buck his hips for friction. When you feel him fully hard in his jeans you lean back, smirk, then climb off him. “Oh god, you’re too good at this,” he says, keeping his hands where you left them and gazing at you with wanting eyes.

You blow him a kiss and shimmy out of your shorts and underwear. Thoughtlessly he swings a hand down to touch himself, squeezing his dick through his jeans and groaning.

“Did I tell you that you could—” you start, but he puts his hand back beside his head before you can finish. His smile is far too innocent. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you say.

“Am I?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” you reply, getting back on top of him. “I still hate you.”

“Oh god, yes,” he says. His hips buck into the air as you scoot over his chest. “More.”

“I hate you,” you say, moving until your legs are on either side of his head. “ I hate you so much, Han Jisung. I’m going to ruin you.”

“Fuck.”

He already has his mouth open when you lower onto his face. You grip the headboard and rock yourself over his tongue, back and forth until he finds your rhythm and takes over. What he lacks in precision he compensates with eagerness, licking at you without any care for the mess it makes of him, wet and sloppy and hot as his tongue moves inside you then up and down your pussy, circling your clit, sucking, flicking, back and forth, around and around—

“Oh my god,” you say, looking down at where you can see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he works, as he moans, as he squeezes your thighs in his hands and drags his tongue all over you. You grip the headboard tight when you come, throwing your head back and grinding down against him.

You lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs. You shuffle back and sit on his abdomen so you can see him, his eyes wide and wet mouth open as he pants. He licks his lips and murmurs please, please, please in a hoarse voice.

“Please?” you repeat, a little out of breath as well.

You swirl your fingers over his bare chest and fiddle with the t-shirt still bunched under his chin. He moves his face wherever you push it, tipping his head back, tilting it to the side. He goes cross-eyed when your fingers dance in front of him, touching his lips. His mouth falls open and his eyes close when you slide two fingers inside his mouth.

“Please what, Jisung?” you ask, slowly finger-fucking his mouth. “What do you want?”

He can’t speak around your fingers so he just whines, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh,” you say. Your giggle is filled with genuine delight, even while your voice is rough. “I see. You want to put your dick inside me, baby? Hmm? You wanna say you’re sorry and that you’ll be good and let me ride you?”

“Good, so good,” he says, drooling around your fingers when you slide them out. He swallows hard, choking on nothing, then nods his head. “Please, please. Yes.”

You lean down and kiss his wet mouth, a chaste peck. You rub the corner of his lips, smiling at his closed eyes and wrecked expression.

“Okay,” you say. “Get ready for me then.”

You have a string of condoms in your luggage, always tucked in the pocket in case of emergency. Emergencies like a snow storm trapping you in bed with your former worst enemy turned lover.

When you get back to him, Jisung is laying there completely naked, flushed and stroking himself as he watches you. He lets you take his hand off his dick, holds you obediently when you guide his hands to your waist. He kisses you when you lean down, a hot and heavy kiss as you straddle him again. It ends when you push him flat and sit back, already grinning because you know you are about to short-circuit his brain.

“Wanna see a trick?” you say, and proceed to put the condom on him with your mouth. You laugh when you see his face after, his mouth hanging open as he blinks at you.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, but laughs a little.

His head thunks back into the pillows when you guide him inside you. You put your hands over his, holding them to your hips as you rock over him. His chest lifts and falls and his eyes close as he concentrates on not rushing your pace. He keeps holding your waist firmly when you slide your hands over his chest.

“Look at me,” you say.

He blinks his eyes open. You smile.

“Good boy.”

He makes a noise that sounds more pained than when you slapped him. It lights up inside you like fire and you move faster, take him deeper. You get a bit dizzy with how good it feels, his dick curving up to drive against the softest, most sensitive part of you, sending you hurtling towards another orgasm. You rub yourself at the same time, looking down at him as he gasps and moans, as he holds your hips and fucks you back.

You bring your hand to his neck and gently circle it, rubbing yourself harder when he whines with chest-deep desperation.

“I—I’m gonna—oh god—” he says, squeezing your hips so tightly that you think it might bruise.

It feels so good, his rough hands coupled with his dick hitting perfectly inside you. Your whole body draws taut for its crest.

“Don’t,” you say, laughing a little, not even to be mean but because it feels so good that you feel giddy. You squeeze his throat and his hips get erratic under you. “Not yet,” you say. “Me first.”

“Oh my god,” he says, looking up at you with frantic eyes. “I—I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Jisung,” you say, squeezing his throat harder so he makes a choked-up sound that goes straight to your pussy. “Are you gonna be good or bad?”

“I’m—I’m—oh god.”

You stop touching yourself because you know he doesn’t stand a chance outlasting you. You ride him through his orgasm, choking him as he spasms and moans and cries out. His head lifts for a second, his eyes closed and brows furrowed, then he flops back down with an exhausted heave.

His eyes open again, watery and huge.

“Oh fuck,” he says, voice like gravel as you release his throat. A deep breath shudders out of him. “Oh… fuck,” he says, dreamily, smiling, then pouting. “Oh! Fuck!”

You giggle at him managing to say the same thing in three different voices.

You slip your fingers into his hair and tug, yanking his head up. He follows with a gasp.

“I should hit you again for that,” you say.

You slide off him, carefully. He sucks in a ragged, tearful breath when you touch his dick to deal with the condom. After, you rub your palm on the oversensitive head of it, making him grab at you and cry out. It squeezes a tear out of him and you kiss it away.

“Come on,” you say, grabbing him by the hair again. You get off the bed and drag him to follow. “I’m not done with you.”

He is a little shaky and boneless from coming. His footing is unsteady from the moment he touches the ground, moving with thoughtless obedience. He thumps down heavily onto his knees. When he sways, you straighten him. He blinks up at you, on his knees, already nodding.

You put your leg over his shoulder and draw him in. For the second time, he gets you off with his mouth, his hands on your ass and his face buried in your pussy. You sink your fingers in his hair and let it wash over you, humming happily when you are finished.

You lower your leg off his shoulder. Jisung slumps backwards, leaning against the bed and breathing hard, his face and hair a mess.

“Wow,” he says. He looks up at you. “That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You laugh, feeling hot and flushed but satisfied.

“Me too,” you say, making him smile.

You help him back into the bed because his legs seem a little numb. You lay beside him, rubbing the inside of his thigh as he kisses all over your face. You giggle then fall into a proper kiss, winding around each other affectionately.

“I’m gonna send Chan a gift basket,” Jisung says, making you snort. “I am! Thank you for having a family emergency, your timing couldn’t be better.”

You tip your head and look at him with confusion.

“Family emergency?” you say. “He told me he was working?”

“Working?” Jisung furrows his brow. “Huh? We don’t have anything coming up at work. He phoned me from the road and said he was heading out to visit family? He said he wouldn’t be back all week-end.”

“He told me he was stuck working and would see me tomorrow,” you say, your eyes narrowing as you slowly put two-and-two and together.

“I didn’t even know why he was asking me and not Changbin or something,” Jisung continues to muse aloud. “He said you were wanting to talk to me, though, so I figured—”

“I never said that! I mean, I’m glad we did but…” You sit up, glaring at the wall.

Jisung bursts into laughter, covering his mouth as he looks at you.

“Did Chan hustle us?” he asks.

“He threw us together in a snow storm so we’d be forced to reconcile!”

“I don’t think Chan can control the weather—”

“Oh, he definitely can. I bet he delayed the bridge himself—”

Jisung laughs some more, kissing the side of your face lovingly while you continue to glare contemptuously at the wall.

“Well,” you say, looking at him. You kiss him sweetly on the nose and he smiles at you. “That’s fine,” you say. “A vacancy for my sworn enemy just opened up. Looks like I found a replacement.”

“I’m good with that,” Jisung says. “But… you’re not allowed to enemy-fuck him like that. That’s just for me, right?”

You settle in his arms, forgetting about Chan for the time being, forgetting to glare, forgetting about everything that happened before tonight. You smile at him, brushing a bit of hair off his sweaty forehead. He is still flushed and beautiful, his hopeful eyes locked on yours. He smiles back.

“Yeah,” you say. “It’s only ever been just you, Jisung.”

He visibly melts, his laugh a breathless thing. He leans in and kisses you and you hold his face, kissing him back. You can feel him smiling against your lips and you smile too.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x dom!reader #sub!jisung x dom!reader #skz x reader #sub!skz x dom!reader

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andy-15-07 · 1 month ago

Text

Whispers in the Dark

PAIRING:Paul Mescal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1976

Paul Mescal Masterlist

The room was bathed in the warm, golden light of a bedside lamp, casting long, soft shadows on the walls. Paul sat on the edge of the bed, his white t-shirt clinging to his shoulders and chest. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous smile playing on his lips. Y/n stood by the window, her arms crossed lightly, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. The hum of Dublin’s nightlife buzzed faintly below, but up here, in this small cocoon of a hotel room, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Paul said, his Irish accent lilting as he broke the silence. His tone was gentle, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability that Y/n could hear plainly.

She turned to face him, her lips curving into a small smile. “Just... soaking it all in, I guess.”

He chuckled softly, running a hand through his messy curls. “It’s not every day you spend the night with an Irish lad, eh?”

“No,” she replied, her voice tinged with playful sarcasm. “Not every day.”

Paul patted the spot next to him on the bed. “Come here,” he murmured, his eyes warm and inviting.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, then crossed the room, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nervousness. She sat beside him, her knee brushing against his. Paul reached out, his hand grazing her cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You know,” he began, his voice low, “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a while.”

“Oh, have you now?” she teased, tilting her head slightly.

He nodded, a soft blush creeping up his neck. “I’ve wanted to make this special. You’re special, Y/n.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. “Paul...” she began, but he cut her off with a gentle shake of his head.

“Let me finish,” he said, his hand now resting on hers. “I’ve been in relationships before, yeah? But nothing has felt like this. You make me feel like I can just... be myself. No pretenses, no masks.”

Y/n’s eyes softened, and she squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to try so hard, Paul. I like you for you. For the way you sing off-key when you’re cooking, the way you get passionate when you talk about football, and the way you’re always thinking about everyone else before yourself.”

Paul’s lips twitched into a grin. “Off-key? Really?”

She laughed, the sound light and melodic. “You’re not going to argue that point, are you?”

“Alright, fair,” he admitted, laughing along with her. The tension in the room seemed to dissolve, replaced by an easy comfort that came naturally to them.

They fell into a companionable silence, the only sound the faint murmur of traffic outside. Paul leaned back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked at her. “You’re really something else, Y/n,” he said softly.

She turned to him, her expression serious now. “So are you, Paul. Don’t ever forget that.”

He sat up, leaning closer until their faces were just inches apart. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Y/n’s heart raced, and she nodded, her voice caught in her throat. Paul closed the gap between them, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was both tender and electrifying. His hand cupped her cheek, and she melted into him, her fingers tangling in his curls.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other. When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“Was that alright?” Paul asked, a hint of shyness in his voice.

Y/n laughed softly, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “More than alright.”

He grinned, his dimples deepening. “Good. Because I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

The night unfolded slowly, each moment steeped in intimacy and laughter. They talked about everything and nothing, sharing stories, dreams, and fears. Paul’s humor and warmth put Y/n at ease, and she found herself opening up in ways she never had before.

As the hours passed, they lay tangled together on the bed, their legs entwined. Paul traced lazy circles on her arm, his voice soft as he spoke.

“You know, Y/n, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy before. It’s like... everything makes sense when I’m with you.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she pressed a kiss to his chest. “You make me happy too, Paul. Happier than I ever thought I could be.”

He tilted her chin up, his eyes searching hers. “Then let’s make a promise, yeah? To always be honest with each other, no matter what.”

She smiled, nodding. “I promise.”

Paul leaned down, capturing her lips in another kiss. This time, it was slower, more deliberate, as if they were trying to memorize the feel of each other. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a bubble of love and trust.

His kiss deepened, his hands moving to cup her face, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. Y/n responded eagerly, her hands sliding beneath his shirt, exploring the contours of his back, her fingertips trailing along his muscles as if memorizing them.

Paul’s touch was tender but grew bolder with each passing moment, his hands slipping to her waist as he pulled her closer. “You feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice husky and thick with desire.

Y/n arched into him, her nails grazing his shoulders, sending a ripple of tension and pleasure through his body. “You feel incredible too,” she whispered back, her breath catching as his lips moved to the delicate curve of her neck.

Paul paused for a heartbeat, his intense gaze meeting hers. “I want you,” he said, his voice rough and urgent, filled with unspoken promises.

Her answer came in the form of a nod, her eyes wide and full of trust. “I want you too,” she managed, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Paul’s hands roamed her body with care and reverence, each touch deliberate, each kiss leaving her skin tingling. His shirt was the first to go, revealing the warmth of his skin beneath her palms. She marveled at the feel of him, her hands exploring the firm planes of his chest and back.

Their movements were unhurried yet purposeful, as if savoring every second. He eased her back onto the bed, his body hovering over hers, a perfect blend of strength and gentleness. Her fingers tangled in his curls as he kissed her deeply, their connection growing more intense.

Paul shed the remaining barriers between them with a mix of tenderness and urgency, his gaze never wavering from hers. “Are you sure?” he asked one last time, his voice soft but steady.

Y/n’s response was unwavering, her hands cupping his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He smiled, his expression filled with love and awe before he kissed her again. Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, their rhythm slow and deliberate at first, building into something more urgent and primal. Each touch, each kiss, brought them closer, their connection deepening with every passing moment.

Paul groaned softly, the sound vibrating against her skin as he buried his face in her neck. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his breath warm and ragged.

Y/n clung to him, her nails digging lightly into his back as her own gasps mingled with his. “You too,” she managed, her voice shaky but full of emotion. “You’re perfect, Paul.”

Their bodies moved in unison, fitting together as though they had always been meant to. Y/n arched into him, her body responding to his every movement. Paul’s kisses trailed from her lips to her collarbone, each one igniting a new wave of heat that coursed through her.

As their pace quickened, the intensity between them grew. Paul’s voice broke with emotion as he whispered her name, his hands cradling her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. Y/n responded with equal fervor, her own cries of passion filling the space between them.

When they reached the peak of their connection, it was as though time itself stood still. They clung to each other, their bodies trembling, their breaths mingling in the stillness of the room. Paul pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, his arms wrapping around her as he held her close.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Y/n smiled, her head resting against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat steady and comforting. “I think I’m the lucky one,” she replied, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin.

They stayed entwined, the warmth of their connection wrapping around them like a cocoon. The world outside faded into insignificance as they lay together, their connection deep and unspoken. Silence filled the room, but it wasn’t empty—it was charged with the weight of their emotions, their breaths syncing as they slowly came down from the high of their shared intimacy.

Paul shifted slightly, brushing a strand of hair from Y/n’s face. His expression was a mixture of tenderness and awe, as though he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

Y/n nodded, her lips curving into a small, content smile. “More than alright,” she whispered. “That was... everything.”

Paul chuckled quietly, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw. “You have a way with words,” he teased, his dimples flashing as his grin widened. “But I’m glad you feel that way.”

She let out a soft laugh, her hand resting against his chest. “I think you might be rubbing off on me, Mr. Poet.”

“Oh, is that what I am now?” he asked, arching a playful eyebrow.

She smirked, tapping his chest lightly. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Paul leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Too late,” he murmured against her skin, earning another laugh from her.

They lay together for a long time, their limbs tangled as if neither could bear to let go. Paul’s fingers lazily traced patterns on her back, while Y/n’s hand rested on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this close to someone,” Y/n admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paul’s arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. “Me neither,” he replied, his tone earnest. “You make everything feel... different. Like the world’s quieter when I’m with you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with emotion. “You make me feel safe. And seen.”

“You deserve to feel that way every day,” Paul said, his voice firm yet gentle. “And I’ll do my best to make sure you do.”

Y/n smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. It wasn’t driven by urgency this time—it was slow and full of promise, a silent vow that neither of them needed to put into words.

As the night stretched on, they talked in hushed tones, their conversation punctuated by soft kisses and bouts of laughter. The connection they shared went beyond words, beyond physicality—it was something deep and profound, a bond that felt as though it had always existed, waiting for the right moment to surface.

Eventually, exhaustion began to creep in, and they settled into a comfortable silence. Paul pulled the blanket over them, tucking her securely against his side.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he murmured, his lips brushing her temple.

“Goodnight, Paul,” she replied, her voice soft and sleepy.

With his arms wrapped around her and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek, Y/n felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. In this moment, everything felt perfect—like they were exactly where they were meant to be.

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dual1pa · 1 year ago

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"you're gonna make me fall in love with you"

steve harrington x reader using she/her pronouns

A/N: ahh the sweet smell of a best friends to lovers fic <3

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY PLEASE !! language, swimming in underwear (both reader & steve) kissing w/ tongue, boob grabbage, missionary position but no smut occurs

(doesn't follow plot of Stranger Things)

She placed her Converse-covered feet on the leather seat of her best friend, Steve Harrington's beat-up Chevy. He received the "piece of shit car," as he would say, from his parents as a graduation present years ago. It was originally his father's work truck, but he no longer needed it.

"At least you have a car, son," he told him.

All her attention was outside of the car as Steve drove them to their favorite spot at the lake. It seemed as if no one knew it existed since there was never a soul in sight, which was great for the two of them to get away from the hustle and bustle of their small town of Hawkins, Indiana.

The scenery of the drive there was something else - especially at sundown after a warm summer day when the sky was filled with yellow, orange, pink, and purple.

As her hair blew from the open window, she hummed along to Tiffany's 'I Think We're Alone Now' as Steve tapped his hands to the beat of the song on the steering wheel.

Steve pulled into a rocky area where he normally parks the car, went to grab a blanket out of the trunk, and led her to their favorite spot.

Normally, they didn't swim in the water, just lay on the fuzzy blanket, listened to the water and their favorite tunes from Steve’s portable radio, and stared up at the stars.

She and Seve have been friends since middle school, yes, even though his King Steve era where he thought he was better than everyone.

The two of them rarely had fights, and when they did, they quickly made up and went out to get ice cream or head to their favorite spot on the lake.

They found their spot on accident after participating in an extra credit assignment for Ms. Taylor's science class - since the both of them were failing at the time.

Now, a year later, they considered the spot theirs.

Just like usual, empty.

Steve tried his best to lay the teal blanket down flat, but the grass made it difficult.

She laid down first, then Steve. He watched her figure out her next thought as she stared up into the cloudless sky.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, resting his body on his arm.

She turned her head to lock eyes with him and smiled, "I kinda wanna go swimming."

"I didn't bring a swimsuit," Steve sighed.

She chuckled, "Neither did I," quickly getting up and stripping off her T-shirt and jean shorts, leaving her in a bra and underwear.

Steve had seen her change a dozen times and she could care less as she had no shame about her body.

Without waiting for her friend, she ran into the cold but refreshing water. She dove under the small waves and resurfaced to find steve shoving his pants off, leaving him in plaid boxers.

Once he caught up to her, they enjoyed the water for a while longer then went to air dry on the blanket.

Steve reached for the radio to find a station playing a song they both liked. as if it was fate, one of their favorites played softly through the speaker.

He got up and started dancing and singing the lyrics, urging her to come join him on the imaginary dance floor.

She grabbed his hand to help her off the cozy blanket, grabbed her waist and started swaying back and forth. If she was honest with herself, she could picture a life with Steve.

She could imagine traveling with Steve, purchasing a home with him in the suburbs.

She pictured buying a cute little 3 bedroom home in the Indiana suburbs - definitely away from Hawkins. She pictured the bright green grass and being surrounded by nice neighbors and even getting a pet.

She pictured starting a family with him, though, she would never tell him that, unless the time was right.

Back in the moment, she couldn’t stop laughing at Steve’s horrible singing.

“stop it,” she leaned her head back and let out a loud laugh

“stop what? singing?” he didn’t listen and kept singing along.

“you’re gonna make me fall in love with you if you keep singing like that,” she smiled.

Steve blushed, “we’re literally slow dancing in our underwear, i hope you know that i’m already in love with you.”

That’s all she ever wanted to hear from her best friend, “i’m in love with you.”

He wasted no time to press his lips to hers. they were just how she imagined he would taste: a mix of mint toothpaste and the coffee he drinks daily.

she reached her hands up to comb through his damp brunette hair and moaned into his mouth, urging him to shove his tongue in her mouth.

he gripped her waist, then her butt, then her thighs to feel every inch of her, what he wanted to do for years.

the two laid back down on the blanket and continued their assault on each other. he fit right between her legs, but knew that she didn’t want their first time to be on the muddy ground.

to take a breath from their make out session, he rested his forehead on hers and smiled.

“can i call you mine? all mine?” he asked, placing a piece of hair behind her ear.

“that’s all i’ve wanted, steve harrington.”

he reached up to grab at her breast but she stopped before she got too turned on.

“as much as i want to, take me back to your place and take me in your bed?” she said, kissing his neck and down to his chest.

she’s never seen him pack up so quickly.

#stranger things #my writings #my writing #stranger things 4 #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #friends to lovers #steve harrington smut #joe keery

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tojislibrvry · 2 months ago

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★ ︵ @ nanami / reader , fīngēring , exhībitīonis̱m

"i would kill for a burger right now."

you mumble, pressed against nanami. the both of you are splayed on your bed, on pink sheets surrounded by more pillows than necessary. your hair was all tangled, a result of his habit playing with your hair constantly.

"what was that?" he asks, voice muffled by his face pressed against your chest. his second favourite place to be, after between your thighs.

you giggle, pulling away from him. eyes rolling as you hear his disappointed groans. you sit up straight, fixing the flimsy tank top you had on, tits almost spilling out. "—i want a burger, is what i said."

he watches as you turn the lights on, momentarily blinding him. "right now ? i guess we can order—" you pout, "but kento, i wanted to go to a drive thru and maybe even get a drink."

he sighs , getting up, groaning dramatically as he stretches. he pulls you close for a kiss, "you are lucky baby, you have me wrapped around your pretty finger." he says as he pulls a hoodie over his naked torso. you almost regret making him cover up.

"you'll get cold," he says as he makes you wear his grey jacket, long enough to keep you warm in a car.

you sit quietly in his car, humming along to the music playing on the radio. it was almost midnight, the cold wind right on your face with your windows open. you were a giggling mess as nanami indulged in your mindless banter.

he drives with one hand, the other on your thigh. he looks so handsome under the moonlight, especially with his perfectly styled hair finally down.

"do i have something on my face sweetheart?"

"noooooo," you snicker, "maybe i should leave something."

he doesn't even have enough time to understand your words when you press the sweetest kiss on his cheek. the softest pink dusting him because of your chapstick.

he pauses. oh and he struggles, he really does to keep his constant poker face but you make it so hard. his eyes are the first to give up, they light up and crinkle with a shine he only has when he's with you.

he laughs, lips stretched and teeth flashing the most handsome smile ever. he really cherishes you, he does. he would kill for you, and in another lifetime he probably has.

he doesn't really have any words to say so he turns up the music and begins to sing along instead. he rarely does but god he should do it more the way your face immediately brightens.

he finally pulls into the drive thru and you squeal with excitement. getting ready to order, you push your head out of the car window.

right as you get ready to tell your order, you feel his calloused hands crawling up your thigh. you turn to look at him, confusion etched in the furrow of your eyebrow.

"go on baby. order, they are waiting for you to."

you cleared your throat, and try to compose yourself. "i would like a cheese-!" you are interrupted with the quick work of his rough finger against your clothed clit. you almost moan out loud.

"nanami!" you whisper-yell at him. he just looks at you with a soft sly smile. you roll your eyes and go back to ordering, "hah, sorry, i was just saying that i would like a cheeseburger, with some-"

his soft hands pull your panties to the side, his hand using force to keep your legs spread. you feel yourself get wet, the way he looks at you is so primal. you mewl when you feel him slip his fingers through your folds.

"- some fries, yeah fries would be nice." you force yourself to answer. you make eye contact with him as he retracts his fingers and licks your very essence off, tongue swirling around his digits.

“would that be all ?” the cashier’s voice says through the speaker.

“i thought you wanted a drink too?” nanami asks, as he resumes his ministrations. he begins to finger you, thick fingers deliciously stretching you out. “kento-o, i cant focus... please, slowly...”

he pays no mind to your words as he continues to piston his fingers faster into you, the squelching so loud you are almost worried that the microphone can pick up your sounds.

“i would-, also like a coffee-” and you have to bite your tongue, because you are so fucking close you can feel it in your throat.

he grabs your neck to pull you close enough to whisper in your ears, “you can do it sweetheart, you were whining in my ear about wanting a burger soooo bad”

he mocks your tone, voice going a pitch higher, “why aren't you talking then?"

and hearing his saccharine yet humiliating words is enough for the coil in your stomach to snap. tears spill out of your eyes like crystals and your body heats up when you squirt all over the car seat. you slump against the back and curl into yourself.

“yeah, that would be all.” you hear nanami say as he drives forward to collect the order. He rolls the windows up and they hide your vulnerable state.

nanami loves being a little mean but he’s not awful, so he carefully wipes you down with the tissues in the car and kisses your sweet lips.

“you make all of my fantasies come true, thank you love.” he says as he gets the take-away, pulling out your food so he can feed you a bite.

you giggle, snuggling into his jacket as you chew on your burger.

“im lucky that you fantasize about the same things i do.”

#nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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seijorhi · 1 year ago

Text

Etched in Red: Vermillion (Part One)

Event Masterlist

Okkotsu Yuuta x female reader

Part Two

w.c 1.4k

tw: yandere themes, kidnapping, implied dub/non-con, non-explicit gore

There’s nothing… wrong with being weak.

It isn’t a moral failing or anything to be ashamed of, it just is. For most people – normal people – that’s okay. They accept it, adjust their lives accordingly and move on.

The thing is, most people don’t actually need to be strong, not in the physical sense.

Most people aren’t jujutsu sorcerers.

Yuuta frowns, watching you laugh as Inumaki offers a hand to haul you up to your feet, brushing the dirt and grass of your skirt once you’re upright. Another sparring session that ends the exact same way all of them do; you, flat on your ass, wholly at the mercy of whichever of his friends is standing over you.

Problem is, they’re going easy on you; Maki leaving her left side wide open, Panda practically telegraphing his hits. Lately, he’s noticed it with Yuji and the other second years, too. It’s like an unwritten rule that they never go too hard, never push you too far. Trying to help you without hurting you in the process.

Because the simple, painful truth is, you aren’t strong enough to take it.

And believe it or not, he does get it… sort of. When Gojo dragged him into this he was petrified. Useless. He got thrown in the deep end, first first with Maki and then with Inumaki, and he had to figure it out fast, but… he also had Rika.

He also had his cursed technique.

Three years in, with graduation looming, you’re a step above a window. Still a grade four, although unlike with Maki it’s not some political, sexist bullshit keeping you there.

For right now, that’s okay. They’re your friends, none of them think any worse of you for it. They cover you on the missions you’re sent out on, and that’s not gonna change any time soon, but–

“Everything okay, Yuuta?”

He exhales a shuddering breath then straightens and turns your way with a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” he asks, idly toeing at a rock by his feet. Maybe you won’t notice the flush colouring his cheeks. “Looked like you hit the ground pretty hard back there.”

You laugh, waving it off like it’s no big deal, and to be fair it isn’t – you go through this multiple times a week, but that doesn’t mean it rankles him any less when you say, “Nothing I can’t handle. Toge was taking it easy on me.”

You don’t know the half of it.

“C’mon,” you tell him. “Panda says you’re up.”

—

Forty minutes later, breathless, aching and bruised all over, Yuuta shuffles with you and the others back to the dormitories to shower before eating when a familiar head of white hair pops into view.

“Yuuu-taa,” Gojo greets in a sing-song voice, altogether too happy for the group of exhausted, hungry students glaring back at him. “A word?”

Not remotely a request, considering he’s got an arm looped over Yuuta’s shoulders, steering him away from the rest of the group before he can get so much as a word out.

Leading him into an empty classroom well away from the dormitories, Gojo props himself up against one of the desks, leaving Yuuta to stand awkwardly in front of him, trying his best not to feel like a misbehaving child about to be lectured.

When he speaks, there’s no trace of levity left to soften the blow. “What happened?”

Gojo isn’t talking about the training session outside.

Yuuta swallows, stiffening. “It doesn’t matter, does it? You read the report. As long as she’s with me, Rika and I–”

“So you expect the higher ups to send you along on every mission she’s assigned?”

His cheeks flush again, this time with indignation. “They can’t send her alone! She’s not– she… ” Isn’t strong enough.

At his floundering, Gojo lets out a heavy, over-dramatic sigh, as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders alone. “Yuuta, you’re a special grade. Do you really think they’ll let you play babysitter just because you have a crush?”

His heart squeezes, a thick lump lodging itself in his throat. He doesn’t deny it, there’s no point. Blindfolded or not, Gojo sees everything.

Not that his Sensei has room to talk about crushes.

“I don’t care, I’ll go anyway! I’m not letting her get hurt.”

“Special grade or not, you won’t be able to stop it,” Gojo tells him, a strange sort of smile teasing at his lips. “They’ll smell her coming a mile away, that inexperience, overconfidence. Such a weak, tasty little sorcerer. Easy pickings. She’ll draw them in like flies to honey, one after another, until there’s too many to fight all at once – that’s what happened last time, didn’t it? You lost focus.”

Yuuta stills entirely.

Gojo tugs at the bandages over his eyes, revealing one brilliant, blue iris. “She dies. That’s the only way this goes. You understand that, don’t you?”

—

It kills Yuuta that Gojo turns out to be right.

The body lying on the cold, metal table can barely be called that. Half a torso and a leg. That’s all he got back after getting rid of the curse.

“Okkotsu,” Ieiri’s calm voice breaks through his reverie, and he glances up to find her tired eyes boring into him from across the room. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think she looked concerned.

“‘m fine,” he mumbles, letting his head tilt back to fall against the cool tiles. “I’m not the one who died.”

Ieiri opens her mouth, only to close it a moment later. “Of course.”

And so it goes. Inumaki, Panda and Maki hover, quiet and subdued. No one knows what to say, but none of them are surprised, he can tell that much through the thick, strained silence.

Death is pretty much a constant for them. Jujutsu sorcerers don’t tend to lead long, happy lives, but this isn’t just losing a classmate seven days out from graduation. A pang squeezes at his chest and he doesn’t bother holding back a heavy exhale.

“I’m tired. I’ll… catch you guys later, I guess.”

Yuuta doesn’t wait for an acknowledgement, turning on his heel and leaving them there outside the gym, staring uselessly after him.

But he doesn’t head back to his room. There’s nothing for him there.

No, Yuuta walks for a long, long while. Back to civilisation, to the city teeming with people and curses, each step more surefooted, eager than the last.

By the time he reaches the apartment, he’s pounding the pavement, and takes the stairs two at a time. His hand shakes as he slots the key into the first lock and twists, then the second, his heart’s halfway to his throat when he pushes it open, heading straight for the bedroom–

The knot in his chest loosens, a relieved sigh escaping him at the sight of you, spread out in his sheets in nothing but your underwear, fast asleep. Safe, where he left you.

It takes him no time at all to toe out of his sneakers, shed his jacket and climb up onto the bed next to you, mindful not to jostle you too much, not to disturb the thick metal links coiled loosely at the bottom of the mattress. Your eyes are still puffy, cheeks wet with the sheen of tears when his fingertips glide over them, intent on smoothing your hair back from your face.

Poor thing, you must’ve tired yourself out.

Yuuta has every intention of letting you sleep for a little while longer yet – he’d meant what he’d said to Maki and the others, there’s a bone tired weariness that’s been clinging to him since he dragged himself back to campus that morning, and it’s only now, here, lying next to you that he feels it start to leach away, like poison syphoned off.

A small, soft smile tugs at his lips.

Perfect, beautiful girl.

Gojo was right. You had to die. There aren’t enough sorcerers to deal with the increased curses plaguing the city. Weak or not, they would’ve kept sending you out, and he wouldn’t always be able to guarantee that he’d be there to protect you.

You had to die so they’d leave you alone. So that he could keep you safe.

Nestling closer, he thumbs at the curve of your cheekbone again and brushes a kiss against your lips, doing his best to ignore the hot pulse of want that burns through his blood, coiling tightly in his guts.

There’ll be plenty of time for that later. For now he just wants to lie here with you, safe and tucked away. Together.

It’s better this way. You’ll see.

#yandere jjk #yandere okkotsu yuuta #yandere okkotsu yuuta x reader #yandere yuuta x reader #yandere yuuta #yandere jjk x reader #tw: dubcon #etched in red

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newobsessionweekly · 11 months ago

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Stolen moments

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x rookie!reader Fandom: The rookie

Summary: You and Tim find it difficult to have some sort of intimacy due to your busy schedules.

A/N: Here's another Tim one that I loved writing. Not really a fluff girl, but I think I wrote something cute. Hope you like it. Don't forget to leave your feedback, it'll help me. Have a great day bubs and lots of love! 🫧

Fluff

Warnings: Not proofread yet, that's it.

Requested: yes Words: 1.8k Requests for Tim are open! GIF not mine, credits to the owner!

Being a rookie was intense. The constant struggle to keep yourself out of dangerous situations and, even more important, to manage them and go home safe and sound was exhausting. Gladly, your T.O. was understanding and his open, talkative personality helped you through when things get complicated.

John Nolan was a man that you trusted with your life and you grew closer, being not just your training officer, but a very important friend in your life. When between you and Tim things weren't going smoothly, he is your go to person. Mostly because you appreciate his advices and on the other hand because you're stuck with him every day, him reading you like a book.

You and Tim have been together for a few months now and it was clear as day that you adore that man with every breath. Tim is not far away from that, his love for you reflecting in his eyes, some might say he smiled in the last couple of months more than he ever did in his whole career at the station.

Music from Tim's car echoed through your mind as you embraced that still moment. No more people talking through the radio, no sirens whiling down the streets, no gunshots fired. Just you and Tim, singing along the radio, his hand resting on your lap as he squeezed it from time to time, sending chills down your spine, memories from the last night you'd spent together reddening your cheeks.

"I was thinking, maybe, you'd want to move in." Tim broke the silence as he checked the mirrors, his car making its way to the station. You hummed at his words, considering that. No more squeezing out your schedules, no more running around to see each other. More Tim tests on your time off work.

"I'll think about it. I love staying with Lucy though." you told him as he parked the car.

"Seriously? When's the last time you saw Lucy?" he quietly laughed.

"Yesterday."

"When's the last day you've been to your apartment?"

"Last..." you tried to remember what day it was. "Saturday."

"And now it's Friday." he pointed out the fact that you spent a whole week at his place.

"I'll think about it." you smiled at him, making him do the same as Tim was about to closed the distance between you two.

A loud knock on the window made you jump right before your lips could meet and Tim grinned at the sight of Lucy. "Speaking of the devil." he murmured frustrated under his breath, making you laugh as you went to greet her.

"Y/N, here's the mail from this week. Didn't know when you'd come home so I thought..." you thanked her, stuffing the envelopes in your purse. "Morning, officer Bradford." Lucy greeted Tim and he welcomed her with his grumpy face.

"Officer Chen" he didn't leave your side, hoping your best friend would disappear, but she grabbed your arm, rambling about her date, stealing you away from your boyfriend.

The morning briefing concluded, leaving a hasty window of respite before the day's duties would fully take hold. In that fleeting moment, you found yourself alone with Tim, the magnetic pull between you palpable in the air.

"Hey," your boyfriend murmured, his voice low and husky as he closed the distance between you. "Be safe out there today, okay?"

Seeing Tim so handsome in that uniform, made your heart skip a beat. His beautiful blue eyes searching you from head to toe, admiring your beauty and playing a wide smile on his lips. A smile that means sinful thoughts are running in his mind.

His words were a tender caress against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you leaned in, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Your heart quickened as his hand brushed against yours, the electricity of his touch sending sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

Before you could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the moment, jolting you back to reality. You turned to see Nolan standing before you, his expression expectant as he awaited your response.

"Ready for patrol, Y/N?" Nolan's voice cut through the air, breaking the intimate spell that had enveloped you and Tim.

You blinked, startled by the sudden intrusion, and turned to face your TO with a forced smile. "Yes, sir, ready to go."

Nolan glanced between you and Tim, his expression shifting from curiosity to understanding as he realized the tension that hung heavy in the air. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, his voice tinged with awkwardness. "I'll let you two carry on."

But before he could make his escape, Tim's voice cut through the silence, his tone laced with frustration and determination.

"Be careful out there, both of you," Tim said, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and love. "And stay safe."

With a curt nod, Tim turned on his heel and made his exit, leaving you and Nolan standing in the wake of his departure. As you watched Tim disappear from sight, a swell of emotions washed over you—frustration at the interrupted moment, longing for the connection you shared with Tim, and gratitude for his unwavering concern for your safety.

Tim's frustration was touching the ceiling. Both of you had plans that night, leaving him longing for the next time you'd be alone again. A next time tagged with a question mark because of your chaotic lives. He wanted to have you close all the time, to make sure he can protect the woman he loved dearly. But above this excuse, Tim wants you close because he needs you. Every touch and little kiss stolen here and there gives him the strength to carry on with his life, gives him an anchor to hold on when things get messy.

The midday sun beat down on the bustling streets of LA as officers gathered around the street food area for their lunch break.

As you and Tim sat together at the table, the bustling activity around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble. Tim's touch was gentle yet possessive as he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent declaration of affection.

"You know, Y/N, I think moving in together could be a great step for us," Tim said, his voice soft and tender. "We already spend so much time together anyway, and it would make things so much easier."

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned into his touch. "I know, Tim. It's just...a big step, you know? I want to make sure we're both ready for it."

Tim's gaze softened, his eyes filled with understanding as he squeezed your hand gently. "Copy that. We'll take things at your pace, okay? No rush."

His touch sent a thrill racing through you, igniting a warmth that spread from your fingertips to the depths of your soul. His thumb traced delicate patterns on the back of your hand, a tender gesture that spoke volumes without a word being spoken.

The connection between you and Tim was electric, a palpable energy that pulsed between you with each passing moment. His gaze was intense, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and adoration as he leaned in closer, his lips tantalizingly close to yours.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the anticipation building to a fever pitch as you inched closer to each other. Just as your lips were about to meet, the voices of your beloved colleagues shattered the moment once more, leaving you both frustrated and longing for more.

"No, I mean is great that Henry is visiting me, don't get me wrong. But I feel like this weekend is going to fly by so fast and the chief already approved my OT for both days and I feel like we won't spend so much time together." Nolan ramble about his son and they sat down beside you and Tim.

"Tell me about it." your boyfriend scoffed as he caressed your thigh, his tone tinged with frustration.

For Tim, each interruption felt like a cruel twist of fate, a barrier preventing him from fully expressing the depth of his love for you. He yearned for the stolen moments, the brief glimpses of intimacy that left him craving more. With each interruption, his frustration grew, a silent plea echoing in his mind for just a few moments alone with you.

"I already spoke with him and he's gonna meet us tonight at the bar" you told John as you savoured the food in front of you.

"But I thought he's coming tomorrow." Nolan frowned and Tim raised his eyebrows at your words. He knew you meet them now and then after shift, but he didn't know that was your plan for tonight, instead of spending it with him.

The constant interruptions felt like a cruel reminder of the obstacles standing between you and Tim. You longed for the stolen kisses and whispered words, moments of intimacy that seemed to slip through your fingers before they could fully blossom. Each interruption left you feeling incomplete, aching for the chance to bask in Tim's presence without the prying eyes of your colleagues.

"Surprise."

As the lunch break drew to a close and the time came for you to return to patrol, Tim's frustration was palpable. He shot you a longing look, his eyes silently pleading for just a few more moments alone together.

He walked you to the shop and when you made sure Nolan was already inside and away from your whispering, you turned to him and intertwined your fingers together.

"So that's the plan you have tonight, huh?" he asked you, clearly not feeling very happy that you chose them over you. He had plans too, watching tonight's game with his friends. Some important game he said, but if it was to choose, he'd rather spend the night with you than watch it.

"Well, they asked me to join after you said you have plans. I thought maybe some time apart from each other would be nice." you admit.

"Some more time apart?" he questioned.

"Maybe it's best if I move in." you told him after Nolan informed you about a call that was just dispatched to you. Tim smiled, softly grabbing your cheeks, finally placing a kiss after long hours of watching you from distance.

"I'll see you tonight, Y/N," Tim said, his voice tinged with regret as he watched you leave. "Be safe out there, okay?"

You nodded, a bittersweet smile playing at the corners of your lips as you bid him farewell. And as you headed back out onto the streets, the memory of Tim's tender touch and loving gaze lingered in your mind, a reminder of the love that bound you together, even in the face of interruptions and obstacles.

#tim #tim bradford #tim bradford x you #tim bradford one shots #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagines #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie

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