#but then I’m not sure he would mind as much from her

[keeryhours]

do you wanna come over? - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

You’re one of the most beautiful and popular girls in Hawkins, and you’ve set your sights on Eddie Munson. Little do you know, he’s a virgin - and also pretty in love with you.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), protected p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving), cum eating sort of, restraints, virgin!eddie, perv!eddie, drug use, getting walked in on

Word Count: 9.7k

A/N:

This is set up for a part 2, so let me know if you’d like to see that soon! Thank you @punkrockmlchael for my banner and for reading, and thank you @the-witty-pen-name , @fizzing-imagines , @losingmygrasponreality, @lesservillain!

Eddie Munson was your weed dealer and nothing more.

Well, occasionally shrooms. Or Special K. Basically, he was your dealer with no strings attached.

You weren’t even sure if you liked the guy. You didn’t know him. He was very…vocal from what you saw of him in the cafeteria, but he always came along with his small group of nerdy friends. You never saw him with a girl. Not once.

There was no way Eddie Munson was a virgin, right? The dude had done his senior year 3 times now, he was like 20 years old. You figured the girls at school probably just weren’t his taste anymore.

Why Eddie was on your mind so much lately was honestly beyond you. You had never thought of him much before, unless you needed some drugs for the weekend. But now it was like he was always on your mind. You even brought it up to your best friend, Chrissy, after practice.

“There’s just no way he’s a virgin, right?” You asked her as you moved into a split, feeling the muscles in your thighs stretching.

Chrissy giggled as she did the same. “Why are you so interested in Eddie Munson’s sex life all of a sudden?”

“I’m not,” you said quickly. “It just…doesn’t make sense. Have you ever seen him with a girl?”

“Of course not,” Chrissy said. “But who knows what he gets up to outside of school.”

Her words stuck with you. Because you wanted to know what Eddie got up to outside of school.

You found yourself fantasizing about it, dreaming about it. When Eddie first started making his appearances in your dreams, it shocked you. You had never been attracted to him until that night. You dreamt of him shirtless, tattoos exposed on his lithe body. He rolled a joint with his dexterous fingers and lit it, taking a long drag before handing it to you.

“Your turn, princess,” he’d said in a lower, much more suave voice than you’d ever actually heard from him. You grabbed for the joint but he held it out of your reach, bringing it back to his own lips and breathing deeply before leaning in and breathing the smoke out into your mouth. You had moaned against his lips, feeling his smirk against your own mouth.

He looked like a sex god. Sometimes he would grab his guitar and play you a song. Sometimes he would undress you and eat your pussy all night, other times he would make you worship his cock until he was satisfied and cumming all over your face. You especially liked it when he held you down and fucked you like your body begged to be fucked.

Then you’d wake up in a cold sweat, clit throbbing between your legs in a way that had you desperate to go back to sleep and let him finish you off. You’d have to face him at school again, just the usual nerdy guy you remembered.

You figured you had to make a move.

You approached him during lunch, short little green and yellow cheer skirt swaying as you crossed the room towards him. You caught his attention about halfway across the room and he did a double take, wide eyes landing on you as his friends turned to see what had distracted him.

“Hey, Eddie,” you greeted, a small smile on your lips.

“Uh, h-hey,” he said, smoothing a hand through his wild hair. It didn’t do much to tame the curls. “What’s up?”

“I was hoping maybe we could meet up after school?” You asked, your voice obviously flirtatious. One of his friends - Gareth? - raised his eyebrows at him, looking between the two of you with a barely contained smirk.

“Oh! Yeah, for sure,” he said. “The usual? In the woods behind the school?”

“Sounds good,” you agreed. “See you later…Eddie.”

You made a point to sway your hips as you walked away, and you could feel Eddie’s and his friends’ eyes on you. Your ass, specifically. You knew what you had been blessed with, and you weren’t afraid to use it.

That day after school, you snuck off and headed down the familiar path through the wooded area. The leaves crunched beneath your white sneakers as you walked, the October chill making you pull your sweater tighter around your body. No one was at the meetup spot when you arrived, so you sat on top of the table, legs crossed as you waited.

It wasn’t long before the crunching of leaves gave away another presence. Eddie approached the table, eyes locked on your form. God, those legs in that little skirt. He thought about what it might be like to spread them, to breathe in your scent and bury his face between your thighs. He had frequent fantasies of stealing a pair of your panties during practice and bringing them home, bringing them up to his face and breathing deeply, wrapping them around his cock as he fisted it, spilling his cum all over the pretty material. He had no idea what your panties actually looked like, but surely they were as perfect as you.

He carried his metal lunchbox, stocked with weed. His gait was slow as he got closer to you, taking his sweet time to drink in your appearance until he’d had his fill. When he reached the table, he sat the lunch pail down on the wood with a bang.

“What can I get you today, m’lady?” He asked, a playful smile on his face as he performed an exaggerated bow. “A half for 20, perhaps?”

“I’ll take a half,” you said. “And..do you have any more of that Special K?

Eddie slowly looked up at you with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, back at the house. I’ll have to get it. I could bring it tomorrow.”

You shifted from your position, crossing the other leg, and Eddie just about combusted on the spot as he caught the slightest glimpse of your panties. Pink and lacy, exactly what he pictured you’d wear. It completely threw him off.

“Hello? Eddie?”

Your voice snapped Eddie back to reality. “Shit, sorry. What?”

“I said you could bring it tomorrow.” You smiled. “Or I could ride with you to get it then. I just can’t tonight because of practice…”

Eddie swallowed. You really wanted to ride with him back to his place? Alone? “Uh, okay, sure.”

You debated making your next move, wondering if it would be too far, but you went for it anyway. “So, Eddie…I was just wondering. Do you ever take any payment that’s not…money?”

Eddie furrowed his brows. “Like what? Sometimes my car guy does work for me in exchange for weed, but…” The look on your face told him that’s not what you’d been talking about. “Oh, jesus, no. You don’t have to do that. If you need me to spot you, I can-“

“But what if I want to?”

Eddie just stared at you. “You want to…?”

“Oh my god, Eddie.” You spread your legs, reaching for his waist and pulling him into you. Your hand dragged across his cock over his jeans, feeling him already hard and even bigger than you’d imagined. “Why don’t you just let me make you feel good?”

Eddie’s knees felt weak, his heart thundering in his chest as you pulled him close to you. This couldn’t be real, he had to be dreaming. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d had this exact dream before. His hands rested on your thighs to hold himself upright - god, your soft, bare thighs… He started to speak, stopping to clear his throat. “You really don’t have to do this-“

You squeezed his cock through the material, making him moan out loudly. “Does this show you how badly I want to do this?”

His voice cracked when he spoke. “I- yeah, I think I get the idea.” He looked around, like he was expecting someone to jump out from behind a tree and literally catch him with his pants down. “You’re- you’re fucking with me, right? This is all just a big joke?”

“Eddie, I would never do that,” you said earnestly. Your brows furrowed as you looked up at him. “Have you really never done this before?”

“I-“ Eddie backed up, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “No, I haven’t, okay? I’m not like that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with-“

“No, I know,” he said quickly. “I just…I haven’t.”

“Why not?” you asked again. “Are you into girls? Because it’s okay if you’re not-“

“Yes, I’m into girls!” Eddie rubbed a hand over his face, like he was frustrated. “I haven’t…done things like that before.”

“You haven’t done things like this, or you haven’t done things at all?”

Eddie was quiet. Then, finally- “At all.”

You reached for him, your hand grazing his. He startled at the touch, the electricity that shot through his body at the smallest feeling. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin, Eddie. I just want to make you feel good.”

He looked back at you, letting you pull him close again. “Why?”

“I’ve been…thinking about you,” you admitted.

“Thinking about me?”

“Stop being so coy,” you teased him. “Do you not know how hot you are?”

Eddie shook his head. “No one thinks that.”

“I do.” You said it easily, quickly. “I’ve been thinking about you nonstop. Thinking about all the things I want to do to you…all the things I want you to do to me…”

“Yeah?” He said, his voice low and breathless. “Like what?”

“Just thinkin’ about you, and what those long fingers can do,” you said, fingers trailing along his own. “About your mouth, your tongue.” You ran your hands down his chest. “About how big your cock is, how you’d use it…”

Eddie’s breath hitched in his throat. He could barely breathe when you talked like that. “You…you think those things about me?”

“Of course I do.” You brought his fingers up to your lips, gently pressing them there as you smirked up at him. Your tongue darted out and licked his fingertips and he groaned just under his breath. “I think about you all the time.”

“Why have you never, uh,” he cleared his throat again. “Never said anything before?”

You shrugged, continuing to tease the older boy. “Guess I just got the nerve up.”

Eddie scoffed. “You’re like the hottest girl in school. Why would you ever be afraid to ask someone out? Especially me?”

“You think I’m the hottest girl in school?” You smirked, placing his finger in your mouth and sucking on it. His knees buckled, his cock impossibly hard in his jeans at this point.

Your hands roamed down his chest until you reached his belt buckle. You looked up at him for permission, his heavy lidded gaze glued to yours. He nodded once, and you undid the belt, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper down painstakingly slowly.

Eddie whimpered as you freed his cock, the massive, thick length catching you by surprise. Eddie reached for the table to hold himself up as you wrapped your fist around it, slowly stroking him.

“H-oh,” he breathed out, hips jerking forward into your touch. His tip leaked precum already, the head a deep red and cock achingly hard. He twitched in your hold, telling you he wanted, needed more.

“Why don’t you lean against the table?” You offered, sliding off and leaving the room for him to sit.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” he said, moving to take your spot. He leaned against the wood, his long legs stretching to the ground. You sunk to your knees in the dirt in front of him, stroking him as you stuck your tongue out to lick his tip. He groaned again, knuckles turning white where they gripped the edge of the table.

You wrapped your plush lips around his cock and began taking him deeper down your throat. He cried out at the feeling, one of his hands moving to hold onto the back of your head.

“Oh, shit,” he moaned, head tilting back but not wanting to miss any part of what you were doing. “Fuck. Yeah, that’s…that feels nice…”

You swirled your tongue around the vein on the underside of his cock, paying extra attention to the head when you’d come up. He was a moaning, writhing mess above you as he thrusted his hips into your mouth, and you were pretty sure they would hear him up at the school if he kept this up.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he whined, his chest heaving. “Shit, that’s so good.”

You brought a hand up to stroke the seam of his balls, and his stomach muscles clenched, his cock twitching in your mouth. You massaged them in your hand, and Eddie fell apart above you, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna- gonna c-um, shit shit shit-“

That was all the warning you got before Eddie was shooting ropes of his cum into your mouth, down your throat, as he moaned loudly. It surprised you a little and you gagged at first, but swallowed every drop he gave you. You pulled off of him with a pop and he watched the spit trail connecting your lips to his cock.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed when you stood, dirt tracks on your neat white cheerleading socks and your bare knees. He awkwardly tucked himself back away as you brushed the dirt off your skin. “Um…thank you?”

You giggled. “No problem…Did you like it?”

“Did I-“ he huffed a laugh. “I mean, you made my dreams come true, baby. That was pretty fuckin’ awesome.”

“Yeah? Your dreams came true?” You teased as you leaned forward, rubbing his thighs over his jeans. His eyes shamelessly lingered on your body.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathed.

“I liked it, too,” you hummed. “Made me sooo wet.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Just from sucking me off?”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “It was hot.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What, wanna see?” Eddie just watched you so you stood, turning around and bending over while lifting your tiny skirt over your ass. The small wet spot on your panties was visible from behind you, confirmed by the low groan Eddie let out.

“Christ,” he muttered.

“I feel bad I didn’t get to make you feel good,” Eddie said when you stood and returned to the table, sliding onto it next to him.

“Next time,” you promised him.

“There’s gonna be a next time?” He raised his eyebrows, like he expected this to be a one and done thing between you.

“Well, yeah,” you gently nudged his shoulder. “I don’t really just suck dick in the forest and move on with my life.”

Eddie laughed lightly. “That’s good for me then, I guess.” He snapped his fingers as a memory came back to him. “Oh! You’re coming to my place tomorrow? For the K?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Why, you got something planned?”

He smirked but just shrugged. “Nah. Nothing planned.”

“I’ll take the half, though.”

“Oh, yeah.” He reached into his pail and pulled the baggie out. “I’d feel bad charging you for this now, but I also feel bad not charging you for it.”

You laughed - “I mean, I won’t complain if you don’t want to charge me this time.”

“Then it’s on the house,” he smiled at you. “Thanks again, by the way.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you chuckled. “I wanted to. Believe me.” You stood from the table, shoving the baggie of weed into your bag. “I’ve got to get going…practice.”

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie seemed bummed to see you go, like he wanted to ask you to stay longer or tag along to watch you at practice. “You got extra, uh…socks?”

You looked down, sheepish grin on your face at the sight of the dirt. “Yeah. I do.” You turned as you began walking back to the school. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ed!”

“Bye!” He called after you, feeling like a total idiot.

Back in the school, you shed your bag in your practice locker and changed into a clean pair of cheer socks. By the time you joined Chrissy in the gym, she was giving you a knowing smirk.

“And where were you?” She asked innocently. She definitely clocked the remaining dirt on your knees.

“Just…doing some shopping.”

“With Eddie?”

You blushed. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god,” she giggled. “…Was he a virgin?”

You gave her a look. “Not for long.”

Chrissy practically squealed with laughter, falling over backwards. As the coach came over and started practice, you focused, getting your mind centered on practice and not a certain big-dicked virgin metalhead. But as you performed your tricks, tumbling down the mat and flying as your teammates tossed you into the air, your mind was locked on big brown eyes only.

The next day, you had plans to meet Eddie after practice and go to his place. You headed into the gym in your uniform with your bag over your shoulder, ready to focus on your stunts, but you nearly tripped over your own feet when you saw Eddie sitting in the bleachers.

No one watched cheerleading practice besides a couple of the girls’ boyfriends, so it was a shock to see him there. And you knew he was there for you. He gave you a small wave as your eyes met his, and you couldn’t help laughing.

You went on with practice, performing your back handsprings and tosses as a flyer. Eddie watched the entire time, his attention fully on you. His eyes followed you everywhere you went, amazed by the stunts you were able to pull off. Every now and then he caught the slightest glimpse of your panties beneath your skirt, and that was enough for him.

After practice, you lingered until all your teammates were gone. Eddie watched you curiously, wondering what you were up to. Finally when the last of your cheer teammates had left, you nodded towards the locker room, and Eddie’s eyes widened, but he jumped up to follow you anyway.

Eddie trailed after you into the locker room, watching the sway of your hips and ass as you walked. It was deserted, all of your fellow cheerleaders having already showered and left. You stripped out of your uniform right in front of Eddie, pulling your top off and leaving yourself bare chested. Eddie’s eyes practically bugged out of his head, your bare tits on full display for his eyes. You took off your skirt and panties next, throwing them on the bench.

“Let me go take a shower, then we can go.”

Eddie watched as you turned and left towards the shower. His gaze dropped to the pile of clothes on the bench - particularly the pink panties beneath your skirt. He thought about it - really thought about it, because he’s not that much of a creep - but he snatched them, stuffing them into his jeans pocket.

A few minutes later you came back wrapped in a towel with one wrapped around your hair as well. He watched you, amazed, as you grabbed some clean clothes from your locker. You dropped the towel right in front of him and his eyes took in every inch of your body as you pulled on your underwear then a pair of jeans and a shirt.

“Ready to go?” You asked. Eddie had to shake himself out of his lustful stupor to answer your question.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

You followed him out to the parking lot, duffel bag over your shoulder. He led you to his van, opening the passenger door with a bow. “Ladies first.”

You climbed in with a giggle, buckling your seatbelt as Eddie shut the door for you. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the van. You watched out the window and listened to Eddie’s heavy music as he drove to his trailer in Forest Hills.

“Welcome to my castle,” he said as he opened the front door of the trailer for you. You gave him a smile as you walked in, seeing the living room decorated with baseball caps, the kitchen littered with trash and dirty dishes. “Sorry, the maid took the week off,” Eddie said as he quickly cleaned up as much as he could. You didn’t mind.

“You can come back, if you want,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the bedroom at the end of the hall. “It’s a mess, but…”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you assured him.

You followed him into his room, taking a seat on his bed. He went searching through his stuff, finally surfacing with a baggie of powder clutched between his fingers. “Special K. Peaceful bliss, just moments away.”

You took it from him, passing him the money. You opened the baggie and collected some on your finger, bringing it to your nose to snort the powder. You held some out to Eddie, who snorted it off your finger as well.

A comfortable peace washed over your body quickly. You were feeling good as you laid back on the bed, the euphoria washing over you. Eddie laid on the bed next to you.

“This is some good shit,” you laughed. Eddie laughed, too, turning to you.

“You’re so hot, you know that?” He said, voice lowering as he looked over your body in his bed. “You are so fucking hot.”

You giggled. “You’re hot, too.”

“That’s not true,” he said, suddenly shy. “No one thinks that.”

“I do,” you said, your hand resting on the side of his face. “I think you’re so hot. And kind, and handsome, and funny and interesting.”

Eddie leaned closer to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, and he was so close now his nose was brushing yours.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he told you as his lips moved closer and closer to yours. “My little slut. You liked sucking my cock out in the woods behind the school, didn’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed against him, his lips now grazing yours, pressing together in a needy kiss. “Loved sucking your cock. So fucking big, so sexy.”

Eddie moaned as he kissed you, his hand roaming your body, up your shirt and over your breasts. “Can I taste you, princess?”

“Hmm?” You hummed the question, mind hazy from his kisses.

“Can I taste you?” He asked again, lips moving down to nip at your neck. “Wanna taste that pussy, princess. I know it’s so good, so fucking sweet and wet. Please let me have a taste.”

“Okay,” you agreed as his kisses trailed lower, his lips moving down over your breasts and stomach, to your thighs. He settled himself between your legs, kissing all over your thighs and over your core through your light purple panties. He could see the wet spot on them, it made his mouth water with his desire to taste you.

He slid your panties down your legs, your pussy finally revealed to him. It was everything he imagined, so fucking hot, and bare all for him. He dove in, tongue sliding through your folds to taste you. You moaned, hand gripping into his wild hair as he devoured you.

Eddie didn’t exactly know what he was doing, but he was eager and excited and that made it even better. He teased your clit with his tongue, wrapping his lips around it and sucking lightly. Then he moved lower, tongue teasing your hole as his nose brushed against your clit.

You moaned, hips bucking up against Eddie’s mouth. “Feels so good,” you moaned, hands trailing over your nipples as Eddie ate your pussy like a man starved.

He started grinding his hips against the bed as he ate you, searching for friction against his hard cock. He rutted frantically against the bed, tongue buried in you as his cock throbbed in his pants, moaning into you as he neared release himself. All from the thought of what he was doing to you, the reality of having his face buried in your cunt, his rock hard dick rubbing against the comforter.

“Eddie, I’m g’na cum,” you moaned desperately as Eddie worked his tongue over your core even more, fingers pulling at his brown locks.

“Cum for me baby, please,” he begged, fully losing himself between your legs, tongue working against your pussy somehow expertly as your release neared.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Eddie! Oh god, Eddie!” You cried out as you came, hips bucking against his mouth as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue. He kept thrusting against the bed, but hearing you moan his name as you pulled his hair and grinded against his mouth set him off and then he was moaning, cumming in his jeans as you came down beneath his tongue.

He let you ride out your orgasm and then he pulled back, cheeks bright red and a wet spot on his jeans from where he came.

“Did you…?” You asked, looking down at his lap.

“Uh…yeah,” he said shyly, knowing there was no getting out of this with a lie.

You giggled, but there was no judgement behind it. “That’s pretty hot, honestly,”

“It is?” He asked, still blushing furiously. “I didn’t mean to, I just-“

“Couldn’t help yourself?” You trailed a finger down his shoulder, over his chest. He shuddered.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I just…can’t help myself when I’m around you.”

It was flattering. You loved that he was so weak for you. It made you feel powerful. “You’re so sexy, Eddie.”

He trembled beneath your touch.

That night, when Eddie was alone, he pulled your panties from his pocket. He wasn’t sure if you hadn’t noticed him take them, or if you just hadn’t cared. But he had them, and now he was bringing them up to his nose, breathing in your scent with a groan. He unbuttoned his pants and took his cock out, wrapping the panties around his shaft.

He thought of you. He thought about you wearing these panties during cheerleading practice, the way you’d do your jumps and spread your legs for anyone to see. The way you looked him in the eye just before you did your splits, like you wanted him watching specifically.

He began stroking his cock with the panties wrapped around his length, thinking of you. He thought about eating your pussy, the way you had come undone beneath his tongue. The way you had tasted.

He moaned your name, imagining you were in the room with him now. Imagining you were here riding his cock, tits bouncing as you bounced on him, taking every inch of his dick. Eddie stroked his cock faster, his release approaching faster and faster.

He came to the thought of his cock disappearing into your tight little pussy, the thought of finally fucking you. The way you’d be so desperate for it, legs spread wide as he sunk into your cunt, tits bouncing when he snapped his hips into you. It was enough to send ropes of cum shooting over his fist and all over the panties and his thighs and stomach.

Eddie was down bad for you.

It was a couple of days later when you approached Eddie at school again. His face lit up when he saw you, frantically making room at the lunch table and pushing Gareth out of the way.

“What the fuck?” Gareth asked as Eddie shoved him to the side, but his eyes went wide in understanding when he saw you approaching.

“Hey, Eds,” you greeted him, hand sliding around his shoulders in a way that gave him goosebumps. He looked up at you adoringly, big brown eyes full of something like love.

“Hey,” he greeted you back. “What’s up?”

You leaned over so you were closer to him, leaning over the table with your cleavage in your uniform top right in front of his face. “Do you have any shrooms?”

“S-shrooms?” Eddie asked like he’d never heard the word, too distracted by what was in front of him. “Oh, yeah. I do. At the house.”

“Could I ride with you after school to get them…?”

Eddie swallowed, completely lost in a trance, forgetting about his friends at the table watching this whole interaction. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Cool,” you smiled. “I’ll see you after school then?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie’s gaze was locked on you as you walked away, that little cheer skirt so short he could just barely catch a glimpse of-

“Munson!”

Eddie snapped out of his you trance to rejoin reality and his friends trying to catch his attention. “What?”

“What the hell is that all about?” Gareth asked. “She’s been talking to you a lot lately.”

Eddie blushed, looking down at his tray of food. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? It doesn’t seem like nothing,” Jeff said. “Cheerleaders don’t just talk to us.”

“She just wants to buy some stuff. That’s all.”

The guys exchanged a look. “Soooo,” Gareth drew out the word, “are you gonna tell us who gave you all those hickies?”

Eddie froze, suddenly self conscious. He didn’t even realize they’d been noticeable. He pulled his leather jacket higher around his neck.

“Oh, come on, you can’t pretend we didn’t already see them,” Grant laughed. “Just tell us!”

Eddie looked around. “Okay, yes, it was her. But shut up! Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

The guys all buzzed with excitement, talking over each other as they leaned in closer to Eddie. “How the hell did that happen? What did you guys do? Tell us everything.”

Eddie shook his head. “Uh uh. No way. I’m not going to kiss and tell.”

“When I kissed Carla, you made me tell you everything!” Gareth protested. “Don’t be lame.”

“You kissed Carla Peters for 30 seconds in 7th grade,” Eddie reminded him. “I think we’re dealing with a difference in maturity level here.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered. “I would tell you if I lost my virginity. It’s a momentous occasion.”

“I didn’t lose my virginity,” Eddie whispered. “…Yet.”

After school, Eddie watched your cheer practice again. The other girls took notice this time, giving you strange looks. You heard them whispering - “What is that Freak doing here? What a creep.” You felt kind of bad for subjecting him to the gossip of your teammates, but they all shut up when you left with your arm linked in his.

He led you to his van, opening the door for you once again. This time on the ride to his house you chatted, giggling at the jokes Eddie would make. He tried to give you a crash course on D&D, but it was all going over your head.

At the house he held the door open for you, and you slipped inside, taking a seat on his couch. “Um…I know I have those shrooms somewhere…give me a sec.”

You looked all around the living room as Eddie took off to his bedroom, searching through drawers and cabinets. You examined the wall of hats, all the different places they came from and things they represented. By the time Eddie came back with the baggie in his hand, you had just looked at the last one.

“Got ‘em,” Eddie said, handing you the bag. You slipped it into your purse. “Uh…do you want to stay and hang out?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him, watching as he sat down on the couch. You slowly walked over next to him, his eyes on the way your legs moved beneath your skirt. He sure was weak for the uniform, you noticed.

You stood in front of him, looking down at his nervous form. He looked up at you with wide eyes, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands as you stood over him.

You trailed your hands down his arms, reaching his hands and placing them on your hips. He gulped, like he was in shock. But his grip tightened on your hips, feeling the material of your cheer skirt under his hands, wanting to push it up and-

You climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Eddie accidentally let out a low groan, betraying just how far gone he was for you already. You could feel how hard he was, the bulge through his jeans pressing up against your core. You wanted him, so wet your panties were soaked. You needed him.

“Eddie,” you whined, moving your hips against him. He groaned again, grip tightening even more.

“You look so fucking hot,” Eddie said through a clenched jaw, like he was trying to hold himself together. “You’re…a fucking dream, Jesus Christ-“

You leaned in to kiss at his neck, biting gently and making Eddie groan again. His hands were holding onto you as tight as possible, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“You can touch me,” you said, wanting him to. You wanted to feel his hands all over, wanted to feel him. Every part of him.

He let go of his death grip on your hips and slowly roamed down your thighs as you continued kissing his neck, feeling the bare skin of your legs. He remembered what it was like to taste you, and the thought only made him harder in his jeans. He wanted to do it again and again.

Next his hands moved up, slowly feeling your sides until he reached your tits. They filled his hands perfectly, making him moan as he massaged them. He was desperate to get his mouth on them, to wrap his lips around your nipples, to suck on them.

He reached down and pulled your cheer top up until he was dropping it on his living room floor. He fumbled with your bra clasp for a while before he was able to remove that, too. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of your naked tits, mouth watering. He dove in, wrapping his lips around your nipple and making you gasp.

“Eddie,” you moaned, pleasantly surprised at his boldness. He was learning fast.

“So fucking sexy,” he moaned as his tongue swirled around your nipple, the sensation sending chills through your body. “Can’t believe you’re on my lap right now. Pretty little princess has a thing for the Freak, huh?”

You giggled lightly, eyes closed as you enjoyed the feeling of Eddie’s mouth. “When the Freak is this hot…”

Eddie chuckled. His hands gripped your ass as he switched to the other breast. He guided your hips to grind against him, as if it was possible for him to get any harder than he already was. He’d never been this hard in his life.

You tugged on his shirt and he got the hint, leaning forward to pull it off. Your hands roamed his tattooed chest, feeling the muscles of his chest, the soft skin of his stomach.

“Do you want to take me to your room?” you asked him, your voice a mere whisper against his lips.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Eddie said, then you were squealing as he stood, lifting you up. He stumbled a little and you laughed, but he made his way down the hall to his bedroom, leaving the discarded clothes on the living room floor.

He carefully dropped you down onto his messy bed, landing with a giggle. He kicked his shoes off and quickly undid his belt. You watched as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, shoving them down his legs. You could really see the size of his erection with nothing but his boxers on, and it was just as impressive as you remembered.

Next he slid your shoes off, leaving the white cheer socks in place. He slowly climbed up your body, pulling your skirt and panties down your legs. With you now fully naked, he looked at you wide eyed. “God, I can’t believe I’m about to fuck you.”

“Can’t believe you’re about to fuck me, or can’t believe you’re about to lose your virginity?” you teased with a laugh.

“Both,” Eddie smiled. He placed kisses all over your skin, his tongue darting out to taste every now and then. You were like a drug - he was utterly addicted to you already.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked him as he reached your lips again, kissing along your jaw and cheek before pressing his lips to yours.

“Uh, I do, actually,” he said sheepishly. “Gareth bought them for me as a joke. Now I guess joke’s on him, because they’re getting used well before he gets to touch a girl.”

You laughed at that - “Well, works out for us, I guess.”

Eddie reached over into the drawer of his bedside table, pulling the unopened box out. He felt a sense of pride as he opened it, pulling out one of the foil packets. This was really happening. He had a pretty girl naked in his bed. Finally.

You pushed his boxers down as he ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth, sliding the rubber onto his cock just like he’d learned in health class. He was grateful Gareth got the biggest size as part of the joke - but it fit perfectly. Ha.

Eddie leaned over you with one arm by your head and the other between your bodies, pumping his cock a couple times as he lined it up at your entrance. He took a deep breath he hoped you didn’t notice, then he started pushing inside. You gasped at the intrusion, fingers gripping his bedsheets.

“Jesus, Ed,” you breathed, his cock nearly taking your breath away already.

“What?” he asked, stopping his movements. “Are you okay? Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no,” you assured him. “You’re just fucking huge. But keep going, please.”

His ego properly stroked, he began sinking further into you. He was barely holding it together, a whimper involuntarily escaping from his lips. You were so unbelievably tight, hot, and wet…it felt better than his fist had on his best nights, and watching your face contorting in pleasure every inch he sunk into you was unreal. He had to shut his eyes to keep from cumming right that second.

He bottomed out, and you had never felt so full in your life. None of the guys you’d been with had been this big. Eddie reached down and spread your legs wide, holding them open as he pulled his hips back and snapped them back into you. He fucked into you quickly, filling you completely with every thrust.

“God, you- you’re so flexible, fuck-“

His pleasure-drunk rambling would have made you laugh if he wasn’t currently splitting you wide open with his cock, and looking unbelievably sexy while doing it. He threw his head back, long hair flying backwards. You raked your nails down his chest, making him moan loudly.

“Feels so good, Eddie, fuck, even better than my dreams-“

“You dream about me?” Eddie huffed a breathless laugh. “Fuck, princess, I dream about you too.”

You smiled and opened your mouth to speak just before a particularly hard thrust hit your bundle of nerves perfectly, making your back arch off his bed and the words on your tongue turn into a loud, high moan.

Fuck, the noises you were making were better than any porn he’d ever seen. He didn’t know how he was still going, he’d felt right on the edge since he got inside of you.

“Your pussy is fucking incredible, holy shit-“

Eddie’s hips stuttered into you, his rhythm faltering. He adjusted you into a mating press, fucking you wildly as the most pathetic yet sexy moans left his lips.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” you moaned, gripping onto his arms tightly. They were firmer and bigger than you expected, and you could feel his muscles contracting as he put all his effort into fucking you.

“I’m getting real close, baby,” he said, his voice strained. His arms were starting to tremble, his thrusts more frantic and needy. “But I need you to come first.”

You reached down between your sweaty bodies and rubbed circles on your clit, your body writhing beneath him. Eddie let out another pathetic moan at the sight, his rhythm faltering once again, his thrusts getting harder yet slower, hips snapping into you aggressively.

“Ohmygod, Eddie, Eddie, fuck! Yes yes yes, keep fucking me just like that-“

Your orgasm washed over you in a wave, hips grinding up against Eddie’s thrusts as you continued rubbing your clit. Your other hand pinched at your nipples, and the show sent Eddie reeling.

“I’m cumming, oh fuck, I’m…I-I love you! Shit-” Eddie cried out as he came, his eyes squeezing shut as his cum shot into you, filling you up with his spend. He held onto you tightly as he came, it felt endless, like he could cum forever. His body was trembling, hands shaking from their grip on your legs.

Your mouth dropped open in shock at his words, but Eddie didn’t process it until he came down from his high, breathing heavily on top of you.

“Oh, shit-“ Eddie said, sitting up and looking at you with a horrified expression. “I did not mean to say that, I don’t-“

You just stared at him, and then you burst out laughing. Eddie blushed a deep red as you laughed, but eventually he joined in. The two of you giggled together, you leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Eds. I’m not upset.” You held his hand, intertwining your fingers. “It’s a little early for that, but I like the sentiment.”

Eddie laughed. “I don’t know why I said that. It just came out.”

“The sex was that good?” you teased.

“Oh yeah.”

The next day at school, you stuck close by Eddie. You had decided to try dating, and you were unbelievably happy. You walked hand in hand, drawing the attention of absolutely every Hawkins High student. Chrissy’s jaw dropped when she saw the two of you, but then she gave you a bright smile - you knew she’d be in your corner no matter what.

You couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You had never felt so obsessed with a guy before, but you were head over heels for Eddie, and you didn’t care who knew or what anyone thought.

At lunch, you got your food and headed for the Hellfire table. You took a seat right next to Eddie, sharing the end of the table. Eddie beamed, putting his arm around you and pulling you into a kiss that was far too heated for the school cafeteria. His tongue slipped into your mouth, pressing against yours as he kissed you passionately.

The guys stared. Gareth looked at the others - “What the fuck?” he mouthed. Jeff just looked at him wide eyed, while Grant looked impressed. Mike and Dustin looked at each other, shocked.

When you finally pulled apart, you realized you had an audience. “Hi! I’m so sorry.”

Eddie didn’t look sorry at all. He looked happier than the guys had ever seen him. “Guys, this is my girlfriend,” he said with pride, introducing you by name.

The guys thought this had to be a joke. There’s no way you and Eddie had really hooked up, and there was no way you were together now. It made no sense. Yet here you were, all over each other like no one was watching.

You and Eddie shared your lunches with each other as you ate, the sickeningly sweet display holding the attention of every guy at the table.

No one said anything for a while, and you and Eddie were so caught up in your own little world, neither of you noticed. Finally, you got up to go get some napkins, and Gareth took his chance. He cleared his throat, and Eddie looked over at his best friend with a confused expression.

“Care to explain?” Gareth asked, the rest of the table watching on with interest.

“Explain what…?” Eddie asked, genuinely lost.

Gareth did a dramatic gesture towards you. “That.”

“What’s there to explain?” Eddie played with a piece of his food before popping it into his mouth. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Since when?” Gareth asked. “What the fuck has been going on?”

Eddie looked at your figure from across the cafeteria before turning back to his friends. “Since last night. She came over and we…had a nice night, and I asked her to be my girlfriend.”

“Did you lose your virginity?” Grant asked, the only one of the group who seemed excited for his friend.

Eddie glanced at Mike and Dustin, who were lost in their own conversation now. He nodded, and Grant held out a hand for a high five, which Eddie sheepishly accepted.

“Did she buy from you?” Gareth asked.

“Yeah…why?”

Gareth looked around again before he spoke. “I just…you don’t think she’s only messing around with you for the drugs, right? Cheerleaders don’t talk to us, they definitely don’t sleep with us.”

His words set a fire in Eddie, making him absolutely furious. “What did you just say about her?”

Gareth had never seen Eddie so angry, like flames flickering behind his deep brown eyes. ”Nothing, man. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You came back to the table then, all smiles and totally oblivious to the tension at the table. “I got you some too, baby,” you said softly to Eddie, handing him a couple of napkins. Eddie gave Gareth another harsh look, but moved on.

When you’d finished eating, Eddie kissed you again, before leaning his forehead against yours. “Wanna get out of here, baby?”

You giggled. “Where to?”

“My van?” he proposed, voice low and seductive yet still fully audible to the rest of the table. Gareth pretended to gag.

“Sounds good,” you agreed with a mischievous smile, standing along with Eddie. He grabbed your hand as the two of you rushed from the building, leaving Eddie’s friends dumbfounded. Chrissy gave you a smile as you left, but her boyfriend, Jason, scowled and whispered something to his friends.

In the parking lot, Eddie opened his van, letting you climb inside before he joined you. In the back you immediately met in a heated kiss, pulling at each other’s clothes and touching each other everywhere.

You pushed Eddie’s jacket off before tugging at his shirt, smirking when he quickly pulled it over his head. He pulled your panties off, leaving your cheer skirt on. He quickly undid his belt and jeans and pushed them down just enough to free his cock.

“Turn over for me, baby,” he said, pumping his cock in his fist. “Want that cute little ass in the air, ready for me.”

You did as Eddie said, moving onto your hands and knees before lowering your upper half to the floor of the van. Eddie groaned at the sight, hands rubbing over the skin of your ass beneath your skirt. He hiked the skirt up around your hips, leaving you exposed to him.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked him.

Eddie froze. “Shit. No, I didn’t bring one.”

You thought for a moment. “It’s okay. I want you anyway.”

Eddie’s grip on your hips tightened. “Are you sure, princess?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice assured. “I want it, Eds. I don’t care if you don’t have one, I need you in me.”

Eddie groaned, pressing his hard cock against you. He thrusted his hips lightly, grinding himself against your ass. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, princess. You’re fucking unreal.”

You felt him press against your pussy, sliding between your folds and collecting your wetness on his cock. The feeling was like heaven for him, the memories of being inside you came rushing back, making his dick throb. He had to have you again. And this time he’d get to feel you raw? The thought alone had his knees weak.

He pushed the head of his cock inside you, the stretch already too good. You both moaned as he filled you, inch by thick inch. When he bottomed out he wasted no time thrusting into you again and again, a quick pace rocking the van right there in the school parking lot for anyone who came outside to see.

The old van squeaked as it rocked back and forth with the power of Eddie’s frantic thrusting, the windows fogged up from the heat you two created together. He used his grip on your hips to pull your body back into him every time he thrusted into you, making them all the more intense.

He reached forward and pulled on your ponytail, jerking your head back and making you moan. “Eddie!”

“Oh fuck, you like that, baby? You want me to be a little rough?”

“Yes, fuck,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he thoroughly pounded you from the back. When he suddenly pulled out you whimpered at the loss, but he quickly flipped you over.

Eddie sat up on his knees, throwing his shirt off before he pulled the handcuffs off his belt. Your eyes widened as he looped them through the bottom of the driver’s seat and attached them to your wrists, pinning them above your head.

The way your body stretched with your arms up like that was a sight to behold. It put your tits on full display, his hands grabbing for them the second he started fucking into you again. The angle he had your hips with him up on his knees was intoxicating, his cock hitting your bundle of nerves with every thrust.

“Please, Eddie, harder,” you begged, your voice a whiney moan. Eddie obliged immediately, the slapping noise of your skin meeting filling the space.

“Fuck, look so pretty like this, princess,” he huffed, out of breath from his vigorous movements and the heat you were creating in the stuffy van. “Never thought you’d be tied up in the back of the freak’s van, taking his cock and begging for more, huh?”

No, you didn’t. You were just as surprised as anyone at your current situation.

“You’re so good, too,” Eddie moaned. “Your pussy is so perfect. Fits my cock just right. I’m so deep in you, baby, fuck!”

Eddie was struggling to hold it together, the feeling of you wrapped around him without the barrier of the condom was almost too much to bear. He spread your legs wide and leaned over you, burying his face in your neck.

He whimpered into your neck as he fucked you, his shallow thrusts quick and desperate. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly to his sweaty body. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him even closer. It was so intimate, and Eddie was losing it.

He cried out as his orgasm hit him unexpectedly, hips rutting against you as he pumped all his cum inside, balls tightening, giving you everything he had. He moaned your name again and again, shuddering on top of you.

As he came down and pulled out of you, freeing you from the handcuffs, he realized you didn’t get to finish. “Oh, shit, baby. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you-“

“Eddie, it’s really okay,” you giggled, not upset at all. “I still enjoyed myself. I don’t have to- oh!”

Eddie cut you off by diving between your legs, his tongue licking between your folds. He could taste himself where his cum leaked out of you, but he didn’t mind. You had never experienced anything like this before.

You moaned, writhing beneath his tongue, pulling on his long, soft hair. He devoured you, tongue moving up to flick over your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. His tongue was so long and so talented, he’d never done anything with a girl before you and you knew this, but you would never have guessed by the way he ate pussy.

Eddie moaned against you, slipping two of his fingers inside as his mouth focused on your clit. He pumped them in and out of you much like he’d fucked you, and it wasn’t long before you were clenching around his fingers, moaning little “Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!”s as you got closer and closer.

You came on his tongue, pulling hard on his curls and nearly screaming his name. If anyone was out in the parking lot, they’d know exactly what you were doing and who was doing it to you.

Eddie kept his movements up until you were pushing him away, overstimulated. He moved back up your body and kissed you hard, both of you smiling against each others’ lips.

Eddie tucked his spent cock away back in his jeans and collapsed against the wall of the van, still shirtless. You pulled your panties back on, straightening your uniform. “Do you wanna smoke?”

“Sure,” Eddie agreed easily, reaching into the front and pulling out an already rolled joint. He sparked it up with his lighter and took a drag, passing it to you.

As you smoked together, laughing and talking, Eddie felt like he was completely in love. But in the back of his head, Gareth’s words stuck with him, nagging. He didn’t really think you were only with him for the drugs, he was pretty sure you felt the same way about him as he did about you. Yet something about it wouldn’t leave him alone.

After practice and dressed comfortably in a t-shirt and soft short shorts, you walked to Eddie’s van with his arm around you. Your teammates gave you strange looks, but you didn’t care. You were happy.

“Hey!” You heard Chrissy’s voice calling your name as you were just leaving the building. You and Eddie both turned.

“Hey,” you greeted her with a smile. “What’s up?”

Chrissy looked awkward, uncomfortable. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure.” You looked up at Eddie and he smiled at you, bending down and placing a kiss to your lips. “Be right back.”

You followed Chrissy back into the locker room, which was deserted. Chrissy sighed, pacing back and forth.

“What’s up, Chris?” you asked, worried.

“It’s just…” She fiddled with her fingers. her nerves obvious. Like she was doing something she didn’t want to be doing. “Jason doesn’t like that you’re seeing Eddie.”

You blinked at her. Then, a laugh. “Chris, I love you to death, but I don’t really give a fuck what your boyfriend thinks.”

She winced, like she knew that was exactly what you were going to say. “Yeah, but…” She sighed again. “Jason thinks that it ruins the image of the cheer team. He thinks as long as you’re dating Eddie, you shouldn’t cheer. And he got the coach to agree.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your heart beat loud in your ears, your hands starting to shake. “What?”

Chrissy looked pained. “I know. I tried to talk to him-“

“Why does Jason Carver have any say over who’s on the cheerleading team?” you asked, getting worked up. “This is bullshit. I’m team captain! And what’s wrong with Eddie? Besides that he’s a little different?” You scoffed. “You guys are so close minded it’s sickening.”

Chrissy looked as if you’d struck her. “It’s not me, I promise. I tried. But everyone else agreed.”

You felt sick to your stomach. You hadn’t felt as happy as you do with Eddie in…well, ever. You couldn’t choose between two things you loved.

Loved?

“I’ve got to go,” you said, shaking your head. “Maybe try to talk to your boyfriend again. Because mine hasn’t done anything wrong.”

You turned and left, catching up with Eddie. He wrapped his arm around you again with a smile, but he could tell something was wrong. “What happened, baby?”

“Nothing,” you said. You didn’t want to talk about it or make Eddie feel bad. And you were sure it wouldn’t really happen - right?

At Eddie’s trailer, it looked like he had cleaned up for you. He seemed nervous, even as you fell to the couch with lips locked together in a passionate make out session. His hand was under your shirt, grasping at your tits.

“Need you again,” he mumbled hurriedly as he pulled your shirt over your head. “Need to be inside you.”

“You sure no one will be home?” you asked, giggling as he leaned forward and kissed at your tits.

“Yeah. My uncle’s at work, we’re fine.”

He pulled your shorts and panties down before shoving his own jeans and boxers down. He spread your legs wide, neither of you caring about a condom this time. He sunk into you, snapping his hips into you wildly. He was desperate for you, no matter how many times he had you.

He groaned loudly, face in your neck again while he pounded into you. Your nails scratched down his shoulders, eyes rolling back at the bliss he was providing with nothing but his cock.

You were so caught up in each other that neither of you heard the key in the front door, or the door opening. However you did hear the shocked gasp that had Eddie pulling out of you in a hurry, covering your body with a throw pillow and yanking his jeans up.

“Jesus, Ed!” the older man exclaimed, covering his eyes. “On the couch??”

“Sorry, shit, sorry! What are you doing here?” Eddie buckled his jeans back up as you hurriedly redressed yourself. “I thought you’d be gone all night!”

“Forgot my lunch,” the man said, his voice gruff. “‘n just because I work nights doesn’t mean you can…do that in the living room, for god’s sake, Ed.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said again, his cheeks bright red. “You can uncover your eyes, we’re okay.”

The man cautiously lowered his hand, looking at the two of you. “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”

Eddie chuckled. “It’s new. Baby, this is my Uncle Wayne. Wayne, this is my girlfriend.” He introduced you by name, and Wayne gave you a friendly smile.

“Well, strange way to meet one another, but glad to meet you,” Wayne said.

“You too,” was all you could offer.

When Wayne grabbed his lunch and left again, you slapped Eddie on the arm. “You said you knew we’d be alone!”

Eddie laughed, dodging you. “How was I supposed to know he’d forget his lunch and come back?”

You supposed he had a point. You couldn’t stay mad at him - not that you really were to begin with. You cared deeply about Eddie, and you wanted to be with him. You just hoped that wouldn’t keep you from being on the cheer team.

part 2?

[siempre-bucky]

existence

Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader

summary: There's a rumor at the base that MRs. Torres doesn't exist. No birthday parties, no drinks at the bar after a mission, no base run functions. Sam crashes at the Toress' after the White House incident and sees if she actually exists.

wc: 1457

a/n: Spoilers for CA:BNW

 His ears were still ringing. 

Echos of gunfire and police sirens shrouded his mind, Sam’s body was on autopilot with his eyes burning holes into the dirty apartment complex carpet and his sore feet dragging along it. He still doesn’t comprehend how Joaquin could be in a chipper mood after that. Sam noticed the limp in Joaquin's step and the bruise on the back of his neck. It could have been worse, the President could have died, Cap reminded himself. 

“Wait till you meet her, Sam! Ugh, I have been waiting for this for the longest time!” he cheered, clearly forgetting the late hour. Right, Sam blinked, he was finally meeting Mrs. Torres. After working together for three years, he thought this mystery woman didn’t exist. The younger man would make excuses “She’s working overseas,” or “She has no service.” But after catching a glimpse at his lock screen which proudly displayed a photo of the pair at a Hurricanes baseball game he changed his mind. The rest of the base thought it was AI-generated. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it, man,” Sam forced out a chuckle, ribs screaming back at him. 

Joaquin stopped at the door, digging his key out of his pocket and turning the lock. The echoes disappeared once Sam took a step into the small DC apartment. The smell of baked goods and a soft “We’re home, Amor” coming from the other man was enough to silence them for a moment, the pain in his ribs dulled with the feeling of anticipation rising. 

She was real. His brown eyes discreetly widened as she appeared in the doorway that divided the kitchen and living room, wiping her hands with an orange and green rag. He didn’t take his eyes off her, she examined Joaquin up and down before giving herself the ok to crash into him.  “I’m so happy you’re ok,” She muttered against his neck, his arms holding her against him. 

The soft interaction made something in his chest ache, and the way Joaquin then cradled her face and whispered reassurance in two languages almost made him tear up. Almost. He’d be sure to make fun of him for this later. 

“Sam, this is my wife.” 

The woman smiled softly, aware of the situation at the White House,  and introduced herself, outstretching her hand. He noticed her firm grip, but he could feel the tremble. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Sam. I can’t get him to shut up about you,” she chuckled, leaning back into Joaquin’s embrace. 

“Nice to meet you too,” he said with a small smirk. 

“There’s a pillow and blanket on the couch for you along with some clothes. Half his closet is just U Maimi stuff—I hope you don’t mind the colors.”  

Sam turned around and glanced at the neat pile resting on the arm of the couch. “It’ll do fine. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome anytime. I’m going to get him cleaned up, let me know if you need anything else.” She patted her husband on the back and ushered him into the kitchen, dismissing all of his protests. 

Sam walked towards the couch and ran his fingers over the plush olive green material of the blanket before picking up the vibrant green t-shirt. He snickered and tossed it over his shoulder. 

“Shit!” a shrill curse came from the kitchen followed by soft apologies. It was instinct for the hero to look over and check out the scene. Joaqquin was fine, sitting on the counter with a piece of gauze covering his eyebrow. She stood between his legs, a look of sympathy on her face while she dabbed at the wound. 

Love looked good on the kid. In their line of work, there wasn’t much room for love or even just the look of it on someone's face. He remembered the first night he saw it on Joaquin’s face; it was at a bar somewhere in Europe and Sam had been counting on his fingers how many girls the other had turned down for a dance. 

“Five,” he laughed wiggling his fingers in his face. 

Joaquin rolled his eyes and playfully shoved his hand away, “Yeah, yeah.” 

“Wanna go for six or do you wanna tell me why you’ve said no to every pretty girl in this place.” 

The curly-haired man took a swig of beer for confidence, letting out a deep sigh as he put the bottle back on the table. “I have someone back home,” he finally admitted. 

“You got a little girlfriend!” 

There was a small blush on his cheeks and a smile so soft and sweet it was sickening. “A wife.” 

“Wife,” Sam repeated slowly. 

“College sweethearts, I think that’s what it’s called.” 

Yeah, love looked good on him. Sam snapped out of his memory and opened the blanket his eyes watching her press her hand against Joaquin’s chest with his wrapped around her wrist, his thumb swiping along the bone. His heart was beating, he was alive. Sam wondered if that was something they did after he came home from deployment, or now when he returned from a mission. Tonight was just supposed to be a fun night celebrating their mission, not stopping an assassination attempt. 

“Sam…bro, you good?” 

The couple stood in front of him, a red first aid kit in her hands. “Go get changed, I’ll patch up Captain America,” she smirked. Joaquin smiled and kissed her on the temple before retreating to the bedroom down the hall. 

“I’m fine,” Sam laughed it off. 

Her eyes flickered down to his arm, wet crimson staining a patch of his forearm. “Sit,” she told him firmly. 

He took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeve. Well, I’ll be damned, he thought as he looked at the sliced skin, it shouldn’t need stitches. She popped open the kit and got to work in silence. He should say something, the gears in his brain working overtime to come up with something appropriate. 

“You know, I was starting to think you didn’t exist.” He settled on that. Nice going, Sam. 

Thankfully she laughed, pouring a clear liquid over the cut that made him wince. “We get that a lot. We have a tally of all our friends who’ve said that.” 

“Sorry to add another. Work keeps you away?” 

She smiled and nodded, “I work for a charity. Helping communities rebuild after the blip. Some places haven’t been as lucky as we have. I was away a lot—it worked out when he was deployed.” 

A sadness began to loom over her as she gently wrapped his arm with a white gauze. She missed him, and he missed her just as much. “Was?” he narrowed in on the past tense of her words. 

“I requested a transfer to a desk job as soon as he finished those wings. I need to be here if something happens.” There was a tremor in her voice, “Him being Falcon puts him in even more danger. I want—need to be closer to him.” 

“He’s a good man,” Sam told her gently, “a damn good Falcon, he learned from the best.” He got a smile and a small chuckle out of her relieving her of some of the nerves she carried. 

She put her hand over the gauze and looked at him dead in the eye. “Keep him alive, Sam.” It was a gentle command. “He means everything to me.”

His lips parted and glanced down at the silver wedding band around her finger, thinking of a way to tell her that he might not be able to in this line of work. Joaquin saved the day, strolling into the room with a signature toothy smile. “Have you been talking about me this whole time?” he joked. 

Her smile instantly brightened. “You wish,” she laughed, collecting her things from the couch and rose to her feet. 

“She’s a miracle worker.” Sam raised his arm to show his partner the neatly wrapped gauze. 

“Looks good, Sam!” The other man cheered, leaning forward to get a better look. “We don’t have a well-stocked medicine cabinet for nothing.” 

“Yeah, I learned after too many scraped knees from the basketball court back in Maimi.” 

Joaquin winced and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to his side. “Let’s let Captain America get some sleep,” he suggested, pressing his lips to the side of her head. 

“Let us know if you need anything, Sam,” she told him. 

“Will do, Mrs. Torres. Thank you for everything.” 

“Anytime. We’re here or you.” 

Sam got comfortable on the couch, and surprisingly he felt like he could fall asleep instantly. Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick text to his friends at the base: ‘Mrs. Torres exists.’

[plutoslastwords]

I see lando as a single dad too and I was wondering if you’d ever write daughter!reader when she’s a teenager and is going through, well her first menstrual cycle and he’s so completely lost lol

shark week

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: lando has no idea how a woman's body works, baby norris doesn't listen in health class. the outcome? chaos.

warnings: your first period?

w/c: 1.5k

a/n: okay so i know that it may be unrealistic that a 12 year old would have never heard of a period but idc. it works in the story. sorry for being so mia!! school is terrible atm 😩😩 love you all!! promise i am working on the requests xx

~~~

Going to high school in Monaco was not fun at the best of times.

Everyone says that surely it must be great! It’s Monaco! But when you don’t speak the language fluently - though you have got quite good after living there for 12 years of your life - and have just transferred to a new secondary school where you know no one, life isn’t great. 

Everyone in Monaco has one or two parents who are rich and famous in some way, meaning you can’t even pull the famous dad card to get yourself some friends. You’re stuck sitting alone at lunch, and being picked last for every team.

Lando hates it. He hates it so so much. He doesn't think he can stand seeing his baby coming home sad every afternoon, and he hates how sometimes he can’t be there to comfort you when life is feeling especially tough. He’s debated many a time just sending you to a boarding school back in England, where at least you could speak the same language as the kids there, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to cope with being apart from you for that much of the year.

Therefore, both you and your dad just have to cope with the unfortunate situations, hoping and wishing that soon enough you’ll find your own feet and make some friends. 

Back to the fact that school in Monaco isn’t great on the best days, school in Monaco is absolute hell on the worst days.

On this particular day, you were sitting in Maths class, your least favourite, how were you meant to be able to understand maths in French when you didn’t even understand it in English. It was whilst the teacher was going on about something to do with algebra that you decided that you’d had enough, you put your hand up and quickly asked to go to the bathroom, you weren’t bothered about this anymore.

You took your normal long route around school to get to the bathrooms, having no intention of going back to your maths class anytime soon. You finally get to the bathrooms and it is there that you learn that you’re going to die.

You know that it is not normal to have blood in your pants. It can’t be normal. You must be dying. You sit there in shock for a moment, before starting to hyperventilate and presume the worst. 

When looking back, Lando knows that it is probably his fault that you got yourself into this situation. You never really listened in your Health classes, as they were all in French, and so it was probably his responsibility to educate you on what was going to happen at a certain point, but he’s still just a young guy, that was not top of his list of what he wanted to talk to his preteen daughter about!

You sit in the bathroom stall sobbing and shaking, surely this is the end, you were practically waiting for the Grim Reaper himself to come and pluck you away. In your disorientated mind the only thing that you can think to do is call Lando.

“Daddy I’m dying!” You bawl into the phone, the words barely coming out through your intense sobs.

Immediately Lando drops everything he was doing, freezing at your distressed tone, his mind going straight to the worst. “Baby?!? What’s going on, are you okay?!?” He practically shouts down the phone.

“No!!” You sob, “I’m dying!!!! Daddy please pick me up I-” You don’t finish your sentence because enough intense sob comes in the way and you fall back into hysterically crying.

Lando doesn’t even think twice before leaping up from his desk and rushing to grab his car keys. “I’m on my way, my angel, you’re gonna be okay, daddy’s gonna look after you.” He tries to soothe, but the worry in his voice is evident. 

When he arrives you’re still a sobbing mess, but you have to drag your tear stained body out of the cubicle and to the front office in order to be dismissed. When you see Lando you immediately jump into his arms, sobs wracking your body.

“Oh darling…”  He says, brokenly, he hates seeing you like this, “What’s happened, my love?” 

You don’t respond, too distressed, he seems to get the message and manoeuvres you to the car, where he drives home as quick as he can, to get you someplace familiar, hoping that that will soothe you slightly.

It works, partially. By the time that you’re home your sobbing has lessened, but you’re still nowhere near stable, still almost shaking with the fear that you’re feeling. Lando sits you down on the sofa with a glass of water, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“Baby, tell me what’s going on.”

“I-I’m dying!! I’m bleeding and I’m dying!” You sniffle.

Suddenly everything clicks for Lando and then his mind goes completely blank. Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. He was not ready for this day, not ready whatsoever. 

“I-uhm-oh.” He stutters, not knowing what to say. “Y-you’re not dying, sweetheart, okay?”

“Yes I am!!! I’m dying!!!”

He has no idea what to do. He was hoping he had a year or two left before today came, but apparently luck was not on his side. He sits there, staring blankly at you, as you continue to cry. 

“Baby, I promise you you’re not dying, why don’t you go change your clothes and I’ll come up to your room in a sec and we’ll chat, okay?”

You shuffle to your room, still sobbing but if you’re dad seems so confident that you’re okay, then surely that means something…?

Lando paces around in a panic downstairs, waiting for his sister to answer the damn phone. There is no way that he can be doing this with no help.

After a horrible phone call, with a lot of him being laughed at by his sister for having a 12 year old daughter and still knowing fuck all about the menstrual cycle, he feels more prepared to actually talk to you.

You’re sitting in your bed, covered in blankets and watching a movie when he knocks at your door.

“Darling, can I come in?” 

You hum in response, tired from all of the sobbing and therefore not bothered to actually speak. He enters, with a shopping bag in his hand.

“How're you feeling, my angel?”

You shrug, curling up smaller in your blanket ball.

“Oh, baby, you’re okay, I promise, it’s all natural, okay?”

“Doesn’t feel natural…”

“It’s your period, angel. It’s your body getting ready for pregnancy”

You pull a face of absolute horror at that, “I’m pregnant?!??!”

His eyes widen and he backtracks immediately “No, no, no, no, you’re not pregnant, absolutely not.” He shudders at the thought, “It’s just so that maybe, at some point in the future, if you do get pregnant, your body is gonna be prepared…”

“So I’m gonna bleed until I get pregnant?”

“No, no, just for a couple days every month…”

“For how long?”

“Uhm, I’m not sure about that… like until your 40? I don’t know…”

“40?!??!?! I don’t want to bleed every month until I’m 40!!!!”

“I know, baby, but it’s just something that all women have to go through, it’s just a natural part of life, you’ll learn to cope with it…”

You pause, taking in his words, before eventually nodding in understanding, but that doesn’t mean that you’re done talking, much to Lando’s dismay, who’d quite like to get this conversation over and done with.

“So why do I need to bleed to be ready for pregnancy?” You question.

Lando knows this one, he practised it on the phone with his sister, “It’s the wall of your uterus shedding-”

“Ew.”

“Because your body got itself ready to be pregnant, and then obviously the egg was never fertilised.”

“So if I did get pregnant then I wouldn’t get my period?”

“Yes, I think.”

“Hm.”

“It’s all very normal, sweetheart, this just means that you’re healthy, okay?”

“Mhm…”

“Good..” He smiles, “You all good?”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“What am I gonna do now..? With, you know, uhm- I don’t wanna ruin all my underwear…”

“Oh! Yes, that..” He reaches into his bag, “So, uh- these will stick on top of your underwear, and like uh- catch the blood, I guess.. And then you throw them away after wearing them for like 5 hours or so… That sound okay?”

You nod, slightly sceptical, but oh well.

Eventually, Lando leaves to go and do his own thing, and you stew in the knowledge of your new life. After getting yourself showered and cleaned up, as well as trying your new items, you shuffle downstairs, just needing a hug.

“Hey, baby…” Your dad smiles, as he sits on the tv, watching some nonsense reality show.

You don’t reply, just nestling yourself next to him, needing his comforting touch. He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“My baby… getting so big… daddy loves you, more than anything…”

~~~

a/n: fank you for reading!!11 send in any requests xx

[valeriapryanikova]

ominous

(itsy-bitsy fanfic concept/idea/? under the cut)

[A page ripped out of a journal; the owner’s handwriting is messy and barely legible.] 

february, 29th

i'm surprised i'm not dead now.

yesterday, in the late evening, as i was painting, it started storming. suddenly and hard. one second the dark sky is clear from any clouds, and the next moment the droplets are pelting me with a surprising force. i rapidly abandoned my easel and canvas (not like there would be anything lost—the piece was dull and not working out the way i desired) in favor of seeking cover.

i was still near the village, on its outskirts, but just a bit too far from my house to reach it quickly before my whole being was drenched through and through. so i ducked into one of the huts, all of which stand empty, desolate… or so i thought, at least.

only once inside did i spot the dim, ominous, red glow of the overhead lamp; the sound of a muted conversation; the overwhelming sense of “wrong”, like i was not meant to be here. abruptly silence fell and two sets of bright eyes stared me down.

terror froze my body. i felt like a prey caught in between two predators, i could practically feel their jaws snapping around my neck.

the dredger slowly smirked at me, barring her sharp, sharp teeth. (since when are they sharp? i may not have crossed path with her often, but i swear i would’ve noticed if she had shark teeth before.) i did not stay to see if the fisherman would further react to my presence too. the control of my body returned, allowing me to let out a panicked apology for interruption and bolt out of the hut, running home at full speed.

it’s been hours since then. i couldn’t fall asleep. i’ve been up the whole night, haunted by fear. the scene of those two beasts in the darkness, ready to snap me like a twig for overhearing something (i don’t remember what exactly, all the horror of the situation evaporated all my thoughts), got stuck in my mind’s eyes. so i’ve been doing what i know how to do best—painting.

[Attached to the diary entry is a typewritten note.] 

That painter fellow is an impressionable and imaginative type. Needless to say, the actual interaction with the two fish merchants was likely a lot less… Dramatic.

The painter was reluctant to show me the painting mentioned in the last paragraph, but after some convincing I did manage to take a quick look on their recollection of the witnessed scene: it seems mostly useless for my research, but I noted down some details that might be of use in the future (refer to “AudioLog#143” transcript for more information).

Collecting data on “The Fisherman” continues to prove itself annoying. The subject is allusive: there’s not many sources mentioning him, and folk around here rarely witness him out and about. Currently the only lead I have is finding that one old newspaper article about the docks that, if I recall correctly, mentions him in an interview with workers. Perhaps, when I have time, I’ll try asking the collector from the other side of the river if he has a copy of that newspaper issue.

However, for now, I’m significantly more interested in “The Dredger” subject. There’s more than plenty info about her—I would actually say there’s too much info about her, all inconveniently inconsistent. In an attempt to get more reliable data I’m getting in contact with Mined since they have done scientific observation of this area and the people of interest. My request for access to their data has gone unanswered so far and, if shoving my anthropology degree in the faces of those bumbling idiots won’t work, I’m sure that that city nearby has enough hackers willing to do some dirty work for a pretty diamond.

I will get the data I want, one way or another.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 20

This one is a bit shorter than the last 🫠

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 20 >>next(TBC)

The interaction between you and Nolan was still awkward. It was weird to see him this soft and you still felt on edge like you couldn’t quite believe all it took for him to try and do better was some talking to- Bruce didn’t even let you say more than a sentence in his presence, let alone get emotional about things and try to have a conversation about it.

Overall, the past week you’ve been kind of disassociating while working on rebuilding, occupying your time with that and helping Andressa take care of the baby, occasionally texting Debbie anything from updates to “I miss you”, to “I miss your food”, to cute pictures of the little menace being funny, kept you somewhat present-minded.

Your eyes drifted to Andressa, who has been aging more and more. Her movements were slowing down, she was getting more tired, and she was having more problems with her joints. You noticed that with everyone. The kids who helped you sometimes were now teens, the babies were slowly becoming toddlers, and yet your little brother was still in the baby range.

Andressa calling your name brought you back to reality. Your eyes meet as she sighs, sitting on an armchair while you keep playing with her baby’s hair, twirling it into spikes and horns. “I… I need to ask a big favor out of you and your family.” She starts softly, her finger tapping nervously. You stop and give her all the attention as she continues speaking.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Debbie’s day has been… better. It’s all getting better. Slowly, but she’s getting there. She wanted to be petty and give Nolan’s things away, but she had a feeling he’d be coming back with you and Mark, so she did the next best thing and moved his stuff into the smallest bedroom. Well, it was more of an office with a beat-up couch; he didn’t deserve an actual bedroom.

And in hindsight, she was glad she did. “Well… he is cute.” She concedes while smiling softly as the toddler cooed up at her, all coddled up in her lap. Her hand gently ran across his small back. Andressa just smiles. “Thank you. And thank you for wanting to hear me out and for letting me into your home. I know I’m asking for a lot, for way too much even considering everything- but Nolan isn’t exactly the best at being present enough for a kid.”

Debbie laughed at that. “Yeah, I know. Can’t count the times I had to step in for things he promised Mark.” You smiled softly as the two women got along, laughing at Nolan’s actions and awkwardness towards raising the babies. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. I’ve gotta go back and make sure the men don’t find us plotting against them.” You joked while opening a portal.

“Bye, sweetheart, make sure your brother eats lunch! Oh, was Nolan scared of holding him? Because he was terrified of holding Mark as a baby- you should have seen him- I think I have some photos-“ You snickered, finally leaving the two to their gossiping.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mark and Nolan were too busy helping rebuild buildings to notice you and Andressa being missing. Granted, some men are the biggest gossipers known to mankind. “Yeah, so your dear daughter took a plate of these mini cakes and just smashed it across Bruce’s face- mushing it around. Lex was having a field day. It was so weird to see him so genuinely happy.”

“Is there video footage of it? I would love to see that.” Nolan laughs along. “Dude, there’s so much footage- Lex has like fifteen to thirty cameras in a room, he made compilations of it!” Mark looks at the smiling man. “He even had a camera in the buttons of his suit. He gave that first-row view of the cake smash to the highest bidder.”

“And he still shares the memes on his social media.” Your voice cut through their laughter, making the young man snort. “No! He still does? Is he set on never making Bruce forget that?” Nolan looks at his cackling son. “Would you let the man forget that?” His smirk only gets wider as his son beams with a no.

Nolan gently nudged you away as he told Mark to take a break. “We need to talk.” You pouted at his words while landing on a rooftop. “We talked.” Your grumble was met with a raised eyebrow. “No. We fought, and then you interrogated me about the Justice League.” He chides. “We need to have a serious talk.”

The old Viltrumite could see the nervousness and doubt in you. So, he wanted to make sure you knew where you stood. “I know my actions hurt you in ways I don’t think will be fully salvageable. I won’t try to justify myself, I won’t try to tell you that you’re wrong for feeling any negative sentiments towards me. You have every right to because you are correct in your points. I was a coward, I should have gone to the guardians and faced their ire. I should have trusted that you and Mark had my back.”

“No matter what, if you hate me, if you don’t want to see me again, you’ll always be my daughter, my baby.” The hand he put on your shoulder was warm and slightly shaky, betraying how nervous he actually felt. “I’ll always be in your corner, no matter what, no matter how hard you try to push me away. I’ll make sure to repent for my mistakes towards you, Mark, and Debbie for the rest of my life.”

“Stop it.” You sniff. “You’ll make me cry again. And damn right you’ll repent for what you did. I’ll make sure of it.” He smiles as you gently slap his arm. “I’ll hold you to it.” His eyebrows furrowed, asking if you had seen Andressa since she hadn’t come to check up on them in a while. “She’s taking a nap. Don’t disturb your baby mama, ass.” You roll your eyes while lifting off the ground, flying away as the man pouts.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Harvey Dent raised an eyebrow at the message he received, a shit-eating grin overtaking his mug. “Looks like our little magic girl is coming back to the planet in a few days. With a few stowaways.” Two-Face shows the message to Jason. “How mad do you think Bruce will be?”

Jason just gives the man an evil smile. “Very.” The young man almost purrs as he begins giggling, laughing as if he was snorting Joker Gas. Roy Harper just looks at the scene with a shaky smile. “Ok… I think I need someone to spill some tea about what’s happening.” Harvey just scoffs. “Take a seat if you really want to know. It’s a long story.”

Roy just shrugs, pulling the chair out and dropping into it. "I think you're just exaggerating there, law man." That seems to only make Jason laugh harder, creating doubt into the young father. "Oh- you'll regret saying that by the time we're done." Our favorite crime lord counters, snickering as he pours his friend a glass of whiskey.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676 @of-poetry-and-dreams @djpuppy-kittens @wizzerreblogs @galaxypurplerose @burningkittenprince

[theonottsbxtch]

WHEN THE WORLD GOES QUIET PT 1 | LN4

an: i was listening to an orchestra version of young and beautiful by lana del rey when this idea came into my mind. i am so ahh feral over this version of lando i've written. i hope you enjoy him as much as i enjoyed writing him and as much as @iimplicitt loved reading about him.

wc: 5.8k

THE CITY WAS BURNING AGAIN.

Smoke curled into the night, thick and suffocating, folding itself around the bones of London like a funeral shroud. Somewhere beyond the rubble, the sirens had stopped, but their echoes lingered, rattling against her ribs.

She walked through the dark with her hands buried in the pockets of her coat, head bowed against the cold. She should have gone home—should have counted her rations, mended her stockings, whispered a prayer for the city’s dead. Instead, she turned down a narrow street where the lamps had long been extinguished, following the sound of muffled jazz bleeding from behind a half-broken door.

The Starling Club still stood, stubborn and smoke-filled, its windows blacked out, its basement packed with men and women who refused to die quietly.

Inside, the air was thick with sweat, whisky, and the ghost of some lost summer, the scent of gardenias clinging to the collar of her coat. Someone had patched the ceiling where shrapnel had torn through last winter. A pianist played slow, heavy notes from a corner stage, and in the candlelight, she almost forgot the world was ending.

She reached the bar, slipping into the last empty seat, her fingers tightening around the edge of the counter.

And then—him.

A man sat beside her, sleeves rolled to his elbows, uniform jacket slung over the back of his chair. RAF, she thought. The kind of man who lived in the sky, who counted time in take-offs and landings, who made promises he had no business making. Curly brown hair and eyes light like they lit up a barrack.

She could feel him looking at her before she turned her head.

"Whisky?" he asked, his voice edged with smoke and something rougher, something worn.

She exhaled slowly, meeting his gaze. His face was all sharp angles and tired eyes, chocolate brown hair curling at his temples. He looked too young to be carrying ghosts, but they lingered in the hollows of his face, just the same.

She hesitated. "I don’t take drinks from strangers."

He smirked. "Good thing I’m not a stranger, then."

She raised an eyebrow. "Aren’t you?"

He leaned in just slightly, amusement flickering in his gaze.

"Lando," he murmured. "Now we’re acquainted."

The pianist started a new song, something slow and aching. A woman laughed too loudly in the corner. Somewhere above them, the city still smouldered.

She could have walked away. She should have.

Instead, she lifted the whisky glass he had placed in front of her, let the burn settle in her throat, and stayed.

The whisky burned the way the night did—slow at first, then all at once. She wasn’t sure why she stayed. Maybe it was the way he leaned against the bar like he belonged there, like he had nowhere else to be. Maybe it was the way his gaze never quite left hers, watching without expectation, without urgency, just quiet curiosity.

"You're not military," he said after a moment, tipping his glass towards her. A statement, not a question.

She swallowed, setting her drink down. "No."

"Thought all the good girls were off knitting socks for the war effort."

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Thought all the good boys were supposed to be fighting it."

Lando smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Oh, I fight." He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "I just haven’t lost yet."

Yet. The word sat between them, heavy and inevitable.

She glanced down at his uniform, the creases still sharp despite the scent of cigarettes and whisky clinging to him. The wings on his sleeve glinted under the dim light. "RAF," she murmured.

He nodded. "And you?"

She hesitated. She could tell him anything, and it would make no difference. In a city like this, names meant little, and the future meant even less.

"I sing," she said finally.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Of course you do."

She frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Lando shrugged. "You’ve got the look."

She scoffed. "And what look is that?"

He studied her—really looked this time. She felt his gaze trace over the curls pinned at the nape of her neck, the smudge of ash on the cuff of her coat, the way her red dress peeked through when the fabric shifted.

"Like you’ve got something to run from," he said finally. "And nowhere to run to."

Her breath caught, sharp and sudden, like he had pulled something from inside her and placed it on the bar between them.

She reached for her glass again, more for something to hold than for the whisky itself. Outside, the world was burning. Somewhere in the East End, families would wake to nothing but dust and open sky. And yet, here they sat, drinking, waiting, listening to the low hum of jazz and the quiet certainty of things that could never last.

"Tell me something, Lando," she said, tilting her head. "Do you say things like that to all the girls?"

He smiled, slow and lopsided. "Only the ones worth saying them to."

She huffed, shaking her head, but she didn’t look away.

Because for all the places she could have been that night—for all the choices she could have made—she had ended up here. And maybe that meant something.

Or maybe it didn’t mean anything at all.

Either way, she stayed.

Lando watched her over the rim of his glass, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. She wondered if he was studying her the way she was studying him—if he was collecting details, trying to decide what sort of woman she was.

She already knew what sort of man he was.

Not just a soldier. A pilot. The kind who played cards with death every time he took to the sky, betting his life against gravity and steel. The kind who laughed too easily, drank too much, and lived like he knew he wouldn’t be doing it for long.

"How often do you fly?" she asked, swirling the whisky in her glass.

Lando smirked, as if he knew what she really meant. How much time do you have?

"Every time they ask me to."

"And when you're not in the air?"

"I do this," he said, gesturing vaguely to the bar, the smoke, the dim candlelight. "Drink. Try to forget I'm going back up."

She studied him for a moment. "Do you like it?"

His smirk faltered, just a little. "Flying?"

She nodded.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if he could shake the question off. "I used to."

"And now?"

Lando tapped his fingers against the bar. "Now I just do it because it’s the only thing I know how to do."

Something in her chest pulled, just slightly.

She had heard men talk like this before. Men who came into the club wearing uniforms like second skins, who drank until their hands stopped shaking, who kissed girls they didn’t love just to feel something real before the world took them away.

She could have asked more. Could have pushed. But what would have been the point?

Instead, she finished her whisky, let the warmth settle in her throat, and slid from her seat.

Lando raised an eyebrow. "Leaving?"

She shook her head. "I’m sure you wanted a song, didn’t you?"

For the first time since she sat down, he looked surprised. Then, his lips curled into something almost like satisfaction.

"I did," he murmured.

She smirked, stepping away from the bar. "Then pay attention."

She didn’t look back as she moved towards the stage. Didn’t need to. She could feel him watching her.

The pianist glanced up as she approached, recognising her instantly. He dipped his head, fingers moving effortlessly over the keys, shifting into something slow, something aching.

She stepped into the light, gripping the microphone with steady hands.

The first note left her lips like smoke curling into the night.

The room quieted, the low hum of conversation fading into stillness. The band followed her lead, the bass murmuring beneath her voice, the piano rising and falling like waves.

She had never been a religious woman, not really. But music was the closest thing to prayer she knew.

She closed her eyes. Let the words settle on her tongue. Let herself disappear into the song.

For a moment, there was nothing but melody. Nothing but the way the room held its breath, the way the war didn’t exist here, not in this single, fleeting moment.

And then, too soon, it was over.

Applause rippled through the club as she stepped down from the stage, but she barely heard it. She made her way back to the bar, slipping into her seat, heartbeat still thrumming in her ears.

Lando was watching her, the remnants of a cigarette burning between his fingers. But it wasn’t the same gaze from before. This was something else. Something deeper.

His eyes flickered down, just briefly.

She followed his gaze—to the delicate gold cross resting against her collarbone, catching in the candlelight.

Lando exhaled slowly, tipping his glass towards her.

"You a woman of God?"

She glanced at him, then at the whisky in her hand, then back again.

A slow smile pulled at her lips.

"Depends on who’s asking."

Lando huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he stubbed out his cigarette. "Well, it isn’t me," he said, voice edged with amusement. "God and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms."

She raised an eyebrow, swirling the last of her whisky in her glass. "That so?"

He nodded, leaning back against the bar, fingers drumming idly against the counter. "I used to believe. Proper altar boy, once upon a time. The whole lot—prayers, confessions, even Latin." He smirked, but there was no real humour in it. "Then I grew up. Went to war. And it got a bit harder to buy into the whole merciful God thing."

She understood what he was saying before he even finished. She had seen it in the eyes of so many soldiers—young men sent to the front with medals in their pockets and fear in their throats, coming home half-alive, empty-handed, faith left rotting in the trenches.

"Didn’t seem to be much mercy up there," Lando murmured, taking another sip of his drink.

She didn’t answer right away. Just traced her fingers over the edge of her cross absently, as if she wasn’t even aware she was doing it.

Lando noticed.

"You still believe, then?" he asked, watching her carefully.

She exhaled slowly. "I don’t know," she admitted. "I suppose it depends on the day."

He smirked. "That complicated, is it?"

"Everything is complicated," she said simply. "Faith. Love. War. You name it."

Lando tilted his head slightly, considering her. "But you still wear the cross."

She glanced down at the delicate gold chain resting against her skin. It had been her mother’s, passed down with whispered prayers and expectations, pressed into her palm with the weight of generations.

"It’s not that simple," she murmured.

Lando watched her, something unreadable flickering behind his tired eyes. "Sure it is," he said. "Either you believe, or you don’t."

She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "You make it sound so easy."

"Isn’t it?"

"No," she said softly, turning the chain between her fingers. "It’s never easy."

She could have told him everything then—about the Sundays spent kneeling in pews, reciting words she wasn’t sure she believed. About the rosary beads pressed into her hands as a child, the whispered warnings of sin and damnation, the way faith had been both a comfort and a noose around her throat.

She could have told him about the way she still prayed sometimes, even now, in the middle of air raids, when the sirens screamed and the ground shook and she wasn’t sure if she would see another sunrise.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she drained the rest of her whisky and met his gaze, steady and unflinching.

"Do you ever pray?" she asked, tilting her head.

Lando scoffed. "No."

"Not even up there?" She nodded towards the ceiling, though they both knew she meant the sky.

His smirk faltered, just a little.

He looked away, fingers tightening around his glass.

"Not even then," he said.

A silence stretched between them, heavy and unspoken. The music swelled again—something slow, something aching. Laughter rang from the other side of the club, distant and hollow.

She should have said something light. Should have teased him, steered the conversation back to safer ground.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she let the silence settle, let it stretch between them like the space between confession and absolution, between faith and doubt, between a war that had already taken too much and a city that refused to fall.

And Lando—he didn’t look away.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw before glancing at her again. "So, tell me," he said, tilting his head. "How does a girl like you end up here, singing to a room full of half-drunk soldiers?"

She smiled, slow and knowing. "A girl like me?"

"You know what I mean."

She shrugged, fingers ghosting over the rim of her empty glass. "I come to offer one song. No more, no less."

His brows lifted slightly. "That a rule?"

"A promise."

Lando smirked. "To yourself?"

She didn’t answer right away, just let her gaze drift to the candlelight flickering against the bottles behind the bar. "Something like that."

Silence settled between them, thick and unspoken. The city outside still smouldered, and the weight of the war pressed against the walls of the club, but for a moment, none of it seemed to matter.

Then, she pushed back her chair.

Lando frowned. "Where you off to?"

She reached for her coat, draping it over her shoulders with an easy grace. "Home."

"That time already?"

"It is for me."

Lando leaned forward, arms folded on the bar as he watched her. "And you do this every night? Show up, sing your one song, then disappear into the night like some ghost?"

She smiled, but there was something unreadable in her expression. "Not every night."

"Right," he said, standing as well, reaching for his own jacket. "Come on, then."

She blinked. "Come on where?"

"I'll walk you home."

She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "I can make it home just fine."

Lando smirked. "Oh, I don't doubt that, sweetheart. But imagine how awful I'd feel if London swallowed you up and I never got to hear that one song again."

She exhaled through her nose, amused despite herself. "And you suppose I owe you that?"

"Not at all," he said easily. "But if I'm to keep a shred of my gentlemanly reputation, I think it's best I see you home safe."

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, stepping towards the door. He followed.

The air outside was crisp, heavy with the scent of smoke and damp stone. The city was quieter now, save for the distant hum of sirens that never truly stopped.

They walked in step, their strides easy, their conversation slipping into something softer. She asked him about flying—what it felt like to be in the air, to see the world from above. He asked her about singing—whether she’d always done it, whether it made her feel alive or only made her remember things she’d rather forget.

They stopped at a newspaper stand, the little wooden kiosk barely held together by nails and hope. A young boy sat on a stool behind it, his face smudged with ink, idly flipping through an old paper.

Lando rapped his knuckles against the counter. "Got a pen and paper, mate?"

The boy eyed him warily but rummaged under the counter and produced both. Lando took them, resting the paper against the kiosk’s edge as he scrawled something quickly.

He tore the sheet and turned to her, holding it out between two fingers.

"If you ever take pity on a man like me," he murmured.

She hesitated—just for a second—then reached for it, tucking it into the top of her dress with the faintest glint of mischief in her eyes.

Lando let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "My writing between God and your heart. Ain’t I a lucky fella?"

She smirked, stepping back. "Don’t get used to it."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," he said, but his eyes told a different story.

They stood there for a moment longer, the city stretching out around them, time slipping between their fingers like cigarette smoke.

Then, she turned, her silhouette vanishing into the dark.

And Lando—he stayed a moment longer, watching the place where she had been, wondering if she’d ever let him hear more than just one song.

For weeks on end, they developed a pattern. When he had two feet on the ground, when the sky had allowed him a minute to breathe, he'd be at her door by eight, sharp as a whistle. He always came in the same way—casual, like the weight of the world hadn’t been pressing on him for days. But it was there, in the quiet of her flat, in the heavy glint of his eyes when they met hers. He would always find a seat by the window, leaning back against the wall, a half smile tugging at his lips as he waited.

And she—well, she’d never turn him away. Not once. Even when she wanted to, even when she felt the heaviness of it all, the creeping doubt of having something real with a man who could disappear in the blink of an eye. She never did. Instead, she'd pour them both a drink, settle herself at the piano, and without fail, she'd give him that one song. The one he’d asked for the first night they'd met, and the one he’d heard a hundred times since.

But sometimes, just sometimes, there was another song.

On quiet nights, when the air outside had that bite to it, when the windows rattled with the passing of distant bombers and the streets lay still beneath the weight of silence, Lando would hear it in the corners of the room.

On her doorstep, late at night after the club had emptied, she’d stand and hum low and soft. It wasn’t a song anyone would know, not from a record or the radio. It was something new, something raw. Something that lived between her ribs and spilled out on the nights when the world was too loud, when the weight of it all felt too much. It was the song she didn’t want anyone to hear, except perhaps him. And even then, only in these quiet moments, in the narrow alleyways behind the club where their shadows tangled like ghosts.

One night, when he’d walked her home, they paused in Piccadilly Square, the old clock tower chiming softly in the distance, and the neon lights of the cinema flickering like tired fireflies. The street was mostly empty, save for the odd stray cat and the distant murmur of voices from the pubs.

Lando leaned against the lamppost, hands in his pockets, looking at her like he always did—like she was something just beyond his reach.

"Go on, then," he said, his voice low, almost an afterthought.

She tilted her head. "What?"

"Sing me that other one."

She didn’t hesitate. Just let the words roll off her tongue like they’d been waiting to escape for ages. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t rehearsed. But it was real.

For a moment, she was lost in the song—lost in the way it echoed off the stone buildings, in the way the night air seemed to hold its breath. It was soft, aching, and tender, and when it ended, she felt something shift inside her, something like a weight lifting, like she’d let go of a small piece of herself that she hadn’t known she was holding.

Lando didn’t speak at first. He just watched her, his gaze more intense than usual.

"Where’d that come from?" he asked, his voice rough, as though the song had caught him off guard.

She shrugged, offering him a small, almost sad smile. "Just a little something I’ve been keeping to myself."

He studied her for a long moment, his brow furrowing slightly, before he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled something on it, the pen moving quickly, but with care, like he was writing a letter he didn’t want to send.

When he was done, he folded it and tucked it into her hand. "Don’t forget me," he said, the words soft but weighted, as if he already knew that the world might pull them apart soon enough. This was the third time he’d changed base.

She tucked the paper into the top of her dress, the cold of the night settling into her bones as she met his eyes.

"Don’t you worry, Lan," she said, her voice quieter than usual. "I won’t."

And for a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, mingling with the hum of the city around them. The world may have been crumbling in places—may have been falling apart piece by piece—but in that small, fragile moment, it felt like nothing could touch them.

But everything always did, in the end.

His address had burned in her pillowcase, the ink from his note faint against the fabric, yet it never seemed to fade. She’d memorised it in the quiet, sleepless hours, tracing it with her fingers long after the paper had gone.

It had been a week since she’d seen him. Seven days. No letters, no word, nothing but the silence that spread across the empty spaces between them. Nothing could have happened, not really. He’s fine, he’s fine—she told herself that, but the gnawing doubt clawed at the back of her mind, relentless, like the distant hum of the war that never seemed to end.

She had convinced herself that it was nothing. That maybe he’d been busy, or maybe he just didn’t have the time. But deep down, she knew that wasn’t true. He’d always made time for her, even if it was only for a drink or a song or the comfort of her voice at the end of a long, war-torn day.

Next thing she knew, she was standing at the gates of RAF Bovingdon, the wind biting at her face, her fingers shaking slightly as she adjusted the ring on her left hand. It was a habit—one she hadn’t realised she had until now, until she felt herself slide it over to her ring finger, the gold cool against her skin. It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely.

She stood tall, tried to push away the flutter in her chest, the anxiety tightening its grip as she approached the entrance.

The soldier at the gate eyed her, a quick flicker of recognition in his eyes before he looked away, his tone indifferent.

"Can I help you, miss?"

She cleared her throat, forcing her voice to steady. "I’m looking for information on a pilot here. Lando Norris. He’s—" She hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt for the lie that slipped so easily off her tongue. "He’s my fiancé."

The soldier looked up at her, his brows knitting together for a moment. "Fiancé?"

She nodded, trying to mask the sudden tightness in her chest, though the lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She felt the words echo inside her head, a sharp contrast to the tenderness with which Lando had once looked at her. The guilt threatened to creep in again, but she shoved it away. She didn’t care. Not now.

"I didn’t know he had one of those," the soldier said flatly. "Can’t say anything, I’m afraid. Military protocol."

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t let it show.

"Please," she said, stepping closer to the gate, voice low but insistent. "I need to know. He’s been gone for a week. I’ve tried reaching him. Can you at least tell me where he’s been?"

The soldier’s eyes softened just a fraction, a quick flash of pity or perhaps simple exhaustion crossing his features. He paused, glancing at her for a moment too long, and then sighed.

"He was sent out last week. They haven’t heard from him since."

Her breath caught in her throat, the world seeming to tilt just slightly. "Sent out? For what?"

"Operation," he answered, his voice clipped. "They’re all sent out. Every day. But once it’s been more than nine days and they haven’t returned… well, in two days, he’ll be presumed dead."

Her stomach twisted. It felt like the ground had fallen away beneath her feet, like all the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving her gasping for breath. "Presumed dead?"

The soldier nodded, expression unreadable. "That’s standard procedure."

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Her head spun, her mind reeling with the weight of the words. Two days. She had two days to know whether the man she’d come to care for—this reckless, impossible man—was lost to the war forever.

And then, as though the words were a punch to the gut, he added, "We need your address. In case… well, in case we need to contact you."

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the gate, the skin of her palms cold, but she managed to push the words past the lump in her throat. "I—yes. Of course."

She gave him her address, her voice strained but firm, and when the soldier took it down, she felt as though something deep inside her cracked wide open.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. She hadn’t expected it to feel like this—the weight of a lie, the truth of a life that might never be.

When the soldier nodded curtly and moved away, she turned on her heel and walked, slow and deliberate, until she was far enough from the base to breathe again. But even as she took a step away, the words echoed in her head—presumed dead.

The wind cut through her coat, but it didn’t stop the chill from settling deep into her bones.

She moved on autopilot, the world around her a blur of grey and motion. She’d taken the train back to London—a rickety thing, crowded with people whose faces were tired, whose eyes held the same weariness that she felt inside herself. The journey felt endless, like it stretched on for years, and yet in the same breath, it seemed too short. She couldn’t remember how long she’d been on the train. She barely noticed the other passengers, their muffled conversations and quiet laughter blending into the clatter of wheels against tracks.

When the train screeched to a halt at Paddington, she stood without thinking, the motion too automatic to be deliberate. Her legs carried her across the station, through the bustle of London, though her mind never truly followed. The streets were chaotic, as they always were—people rushing to and fro, the distant hum of carriages and lorries, the clang of trams against the cobblestones—but it was all distant to her, like a dream she couldn’t quite wake from.

She hadn’t been to church in ages. Not since before the war. Not since before Lando and the nights of whiskey and music and fleeting moments of comfort. The old rituals, the incense, the whispered prayers—they felt like someone else’s life. And yet, today, they called to her.

By the time she stood outside St. Paul’s, the weight of the world pressing down on her, she could already feel the faint pull. The faint thread of something sacred, something familiar, like a forgotten lullaby. She didn’t know why, but she stepped inside, the coolness of the stone welcoming her, the silence wrapping around her like a blanket. The interior was dim, the light soft and filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting long shadows that danced across the worn pews.

She walked, each step slower than the last, as though the space itself was holding her back, forcing her to confront the questions she hadn’t dared to ask. She had no words to speak, no requests to make, only a desperate, aching need to feel something—anything—that wasn’t this overwhelming emptiness.

Her feet led her to the altar, the cool marble beneath her knees as she sank down into a low kneeling position, the weight of her own body pulling her further into the cold, silent stone. For a moment, she just sat there, head bowed, eyes squeezed shut against the world. She hadn’t prayed in so long, not since she was a girl, not since her mother had whispered hymns beside her bed. But now, in the stillness of the church, it came to her like an old memory—familiar and sharp.

Please, she thought, the words slipping out like breath in the cold air. Please bring him back. Please let him come back to me.

Her hands gripped the edge of the altar, knuckles white, the cool stone biting into her palms. She closed her eyes tighter, her voice barely a whisper, barely a prayer. I don’t care what it takes. Just let him come back.

She stayed there, the minutes stretching out like hours, or maybe days. It was hard to tell. The only sound was the faint murmur of distant voices from the back of the church, the echo of footsteps on stone, and the soft rustling of her own breath. The war seemed so far away in this place, as though it couldn’t touch her here, couldn’t reach her in this cathedral of silence.

But even as she prayed, even as the words tumbled from her lips, she knew there was a part of her that didn’t believe. She knew that even as she asked, there was a quiet truth at the back of her mind—a truth she couldn’t escape—that in two days, Lando would be lost to her, like so many others. And all the prayers in the world wouldn’t bring him back.

But she prayed anyway, because it was all she had left. A hope she clung to like a thread in the dark.

She remained there, kneeling, for what felt like an eternity, until the coldness in her bones became too much to bear. With a sigh, she rose to her feet, brushing the dust from her knees as she straightened. The silence felt deafening now, the weight of it pressing down on her shoulders as she made her way back toward the door.

On the second day, she couldn’t get out of bed.

The world outside moved on as if nothing had happened—lorries rumbled down the streets, market traders called out their prices, and somewhere in the distance, a church bell rang, slow and steady, counting the hours. But she stayed where she was, curled beneath the thin blankets, staring at the ceiling as if she could hold back time just by refusing to face the day.

It was today.

Today was the day they would decide he was gone. The day his name would be written on some crumpled ledger in an office, another casualty, another life swallowed whole by the war.

She wanted to move. She wanted to get up, to do something—anything—but the weight in her chest held her down, heavy and suffocating. She had spent the last two nights staring at the door, hoping. Foolishly, desperately hoping that somehow, against all reason, he would come back. That he’d walk through the door with that easy grin of his, shake the rain from his coat, and say something maddeningly flippant about how she worried too much.

But the door stayed closed. The hours passed. And now, there was nothing left to do but wait.

She barely heard the knock at first. It was firm, clipped—too formal to be anyone she knew. Her heart clenched, her stomach twisting itself into knots. No. Not yet. Just one more hour.

But the knocking came again, sharper this time, and she knew.

Her limbs felt leaden as she forced herself to sit up. The room swayed slightly, but she ignored it. The cold wooden floor sent a shiver up her spine as she pulled on her dressing gown, tying it hastily at the waist.

By the time she reached the door, her hands were trembling.

She pulled it open, and there they were—two men in uniform, their expressions carefully neutral, their caps damp from the rain outside. They stood rigid, as though they had done this a thousand times before, as though this was just another task to complete before moving on to the next.

"Miss," the taller one said, his voice measured, almost detached. "We’re here about Flight Lieutenant Lando Norris."

Her throat felt like it was closing. She nodded, unable to speak.

The soldier hesitated, then continued. "His aircraft went down last week. No recovery. He hasn’t returned to base, and as of today—" He exhaled sharply, as if the words themselves weighed something. "As of today, he is presumed dead."

She had known it was coming. She had known from the moment she woke up, from the moment she saw the grey light filtering through her window, from the moment she heard the knock. And still, the words hit like a hammer, splitting something inside her clean in two.

She swallowed hard, but before she could force a word past the lump in her throat, the other soldier spoke.

"Since he has no family," he said, his voice softer, as if he didn’t want to say it at all.

She sucked in a breath, but it did nothing to steady her.

No family.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dressing gown, gripping it tightly as if it might keep her standing. She had known that too, hadn’t she? He never spoke of them. Not his mother, not his father, no brothers, no sisters—only half-formed stories, half-smoked confessions in the early hours of the morning when the war felt far away, and it was just the two of them and the sound of her voice.

But hearing it now, from the lips of a stranger, made it unbearable.

Lando had no one.

No mother to mourn him, no father to curse the sky for taking his son. No home to return to, no childhood bedroom left untouched, no one to light a candle in his name. Just her.

Just her.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, as if she could steady the storm brewing there, but it was no use. The ache was too deep, too wide.

The soldiers were still speaking, saying something about his belongings, about official documents, but she wasn’t listening. The words blurred together, distant and unimportant.

When they finally finished, she nodded—just enough to make them leave. Just enough to close the door and turn away before they could see the way her face had crumpled, the way her breath came too sharp, too ragged.

She pressed her back against the door and slid to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest, fingers digging into the fabric of her sleeves.

Lando was gone.

And she was the only one who would remember.

part two

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @isaadore @driverlando

[menagerofmischief]

sweet as sin -> cl16

main masterlist / navigation

porn star!charles chronicles

tags: everyone's got normal lives (no F1), mentions of porn/OF, very very suggestive (or very light smut idk?), mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex toys

a/n: this is just an introduction to the au. if you have any ideas or things you think would go well with the au, send an ask and lmk <3

“Oh, I don’t know, Gwen!” You said, swirling your straw around in your drink as you eyed the friend. “Other than the fact I’m moving soon, my life is a bit too boring lately. I’m done with dating apps after the last big failure and I just need something interesting to happen!”

“You mean you need to get laid!” She accused, mischief sparkling in her eyes as she giddily sipped her mimosa, already a bit tipsy from all the previously consumed ones. “When was the last time you had a good orgasm?”

You coughed, nearly choking on your drink as you stared at her with wide eyes. “We’re so not talking about this!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘very long ago’,” Gwen said, eyeing you over the rim of her glass. “Just because you’re not dating doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun.”

“Didn’t you hear the part when I said how all the guys are sleazy and disgusting?”

She chuckled, flashing you a smile. “You can have fun on your own. Nothing wrong with that, in fact, it’s my favourite.”

“God,” you laughed, swatting her arm. “You’re definitely too drunk for 12 pm, Gwen.”

However much you tried to push it from your mind and deny, Gwen’s words stuck with you through the rest of the day. A constant echo in the back of your mind that played like a mocking tune whenever you found even a second free.

With a groan you pushed yourself up from your couch, the TV show playing on the screen already long abandoned. In the silence of your apartment you could hear every step you made, every thud of your feet against the ground seemed to echo like a thump of your heart within your chest.

You reached your bedside, eyes narrowed in a glare as you rummaged through the drawer in search of your old vibrator, an unfamiliar sensation stirring in your chest once you finally pulled it out, the thing still fully charged and ready to be used. 

You settled on the bed, head nestled on the pillow as you closed your eyes and tried to tease yourself but it was so damn hard when nothing came to mind. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you reached for your phone, holding it up in a slightly shaky hand you unlocked it and made your way onto the good old trusted … twitter porn.

Your fingers hesitated over a video of a guy. His face was half visible, but his body was in the full picture and he looked sweeter than sin. Hard abs, perfectly toned, arms worth salivating over. Yeah, the guy was made to be pornographic, that you were sure of.

You clicked play, watching as he teasingly ran his hands down his body, wrapping one big hand around his equally as big dick, the sound of his low groaning coming through the speaker.

A sigh slipped past your lips as you mimicked his movement, running your hands down your body, teasingly scraping your nails along your skin before slowly reaching your fingers under the waistband of your shorts.

The video ended just as your fingers reached your clit and a low spark of annoyance ran through you. “Fuck …” you muttured, staring at the replay button. Then the words under the video caught your attention.

Want more? Check out my OF ;)

Next to them was a link. Without thinking twice, or much, you pressed the link, watching as his OnlyFans page loaded up.

You glanced at the vibrator next to you on the bed, Gwen’s words, or more so the “You can have fun on your own,” echoing inside of your head once more.

“Fuck it!” You whispered into the darkness of your room, and then pressed the subscribe button.

taglist: @alenix @briefkittenearthquake @gamesetcheckeredflag @yara011

[gold-onthe-inside]

with love, from reid

who? spencer reid (s8) x blake!reader summary: after a case ruins spencer's carefully planned valentine's date, he does his best to make up for it. but all you needed was him. and all the gifts in the world are nothing compared to yours. word count: 3.3k based on: Valentine’s Day Request - Spencer and his partner are separated for Valentines Day (maybe he went to go visit his mom or he was on a special assignment like in Minimal Loss and a storm grounded flights) but he uses every method possible to give his partner the most amazing Valentines Day ever. a/n: i'm so sorry for sitting on this request forever, but inspiration struck today i guess. hope you like it anon.

Spencer’s not like other guys. It’s the mantra you have to keep using to keep your head on straight. But being cheated on by someone you had been about to marry changes your whole perspective on things. Makes it harder to trust, even the most angelic man you’ve ever met. You have to take a deep breath every time he gets a call from JJ or Penelope, have to remind yourself that there’s a valid reason for every missed date, every morning you wake up without him. Because it’s scary how much you like him, how often you think about him.

The scarce amount of time you both get makes the little moments more important, and he knows it. In his head, he’s been building it up, down to the cardigan he would wear on the 14th. He’s calculated the exact amount of time it takes to get from Quantico to your hospital, chosen a restaurant within walking distance — something right up your alley with exotic food and a quiet atmosphere. He knows how many footsteps it’ll take to get there, how many topics you can cover, all of it, down to miniscule details. The flower arrangements that would wait for you both. The menu he had memorised in his head, knowing exactly what you would order. The average time it would take for you both to finish eating while talking. The train back to his apartment, where your favourite movie would be waiting.

If only he could control this unsub the same way. But they were no closer to finding the unsub on the 13th as they were two days ago. He’d been putting off the call all day, staring at his phone until Alex had pointed it out, unravelling the first stitch of his sealed lips. The seam split and he told her everything — the date he’d planned, the flowers he’d bought in advance, the reservation that was waiting for you. He receives the pat on the knee he’d been expecting from Alex, the promise that you’d be understanding (who would know better than her, really?), and her stern voice telling him to call you.

You can hear the regret in his voice when he calls, the tired fatigue that makes you smile sympathetically. “Did you get home okay?” he asked, scuffing the back of his sneakers against the floor, standing right outside the precinct, stars glittering above him, much brighter in Tennessee than in DC. It’s a whole nother date on his bucket list — going star-gazing with you.

“Yeah, just now,” you replied, and he can see you in his mind’s eye, taking off your boots and neatly arranging them in your rack, keys in a clay dish that an 8 year old had made for you, the crick in your neck that he wants to massage for you. “How about you? Any closer to finding your strangler?”

“No,” he huffs, leaning against the railing. There’s a slight chill in the air, but he can’t feel it, not right now. He just wants to hear your voice. “But that’s not important — I just wanted to make sure you made it home safe.”

You huffed a small laugh, and he can hear you bustling around over the call, maybe changing into your pyjamas, or hunting for ingredients to make a quick dinner for one, and a frustrated ache builds behind his eyes. He wants to be there, with you, listening to old jazz music and making dinner and small talk. “I think I’m in less danger than the FBI agent hunting down a serial killer, honey.”

“You’re always in less danger than I am,” he grumbles, the beginnings of a smile playing at his lip. He closes his eyes, tilting his head back and picturing the dimly lit kitchen in your apartment, the scent of spices and the warmth of old vinyl records. “I miss you,” he confesses in a soft, almost broken tone.

He hears you pause, a palpable beat passing before you murmured, “I miss you too.”

“I wish I could be there,” he says. He wants to run a hand down your back, trace his knuckles over your cheek to feel the softness of your skin. “I had a whole night planned for us tonight.”

"I know, lovely," you murmured, leaning on the kitchen counter, phone pressed to your ear. "There'll be other nights."

He sighs. He hates having to cancel on you, especially now, when they’re already so rare. “Not like this one,” he mutters, and he knows you can probably tell by his tone that he’s pouting like a child.

“Why, because tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day?” you asked, talking while making a quick pasta.

He’s quiet for a second. Then — “Yes,” he admits in a near-whine. “It was going to be a special night.”

"Spence... Every day is Valentine's Day with you," you said, knowing exactly how cheesy you sound and running with it anyway.

Spencer’s just grateful you can’t see his face right now, because he knows he’s blushing a little, that he has an adorably smitten smile on his lips and he’s sure it would only embarrass him if you could see. “Sap,” he accuses lovingly.

"Said the man who collects ticket stubs of every movie we see," you retorted, grinning into the phone.

He sputters. “That’s — that’s — you’re not supposed to know about those,” he complained. “I keep those for myself, they’re a private collection for a reason.“

“Wow, what happened to what’s yours is mine?” you teased him, watching the pasta boil, and Christ, you felt like a lovestruck teenager right now, like those sickly sweet couples in Hallmark movies.

“That’s — there’s exceptions to that rule,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t you dare touch those. I’ve sorted them in chronological order, by the way — if one is out of place, I’ll know it was you messing around, looking over my things.”

You laughed into the phone, bright even with how tired you felt, because he brought it out of you, a glowing feeling in your chest that made the ache in your feet hurt a little less. It’s a sound that never fails to make his heart skip — the softest, most wonderful noise he’s ever heard. “I wish I was there,” he says again, his voice suddenly quiet and heavy with want.

"I know," you said quietly, watching the water grow cloudy as your pasta cooks. "But those women need you more than I do right now, Spence."

“Stop using logic on me,” he says, only half-joking, his expression serious even though you can’t see it. “I want to be selfish with you tonight.”

"Sweetheart, you don't have a selfish bone in your body," you replied affectionately.

“It’s not fair,” he complains, still playing the part of the pouting child in his mind, just whining and grumpy because he wants to be with you. “I was going to give you flowers, and take you out to dinner, and I was going to drive you home and kiss you so much—”

"We can still do that," you said, cutting him off before he could fill your head with ideas and then you could say goodbye to sleeping peacefully tonight.

“Not tomorrow,” he says. He’s almost definitely pouting right now, staring down at the pavement, his eyes dark under his lashes. “And it’s only Valentine’s once a year, I wanted it to be perfect.”

You fretted as you turned the gas off, putting off straining the pasta as you turned into the phone. “Why’s this so important to you, angel?” you asked softly.

It’s one of the things he loves about you — the gentleness with which you handle him, the way you ooze with care and curiosity instead of coddling concern. “This is our first Valentine’s,” he replies, slightly petulant. “And I wanted it to be good. Something you could look back on. I had it all planned out.”

Christ, you could cry with how much Spencer cared about you. You couldn’t remember anyone, boyfriend or not, who loved you this much. “You know it would’ve been perfect, regardless, right?” you asked gently. “You and me, that’s all I need. Even if it’s over a phone line.”

He’s quiet for a moment, just listening to you speak. “You deserve the best,” he says eventually. “You deserve flowers. And an elegant restaurant. And a movie. And a home cooked meal.” And me, he wants to add, but he doesn’t. “Not a phone call and the knowledge that your boyfriend is across the country.”

"Sweetheart, I get all of that from you even when it isn't Valentine's," you said, in that same gentle tone. "Besides, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you were here when you could be catching a killer."

“Why do you have to be reasonable?” Spencer groaned, rubbing a hand over his face again because you’re being entirely too logical for him to fight with right now. “That’s not fair.”

You chuckled, crossing your arms and leaning on the counter. "We'll have a make-up date, I promise," you said. "Just how you planned it."

That seems to pacify him a little bit, because he lets out a soft sigh. “Okay,” he agrees, slightly begrudgingly. “But I’m in charge of planning. You don’t get a say in the matter.”

You fake a tsk, as if planning mattered at all to you. "Fine. Whatever you decide."

That makes a soft, contented sound form in his throat — one bordering on possessive. “That’s what I thought,” he says, and you can all but envision the smirk on his lips.

"Go find your killer," you chided him, grinning stupidly, but there's no bite in it.

He lets out an amused huff. “Yes ma’am,” he teases, before his tone softens again. “I miss you. I’ll try to come home as soon as I can, okay?”

"Okay," you replied. "Stay safe, please."

“I will,” he promises, because he knows how much the thought of him getting hurt scares you. “Don’t worry about me.”

You snorted quietly, like it was possibly to not worry about him on cases. "Bye."

“Bye,” he responds quietly, and he wishes he could kiss you goodbye, trace the line of your lips with his fingers and feel the pulse in your neck against his fingers. “Sweet dreams.”

"You too," you whispered before hanging up. Spencer stands there for another moment after the call ends, his phone still in his hand and his heart heavy, and he wonders if it’s possible for someone to actually ache from missing someone this much.

And then Morgan’s calling him inside with his newly minted nickname since dating you — ‘lover boy’ — to adjust the geographic profile and he’s unwillingly dragged back into the vortex that is his job. And he has to shove any thoughts of you to the back of his mind for the time being, the lingering ache at the edge of his chest a constant, nagging thing that he has to continuously push past to focus on the case.

The whole team is working hard to try and solve this, but progress is slow. Somewhere between analysing blood spatter patterns and doing his own research to figure out their unsub’s deal, he does his best to plan your make-up date, paranoid that someone would see him looking for places to take you and make his day worse. Eventually, tired of having to look over his shoulder, he bites the bullet and calls Garcia for help, even if it would no doubt get back to Morgan and the rest of the team.

And then he has to deal with Garcia’s excited squealing, her incessant questions about you both, her comments about how cute he is and how she needs to meet you. He keeps his head down and grits his teeth, because he knows she means no harm, and it’s a small price to suffer through just to have this night be perfect.

The first thing to arrive was a bouquet of tulips with your morning paper waiting outside your door, a pretty arrangement of red and pink that matched the outfit you were going to wear to work — the whole department had agreed to come in red, white, and pink colours — and you can’t stop smiling as you go to put in a vase with water.

He gets the picture texted to him in the middle of a briefing with Hotch and the team, barely able to restrain his smile as he checked his phone under the table.

You: They’re beautiful, thank you.

He’s oblivious to Morgan giving him an odd look as he texted you back:

Spencer: Only the best for the most beautiful girl in the world.

Spencer tucks his phone back into his pocket when the meeting ends, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Morgan. He knows he’s going to get bombarded with questions he doesn’t feel like answering, and for once he’s glad they have a case to work on so he can use that as an excuse not to interact with him.

The second arrival was a package sent to your office, because of course he had your shift schedule memorised, and you signed for it, grasping the brown paper package that was obviously a book back to your desk. There’s no reason for you to hide it, not in the sanctity of your own office, but it’s as if you’re back in school, your crush sending you a note that you unfurl under your desk, finding a hardbound copy of Persuasion, arguably your favourite Austen novel.

You do your best not to blush, picking up your phone to text him, chewing on your lip before flipping to the right chapter and sending him a direct quote.

You: There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison.

Spencer’s in the middle of examining a body when you sent him the text. But as soon as he feels his phone vibrate, he pulls it out without a second thought, uncaring of the fact that Morgan and Rossi are looking his way. He has to hold back a smile because no, he won’t give Morgan any ammunition.

Spencer: You have my whole heart.

“You two are sickening, I hope you know that,” Morgan told him, a smirk on his lips.

Spencer’s head snaps up in alarm at the sound of his voice, and he quickly drops his phone in his pocket, face flushing. He’s silent for a minute, trying to regain his composure and come up with something to defend himself. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he replied weakly.

"Uh-huh," Rossi replied, masking a smile. "Can we look at the body now, or does your girlfriend have more input?" He wouldn’t be surprised if you did, to be honest, but he’d rather keep you out of this part of his world. He just shook his head, stepping closer to the slab.

Your last gift came in just as Valentine’s Day was about to come to an end, Spencer silently tracking into your apartment, 5 minutes away from midnight, cringing as he opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible. You’re asleep, your breathing soft and deep, the soft, soothing sound filling the room. He kneels by your side of the bed for a moment, just looking at you: all loose-limbed and relaxed, your face soft and sweet against the pillow. He can’t help the little smile that tugs the corner of his mouth up, and he wonders how he got so lucky. Softly, he reaches out, fingertips gentle as he brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You flinched, startled awake, until you recognise Spencer's eyes blinking back at you. "Jesus Christ, you scared me," you breathed out. "You should have told me you were coming."

“I was trying to be quiet,” he murmured, keeping his voice low so only you would hear. His hand brushed the curve of your jaw, a soft, almost reverent motion. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You sink back into your pillows, shifting inside so he can sit on the edge. "I would have waited up for you if you'd called first," you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hip right against your knee, his fingers still trailing along your face, then resting on your thigh over the covers. “I tried to get home earlier,” he said, and he sounded exhausted, the stress of the case weighing on him. “But the team was debating something. And then paperwork...”

"You don't have to explain," you said softly, shaking your head, making a mess of your hair.

He watches you, his gaze lingering on the mussed locks on your head, the sleepy bleariness to your eyes, the pinkness to your cheeks, and he feels a surge of longing so strong it borders on painful for a moment. He loves you like this — soft and sweet and rumpled with sleep, and he wants nothing more than to curl up next to you right here and now. “I hate being away from you for so long,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you so much.”

"Should've caught your guy faster then," you said, shifting up to meet his lips with yours. "Happy Valentine's."

He returned your kiss, his fingers trailing up to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Happy Valentine’s,” he murmured against your lips, before he was kissing you again, harder this time, and you could tell he was tired by the urgency with which he held onto you.

"I realised something when you were away, you know," you murmured against his lips.

He pulled back slightly so he could look at you, his fingers still trailing along the back of your neck. “Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and studying your face with those sharp, intelligent eyes of his.

You nodded, looking at him with your own fond gaze. "I love you," you said softly. Plain and uncomplicated.

He had heard those words plenty of times in his life, but he’d never tire of hearing them from your lips. He felt his heart stutter in his chest, and he moved his hand to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Say it again?” he whispered.

"I love you," you repeated, your smile glowing in the dark, streetlights dancing over your ceiling.

He felt something in his chest settle at the words, at the reassurance that you really were here, and you were his. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your nose, the. corner of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. “I love you,” he murmured against your skin. “God, I love you so much.”

Your arms winded around him, his face burying itself in your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin, his arms wrapped around your waist. His hands slipped up under your sleep shirt, his touch warm and soft against your back, and he practically sunk into you, needing the closeness, needing to be surrounded by you.

"I know the day didn't go to plan," you murmured, "but this is the best Valentine's Day I've ever had."

His arms wrapped around you a little tighter, like he couldn’t get enough of having you pressed against him, and he pulled his head back from your neck so he could look at you properly. “Me too,” he said, then reconsidered. “Well, the whole day was hell, but this… this is perfect.”

"Yeah?" you asked, pecking his lips.

He chased your mouth, kissing you again, lingering on your lips for longer. “Yeah,” he replied softly. “Being with you is all I need.”

[raiffeldrakon123]

DP X DC | Short Story 1

The following story is based on a prompt I've made. The idea is the same, but the execution is different.

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

— Alright Steph, we are all here now, how about you start explaining now? -Barbara said softly, her gaze kind. The rest of the Batfamily watched Steph with a mix of curiosity and subtle concern from their seats around the room.

Stephanie lowered her head, her gaze fixed on the floor as her mind raced. She had always known this day would come —it was almost a miracle she’d managed to keep the secret for as long as she had. But now that the moment was here, she had no idea how to begin explaining it all to them. She stayed silent for a few more seconds, letting out a slow breath before raising her head and running a hand through her hair. Her eyes met the faces of the people around her —not her family by blood, but at this point, they might as well have been.

— Alright, but just for the record, I swear I didn’t mean to keep this a secret from you guys, -She said, her voice tinged with guilt. She lifted a hand to scratch the back of her neck, glancing away.- For this long, anyway.

— So, you did mean to keep this a secret from us, -Damian said, narrowing his eyes at her, his frown deepening

Stephanie flinched at Damian’s words but pushed through.

— Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about this sooner, -She said, her voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders.- But in my defense, it wasn’t any of your business. It was mine, and I had it under control. -She swept her gaze across the room, meeting each of their eyes in turn —Though her gaze lingered on Tim, Bruce, Barbara, and Dick a bit more than the others.- And be honest — if I’d told you all about it at the very start of my vigilante career, can any of you really say you wouldn’t have meddled?

Bruce, Barbara, Dick, and Tim exchanged uncomfortable glances, their silence louder than any admission. Alfred shook his head in exasperation while Selena shook her head with fondness, and Steph couldn’t help but let a small smile tug at her lips. If she had told them and they’d decided to meddle, she knew he would have quietly taken her side —even if both had wanted to meddle themselves; They were one of the rare voices of reason in the house, both were consumed by paranoia and actually knew when to step in and when to let things be.

— Anyway... how about we get back to your explanation? -Barbara said, gently steering the conversation back on track. She unlocked her phone and opened the gallery, turning the screen toward Stephanie.- When did this happen?

The image on the screen was one Barbara had found during her routine security check, making sure nothing dangerous had slipped into their devices. It showed a grinning Danny holding a baby girl —Ellie— who was beaming as she reached for the phone. The caption read: "Look how much fun I’m having, Mommy!"

— It... it happened back when I first started going out to stop my father, -Stephanie said, thinking back about those times.- I met Danny right after I found out the guy I was sort of dating at school was only with me because I was one of the few girls he hadn’t screwed yet.

The room fell into silence like a guillotine blade. The shift in atmosphere was immediate —muscles tensed, jaws clenched, and eyes darkened with barely restrained fury. Even Alfred, the eternal wellspring of calm of the family, had a cold, dangerous glint in his gaze that reminded everyone that he used to work for the secret services back in England.

— And who, -Dick started, his voice dripping with a sweetness so artificial it was venomous.- would this ‘guy’ be? -His smile was so painfully fake it might as well have been carved into his face.- I think I speak for everyone when I say we just want to... talk.

Around the room, heads nodded in grim unison. Damian, Duke, Bruce, Lucius, Alfred, Barbara, Cassandra, Kate, Harper, Selina, and Jason —each one radiating their own brand of barely contained rage in her steed.

— I’m not telling you his name, -Steph said, rolling her eyes, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.- As much as I don’t like him, I don’t want him mysteriously ending up in the hospital over something that happened years ago. Besides, -she added with a smirk,- I kicked him so hard in the nuts he probably still wakes up screaming, so you guys don’t need to get even for me.

— You went too easy on him, Brown, -Damian growled, voice low and brimming with malice.- Scum like that needs to suffer more. Pain is the only language they understand.

— Have to agree with the demon spawn, -Kate muttered, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.- He clearly needs a better lesson in how to treat women like human beings.

— Preach, -Cassandra, Selena, and Harper said in perfect, almost chilling synchronicity.

Their protectiveness genuinely touched Stephanie, but she had a story to finish.

[5targh0st]

NUMBER ONE GIRL

78. don’t kick his ass (written)

prev // m.list // next

Looking at the ceiling, still feeling something between numbed and overwhelmed, Yeonjun convinces himself that he did what he had to do. It’s just a little break until he manages to get Yuna to stop harassing him. Once she’s out of the picture, all those feelings will go away. Once she’s gone again, he can go back to the life he’s worked so hard for, right? He knows he’s hurting the person he loves most in the world, but it’s all for a good reason. Surely, you will understand. He will explain and you’ll understand. Just not right now. Not when his old wounds are wide open and you can see his pitiful soul covered in blood. He just needs a few days, maybe weeks, and everything will be okay again.

He really wants to believe that, because it’s been just a couple of days and he’s already dying to talk to you and go back to how things were; how they’re supposed to be.

“Can you please calm down?” Dahyun sighs yet again.

Joshua’s been angry and anxious ever since he saw those posts. Just what the fuck is Yeonjun doing.

“I can’t!” He’s beyond exasperated right now. “She literally said nothing’s going on and yet has gone radio silence ever since. I need to know she’s okay, and she won’t talk to anyone. And I can’t go to Seoul ‘cause we’re closing an important deal and those fuckers insist on seeing me.”

“Hansol says he’s going,” she tries to reassure him.

“That’s way worse!” He complains.

As if sensing they were talking about him, Halson walks into the living room. He looks like he’s ready to kill someone.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get there.” He announces while he makes sure he has his passport with him.

“Just don’t kick his ass right away,” Dahyun pleads.

“I’m not making any promises,” Hansol rolls his eyes.

“She’s gonna hate us if you do,” Josh reminds him. “Just make sure to get both sides of the story.”

“We’re literally meddling in her private life, she’s gonna hate us regardless.” Sarcasm drips from his voice. “So I have to at least land a good punch on that fucker.”

Joshua can’t help but sigh again. Contrary to popular belief, Hansol is way more prone to be a lot more overprotective than he is, and that already says a lot. Of, course, Joshua knows he’s intense and kind of abrasive, but he’s never one to resort to violence. Josh admits he’s the bark, and Hansol is the bite. That’s why they make such a good team. And that’s why he didn’t want him to go alone.

“I really hope you guys don’t regret this,” Dahyun says hugging his waist.

“I think we will.”

During the flight, Hansol tries to think about something else. He really, really tries to write a song and even read the book he always carries around which title he’s already forgotten. He can’t. His mind goes back to his little sister and, by extension, to Josh.

He still remembers the day they met, they were both five and trying not to die of boredom at one of the fancy dinners their parents used to host all the time. Joshua’s chubby cheeks and proud grin are still clear in his mind, “I’m gonna be a big brother soon,” he remembers Joshua bragging. That summer, they met every day and Joshua would say he’d be his big brother too. He was bossy, even more than now, but he was fun. Joshua would try to teach him stuff and care for him, he really enjoyed flexing those few months between their birthdays. Hansol has to admit that he was a little jealous of Joshua’s unborn sister, he liked the attention and felt that the little girl would steal Joshua from him.

And then he saw her. So tiny and fragile, she stole his heart. “Can I be a big brother too?” He remembers asking Joshua. And it’s been like that ever since. He was there as much as he could and tried to help here and there. He thought little Yn would interfere with his time with Joshua, but it was Joshua who’d always tried to cut short his time with the little girl. He loved attending her tea parties and letting her and Karina paint his nails. He’s loved her ever since he first saw her, he’d give up his life for his sister. Blood doesn’t matter, that’s his sister. And he’s gonna make sure Yeonjun understands.

That’s what made him lose his mind in the first place. He was the first to welcome Yeonjun to their little family and even encouraged him to finally ask Yn out. He was really grateful for his presence in his sister’s life. He never expected that he would do something like this, especially completely out of nowhere.

“What the hell is going on?” He mutters looking out the window. There’s nothing to see, though, not besides some dark clouds in the distance.

Three days. It’s been three days since Yeonjun said he needed some space. You still can’t make sense out of his words. You tried texting him, calling him. You haven’t shown up to his place, though, you don’t think you could handle such a direct rejection if he refuses to see you even then. Where did it all go wrong? Everything was going great, better than great even. Everything was perfect.

Were you too pushy? Too clingy? Just too much? Or maybe he got scared? This was his first relationship after a really long time, after all. Maybe everything got way too serious way too fast. He did say he wanted to take things slow, see where it goes. But you thought you were on the same page, you thought you both had the same goals and desires. What if he was just trying to please you? What if you were just a means to an end? What if he was just trying to prove that he could be in a relationship?

But he said he loved you? Loved? When did you start to think about him in past tense? Isn’t he your present and future? Fuck. Everything is a little too overwhelming.

“I need to get out,” you say before grabbing your keys and going out.

You walk around for a few hours but turns out that that’s not enough to ease your mind. Your thoughts are still driving you crazy. Your heart still aching. And Yeonjun’s still missing. When did you get so used to him being around? You miss his jokes, his laugh. His yapping, his random stories. Every single part of him became a part of you. How is it possible to love someone that much in such a short time? His little quirks are engraved in your mind. And you miss him.

And then you see the best way to forget about everything. Even if just for a little while. You just want to forget. Life would be easier if you could just disappear until everything is right again.

“Just one drink,” you say before making your way into the bar.

Very bad idea.

notes:

please tell me you get the modern family reference 😭

joshua trying to be reasonable is my favorite thing ever

han is a real one

if you don't hate my writing and storytelling, you can help me choose my next story here lol

taglist: open! (3/50)

@estella-novella @poetryforthesad @lisaswifey @angelzforu @ihrtlix @gloriousqueenking @domfikeluva @conwunder @miniature-tragedy @jeonginplsholdmyhand @sh0dor1 @yourenzoo @tkshairband @realrintaro @castingjinx @amara-mars @hwangrfrnd @nujeskz @jisungs-iced-americano @zeizeisjy @va1entinaa @beomgyusluver @to-toad @akindaflora @hoefororeo @mandydxndy @nyanamii @delulu4-life @thatonexcgirl @starsunoo @4lndr17 @nbjch05 @borahae-reads @mrsstayfox @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @mrsminseochoi @velvetmoonlght @night-storm7 @lilbrorufr @hyunjinstolemyheart @mangojellyyy @ihrtantn @lausnotverybright @hwangism143 @wa1kinggh0st @skz-ot8-stay @athens-09xx

[shy-taylorsversion]

Bite That Old Man

moodboard for the vibes ; reader has no physical description

Summary - She wants to bite Joel. for some reason, he lets her.

Warnings - biting, teeth, no actual smut, one mention of a boob (plus nipple!!) other wise no physical description, language, age gap in my head but not actually mentioned. heavy kissing. 3rd person pov

word count -1.3k

a/n - this being the first Joel fic I've posted is insane. this entire thing is sooo silly to me but I wrote it in one sitting and well, here ya go I guess.

   She wanted to bite him, maybe wrap her arms around him and squeeze. 

 She didn’t even mean it that way, nothing sexual. Well, maybe a little. It was only a fleeting, absent thought. Something that flitted through her mind that morning as they had breakfast. Following the revelation, Joel Miller was fucking adorable. 

  She wasn’t sure how she missed it this long. The way his hair would curl and fall across his forehead, the honey-glow of his eyes in the sunlight that would make her heart ache, she knew that. The heat that ran through her when his jaw clenched or the muscles of his back flexed when he peeled off his shirt, golden skin slick with sweat from the beating sun that she so badly wanted to lick off. Oh, she knew that. 

   But the giddy bubbling in her chest, she never let that take hold - never felt it hit so suddenly. 

   He sat across from her at the kitchen table, listening to Ellie’s joke. Shaking his head, failing to repress the smile that pulled across his face - the apple of his cheeks pushing up and eyes crinkling. 

      Ellie and Joel resumed their meal but she kept staring long after the moment passed. Focused on sipping his coffee, he was oblivious to her eyes.   Still focused on his face, trying to will herself to calm the school-girl crush threatening to consume her. 

      “Why’re you being weird?” Ellie said, mouth full as she swatted her on the arm with the hand not shoveling eggs into her mouth. She jerked back, breaking her trance and looking at the girl. 

       “I’m not”  It came out too rushed. Her voice was too high, guilty. She’d always been a shit liar, everyone knew it. Face burning, she looked away and busied herself with her drink.        

  “Ellie.” Joel warned.  

 “I’m not the one staring at you like you’re the meal.”  

       “Ellie” 

 “I’m out.” She stood from the table, all teenage attitude and snark. Mumbling under her breath as she walked out. “You guys are fucking gross.”

She had half the mind to beg her to stay, just to avoid being alone but it would’ve been worse. Ellie never filtered her thoughts - much to her current dismay and apparently Joel’s by the way he was looking at her. 

  “I wasn’t being weird.” Damn it.   

He didn’t respond, face blank and bored as he chewed his last bite. Asshole was siking her out, he’d done it before. The silence stressed her and he knew it. Figured it out the first time she lied to him, the day they met and she said she wasn’t armed. Shit liar, horrible under pressure. When she decided to stick around, a very serious conversation was had about not being a dumbass. She was lucky she made it this far in the fucking apocalypse. 

  The way he was staring at her, gaze gripping hers. She was fucked. It had her picking her cuticles, and anxiety replaced the dopey, girly feeling. She wanted to rip her hair out or dart for her bedroom.   

   “You’re cute” The words tumbled out. Hands flew to her mouth like she was stopping any more from falling out. 

 His eyebrows shot up, shock covered his face for a split second before he was nodding. He still didn’t talk, sipping his coffee again. Shit. 

   “And I want to bite you. Wanted.”  She was going to die. She groaned, burying her face in her arms. He was going to kick her out, call her a weird bitch and tell her to pack her things.

  She heard the clink of his mug against the table, the scrap of his chair against the floor but he never stood. She peeked over her arm. 

   Joel sat, legs spread and arms crossed. 

“C’mere then.”  

“What?”  Her head shot up. He couldn’t be serious, he was. Her hands were covering her face again. “You’re making fun of me.” 

   “No ‘M not, darlin’.” He patted his thighs. Oh god. “C’mon.” 

Her face was searing as she stood, bare feet against the cold wooden floor she padded over to him. Stopping next to him, she looked up to meet his eyes. A glint of amusement passed through them though there was something else. He motioned for her to sit on his lap. When she didn’t move fast enough, his hands were on her waist pulling her down and knocking the breath out of her. 

    They’ve never been this close. Warmth radiated from where they touched. Knees bracketed his thighs, not sitting down completely holding onto his neck to prevent her from tipping them off the chair. 

  She was a whirlwind of emotion, an amalgamation of everything she felt in his presence for years. Her heart was aching with affection and beating in her ears, a slight heat simmering low within her from where they were pressed together, and that giddy feeling, that primal urge to sink her teeth into him bloomed in her chest again. 

  “Where?”  His head tipped back, gazing at her before his hands slid down to rest on her hips, pulling her down the rest of the way. She inhaled at the new contact. Brows knit in confusion when she processed the question.

   What was he- Oh. 

        Where.  

She lifted her hand from his neck and circled his cheek with her fingertip, barely breathing. 

   “Go for it, baby.” The corners of his mouth twisted into a half-grin “” M all yours.” 

She groaned desire and embarrassment fluttering through her. Her head hit his shoulder and she buried her face in his neck. This was mortifying. She didn’t understand why he was entertaining her weirdness. 

  “Joel-” She mumbled in an almost whine, feeling his pulse jump when her lips brushed skin.  “This is stupid.” 

For a moment, calloused fingers moved across the skin between her shorts and the top that had ridden up, calm and reassuring. Only breaths filled the room as the morning sun filtered through. Then he tapped for her to sit up. She pulled back, hands resting on her knees. 

   “I can’t.” She shook her head, hands going back over her face. He peeled them away by her wrist and pinned them to his chest. 

 “You can.”  He was smiling at her, a real true teeth-showing smile that reached his eyes and had his cheeks all full. 

She exhaled a laugh, embarrassment waning as she realized he really did want her to and she let herself go. Leaning forward until they were nose to nose, she grinned as his smile grew and giggled. Moving to the right, she let her teeth graze the skin of his cheek. 

     Something ignited in her. 

Hands braced on his shoulders, she nipped at his stubbled jaw down to his neck, teeth catching his earlobe. His head dropped backward as she bit at his throat, teeth just hard enough to leave an impression, tongue darting out against to soothe the mark. 

   A strangled mix of a laugh and a grunt escaped him. His hands trailed up from her hips to her waist, raking her shirt up and stopping when his thumb grazed the underside of her breast. She gasped when he paused, waiting for her permission. She nodded against his neck, inhaling the faint scent of his soap mixed with something she could only describe as Joel. His hand slipped underneath her shirt, fingers brushing against her nipple eliciting another gasp - feeling it pebbled under his touch. 

     She was a panting, desperate mess when their lips met, a clash of teeth and tongue and years of repressed tension. He licked into her mouth, nose brushing against her cheek, hand on the small of her back pressing her flush with him. A ragged breath escaped her as she broke for breath, foreheads pressing together. 

       “Christ, I told you.” Ellie’s voice rang from the doorway, hands covering her eyes. “You guys are fucking gross.”

[celestialgallaghers]

Double Dare Ya pt 2 [18+]

Part 1

I’m sorry this took so long I kept changing my mind on where I wanted it to go. I hope you enjoy <3

Summary: Still reeling from your encounter with Noel, you find yourself not wanting to see him again. That is, until you run into him in a place you really should've expected, now face to face with the memory that’s been haunting you.

Word count: 7.6k

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You paced the length of your flat, chewing at your thumbnail. You weren’t entirely sure why you felt this way. 

Well, maybe a little. 

Jo already knew, obviously. She’d guessed as much. But that wasn’t what had you on edge.

It was what came next.

She’d want to talk about it. Pick it apart. Ask you how you felt. And a week after the incident, you still didn’t have an answer.

What you did know was that you felt guilty. You’d been avoiding her calls for days and it was starting to weigh on you.

Soon after she’d caught you, she had her little "told you so" moment, but the second she started prying, you shut down. You’d barely been able to process it yourself, let alone talk about it. Instead, you mumbled a half-assed promise to talk soon and basically ran all the way home without saying another word to anyone.

But now, after days of radio silence, you had no excuse.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up the receiver and dialed her number. 

"Finally," Jo answered on the first ring, exasperation evident. "I was about to send a search and rescue team to make sure you were still alive."

You winced. "I know, I know. I’m sorry. I should've called sooner, I just… didn’t really know what to say. And I still don’t, so don’t expect much," you warned.

You could practically hear the smug smile in her voice as she waited for you to continue.

Then, a sudden realization struck, sending a wave of panic over you. You weren’t her only source of information in this situation. 

"You… uh, didn’t talk to him about this, did you?" you asked hesitantly.

"Noel?" she half-laughed. "No, I trust you way more to tell me the truth."

Your pulse slowed, but only slightly. At least that was one less thing to worry about.

"But," she continued, "I did see him briefly, a few hours after you left. Completely off his head with some other bird, doing god knows what." She huffed. "Sorry." 

She added it as an afterthought, as if you’d be hurt by this information.

"No, no, it’s not like that at all," you said quickly. "This was just a one-time thing. I really couldn’t care less who he’s screwing."

It was easier that way. Knowing it wasn’t a big deal to him. And yet, somewhere deep in the back of your mind, there was a flicker of something that you didn’t want to name. It was quickly smothered.

"I think I just want to put the whole thing behind me," you said, hoping to make it sound final. "Chalk it up to a moment of weakness."

She was quiet for a moment. "Really? Well that’s a shame. I think you two would get on well."

You huffed out a laugh, trying hard to downplay her words. "I think I’ve had enough of your matchmaking, thanks."

Silence stretched between you. She was obviously waiting for you to continue.

You twirled the phone cord between your fingers anxiously. "So, um, I guess you already know what happened, but I don’t really know where to start and I know you have questions so—" 

"You sucked him off, right?" she cut in bluntly.

You choked. "Well, no, I—"

She gasped. "Oh my God, you fucked him? Right in that dirty field? You little slut!"

"Christ, let me finish," you groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. "I just gave him a handy. That’s all."

God, what was happening? You weren’t a prude by any means, but just saying the words out loud made your face burn like you were confessing some deep, filthy secret.

"Oh, that’s all is it?" she teased, amused by your flusteredness. "Must not have been a good one if he was fishing for more after."

"Oh, shut up," you shot back. "It was good enough."

"Was it?" she prodded, clearly fishing for more.

You hesitated. "Yes it was." 

Flashes of Noel’s trembling body beneath you surfaced in your mind, unbidden. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing them away.

"And that’s all you’re getting," you added firmly.

She tsked. "What’s the point of having girlfriends if we can’t talk about how men are in the sack?"

You sighed. "This is different, and you know it. He’s… well, him. And you’re friends with him too. It doesn’t feel right."

And while you knew Noel didn’t exactly shy away from bragging about his sex romps, something told you that whatever happened in that field wasn’t exactly routine for him. Or at least you thought so. Although you could be entirely wrong. You barely knew him for fucks sake. 

Either way, the idea of sharing the details didn’t sit right with you. Jo could keep a secret, sure. But still… you didn’t want to tell her.

"Then what’s the point of even calling me?" she grumbled.

"Fine," you huffed. You had to placate her in some way. "All you’re getting is that he’s a good kisser. Spread the word I’m sure it’d inflate his ego even more," you said dryly.

She sighed dramatically. "Fine. D’you think you want to see him again?"

You bit your lip. You didn’t really know the answer to that. 

The logical answer was no. You should avoid him. Avoid every place he might be. The idea of facing him again made your stomach churn. Would it be awkward? Would he act smug about it? Or worse—would he brush it off completely?

And yet another part of you was saying yes. Because what if he wanted more? The thought had never fully formed before now, but the moment it did, it burrowed deep. The whole thing had been amusing and incredibly filthy. 

But would he want it again?

Would you?

It seemed impossible. He was famous. He did this all the time, didn’t he? It was meaningless. That’s what you should believe.

And yet, that glimmer of vulnerability, of realness, it had enthralled you much more than you would've liked to admit. 

Not that you’d ever admit that to Jo.

"I don’t know," you admitted. "I don’t think so."

"Why not?"

"It’s…too confusing. Like I said, it was just a one-time thing." 

She was quiet for a moment. Like she was holding back her disappointment. 

"Well, I’m not gonna force you," she said, "but I think you should reconsider."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Jo."

"All I’m saying is that you guys would—"

"Jo, I���m hanging up now."

"Wait!" was all you heard before you slammed the phone back onto the receiver, exhaling sharply.

Fucking hell what had you gotten yourself into.

❦ ❦ ❦

True to your word, you became hyper-aware of everywhere you went. 

The city was massive yet it suddenly felt suffocating, like you were navigating a minefield. No matter how much you tried to avoid him, Oasis was inescapable. Their songs followed you into every shop, their faces stared back at you from every magazine stand. It was maddening. Everywhere you turned, there he was. A reminder of that night. It was like the universe was playing some cruel joke on you.

One night, you flicked on the telly only to be met with Noel’s face. He was on some late-night interview show, sprawled lazily in his seat, exuding that signature self-assurance. Your thumb hovered over the remote, hesitating. Watching him now, it almost felt like you knew something about him that no one else did. Because for all his bravado, for all his sharp words and easy smirks, he was actually quite malleable. Quick to break if you knew where to apply the right pressure. 

Then, as if on cue, he flashed the camera a crooked smile, and for a moment all you could think about were the broken moans that had fallen from that very mouth. The weight of him in your hand. The way he had unraveled beneath you. 

A flush of heat curled in your stomach, creeping lower before you could stop it. 

With a sharp inhale, you grabbed the remote and switched off the TV, tossing it aside like it had burned you.

You needed to get a fucking grip.

Nights out had become a hassle too. 

Jo kept trying to drag you along, promising Noel wouldn’t be there, but you didn’t want to tempt fate. No matter how much you didn’t want to, you spent night after night in your flat, drinking alone, watching trashy TV with a scowl on your face. You knew you couldn’t keep this up forever, but it needed to blow over before you were less on edge. 

Yesterday, though, Jo had finally lost her patience.

"I don’t understand what’s so bad about what happened that you won’t even face him. This is starting to get a bit ridiculous. You're gonna have to come out of hiding at some point."

She was right of course. What was so bad about it? You were starting to feel too much like a coward. 

Her words still rang in your mind tonight. And after one too many glasses of wine, irritation was starting to creep in.

Why the hell were you letting him dictate your life like this? You’d spent weeks holed up like some estranged recluse, avoiding places you used to love. And for what? Noel fucking Gallagher?

It was pathetic really. And you were over it. 

Before you could overthink it, you were rifling through your closet, yanking out the most flattering dress you owned. Twenty minutes later, you were out on the streets, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. Like shedding an old skin. A rebirth. A good fuck would be just the thing to snap you out of this.

You hadn’t even registered where your feet were taking you until you found yourself outside the same club where this whole mess with Noel had started. 

Well. If there was ever a place to begin again, this was as good as any.

The fleeting thought that he might be inside entered your mind, but you ignored it. You were too determined to care. And besides fuck him. You didn’t owe him anything.

It didn’t take long before a man approached you. He was attractive enough, at least for what you needed tonight. When he offered to buy you a drink, you let him. You laid it on thick—laughing at his mediocre jokes, brushing your knees together, a coy smile curving your lips.

When he asked you to dance, you didn’t hesitate. This new version of you liked dancing. For a while, you let yourself melt into the music, let the bass vibrate through your bones, let the alcohol dull the edges of everything sharp.

His body was pressed against yours, radiating heat and hands roaming. It was making you feel alive. Letting yourself revel in the heady mix of sweat, liquor, and fleeting affection. It felt good. It felt easy. 

You were breathless and flushed, and when he leaned down and asked if you wanted to get out of there, you agreed without a second thought.

The two of you stumbled through the club, laughter bubbling in your throat as you leaned into him, ready to disappear into the night. But the moment shattered when you rounded the corner and collided heavily with another pair of bodies.

"Watch it, cunt," he voice was sharp, impatient. Familiar.

Your stomach plummeted.

Noel.

His eyes locked onto yours, and you felt rooted to the spot. Your mind was suddenly infuriatingly blank. For all the time you’d spent avoiding him, you hadn’t once considered what you’d say if you actually saw him again.

For a fleeting second, something unreadable flickered across his face. Was he thinking the same thing? Or had you not even crossed his mind since that night?

"Sorry mate," the man beside you muttered, breaking you out of your sudden trance. You’d nearly forgotten he was there. His arm slipped around your waist, and the touch suddenly felt like acid burning your skin. 

Noel’s gaze flicked down, tracking the movement. His jaw tightened just slightly, just enough for you to see it if you were looking. And you were looking.

You forced yourself to look elsewhere. That’s when you noticed he wasn’t alone. A brunette clung to him. Not the same one as last time, but close enough. 

Right. 

This was what he did. Moved from one woman to the next like it meant nothing.

Again the irritation flared hot in your chest. Now you remembered why you were avoiding him.

"Noel," you greeted smoothly, summoning every ounce of detachment you had.

His lips curled into something smug, his usual arrogance snapping back into place. "Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again, love."

"Yeah, well," you tilted your head, mirroring his smugness. "Let’s hope this is the last time."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, amusement glinting in his eyes as his gaze dragged over you before flicking dismissively to the man at your side.

"Enjoy her, mate," he said, voice light but laced with something else. "She’s a right good time."

Then he winked at you and sauntered off, pulling his brunette along with him.

You exhaled sharply, tempted to grab the nearest object and hurl it at the back of his head. 

So that was it then.

"Was that Noel Gallagher?" The guy beside you squinted after him. "Do you know him?"

You clenched your jaw. "Not really."

He studied you for a moment before adding, almost absently, "Y’know, you kinda look like that girl he was with."

Something twisted violently inside you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked away.

"Hey, wait! Where are you going?"

You ignored him. His voice sharpened behind you, something ugly creeping into his tone, but you didn’t stop. You just kept moving, his thick Mancunian accent you hadn’t noticed before faded into background noise.

This had been a stupid idea. A really, really stupid idea. 

Gripping the edges of the sink, you stared at yourself in the club’s bathroom mirror, swaying slightly. The fluorescent lights cast sharp shadows across your face, making you look as wrecked as you suddenly felt.

You exhaled hard, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. The night had gone sideways. Now you were just drunk and alone. Again.

You reckoned you should probably go home, but your limbs felt restless, skin too hot, mind buzzing with unspent frustration.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed open the door and stepped back into the hallway. 

As you passed the exit leading to the alley, your eyes caught on it for a moment.

What the hell might as well. It was hallowed ground now.

You pushed the door open, welcoming the rush of cool air. You had just wrapped your fingers around your pack when a voice cut through the quiet.

"Where’d your man go?"

You froze. 

No fucking way. 

Sure enough, Noel emerged from the shadows, cigarette perched between his lips, the ember casting a faint glow over his face.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you tried to suppress the aggravation rising in your chest. "Where’s your model?"

"Sent her home." he replied easily, smoke curling from his lips.

You considered walking away. That would be the smart thing to do. You didn’t need to stand here and entertain his bullshit. But there was just enough alcohol in your system, just enough lingering frustration in your chest, to make you stay. To push back.

"Were you waiting out here for me?" you accused, narrowing your eyes at him.

A slow smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe." He shrugged, taking another drag. "Thought it was worth a shot."

Oh. You hadn’t expected him to be upfront about it. Something about the way he said it so casually made it worse. Like he already knew you wouldn’t walk away. And you knew it too.

His gaze dragged down your body, eyes lingering in a way that sent a prickle of heat across your skin. 

"S’nice dress."

"Thanks, I was dying for your approval," you deadpanned.

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, unfazed. "So, what brings you back here tonight?"

"Same thing as you, I presume."

His brows lifted. "What, him?" He jerked his head toward the club. "C’mon. You can do much better than that."

"Oh yeah? Like what, you?" you said, not even considering the implications until the words were out of your mouth. 

His grin widened, all teeth, all ego. He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, you said it. Not me."

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. "Jesus, do you ever stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Deflecting. Acting like nothing ever gets to you," you said, folding your arms. "Like you're untouchable."

His smirk didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes.

"And what, you think you’ve got me all figured out, yeah?"

"I think you're exhausting."

He let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, well. Can’t win ‘em all."

You narrowed your eyes. "So that’s it? That’s the whole act?"

"Dunno what you mean."

"Yes, you do," you pressed. "This little performance you put on is bullshit. You always go on about how real you are, but this—this is fake as fuck. And I can’t believe more people don’t see through it."

Something flashed in his gaze. It was subtle, but it was there. He took a slow drag, exhaling through his nose, like he was buying himself time.

"And what if there’s nothin’ to see through?" His voice was even, but there was an edge to it now. "What if this is just who I am? Arrogant cunt."

You studied him, trying to pick apart the layers he kept so tightly wound. He was good at this. Keeping people at arm’s length, at never letting anyone see past the smirk.

But you'd seen something else.

You tilted your head slightly, voice quieter now. "No. I know that’s not entirely true."

His amusement faltered, just slightly. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I happened to really like the version of Noel I met in that field."

His expression flickered again. And for the first time since this conversation started, he didn’t have a response ready.

His mouth opened slightly, then shut. He inhaled deeply, tapping ash from his cigarette, gaze flicking away for just a second.

"And which version was that?" His voice was different now. Lower. Cautious.

Your stomach flipped.

There were two versions, weren’t there? The one who had been laid-back, at ease, warm in a way that had caught you off guard. And then the other one. The one who had let you undo him completely. The one you couldn’t stop thinking about, no matter how hard you tried.

The silence between you was tight, buzzing. A question waiting to be answered.

You weren’t sure if he wanted to go there. If he wanted to acknowledge what had happened. Or if he’d rather let it fade into nothing.

There was really only one way to find out. 

You swallowed before speaking. "You know which one." Your voice was lower now. Careful. Calculated. Just in case he chose to pretend he didn’t hear the subtext.

His gaze flitted away for the briefest moment, like he was considering his next move, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to acknowledge it. When he looked back at you, something in his expression had shifted. Less cocky, more guarded.

You grinned. "What? No witty comeback?" You stepped closer, emboldened by his silence. The longer he stayed quiet, the bigger your smile grew.

The cigarette between his fingers hung idly, forgotten. You reached out, plucking it from his hand before bringing it to your lips, dragging slowly. Your fingers barely brushed, but the contact sent a spark skittering up your arm.

He watched you silently, his expression unreadable. Even as you blew the smoke directly into his face, he barely reacted. He just kept his eyes on you, like he was working something out in his head. 

Then, like he’d been holding it in for too long, he asked, "Why’d you run off?"

Now it was your turn to be thrown. You hadn’t expected him to confront you on that. 

Why had you run? Because staying had felt like stepping off a ledge. Because the weight of the moment had pressed too hard against your ribs, and the uncertainty had been suffocating. 

What would he have said afterward? Would he have just rolled over, lit a cigarette, and acted like it was nothing? The fear of the unknown had sent you running before he had the chance to make you regret staying.

But you weren’t about to tell him that.

You took another drag, letting the smoke linger in your lungs, buying yourself a few extra seconds before responding. 

"Look, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of groupies overstay their welcome. I just figured I’d make things easier for you by leaving before you had to ask me to, okay?"

He stared at you for a long moment. 

"I don’t think of you as a groupie," he said finally.

You narrowed your eyes. "Don’t you?"

He exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. "No groupies don’t usually make me work this hard."

You raised a brow. "Is that what this is? Work?"

He tilted his head slightly, considering you. "Let’s just say you’re not making it easy for me."

You weren’t sure why, but that response sent something sharp and unexpected through you. Maybe because it felt dangerously close to admitting something.

Silence settled between you, thick with something unspoken. The air between you had become charged and neither of you seemed to know where to go from here.

You took one final drag on his cigarette before flicking it away, the ember sparking briefly against the pavement.

At some point the space between you had shrunk, unconsciously drifting toward each other. It was like he had some sort of magnetic field that you’d gotten pulled into. And now you were now stuck in it. 

Your gaze lifted to his. He was already watching you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

You parted your lips slightly, but no words came out.

His gaze dipped to your mouth. Then back up. 

Your heart pounded.

Oh, fuck it. 

You closed the shrinking gap and kissed him.

He responded instantly. His hand slid to your back, pulling you against him, the heat of his body searing through the thin layers of fabric between you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and the noise it pulled from him, deep and needy, sent something sharp and electric surging through you.

He tasted just like you remembered. Or maybe better. Just as intoxicating, just as addictive.

At first he seemed tentative, unsure. But then he melted into it, kissing you back with a quiet urgency that made your knees weak.

"I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you," he gasped against your lips.

Heat flared in your chest. And something else. Something akin to pride.

"Me either," you admitted, voice just above a whisper.

You felt him smirk. "Oh really?"

"Yeah." Your fingers tightened around his waist, pulling him closer. "But don’t let it go to your head."

You deepened the kiss, swallowing the groan that slipped from him. The sound sent a shiver straight through you, and fuck you wanted more of it. More of him.

You nipped at his lower lip just to hear him again. Another soft noise escaped him, and you drank it in greedily.

Now you knew. Knew where you could take him. And god you wanted to see it again.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your grip on his waist tightening. "Come back to mine."

A slow, knowing smile spread across his face before you turned, making your way down the alley.

He followed.

The ride back to your flat had been…eventful. 

Noel had called his driver, and the two of you had slipped into the backseat, your legs brushing together. Neither of you spoke at first, but the silence was thick, pulsing with something electric, something inevitable.

Then his hand found your knee.

His touch was barely there, but you felt the weight of it hit you hard. A jolt of heat shot through you as he began rubbing small circles against you.

That was it.

Before you could stop yourself, you turned to him, capturing his mouth with yours in a kiss that sent him back against the seat.

He barely had a second to react before you were climbing into his lap, fingers diving into his hair. His hands shot to your waist, gripping hard. The feel of him beneath you again was dizzying, sending heat rushing straight to your core.

A low moan slipped from his throat as your weight settled over him. His fingers tightened, digging into your ass, pulling you flush against him. 

"This dress," he groaned against your lips. "God."

You smirked, lips brushing his as you teased, "You like it?"

His breath was ragged as he rasped, "So much."

You leaned in, dragging open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, down the column of his throat. His skin was warm against your lips, his pulse wild beneath your touch. He shuddered when you reached the spot where his neck met his shoulder, grinning to yourself before biting down, just enough to make him gasp.

His grip on you tightened. His body tensed.

And then—

The car jerked to a stop, sending you both lurching forward.

You let out a quiet curse, quickly sliding off his lap as the driver cleared his throat from the front. 

Face burning, you smoothed down your dress, stealing a glance at Noel. He was still slumped back, breathing heavily, hair a mess, lips wet and parted.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes dark as they watched you.

Neither of you spoke as you stumbled out of the car and into your building, the silence thick with anticipation, charged with everything you hadn’t said.

Now, standing in the middle of your flat, the reality of the moment sank in. The mess you’d left behind suddenly felt glaring—clothes draped over chairs, an empty wine glass perched precariously on the coffee table.

But Noel didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

His eyes were on you. Watching. Taking you in.

Then they lifted, met yours, and held.

"Hi," you breathed, suddenly shy in a way that felt ridiculous after everything that had just happened.

"Hi," he murmured back.

And then he was on you again, pulling you into a slow, deliberate kiss. It was different from before. Less frantic, more controlled. Like he wanted to take his time.

You let him take the lead this time, curious to see where it would go.

He backed you against the wall, his hand cupping your jaw, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek, while the other found its way to your waist. His grip was firm, grounding. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself as he deepened the kiss, tongue brushing over yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

He seemed much less overwhelmed this time. More sure of himself. And, god, it was sexy.

Not that the other version of him wasn’t, but you were beginning to understand why he had a reputation for this. 

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. "So… is this your move then?" you teased, though your voice was slightly uneven.

His lips ghosted over your jaw as he hummed, "What move would that be, love?"

You swallowed, heartbeat unsteady. "Oh, come on. You know. The one that drives all the girls mad with desire." You tried to sound mocking, but it barely landed.

He chuckled, low and knowing. "Depends." His thumb stroked idly along your cheek. "Do you feel mad with desire?"

Your pulse stuttered. You hated how good he was at this.

"I bet you’d just love for me to say yes, wouldn’t you?" you challenged.

"You will," he said, completely self-assured.

Then, he dipped his head, lips grazing over the curve of your neck.

You sucked in a sharp breath, body tensing as he found a particularly sensitive spot. He lingered there, lips warm, tongue darting out just slightly. Testing. Teasing.

You could feel his smirk against your skin.

And then he bit down. Not hard, but just enough. Enough to send a shock straight through you.

A strangled sound tore from your throat before you could stop it.

Noel pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes, a smug look settling on his face.

"Bastard," you muttered, though there was no real heat behind it.

He only grinned, unbothered, before moving to the other side of your neck, continuing his slow, torturous assault.

You pressed your lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another noise. But then, one particularly well-placed kiss just below your ear had a soft whine slipping out before you could stop it.

Noel pulled back again, eyes dark, lips wet.

"Feeling mad yet?"

You exhaled sharply, realization hitting you. This was payback. For last time. You were going to have to admit to something if this was going to continue. And god you wanted it to continue. 

"Absolutely barmy," you muttered, conceding just this once.

His smirk widened before his lips crashed onto yours again, this time with a heated urgency that made you lightheaded. Your hands roamed him, desperate to feel as much as you could.

You weren’t sure how this would end, but right now you didn’t care. You just wanted more.

You pulled him toward your bed, kicking off your shoes, heat pooling low in your stomach as he pressed his body flush against yours. His breath was heavy, lips brushing along your jaw as his hands skimmed down your sides.

He exhaled a quiet laugh. "I haven’t been able to stop thinking about touching you. You didn’t let me get a turn last time." 

Your stomach tightened, heat licking up your spine. You tilted your head, lips grazing the shell of his ear. "Then you’d better make the most of it, yeah?"

A low sound rumbled in his chest, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed you back onto the mattress, covering you with his body. His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, his gaze dark and searching.

"You always such a tease?" His voice was low, almost accusing.

You smirked, fingers threading through his hair. "You always so easy?"

For a second, you let yourself soak in the weight of him, the heat rolling off his skin, the way his breathing had shifted. Then, with a slow grin, you flipped him onto his back and straddled his hips.

A surprised sound escaped him, low and unguarded. His hands instinctively found your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. The shift left only the thin barrier of your underwear between your aching core and the rough denim of his jeans. The friction sent a delicious shiver up your spine, your breath catching in your throat.

Noel shuddered beneath you. For a moment you wondered if he wasn’t comfortable with this dynamic again. But when you met his gaze, you searched his eyes for any hint. There was no sign of hesitation, no resistance—just raw, unfiltered desire. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat surging through you. 

You leaned down, pressing slow kisses along his jaw, trailing down his neck as your fingers worked open the buttons of his shirt. When it fell open, you let your nails drag lightly up his chest, reveling in the way his breath stuttered.

Then, unable to help yourself, you brushed a thumb over one of his nipples just to see what he’d do.

A strangled groan tore from his throat, his head tipping back against the pillows. The sound, deep and wrecked, sent a sharp pulse straight between your legs.

You were mesmerized. You needed to hear more. You moved to the other, teasing it with the same deliberate touch.

This time, the noise that left him was broken, raw, coming from somewhere deep inside him. The sound sent sharp heat twisting through you, your clit jumping at the noise. The need was possessing you, urging you to draw more out. 

You bent to kiss down his heaving chest. You couldn’t resist flicking your tongue over the hardened bud. This time his hand flew to your hair, and a breathless, high-pitched noise escaped him.

"Fuck—" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Please, I... I can't—"

"I know you can," you spoke against his skin, trailing your lips lower, down his stomach.

He shivered beneath you, body taut with tension. His breath came in uneven, shallow gasps, and you relished every single one.

You traced your fingers over the sensitive skin just above his belt, feeling him tense beneath you. Then, dazedly, you murmured against his stomach, "Do you let other people see you like this?"

His breath hitched. "Not often," he admitted, voice strained. "Doesn’t fit the image."

"Shame." You pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above his waistband. "You’re so pretty like this."

A weak laugh escaped him, breathless. "Pretty. That’s a new one."

You glanced up at him, your fingers toying with his belt. "But you are. And the noises you make are also so, so pretty."

He exhaled sharply, like your words had knocked the wind out of him.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me," he muttered, voice wrecked, desperate.

You grinned, trailing your fingers lower. "Oh, I think I have some idea."

You pressed your palm against the bulge beneath his jeans, feeling him jolt beneath you.

You reached for his zipper, hands eager, impatient. The rasp of metal sounded loud in the quiet room as you shoved his jeans down, dragging them off with no pretense.

Then your eyes landed on him.

The thick strain against his boxers, the way a damp patch was spreading at the front. Your mouth went completely dry.

Noel was panting now, his chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. "Love, you need to—"

His words were cut off by a strangled moan the second your fingers traced over him, pressing just enough to make him twitch beneath your touch.

You exhaled sharply, warmth pooling low in your stomach. He was right there in front of you, already leaking through the fabric, the evidence of his need making you lightheaded. Your breath ghosted over him before you leaned in, brushing your lips over the damp spot.

Then, with a slow pull, you closed your mouth around it, sucking gently through the fabric.

Noel let out a ragged curse, his hips jerking up against you. "Fuck."

The desperation in his voice sent a fresh wave of arousal straight through you.

Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, you dragged them down, drinking in the sight of him. The way his cock bobbed, standing heavy against his stomach, had something hot and primal unraveling inside you.

A small, unguarded whimper escaped him, his hands clenching into the sheets so tightly his knuckles went white.

You flicked your tongue over the bead of precum gathering at his tip, tasting the saltiness of him.

His entire body shuddered and a broken moan tore from his throat, raw and wrecked. He seemed to be struggling to form words, his lips parting, closing again, as if searching for something to say.

But he didn’t need to. You could see the silent pleading in his eyes.

And christ it undid you.

The heat coiling low in your stomach was nearing a breaking point, the relentless throb between your legs getting to be too much. You wanted to keep tasting him, wanted to hear more of those breathless, ruined sounds. But if you did, you knew he wasn’t going to last. And you needed him inside you.

Now.

Without a word, you spun, moving your hair over your shoulder. "Help me out."

His hands were shaking as he reached for you, dragging the zipper of your dress down in one slow, trembling motion, exposing every inch of you. His fingers traced along your spine, and goosebumps skittered across your skin in response.

You let the rest of the dress slip off, stepping out of your underwear in one fluid movement before turning back to him.

Noel’s gaze swept over you, his jaw tight, hands clenching into fists as if he were holding himself back.

Not for long.

You captured his mouth in a slow, deep kiss, guiding him back onto the bed, settling over him once again.

His hands grasped at your body, touch hot and desperate, sending wave after wave of need crashing through you. Your bodies were flush, nothing between you now, and the feeling of him hard against you sent a helpless moan tumbling from your lips.

You grasped him, positioning yourself over him, your breath coming in shallow, uneven pants.

"Can I?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Noel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips parted as he looked up at you, utterly wrecked. He nodded, unable to form a single word.

Slowly, you began to sink down onto him, gasping at the stretch, at the heat, the way he filled you completely. Your fingers dug into his chest as you took him inch by inch, your thighs shaking from how overwhelming it felt.

His hands shot to your hips, gripping you like a lifeline as a strangled moan tore from his throat.

You could feel him deep inside you as you finally seated yourself against him. You took a moment to adjust, shivering at the contact. The white-hot heat in your veins was everywhere.

"Fuck," he choked out, his voice breaking. His body trembled beneath you, every muscle tensed, struggling to hold on.

You glanced down at him, and his dark, desperate gaze met yours.

"Christ, you feel so incredible," he rasped, voice wrecked and rough. "Need you—fuck, I need—" His words dissolved into a sharp gasp as you shifted slightly, searching for the right angle.

You settled a hand against his chest and rolled your hips experimentally. The reaction was immediate.

A guttural moan tore from his throat, his hands tightening on your hips, guiding you into a rhythm he clearly needed just as badly as you did.

Your body was drowning in sensation. Every nerve alight, every muscle quivering, every inch of you focused on where you were joined. You rocked against him, getting lost in the pleasure. 

You barely registered when he planted his heels into the mattress, bracing himself. But you felt it the second he used all his force to thrust up to meet you.

A sharp, helpless cry ripped from your lips.

The force of it would have knocked you off balance if he hadn’t been gripping you so tightly, keeping you flush against him as he snapped his hips upward again.

"Fuck—Noel." His name broke from your lips as another surge of pleasure hit you like a shockwave.

Each thrust sent lightning shooting down your spine, pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. You tried to meet him, to match his rhythm, but the way he was hitting so deep, so perfectly, made it nearly impossible to keep control.

You felt him everywhere. Filling you, consuming you. It was dizzying.

His grip on your hips tightened suddenly, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you down onto him harder, deeper. His own hips surged up to meet you with every thrust, dragging you into the frantic, unrelenting pace he so badly needed.

The sounds filling the room were obscene—skin meeting skin, ragged breaths, broken moans spilling from both of you.

Your mind had gone completely blank, overtaken by pleasure, your body running purely on instinct. The only thought was ‘Noel Noel Noel’. Your own moans were getting higher, more desperate, your broken off sounds of "No-el" between each thrust spilling out. 

"Fuck—" his breath came in ragged, labored gasps, his words shattered. "You feel—so fucking—good—don’t stop—"

Your thighs were trembling from exertion, but stopping wasn’t an option. Not when you were this close. Not when every nerve was buzzing, your entire body tightening around him, the telltale buildup coiling inside you like a live wire ready to snap.

"You’re so close, love," he groaned, his grip tightening. "I can feel it—I need you to—please—I can’t hold on much longer—"

His plea sent another wave of heat crashing through you, tipping you closer to the edge.

Desperate, you moved a hand between you, flicking his nipple again, watching as he arched into your touch with a helpless, ruined moan.

"Fuck—" His voice broke. His hips stuttered, losing rhythm. "You’re gonna make me—fuck—I can’t—"

Then one deep, perfectly-angled thrust sent you spiraling.

Pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body seizing as you cried out his name. Your walls clenched around him, dragging him over the edge with you.

A strangled moan ripped from his throat as he came, his hands gripping you so hard you were sure there would be bruises. His release flooded inside you in sharp, pulsing waves.

You collapsed against him, body giving out entirely. Every muscle felt spent, useless, like you’d been wrung dry. His chest rose and fell beneath you in quick, uneven bursts, both of you still gasping for air.

For a long, breathless moment, the only thing in the world was the two of you. Bodies tangled, limbs shaking, lungs fighting for air.

You figured you should get off him to allow him to fully breathe. You slid off and onto your stomach, melting into the mattress. You could feel him leaking out of you and onto the sheets, but you made no move to stop it. 

Then finally, finally, the world came back into focus.

Noel shifted onto his side as he caught his breath, his fingertips resting along your spine in slow, soothing strokes. The touch sent a shiver through you, but not from arousal this time. It was something softer, something more dangerous.

The intensity of what had just occurred was overwhelming, but unlike last time, you didn’t feel the need to run.

His voice broke the quiet, rough with exhaustion. "You alright?"

You forced yourself to lift your head, meeting his gaze. His blue eyes were heavy-lidded, searching yours.

"I think so," you murmured, still breathless.

His fingers brushed damp strands of hair back from your face, the gesture unexpectedly tender. "You’re shaking," he noted, voice softer now.

You blinked. You hadn’t even realized.

Something stirred inside you at his tone. It was unfamiliar—giddy, weightless. It felt like… affection. A small smile tugged at your lips before you even realized you were doing it.

"Yeah well that’s entirely your fault," you mumbled.

He huffed out a quiet laugh before tugging you closer. His fingers resumed their slow, steady circles, and the warmth of it seeped into you, easing some of the lingering tremors.

This kind of intimacy wasn’t something you were used to. Fucking him was one thing, but this… this was something else entirely. Something you weren’t sure you should allow. But you weren’t stopping him either.

If this was what the real Noel Gallagher was like then you were in trouble.

You laid there for a moment before a nagging thought entered your mind. "I’m sorry I left you in that field."

He stilled for half a second, body tensing before he relaxed again.

"I think I was scared," you admitted. "So I ran. I’m not even sure what I was scared of, really. But… I am sorry."

Noel exhaled through his nose, considering. "I get it," he said finally. "I’m sorry if I was being, uh… too much."

You let out a quiet laugh. "No, I liked it," you confessed, cheeks heating. "I think that’s what scared me. Everything changed so fast, and I wasn’t ready for it."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were warm. "Well I’ve been known to overwhelm people with emotions."

You nudged him playfully, laughing.

"Don’t deny it, love," he teased, his voice dipping into that cocky lilt again. "You know you can’t resist me. I’m magnetic."

"Don’t you start with that again," you warned, pushing up onto your elbows.

He let out a low chuckle, but his gaze flickered down, roaming over your body now that you weren’t caught up in the haze of lust. His expression shifted, less teasing, more appreciative.

"Oh, but it’s true," he replied, his tone cheeky and playful. "You’re completely captivated by me."

You pursed your lips, fighting back a smile. "That’s yet to be proven."

"Is that so?" he murmured. He closed the space between you with a soft kiss. "I think I’m more than capable of proving it to you."

Then, in one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, drawing a startled laugh from your throat. He grinned against your skin, pressing playful kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your neck.

"See?" he said, punctuating his words with another kiss. "Captivated."

You laughed breathlessly, fingers tangling in his hair.

You were starting to think he might be right.

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

I know this is another Noel post but I pinky promise that I have concepts of a plan for a Liam post coming next. 

[deltarogers]

FEELINGS

PAIRING: Steve Rogers x Best Friend!Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve always thought of him as an older brother, but something changed…you’re not sure when.

WARNING: Vulgar language, man receiving head, female receiving head, mutual pining, just overall filth, MDNI, 18+, NOT PROOFREAD YET!!

A/N: I’m back from my hiatus! I’m writing for Marvel, so if you guys have any requests, message me or send them to my requests box!

You’re not exactly sure how this happened. The feelings.

That’s what you tell yourself, at least. You damn well know how this happened.

Steve Rogers had been there for you since you’d become an Avenger. He was always someone you looked up to, and someone you went to for advice. Not to mention, he’d taught you everything you know about fighting.

You two were as thick as thieves, much like Clint and Natasha. You were best friends, he was like the older brother you never had, only physically being a few years older than you.

Until two nights ago…

Stark was throwing a celebration party for the Avengers, inviting a lot of a-list celebrities and high end individuals, thus the nice occasion.

Steve knew you didn’t like parties. So, he opted to stay with you most of the night, making you giggle, while regulating how much you drank. He didn’t want you to be hungover the next morning.

All would have gone smoothly if you hadn’t noticed the same woman trying to talk to Steve over and over again, only to get shooed away by him.

“Steve, go talk to her, she seems interested” You spoke and he raised a brow “You need to put yourself out there, Natasha and I have been trying to find someone for you, and this woman is begging for your attention.” You urged and he sighed.

“Alright, but no more drinks, and go find Peter, I’m sure he could use a friend” He suggested and you rolled your eyes, going off to find the younger boy, who should be in bed; not at this party.

After talking to Peter for what felt like hours, he finally had to go home. Thank god. He was sweet, but all he ever did was talk.

You’d most definitely disobeyed Steve, having a few more drinks. You weren’t drunk, but you were tipsy, and you had to use the bathroom, so you went searching.

Walking through Tony’s house wasn’t hard, but finding the bathroom in your semi-drunk state was proving to be a challenge.

That’s when you heard it.

The sound of…moaning? Who on earth was having sex at a Stark party?

Okay, that’s not a surprise. But the voice you heard crying out sounded familiar.

It was coming two doors down from where you were standing, and you wanted to investigate. You were nosey, and drunk. You admit it, you were drunk.

Upon reaching the door the sounds were coming from, you realized it was cracked open, a little too much. And so, you peeked.

What you saw nearly sent you into shock.

There Steve was, leaned back on the bed as the woman from earlier sucked him off. His head was thrown back, so he couldn’t see you, and neither could the woman, since she was faced away from you.

That’s when Steve looked up, and his eyes immediately caught yours.

Oh fuck, you thought to yourself, and you wanted to move, but you couldn’t, you were mesmerized by him.

“Oh fuck!” Steve groaned out, as if he could hear your thoughts.

His hand had that woman’s hair bunched in it, as he helped her suck him off. And his eyes stayed locked onto yours, a smirk pulling at his lips.

What. The. Fuck.

You almost couldn’t believe that this was real. He was just, looking at you, while he was getting head.

You regretted peeking, especially since he came, thrusting up into her mouth as his eyes burned into your soul.

That’s when you came to your senses and pulled your head away, rushing down the hall and towards the front door, searching for your keys frantically.

Thor noticed and gently grabbed your arm. “Y/n…I don’t think you need to be driving home like this” He said “Are you alright?” He added.

“I’m alright, I promise…would you mind driving me?” You asked, and he nodded his head. You grabbed all of your things and turned as you walked out, spotting Steve one last time before the door blocked your line of sight.

And now, two days later, you were pacing in your office, having told Natasha what occurred. You couldn’t hold it in any longer, especially when she asked you why you’d been avoiding Cap.

“I don’t know what to do, Nat!” You nearly cried “I’ve always seen him as family, but now…I don’t know”

Natasha sighed and shook her head “I would just- act like you don’t remember” She said “For now, until I can figure something out” She added and sighed.

“You can’t ignore him, he’s been worried” She mentioned “It’s only been two days, you can say that you drank too much and you were feeling terrible” She said. “It’s not a good lie, but coming from you…he’ll believe it”

And so, that’s what you did. You lied to him the next time you saw him.

“Hey Cap” You said as you made your way into the kitchen to get coffee.

“I’ve felt like shit the past two days” You said “I had way too much to drink, Thor had to drive me home I was so drunk” You joked and he looked to you, his brows furrowing in worry.

“You should have listened to me, sweetheart” He said and patted your head. “How’s your memory?” He asked. Why would he ask- oh. Oh.

“I can barely remember anything…I just remember talking to Peter and then being at home” You lied straight through your teeth.

With the way he was looking at you, you swore he knew you weren’t being truthful.

“I’m just glad you’re okay…I thought you were upset with me” He said and laughed a tad.

“I could never be mad at you, Steve” You said with a sweet smile.

Steve isn’t exactly sure how this happened. The feelings.

At least, that’s what he told himself. He knew damn well how this happened.

And it wasn’t two nights ago.

He’d developed feelings for you prior to that. You were always so supportive of him, you stayed by his side, not to mention that pretty face of yours.

So, when you told him to go off with that woman at the party, he took that as his sign that you didn’t feel the same way about him.

He went off with her, allowing her to flirt, pretending that it was you. That’s the only reason she ended up sucking him off, because he was pretending she was you.

Steve was more than surprised to find you watching them, but he didn’t mind. This was perfect.

He honestly wouldn’t have cum if he wasn’t looking directly at your face.

He nearly scrambled after you when you left. He didn’t want you to go, but you’d left with Thor by the time he came back.

And now here he was, in the office. He knew why you were avoiding him. He just hoped he hadn’t scared you, or came off as weird.

When you told him it was because you had felt sick, he partially believed it. He could sense the tension though.

Just two days after you’d told him you were fine, he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you. He hated how distant you seemed now.

“Y/n. My office” He said sternly one morning, noticing how everyone became dead silent at the prospect of him angry.

You looked the most shocked, tensing up before nodding and following him to his office.

“What did I do, Captain?” You asked meekly and Steve huffed.

“What has been up with you lately?” He asked once the door to his office shut behind you. “And don’t tell me you don’t know” He said, stepping closer.

“I- fuck…Steve, don’t make me do this” You plead with him and he quirked a brow.

“Jesus fine, I have…feelings for you, Steve” You finally admitted. You’d been harboring that for longer than you thought. “I tried to push them away, and then at the party…when you…” You trailed off and huffed.

“I feel the same way…I just wasn’t sure if you did so that’s why I went off with that woman and-“ Steve rambled and you cut him off by pulling him by his collar towards you, pressing your lips to his in a searing kiss.

Steve let out a guttural groan at the feeling of your lips on his. He moved his lips against yours, pressing you up against the nearest wall.

When you pulled back for air, your eyes met his and he nearly melted. “My girl” He muttered and you were pretty sure your knees gave out, but Steve had one arm wrapped around your waist, preventing you from quite literally sinking into the floor.

Steve trailed kisses from your jawline and down to your neck, leaving a few marks as he went along, much to your dismay.

“Steve, please…” You muttered and he hummed against your skin, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“I think my girl deserves a reward” He muttered “As an apology for me forcing her, what do you think?” He asked and you nodded your head profusely.

“Alright…I won’t make you wait” He said and helped you out of your pants and panties, kneeling down in front of you while you were still pressed to the wall.

“Hold on” He said and moved you, your legs now being over his shoulders. He held you up while also pressing you against the wall in a sitting position.

He didn’t warn you, he just dove in, his tongue swirling around your folds, finding your clit almost immediately.

“F-Fuck! Steve, oh my god!” You cried out immediately as he began to suck and lick at your clit. He had no mercy, devouring you like you were his last meal.

He was moaning himself, gaining some sort of pleasure from the sounds of yours.

It didn’t take you long to get close, gently tugging at his his long hair. “Steve, I’m close…” You warned, but he only sped up, which made you throw your head back, crying out his name as you finally came.

Your hips shook against his face, your legs too, as he lapped up your juices and rode you through your high.

Steve finally placed you down, only having to catch you. Your legs were way too numb after that to be standing properly.

“Shit, what are we going to tell the others?”

TO BE CONTINUED…?

A/n: I have ideas for a Part 2 if you guys are interested!!

[sacredsorceress]

hi! i’m new to your account , i came from your fluffy oldman!logan headcannons and they were to die for!! i loved it so much!!!

if you find time, do you mind making 40s!bucky barnes x reader headcannons but before hydra had taken him away? yknow, going to see stark expo, waiting for him to return from war, all that jazz?

i’m sure it will be amazing !!!! thank you so much , i really appreciate it !!🤍🤍

hi!! welcome to my account- I'm so happy to have you join us!! if you're new here and a fan of 40s!bucky I recommend checking out my 40s!Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader Collection but omg thank you for this because I love any excuse to discuss 40s buck.

⋆｡°✩ Dating 1940's!Bucky ⋆｡°✩

ask box

The first time you met was at a dance club.

Bucky had been staring at you from across the room the entire night: watching the way your face lit up when you laughed along with your friends, and how your feet tapped along to the rhythm of the music as your friends danced while you watched their bags.

Your friends had teased you about your admirer, but you assured them they were seeing things. That was until with a clap on the back by his own friends, Bucky pushed himself out of his seat and strode across the room to you.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky smiled, putting out his cigarette. “Wanna dance?”

And who were you to say no?

From then on you were inseparable. You met Steve within the week and his mother within the month.

Before you, he had never taken home a single girl to meet his mother and sister. When Bucky had suggested it to his mother, she had a sneaky feeling that you were the one.

"What are we having for dinner on Friday, Ma?"

"I don't know, James. Why?" His mother asked

"I was just thinking... I could invite.. this girl over," Buck said, drumming his fingers on the countertop to play it cool. "Think you'll like her."

His mother would turn back to stirring the pot to hide her smile as his sister smothered a laugh beside her.

"Sure, hon." His mother said. "I'd love to meet her."

And when she finally did meet you? Boy was she a fan. Someone had finally managed to rangle her "lady's man" son into the type of guy who pulled out your chair for you, fumbled over his words with a blush, and said "please" and "thank you" to his mother when she passed a dish all to impress you.

He’d ask you to call him James instead of Bucky. Bucky was what his friends called him, but he wanted a name held exclusively for you.

He’d show up to your job with a bouquet of flowers he bought off some kid on the street and all the ladies in the office would gush.

“You’ve got a good one sweetie.”

“-And handsome! Look at that face!”

As mentioned above, when Bucky found out that the Stark Expo was in town he would have bought you both (and Steve) tickets before even asking you.

"Wow..." Bucky sighed, gob smacked, pulling you towards the stage where the flying car levitated above the ground. "You think there's enough room in the back seat for us to-"

"James!"

"Just messin' with you, hun." He laughed, kissing your forehead. "My car works just fine."

When his Ma and Rebecca were out he would slow dance with you in the apartment, letting the echoes of someone playing trumpet outside drift through the window and transport you into a world of your own.

I have a feeling he would always be sneaking up on you.

"James!"

"Aw, don't worry, doll." Bucky laughed, kissing your cheek. "Just me."

When Bucky got the letter in the mail, notifying him that he was being drafted, he was alone. His hands shook as he imagined everything that he had built crashing down and before he even realized what he was doing, Bucky had asked his mother for her engagement ring.

When he saw you later that evening, you could immediately tell that something was off. Bucky had tried to play it off for the first thirty minutes before he could no longer bear it and shoved the letter into your hands.

"James..." You sighed, a crack in your voice. "What are we going to do?"

With shaky hands, he pulled the ring from his pocket and held it between you.

"Let's get married." He said. "I don't wanna go away without you being mine. Just say yes, sweetheart."

Two weeks later you were married in a modest ceremony with Steve as his best man and a reception that followed in his mother's apartment.

On the day he went off to war, you pulled him into a passionate kiss with a tug on his tie. His hands found themselves tangled in your hair as you gripped his lapels, praying if you just held on tight enough that you could keep him there.

With a lipstick stain imprinted on his cheek, you let your husband go. As Steve held you, you kept your watchful eye on Bucky until he was nothing more than a glimmer in the distance.

You wrote him letters every day. Although his responses were infrequent and short, they were drenched with love and longing.

Three months after Bucky left, you discovered you were pregnant.

When he found out, he was a blubbering mess at camp, telling Steve he had to get home.

But he never did.

Six months later, you delivered a baby girl and managed to get a call through to him from some camp they were at (perks of being Cap's best friend).

"You did such a good job, sweetheart." He said, fist in his mouth biting back a sob at the wailing of his baby girl in the background. "Fuck. I'll be home soon."

On the day Bucky died, Steve called you. You weren't sure what it was but before you had even picked up the phone, your heart had sank to your stomach. You knew.

Your soldier never did come back home.

When Bucky finally remembered who he was all those years later in 2016 and found himself at a museum exhibit in honor of him and Steve, he experienced a fresh shock when you appeared on screen.

Your hair had gone gray and fresh wrinkles crinkled at the corner of yours eyes as you smiled, reminiscing over the past- his past with you. You still looked the same, but with the fresh maturity of a woman who had lived, not the girl he had left behind.

"I always said the cigarettes would kill him," You laughed, wiping a tear away with a shaky hand. "If only I knew."

When Bucky finally regained control of himself and his memories, the realization of the life you lost because of his death is what haunted him more than any crime of the Winter Soldier's.

The life he promised you on lone nights staring up at the stars from his rooftop or in his vows on your wedding day were all for naught. You would never have a house of your own, a giggling gang of children who had his smile and your eyes, vacations to different parts of the country... none of it together- none of it shared.

Though, when Bucky first met your daughter that even at the age of eighty had a hint of his smile and your mannerisms, he sobbed.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

"Don't feel sorry," She said sliding a rusted locket into Bucky's hands. "Mom always kept a photo of you on her. She never forgot you. So I guess you were with us after all."

Inside, a photo of the two of you on your wedding day stared back at him. This time he wasn't haunted but freed.

i had too much time to think and this became sad, oops!! sorry nonnie, but I hope you liked it <3. i also apologise if this is riddled with spelling errors,

we're chatting about our favourite MCU guys over in the ask box!!

[charmed-asylum]

I want to start with saying this among so many things I’m gonna say though out honey idk about u but damn u are talented like way you wrote this and wrote it so realistic so authentic so well amazing. Lee not perfect plastic version of himself or foam at the mouth monster but a more if this was everyday thing I see this and the reader too. He didn't mind. Everyone talked about him too. Granted, he was a bit shady sometimes, with his secret businesses here and there, but it was something he had in common with you. Both of you fell outside of what was appropriate.

As I said we start right off the back on an odd way to start him out ( which he probably done so often ) eating lunch on watch or should I say watching her. ( which u so wonderfully done brought it back and put a bow on it ) He noticed that about you. How your body moved almost fluently away from others. You didn't like to be touched. I mean it in my mind feels or looks what a ballerina would look like . All in her own little world .

We know from his little thoughts to himself that he been watching her for a long time . How long is she like 5 years younger or so and he grew up with her or longer. Fascinated !! lol like from what goes around to watching to even speaking to your parents and they didn’t see the signs probably how reader been missing it but let’s be realistic sometimes it’s like that which is probably like many others I too find myself drawn and maybe 🤔 rooting for the two .

Isn’t funny how it’s the ones that don’t do or act the same like the general does that look away . Little things and poof they draw it up to a big thing “ Too different, too quiet, or too loud. You didn't say the right things, you didn't like the right things. You were too honest. “ I like how you add it more of a separation then the others. Because it makes it feel idk show more realistic not just oh she different because she has brown hair and blue eyes not blonde hair and blue eyes or what not which I mean if that’s your reader good but way u write it feels more like you ( as in the reader reading it) . Then we got him talking about his little fantasies hehe man OO man this man something else

It’s so sad but true how many of us can relate again to this reader, “ It was the time that you could disappear in a story and live a life you were never going to get. Experiencing all the emotions and adventures safely from your own home. Romance, and travels, fighting dragons or being a ruling Queen. In real life you liked things simple, but in your head you were free to do whatever you wanted. In your head people liked you. You belonged.” And again this is a prime example of why like me why this story means so much . I mean what do we do all time from a sport to video games to online videos or simulation games we all do something to escape. It’s funny because she this adorable girl and she so innocent huh something I’m sure Lee Lee drool a water fall if he knew knew maybe guess but not knew. And she reading smut fantasy fairy tales lord if only Lee can read your mind u be wrap his chubby fingers.

In all the places I assume Lee be somewhere else but to pick her at a library lord he bold. Hehe just imagining him in his uniform between those book shelfs . But dang a lang snap me out a brown paper bag and glass cup of ice and water bc I never thought I saw this but man o man was this such a scene.

“They said he liked the booze and he loved the ladies who gave it away for free. He had always been pleasant if you ever saw him, devoted to his work, but gossip still followed him” now silly but it’s a question he was always been pleasant do you mean like she always seen him but in hindsight or in general because this kinda goes with beginning when he lays the ground work on his history with reader. So she been aware of him but still doesn’t realize it. Man o man I can’t say a thing bc I tend to act the same way.

Remember how I said I see now and agree w Lee well haha that went to 💯 percent higher after watching they laugh at her about chairs CHAIRS really shit we all need a little bit of comfort Im sure no one laugh at Goldie locks so why her I swear ooooo I will attack w my small hands and sharp nails rawwww and kick them til they are nothing bit soup 🍜. Like really really well this is the world we sadly live in . “ So you had talked to your boss if he could make an exception, if you could keep yours, and store the new one. But of course he hadn’t wanted to. And you admittedly got a little upset. Word got out, or maybe they heard you. You had cried on the toilet, but tried very hard to gather yourself and continue like nothing was wrong. It didn’t matter. They knew. And they thought you were crazy.”

Then we hear what she feels about her parents. “Your parents were disappointed, no doubt, but they always assured you they loved you, and that it would be nice in their old day to spend it with the three of you. You wondered if they had a different child than you, if they had wanted to get another. Someone easier to handle.” I mean shit this poor girl can’t win. LEE SAVE HER OR USE I NEED AN ALIBI FOR WHOOPING THIER ASS. and in walks Lee once again coming to save the day. Again once again it’s like having to take it from page one. Hehehe like he doing it all and she so use to not being treated or ask her opinion she doesn’t know how to deal with it. Small convocations complements etc etc all I wanted to do was eeek with excitement and then again pass out grab a brown bag and glass of ice water . Like way she was so into the story and ask about chickens or how she blurted out her favorite color. And he offers her how to drive ahhhhh loving it. Way he spoke to her and kept giving her words of encouragement ahhh my god or calling her cleaver or what not I am getting tattoo this story name to my heart bc I’m who always was addicted went more by now even about wanting a cat or learning to drive being lonely my god I don’t know how she made it I be dead but in all it’s smart on him getting the ability to talk to her with no way out and calling her a good girl he won just with that even though I don’t think she realizes what happening being she was like oh I will help him find a good girl but also was left a smile and was like I need to find ways to talk to him better next time in all this was such a good 1st chapter

Dream Of A Girl

Part 1

Summary: The sheriff had his eyes on you for a while, the town's joke of an Omega. You never thought you'd find love, but around him you just can't help acting on your inner instincts.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x reader

Word count: 3899

Warnings: Lee, small town gossip and bullying, neurodivergent reader, slurs\insult of neurodivergent back in the day, no cats🥺, turns slightly non-con at the end, Alpha\Omega

Notes: absolutely loved writing this, got really into it, I hope you'll enjoy it, and make sure to drop me a comment, I would love to hear what you think!💕

Series masterlist

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He was watching you again. Inside his car, on his lunch break, slurping from his milkshake as his eyes never left your form. Your head was turned down, watching the pavement as you moved, yet you seemed to be aware where everyone else was because you never bumped into anyone. He noticed that about you. How your body moved almost fluently away from others. You didn't like to be touched. You flinched if someone did.

You were alone a lot. Listening to the noises around you, or he would sometimes hear you murmur to yourself. Sometimes you made strange noises if you were excited. He knew what they said about you.

They thought you were weird.

He didn't mind. Everyone talked about him too. Granted, he was a bit shady sometimes, with his secret businesses here and there, but it was something he had in common with you. Both of you fell outside of what was appropriate.

Of course, he was the sheriff, so no one dared to say it to his face. But they did to you. He had watched you for years. With your pretty hair, and that body…

He shuffled in his seat uncomfortably. You always had an effect on him.

He loved your eyes, although you barely look up to him. You do that. You glanced past people, or talked with your face turned a different way. Some people looked at you funny when you did.

But he knows why. Your parents told him once. When you got dared into doing something naughty. You didn't like it, but told him you had said you would do it before they told you what you were supposed to do. And you needed to keep your promises.

He talked to you sternly about how wrong it was of you, and you sat there with tears in your eyes. Head down. Like you had committed the worst crime. You were a good girl. Your parents told him that. It wasn't your fault. It was those kids. They thought it was funny. School talked to them. They left you alone. But you didn't make many friends.

Too different, too quiet, or too loud. You didn't say the right things, you didn't like the right things. You were too honest.

He liked that about you. He didn't need to wonder what you thought. You weren't two faced like all the other bitches. Who smiled at him in hope for favors, or in hope he would turn his eyes away from what they were doing. You were, you.

When you were alone, or thought you were anyway, your shoulders relaxed and he could sometimes see you smiling. Most times you would if you spotted an animal. Talking to it, like it was your friend. And you were good with kids. Really good. They flocked to you and you easily handled them. You didn't like sudden noises, and you were very clear about that, and they listened to you.

That's something people did like about you, they had no problem ditching their kids on you. You were a natural.

It was one of the things he noticed first about you. That drew him towards you. Your natural motherly instincts. He knew you would do excellent with your own. And the idea of you, one or 2 kids by the hand, belly swollen with another, made him rock hard each time.

God, you would be so pretty. He imagined your children; babies with brown hair, maybe a cleft in their chin, like his. The family Bodecker. You, all soft and sweet smelling. A ring on your finger. It made him come so swiftly once he touched himself.

He was happy no one snatched you up. They all couldn't look past your different behavior and see the gem underneath. They were blind to your qualities. What fools. But it worked in his favor though. Such a good, sweet girl. All ripe for the picking.

You were growing and seemed to not be aware of him. That was okay, he was fine with letting you have this time for yourself. Just out of college, young women needed to find their own way. He didn't want you to feel like you missed out on everything once he married you. That led some housewives to turn a little crazy, he saw it all the time, married at 18 or even 16 at times, high school lovers, and by the time baby number 2 was on the way, they looked worn out and disappointed in life.

Not you though. You finished school, you had a nice job, good parents. He gave you that time. He never was far away though. Watching you. Making sure you stayed out of trouble. Or trouble didn't find you. There weren't many boys to approach you, but those with eyes did, those who were too eager to be bothered with your quirkiness. He made sure to scare them off. He didn't need the competition.

He had a good job, a job that gave him power over this town, a nice house. He could afford a family. When the time came, he could convince your parents he was a good match. But most important was he needed to convince you.

📖

You walked into the library to return your books and pick up new ones. You came here at least once a week, often twice, as you loved reading. It was the time that you could disappear in a story and live a life you were never going to get. Experiencing all the emotions and adventures safely from your own home. Romance, and travels, fighting dragons or being a ruling Queen. In real life you liked things simple, but in your head you were free to do whatever you wanted. In your head people liked you. You belonged.

Lately you got very into fairytales again. Consuming every book you could find, rereading classics, daydreaming about the magic that was both wonderful and scary. The Alpha King, and Omega and the false mate, Sleeping Beta…they were all lovely stories and you couldn't get enough. You walked through the rows upon rows of books, feeling calm and like you were amongst friends. Here you were safe. Here you were liked.

Your hands occasionally picked up a book and read the cover, lost in thought. You didn't even notice the presence next to you, until a voice shook you out of your thoughts.

“Excuse me.”

You froze and looked up. Sheriff Bodecker looked down at you.

“Oh”, you said, stepping away.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I didn't mean for you to leave. I just wanted to grab this book.”

You watched him as he picked up a faded green book. He flipped through the pages. You hadn't expected him to read. You scolded yourself after the thought. You didn't know him. It's just that…he didn't seem the type. You heard stories about him. They said he liked the booze and he loved the ladies who gave it away for free. He had always been pleasant if you ever saw him, devoted to his work, but gossip still followed him.

Gossip was tricky, though. For years rumors went around that you were stupid. That you were rude. That you were mentally challenged. They didn't understand you. And you honestly often didn't understand them. Luckily your parents loved you and stood up for you. They might not always understand but they didn't punish you the way other parents would have. They didn't make you feel bad for not always looking them in the face. Or for being blunt and too honest. How your head was in the clouds at times. Or how people overwhelmed you sometimes. But other people, they didn't get it. And they didn't like what they didn't get.

You watched everyone around you making friends and falling in love. Easily getting through events you struggled with. They got married, and started a family. It was difficult at times, to realize you wouldn't have that, but eventually you accepted it. You were comfortable with your life. You had your family, and one or two acquaintances, and you were okay. It was nice being alone. Quiet. When you were alone, no one expected something of you.

You watched out of the corner of your eye how he assessed the book, before he looked at you again. “Do you know if it's any good?”

You glanced at the title like you had to think about it. “It's a little boring. But I don't know what you're looking for.”

“Just a little something to entertain me in the evenings. I was never much of a reader, but I thought why not read a book once in a while instead of always putting the telly on, ya know?”

You nodded. “What genre are you interested in? Action? Or mystery.”

“Romance.”

You blinked. “Romance,” you quietly repeated. You're eyes gliding past the titles of books and thinking to yourself.

“I don't mind it being a little…naughty, might motivate me even more to be honest,” he chuckled.

Your cheeks heated, but you tried not to show any signs of your discomfort. A heated romance. Of course you could list a few, but it felt awkward sharing that with him. You hummed softly under your breath, more out of nerves than anything, but you grabbed a book eventually. “A little naughty, and definitely romance,” you told him.

He hummed and turned the book in his hands. “Thank you, I didn't know where to start.”

“The librarians are happy to help if you can't find anything.”

“Yes, I'm sure they are, but you seem like you know more about this stuff.”

Maybe you did. Maybe it was easier to approach a visitor than the strict ladies running this place? You continued your search, but he did not leave.

“Don't you have enough books?”

You frowned. How could anyone have enough books? And why was he criticizing you? “I like reading.”

He laughed. “ No, I can see that, but do you really read all these in a week?”

“No. Sometimes I read them in a few days.”

“Oh, really. Okay. That's impressive. I really need to catch up if I were to compete with you.”

“It's not a competition. You can read how you want.”

“Oh I know, I was just joking.”

It wasn't a very good joke in that case. “Oh.” You thought, then replied. “Do you need anything more?”

There was silence, then he answered awkwardly. “No, you helped enough.”

You nodded.

He said your name quietly and when he didn't continue, you looked to the side at him. Your eyes locked and you blinked before you looked away.

“Tell your parents hello from me, will you?”

You nodded. You would, if you remembered.

He walked away and you were left feeling a little weird about the whole conversation. Sheriff Bodecker, reading a romantic book. It seemed a little silly. But maybe he was a little lonely. He was unmarried and didn't seem to be in a hurry to get settled.

He asked for something a little naughty, though. If he wanted anything naughty he should've gone to a different section of the library. They had a few of those, although most people didn't dare to pick them up and give the ladies anything to gossip about. Sheriff Bodecker, with a naughty book. You smiled to yourself. It would be the talk of town.

🤎

You wrapped your scarf around your neck, it was a little chilly today. Maybe you were just tired. It had been a long day at work today, your hands were cramped from all the typing, and your colleagues had left you feeling a little upset. Normally you tried to not listen to their chatter and ignore if they were ever negative about you. But today…they had stood a little nearer and you had more trouble filtering their voices.

They had talked about Marcie, who had found herself a beau. If only it had stayed about Marcie, it would have been fine. But they had looked over at you and pretended to lower their voices.

“Spinster”, they had used. They giggled slightly during it. You pretended not to see them staring at you. Or how they didn't care if you heard it.

“She’s never going to find anyone, I mean did you hear her talk about the different office chairs to mr. Johnson? One would think she had to sit on spikes.

You bit your lip. You did not want to cry in front of them. They had changed the chairs two days ago, the old ones too worn out to be pleasant. But you had liked them. You were used to them. And it felt like an old friend had been ripped away from you. So you had talked to your boss if he could make an exception, if you could keep yours, and store the new one. But of course he hadn’t wanted to. And you admittedly got a little upset. Word got out, or maybe they heard you. You had cried on the toilet, but tried very hard to gather yourself and continue like nothing was wrong. It didn’t matter. They knew. And they thought you were crazy.

And now they kept bringing other things up in their conversations. Like they enjoyed your discomfort.

You did your job well, however, so you were pretty sure if you laid low for a while, mr. Johnson wouldn’t fire you. You always made sure to finish all your work, even if you had to stay longer. Got the job done.

But now, at the end of the work day, you felt exhausted. It was tiresome keeping up pretense. The constant noise of the workplace around you. A short break to try and relax and be alone wasn't enough. You knew maybe things would be easier if you sat with them and told them things you heard, so they could gossip about someone else for once. But you didn’t like them. And they were too much. You needed your break to rest before getting back to work. You often sat outside on a bench alone, or took a walk.

You took a deep breath. Tonight you were going to read your new book, and ask your daddy if he wanted to play the piano. He didn’t do it as often as he used to, but you always enjoyed his music. He would do it for you, you knew it.

As a single Omega, you still lived with your parents. It was common to do so. You couldn’t live alone with your designation and it didn’t seem like you would ever move out and get your own home to look after. Your parents were disappointed, no doubt, but they always assured you they loved you, and that it would be nice in their old day to spend it with the three of you. You wondered if they had a different child than you, if they had wanted to get another. Someone easier to handle.

You walked past the shops, occasionally looking through the windows. You liked window shopping. Seeing all the new things on display, even if you didn’t buy much. You didn’t need it. But sometimes you saw something pretty and pondered if you should get it. You should buy a new dress. Most of the ones you had were getting a little old. But they were so comfortable and new dresses felt a little tight and rough. Perhaps your mother would buy some fabric and sew one for you. She knew your tastes.

A car honked next to you and you startled. When you looked around with a beating heart you noticed the car of the sheriff. He had rolled down his window and called out to you.

“Sorry, little lady, didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you walking and thought maybe you wanted a ride home?”

You blinked. A ride with the sheriff. You had never done that. “I’m fine walking.” You replied and tried to smile.

“You just look tired, is all. And it is going to rain soon.”

Was it? You didn’t feel much like getting wet. Still, this was weird. Different. What were you even going to say to him?

He opened the door from the inside though, clearly expecting you to get in, and you didn’t want to be rude. He meant well.

You clambered in, fixed your dress and your hair.

“Long day?” he mentioned. “You look tired.”

“Yes.” you answered.

“I get that, I’ve been busy since 5 this morning myself.” he sighed. “Got a call in for a robbery. Those damn Callen boys always stealin’ them chickens from the Bookers farm. Not exactly the most exciting job.”

You blinked, thought of how to reply. “Did you get them back?”

He chuckled. “Well some of ‘em. They ate at least two, but I arranged for them to work a few weeks at the place to pay them back. And I'll make damn sure they're going to show up and do the work.”

You nodded. The Bookers were cheapskates, but a theft was a theft, and you were sure they enjoyed the free labor. Those chickens couldn't be worth that much.

“You look nice today,” he mentioned suddenly.

You looked down at your dress. A little frayed around the edges. Your hair must've been less than proper because you tended to play with it if you were in thought. Maybe he was being nice. “Eh, thank you,” you mumbled.

He hummed. “That dress is a nice color.”

“Blue is my favorite,” you blurted out. You wore red today, you didn’t know why you said it.

He chuckled. “Is that right? Well I love blue.”

Your eyes looked anywhere but him, at the passing buildings and bushes. What else were you going to say? It was polite to talk back, your mother had told you. Ask about something!

“Ehm, this is a nice car,”

He turned to look at you again, not keeping his eyes on the road and you swallowed. “Well, it comes with the job, but it does its work.”

You nodded.

“Do you know how to drive?”

“Oh no. No, no. I do not.”

“I could teach you.” he offered, and your heart rate increased.

“No!...no. I don't think I can, I get nervous.”

“Well everyone gets nervous the first time, but you’ll learn soon enough, you’re a clever girl.”

You blinked at him. No one had ever called you clever before. You weren’t stupid, you werent, but no one thought you were particularly bright. “I get nervous.” you told him firmly.

He hummed “Well alright, If you change your mind, I'm more than willing.

“I don't mind walking.” you told him.

“Yeah, I see you walking around. You like looking at things don’t you?”

You looked down, ashamed, but his finger lifted your chin. You startled at the contact.

“Wasn't mocking you. I just see you sometimes. Gotta keep an eye on the crowd to make sure nothing happens, part of the job, I can’t help it. So I see you walking and befriending the neighbors cats.”

“Oh.” You didn't know what to think of this. Being watched. You always felt like you were. “I like cats.”

“I like them too. They’re a little feisty. You got one at home?”

You shook your head. “No, my parents don’t want one.”

“I was thinking about getting one. Might be nice to come home to something, you know? House is all empty.”

You understood. You’re parents rules, however, nothing you could do about it.

He sighed “ Yeah…. gets real lonely for a man by himself. You got someone waiting on ya?”

“Eh no. No, no one.” You felt nervous. You knew it was common for a girl your age to settle, or have settled already. It was embarrassing to admit.You had never even kissed before.The thought of it made you anxious though, How to even do that with a tongue, and how to move? It seemed mighty complicated.

“Me neither,” he admitted. “It’s a hard job, and not everyone can deal with being the wife of a sheriff. I’d treat her right, though. Yessir. I’d be a good husband. For the right woman. I always wanted that. A house, a wife, some kids. A nice meal when I get home…”

You hummed, like he had done before.

"You can cook?”

Your eyes moved rapidly over the car interior. “Why, yes?” it came out as a question.

“Yeah I expected you to. You’re a good girl after all. Momma raised you right.”

You felt warmth shoot through you. You didn’t know why. He was being nice. And you weren’t used to that. You actually were a pretty good cook. And you liked doing it. Relieving your mother from the hard work running a household was. And showing you cared. You know you weren’t always good with that. Often absorbed in your own head and your own feelings. So cooking was something you could do.

“Would love to have a home made meal again. It’s been so very long.”

You nodded.

He eyed you. And as the silence lingered he tsked. “Well, who knows, maybe someone will invite me someday.”

“Oh. Yes. I'm sure,” you were quick to agree. It would be nice for him. Someone cooking. Maybe Miss Oleson would, the woman was all alone and about 70, she probably would love the company.

You would ask her, so he wouldn't feel embarrassed. Miss Oleson would watch you sometimes when you were younger, and she was kind to you. She always gave you candy even if your parents had told her not too. You were fond of her.

You arrived at your house soon and you got out. He leaned towards the window again.

“If you want, I can come pick you up again tomorrow.”

You blinked. Why? Was it going to rain again tomorrow?

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s my pleasure.” he grinned. “Unless i’m being called away, but if so, I’l call you.”

“I don’t have a phone.” You eyed the laces of your shoes.

He laughed. “No silly, at your office, I can call the company.”

“Oh. Yeah that would work. I guess.”

“That’s settled then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” you mumbled and turned to walk towards the door.

As you heard him leave behind you, you suddenly remembered you hadn’t said goodbye, or thanked him. You felt your cheeks heat. You were supposed to thank someone for helping. You messed up again. Tomorrow, when he picked you up, you would make sure to thank him then. Maybe he wouldn’t think you rude anymore. And maybe you should find some questions to ask him about. So he didn’t ask you weird ones when there was silence.

You hung up your coat at the door, suddenly smelling a nice scent coming off it.

The fabric had absorbed some of his that lingered in the car. You sniffed carefully and then reared back in shame. It was kind of improper to just smell someone. You only did that to someone you knew better. Like family, or…or a suitor.

Still, the scent lingered in your nose as you walked away, and it was pleasant enough for you to feel a little lighter for the rest of the evening.

Part 2

[runningincircl3s]

Blood Sport

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Chapter Two

chapter warnings: mentions of drinks (although never stated as alcoholic?)

happy friday!! i did NOT expect this story to get so much love so far, i can't believe it?? seriously thank you so much!! i'm hoping it lives up to it's expectations as it's been so so fun to write, i've definitely fallen back in love with writing and i think this story will certainly reflect that <3

also, like with nothing ever after, i thought i'd share my playlist for this story! i wanted to make it fit with the chapters but nope it is an unorganised mess, and i will still be adding to it as i write more! but anyways are we ready to face noah again...

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You adjusted the strap of your dress in front of Matt's hallway mirror, trying your best to ignore the anxiety crawling up your spine. This wasn’t supposed to be difficult, not for you. Matt and Alyson were getting married, and you were invited to celebrate with them. It's not like this was your big day. So it should be simple, right?

Except everything about this felt complicated. Besides Bryan (and now Matt and Folio), you hadn’t seen any of the guys in the band since last year, so you were worried about how they'd react, especially Noah. You couldn't even think about him without your chest tightening, so the thought of seeing him again had your heart beating faster than you were comfortable with.

However, you pushed all these thoughts to the back of your mind, attempting to focus on the task at hand.

“Are you ready?” You asked Matt, before helping him adjust his tie.

“As ready as I can be.”

You chuckled, smoothing down the fabric of his jacket, admiring the way he looked in his suit.

“You look great. Alyson’s going to lose it when she sees you.”

Matt smiled, but there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

“I just… I don’t want to mess this up, you know?”

You paused, giving him a reassuring look.

“You’re not going to mess anything up. You love her. She loves you. That’s all that matters.”

He met your gaze, his usual confidence had been replaced by anxiety, but he still put on his best smile.

“I’m lucky, huh?”

“Very.” You agreed softly, your smile turning a little bittersweet as your mind brought you back to somebody. 

Noah. 

How, if things were different, he would've been here with you. You could've been attending your best friends wedding together.

But instead, you almost felt like you shouldn't be going. He surely wouldn't want to see you again, how would he react to you turning up to his best friends wedding?

Matt seemed to notice you drift away into thought, so he cleared his throat.

“Alright, enough of this sentimental stuff. We've got a wedding to get to!”

As he turned toward the door, you called out.

“Wait, Matt. You’re forgetting something.”

He suddenly spun back around.

“I am?”

You dug into your bag and pulled out a small box, handing it to him.

“A little something I got you for good luck.” You said with a wink.

"Good luck?" He raised an eyebrow, "Isn't this just for the bride?"

"Well, not this time." You chuckled, watching him inspect it.

Matt opened the box, revealing a small silver keychain with a tiny plush raccoon hanging from it.

“You know me too well.” He grinned, tucking it into his pocket. “Thanks, y/n. Seriously. You were the first person I told when I thought about proposing, you’ve been a part of this since day one. Even if it's tough for you... I’m really glad you’re here.”

You smiled, feeling that familiar lump at the back of your throat.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

As Matt stepped out, you couldn’t help but think back to when you first met the guys, and how so much had changed, but so much had stayed the same.

You still remember when Matt first met Alyson, he had told you it was love at first sight, which made it even more difficult for him to ask her out on their first date, fearing she'd say no and he'd spend the rest of his life alone.

And now here they were, all these years later, on their wedding day.

Something in the air felt different this afternoon as you stepped out of the house into the warm sun. For the first time in months, you felt hopeful. You were starting to feel like maybe you were ready for you own next step, whatever that might be.

Maybe it was time to make a profile on some dating apps.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Your anxiety was sky high when you wandered through the venue, knowing he would be there somewhere. The venue itself was beautiful, the colour theme was red and cream, with touches of black, so all the decorations were set out to match. 

You took a deep breath, smoothing your dress as you scanned the room, your eyes landing on Jolly. 

You felt a relief wash over you at the familiar face, so you began to walk over to greet him and Nicole. 

“Hi!” You grinned, noticing their surprise as they turned around to see you. 

“Oh my God, y/n!” Nicole wrapped her arms around you, embracing you in a warm hug as Jolly chuckled. 

“Let her breathe, ‘Cole.” 

“Sorry,” she laughed, “You look so beautiful… How have you been? Jolly kinda told me about the... Situation…” 

“I’m okay,” you said, forcing a smile, “Just a little nervous about seeing him again. But that’s not what todays for, it’s Matt and Alyson’s big day and I won’t let him ruin it.”

“So how long have you been back?” Jolly asked, sliding an arm around his girlfriend's waist.

“I got here a couple days ago, I’m staying with Matt at the moment, but me and Folio are actually looking to find a place together around here!” 

Their faces screwed up, a look of horror washing over them.

“You and Folio…?!”

“As friends, Jesus!” You laughed, “He wants to get out of Noah’s place, and I’ve got to be out of my place by the end of the month, so you might be seeing a whole lot more of me.” 

“That’s great!” Nicole smiled.

“I’m sure Noah would agree.” Jolly smirked, before Nicole gave him a look, making him apologise. 

“So… Is he here?” You asked. 

“By the bar,” Jolly nodded, “I can’t believe he brought her.” 

Your chest burned, turning back to look at Jolly.

“Her?”

“You don’t know about Amy?” 

“No?” 

“Shit,” he ran his hand through his hair, “She’s this girl he’s kind of... Dating. I thought one of the guys would've told you.” 

“Why should they? What he does doesn’t concern me anymore,” you said, as if you were trying to convince yourself, “He can do whatever he wants.” 

Then, as you looked away again, you spotted him by the bar.

Noah.

It was like the air shifted the moment you spotted him. 

He stood leaning against the bar, a drink in hand as he spoke to Ruffilo. The sharp black suit he wore fit too well, his dark hair parted in the middle, falling over his eyes perfectly like it always did. 

He was still Noah. Still the stupid, hot bastard.

And then, as if he felt you staring, he looked up.

The moment your eyes met, the world around you quietened.

His posture stiffened ever so slightly, fingers tightening around his glass. For a moment, neither of you could look away. You noticed the look of surprise in his eyes, he clearly didn’t expect to see you here. 

You’d spent the weeks leading up to today trying to prepare for this, but nothing could have braced you for actually seeing him again. Especially when he looked this damn good.

Then, just as quickly as the moment arrived, it shattered.

A perfectly manicured hand curled around his arm, and a girl leaned her head on his shoulder. 

So that must be Amy.

She was stunning, the type of beauty that would make you turn your head on the streets. Everything about her was flawless, her hair, her dress, her makeup- if you didn’t know better, you’d think she was the one getting married today.

And suddenly, you felt small.

“Everything okay?” Jolly asked softly, snapping you out of whatever was going on in your mind. 

You swallowed hard, willing away the tightness in your chest as you nodded. 

“Yep... Never been better.” 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

As you all began to get into your places for the actual ceremony, you caught Folio, dragging him by the arm to the corner of the room. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about Amy?” You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your voice down. 

“I wasn’t sure how…” He explained, “They’re nothing serious, I didn’t even know she’d be here today. Fuck, I don’t even know how she is, she wasn’t invited!” 

"Nothing serious? Nick, Jolly told me they're dating!"

"Okay, maybe they are..."

“How long?”

“Huh?” 

“How long have they been together?” You said through gritted teeth, trying to keep your composure.

“...A few months.” 

You nodded your head.

You had no reason to be upset, angry or even jealous. He wasn’t yours anymore, he was never really yours to begin with. 

Your eyes drifted over to them, chatting by the front row. You watched the way her hand brushed his arm, the way he smiled down at her, looking at her like she was the only person in the room. 

You don't care. You shouldn't care. Why did you care?

“I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head, “I shouldn’t care anymore, should I?” 

Nick’s expression softened, and he frowned as he took your hand in his. 

“You loved him… There’s no stronger feeling than that. If it was really real, you can’t expect to just make it stop.”

“I guess,” you sighed, your gaze catching a very stressed out Matt pacing the floor, “I guess we better get in our places.”

“Yeah,” Folio smiled, dropping your hand, “Good idea.” 

The two of you walked down to your seats, and you were glad to see you were in between the two Nick’s. 

“Oh, Nick!” You grinned as you greeted him, “I’ve missed you so much.” 

His arms pull you in to a warm hug as he stands up. 

“Hey! It’s so good to see you again… I missed you too, what happened?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, pulling away. 

“I get why you’d stop talking to Noah, but us too?”

“I didn’t think you guys would ever want to talk to me again,” you frowned, “I’m sorry.” 

“Of course we'd still want you in our lives, it'd be weird without you," he chuckled, "We all make mistakes, y/n."

“Yeah, some worse than others.” You sigh, sitting down in your seat. 

Your eyes meet Noah's again as you look up, like he had already been watching you. Your breath caught and you felt your face heat up as you quickly diverted your vision, and he did the same.

"We didn't tell him you were coming," Nicholas explained, "He asked me about you last night, I had to lie and tell him I didn't know if you'd be here."

“I’m starting to think I shouldn’t be.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The reception was beautiful, warm string lights draped across the garden of the venue, casting everything in a soft, golden glow as the sun began to set. You tried your best to enjoy yourself, talking with your friends, having a few drinks, meeting some of Matt and Alyson's other friends. You wanted tonight to be fun, for you all to look back with happy memories of it. But one thing made that difficult.

One person. 

You had done your best to avoid Noah all evening, but it was impossible to ignore his presence, the sound of his voice, his laughter over the music. Even when you weren't looking, you could still feel he was there. You tried to keep your eye on him to make sure you didn't come face to face unexpectedly. 

You had made it through the first hour unscathed.

Then, you slipped up.

You approached the bar for another drink, forgetting that he had been standing just a few feet away.

You noticed Amy had left early, as Noah was alone for most of the night, and through Jolly, you had learned the details of their relationship. She was a model and a wannabe singer who had reached out to Noah for help writing a song. Instead of making music, they clearly made something else.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but somehow, you both ended up side by side at the bar. Close enough that you could smell his cologne, the smell that was once comforting now filled you with nerves.

Noah barely glanced at you as he leaned against the counter, fingers drumming against the wood while he waited for his drink.

“You look…” He started but then stopped, shaking his head.

You slowly turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“I look?”

“Never mind.” He scoffed, bringing his glass to his lips. “Forget I said anything.”

He exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing like he was annoyed with himself for almost slipping. The words had nearly left his lips, and for a moment he had forgotten how this was supposed to be, how he was supposed to act cold, distant, indifferent.

But you saw it in his eyes as he looked at you, and you heard the way his voice softened as he spoke to you. There was something there that told you he missed you, even if hed never admit it.

You hated how much it made your heart race.

A tense silence stretched between you, filled with all the things left unsaid. The kind that made it impossible to breathe.

Until finally, he broke it.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come today.” His voice was quieter this time.

“Yeah, well… They're my friends too.”

Before you could say anything else, the music slowed and Matt and Alyson’s first dance started.

Everyone turned to watch them sway together beneath the twinkling lights. The moment was intimate, beautiful, and it should’ve been nothing more than that. But standing here, next to Noah, watching two people so in love, it made your heart ache in your chest.

You thought about what you've lost, what you could've had with Noah. How this could've been the two of you one day, but instead you were stood side by side in silence, like you were nothing more than strangers.

You felt his gaze shift to you, and despite yourself, you turned to meet it.

There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite place, softness, maybe, or hesitation. Like he wanted to say something, but knew better.

Your fingers rested against the bar, just inches from his. Your breath hitched when his hand shifted ever so slightly, the smallest movement, like he almost wanted to close the distance. For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed, like the past year had been nothing but a bad dream.

But then reality came crashing back.

He had Amy now. He had clearly moved on.

And so you pulled your hand back.

His eyes flickered downward, landing on the necklace you wore. The one he had given you for your birthday. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words

"You still wear it?" He asked, almost as if he was in disbelief.

You swallowed hard, your fingers instinctively reaching for the necklace his eyes were fixed on. The one he had given you on your birthday, the day before everything turned to shit.

"I never take it off," you admitted, "I guess... It reminds me of you." 

Without thinking, he reached out, fingertips ghosting over the pendant and gently brushing over your skin, a barely-there touch that sent a shiver down your spine. But the second he made contact, something in him snapped.

His hand recoiled like he had been burned.

Without thinking, he reached out, fingertips ghosting over the pendant, a barely-there touch that sent a shiver down your spine. But the second he made contact, something in him snapped.

His hand recoiled like he had been burned.

He straightened, swallowing hard, his expression closing off as quickly as it had softened. Whatever moment you’d just shared, he crushed it, along with any hopes you had that maybe there was still something between you, that your relationship could be salvaged.

“Enjoy the wedding." He said, voice unreadable, before walking away.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, gripping the edge of the bar to steady yourself.

So that was how it was going to be.

Fine.

You finished your drink and headed back to the table where Nick was sitting with Jolly and Nicole. 

“Everything okay?” He asked, a slight smirk tugging on his lips. 

“Yeah. Why?” You questioned, sitting down beside him. 

“We saw you talking to him… What did he say?” 

You sighed, your eyes drifting away to him, watching how he laughed with his friends. At least he wasn’t hurting anymore, or so you thought. 

Noah, on the other hand, didn’t know how he felt. He had spent so long telling himself he was over you, that he had moved on. But the moment he saw you tonight, he realised that nothing had really changed. 

The feelings were still there.

And he hated himself for it. 

“He said he wasn’t sure I’d come tonight.” You finally say, turning back to Folio. 

“Was that it?” He scoffed, “The way he was looking at you I thought you’d come back and tell us he confessed his undying love-” 

“Nick, leave it, please.” You groaned, watching as Matt and Alyson still danced on the floor, a more upbeat song playing now.

“No. I know there’s something he’s hiding, y/n. The two of you need to talk, you need to-”

“Nick.” You repeated, “Stop. I don’t want to do this tonight. He has a girlfriend now, I need to respect that.” 

Nicole turned to look at you, an almost sympathetic look on her face before she got up, reaching a hand out to you. 

“C’mon, dance with me.” 

“Me?” You laughed, shooting a look at Jolly as if to say it should be you!

“Yes, you! We need to lighten the mood, and I love this song!” She grinned as she pulled you along to the dancefloor. 

Do you believe in life after love…

“You’re lucky I love you!” You grinned, "I wouldn't dance with anybody else!"

"Oh yeah?" She smirked, eyes trailing over to Noah, who seemed to be watching from the corner of his eye.

The two of you danced along, and after Matt left, Alyson joined the two of you. 

“Are you having fun?!” She shouted over the music. 

“We are now!” Nicole smiled. 

“I can’t believe you’re finally married!” You shouted, and Alyson nodded. 

“I know! And to my best friend… If only I could go back in time and tell myself… Things will get better…” You could see her eyes filling with tears, and you quickly wrapped your arms around her. 

“Hey!” You frowned, wiping away her tears, "None of that! This is a happy night!"

Alyson let out a teary laugh, nodding as she hugged you back.

"You're right. I'm just- I'm so happy, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before."

Nicole wrapped her arms around both of you, pulling you into a tight embrace as she called for a group hug.  

The three of you danced along to the music together for a moment, and for the first time in forever, you let yourself be happy. You let yourself enjoy the moment, surrounded by your favourite people, your friends that you considered family.

But then, as you turned, your eyes met his again.

Noah was still there, still watching.

His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze that you couldn't quite place. A look of regret? Longing?

You weren’t sure.

And you weren’t sure you even wanted to know.

So, instead of lingering, instead of thinking too much, you turned back to your friends and let yourself laugh and have fun, you let yourself feel like everything was okay.

Just for tonight.

-------------------------------@bloody-spades @death-ofpeace-ofmind @miss570 @dominuslunae @dontwantthemoney @amelia-acero @noahslutbastian @blade-dressed-in-red @super-btstrash-posts @kait16xo @oobleoob @sunshine-lvrr @lacy1986 @enemiestolovershoe @samanthasgone

this is still a new taglist so if i forgot you (IM SORRY) or you want to be added please just let me know!! :)