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sometimesanalice · 5 months

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Make Me Your Masterpiece

Summary: Bob credits you for helping him to find his new hobby. And when he asks if he can you paint you, you find you quite like the idea of being his muse.

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: fluff, smut, and basically an ode to Lewis Pullman’s hands (mdni)

(Author’s Note: smutty fics are the new friendship bracelet, spread the word! Happy Birthday, Ames! 🎉 @laracrofted)

You’ve always had a thing for Bob’s hands.

They were one of the first things you noticed about him that day at the coffee shop almost a year ago now.

You’d been reaching for your iced vanilla cinnamon latte when a big hand had wrapped around it just a half of a second before you could grab it. Which you wouldn’t have minded admiring them for a moment under any other circumstances, but after an endless string of meetings you’d been in a dire need of a caffeine fix- and not the weak stuff that people brewed in your office’s communal coffee pot.

“I think that’s-” you’d started.

“Oh, I’m sorry-” the coffee thief backpedaled.

The next thing you knew you were looking into the prettiest pair of ocean blue eyes.

The two of you were startled out of the moment when the barista called out the next order as they’d set it on the counter.

By some kismet or fate, they had been a matching set. But instead of embroidered towels, it was his and hers coffee cups with your names written on them in a hasty scrawl.

Realization dawned over his features as he gave you a sheepish smile, “Think this one might belong to you, Miss.” He spun the coffee until he found the spot with your name. That little smile becoming a full grin as he’d said it aloud before passing the cup to you.

The hands had been good, the eyes had been great, but Bob’s smile directed at you had left you weak in the knees.

You’d been a goner right then and there.

And while you’d ended up almost ten minutes late to your next meeting, you’d also gone back to the office with his phone number written on a cardboard coffee sleeve that was tucked away safely in your purse and a date lined up later that week.

As it turned out fate had a name and it was Robert Floyd.

Barely twenty minutes into your first official date with Bob, his ears had turned a delightful shade of pink as his anxious fingers straightened the silverware on the white linen tablecloth of the Italian spot he’d taken you to. He’d fessed up and apologized as he came clean, telling you that he’d purposefully ordered the same coffee as you in hopes of getting to start up a conversation with the pretty girl who’d been standing in front of him in line.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you, since you looked busy. But I didn’t want to miss my chance,” he’d confessed over candlelight.

He’d told you how he’d only been at the coffee shop because he’d recently returned from a deployment and was fighting the jetlag that came with adjusting to being back on Pacific Standard Time, and that he normally preferred tea but he needed something with a bit more to it to get him through the day.

Instead of getting up and taking the bottle of wine to-go as a consolation prize, like you would have if it had been anyone else, his genuine earnestness had charmed you instantly. And you’d settled on having a second date with him before the first one had even really started.

You only let him sweat it for about thirty seconds before you took pity on him. With a light fingertip, you traced along one of the veins on the back of his hand and simply asked, “So other than being a meet cute mastermind, what is it that you do for a living, Bob?”

It was the best first date you’d ever had.

For your second date with him, you’d bought tickets to a ‘Paint and Sip’ event at a buzzy new bistro in town your friend had told you about.

You weren’t an artist by any means, but during that dinner date his antsy fingers and expressive hands had clued you into how nervous he’d been. You’d found your eyes drifting to them on more than one occasion. Partly because they were so enticingly disproportionate to the rest of him, but also because you couldn’t look him directly in the eye for too long without feeling your face heating up.

You thought it would be a good way for the both of you to work past the getting-to-know-you jitters, something that would keep your hands and eyes occupied enough to relax a bit more and have fun together.

Although instead of the seascape class you’d thought you’d signed up for, you’d willingly paid $86+ tax to watch Bob’s lithe, long fingers delicately grip a paintbrush in a way you thought was going to make you lose your mind.

You’d spent the whole first hour trying and failing to mix the perfect shade of blue before giving up when you’d realized that the man next to you, in addition to having really great hands, was also very good at painting.

Bob had seemed surprised by that too because he’d kept flushing that wonderful shade of pink that had quickly become your new favorite color every time you complimented his piece.

He had steady, capable hands. But you were quickly learning that everything about Bob Floyd seemed that way. There was a quiet confidence about him. He didn’t shy away from the way he’d openly observed you, like you were a riddle he was enjoying learning to decode.

You’d never known a man to be so attentive until him.

Bob’s tongue was peeking out as he’d worked on adding some wispy clouds to the top of his piece. You weren’t even sure what step you’d technically stopped at before you’d given up to watch the visual feast of him painting instead. Only halfheartedly adding random bits to your canvas along the way to make sure it wasn’t totally blank by the end of the session.

You’d been so zoned out watching him create that it was like a slow-motion sequence in a horror movie. You’d reached out for your wine glass, lifting it to your lips to take a sip, it had only taken you a split second to realize it wasn’t the full-bodied red you’d ordered that was coating your tongue, but the murky, gritty paint water instead.

Mortified, you’d looked over just in time to see Bob’s empathetic wince. You’d been hoping to fly under the radar, but it had turned out that you’d had more than one set of eyes on you.

“And we officially have our first casualty of the evening, folks,” the instructor cheerily announced to the group, “The rest of you can breathe easy now!”

You wanted to be able to laugh at your own expense, but you’d groaned as you buried your face in your hands.

It was not the way you saw the night going. You wanted to be dazzling, you wanted that pivotal third date with him. But now you were the girl who drank paint water whose canvas looked like it had all the same efforts as an enthusiastic fourth grader.

Bob’s hands had gently wrapped around your wrists before he’d pulled them from your face. And then he’d leaned in close, taking your chin in his hand and kissed you squarely on the lips, his tongue dipping in and sliding against yours to taste the acrylic pigment from your surprised mouth.

“Huh,” he’d said, contemplatively. He’d pulled away only far enough to look into your eyes and give you a soft smile. “Celadon blue doesn’t taste like a Cabernet, go figure.”

He brushed a light kiss against your cheek as he’d passed you your wine glass so that you could rinse the paint water taste out of your mouth.

You couldn’t help but to still be a little embarrassed, but then you’d caught the way he’d shoot an unimpressed look at the instructor every time they passed by for the rest of the evening. You didn’t need a knight in shining armor when you had a Bob Floyd with a paintbrush and a cutting side eye.

You took him home with you that night and learned for yourself just how capable those hands of his were.

It was only later that you realized the exact shade of blue that you’d been trying so hard to capture earlier that night was the same color as the eyes that gazed down at you as Bob fucked you for the very first time.

There was no way you could have known that the ‘Paint and Sip’ date would have inspired him to pick up painting as a hobby.

First, he’d started taking classes at the Rec Center. His once a week classes later turned into him checking out books from the library. And then he’d turned his spare bedroom into a studio, as it has the best afternoon light in the Spanish style house he rents near the Naval base. He’d even bought a comfy chair for you to curl up in as he painted, a little nook of your own in his favorite space in his home. And steadily, the walls of both your apartment and his place fill up with all of his art.

You’d even had your favorite one professionally framed. The pretty landscape done in shades of soft greens that he gave to you for your birthday hangs in a place of honor above your bed. You like having that piece of Bob as one of the last things you see before you fall asleep and one of the first things you see in the morning on the rare occasion the two of you aren’t sharing a bed. You liked to imagine the hours he spent on it with the sunlight streaming through the open window as he lovingly and painstakingly created something just for you with his own two hands.

Although you did have to beg him to sign it for you. He claimed that since he does it for fun that there’s really no reason too, but you were adamant about it and he’d eventually caved and scrawled his name in the lower right-hand corner.

Now it’s become your personal mission to ensure that every Bob Floyd original has his signature on it when he gives his paintings out as gifts.

Everyone assumes that his art would be all straight lines and precise angles, but it’s your favorite moment when people get to see his abstract landscapes. He’d told you he spends so much time in the sky that he likes to paint what’s on the ground, the things he doesn’t get to see when he’s 50,000 feet in the air.

You could tell Bob was a little nervous when he first asked to paint you.

After almost a year with him, you’d think he’d know by now that you’d do anything for him. Not to mention, you were more than a little in love with the idea of being his muse.

“Are you saying you want to paint me like one of your French girls?” you’d teased with a grin, unable to resist the opportunity. You always did have a thing for men with perfectly floppy hair.

He’d tipped your chin up so that you were looking into his blue eyes- a color you were positive couldn’t be replicated- and stated, “No, I want to paint you like my girl.”

Which is how you’ve ended up naked on the floor of his living room.

You’d been surprised when you came downstairs to see that the furniture had all been pushed to the side to make space for the king-sized top sheet he’d laid out on the floor. You figured it must have been from some mismatched set he had stashed in his linen closet because you’d never seen it before and you spent more than enough time in his bed getting familiar with his sheets.

Bob was shirtless and wearing only a pair of loose-fitting and paint stained jeans that were hanging low on his hips as he worked on getting all of his brushes and paints set up.

You were pretty sure that Michelangelo himself wouldn’t be able to do proper justice to Bob’s body. He wasn’t as built as some of his friends on the Dagger Squad were, but there was an undeniable sturdy steadfastness to him. Those defined shoulders and arms often were the stars of your afternoon daydreams, since you got to admire his handsome face anytime your phone lit up.

He came and met you at the bottom of the stairs, giving you a low whistle, “Well, aren’t you as pretty as a picture in my shirt.”

“Oh,” you’d said, feigning surprise and toying with the hem, “So it is.” And then you’d slowly lifted it up and off of you, revealing more of your body to his artist’s eye.

You never felt as good about yourself as you did when you were naked in front of Bob. The color of his morning skies eyes would always darken to a deep shade of Prussian blue as he took in the curves of you. With him you always felt appreciated, wanted, desired.

His greedy hands came to grip your hips pulling you to him until you were pressed against him.

“Is this how you wanted me?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.

Bob slipped his hand behind your neck and tugged you in for a heated kiss. “I always want you.”

You never knew true distraction until you’d felt Bob’s lips against yours all those months ago. You’d happily lose minutes, hours, days to them. The thing about Bob is that he never does anything halfway. If he’s kissing you, he’s doing it thoroughly until you’re out of breath.

The sound of the air conditioner kicking on and the light draft that it coasted over you reminded you that there were other plans on the agenda. And that the sooner he starts, then the sooner he finishes, and the sooner you can feel his lips on other parts of you.

“Where do you want me?”

“In my bed,” he murmured against your lips.

His name started as a laugh but turned into a sigh as he dropped a line of kisses down your neck, “I meant, like on the couch or on one of the chairs from the kitchen.”

Bob pulled away and peered deep into your eyes, “Darlin’, I wanted to paint you.” He trailed a teasing finger down your soft stomach. “If that’s alright with you.”

You thought you were just going to be his subject, but as it turns out he wanted you to be his canvas too.

You’re trying not to shiver as he meticulously coats your overheated skin with cool paint. Goosebumps follow in the wake of every delicate stroke he makes along your body.

His hair was curled over his forehead in a way that had your fingers aching to touch him. There was a slight furrow between his eyebrows as he concentrated on the deliberate lines and curves he painted on you. The paint smudge on his cheek only made him all the more attractive to you.

Bob had tucked a pillow beneath your head before he’d started, a gesture that you appreciated now because time had lost all meaning to you. You had no idea how long you’ve been lying there. You were pretty sure every inch of you had to be covered by now.

He’d started along the plane of your stomach and steadily worked his way out from there. Up your arms. Along your clavicle. Over your breasts and tops of your thighs. You didn’t miss the way he’d smirked when you arched into that soft to the touch paintbrush as it glided over your peaked nipple. Or the way he’d hummed pleased when you’d try to subtly rub your thighs together to relieve the need that had been building as you laid there.

Bob loves taking his time with you. In bed, he loved teasing you until you had tears in your eyes and were begging for his cock. And it became clear very quickly that this would be no different.

There was an electric thrum that was pulsing through your body with every dip and swirl and brushstroke. The muscles of your stomach jump involuntarily as the fine hairs of his paintbrush drift over your hypersensitive skin making you whimper.

He tsks, “Gotta stay still for me, pretty girl. I’m almost done, promise.”

You release a shaky sigh and nod, not trusting your voice to betray just how needy you were for him. Although the self-satisfied smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.

You try to control your breathing as he works on finishing, but your shallow breaths sounded loud in his living room. You love getting to watch him work normally, but the intense way he is looking at you- his eyes your favorite shade of Prussian blue now- is too much for your hummingbird heart.

Just as your skin was collecting layers of paint from his brush, the space between your thighs was steadily collecting your wetness. You were so desperate for him to touch you, the need made you want to crawl out of your skin.

You hear the sound of a watery swish and the clink of a brush against glass and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation.

“God, look at you,” Bob breathes, reverently, “You’re so beautiful. This might be my best work ever.”

Instead of the paintbrush, you can feel the path of his flame blue gaze traveling over you as he takes in the art he’s made out of you.

You open your heavy eyes and see Bob wiping off his hands with a frayed towel.

“There she is,” he says, giving you a smile that makes your toes curl. You didn’t notice it sitting there with all his paints until he was reaching for it, his dad’s old film camera. He holds it loosely in front of him like a question, “Can I take a few just for me?”

The answer is easy, “Yes.”

You trusted Bob more than any other man you’d ever been with. He’s never once given you reason to doubt his words because his actions always spoke for themselves.

The guys you’d been with before had been boys, Bob Floyd was a man.

The tension between the two of you is thicker than the acrylic he’d been using earlier as he snaps photo after photo. You admire the way his muscles shift as he bends and angles himself to get the perfect images.

He stands over you, the lens pointed down at you, “Look at me.”

You can barely breathe. You feel yourself getting even wetter at the thought of seeing yourself through his eyes. No one has ever made you feel the way he does.

“Bob”, you whine.

The camera clicks.

“I know,” he hums, “You’ve been so good for me.” He sinks to his knees between your legs and hooks a hand behind your knee, pulling it up so it’s propped on the floor. And then he does the other so that you’re sprawled open for him, just the way he likes you to be, “Just one more, darlin’.”

The heat in his eyes has dried up all the words in your mouth.

He trails a finger down the soft skin of your inner thigh and you gasp.

The sound of his camera reverberates in your head.

“You’ve made such a pretty mess,” he drawls, as he gently sets the camera on the floor next to you. “It’s a good thing I put something down. You’re damn near dripping.”

“Bob, please.” You arch towards him like a flower in the sun.

He settles between your thighs and pushes them apart further so that his broad shoulders fit between them. The paint is still drying on your skin, but neither one of you cares about that now.

“You were so perfect for me. I appreciate you staying so still.” He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t worry, I know just how to thank you.”

Your body jolts at the first touch of his tongue on your clit. You can feel his smile against you, he knows exactly what he does to you.

Bob has always eaten you out like it’s what he was put on this earth to do.

Normally, he’s teasing you with gentle licks and tracing nonsensical shapes on your clit with his tongue until you’re a squirming mess for him. He knows your body so well, always building you up to the point where you’re breaths away from tipping over the edge and then pulls himself back before building you right back up again.

But tonight, there’s nothing playful about the way his mouth is working against you. His hot mouth is sealed to your clit. Bob hums in satisfaction with every keen and whine that he pulls out of you. He laves at you until you’re writhing underneath him, your thighs already shaking.

“Wanna paint you just like this,” he murmurs, sucking at the spot where your leg and hip meet. “But I don’t think you’d stay still long enough for me to finish.”

Bob dips down and gives you another long broad stroke of his tongue. He pulls back only long enough to spit on your cunt before diving right back in, chasing after his own taste on you.

Your hands are in his hair. Clutching at his shoulders. It’s taken him no time at all getting you to the point where you’re trembling and taut.

All the air leaves your lungs when he buries two large fingers into you. Your hips cant into his mouth on their own and he moans. Bob wraps an arm around your hips and presses down on your lower stomach to hold you in place.

You feel the paint smear beneath his warm palm. You were dying to see it. You hoped there was a handprint- his handprint- that disrupted all the lines and swirls of color that he’d decorated you with. Something that was distinctly him.

You were wearing his art and now you’re wearing him. The evidence of this moment in time on your skin.

His fingers and tongue weren’t enough.

You needed more.

“You cock, Bob, I need your cock,” you pant, tugging at his hair.

He meanly sucks your clit into his mouth in a way that has you crying out and jerking against him. You love it, you love him.

“God, I love it when you beg for me,” he licks into you again, “Sweetest sound in the world.”

Bob drops a sweet kiss on your clit, it’s a stark difference to the filthy way he’d been using his mouth on you. He rises to sit back on his knees between your parted legs.

He looks so good kneeling above you the way that he is. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess. That knot behind your bellybutton twists tighter because you did that to him.

He unzips his jeans and tugs them down low enough to pull his hard cock out.

It’s pretty enough to be featured in a gallery, you think to yourself, even in your desperate haze. It’s long, thick, perfect and yours.

Bob smirks when he notices you admiring him, pumping himself slowly a few times for your viewing pleasure.

The only time Bob Floyd was ever a show-off was when he was in bed.

He grabs your thighs and pulls them over top of his own, so that yours are draped over his obscenely, and then he thrusts easily into you.

You gasp at the sensation of being so full of him. It always takes you a minute to adjust to his cock, no matter how many times you’ve taken it now. His thumbs make little circles along your hipbones as your body relents and yields to the size of him.

“There you go,” he says, rocking into you, working you open, “Just needed this cock, didn’t you?”

You whimper your agreement. Your hips tilt into the pressure like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Wanting to show him how much you can take. You know you’ll never get enough of him.

He fucks into you at a reckless and unrelenting pace. You’re high off the feeling of seeing Bob like this, that you’re the one who gets to see him unreserved and uninhibited. He has your hips gripped so tightly, keeping you closer than close. And when you clench around him, you’re treated to a wrecked groan.

Your skin prickles with desire and the feeling of paint drying on you. His cock is hitting just the right spot inside of you and you know you won’t be able to hold off for much longer, not with the way he’s grinding against your aching clit.

Bob’s eyes glued to the spot where you two come together. You’re on full display for him. He watches the way you stretch and spread around him with every deep thrust with the same appreciative gaze that he admires his favorite artists.

It’s under his river blue gaze that your orgasm swiftly sweeps you away. And with your back arching and thighs quaking around his, you give yourself up to the endless current of it.

You know he’s close when his hips start to stutter.

Bob pulls out of you and wraps his large hand around his slick-shined cock and works himself with rough, purposeful strokes.

This time he paints you with himself, his come covering your stomach.

The only sound in the room is the two of you breathing hard, trying to catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Bob huffs, raggedly, taking in his handiwork, “You’re my masterpiece.”

You’re covered in paint and come, but you’ve never felt more beautiful than you do right now as he looks down at you in awe.

“Did you remember to sign your work this time?” you ask, out of breath but teasingly.

“I think I left my mark, darlin’,” he says, with well-earned smugness in his voice. You can’t help but giggle. He flops down next to you, throwing his arm over his eyes, “Goddamn.”

You prop yourself up onto your elbows to look at yourself.

“Baby, I think you gave Jackson Pollock a run for his money.” You grin widely when he lets out an amused snort. “Wait, where’s your camera?”

He passes it to you, the fondness in his eyes makes your chest feel warm. You scooch in close to him and hold it up above your heads, the camera flashes when you kiss his flushed cheek.

That picture is the first one that gets put up in the new house, the one the two of you chose together when he asked you to marry him six months later. Followed by the soft green landscape that now hangs above your shared bed.

It’s your favorite picture of the two of you, happy and in love. You can just see a hint of the cloud he’d painted on your shoulder.

That night Bob had decorated your body with the place he loved best.

He gave you the sky and he made you his world.

Happy birthday, Ames! Your gift will be mailed eventually, it really was a lesson in chemistry, lol! Enjoy a Bob fic just for you in the meantime!

A big, bigggg thank you to the Bob Babes/Lew Crew girlies! @callsignspark and @attapullman I appreciate you two so much for being such ultimate hypegirls! And thank you to @theharddeck, you helped me out of my writers block and I've been so excited to write this since we talked about it back in January!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

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tonyspank · 1 year

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WH0 R U 2???

Summary: Tara wakes up at her attractive Professor’s home.

Warnings: 18+ smut, g!p reader (literally think r is a service top??? idk? sorry for the dom’s & subs 😭)

A/N: pt.3 will not but smutty but bloody (there are different ghostfaces who r y’all suspecting?) also the smut scene was inspired by my b-day gift @wol-fica i love u

part 1

Tara woke up with the world's biggest headache. When she sat up in the random bed she had just awakened in, she realized she was in a completely unfamiliar room. The walls were white, with some paintings here and there, and the room was filled with a faint scent of lavender.

Tara left the bed, her head pounding with each step she took. She stumbled towards the door, trying to remember how she ended up in this strange place.

As she makes her way down the hallway, coffee begins to fill her nostrils. She follows the scent and finds herself in a cozy kitchen, where a pot of freshly brewed coffee sits on the counter. "You're awake, a voice says from behind her.

Startled, Tara turns around to see her professor, and suddenly, all of her memories rush back to her.

"Leaving already?" Frankie asks, raising an eyebrow. Tara hesitates, unsure of how to respond. She just nods, "Yeah, my... my rides here." Frankie keeps his gaze fixed on her, his expression unreadable. Tara can feel the weight of his scrutiny, making her even more uncomfortable.

"Oh damn, well, let me walk you out." Frankie offers, breaking the silence. Tara's heart races as they make their way towards the exit, unsure of what's going on. It was obvious Frankie wanted to get into her pants; he'd been following her the entire night.

You notice Tara at the exit, looking slightly flustered and uneasy. You quickly exit your car and walk to her. "You're her ride?" A brown-haired boy asks you.

"Yeah, I'm her ride," you confirm, giving the boy a curious look. The brown-haired boy gives you a skeptical look before reluctantly stepping aside, allowing you to approach Tara. As you reach her side, you offer a reassuring smile, hoping to ease her discomfort.

Tara's eyes drop to your attire, taking in your sleepwear. A wife-beater and black boxers that matched your black Nike socks. You notice this, "Sorry, I just woke up about five minutes ago."

"All good...Professor." Tara smiles. You shake your head, "Y/N is just fine. You're in my kitchen, after all. No need for formalities." Tara blushes and nods, "Right, sorry. Y/N it is then."

You chuckle softly, "No need to apologize, Tara. Can I offer you some coffee?" Tara gratefully accepts the offer, "I could definitely use a cup. Thank you, Y/N." She takes a seat at the kitchen table as you start pouring a fresh cup of coffee.

"Do you need me to drop you off?" Tara tries to take a sip of her coffee, but it's too hot, causing her to wince in pain spilling a bit on her hand. "Shit! That's hot!" Tara exclaims, quickly pulling her hand away from the cup. You rush to grab a napkin, softly grasping her hand and gently wiping away the spilled coffee.

"But, um, yeah, I'd love a ride if you don't mind," Tara mutters, ignoring the fluttering of her heart as you touch her hand. She tries to hide her blush by taking a deep breath and looking away, but the warmth of your touch lingers.

"Of course." Your phone begins ringing, interrupting the moment. You quickly apologize and grab your phone from the kitchen counter. You answer the phone without looking at the caller ID. A deep voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Y/N." You scratch your head, trying to place the voice. It sounds vaguely familiar, but you can't quite place it.

The voice clears its throat, and your ear is soon filled with Laura's laugh. "Haven't you watched Stab?"

"Ohhh! Yeah, I just did yesterday." You chuckle, realizing that the deep voice was an imitation of a character from the movie. "How's your mom? She doing better?"

Laura's laughter subsides as she replies, "She's slowly recovering, thanks for asking. The doctors say she should be back on her feet in a few weeks." You feel relieved to hear the positive update about Laura's mom and express your well wishes for her continued recovery.

"Anywho! I was just calling because I wanted to know how your first lecture was. Did everyone behave?"

You chuckle and respond, "Well, it was definitely an interesting experience. The students were well-behaved, and I was actually surprised by their level of engagement. It seems like they're all eager to learn and participate in class discussions."

Laura hums over the phone, "Are you sure you're talking about my students?" You laugh and say, "Seriously. They were great." Laura pauses for a moment before replying, "That's good...I have to go now, take care, Y/N."

You bid Laura farewell and promise to keep her updated on any future classroom developments. Tara speaks up when you set down your phone, "Was that Professor Crane?" You nod and say, "Yes, it was. She was just checking in on you guys."

Tara nods, taking a sip of her now slightly cooled-down coffee. "I'm going to take a shower, and I'll be back in a bit. Let me know whenever you're ready to leave."

"Wait, uh, do you know where my phone is?" Tara asks, glancing around the room. You remember plugging it up near the kitchen counter when you arrived home yesterday.

You point towards the kitchen counter and say, "I think it's over there, by the sink." Tara thanks you and heads towards the kitchen to retrieve it, but her head turns as she watches you leave the room, pulling your tank top over your head, revealing your toned back.

Blushing slightly, Tara quickly averts her gaze and focuses on finding her phone.

When Tara finally finds her phone, she realizes that she has missed several calls and messages, mostly from Sam.

But her heart truly drops when she realizes your name is at the top of her messages, remembering that she did indeed text you drunk the previous night.

Tara's mind races as she tries to recall what she said, hoping she hasn't embarrassed herself or said anything inappropriate. "You've got to be kidding me."

Tara mutters under her breath, scrolling through her messages with you. This was so embarrassing, and she couldn't believe she had let herself get so out of control.

"The hot professor whose filling in for Ms.Crane? What the fuck?" Tara's eyes widen in disbelief as she reads her own words. She had confessed her attraction to her substitute professor, not realizing how much she had revealed in her drunken state. Panic sets in as she wonders what your reaction to the message might have been.

Tara's phone dings, indicating a new message.

Mindy: Tara where the hell r u?

Mindy: Sam is literally is losing her marbles

Shit.

Tara: im about to leave in about 15 minutes

Mindy: that didn't answer my question lollll

Tara: just tell sam im on the way

Mindy: omg you're at professor y/ln's house

Tara's heart races as she reads Mindy's message. How did Mindy know she was at your house? She quickly types a response, trying to come up with something to get Mindy off her back.

Tara: wtf? no?

Tara: ill ttyl

The next couple of months consisted of Tara staying back after every lecture to talk to you. Now, you didn't exactly mind, but it did make you wonder why she was suddenly so interested in your company. Tara wouldn't talk about her studies, rather, she would ask you about your personal life, your hobbies, and your opinions on various topics.

Or whenever you'd be leaving campus or just arriving, Tara would leave her friends, jog over to you, and strike up a conversation. It seemed like she always found a reason to be near you, whether it was wanting to walk together or simply to share a funny story. Her genuine interest in getting to know you better was both flattering and intriguing.

"That's all for today, guys." You tell the class, packing up your things. Everyone begins leaving—well, everyone except for Tara. You shuffle your papers together, double-checking that you have everything, before looking up to find Tara still standing by your desk.

"Did you watch The Hereditary?" She had mentioned the movie a few times before, and you could tell she really wanted you to watch it. You smile and reply, "Yes, I did! Scared the shit out of me."

Tara laughs, "I thought you said you liked scary movies?" You begin walking toward the door. "I do!"

"What's your favorite scary movie?" Tara asks, genuinely curious. You pause for a moment, thinking of all the horror films you've seen over the years. "Hmm, that's a tough one," you say, pondering. "Maybe Chucky."

"You're joking," Tara says, raising an eyebrow. "Chucky? The killer doll? That's more of a cheesy horror movie than a scary one." You shrug and defend your choice. "Well, it scared me when I was younger. Plus, it has that nostalgic factor for me."

Tara chuckles and shakes her head playfully, saying, "Alright, if you say so. But I'll have to introduce you to some truly terrifying films one day."

You smile, holding the door open for the shorter girl. "Sure, T." Tara ignores the fluttering in her stomach at the nickname, striking up another conversation. "You heading home?"

You nod and reply, "Yeah, I was planning on making this salmon dish I found a recipe for. The sauce is supposed to be really flavorful, and I've been craving seafood lately." Tara hums, "Sounds fun."

You pause your walk, making eye contact with your student. "Maybe you could come...?"

Tara's eyes widen with surprise, but a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "That sounds like a plan," she says, "What time?"

You check your watch and say, "How about around 7 p.m.? That should give me enough time to prepare everything." Tara nods eagerly, "Okay." You thank her and continue walking, "See you, T."

You were more than tipsy, this might have been the most fun you've had in a while. "I feel like a bad influence." You joke to Tara, pouring her another glass of wine. Tara laughs, "You're a perfect influence. You know how to have a good time."

You shake your head, standing up. "You can sit in the living room, I'm just gonna clear the table." Tara smiles and takes a sip of her wine. "Don't worry about it, I'll help you clean up."

Tara sets down her glass, standing up and helping you gather the dirty dishes and leftover food. Everything about this feels so domestic like you two are a married couple tidying up after a dinner party.

You start washing the dishes while Tara dries them and puts them away. The conversation flows effortlessly, making the task feel less like a chore and more like a shared experience.

On the last plate, you splash some soapy water onto Tara's shirt, causing her to let out a surprised gasp. "Oops, sorry about that!" you jokingly apologize, grinning mischievously.

Tara playfully flicks some water back at you, making you let out a laugh. "Oh, it's on now!" you exclaim, grabbing a nearby dish towel and flicking it towards Tara.

Tara runs out of the kitchen, laughing and dodging the dish towel, her wet shirt clinging to her as she goes. You turn off the water and chase after her, determined to catch her. While you reach the living room, Tara takes a sharp turn, causing you to stumble for a moment.

You quickly regain your balance and continue the chase, both of you enjoying the playful pursuit.

"I give up!" Tara calls out, breathless and giggling, as she collapses onto the couch. You slow down and join her, catching your breath and collapsing beside her.

You glance at her shirt, "Do you want one of my shirts?" Tara looks down at her damp shirt and shakes her head, still catching her breath. "No, I think I'll be fine," she replies with a smile.

Your eyes fall back on Tara, her cheeks flushed and her hair slightly disheveled from the chase. You know you shouldn't be thinking about your student in this way, but it's hard to ignore the undeniable chemistry between you. And she was absolutely gorgeous.

You're caught up in your thoughts, you don't even notice how your body is subconsciously scooting closer to her, until your knees are almost touching. The air between you feels charged with tension, and you can't help but wonder if she feels it too.

A part of you wants to reach out and brush a strand of hair behind her ear, but professional boundaries hold you back.

Tara turns her head slightly, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, you both share a knowing smile. Fuck, why did she have to look at you like that?

The intensity of the moment lingers, making it difficult to focus on anything else. You find yourself questioning the consequences of acting on this undeniable connection.

Tara leans in, and you follow behind slowly. You don't notice what you're doing until your noses brush against each other, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

Tara parts her lips slightly, her warm breath tickling your skin. You place a hand on her leg, closing the distance between you. Your lips meet in a passionate and electrifying kiss, leaving you breathless and craving more.

You place your hand on Tara's waist, pulling her closer to you and allowing her to straddle you. Tara can't help but respond, her hands finding their way to your hair as she pulls you in even closer.

When you pull away, your heart is racing as if you had just run a marathon. You knew what you were doing was wrong, but in that moment, it felt so right. The chemistry between you and Tara was undeniable, and the desire for each other was too strong to resist.

Your hand rises to Tara's face, your thumb tracing over her soft, plump lips. She closes her eyes, and a moan escapes her mouth. You kiss her lightly, your tongue tracing the outline of her mouth. She responds with a slow, passionate kiss, her lips trembling as you pull away.

"Please," she mumbles, grinding her hips against yours. "Fuck, T." What was this girl doing to you? Without hesitation, you capture her lips once more, this time with an electrifying fervor that leaves you both breathless. In that moment, you knew that there was no going back, you were stuck under her spell.

Your hands slither under her shirt, exploring the curves of her body, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. She moans softly, encouraging you to continue your exploration, and you do.

Skillfully, you unclasp her bra, and your fingers trace the outline of her breasts, teasing and caressing every inch of her sensitive skin. She arches her back, pressing herself closer to you, craving more of your touch.

You lift her shirt, revealing her bare chest, and your lips eagerly find their way to her exposed skin. The taste of her drives you wild, and you lose yourself in the moment, savoring every sweet and intoxicating sensation.

Your hands fly back to her waist, lifting her slightly as your lips trail to her stomach, leaving a trail of soft kisses along the way.

She lets out a soft moan, her fingers tangling in your hair as she surrenders to the pleasure coursing through her body. Tara's breath hitches when you stand up, picking her up with ease. You carry her effortlessly to the bedroom, her legs wrapped around your waist, her body pressed against yours.

One thing is, you don't make it to the bed. Tara's back is now pressed against a wall, her heart pounding in her chest. You lean in closer, capturing her lips with yours as your hands roam over her body. You couldn't get enough.

You flip Tara, pressing her against the wall with a newfound intensity. Tara gasp, her eyes rolling back in pleasure, feeling your strong grip on her hips and your lips trailing down her neck.

Your hands trail to her jeans button, fumbling to undo it as the passion between you increases. Tara's breath hitches as you slide down her pants, along with her underwear, exposing her bare skin to the cool air.

Without hesitating, you drop to your knees, eager to taste her. A loud slap is heard, followed by a gasp of surprise. Tara bites down on her lip, balling up her fist against the wall, feeling you spread her legs for better access.

You lean in closer, your tongue teasing her entrance as Tara's moans fill the room. Oh, shit. You were officially addicted to this girl. Every touch and every sound she made only fueled your obsession for her.

You couldn't get enough of the way she responded to your touch, her body arching and trembling with pleasure. Or the way she tasted, leaving a permanent mark on your tongue.

"Fuck..." Tara gasps, the side of her face flat against the wall as her hips buck against your mouth. You remove one of your hands from her ass, holding her hips steady as you continue to devour her.

Tara whines in response, reaching behind to tangle her fingers in your hair, urging you to keep going. Her moans grow louder, and her grip tightens. "I'm so close, shit..."

You intensify your movements, your tongue skillfully exploring every inch of her, pushing her closer to the edge. Tara's breath becomes ragged, you grip her with greater force, and she becomes more and more undone, on the brink of exploding in pleasure.

And just as she's about to tip over the edge, she lets out a guttural cry, her body convulsing in ecstasy.

"Y/N! Shit!"

You stand up, and Tara catches her breath, her body still trembling from the intense orgasm.

While Tara attempts to compose herself, you unbuckle your belt and slowly remove your pants and underwear, revealing your own heightened state of arousal.

Tara's eyes widen when she feels your intense desire pressing against her. You press a kiss onto her head, whispering, "I need you, Tara."

Tara turns her head, meeting you with a lustful gaze. Her lips parted slightly as she whispers, "I want you too, Y/N." You place a soft kiss on the freckled face that you've come to adore before taking yourself, rubbing against her in a slow, teasing motion.

Tara's wetness lubricates you, allowing you to slip right in with a breathful gasp. As you enter her, Tara arches her back and lets out a low moan, her body responding eagerly to your touch.

The feeling of her tightness around you heightens the nirvana, driving you both insane.

You pick up the pace, your hips meeting hers in a delicious rhythm. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through both of your bodies—a symphony of desire and passion.

Tara's arm reaches around, her nails dig into your neck while her moans grow louder and more desperate with every movement.

Tara's hand falls back against the wall as she braces herself against the overwhelming pleasure. Your own hand falls on top of hers, and for a second, Tara finds herself caught between the intensified sensations and the tender touch of your hand.

She exhales a breath of pleasure, and her eyes roll back in pleasure. You lean in to kiss her neck, and she moans in response. You move your lips down to her shoulder, leaving a trail of soft kisses along her skin. "You feel so good, T." You groan, your voice thick with please.

This time, without warning, Tara lets go, a long and loud moan escaping her lips as she arches her back in ecstasy.

She collapses against your chest, her eyes half closed, catching her breath as her body trembles with satisfaction. You hold her tightly, savoring the intimate moment shared between you both.

As you slowly untangle yourselves from the intimate embrace, Tara wraps her arms around your neck and plants a soft kiss on your lips.

You smile into it, placing a hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer. The lingering taste of her lips lingers on yours, igniting a drive for more.

Tara moves onto her knees with your help, never breaking eye contact. Her hand wraps around your pulsating shaft before she kisses the tip, her tongue swirling around it.

The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, making you moan softly. You grab Tara's hair, guiding her movements as she takes you deeper into her mouth. "That feels great, shit..." you mutter, throwing your head back.

Tara's expert tongue continues to work its wonders, teasing and exploring every inch of you.

You begin moving your hips in rhythm with Tara's movements, finding a steady and pleasurable pace.

The hallway fills with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the wet, persistent slurping of Tara's mouth. "Yeah...just like that, Tara."

Your grip on her hair tightens, urging her on as she eagerly takes you deeper, her eyes watering at the sensation. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

With a grunt, you cum hard, your body shuddering in pleasure as Tara's lips move over your shaft. She keeps sucking until you finally pull away, a satisfied smile on your face.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. With a grunt, you cum hard, your body shuddering in pleasure as Tara's lips move over your shaft. She keeps sucking until you finally pull away, a satisfied smile on your face.

Tara can't help but think about how this night will shift your relationship. She wonders if this newfound intimacy will bring you closer or create complications that she didn't want to deal with. As you catch your breath, Tara's thoughts wander to the potential consequences of crossing this line.

#tonyspank #reader insert #jenna ortega #wattpad #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter smut #tara carpenter scream #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter fluff #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x g!p reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x gn!reader #scream x reader #scream 6

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andvys · 8 months

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | Epilogue

Warnings: none. this is just pure fluff. possible allusions to steddie x reader but don't tell roe I said that

Pairings: Previous Steve Harrington x fem!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: This is the end. Or the new beginning.

A/N: @hellfire--cult thank you for working on this story with me, bestie. It would have never been the same without you, you really helped me create something great. The last line? Perfection bby, thank you so much🫶🏻 i love u

series masterlist

2 years later

Hawkins, 1987

Sunlight peeks through the blue curtains in the large bedroom, the sound of cars driving through the streets fills the silence in the apartment, the smell of paint, fresh bed sheets and the vanilla candle that was lit for the first time last night, all mingle together. Both opened and unopened boxes are all across the room. Most of the clothes – jackets, sweaters and flannels are already in the closet. The dressers are decorated with books, pictures and a lone mug that was forgotten yesterday morning. A diary and a new lamp are decorating the bedside table.

Silent tiptoes echo against the hardwood floor before they disappear again and reappear on his thick blanket, the faintest purr and the softness against his skin pulls him out of his deep sleep.

A smile tugs at his lips when the little ball of fur snuggles against his bare chest.

“Hey there… Cat,” Steve mumbles, groggily.

The black kitten meows at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, opening his tired eyes. “You’ll get a cool name soon, don’t worry, dude.”

He strokes his back, gently. Smiling when he starts to purr as he moves closer to him.

A yawn falls from Steve’s lips, he runs his fingers through his hair, he looks over at the clock. He raises his eyebrows in surprise, it’s 6:46am.

“Look at you, I don’t even need an alarm anymore,” he mumbles.

Cat meows at him, standing up on all paws, he suddenly digs his nails into his chest as he stretches.

“Ow!.. Yeah, no, we don’t do that on humans, buddy,” he mumbles as he picks him up, giving him a kiss on the head, before he puts him down on his pillow.

Steve throws the covers off himself, stretching his arms out before he gets up and walks over to the window, he opens the curtains and takes a look outside before he walks over to the closet, picking out some clothes for the day.

“Gonna take a shower and then make breakfast for the princess,” he says to his new buddy, as though he would answer. He looks back at him to find him staring with his head tilted. Steve chuckles, “yeah, don’t tell her I called her that, she’d probably punch me.”

After a long shower, he makes his way into the kitchen, he feeds his cat before he gets started on the breakfast that he cooks for Robin and himself every morning. He sips on his hot coffee, bobbing his head to music that plays from the radio that he bought a few days back as he stirs the scrambled eggs.

Robin walks out of her room moments later, with messy hair and a very tired look on her face, she makes a stop in the bathroom before she joins Steve in the kitchen.

“Morning Dingus,” she grumbles as she pushes past him. She grabs her favorite mug from the cupboard and pours the freshly brewed coffee into it.

“Morning, Robby,” he chuckles. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like shit,” she mumbles, walking over to the fridge, she opens it and grabs the creamer. “I need coffee so so bad.”

Steve scrunches his face up at her, watching her pour tons and tons of creamer in.

“I don’t know how you can drink that, it’s too fucking sweet, Robin.”

She rolls her eyes at him, taking a sip from it, she closes her eyes and nods. “No, this is exactly what I need. Flavored goodness to wake me up in the morning.”

“Yeah, it’s the overload of sugar that wakes you up, not the coffee in there,” he chuckles as he points to her mug. “It’s bad for your teeth.”

“It’s not an overload, you’re just a grandpa.”

“Why? Because I don’t like creamer?”

“No, because you don’t like sweet stuff.”

“Not true, I got sugar in my coffee.”

She snorts, leaning against the counter, she holds her mug against her chest, “yeah, how much? A sprinkle?”

He takes a sip of his coffee, shaking his head at her, “nope, two teaspoons.”

“Oh wow!”

He rolls her eyes at her, placing his hand on his hip, he turns back to the stove.

She chuckles at his pose, “you know, you’re like a real mom – cooking breakfast for me, telling me to be safe even though I’m dating a girl, telling me that sugary stuff is bad for my teeth.”

He waves her off, “yeah yeah.”

She laughs, walking over to their kitchen table, she sits down and reaches for the newspaper, “hey, where’s your little buddy?”

Steve uses the spatula to point at the couch, “buddy is sleeping.”

Robin straightens her back, looking over to where he’s pointing, she finds the tiny kitten sleeping on the fluffy blanket she left there, last night.

Her eyes soften and her lips pull into a pout, “he’s the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen – I’m so happy you kept him.”

“Not like I had a choice,” Steve snorts, though his eyes are soft as he looks at his little buddy. “Dustin forced me to keep him.”

“Don’t act like it wasn’t the birthday present you ever got,” Robin says, glancing at him.

Dustin and Max thought it was a great idea to adopt a kitten for his 21st birthday. He didn’t exactly have a choice but to keep him – besides, Steve fell in love with the cat the moment he held him in his hands.

“Yeah, I love him. I don’t have a name for him yet though.”

Robin shrugs, “you didn’t like any of my suggestions. I guess he will stay ‘Cat’ forever.”

“No, he won’t,” Steve shakes his head as he walks over to the table, placing both plates on the table before he walks back to the counter to get his cup of coffee.

“That smells good,” Robin smiles at him, pulling the plate closer and reaching for the fork, “thanks mom,” she teases him.

He flips her off as he sits down across from her, making her chuckle.

She takes a bite of the toast and digs into the eggs, getting lost in her thoughts as she chews her breakfast.

Steve looks at her, watching the way she raises her brows before she holds her finger up, like she does every time whenever she remembers something important.

“Oh! I just remembered, Lizzy told me that someone’s moving in next door!”

“Really?” He asks, furrowing his brows at her.

“Yeah, some couple.”

Steve frowns at her words, dropping his fork, he reaches for his mug.

“Damn, let’s hope they’re nothing like the couple in the last apartment building,” he says in disgust.

Robin and Steve lived across the street in the old building for almost two years and almost every night, they’d both have to wear earplugs to avoid hearing them moan and scream.

“They were horny rabbits,” Robin laughs in amusement as she continues eating, totally unfazed by those memories.

“Yeah, like you and Chrissy,” he mumbles, glaring at her. “I hope the walls here are thicker than in the last apartment.”

Robin blushes at his words, though she keeps the teasing smile on her lips. Excitement rushes through her when she thinks about her girlfriend, who is currently away for college.

“You’ll find out next week.”

“She’s coming to visit?”

“Mhmm.”

“Cool,” Steve nods, smiling at her. “Alright, I’m gonna clean up the kitchen and you should start getting ready for work or the manager will kick you out.”

She snorts at his words, rolling her eyes at the teasing look on his face.

“You’re the manager, Dingus.”

“Not yet, Robs.”

“Yeah, well you’re almost the manager.”

“Almost, yeah.”

It’s the beginning of September, the last days of summer are going strong. It’s not as hot as it was in July or August, but it’s still very warm. The afternoon sun shines into the store, the soft breeze from outside touching his skin as he passes by the open door.

It’s a slow day at Family Video and Steve spent most of his time stacking up new tapes. Frowning every time he passes by Pretty in Pink, he came to hate the movie, simply because he gets asked about it at least five times a day – and because Robin and Chrissy force him to watch the movie with them, all the damn time.

He’s organizing the shelf in the back aisle, fixing all the tapes that have been put back unevenly.

He furrows his brows when he hears Robin’s whispers as she seemingly talks to someone at the front, though he doesn’t take a peek to look who it is, he figures that she’s using the phone to talk to Chrissy as always. Keith almost caught her during one of her phone calls – she came up with a lie and he of course had her back, Keith didn’t seem to believe that she was talking to a customer who was asking for a very specific movie, he also didn’t believe Steve when he told him that said customer calls all the time, but he brushed it off, surprisingly. He must have had a good day, otherwise he would have fired them both probably.

He almost flinches when he feels someone tapping his shoulder – he didn’t even hear the footsteps.

“Excuse me? – Can you help me find Pretty in Pink?”

It takes him a moment.

He almost groans in annoyance at the mention of that movie but then his eyes widen and his heart leaps to his throat. For a second he thinks that it’s his mind playing tricks on him but when he turns around, his eyes widen even further and his lips curl into a big smile.

The same eyes that were filled with tears after the last goodbye two years back, now stare at him with happiness and excitement in them.

You are here.

You came back.

“I– Dolly?!” He gasps as he looks you up and down, like he can’t believe that you are truly here after being away for so long.

“Hi, Stevie.”

You’re looking at him with a smile on your face as you take in the sight of him too.

It’s almost been two years since you had last seen each other.

Two years since you have left Hawkins.

You look happy, you look beautiful, even more so than before. Your hair is even longer now, styled perfectly, long bangs are framing your face. Your lips are cherry red, it suits you well. You’re wearing a short sundress, your sun kissed skin is glowing beneath the sunlight that shines into the store. He can smell your perfume, it’s a new one.

You look amazing, healthy and at peace.

Snapping out of it, he drops the tape he was holding, not caring where it lands. He takes a step forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up, twirling you around as he holds you tightly.

A squeal falls from your lips before you start laughing, you wrap your arms around his neck. Hugging him back just as tightly.

“I missed you so fucking much!” He exclaims, squeezing your waist. “I’m never letting you leave again.”

“I missed you too, Steve.”

He missed your voice too – you called him on his birthday but this is different.

You giggle, letting go of him when he puts you down again.

He squeezes you one more time before he pulls away from the hug, still smiling for you, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you smile, giggling again.

You take in the sight of him. He changed, somehow he appears even taller to you than before. His shoulders are broader, his hair is longer, a light stubble on his cheeks. He looks older, in a good way. But most importantly, he looks content, he looks happy and that makes your smile even bigger.

He blinks, he opens his mouth to speak again but he is stunned, completely caught off guard.

He takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair before he puts his hand on the shelf next to him.

“I– wow, I can’t believe you’re back,” he says, shaking his head. “And you, you look amazing.”

You look down at the floor, smiling at his words.

“Thank you. You do too, Steve.”

Your eyes meet his again when you look back up.

“Thank you,” he smiles as his eyes soften.

He gets excited, too excited at the thought of seeing you around town again. Hawkins hasn’t been the same since you left. It was weird at first, places that you have always gone to, suddenly seemed so lonesome and lifeless, despite the people around them. You were just gone and he hated it.

“W-Wait, are you back for good or are you just visiting?”

You shake your head, “no, we’re back, for good.”

Steve can’t begin to describe how happy he feels to hear these words. He missed you, he missed his best friend.

There are so many things he wants to ask, so many things he wants to tell you but he is just too stunned.

He looks over your shoulder, “where’s Eddie?”

“He’s talking to Robin, wanna go say hi?” You smile.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he nods, putting his hand on your shoulder. “So, did you guys plan to come back here or was it spontaneous.”

“Both. We just kinda made that decision spontaneously, back in July. It’s been nice to live in a big city and travel around whenever we had the chance to but we missed everyone here,” you pause, smiling when your eyes meet Eddie’s as you and Steve make your way to the front desk. “Even Eddie, can you believe that?”

He chuckles, knowing how much Eddie always cursed about this town.

“Do you have a place here already or are you staying with your mom?”

You shake your head, “no, Wayne helped us find an apartment and Enzo was happy to offer Eddie a job again.”

Steve nods, smiling.

“And you?”

“Oh, I got an interview tomorrow at the new coffee shop here!” You explain, excitedly. “We checked it out earlier, it’s so cool! They sell books and records!”

His eyes light up, his lips curl into a smile, “it’s a good place, they make good coffee there.”

“Do you go there often?”

He nods, “yeah and so do Max and Lucas, they go there to study – like every afternoon,” he chuckles.

“Really?” You ask, your eyes lighting up.

“Yeah!”

��Cute,” you smile. “But uh, let’s not get too forward, maybe I won’t get the job.”

He pats your shoulder, giving you a soft smile, “nah, you’ll get it. You love coffee, books and music. They gotta give you the job. – But hey, if you wanna stack up VHS tapes all day, this place will look for a new employee soon, so if you’re interested,” he offers as his smile grows wider. “I’m gonna be the manager soon.”

You both stop at the counter and Steve places his hand on his hip, smirking a little.

Your eyes widen at his words, “no way! That’s amazing, Steve!”

“What’s amazing?”

At the sound of his voice, Steve tears his eyes away from you and looks over at Eddie. He takes him in just like he did with you – it’s almost odd to see him without his signature leather jacket or his vest, his skin a little less pale than usual. He notices the new tattoos on his left arm and how his hair is slightly longer than it was when you both left. Unlike the last few times they had seen each other, there’s not a single negative emotion lingering in his brown eyes – no insecurity, no jealousy, no fear. Eddie looks happy, just like you do.

“Hey man,” Steve nods at him, not even needing to force a smile this time.

“Hey Steve,” Eddie nods, smiling back at him and offering his hand to him.

They shake hands, taking in the sight of each other. There’s no tension between them, not anymore.

“Steve is gonna be the new manager here soon!”

Eddie’s eyes widen, he chuckles at your excitement and smiles at Steve, “congrats, man! That’s nice.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Steve smiles.

Robin looks between them as she leans against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest, smiling at the two men.

Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder once he lets go of Steve’s hand. Giving you a smile when you press yourself against him.

“Well, this is nice,” Robin snorts, clapping her hands together as she looks between both men. “You finally got a guy to hang out with, Steve,” she winks at him.

He snorts at her, rolling his eyes. “I got a guy.”

“Who, cat?”

You snap your head towards Robin before your eyes lock with Steve’s, “Cat? You got a cat?”

He chuckles at the excitement in your eyes. “Yeah, Dustin and Max got me a kitten for my birthday.”

Your eyes widen as a gasp falls from your lips, making both him and Eddie chuckle.

“Yeah and he still doesn’t have a name!” Robin exclaims.

“Oh my god! A kitten?” You pout as your eyes soften.

“Yeah, he’s really cuddly too. You’re gonna fall in love with him,” Steve smiles.

Eddie chuckles at his words, looking down at you, “she falls in love with all the cats, Steve.”

“Yeah, that’s why she fell for you,” Robin snorts.

Eddie furrows his brows, “what?”

“You give off cat energy, Eddie. Always hungry, hissing at everyone and clingy with just that one person.”

Eddie’s lips part, confusion flashes in his eyes but he’s amused by her words. He wraps his arm around you tighter and kisses your cheek in response, making you giggle.

“See,” Robin chuckles.

“Oh.. yeah,” Steve mumbles. “You’re onto something, totally reminds me of Cat–”

“Cat is the poor kitten he hasn’t named yet, by the way,” Robin interrupts him, glancing at the both of you.

Steve rolls his eyes but continues, “cat waggles with his tail when he hears Metallica on the radio.”

“You got a rockstar cat!” You laugh.

“Can we meet the little rockstar?” Eddie asks, surprising Steve.

He was unsure of how Eddie would react if he tried to be your friend again, fearing that he would have a problem with that or try to keep you away from him out of fear that he might try to get you back. He didn’t expect Eddie to be the one to make the first move though but it puts a smile on his face.

“Yeah, of course! You two should come over tonight so we can catch up.”

“Yes!” Robin says, excitedly. “You can tell us all about your fun adventures!”

“That would be nice,” you smile. “I missed hanging out with you guys.”

“Yeah, me too, surprisingly.” Eddie snorts.

“Don’t act like you didn’t cry over us every day, Edward,” Robin teases him, looking between you two. Her eyes suddenly flash with curiosity. “Hey wait, where are you two staying?”

You and Eddie share a look, smiling at one another before you turn back to her.

“Wayne helped us get an apartment! We moved all the boxes in and some of the furniture from our old place earlier,” Eddie explains, moving his hand to the small of your back. “The place is just around the corner.”

“It’s cool, we love it. And the landlord is a really nice lady.”

Robin and Steve slowly turn towards one another, sharing the same look as realization dawns on them both.

Lizzy, the really nice old lady, told Robin about the couple that was moving in next door just last night.

Steve purses his lips, slowly looking back at you, “w-wait..”

“Umm, your landlord doesn’t happen to go by the name of Lizzy?”

Eddie raises his brows at them both, nodding.

“Yeah! She was sweet and she complimented me – oh! And she told me how much her husband looked like Eddie when he was young!” You giggle.

Steve’s lips part in surprise and Eddie almost wants to laugh at his expression until Robin opens her mouth.

“Wow, she must’ve had two husbands then because apparently Steve also looked like her husband!” She says, chuckling as she takes in the confused looks on your and Eddie’s faces.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbling something under his breath as his cheeks flush red at Robin’s comment.

“W-Wait what?” Eddie stutters, tilting his head at her. “How do you – huh?”

While your boyfriend takes longer to realize what is going on, it only takes you a second to understand that your landlord is also Steve’s and Robin’s landlord.

“So.. you are the couple who’s moving in next door?” Steve waves his finger between you and Eddie.

“Next door?” Eddie mumbles. “Didn’t you – wait, I thought you still lived in that apartment next to Radio Shack?”

You nod at his words, you thought the same thing.

Steve and Robin share a look, both sighing at the mention of their old place.

“Yeah, we moved out of that one two weeks ago, it was a shithole, honestly.”

Robin nods with her eyes wide. Tapping her fingers against the counter, “yep.”

You and Eddie chuckle in confusion, taking in their ‘traumatized’ faces.

“What was wrong with that place?”

“Oh, it’s a long story!” Steve laughs, scratching the back of his neck. “We’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Yes! We’ll order some takeout, have a couple of drinks and you two can tell us all about Chicago!” Robin smiles.

Excitement rushes through you. You missed your friends, you missed Robin and Steve.

Eddie squeezes your arm, he looks down at you.

You meet your boyfriend’s loving eyes, he nods at you.

A smile tugs at your lips, you lean your head on his shoulder and turn back to your friends.

“We’d love to.”

Steve’s eyes light up, he smiles at you, clapping his hands together.

“You’ll get to meet cat!” He chuckles.

Robin chuckles at his excitement, she runs her fingers through her hair, “Steve and I are gonna order the food!”

“And we’ll get the drinks,” Eddie winks at her.

She clicks her tongue, winking back at him.

Steve chuckles at them, he looks back at you, “alright then, neighbors,” he says with a funny look on his face. “I’ll drop by your place after work, gotta see and make sure that you didn’t get the better apartment.”

A laugh falls from your lips, “we totally did, Stevie.”

“You wish,” he smirks.

“The place is a mess, we gotta get some stuff done.”

“Like what?” Steve asks, looking at Eddie. “I can help.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I got it,” Eddie smiles, though he appreciates the offer.

“I’m off this weekend, so if you need anything, let me know.”

You’re pleasantly surprised to see them getting along with each other.

Time has passed, things have changed, feelings have changed. But nonetheless, you expected more tension between them – you are happy that it’s not the case.

And as they fall into a conversation, you and Robin smile at each other, knowing that things will be different this time.

Steve’s and Robin’s place is a little bigger than yours and Eddie’s. It’s colorful, not overwhelming though, it’s comforting and cozy. String lights are hanging from the ceiling, posters of Indie bands on the living room walls, pillows and blankets on the couch, you remember seeing those on Robin’s bed in her old room at her parent’s place.

Boxes of takeouts, drinks and snacks are all across the small table. Music plays in the background.

You’re sitting on the floor, a box of polaroids in front of you, a smile lingering on your face as you look through the pictures that were taken in the past two years.

Robin is next to you, telling you the stories behind every picture.

“He is such a cute little thing,” Eddie coos at the kitten in his lap, chuckling when he digs his claws into his shirt, using it to crawl up on his chest. Cat purrs as he rubs against Eddie’s face. “Damn, you’re making me want a cat too.”

Steve takes a sip from his beer, leaning back on the couch, “you should get one, they’re adorable.”

“Can’t believe you didn’t name him yet.”

“Yeah, everyone has been suggesting names!” Robin exclaims, looking away from the picture of her and Chrissy. “He hates every single one!”

Steve rolls his eyes at her, “they just don’t fit, Robby!”

“I fear he’s gonna be Cat forever,” Eddie pouts as he pets him.

You put the last picture back in the box and stand up, smoothing down your skirt and Eddie’s shirt that you changed into after your shower earlier. You sit down next to Eddie, snuggling against his side – the moment you do so, Steve’s cat makes his way towards you, jumping into your lap and looking up at you with his green eyes.

Your eyes light up, your heart soars in your chest as you pick him up and pull him closer, setting him down on your chest.

“Hey there, little buddy,” you whisper, smiling as he snuggles deeper into your chest, purring as he digs his claws into your shirt. “You are such a sweet little angel.”

Eddie chuckles, reaching his hand out to pet his head.

“You love those boobs don’t you, Cat?” He smirks. “I do too. They’re so fun to play with.”

“Eddie!” You gasp.

Robin laughs at his words and at the flustered look on your face.

Steve shakes his head, snorting.

“He is a very innocent little thing,” you coo at the kitten, scratching the spots behind his ears, he keeps purring, closing his eyes as he lays his head on your chest. “Oh my god, I love him.”

Eddie smiles down at you as you lay your head on his shoulder, he wraps his arm around you.

Steve leans his elbow on the headrest, looking between you and Eddie, the way you are so natural and comfortable with each other – it’s nothing new to him, you have always been like that with one another, maybe slightly less touchy.

The look in Eddie’s eyes as nothing but pure love and adoration as he laughs when Cat licks your nose.

You giggle, scrunching up your nose and closing your eyes.

He can’t describe the feeling in his chest at this moment, but seeing you so happy, seeing the love between you and Eddie makes him feel at peace.

Two years ago, he let go.

A part of him will always think back to it, back to you and to what you both had.

But he let go, and it’s good like this because he still got to keep you in his life, maybe not like before, but he is happy with what he gets to have now.

You left and you both lived separate lives.

But you came back and you’re here again.

And maybe, you both can go back to how things were before you crossed the line and left behind a friendship that you both mourn.

“Hey Dolly?”

You turn your face towards him, looking into his warm eyes, “yes?”

“Do you have some name suggestions?” He asks. “You always named the stray cats so..”

A smile pulls at your lip, “hmm.”

Robin reaches for the bowl of popcorn on the table, placing it on her lap, she begins snacking as she shoots you a look, “I’m warning you, he’s gonna hate all the names.”

“Shut it, Robs.”

She flips him off, causing Eddie to chuckle at their interaction.

You hum as you look at the black kitten on your chest, “void.”

Eddie snorts, “that’s a good one.”

Steve sighs, shaking his head.

“He rubbed off on you,” he mumbles, nudging Eddie’s shoulder. “What would the child, innocent and pure 10 year old Dolly name this cat?”

You giggle at him, turning away to look back down at him.

“Hmm… Stevie!”

Robin and Eddie laugh at your name suggestion.

“What?”

You look over at Steve, who’s staring at you like he’s waiting for you to continue.

“Not you. The cat! Call him Stevie – he gives off Stevie energy.”

Steve scrunches his whole face up, “I am not naming the cat after me! Seriously, do you guys even try?”

You all laugh at the disapproving look on his face.

“Ozzy,” Eddie shrugs.

“Huh?”

“Ozzy Osbourne,” Eddie says to Steve. “You know, from Black Sabbath?”

Steve stares at him with furrowed brows and downturned lips. But as he watches his cat claw his way out of your lap and jumps over Eddie to get to him, he looks up at him, yawning as he settles in his lap.

“Ozzy,” Steve murmurs, petting him. Steve smiles when he starts purring. “Yeah, I think he likes that one.”

“Is that a yes?”

Steve’s eyes meet Eddie’s, a smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, shit.. you got a name, buddy,” he chuckles as he looks back down at Ozzy.

Robin claps her hands, “finally!” She cheers. “Wow, I can’t believe you let Eddie name the cat.”

“Does that mean you’re both his parents?” You ask, giggling.

Eddie snorts, pulling you closer as he smirks down at you.

“Sure, but I got full custody of my child,” Steve jokes.

Two years back, Steve would have rolled his eyes at your joke but now he just laughs and plays along.

You have noticed how much he changed.

Your last moments with him, before you left, weren’t the happiest. He was sad, heartbroken and lost. But now he seems content, happy. Even after his failed attempts at dating again, he doesn’t seem sad or heartbroken over it. He told you about his horrible date experiences with Heidi and Amanda – and he didn’t seem pained while he was talking about it, he was amused, that’s all. He tried dating and he gave up, not because he wasn’t ready but because he is just not looking for love or a relationship – ‘It will happen when the time is right.’ He said.

He is more relaxed now, calm and he seems more confident with himself. You like seeing him this way, he deserves to feel comfortable with himself.

“A cat is good training for kids someday,” Robin says, leaning back as she throws popcorn into her mouth.

“Oh really? Do you want kids?” Eddie chuckles.

Robin shakes her head with wide eyes, “hell no. I’m not Steve, he’s the one with a car full of kids.”

“Do I look like I have a bunch of kids?” Steve mumbles, confused.

“Yeah.” All three of you reply in unison.

“You have six kids already.”

He rolls his eyes but chuckles, “they’re not even kids anymore!”

“Maybe you can babysit their kids soon,” Robin wiggles her brows as she nudges her chin at you and Eddie.

“Oh my god,” you groan, shaking your head at her.

Steve suddenly frowns, blinking as he stares at you and Eddie, “wait, where’s your bedroom again?”

“Huh?”

“Your bedroom, what side is it on? Cause our last neighbors were fucking like rabbits!”

“Yeah it was disgusting!” Robin mumbles.

“You’re one to talk!” Steve glares at her. “I have to wear earplugs every time Chrissy comes to visit, they’re fucking rabbits too.”

She grows red, rolling her eyes at him.

You laugh at the flustered look on her face.

“Yeah, I hope you still have those earplugs,” Eddie chuckles. “Our room is right over there.”

Robin groans loudly as she looks at the wall he’s pointing at.

Steve sighs.

“We got kicked out of our last apartment because we fu–”

“Eddie!” You punch his arm, cheeks feeling hotter than before as you shake your head at him.

Steve and Robin stare at you both in disbelief.

“No, I swear. They kicked us out cause we were too loud,” Eddie says proudly, while you continue shaking your head.

“And you will get kicked out a second time if you don’t keep quiet,” Robin points at him with a glare.

Steve laughs, shaking his head as he brings up his drink to his lips.

“Time to use the ball gag, baby,” Eddie smirks.

Steve chokes on his beer, eyes widening at Eddie’s words.

“Jesus fucking christ, Eddie!” You gasp, burying your face in your hands.

Robin laughs loudly, throwing her head back.

“God damn,” Steve coughs, furrowing his brows at you. “I thought you were a good girl, Dolly.”

Eddie snorts at that, looking over at Steve to see him smirking.

You glare at them both, but you can’t even hide how flustered you are.

“Robin, help me out.”

“No, I’m having too much fun here.”

Rolling your eyes, you push Eddie’s arm off and get up with a sigh, “I need another drink,” you mumbled under your breath as you leave the living room in a haste. You hear their snickers even when you enter the kitchen, you can hear Eddie saying something that makes Steve groan and Robin laugh even harder.

You shake your head but a smile tugs at your lips.

You reach for the handle on the fridge when your eyes fall on the picture next to the many magnets. Your smile transforms into a softer one. It’s an old picture of Steve and you.

You remember that day, it was his birthday, his sixteenth birthday. His dad had gotten him the BMW. The moment he had gotten those keys, you grabbed your polaroid camera, you wanted to take a picture of him and his new car but Steve had pushed the camera into his mom’s hands and asked her to take a picture of the two of you in front of his new ‘baby’.

You were still best friends at that time. Steve's arm was wrapped around your shoulder, you were wearing a cardigan that was way too big for you, it hid the pretty dress you were wearing underneath. You looked so happy in that picture and so did he. You were smiling into the camera but Steve was looking at you with a big smile on his face, eyes that were still shining with happiness and love.

“You looked so small standing there in your cardigan.”

You flinch, looking back in surprise.

Steve is leaning against the doorway, looking at you.

“You scared me,” you chuckle, putting your hand on your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he smiles as he walks into the kitchen. “My mom gave me this picture when I moved out.”

“Oh, that’s where it was!”

He nods.

“Yeah. I remember how excited I was to go for a drive and forced you into the passenger seat,” he says, chuckling at the memory. “She put that picture into an album.”

You smile, looking down.

“You ever miss those days?” He asks, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. “When we just got into high school, we'd just drive around, listen to music, go to the movies..”

“Eat junk food, gossip about the bad hair styles in the magazines,” you add, laughing.

“Exactly,” he nods.

“Yeah, sometimes. Cause back then things were simple and we were just teenagers who still lived in that safe little bubble.”

“Yeah,” he sighs but he smiles at you.

“I kinda miss talking shit about bad hairstyles,” you laugh.

He nudges your shoulder with his, “hey, we can still do that. I mean with the addition of Eddie and Robin now,” he chuckles as his eyes soften. “Eddie is… kinda.. cool now. I think we’ll get along better now.”

Your gaze softens, eyes shining with happiness.

“That’s all I wanted,” you whisper.

You wanted your best friend back in your life and you wanted your other best friend, your boyfriend to get along with him. But you knew that it might not ever be possible, because sometimes, time changes nothing – you hope that it did in this case, though.

“You know, I’m kinda excited to have you as my neighbor.”

Your eyes flash with surprise, your lips twitch. You weren’t sure how he would actually feel about this, having you and Eddie as his neighbors.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I can bother you all day now,” he smirks. “And Eddie too. I’ll blast pop music every night.”

A laugh falls from your lips, “don’t mess with Eddie, he will come over with his guitar,” you chuckle. “His electric guitar.”

He snorts.

“I’m not even kidding,” you giggle as you think about all the performances Eddie had given to you – sometimes wearing nothing but boxers while you laid in bed, watching him with a smile on your face.

“I believe you,” he chuckles. “It’s Eddie we’re talking about, he always loved his dramatic performances.” He refers to all the speeches your boyfriend had held on the lunch tables in the cafeteria.

“He really did.”

Steve watches the way your eyes glow with love as you think back to the times where you and him would watch Eddie jump around on the lunch tables. Had someone told him back then, that Eddie would end up being your boyfriend and he your ex boyfriend, he would probably have had a mental breakdown over it or maybe he would have laughed, not believing that you would end up with a metalhead instead of him.

When you left, he spent a lot of time wondering what would have happened if he never left you.

Would you have still met Eddie?

Would you have been the one to leave him the way he left you for her?

Was everything supposed to go this way because you and Eddie were always meant to be together?

So many what if’s had haunted him for a long time after you left but not anymore.

He made peace with everything, a long time ago.

He loves you, he always will.

You will always have a special place in his heart as he will have one in yours.

And seeing you so happy and in love with Eddie, doesn’t fill him with pain anymore, it fills him with joy because this is what you deserve – to love and to be loved ten times more.

And even if his wishes from the past didn’t come true, he is still happy because even after everything, you came back and he gets to have you in his life again.

You still wear his locket and he still wears your wristband – you are still special to each other, you are still best friends.

You left behind your first love but you never left your friendship behind.

“You know, I was a little worried that you forgot about me,” you tease him.

His eyes flash with sadness, a soft smile appears on his face as he takes your hand in his.

“I could never forget you, Dolly,” he whispers, squeezing your hand. “You’re my best friend.”

A breathy laugh falls from your cherry red lips, your bangs fall in front of your eyes as you look down for a moment.

“You’re my best friend too, Stevie,” you whisper, looking back up.

You both smile at each other, eyes filled with happiness and a love that you carried for one another as kids.

As you stand there and look at one another, you know that everything is okay now, everything is good.

There is no sadness between you both anymore, no tears, no pain, no heartbreak.

You’re both okay.

You’re both happy.

This love will last forever.

He lets go of your hand and brings it up to your face, pinching your cheek as 10 year old Steve would do.

“Come on, Dolly,” he teases, laughing when you swat his hand away, just like 9 year old Dolly would do. “I’ll race you to the living room.”

You roll your eyes at the cocky smirk on his face as he starts to walk backwards.

“You know I’m faster than you.”

“Oh, are you?” He chuckles.

“Yes, I am.”

Before Steve can even react, you move past him and push him back a little before you run out of the kitchen, laughing loudly when he groans.

He runs after you, reaching for your elbow but you push his hand off and bolt into the living room.

“Eddie, help!” You giggle.

Your boyfriend straightens up, watching you with an amused look on his face as you run past Robin and hide behind the lovechair.

“No, help me! She plays dirty!” Steve exclaims.

“Is that true, sweetheart?” Eddie smirks, his brown eyes flashing with mischief as he stands up.

You shake your head, pouting.

Eddie chuckles at that, moving towards you, while Steve walks towards you on the other side.

Your lips part as you watch them, eyes widening when they glance at each other with smirks on their faces.

“You’re teaming up on me!? You’re my boyfriend, you’re supposed to protect your princess!” You giggle as you start walking backwards. Glancing at Robin who watches the three of you in amusement while Ozzy sits on her lap, looking between the three of you.

“Are you good princess or bad princess, right now?”

Steve furrows his brows, looking over at your boyfriend, “why do I have a feeling that this means something dirty?”

“Because it is,” Robin gags.

You and Eddie smirk at each other – but your smirk quickly falls when Eddie suddenly lunges forward, you turn around, trying to run but he wraps his arms around you, picking you up with ease, “got ya, baby,” he whispers in your ear and kisses your shoulder and then your neck, making you giggle softly.

“She’s definitely bad princess, right now.” Steve snorts.

Eddie pulls you back towards the couch, holding you tightly as his fingers dig into your waist, making you squirm beneath his touch.

“Well, I captured the bad princess,” Eddie jokes, murmuring into your hair.

You giggle, your heart fluttering at the feeling of his hands on your skin. You place your hands over his, laughing when he pulls you down on the couch with him.

“Hold on tight to her,” Steve chuckles, smiling at Eddie.

Eddie tightens his grip on you in response, smiling when you turn around to face him, your smile mirroring his. His heart flutters in his chest – just the way yours does as you look into your boyfriends beautiful eyes.

“I always will.”

Robin looks between you and Eddie with a smile on her face. A strand of Eddie’s hair gets stuck on your eyelash, making you both laugh when he tries to pull it away. She looks up at Steve, he watches the two of you and for a moment, Robin fears that old wounds will be ripped open again, that even after two years, she will have to hold him again while he cries because he won’t ever get you back the way he had you before – but, the smile on his face isn’t faked, it’s very real and it isn’t a sad one.

“Hey Steve?”

Steve tears his eyes away from you and looks at Eddie.

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna watch Pretty in Pink with us?”

Robin laughs, watching Steve’s face contort into annoyance.

“No!”

Eddie and you giggle at the look on his face.

“Anything but Pretty in Pink!”

“Anything?” Eddie raises his brows.

“Yeah.”

“But what if I wanna watch Pretty in Pink with you, Stevie?” You pout.

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckles, cupping your cheeks with one hand, he squishes them slightly. “Can you really say no to that cute face?”

He sighs, tilting his head as he looks at you.

“I can already tell, you two are gonna be menaces, even more so than Robin and Chrissy!”

Robin scoffs, rolling her eyes at Steve.

“Nah,” Eddie shakes his head, letting go of your cheeks, he pulls you closer. “You’re gonna love us.”

Steve sits down on the loveseat, smiling when Ozzy jumps out of Robin’s lap and runs towards him, he leans down and picks him up when he sits down by his feet. He pulls the kitten into his lap, letting him snuggle against his chest.

“Will I?” Steve asks, frowning playfully.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie chuckles, kissing your cheek.

“You definitely will, Stevie.”

You lay your head on Eddie’s shoulder and you look around, happy to be in a room with your favorite people. Excitement lingers inside of you, to be back here with Eddie, to settle in for good this time, to see your friends again – to see Eddie and Steve getting along, to see Robin and Chrissy together again, to hang out with Heather and Argyle again.

You place your hand over Eddie’s left hand, playing with the silver band on his finger – the one that matches your own, the one you put on each other’s fingers that one night in Vegas.

And you look around the room again, the conversation as trivial as possible. Your boyfriend and your best friend getting along – when two years ago this would have never happened.

It’s happiness, pure and absolute happiness and you are hoping that it will stay that way.

“Dolly, tell Eddie that Fleetwood Mac is superior to Iron Maiden, please!” Steve says with a smile, and you can’t even answer as you feel your eyes burn slightly from the joy your heart is feeling.

Yes.. now you are sure that this happiness will linger forever.

Like a tattoo.

@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @trashmouth-richie @corrodedcorpses @corrodedseraphine @take-everything-you-can @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @nemesis729 @succubusmunson @xxhellfirebunnyxx

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington series #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson series

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momolady · 8 months

Text

Art the Orc

If you live in a small town, maybe you'll know this place. It's a little art store run by the same family for ages. It's not changed in all that time either. Picture it, feel it, you know it's the only place that sells that one supply you like. Now, imagine an orc behind the counter. Female Reader x Male Monster

The visage of the old place looked like it had once been a gas station. There was one of those big metal awnings and signs that gas pumps had once been outside. But everything else looked like the art supply store it was. The window was painted, done up with flowers and a flourishing font, but it hadn’t been touched in ages and was chipping and weathering away.

The old place had seen better days, you could tell. But you were excited to tackle such a special project with your own two hands.

Inside the place had a familiar smell of paint thinner, book pages, and coffee. You looked around the front as the bells on the door chimed. The old floor had seen better days and was worn out where you stood, even the welcome mat was hard to read.

“Welcome to Greengold Creative Station,” the deep voice came from behind the front desk where there was an open door. ‘I’ll be out with you in just a moment.”

“Take your time,” you replied. You continued to look around, noting the mismatched shelving and thrown together renovations dotting the place.

A moment later, a large orc came from the back. He was wearing thick glasses and had on a corded cardigan that covered a paint splattered t-shirt.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked as he adjusted his glasses.

You approached the front desk again, extending your hand to him. “Hi! You must be Mr. Greengold, I’m from Regency Renovations.”

There was a surprised look upon his face as he shook your hand. “You’re the renovator?”

You smiled, half expecting some reservation based on your appearance. “I specialize in business and storefront renovations. That is what you wanted, correct, Mr. Greengold?”

He fumbled with his words for a moment, stuttering, touching his glasses until he spoke. “Call me Art, please.”

You held it in, but he knew where your mind went.

“It’s short for Arthur, but it's also my dad’s name so my mom calls me Art. Yes, I know, ha ha, very fun. A man named Art runs the art store.”

“It’s an easy target.” You tried to squash your giggling but a few came out.

He sighed and shook his head. “So, you’ll be handling the whole store. I want it updated completely. It was fine for my parents, but I need to bring in a new generation of artists and online shopping is destroying us.”

“It’s a common issue, Art,” you didn’t look at him as you said his name. “I already have some ideas brewing and I would be happy to discuss your thoughts for the business with you.”

He sighed heavily, gazing out at a store that was once his family’s legacy. “I would say I would like to keep some of what my parents did to this place, but I don’t think any of it is salvageable.”

“Well recycling is a thing.” You replied. “Like some of these old shelves, the wood can be reused to create a rustic facade for the front desk here.” You patted the worn out formica top. “And the vintage signage out from can be reused and framed, hung just right behind you there.”

Art made a face. “You can do all that.”

You returned his face, adding a smug smile to it. “I can do lots of things, Art. My father was a carpenter and my mother was a viper. Be careful of what you inflict about me.” You patted your chest proudly. You knew you were small and chubby, not many people expected much out of you, but your work spoke for itself. And that was how you told people off.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I have a lot riding on this so-”

“So you hired the best. That I can promise you. Now I know you said you didn’t have a lot of funds, but I already have my plans made for how to help you with that. I plan on doing most of the work on my own, but for heavy lifting and other things-”

“I don’t mind helping with that,” he said with a shake of his head.

You had planned to bring in your brother for help, he enjoyed the destruction part of your job and he worked for free food. “Well uh…if you’d like Art, I wouldn’t say no.”

“I wouldn’t want you getting hurt on the job. It would be best if I helped out,” he said.

You couldn’t tell if he was being kind or underestimating you again, so you brushed it off and continued. “I would also like to film the process of the renovation. Stuff like that will help reach your new audience.”

He frowned, and his thick brows pinched together. “You must be joking.”

“I am not. You’d be surprised what the kids these days are watching.” You smirked up at him. “I know what I am doing, Art. Have some faith.”

His face read: easier said than done.

Discussion and planning was always the hard bit. You had to convince your employer of what needed to be done. Art was hesitant about some things, after all it was a family business and a place he had grown up in. But for the most part he was willing to go along with some of your ideas.

Art started the clean up process by first putting away his stock and setting most of the mismatched shelves outside. Once that was taken care of you began ripping up the old carpet and ancient linoleum.

“I remember when my dad put that stuff down,” Art said from behind you.

You looked up, eyes covered by goggles and mouth surrounded by one of those thick industrial masks. “Oh really?”

Art gave you a look. “Is all that necessary?”

“You’d be surprised.” You stacked another chunk of the linoleum to the side. “Lots of debris and who-knows-what is under these old floors. Decades of dirty shoes, dust, skin, and life are stored here.”

Art’s grimace deepened. “Skin?”

“Oh yeah, we shed like mad,” you laughed. “If you have dust in your house you can be assured it came from you!”

Art looked perturbed by this revelation but he continued in moving stock to the back and other store property outside.

Once the flooring was removed, you accessed what was underneath. It wasn’t marble or granite, but it was some type of stony tile that had existed when it was a gas station.

“Mom said it was inhospitable.”

You used a dust cloth to clean off a bit of the flooring. “But it’s easy to clean, and it’ll make the whole place appear brighter and bigger.” You turned and looked back at him, taking off the goggles. “It’ll be so much better in the long run. Plus! You won’t have to buy anything new except maybe a rug or two if you wanted.”

Art’s pinched brow was becoming the norm to see, but you could tell it was because the gears behind it were working so hard to process everything going on.

Once the tiles were cleaned and all the old flooring was hauled off to the dump, you started working on the walls, taking down slapdash shelving, and anything else hanging up. The old paint job, or jobs really, were layered on so thick and hadn’t been properly done. They had painted over the trim and electrical outlets, all of which needed to be replaced. The holes in the walls needed fixing too, and there were a few dents and scrapes from the years.

“You’re not hiring a painter?” Art asked one day.

You zipped up your coveralls and turned around to face him. “Not unless you want to shell out twice the money. Besides, I’m a good painter. A great painter even! Maybe not Rembrandt or anything, but I can handle a roller better than most.”

Art looked over your paint supplies. After days of you working on freeing the electric sockets and scraping the excess from the trim you could finally start working. You were painting the wall white, but you had found cheap sticker tiles to create a great accent wall, which could then be used for photo opportunities and special displays. Then another wall would also be painted white and used to display local artists and projects from the art class that Art taught.

“Mom always wanted to put wallpaper up,” Art murmured. “But said it wouldn’t be practical with everything we needed to hang up.”

There was a melancholy to Art’s face and tone as he said this. “What kind?” You asked as you poured your paint into the tray. “We could always find something close to what she had in mind for the office.”

Art glanced over his shoulder then shook his head. “I doubt I could afford it. I tried looking already.”

You put the roller into the paint, sliding it back and forth until it wasn’t too soupy. “Was this place your mom’s idea?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze going all about the store. “I can’t believe how empty it is now.”

“It’ll be full again in no time.” You gave him a reassuring smile when his amber eyes returned to you. “Do you have any pictures of your mother you would want to hang up?” you asked. “I can plan a special place for it.”

He huffed, seeming put off by this suggestion. “Excuse me. The smell of this paint is giving me a headache.” He walked off, stomping his feet a little as he went.

Art came back by the time you were finished with the first coat of white. You were sitting in front of the checkout desk, leaned back against it so your foot propped the door open. He stepped over your leg and looked at your work.

“The white really makes this place look…different,” he murmured.

“Don’t worry, there will be some color back soon enough,” you sighed. “Is your headache gone?”

Art nodded, leaning against the desk. “Sorry if I’ve been…obstinate.”

You waved it off. “I’m used to you.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve been questioning and judging everything, all because I never really wanted to do this.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. “Then why are you?”

He let out that heavy, burdened sigh again. “Because it was in her will.”

You clicked your tongue. “Oh.”

“She left me money, but only if I used a portion of it to renovate the old store. She said it was mine after all, it deserved to reflect the new generation. Even in death she was still hinting I get married.” He scoffed at this, but he still had a smile on his face.

“Sounds pretty motherly.” You stood up from the ground, standing beside him. Not feeling much taller than you did sitting beside his great size. You motioned to the front window. “Did she paint that?”

Art laughed. “No. I did. That’s why she kept it so long.”

Your smile beamed. “Really? That’s pretty adorable.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “For years upon years I’ve looked at that painting and wished every day she would wash it off and do something different. But I suppose her sentimentality was far too deep for that.”

“It’s a good painting,” you offered.

“I never thought she’d keep it so I barely tried,” he grunted and crossed his arms against his chest. “Boy, was I wrong.”

“Would you like to paint the new display? I was planning on just hanging a new sign and leaving the window clean.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

You patted his arm, and his eyes darted down to your hand, his brows unpinching for that one moment.

“I’ll wait till you decide then.” You stepped away from him, but his eyes still lingered on where you had touched him.

A few days later, as you were working on putting the sticker tile onto the wall, Art came from the back and offered you a ticket.

“A friend of mine has a gallery showing tonight. He gave me two tickets so I thought-” He hesitated and cleared his throat.

“How fancy is the affair?” You asked.

“Nothing too fancy. I mean, dress up, but not like black tie event or anything.” He cleared his throat again. “I was going to get dinner at my favorite restaurant since it was close by if you wanted to come.”

It clicked and you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed and your mouth started to go dry. “Oh. Sure.” You tucked your hair behind your ear. “If that’s the case, maybe we should go in together. You know? Save the earth and stuff.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Smart idea. How about I pick you up tonight. Say…around six? Since the gallery is at eight?”

You nodded, biting down on your lip. “Yeah. Perfect. That should give me enough time to get ready after work.”

Art turned awkwardly away then back towards you. “Oh I uh, I guess I should get your address.” You traded info and the rest of the day went by in a jerky, tense sort of way.

That evening you waited in your living room until you heard from Art. You were wearing your favorite dress, and had even gotten your next door neighbor to do your makeup. You got his message and went downstairs to meet him at the front door.

Art was dressed nice in a dark purple suit and he had his long hair slicked back and tied into a bun. He didn’t have on his glasses, which surprised you. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Wow, you look great!” He said, a touch breathless.

You blushed and smiled. “Thanks. You look pretty great too. I’m not used to seeing you without your glasses.”

“Yeah, contacts tonight,” he said shyly. He then took your hand and led you to his car.

The restaurant was nice, the two of you had a clumsy start to it, but eventually you both started having an in depth conversation about color. From there, you both laughed and joked around, having a good time with great food and even better wine.

From there you walked to the gallery, meeting his friend then roaming through the show. Her artwork was lovely, but you noticed Art’s pinch brow had returned.

“A lot more nudes than I expected,” he whispered.

“I think it’s nice,” you replied. “I can see what her intent with the motif is. How it’s classic, it's natural, but also subversive.” You turned to Art, noticing him fidgeting and adjusting himself.

“Yes. I understand what she is doing,” he muttered. “I must have had just a little too much wine I think.”

You smiled at him, chuckling as your cheeks grew warm.

The car windows were fogged over, and in the dark all you could do was touch. His kisses felt rough but intimate. His tusks brushed against your skin, making your shiver. Every so often the darkness was halted by the motion light of the parking lot turning on. You’d still for a moment, then continue on with your youthful antics.

“We should stop.”

“We should.”

“Why aren’t we?”

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You kissed Art and breathed, looking into his eyes while you clasped your hands around his face. Maybe it was the wine or the nudes on display, maybe it was weeks of working so close and holding back so long.

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You smiled at him, kissing him again while his hands moved below. Your panties were pushed aside, his zipper brushed against your thigh. Big. Oh my god it was big!

You gasped softly and he stilled, watching your expression. You eased over him, taking as much of Art as you could stand. You pressed your palms to the roof of the car for balance, his strong hands kneaded into your thick thighs.

“Aren’t we a bit too old for this?” he breathed.

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we.” Your laughter turned into moaning. Maybe you were both a bit too old for this, but you’d never had so much fun before! He pressed deeply inside you, and his hands couldn’t stop touching your body. He roamed over the soft curves, and plump form, his desire seeming to grow the more he did.

The next morning you came into work, seeing Art standing in the middle of the room. You held your breath, wondering if it was all a wonderful dream. He turned and smiled, his thick glasses back in place.

“Hi” he said breathlessly.

Your smile bloomed. “Hi.”

Art motioned to the desk. “I brought coffee.”

“I see that.” You smiled and took a cup he offered.

He sighed then laughed and you laughed. “So uh…last night.”

“I liked your friend’s gallery. It was very nice. I also liked your favorite restaurant.” You took a sip of the coffee, testing it before you added anything.

Art nodded, his gaze drifted until it fell back onto you. “Is that all?”

You smiled over your coffee cup. “No. Just barely.” You looked into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate work topic.”

“Not exactly but uhm…I just wanted to check.” His eyes darted over you. “Were we really too old for that?”

You laughed and cupped your hand over your mouth. “A little. But I’m not too sore. Are you?”

“No. But I would prefer somewhere much comfier next time.” he leaned in close and you closed your eyes, accepting his kiss and the touch of his tusks against your cheeks.

“Yes, it would be nice.” You saw he had paints and brushes set on the front desk. “What’s this for?”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I thought I’d paint the window. I got a bit of inspiration last night.” He grinned your way. “Plus, I think mom would like to see how I’ve improved.”

You grinned. “I’ll be very excited to see how you work. Outside a car at least.”

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

Text

𝟹 𝙰𝙼

↳ eddie x fem!reader

↳ summary: just some sweet little smut between you and eddie before he goes to work

↳ A/n: wrote this awhile ago & I thought maybe I’d turn it into a series but nah, enjoy 😉

↳ warnings: smut 18+ only, smut with a plot. p in v, oral.

the soft whirring noises from his nose wake you before his alarm does.

Swing shift at the plant had Eddie’s sleep schedule completely out of whack. Some nights he’d be falling asleep at the table during supper, long curls bobbing as his head jerked forward.

There were days where you’d find him snoring, splayed out on his back on the thick rug on the floor of the baby’s room. Toy blocks in his hands, trying to be the dad he promised himself he would be. A dad he didn’t have.

And earlier tonight when he came home with grease lined under his fingernails, exhaust from the heavy machinery freckling his face, he let out a deafening yawn.

“Gotta be back in at 4,” he said after hugging you tight and tickling your sides. His soft lips pressed to the crown of your head.

You crane your neck to meet his lips and nod at him. The bags under his eyes were prominent tonight. Instead of going to bed early like you had suggested, after supper he spent the evening curled up in his recliner, rocking the baby to sleep while he read story after story.

This is why you loved him so much.

Both of you had come from broken homes, and when you wound up pregnant senior year, the odds were not in your favor.

But Eddie stepped up. You both finished high school early. Earning diplomas in December and he immediately started working at the plant with Wayne. Long hours for a decent paycheck. He was determined to not fail.

When the neighbors next to Wayne’s trailer moved out after a death in the family in Texas left them millionaires, Wayne marched into the landlord’s office and put a down payment on the trailer.

$250 later the trailer was home. Eddie danced with you under flickering lights as he held you from behind, pressing kisses into your neck. Promising you a good life. His thick hands on your growing belly, rubbing it softly.

Auntie Robin and Uncle Steve helped on the weekends to clean the smoke stained walls and provide the latest gossip from Hawkins High.

Chrissy Cunningham? Caught blowing Mr. Higgins in his car during first period.

Steve had a date with Nancy Wheeler tonight.

Dustin took over as DM for Eddie and was doing really well.

You smiled through Robin’s fast paced words and when her and Steve left that night Eddie asked if you missed highschool, hanging his head in sorrow at fucking things up for you.

Not a chance when I have you. The promise splayed thick on your smile, sweet against his neck.

When the spring flowers bloomed in May, you had the baby right after Eddie’s birthday.

The best birthday present ever.

He had said with tears in his eyes, you knew he would be the best dad, he spent his lunch breaks reading books on parenting. He saved every dime from his paychecks— determined to make enough so you wouldn’t have to work.

He was a good man, the best dad you could ever imagine. And he deserves the world.

So tonight when the alarm went off at 3 o’clock, you turned it off before he could wake. Tip-toeing past the baby’s room and into the kitchen to make some coffee.

Scooping two heaps of the off brand coffee into the white paper filter you press the on button and watch as the brewed coffee gently tinks into the glass pot.

Painted toes skip over the creaks in the floor and back to your bedroom, where the man who made all of your dreams come true laid to rest, bare chested with two names inked over his heart, yours and the baby’s.

His arms were curled over his head and his snores were light. Untucking the sheet from its place under the mattress you crawl beneath it careful to not knee anywhere on Eddie.

Up paled legs sat a pair of blue checkered boxers, the button undone from moving around during the night. And beneath them the delicious treat you were after, soft but still fairly large and thick, nestled with a pinked sack and a dusting of curls.

Trailing your nails along the waistband of the patterned blues, you work them down his hips with ease. Tired from already working 55 hours this week, Eddie doesn’t stir.

His cock springs out with a thud against his thigh, asleep like it’s owner, but enormous in size.

Dribbling a line of spit from your puckered lips you let it flow over his pink mushroom head like you were icing a cake, spreading it around with your thumb, rubbing the slit deep. A few jerks from your spit covered hand and Eddie moans in his sleep. His thick cock at full alert, veins on display for your lips to suckle.

You run your tongue from his sack up the shaft and around the peak. Kitten licks at first then long broad stripes. When you take his head into your mouth and swirl your tongue like you’re tasting a popsicle, Eddie finally wakes. A moaning grunt and then immediate panic. You pull the covers off your head and wipe your mouth while smiling wildly.

“Babe? Wh—what’s going on?” Eddie says sleepily, his hair askew and eyes still blinking from the sandman’s sleep.

“Shhh..” you shush, looking into his eyes and taking him whole into your throat in one swift gulp.

He moans and bucks his hips up into your face.

“Fuck,” he groans, his breathing erratic and breaking as you swallow him further, hands working double time in a twisting upward motion. Your spit running down to his balls.

You release him with a slow slide, gasping for breath as he holds your hair in his fists.

His eyes were squeezed tight and open immediately when you lick his slit, hungry for the salty seed.

“Bend over,” Eddie grunts, “now.”

Throwing the blankets off of you both and standing fast. He grabs your vibrator from the nightstand and clicks it to the on position, giving it to your waiting hand between your bent legs, your face smashed into the mattress.

He hikes the sleep shirt up your hips and sucks in a breath when he finds you soaked with no panties on. Glistening from the street lamp shining through the thin curtains, a feast for the taking.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, slapping his hands hard against the plush of your doughy ass, “my perfect fucking girl.”

You whine when the vibration hits your clit, humming along into the mattress to soften your expecting screams.

Eddie’s thick head slips through your folds and you moan deep. Mirroring his own as you wiggle your hips for more.

Burying himself inside your gummy walls you suck him in tight. A cozy wet hug around his dick.

“I swear to God this pussy was made for me,” he groans into the open air, pistoning his hips deeper and smacking against the fat of your ass.

When a drop of spit hits the button and his thumb runs circles around it you squeal in pleasure. Puckering around his thumb, giving him a small kiss and begging him to go deeper.

He moans and mutters under his breath. Fucking into you harder.

The vibrator is working overtime on your swollen clit as Eddie bucks harder into you, his cock thick and hard jutting deep into your aching hole. You scream out as your legs start to shake and Eddie begins to twitch inside of you.

Before you can both come, he flips you over and scoots you both up on the bed. Your legs wrap around his hips and he dives into your lips. Kissing them sweet then harsh, the same way he kissed you for the very first time when you were both thirteen.

You were sitting on the handlebars of his bike, your bare legs wrapped around his black jean styled waist, the studs of his belt making indents in your calves. He was standing on the gravel, the bike balanced in his strong hands. Dust circling around you after he skidded to a stop around the curve of the trailer park road. Your lips teasing him for far too long that summer.

His hips thrust into yours and his lips moves down your neck, the sweet spot above your beauty mark acting as an ‘x’ for pirates treasure.

His hair tickles your skin and you hold his head in your hand and press him further into your neck. When your walls tighten and you whine out he cums hard too, filling you up full.

He presses sweet i love you kisses into your collarbones and licks a path up the curve of your chin. Devouring every ounce of your skin he can.

“Mrs. Munson,” he teases, lips grinning goofy, “I must have been a good husband to deserve such scandalous behavior at 3 AM.”

You tickle his under arm and wiggle your way from beneath him, “Mrs. Munson?” you question, an eyebrow quirked into your disheveled hair. “Since when are we married?”

Eddie stretches on his back and fumbles into his drawer, wrestling the wrapper off a blue raspberry ring pop. He holds it up to you like a prized possession, “a placeholder for when the layaway is done being paid off at JCPENNEY’s.”

You giggle like a child and hold your out hand.Eddie threads the ring on your finger and licks the diamond shaped sucker.

“You keep waking me up like that we’re gonna have a whole litter of Munson’s running around, and besides,” he says, kissing up your arm and biting your shoulder, “I kinda like you,”

Kissing him deep you giggle.

“I kinda like you too.”

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff

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mingi-s-dimples · 12 days

Text

dinner table - mingi

pairing: mingi x fem reader

rating: 18+

genre: romance, smut (filth), non idol au

summary: Mingi invited you over after your date so you can spend more time together.

WC: 2k

warnings: non idol au, bf!mingi, oral (f receiving), eating out, cumplay, cumming. cum eating, cunnilingus, established relationship. unprotected (wrap up IRL), completely consensual, fingering, big dick!mingi (obvi), overstim, multiple orgasms, multiple rounds implied, squirting unedited (will def edit the formatting later), for sure forgot sth.

Author's Note: This one took me so long I'm so so sorry 😭😭😭 I started school again and I'm getting a loooot busier than usual so I'll try to post as often as possible but the minimum I can do is one fic per week AHHHH 😞 I loved writing it man 😇 It's delicious (to me)

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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction & doest not represent in any way the reality of the member.

The crisp autumn air greeted you as you stepped out of your apartment, its coolness invigorating as it brushed against your cheeks. The world around was painted in rich hues of amber, gold, and crimson, the trees standing like sentinels of the season, their leaves fluttering gently to the ground. Every step you took crunched against the scattered leaves, the sound a soft reminder of the season's embrace. Today was a day you had been anticipating with a mix of excitement and nervous energy—your first ever official date with Mingi, your boyfriend. You've been hooking up with him for a while, but you just officialised it some weeks ago.

The two of you had decided to meet at a cozy little café tucked away in the heart of the park, a place that, with its warm atmosphere and large bay windows overlooking the tree-lined path, felt like the embodiment of autumn itself. As you walked along the winding trail, the scent of cinnamon and wood smoke filled the air, blending with the earthy aroma of the fallen leaves. The park was alive with the quiet bustle of couples and families enjoying the day, their laughter mingling with the rustle of the trees. It was the perfect setting, a backdrop that felt as if it had been painted just for this moment.

Your heart fluttered with every step closer to the café, the anticipation growing with each passing second. You spotted Mingi before he saw you, his tall figure unmistakable even from a distance. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. The soft, golden light of the late afternoon sun framed him in a way that made him seem almost ethereal, like a figure from a dream. His dark hair ruffled slightly in the breeze, and when he looked up and your eyes met, a warm smile spread across his face, instantly melting away the last traces of my nervousness.

You felt a wave of calm wash over you as you approached him, the world around the two of you narrowing until it felt like it was just you and him in that moment. Mingi stepped forward to greet you, his smile widening as he reached out and took your hand, his touch warm against the coolness of the day.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that matched the autumn hues around us. "You look amazing."

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks as you took in the sight of him. He looked effortlessly handsome, his coat hugging his broad shoulders, the color of the fabric harmonizing perfectly with the vibrant scenery around.

You stepped into the café together, the bell above the door chiming softly as you entered. The interior was cosy and inviting, with wooden beams overhead and a fireplace crackling in the corner, casting a warm glow across the room. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, and he found a spot by the window, where you could watch the leaves fall outside as you sipped from the drinks he ordered.

As you settled into the seats, the initial nerves you had felt earlier faded entirely, replaced by a comfortable warmth that spread through you as he began to talk. Mingi's laughter was infectious, and soon you were sharing stories, the conversation flowing effortlessly. The more he talked, the more you realized how much you enjoyed his company, his easygoing nature, a perfect complement to the serene atmosphere around.

Outside, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the park and painting the world in deeper shades of orange and red. The day felt like a beautiful, slow unfolding, each moment with Mingi more meaningful than the last. The warmth of the café, the crispness of the autumn air, and the simple joy of being with someone who made you feel so at ease—everything felt just right, as if the world had conspired to make this first date something special, something to remember.

As the evening drew closer, the two of you decided to take a walk through the park, hand in hand. The path was lined with trees whose branches arched overhead, creating a tunnel of golden leaves that crunched underfoot. The air was cool, but with Mingi by your side, it felt perfect, each step took together affirming the connection you were beginning to build.

There was some kind of magic in the air, something unspoken yet understood between the two of you, walking in comfortable silence. The day had been everything you could have hoped for and more, a perfect beginning to what felt like the start of something truly special. As you paused by the edge of the pond, watching the reflection of the fiery sky ripple across the water, you knew that this was a moment I would hold onto for a long time—a perfect first date, wrapped in the beauty of autumn and the warmth of newfound affection.

"H-hey so... I know we haven't been together for long but.."

"Hm?" you said, confused.

"You know that when we were hooking up, you came over at my house multiple times to play my favourite video game with me but... would you maybe want to spend the night... with me? I enjoyed spending time with you today, for this first date. I absolutely loved it", Mingi said, taking your hands into his, rubbing to warm them up.

"Y-yes, babe. Why not? We can watch a movie or something" you said, embracing his broat yet comforting body.

"Okay then, let's go" he murmured and held your hand, walking side by side.

*several minutes later, arriving at his apartment*

"Oh, let me" he said, taking off your coat. "Make yourself at home. In case you'd like some snacks, you know where to find them. I'll get us something to drink and I'll turn on whatever movie we haven't seen." he said and got his flip flops on, stepping onto the dark coloured rug in his living room. "Do you have any preference?" you heard him from the kitchen. "Nooo! Choose whatever!" you shouted back. You took out some random snacks and cookies from the cupboard and went back in the living room, taking a seat next to Mingi.

"I put on some kind of romance, I think we've seen it already but I didn't invite you here to watch a movie, necessarily. I wanna spend time with you. Wanna cuddle, maybe... while watching said movie, hm?" he said, embracing you.

"Yup, sounds good. Here, take some cookies, I just got em from your cupboard" you said, giggling, taking one of the cookies out and bringing it up to his lips. He took a bite and smiled at you, his right hand carresing your thigh.

"So... Mingi, babe. How do you feel about the fact that, after weeks, even months of hooking up.. we finally officialised our relationship?" you asked, looking him in the eyes.

"I was.. shy at first, to be honest with you. Like, we've made out in the past and all but the intimacy we later had because of this relationship was top tier. I don't know, I felt really positive about it." Mingi said, confidently.

*about two hours later, still cuddling up with Mingi on the couch, feeling a tad sleepy right as the movie ends, because he carresed your back the whole time*

"Sweetie, are you asleep?" Mingi said, softly.

"N-no, I was just staying still for a moment, why?"

"D-do you remember how the movie started..?" he said, making you a little bit more attentive.

"Yes, what's with that?"

"You know.. I thought we could.. maybe recreate it?" he said, looking in your eyes, his gaze darkening upon seeing your outfit once again for the night.

Oh.

"Mingi, I-" you stuttered.

"It's totally fine if you don-" but you interrupted him by going in for a kiss, which he took as a 'yes'. He then basically jumped on you, like he has been waiting for this moment for an eternity. One of his hands on your waist and one on the nape of your neck, he was all over you.

"Y-know baby, I've been waiting for this moment for so long" he said, breaking the kiss. "You've always looked so good, damn. But I never dared touch you when we were hooking up. This little... almost fragile-like body of yours... I never dared to feel it.. afraid I might destroy it. But now... oh babe, I am not gonna hold myself back." his kisses going from your cheek to your neck, where he softly marked you.

"D-don't hold yourself back-ngh" you stuttered, already feeling heat pooling in your lace panties, as his right hand was finding it's way under your blouse, now resting on your bra, tugging at it softly.

He put one hand under your ass and one on your lower back, holding you close. You couldn't see where he was going, but you were sure of one thing. He wasn't gonna take it slow.

As he placed you on a table, which was in the living room, he stopped for a moment to look at you. He was eye-fucking you, literally.

"God damn, love." his right hand on your waist, the other one under your breast, holding you still, his thumb brushing over the nipple. "You look so fucking good, like this..." his left hand going to your bra, unbuckling it. "Are you sure you're all good with it?" he asked once more.

"Yes. Mingi, please-" you pleaded.

"I thought so." he said as his hand slid your blouse off, your nipples getting harder at the colder sensation, bare in front of him. He then took you off the table for a moment, helped you out of your jeans and panties. You were now completely naked in front of him, Mingi fully clothed. His hard erection straining against his jeans, you were standing in front of him, looking contently from his lips, where you wanted to plant a kiss, to his bulge, which you wanted to take care of. You tugged at his pants for a moment. He smirked at the sight, but he wasn't quite content with your decision, yet.

"Sweetie, you eat your dinner take out or at a restaurant, I eat mine on this table. Get on, now" Mingi said an tapped the table. You did as he said, of course, and in a second he softly pushed you on your back, being careful about your head hitting the hard wood. He dragged you almost to the rim of the table, to which he halfway kneeled in front of you.

"Oh- my god" you said as he tightened his grip on your thighs, keeping you still.

"Spread out, babe. Don't be shy, I wanna see and eat every part of you" the tall man whispered. He left a trail of kisses on your thighs and without warning, his right hand went right between your legs. You lightly flinched at his touch, two of his fingers rubbing your wet folds. His fingers were soflty fondling with your cunt, his kisses getting dangerously closer.

"Stay. Still" Mingi said and started eating you out, his tongue hitting all your sweet spots. You started squirming under him, but he had a death grip on your thighs which you thought it would for sure leave marks later. His sharp and perfect nose hit your clit numerous times, sending shivers down your spine. Nails digging in your hips, his tongue traveling your body in ways you never thought you'd get explored.

"N-this feels so good-" you murmured. When he hears those words, the rytym of his tongue got faster and steadier, sending you over the edge. It didn't take long for the heat in your belly to appear and with a few more nibbing at your clit, the knot that formed in your belly unfolded and you came, some strings of silky white liquid dripping on the man's chin as he stood up.

"You taste so good... But I'm not done with you" Mingi said and took his clothes off, leaving only his briefs on. You softly gasped at his size, the girth and length for sure being way more than you could take (your fingers or the vibrator you bought a while ago whatsoever). His right hand went to your neck without warning and pushed you on the table again, laying flat on the surface, while his left hand brought your legs over his hips, lining his cock right to your hole. You were basically already all prepped up from him eating you out so he pushed himself in without warning, getting a loud moan out of your softly rising chest. He stood like that for a moment then started rapidly pounding you, the dining table moving under your weight and his power.

"You look so hot, babe. All flushed for me" he said and bottomed down, your cheeks indeed being rosy red and your forehead sweaty, your head dizzy and your legs trembling. He was still going at it and you could already feel the total opposite sensation you usually feel and that was... your body being overstimulated and overwhelmed by all that's happening. He couldn't care less tho, he had and wanted to take care of his own erection, to which he was ramming into you with a lot of power and steadiness.

Though, he was getting closer and closer. A quiet string of curses was leaving his lips, hips snapping against your pelvis, your legs bringing him closer and locking him inside you. He took that action as a free pass to finish in your cunt and did so, the feeling of being filled all up by your one and only man sending you over the edge and another knot in your belly unveiling... this time you squirted all over you and him, his face forming into a pleased smirk at the view. He fucked you through his orgasm and slowed down.

""Cmon up, easy" Mingi said and helped you stand up on your own, legs trembling and head dizzy. He looked at you contently and hugged you, giving you soft kisses. The closure he showed and gave you right after he was inches deep inside your cunt warmed your body up, cuddling against his bare skin.

"Let's get you washed up. How... was it?" he softly said and guided you to the bathroom.

"I have no words... it was fucking amazing!" you said.

"Up for a 2nd round?" Mingi winked flirtously at the shower.

"Mingi!"

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117

#ateez fanfic #blossomnet #illusionnet #ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez x y/n #fanfic #smut fic #ateez #ateez smut #smut #mingi s dimples masterlist #ateez smut mingi #ateez mingi #mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi x you #mingi x y/n

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livinghostly · 8 months

Text

hey there, sunshine — suguru geto x reader

a/n: not in love w this !! but couldn't get the idea out of my brain when i was trying to sleep. was also intended to be for choso but got too ooc sooooo wc: 2.3k yet another date didn't work out for you, and your roommate bears the burden of listening to all your complaints. he also may or may not have a crush on you. fluff/humor

the soft orange of the painted sky poured through your blinds, slipping through the cracks and almost deliberately shining down on your eyes that just barely peeked beneath your comforter. your curtains waved back and forth with the fan, soft whirrs that once lulled you to sleep now drawing you from your slumber with a ragged groan. far gone was the fulfillment of your soothing dreams, your memories running farther and farther away as you tried to recall them and sink yourself back into that peace of mind.

you screwed your eyes shut in defense from the harsh rays of the sun, huffing in the warmth of your pillow before lifting your head and sandwiching yourself against the mattress. your fists squeezed the pillowcase with irritation, pulling as hard as you could manage to encase you in the comfort of your bed.

the birds chirped in unison, chattering as they built a nest on the apartment balcony your roommate refused to relocate (he called himself a humanitarian, but you were sure part of him refrained because he knew it bothered you). the slight creaks of your rotating fan were becoming more noticeable even as you tried to calm yourself back to sleep. you were uncomfortably warm now, the frustration culminating beneath your comforter and suffocating the air.

buzz.

your phone, shaking itself to life with a notification. you sighed.

buzz.

you thrashed the bedsheets away from you, your pillows and plushies cocooning in your blankets landing on the ground with a soft thump. the palm of your hand slammed against the hollow wood of your bedside table in a blind rage, desperately scouring your clutter in an attempt to locate your phone.

finally, you dug your nails into the rubber case and snagged it from the charger with a thwack. you rolled over to your side, squinting at the sunlight as you turned it on. three new messages, and an aspiring text bubble all from one person.

080-7766-5289

hey

good morning

would you want to get coffee with me?

the pondering text bubble finally popped, and your phone vibrated again.

maybe some breakfast too?

your groggy eyes glanced at the time. 8:23am. you barely had a chance to think through the onslaught of messages. the unrelenting number belonged to a guy you’d met at the bar last week, who was sweet enough for you to trade numbers with. last night had been your first date, a simple dinner and a movie.

unfortunately for him, you felt a better connection to the movie that night than to him. he was strangely stiff when you were around, answering any questions with caution that made you feel like an intruder for asking. comments and questions of his own were dry and anything but open-ended, his punctuation hanging in the stale air while you worked overtime to keep the conversation going.

it really didn’t seem worth it.

you shut off your phone and placed it on the table again, taking a deep breath. all at once, the scent of brewed coffee beans and pancakes wafted in from the kitchen. your stomach rumbled in response, mouth slightly watering as you came to terms with just how hungry you were.

you pulled yourself out of bed, dragging your feet along the plush carpet of the apartment. sluggishly, you ran your hands through your hair in an attempt to tame what mess it made of itself. it was cooler in the open loft, the windows propped open, welcoming the dewey air and various chattering of wild critters. those damn birds.

your roommate, suguru, was in the kitchen, his back to you as he worked his magic on the stovetop in front of him. his red apron was tied into neat bows wrapped around his neck and his waist– the words ‘kiss the cook’ plastered in bold font on the front of it with puckered lips, a gag gift from gojo last christmas that he had now worn to the point of the ends being frayed and stained with various ingredients.

he was wearing a black t-shirt that squeezed the tightness of his muscles, tense and working diligently as he flipped a pancake. his black basketball shorts hung loosely around his waist– surely thrown on haphazardly as he woke up –and he donned a pair of mismatched neon-striped socks. truly, a sight reserved for you, and only you.

on the island behind him, two steaming cups of coffee were presented next to empty plates. the pink one was yours, the black one was his. your utensils had a few extra napkins stuffed underneath them.

you make a mess one time and he can’t let it go.

he acknowledged your presence with a soft hum, before turning his head and offering a small smile. it was soft and captivating, just as he was. his charm washed over you as his gaze followed every part of your figure, raising a curious eyebrow at the sight of you missing a sock. nothing he hadn’t seen before, in fact, he’d seen you much worse and much more grumpy.

“good morning,” he said, his voice a low rumble. he met your tired eyes, taking in the delicate hues that warmed his skin. your eyebrows were still pinched together as you recovered from the confusion and discomfort of your untimely awakening. “rough night?”

“rough everything,” you huffed, grabbing your coffee and shuffling next to him. you hoisted yourself up to sit next to the stack of pancakes he’d created and leaned your head against the cabinets.

suguru watched carefully as you took a sip of your coffee, a sense of pride fluttered in his stomach when a content smile graced your lips. his motions came to a slow stop as he stared you down. you paid him no mind as you wrapped both hands around the mug for warmth and basked in the taste again, then kept it close to your chest as you licked the sweetness off your lips.

after many months, he’d refined your coffee blend to your ideal taste. pestering you each time if you liked it enough, or what he could improve on to make sure that his handiwork was no less than perfect in your eyes. he reveled in the way you adored his cooking, putting pieces of himself– his adoration, compassion, and sentiment –into his creations and curating your taste closer to his own.

his grip on the spatula loosened, nearly slipping out of his hand and bringing him back to reality.

suguru cleared his throat and resumed his task, sliding an additional pancake onto the tower, slowly but surely resembling the one of pisa. he kept his head low with a merciless blush refusing to back down. you didn’t notice. “did it not go well?”

“it was… fine, i guess.” you sighed, beginning to zone out as you stared down a picture frame hanging not too far away.

it was you and suguru, one of the first few nights you had finally gotten comfortable being around him and he’d invited you to meet his friends. more so, he begged you to come out of your room and gave you no room for escape when he sandwiched you between himself and the couch’s armrest. shoko took the photo, stealthily enough you didn’t realize it existed until you saw it hanging in the hallway.

suguru’s arm was thrown over the back of the couch, a lazy grin on his face as he looked at you. (gojo told him he looked goofy with that expression. lovestruck didn’t ‘suit’ him.) you couldn’t stop laughing at one of his many sly comments he’d whisper to you, covering your face as you cackled and peeked through them to get a look at him. his stare made your face burn hot and you kept it covered until gojo managed to grab everyone’s attention, like he always did.

it felt so long ago when suguru existed as your shy, withdrawn roommate who would stare at you with, seemingly, a dull interest when you spoke to him. despite his staring, he was always polite and considerate of your needs, your time, your privacy. he invited you to the food he’d make, setting aside extra servings for you. if you had already eaten, they’d go in the fridge with a sticky note on it.

then he was recording your shows, buying your snacks, anything he got for himself he seemed to get one for you as well, in a different color. it all came with ease, drawing you into his routines like he had his own gravitational pull and you were stuck in his orbit.

as he’d gotten to know you, he learned how spiteful you were to any form of change. you hated it when your go-to brands changed their packaging, when your restaurants were out of your preferred foods, or when your route to work was partially under construction. but you adjusted, without contest, to suguru’s rituals like it was nothing at all.

“i don’t know. maybe i’m being mean, but he was so, like, hard to talk to,” you shrugged. “it is so tiring to be the one doing all the talking.”

suguru doesn’t say anything, just nods.

“and then he texted me good morning. in what world are we in the good-morning-text phase?” you pouted, looking at him. “so weird. i barely know him.”

“and he asked me out for coffee. and breakfast. why would i do that?” suguru’s gaze flutters over you as you take a sip from your mug, his eyes lingering on the way you bite your lip in thought afterward. he chooses to stay quiet, inviting you to ramble for as long as you pleased, as long as he would be the one to hear your voice. “i don’t think i have the brainpower for either of those things and carrying an entire conversation on my back. it’s not even 9 in the morning.”

he turned the stovetop off, taking the pan over to the sink to wash. the mixing bowl and other utensils were taken care of earlier and already set aside on the drying rack, always so tidy.

“so, not well,” suguru concluded, his lips turning into a smirk. he teased, “i won’t get to meet him?”

“no, never. but also i got a free dinner and a movie out of it. so, something went right...”

he chuckled. the one thing men are good for, you’d told him before. in that way, he really wasn’t any different from the rest of your roster. he supplied you with food and outings, and wouldn’t dream of you paying for them, paying no mind to the way you’d protest and nearly brawl at the register.

suguru never met any of your dates, you’d disappear into the night– or days on end, not allowing them the gratification of crossing the threshold of your apartment.

he began to separate the pancakes onto your respective plates and set a small bowl of sliced fruit between them for you to share. he cleared his throat. “on to the next, then?”

“maybe… i don’t know. the thought of going out and all the dates is just so exhausting.”

suguru hummed again. a man of few words. he liked the idea of you staying in– staying home, with him. he honestly wasn’t sure how many horrible date stories he could handle, you could do so much better. you deserved better, and he could give it to you.

he twirled his fork as you slipped behind him, gently caressing his back as you passed. a warm trail remained in the absence of your hand, burning into his skin before dissipating into nothing more than a longing to reel back into your embrace again. “are you still interested in that bodega that just opened up? i don’t want to exhaust you.”

“no, that's not…” you paused, slipping into your stool, mouth agape as you found your words. “it’s different, with you, you know. it’s easy.”

“i’m easy?”

it was too early in the morning for his games. you sputtered. “no– stop! that’s not what i’m saying.”

suguru chuckled. “we don’t have to call it a date, you know, if it makes it easier.”

“what?” you blinked, then narrowing your eyes at him. the sun from the loft brightened his toffee-colored eyes that bored into you expectantly, though not bothering to repeat himself. he’d rather watch you squirm while he kept that stupid grin on his face. “do you think you’re making me feel better?”

the gentle glow of his skin was unmatched to anything, or anyone, you’ve seen. his hair was unbrushed, the slight curls framing the sides of his face and tickling underneath his chin. he was always elegant. and pretty. unfortunately, he was just as aware as you were.

he shrugged half-heartedly, taking note of the way your fingers bounced your fork in the air as you stared. “don’t worry if you don’t want to go.”

“i do want to go.”

“so, it’s a date, then.”

suguru took a quick bite of his pancakes, poorly hiding his taunting grin with stuffed cheeks. maybe later he would feel guilty, making you all flustered so soon after waking up, drowsiness anchoring your posture against the stool. but, for now, with you in front of him, he found himself giddy as he toyed with your reactions.

“you’re impossible sometimes, do you know that?” you opted for taking a sip of your coffee, an anxious whisper in the shell of your ear warning you that you were going to embarrass yourself by chewing with your mouth full. as if he hadn't seen it before. it was hard to avoid his stare, to escape the painful position he put you in. was he serious?

you mumbled into your mug, “you hang out with gojo too much. is he gonna tag along, too?”

(gojo, the master of getting anything he wanted, any time, anywhere, no matter what.)

“it hurt's me, that you're thinking about him at a time like this.”

he smiled, more genuine this time. you watched him carefully, catching the nervous twitch of his fingertips he combated with a melodic thrum against the island. you considered how sincere his tone was, his gentle demeanor somehow becoming more soft as his playfulness subsided.

"let me take you out."

you blinked, chewing on your lip thoughtfully. "to... the bodega?"

suguru laughed. "of course. i was thinking of a few different places, though."

"as in more dates?" you poked in his direction with your fork. he nodded. "who says we make it past one?"

"why not? we've already made it to our 'good morning' and 'eating breakfast together' phase."

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk suguru #jjk suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto fluff #suguru fluff #geto fluff #jujutsu kaisen suguru #gojo mentioned #lol #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #spleen writes

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nobodyfamousposts · 9 months

Text

Coffeenette

For the record, they blame Alya. All of them do. No question. They will never NOT blame Alya for this.

Even Nino, who is her boyfriend and supposed to support her. He’s agreed with her about almost everything. But not about this.

Even Rose, who is the sweetest girl in their class. She’ll apologize and be really nice about it, but she still blames Alya.

Heck, even Chloe did, which was a surprise. She was a bully sure, but as such, anyone would have thought this sort of thing would be beneath her. Though it could simply be that she just liked having any excuse to make fun of someone.

…Or so they thought until they saw Chloe scramble away to hide as soon as she saw it happen.

But none of them blamed Alya more for this situation than Marinette, who could only swear all unholy vengeance and glare daggers at her soon to be ex-best friend as she took her sole reason for living in this cold and terrible world and threw it in the garbage!

“Marinette, come on. It’s not that big of a deal!”

“It was innocent…”

“It was a cup of coffee!”

“The perfect cup of coffee. The coffee to end all coffees. Brewed to perfection and at just the right temperature. I could have died happily with that coffee. No other cup of coffee will ever compare. Ambrosia was in that cup and you threw it away!”

“Are you serious?!”

“Shh. Shh…I must mourn.”

“Get off the floor!”

“Mourn, I say!”

Oh sure, some had shrugged it off at the time. Alya had just rolled her eyes and dragged Marinette to class—coffeeless. Others had simply laughed a little at the dramatic display before moving on.

But those who knew better were panicking.

Some were already looking up therapists. Two were immediately calling their parents to ask about a school transfer. A few had given up on life and were writing up their wills.

It should be made clear: Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a kind girl. Sweet. Dedicated. Dependable. If you needed help, she was there. She was the one to look to for a solution to any problem. She was the first to put forth an effort and offer an olive branch, even if you hurt her. And of course the last thing she ever wanted to do was upset anyone. And if she did, she would be the first to apologize and try to make up for it.

…the problem was that this was all when Marinette was in a good space. And while her good days exceeded her bad days, that was not to say that there were not bad days. And when she had her bad days, they were…bad.

The thing that few knew about Marinette Dupain-Cheng was that there were…times, you could say, when she was not her normal friendly self. Times when she was…

…Grumpy.

Kind of mean.

Downright brutal, actually.

It only happened when she was either very angry or very stressed.

Which, unfortunately for everyone, has been increasing quite a bit since Hawk Moth made his grand entrance into the world of supervillainy.

Marinette had been stressed for a while and it showed. She’d been losing sleep. And they could tell she’s been more groggy given how frequently she’s been walking into walls and doors. They had thought this was cute at first. They had even laughed about it.

They hadn’t realized that this was actually only the first stage. Not until she started coming in with coffee—something she hadn’t done in years.

Marinette struggled when she was tired.

Thanks to Hawk Moth, she had lately been very tired.

And with her consistent lack of sleep, coffee had been her best friend. Or at least her best consumable friend. The sort of friend that brought her relief and made living bearable.

…until Alya took it away.

It turned out that Marinette’s parents had become…”concerned” about Marinette’s caffeine intake and had forbidden her from the beverage. Normally, they could only keep it away from her at home by either keeping her from the coffee pot or when necessary, switching to decaf. But Marinette had found ways around that by getting her bitter bitter life-saving paint stripper juice outside, usually on the way to school.

Or at least, she used to. But this was a new year and THIS time, Marinette had a new friend—and a BEST FRIEND at that in the form of Alya Cesaire, whom Tom and Sabine had chosen to enlist in their plot to protect their daughter from things that weren’t good for her.

Like coffee. Her precious life-preserving coffee.

And next to the Ladyblog and her secondary role as Rena Rouge, Alya had never jumped on anything faster.

Marinette’s morning coffee run? Done. A thing of the past as Alya would walk her to school and ensure they made no other stops along the way.

Marinette’s stash of coffee and energy drinks? Ransacked. Alya searched her locker, her desk, her bags. And being Marinette’s best friend, she knew ALL of her potential hiding spots.

Marinette’s emergency chocolate-covered espresso beans? Taken. Alya practically treated it like it was radioactive given the gloves and goggles she wore as she removed them. And in her defense, they very well may have been. Marinette was very tight-lipped over just where she had gotten them. She had tried to hide the fact that they WERE espresso beans, but Alya still wasn’t fooled.

Alya was on the hunt and there was NOTHING that could stop her. For her best friend’s “greater good”.

…as far as Marinette was concerned, the “greater good” could shove it.

She saved Paris on a daily basis! This was the LEAST it could give her in return!

Sadly, it appeared that Alya—and by extension Paris, cared not for Marinette’s sacrifice. Thus she was left to stew in her growing rage…stew like the precious brew she was being deprived of.

Up until that point it was clear that Marinette had been surviving on coffee and sheer spite. And now she only had one of those two things left.

But it would be fine! Really!

…so long as no one earned her ire.

Chloe had been one such unfortunate recipient of that ire some time ago in her younger days. Though Marinette had profusely apologized to her afterwards, Chloe never forgot and has held it against her ever since.

...well, after her several month sabbatical from school, at any rate.

So the fact that Chloe was suddenly trying to convince her father to let her take a vacation in the middle of the school year should have been a major red flag.

…or the way Marinette slammed her bag on her desk to get the class’s attention when they started getting off task and too loud in class.

……or the death glare she gave Kim the instant he tried to poke fun at her state with a literal poke to her cheek to try to wake her…and the injured finger he received for his trouble when she grabbed the offending object and bent it back.

…………or how most of the teachers were conveniently refraining from giving them any homework assignments they knew they should have been getting. Or not acknowledging Marinette’s grumpy behavior and sleeping in class. Or avoiding even looking in Marinette’s general direction.

The point was that it was evident that not all was right in the classroom and especially with their normally kind and happy Everyday Ladybug.

To their credit, the classmates had tried to bring Marinette coffee in order to help restore her to her usual state...or at least avoid her wrath.

But all their attempts were for naught, as Alya herself had become something of a bloodhound for caffeine. And having appointed herself as enforcer of the coffee ban, she would confiscate any form of the substance they tried to bring in and dispose of it in short order—much to the classmates’ horror and Marinette’s growing displeasure.

As far as the class could figure, it seemed that coffee was either simply useful in keeping Marinette awake and aware, or it was a comfort to her when she was feeling stressed.

Probably both.

And Alya, in all her misguided concern for the girl’s health, had taken it upon herself to remove the one thing keeping Marinette stable. Stable and happy and not inclined to traumatize anyone unfortunate enough to get in her way.

So yes, everyone in the class did blame her. They didn’t do anything about that resentment, of course, but they did still blame her.

Not that Alya seemed to care.

“Alya.” Nino knelt—literally knelt before her, his hands clasped as if in prayer. “Please. I’m begging you! Just let the girl have her coffee!”

She only rolled her eyes before throwing away yet another cup Marinette had managed to procure from the teacher’s lounge—somehow completely ignoring the daggers the other girl was glaring at them all with from the window of the classroom.

Alya was unmoved.

And seemingly oblivious to the scratch marks on the window left in the wake of Marinette’s pawing.

“It’s for her own good.” Alya insisted, much to the growing horror and frustration of those around her.

“What about our good?“

“You’ll be fine.“ She said dismissively.

“She made Kim cry!” Nino exclaimed, gripping his hat.

“You’re exaggerating.“

“She brought out the Vial. Do I need to tell you about the Vial?“

“The what now?“

“Marinette has a special Vial she carries during…these times.” Max explained as he helped the despondent Nino to his feet.

Alya blinked.

“Okay?”

“She uses that Vial to collect the tears of anyone who so much as annoys her while she’s in this state!”

“That’s a little weird, but—”

Nino cut her off.

“She uses those tears to flavor her coffee.”

Alya stared.

“What?”

“She flavors her coffee with tears, Alya!” He continued, gripping her shoulders. “Not cream! Not sugar! Not cinnamon or chocolate or pumpkin spice like normal people and Americans! TEARS! OUR TEARS! What does that tell you?!”

“That tells me you’re exaggerating.“ She replied, looking decidedly unimpressed. And thus cruelly ignored his whimpering as she tossed the rest of the coffee into the trash bin.

She shot them a look as she slammed the bin lid closed, as if daring them to challenge her.

Nino looked on the verge of a breakdown.

Max sighed and texted the others.

To everyone else, the slamming of that bin lid was akin to a signal…one that indicated the sealing of their fates.

Some cried. Some prayed.

Most chose to stay out of the way.

…that was likely all they could do.

Other than blame Alya, of course. Which they did.

As Marinette’s antics changed from funny “walking into walls isn’t she cute” to less funny “eviscerate your soul with words”.

As whispers from the rest of the school followed the classmates, offering them sympathy and prayers.

As the very atmosphere changed from a sense of melancholy to ever growing unease and outright paranoia. As if her presence itself brought with it something seemingly eldritch in nature.

And through it all, Alya ignored the warnings and insisted this was for the best.

To be fair, it was perhaps her friendship with Marinette that offered her some protection from the worst of it.

…others were not spared.

Timothy—everyone remember Timothy? Prominent student and good friend to the rest of the class. Top of his class. Fellow swimmer and athlete to Kim and Odine. Was one of the few people Chloe would listen to. Tried to help Nino throw the party during Bubbler and the only one to notice Sabrina hadn’t appeared in a while in Antibug. Remember? That Timothy. Had totally been there all along and was well liked by everyone. Possibly as much as Adrien.

…until he admonished Marinette for bumping into him and not looking where she was going.

And.

Marinette.

Snapped.

It was the moment Marinette finally had enough. Both of the lack of coffee and of holding back her frustration about the situation.

It was also the last time Timothy was seen at school. Or anywhere for that matter. Given how abrupt it was and how people actively avoid mentioning him again, some question if he had ever really existed…

Eh, probably not. It was likely just a rumor.

What wasn’t a rumor was how Chloe (after being denied being allowed to ditch school) presumed that a new year and being Queen Bee meant she was stronger than she had been before and thus strong enough to put the caffeine-deprived version of Marinette in her place. She would prove to Marinette, to herself, and to everyone that SHE was the head bitch in charge.

Marinette was abruptly woken out of a nice daydream that either involved Adrien or coffee or Adrien AND coffee to find herself being yelled at. And find herself face to face with Chloe.

Oh wait, Chloe was the one yelling at her.

She had a hard time making out what Chloe was saying, but the fact remained that it WAS Chloe. Which was never a pleasant place to begin any realization.

It would help if she had coffee.

Was there coffee?

Marinette looked at her depressingly empty hands.

No.

"Well?! Do you hear me?!" Chloe shouted.

Marinette looked up at the blonde and took a slow breath before opening her mouth to speak.

...

…thirty minutes later, Sabrina found Chloe catatonic under her desk and took her home early.

To be fair, she had brought it on herself. After all, she really should have learned her lesson from the last time. But still, it was hard to forget the scene as Sabrina gently guide her out of the building as Chloe mumbled to herself, her face pale, her mascara running, and her eyes wide and haunted.

She was out for the rest of the week.

Bustier was...no help. In her ever rose-tinted fashion, she attempted to speak with Marinette early on what had been a particularly bad morning.

“Marinette, I heard you’ve been having some trouble with your classmates.”

It took a minute for Marinette to realize Bustier was there, much less that she was trying to have a conversation.

“—argument with Chloe the other day. It seems like whatever you had said really hurt Chloe’s feelings.”

Marinette blinked, trying to comprehend what was being said to her.

“—was uncalled for. Chloe didn’t deserve that.”

Bustier. Something about Chloe? She hadn’t seen her in a while. She thought things had been quieter lately…

“—you know how Chloe is and that she needs help. Surely whatever she said couldn’t have been that bad, and—”

These were clearly words, but they weren’t making sense.

“—remember what I said before about the Marinette’s of the world? It’s important to show love to people, even if they aren’t nice. So they can learn from your good example and—”

Marinette.exe needed coffee to continue this conversation.

“I think the two of you can talk this out. You can apologize to Chloe and model the right behaviors.”

Was there coffee to continue?

“—and who knows? Maybe the two of you will even become the best of friends!”

No.

“—what do you think?”

Marinette frowned at Bustier and opened her mouth to speak.

...

...it would be the first and only time Bustier would make such an attempt to speak to coffee-deprived Marinette. Nobody knows exactly what happened, as the students had come in when class started only to find Bustier in the aftermath, sobbing over her desk and completely inconsolable.

No class was had that day.

#ml fic #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #coffeenette #why alya why #alas poor timothy #we...didn't really know you at all actually #but you will be missed #yes I'm actually writing this #pray for me #pray for everyone actually #the poor poor traumatized souls

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httpscomexe · 6 days

Note

I was thinking of something where Reader comes back smellin like booze all drunk, and normally Logan hates her but he helps clean her always ❤️‍🩹

Fridays

Summary: You arrive at Logan’s and Wades shared apartment, drunk. Normally Wade is there to help you, but this time it’s only Logan.

(Find what I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: Underage drinking, drunkenness

Work count: 1040

Fridays…

Logan’s least favourite day of the week, when you and Wade would go out drinking, you’d both come back drunk, then you’d have obnoxious giggles while you painted Wades nails and watched Finding Nemo with a bowl of chocolate covered popcorn.

It didn’t bother him at first, but then he saw how Wade would get touchy with you. And it didn’t bother him, except for the fact that he knew alcohol didn’t effect Wade as much as it would you. So when Wade guided you inside by your waist, something you’d never let him do sober, Logan was just annoyed. Then Wade started flirting, touching your thighs and stroking your cheek while you were drunk. Wade never seemed the type to force anything on a drunk woman though, which was why it bothered Logan so fucking bad.

So when you came to their apartment alone. Logan was confused. You smelt horrible too. Like weed, which you didn’t smoke, and then there was the scent of whiskey. He knew you were underage drinking, and that you had a meeting in the morning, so of course he was concerned.

“Where’s Wade?” Logan asks, brewing a pot of coffee as you stumble in.

“Oh he’s out fucking some girl he met…” You giggle a little, closing and locking their door behind you before resting your forehead on the wood.

“Language, kid.” It annoyed you when he called you that, at least when you were sober it did.

“Kid?” You smirk, walking towards him with an obnoxious sway to your hips that only made Logan snicker.

“Why the fuck did you come here without Wade?”

“I don’t wanna be alone…” You whisper, your finger coming up to the top button on his red flannel but he stops you, his voice low.

“Go take a shower, you smell like shit.”

“It’s jus’ weed…”

“You’re smoking weed?”

“No, Wade had some…”

“Go shower, I’ll find you some clothes of Wade…”

“No…” You say flatly, like a child denying broccoli.

“No?”

“Wanna smell like you… I like you, not Wade…” You arms suddenly come to wrap around his waist, and he gently pulls you off.

“Can you even fucking walk?”

“How do you think I got here…?” He stays quiet, as if expecting you to answer for him. “I didn’t walk… Wade got an Uber then Matthew had to walk me up the steps.”

“Matthew?” You nod.

“Mhm, the Uber guy…”

“Holy shit you’re a fucking mess…”

“Can you help me?”

“Help you what?”

“Take a bath…” He stares down at you, and you swear his heart stopped a beat or two. “Normally Wade helps when I’m drunk… I almost drowned last time…”

“Mess…” He says under his breath. “Fine, let’s go.” He hooks his arm under your legs and lifts you bridal style, making you giggle.

Once he reaches the bathroom, he sets you down and turns on the water, waiting until it was the right temperature before turning around, only to be met with you, shirt and pants already thrown to the floor, and you are now struggling with the clip on your bra.

“Fuck…” You mumble.

“Here, let me see.” He turns you around before you can even respond, and your bra is off in record time.

“Thanks…” You say shyly, then work to remove your pantries, noticing in the mirror that Logan wasn't staring. Oh so respectful as usual.

You couldn’t deny it. Whether you were drunk, sober, tired, or completely rested, you could never deny your feelings for Logan. Since the day you first saw him…

Your were doing Wades nails in his room, watching a movie you can’t remember the name of, you weren’t drunk, you hadn’t started drinking until after meeting Logan. But he had walked in in the middle of you doing Wades pinky, only a towel around his waist, and your eyes immediately fell down to his v-line, admiring his wet abs as he came asking if Wade had seen Logan’s cologne, which he hadn’t. But you couldn’t take your eyes off him, you didn’t even notice you were staring until Wade tapped your arm and then you were so embarrassed… From that day forward, you refused to visit until you were drunk. At least then you wouldn’t remember anything humiliating you might do…

You had gotten into the tub, Logan already kneeling beside it with your own dedicated loofa in his hand, already rubbing soap over your arms and legs as you dozed off thinking about the first day you unofficially met him. And you were sure he hated you, always avoiding conversation with you whenever you tried to talk.

“Logan…” You mumble his name.

“Yes.”

“I love you…” He pauses his movements, thinking for a moment before continuing.

“Can you sit up a little?” You do.

“Why don’t you say it back?”

“Because you don’t mean that, you’re drunk.”

“I’ll still love you when I’m not.” You look into his eyes, and he knows you aren’t lying.

“I doubt that.” He stops cleaning you, now fully engaged in the conversation.

“Always have… Since the day I first saw you…”

“I didn’t even say hi.”

“I know but you’re hot.”

“So you wanna fuck me, not date me?”

“That too, both…” He lets out a long, deep sigh, hanging up your loofa. “Always thoughts about you fucking me…” He stands up, grabbing a towel. “Rearranging my fucking organs…” Of course, you never thought that maybe being drunk around him was just as bad as sober, if not worse. False confidence was in the market.

“Oh yea?” He pays into it, helping you up and out of the tub before beginning to dry you.

“Mhm… kids too… And marriage…”

“Really?” He sounded like he didn’t believe you.

“Yes, Logan…* You look up at him, feelings hurt when he shows no enthusiasm. “I really, really like you… Like a lot… I love you…” Your voice cracks, and he pulls a hoodie over your head. His hoodie.

“Hey, let’s talk about this in the morning. I’ll bring it up when you wake up…” He takes you out of the bathroom, turning off the lights.

“Can I sleep with you? I normally sleep with-“

“Yes, you can sleep with me…”

#marvel #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #wolverine #logan howlett #logan x reader #wade #wade wilson #hugh jackman #logan #wolverine x reader #deadpool #ryan reynolds

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brookghaib-blog · 3 months

Text

Shattered Dreams pt.3

Pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x Reader

an: There you go, this is the final part, enjoy.

Summary: Y/N navigates a loveless marriage to Hoshina Soshiro

pt.2

The cozy coffee shop was bustling with activity, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the sweet aroma of pastries. Y/N sat at a corner table, her baby daughter happily babbling in a high chair beside her. It had been a couple of months since she had met Gen Narumi, and in that time, their friendship had blossomed. They often met for coffee, sharing stories and finding solace in each other’s company.

Today, however, was different. Y/N’s heart was heavy with the weight of a decision she had been contemplating for some time. As she sipped her coffee, her eyes drifted to the door, watching for Gen’s arrival.

Moments later, he walked in, his presence immediately comforting. He smiled warmly as he approached, taking a seat across from her.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice gentle. “How are you and the little one doing today?”

“We’re good,” Y/N replied, her smile genuine but tinged with a hint of sadness. “She’s been growing so fast.”

Gen glanced at the baby, who was playing with a soft toy, her eyes bright with curiosity. “She’s adorable,” he said, reaching out to gently touch her tiny hand. “You’re doing an amazing job with her, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Gen,” she said, her voice soft. “I needed to hear that.”

As they settled into their conversation, Y/N felt a sense of calm wash over her. Gen had a way of making her feel seen and understood, a stark contrast to the loneliness she often felt at home.

“Gen,” she began hesitantly, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

He looked at her, his expression attentive and concerned. “What is it, Y/N?”

She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his. “I’ve been thinking about getting a divorce,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart. “I’ve been miserable for so long, and nothing has really changed between Soshiro and me. He’s never home, and when he is, it’s like we’re strangers living under the same roof.”

Gen’s eyes softened with understanding. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Y/N. You deserve so much better.”

“It’s not just about me,” she continued, her gaze drifting to her daughter. “It’s about her too. I don’t want her to grow up in an environment where there’s no love or affection. She deserves a happy home, and I can’t give that to her if I’m constantly unhappy.”

Gen reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “You’re incredibly brave for considering this,” he said gently. “It’s not an easy decision, but sometimes it’s the right one. Have you talked to Soshiro about how you feel?”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “I’ve tried, but he never listens. He’s so consumed with his work, and he doesn’t see what’s happening right in front of him. He’s never even acknowledged my paintings or my success. It’s like I don’t exist to him outside of being his wife and the mother of his child.”

Gen squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Your work is incredible, Y/N. You’ve built something amazing, and you deserve to be recognized for that. If Soshiro can’t see it, that’s his loss.”

She had been so afraid of taking this step, of facing the unknown, but Gen’s unwavering support gave her strength. She glanced at her daughter, who was now dozing peacefully in her high chair, and felt a renewed determination.

“I want to be happy, Gen,” she said, her voice firm. “I want to build a life where I can be myself, where my daughter can see what it means to be strong and independent. I can’t do that if I stay in this marriage.”

Gen nodded, his eyes filled with admiration. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, Y/N. Whatever you decide, I’ll be here to support you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her heart swelling with gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As they finished their coffee and prepared to leave, Y/N felt a sense of hope for the first time in a long while. The path ahead was uncertain, but she knew she was not alone. Gen’s friendship and support were a lifeline, guiding her through the darkness and toward a brighter future.

Outside the coffee shop, the sun was shining brightly, a reflection of the new possibilities that lay ahead. Y/N took a deep breath, the fresh air filling her lungs and invigorating her spirit.

“Let’s walk for a bit,” Gen suggested, offering his arm. “It’s a beautiful day.”

Y/N smiled, accepting his arm as they strolled down the street. Her daughter gurgled happily, the warmth of the sun and the love of her mother enveloping her.

As they walked through the park, Y/N and Gen continued to talk about her plans and dreams. Her daughter, now awake, was fascinated by the trees and flowers, reaching out to touch the petals as they passed by.

“I’ve been thinking about moving,” Y/N said, her voice thoughtful. “Somewhere with more space for my studio and where my daughter can grow up surrounded by nature.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Gen replied, his eyes brightening at the thought. “A fresh start could be exactly what you need. Have you found any places yet?”

“A few,” Y/N admitted, smiling. “I’ve been looking at some houses in the countryside. It’s peaceful there, and I think it would be good for both of us.”

Gen nodded, his expression encouraging. “It sounds perfect. I’m sure you’ll find the right place soon. And remember, I’m always here to help if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Gen,” she said, her voice filled with gratitude. “Your support means the world to me. I'm going to his office later, I doubt that he will give me the time of day but maybe he will listen.”

They continued their walk, enjoying the tranquility of the park. Y/N felt a sense of liberation, a newfound freedom that came with the realization that she was in control of her own destiny. With Gen’s friendship and the love for her daughter as her guiding lights, she was ready to embrace the future and all the possibilities it held.

The sun was beginning to set as Y/N arrived at the Defense Force base with her baby daughter in tow. Determined to speak to Soshiro face-to-face, she navigated through the bustling corridors, occasionally stopping to ask about his whereabouts. Each person she spoke to mentioned that he was busy, but she persisted, unwilling to leave until she had confronted him.

Eventually, she reached his office. With a sigh of relief, Y/N pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room was neat and organized, a reflection of Soshiro’s meticulous nature. Her daughter was sleeping peacefully in her stroller, and Y/N decided to explore the office while waiting for him.

As she looked around, her eyes fell upon Soshiro’s desk. Among the papers and files, she noticed a framed photograph of herself and their daughter. It was a candid moment captured during a family outing, their smiles bright and genuine. Seeing the picture brought a pang of mixed emotions – nostalgia for happier times mingled with sadness over their current situation.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Y/N began to sift through the papers on his desk. That was when she stumbled upon a drawer that contained several photographs, neatly arranged and carefully preserved. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the face in the pictures – Makoto.

In the photographs, Soshiro and Makoto were captured in moments of laughter and camaraderie, their bond evident in the easy smiles and shared experiences frozen in time. Y/N’s hands trembled as she picked up one of the pictures, her eyes fixed on the two men who had played such pivotal roles in her life.

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening behind her startled Y/N. She turned quickly to see Soshiro entering the office, his expression a mix of surprise and apprehension. His eyes widened as he noticed her standing by his desk, the photographs in her hand.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice cautious. “What are you doing here?”

She hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. “I... I was looking for you,” she finally managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Soshiro stepped closer, his gaze flickering between her and the photographs. “What have you found?” he asked quietly, his tone tinged with sadness.

Y/N looked down at the picture in her hand, her heart aching with unanswered questions. “How... how did you know Makoto?” she asked, her voice trembling.

For a long moment, Soshiro remained silent, his eyes fixed on the photographs. Finally, he spoke, his voice raw with emotion. “He was... he was my best friend,” he admitted, his words heavy with unspoken grief. “We grew up together, trained together... fought together.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. “Did he ever...mentioned something of me?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Soshiro turned to face her fully, his expression pained. “I always knew.” he confessed quietly. “From the moment your named was mentioned by my father I already knew. Makoto woudn't stop mentioning you.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as the weight of his words sank in.

"He died protecting me and now I'm living his life. Did you know that?" His breath began to be more difficult as each word came out of his mouth "He was suppose to be the Vice-Captain, he was stronger, wiser, he was suppose to marry you, our daughter was suppose to be his. I couldn't do anything and gained everything he desired and worked for... He told me to protect you, did you know that? I've never met you before our wedding but somehow he wanted me to do something he was supposed to do. Everytime I look at you I remmember that this life belongs to someone else who deserved it, someone who deserved you, you never knew me but treated me as if you wanted me with you, how could I be a husband you don't belong to me."

Y/N got up from his chair looking at him, crying, from his memories, from his feelings, because she knew now, that he always was aware that she fantasized about Makoto being in his place.

"How come you never told anything, we could have worked it out, we could have helped each other soshiro, do you know how much I've suffering from having a husband who wouldn't even look my way?"

"How could I? Would you play pretend when you knew you stolen someone elses life? He died and I got everything he wanted, he died protecting me and got the love of his life as a wife, carrying my child, at the alter with me, not him. I know, I know I've been a complete asshole, but how come I do all that I get you to be all nice to me, doing everything for me, treating me with respect, when it was I who took your happiness Y/N? answer me." Soshiro let it all out, tears running down his face, his voice breaking, his actions putting the weight on his back, the emotions now being exposed.

Y/N didn't know what to do anymore, she came here knowing the solution for her problems, getting away, living free, and now, in a matter of minutes. Soshiro was now the last thing Makoto left her.

She hugged him, she didn't know why really. "He was the smartest man I've ever meet, I know that, if he asked you something he knew you were capable of it, it was either you or him who would die that day, and I know very well he didn't even give you time of reaction, he would always put other in front of him, it was the only thing I hated about him, it was what took him...but you're here, you didn't stole him, he gave it to you because he knew that you were the only person who could do things the same way as he would've."

He rested his hand on her head, looking at her. "I bought the painting."

Y/N confused, now looking up at him, she asked "What painting?"

"The one you made for him."

The soft glow of evening settled over Y/N and Soshiro's home, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. It had been a day of unexpected revelations and tentative steps toward healing. Y/N stood in the living room, her gaze fixed on a painting that now adorned their wall. It was the painting she had made for Makoto, a piece that had found its way to the gallery and been purchased by an anonymous buyer.

She turned to Soshiro, who stood nearby, his expression unreadable. "How… how did you know about my paintings being at the gallery?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of disbelief.

Soshiro hesitated for a moment, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of guilt and resolve. "Narumi," he finally admitted. "He came to me one day, teasing me about having met my wife and how beautiful you were, joking that he might steal you away. He's an idiot, but I know he has been a great friend to you."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "Gen told you about me?" she asked, her mind racing with questions.

Soshiro nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. "He told me how he had met you at the gallery, and how you had shared stories about your past and your paintings," he explained, his voice softening with each word. "He also warned me, Y/N. He said that I would lose you if I didn't make an effort to understand and cherish what we have."

-flashback-

Soshiro stood outside the gallery, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. He had come here at Narumi's insistence, curious and somewhat apprehensive about what he might discover. Inside, the gallery buzzed with activity, the soft murmur of voices and the occasional clink of glasses creating a backdrop to the vibrant display of art.

Narumi found him near a display of Y/N's paintings, a knowing smile on his face as he approached. "Soshiro," he greeted, his voice laced with amusement. "I see you've finally made it."

Soshiro regarded him warily. "What are you doing here, Narumi?" he asked, his tone guarded.

Narumi chuckled softly. "I came to see the paintings, of course," he replied, gesturing toward the artwork on the walls. "And to learn more about the talented woman who captured my attention."

Soshiro frowned, a pang of unease settling in his chest. "What do you mean?"

Narumi turned to him, his expression serious. "I mean your wife, Soshiro," he said quietly. "She's remarkable. Her paintings… they speak to something deeper, something that resonates with anyone who takes the time to look."

Soshiro's gaze softened, a flicker of pride mingling with uncertainty. "I know she's talented," he admitted quietly. "But I haven't been… I haven't been the husband she deserves. I've been doing nothing but make her hate me, however, I wish she would, her heart is too big for her own good."

Narumi regarded him thoughtfully. "No, you haven't," he agreed, his tone gentle but firm. "But it's not too late, Soshiro. You can still show her how much she means to you."

-present time-

Y/N listened intently as Soshiro recounted his conversation with Narumi, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions. She had never expected Narumi to play such a pivotal role in their lives, to be the catalyst for a conversation that had brought them closer together.

"Why did you buy the painting?" she asked softly, her eyes lingering on the artwork that now graced their home.

Soshiro took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving hers. "Because I knew it was for Makoto," he confessed quietly. "Narumi told me about your conversations, about your love for him and the pain of losing him. I wanted… I wanted to show you that I understand, Y/N. That I want to honor your memories, Makoto was also everything to me in a way."

Y/N felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of Soshiro's words. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for understanding."

Soshiro stepped closer to her, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears. "And I'm sorry for never telling you. For never explaining, I... I don't deserve to have you both, specially our babygirl, I've neglecting my own child because I didn't want to move on."

She nodded" It's not ok, no. But you will make it up for it, just don't make me regret giving you this opportunity, I came to the office to go away from you. My daughter is not growing up to the same enviroment as I did."

The gentle afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow in Y/N and Soshiro's living room. Their daughter, now a lively toddler, giggled and toddled around the room, chasing after a colorful toy. Y/N watched her with a tender smile, her heart full of love for the little girl who had brought so much joy into their lives.

Soshiro sat beside Y/N on the couch, his eyes fixed on their daughter with a mixture of pride and affection. They had come a long way since the tumultuous days that had tested their marriage. Now, they found solace in these quiet moments together as a family.

Y/N turned to Soshiro, her gaze searching yet hesitant. "Soshiro," she began softly, "do you think it's possible… for you to see me as beautiful? To fall in love with me?"

Soshiro's brow furrowed slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Y/N," he replied earnestly, "I've always thought you were beautiful. From the moment I first saw you, I was struck by your strength, your kindness, and your unwavering determination."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, a flicker of hope stirring within her. "Then why…" she started, her voice trembling slightly, "why couldn't you treat me right? Why did you push me away?"

Soshiro sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his confession. "It was never about you, Y/N," he admitted quietly. "Makoto was… he was like a brother to me. When he died, I couldn't bear the thought of taking his place in your heart. Of treating you as mine."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she listened to him speak, her heart aching with the pain of their shared history. "Is that why…" she hesitated, gathering her courage, "is that why you named our daughter that name?"

Soshiro looked at her, his gaze filled with regret. "Yes," he confessed softly. "I thought… I thought you would appreciate the gesture, even if at the time you thought I chose the name randomly."

Y/N nodded slowly, absorbing his words. "I see," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't how I never suspected…"

Silence settled between them, punctuated only by the sound of their daughter's laughter as she played nearby. Y/N felt a mix of emotions swirling within her – sadness for the loss they had both endured, but also a glimmer of understanding and forgiveness.

"Soshiro," Y/N said softly, breaking the silence, "I… I want to believe that we can move forward from this. That we can build something real between us."

Soshiro reached out and took her hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. "I want that too, Y/N," he replied earnestly, kissing her hand.

She looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and vulnerability that he rarely showed. "Can you try?" she asked, her voice tinged with hope. "Can you try to see me, to really see me, and cherish me?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of Soshiro's lips. "I'll do it." he admitted quietly. "And I think… I think I'm already falling in love with you, Y/N. You've not been invisible to me, the way you treated me, how proud you were of me... a man is easily defeated by a woman like you."

Tears spilled over Y/N's cheeks, this time tears of relief and joy. She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. In that embrace, they found a fragile yet precious moment of peace – a promise of a future filled with love, understanding, and the courage to heal old wounds.

Their daughter toddled over to them, reaching up with chubby hands to be lifted into her father's arms. Soshiro lifted her effortlessly, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she giggled in delight.

"You'll be as beautifull and talented as your mother, one day, hopefully, you'll get to follow my steps and take Ahiru's place as my Captain, Makoto."

#hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no. 8 #hoshina x reader #soshiro hoshina #fanfic #soshino x reader #kaiju art #fics #kn8 #kn8 fanart #kn8 x reader #kn8 fanfic

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sweetcherryharry · 5 months

Text

Begin Again — 05

Synopsis: Harry and Y/N had a secret relationship for almost two years, until they broke up. A year later, she shows up at one of his Love On Tour shows.

(masterlist)

In the City of Angels, Y/N awoke to the gentle caress of the morning sun peeping through the open curtains of Natalie’s apartment blinds. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered, waking up and shaking off the last bits of sleepiness.

As consciousness gradually flooded back to her, the memories of the night before began to resurface. The concert, her unexpected encounter with Harry, and the late-night heart-to-heart with her friends Natalie and Maia had all been overwhelming, to say the least.

However, now, as the bright daylight filled the room, it all felt like a surreal dream, leaving her questioning the reality of the previous night's experiences.

The three girls were sprawled on the bedroom’s king-sized bed, Natalie curled up on one side of the bed –opposite to Y/N– and Maia, laid in the middle of both, her phone in her hands as she scrolled through her notifications.

The remnants of their sleepover –blankets askew, teacups littering the nightstands– were painting a comforting picture to the intimacy they had shared, the hours spent talking about Y/N's tangled history with Harry.

After their late-night chat at the apartment, Y/N felt the weight of their conversation on her heart like a heavy blanket. She had bared her soul, sharing everything from the thrill of their love to the quiet happiness they once shared and the lingering pain of their breakup.

Talking about her past with Harry out loud had been a weird mix of relief and vulnerability. It was like the words themselves had dug up buried emotions, setting off a whole new emotional rollercoaster.

“Good morning,” Natalie softly said, her voice breaking the silence. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N forced a small smile. "Tired. Definitely tired. And... I don't know... overwhelmed, I guess?" It was an understatement, but the crazy mix of shock, excitement, and a fear that wouldn't go away was overwhelming and hard to put into words

A light groan escaped Y/N's lips as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. The world tilted slightly before finding its balance again. Exhaustion pulled at her body as if she'd run a marathon in her sleep. She closed her eyes, hoping for a moment's respite before facing the day.

"You sure you're okay?" Maia's voice was laced with genuine concern. "You look a little...off."

Natalie nodded in agreement. "Yeah, do you want to eat something? I can cook breakfast for the three of us, maybe even brew some coffee."

Y/N rubbed her temples, the dull ache intensifying into a persistent throb. "I just need...a few minutes," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

The bathroom seemed like a sanctuary, a place to gather her scattered thoughts and seek respite from the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours. As she stumbled across the room, the cool tile beneath her bare feet provided a grounding sensation.

When she shut the bathroom door, her reflection in the mirror was like a reminder of how tough the night was for her. Her eyes were like, puffy and dull, not the sparkly ones she used to have. There were dark circles under her eyes from not sleeping well, thinking about the past and stressing about the future. Even her skin didn't look as good as it usually does, like it had lost all its color.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Y/N mumbled to her reflection, a flicker of wry humor surfacing despite her exhaustion. It was true. In a way, she had seen a ghost –the ghost of her past– and it had shaken her to her core.

As she splashed her face with cold water, the icy shock briefly reviving her senses, Y/N couldn't help but think about the surreal twist of fate that brought her face to face with Harry.

His presence, his touch...it had felt like a jolt to the heart, a reminder of the past they shared. And now, even as she tried to process it all, the memory of their late-night conversation in the bathroom replayed in her mind.

A knock startled her back to the present. "Y/N?" Maia's voice, laced with a hint of worry, echoed through the door. "Are you alright in there?"

Y/N dried her face, smoothing a trembling hand over her hair in a futile attempt to reclaim a semblance of composure. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed a minute."

She unlocked the door, trying to school her expression into something resembling normalcy as she faced her concerned friends. However, their gazes lingered on her reflection in the bathroom mirror, mirroring her own observations of her exhausted appearance.

Natalie, ever the mother hen, gently guided her back towards the bed. "C'mon, rest for a little bit more. You seriously look like you could use it.”

Y/N let herself be tucked back into bed, the soft sheets a comforting embrace against her battered emotions and aching body. Yet, as Natalie and Maia perched on either side of her, a wave of resistance flickered within her.

"Guys, it's okay, really," she insisted, a hint of defiance in her smile. "I know I look a mess, but I'm alright." She knew they were just looking out for her, but the concerned looks and gentle coaxing brought an unexpected feeling of being coddled.

"We just worry," Maia admitted softly. "It was a crazy night for you."

"Crazy is an understatement," Natalie said, and took a deep breath before talking again, "And I think it's better you discover this news from us than the moment you touch your phone. The whole internet is going crazy about you."

Y/N's eyes widened, sitting up on the bed, both of her friends following, "The internet? Wait, what are you talking about?"

Maia and Natalie exchanged concerned glances. "Nat, maybe it's better if…" Maia's voice trailed off, her gaze meeting Y/N's confused expression.

Natalie sighed. "Okay, look, Y/N… You know that Tiktok I took and posted last night? It kinda, sorta…"

"Went viral," Maia finished, unable to suppress a nervous giggle.

Y/N sat up, her heart pounding. "Viral? As in, more than a few likes viral?"

Natalie pulled out her phone, sighing. "Try two million views and counting. People are freaking out about the pretty, mystery girl in the crowd that Harry wouldn't stop looking at."

Maia chimed in, her voice tinged with a mix of awe and concern. “The thing is, many people had posted –from different perspectives– how Harry wouldn’t stop looking at a girl with a green and black outfit at the pit. And, apparently, my video appeared on their for you pages, and saw the girl with that same outfit, and they put two and two together..”

Her voice trailed off as Natalie scrolled through her phone, a frown deepening on her face. "And now there's a comment on my tiktok about a girl that saw you –us– walking backstage last night… And then someone went to your profile and found all your socials, and dug up an old photo dump you posted back in 2021 on Instagram…you know, the one with a sunset?”

Y/N felt the blood drain from her face. The photo. The one with Harry's hand barely visible in the corner.

Back then, she had asked him if it was okay to post it, and he had said that it was, assuring her that there was no way somebody would know it was him. It was the last picture in the photo dump, and his hand was in the dark corner of it.

But they had been proven wrong.

Her stomach churned, and the bedroom felt like it was spinning.

"That's how they're going to figure it out," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "They're going to know it's me, and then… they're going to go after him."

The weight of realization crashed down on her. This wasn't just a surprise encounter anymore. This was her carefully hidden past about to burst out into the harsh spotlight, threatening to upend her quiet life and unravel the secrets they'd gone to great lengths to protect.

And she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not just his reaction, but the onslaught he was about to face. His career, built with such care and dedication, was suddenly teetering on the edge. The fans, who loved him unconditionally, were about to discover a chapter of his life he had intentionally kept hidden. Her heart twisted with a pang of guilt, it was her past that was about to disrupt his world once again.

The specter of Harry's fans, his loyal and fiercely protective Harries, loomed large in her mind. Their passion for him was legendary, and the thought of them –along with the media– turning on him because of their shared past was almost unbearable. The online world could be a cruel place, and the toxicity it could spew was enough to make her nauseous.

A wave of despair washed over her. She couldn't even bring herself to look at her phone, the source of this impending chaos. It felt like a ticking time bomb, Each notification likely included a countdown toward disaster.

Maia, her eyes wide with concern, reached out tentatively. "Y/N, are you alright?"

Natalie, ever the pragmatist, chimed in, but her voice was softer than usual. “Do you want us to... handle the phone stuff for a while? Block comments, report stuff, turn your account private?"

Their kindness threatened to break the dam of Y/N's composure. She blinked back tears, her voice thick, "I...I don't know what to do.”

Maia sat next to her on the bathroom floor, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a gesture of silent support. "Hey, we'll figure this out. Together."

Natalie moved into action, her practicality a grounding force amidst the swirling emotions. "Coffee? I think we all need a strong cup right now." Standing up, she extended a hand to Y/N. "Come on, let's get out of this bedroom. We can strategize over caffeine."

A shaky nod was Y/N's only response. Letting Natalie pull her to her feet, she stumbled out of the bedroom like a sleepwalker, the world a blur around her. The two girls led her to the living room couch, where she collapsed, the exhaustion and emotional whiplash taking their toll.

Maia perched on the coffee table in front of her, her eyes filled with concern. "You look like you could use a blanket," she said softly, draping a cozy throw over Y/N's shoulders.

Natalie returned a few moments later with three steaming mugs. "Extra strong," she announced, handing one to Y/N. "For emergency situations only."

The warmth of the mug seeped into Y/N's hands, a small comfort against the icy dread clutching her heart. She took a tentative sip, the bitterness grounding her to the present moment.

"Okay," Natalie began, a determined glint in her eye, "Let's break this down. What exactly are we dealing with here?"

Maia chimed in, her tone gentle despite the urgency of the situation. "The video is getting a crazy amount of views, we know that. And people are starting to piece things together because of the photo, right?"

Y/N sighed. "Yeah. It's only a matter of time before they connect me to...well, to him." She couldn't bring herself to say his name out loud, as if speaking it would make the situation even more real.

"What about Harry?" Natalie probed. "Do you think his team knows about this yet? I mean, it's pretty likely they're monitoring social media..."

Y/N's mouth went dry. She hadn't even considered that. "I-I don't know.” she mumbled.

Maia squeezed her hand. "This must be so overwhelming. No wonder you’re freaking out."

Natalie sat forward, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Okay, so, worst-case scenario: this blows up big. Like, international headline big."

Y/N felt a fresh wave of nausea wash over her. Worst-case scenarios swirled through her mind: relentless paparazzi, vicious internet trolls, the judgmental whisper of strangers. The quiet life she had built so carefully felt like it was crumbling before her eyes.

"But," Natalie continued, a flicker of steel in her gaze, "we're not going to let that happen. We need to be proactive. Strategic." She turned to Y/N, her voice firm but reassuring. “Can you try to look at your phone? See what’s actually happening? We need to know what we're up against."

Natalie's words hung in the air, a mix of harsh reality and a glimmer of defiant hope. Y/N knew she was right; hiding from the situation wouldn't solve anything. With a deep breath, she steeled herself. "Yeah, okay. I'll look."

The words felt heavy on her tongue. Taking another sip of coffee for strength, she reached out a shaking hand. "Can you bring me my phone?"

Maia nodded, eyes filled with sympathy. “Of course. Be right back.” She hurried towards the bedroom.

The silence in her absence felt deafening. Y/N stared at the fuzzy patterns of the blanket on her lap, her mind racing. Natalie was right – they needed to know what they were facing. But did she have the strength to confront the storm head-on?

Maia returned, her usually bubbly demeanor replaced by an expression of surprise. She held out Y/N's phone, her voice laced with disbelief. "Um, Y/N…"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. "What is it?"

Maia held the phone up, the screen illuminated. "Harry's calling you."

A gasp escaped Y/N's lips. Her eyes widened, disbelief etched on her face. Harry's name pulsed against the screen, shining like a star against all the crazy stuff probably going on on social media.

Every instinct in her body screamed to ignore the call, to shrink back from the inevitable hurricane of questions and consequences. Yet, a defiant flicker of something else sparked within her. She owed him that much, at least.

"W-what do I do?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

Natalie and Maia exchanged a worried glance. "Well," Natalie began slowly, "you should probably... answer it."

Y/N's hand trembled as she reached for the phone. It felt heavier than she remembered, laden with the weight of a thousand unspoken words and a future teetering precariously on the edge of a knife. With a deep, shuddering breath, she pressed the answer button.

Her heart hammered in her chest as the line connected. For a brief, agonizing second, all she heard was static and her own ragged breathing. Then, his voice cut through the silence, low and laced with a familiar concern.

"Sunflower?"

hello! i missed you guys <3 i'll try to post more often, since i have much more story ideas i'd love to share with you! if you want to be added to the taglist, please reply to this post!

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @one-sweet-gubler @jjsgirlp4l @lovingmesstuff @gem1712 @tinyhrry @kipperthedog2004 @behindmygreyeyes @theekyliepage @winterrays @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @slutforcoffein @a-strange-familiar @grapejuice-rry @tranquility-moon @tpwksummer @awkwardbisexuall @ameerakane20 @harryspirate @that-one-little-soybean @voniikg @lovergirl42442 @daydreamingwithaseaview @harrysdaydream22 @lonelyxhabit @obsessed-with-every-book-ever @silenthappyplace @ameerakane20 @hesdebility @lomlhstyles @cookielovesbook-akie @champagneneen @lovergirl42442 @hesdebility @tbsloneely @b-reads-things @awatt31 @walkingfromlondon @snorksquid101 @imtooindecisiveforthisshit @hannah9921 @moonstoneandmoonlight @renatavieira @harrysluvv @daphnesutton @oknothanks26

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harrystyles #harry imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles series #fam #famous!harry

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estapa-edwards · 4 months

Note

hughes sister who plays for the rnagers and falls in love with matt especially as she sees hwo sweet he is off the ice and hate how the media makes him look like an ass. matt who quickly falls for her, he stays with her when he gets called up to the rangers

ALWAYS - M. REMPE

paring: Matt Rempe x reader

word count: 2k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Y/N Hughes had always been the odd one out in her family. Her brothers, Jack, Quinn, and Luke, were all renowned hockey players, carving their names in the NHL history books. Y/N, on the other hand, was also a hockey player, but she was making waves in her own right as one of the few women in the sport to play in the NHL, proudly representing the New York Rangers.

Her journey hadn’t been easy, facing skepticism and doubt at every turn. But Y/N had her brothers' unwavering support and her own determination to prove the doubters wrong. And so, she had become a formidable presence on the ice, known for her agility and sharp instincts.

Yet, even in the bustling world of professional hockey, fate had a way of introducing unexpected twists.

Her latest task was scouting new talent, and that’s how she found herself at a Hartford Wolf Pack game, keeping an eye on Matt Rempe.

Matt was known for his size and physicality, a giant on the ice with a reputation to match. The media often painted him as the enforcer, someone who used his fists more than his skills. But as Y/N watched him play, she saw something different. His movements were calculated, his plays strategic. He had a grace that belied his imposing figure.

After the game, Y/N decided to introduce herself. She found Matt in the locker room, his tall frame hunched over as he unlaced his skates. She took a deep breath and approached him.

“Hey, Matt. Great game out there,” she said with a warm smile.

Matt looked up, slightly surprised. “Y/N Hughes, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to come down and check out your game. You were impressive.”

He shook her hand, his grip firm but not overwhelming. “Nice to meet you. I didn’t know you were with the Rangers now. How are Quinn, Jack, and Luke?”

“They're doing great. Busy with their own seasons,” Y/N said. “But let's talk about you. I’ve been watching your progress and I think you’ve got a lot more to offer than what the media shows.”

Matt’s smile widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Thanks. It’s frustrating sometimes, being seen only as the enforcer.”

“I can imagine,” Y/N said. “But from what I saw tonight, you’re a lot more than that. You’ve got some serious skills out there.”

“Appreciate that, really,” Matt replied. “It’s nice to hear.”

--- --- ---

Y/N and Matt kept in touch after that initial meeting. They talked about everything: hockey, life, their families. Y/N found herself looking forward to their conversations, intrigued by the man behind the tough exterior. Matt, too, found himself drawn to Y/N’s intelligence and kindness.

One evening, after a particularly grueling game, Matt invited Y/N out for coffee. They sat in a cozy corner of a small café, the warmth and aroma of freshly brewed coffee surrounding them. The bustling noise of the city outside was a stark contrast to the intimate bubble they had created.

“I hate how the media portrays you,” Y/N admitted, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. “They make you out to be this brute, but you’re so much more than that.”

Matt sighed, leaning back in his chair, his eyes focused on the steam rising from his cup. “It’s frustrating, but I try not to let it get to me. I know who I am, and the people who matter know too.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes reflecting empathy and understanding. “It’s just unfair. They don’t see the person I see. The one who’s thoughtful and strategic on the ice, and kind off it.”

Matt's gaze softened as he looked at her. “You really see all that?”

“I do,” Y/N said, her voice firm but gentle. “You’re an amazing player and an even more amazing person.”

Matt reached across the table, taking her hand in his. The touch was warm, grounding. “And I think you’re pretty amazing too, Y/N. You’ve accomplished so much, breaking barriers and proving everyone wrong.”

A soft blush crept up Y/N’s cheeks. “It hasn’t been easy, but it’s worth it. And having people like you who believe in me makes it all the better.”

Matt smiled, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. “You make it sound so simple, but I know it’s not. You’re strong, Y/N. Stronger than most people I know.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the connection between them growing stronger with each passing second. The café around them buzzed with life, but it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

“What’s your favorite part of playing in the NHL?” Matt asked, breaking the silence.

Y/N thought for a moment, her eyes distant. “Honestly, it’s the feeling of belonging. Growing up, I always felt like I had to prove myself, even to my own family. But now, when I step on the ice, I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. It’s empowering.”

Matt nodded, understanding completely. “I get that. For me, it’s the camaraderie. The team becomes your family. And even though the media focuses on the rough side of the game, there’s so much more to it. The friendships, the trust, the mutual respect.”

Y/N smiled, squeezing his hand. “That’s what I love about you, Matt. You see the bigger picture. You’re not just a player; you’re a teammate, a friend.”

Matt felt his heart swell with emotion. “And you’re not just a player either, Y/N. You’re a trailblazer, an inspiration. I’m really glad we met.”

“Me too,” Y/N replied softly, her eyes locking with his. “I feel like I can be myself around you. No pretense, no expectations. Just me.”

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Matt said, his voice barely above a whisper.

--- --- ---

As their friendship blossomed, so did Matt’s career. He was called up to the Rangers, a momentous occasion that he wanted to share with Y/N. They celebrated together at a small bistro near Madison Square Garden, the excitement of the news still buzzing in the air.

“I knew you had it in you,” Y/N said, hugging him tightly. Her eyes sparkled with pride and genuine happiness for him.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Matt replied, his voice filled with emotion. He held her a moment longer, feeling the warmth and sincerity of her support.

They settled into a booth, ordering their favorite dishes and a bottle of celebratory champagne. As they waited for their food, they talked about the journey that had brought them to this point.

“It feels surreal,” Matt admitted, toying with his fork. “Just a few months ago, I was grinding it out with the Wolf Pack, and now I’m here, in New York, with the Rangers.”

“You deserve it, Matt. You’ve worked so hard,” Y/N said, her eyes fixed on his. “And you’re going to do great things here. I just know it.”

Matt looked at her, his heart swelling with gratitude. “You’ve always believed in me, Y/N. Even when I doubted myself, you were there, cheering me on.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Y/N said, her smile soft and warm. “And besides, you’ve always been there for me too.”

The night continued with laughter and stories, both of them reveling in the moment. As the evening drew to a close, Matt walked Y/N back to her apartment. The city lights cast a soft glow over them, the hum of traffic a comforting backdrop.

“Thanks for tonight, Y/N. It meant a lot to me,” Matt said as they reached her door.

“It was my pleasure,” Y/N replied, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Get some rest, Matt. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

--- --- ---

In the following weeks, Matt adjusted to life with the Rangers. The pace was faster, the competition fiercer, but he thrived under the pressure. And through it all, Y/N was there, her unwavering support a constant source of strength for him.

Their friendship deepened, the line between friends and something more blurring with each passing day. They spent more time together, exploring the city, sharing meals, and confiding in each other about their hopes and fears.

One evening, after a particularly tough game, Matt found himself at Y/N’s apartment. She had insisted he come over, offering her company and a home-cooked meal as a remedy for his rough day.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” Matt said, looking at the spread of food on the table.

“I wanted to,” Y/N replied, handing him a plate. “You’ve had a long day. You deserve a break.”

As they ate, they talked about the game, the highs and lows, and their dreams for the future. The conversation flowed easily, their connection deepening with each shared word.

After dinner, they moved to the couch, a comfortable silence settling between them. Y/N turned on the TV, flipping through channels until she found a movie they both liked.

“Thanks for being here, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Matt said, his voice soft in the dim light of the living room.

Y/N looked at him, her heart swelling with affection. “You’d do just fine, Matt. But I’m glad I can be here for you.”

They sat together, side by side, the movie playing in the background. Slowly, almost tentatively, Matt reached out and took Y/N’s hand in his. She glanced at him, a soft smile playing on her lips, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

--- --- ---

As the months passed, the bond between Y/N and Matt grew stronger. They supported each other through the highs and lows, finding strength in their friendship. But it was clear to both of them that their feelings had evolved into something deeper.

One evening, after a particularly exciting game, Matt invited Y/N out to celebrate. They went to the same café where they had shared their first coffee date, reminiscing about their journey.

“I’ve been thinking,” Matt began, his heart pounding. “We’ve been through so much together, and I feel like...”

“Like what?” Y/N prompted gently, her eyes locked onto his.

“Like I’ve fallen for you, Y/N,” Matt said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not just my best friend. You’re the person I want to be with.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening with surprise and joy. “I’ve fallen for you too, Matt. I’ve been afraid to admit it, but I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Matt reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “Then let’s be together. Not just as friends, but as something more.”

As Matt's words hung in the air, charged with emotion and vulnerability, Y/N felt her heart swell with joy and anticipation. She had hoped for this moment, dreamed of it even, but to hear Matt express his feelings so openly stirred something deep within her.

With tears of happiness glistening in her eyes, Y/N leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Matt's hand tightened around hers as their lips met in a tender, heartfelt kiss. It was a moment of pure connection, a silent promise of the love that had blossomed between them.

The world around them seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the kiss. There was no need for words, no need for explanations. In that moment, everything they needed to say was conveyed through the gentle press of lips, the warmth of their embrace.

As they pulled away, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over her. She looked into Matt's eyes, seeing the reflection of her own feelings mirrored back at her.

"I love you, Matt," she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity and affection.

"I love you too, Y/N," Matt replied, his voice soft but unwavering. "Always."

#hockey #nhl x reader #matt rempe fic #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe fluff #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe

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sunsetchicane · 3 months

Text

cowboy like me [LN4]

lando x fem!reader

word count: 8.2k

summary: The one where you work on a ranch and it’s everything you know. There’s nothing that can come between you and your love for your home. Not even a handsome stranger who seems to pull the best out of you.

warnings: slight angst, some fluff, horses!, brief sexual innuendo, a singular swear word, and one [sad] kiss.

author’s note: hey! hi! hello! this is my first fic on here (omgggg 🤭) so please, please, please let me know your thoughts/comments/questions! might write a second part to this…thoughts??[xoxo elle]

~~~

Buxton Ranch has been in the Buxton family before Montana even became an official Union state in 1889. Land wasn’t simply a commodity or property back then; it was life or death. William T. Buxton and his wife, Mary Anne, put their boots down on this land along with their four children and they’ve never left. They fought their way over the mountains, survived the unbearable, and have reaped the benefits of their resilience for over a century and a half.

Willamina T. Buxton I, my boss, is the great-something granddaughter of William T. Buxton I. Her father, William T. Buxton VII handed over the ranch to her on her 30th birthday a few years back. The controversy caused ripples through the entire community because even though Willamina is Mr. Buxton’s first born, the ranch has always been handed down to the eldest son. Willa is the first woman to ever have ownership of the ranch.

My family hasn’t been in Montana nearly as long as the Buxtons. My mom and I moved out here in the spring the year I was born. My father skipped out before my mom could even hold herself upright in her hospital bed after laboring with me. She tells me that we came here to Montana for a fresh start, and what better place to go than where the sky is bigger and the air is pure. The mountains became our safe haven, our buffer from the rest of the world and, more importantly, our history. It’s easy to forget up here, to allow your mind to rest. I’ve never been at a loss for why the Buxtons came and never left. Sometimes, in the dark of my room, I pretend that I really am a Buxton, that I truly belong.

However, when the sun breaks across the mountain peaks and the world comes alive once again, I’m forced to realize that I don’t belong to the Buxton dynasty. I simply work for them.

My alarm blares to my right, causing me to shoot upright. With fumbling fingers, I seek for the power button of my alarm clock. When I finally find it and shut off the hellish noise, I fling my legs over the side of my bed. With the heels of my hands, I rub the sleep from my eyes. The world around me is painted in a deep blue, still fast asleep and undisturbed by my alarm. I envy it as I rise from my bed and get ready for the day.

Silently, I pull on my bootcut Wranglers and a light green long sleeved button down. My belt and beat up old boots complete the ensemble for the moment being. My next stop is the bathroom where I brush my teeth and comb my hair. Tying my hair off into a low braid so it’ll sit right under my hat takes only a couple minutes. I’ve been wearing my hair the same way to work every day for the past seven years.

Once I’m done in the bathroom, I make my way to the kitchen where a pot of coffee is automatically brewing on schedule. I toss a few eggs into a pan as well as two pieces of bread into the toaster. The breakfast of champions and me every single day. After crushing a cup of coffee and my plain breakfast, it’s time to head out. Instead of living on-site with the rest of the ranch hands, I still live with my mom. I’ve been wanting to move out to the ranch for over a year now since I finished college, but the possibility of breaking my mom’s heart stops me from even mentioning it to her.

Glancing at the clock, I know I have plenty of time to spare, but I start to pack up and head out the door anyway. I enjoy being early to the ranch. It’s peaceful and serene before it wakes and rises. Grabbing my work jacket because the winter’s just turning over to spring, my chaps, and my lunch sack, I head out the door. My mom and I share an old, sunburnt orange Chevy truck that just barely runs. I toss my things into the bed of the pickup before sliding into the worn out driver’s seat. As I slide the key into the ignition, I send up a quick prayer that she turns over. When I press the key forward, the engine roars to life. Prayers have been answered this morning and I hope it’s a good omen for the rest of the day.

The drive to Buxton Ranch is short and sweet, all dirt roads and drifting grassy fields. The radio sounds quietly and the engine hums loudly, but everything else is completely still. A distant light orange is just starting to brush the very edges of the horizon in the east. Nature is starting to reach out and stretch its sleepy limbs.

As I pull up to the place where I always park near a stretch of fence, I see a figure dressed in shadows leaning over the wood a few yards away. Once I’ve tossed the pickup into park and yanked out the keys, I jump down from my seat so I can walk over to her. She’s always out here before everyone. Sometimes I see her, most times I don’t. When I do, it feels like fate, like there’s something about today that’s meant to happen this way. Or maybe it’s just Willamina Buxton.

“Good morning, y/n,” she rasps without glancing over at me. Crossing my arms, I lean over the log fence and take in the view. I don’t think there’s a better view in all of Montana than that from Buxton Ranch.

“Good morning, Willa,” I answer quietly. Her brother, Wyatt, was my best friend growing up. She’s only 12 years older than the two of us, but somehow she seems infinitely older and wiser. She’s been a role model for me. We grew closer after Wyatt left for college a few years back. Of course he came back in the summers to visit, but he never stayed long. He wasn’t born for this life. Instead of horses, he dealt with horse power. He always wanted to become an engineer for Formula One. When the opportunity came to go overseas to study in England and intern at McLaren, he hadn’t even thought twice. One day he was here, and the next he was gone.

I struggled with feeling abandoned for a while, but I came to terms with it quickly. I realized that dreams were meant to be chased and he was incredibly fortunate to get this opportunity. I was also chasing my dream, I just had to go down the street instead of across an ocean. We keep in touch, calling frequently and texting nearly every day, but it’s not the same. I miss him.

“Heard from Wyatt recently?” Willa says quietly then takes a sip from her mug of iron black coffee.

“Not in a couple of days. Seems busy,” I mumble. Wyatt’s leaving is a bit of a sore spot for Willa. She wanted him to stay on the ranch and in the family business. Her asking about him is a bit of an anomaly.

She hums, then pauses, then sighs. “Lots to do today. We better get going.”

And just like that the work day starts.

I tend to the horses right away, leading them out into the corral so I can wash out their stalls from over the weekend. I give each of them fresh hay and fill up large troughs of water for the more temperamental ones. Then I lead them one at a time back into their stalls and give them a thorough once over to check how they’re doing.

The last one I have to put away is the youngest of the group. He came to us only last year, unbroke and wild as the river. He’s a black Morgan stallion, sleek and athletic. He’s larger than your typical Morgan, with rippling muscle, and a proud face. He’s beautiful. We call him Jupe.

“Jupe,” I coo kindly to the untamed stallion. “Come on, Jupe.”

He casts a look over his back at me telling me everything I need to know. Sighing, I toss myself over the fence and into the corral. With my palms raised up and in front of me, I show him the leather lead in my hand as I walk over to him slowly.

“Come on, Jupe, we gotta go back inside. I cleaned up real nice for you, boy. Fresh hay, new water, you’re living the five star life, buddy,” I say while creeping up on him. He doesn’t move, but simply tracks my movements with his black eyes. Nerves claw at my stomach as I approach him. Reaching out slowly, I praise him and repeat his name over and over. Finally, I slide the clip of the lead around a loop in his bridle. But there’s no relief yet. I still have to get him into the stables without incident.

“Good boy, Jupe,” I say, reaching out gently to stroke his nose. He pushes at my hand playfully. A surge of pride washes over me. Maybe the two of us are finally making progress. Jupe lets me lead him out of the corral and back to his stall with ease. Today really is my day.

“Thank you,” I whisper to the stallion as I slide the lock shut on his door. Jupe’s head hangs over the short door, his head coming down to level with mine. Patting him gently, I pull a couple sugar cubes from my pack. I hold them up to him on my flat palm and he slurps them up gratefully. A smile that I can do nothing to stop breaks across my face. I’m gonna saddle him up one day. And maybe that day is sooner than I’d anticipated.

“Only you would give that stubborn Morgan a treat,” I hear a familiar voice say. I whip around in disbelief as the tone and inflexion registers in my mind.

“Then again, maybe the two of you have bonded over your mutual stubbornness.” Wyatt hardly gets the words out before I’m taking his arm in mine and wrapping him up in a hug with the other. We laugh as we sway side to side. My hat careens to the side of my head as I hug him and I know I must be getting him all sweaty and dirty, but I can’t find it in myself to care about vanity at the moment. Wyatt’s back.

“Surprise!” He says when I finally let go of him. He’s wearing a bright smile as I pull back. Wyatt reaches up and straightens out my hat for me.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming!” I say while smacking the back of my hand against his shoulder. “I would’ve gotten off work and…”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” he laughs as I slide past him to finish up sweeping this side of the stables.

“You’re right,” I laugh along with him while I sweep. He knows that I love my job too much to step away from it. I hate missing a day and he knows that.

Wyatt takes a seat on a stack of unused hay bales that I’ll have to load back up. He chats with me about school and England and McLaren. I don’t know much about Formula One, just what I picked up on from Wyatt constantly chatting my ear off about it. Most of the stuff that Wyatt has told me, however, goes way over my head. What I do know is that this boy is an engineering genius and McLaren is lucky to have him now as a full-time employee. They offered him a job straight out of university. He’ll be living full time in the UK. My stomach twists at the thought.

“So, what do you have going on for the rest of the day?” Wyatt asks after I’ve finished sweeping. I place my hands on top of the broom and lean my chin over my fingers.

“Riley and I were going to take down that rickety south fence and…” I start to say while mentally checking my to-do list.

“Sandy’s helping Riley with that,” Wyatt says matter-of-factly. I cast him a questioning look to which he simply blinks at.

“Alright. Then I have to go to the cattle and check on all of the pregnant…”

“Louise has that covered,” Wyatt informs me while picking at his nails. What is he getting at?

“Why…well, then I have to…” I begin, trying to move away from things that he could possibly know of.

“Go riding with me and my friends!” Wyatt exclaims while hopping off the hay bales and clapping his hands together. “Wonderful idea.”

My jaw drops. There’s no way that he’s trying to make me skip the rest of the day to go riding. Not after we just had a conversation over the fact that I would never do that. That I could never do that. I have an obligation to be here, to get things done.

“Wy, you know I’d love to, but I’ve got work to do,” I say firmly while walking over to hang up my broom. Jupe huffs and brays at Wyatt as he walks briskly over to me.

“No you don’t. I made sure of it,” Wyatt says while grabbing my hands so I have no choice but to stand in front of him. “Willa’s told me to inform you that if you’re found working this afternoon, there’ll be severe consequences.”

At that, I know I have to oblige with Wyatt’s request. If Willa gave the all clear, there’s no reason for me to try and argue. One thing about the Buxtons is they’re nearly as strong-willed as the horses they hold. Not to mention it would be incredibly rude of me to not accept Willa’s generosity. This doesn’t stop me from letting Wyatt know exactly how I feel about him pulling me away from my work. I do so in colorful language the entire walk over to the house.

“You don’t even want to go riding with me, you just want me to be your guide,” I feign an accusation as we approach a small crowd of people on the large front deck of the Buxtons glorious ranch home. I see a few ranch hands and two other men that I don’t know, who must be Wyatt’s friends.

“You are the best guide out here.” His backhanded compliment earns him an eye roll. As we approach the house, he tells me to wait for a second while he calls over his friends. Their heads turn quickly to the two of us when Wyatt calls to them. They say hasty goodbyes to the staff they were chatting with before walking over to Wyatt and I. One is tall and pale, with pale eyes, and pale hair. His cheeks are flushed a slight pink from the chill that still hangs in the spring air. He looks lively and excited, his eyes bouncing around from one thing to another at lightning speed.

The other man is shorter with cropped, dark, curly hair. His hazel eyes are sharp and brilliant against his tanned skin. As he draws nearer, I can tell that he’s very physically fit. He’s wearing a tight long sleeve shirt that hugs his arms, brand new boot cut jeans, and a shiny pair of boots that have obviously never been worn. His eyes, unlike his friend, don’t wander while he walks over to us; they stay trained on me. A small smile falls across his pretty pink lips as he finds me watching him swagger his way over. He’s attractive.

“Never seen a British boy in cowboy boots before,” I say when they stop in front of us, glancing down at the brunette's footwear. When my eyes flick up to his, he still hasn’t stopped looking at me. Clearing my throat, I extend a hand to the blonde.

“Hi, y/n,” I introduce myself while shaking his hand.

“Mitchel,” he says, his accent is sharp and acutely German, which takes me by surprise. I nod, casting him a warm smile. I watch as Mitchel’s eyes flick to Wyatt over my shoulder. Following suit, I catch Wy smiling like a fool and a slight blush that I don’t think has anything to do with the weather coating his cheeks. When he sees me looking at him, he quickly crosses his arms and looks away. My smile widens. Mitchel drops my hand and then stuffs his back into his pockets.

“Y/n,” I say to Wyatt’s other friend who has a bit of a staring problem. He takes my hand in his slowly.

“Lando Norris,” He says crisply, his accent confirming my previous assessment. “Nice to finally meet you, y/n.”

His name catches in my mind, as if I’ve heard it before but I can’t place it. Wyatt must have mentioned him at some point, but for the life of me I can’t remember what about. A moment passes and our hands stay held together in the space between us as I try to place him. My eyes scan over his face and catalog his freckles and scars and the way his eyes sparkle when he smiles. When it dawns on me that I’m now the one with a staring problem, I swiftly pull my hand from his. Briefly, his jaw clenches.

“Finally, huh?” I take his previous statement and run with it. Turning my back to Lando, I glance over at Wyatt. “Just what have you been saying about me?”

“All good things, all good things,” Wy assures me while coming up to clasp me on the shoulder. He leans into me with a big smile that makes my stomach churn at the thought of what he’s actually told his friends. What does Lando think of me? Why does it matter what Lando thinks of me?

“Well,” I say quickly, trying to shake the thought of Lando from my head. “I suppose we should get going if we want to be back by sundown.”

The three boys nod their heads in agreement. The four of us walk over to the stables. Wyatt and Mitchel walk slowly behind me as they chit chat and laugh. Casting a glance over my shoulder at them, I watch as their shoulders bump together and their fingers brush intentionally. I bite my lip to keep myself from smiling. Wyatt’s alway had a hard time with romance and partnership just because of where we grew up and the hate he received for simply being himself. Seeing him this way, happy and smitten, makes me feel proud. It affirms that his leaving was necessary in so many ways.

“How long have you been working here?” Lando’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. My attention slides over to him. He’s come up to my left, his hands folded behind his back. His eyes are wide and curious as he looks at me. I can’t help but feel like I’m being analyzed.

“Seven years. But I’ve been on the ranch all my life. I took riding lessons from Willa and then became fast friends with Wyatt,” I tell him while pulling my eyes from his. Returning his gaze seems difficult, so I keep my eyes trained on the stable. He hums in acknowledgement of my response. I can feel his eyes on me still.

“Do you work at McLaren with Wyatt?” I ask my new acquaintance. He chuckles to himself a little, his pretty eyes squinting from his large smile.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he says, making me feel like I’m missing something. I scoff at his vague response, but don’t press the issue. If he wanted to explain himself, he would. His aura is interesting. He seems so sure of himself, completely at ease with who he is. It’s captivating.

We make it to the entrance of the stable and I instruct Lando and Mitchel to take a seat while Wyatt and I saddle up the horses. It takes us a while to get everyone ready for the trail ride, but with every passing minute, the more excited I get. Wyatt and I used to go out on the trails all the time. During the summer as teenagers, we would stuff our packs full of camping supplies and go for days at a time. Those memories are my most cherished possessions, things that I will never forget. Now whenever I take others up there, I feel as though I’m bearing a part of my soul to them.

Once we’re done getting everything ready, Wyatt leads his and Mitchel’s horses, Rudy and Molly, outside with Mitchel in tow. This leaves me alone with Lando. My stomach twists nervously when I feel his presence looming to my right.

“Ever ridden before?” I ask while petting Luna, a beautiful sorrel tovero paint. She’s older, but strong and steady, a good horse for a beginner.

“Yeah, loads,” Lando says while joining me in stroking Luna. I cast him a critical glance. If he sees it, he ignores me. Rolling my eyes, I really can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. It’s important to know what you’re doing while working with large animals. I make the mental note to keep him in my line of sight at all times while riding.

“Oh, good. Then you’ll be good to lead Ms. Luna out? She’s yours for the day,” I tell him while handing over the reins. I watch his adam's apple bob and his eyebrows lift slightly before nodding and accepting the reins from my hand. When his fingers brush over mine, goosebumps run across my arm. Quickly, I pull my hand away and turn towards Beau, my stallion for today. Fiddling aimlessly with his bridle, I wait until the steps of Luna and Lando have disappeared before releasing a breath. Leaning my forehead against Beau’s neck, I sigh at my stupid behavior. Am I really so touch starved that I get goosebumps at my finger brushing against his? That’s sad.

I take Beau’s reins in my hand and start leading him out to the waiting pack of boys. Just as I’m about to exit the stables, I look over at Jupe. He’s looking at me like he knows exactly what’s going on in my mind.

“Don’t give me attitude,” I tell him.

He just blinks at me.

Beau and I join everyone. Wyatt’s running Mitchel through the basics while Lando watches on. He’s pretending to not be listening by petting Luna and quietly talking to her, but I still catch the way he glances over when Wy demonstrates something. I walk around and do a quick double check on everyone’s gear before returning to Beau’s side. With the ease of muscle memory that I don’t think I’ll ever lose, I toss myself up and onto the saddle. Wyatt assists Mitchel into his saddle before climbing into his own. Lando glances over at me before sliding his foot into the stirrup and attempting to pull himself up. He looks out of his depth and slightly awkward as he hauls himself onto the saddle seat. Biting back a laugh, I click my tongue and squeeze my legs a little to get Beau to move for me. The two of us saunter up next to Lando. His easy continence is long gone, replaced by nerves and uncertainty. His hands shake as he grabs onto the reins incorrectly.

“Here, like this,” I correct while reaching out to his hands. My fingers pry his anxious fists open and fix where he’s holding the leather cord. I’m surprised to find calluses littering his palms, a mirror of my own. I maneuver his palm to rest in the right way so he doesn’t agitate Luna. I can feel Lando watching me as I touch and hold his hands. I’ve done this a hundred times when teaching lessons, but this is the first time that I feel an uncomfortable blush creeping onto my cheeks. Lando’s presence has me off axis, spinning out of my routine. I’ve known him for maybe an hour and he’s already getting under my skin.

“Just trust Luna, she knows the way,” I say quietly as I pull away from him. He bites at his lip but nods along with my words. Smiling as warmly as I can, I leave his side to ride up to Wyatt. However, I can’t help but glance back over my shoulder at him. He’s not looking at me, thankfully. Instead, his eyes are trained on his hands as he flexes them on the reins the way I showed him. His focus is endearing, almost cute.

But when his eyes rise to find mine, I snap my head forward in hopes that he didn’t catch me staring at him. The last thing I need is to develop some sort of childish crush on a stranger that I’ll never see again after a few days. I just have to keep my head down and my thoughts off of him.

“Time’s wasting!” Wyatt calls to me, letting me know that everyone is ready to go. Nodding, I take the lead while Wyatt falls to the back. We keep Mitchel and Lando between us so they don’t get caught straying off the path.

Going out for a ride is one of my favorite things. I love going into the mountains, walking along the thin paths, and enjoying the earth. As we go, I hear Mitchel and Wyatt quietly chatting at the back of the pack. However, once we get to the treeline, their voices fall away from my earshot. My senses are overcome by our surroundings. The budding trees are gorgeous as they filter the sunlight into sultry beams that fall onto the new grass along the sides of the gravel path.

“Beautiful,” I hear Lando speak for the first time since we left. I’ve been distracted thankfully, leaving me free from his effect on me. Now, though, I find myself turning to the side to look at him as he comes up next to me. I’m surprised to find him staring at me instead of the lively forest that hems us in. A thought that he might be making a comment about me instead of the scenery flashes through my mind. Quickly, I shove the absurd thought away and chalk it up to wishful thinking.

“It is,” I agree, giving him a small smile. He chuckles a little before turning to look around him. Suddenly, I’m acutely aware of him. Somehow he adds to the already perfect scene around me. His hair is being ruffled by the slight, cool breeze, which also lends his skin a gorgeous pink flush. Bright hazel eyes track the swishing branches and fluttering wildlife. His muscles are on display as he engages them to ride Luna. He looks less stiff than he did earlier, as if he’s finding himself at ease here. The idea makes me giddy. I find myself agreeing with Lando’s previous assessment. Beautiful.

“See something you like, cowgirl?” Lando laughs when he catches me staring at him yet again. My eyes go wide and my mouth parts as I scramble for a proper response, a defense, anything. There’s just something about him that makes it nearly impossible to look away. I think I’d like to be able to see him a lot more.

“Cowgirl?” Is all I can come up with. It’s not an inaccurate title, but the way he said it made it sound different. It was tacked onto his question almost like an endearment, or a tease. I laugh a little at his choice of words and the way it sounds in his accent.

“I see a lot of things I like, cowboy. You’ll have to be more specific,” I challenge. This successfully pulls a proper laugh from him. It’s the type of laugh that sends birds flying frantically from their perches and the creatures hidden in the grass scurrying away. It’s impossible to not laugh along with him. My heart flutters and I have to hold on tighter to my reins so I don’t fall off the saddle.

“I may be a lot of things, but I am no cowboy,” he corrects. I nod while continuing to laugh.

“I could have told you that,” I confirm while adjusting my hat.

“Oh really?” Lando says, urging me to explain myself. He tilts his head to the side while his mouth pulls into a closed lipped smile.

“If the brand new jeans and boots didn’t give you away, then you’re riding definitely does. You ride stiff as a board,” I inform him while glancing down at his boots and jeans. His denim clad thighs are tight around Luna’s middle, tense muscles visible through the fabric.

“Alright, teach me then,” he says, his free hand coming to rest on his hip. “Cowgirl.”

I roll my eyes at his words once again, but am resolved to help him nonetheless. There’s nothing like going out and being able to ride properly. I want to ask him why he lied to me about his experience with riding, but I don’t want to bruise his ego any further. Trying something new is challenging enough, and if he’s willing to learn, then I don’t want to jeopardize that.

“Keep sitting up straight, but relax your body. Your hips should shift back and forth in the seat a little. Don’t fight what feels natural. Just watch me,” I tell him. His eyes slide slowly from my face down to my hips. I watch as his eyes track my hips back and forth just slightly with Beau’s steps. Lando’s breathing goes uneven and his bottom lip disappears between his teeth. He’s staring at me like there’s nothing else he’d ever want to look at. It makes my heart race and nerves flutter in my stomach. I hadn’t really thought about the more sensual implications of having him watch my hips, but it seems rather obvious now. However, I don’t really mind the way he’s looking at me, or the way his focus is completely attuned to me. Selfishly, I really wish he wouldn’t look at anything else ever again. But that can’t happen.

“Eyes up, cowboy,” I tell him after a few more seconds of letting him watch. “Go ahead.”

Clearing his throat, he shifts a little in the saddle before settling in to do what I asked. I don’t miss the way he avoids looking me in the eye, as if he’s embarrassed. Have I flustered him? The thought makes me just a tiny bit proud. He doesn’t seem like the type to be flustered easily. He sits up straight and attempts to relax his body. His lower half starts to shift the right way, looking more natural and less jerky than before. Indulging myself, I watch for a few more seconds. I bite the inside of my cheek as he rocks back and forth in the saddle. My mind goes wandering to places that I shouldn’t be thinking about with a man I’ve only known for a day. Less than a day. And yet, I can’t stop myself.

“Maybe we’ll make a real cowboy out of you yet, Lando Norris,” I tell him after I’ve noticed improvements. His focus fractures and he looks over to me.

“I think I’d like that,” He shoots back, a sly smile accompanying his words. The look twists my stomach into nervous knots. There’s something about him, something intangible, that draws you in. Maybe it’s charm or charisma, or maybe it’s just the way he was made. Whatever the circumstances or reasons are, it’s not fair. I feel as though I have hardly a fighting chance to ward off any sort of desire that’s bubbling to the surface. I want to keep getting to know him; I want to teach him anything he asks; I want to never let go of the way he makes me feel.

The walk back to the ranch grounds is much faster than I would have liked. Lando chats with me the entire way back about this and that. He’s smart and funny and my chances of not having a crush on him grow slimmer with every passing minute I spend with him. When we get back to the stables, I find myself taking much longer than I normally would to put everything away. Mitchel and Wyatt decided that a fire would be the best way to end the night, so they ran out to get it started while Lando and I finished up with the horses. He tried his best to help, but kept getting distracted by visiting all of the stalls.

“Who’s this?” Lando says as I finish putting away the last saddle. I say a quick goodbye to Beau before heading down to the last stall near the open barn doors. Lando is standing in front of Jupe’s stall, his arms crossed over his chest. I stop next to him, leaving an appropriate amount of space between us, even though I want to come up right next to him and press my shoulder to his.

“This is Jupe. He’s our newest. Bit ornery, but a good boy,” I say while reaching my hand out to pat Jupe’s head. He brays at my touch, but doesn’t pull away. I give him a quick kiss on the nose and coddle him a little. Positive reinforcement does wonders.

“My turn,” Lando says from behind me. Astounded, I turn my face toward him. He’s insinuating that he wants me to kiss him. My brain short circuits at the thought. He’s just standing there with his arms still crossed over his chest and a stupid smile playing across his handsome face. I scoff at his joke, trying not to let on how much it affected me.

“Careful what you wish for, you might end up with a stall of your own,” I jab back. However, keeping him here doesn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“Being praised, kissed, and ridden by you? Sounds like these guys are living the dream,” Lando says. My jaw hangs loose as his words hit me like a freight train. Shock courses through me, leaving me beyond speechless. Is he being serious? Who says things like that? I blink at him, unsure of how to continue. I can’t lie and say that the images that popped into my head when he spoke were entirely unpleasant. If he’s being serious, there’s a lot to consider here. I could deny my feelings and spare myself the heartache. Or the alternative, which is letting my emotions get the better of me. This would mean that in a few days after spending time together, I would have to deal with heartbreak and come to terms with the fact that I’ll maybe never see him again. Or maybe I could, if there’s something really here. Maybe I have to give into hope for once. There’s never really been anyone who I’ve put ahead of my goals or dreams. I’ve never been tempted to stray from my path by anyone. Sure, I’ve gone out with guys, had a boyfriend for a while. But if something didn’t line up, I made cuts so my life would fit together how I needed it to. Suddenly now, as I stand here in this stable with a man I met only hours ago, I’m finding myself bending my rules for the first time. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my whole life.

“Alright, cowboy,” I say while taking a tentative step toward him, I’m ready to play this little game of his. His hands have fallen to his side, so I gently slide my fingers into his. Shining eyes lock onto mine. His tan skin is set aglow by the dying sunrise, highlighting the ridges and curves of his face. I want to memorize every freckle, every line, every corner of him. I’m lost in the way his hand feels around mine and in the way he’s looking at me, and I don’t ever want to find my way out. One of his fingers comes to the front of my hat and pushes the brim up. He draws closer now, his face mere inches from mine. His jaw flexes and his large neck muscles twitch with tension as he dips his head down just enough for his lips to hover over mine.

“We have a fire to get to,” I finish my earlier thought in a whisper. With hooded eyes, I look into his wide ones. Smiling smally, I step away from him. Adjusting my hat back to its original place, I begin walking out the door. Lando is hauled after me with my hand still grasped in his. Giddiness takes me over as I walk hand in hand with him towards the fire pit near the house. My small smile breaks into a much larger one as I pick up my pace, breaking into a jog. Lando’s hand clasps around mine tighter as he adjusts to the new pace. A laugh bubbles from my chest as I bring my free hand to hold onto my hat as I run harder. A sense of carefreeness has corrupted my usual serious disposition. Rarely do I feel as free as I do now. Lando’s lightness has infected me, and I can’t help but fall in love with how it’s buoyed my spirits. It feels like the first hit of a drug; it’s the type of high I’ll be chasing for the rest of my life.

As we approach the house, I can hear Wyatt’s laugh ring out from around the corner to the back. Just as we’re about to turn that last corner, Lando’s arms reach around my waist, stopping me from moving another inch. His chest hits my back with no small amount of force, tossing my hat from my head. I’m bent over in his arms as both of our laughs pull the last threads of air from our tired lungs. He hauls us both upright and my head falls back against his shoulder. I suck in a deep breath of the cool, dusk air. It cools me from the inside out. A feeling stirs deep in my stomach as I stare up into the sky while basking in the feeling of Lando’s arms wrapped around me.

Belonging.

It’s something I’ve been chasing my whole life; a sense of knowing where I belong and who I am. And now I feel as though I’ve finally found it: a home; a place to belong; a knowledge of exactly who I am.

Once we’ve regulated our breathing, I break out of his arms. Leaving them isn’t what I want, and as I pull away, I immediately feel much colder. However, we have to accompany Wyatt and Mitchel before they grow suspicious. Carefully, I pick up my hat, but don’t place it back on my head.

“Are you coming?” I ask quickly, tossing a glance to Lando over my shoulder. He shakes his head with a smile, but follows me around the corner without a word. Wyatt’s eyes find us over the roaring fire he’s built. Mitchel is seated right next to him on a log, a thick blanket spread over their laps. Between the warmth of the fire, the blanket, and the present company, I know that the nighttime chill won’t be able to touch me. As I approach Wyatt, he reaches to the side to pick up another blanket with a couple beers and s’mores supplies stacked on top. I accept it with a quick thank you before plopping down on the log next to them. Lando saunters after me, slowly taking a seat to my right.

“Hold this?” I ask while placing the blanket onto his lap. Gently, I set my hat down behind me, then reach over my shoulder to grab the end of my braid. I pull the elastic from the end and go about undoing the braid.

“So, Lando, how was the ride for you?” Wy asks as he brings his beer to his lips. My eyes are on the fire as he speaks, my mind slipping out of focus for a brief moment while I concentrate on my hair. But I’m aware of the fact that Lando doesn’t answer. When I turn to look at him, I find his eyes already on me, following my fingers as they finish pulling out my braid. I run my fingers through my roots to shake out the nasty hat hair that I undoubtedly have.

“Lando?” Wyatt laughs.

“What?” Lando says as he snaps out of his dazed state. His eyes go wide as they shift over to Wyatt who’s chuckling to himself. A goofy smile breaks across Lando’s face as Wyatt restates his question.

“I think I might have to switch professions,” Lando says, his eyes flicking down to me. The fire is lighting his skin with a warm glow. The flames flash lazily in his glossy eyes.

“I think it would be best for you to stick with McLaren,” I joke while cracking both of our cold beers. With a small smile, I hand over one of the bottles to a slightly offended Lando. Laughing to myself, I nudge his shoulder and click the neck of my beer to his. The liquid is cold and fresh against my lips, sending the perfect chill cascading down into my neck and chest.

“Yeah, mate, I think it’s best if you stay in the cockpit rather than the saddle,” Mitchel adds. “Play to your strengths and all that.”

The cockpit? As in the cockpit of a Formula One car? The realization hits me with all the grace of a drunk elephant. Lando Norris; I recognized his name earlier because Wyatt works as an engineer for a driver named Lando Norris. A Formula One driver named Lando Norris. With wide eyes, I stare forward into the fire. Every possibility that I’ve just dreamt up has suddenly become nothing but a fantasy. My body tenses as it physically revolts against my idiocy and naivety. Reality settles into my bones and I have to chide myself for being so stupid to ignore it for as long as I have. Not only did I ignore it, but I created a work of fiction where maybe we could end up together.

“Shit,” I hear Lando breathe next to me. His face is one I don’t recognize, one of seriousness. For the few hours that I’ve known him, which feel more like years, I haven’t seen him lose that little spark that makes him so him. Now it’s nowhere to be seen. He didn’t want me to know that he was a professional driver, one of the most elite in the whole world. It stings because I don’t understand exactly what his intentions were and it allowed me the space to concoct some seriously messed up notions. There’s no way that anything could happen between us now. It’s hard enough to maintain a friendship of years over an ocean with an engineer; imagine trying to hold together a relationship with a driver across continents and seas that constantly change. However, I can’t justify being angry with him. It is his life to be in the public eye constantly. If he came out here to not be recognized for a while and to be treated like just a normal guy, then who am I to deny him that. I just wish he would have given me the opportunity to do that with knowing who he really is. Now I’m stuck with feelings that I know won’t go away in a hurry and thorough embarrassment.

The rest of the night passes monotonously. Wyatt and Mitchel are wrapped up into their own little world, so they hardly notice the ever eroding gap that suddenly formed between Lando and I. We chat a little, but it’s not the same anymore. Roasting marshmallows has suddenly become my new favorite thing because it gives me an excuse to not look at him. I know that if I do, I’ll start to adore his curly hair and the scar over the bridge of his nose and the way that he looks right into your soul with his pretty eyes. I know that if I dare to look at him, I’ll start to believe in fiction once again. That’s not something I can allow; I won’t be the person who falls in love with the idea of something they can never have.

I won’t be the person that falls for someone they can never have.

Wyatt and Mitchel bid us goodnight before walking hand in hand into the house. Envy flares in my chest, jealousy turning my heart an ugly shade of green. The crackling of the dying fire and the rustling of wind through the grass and trees are the only things that greet my ears. Usually, I would be incredibly fond of this quietness. But now, it simply feels like a life sentence of silence. And once again, as the world turns to night, I feel the loneliness creep in at the edges. The night chill has crept into my fingers and toes, slowly creeping inward.

“I’m sorry,” Lando’s voice is gravelly from lack of use. “I should have…”

“You should have,” I agree. My voice isn’t harsh or condescending, it’s soft, softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I understand, though. I just wish I had known before…”

My voice trails off and gets blown away with the smoke that floats lazily into the atmosphere. Clouds have collected across the sky, cutting the stars from our view. With a melancholy heart, I can’t help but admit how fitting that is. I suppose we really weren’t written in the stars. We are the opposite of destined.

Lando’s hand wraps around my cold fingers, but instead of warming me, it burns. The kiss he leaves on my knuckles feels as though my hand was dipped into the embers of a fire. Blinking back the prick in my eyes from impending tears, I watch his face fall into a frown. I hate the way his eyebrows are creased in the middle and the concern that’s painfully evident in his stubborn eyes. It’s not the look I wanted from him tonight. It’s not the face that’s become my brand new favorite. It’s not Lando.

“How long are you staying for?” I find myself asking. I have to know how long I’ll have to endure his presence. But what’s worse: having him here and knowing I can’t have him, or watching him leave and knowing that I’ll never have him?

“We leave on Monday,” he says. Just for the weekend then. I’ll only have to see him on Monday and then I’ll be free of him. I know he’ll torment me in my sleep, when I see someone walking down the street who looks a little like him, when I look at Luna. I’ll never truly escape him.

“Alright,” I mumble. A beat passes without any more conversation. Then Lando’s hand is slipping under my hair and around the side of my neck. My head turns toward him, his touch unprompted and sending a wave of goosebumps across my skin.

“I’m sorry, but I have to know. Just once and then we can put it away forever. Alright?” He’s closing that gap between us, both physically and emotionally. His face slows as it hovers in front of mine. My breathing has ceased and fear has seized my heart. Is this the right thing to do? Or will it make it worse?

“Alright,” I find myself agreeing without thinking. Maybe I have to know, too, if this is everything I think it is; if this really is everything that I’m losing.

His kiss is light at first, lips just barely brushing mine. It’s soft and gentle as he uses his hand to bring my face closer to his. When his lips are fully on mine, my mind bursts into stars and streams of color. He kisses me with quiet passion, slow and strong. That belonging that I felt when he had his arms around me flares back to life in my chest. His fingers flex under my jaw, holding onto me tighter like he’s scared I’ll slip out of his grip. Which I am. When we break away from our first and last kiss, I feel as we filter through each other’s fingertips. We’re lost now, never to be found.

A crack in my chest sends me to my feet. Tears suddenly blur my vision.

“Goodbye, Lando,” I find myself saying, my words taking every bit of strength I have left. As I turn away from him for the last time, I find myself wishing I'd have said no to his kiss. As I walk away from him for the last time, I know now that I’m losing the one real thing I’ve ever known.

The truth is he isn’t a cowboy like me.

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munsonsmixtapes · 5 months

Text

Wanna Bet?

tattoo artist!Eddie x tattoo artist!reader

Summary: You don't like Eddie, but he's going to convince you that you do, even if it takes a bet to prove it.

This takes places in the year 2,000!

word count: 4k

This series is being discontinued until further notice, but feel free to continue reading if you'd like!

part two part three part four

You stared at the door in front of you, the hours that were painted onto it staring back at you. Maybe if you had stood there long enough, the place would’ve closed and you could just leave. You didn’t know why you were so nervous. You had more tattoos than anyone you knew so this one should’ve been a breeze.

Maybe it was because it was a new place. There were new people you didn’t really know yet. The tattoo shop where you had worked had shut down because of a fire and you were still in shock because of it. So not only had you lost your job, but the appointment you had set up with Kip, the owner, had been canceled. He was the only one you trusted so you were hesitant when he had given you a referral. You didn’t care if it was a friend of his, you were still nervous as shit.

Your hand rested on the door handle. You couldn’t get yourself to open it, bile climbing up your throat. You were terrified to say the least, anxiety coursing through you as you thought of every possible thing that could’ve gone wrong.

You had your consultation with Gareth weeks ago and had called to reschedule because you had been scared, but now you were ready. It was just a small tattoo and Gareth had assured you that he’d go easy on you and you could take as many breaks as you wanted. You were looking forward to working with him despite your nervousness.

You finally went inside and the whole place was very tidy despite the sketchy looking exterior. It definitely seemed like whoever owned the place knew exactly how to make people feel comfortable. There was a seating area by the front door with a large couch and a coffee table with a bunch of magazines spread out on it neatly.

A coffee bar was sitting by the front desk, complete with a freshly brewed pot and an array of mugs that fit the aesthetic of the building. There were also different types of sweeteners and a small refrigerator that was filled with many different brands of bottled water as well as multiple different flavors of coffee creamer.

The walls were covered in framed sketches and you wished you had the time to look at them all, fascinated by the details of each one. Rock music was playing loudly over the speakers and it was a song that you had recognized from the radio.

You walked up to the reception desk and the same guy you had remembered from before was behind it typing away on the computer. He looked up at you and gave you a bright smile as if you were old friends.

He was on the phone with who you assumed was a customer and it didn’t seem to be going well just from hearing his side of the conversation.

“Yes, I am so sorry, Rebecca. Believe me, it won’t happen again. Yes, he knows all about it. Yes, I’ll tell him. You have my word. Alright. Buh-bye.” He hung up the phone and brought his attention to you, a bright smile on his face.

“Hey, so sorry about that. Welcome in,” he greeted, his honey eyes shining bright from the sun shining through the window. “How can I help you?”

“I have an appointment.” You gave him your first and last name and he typed some stuff into the computer before looking back up at you. You eyed him and couldn’t help but notice how out of place he looked there. He didn’t have a single tattoo on him and looked like he would’ve been scared to actually step foot into the building.

“Alright, y/n,” his smile widened and you wondered if his cheeks ever hurt from doing that as often as he seemed to do. “If you’ll follow me, we can-“ His words were cut off by the front door opening. It was slammed shut so loudly that the frames on the wall rattled. Whoever had just entered had wanted to make an entrance and it clearly had worked since everyone had turned to see what all the commotion was about. Both you and the receptionist turned to see for yourselves to see the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on.

“I’m back, baby,” he announced, holding his arms out. Your eyes trailed down his body from his long curly hair to his black combat boots. He was so attractive and you wondered how you had never seen him before. You definitely would have remembered him if you had. The receptionist made a beeline for him as well as a few of the employees. It was clear that the man had been gone a while considering everyone’s reaction to him. He must have been pretty popular around there.

“Steve, hug me, honey,” he pulled ‘Steve’ into his arms and pressed a kiss to his cheek only for Steve to rub it away in response. Despite his disgust, you could hear a little giggle fall from his mouth. Was this man God? He must have been because no one would react that way to a mediocre man, would they? At least, you hoped not. You hoped they all had higher standards than that.

He took a drag of the cigarette he was holding and flashed you a smile before crossing the floor to the desk. The smoke passed through his lips and into the air and he titled his head down, his eyes locking onto yours.

You knew his type just by looking at him. He was the life of the party. The kind of guy who thought that everyone was into him just because of his giant ego. And they were into him because of the way he carried himself. Like he didn’t give a damn about anything. And he didn’t. Not even the people who he claimed to be friends with.

You could see him eyeing you when he stepped behind the desk, going through the envelopes that had been sitting on top of it. When most men checked you out, you’d pull your shirt down to show them a little cleavage, but for this guy, you just wrapped your cardigan around yourself, wanting to hide your body. He didn’t seem amused but wasn’t backing off.

It was as if seeing the man had brought your confidence back. Like you were no longer the shy woman you had been just moments ago. Being around men who were full of themselves tended to do that to you. It was as if you felt the need to one up them, having more confidence than they did. You wanted to show that you had superiority.

You turned your back to him, looking at the frames on the wall as you waited for your appointment to get straightened away. You didn’t have anywhere to be until you had to work later that night so you supposed that you could’ve waited just a bit longer.

Your eyes locked onto one in particular. It was a sunflower and you normally wouldn’t have noticed it if it hadn’t stood out amongst all the other images that were far more dark subject matter. It was pretty and so realistic, like you could have reached out and plucked it from the painting.

“Who’s the babe?” Eddie leaned over to Steve, whispering so he was the only one who could hear him. They both looked at you and you just avoided them, still looking at the frames.

“She’s a client,” Steve replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He loved the guy, but sometimes he couldn’t help but think that Eddie was nothing but a pig. “Jesus, Eddie. You just got back home and already can’t keep your dick in your pants?”

“I’m human,” Eddie smirked, his eyes moving down to your ass, admiring the shape of it before turning back to Steve. “Sue me. I mean, look at her man,” he referred to you with his hand. “Look at that ass.” He leaned closer to Steve, pulling his lip between his teeth as he turned back to you to get another glimpse.

“Did you miss the word ‘client’ coming out of my mouth? I’m serious, Ed, you can’t keep sleeping with them. It not only makes you look bad, it also makes the company look bad.”

The shop had gotten multiple phone calls that Steve had the unfortunate pleasure of being on the receiving end of because that had been the phone number he has given the people he had slept with because he hadn’t deemed them important enough to give them his home number.

Not only that, but Steve had walked in on too many of Eddie’s “meetings” in his office and was sick of the guy making a habit of it. Could he have not slept with them in his car or at his house like a normal person?

He was getting tired of the new persona Eddie had taken on as he had gotten more popular. It was fine when he had gotten the motorcycle and when he flirted a little with the clients to make them more comfortable, but he drew the line at him acting like the complete dickhead he had become, using people for their bodies just to throw them away when he was done.

“I just want to-“

“You want to what?” Steve cut him off “Seduce her?”

“Maybe,” Eddie rounded the desk. “We’ll see where it goes.” Steve grabbed onto the back of his jacket and pulled him back, causing Eddie to let out a yelp.

“Not so fast,” Steve shook his head.

“I just want to say hi,” Eddie held his hands up in defense even though the both of them knew that he was lying.

“Saying ‘hi’ leads to flirting which leads to seducing which leads to ‘your place or mine’ which leads to you saying you’ll call and then you never do. I’ve been keeping a tally of all the people who have called here because you were an ass.” Steve held up the notebook he had been writing it and Eddie’s eyes widened.

“Five, ten, fifteen, twenty-“ Eddie counted of the tallies to himself, not even trying to hold back his smile.

“Forty-five, Eddie,” Steve cut him off with a glare.

“Forty-five,” Eddie repeated, a smirk kicking up at the corner of his rosy lips.

“And this is just with clients,” he sighed, throwing the book down “Look, you can fuck whoever you want as long as they’re not seeking business from us.”

“Steve-“

“No,” he pointed at his friend with the pencil he was holding. “If I find out that you did anything but greet her as the owner, I swear to god I will castrate you.” Eddie’s eyes widened at Steve’s threat but only for a second before his smirk took over again.

“But what if-“

“No, this isn’t a challenge. I mean it, if you even so much as bat your eyelashes at her, I’m going to make sure that you can never use your dick again.”

“Are you coming on to me?” Eddie batted his eyelashes. That had only happened once and they both just decided that they were better off as friends. “Damn, Stevie. I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” Steve had felt that way about Eddie once upon a time, but not anymore. Especially not since Eddie started solely thinking with his dick.

“You’re disgusting,” Steve glared before turning back to the computer. “Now leave me alone.”

“Happy to.” Eddie rounded the desk and made a beeline to you. He had no intention of keeping Steve’s promise and seeing the look you gave him only made him want to flirt with you even more. He had to do what he could to get the sour look off of your face.

Unbeknownst to Eddie, you had heard his entire conversation with Steve, neither of them quite knowing what an “inside voice” was. It didn’t surprise you that Eddie would fuck anyone who was human, and it especially didn’t surprise you that most of them were clients. If you hadn’t already gone through the consultation, you would have walked right out of there.

Fat chance if he thought he was going to get with you, but you were going to have some fun with him first. You were going to knock him down a few pegs. It was what he deserved for having whoever he wanted just because he was famous in the tattoo industry.

“Hi,” he propped himself against the wall and you had to hold back a laugh at his flirting attempt. How could that have worked on anyone?

“Hi,” you nodded towards him then turned back to face the frames.

“I’m Eddie,” he put his hand out to shake and you reluctantly took it, not wanting to be rude to owner of the establishment no matter how much you wanted to tell him to fuck off.

“Y/n,” you replied and his smile got wider. You had to admit that it was really nice. You could see at least how that worked for him.

“Y/n,” he nodded, saying it slowly, focusing on each syllable as they fell from his lips. “That’s pretty.”

“Thanks.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here. And trust me, I’d remember someone as smokin’ as you.” That didn’t actually work on people, did it? That didn’t actually get him into people’s pants.

“If anyone’s smokin’ here, it’s you,” you winked and wondered how you could have submitted your name to the Academy to be nominated for an Oscar for your performance.

“So what brings you here, darlin’?” He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to the side like a curious puppy. He almost looked adorable. Almost.

“I have an appointment with Gareth.” Of fucking course. Eddie took a vacation and now Gareth was getting all the pretty girls. Sometimes, life just wasn’t fair.

“Oh,” he nodded. “I can take you to him.”

“Okay, Edwin.” You walked ahead of him to head to wherever Gareth could have possibly been and Eddie took another opportunity to stare at your ass. The way your jeans clung to it. The way it moved when you walked. He needed to feel it, skin against skin. He just knew that it would have been soft. He desperately wanted to give it a little slap, but even he knew that wouldn’t have been appropriate. Even for him

“It’s Eddie,” he corrected and you didn’t bother to look back at him when you spoke.

“Sure, Eduardo.” He wasn’t used to women acting this way and he’d have been lying if he said he didn’t like it. He actually thought it was kind of hot.

He was right behind you when you stopped abruptly at Gareth’s station. Eddie had been so busy staring that ran right into you and had to grab onto your shoulders to stop the both of you from falling to the floor.

He let out a chuckle but you just ignored him, keeping your attention on Gareth. His face lit up when he saw you and he couldn’t help but smile as well. You hadn’t forgotten your flirty consultation and the way he looked at you from across the desk. Like he had wanted to take you right there and you would have let him.

You had imagined running your hands through his curly hair, pressing your lips to his roughly, sticking your tongue into his mouth. Hearing his moans when you touched him in just the right spots.

Eddie looked between the two of you and he didn’t like what he saw. The way you were smiling at each other, the flirty glint in your eyes. Whatever was going on had to be nipped right in the bud. If he couldn’t have you, no could. Not even Gareth. Especially not Gareth.

“Hey, cutie,” you greeted, resting your hands on his table and Gareth just blushed. He wasn’t used to getting attention from people, at least not romantically. And when you had showed up and openly flirted with him, he could have sworn it was a joke. But seeing you then, he realized that you hadn’t been joking at all.

“Hey,” he responded, a small smile forming on his lips. “How are you?”

“I’m great. And you?”

“I’m fantastic. Especially now that you’re here.” You giggled at his words, causing his blush to get pinker. Eddie watched the two of you for a bit longer then looked around the room for a trash can he could throw up in.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” You leaned closer and Eddie quickly turned away. No way in hell he was subjecting himself to seeing the two of you kiss.

“Well, I’m ready when you are,” Gareth smiled and sat down in his chair, rolling it closer to the bench.

“I’m ready now,” you nodded, sitting on the bench and Eddie took that as a sign to actually do his tasks that he had been putting off for far too long.

———

“Gareth,” you gasped as you looked at your fresh ink in the mirror. It was a Sting from Lord of the rings and it was exactly what you wanted. He was somehow able to get it exactly how you imagined it. “This is fucking amazing.”

“Really? You like it?” He had a sheepish smile on his face that you could see perfectly in the reflection. He was just so cute. And sweet. The complete opposite of the other guys you had been with. The complete opposite of Eddie.

“I love it.” You turned around to face him and before you could stop yourself, you were throwing yourself into his arms. They were quick to wrap around your waist tightly. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he smiled, making no move to let go of you. “I’m glad it was what you wanted.”

“It’s perfect. Really.” Gareth had never gotten that kind of reaction from one of his clients. They usually just thanked him and paid before leaving.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, pulling away from him. “That was totally inappropriate.”

“No,” he assured you. “It’s okay. I…liked it.”

“Well, good.”

“C‘mon,” he nodded his head towards the front of the shop. “Let’s get your care instructions.”

You followed him to the front desk where Steve was still typing away on the computer. Eddie was beside him, going through some envelopes. He looked up at you and Gareth and didn’t miss your close proximity, your shoulders touching. He supposed that if you ended up with anyone, it should have been Gareth. He would have treated you right and wouldn’t have just wanted to fuck you like Eddie did.

Eddie didn’t do relationships. He just liked to get laid and have no other connection to the people. That was the only way he could do it. Thinking about being romantic with someone made him feel gross. It made him want to laugh. He only had enough love in his life for his few friends and Wayne.

You didn’t do relationships either, but you felt like if you played your cards right, you’d be able to start something with Gareth. He was sweet and he liked you and you didn’t get that weird feeling in your gut when you were around him. That feeling that always told you that the person was bad news. And it was always right. Maybe Gareth would end up being the right guy for you. Or maybe he wouldn’t, but you were willing to find out.

“Well, let me see!” Steve exclaimed and you turned around, stepping closer to the desk. He leaned over it to get a better look, a wide smile spreading over his face. “That’s sick…what is it?”

“C’mon, Steve. It’s from Lord of the Rings,” Eddie replied.

“That’s what it’s from?” Gareth asked, turning to you. “I thought it was just a dagger.”

“It’s Sting. It was an Elven short-sword made in Gondolin during the First Age,” you told them.

“Bilbo discovered it in the year TA2941 in a Troll-hoard, and used it during the Quest of Erebor,” Eddie finished, a smirk forming on his lips. He had met many women who like Lord of the Rings and had even done a few tattoos, but he liked the fact that you were so passionate about it.

“God, you guys are such fucking nerds,” Steve scoffed. “How do you know that from memory?”

“How do you not?” You and Eddie asked in unison, causing you both to laugh.

“Alright,” Steve turned to you. “Your total is going to be-“

“Actually, it’s on the house, right Stevie?” Gareth asked and Steve just let out a sigh.

“Sure, I uh, I guess it’s on the house.” With how many times Eddie had done the same thing, the company had surely lost a lot of money, but Steve supposed he could make an exception. Gareth had been shot down so many times that Steve thought he at least deserved to let one girl get her tattoo for free.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you shook your head vigorously. You always wanted to make sure that people were getting paid properly for their work. Especially tattoo artists because that kind of thing took a lot of time and patience. “I think Gareth should be compensated for his hard work.”

“I can be compensated in other ways,” Gareth winked at you and Eddie feigned throwing up while Steve smiled. He was just happy that the guy was finally getting some attention. He always seemed to fade into the background when Eddie was around. People always seemed to care about him and Steve felt bad for Gareth. That he was always stuck in his best friend’s shadow. He hated it for him.

“Sounds like a plan,” you winked back. “Maybe I could repay you tonight.” Gareth liked that idea. He liked that idea a lot.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Eddie put his hand over his mouth and disappeared behind the door that was behind him.

“I’d like that,” Gareth nodded, stepping towards you, the two of you completely ignoring Eddie. He was just jealous that he wasn’t on the receiving end of the flirting this time. He was always a sore loser even though he frequently tried to deny it. He loved Gareth. Like a brother, even. But he couldn’t help but feel jealous that the guy was getting your attention. He didn’t know why, but the fact that you didn’t seem to be interested in him only made him want to try harder. He wanted to prove himself that he could get you into bed.

You grabbed a blank piece of paper and pen from the desk and scribbled down your phone number and address before handing it to him. He took it from you and quickly took his cell phone out of his pocket, quickly typing in the numbers and saving it under a cutesy nickname.

“So you’ll come over after you get done here?”

“I definitely will,” he nodded.

“Great,” you smiled and Gareth could have sworn that he was feeling his knees giving out. You then leaned closer to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, Emerson.”

After you were all set, you pulled Gareth into a lingering hug then exited the shop, the man watching you through the glass as you headed down the street. He had only had a few conversations with you and was already down bad. Why did he have to always fall so easily? He knew that you’d drop him for Eddie with one bat of his lashes so he didn’t even know why he was trying.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe you really did like him. Maybe this wasn’t all just an elaborate plan for you to get to Eddie like he had thought. He couldn’t even keep track of how many times that had happened to him and he was sick of it. What was wrong with him? Cleary something since he was never anyone’s first choice. But for once, he was yours. He was your first choice and he couldn’t have been more elated about it.

You got to your car and was shocked to find Eddie leaning against it. He was smoking a cigarette and you hated how you kind of found it hot. But only kind of. He was leaning against the driver’s seat door, preventing you from getting in it and he looked like he had no intention of leaving any time soon. He gave you his signature smile and you smiled back, not wanting to show just how much he was getting to you.

“So,” he spoke, blowing the smoke from his mouth and it wafted right into your face, causing you to cough. “You and Emerson, huh?” He used his cigarette to point to the building.

“Yes,” you nodded, waving the smoke away from your face. “But I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You crossed your arms over your chest, wondering why he cared so much. He could have anyone he wanted from what you had heard so you weren’t sure why he was so set on hitting on an almost taken woman.

“It’s my business because Gareth is my best friend and I’ll be damned if anyone hurts him.” He pushed off of the car and stood directly in front of you, attempting to look intimidating, but fell flat. You weren’t scared of anything, especially not Eddie Munson.

Eddie really didn’t care who Gareth spent his time with, especially not romantically, but you weren’t one of the soft, innocent looking girls that the guy usually went for. Eddie just wanted to make sure that you were good for him. And maybe the way of seeing whether or not that was true was sleeping with you, but that was going to take a lot more effort than usual. But Eddie always liked a challenge.

Usually, showing a woman just what she was missing after the initial shut down wasn’t a problem. He turned on the charm and was as nice as possible until he got what he wanted. He didn’t know why you wouldn’t just give in. He was sure that he could make you feel much more than Gareth ever could and he’d do it so much better. Gareth was less experienced than him and was seriously lacking in flirting skills so stealing you away would have been a breeze. It wouldn’t be long before you were racing into his arms, telling him that you had been wrong all along. And he couldn’t wait.

“If anyone’s hurting Gareth, it’s you,” you crossed your arms over your chest. Those words stung Eddie more than they should have, but he wasn’t going to show it. “You just can’t stand the fact that someone prefers him over you. Gareth is sweet and caring and guess what? He’s also much more of a man than you will ever be. So fuck off and go find someone else to screw with because it sure as hell won’t be me.” You pushed him out of the way and got into your car before pulling out of your parking space and heading down the road.

Eddie watched in shock as you drove away. No one had even spoken to him like that and he’d have been lying if he said that if didn’t make his dick hard. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t always been a pig. Once upon a time, he was actually a nice guy, but then he got just a sliver of fame in the tattoo industry and thought he could treat everyone any way he wanted. He had quickly become the kind of guy that he had usually despised and didn’t even care that his friends were getting tired of him.

It was like an addiction. He had slept with one person and then another and then another and it was like he couldn’t stop. Now he couldn’t go a couple weeks without having someone between his sheets. It was getting to the point that he didn’t even really enjoy it, but he was so desperate for attention that he’d take home anyone that he could just so he wouldn’t have to sleep by himself and be alone with his thoughts.

Eddie hung his head and reluctantly headed back inside. Gareth was still at the front desk and Eddie gave him a glare before heading to his office for some much needed alone time. He couldn’t let Gareth know that he had gotten to him. That would have just been embarrassing. Eddie thought that he was better than him in every way and didn’t like that he had gotten the girl for once. He had lost and hated the way the rejection felt. It was like a stab to the heart and he finally knew how his best friend had felt watching him leave with all of those different people. It was torture, but that still didn’t mean that he was just going to let him have you. He still had a point to prove, no matter what it took.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #tattoo artist!eddie #tattoo artist!eddie x reader #tattoo artist!eddie x tatoo artist!reader

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