#i’m a bunch of broken pieces | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flowerxbunnie · 11 months ago

Note

Tattoo artist matt 🫦 and he’s praising the reader and telling her she’s taking it really well 🫦🫦 and she gets addicted to it and keeps coming back for more tattoos 🫦🫦🫦 and he’s like ‘wow you’re single-handedly paying my bills, this one’s on the house’ 🫦🫦🫦🫦 and she’s like ‘no, i gotta pay you.’ 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 i think you know where i’m going with this

ps I love you 💋

Ink

Tattoo artist!Matt x Fem Reader

Warnings: needles, blood, pain, tension, no smut (yet?? 😏) but veryyyyyy suggestive at times

6.3k words

Your skin is tender and raw, a soft wince drawn from your mouth as your tattoo artist wipes the excess ink with a rough paper towel.

“So proud of this one,” Alex beams as she scoots back in her chair, the wheels rolling her towards her supply cart. She grabs a roll of plastic wrap and some tape before using her feet to roll back toward your chair. “Let’s get you all wrapped up.”

“It turned out so good, dude.” You say in awe as you hold your arm out to her.

“Did you expect any less?” She jokes, wrapping the wound snugly and taping it up before shooting you a smile. “All done. Keep the wrap on for a few hours. It’ll be a little leaky, that’s normal. Wash once a day with unscented soap… blah blah blah you know the drill. Still legally obligated to tell you.” She chuckles at the end, standing up to throw away her stained gloves. “Come up to the desk whenever you’re ready.” She says before she turns on her feet and heads to the front of the shop.

You stand up and gather your belongings feeling the adrenaline rush a new tattoo always seems to bring out of you. Your arm pulses and slightly burns, a sensation you’d become addicted to over the past couple of years. You’re not covered in ink by any means, but you’ve gotten your fair share, all done by Alex.

You love the way her shop feels more like a home than a sterile clinical office. Tapestries are hung haphazardly across the walls, strings of fairy lights sprawl across the ceilings and there’s more weird little knick-knacks strewn about than you could ever imagine counting. Your favorite is the preserved butterflies she has in shadow boxes lined down the hallway.

Once you gather your keys and bag, you take the walk to the front and admire all the sketches pinned along the walls. Alex is waiting for you with a warm smile as she tells you the total. You sit your bag down and rummage for your wallet, gathering the money along with a generous tip as always.

“You want the change back?” She asks as she counts the bills.

“Just take the fucking tip Alex.” You raise an eyebrow at her.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” she chuckles humbly, shaking her head as she sorts the cash into her vintage register.

“I know I don’t have to,” you laugh, tossing your wallet back into your bag, “I want to.”

You grab the strap of your bag and throw it across your shoulder, knocking a binder off the counter in the process. You let out a quiet curse as you bend down to pick it up, flipping it over to look at the cover.

“Oh, you should look through that!” Alex chimes in excitedly. “It’s a bunch of flash pieces that are up for grabs. They’re going quick, you should pick one out!”

“Oh nice..” you thumb through the pages, studying the intricate artwork tucked behind sheet protectors. “These are so good Alex..”

“You think?” She asks, bending down to restock her glass display cabinet with more tattoo salve.

You turn page after page, seeing traditional pieces like tigers and roses, more abstract watercolor pieces and some random goofy sketches of cartoon characters. You stop when you come across a snake separated into segments with the word ‘collarbone’ scratched underneath of it.

“This one is so detailed,” you say, running your fingers across the sheet protector. “Why’s it all broken up like that?”

Alex stands back up to her feet and looks over the page, her brows furrowing a bit as she adjusts her glasses. “Oh, it’s because it’s made to look like it’s wrapping around your collarbone. Like it’s going into your skin kinda.”

“Oh, sick,” You say excitedly, “I’ll take that one then. When can you get me in?”

“That’s not mine, girl. That’s the new guy’s design. You may have seen him here before? He transferred here like three…ish months ago?” She rambles as she sorts through a stack of paperwork.

You think back, not recalling seeing a different face in the shop. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone new. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been here and you usually get me in and out.” You pull the binder closer and admire the tiny detailing of the snake skin. “He looks pretty good.. but I don’t know if I can cheat on you.” You sigh jokingly.

“Honestly, he’s fucking amazing. His card is right there if you wanna make an appointment.” She points to a carousel of different artists’ cards. “Matt… the black card.. yep that’s it.”

You stick the matte black card in your bag and give Alex a humorous warning glare. “If he fucks my tattoo up Alex I swear to god.”

“Just make the appointment, Y/n. He’ll do good, promise. Why would I hire someone whose work I don’t trust?” She laughs and steps out from behind the counter, walking towards the door. “Now get out of my shop, I need to rest my eyes.” She laughs as she pulls the door open.

——————

You dig through your bag, pulling out hair ties, loose sticks of gum and countless receipts as you search for your favorite chapstick. “I swear I left it in here,” you think out loud, gasping as your finger slides across the corner of something sharp. You pull your hand back, sucking back a curse and see a tiny paper cut on your finger, laughing at the fact that something so small can hurt so bad. You reach back in and grab the culprit, a black sturdy rectangular card.

Fuck. It’s been 3 days.

You look over the card.

Matt Sturniolo

Appointments by text.

Come get somethin’ nice!

You pull out your phone and create a new contact, typing the 10 digit number slowly and double checking, making sure you got every single one right. You let out a sigh that you’ve been holding back, deciding to drop your worries, bite the bullet and make the appointment.

Alex won’t care, she doesn’t mind. She wants me to.

He thinks I’m a guy, funny, you think to yourself, locking your phone and sitting it on the counter.

—————

The week comes and goes, the same mundane routine dragging you through the creeping days. It’s finally Friday, meaning you’re risking the integrity of your skin on an artist you’ve never even met before, let alone vetted his work. Sure, he can draw a sketch but can he execute it just as well into your skin? The entire drive to the shop you shuffle through your playlist while your fingers absentmindedly tap against the steering wheel, mind racing with every possible outcome.

You sit in the parking lot, nerves at an all time high as you scroll through TikTok trying to numb your brain while the minutes pass. You quickly peek up to the clock on your dashboard, heaving a sigh.

5:32.

Fuck. I still have way too much time.

You groan quietly and put your phone down in your cupholder, leaning your head back against the headrest and close your eyes. Your left foot taps slowly against the footrest in your floorboard, creating a steady rhythm, pulsing along with your music that quietly hums in the speakers. You pick your head back up and grip the steering wheel with a huff, tracing your hands up and down around the warm leather.

Your eyes follow passersby as they stroll and pace down the sidewalk, essentially people watching. Your hand somehow makes its way to your mouth without realizing, your nails picking and pulling at the skin of your lips habitually. You only notice when you taste the bitter metallic flavor of blood on your tongue, silently scolding yourself as you pull down your vanity mirror.

You lick the wound and pull your sore bottom lip between your teeth, suddenly hyperaware of the shriveled, dehydrated state they’re in. Leaning across your car to reach for the glovebox, you pull it open and grab the lip oil you leave in your car for moments like this. You shut the glovebox and center yourself in the reflection of the mirror, opening the tube and applying a much too generous amount of the gloss to your lips. You smack and pucker your lips, appreciating the way they seem to come back to life, plump and slightly tinted.

You look to the side as you run your finger against the corner of your mouth, cleaning up your work. A small blackboard that sits outside the door of the shop catches your attention, propped up and smeared with chalked in words. It lists the information for an upcoming tattoo fair, has random small sketches littering the board, and lists a social media account near the bottom.

Why haven’t I ever thought of that?

You pick your phone up out of the cupholder after you slam your mirror shut, clicking the Instagram icon and typing the handle into the search bar. You click on the account, seeing that Alex’s individual account is linked at the top as well as a piercer, Darren, who you’ve met a couple of times. You scroll down through the feed, seeing copious photo collages of fresh versus healed ink and videos with music edited into the background, featuring Alex working her magic in the shop.

You scroll past a reel of Alex promoting a clean brand of tattoo healing balms, your finger coming to a still as you land on a video of a man hunched in his chair, his body leaning over as he works a tattoo gun into someone’s leg. You can’t make out much of him from the video, but he’s clad in a stone washed black t-shirt and jeans littered with ink stains. Tattoos sprawl across his left arm that pulls at the person’s skin, holding it steady as he moves the dripping needle back and forth. Though his face isn’t visible, you notice his wispy, umber brown hair that falls forward as he works. Light catches the strands and outlines each wave as they cascade over his brow bone. Scrolling down, you read the caption.

“Matt may be new but he is making himself well known in the shop! Text him to book, slots are filling up fast!”

You scroll further and find more pieces done by Matt but can’t seem to find a tagged account. Your shot nerves are soothed a bit as you examine each flawless piece of art, every one of them so perfect it’s almost like a printed photo taped to skin. You can’t deny that the man is talented. You scroll down until you reach the very first photo that mentions his name, dated three months ago just like Alex had said.

Maybe I do trust him.

You break yourself from the distraction of your phone and check the time again, quickly fixing yourself in the mirror as you realize you need to head in immediately. Your soft fingers brush down the wild flyaways in your hair in an attempt to look as put together as possible. Grabbing the handle of your bag and slinging it across your shoulder, you turn off the ignition and step out of your car, making sure to lock the doors behind you.

You feel the ground beneath your feet meeting your body in shockwaves with each step you take towards the familiar building. In the reflection of the glass you watch your figure grow closer. You let out one last deep exhale as you grip the iron handle, pulling it open and feeling the cool air shoot across your skin.

As you step in and the door falls closed behind you, you take notice that the front desk is unoccupied. Distinct chatter can be heard over the music playing in the studio just down the hall and past the foyer, deep rumbling tones that you can’t piece together. You’re familiar enough with the shop that you feel comfortable going back without a so-called escort, so you grip the handle on your shoulder and begin the walk down the dimly lit hallway.

The walls open up into the studio and the music is so loud it almost vibrates your skin. You step closer to the source of the voices, one of them being the piercer you’re familiar with. He stands talking expressively with his hands to another man who sits with his back facing you, arms behind his head as he leans back into his chair.

“Is Matt here?” You question, looking around the rest of the studio.

The men continue on with their conversation, completely unaware you’d even said anything over the racket of the rock music. Clearing your throat, you step forward, just about six feet away from them at this point and speak up once again.

“Is anyone working the desk right now?”

The piercer turns his head to face you and the man in the chair spins around, planting his feet to stop himself.

His blue eyes catch your attention first, so bright the gaze is almost difficult to keep. But you do, and so does he. He drops his hands down from the back of his head, one of his arms coming to lay on the armrest of his chair and the other stroking the stubble that peppers his chin. The tattoos across his left arm in contrast to the blank one on the right tell you that this is your guy, this is Matt.

What you don’t know is how he feels his blood pumping hot at the sight of you. He does his best to keep his eyes above your shoulders, but he can’t help letting them wander down your supple, shining skin, immediately thinking about how soft it must be. Matt sees so many women everyday, some in very compromising positions, but just the sight of you standing in front of him has made him feel weak. The way you look so innocent and bright, juxtaposing the way you’re standing in front of his sketches of skulls and anatomically correct organs being feasted on by animals.

You feel a wave of awkward silence even through the intense bass sounding through the speakers. You ask once again if anyone is working the front desk, but your voice struggles to overpower the volume. You see Matt’s cheeks pull up into a chuckle as he reaches back around to the table, fishing for his phone and clicking the volume down considerably.

You huff, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice as you repeat yourself for the fourth time. “Is anyone working the front?”

“I’m sorry honey, we don’t take walk ins.” He rasps as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “You’ll need to make an appointment.”

“I have one.” You retort, resting your weight on one of your legs.

The bearded man walks away to his piercing station, leaving the two of you in a sort of awkward staredown.

“Alex is out today, and I’m expecting a guy to be walking in any minute for my next appointment. Are you sure yours was for today?” He asks smoothly.

“You’re Matt right?”

His shoulders tense when you say his name, but he relaxes them as he nods his head. “Yeah, I’m Matt.”

“Oh, well then yeah.. I’m Y/n. Collarbone snake for 6 o’clock.” You clarify, pulling out your phone to ensure you had the date and time right.

His eyes widen and he silently scolds himself for assuming something so bold while being utterly wrong.

“Yeah, here it is.” You turn your phone to face him, stepping closer.

“I must have been tipsy when I replied or something,” he laughs and sits up in his chair, running his hands through his hair to soothe his embarrassment. “I assumed you’d be a dude for some reason.”

“No, at least not since the last time I checked.” You giggle, tossing your phone into your crowded bag.

His laugh gives you a sense of satisfaction, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he catches his breath. “Shit, that’s my bad then.” He says while pushing himself up to stand, his arms flexing under the tight sleeves of his shirt.

“No worries.” You give him a genuine smile, not wanting him to feel any more embarrassed than you can already tell he is from his flushed cheeks.

He steps forward with a long stride, his frame much larger and taller than you expected once he passes you to head to the hallway. He tries to ignore the way his pulse quickened with the way you beamed up at him moments before, walking quickly to the front desk.

You follow behind, breathing in the lingering scent his cologne leaves in his trail. Stepping in front of the counter as he grabs a stack of haphazardly sorted papers, you grab a pen from the cup in front of you.

He slides them over to you, groaning as he flips them so they’re facing your direction. “Might not be much help reading them upside down.” He chuckles. “Alright, so I’m assuming you know the drill, yeah?” He nods his head at your arms, eyes flickering over the ink.

“Mhmm..” you hum as you concentrate on crossing off and initialing boxes stating you don’t have any medical conditions hindering you from getting tattooed.

Matt watches in silence as you skim over the pages, twisting the pen between your small fingers. He places both hands on the ledge in front of him and moves ever so slightly closer, enough to watch your lashes as they brush your cheeks with each blink. If he got any closer you’d probably feel his breath hitting your skin.

You print and sign your name on the bottom of the last page, capping the pen and tossing it back into the cup. He’s stepping back as you look up at him with the papers outstretched, deciding ogling over you isn’t a very professional first impression.

“My ID is already on file.” You say as he takes the stack and turns to the side to run them through the scanner.

“Well look at you, smart girl huh?” He jokes, pressing buttons to send the papers through the machine.

You feel warmth creeping up your neck and across your cheeks as the words fall from his lips. “I mean,” you pause with a giggle, “Alex is my only artist so I know she’s got everything she needs from me.”

“And you’re cheating on her with me?” He chuckles softly as he steps out from behind the counter, turning to head back towards the studio. “Let’s get this started, shall we?” His voice is quiet, his back to you as he walks ahead.

Matt’s shirt is stretched thin across his broad shoulders, and you absentmindedly let your eyes sink down his arms, following the veins that trail from them into his hands as they swing. His walk is confident and steady, unwavering.

Part of him wishes he had let you walk ahead of him so he could selfishly glue his eyes to your legs, drinking up the way your shorts hug them perfectly. But he has to keep this professional, you’re just a customer.

He walks to his table, gripping a handle and maneuvering the headboard so that you’ll be partially sitting, partially leaning back. “Go ahead and have a seat for me.” He gestures you to the table.

You sit your bag in your lap as you adjust in the seat, a chill running through you as the cold textured leather presses against your back. Matt stands over his supply cart, looking back and forth between you and a few sheets of paper.

“I printed a few stencils but they’re all man sized..” he laughs, crumpling them up and tossing them into his trash bin. “I’m gonna have to free hand it.”

Your eyes widen as he grabs a marker off the top of the cart and pulls the lid off with his teeth, scooting his rolling chair up to your table. “Uhh.. are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Honey…” he laughs, his head falling forward before he looks up at you with a grin. “You know I sketched the design free handed, right?”

You silently curse yourself and do your best to laugh it off, but you definitely made yourself feel incredibly dumb. Somehow he switched the mood and made it feel like he was laughing with you instead of at you, though.

“Alright… first let me…” he trails off, looking around his table before replacing the marker with a fresh razor. “I know you don’t have chest hair, but I kinda have to clear the canvas regardless.” He gives you a humored smile.

He pulls his chair up, his left hand brushing your hair off of your shoulder and down your back. He grabs your tank top strap with a clenched jaw, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingers feel like jolts of electricity on your skin, like he shouldn’t be touching you, but also like you want more.

He’s a tattoo artist. Alex touches me everytime she does one of my tattoos. There’s nothing weird about it, stop making it weird.

You gulp and hope that your cheeks haven’t given away your feelings as he gets the strap out of his way and leans closer. You look forward, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with Matt as he slowly drags the razor across your skin.

“Alright there’s that.” He spins around and tosses the razor in the trash can, grabbing the marker once more. “Gonna sketch it out roughly right quick. It won’t look as detailed right now but I’ll add ‘em in later.” He mumbles as he tilts his head, bringing the marker to your collarbone.

Matt drags the marker across your skin with furrowed brows as he perfects the curvature of the snake to look like it’s wrapping around your bone. He can smell your sweet perfume permeating from your body, so close he can almost sniff out the individual notes. “You smell like candy.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. He bites down on his lip, shutting his eyes for a moment before he gets straight back to sketching, hoping you didn’t find it odd.

“Thank you!” You beam, “Funny enough it’s actually Prada Candy. I love it.”

He hums in response and finishes up his outline, rolling back to look at it from further away. “Sit up for me right quick.” He instructs and you listen. He nods his head, approving of his placement and sketch. “Let’s make sure you like it first.” He turns to the side and grabs a handheld mirror off his cart. He holds it out to you, his fingertips brushing yours as he hands it off.

“I love it! It’s the perfect size. Even just the sketch looks so good.” You grin as you study the purple ink in the mirror. You smile as you hand the mirror back to him, taking notice of the subtle curve of his lips.

“Great then. Already got the machine all set up and the ink wells filled. You ready?” He asks with raised eyebrows.

The look on his face tells you that you might have bitten off more than you can chew. “I… think I’m ready. Should I be worried?”

He sucks his teeth as he looks down with a stifled smirk. “Well… the collarbone isn’t the most pleasant place to get a needle jammed into your skin, I’ll leave it at that.”

You look to him with wide eyes. You’d never even considered how painful it might be, all of your other tattoos being on your arms and lower legs. “Matt, you’re scaring me.” You nervously laugh.

His stomach does a flip when you say his name for the second time today. He shoved the feeling down and reaches over, grabbing the tattoo gun in his right hand and turning it on briefly. The vibration sounds throughout the room and he assures it’s in good working condition before shutting it back off and looking up at you. “I think you’re a brave girl, you can take it.” He says lowly but causally as he rolls up next to the table, resting his left arm next to your shoulder.

The way Matt’s words fall from his lips like honey makes your skin feel as if it’s being licked with flames. You look down as he flips the gun on once again and dips the needle into the pitch black ink, the fluid dripping onto the table as he slowly raises it toward you.

“You’re gonna have to turn a little.” He almost whispers as he uses his left hand to guide your jaw to the side, giving him better access to your skin. “Alright, there we go.” He leans in as he brings the needle down into your skin, a sharp scratching and stinging pain making you gasp lightly. “You good?” He asks in a caring tone as he lifts the gun back up and scans your pained expression.

“Yeah, yeah.. I’m okay.” You breathe out. “Feels a lot different than arms and legs.”

You see him nod silently and lower the needle back to the surface of your skin, slowly pressing all the way down until he’s drawing the solid outline. He adjusts his left arm and places his warm hand onto your shoulder, his fingers gripping and pulling at the skin to keep it taut. He glances up at your face every now and again as he tattoos you, his view of your side profile and jawline begging him to keep looking. “You can move your head now. Got that upper outline all done.”

You turn your head to look at him, a smile pulling at your cheeks when you see he’s already looking up at you with hooded lids. He flashes you a small crooked grin before dipping his head back down and working on the rest of the outline. You squirm in your chair as the needle moves and works across your flesh, the area growing hot and tender.

You see a thin sheen of sweat forming on his arms under the heat of his overhead light, illuminating every dip and valley through the rolling veins on his hands. His wrist moves back and forth as he maneuvers the machine, his lip bitten between his teeth. Every few minutes his body must become sore because he moves his legs, adjusting in his seat before he brings his grip back to your shoulder.

He concentrates as he finishes the last of the outlining details, sitting up against the backrest of his chair and putting the gun down on his cart. “All done with the outline.” He smiles.

“Really?” You marvel excitedly. You peer down to take a look but huff once you realize you can’t bend your neck enough to get a good view.

Matt takes notice and leans over to grab the handheld mirror off his cart, except his left hand finds a spot atop your knee, sliding gingerly down your calf as he stretches toward his cart. As soon as his touch is there it’s gone. He leans back toward you and hands you the handle, smiling when you examine it in the mirror. “What do you think?”

You won’t lie to yourself, your pulse quickened when his hand brushed down your leg. Your only hope is he doesn’t notice the trail of goosebump he left behind in the absence of his touch. You struggle to find words, your mouth hanging open before you eventually find your voice. “I.. uh… l-looks really good.”

He exhales a small chuckle as he turns to switch the outlining needle for a shading needle. “Let me know if you need a break before I start this part.” He mumbles as he dips the set of needles into the well of ink.

You quickly shake your head. “Nope, get it over with.” You say flatly, closing your eyes. Shading is hit or miss, it either feels super relieving or like you’re getting shredded with a freshly sharpened cheese grater.

“That’s a good girl. All in one go, hm?” He murmurs as he scoots closer yet again.

He did not just say that. I’m thinking too much into this.

You give him a light chuckle and suck air in through your teeth once the needles meet your skin.

“Shhh.. you’re doing good. A lot better than a lot of crybaby men that have been on my table.” He coos as he drags the ink over the raw, bleeding skin.

If it wasn’t Matt you’d be much more of a mess. You’d probably be damn near in tears. But you can’t seem weak around him, so you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut as he shades and details the design. Your hands clench the air until your knuckles are white and throbbing, your body needing to release energy into anything other than the pain you’re in.

“Squeeze my arm if you need to. I don’t mind.” Matt proposes, stilling his movement and brushing his brown waves out of his eyes before looking at you expectantly.

You gulp and move your shaking hands to his bicep, wrapping your dainty fingers around the expanse of it lightly.

“C’mon, give me more than that.” He chuckles, “Just don’t squeeze hard enough that I fuck up your ink.”

You grip into his arm with more pressure, feeling his muscles expand and contract under his skin as he moves his forearm.

Thank god Darren left earlier. This looks so… personal.

When a small strained whimper slips out of your mouth he clears his throat, blinking hard as he wipes the tattoo with the paper towel in his left hand. He knows it’s because of the pain, he knows he shouldn’t enjoy the sound. But he does.

He can’t help himself as he finishes up the rest of the tattoo. He finds himself pressing the needle into your skin with more pressure than necessary, enough to draw more pretty sounds out of you and make you grip onto his arm. Enough for you to throw your head back onto the leather of the table, squirming your legs as you squeeze your eyes shut. He’d never do anything to mess up the integrity of his art, but god does he want to. He knows it’s wrong that his pants grow tighter with every move you make, every curse you let out as he pushes more and more ink into your skin. He sees this everyday, why is it affecting him like this?

The angel on his shoulder tells him to get the tattoo done, work fast and get you off his table. The devil on his other tells him to keep you here writhing and squeezing at him for as long as he can. His eyes drift across your sweaty face, your wet baby hairs sticking to your forehead. Your chest rises and falls as he digs in, taking his time to let the needle drag. His mind floods with sin, his hands desperately aching to pull the neckline of your tank top even a millimeter lower.

Your harsh squeeze to his arm snaps him out of his stream of thought, realizing he’d been keeping this on for too long, causing you unnecessary pain. Lifting the needle from your skin, he examines the finished piece for a moment. “All done.” He says flatly, pulling his arm from your grasp to set the machine down on his cart.

“Fuck… that was intense.” You breathe out, turning your head toward him.

“Mmm but you did great. Sat so well.” He praises as he grabs a bottle of cleaning solution.

You have no time to react before he’s squirting the liquid onto your collarbone, a harsh pulsing sting deep in your skin. “Oh that’s… fucking horrible.” You do your best to laugh through the sting.

He laughs along with you, nodding while he lets his eyes watch the droplets that flow down your chest and into the valley of your cleavage. He tears his eyes away and looks at his cart, scoffing when his box of paper towels proves empty. “Gotta go get some more paper towels,” he holds up the box, “be right back.”

“I won’t move a muscle.” You giggle and lean back onto the table.

He offers a quick smile before standing up, quickly turning around and walking to the utility closet across the studio. Once inside and out of view, he lets his hand wander down to the waistband of his jeans, slowly trailing lower to brush over his throbbing erection. He knows this is bad. He’s never had this kind of reaction to a client, and he can’t be crazy. He knows he’s seen you looking too.

He lets his rough fingertips push his shirt up and dip beneath his jeans and boxers, grabbing ahold of his pulsing cock with a slow, shaking breath. He pulls it up and tucks it into his waistband, knowing he can’t let you see the struggling tent in his pants when he walks back into the studio.

He quickly grabs a new sterile stack of paper towels and fills the empty box, sighing deeply before he begins the walk back to his station.

“They were up on a high shelf huh? Had to find a ladder?” You joke, poking fun at the fact he took longer than expected.

“Oh yeah. Had to call the fire department actually. Like when there’s a cat stuck in a tree.” He quips back with a laugh, sitting down and letting his chair roll closer to you.

He rubs the cleaning solution away and beams at his work. He may have taken longer than he needed, but damn if you didn’t get an insanely detailed snake piece. He grabs a package of Saniderm from his cart and peels the backing off, slowly applying it to the raw skin. “Leave this on for like two or three days, you can shower in it, sleep in it, the whole nine yards. It’ll start lifting and you’ll know it’s time to take it off.”

“Hmm.. Alex always uses plastic wrap.” You say questioningly, peering down at the clear bandage.

“That’s because she’s old.” He says matter of factly, peeling his gloves off and tossing them in the trash.

“She’s 35!” You chuckle and smack his shoulder.

“Yeah… old.” He replies as he fishes into his pocket. “Gotta get a picture of this, it turned out so sick.” He pulls his phone out and opens his camera, zooming in until he has the right angle and snapping a photo.

“Don’t post that, I bet I look busted.” You whine, sitting up and stretching your back.

“Well sweetheart, your face isn’t in the picture. But for the record, I think you look pretty good for a girl who just got a metric fuck ton of ink shoved into her collarbone with a needle.” He says as he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

Your breath hitches inaudibly in your throat, heat lapping at your cheeks.

I have to play it cool. He didn’t call me pretty. He’s saying I took the tattoo well, that’s all.

“Thanks, Matt.” You smile, throwing your legs off the table and letting your feet hit the floor.

“After you.” He gestures his arm out as he stands, knowing he has to take the opportunity to walk behind you this time.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and walk down the hallway, feeling his eyes bore into the back of your head the entire way.

Except his eyes bore into everything he missed out on earlier. Your toned, smooth calves and up to your plush thighs that wiggle as you walk. The curve of your ass in your shorts. The way your hips sway with each step, taunting his still half-hard member.

You reach the front desk and peek into the mirror on the wall to the left of it, admiring the fresh ink. You can’t stop ogling at it as he prints out a receipt, walking up to the register and silently watching you. You turn your head to him and mumble an “oops”, stepping back to the center of the desk and grabbing the receipt from him. “Only $120?” You exclaim, widening your eyes as you look up to him.

He gives you a light nod and a shrug, brushing his hand through his fluffy waves. “You took it like a champ. Plus, I know you’ll be back. Gotta give that recurring customer discount, right?”

You know your cheeks are fire engine red at this point as you dig for your wallet, feeling as if you’re taking too long.

Am I being crazy or is that flirting? He’s flirting, right?

You open your wallet and dig out the cash, adding a generous tip to the stack before you hand it over. “I really appreciate it, Matt.”

“Not a problem. You have my number if you need anything else.” He returns as he sorts the cash into the register. He flicks his eyes back up and meets yours, a brief, almost-too-long moment of eye contact held between you two.

You blink hard a few times before clearing your throat and nodding, stepping back from the counter. “You got it. Thanks again.”

You turn on your feet and head for the door, pushing it open while your brain spins with thoughts of your encounter.

What the fuck was that?

—————

authors note: part two??? lmk 😈😈😈

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chaptersleftunwritten · 4 months ago

Text

Demanding more

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Blurb: After Chrissy’s unfaithfulness to Eddie, Eddie realises that maybe he has been harbouring feelings for you for longer than he ever cared to notice. Is it too late for him to make it up to you?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Friend!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, slight angst (I know, I’m sorry!), mutual pining, cursing, alcohol consumption, trust issues, claustrophobia, some out of character anger from Eddie, reckless fire usage, pet names, kissing. Characters are 20+

divider by @sxmmerberries & @reveriesources

“I need to know that you’re okay.”

Silence. A deep void of idle and infinite dark.

“I need to know that you’re going to be okay, at least…”

A plead. Bruised knees. Quaking breath. Clasped hands shaking. No rest.

“What do you want me to say? Tell me word for word and I’ll say it.” Eddie’s voice is a hoarse croak and the small light that you harbour in your chest dampens further at the sound, “I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t understand why you keep coming back to see me.”

“Because I love you.”

“Because you’re my friend.” The blade wedged into the bone of your sternum plunges further and twists mercilessly; so agonisingly paralysing that you almost wince aloud at the pain.

Red, tear burnt eyes meet yours and you internally flinch at the sight. You’ve never seen Eddie this way. So broken… so defeated.

It’s as if nettles sting at your own eyes and you blink away any moisture that threatens to gather on your waterline, “We are friends, right?” You ask again. Breathless and uncertain.

Before the chaos of the fight at the party you couldn’t remember much, so it scared you to know that you had contact with Eddie and you couldn’t remember what you had said to him. Or what he had said to you…

“Correct.” He forces a smile, just for you.

The relief that washes over you dissolves the palpable tension that smothered the air and Eddie feels his own rigidness melt away at the realisation that you weren’t the one who hurt him. Yes, you were Chrissy’s friend, but you weren’t her. You weren’t Chrissy. And you didn’t deserve this cold shoulder that he was dishing out to everyone.

He could be himself around you.

“I’m gonna be okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much.” He offers you a tight lipped smile and you return one similar except that it was full of sincerity and warmth.

“I get that I can’t change what happened, but I can be here with you and hold your hand through the storm,” you sigh softly, adverting your gaze to a nearby decaying rose. It’s petals have turned a dark wine colour and its stem has moulded, “I know what it’s like to watch someone that you lov- admire, turn their attention to someone else. Someone that isn’t you.” Your mouth sours and you feel your lips pinch downward at the corners faintly, “It gets easier with time. I’m sure you’ll find someone who’ll love you until their dying breath.”

The cool breeze lifts your hair from your knitted sweater clad shoulders, allowing the strands to flow freely behind you. You embrace the feeling of the freshness upon your skin. There was something so comforting about it. Something so freeing: like being reborn. Rejuvenated. You allow your eyes to close momentarily as you replenish yourself, letting your spirit breathe.

You quickly clam up at the sight of Eddie’s hawk like gaze fixated on your face when your eyes reopen and your cheeks flush furiously; your body’s way of punishing you for being so open and vulnerable around him.

“You seem like you’re busy,” you gesture knowingly to the scrap pieces of paper laid in front of him that had a bunch of sloppily written lyrics scored across it, “I’ll leave you be.” You punctuate your words with a brisk rise to your feet and you flatten out your jeans mindlessly that had become wrinkled from being perched cross legged on the grass. Eddie’s eyes never leave you. Not for a second.

“I’ll see you around, then?” He asks, his voice is a croak.

“Of course. I’ll see you later, Eddie.” You sling your heavy book bag over your shoulder as you prepare yourself to walk away.

He stops you in your tracks, “Call me Ed’s.” It’s evident that Eddie didn’t intend for his words to sound as desperate as they did and you try your best to ignore the plea in his voice. Out of respect for him and his situation.

“Okay.” You breathe softly with a nod and a sweet but sombre smile, “Bye, Ed’s.”

Eddie’s eyes warm as they watch you walk away and he even chuckles lightly to himself at how you look bashfully back at him over your shoulder; only to quickly dart your vision in front of you at the realisation that he was also admiring you.

And in that exact moment, Eddie can see a light at the end of this endless dark tunnel. In the form of a friend. An honest, loving and cherished friend…

You.

‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.’

William Shakespeare

Part of you felt sickeningly grateful that this had happened. As much as you hated the fact that Eddie was wounded, it gave you a feeling of opportunity. To be there for him and for him to realise how great you can be. How perfect you are for him.

However, upon witnessing his stinging red and bloodshot eyes that could only have come from his penetrative sadness you realise that you couldn’t see this as an ‘opportunity’. You couldn’t throw yourself at his feet and hope for his love to finally be requited. Not with him being so deeply hurt. So vulnerable and delicate.

Not delicate like a flower. Delicate like a bomb.

These silly ideals only happened in the fairy tales. The prince saves the princess from the wicked villain and they run off together to live happily ever after. But this was real life…

And there was no one coming to save you.

So instead, you settle for just being his friend. The friend that he has always had. The friend, that is all you’ll ever be to Edward Munson.

There comes a tricky time in your life where you just have to accept that some things will never be. They weren’t written in the stars the way you had always dreamed. Your prayers weren’t answered and all of your attempts at happiness and perfection fail.

You have to accept it. And move on.

No matter the cost. No matter how agonising. You had to ignore the gaping hole in your chest that laid bleeding all over the earth beneath your feet. Your sky tainted red with blood and fury and your tears and skin were flames. You had to endure this Hell.

For him.

And you could do it. You had walked through fire before— you were numb to the blistering heat.

But what you couldn’t handle was the claustrophobia you were feeling at The Hideout whilst you watched Eddie rock his feelings out from his bones. From his quaking soul. The low lit hall was captured in a Hellish red glowing aura and reality begins to distort around you.

“I wrote a song for a girl that wasn’t really worth my time,” Sweat glistens on Eddie’s body, dripping down the curve of his neck and from his face. His drenched black unruly curls stick to his forehead and you watch a drunken and sinister smile possess his face as he pulls a few sheets of paper from the back pocket of his distressed jeans, “And what’d you do when people waste your time?” He is handed a petrol lighter by Gareth, “You burn that shit to the fucking ground!” He screams in a rage you have never heard come from his sweet pillowy lips as he flicks the flint and engulfs the pages in hot red crimson. A strum from his guitar screeches through the space, rattling your ears and causing your heart to palpitate heavily.

The crowd goes ballistic, like wild animals and you are suddenly in a mosh pit of adrenaline surged metal heads. All banging their heads and leaping around. People grab your shoulders to try to propel themselves upward and into the band’s line of vision all whilst unknowingly forcing you down toward the linoleum ground.

Black spots fill your vision and your knees threaten to give out beneath you as you struggle to suck air into your lungs. An avalanche of sweaty body’s drowning you until you are nearly crouched onto the floor and you accept your fate as your hands brace themselves— stuck to the tarnished pattern beneath your sneakers.

“Woah, woah, woah!! Guys, c’mon! Open up! Open the fuck up! Let’s be respectful!” Eddie leaps from the stage platform and the crowd parts like the Red Sea at his presence, “Not cool man, this isn’t what we do here.” Gareth continues to drum on a beat as Eddie’s silhouette looms over you like a dark angel sent from above. His palm outstretched toward your cowering frame and you take it hesitantly; caught off guard by his strength that springs you to your feet.

“Y’alright, sweetheart? You good?” Your chest heaves for air as Eddie leads you back through the crowd and to the front of the stage, his hand clutching yours like there’s no tomorrow, “Stay right here where I can see ya.” One of his chocolate brown eyes wink at you and you feel as if you could levitate.

“Where was I? Oh, yeah! Let’s fucking do this!!” And the song continues to shock and shake the room with every pulse and strum of an instrument. The crowd returning back to how they were moments ago.

Feral.

And Eddie meant what he said. He was looking at you the entire time. Making sure you were okay.

“So…” you twirl a strand of your hair around your index finger. It wasn’t intentionally flirtatious, it was something you found great comfort in when you were feeling particularly on edge and Eddie had the scary capability of always putting you there: teetering on possibility of falling from the cliff side, “You really wrote a song for Chrissy?”

The stalky man hums, “Yeah. It was garbage, though. It wasn’t real… in the end.” His gentle eyes harden, “The lesson here is that not everyone deserves a song written about them. I don’t know how all the bigger musicians do it all of the time. So faux. So deluding.” He sips at a can of beer he has held loosely between his fingers, “Thank you for coming tonight. It got a bit rowdy in there.”

A set of traffic lights above your head capsulate you and Eddie in a ghoulish green haze, sharpening your features and turning Eddie’s chocolate eyes to look more like deep and black bullet holes. No light was reflected in them. They gaped and swallowed every speck.

“You have such raw talent, Ed’s. It would silly of me to not come and see you play.” You offer him a toothy grin, “Besides, when you make it to be big and famous I can say ‘Hey, I know that guy!’ And everyone will swoon and ask me for stories about you.” Your comic words cause Eddie to laugh and shake his head.

“You won’t have to tell people that you know me, Hon. I’ll be there in the flesh to solidify your fairytales.” The way Eddie spoke enchanted you. It didn’t matter what he was saying— he had this magical enticing lull to his voice that sent you into a trance of total calmness. You were incredibly smitten by him.

The pizza place across the street engulfs your nostrils with the perfume of freshly baked bread and burnt cheese. The lights on the building flicker in your peripheral and you watch as people pumped full of toxins waddle and sway their way over to it from The Hideout. Drunk and in desperate need of some grease and salt.

“You saved me tonight, Y’know? If it weren’t for you I think I would’ve been crushed to death in there.” The chilly night air around you stills, “Truly. You are my knight in shining leather, Eddie Munson.” You pinch at the sleeve of his leather jacket with a giggle and Eddie crushes his beer can with a soft smile and tosses it into a nearby trash bin.

“You’re welcome, M’lady,” He bows down in front of you, almost curtsying, “It was a treacherous journey indeed and an act of cowardly courage but it ensured your safety. So, it was a risk worth pursuing.”

He was such a nerd and his dorkiness made you laugh a little too abruptly. But it was something you loved so much about him. His ability to stay creative and to stay in touch with his inner child. His vulnerability and his strength. You admired it. You were enamoured by him.

“How are you getting home tonight? Do you have a ride?”

You shake your head, “Oh, no. I was probably going to walk and take in the night air. It’s not too late.” You give a tiny shrug of your shoulders and Eddie eyes you knowingly, his head tilted to the side.

“I can drive you. If you want?” His ringed fingers plunge into the pockets of his coat and you chew your lip in thought.

Of course you wanted him to take you home. But it was best for you to remain two steps away from him. For the safety of your own heart.

“You’ve been drinking tonight… I don’t think it would be wise for us to climb into a piece of heavy machinery together.” Eddie’s eyes flicker from you to over his right shoulder as he peeks at his van that is parked across the street a few paces away. A small yellow ticket adorns his windshield and he curses under his breath at the sight of it.

Eddie’s head bounces in the form of a nod, “You’re right. Safer that way,” He palms the back of his neck in a wringing motion, “I’ll see you soon then? Maybe you can call me when you get home… to let me know you’re okay. Obviously.”

A side of Eddie you had never seen before was beginning to unveil itself to you and you were sceptical of if it were a good thing or bad thing. He was being overly cautious and protective of you and your whereabouts. He was showing you such care and consideration. Was he using you as a rebound? Or did he genuinely worry for you?

“Yeah. Maybe.” You bite back the acid ridden annoyance in your tone, trying your best not to jump to any conclusions about Eddie’s intentions with you. But with the way he was looking at you, how were you supposed to truly know?

“I’ll wait by the phone.” He smiles so sweetly it could cause your teeth to decay— but that paranoid part of you wouldn’t allow you to enjoy this moment. The bruised pieces of your heart were telling you to run far far away. And to never look back.

“Goodnight, Eddie.” Your voice was rushed and monotonous.

“Call me, Ed’s—“

Your back is turned swifter than the gust of wind whipping at your face and hair and Eddie watches you, helplessly, as you disappear into the thick of the night with a slightly dampened heart and a small frown on his face.

‘Love is friendship that has caught fire.’

Ann Landers

“Hello?” Eddie’s voice sounds through the phone receiver, groggy and hoarse. Your heart does somersaults in your chest and excitement finds itself burying between your thighs.

“Did you wait by the phone?” You reply, slightly embarrassed and meek. It was now 1:30am and the night was beginning to spill into the morning. You were becoming delirious with lack of sleep and it was bleeding through every word you spoke.

“It’s you,” He chirps much more perkily now, “Did you get home alright?” You can hear a shift of fabric on the other end of the line, like a duvet cover rustling and you can only assume that Eddie was repositioning himself in bed.

“Yeah, that’s why I called, actually. I wanted to let you know I was okay. I didn’t want you to worry…” You don’t quite understand why you said it, but you did. Over the past couple of weeks Eddie had hinted at caring for you. He had given you more attention than ever before and so naturally… you thought he really did care. And that he might actually be worried about you making it home in one piece.

“Thanks.” The line goes quiet for a quick beat and it gives your paranoia every just cause to bubble to the surface.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You finish your sentence with an unintentional gulp as your mouth longs for hydration.

“I was only dozing off a little, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you called, sweetheart.” There’s that nickname again. The one you have come to adore. You can hear his sleepy smile through the phone, “You are probably the only person who has ever called me this late,” His quiet laugh is fatigued and careful as to not alarm his uncle who is destined to be sleeping close by, “Did you enjoy the concert tonight?”

You hum, “I did.”

Eddie hums a tune back, like a bird singing you to sleep, “And what was your favourite song?”

You are quiet for a moment, reminiscent and concentrated.

“I would have to say the one about the rose. I hadn’t heard it before,” You grin to yourself, “Can you sing it for me?”

There is a shocked waver to Eddie’s deep voice, “What— like, right now?” You can sense his jitters through the telephone.

“Only the chorus…” Although he can’t see your face, you pout out your bottom lip pleadingly, “Please?”

There is another shift of movement on the other end of the line and Eddie clears his throat, full of hesitance, “Alright.” His voice is clipped, “Just remember that this debuted today so it is basically still a work in progress…”

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint his emotion, but you could tell that he was experiencing some sort of shyness and there was a slight withdrawal. He was no longer as confident as he was talking to you moments ago.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, I was only joking around—“

“No no, I want to. I’m glad you liked it… it means a lot to me, darling.”

Darling. That’s a new one.

Vibrations hit your ears as Eddie skilfully hums the tune to the song, manipulating his voice to lyrically match his beautifully dark words.

“And even if you were nothing but a wilted flower with a shrinking stem, I would still hold you close and preserve you in the worn pages of my blackened heart. The reason that I’m breathing, the love that keeps me reaping… oh.. oh oh,” He pauses for breath, “And you keep on bleeding, Oh… oh oh.”

As his words disperse into deafening silence on the phone you sit completely statue still. Almost too afraid to move. Petrified to disturb the moment. His songs were like poetry and it nearly brought you to a flood of tears.

“That was… wow…” You release a deep breath out through your nostrils, “You should consider recording an acoustic version, Ed’s, because that was… epic.”

“You think so?” He asks with shock laced in his tone and you swear you can see his brown puppy dog eyes looking right at you. But maybe they were just seared into your memory. He was embedded into your soul.

“One hundred percent.” Your fingers shakily toy with the hem of your cotton sleep shorts, the pads of your finger tips tracings the small pink love hearts that have been sewn into the light fabric and you feel a sudden surge of energy. Excitement. Adrenaline. Happiness.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You really are too kind to me.”

Before you can respond Eddie is yawning into the cavity of your ear and you can hear him struggling to keep the expression silent.

“It’s getting late,” Your eyes follow the coiled wire attached to your phone as they search for the clock on your night stand. It now read 1:55am, “I understand if you want to try and hit the hay. Early bird gets the worm, right?”

“We can chat a little longer, if you’d like?” He suggests casually, “I’m usually a night owl anyways, it’s the booze making me a little drowsy but it’s wearing off. Can feel it.”

You bite back a shit-eating smile.

“I’d like that. How about we stay on the line until 2:15am and then we can call it quits?” You come to sit up on your mattress in a cross legged position, your legs comfortably sitting in a basket as you move yourself closer to the phone receiver, “Deal?”

There’s a brief pause.

“Deal.”

The blood orange rays slicing through your bedroom curtains awoke you rudely and you rapidly blink away the sunlight, almost blinded by its intensity. The sound of bird wings flapping into fight filled the eerily quiet atmosphere of your room and a loud groan vibrates from your tired throat as you force yourself up into a stretch with your arms extended above your head.

You were optimistic about the day until you caught a glimpse through the glass and saw the rain dancing devilishly against the concrete. It’s was as though the water mocked you. With every hellish dance it thundered against the ground your feelings for Eddie only grew fonder. It grinned evilly in your face with every feeble attempt you made to forget him. A reminder that no matter what you did, he would always be there. He would always possess your soul. Your efforts would always ultimately fail.

By the time you burst into your morning lecture you are soaked to the bone from head to toe. Your hair sticks in drenched ringlets to your shivering goosebump covered skin and the fabric of your clothes cling for dear life to your limbs. No corner of your body was left unseen. Every curve prominent and protruding.

“You’re late.” Professor Hunter snarls distastefully beneath his breath, his Dublin accent bleeding through as you pass by his large dark oak stained desk to a free seat. He smelt of lingering coffee breath and musk; almost like he had smoked a cigarette moments before entering the room and washed it down with an americano. His black hair was pinstriped with grey, patterned like a skunks tail and his face was covered in messy prickly looking stubble. His blue eyes were heavily lidded as they searched your face in annoyance, longing for a poor excuse for your short coming with his square glasses braced on the bridge of his slender nose.

“I’m only 3 minutes late—“

“Still. You showed up late to my lecture.”

“I’m sorry, I—“ He cuts you off, again.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

You bite your tongue, swallowing your backbone alongside every word you wished to say. As you sunk further into the green plush pillow of the velvet seat beneath you and your clothes slowly dried to be somewhat bearable you felt a heat growing on the back of your head and your mind filled with the inkling that someone was looking at you.

Mustering the strength to look back over your shoulder your breath catches in your throat at the two chestnut eyes that are staring right back at you. Eddie is shameless with his gaze and you fumble beneath it. Your cheeks heat to boiling point and your legs twitch toward the auditorium door; prepared to run, if needed.

Eddie’s lips twitch at the corners and you can tell within that very moment that he is biting back a laugh. It triggers something within you, a spontaneous and contagious response that causes your own shoulders to tremble as you try and contain a chuckle. Normally, you would take a scolding from a lecturer seriously but something about the whole situation humoured you in an abnormal way. You were giggling at something totally mediocre and you blamed Munson.

“What’s so funny, doll?” Your urge to erupt into a fit of laughter like a volcanic explosion subsides and dies quickly as your eyes settle on the male next to you.

Shaggy ringlets fall effortlessly to frame his perfectly blush cheeks and intense blue eyes narrow in on your features, making you retract and become comically still. His eyes were fire in water, filled to the brim with raging anger bubbling below their surface— like a tormented ocean battling against jagged rocks.

Billy Hargrove.

Billy fucking Hargrove had parked his denim clad ass right next to you.

You had heard the things about him. The craze surrounding his reputation. You knew what it was like to have his knuckles fracture your jaw— all because someone had told you about it in explicit detail.

You would never forgive Chrissy for explaining to you in intricate analysis what his dick felt like and what it looked like after their hook up before she sunk her claws into Eddie. She always felt the need to boast about those things to you— to make you feel inferior. And it worked a large majority of the time.

Billy smelt soil-rich with a hint of apple blossom and you found yourself fixated on the dark thickness of his eyebrows. So sharp and clean, like a knife, “Fine, don’t tell me.” He rolls his eyes at you and begins to tap the end of his pencil against the arm of his chair, “Better hope you weren’t laughing at me, though, sweetie.”

“No, I wasn’t laughing at you. I would never— why would I?” You wheeze nervously, your arms crossed over your chest as your finger nails dig into the plush flesh of your bicep.

Billy shrugs his massive meaty shoulders, his crystal like hues focusing on the hints of rain that still lingered in your hair and on your clothes, “You must be freezing, sat there in damp clothes. You want this? I’m not gonna wear it.” You stare doe eyed at the denim jacket he holds clutched tightly in his grasp, his fist outstretched toward you.

You eye him cautiously for a moment, waiting to see if he will withdraw his offer and laugh in your face but he doesn’t. In fact, he smiles at you and now you are left to question every piece of information you thought you knew about Billy.

Shakily, your own fingers wrap around the rough fabric as you take the jacket from him. A burgundy settles on your cheeks and you whisper a meek, “Thank you.” Which Billy only nods in response at.

You know it was just an innocent gesture and that there is no way Billy Hargrove would be remotely interested in you like that but still you couldn’t stop the ridiculous dark colour from painting your cheeks maroon as you slid your arms through the sleeves of his coat. A hushed sigh of relief washes over your body as warmth envelops you kindly.

And as Eddie watched from a few rows behind you, like a stranger looking through someone’s window. He knew. In that very moment, Eddie knew. Every whisper that his heart made that he quickly shut down because he was afraid and foolish. Every beaming smile that nearly split his face in half the moment he saw you from across the room. His sweaty palms and his over protective nature around you. It all finally made sense. Puzzle pieces clicking together effortlessly, almost mocking him with their clarity. He had overlooked them for so long. These signs that all pointed in the same direction; to you.

It angered him. His stupidity, immaturity and ignorance raged him in a way he had never felt before. His fury came like an impossible build up of steam which burnt his insides on its way out. And he deserved it. Every scolding piece of black tar that stuck itself to his flesh.

Anger, sadness, pain— so intertwined that perhaps their names ought to be tweaked to reflect the origins of those emotions. To show their raw authenticity and truth.

Eddie had lied to himself. He had led himself a stray. He had pulled the wool over his own two eyes and completely missed the angel that had been in front of him this entire time. Even when he was in a relationship with Chrissy, he felt that something had shifted that day at the movie theatre. Something unchangeable and unshakeable. He just wasn’t sure what it was.

This was the epiphany. His world stood still and everyone else seemed to fade from his vision into total nothingness as he admired you from afar.

But was he too late to tell you? Did you still feel anything for him? Because from where he was standing, it seemed as if you were ready to move on to someone new. Someone better than he is.

The saddest part was that he just wanted to see you happy. To see you smiling genuinely. For your eyes to light up and scrunch at the corners. For you to be as loved as much as you love others. As much as you loved him.

He had to tell you. Even if it would break his heart to hear you say that you didn’t want him anymore. Even if it felt like he was on the brink of death, walking barefoot along the sharp blade of a lengthy sword. He would bleed for you. He would paint himself scarlet in exchange for your love.

Thunder clapped the sky and lightning lit the murky clouds momentarily with lavender purple as it zapped through the air. Water was still pelting heavily onto the concrete and you dreaded the idea of having to walk 20 minutes to get back home. Classes had flown by and now you were waiting by the large glass exit, staring aimlessly out at how ferocious Mother Nature could truly be. That’s when a shadowy reflection appeared next to you.

“In need of a chariot ride, M’ lady?” As you turn to look over your shoulder you are met with Eddie’s signature Cheshire Cat smile and your heart does leaps and bounds in your chest, “This time around I am totally 100% sober, so the journey should be a pleasant one. No one’s lives are at risk...” Your mind flicks back to the night of his gig and how uncontrollable your powerful feelings multiplied for him. You were reminded of the sour fact that Eddie would never feel this way about you— he wouldn’t feel as tortured as you did with his close proximity. It was agony. Having him so close and yet so far. Your fingertips just out of reach.

Eddie was gazing at you like you were miles away but in reality you're only a few feet in front of him. His stare is hard, intense, but also melting and blank. As if he were on another planet and you somehow were the one who transported him there.

“I would really appreciate that, Ed’s. But only if you’re sure? My house is pretty out of the way…” You were currently living at home with your parents but you had been searching online for apartments closer to the campus grounds, considering you’ll be attending classes for the next three years of your life. Some of which looked as though they were pulled from your wildest dreams. Warm and whimsical. You just had to save up enough for the deposit and luckily you had started work at a close by diner as a waitress. The hourly rate was shitty but the tips were great; especially from the regulars who liked you.

“I would never leave you to walk home in that storm, love. Besides, it’s been a few days since I’ve seen you so I thought we can hang out for a little bit,” You watch as Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down nervously, “I’ll let you pick the music?”

An offer he knew that you couldn’t refuse.

“Even Kate Bush?” You always had a cassette tape of hers in your backpack with your walk-man.

A dramatic pause embraces Eddie.

“Yes. Even Kate Bush.” He offers you a tight lipped smile.

And just like that, you were sold.

It was a torrential race to get to the car without getting totally soaked but once you were both inside you burst into a fit of giggles, laboured breaths filling the small space as you watched the water stream down the front windscreen endlessly, “Wow, it really is chucking it down!” You try to smooth out your rain streaked hair and you tuck it behind your ears, shivering at the mere sight of the trees swaying back and forth with the strong wind. The sound of Eddie clipping in his seat belt draws your attention over to him and you ultimately find yourself unable to look anywhere else. You were a crow to Eddie’s shimmer. A moth to his flame. You were a girl who was freezing a moment ago and now it’s as if sunshine has met your skin and you no longer felt a thing.

“Remember your seatbelt.” Boldly, Eddie decides to reach over your frame and click you securely into the plush passenger seat, his fingers running under the belt across your lap as he pulled the strap tightly over your body. Corseting your into place. His touch lingers near you for a moment and you could have sworn you saw Eddie’s eyes flash with something foreign. Something distant and hidden. But whatever it was, he kept it tucked away.

He killed it.

“Are you warm enough? I can crank this bad boy up a notch if you want.” He plays with the AC thermostat, the tip of his tongue darted out to rest on his bottom lip in total concentration as warm air eventually starts blasting toward you and instantly your tense muscles relax.

“That’s lovely, thank you.” It was already beginning to get dark outside and there was something oddly comforting about listening to the rain pour down onto the metal roof of Eddie’s van as you both sat in total silence with one another. In the low light, just basking in the peace of one another’s presence, “I could stay like this forever.” Your thumbs fumble with each other.

“Yeah,” Your eyes meet his, “Me too, sweetheart.” It was strange to think that one singular persons existence could bring you so much fulfilment and happiness. As you looked at Eddie now, your soul smiled along side your mouth. Everything leading up to this simple moment felt right. Prophesied. Etched into ancient stone. Your love for Eddie would die with you. And even from the grave, you would push up roses that would bloom to spell his name.

“Eddie…” You had been here before. Confessing. Pleading. Rationalising. Chasing. You were sure he would listen this time— you were almost certain that he would actually talk to you about your feelings for him. Maybe his opinions of you had changed. Maybe… maybe he felt the same way.

“Yeah?” Masterfully, Eddie hid the hopeful jitter in his voice. And unfortunately, it was just enough for you to back step fully and keep your thoughts to yourself

“You… you remember where I live, right? I can totally give you directions if not. No biggie.” The three words you longed to say burrowed themselves back down into your chest, your heart spluttering and coughing as they forced their way back inside; where they’d remain for the foreseeable future.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s chest also tightened with disappointment and devastation. But he had faith, and he knew that the right moment would come. Even if he had to initiate it.

“Of course I do— sort of… maybe? Okay, you may need to direct me a tiny bit.” His index finger and thumb pinch together momentarily to signify the minuscule amount of direction he may need from you and you smile knowingly at him. Content.

“Shall we see to it?” You gesture toward the road.

“We shall.” Eddie grins cockily as he shifts his rust bucket into gear and speeds off into the road, chuckling at the quick intake of breath he hears come from you as you gasp at a nearby car beeping at Eddie’s abrupt merge into traffic, “Relax, I’m a great driver. Promise. I could do this with my eyes closed—“

“Don’t you dare!” You squeal and Eddie’s nose crinkles as he laughs full heartedly beside you.

“Sweetheart, relax!! I would never endanger you like that…” He winks slyly at you and you shake your head with the hugest smile adoring your face. Adrenaline floods your veins from your near panic attack moments ago and you run your fingertips through your damp and tangled hair; slightly stressed.

That’s when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the winged side mirror and your heart plummets quickly to the pit of your stomach. Your mascara had streaked down your face and your hair was a bird nest upon your head from the wind and rain. Your clothes looked tattered and ruined and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t sorted yourself out sooner. Eddie was right next to you and you looked like a hot bag of dogshit.

“You could’ve told me I had mascara under my eyes,” You try to joke it off with a feeble laugh, wiping your fingers furiously across the delicate skin of your under eyes in an attempt to make yourself look half presentable but you knew that this wasn’t an easy fix, “God, I look a mess.” You gnaw on your bottom lip to contain your sudden urge to cry.

“What? No you don’t, not at all!” Eddie’s thick eyebrows knit together on his forehead, “I thought that was the look you were going for, honest! You were rocking it!” Eddie’s attempt to lighten the mood fails and a newfound panic washes over him, “You are beautiful all the same, hon. Cross my heart.” Eddie’s ears are met with a ringing silence as your eyes fixate on the road ahead and he swears in that moment he can hear your heart shatter.

You recognised the street and you knew that your house was now close by. Just a little further. Any minute now you would be able to feel despair openly and free of judgement; all you had to do was make it home and get far away from the curly haired man next to you.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice is so soft, like silk being brushed across your skin as he pulls the van into your driveway. It makes you want to vomit.

“I’ll catch you later, Ed’s.” Your words shake as they leave your throat and you dive from the passenger seat at an alarming speed but Eddie is just as quick to follow after you. Hot on your heels with his engine left grumbling in the distance behind him.

“Wait— please stop!” His ringed fingers hook hastily and strongly around your wrist, stilling your movements as he whips you around to meet his towering frame.

You jerk your arm away from his grasp gently but he remains planted, “Please let me go inside, Eddie,” Your tears mix with the tears falling from the clouds above you and Eddie swallows thickly, trying to remain as calm as he possibly could but his raging heart and the frog in his throat was heavily preventing that, “Please—“

“You need to hear this.” Your dripping lips part in total awe as you watch Eddie become restless in front of you— his inner turmoil mirroring the storm beating down onto the pair of you, “I… fuck.. I..” He grapples with himself and you watch him search frantically for the right words. Eddie wanted this to be perfect. But that’s the thing— he wasn’t perfect. And he would never be perfect.

“Fuck it. Fuck it!!” His inky eyes ignite and suddenly he is so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating from his skin, “I’m in love with you. I’m so desperately in love with you.”

“There is no perfect lover. We are all flawed, but knowing those flaws and still loving with all of your heart creates perfect love. I will never look further than you. If my heart is a flower waiting to bloom, your love is the only breath of sunshine it needs.” Both of your hands end up rested in Eddie’s palms as his thumbs stroke over each of your knuckles, “I have been foolish. Completely moronic— because I hadn’t noticed this before. I hadn’t acknowledged my own feelings for you. And you don’t have to say anything… but you should know, love.”

You have gone into complete shock. Your limbs feel as though they are weighed down by chunky chains and your throat doesn’t allow you to speak. But your eyes… your eyes are blown to the size of teacup saucers. Gaping open wide.

“I’ve tried to bury it, to push you out, but even the ground beneath me trembles with your name! I love you… I’ve loved you for a long time, I think, and I understand if you no longer feel the same about me. I have left you waiting— I have starved you of love and I only wish you happiness. I want you to be so fucking happy, baby.”

Baby. He called you baby. And now you are floating above your body like a ghost trapped between heaven and earth.

“Are… are you sure?” You’re crying now and your vision blurs with the salty water. Your mascara stings your eyes and you have to battle the urge to collapse to your knees in front of him. This is all you have ever wanted for the longest time. You have counted down the milliseconds leading up to this. And now it’s here… and you don’t know if Eddie is being sincere or not.

"You don’t get it, do you? Every time I walk away, the ground pulls me back toward you like I’m tethered to this place, to you!" Eddie let’s go of your hands and you feel like your only form of support has left you defenceless. His heavy black leather boots slap against the concrete as he paces in front of you, “‘Am I sure?’ Of course I am! Of course I’m sure, sweetheart. I am drawn to you in a way that can only be described as witch craft. I am under a spell that I never want to awake from. You are the only person I ever want to talk to— the only person I want to be around. You are all that matters to me. I want to know what you do in the mornings and what perfume you like to wear. I ache to know your every thought and what makes you laugh— and what makes you cry.” Eddie is breathless as his body swoops back toward yours and his palms find your face as he cups your cheeks steadily, his eyes dart all over your face, trying to figure out which part of you he want to set his eyes on the most but it's impossible.

“My heart belongs to you. It always has; I was just too blind to see it. And if you never want to see me again I will respect that. But you had to know.” Eddie breaks down into a sob, the thought alone of losing you causes his heart to crumble into dust inside of his chest, “You had to know that I love you.”

Both of your eyelids fall closed and Eddie rests his soaked forehead against yours. His breathing is erratic and your fingertips cling to the denim his overcoat. Grasping on for dear life, “I love you, Eddie. Oh Eddie, My Eddie— you have no idea how long I have prayed for this moment. To hear those words. Those three fucking words.” You let out a noise that can only be described as half a cry and half a laugh and Eddie joins you, “I love you more than words can explain.”

Eddie recoils his face away from yours and for a moment you are frightened as you watch his expression harden into something more serious, “Sweetheart, can I kiss you?”

And as the words emit past his lips, your worry dissolves into total ecstasy.

“Please— kiss me and never stop.”

You had never imagined this is how your first kiss with Eddie would play out. In your drive way and in the pouring rain. It was beyond perfect. Something that you could watch on a movie screen. The old romance you loved to read about—but this time, it was yours.

Yours and Eddie’s.

You never wanted this fever dream to end; and thankfully, it never had to.

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#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #beauty is a beast that roars #down on all fours #demanding more #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #chapter talks #chaptersleftunwritten

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peachsukii · 6 months ago

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₊✩‧₊ ⎯ after hours Another midnight stuck in the office, paperwork and tech piling up by the second. Sometimes, all it takes is a kick in the ass to take a break and remind yourself that you're only human.

content // late nights at work, just some fluff and fun behind the scenes of the hero world. reader’s support tech alias is Mechanica. wc // 0.9k

『 k.bakugo masterlist | caramel & champagne series 』

It’s been a long, exhausting month at the Dynamight Agency. Bakugo’s been on back to back emergency calls and scheduled patrols while you’ve been pulling double shifts to stay caught up with all of the repairs needed from said emergencies. It was a constant stream of issues popping up the second you’d finish fixing the last gadget of the bunch.

“Mechanica! My suit’s on the fritz. Can you check the wiring you installed?”

“Mecha, how’s it going? Sorry to bother you, but I’m out of the electro-bombs you made for me last week. Could you spare a few more?”

“Hey! You’re the top support tech here, right? Red Riot told me to come find ya. I busted my helmet last night and the visor doesn’t work anymore. Can you fix it? The infrared tech seems to have been fried."

Using your quirk for extended periods of time was draining as hell, as helpful as it was. Your fixes typically require a tool or two, or a quick recharge to a piece of gear you’ve created in the past, not three weeks of back-to-back quirk usage. A vacation sounds real nice, but alas, a heroes work is never truly done.

A familiar set of footsteps comes trudging toward the workshop as you’re inspecting a piece of circuitry - you know those boots anywhere.

“Peach, I thought ya went home?” Bakugo asks you while placing a broken gauntlet on one of the open work tables. “Like...hours ago.”

Sarcastically, you wave your hand to the piles of items next to you. “I was when I messaged you earlier, and then everyone in the damn agency suddenly needed repairs.”

You peer around him to the bracer he placed on one of the other tables. Son of a bitch, you fixed that yesterday!

“Katsuki…you didn’t.”

You don’t mean for your tone to sound accusatory, but you’re grumpy and want to go home. Bakugo huffs under his breath and waves you off.

“Relax sweets, s’just a backup that’s busted. Villain stabbed right through it and it cracked one of the gaskets inside. Still got my good set in the office.”

“Every one is a good set, ‘Ki. I’ll get to it tomorrow, maybe I should build you a third set for when you smash the good pair.”

He knew the bite in your tone wasn’t aimed at him, it’s was just a result of your exhaustion and didn’t hold it against you.

“Why don’t we go home together? Leave all that for tomorrow. S’late,” Bakugo suggests, taking the tools out of your hands and laying them on the table. “Have your team do the dirty work. You’re gonna run yourself into the ground.”

“You have absolutely no room to talk, Mr. Running on Four Hours of Sleep.” You playfully smack him in the bicep before rearranging the tools on the table. “You didn’t even come to bed last night, you passed out on the couch in your hero gear.”

He shakes his head before grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Katsuki! Put me down!” You squeal, half annoyed and half giddy.

“Nah, cause if I do, you’ll be glued to this station for god knows how long." Bakugo smacks your ass to get you to sit still, a grin plastered on his face. "It’s past midnight, peaches. Takin’ you home and throwin’ us both in the shower. And we’re stayin’ home tomorrow, boss’s orders.”

There's no force in the world that could stop Katsuki Bakugo once his mind is made up - no use in fighting the inevitable.

You dramatically let your body rag doll in his hold. "Fine, but you have to carry me all the way home."

“I’d carry you to the edge of the world, sweetheart.”

How does this man one up himself every single day and steal your heart all over again?

“You’re so mushy when you’re tired,” you tease, reaching down to squeeze at his side to tickle him. “If only everyone else could see the big bad Dynamight right now, carrying his exhausted wife home. That would be a hell of a headline.”

Bakugo feigns dropping you in retaliation, catching you at the last second and shifting you back on his shoulder like you were weightless.

“Shut it or I’ll drop you in a puddle on the way home,” he cackles while pinching your thigh. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m lettin’ those paparazzi jackasses catch a glimpse of your ass.”

He makes a fair point. You were already in the spotlight recently, no need to add any more fuel to that fire.

The two of you exit the workshop, turning the lights off and heading to the rooftop to blast home. Bakugo’s version of flying never fails to fill you with adrenaline, a personalized rollercoaster ride all the way from the agency to your shared apartment. When you get home, Phoenix lovingly jumps off the couch and trots over to you two, rubbing between your legs and chirping happily.

“Can you feed Nix, babe?“ you ask as you’re stripping out of your workshop clothes and nodding toward the begging kitty at your feet. “I’ll start the shower. Leave your suit out here, too. We can toss them in the wash tomorrow.”

The domestic routine kicks in for the Bakugo household, just delayed by a few hours. After your shower, the two of you relax together in the bath, enjoying the silence of each other’s company. The alarm clock reads 2:13AM by the time you’re crawling under the sheets, tucked under Bakugo’s arm and cradled against his chest. He turns off the “work” alarm for the both of you, solidifying his decision for a much needed day off.

It’s little moments like these that remind you how human the two of you are in the midst of it all - even heroes need breaks.

⇢ subscribers; @sunflowers-4 @sweetloveandaffection

@sugurei @jenn-majima @catsoupki

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#☆.rei writes #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #soft bakugou #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader fluff #Katsuki bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #✩.caramel&champagne

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solxamber · 4 months ago

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Forgiveness - Deuce Spade x reader

When Deuce accidentally breaks an item that you treasured, he's worries that he's broken your trust as well. But there's nothing that can't be fixed with a hug and an apology.

Hurt/Comfort for the soul!

You stare at the broken shards scattered on the floor, your breath caught in your throat. The silence in the room is thick, the weight of what just happened sinking in like a stone in your chest.

Deuce stands across from you, frozen in place, his hands half-raised as if he’s unsure of what to do. His wide eyes are locked on the remnants of the object you’ve cherished since you first arrived in Twisted Wonderland. He stammers, trying to form words that will make this better, but nothing comes out.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know it was so fragile.”

You know he didn’t mean to. You know it wasn’t on purpose. But that doesn’t stop the sting from cutting deeper than you expected.

The thing he’d broken—a keepsake from your world, one of the few precious items you’d been able to bring with you—was irreplaceable. Now it was just a collection of shattered pieces, and you couldn’t stop the tears welling up in your eyes. You quickly turn away, not wanting him to see.

“I just— I’ll clean it up. I’ll fix this somehow.” Deuce’s voice breaks with guilt, but you can’t face him right now.

Without saying a word, you step over the mess and grab your jacket. You need air, space, something to calm the storm inside your chest. “I’m going for a walk,” you manage, your voice clipped, and before Deuce can respond, you’re out the door.

The cool evening breeze hits your face as you walk aimlessly through the grounds. You keep telling yourself it was an accident, that Deuce didn’t mean to break the one thing you held dear from your old life. And deep down, you already know you’ll forgive him—you always do. But right now, you just need a moment to yourself, a chance to clear your head.

By the time you circle back to the dorm, the night has grown darker, and the tension in your chest has begun to ease. You take a deep breath before stepping inside, telling yourself that you’ll talk to Deuce, that everything will be fine. You already know he’s beating himself up about it. He doesn’t need you adding to his guilt.

When you walk into the common room, though, the sight before you stops you in your tracks.

Deuce is curled up on the couch, asleep. He looks uncomfortable, his long legs hanging awkwardly off the end, and his jacket is bunched up beneath him like a makeshift pillow. His face is peaceful, but there’s a slight frown pulling at his brow, even in sleep.

You exhale softly, the last of your anger slipping away completely. He must’ve assumed you were still mad—mad enough to not want to share a bed with him tonight. So, he’d opted for the couch, giving you space even though it was clear he wasn’t comfortable.

Guilt washes over you. Deuce may be a little impulsive, a little clumsy, but his heart is always in the right place. And you know, without a doubt, that he didn’t mean to hurt you by breaking your keepsake. He just... messed up. Like he sometimes does.

Silently, you walk over to the couch and crouch down beside him. His face is relaxed now, his breathing slow and steady, and the sight tugs at your heartstrings. You reach out and gently brush a lock of his hair away from his forehead.

“I forgive you,” you whisper, even though he can’t hear you. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

Standing up, you carefully ease yourself onto the couch beside him, slipping under the blanket he’d half-thrown over himself. It’s cramped, and there’s barely enough room for both of you, but you manage to snuggle close, resting your head against his chest.

Almost instinctively, Deuce shifts in his sleep, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you closer. You feel his body relax even more, and you can’t help but smile softly at the way he always sleeps better when you’re near.

The tension in your own body melts away, and before you know it, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls you into sleep.

When Deuce wakes up, the first thing he notices is the warmth. His arm is wrapped around something solid and familiar, and it takes him a few seconds to realize it’s you, nestled against his chest, still fast asleep. His eyes widen in surprise, his heart skipping a beat as he processes the fact that you’re here with him, not angry, not distant—here.

He carefully shifts to get a better look at your face, his movements slow and cautious as if he’s afraid that waking you might shatter this moment. You’re breathing softly, your face peaceful, and he can’t help but feel a surge of relief wash over him.

You’ve forgiven him.

Deuce’s chest tightens with emotion as he remembers the events from earlier—the way your expression had fallen when the keepsake had shattered, the hurt in your eyes as you walked out the door. He’d been certain he’d ruined everything, that you wouldn’t be able to forgive him this time. The fact that you’re here now, curled up with him on the couch, is almost too much for him to believe.

He swallows hard, his throat tight with gratitude. “You... came back,” he whispers, even though he knows you’re still asleep. His hand tightens slightly around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him as he presses his cheek against your hair and he takes a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice barely audible in the quiet room. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

You stir slightly at the sound of his voice, your eyelids fluttering open. Deuce freezes, holding his breath as you blink up at him, still half-asleep but clearly aware of where you are.

“Deuce?” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. “Why are you...?”

He clears his throat, looking down at you with a sheepish expression. “I thought... I thought you’d want space after... you know, what happened. So, I slept out here. But then... I guess you...” He trails off, unsure of how to finish.

You blink again, taking in the situation before offering him a small, tired smile. “I forgave you,” you say softly, resting your head back against his chest. “I know it was an accident.”

Deuce stares down at you, his heart swelling with relief and gratitude. “I’ll fix it,” he promises again, his voice firm. “I don’t know how yet, but I’ll make it right.”

You shake your head, your hand coming up to rest gently against his chest. “It’s okay. You don’t have to fix it. Just... don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? I don’t want you to feel guilty about something you didn’t mean to do.”

He’s quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in. Then, slowly, he nods, his arms tightening around you in a protective embrace. “I’ll do better,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to hurt you, ever.”

You smile softly, nuzzling into his warmth. “You’re not going to. You’re doing just fine.”

Deuce presses a kiss to the top of your head, his heart full of love and determination. He may not always get things right, and he might mess up from time to time, but he’s going to keep trying—for you.

As long as you’re by his side, he knows he can keep working to be better, to make up for his mistakes and be the person you deserve.

And as you both drift back to sleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms, Deuce can’t help but feel incredibly grateful that, no matter what happens, you’re always there to forgive him.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #deuce spade x reader #deuce x reader #deuce spade #deuce #twst deuce x reader #twst deuce #deuce x you #deuce spade x you #hurt/comfort #comfort

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chvoswxtch · 24 days ago

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Romcom - with Hotch ? 👀🫶🏼

Girl i’ve been waiting for the right time for you to hopefully take this and do your thing with it cuz you’re amazing. I know it’s specific and long so pls feel free to do with it what you like. Also I’m not sure it fits your movie night theme, so then maybe just keep it for when you maybe do wanna write it???? Here it is, whatever….

K so like hotch and reader are like couple goals, been married long, working through everything and are just downright adorable BUT THEN hotch nearly dies…like for real gets shot in the stomach or something - something real scary. And aaaaall the time he’s mumbleling stuff, reassuringly or scared like: you cant tell my wife she’ll end me or tell her I’m fine, gonna be home for dinner…

But maybe she’s there and she’s trying her hardest to make everybody move, but Morgan is just not having it, making her stay tf back…

When she finally sees him she’s s c a r e d…so terrified of might having actually lost him, of it happening again cuz he will be in these situations again and who is she if not supportive and understanding…just scared and hopelessly in love. bye.

honey you essentially just wrote a whole ass masterpiece on your own

but you asked for my dramatic flair & I am nothing if not a dramatic bitch that lives for the ✨ t h e a t r e ✨

headcannon below the cut

if i stay starring aaron hotchner

derek knew you would physically fist fight him in the middle of that hospital hallway if he even dared to try and keep you out of hotch's room. he kept trying to reason with you, that you wouldn't wanna see him in that state, but you were not in a state of mind to be reasoned with

when you got the call from rossi that your husband was in the hospital, that familiar stone of dread sank in your stomach, nearly sending you through the floor. he didn't say what had happened, not over the phone, but you could hear the fear in his voice, which terrified you

the solemn faces of his team didn't help ease your anxiety, and the grisly details sent your nervous system into a full on meltdown. you could only pick up bits and pieces of what the surgeon explained

gunshot. loss of blood. critical condition. touch and go.

being in the bau was a dangerous job, and hotch had gotten hurt a few times over the course of your marriage, but it had never been this bad

nothing could've prepared you for the sight of hotch bruised and bloodied, laying in a hospital bed, connected to a bunch of wires that were keeping him alive, with an oxygen tube in his nose to help his weakened lungs do the most basic of human subconscious functions

panic, fear, anger, hopelessness, desperation, sadness; all of these emotions were crashing over each other like perilous tides and you were drowning beneath their tenacity

hotch was the strongest person you knew, physically and mentally. he was your rock. to see him reduced to something so fragile and broken shattered something within you. it wasn't like you were foolish enough to think your husband was invincible, but he was smart and cautious, he knew what he was doing. but today reminded you just how human he was

all you could do was sit there by his side and hold his hand while you fluctuated from silent weeping to full fledged sobbing. it didn't feel like enough, but it was all you could do. you couldn't help but replay this morning over and over in your head, analyzing every frame. had you told him you loved him? had you kissed him before he left? had you savored the few seconds before he walked out the door, not knowing that he might not walk back through it?

"don't tell my wife."

you'd been sitting there for what felt like an eternity in silence with nothing but the haunting background noise of beeping machines and chatter in the hallway. it was so faint, you almost didn't hear it. hotch still looked like he was sleeping, and you weren't sure if you'd imagined it or not

"what?"

you leaned in a little closer, and when he let out a deep exhale, the first sign of life you'd seen since you stepped into this room, you almost burst into tears

"don't tell my wife."

his speech was slightly slurred as he mumbled, and you weren't sure if it was due to the blood loss or the anesthesia that was wearing off from surgery

"why not?"

he was so out of it he didn't even seem to recognize your voice

"because she'll kick my ass."

you couldn't stop the laugh that escaped your lips at that, covering your mouth with your hand while the most imperceptible of a smile tugged at the edge of his lips

"I promised i'd be home for dinner."

giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you sniffled and wiped at your damp cheeks with a sad smile

"i'm sure she'll understand if you're a little late."

a sound that was a cross between a snort and a scoff left hotch as one of his thick dark brows subtly arched

"you haven't met my wife."

brushing your thumb over the back of his hand, you reached out with your other to gently push his hair back

"maybe this is a cosmic sign it's time for a vacation."

in the midst of gently carding your fingers through his hair, the next words that left his lips caught you off guard and made you go still

"maybe it's time to retire."

a full minute of silence passed, and then slowly, hotch's eyes opened, and as if drawn by some invisible magnetic force, the immediately found you

the pressure of him squeezing your hand, a silent gesture of not just reassurance, but also his strength returning, had tears welling up in your eyes all over again

hotch slowly turned his head to look at you, his eyes wandering over your face like he was trying to memorize every detail, and then a gentle but weak smile graced his mouth

"I won't be late for dinner ever again, honey."

I made myself emotional and now i'm gonna go cry excuse me

#court's 5k followers celebration #court's 5k friends celebration #movie night at mine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x f!reader #aaron hotchner headcannon #criminal minds #criminal minds headcannon

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mrsfancyferrari · 9 days ago

Text

A Second Chance?

Summary: you came to Love Island to find true love after your ex left your life in chaos. you didn't think you would find it so easy.... episode 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x you (Ex!George )

Song: Came Here For Love · Sigala

Taglist: @npcmia

Author’s note: Sorry it took so long to release. I got into binge watching Love Island too much but now i'm ready! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 11.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

Love Island: Madrid - Episode 1

(Opening Theme Music and B-Roll of the stunning villa, the Spanish city below, and the glistening pool. Upbeat Spanish-inspired pop music plays.)

Voiceover (Laura, a bubbly and charismatic presenter): Welcome to Love Island! Get ready for sun, sand, and sizzling romances, because this season, we're trading the shores of Spain for the enchanting energy of Madrid! Ten gorgeous singles are about to enter the villa, with one goal in mind: finding love… and maybe a little fame along the way. Let's meet them!

The camera focuses on you, the sun glinting off the strategically placed glitter on your cheekbones. “Hey, Love Island!” you chirp, flashing a practiced smile. “I’m Y/N, I’m 26, and I’m a marine biologist. I spend my days rescuing sea turtles, which, let’s be real, is way more fulfilling than my dating life has been lately.”

You pause, allowing the producers a moment to capture your self-deprecating charm. “I’m here for sun, fun, and hopefully, someone who doesn’t think my passion for plankton is a total turn-off.” You wink. “I'm looking for someone who's adventurous, funny and appreciates a good sunset. Bonus points if they can tell the difference between a starfish and a sea urchin. Seriously, it’s concerning how many people can’t.”

The humid Spanish air clung to you like a second skin, a stark contrast to the emotional chill that had been your constant companion for the past few months.

Your life had been a carefully constructed Jenga tower, meticulously built with your ex.

Then, seemingly overnight, he’d yanked a vital piece, sending the whole thing crashing down in a mess of broken promises and shattered trust.

Your friends, bless their chaotic hearts, had decided enough was enough. "Sunshine, sea, and a whole bunch of hot singles," they'd declared, practically dragging you onto the Love Island application.

And now, here you were.

Your hand, surprisingly steady, clasped Hannah's. You’d met in the holding area just before your entrance; a whirlwind of nervous laughter and shared anxieties.

She was a breath of fresh air, bubbly and confident, and her bright blue dress was a perfect match for the nervous energy crackling between you two.

You, on the other hand, felt both vulnerable and exhilarated in your red dress – a defiant statement of confidence you wasn't entirely sure you possessed. The fabric felt like a shield, giving you the courage to take this absurd leap.

As the heavy villa doors swung open, a wave of noise washed over you two. Shouts of welcome, whistles, and a medley of nervous conversations.

It was a sensory overload, a kaleidoscope of tanned skin, flashing smiles, and the undeniable scent of sun-kissed skin and expensive cologne.

"Ready for this?" Hannah whispered, her blue eyes sparkling with an infectious mixture of apprehension and excitement.

You took a deep breath, the salty air filling your lungs. "As I'll ever be," you replied, a genuine smile finally breaking through the tension.

You two walked, hand in hand, through the sprawling garden, the vibrant colours of the villa almost as blinding as the flashing cameras. The other female islanders, a mix of familiar faces from the promotional videos and intriguing strangers, watched our entrance with undisguised curiosity.

You felt a flutter of nerves, a prickle of anticipation, like the moment before a roller coaster plunges down the first drop. This was it.

You'd traded your mundane life of lukewarm coffee and endless scrolling for a summer of sun, strategy, and – maybe, just maybe – love.

You two reached the designated spot, a small podium by the pool, where the host, the ever-charming and impossibly beautiful Maya, stood with her signature bright smile. She turned to you two, her eyes twinkling under the relentless Spanish sun.

“Welcome, ladies! You must be the gorgeous Hannah and…?” She prompted, her voice smooth and confident.

"I'm Y/N," You replied, your voice a little shaky but steadier than you’d imagined.

“Y/N and Hannah, welcome to Love Island!” Maya beamed. "How are you both feeling entering the villa?"

Hannah, always the natural, stepped forward. “Absolutely buzzing! A little nervous, maybe, but mostly excited to meet everyone and see what this experience has in store for us.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling grateful for her easy confidence. "Yeah, I’m with Hannah. It's definitely a bit surreal, but I’m ready for anything.” you offered a quick smile, trying to convey the mixture of trepidation and hope that was swirling within you.

Maya chuckled, a warm, genuine sound. "Well, that's the spirit! Now, Y/N, I hear you’ve had a bit of a rough time lately. Is that why your friends signed you up for this adventure?”

She leaned in conspiratorially, and for a moment you forgot the cameras were there.

You took a breath, trying to find the right words. You didn't want a pity party, but you also weren't going to deny your recent heartbreak.

“Yeah, something like that. My ex basically turned my life upside down, and I realized I needed a fresh start – a whole new perspective. My friends, in their wonderfully meddling way, thought this might be the solution.” you offered a wry smile, hoping to convey both your humor and your sincere desire for change.

Maya nodded with understanding, her gaze softening. "Well, I hope this is the start of something amazing for you, Y/N. And Hannah, are you here to stir up some drama or find the man of your dreams?” She directed the question to Hannah with a playful wink.

Hannah laughed, a bright, melodic sound. “A little of both, I think! I’m always up for fun, but ultimately, I’m really here hoping to find someone special."

“Well, ladies, you’ve come to the right place.” Maya concluded. “Now that we've introduced all of the girls, let's bring out the boys!”

She gave you another dazzling smile before stepping aside to watch the chaos unfold.

The first boy stepped out, and you recognised him from somewhere but where? – Max. He had this intense gaze and a subtly charming smile that sent a little tremor down your spine.

He was taller than you'd imagined, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his fitted white t-shirt. His dark hair was neatly styled, falling just so across his forehead, and his eyes, a deep blue, seemed to scan the line of girls with a quiet confidence.

He was sculpted, his jawline sharp and defined, his arms hinting at a strength honed in some gym somewhere. He exuded a controlled energy, a quiet magnetism that was undeniably appealing.

He walked with an easy confidence that you found utterly captivating. Okay, Y/N, breathe, you told yourself, trying to ignore the sudden heat rising to your cheeks.

Then came Lando, all smiles and playful energy, followed by Oscar, who seemed a bit more reserved but had this undeniable magnetism. Charles was next, with his quiet confidence and sharp gaze, and finally, Alex, who was all smooth charm.

The boys lined up, and you found yourself drawn back to Max. There was something about his energy that held your attention. His eyes scanned over the group, and when they met yours for a brief second, your heart skipped a beat.

"Alright, boys, time to make your first impressions." Maya's voice cut into the charged atmosphere. "Take a moment, and then step forward to the girl you'd like to get to know better for 5 minutes."

The boys started to move, and you felt your stomach flip. Lando went to Mimi, his easy laughter echoing as he introduced himself. Oscar chose Emilia, their conversation already looking relaxed.

Charles, surprisingly, went for Hannah, his quieter demeanour contrasting with her vibrancy. Alex, ever the charismatic one, chose to talk to you.

"Hey, Y/N," he began, his smile charming, "I'm Alex. You seem a little nervous, but I think you're really beautiful."

You forced a smile, trying to focus on him. "Thanks, Alex. You’re very sweet.”

He launched into a conversation about himself, and while you nodded along politely, your gaze kept drifting to Max, who was still standing there, a slight frown on his handsome face as he watched Alex talk to you. You couldn’t help but wonder which girl he would choose.

Finally, Alex finished, giving you another charming smile and a wink, moving back to the line. You watched, your heart pounding, as Max took a breath and finally stepped forward.

He wasn’t smiling, his expression serious as he came to a halt in front of you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through you. “I’m Max. I, uh… I wanted to talk to you first.”

Your breath hitched. “Hi Max,” you managed to get out, your voice a little breathless.

“You looked a little… uncomfortable, with Alex. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He met your gaze directly, and it felt like he was seeing right through you.

You couldn’t help the blush that warmed your cheeks. “I’m fine, thank you. He… he’s very chatty,” you said, and Max’s lips curled upwards in a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“Yeah, I noticed. So, why Love Island? Why take such a big leap?” He seemed genuinely curious, and the question felt personal, like he was trying to understand you better.

You paused, taking a breath to collect your thoughts. “It’s a long story, but… I was in a bad place. My ex… he wasn’t good for me, and it left me completely lost. Love Island seemed like the most extreme way to try and find myself again, and maybe even find something real.”

Max nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “That takes courage, Y/N. I respect that.” His eyes were intense, and there was a sudden intimacy in the space between you that made your heart beat even faster.

“So what about you?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from the magnetic pull he seemed to have on you. “Why Love Island?”

He shrugged, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I’m tired of the games, of surface-level connections. I’m looking for something real too, and… I don’t know, I think there’s something about this place that screams ‘genuine chaos’.”

You laughed, a genuine, light sound that had been absent for so long. “Well, you might have come to the right place.”

You looked at him again, and your smile turned soft. “I’m glad you did.”

His eyes held yours for a moment, before finally he looked away, a slight blush highlighting his cheekbones. “Me too, Y/N. Me too.”

The moment was broken by Maya's voice, sharp and clear over the villa speakers. “Okay, time! Girls, would you please go and stand back into your positions, and the boys, come sit with me,” she instructed, her voice carrying the familiar, slightly mocking tone of a seasoned host.

You stood beside Hannah, her blonde hair a stark contrast to your own. Your heart pounded as you watched the boys take their places on the sun-drenched sofas opposite you.

You stole a glance at Max, and you think you saw him do the same. He looked away quickly.

“So boys,” Maya announced, her smile bright and dazzling, “do you like our lovely pick of girls?” Her question was a casual one, but the tension in the air was palpable.

You could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you, judging, assessing, searching for a connection.

You tried to keep your face neutral, despite the nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach and the intensity of the situation. Your eyes scanned the boys, settling on Max.

He was relaxed, his fingers tapping absently on his knee. The easy confidence from earlier had returned and you found yourself wondering if he was as comfortable as he looked.

Maya went first to a guy named Lando. He was new, arriving with Max so you didn't know him much. Lando said he was into Mimi. He smiled brightly at her.

“And what about you, Max?” Maya asked, her voice playful. “Has anyone caught your eye?"

Max shifted in his seat and you found yourself holding your breath. You knew you were drawn to him, but you had no idea if he felt the same.

He looked up, his dark eyes meeting yours across the garden. A slow smile spread across his face, and for a moment, it felt like there was no one else in the villa.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and husky. “There’s definitely someone I’d like to get to know better.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Could he possibly be talking about you?

"Care to share, or should we all keep guessing?" Maya teased, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Max glanced your way again, his smile widening slightly. "I think I'll keep you all guessing for now," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He didn't say it outright, but his gaze lingered a little longer each time he looked at you, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

The rest of the conversation faded into a background hum as you replayed Max’s words in your mind. “Someone I’d like to get to know better.” Were you reading too much into it? Was he just being polite? Your mind raced and your stomach flipped.

After what felt like an eternity, Maya announced it was up to the boys to pick who they wanted to couple up with. You tried to remain calm, despite the frantic rhythm your heart was beating at.

This was it, the moment of truth and your first real sign if your feelings would be reciprocated or trampled on once again.

Lando picked Mimi, Charles picked Elisha, Oscar picked Hannah. It was now Alex and Max’s go. You kept finding yourself staring at Max and he did the same.

It was Alex's time to pick a girl and you thought he would pick Em, so you zoned out for a second.

“I’m going to pick Y/N to couple up with,” Alex said confidently. Dread filled your stomach and you looked at Max.

He looked disappointed, you couldn’t believe it. But you didn't know what about. You hoped he was going to pick you if he had the chance.

You plastered a fake smile and walked over to Alex, giving him a quick hug before standing beside him. His hand respectfully rested on your arm, rubbing it for assurance.

You couldn't bring yourself to look at Max.

Max had to pick Em, and they did the same thing.

“The coupling is now sorted! These are the first couples of Love Island 2025,” Maya yelled, a booming sound over the villa's speakers.

You sat down beside Alex, trying to act like you’d just won the lottery, when all you wanted to do was cry. It felt like a cruel jest, the universe teasing you with a glimmer of hope only to snatch it away.

You knew that things could change, it was day one after all, but the small flame of hope you'd had for Max had been extinguished before it had even begun.

“Hey, you okay?” Alex murmured, his voice soft, pulling you from your thoughts.

You hadn’t realised you were deep in your head.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile. “Just a bit overwhelmed. It’s a lot to take in.” You didn't want to tell him you were thinking about another man that had just coupled up with someone else.

“I know, it is,” he agreed, his eyes holding a genuine warmth. “But we’ll get through it. We’ll have fun, I promise.”

His words were reassuring, but they didn’t quell the disappointment that gnawed at you.

"I'm going to leave you now but I'll be back tomorrow night for more news," Maya said with a grin, her voice cutting through the air again. "Adventure the new villa, find your main connection and most importantly, enjoy yourself!"

With a wave, she disappeared, leaving you and the other Islanders to navigate the uncharted waters of this manufactured paradise.

A buzz of conversation erupted around you. Couples were huddled together, whispering, giggling, and getting to know each other. You were talking to Alex, a polite conversation filled with surface-level questions, and the occasional awkward silence.

He was kind, attentive, and clearly trying to make you feel comfortable. The pang of 'he's not Max' hit you again, but you pushed it away. You had to make this work, had to try.

It was day one, things could still change.

But deep down, a small voice whispered that Max had never looked at you like he looked at Em, and that reality hurt more than you wanted to admit.

“Girls! Let’s go explore the villa!” Hannah suddenly announced, jumping up from the sofa, her infectious enthusiasm momentarily distracting you from your thoughts.

“Yes! Let’s do it,” Mimi chirped, adding her eagerness to the mix.

You glanced at Alex, gave him a small smile, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

He smiled back, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes, “Yeah, sounds good. I’ll be around.”

You joined Hannah, Mimi, and the other girls, your heels clacking on the cool tile as you explored the villa’s sprawling grounds. The pool sparkled under the Mediterranean sun, the vibrant greens of the lush landscaping contrasted beautifully with the stark white walls.

It was paradise, yet you felt strangely detached, your mind still haunted by Max's nonchalant glances in another direction. You walked alongside Hannah and found a secluded spot under a canopy of vibrant bougainvillea.

The other girls were giggling and joking by the pool, leaving the two of you to have a more personal conversation.

"So how is he?" Hannah asked, her gaze direct, but kind.

You knew immediately who she meant. "He's...fine," you answered, trying to sound nonchalant. "He's nice."

Hannah raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on her lips, "Just 'nice'? Come on, girl, you looked like you were about to melt into the floor during the coupling."

You sighed, glancing at the colorful flowers around you, your eyes avoiding her direct gaze.

You hesitated, your mind flashing back to that moment, the hope that had blossomed in your chest as you walked out, only to be crushed as you saw Max’s attention was elsewhere. “It’s just… it’s obvious he’s not interested, is it?”

"And?" Hannah prompted, her voice gentle. "So what? This is Love Island, not 'The Max Show'. It’s been what, two hours? You've got a whole summer ahead of you, and you’ve got Alex! Stop wasting time fixating on the one person who is not giving you attention."

You turned to face her, a conflicted look on your face. "I know, you’re right. It's pathetic, and unfair on Alex... and probably Max too to be honest, I don’t even know him."

“Exactly! And Alex… he looks at you like he’s just won the lottery, even if you’re sitting there looking like you've just been told your dog died! Don't you see that?” she teased, nudging your arm playfully.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Okay, okay, I get it. Max is off limits. Move on. Be open to Alex. Got it.”

"That's the spirit! Now, tell me all about Alex. What's he like?" Hannah pressed, eyes sparkling with mischief.

You thought for a moment, trying to focus on the good qualities you had noticed. "He's very sweet, really polite, and he's got these amazing eyes, kind of warm and inviting," you confessed, a surprising touch of honesty creeping into your voice. "And he seems genuine, like he’s actually listening when you talk.”

Hannah grinned. “See? Sounds like a catch. Maybe, just maybe, this whole coupling thing wasn't so bad after all, eh?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Maybe… maybe you’re right.”

You took a sip of your water, the cool liquid doing little to quench the heat of the villa.

Just as you were starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be a little less complicated, your phone buzzed, a sharp chime cutting through the relaxed chatter.

Your heart leaped. You knew that sound. “I've got a text!” you yelled, your voice a little too loud, a little too full of nervous energy.

Every head in the villa turned, eyes widening with a mixture of anticipation and dread. The usual lounging immediately morphed into a scramble as everyone gathered around you.

You cleared your throat, holding your phone up for all to see. “Islanders,” you read, your voice a little shaky, “to spice up the energy, gather around the fire pit and do dare or dare.”

A chorus of excited squeals erupted from the girls, while the guys exchanged knowing smirks. You rolled your eyes, a smile playing on your lips. This was going to be interesting, you thought.

The energy around the fire pit was palpable. The setting sun cast long shadows, making the whole scene feel a little dramatic.

As everyone settled in, another notification chimed, this time on Hannah's phone. She grabbed it, her eyes widening as she read.

“Okay, this just got interesting,” she announced, a smirk spreading across her face. “You will have a device that will measure your heartbeat during these dares.

A collective gasp filled the air. Oh, this was going to be really interesting.

You felt your own heart begin to hammer against your ribs. The stakes had just been raised, higher than you expected.

Was your heart playing this game with you? You felt a mix of dread and anticipation. You glanced at Alex, who was looking at you with a shy smile.

The first dare had rolled around quickly. Lando, a gentle giant with a heart of gold, had to do a silly dance for the best-looking girl. Predictably, he’d chosen Mimi. Her face had flushed pink as he'd awkwardly swayed, and the monitor had shown a slight increase in his heart rate, little more than a brisk walk. You watched with a mixture of amusement and a surprising pang of jealousy.

Then came Oscar’s turn. He had to share a pocky stick with Hannah, slowly, suggestively, until their lips met. Then, when nothing was left, they were to engage in a passionate kiss, the kind you saw in rom-coms but rarely in real life.

Both their heart rates had spiked, the little monitors lighting up like tiny fireworks. The air crackled with a strange mix of tension and excitement. The game was getting serious.

Next, Elisha, with her fiery personality, had to French kiss the person sitting opposite her. That was Alex. You watched as his eyes met with Elisha's, and then her lips. You could practically feel her heart pounding in her chest.

And just like that, it was your turn. You swallowed, trying to appear cool, calm, and collected, the kind of girl who thrived in this kind of high-stakes environment. The notification chimed out on your phone.

You tapped the screen, your breath catching in your throat as you read the words: "Seduce the player to your right."

Your eyes darted to your left, then right, landing on Max. Max, with his chiseled jawline, piercing blue eyes, and the kind of effortless charm that could melt glaciers.

Your heart thumped against your ribs, the device registering a slight tremor in your pulse. You felt a sudden heat rise to your cheeks, a mix of panic and a strangely thrilling anticipation.

"Well," you joked, your voice a little breathier than you intended. "This is awkward."

Max leaned back in his lounger, his eyes twinkling. "Awkward? I think it's interesting. I'm intrigued to see how you're going to try and seduce me."

He raised an eyebrow, a challenge in his gaze, and you couldn't help but laugh. This was a game, after all. A very public, very strange game, but a game nonetheless.

You couldn't leave because you were being boring on TV, that was certain.

A mischievous thought struck you. You stood up, walked the few steps to his lounger, and without uttering another word, sat down on his lap. The breath hitched in his throat and his eyes widened slightly.

You leaned forward, your hand coming to rest lightly on his chest, and kissed him. It wasn't a soft, shy kiss. It was bold, confident, full of the energy you were trying so hard to project.

He was surprise, yes, but he responded with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

His hands came to your waist, holding you securely, and for a brief, dizzying moment, you forgot the cameras and the challenges, the other islanders, everything.

It was just you and Max, caught in a whirlwind of unexpected heat.

When you broke apart, you could see the pulse beating rapidly in his neck. His breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. Your heart thrummed a wild little rhythm against your ribs.

You pulled back, a grin spreading across your face, feeling a surge of satisfaction mixed with something else you couldn't quite name.

You stood and sat back down on the sofa, smoothing down your dress as if nothing extraordinary had just happened.

“That’s how I seduce you,” you teased, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice, hoping the camera didn't catch the flush on your cheeks.

You caught the flicker in his eyes, a mix of amusement and something much more profound.

He was definitely affected and that was...intriguing.

Max was speechless for a beat, his fingers drumming absently on his lap as he replayed the kiss in his mind. "Well," he said finally, a chuckle escaping his lips, "I can't say I've ever been seduced quite like that before."

You laughed, a genuine laugh this time. "I aim to please."

The game continued, dares thrown around like confetti, but you couldn’t shake the residue of that kiss. You noticed it too – the way

Max's heartbeat never quite reached the frantic speed it did with you, even when he kissed Em, his current partner. It was a small detail, a silent acknowledgment that something had shifted, and you found yourself replaying the moment over and over in your head.

When the game finally came to a close, Lando bounced up from his spot, his usual exuberance bubbling over. “Guys! It’s our turn to explore the villa!”

Everyone laughed at Lando’s slight mockery of Hannah’s catchphrase. The boys, a chattering, energetic pack, headed off to investigate the vast space, splitting into smaller groups almost immediately.

You made your way back to Hannah, sinking onto a smaller sofa tucked away in a quiet corner.

“So, how do you feel now?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with teasing curiosity.

“I feel… confused,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. You'd kissed most of the boys during the challenge, but only Alex, your current partner, and Max, had left you feeling this…stirred.

“Well, it’s only day one, but let me tell you something, that kiss you had with Max was hot!” Hannah commented, letting out a low whistle. “Seriously, the way you held his face, that little smirk you had afterwards… pure fire.”

“Really?” you asked, a blush creeping up your neck.

“Really! You looked so comfortable on his lap, do you do that often?” Hannah teased, nudging you playfully.

“God, no!” you laughed, “That was pure dare energy. I don’t usually… initiate that forwardly.”

You knew you were blushing, could feel the heat staining your cheeks. The image of Max, his eyes wide and surprised, flashed in your mind.

You’d enjoyed that moment, the power of it, the way it had seemed to unravel him.

“Well, maybe you should start,” Hannah said with a wink and a grin. “I saw the way he looked at you after, girl. He was captivated. And let’s be honest, Alex is…” she trailed off, searching for the right word, “...sweet, but maybe a little bland?”

You knew what she meant. Alex was lovely, kind, and had the kindest eyes, but he lacked the edge, the raw energy that seemed to radiate off Max.

“He’s just… safe,” you admitted softly.

“Exactly!” Hannah exclaimed, throwing her arm around you in solidarity. "You need a little danger in your life, a little spark. And let’s face it, you and Max? Sparks were absolutely flying.”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the butterflies that had now chosen to throw a rave in your stomach. “But I’m coupled with Alex,” you reminded her, the reality of your situation settling in like a lead weight.

“So? Day one, baby! Anything can happen. This is Love Island, not a retirement home.” Hannah giggled, “Besides, you have a type, which is Max. So, clearly the universe is trying to tell you something.”

You laughed, shaking your head at Hannah’s dramatic pronouncements, but her words lingered. You knew she was right, at least partly

You were attracted to Max, that was undeniable.

But the fact that you were coupled with Alex, that you were building something, however slowly, with him, made everything a lot complicated. . . .

The villa was a sensory overload. Sunlight glinted off the turquoise pool, music pulsed from unseen speakers, and the air crackled with the nervous energy of the assembled singles.

Max Verstappen, usually so composed, felt a knot tighten in his stomach. This was nothing like the roar of an engine, the precision of a racecar, the familiar comfort of the paddock. This was… different.

Terrifyingly different. He’d been thrust into this gaudy world of swimwear, spray tans, and manufactured drama less than four hours ago, and already he felt like he was drowning.

He’d barely had time to register names and faces, let alone personalities. Yet, here he was, trailing behind a group heading towards the bedrooms, his heart thudding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He wanted to see the infamous bedroom, the one plastered across countless episodes of the show. He'd watched them religiously, a strange, almost guilty curiosity pulling him in, but being here in person was a different beast.

And so did someone else.

He felt a presence beside him and turned to see a man with a charmingly crooked smile and eyes that seemed to hold a mischievous glint.

“Hey mate, I’m Charles Leclerc, I’m from Monaco, you?” Charles said, extending a hand as they crossed the threshold into the bedroom.

It was exactly like the show, all vibrant colours and strategically placed mirrors.

Max shook his hand, the contact surprisingly firm. “I’m Max Verstappen, I’m from the Netherlands,” he replied, keeping his tone short and his gaze focused.

He was trying to remain guarded, the layers he'd built over years making it difficult to relax and be open like everyone else was doing.

“Nice,” Charles said, plopping down on the edge of a bed, the mattress squeaking in protest. “I’ve been there once before,” he added, a reflective smile playing on his lips.

“So, why are you here?”

Max blinked, his mind momentarily blank. “What?” he asked, caught off guard.

Charles chuckled, his shoulders rising and falling with the movement. “Like, why you’re at Love Island? Like, I’m here because I don’t want to be single anymore. What about you?”

Max stiffened. The truth hung heavy in his throat: He wasn't here for love, not really.

“Same,” Max lied, forcing a nonchalant shrug and a casual tone. “Feeling a bit lonely these days.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth.

It wasn’t the first time he lied, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

Charles beamed, his face lighting up with genuine warmth. “I have a feeling that we’re going to be best friends,” he declared, his voice full of conviction.

Max raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “Really?” He was used to caution, to guarded interactions, especially after years spent in the intense world of Formula One.

This easy camaraderie felt strange, almost foreign.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Charles said, his smile widening. “We both seem to be a bit lost, in a good way, though,” he winked.

Max found himself returning the smile, a small, genuine smile that surprised even him. Maybe, just maybe, this whole ordeal wouldn’t be as unbearable as he’d anticipated.

Perhaps, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to go through the charade of finding someone, and maybe, he could actually pretend to enjoy the experience a little.

He'd been forced into the deep end, but he could use this time to get to know people.

"So do you like any of the girls?"

“Umm,” Max froze, the question catching him off guard. He hadn't been consciously analyzing his feelings, but his gaze instinctively darted around the expansive bedroom, taking in the half-empty suitcases and scattered clothes.

It was just him and Charles in the room, thankfully, though he knew the microphones hung heavy in the air, ready to capture every whisper.

He was supposed to be here to find love, wasn’t he? The problem was, he’d already found it, or rather, it found him.

He looked back at Charles, a blush creeping up his neck. “I like Y/N,” he said shyly, like the microphone wasn't going to pick up every word he said, like the cameras weren’t trained on them, like the whole country wasn’t watching.

Charles grinned, a knowing look lighting up his eyes. "I knew it!"

"How?" Max asked, genuinely confused. He’d thought he’d been keeping it under wraps, playing it cool.

"You looked so crushed after Alex picked her," Charles teased, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You looked so love-sick when she left your lap after that kiss you two shared... should I go on?"

"No, don't," Max muttered, rubbing his face with his hand, as if he could erase the evidence of his blatant infatuation. He wasn't good at hiding his emotions, not when they were this intense.

His dad would kill him for this kind of openness, for showing any sort of weakness.

Thank goodness he's not here, he thought, a grimace crossing his lips at the thought.

It was one thing to be watched by the world, quite another to face his father’s wrath.

"It's not too obvious, right?" Max asked, a note of panic creeping into his voice. He had a strategic image to maintain, a reputation for being focused and unshakeable, not a lovesick puppy.

Charles chuckled, slapping Max on the back. "Mate, you’re about as subtle as a pin drop. But hey,” he added, his tone turning surprisingly earnest, “that's not a bad thing. It shows you care."

Max sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “But it’s…it’s embarrassing.”

Charles said, his tone light, “having feelings aren't embarrassing, and I think Y/N likes you too, don't you think? I see the way she looks at you.”

Max’s heart skipped a beat at that. He wanted to believe it, desperately. “She… she kissed me,” he said quietly, the memory a tangible warmth in his chest.

“But then she went with Alex.” He felt the familiar sting of rejection, amplified by the public nature of it all.

“It’s Love Island, mate,” Charles said with a shrug. “People get kissed, people get picked, but it doesn’t mean it’s the end of the road. It’s still early days.”

He paused, looking Max directly in the eye. “You need to fight for her. Don't let Alex win her over.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one making a fool of yourself on national television,” Max retorted, surprised by the edge in his voice.

Charles raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. But seriously, Max, you’re a Formula One driver, you deal with pressure all the time. This is just another kind of race, right? You got to figure out the track and push pedal to the metal.”

Max stared blankly at him for a moment, before a slow smile stretched across his face. “Okay, I get your point, but you’re never calling this the race again.”

“Deal,” Charles grinned. . . .

The turquoise water of the Love Island pool shimmered under the relentless Spanish sun, a stark contrast to the drowsy haze that still clung to Mimi’s mind.

She’d only been here for four hours, yet it felt like a lifetime. A whirlwind of introductions, forced mingling, and a truly ridiculous number of dares had left her feeling incredibly drained.

She’d sought refuge by the pool, the rhythmic lapping of water against the infinity edge a soothing balm to her frazzled nerves. Her nap had been short, but sweet, until a tap on her shoulder jolted her back to reality.

Opening her eyes, she found Lando grinning down at her. His dark hair was tousled, as if he’d run his hands through it too many times, and his hazel eyes sparkled with mischief.

Mimi couldn’t help but grin back. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, a playful energy that was both endearing and a little bit nerve-wracking.

“Hey sleepyhead,” he said, easing down onto the edge of her deckchair, his hip brushing against hers. “You tired after kissing all of the guys here?”

His voice was laced with teasing, a light, playful tone that made Mimi’s cheeks flush a little.

She punched him lightly on the arm, a small giggle escaping her lips. “It’s not my fault I got all the dares,” she protested, though a smile played on her lips. It had been quite the spectacle.

She’d kissed three guys for various ridiculous dares.

Lando feigned a dramatic pout, his lower lip jutting out slightly. “Yeah, but I didn’t get a kiss.” He looked genuinely sad, or at least, he was a very convincing actor.

Mimi raised an eyebrow, a sly look creeping onto her face. “Do you want one?” she asked, the question hanging in the air like a challenge.

Lando nodded immediately, his grin widening to reveal a flash of white teeth. “Absolutely.”

He looked at her with an intensity that made her stomach flip.

Mimi leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Then come and get it,” she said, the words laced with a playful allure.

He didn't hesitate. He stood, his long limbs moving with a fluid grace, and walked over to her. He knelt by the side of her deckchair, his chest almost parallel with her face, and his hands softly cradled her face.

His touch was gentle, feather-light, and it sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. He tilted her chin up, his gaze locked on hers, his eyes filled with an emotion she couldn't quite decipher.

The air crackled with a palpable tension, a silent question hanging between them. It felt as if the rest of the villa had faded into a muted background, the laughter and chatter reduced to a distant hum.

There was only her and Lando, the sun beating down on them, the scent of sunscreen and chlorine filling the air.

"Can I kiss you?" The question was barely audible, a mere breath of sound.

Mimi's heart pounded in her chest. This wasn't a dare, this wasn't a game. This was something else entirely. It felt raw, real, and slightly terrifying.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "Yes," she managed to whisper, her voice husky with emotion.

He closed the distance, his lips meeting hers in a soft, tentative kiss. It wasn't the explosive, passionate kiss she'd shared during a dare, but it was more profound, more intimate.

It was a kiss that spoke of curiosity, of potential, of a connection that had sparked in the space of only four hours.

Their lips moved together slowly, a silent exploration, a silent conversation between two people thrown together in the most ridiculous of circumstances.

When they finally parted, they were both breathless, their eyes locked together with a mix of surprise and something that looked dangerously like hope.

"Wow," Lando said, his voice thick with emotion.

Mimi nodded, unable to find the words to express the way she felt. It was just a kiss, and it was nothing like she’d imagined. It was better. It felt like the start of something.

"So, is this a new dare?" A teasing voice broke through the bubble they’d created, their faces breaking apart.

It was Em standing by the edge of the pool, a mischievous grin on her lips.

Lando rolled his eyes playfully, pulling back. “No dares, EM,” he said. “Just taking a moment.”

“A very cute moment, might I add,” Em winked before sauntering away, leaving Mimi and Lando alone again.

Mimi couldn't help but giggle. The moment was gone, broken. But the feeling lingered, a warm glow in her chest.

Lando turned back to her, a smile playing on his lips. “This is going to be an interesting couple of weeks, isn't it?” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Mimi laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that echoed across the pool. “You have no idea,” she said, leaning back on her deckchair, her eyes meeting his with a newfound sense of expectation.

She didn't know what the future held, but for the first time since arriving on Love Island, she felt a sense of excitement… a sense that maybe, just maybe, this ridiculous circus could lead to something real. . . .

The air crackled with anticipation. Tonight was the first proper dinner on Love Island, and after a day of awkward ice-breakers and forced flirting under the Spanish sun, the girls were buzzing as you all prepped in the dressing room.

"So, are you guys happy with your couples right now?" Mimi asked, her voice bright, as she expertly winged her eyeliner in the mirror.

"I'm happy with Oscar," Hannah said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. A chorus of "Ooooohs" and playful shoves erupted from the group.

"Look at you, whipped already!" Elisha teased, tossing a hairbrush at Hannah.

"Shut up! He's just... nice," Hannah said, blushing furiously.

"Nice isn't exactly the Love Island vibe, hun," Em said, winking. "Unless you're secretly plotting his downfall for the £50k…"

Mimi, now applying a generous layer of lip gloss, chimed in. "Me and Lando shared a small kiss," she announced, earning a loud cheer from the girls.

"Details, details!" Elisha demanded. "Was it a full-on snog? Did he use tongue? Was there… chemistry?"

Mimi giggled. "It was just a little one. But he's got something about him, you know? Confidence, for days."

"What about you, Y/N?" Em asked, turning to you. "How are things with Alex?"

You forced a smile, carefully avoiding eye contact with the mirror as you applied mascara. "Yeah, good! Alex is... great. We had a really good chat this afternoon, you know, getting to know each other."

Liar.

The truth was, Alex was perfectly pleasant. He was good-looking in a boy-next-door kind of way, with a genuine smile and a surprisingly witty sense of humour. But there wasn’t a spark. Not even a flicker.

Your eyes, however, kept wandering towards Max. He had this brooding intensity about him, a quiet confidence that screamed "trouble" in the best possible way.

And, more importantly, the few times your eyes had met, you felt that jolt, the one that said this could be something…

"A 'good chat' isn't exactly setting the villa on fire, is it?" Em pressed, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"What else is there to do on day one?" you countered, trying to sound nonchalant. "We've got plenty of time to build something."

"Build something… like a friendship?" Elisha snickered.

You shot her a warning look. "We'll see. I'm keeping my options open."

The girls seemed to buy it, thankfully dropping the subject. But your conscience wasn't so easily fooled. You hated lying, especially to your new friends.

But revealing your true feelings for Max would be a recipe for disaster.

Em was already coupled with him, and despite her playful ribbing, she seemed genuinely interested. Stirring the pot on day one would make you look like a desperate drama queen.

So, you kept your mouth shut, swallowed your feelings, and plastered on a fake smile.

The sun bleeds orange and pink across the perfectly sculpted landscape, turning the infinity pool into a shimmering mirror reflecting the impossibly blue sky.

The sound of cheering rips through the air. It's the boys, of course, already pumped up on whatever combination of protein shakes and manufactured enthusiasm they've been consuming.

You tighten your grip on Elisha’s hand, the slick feel of her fake tan against your skin a surprisingly grounding sensation. Six girls, descending the stairs, a carefully curated mix of sun-kissed skin, perfectly highlighted cheekbones, and strategically placed assets.

The producers want the slow-motion montage, the dramatic reveal, the palpable tension. What they get is six girls desperately trying not to face-plant in six-inch heels.

You take a deep breath, focusing on the next step, then the next. You can feel the burn in your calves already. Elisha whispers, “Smile! We’re on camera!” You plaster a smile onto your face, praying it looks more genuine than forced.

Finally, you reach the bottom. The cheers crescendo, the bass of the music throbs in your chest, and the boys surge forward to greet their partners.

Lando scoops Mimi into a hug, spinning her around. Elisha leaps into Charles’s arms, their laughter echoing across the lawn. Oscar pulls Hannah close, whispering something in her ear that makes her blush.

Max embraces Em, their connection radiating even from this distance.

Then, there’s Alex.

He’s…fine. Perfectly pleasant. Brown hair neatly styled, teeth blindingly white, arms outstretched. He’s the guy your mother would love. Stable. Reliable. And about as exciting as beige wallpaper.

You plaster on your brightest, most convincing smile. The one that says, "I'm thrilled to be coupled with you!"

The one that hides the tiny voice inside your head screaming, "Wrong Max!"

You step into Alex's embrace, his arms wrapping around you. He smells of generic cologne and something vaguely…linen-y.

“Hey,” he says, his voice a comfortable baritone. “You look amazing.”

“Hey,” you echo, squeezing him a little tighter than necessary, hoping to project an enthusiasm you don't feel. “You too.”

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours. “Ready for dinner?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “I'm really hungry.”

You weren't. You really weren't.

Now, standing in line for the 'aesthetical Instagram-worthy' dinner hall, you feel a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach.

You can feel Max’s eyes on you, burning a hole in the back of your head. You refuse to meet his gaze. Instead, you focus all your attention on Alex. He's...nice.

"So," Alex says, his voice a little too loud in the suddenly hushed atmosphere. "First impressions? What do we think of the Love Island dining experience?"

You force a smile. "It's...striking. Definitely lives up to the hype." You glance around. Fairy lights twinkle in the twilight, draped across the bougainvillea-covered pergola. The tables are set with crisp white linens and gleaming silverware. It's utterly picture-perfect.

"Striking is one word for it," Alex chuckles. "I'm more concerned with the food. Hopefully, it tastes as good as it looks."

You nod, trying to appear engaged. But your attention keeps drifting back to Max. He's saying something to Em, but his eyes are fixed on you. A flicker of something you can't decipher – frustration? Regret? – flashes across his face before he quickly schools his expression.

Em, bless her heart, seems completely oblivious. She's completely engrossed in whatever Max is saying, her face alight with adoration.

He, on the other hand, looks distinctly bored. He gives her the barest of smiles, the kind that doesn't reach his eyes.

The line shuffles forward. You take a deep breath and tell yourself to focus. You're here to find love, or at least, the idea of love. You're here for the experience, the sun, the fun… the Instagram followers.

You definitely shouldn't be here obsessing over the guy who's currently paired with someone else, no matter how electrifying his presence is.

"You okay?" Alex asks, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Yeah, fine," you say, a little too quickly. "Just...a bit overwhelmed, I guess. It's all a lot to take in."

He places a reassuring hand on your arm. "I get it. It's a pressure cooker. Just remember to be yourself. That's all anyone can ask for."

Be yourself. The words ring hollow. The problem is, 'yourself' is currently battling an internal tug-of-war between playing it safe with the nice guy and succumbing to the undeniable pull of the bad boy.

And, you know, pretending to be someone else entirely for the sake of the cameras.

Finally, you reach the entrance to the dining hall. A hostess greets you with a dazzling smile and leads you and Alex to your assigned table. It's positioned strategically to give you a perfect view of… yep, you guessed it, Max and Em.

As you sit down, you subtly angled your body away from Max, towards Alex. "So, tell me about yourself, Alex," you say, trying to sound genuinely interested. "What do you do back home?"

He launches into a description of his life as a personal trainer, his passion for fitness, his dreams of opening his own gym. You nod and smile, asking appropriate questions, but your mind is elsewhere.

You catch Max’s gaze again. This time, he doesn't look away. He holds your stare, his expression unreadable.

Dinner arrives. A beautifully plated sea bass with roasted vegetables. It looks delicious, but you have no appetite. You pick at your food, making small talk with Alex, while eavesdropping on the conversations around you.

"…honestly, I think he's playing a game," you hear Mimi whisper to Lando, her eyes darting towards Oscar.

"…I'm just not feeling a spark," Elisha confides in Charles, sounding surprisingly glum.

You wonder if anyone here is actually being genuine. Or are you all just performers, vying for attention, manipulating emotions, and playing to the cameras?

"What about you?" Alex asks, pulling you back to the present. "What are you hoping to get out of this experience?"

You hesitate. The truth? The truth is, you don't really know. You came here because your friends dared you to. Because you were bored with your life. Because you secretly hoped to find something – or someone – that would ignite a spark within you.

"I'm… open to anything," you say, choosing your words carefully. "I'm looking for a connection, someone who makes me laugh, someone I can be myself with."

"And am I making you laugh?" Alex teases, a playful glint in his eye.

You force another smile. "You're definitely funny."

He leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Good. Because I'm definitely interested in getting to know you better."

You feel a wave of panic wash over you. This is it. This is the moment you're supposed to reciprocate, to flirt back, to signal your interest.

But you can't. Your gaze drifts back to Max, who is now staring intently at his plate, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

You swallow hard. "I'm… I'm glad to hear that, Alex." You try to sound enthusiastic, but your voice comes out flat.

The rest of the dinner passes in a blur of forced conversation and stolen glances. You avoid Max's gaze as much as possible, but you can feel his presence like a magnetic force, pulling you towards him.

You find yourself analyzing every interaction, every gesture, searching for hidden meanings, for some sign that he feels the same way.

"Since everyone is so hesitant, I'll start it. Alex, can I pull you for a chat?" Elisha says suddenly, standing up with a determined glint in her eye.

You love Elisha for this. For cutting through the artificial pleasantries and getting straight to the point. For being brave enough to risk rejection, or worse, boredom. You watch them leave, a wave of relief washing over you.

The conversational pressure, the suffocating intensity of the group setting, momentarily lifts. Now, you can finally relax, breathe and maybe think about what you should do. You wonder if you should call Max for a chat.

"Y/N," you hear someone say, a low, husky voice that sends a shiver down your spine. You turn around to see Max, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Can I speak to you for a minute?" he asks smoothly, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

You blink, caught completely off guard. After a moment, you recover quickly, attempting to appear nonchalant. "Okay, sure."

You stand up and follow Max to one of the sofas nestled in a secluded corner of the garden.

As you walk, you try to calm your racing heart, reminding yourself that this is just a conversation, nothing more. But deep down, you know that this is anything but ordinary.

When you two sit down, you are finally able to analyze Max's clothes. It was a simple, almost careless look, a plain white t-shirt – probably expensive – paired with dark denim jeans.

He looked effortless, like he'd just thrown it on, but you knew better. Every detail was carefully considered, designed to project an image of relaxed confidence.

"So," Max begins, leaning back against the cushions and crossing his arms. "How are you finding it so far? The Love Island experience, I mean."

You take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. "It's...intense," you admit, choosing your words carefully. "Definitely more intense than I expected."

"Yeah, it can be a bit overwhelming," he agrees, his eyes never leaving yours. "Everyone's trying to figure out where they stand, who they connect with. It's like a game of chess, but with emotions."

"And a lot more strategically placed bikinis," you add, earning a chuckle from him.

"True, very true. So, have you found anyone you connect with yet? Anyone you fancy?" he asks, the question hanging in the air between you.

This is it. The moment of truth. You could tell him the truth, admit your attraction, risk everything. Or you could play it safe, protect yourself from potential heartbreak, and settle for the comfortable mediocrity of your current pairing. You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat.

"Well," you start, forcing a casual tone. "Alex is...nice. He's a good guy, and we get along well enough."

A flicker of something passes across Max’s face – disappointment? relief? – but it’s gone before you can decipher it.

"Nice is good," he says neutrally. "But is it enough? Is it sparky enough to survive the recoupling?"

The recoupling. The looming threat that hangs over every islander, the ultimate test of compatibility, the brutal reminder that this is, after all, a game.

"I don't know," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "I honestly don't know what I'm doing. I've been here for six hours, and I already feel like I'm drowning."

Max leans forward, his expression softening. "Hey, it's okay. Everyone feels like that at first. Just be yourself, follow your instincts, and don't be afraid to take risks."

"Easy for you to say," you retort, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice. "You're coupled up with Em, and you seem perfectly happy."

He hesitates for a moment, his gaze dropping to his hands before looking back up at you. "Looks can be deceiving," he says quietly. "Em is great, don't get me wrong. But we're not exactly…soulmates."

Your heart skips a beat. Is he implying what you think he’s implying?

Before he could respond, a high-pitched shriek cut through the tension. “I’ve got a text!” Em, tanned and toned, was practically vibrating with excitement. The whole villa seemed to collectively hold its breath.

Max immediately helped you from the sofa, his hand lingering on your arm for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. The brief contact sent a jolt of electricity through you.

He guided you both back to the group, where Em, having dramatically uncapped her phone, began to read in her best influencer voice, “Islanders, tomorrow there’s going to be something new in the villa…or someone! Be ready to test the connections you just made! #NewArrival #TestYourLove”

The girls gasped, a chorus of nervous energy filling the air. You could see the gears turning in their heads, alliances forming and dissolving in a matter of seconds.

You, however, were still reeling from Max's earlier cryptic comment. The text only added another layer of complexity to the already overwhelming situation.

You push your way through the throng of girls, the air thick with hairspray and the scent of coconut tanning lotion. You find Hannah propped against a pillar, nervously chewing on her lip gloss applicator.

“Imagine it’s a new guy?” you ask, trying to inject a casual tone into your voice.

Hannah’s eyes dart over to where Oscar was speaking to Lando. “I think I like my couple,” she says, fiddling with the strap of her bikini. “Oscar’s…sweet.”

You suppress a smile. Sweet might be one word for it. You’d go with ‘nonchalant.’

The rest of the evening is a blur of speculation, strategy, and forced smiles. Everyone talks about the text, analyzing its implications from every possible angle.

The producers orchestrated this chaos perfectly.

Later, as the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, the girls gather in the dressing room, the air buzzing with a renewed sense of camaraderie.

“Party in the U.S.A.” blares from someone’s phone as they take off their makeup, revealing the slightly less glamorous reality that lies beneath the layers of foundation and bronzer.

Hannah and Elisha are having a twerk-off by the mirror, their laughter echoing through the room.

The rest cheer them on, a momentary escape from the pressure cooker that Love Island has become. You find yourself caught up in the energy, laughing along with them.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the villa, the guys are engaged in their own pre-bedtime rituals.

You can hear snippets of their conversation drifting through the open windows: talk of muscles, abs, and the merits of different protein powders.

Unbeknownst to you, Max decides to confide in Lando, a surfer with perpetually windswept hair. He trusts Lando to keep a secret.

“Mate, I think I like… Y/N,” Max says, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair.

Lando, who’s meticulously applying beard oil in front of the mirror, quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, I knew it,” he says, a smug grin spreading across his face.

Max is shocked. “How?”

Lando shrugs, touching his hair again. “The way you look at her, man. It’s obvious. Plus, she’s, like, totally your type. Smart, funny, doesn’t take herself too seriously.”

Max gulps. He hadn’t realized he was being so transparent. “But I’m coupled with Emily…” he mumbles, the sentence trailing off into the humid night air.

“Yeah, well, Emily is…Emily,” Lando says diplomatically, clearly implying that Emily, while undeniably gorgeous, might not be the intellectual sparring partner Max secretly craves.

“Look, mate, don’t do anything rash. Just…see where things go.”

As you watch everyone around you pairing off and heading to their shared beds, you feel a twinge of anxiety in your chest. You've only been on the Love Island for eight hours, but it feels like a lifetime since you've been in a healthy, loving relationship.

You broke up with your ex a few months ago, and while you've been on a few dates since then, nothing has stuck.

But now, here you are, in a villa full of beautiful people, and you've somehow found yourself coupled up with Alex. He's sweet, kind, and understanding - everything your ex wasn't.

But you can't shake the feeling of awkwardness that comes with physical intimacy after being out of the game for so long.

As you both get ready for bed, you can feel Alex trying to make you feel comfortable. He gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek as you climb into bed together.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice soft and concerned.

You nod, trying to put on a brave face. "Yeah, I'm just...not used to this yet," you admit.

Alex smiles gently and takes your hand in his. "It's okay," he says. "We can take things at your pace. I want you to feel safe and comfortable with me."

You squeeze his hand, grateful for his understanding. "Thanks, Alex. I appreciate that."

He snuggles down into his pillow, turning to face you. “Just relax. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

You mimic his actions, pulling your own pillow closer. As you close your eyes, a wave of exhaustion washes over you. The day’s events, the constant scrutiny, the pressure to perform – it’s all taking its toll.

But sleep doesn't come easily. Your mind races, replaying conversations, analyzing interactions, second-guessing every word and gesture.

The villa's hum is a constant reminder that you're not alone, that everyone is watching, judging, hoping.

Tossing and turning, you finally crack open your eyes. You’re staring directly at…Max.

His face is close, too close, the faint light filtering through the villa windows painting his features in soft strokes. His dark hair is a mess, artfully disheveled, like he just rolled out of bed after a particularly good dream.

Or maybe a bad one, judging by the slight furrow in his brow.

He must be warm, because even in the dim light, you can see the sheen of a healthy glow on his skin.

He’s shirtless.

A landscape of toned muscle and subtle shadows. Your eyes trace the line of his collarbone, the curve of his shoulder, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. A faint trail of hair leads down to where his torso disappears beneath the sheet.

You can see the faintest hint of definition in his abs, the subtle indentations that speak of workouts and natural athleticism. His chest is firm, not overly muscular but with perfectly defined pecs.

You could spend the whole day counting the individual pectoral muscles, the striations and curves highlighted by the soft villa light.

Max, with his mischievous grin, and eyes that crinkle at the corners. Max, who is coupled up with Em. Max, whose bed is situated right next to yours, separated only by a narrow space.

A space that feels infinitely wider now, under the cover of darkness.

He’s staring at you, a playful glint in his eyes. It makes you feel strangely exposed, yet also…seen. Alex is asleep beside you, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, oblivious to the silent drama unfolding inches away.

You feel a flicker of guilt, quickly stifled by a surge of unexpected excitement. This isn't how the first night in Love Island is supposed to go.

You're supposed to be getting to know Alex, or at least faking it well enough until a better option presents itself. Not exchanging secret glances with one of the villa's heartthrobs.

You smile, a small, tentative curve of your lips. It feels ridiculously shy, like you’re a teenager again, caught staring at your crush across the school cafeteria.

Max mirrors your smile, then mouths something across the space. “Good night,” he forms the words carefully, then adds a final word you can’t quite decipher. It sounds like "Schat,".

You didn't know what it meant, maybe it was something you called a friend in his language?

You mirror him, mouthing back, "Good night,” feeling a surge of childish glee. The absurdity of the situation – lying in bed next to a sleeping stranger, communicating silently with another stranger in the dark – makes you giggle. Internally, of course.

You can’t risk waking Alex, or worse, Em. God, imagining Em's wrath makes you shiver.

Before you can attempt to decipher the mystery word, a loud clap echoes through the room.

"Lights out!" Hannah's voice booms, followed by curtains closing. Darkness descends, enveloping the room in silence.

You close your eyes, the image of Max’s smiling face burned into your memory.

What was that word he mouthed? And why did it make your heart beat a little faster?

The rest of the night passes in a fitful haze. You alternate between trying to rationalize your attraction to Max – he’s just a friendly face, a distraction from the pressure of being with Alex – and berating yourself for even considering it.

You’re coupled up with a perfectly nice guy. You should be focusing on building a connection with him, not fantasizing about the guy in the next bed. . . .

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Next Time On Love Island....

"Sorry boys," they mouthed to the boys at the back as they kissed the girls with zero shame. Their hand cupped the back of your neck. you couldn't see who i was. . . .

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daydreaming-jessi · 2 years ago

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Hi. It’s finally time for the part I’ve been waiting to write this entire time. Sorry it took so long

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #i’m a bunch of broken pieces #ibbp #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #juno shoggoth #fanfic

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elyxir1zz · 1 month ago

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★ — Between the lines

CW : meanie sevika, artist reader, hockey player vi and sevika, modern au, highschool shenanigans, fluff?

A/N : no smut first chaptor :(

Summary : star hocky player sevika has to take an art glass in order to graduate from highschool, fate assigns her to the same class as you and her rival

Sevika hated this. She was on the brink of graduating, being the final semester of her senior year of highschool. She had gotten a hockey scholarship to college, she was supposed to meet with the counselor on the first day after Christmas break to talk about further plans. She was on her high horse, until—- “Sevika you haven’t taken any art classes at all.” Her eyes widened at the counselor's words “what? Of course I have I mean my freshman year I probably have?” She tried to reason, sitting up from her relaxed posture. “It’s okay. We can fix this. You can take an art class for this semester and if you pass you can graduate” Sevika smiled, it’s art. Easy peasy. She can do that, it's just a bunch of wusses coloring?

You were a junior in highschool. You’ve known what you wanted to do since 6th grade. You wanted to be an artist, and you were good at it too, passing all of your art classes with ease. Anytime you had any open periods you would take an art class, it doesn’t matter if you’ve already taken it. You rub your face while sitting in your car taking a deep breath in before stepping out . It was January so it was still cold out, you cross your arms shielding your hands from the cold. as you walk to the building. The chatter of the hallways filled your ears. You groan, moving your hands to your ears. You’d rather freeze to death then spend another minute with these assholes

You walk to your locker noticing two people making out, blocking you from the locker. “Um excuse me?” You say softly “sorry babe I’m busy” the taller one says, you recognize her immediately, sevika. You narrow your eyes. Everyone else would move on, not wanting to risk a broken nose, but you were different to say the least. “Dude! Move.” The 3 of you look over at the voice. Violet, also a hockey player, and sevikas arch nemesis. Sevika narrowed her eyes wrapping her arm around the woman's shoulder “don’t make me ask again.” Vi crossed her arms as Sevika rolled her eyes and walked away with the girl.

You breathe a sigh of relief, looking back at vi. “Thanks, vi” you say, opening your locker. “Guess what?” Vi leaned against the locker next to yours “hm?” You rummaged through your locker “I talked to my counselor and…” she handed you a piece of paper. You turn to her as you look down “what’s this?” You say reading it, it was…her class schedule? Your eyes landed on the text that said she had 5th period art. Your eyes widened “we have the same class together?” You smile looking up at her “it’s art. It makes your favorite class even better..you know, cause I’m there” vi said as you raised your eyebrow “ehhh actually puts a dull on it.” You tease, trying to hide your smirk “you can deny all you want, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes at the nickname

“Bye, violet” you close your locker and start walking to your first class.

Vi smirked as you walked away. She couldn’t help the bubbling feeling in her chest when she talked to you, you were Gorgeous and so smart. So talented. She thought to herself. She turned around stopping herself taking a step when she saw, pow– jinx standing there “oh-” she said looking her sister up and down “your so mindlessly in love with her, its sad” jinx smirked “ha ha” vi said sarcastically as she started walking with jinx to there class “im serious” jinx said bluntly. They fall into conversation

Sevika tried to finish her…session with the girl. But she couldn't help but feel a bit bored. “sevika?” the girl looked up at her “what's wrong” she tilted her head. “Sorry, I uh need to go. My hockey scholarship stops me from being late, "Sevika looked down at the girl. She stepped away without another word even when the girl tried to convince her to stay. Your face kept flashing in her mind, you were so annoying. And so easy to tease, such a waste of a pretty face. Yeah she thought you were pretty, she would never say it to your face however. And it was worse. She and Sevika almost got into a few fights and risked being kicked off the hockey team, and she followed you around like a lost puppy.

You sigh, doodling on your paper with your head resting in your hand. The bell brings you out of your thoughts. You blink starting to pack up “remember your welcome back essay is do on friday!” the teacher yelled. Everyone groans, including you. You hate writing, as soon as you sit down to write your mind goes to shit. You sigh, putting your bag on, walking to your last class of the day, art. Your face flushed at the fact I went out of her way to spend time with you, of course you liked her, she was so funny and strong.

You walk into art, being one of the first people there. You sit down and pull out your pocket sketchbook. Thinking of what to draw, you sigh staring off into space. You look up at your name being called, your favorite teacher, mr wilson he was a good teacher and runs most of the art department “glad your taking this class again” he said as you smile “good too see you too” you say softly looking up at him “i need to talk to you after class.” he said “don't worry. You're not in trouble.” he said before you could ask. He goes on a rant about his break about some nightmare ski trip with his husband. You zone him out when vi walks in. She looks over at you and smiles big, walking over and sitting next to you. as the room filled in and the final bell rang

Mr Wilson goes on about the syllabus for the new students, nothing you haven't heard before so you look around at everyone, a few new students, students that she already knew and— your eyes dart over the figure in the corner, sevika. You narrow your eyes as you look towards the front of the room. Trying not to stare too long, you take a deep breath. Mr wilson handed out the syllabus to everyone but you. “There's a student you all should know,” Mr Wilson said as he wandered around the room, your heart drops as he says your name “she has taken this class at least 3 times and has passed it every time, she is who you should look up to.” you sigh looking down, avoiding everyone's gaze. Vi smirked, clearly enjoying the social embarrassment you were getting.

Sevika looked at you. Why is she here? She thought to herself. Whatever, maybe if she kept her distance it'll all be— “sevika!” Mr Wilson looked over at Sevika, she looked up. “Uh- yes?” she asked “i feel like you would do better sitting next to one of my more- experienced students” he said nervously “come sit here.” he points to the seat next to you “god damnit” you mutter looking down. Vi looked over, narrowing her eyes as her hand clenched into a fist “great.” she said way so loud “excuse me?” sevika said as she sat next to you. You were sandwiched between both of them, they were giving each other the death stare as you hold your head in your hands

The whole room was quiet, including the teacher, waiting for some kind of action between vi and sevika. “Anyway-” he said walking to the front of the room “for the first project of the semester we are doing a watercolor landscape” sevika chuckled to herself, "too easy “is this hard?” vi leaned over to you. You hesitate “i mean when i did it for the first time, it wast but it's different for everyone” you whisper back. “Its water color, we did this in grade school” you both look over at sevika “nobody asked you for your opinion” vis tone was like poison “don't.” you whisper, putting the fight down before it even started “yeah listen to your bitch” sevika muttered looking down at her note book

Before you could even process what was going on. Vi had already punched sevika, pinning her to the ground as she got a good few hits in before sevika rolled over and started hitting back. The whole class was yelling as you tried to pull sevika off of her “okay! Okay!” Mr Wilson quickly stopped the fight. Eventually sevika got off vi, vi had a black eye and sevika had a bloody nose and a few bruises on her face. “The 3 of you go to the office!” you stand up straighter, looking around almost second guessing if the teacher was talking about you “wh-what?” your voice broke “i said go.” mr wilson said

“This is unacceptable!” the principal yelled. You three were sitting in the office. Fate decided for you to be sandwiched between them again. Vi was holding an ice pack to her eye and sevika was holding a tissue to her nose. You are trying to stop your breath from accelerating “i don't know what to do for you 2. I- i mean i give you detention! Put you in the same class” the principle stuttered, pinching his nose “see that was your first issue. Putting this orge in the same class as me!” vi said leaning forward “orge?! I'll show you orge” sevika looked over at vi “enough!” he yelled.

Your eyes were still locked on him. Vi and sevika look back at him and take a deep breath “transfer her out!” vi yelled “why don't you transfer?!” Vi opened her mouth to reply but didnt know how. Your face flushes. “Okay! Okay!” he yelled sitting down. “Sevika, vi you both get one week of after school detention, this includes any hockey practices!” sevika and vi were quick to protest. He says your name and you look up “one day of after school detention” you start hyperventilating “oh my god-” you stumble over your words “oh my god i've never been in trouble before!” you look down “calm down, prissy” sevika said “out of my office and go straight to detention. No goofing off”

“I can't believe I'm in detention because of you!” you yell at sevika as the 3 of you walk down the hall “because of me?! Why don't you blame your girlfriend! She's the one who attacked me!” she looked down at you “she's not my girlfriend!” you yell and vi looks at you, a pang of pain punches her in the chest. She looks away. You look around for a moment before going a different way then them “where are you going detention is this way?” vi said as sevika did care she just kept walking “i'm gonna see if i can work on my art project in detention. Ill meet you there”

You tuck a peice of hair behind your ear. Pushing the door open to the art room. You couldn't hide the anger on your face if you tried “mr wilson.” you say as he looks over. You wanted to yell at him in front of everyone but you were too late. He said your name, smiling “how'd it go?” you raise your eyebrow at his words “i have detention.” you hiss “for how long? A week?” he asks not even looking up from his paper “a day.” he looks up at you “just a day? That's not so bad!” “Do you understand this can go on my permanent record? Fuck up any chance at college?” you walk forward “a day of detention? It'll be okay.” he said looking down at his paper “whatever” you rub your forehead “can i do whatever i missed in detention please?” you ask crossing your arms

“An artistic delinquent?” he smirked “how poetic” he grabbed a large thick piece of paper and handed it to you “dont start.” you say walking out of the art class “don't get into trouble!” he yells as you walk away. “Ha ha” you mutter walking back to detention quickly. You sigh “you're late.” the monitor said “i know- i'm sorry-” “i don't care. Sit down.” you look at the classroom, sevika was sitting in the corner and vi was sitting as far as she could. You walk over to vi and sit next to her “you are here for the next hour and i hope you reflect on your actions” he sits at his desk and rests his head on it “is he sleeping?” you whisper “shh-” vi said looking back at you “give it a minute” she whispered

After a few minutes his snores filled the room. You raise an eyebrow as you look at vi a weirded out expression on your face “I know.” vi said. You pull out your pencil bag and start sketching your landscape “i'm mad at you.” you say “why?” her voice switched to concern. You shoot a look at her. she shuts up quickly “im sorry, no one should talk about you like that.” vi argued looking you up and down “I can fight my own battles.” you say leaning forward “it seemed like you were going to just let her say that about you” vi said glancing at sevika for a moment

Sevika was trying to nap, leaning in her chair with a book covering her face. She couldn't help but listen to your conversation. The goal of the insult was to rile vi up not insult you. She felt bad but she would never actually apologize. She falls asleep thinking about you and before she knew it, it was time to go home. She blinks rubbing her eyes as she grabs her bag and hauls it over her shoulder. Catching sight of your sketch…it was beautiful. You slide it into your bag “you need a ride?” you ask looking at vi “i need to run some errands, i'll take the bus” vi smiled and cupped your cheek “you're a sweetheart.” vi said as she walked out of the class, trying to hurry in order to catch the city bus leaving you and sevika alone

“She likes you.” Sevika walked over, standing behind you. You didn't say anything as you finished packing up and threw your bag on. She walks over and grabs the strap of your bag. You look over at her with an angry face “listen. That comment…” she hesitates “i didn't mean to bring you into me and vis fight” she sighed as your gaze softens “if anyone gives you trouble, come to me not your pipsqueak of a girlfriend.” sevika didn't let you protest “she not-” sevika walked out of the room and your left standing there

Did she just– apologize?

Part 2

#arcane #arcane sevika #sevika #sevika x reader #lesbian #sissormetimbers #wlw #wuh luh wuh #vi arcane #vi x reader #violet arcane

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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i think that last fic you wrote for me is my new favorite thing to reread on here! could i request a pt two where they’re all just having a chill day/ night and then they all get ready for bed together and lay down for cuddles plz? the way you write for poly!marauders is just so perfect! tysm again for reading my requests!! -🌶️

Awww that makes me so happy, I'm so glad you liked it! And of course you can my love <3

poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 981 words

Though James typically prefers you with no clothes on, he does think you look pretty cute in his big t-shirt. He bunches the fabric in his hands as he comes up behind you, setting his head on your shoulder.

“What’re you doing?” you ask, smiling at him through a mouthful of toothpaste.

He gazes at you in the mirror. “Just admiring the view.”

“Oi,” Sirius elbows him, hands wet with whatever product in his billion-step skincare routine he’s currently rubbing into his face. His hair is scraped back into a bun to keep it out of the way. (James loves it when he wears it like that.) “Quit stealing my lines, Potter.”

James doesn’t even need to speak; he knows the best way to rile Sirius right now doesn’t involve words. He grabs his dark-haired boyfriend by the chin, landing a smacker right on his cheek.

Sirius shouts just as James pulls back, grimacing.

“Fuck, Pads, what’s in that shit?” he wipes his mouth on his sleeve, getting rid of any remaining product from Sirius’ face. “Have you poisoned me?”

“Serves you right,” Sirius shoots back. “Everyone else knows better than to mess with my routine. I hope you are poisoned for contaminating my skin like that.”

James looks about for support, but you only roll your eyes, spitting into the sink.

“Don’t wish poisoning upon people, love,” Remus says mildly from the bedroom, and it’s not much, but James seizes upon it. He sends Sirius a triumphant look.

“I only wanted kisses, Moons,” he whines, padding into the bedroom and laying himself pitifully across Remus’ lap. “You get it, don’t you?”

Remus smiles, bending to press his lips to James’. “Merlin, Sirius,” he says teasingly, “you really don’t know what you’re missing.”

James chases him for more, propping himself up on his elbow and keeping Remus close with a hand at the nape of his neck.

It doesn’t take long before Sirius is rushing out, his skincare routine apparently finished for the night as he chases you into the bedroom. James and Remus both stop to watch the spectacle as he grabs you around the waist, dipping you low and kissing you passionately. You make a sound of muffled surprise against his lips, breaking away after a second.

“Sirius!” You laugh, flustered. “You cannot just attack me because you’re jealous! I won’t be a pawn in your game.”

Sirius puts on a show of hurt, straightening you but keeping his hands steadfastly around your waist. “You’re not a pawn, baby. You’re the best piece on the board.”

You let out a loud, barking laugh at that, extricating yourself from his hold. “That’s really awful,” you tell him, stepping backwards towards the bed. “If you think James is stealing your lines, you need to come up with some better material.”

Sirius’ mouth drops open, and James snickers.

You sit down on the bed and launch into your nightly routine of demolishing your joints, twisting around to coax painful-sounding cracking noises from your back, and Remus moves away from James to begin his nightly routine of trying to foil you, taking your shoulders in his hands before you can rotate your spine in the other direction.

“Quit that,” he says, looking at you severely.

You nod, but no sooner does Remus remove his hands from you than you’re contorting your back again, eliciting a series of popping noises that makes James wonder whether you might’ve broken something.

Remus shakes his head at you, disappointed but not necessarily surprised. “I’m going to kill you,” he promises.

You grin. “You’re all talk.”

You’re nearly as bad as Sirius when you get like this, but Remus knows just how to handle you, wrestling you flat onto the bed and laying down atop you. He toys with your hair lazily, a little smirk tugging at his lips.

“Are you ready to wind down?” he asks you placidly.

You’re laughing, squirming feebly underneath his weight, and James can’t help but chuckle, grabbing one of your hands by the wrist when you try to pinch at Remus’ side.

“Traitor,” you say to him.

“I take no sides,” he replies easily. “Sorry, angel.”

“Darling,” Remus hums lazily, getting your attention again. “Are you ready to go to sleep?”

You roll your eyes and sigh greatly, but nod. Remus doesn’t let you off that easily this time, though, passing you immediately to Sirius, who tugs you tight to his front, your nose squishing into his cheek as he peppers your face with kisses.

“Oh, I see,” James says, getting into the opposite side of the bed. “So they can touch your face, but I can’t, huh?”

“Anyone can, once the product has dried,” Sirius says cooly, settling down with one final kiss to the tip of your nose. “Your mistake was jumping the gun, Potter.”

“Can we be done with this?” you ask. “Remus is tired.”

“Don’t use him as your scapegoat,” Sirius says, but peers over you to see Remus anyway, a tiny bit of worry in the squint of his eyes. “You’re not tired, are you Moons?”

“Only the normal amount,” Remus says, eyes already closed.

James coos, touching his lips to the high point of Remus’ cheekbone, just beside a jagged scar.

“Poor boy, we’re tormenting him,” he says lightly, and Sirius rolls his eyes but quiets down.

For a good, long while, it’s silent. James watches the light in the room change as cars drive past, their headlights filtering through the curtains. The breathing around him becomes slower, more even. His own body relaxes into the mattress, eyelids drooping as he starts to give into that sweet, soft heaviness that waits just past the threshold of sleep.

He hears a quiet rustling of sheets, and then a loud cracking sound comes from your side of the bed.

A low voice. “Don’t make me come over there.”

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onelittlespiral · 1 year ago

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You should definitely do a preppy boy tf!

FML: Contact

I knew I should have charged my phone before I left, but I was running late and didn’t want to miss my study session. I know, I know it was stupid. But the walk was only supposed to be a few blocks. I have no idea how I got this lost. It felt like I was wandering for hours, but I kept just going around in circles and ending up in front of this gym. Great, just what I needed before finals week. Maybe I should stop an- ugh. My bag spilled out in front of me as I wa a knocked to the ground.

“Hey, sorry bro.”

It seems like on about my third time around the block I finally ran into one of the gym’s patrons, idiot. For the life of me I will never know how those guys will walk out in shorts in December. I started to scoop my belongings back into my bag.

“Here, let me help- Ah fuck, that could be bad.” He picked up my laptop and handed it to me. Thankfully it seems that there wasn’t any real damage, but a few deep scratches were carved in the metal and the screen was definitely cracked.

“Just what I needed today! Look where you’re going next time!” I was nearly in tears. I was lost, I was frustrated, I think the fall tore a hole in my khakis, and now my computer would be busted till after finals.

“Hey, I said I was sorry. Didn’t mean to knock a shrimp like you down. I didn’t even hit you that hard…”

“Well sue me if I don’t have time to get swoll bro,” I spat, “but some of us have finals to study for.”

“Oh dang, that’s where I know you from! English 110, with Professor Kim. Yeah, you’re always in the front and answering shit.” Immediately the puzzle pieces clicked. I can’t blame myself for not recognizing him. He must have been one of the dudes who sat in the back, and they all basically acted, talked, and looked about the same. A bunch of gym rats struggling through the gen eds. I’m genuinely surprised he can to class often enough to recognize me. “Hey man, are you studying for this final later? I’m just like not getting this stuff. Like, why are they having Exercise Science majors out here studying English anyways?”

“Uhh, yeah maybe.” At this point I was past the point of caring about this conversation. It was such a simple class I hardly had even glanced over the study guide. I had packed my things and was making to get up and leave.

“Here bruh, lemme help you up,” and he extended his hand to me. I grabbed hold as a small shock passed between us. It was just a split second, but as his calloused, sweaty had grasped mine, I felt a jolt that stuck my hair on end. I hardly had time to notice as he hoisted me up. “Hey, if you do end up reviewing later, maybe give me a heads up. We could do a study session or something.” He pulled out a pen and scribbled on the back of a receipt. Grabbing my hand again, and pulled me into a bro hug before I could protest. Up close he was warm and humid, sweat cooling in the cold winter air. He left the paper in my hand when he pulled away. He smirked, “You should ask inside, they may be able to help. I’ll see you later tonight.” There was a confidence in his voice that sent a chill down my spine. Before I knew it he had booked it, and I was left with a piece of paper, a broken computer, and a sinking realization I was still lost.

With few options left, I popped into the gym my classmate had just come out of. Maybe they would have a charger I could borrow or be able to help me with directions. At least it was warm inside. I walked over to the man at the desk, asking “Hey, sorry to bother. Do you all have a phone charger? I am completely lost and out of juice.”

“You can bother me any time,” the attendant said with a wink, “We’ve got some chargers in the locker room, but management is struck about people using facilities without paying. You already a member with us?”

“No, do I look like a member with you all? Please, I’m tired and at this point I just need to get home.” I groaned.

“Well sorry bro, you’ve gotta get those gains somewhere… let’s see, a day pass only runs about $5,” he slid the card reader to me.

“Fine.” I thrust my card into the machine and grabbed my receipt, storming off towards the locker room.”

“Enjoy your time! Oh, sir. Those aren’t the locker rooms they are the changing ro-” and the swinging door cut him off. I cut to the first door on my left. The overhead lights activated as I walked in. The inside was warm, hotter even than the lobby. For locker rooms, there were very few lockers. Just cooler with some sports drinks, some mirrors, and a charging station. No one else was inside, so I sat down on a bench and set my phone down on the charging station. With the heat I quickly began stripping layers, till I was down to my sweater, but I was not going shirtless in this place. It looked like it would be a while before my phone would be charged. I tried to put the whole situation out of my mind as I laid back and relaxed, carried to sleep in the thick heat…

I woke up a while later, disoriented and thirsty. It may have been a bad idea to sleep in the sweater, the thing was practically dripping in sweat now. I began to pull off the damp thing when I was shocked to see what was underneath:

Abs. Pecs. Abs and pecs. I had to be dreaming, when did I go from a stick to having abs and pecs. Not only that, but my arms. Thick and smooth, my arms looked swollen, as though I had been working them out for years. And my legs, they felt like lead beneath me, so heavy I could hardly move them. I could crush a melon between my thighs. And my poor shoes, they were practically in tatters on the floor. My toes poked out of the remains, leather torn between my meaty soles. I looked in the mirror to get a full picture. If I didn’t see it I wouldn’t have believed it, I was a whole different man.

I grabbed my phone and booked it out the door back to the front desk. The same attendant was there, looking me up and down as I passed by:

“Well hey there handsome. How are you enjoying our amenities?”

I just about strangled him, “What the hell happened? What did you all do to me?!?”

“I did try to tell you. Locker rooms are the other side. Those are the changing rooms.”

“What’s that supposed mean?”

“Well, look at yourself. Must have gone for the muscle enhancement, eh? Not a bad look on you.” I could just about wipe that smug look off his face.

“Cut the bull crap, I didn’t ask for this. If you all changed me into this change me back.”

“So sorry,” the apology dripped from his lips, “but things don’t quite work that way. For more specialized changes you have to get a full membership.”

“That’s a fucking lie,” I shouted, “You never said shit about this. I don’t need your membership. Change me back, now.”

“Woah, calm down there hot stuff, no need to get so worked up. How about this. My boss is home for the night. I know what you looked like when you came in. I can sneak you back into one of our specialty changing rooms, and I’ll calibrate it myself. Deal?”

I was about in tears, “Deal.”

He took my hand and lead me to the changing room all the way in the back. Same set up, same bench in a mostly barren room. This one was maybe a tad smaller. His voice came on over the intercom:

“Alright, now just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.”

This time, deep red lights came on and that same heat began to fill the room. It somehow felt a bit different. The other heat wrapped around, this one felt like it pierced. In moments my body was flooded with warmth. Sweat rolled down my body as the room began having its effects. But something wasn’t right. Instead of shrinking down to my lithe self, my body felt like it was bubbling, and began to swell even more.

“Hey. HEY! What the hell! What are you doing out there? Wrong way asshole!”

He chuckled into the intercom, “What? I think it’s a good look on you.”

“You’re supposed to change me back!” I shouted

“I said I would calibrate the room. I didn’t say how. You should feel lucky, you’re getting the VIP treatment for free!”

Everywhere sweat rolled my muscles stretched as my body began writhing under the feeling of its growth. It felt… it felt… oh god it felt… so…good. But it had to be stopped. I couldn’t keep going like this. I put all my effort into standing up and lunged for the door handle. It didn’t budge, locked from the outside.

“Oh, is this not to your taste?” he teased “Well, I already did smooth jock tonight. Fine, let’s try this then.”

The red lights switched off as dull LED’s took their place. At the same time, a mist began pouring into the room. The smell made me dizzy as I slumped back on the bench behind me. The haze curled around me and stuck to my skin. It smelled like aftershave, sharp and fresh, with a coolness that made me shiver. My skin began to tingle wherever it touched. I watched as my skin turned to goosebumps, then slowly a fine layer of fuzz began to coat my pecs. It grew and curled wherever the mist lead it. It blazed a treasure trail down my abs and branched out to cover them. I could only moan as my body pushed out my new pelt. It curled around my back as a forest erupted behind me. Working it’s way up, I felt a tickle on my jaw and cheeks. It caressed my face as a five o-clock shadow pushed out from my smooth face, and in moments a full beard was pushed out. It’s curling tendrils even worked on the hair I already had. I felt the hair on top of my head stand on end before following the mist into a thick mop. It worked it’s way into my gapping mouth too, and I felt my throat stretch and adjust, my moans coming out much deeper. Then it concentrated on my groin and pits. My previously trimmed bushes grew wild, quickly becoming a tangle. As my pubes grew around, it felt soooo good. I began getting hard, but the mist only took that as an opportunity. Something else to grow and curve. It stretched 6, 7, 8, 9 inches straight out before curving distinctly up. I was in pure ecstasy, with only the thought of the man outside watching keeping me from fully jacking off.

“Wow, what a grower. I knew you had potential but, woof.”

“You… won’t… *gasp*…get away… with… with this!”

“Oh, still a little rebel in you? Maybe we can bring that out a bit.”

The mist receded, and overhead the lights began to strobe and a loud white noise began to play. The pattern was disorientating and it hurt to watch. But even when I closed my eyes I couldn’t escape. A splitting headache developed as my emotions all turned to anger. I tried to shout, to call for it to stop, but my words didn’t even reach my ears. I watched in glimpses as I began to scream, deep and primal, rage in my eyes. My arm clenched into a fist and I ran up to pound the door down. It still didn’t budge but the shock sent a ripple down my arm. In the mirror I watched as in slow motion a full sleeve tattoo stretched down my arm. I sat down in pain and fear and anger as I grew close to tears. But the back of my mind knew that I could not cry, not anymore. Then, all at once it stopped. I realized I was still shouting. I felt pissed off, aggressive. When I got out of this room, I was gonna pummel that twink into submission.

“God, that one always gets me. I love a man with tattoos.”

“Fuck OFF” I growled. I looked in the mirror at the monster I had become:

My mind was being flooded with emotions, a sense of loss for the person I was, a rage at the man who had done this to me, an animalistic horniness from my sizable new cock, and a deep terror for what else could happen. I channeled that fury and made one last attempt on the locked door. I yanked and rattled the door with all the strength this new body could muster. I felt the handle flex beneath my grip, before a loud *snap* sent me plummeting to the ground. The handle had come off the door. I banging against the door, shouting for anyone to come help me.

“Hmmm,” the attendant contemplated, “I may have gone too far with the rage this time. You’re a beast bro, but let’s reign it in. A healthy dose of this should help.”

A new cloud filled the room, this one thicker than the last. It was damp and sticky and clung to every inch of me. This one smelled rich and acrid, like an arm pit that had long since sweat through any deodorant. It was as though every patron of the gym had joined me in the room fresh from their workout. The fog was so thick I felt as though I was beginning to choke. It slid heavily down my throat and made my eyes water. That’s when I felt it begin to corrupt me. My enraged mind became calm, then addled as my brain filled with the all consuming fog. Memories flashed before my eyes as I felt them slip from my mind, replaced with false copies. I felt my college experience shift from books and classes to working out and tutoring sessions. My classes in journalism and writing were swapped for work out routines and remedial math. Then my cock began twitching as memories of hot workout sessions with my bros filled my mind, replacing my book club. As my mind relaxed and the new memories came to me easier and easier. My IQ was slipping down quickly, resting now somewhere around 75. As my mind relaxed I felt my body do so too. The cloud began seeping into my pores, filling me with its corrupting influence. My body betrayed me, greedily sucking up the cloud until the room was completely clear. I felt warm and tingly, my body pressed flat against the cold floor. I lifted my arm to get a good wiff of my funk. My cock jumped in response. God I needed to fuck. The cloud had saturated me, inside and out, soaking me in a new identity.

“How are you feeling in there big guy?” a voice was on the other side of a speaker in the room.

“Aight I guess man. I’m tired. Guess I passed out in here,” I replied. God, just waking up from a nap and I had my morning wood. The door opened, a cute bro was on the other side.

“Have you enjoyed your day pass sir?” He asked.

“Hell yeah Lil’ bro, it’s been good. This gym is stacked. I haven’t felt this worn out after a workout in a while!”

“Have you considered upgrading that day pass to a full membership? I know I would love to see you around,” he said with a wink.

“Mmm, wouldn’t mind seeing you every day. Gimme the forms.” He led me out to the lobby, I signed a few forms, and handed me a card.

“Now remember next time, locker rooms are over there,” he smirked. “Here, this is free with your sign up.”

He threw a tank top over to me. Good thing too, I think I forgot mine at home. It fit snugly over my huge chest. It made my arms look huge too. Just a shame I sweat so much after a workout, I already had some pit stains going. Shit, I was rank.

“Thanks bro, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I strolled out the door into the cold winter air. I flexed, feeling the breeze wick some of my sweat away.

“Hey, excuse me?” Some dork walked up to me, looking desperate. I felt like I knew him from somewhere, though I couldn’t place it. “Would you happen to be able to help me? I have been going around in circles and can’t seem to find my way. I have an exam in just a few hours.”

“Nah, sorry man. I’m not quite sure I’m able to help. Never been good with directions huhu,” that’s when it clicked, “Hey, you’re in my bio class aren’t you? Ah shit, is that exam today?!? Fuck, I’m never gonna pass that crap.”

He looked a little flabbergasted, but made some excuses and was about to move on when I grabbed him. I felt something pass between us, as his gaze fell onto me, unblinking, “You should check in the gym bro, I know they can help you out.” I pulled away and the moment passed. I reached into my pocket and pulled out two receipts. The first was my receipt for my day pass. I scribbled down my contact info, and handed it off to the nerd. “Here, if you want to talk about lifting with me and my buds later you should give me a call. Looking a little scrawny bruh.”

He took the receipt before wandering towards the gym entrance. I then looked at the second paper I pulled out. Oh yeah, it was that hot gym bro from earlier. Yeah, I could meet up with him for sure. His name at the top rang a faint bell. For a split second, I remembered a friend I would sit next to in class. Smart, nerdy, nothing like the man I had met on the sidewalk earlier... But just then I felt my brain pounding, and I couldn’t focus on… whatever it was I was thinking about. Oh, right. Hot jock. Yeahhh, I’m gonna go see if he wants these rank pits shoved in his face while I ride his cock.

————

Maybe not what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy anyways ❤️

#hypnosis #bro #transformation #musk #preppy tf #jockification #fml #muscle tf #changing #reality change #straight to gay #jock tf

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