#is a pretty long time to be friends with someone

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Just your average male living space.

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[rafesangelita]

♡ it’s that time of year again, and kook!sweetheart!reader is here and ready to kiss for charity in her annual kissing booth! however, rafe is first in line.. and a peck on the cheek is not the only thing he’s interested in

warnings: s1!rafe, flirty banter, dirty talk, heavy petting, fingering, overstimulation, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), hair pulling, multiple orgasms

a/n: now presenting… ‘KISSING BOOTH’ 🤍 i was so obsessed with this idea, i had came up with it last year but decided i should wait for valentine’s day to write it, so to say it’s been a long time coming is an understatement! i’m so excited for this valentine’s day celebration, i hope you all will love it <3

link: VALENTINE’S DAY CELEBRATION ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

wc: 1.5k

“wow, it looks like cupid threw up in here.” you smiled at the familiar voice, your best friend rolling her eyes when she saw the way your cheeks heated at rafe’s teasing words. while she thought rafe was annoying and insufferable, you absolutely adored him, always laughing at his lame jokes and letting him hold you close at parties as if to let everyone know that you were off limits. “you don’t like the way i decorated the booth?” you pouted up at him as he leaned over the front counter, a smug grin gracing his features. “yeah, it’s cute..” he trailed off, “but are you really gonna kiss some random assholes for a fuckin’ dollar?”

you sighed, pointing towards the tip jar. “it’s for charity, rafe.. and i’m not really ‘kissing’ anyone, i’m barely grazing their cheek!” rafe scoffed before studying you for a moment. you were such a pretty thing, the idea of some losers waiting in line to get something as little as a peck from you made his blood boil. “how much money do you have to make today?” he was fishing in his pocket for his wallet before you even answered. “i would like to make at least three hundred dollars.” you watched him curiously as he managed to get some crisp bills out of the expensive leather.

“i’ll do you one better, and give you five hundred dollars to ditch this joint right now.” you blinked, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “are you serious?” he dropped the money in the jar that you decorated with pink heart-shaped stickers and red rhinestones. “yeah, but i don’t just want a kiss..” he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “i’d rather see those pretty, sparkly lips wrapped around my cock instead, yeah?” you felt butterflies flutter in your tummy, your needy gaze meeting his own. “come on, baby.” he took your hand in his, his thumb rubbing into your skin.

swallowing thickly, you glanced over at your bestie. “i can’t leave her to do this all by herself..” just as you were going to apologize and tell him maybe another time, she took the money out of the jar and placed it into an envelope. “i’m gonna go turn this money in to the charity organizers and close up shop, ‘looks like the boys of kildare will have to be kissed by someone else today.” you giggled, motioning for rafe to come inside once your friend left. he wasted no time, locking the wooden door shut as you closed the window, moving the silky red curtain over the glass.

rafe’s hands were palming the soft flesh of your ass in an instant, his large hands shamelessly flipping up your skirt to get a better grip on your skin. despite the small amount of pain he drew from squeezing you so hard, you still moaned blissfully when he took you in a sloppy kiss, his tongue wetting your bottom lip in the process. “you’re so sweet, y’know that? letting me have my way with you like this.” without warning, rafe took ahold of your thighs before hiking you up onto the counter. “i’ve been wanting to know how you taste for so long..” he groaned, both of you moaning as he rubbed you through your panties.

moving your hands to run down his chest, you and rafe shared a look before he slowly peeled back the pink lace. “all i gotta do is chat you up, and you’re already soaked like this?” he laughed incredulously, “fuck, you’re just dying for it.” you couldn’t help but whimper when he gathered the pool of slick between your folds, circling your clit slow and hard before popping his digits into his mouth. “rafe!” you’re shocked but so turned on at the same time, the look of pure disbelief on your face making him smile in amusement. “as much as i’d love to eat this sweet pussy, i need to feel you wrapped around me even more.”

fingertips hooking in the waistband of your panties, rafe slid the material down your legs before placing them in his pocket. “i’m keeping these for later, ‘that alright?” you nodded frantically, spreading your thighs open for him before he stroked your glossy slit. “m’gonna stretch you out just right..” you gasped, your eyebrows knitting together as he slowly inserted his middle finger. “shit, you’re so tight.” he smiled down at you, watching as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “if you think this is a stretch, just wait til’ i have my cock inside of you.”

rafe was knuckle deep at this point, your pretty moans giving him all the encouragement he needed to insert another finger. “oh, god!” your heel clad feet began shaking when his palm met your swollen clit, the pressure making you keen. rafe fisted your ponytail, pulling your head down so you could watch him curl his digits in order to hit that soft, gummy spot inside of you. your top was out of place, your tits threatening to spill out of your bra as rafe used his free hand to keep your chin pointed down. the closer you got to your orgasm, the more you tried to pull away from him, the intensity of your climax already coiling tight in your tummy.

rafe let go of your hair and pinned you down by your hip as he pushed you over the edge, the band in your stomach finally snapping as you came undone. you cried out, your nails raking down his forearm as he hissed at the stinging sensation. “you’re doing so fucking good, holy shit!” he cursed, the sound of your slick juices making your cheeks heat. you shook and writhed beneath him, your heart beating in your ears as you felt the pure unadulterated pleasure wrack through your system. surely, it couldn’t get better than this.. right?

wrong.

rafe wasn’t lying when he said the stretch from his fingers was nothing compared to the stretch of his cock, the tip of his length now kissing your poor cervix with each thrust. “t-too much! rafe, slow down!” he ignored your pleas, instead taking your arms and pinning them to your back so you couldn’t push against his abs anymore. you swore if it wasn’t for him holding your leg up, you would’ve fallen to the ground already. “ah, nah you got it, pretty girl.” he leaned down, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “this is all you, sweetheart, you’re sucking me in like a fucking vice.” he panted.

rafe was close, but he meant what he said earlier— he needed to see you on your knees for him, he needed to see those swollen lips wrapped around his cock just like how he’s imagined for so long. just when rafe felt like he was going to fill up your cunt, he pulled out, quickly pushing you to the floor so he could use your throat instead. you’ve given him complete control, and the power to throw you around as he got you on your knees, kicking your thighs apart so he could see the mess you made between your legs. rafe nearly came when he saw you open your mouth so willingly for him, almost like it was your instinct to take him whole.

taking the hem of his shirt between his teeth, rafe kept the cotton material out of the way as he slid between your lips with ease. you were so warm and so wet, and just so, so, so pretty with your mouth full, he took a breath before tugging at the roots of your hair. “make me fuckin’ cum,” your eyes widened slightly when he whimpered, the sound making you take him even further until your nose was nudging at his base, “oh, what the fuck, what the fuck—” he was done for as soon as you swallowed around him, your eyes watering with tears as you felt the warm ropes of his seed paint your throat.

rafe kept your head in place, his jaw slack as he emptied himself inside of you. it wasn’t until you tapped on his leg that he pulled you off, a strangled gasp leaving your lips as you finally sucked in a breath. he felt dazed, just the same way you did. “damn, sweetheart, should i bribe you more often?” you laughed, accepting the hand he held out for you. standing up on shaky legs, rafe got his shorts on, helping you readjust your clothing shortly after. “you don’t have to bribe me..” despite just doing the most filthiest things you’ve ever done, you still couldn’t help but feel shy underneath the intensity of his stare.

rafe kissed you, taking your hand in his before placing another kiss to your knuckles. “come on,” he poked his head out of the booth to make sure no one was around, “let’s get you back to my place, i need to get my head between those thighs like asap.”

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Haechan ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Haechan x f!idol!reader

summary: what better way to promote your new music than to do an interview with your boyfriend?! Does he know that? No!

(cw: f!reader, idol!reader)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You were grinning widely as you sat in the pink chair. You bowed to the camera introducing yourself with an excited smile, "Hi everybody! I'm so excited to be here today. The staff and I have planned a bit of a prank today."

Your friendship with Haechan had started when you debuted. Haechan was one of the first idols around your age that you felt comfortable with. He was funny, nice, and was a good friend. He gave you a lot of advice on how to handle the long days, how to speak up with your company, and how to take care of yourself when it all got to be too much. And perhaps... taking care of yourself meant indulging in your friendship with Haechan, in private and in public.

The fans had surprisingly been pretty cool about both of you being close. It wasn't very often that fans got to see two idols from different companies have a genuine friendship. They liked seeing the two of you play around backstage, the random mention of each other in YouTube vlogs or lives, and the very few and far between posts you shared of each other.

When the edits evolved from 8 whole minutes of the two of you being the best of friends to the both of you being secretly in love for 11 minutes, maybe, just maybe, you both began to see each other in a new way. Maybe you guys went on a date to test the waters and maybe that date meant that the two of you became something more and maybe this video would be one of the first times you both directly acknowledged your romantic relationship. Well, beyond standard wordy posts that your companies put out to disclose your relationship.

You smile at the camera, "today I will be pranking my boyfriend Haechan. He thinks he's doing this interview with someone else and has no clue its me!"

Finally, on the other side of the wall, enters the set and sits himself in the blue chair, "Hello, I am Haechan from NCT. Today I will be using the screen name Sunshine and I am excited to figure out my partner is. I think I'll figure it out very easily."

On your side of the wall you, cup a hand over your mouth to suppress a giggle, "I'm going to be so annoying!"

"Hey," you type, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing.

"Oh, it's starting!" you hear Haechan exclaim. You phone vibrates with a message that reads, 'hey.'

"Geez, he's really boring isn't he? Let's make this more exciting!" You laugh, typing back something you don't think you'd ever tell your boyfriend to his face, "wow, I know this is a handsome man I'm talking to. Tell me, are you handsome?"

Haechan flushes in front of the pink wall with his jaw dropped in shock, "w-what?!"

You calm down a bit, not being as bold with your flirtation so that the both of you could progress the conversation. You both make small talk, talking about base level interests. Then comes the home screen exchange. You'd been preparing for this!

Since no one ever really saw your homescreens, you and Haechan had decided to have cute matching backgrounds, a cute couples selfie you'd taken together. What he didn't know, and you didn't tell him because he was so whiny, was that you had changed it. So he sent you an blurred version of his usual background, a picture of the two of you with you biting his cheek and his eyes screwed shut laughing. You knew the picture well, not only because you lived it but also because you had the picture that followed as your own background before you changed it for this interview.

Haechan's phone dropped from his hands, eyes blown wide in shock again. The staff were busy laughing behind the camera while you sat with a smug smile, listening for his reaction. "Is this real? Is this actually your background?" You read the message that had been sent to you.

"Why wouldn't it be?" You message him back.

Haechan doesn't even look at his phone again, he locks his screen and sets it on his thigh. He groans, rubbing his hands through his hair and over his face, "how do you turn someone down nicely?"

You bite your lip when you hear that. Your plan had worked, your precious Haechan was flushed and embarrassed. You type back, "do you know NCT Haechan? He's so talented and funny. I'm a big fan, are you?"

"Yeah, it couldn't be more obvious," Haechan grumbles, staring at the homescreen. He can't look at any of the apps or notifications because he's staring at his own face! A collage of pictures of him-- only him. Pictures of him from his debut to pictures of him from his last performance.

Maybe he was speaking to some kind of comedian, it was some kind of joke that happened to revolve around him. He'd watched some of these interviews before and it never worked out that one person knew who they were texting and the other didn't. This had to be some kind of strange coincidence.

He somehow expertly turned the conversation around, evading your question and changed the conversation into something more lighthearted. Then comes the first Would You Rather. The question: would you rather make a burping sound while farting or farting sound while burping?

You take a second to think, considering the question then finally send your answer, "I think I'd rather make a farting sound while burping."

"Really?" Haechan replies, "why is that? I mean I agree, but I'm curious to hear your reasoning?"

"Tell me yours first," you reply.

"Well mostly I don't want to feel the rumbling feeling of a burp in my butt," Haechan types out.

"He's so gross," you mutter as you read the screen, "he's such a guy." And yet you type out a message, "wow, that's so manly of you.."

Haechan runs his hand through his hair, "how would someone read that and find it attractive?"

Again, he doesn't address your flirting. He maneuvers around it, he doesn't want to be the guy that hurts yours or anyone's feelings, even a stranger's.

By the time the both of you get to the end of the interview having just sent the most recent pictures in your camera roll to each other, Haechan feels a horrible ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. You had sent him a picture of a flower from some bush outside and he had sent you a picture of the products that had been used on his face before the interview. (He'd sent the picture to you.) How is he going to handle this?!

He looks up from yet another flirty message with a look of unease, "you guys don't do these things with crazy fans right?"

The staff reassure him that no, they absolutely would not ever do anything to put him or anyone else in harm's way. His partner is just a silly person, a jokester.

You, on the other hand, are a ball of excitement to reveal yourself. The time comes to meet your partner, though you already know yours. You prop yourself on the wall, one hand outstretched against the wall and the other on your hip.

Haechan rounds the corner and sees you. You flip your hair, winking at him with a, "hey, handsome."

He falls to his knees, hand clutched over his heart while he lets out a sigh of relief and a loud exaggerated whine, "how could my own lover do this to me?!"

It takes both you and the staff to calm Haechan down, but you eventually get him to sit in the chair of the high top table and get the frown off his face. He's still pouty of course, and he lets you know so, "how could you do this to me?"

"With the help of my managers, your managers, the production here at Kode... duh," you answer, squeezing his knee beneath the table reassuringly.

"You're so funny," he deadpans, "but seriously, I was so stressed that I was going to have to see a real life crazy person and turn them down while maintaining my safety. Thank goodness it was a real life crazy person I already knew."

You shove his shoulder with a laugh, "so you had no clue who it was?"

"Absolutely no clue," Haechan confirms, "I did think that this was going to be easy at first, but you came on so strong that I had to mostly focus on getting us to have a normal, not flirty conversation. Did you have fun stressing me out, my menace?"

"The best time ever," you nod with a proud smile.

Haechan lets out a breathy laugh, more of a soft exhale of air as he pulls your hand up and pressed a kiss against the back of your hand, "I'm never doing an interview with you ever again."

"You say that now, but you're my biggest fan. Don't you want me to be successful? How can I be successful if even my handsome, sunbaenim boyfriend won't help me?" You tease, looking at him with a look all too innocent to be real.

"Oh right. Please make sure to check out my girlfriend's first solo debut. The music is amazing, her voice sounds like angels singing, the music videos are award winning, the outfits are out of this world and there is nothing like it in all the world. Please support her... or I will have to," Haechan states with a fake smile while looking right into the lens of the camera, letting his smile drop into a pleading face for the ending.

"Yes, please make sure to check out my solo! I appreciate it," you smile at the camera, bowing to show your gratitude. While you fulfill your promoting duties you miss the adoring look on Haechan's face. The way his eyes soften and he looks at you with a calm, serene look of love.

You look at him with a soft smile, "can you forgive me for my prank?"

He tugs you into his side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, "I can make an exception if you promise this will be the last time you prank me."

"Well, of course," you answer too quickly. A lie, of course.

The conversation between you dwindles down and the two of you take your selfie. You smile brightly at the camera with your head tucked beneath Haechan's chin, Haechan smiles sweetly at the camera with his usual close-lipped smile. It's the first selfie as a romantic couple that anyone will see of the two of you and it makes you slightly nervous, but more than anything you're excited for people to see just a sliver of the dynamic you and Haechan share, the love that's there.

"Thank you to the team at Kode for having us and thank you to the fans in advance for all the love and support. I hope you love it," you smile at the cameras.

The video ends with the screen fading to black, but if fans listen closely, they can hear Haechan reassuring you, "everyone is going to love it, honey. How could they not love anything you do?"

[nhlclover]

FALLING FOR YOU WILL SMITH

pairing: will smith x marleau!daughter!reader

summary: a visit to the guest house, in an attempt to comfort will after a grueling loss, brings you two closer together than ever.

warnings: friends to lovers, pretty detailed make out scene, talks of being insecure

wc: 2.02k

notes: !!IMPORTANT!! i absolutely do not agree with the politics of the marleau family, they are simply being used as a plot device in this. pretend for the sake of this that the family are not bigots.

The house is silent except for the distant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of old wood settling in the night. Shadows stretch long and languid across the hallway, cast by the dim glow of the streetlamp filtering through the curtains. You move with practiced stealth, each step careful. Years of navigating this house have taught you exactly which floorboards creak under a footstep, which door hinges squeak in protest when nudged too far. Even still, your breath stills in your chest as you slip past your parent's bedroom door, past your brothers' rooms, your heart beating a steady rhythm of anticipation. The guest house isn’t far — just across the backyard — but trying to tiptoe in absolute silence past your parents' bedroom door and past your brothers' doors makes it feel like an eternity away.

Will had looked wrecked when he came home. The Sharks game had been brutal, a 7-2 loss to Florida, and not even his highlight-reel goal could shift the dejection that settled over him like a heavy coat. You saw it in his posture the moment he stepped off the rink: the slump of his shoulders, the tight line of his mouth, the way he avoided the gaze of everyone in the locker room. You had seen it in the post-game debrief he always did with your dad, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against his thigh. You didn’t have to ask to know what was running through his mind. You felt like you knew his thoughts as though they were your own.

It wasn’t always like this. When Will first moved in, things had been awkward. He was polite — too polite. He made his bed with military precision, thanked your mom after every meal, and practically sprinted out of the room whenever he sensed he might be intruding on family time. You weren’t sure if it was out of respect or if he was just trying to survive in an unfamiliar house. Either way, it took weeks before he loosened up, before the sharp edges of his formality softened into something more comfortable.

Somewhere along the way, he had become your closest friend. He was the person you whispered late-night confessions to, the one who could tell when you needed someone to listen rather than someone to talk. And it went both ways. You had spent hours sprawled across the couch in the guest house, talking about everything and nothing. You told him about school, about how you weren’t sure if biology was what you actually wanted to study. It was supposed to be the safe, responsible choice, the thing that made sense. But the more you immersed yourself in it, the more it felt like wearing a sweater that didn’t quite fit. He listened, really listened, in a way that made you feel like you weren’t overthinking things. And in return, he let you see the parts of himself he hid from the world.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he had admitted one night, voice rough with exhaustion. “I mean, I know what I should be doing. I know what’s expected of me. But every time we lose, every time I don’t produce, it feels like — I don’t know. Like I’m letting everyone down.”

You had seen the articles, heard the analysts questioning whether he was adjusting well enough to the NHL, whether he was living up to expectations. You knew he heard them, too, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise.

Will knew he was living with Patrick Marleau so he could be moulded into a better player, something like what the Sharks legend once was. But some nights, it felt like you had done more for Will than your father ever had.

The guest house is dark except for the thin sliver of light spilling beneath the door. You knock, softly. A pause. Then the rustling of movement before the door swings open, revealing Will standing in the dim glow of the lamp inside. His hair is damp from a shower, curling at the edges, and he’s wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, surprise flickering across his face before he steps aside to let you in.

“You should be asleep,” he says, voice rough with exhaustion.

“So should you.” You cross the room, your socked feet near silent against the hardwood. “But we both know that’s not happening.”

He exhales, a ghost of a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. He collapses onto the couch, the television murmuring in the background showing a post-game analysis droning on about the Sharks’ mistakes. He doesn’t mute it, but his focus is entirely on you as you settle beside him, pulling your knees up to your chest.

The room is heavy with unspoken words, the kind that settles in the air and refuses to dissipate. Will’s eyes flick to the television, then back to you, his jaw tight.

“Tough game,” you say softly.

Will’s jaw tightens. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I know I played like shit.”

You tilt your head, watching him carefully. “I don’t think you did.”

Will shakes his head, eyes dark with frustration. “We lost by five. Doesn’t matter if I scored, doesn’t matter if I had the best shift of my life. We still lost.”

Your heart clenches. “Will, the team is rebuilding. You knew that coming in.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think I’d be a part of the problem.”

“You’re not.”

He shakes his head, jaw tight. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he leans back, tilting his head against the couch cushions, eyes slipping shut. His breathing evens out, slow and measured, but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t fade.

You shift slightly, resting your chin on your knees. “You’re a rookie in the NHL. You’re playing against the best in the world every night. No one expects you to carry this team, least of all yourself.”

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. “You’re getting better every game,” you continue, voice gentle but firm. “And the guys in that locker room? They know that. This season isn’t about wins, it’s about building something. And you’re a part of that foundation.”

Will lifts his head and shifts slightly, angling his body toward you. His eyes search yours, dark and unreadable. “How do you always know what to say?”

You shrug, offering a small smile. “I pay attention.”

A beat of silence. Then you notice it — the way his gaze lingers on your face, tracing over your features with something heavy and intent. You suddenly feel warm, hyper-aware of the fact that he’s shirtless, toned torso on full display, and the way his breathing has changed, now slightly uneven.

“What?” you ask, your own voice quieter now.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his tongue flicks out, wetting his lips, and his head tilts slightly. His gaze lingers, sweeping over your face with an intensity that makes your pulse stutter. The air between you shifts, thickens, as if something unspoken has settled into the space, waiting to be acknowledged.

“Will,” you say softly, trying to decipher the look in his eyes. “What?”

He exhales slowly, shaking his head with a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Spell what out?”

His eyes darken, and his fingers twitch slightly where they rest against his thigh. He leans in just enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the heat radiating off his skin, the scent of clean soap and something undeniably him.

“You know I want you.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. Your lips part slightly, but no sound comes out. He watches you, waiting, giving you a moment to react, to pull away if you want to. But you don’t. You can’t.

Because you want him too.

The realization hits you with startling clarity, and before you can second-guess it, you close the space between you. It’s tentative at first, a brush of lips, a question unspoken. But the moment his mouth moves against yours, the hesitation dissolves. His hand comes up, cupping the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheekbone as he deepens the kiss.

Your fingers settle against his bare shoulders, the warmth of his skin beneath your touch making your head spin. He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s thought about it just as much as you have. There’s something desperate in the way he pulls you closer, something that tells you he’s afraid this might not be real.

You pull back just enough to whisper against his lips, “Will.”

His forehead rests against yours, his breathing uneven. “Yeah?”

Your heart hammers against your ribs. “I want you too.”

His breath hitches, and then he’s kissing you again, slow and deep, like he wants to memorize the shape of your mouth against his. Will pulls away, but barely, his eyes searching yours.

“You sure about this?” Will’s voice is rough, barely more than a whisper, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you.

You nod, barely, but it’s enough. “Yeah.”

That’s all it takes. He exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath this whole time, and then he’s kissing you again. This time, there’s nothing hesitant about it. It’s deep and slow and intoxicating, like he’s savoring every second, like he’s afraid to rush something he’s wanted for so long.

His hands find your waist, warm and firm, fingers flexing as if grounding himself in the moment. You shift instinctively, moving closer until your knees are brushing his solid thigh, until there’s no space left between you. Your hands slide over his shoulders, tracing down to his chest, resting on him as you lean closer. He shivers under your cold fingers, just barely, and the realization that you affect him just as much as he affects you sends a thrill through your veins.

Will’s hands move down to the backs of your thighs, pulling you into his lap in one fluid motion, his strength effortless. You let out a surprised gasp, breaking the kiss for just a second, but his hands splayed against your back, holding you close. He grins, eyes dark with something wickedly fond.

“Better?” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement.

Your lips curl into a grin, but your heart is racing. “Shut up.”

His laughter is quiet, a vibration against your chest, but it fades as his gaze dips to your lips again. He kisses you like he means it, like he’s wanted to do this forever. His hands trace slow, soothing patterns against your back, anchoring you to him.

The television drones on in the background, forgotten, the post-game analysis long past. The only thing that exists at this moment is the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his hands cradle your face like you’re something precious. He kisses you with an aching sort of tenderness like he’s memorizing you, like he never wants to forget what this feels like.

When he finally pulls back, just enough to look at you properly, his expression is unreadable — something caught between wonder and disbelief. He exhales a quiet, breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he admits, voice rough with emotion.

You run your fingers through his hair, smoothing the damp curls away from his forehead. “I can.”

Will's lips curve into a slow, lopsided smile, something soft and unguarded. His fingers trace lazy patterns against your back, like he’s committing the moment to memory.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

You nod, brushing your nose against his. “Yeah.”

For the first time all night, the weight of the loss seems to ease off his shoulders. He exhales, a quiet, content sound, and lets his forehead rest against yours.

“Stay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “With me… tonight?”

You don’t hesitate. “Always.”

And as he pulls you closer, the Sharks' loss feels like a distant memory — because for once, in this tiny, quiet moment, Will Smith isn’t thinking about hockey at all.

[samzzarella]

Can you do a headcanon for Se-Mi where she's dating someone who's younger than her. We don't really know her exact age but the age gap is at least 4 years, but it's still a legal age gap ofc!

Idk if someone already did this or not but I've had this thought in my head for a good while now. But no rush on writing, take your time!!

Sorry it took so long! Hope you like it!

TAKE THE WEIGHT OFF HER SHOULDERS

~ Older Se-mi x reader headcanons

(smut headcanons after the cut)

✧.* You met her at a friend’s wedding, where she immediately caught your eye, looking charming in a black suit, short hair slightly slicked back. But before you had even spotted her, she had seen you, bright and captivating.

✧.* She was 5 years older than you, with a good job, and you were just finishing college, so naturally, you felt a bit inadequate, but she instantly squashed that feeling from the beginning of your relationship.

✧.* She’s super protective of you, so she’s always on gaurd when she’s out with you. Her arm will always be around your waist or shoulders, unless she’s holding your hand.

✧.* She’s often stretched thin by her work, coming home exhausted, and you’re always there to take care of her with massages and cuddles. She insists on paying for stuff when you go out because she likes the feeling of being able to provide for you.

✧.* LOVES to ruffle your hair, especially if you’re shorter than her.

✧.* When you’re hanging out at a friend’s house or at a party, she’ll often have you sit on her lap, arms looped around your waist.

✧.* I think she likes PDA, because she wants everyone to know that you’re hers, ESPECIALLY if someone tries to flirt with you. Like, she gets petty if someone even looks at you funny, and will put on a show, no matter where you are, being extremely touchy with you.

✧.* She wears formals to work and they always look sooo good on her, especially when she gets home, a button or two popped open from the top of her shirt as she gets comfortable. It takes considerable effort on your part to not pounce on her when she’s looking like that.

~ nsfw (18+ minors do not interact)

✧.* If she had a really frustrating day at work, prepare to be very sore the next day, because the strap will be making an appearance and she’s gonna take out all her frustration on you. On those nights, she practically has super human stamina, and will go for hours. But you can trust that the after-care will be divine.

✧.* I’m pretty sure she would have a daddy kink. Call her that once and she’ll go fucking ballistic, probably giving you the best orgasm you’ve had in your life.

✧.* Hair pulling. That’s all I’m gonna say.

[chosolar]

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈ wait for your love

nanami kento x fem!reader

exhusband!nanami who was your best friend since high school. you met during your 2nd year when he was getting teased for being a loser and you defended him. he stayed close to you after and has been close to you ever since.

exhusband!nanami who was forced to come with you to all the parties that you were too shy to go to. he never minded being your DD, as long as he knew you were safe then he didn't care about not being able to drink.

exhusband!nanami's parents had always nagged him to find someone after he graduated university. he took over his dad's company and as happy as his parents were, they wanted a daughter in law! he hated all the set ups his mom made him go to so he came to you with a proposition — get married to him for a few years to make his parents happy and he'll give you however much money you wanted. you needed the money he was offering so you accepted. the wedding was small and intimate with only your close friends and some family members.

exhusband!nanami worked his ass off ever since you accepted his proposal. even if it was just a marriage of convenience, he wanted to make sure you lived happily with him.

exhusband!nanami was the perfect husband. he was attentive, loving, and always spoiled you with everything you could ever want. the ladies in your neighbourhood loved him, wishing that their husbands were a fragment of what nanami is.

exhusband!nanami spent almost 5 years of marriage in bliss with you until you started pulling away. he never pushed you to talk though because he knew you were going through something. so he waited until you were ready to talk to him.

exhusband!nanami who felt in the dark when he was served with divorce papers. he was busy with paperwork, not bothering to look up at whoever was knocking on his office door. it wasn't until the manila envelope was placed on top of his desk that he looked up to see whoever served him.

exhusband!nanami wanted at least an answer before he signs the papers. you just told him the most vague answers. "I feel like we've grown apart" "we want different things in life" "I just can't do this anymore" he was confused with every reason that you gave.

exhusband!nanami couldn't wrap his head around the separation. he thought everything was going well but once he signed the papers to finalize the divorce, he felt the weight of losing you come all at once.

exhusband!nanami who hated being with anyone else but you. even if it did start out as a loveless marriage, he fell for you hard throughout the years. every "I love you" he's ever said, he's meant it. every kiss, every hug, nanami was surprisingly a good actor but he could never fake the affection he felt for you.

exhusband!nanami despises coming home. it was eerily empty and quiet, the sound of his footsteps were the only thing he could hear. he frequently thinks about moving away to get his mind away from you but he can't. he stays at the same place you've always know where he's been just in case you ever come back.

exhusband!nanami started drinking and smoking to waste his time. he rarely drank during college and he only did during parties with you. now that you're gone, he's turned to his vices. he knows that you hate the smell of cigarettes and you hate people who couldn't handle their alcohol but why does it matter if you're not with him anymore?

exhusband!nanami still remembers every little detail about you. no matter how hard he tried, he could never forget you and everything about you. you're the love of his life even if you don't feel the same about him.

exhusband!nanami felt like everything stopped when he saw you again on the street. you're still as beautiful as ever. your hair's longer and you've changed your style, but other than that you're still his pretty ex wife.

exhusband!nanami breathlessly greeted you back when you came up and said hi to him first. he thought you would've ignored him and just went along your way, but you stayed. your eyes stare up at him as you watch him fumble over his words. his heart skips faster as he sees you grin over his flustered state.

exhusband!nanami watches you leave after catching up. he wishes that it lasted a minute longer because for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels like he can breathe properly again.

exhusband!nanami starts sobering up and taking care of himself. he threw away the bottles of alcohol and cigarettes packs so that he can get away from feeling sorry for himself. if he ever sees you again, he wants to impress you (and make you regret your decision).

exhusband!nanami is shocked when he sees your face on the doorbell camera. the weather was relentless and he sees you shivering in the cold so he opens his door immediately. he hands you a change of warm clothes and turns up the thermometer of the house. 

while he's making hot tea for the both of you, he notices the bathroom door open and out you step, his clothes basically engulfing your body. nanami looks away, trying and failing to get rid of his lewd thoughts.

"sorry those are the only clothes I have that could fit you." nanami apologizes but you shook your head. "no don't be! if anything I should apologize for inconveniencing you."

nonsense, nanami thinks, you could never bother me.

nanami disregards his thoughts, "don't worry about that, I'm just glad to get you out of that snowstorm."

he hands you a cup of tea and you take notice of the mug he has in his hand. you think out loud, "you kept that mug?"

"hmm?" nanami glances up at you then to the cup, "oh yeah. how could I throw it away? you made it for me."

"but that was back in high school."

"and? I've kept everything you've ever given me." nanami cooly responded.

you kept quiet as you take sips of the tea he made for you. the taste is familiar until you remember — he made your favourite tea, just the way you like it. you dart your eyes between the tea and the blond man.

why is he like this? why is he still making your heart flutter after all this time? you wanted to get away but you couldn't, not until the storm calms down. the news reported that it'll continue until early in the morning meaning you'll have to stay inside — with him. knowing nanami, he would never let you out because he still worries for your safety.

sleepiness was creeping up on you as you both sat in the living room. nanami sees your head bobbling through his peripheral and offers you the guest room that you promptly accepted. he leaves you be, letting you explore the home that is exactly the same as when you used to live in it.

nanami laid in his bed, moving constantly to find a comfortable position enough to fall asleep. but he couldn't.

the only thing in his mind was you who was only a few doors down away from him. were you sleeping soundly or do you feel as insomnolent as him? he wants to get up and check on you but he restrains himself. with the wind blowing, all he can hear is the rage of the snowstorm hitting the windows of the house.

nanami directs his attention from the windows to the knocking of the door. "nanami? are you awake?"

he instructs for you to come in, the light from the hallway seeps into the darkness of his bedroom. he sits up and taps the space in front of him on his bed to tell you to come sit there. "why are you still awake?"

"couldn't sleep after I got into bed. you?" you wonder as you go to sit on his bed. he chuckles, "same. do you wanna talk? I remember you used to fall asleep to me talking."

"you remember?"

"how could I forget?"

you lift your legs to place them onto the bed and cross them, wrapping your arms and pulling your knees onto your chest. "why do you still remember everything about me?"

"I was your best friend before I was your husband. even if I wanted to forget, everything about you is engrained in me." his hand moves up to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. "you were my first and my last, it'll be that way till I die."

"you're so dumb," you mumble into your arms, "I divorced you and you still treat me so well."

nanami grasps your wrist and brings you to his lap, his arms wrapped loosely around you. he kisses your temple softly. "does that bother you?"

"I don't know," you confess. nanami exhales before he changes the topic. "if we're being honest, can you finally tell me now why you wanted a divorce?"

you shook your head. "not really, you might hate me."

"I won't." nanami reassures, "just be honest with me dear."

you sigh.

"the marriage was feeling too real."

nanami's expression twists into confusion.

"it was an agreement between us that if one day one of us wanted to stop, we will," you continue, "and one day, I thought about it. there's going to be a day you come up to me and maybe you'll tell me that you found someone else. I don't want to go through that, I don't want to lose you but we've already gone so far. I figured it was best for me to leave before that day does come.

"you'll never have to worry about that," nanami tightens his arms around you, "it's always been you."

you hugged him back, the scent of his cologne intensifies as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. "can we start over? but for real this time."

"we don't need to start over," nanami places a kiss on the top of your head, "we can just pick up where we left off."

as soon as the storm stopped, husband!nanami takes you to city hall to sign a new marriage certificate.

husband!nanami makes sure to treat you right this time. if you think that the act he was putting up was good, then nanami not having to hide his feelings is better. he's not one to shy away from physical affection in public as he always wants to hold your hand or stay very close to you.

husband!nanami who will always reassure you that he'll never leave. you are the light of his life, the reason he wants up everyday. he'll never take a day with you granted.

husband!nanami finds it adorable when you watch over the neighbour's daughter. he'll wait until her parents pick her up and then he'll bring up the thoughts that's been plaguing his mind for a while now.

"honey, what do you think about starting a family?"

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈

as per usual, not proofread!! ◡̈

[lyvhie]

okay hi haechan anon again!! im back with another request! so I'm missing my taeyong a lot (hashtag military wife..) and I was listening to 2 baddies as any baddie would and. the line "now you wanna ride these wheels" had my legs FOLDED 🥴 those wheels aren't the only thing I wanna ride.

and that brings me to my request. riding tyongie pretty pretty please???

── .✦ everybody makes mistakes

ex-bf!lee taeyong x fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ summary: You were going through a busy time in your life, and going to a party was supposed to help you relax a little and... Well, your ex certainly turned out to be a good distraction. 𓂃 ࣪˖ cw: smut, riding, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie because why not 😞, pet names. 𓂃 ࣪˖ a/n: HIIII, ANOOOON!!! GLAD YOU'RE STILL HERE 😚😚 i get you... i feel like we are 12949 years without tyong, we need him back ASAP, i can't have a happy life if taeyong isn't here PLEASE. ANYWAYS, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE!

This was definitely not part of the plan. It was supposed to be a fun night at your friend's party—a chance to unwind and forget about the chaos that had taken over your life lately. Honestly, you hadn’t even planned on coming, but your friends had insisted, saying some fresh air would do you good. You finally caved, figuring what was the harm?

Wrong decision.

If you had known your ex-boyfriend would be there, you’d have stayed home.

You thought you were over him, it had been months since the breakup, after all. There was no reason to panic, you told yourself. Besides, he hadn’t even seemed to notice you were there. You could enjoy the night without a care. Or so you thought.

Your eyes kept drifting to him, as if drawn by some invisible force. Watching how he moved through the crowd, laughing, leaning in to whisper things in people’s ears, flashing that smile that used to make your heart race. The same smile he was now directing at others.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to tear your gaze away from him. Focus on your drink. Your friends. Literally anything else, you told yourself, desperate to ignore the annoying tightness in your chest every time you caught sight of him leaning in close to someone else. But it was no use.

You didn’t even need to look. You could feel it. His eyes were on you, burning with that same intensity you’d once found irresistible. Against your better judgment, you glanced over and instantly regretted it.

There he was, lips curling into a smirk, that infuriating, knowing expression that only made your stomach twist further. And then, as if the universe itself was playing a cruel joke, he started walking toward you.

Your heart skipped, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in whatever your friends were laughing about. You even forced out a chuckle, hoping it sounded convincing.

Taeyong, of course, wasn’t fooled. He thought it was cute, how bad you were at subtlety, how transparent you always were when you tried to act cool, just as he remembered. If anything, it made him want to reach you faster.

From the moment he approached you and murmured a soft “hey,” everything became a haze, your senses drowning in the intensity of his presence. You remembered the way he leaned in, his lips so close to your ear that his warm breath sent shivers down your spine. His voice was low and familiar, dripping with charm as he told you how much he missed you, how surprised he was to see you there when he knew this wasn’t your usual scene.

His hand had found its way to your waist, his touch firm but not forceful, as if asking for permission rather than demanding it. You hadn’t stopped him. The heat of his body pressed against yours was both comforting and electric, stirring something in you that you thought had long been buried.

Every subtle gesture—a thumb tracing lazy circles on your hip, the way his fingers lingered just a moment too long as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the way his gaze never wavered from yours—pulled you deeper into the gravity of his orbit. You knew you should step back, but instead, you let yourself lean into the closeness, into him, even though you both knew exactly where this would lead.

And all of it led to a kiss, slow, as if to test the waters, then deepening with the kind of urgency that only old lovers can share. That kiss led to lovely whispers and stolen touches, and before you knew it, you were in the parking lot, your heart pounding as he opened the door to the backseat of his car.

The air between you was thick with tension, your breaths mingling as he pulled you close, his hands finding your waist like they never forgot the shape of you. It was reckless and impulsive, the kind of decision that you knew you’d question later—but right now, with his lips on yours and the heat of his body pressed against you, it felt like the only decision to make.

His hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin as he held you down against him. His mouth was relentless, his tongue exploring yours with a fervor that made your breath hitch. Your hips began to move instinctively, a slow grind against him that drew a deep groan from his lips. The confined space of the car only heightened the heat between you, every movement feeling more intense, more urgent in the close quarters.

You felt his hands slip to the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it over your head, but you stopped him just in time, pulling away from the kiss, both of you panting softly.

"This is a bad idea," you whispered, though your body leaned into his, contradicting your words.

"Maybe," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made your resolve waver. You tilted your head slightly, giving him more access.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," you tried to reason, though your hands remained on him, your touch lingering.

“You can blame the alcohol if it helps," he suggested, his lips tracing a path up to your jaw before capturing your mouth again. You didn't resist, kissing him back.

"I didn't drink that much," you argued softly.

"Then blame me," his hand drifting lower, inching toward the space between your legs, sending a wave of anticipation through you. "You're always good at that."

"Shut up," you retorted, nipping at his lower lip, earning a hiss and a soft chuckle from him. “Tell me to stop," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his lips hovering just above yours. "And I will, pretty.”

Yes, you just needed to say the word and get out of his car. Of course, that would be the right thing to do, but... you were already this far.

You would blame him.

"Fuck, I'm gonna regret this," you muttered before crashing your lips against his again, kissing him more fervently than before, grinding against him harder, his bulge applying just the right amount of pressure against your core.

Your hands fumbled with the button of his pants, a mix of nerves and anticipation guiding your movements. He was quick to undo yours in return, his desperation evident as he helped you, pulling his pants down just enough while you slipped out of yours along with your panties, leaving no barriers between you.

His hands gripped your hips, guiding you over him, one of your hands rested on his shoulder for balance while the other slid down, wrapping around his hard cock. It throbbed under your touch, and he let out a soft moan at the slightest contact. You stroked him slowly, savoring the way he responded, before lowering yourself just enough to let the tip brush along your slick slit.

He groaned, his fingers tightening on your hips, urging you to stop teasing. "Don't play with me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. You smiled faintly, enjoying the rare moment of control you had over him, but your own need was overwhelming.

With a soft exhale, you slowly sank down onto him, both of you gasping as he stretched you, filling you completely. Fuck, how he missed this—the feeling of your warm heat enveloping him, just as tight as he remembered. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent, his breath hot against your skin.

“You feel so good," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You missed this feeling too, the delicious stretch of him inside you, your walls fluttering around him, as if your body was echoing the same sentiment. He bit your neck to muffle a moan, the sound vibrating through you.

And for a few seconds, you both stayed like that, motionless, just reveling in the feeling of him taking up all the space in your pussy. Then, slowly, you began to move, rolling your hips over him before lifting yourself just enough and sinking back down, drawing moans from both of you. His hands slid down to cup your ass, fingers digging in as he followed your movements, his head falling back against the seat with a deep groan.

Your movements were slow at first, teasing, but you quickly found your rhythm, pressing down on him, the sensation sending waves of heat through your body. The heat between you was unbearable, the cramped space of the car amplifying every sound—the wet glide of your bodies, the breathless moans, the creak of the leather seat beneath you.

His hands moved back to your waist and his grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into your flesh as he urged you to move faster. You picked up speed, setting a pace that felt good for you, making him gasp with each roll of your hips.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, lifting his head to watch where your bodies met, eyes dark with hunger. "Just like that... take me deeper."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a whimper as you obeyed, bouncing harder, grinding down to feel every inch of him. The pleasure was dizzying, overwhelming, stealing what little self-control you had left. His hands left your hips, moving up your body, dragging your shirt up to expose more of your skin.

“Fuck, look at you," he murmured, leaning in to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. The sensation sent a shockwave through your body, making you clench around him.

A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat as he thrust up into you slightly, meeting your movements. "Shit—keep that up, and I won't last," he warned, voice strained. But you didn't stop. You couldn't. You were too close, too lost in the way he filled you perfectly, the way his body fit against yours like he was made for you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to kiss you, the heat between you both intensifying. Just as he had said, he wouldn’t last much longer. It wasn't just because it felt incredible, but because it was you.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, almost a plea, his thighs tensing beneath you. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, every little sound he made pushing you closer to the edge too, but you weren’t there yet.

You didn’t need to say anything; your body said enough. The way you moved, the way you squeezed him with every roll of your hips—it was too much. His grip on you tightened as he groaned deep, his body shuddering beneath you as he came, his release spilling inside you as you kept moving, letting him ride it out.

But he didn’t stop there—you still needed to finish too, and now it was his turn to take care of you. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he buried his face in your neck. Even with his body still trembling from his own release, he started moving again, thrusting up into you with deep, desperate strokes.

A shaky whine escaped his lips as the overstimulation hit him, but he didn’t let up, his grip on you firm, determined. “Gotta make you feel good too,” he murmured against your skin, his voice strained, breathless.

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, your walls fluttering around him, dragging him deeper despite the sensitivity. His name spilled from your lips, hands fisting in his hair as he held you close, chasing your release like it was the only thing that mattered.

His breath was hot against your neck, his movements growing sloppier, more desperate, but he didn’t stop—not until he had you right where he wanted. His fingers slid down between your bodies, finding your most sensitive spot, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made your thighs tremble around him.

"Come on, baby," he coaxed, voice hoarse, lips brushing your ear. Your grip on him tightened as pleasure coiled low in your stomach, the pressure building with every stroke, every thrust. His name tumbled from your lips, breathless and needy, and he groaned at how good you sounded.

And then, with one more deep, well-angled thrust, pleasure crashed over you. Your body tensed before melting into his, a broken moan leaving your lips as your release washed through you. He groaned at the feeling of you tightening around him, his arms holding you steady as you rode out your high.

Even as your body sagged against his, he pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his breaths ragged, shaky. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, tracing slow circles on your back as he helped you come down.

It wasn’t the smartest decision, you knew that. But, in that moment, you felt... satisfied.

You pulled away slightly to meet his eyes. Your friends had been right, maybe you did need to let go of the weight on your shoulders and relax a little.

"Wanna come home?"

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

[ficsbyrike]

Your Possessiveness Will be the Death of Me

pairing: caleb x reader

TW: graphic descriptions of blood and injuries, toxic relationships

Summery: caleb won’t let you go to the hospital

Word count: 3,833

Notes: I promised someone that my next Caleb fanfic would be fluff but apparently I am incapable of writing anything happy 😭😭 might be a little ooc

A wanderer. Claws. The stinging feeling on your abdomen. The rest was a blur.

The city had recently become more dangerous with an increase of wanderer sightings. You thought—foolishly—that because of your hunter training, this wouldn’t affect you in any significant way. More on site work, perhaps, but nothing more than a minor inconvenience. It never occurred to you that you could become a victim of a wanderer yourself.

You had been walking down the street when out of nowhere, in a cruel sneak attack, a wanderer had jumped out and ambushed you. Rendered defenseless for a few moments, it was able to leave a pretty nasty gash on your abdomen before it was promptly dealt with.

It stung badly.

It felt as if the sky was very low. It was cold as shit out. You could see your hot breath rise up in puffs of white through the inky black sky, and as if the universe conspired to spite you even more, it had begun snowing.

Your blood glistened brightly in the neon lights of the city.

It was around 2:30 in the morning. You have to be up early tomorrow. God…

You raked your brain for a moment. The warm blood seeping between your fingers made it hard to focus.

Linkon Hospital was too far away for you to walk to without collapsing half way through. And, in some cruel joke, your phone had been smashed on the pavement while you were fighting the wanderer so there was no way you could call anyone for help.

You only had one option. But it was your last resort.

Caleb lived close by, but he didn’t want to see you. It wasn’t just a hunch or a feeling, you knew. Although he didn’t outright say it, you ended on pretty bad terms last time you saw each other. Regrettable words were thrown, tears were shed. Even though Caleb tried to explain himself—why he left, why he lied about being dead—you called the conversation there, saying you weren’t in the mood to fight anymore. Since then, Caleb has sent you countless text messages in hopes of staying in touch. At first, he would apologize continuously. Then, when he perhaps realized that his attempts were futile, he resorted to simply sending short messages about how his day went, what interesting things he saw today, and good morning good night texts. You pridefully ignored all of the messages. They angered you, even. You felt as if he was trying to guilt you into forgiving him by using his status as a long-time best friend and pretending like nothing was wrong.

He knows what he did. And you couldn’t forgive him that easily.

With those thoughts in mind, you promptly blocked his number until further notice. Although sometimes you wondered whether he was still sending you messages despite knowing they weren’t getting through to you.

If you showed up at his door now, would he turn you away? Even if he was angry at you, he wouldn’t turn away a shivering, injured woman. Right? But even if he didn’t, it would be so awkward to confront the issue with him again. Perhaps you just won’t say anything unless he brings it up himself. Still, he could simply shut the door in your face and leave you on the street. And he had every right to do so, with the way you’ve been treating him. You probably would have done the same in his situation. Probably.

Swallowing your last bit of pride, you began shuffling over to Caleb’s residence, your hand pressed tightly against the fresh wound. He had sent you his new address during one of his routinely text messages, and you had unconsciously memorized it because it was a part of town you always passed by to get to the train station.

With every step you took, you felt pressure in your wound. It would open up again and again and fresh blood would seep in between your fingers. This only made you more antsy and you felt your heart speed up.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long walk, you finally stood at the front door of Caleb’s house. It was cute. A townhouse surrounded by similar looking buildings in the middle of the city. Even though the others had distinctions about them—flower beds hanging out windows, chairs and fairy lights dotting the balconies—Caleb’s house was the one with the least character. It stood there, gray with no lights in any of the windows, as if he had only just moved in a few days ago.

You brought your hand up to knock on the door, but then you hesitated. You were angry at him, but that was fine because you knew that sooner or later you would forgive him. But you couldn’t have the same assurance that he would forgive you.

You shook your head, eracing the image of Caleb’s darkened eyes from your mind, and knocked.

Whatever happens happens.

For a few moments, there was silence. It would only be natural if he had gone to sleep, considering the deep hours of the night. But then, to your surprise, you heard the noise of shuffling coming from the inside, followed by another short silence. Just as you thought that he was ignoring you, the door swung open, revealing Caleb’s tall frame in the doorway.

He was a bit paler since the last time you saw him. And a bit thinner too. You guessed it was just in your nature to worry about him, as you had done so many times in the past.

It was still cold as shit out. Your thin hunter uniform is doing little to protect you from the chilly air. But somehow, your skin still felt hot. Snowflakes still slowly glided down into your hair.

You cleared your throat, “Caleb.”

Just as the words had left your mouth, you wished for the earth below you to open up and swallow you whole. You come to his front door in the middle of the night looking like hell—exhausted, dirty, blood pouring out of your side and your nose—and the only word you can manage is his name? Were you stupid?

You scanned Caleb’s eyes for any emotions. Was he angry? Or at least disappointed in you?

He didn’t speak for a moment, his gaze falling onto your wound. You shifted self consciously.

“What happened to you?”

His question caught you off guard, prompting you to look up at him again.

“I got into a fight.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You look like shit,” he said, and you sighed.

Surely this was the same Caleb you knew. He wouldn’t just leave you out here.

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

You swiftly shake your head.

“It's minor. I’m not crippled. I’ll live,” you lie through your teeth, “can I crash at your place? I’ll be out of your hair by morning. It’s really cold out here.”

You dragged your one of your hands against the bottom of your nose, smudging the blood pooling there.

Caleb stepped aside, a familiar smirk decorating his face, “be my guest.”

***

Caleb’s residence was just as barren inside as it was outside. Only the bare necessities scattered his living room. But it was warm.

You tried taking off your shoes, but with your wound, it was a little hard to do. Once Caleb saw you struggling, he quickly leaned down and helped you.

“Thanks. Do you by chance have any disinfectant? And some gauze?”

“I thought you said it didn’t hurt.”

“No. It seriously doesn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me missy. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Go sit on the couch.”

You did as he commanded, stumbling over to the couch before sitting down. Momentarily, there was the sound of running water and soon enough, Caleb came back with a clean, wet towel. He tried to gently lift up your shirt, but your hand stopped him.

“I’m fine. Really. Can I sleep on your couch? I’m really tired.”

Caleb’s worried eyes met yours, “you are not fine. You’re bleeding all over my floor. Stop being so stubborn and work with me here, yeah?”

He spoke in that same friendly voice, but it was obvious that there was concern in his expression.

You gently let go of his wrist with some hesitation, biting your bottom lip as he pulled your shirt over your head, discarding it somewhere on the couch next to him. Your wound was now completely exposed, along with your bare stomach. You knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, but just having the wound out in the open was enough to put you on edge.

He inspected your injury. His brow furrowed before he brought the damp towel to your skin. You hissed and recoiled slightly. Caleb flinched, but held the towel gently in place.

“Sorry pipsqueak. It’s gonna hurt no matter what. Just… squeeze my arm if it gets too much.”

You didn’t say anything.

Caleb’s touch was warm. You felt his soft fingers on the tender skin of your side. It almost made you shiver.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? Any later, and you would’ve bled out on the goddamn street,” he murmurs, and for a moment, you didn't know how to reply.

“My phone broke,” You say dumbly.

Then there was silence for a few moments. It was quiet. The only sound was his steady breathing and the clock ticking as the seconds slipped by.

“Are you angry?” You ask when he didn’t say anything.

Caleb shook his head, “no. You have every right to want to avoid me,” he sighed, “I just wish I wasn’t your last option.”

Silence again. Tik-tok… tik-tok…

“I thought you might turn me away,” you finally admitted.

“You know I wouldn’t let you bleed out on my doorstep. No matter how angry I get at you.”

“No, I don’t know that,” you whisper, “I feel like I don’t really know you anymore…”

Caleb finally looks up at you, a hint of hurt betrayed in his eyes, “Do you think… you think I changed that much?”

“I don’t know. But the Caleb I knew would never pretend to be dead for a whole year, leaving me by myself. So, yeah… I guess I don’t really know you anymore.”

“You had other people to turn to for help.”

“Sure. But in the end, who’s taking care of me?”

Caleb sighs again and turns back to your wound. Although he is trying to seem preoccupied, you can tell that he has a lot on his mind.

“We’ll continue this conversation later,” he finally says, “for now, let’s take care of your wound, yeah? The bleeding hasn’t stopped yet. I’ll need some water to wipe you down and see how deep your injury really is. Let me take you to the bathroom. It’ll be easier to do this there.”

Caleb helps you up. Then, he helps you walk over to the bathroom, his arm wrapped around your upper torso firmly but gently. Then, when he’s sure that you are able to stand upright on your own, he meticulously picks out the temperature of the water, making sure it’s not too hot or too cold.

He soaks the towel under the thin stream of water. Your old blood dyes the sink red, leaving a gruesome sight.

You feel dizzy from the blood loss. And slightly sleepy too. You grab onto the edge of the skin in an attempt to pull yourself together. The dim, buzzing light and the splashing of water continuously lull you to sleep.

Finally, when Caleb decided that he got most of the blood out from the towel, he wrings it, and brings it up to your wound again.

You take a sharp breath, colorful curses spilling out of your mouth unchecked, “haah… Caleb…”

He gently wipes away at the edges of the wound, trying hard to be as tender as possible. Despite this, he cleans up your wound with practiced efficiency leaving you to wonder how many times he has patched himself up during dark nights like these.

“You’re doing well,” Caleb says, running the towel under clean water again.

The cycle repeats a few times. By the time Caleb deems that he had cleaned the wound thoroughly enough, you are standing there, subtly trembling in pain. The sink, the floor, and both yours and Caleb’s hands are covered in your blood. You hope that it looks worse than it actually is.

“How is it?” You ask finally.

Caleb rustles through one of the storage compartments, and takes out fresh white gauze. However, your blood on his hands stains it as soon as he touches the bandages.

“It’s pretty deep. You’ll need to take it easy for a while,” he says.

Gritting your teeth as he wraps the gauze around your abdomen, you hold your breath.

“Relax,” Caleb utters, “the worst part is over.”

He wraps the gauze around you a few more times before securing it with a little bow at the end.

“There. Good as new.”

He lets out a sharp sigh, dusting his hands off like a mechanic, and straightens out to look at you again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. But I’m worried. Should I go to the hospital?”

“No need. I’m here to take care of you, right?”

You nod.

You didn’t know what came over you then, but your body acted faster than you could think. You placed your hands on either side of his face and planted a small kiss on the edge of his lips.

He seemed stunned for a minute.

“You know I missed you, right?” You whisper, your fingers gently running through his raven hair.

“I thought you hated me,” he breaths.

“I do. But I can do both at the same time. These two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“I missed you too.”

“I hope you never leave again. Because I won’t forgive you a second time.”

Caleb’s eyes flicker before he leans in closer and presses a firm kiss to your lips.

God, it was as if you were made for each other.

All of these years of yearning to the most recent worries that plagued your mind came bubbling up to the surface until they finally exploded like a volcano.

He wraps his arms around you. The need for him to be closer to you became stronger, to the point where it was almost animalistic. Your exhales became his inhales as he pushed you up against the skin, deepening the kiss. Your fingers tangled within his hair, and his hands slowly mapped out the bare skin of your back. You couldn’t help but shiver.

You hated him so much. But God… it was impossible to stay away. You were drawn to him like a moth to a flame, knowing that nothing good was going to come out of this. Maybe he would hurt you again. Maybe you were stupid to come running back to him at the first sign of affection. But that didn’t matter at this moment. Right now, you only knew him. He was your world. And you were his.

“Wait, wait. Caleb,” you gasp suddenly, “fuck.”

Caleb immediately steps back as if he was burned.

“What’s wrong?”

You look down at your wound. It was still bleeding. A faint dark red color peaked out from behind the bandages, a signal to it probably opening up again.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay. It’s very late. We’re both not in our right mind,” you say, heart still hammering in your chest.

Caleb hesitantly nodded. His face and t-shirt was smudged with the blood that undoubtedly came from your hands.

“Maybe I should go to the hospital,” you say again.

A dull throb pulsed over where your wound was, and although you trust that Caleb did a good job of cleaning it, you knew that he wasn’t a medical professional. Maybe you needed stitches. It would be a shame if you bled out in Caleb’s apartment for no reason other than your own carelessness.

“Damn it,” He curses, “I should’ve been more careful, you’ll bleed through these bandages too.” Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re probably right, but I’ll be honest, I’m not really comfortable with letting you out of my sight just yet. I just… just let me try to add a few more layers of gauze, yeah? And if that doesn’t work, we’ll figure things out from there.”

Caleb takes out more gauze and wraps it around your lower torso again, a bit more tighter this time. He steps back to inspect how much of the gauze has already been bled through, his brow furrowing.

“Damn it…” he mutters.

You put your hand on his arm to stop his continuous fidgeting, “Caleb. Calm down.”

“You’re right. No… I just… You’re bleeding. How are you still bleeding? I’ve never seen you be this chill about an injury before. You remember when you were learning how to ride a bike when we were kids? You would cry so hard when you so much as scraped your knee against the pavement and would run to grandma so she could comfort you.”

“I remember. You were not the best teacher. It’s a miracle I haven’t gotten my front teeth knocked out.”

“You were sensitive as a kid.”

“I grew out of it.”

“Apparently.”

There was another pause. It seemed that every time you and Caleb found a common ground, there was something that would always bring you back and remind you that everything had changed. He was not the reckless little boy from your childhood that you remember. And, in turn, you were not the sensitive little girl that he remembers.

When did everything become so different?

Caleb’s apartment suddenly became cold again.

Caleb shook his head before speaking, “never mind. Have you had dinner? Are you hungry?”

“I don’t know if I can stomach anything right now.”

There was a beat of silence again, as if Caleb was choosing his words carefully, “not even rice? Or maybe some broth?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. I’ll order you something. Whatever you want.”

***

Caleb lended you one of his shirts since yours was stained with blood.

As promised, he ordered you takeout from a place that worked late and forced you to eat dinner. Even though you felt a little sick, you still made yourself eat.

He didn’t have a dinner table, so you sat on the couch while Caleb fed you.

“Why don’t you have a dinner table?” You inquire, “haven’t you moved in months ago?”

“I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

It was nice to catch up with him, even though it was a little awkward at times. You would talk for a few minutes before falling into silence again. Then someone would say something and the conversation would strike up again.

No one mentioned the kiss from earlier.

The familiar and slightly domestic atmosphere was almost enough to make you forget your previous worries. Almost.

There was a slight buzzing in your head, and then a wave of dizziness overcame you, harder than before.

You calmly, although wobbly, got up from the couch, and looked down at Caleb.

“Caleb, take me to the hospital.”

Caleb followed you up, “Hold on. Wait.”

You started walking towards the door, feeling like you could collapse at any moment. Caleb beat you to the front door, blocking it with his body.

“You’re not in the condition to go anywhere. Look at you. You can barely stand!”

“Then you take me!”

“Listen. I’ll take care of everything. You can’t go anywhere, even with my help.”

“But—“

“Don’t argue with me on this, pipsqueak,” He grabbed your arm a little more forcefully then he intended, “You’re not leaving in this state. No one will take better care of you than me.”

You bite at your bottom lip. What has gotten into him? Was he really just willing to let you bleed out just because he didn’t want you to leave?

Mustering up your last bit of courage and strength, you forcefully tug back on your arm that Caleb was holding, causing him to stumble forward a few steps. The plan was to get around him when he was caught off guard, however, when you retreated your arm in such a sudden motion, the muscles on your abdomen contracted, causing you to shudder in pain.

You collapse onto the floor, unable to put up a fight any further.

“Damn it, pipsqueak. I told you not to argue with me on this.”

Caleb gently helped you up, not minding your little stunt. He helped carry you to his room, tucking you into bed, bringing the covers all the way up to your chin even though you were hot. His scent enveloped you.

He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, “you know I only want what’s best for you.”

You nod.

You realized that perhaps you should’ve seen this coming from the very beginning. The way he clung on to you when you first came, the way he never let you out of your sight. He wouldn’t let you go now. No matter how much you struggled against him. And you couldn’t say that you hated the idea. This was the person you loved the most. The person who knew you best. The person who would take care of you better than anyone.

He was the person you turned to at the end of the day.

Caleb respectfully sat down on the floor across from you, resting his head on the edge of his bed. Lost in thought, his fingers met yours. Then he brought them up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss.

“I’m mad about you,” he whispers, “I think I’ll die if you ever continue to ignore me like you did.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Sleep tight, pipsqueak.”

It was four in the morning and the door was closed and Caleb's breathing gradually evened out. The light sound of cars passing on the street below was the only sound. In the haziness of the deep hours of the night, you were back in grandma’s house for a moment. You had snuck into Caleb's room again because you were scared of the sound of cars outside and the shadows on the wall of your room.

The pain in your side is unbearably excruciating. You carefully peel the blanket up to see Caleb’s sheets covered in blood. Your shirt had completely soaked through, and there was no doubt that your gauze had done little to prevent the blood flow. You felt unbearably hot, and your heart was thumping out of your chest.

Without thinking much further, you covered yourself with Caleb’s blanket and turned to the side, scumming to deep sleep shortly after.

At least you were with the person who knows you best.

At least you were with the person who loves you the most.

Masterlist

[coco-loco-nut]

High Stakes

pairing: lando x reader

summary: Lando can’t help but to fall for his teammates elusive childhood friend

masterlist requests open

————————————

You strut out of the casino eyes locked on your phone as you change your flight back to Australia. The casino threw a few perks at you, and who are you to say no to free stuff. You don’t even notice as you walk into a brick wall, or someone built like a brick wall.

“I’m so sorry,” you quickly stuff your phone into the black Birkin on your arm. The bag is a contrast to the champagne dress that glitters under the city lights.

“No that was my fault,” you look up, the sound of another Australian voice piquing your interest.

“Australian?” You ask, watching the man study your face.

“Y/n? Oscar,” he says, your face lighting up.

“Osco, I didn’t realize you were in Vegas. What are you here for?” Oscar was your best friend when you lived down the street from him. You moved to a different town a few years later, losing touch quickly.

“I’m a race car driver, what are you doing here?” Oscar notes the clothes your wear, the same designer brands he sees WAGs wear in the paddock.

“Oh, you still race? That’s so cool. With, um, Daniel Ricciardo?” you try to pull a name from the back of your mind.

“I actually replaced him, he’s retired now,” Oscar spares the messy details since it’s pretty clear you don’t have a vested interest in motorsport.

“Oh, that’s sad. Hey, it was nice seeing you again,” your goal is to hit the club you frequent in Vegas, and you only have so long before the line gets too long and won’t let you in.

“Right, yeah, enjoy your night,” Oscar watches you walk away, looking like the opposite of the girl he used to play in the dirt with.

“Miss L/n,” the bouncer smiles, taking your tip as you bypass the line. Taking your phone out of the purse, you leave the purse at a bag check, the staff knowing to take care with it and they get a nice reward. You only come here after winning big anyway - and you ALWAYS win big.

You slide onto a stool at the bar, catching the bartender’s eye. He’s the reason you frequent this one in particular. He makes a mean drink and is quite pleasant to look at. He picks up a liquor bottle, winking at you down the bar.

“Welcome back, this one’s on me,” he slides a cocktail to you before going to serve another customer. Maybe tonight you will actually give him your number, but the cat and mouse game you have going is too much fun.

The cocktail is fresh, something you haven’t tried before. It’s like a mix of some of your go to’s. You finish it quickly, craving the pulse of music.

“Going so soon?” the bartender asks as you slide a five to him.

“I need to dance. I’ll be back,” your sly smile makes his eyes follow you as you exit to the main club.

You find the bar once again. The one with the shitty liquor that serves everyone’s main goal. Getting shitfaced. You order two green tea shots, the familiar set of the local dj calling you to the floor.

“Your shot is on me,” a British man, or boy based on his height and struggle to grow facial hair, says as he slides beside you. You raise your eyebrow, passing one of your shots to him. You can sacrifice the buzz you are chasing for an adventure.

“Cheers, but I think you owe me another round now,” your eyes sparkle like the dress you are wearing. The man’s eyes rake your body as you throw the shot back. He quickly follows suit before ordering another round.

“Anything for a beautiful woman like you. I didn’t expect to see an Australian in the States. What’s your name?” he says, filling the time as you wait for the shots.

“I didn’t expect to see a Brit, but here we are,” you smile, unwilling to give your name until he gives his.

You take the next round quick, itching to dance.

“Lando, mate, the team is waiting on you to do the round- Y/n?” a familiar face appears beside you once again. Lando, the boys name is Lando.

“Twice in one night, are you stalking me Piastri?” you tease.

“No, we are here celebrating with the team. This is where you were in a rush to be?” Oscar asks and you nod. Lando looks between the two of you confused. Of course his teammate knows the Australian he just met.

“I always come here when I’m in Vegas. What’s next, Osco? You’ll be in Monaco next week?” you laugh. Oscar realizes how little you really know about racing or him.

“Not next week, no,” Lando answers. For a minute you forgot about him.

“We need to get back to the team. Want to join us?” Oscar asks you, a little disappointed when you shake your head.

“I need to get on the floor and dance. I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” you walk off towards the crowd of moving bodies.

“How the hell do you know her?” Lando watches you leave.

“Old friend, we were best friends for a few years before she moved away,” Oscar explains. Maybe third time will be the charm in getting your number so you can actually stay in touch. Lily has asked about you when looking at old childhood photos.

“She’s hot,” Lando comments, following Oscar back to the team.

“I couldn’t tell you the first thing about her anymore. I looked her up on the way over here and nothing came up. No socials or anything,”

“Odd,” Lando shrugs. An hour later you are back at the bar, and Lando strikes again.

“Do you travel a lot?” Lando asks and you nod.

“Yeah, when I’m not in Australia I travel for work. About a month ago I was in Singapore, around Marina Bay, and before that Macao. London, Paris, and Sydney are other places I frequent,” you tell him, shame letting your eyes roam his body, the top buttons of his shirt undone.

“I travel a lot too,” Lando takes a step closer. one goal in mind.

“I should start visiting new places. You know, I’ve never been to the middle east,” you wave your hand, thinking it would make your statement bigger.

“You should come to Abu Dhabi, Osc and I will get you a paddock pass. You’ll be in Monaco for a couple weeks, right?” Lando asks and you nod.

“Yes, but I was planning on going back to Australia after,” your eyes narrow, unsure at what he’s getting at.

“I’ll be flying to the race from Monaco, why don’t you join Oscar and I on the flight there and fly back to Australia with Oscar?” Lando offers. You turn your attention to your phone, Lando fears he lost you.

“Give me your number, I’ll let you know tomorrow once I am sober,” you hand your phone to him, allowing him to enter his details.

“Everything ok?” Oscar asks, startling Lando as he returns your phone to you.

“Yeah, Lando just invited me to Abu Dhabi,” you turn to Oscar, extending your hand to him. “I’m going back to the casino hotel, let’s stay in touch this time,” you watch Oscar quickly make a contact for himself, sending a text so he has your number as well.

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Oscar asks, concerned.

“Enjoy your party, I’ll be fine,” you let your drunk impulse take over, hugging the shy man before strutting away to get your purse.

“I wish I knew more about her. She’s so different from the girl I grew up with. I’m sure my sisters or mom could tell me,” Oscar says, watching you leave. You don’t even stumble, despite mixing heels and alcohol.

“I think she works for casinos. She mentioned traveling for work and everywhere she goes there are a lot of them,” Lando guesses. Oscar shrugs.

“I’ll ask around,” Oscar replies, turning your words over in his mind.

You thought about moving to Monaco, you love it when you are in the small country,but you can’t seem to permanently leave Australia. Monaco always treats you well, yacht parties mixed with rides around the city in expensive cars, not to mention all the money you win. It really is a tempting move. Maybe one day.

Lando picks you up outside the hotel, his chauffeur takes care of your luggage while you slide into the back. Oscar and Lando were very helpful in planning the last minute trip, despite the racing and team meetings.

“I got you a gift,” Lando hands you an orange bag. You open it and pull out a shirt and hat.

“Thank you so much. Orange isn’t usually my color-“

“Papaya,”

“But I will definitely wear it during the race. Thank you,” your brow furrows at the interruption as you carefully place the clothing back into the bag.

“It’s not orange, it’s papaya. McLaren is very insistent on that. It’s my hat and Oscar’s jersey,” Lando says, watching you tuck the bag beside your feet.

“I see,” an easy conversation falls between you as you approach the airport. The private jet awaits. Oscar is already inside when you arrive.

“Welcome aboard,” Oscar greets you as you settle into a seat. Some more people who you don’t know join the flight.

“Carlos, this is Y/n. She’s Oscar and I’s friend,” Lando says as the man extends his hand to you. You shake it, examining him.

“Nice to meet you,”

“How do you know them?” The Spaniard asks you.

“I grew up with Oscar and ran into him in Vegas. Lando invited me to Abu Dhabi,” you simplify the story.

As soon as you reach cruising height, Lando pulls out a case from a closet.

“Do you like playing cards?” he asks you, setting the black leather case onto a table.

“Occasionally, I love solitaire,” you sit down beside Lando.

“Name of the game is Texas Hold‘Em,” Lando sets it up as the group buys in. You look at your cards and the people around you.

You fold early despite your very good hand, needing to tank yourself.

“Let me take a look at that,” Lando says at the end of the round, checking your cards. “You had a straight, you should’ve stayed. It would’ve won,”

“It would? Silly me, I guess I’ll have to learn as I go,” you bat your eyes. A little lying to get some action never hurt anyone.

“I can teach you,” Lando wraps an arm around your shoulder as Oscar clears his throat.

“That would be unfair, don’t you think?” Oscar says, unsure why he’s feeling protective over you. Maybe it’s because of Lando’s womanizing reputation and you being an old friend.

“It would, we can’t do that,” you agree. You easily win the next three rounds.

“What a comeback, quite impressive,” Carlos says as you collect the money at the center of the table.

“Beginners luck,” you shrug coyly. You purposely lose the next two, going all in on a pair of three’s, an awful hand. It kills you to sandbag, but it would be very suspicious if you were annihilating the group. Then the game comes to a small break for drinks and for Oscar to use the restroom, you quietly flirt with Lando. Carlos declares himself out, choosing to nap instead.

“My offer for lessons still stand,”

“Oh? How would we go about those,” you ask, brushing your leg against his while you gently set your hand on his bicep.

“You, me, and a game a strip poker in my room tonight,” Lando suggests, eyes darkening a little as you lean closer.

“Sounds marvelous.” your devilish smile sets Lando’s mind racing as you turn towards Oscar to talk.

“Why are you pretending to not know how to play?” Oscar arches his brow at you. Slowly but surely, it’s like the two of you never moved away from each other.

“It’s fun. I don’t know how to play that well anyway,” you smile, playing off your lie.

“He’s my teammate, you know,” Oscar’s voice has a tone that warns you not to fuck up.

“I know, Osc. It’s harmless flirting. Besides, I’m not in the right place to start anything serious,” you shrug, knowing Lando’s reputation.

“Does he know that?” both of you glance at Lando who stares like a lost puppy dog.

“I’ll make sure he knows, don’t worry,” you promise as Lando calls both of you back into the game. Fifteen minutes later, Oscar folds.

“It’s just you and me now,” Lando says, both of you with an even amount of earnings.

“Don’t hold back on me,” you bat your eyes innocently as you get your hand. Oscar peeks over your shoulder, watching the cards.

“Don’t you dare fold,” Oscar hisses, you feign confusion and nod.

“Let’s see your cards,” Lando says, laying his down first after your final bets. You checked him, not wanting to discredit your lie.

���Is this good?” you ask as his eyes go wide.

“Holy shit, yeah. You won, four of a kind,” Lando pushes the money towards you.

“No, I couldn’t. You keep it. I’m well enough off anyway,” you give him the money, not really interested in the winnings of a one hundred euro buy in.

Lando starts to protest, but you move from the table to your seat before he can get a word out. You put on your headphones and pull out a book. Oscar follows Carlos in the pursuit of sleep. Two hours down, six more to go of the flight.

You feel a presence beside you and look up from your book.

“What’s up?” you ask, pulling an earbud out, marking the page of your book and setting it down.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he whispers. You glance around the plane as he inches closer to you. You feel his hand brush against your arm.

“Lando,” your breath hitches, his face close to yours.

“Let me kiss you,” he says, your head tilting up against your better judgment.

“We can’t do this,” you whisper, lips almost brushing his.

“Why not?” you get the sense that he doesn’t care as your head starts to spin and there is a strange pull between you.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” you state.

“Good, this is just a bit of fun, right?” his hand runs up and down your leg as you fight your body from getting closer.

“Right,”

“So kiss me,” Lando’s voice is breathy as he connects your lips. You pull back as you feel yourself losing control.

“Lando, we can’t, not here,” you shake your head, trying hard not to be pulled in by his puppy dog eyes and curls.

“Ok, what if we talk instead?” he sits back in the chair. You let him ramble, feeling yourself start to drift off. Lando notices you yawn as you try to carry on the conversation.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so tired,” you apologize, shifting in the seat to a more comfortable position.

“It’s okay, planes always put me to sleep too,” Lando doesn’t take your sleepiness to heart.

“Wanna listen to music?” you ask, pulling out your headphones. Lando simply nods, taking an earbud from you.

He feels a light weight on his shoulder a few minutes later. A quick glance tells him that you fell asleep. Lando can’t stop the butterflies in his chest. A beautiful woman is unintentionally using him as a pillow, it’s natural. He will never admit that he has a crush, but he wishes that you didn’t insist it is all for fun. Lando knows that Oscar doesn’t trust him with you, despite your recently rediscovered friendship. He will just have to prove it.

Unfortunately for Lando, you see more of Oscar and less of Lando during the weekend. You also left earlier than planned, citing a family thing that needed you back in Australia.

Oscar talks to you frequently, but you don’t show to a race. Lando asks questions, and even finds your social media, but it’s private and Oscar gives vague answers. It is nearly a year until Lando sees you again in Singapore.

Oscar and Lando are exploring Marina Bay when a casino advertisement catches Lando’s eye.

“Osc, is that-“

“Y/n,” Oscar finishes Lando’s sentence.

“Play where champions play. Poker champion? I thought she didn’t know how to play,” Lando reads the ad and your description. You started playing some public tables and tournaments in the past year, the sponsorship and casino money was alluring. You play private tables most of the time, but a tournament or two never hurts.

“I guess we were wrong,” Oscar stares at it.

“She lied to me,” Lando is shocked, he thought you had some natural talent, but you let him teach you. He feels a little stupid.

“She lied to all of us. It kinda explains why she never told me how she got rich or what her job is,” Oscar frowns, watching as security exits the casino to escort a guest in from the black SUV.

Without thinking, Lando moves towards the entrance. “Y/n!” he calls out to you, watching your head snap over in surprise. Oscar approaches Lando, staying a few steps behind.

“Lando? Osc? What are you doing here?” you ask, the security silently encouraging you to keep walking.

“We have a race-“ Oscar starts, but you cut him off.

“Don’t stand there, follow me in,” you tell them before saying something to the security. Whatever you said, it lets Lando and Oscar get near you.

“You have better security than we do,” Oscar says.

“Well, the casino wants to protect its assets,” you shrug.

“I think you have some explaining to do,” Lando seems off, colder than usual. You glance around.

“Not here, in my suite,” you say, leading the way to one of the best rooms available.

Lando and Oscar gape at the opulence, it’s nicer than their rooms.

“You are here for a race?” You ask as you pour a glass of water.

“Yeah, do you want a pass?” Oscar asks without a second thought.

“Sure, maybe I’ll bet on you to win,” you smile, crossing the room to take a seat.

“Why are you here?” Lando asks, first Vegas an Monaco, now Marina Bay.

“Work. I’m playing a few tables and a tournament for sponsorship purposes,” you lean back in the chair, not sure of how much you should say.

“I thought you didn’t know how to play?” Oscar looks between you and Lando, curious at the standoff and tension between you.

“I lied. I only recently started playing public games,” your eyes narrow a little, gauging the room.

“Why?” Oscar asks, bringing himself into the conversation.

“Why I lied or why I only just started playing publicly?” you don’t get an answer so you choose to answer both. “I lied because I wasn’t comfortable with my career and I didn’t want to be judged,” your arm raises to scratch your neck, an emotional cue that you haven’t been able to stop yourself from doing. “I also didn’t want to embarrass you. I only just started playing publicly for more money and casino sponsorship,” you watch their reactions, crafting your words carefully based on the small cues they give you.

“So what do you do exactly?” Oscar pries.

“I play card games and casinos invite me to play worldwide. It attracts regular people to have high caliber players in house, and the expensive tables are lucrative for me. It’s simple marketing,” Lando looks at you, the wheels turning in his mind.

“So you do work for the casinos?” he asks, wondering if his first guess from when he met you was right at all.

“You could say so, yeah, in a way,” you look between both of them. “Any more questions?”

“How did you start?”

“I just kinda fell into it. Picked up a lot of games quickly and had natural luck and talent,” you answer, you seem so nonchalant about it.

“How rich are you?” Oscar knows he probably shouldn’t ask, but he’s curious anyway.

“I am not answering that,” you laugh, almost affronted that he would ask. “Let’s just say, I could retire right know and live very comfortably for the rest of my life,” you answer. It helps that you’ve made some very good investments over the year to build your net worth. Even if you lost money on an expensive buy in, you’d be well off.

“Holy shit,” Lando whispers, glancing at Oscar who meets Lando’s eye. There’s a subtle shift in the air. The way they look at you now is different. It’s like even though they knew you were rich from how you dressed, they didn’t know how so it was pushes aside. Now it matters to them. This is the reason you don’t tell people. Not because they are likely to ask for money, it’s the judging. Like the way you earn your living makes you a bad person.

“Look, if you guys want to judge, that fine. I made my money legally and that’s what matters to me. Now, if you will excuse me, I am contractually obliged to make an appearance and play a public table,” you stand up, resolute in yourself and the choices you’ve made with your life. If they judge you or want to act like they don’t know you going forward, that’s their prerogative. Lando and Oscar watch as you leave, one security guard remaining by the door to escort them out.

“Should we follow her?” Lando asks, feeling like they’ve fucked up. They didn’t have to say a word, the way they reacted told you enough.

“Yeah,” Oscar stands, a pain in his chest at how quickly you turned cold. “There’s a reason she keeps people at an arms length, I think we are that reason,” Oscar murmurs, the shame setting in.

“Can we watch her play?” Lando asks the guard as he brings them back to the main floor.

“Yeah, check the map over there,” the guard points to a wall, leaving Oscar and Lando to fend for themselves. They stay silent as they walk through the casino, finding the poker tables. A small crowd is near yours spectating.

“Why didn’t she tell us from the start?” Lando asks quietly as they approach.

“I assume she doesn’t want people to ask for money, same reason we don’t always disclose our career,” Oscar shrugs, he knows he’s wrong but doesn’t want to admit it.

You are sitting at a 1,000/2,000 no-limit game of hold'em. Typically you would be at a super high roller table, in a fancy room, schmoozing with execs and other professional players. But this is a business appearance, and all you have to do is win a few hands then you can leave the table.

“Maybe. Maybe she thought that because we were rich, we would understand and wouldn’t judge. We are her friends,” Lando’s voice cracks slightly, they stay silent as they are within earshot of the table.

They lean against a railing, separating the few people near them from you and the table.

Oscar feels bad for the people brave enough to play you. Your eyes are cold and calculating, not one muscle on your face moves as you observe. You slowly build a depth of knowledge about your opponent’s, balancing poker strategy with the emotional game. It’s impressive.

“She’s like a strategist and driver combined,” Oscar murmers, barely loud enough for Lando to hear. Lando simply nods in agreement as you toss a coin into the pot, calling the bet. You are not only doing the strategy that a team would do for Lando and Oscar, but the emotional game that Lando and Oscar do when driving.

“This is so hot,” Lando whispers as you seem to win with ease. Luck seems to naturally fall to you, but it’s just skill. You glance up from the little bubble of the game, noticing Lando and Oscar watching, but you make no indication of it.

“There’s been rumors that she is going to join a professional tour,” someone beside the two drivers says, quiet enough that it doesn’t disturb the game, but loud enough that it catches Lando and Oscar’s eye. So you were serious about being more outward about your career.

Lando and Oscar are gone by the time you leave the game, and you aren’t surprised. You don’t stick around, you just collect your money and retreat to your room. Typically you would indulge in the amenities that the casino has to offer- the bar, restaurants, spas, etc. When you get to your room, there is an envelope near the entrance. You open it and find paddock passes for the weekend. Your hand shakes slightly as you pull them out, a frown settling on your face.

Despite your better judgment, you show up to the first free practice. You don’t wear the gear that the boys got you, opting for a neutral outfit.

“Y/n L/n! I’m Zak Brown, CEO of McLaren Racing,” a man extends his hand out to you. “I’m a huge fan so I was thrilled when your agent reached out to request paddock passes,” your eyes narrow slightly in confusion. You don’t have an agent. He does look like he would follow the poker world though, and your emergence into the public tables has been a hot topic recently.

“Thank you for having me,” you shake his hand. He turns and waves a hand, your eyes follow his motion.

“These two are our drivers, Lando and Oscar,” Zak introduces you but you don’t offer a hand to shake, keeping them folded in front of your chest. Oscar’s heart hurts, a year of rebuilding the friendship washed away.

“We will show her around,” Oscar offers, having some free time.

“Thank you, Oscar,” you ignore Lando, finding it harder to forgive him. You’ve known Oscar for longer, which makes it easier, even if it shouldn’t.

“Right, I’ll see you later,” you don’t dare to look at him, his dejected voice tells you enough.

“I’m really sorry, I was just stunned. It’s not really a career you think about,” Oscar starts, knowing you’ve already had a tour of the McLaren area.

“I take it you are my so-called agent?” you ask, ignoring his apology.

“Guilty. I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just wanted to give you the option of acting like you don’t know us, in case you needed space,” you nod at Oscar’s words, processing them with every step around the paddock.

“I talked to Lily. I’m sorry for storming out on you abruptly. I realize that it was a complete one eighty from how I was moments prior. You weren’t the one judging, and I overreacted a bit,” you take a deep breath, offering an apology of your own, one specific to Oscar.

“You think you overreacted because you were scared of being in that position already. You had a right to remove yourself from the situation, and I’m sorry I had a part in it. You are my friend, and that is more important than anything else,” Oscar bolsters you, and reiterates his apology.

“Thank you, it means a lot to have you as a friend,” you open your arms slightly, inviting your typically stoic friend in for a hug. Oscar carefully wraps his arms around you, not much of a hugger.

“Should we talk about the other elephant-“

“Nope,”

“Gotcha. Want ice cream?” Oscar asks as you stand outside of Ferrari.

“Always,” you tentatively follow him inside.

“I was jokingly adopted by Charles, now I get to come in and get ice cream,” Oscar shrugs, explaining as if it’s no big deal. You are out as quickly as you went in, but you acquired your target.

“Some fans posted photos of Lando and I leaving the casino, we got asked if we had gambling addictions,” Oscar tells you between bites.

“Really?” you choke back a laugh. “What did you tell them?” you ask, curious as to how they played it off.

“We said that wanted to see if it was like the casino in Percy Jackson,” you shake your head, taking another bite of the ice cream.

“Well, that’s one excuse. By the way, are you even allowed to have ice cream right now?” you ask, realizing that he’s probably on a diet.

“No, but it’s worth it. You’d be surprised how often drivers break their diets. It’s not like major, just a little cheating,” Oscar waves it off. By the time you return to McLaren, it’s like nothing happened between you. “I’ll be back in a minute, wait here,” Oscar says, leaving you at a couch while he disappears into another room. Lando takes the opportunity to pounce, sitting in the chair closest to you.

“Y/n? Can we talk?” you feel your heart freeze. You turn your head away from him slightly, staring out the window. “Please?” his voice breaks, and you silently look at him. You don’t say a word, but he takes the bit of attention you’ve given him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I judged you when you offered your trust. I hurt you in a vulnerable moment, and I know that it’s hard to forgive in moments like that,” Lando shifts closer, but still keeps some distance.

“I expected more from you,” the words sting as you look back towards the window. Lando looks down at his hands for a moment before he looks at you again.

“Yeah. I know. I never wanted to ruin what we have,” your head snaps over to stare at him.

“There is no we. We kissed once, and it didn’t mean anything. I don’t know where you got that idea from,” you practically seethe and Lando is afraid he poked the bear.

“Right,” Lando whispers. He knows his reputation. One he’s wanted to change since meeting you, but you don’t know that. “You’re right, I misspoke,” Lando says even if it kills him to. “I just meant that we had a friendship starting and I was excited to get to know you more,” he covers his butt, telling you what he thinks you want to hear. You don’t expect it to hurt, but it does.

“It takes more than that. It will take time and effort,” you don’t know why you are making him work for it, but the words feel right. Lando’s eyes light up a little, there is a chance. Maybe he can find a way to win you over, but there is one big obstacle in the way. The one standing in front of him. Oscar.

“We have to get ready for our first practice session. Feel free to take food or drinks,” Oscar tells you, silently telling Lando to leave. You give Oscar a nod, letting him know you are okay.

Surprisingly, it’s you who finds Lando next. It does take until after the second free practice, Oscar and Zak kept you busy. You can’t help but feel a little guilty after sitting with your thoughts. He’s in a quiet spot, leaning against a railing. You wouldn’t have known it existed without Oscar unintentionally giving it away. The secluded spot is invisible to the rest of the paddock and cameras, perfect for being alone. It’s odd, seeing him so quiet. You stand beside him, a decent amount of space between you.

You can tell he knows you are there, but neither of you speak. It’s an odd comfort, standing in silence with someone whom you admittedly don’t know that well. Your silent standoff, like a game of chicken, ends when Lando unintentionally steps closer and you take the first metaphorical step.

“One chance. One shot to earn a fragment of my trust back,” you murmur into the darkness, eyes trained on the night sky above. You didn’t think you would care, that you could dismiss him like every other guy who hurt you before. You didn’t expect to feel guilty.

Lando doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into a kiss. It’s different than the one shared on the plane. This is tender, unrushed, nearly a year of yearning being poured into it. His hand finds your neck, fingertips in your hair as you melt into the kiss. The other hand finds itself on your waist. You may not know where you stand with him or your readiness for any semblance of a relationship, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Lando gently pulls away to breathe, his eyes searching yours as his hands keep you close.

“I’ve spent the last year trying to be better, to strengthen my relationships and working on myself to be worthy of you. You made me want to be better, even if you didn’t want me. I don’t know where you stand as compared to last year, but I want you,” he stresses his last word, driving it into your soul and it hits you. He doesn’t care what you do for a living, if you are rich or poor, or even that Oscar is likely your closest friend. He likes you enough to want to better himself.

“Lando, I-“ the words leave your mouth before you begin to think.

“Shh, don’t say anything unless you mean it,” he stares into your eyes, igniting a fire deep inside. Something shifts with that fire, a stone building your resolve.

“Fuck it,” you whisper, allowing yourself to be pulled back into Lando’s orbit. His soft lips kissing you once more - this time with more passion yet just as soft as before.

“We can take this slow, at whatever pace you need,” Lando promises against your lips. He feels like if he lets you a step further away, you will disappear for another year.

The rest of the weekend passes by with stolen glances, quick kisses in hidden corners, and the thrill of brushing hands. You feel like a school girl, but this time you and Lando agree to keep in touch and already have dates planned.

Keeping it quiet only lasts until the end of the season. You couldn’t hide it from Oscar or keep it a secret, so you were upfront with the truth - things are starting to turn serious.

You are in Monaco when Lando returns from Abu Dhabi. You spent the week setting up your new apartment, choosing a cheaper place. It helps you feel like you aren’t wasting money when traveling.

A knock on your door prompts you to pause your music, rushing towards the door while trying not to hip check one of the boxes in your living room.

“Surprise!” Lando grins holding takeout bags in his hands.

“You weren’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow!” you throw your arms around him, taking in the moment.

“I got an earlier flight, didn’t feel like partying two nights in a row,” he says into your shoulder before stepping out of the hug and into the apartment. He looks around, setting the bags on your wooden dinner table. “This looks so much nicer than when we tour it,” Lando compliments your hard work. The lighting is soft and inviting, plush rugs adding a coziness that makes him want to snuggle under a blanket on the couch that looks perfect for a nap.

“Thanks, it’s really coming together,” you smile, there are a lot less boxes, most just decoration that need placed. You help Lando with the dinner, settling in on the couch to eat. Lando was right, the couch is incredibly comfortable and soft.

“So I was thinking, my friends do this card game night a couple times a year, and I want you to join me, if you’d like,” Lando proposes between bites, locking eyes with you.

“You want me to meet your friends?” you nearly choke on your food. Sure, Oscar knows that you and Lando are seeing each other, but that’s it.

“Well, I’d really love for you to meet them as my girlfriend,” Lando studies your reaction. The way you instinctively school your face to not give a reaction before your brain reminds you who you are with, then a smile creeps onto your face.

“I would love to meet your friends as your girlfriend, but this isn’t you bringing me with you as an advantage?” you ask just to be sure and because you are still processing that he asked you to be his girlfriend.

“Well, it is a plus, but I just want them to know how awesome you are and rub it in their faces,” Lando sets his food on the coffee table and moves closer to you so your knees are brushing.

“Lan,” your voice is soft, overjoyed at the thought. You set the food aside and lean in to kiss him.

“So, what do you want me to do first?” Lando looks around the room at the boxes, ready to help with whatever you need.

“Lando, you just finished your season. Don’t worry about the apartment,”

“I want to help my girlfriend set up her new home,” he insists.

“Well, in that case, let’s start… in the bedroom,” your sly smile turns to a grin as Lando chases you into the bedroom, his arms wrapping around your waist to pick you up and carry you to bed.

You lay under the sheets together, bodies pressed against each other, the darkness of the room inviting for deep conversation.

“Why weren’t you ready when we first met?” Lando asks the question that he’s wondered since seeing you in Singapore.

“Every guy who I got close to, every friend I made, always did one of two things: try to use me for my money, and or ghost me because they thought I was a criminal,” you admit, allowing yourself to come to terms with it. You answer a question Lando never dares to ask aloud - why Oscar and Lily seem to be your only friends. His heart hurts for you, you don’t deserve that treatment, even if he hurt you in a similar way before.

“There is nothing wrong with your career. You play legally and honestly, no one has a right to judge,” Lando reassures you, you whisper thanks and savor the comforting silence of the room.

Lando rarely leaves your apartment those few days, only going to retrieve the essentials. Now you sit in his friends apartment, liquor flowing as you are deep into the card games.

Lando whispers in your ear, a mixture of flirting and telling you to stop sandbagging yourself. His leather jacket covers your shoulders, he claimed to be too warm with it on while you were a little cold in your t-shirt.

“Read it and weep,” you show your hand, grinning as the boys groan and Lando laughs. He wishes real money was being spent, you already ran a couple of his friends out of the game - including himself.

“Where did you find her? She’s much better than you,” one of the guys teases Lando, who wraps an arm around your chair. Your cheeks flame a little as you nod in agreement.

“It isn’t hard,” you laugh, swatting Lando’s hand away as he lightly pinches your shoulder.

“Didn’t any of you do a background check on my girlfriend? You need to learn from every girl group ever,” Lando shakes his head, placing a soft kiss behind your ear.

“Hm, we do tend to know everything about a guy our friend is seeing,” you hum.

“Detectives, all of them,” one of the guys agrees as another is furiously google searching you.

“Holy shit. You are so much cooler than he is,” another tells you, making your cheeks even more red. Lando captures the moment in his memory, how adorable you are when you blush.

“I make more than him, so he’s my WAG,” you tease as an outlet for the mix of embarrassment and flattery.

“And I’m proud of it,” Lando doesn’t lie, he would rather be your WAG than have any other girl by his side. Another round gets dealt and you hone in on the game.

“You’re so sexy when you play wearing my clothes,” Lando whispers in your ear and it takes every bit of willpower in you to not react. It’s like a game to see how far he can push your limits. “I can’t wait to take you home,” he says before resting his chin on your shoulder, his hand moving down to rest on your hip.

The alcohol in your veins makes it hard for you to control yourself. His jacket weighs heavily on your shoulders, as he continues to whisper his plans for you later that night. Your skin is alight as his fingers trail the bit of exposed skin at your hip.

You fold, having a bad hand and your mind spinning with desire. A fake yawn gives Lando a cue to cut in.

“I am afraid it is past our professional’s bed time,” Lando’s eyes shine playfully as you avoid the smirks on his friends faces, the ones that tell you they know why you are leaving.

“Well, this isn’t a casino, no need to be up this late,” you yawn again, playing along as you stand. Lando gives his goodbyes as you exchange the always awkward ‘nice meeting you’s’.

You hand is warm as your fingers interlock with Lando’s. He leads you down the stairs and out to his car, giggling as you tell him to slow down before he breaks an ankle. Pure bliss is how Lando would describe it. Just the two of you in the empty street, stars twinkling in the night sky, Lando pinning you against his car with your hands around his neck. You would give anything to stay there forever.

[balladofboothill]

Joe burrow x EMT

note : wrote this purely off kissing a tree with your car brownies and 10hrs of shitty sleep

warnings : brief talk of medical stuff, the q word, couple sex jokes and very short

Like any medical household, the q word is banned (quiet)

"Why the fuck is it so quiet here" Ja'marr comes busting in through the doorway, disturbing the much needed peace of the household, joe shushed him right away as the last time he said the q word he got a stuffed animal thrown his way, "we never speak of the q word here" Joe says quietly as Ja'marr gives him a look as if he has four heads.

Joe asks the strangest questions

"What happens if someone's dick snaps off during sex?" Joe asks, randomly at 4am, "uhhhhh, I don't know, why?" You ask, "dunno just wondering" Joe answered with this strange look in his eye, still slightly confused at why he's asking this, another time while eating dinner he asked what would happen if someone stuck a carrot in their eyes.

Med truck sex.

JK! But he did ask if that was possible while he was watching you load it. "Could you ride me on that stretcher?" Joe asks in a bland tone for the question he just asked. "Joe baby, great idea but I'd like to keep my job." You answered to him, clearly joking upset

Thinks it's the coolest thing that he now has a personal nurse for when he's sick

Man flu is the worst thing to ever happen to men, Joe is 100% down for the count, acting like he's gonna puke his lungs out, "nurse can you please give me some cough meds" Joe begged as best he could between the coughs, "yeah here." You said as you hand him the cough meds, "this isn't what I expected to be using my schooling for" you though to yourself, praying you don't get sick next

If his friends get injured while they're doing guy things he'll text you a picture and ask what to do

A text pings during your lunch break of a photo that Joe sent, it's of a pretty sizable open cut with a fishing hook stuck in it, Joe had taken a couple high school friends fishing at your family's pond earlier before your shift, texting back "don't remove the hook, cut the line and go to the ER", a couple hours later you receive a photo of the stitched up cut

any EMT is awful to watch football with

Watching a random college game after a long shift with Joe should have been relaxing until you get bored and start commentating the injuries that can happen, "during my first week I saw a player snap his entire latissimus dorsi" you commentate as Joe looks in slight horror

Thank you for reading :) please reblog to support writers!!<3

[brawberryz]

Please don't leave me alone

Batfam Yan! × Eva Pilot! Reader

Note:English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

You were a normal student

Or well almost nothing was normal in this world, but in your life it was pretty normal

You were a first year student, you weren't very sociable but it's not like you didn't have friends either. You were the middle point of being someone extroverted and introverted

But that's not the main issue, a few days ago you had received a letter from your father, father...

Years ago you hadn't heard from him, well when you were younger you remembered him but since the incident you haven't seen him anymore

Since then you have been living with your teacher, he was a good guy and he was a good father figure for your depressed self

You didn't imagine that after so much time your father would want to talk to you although you didn't complain

You were in front of a telephone booth, you were trying to contact the boy in the photo which your father had sent to look for you

Richard "Dick" Grayson

But your attempts failed, all the telephone lines were cut so it was impossible to have some kind of contact, apparently it was because of the attack of something, you didn't know very well what but the streets were empty so it must be something serious and dangerous

"Ugh, I shouldn't be here..."

You said as you left the phone and picked up your bag, you were still in your school uniform, they hadn't even given you time to change, now you were here in the middle of an abandoned city with no signal

"I guess it won't make it in time, I should go to some shelter"

You said letting out a long sigh, you knew it wasn't a good idea to listen and come to this place, but your desire to be able to see your father after so long won but you were slowly regretting that

You put your bag on your shoulder and began to walk through the abandoned streets trying to find some kind of shelter to protect yourself

But before you could do anything a loud explosion was heard near you made the whole city shake like some kind of earthquake or schism, that explosion could have easily damaged your eardrums and made them bleed

"What's going on..."

You said scared looking up right where like some "airplanes?" Strangers came out of a place

And there you saw it... a giant thing maybe bigger than a 30-story building, it was too scary you had never seen anything like that before, your body was in shock and you weren't able to move

You tried with all your might to make your body react in some way but it was impossible, it was as if your feet were stuck to the ground

Some large missiles passed close to you and you instinctively crouched down protecting your head, whatever that thing was was too dangerous

You saw how those missiles barely did any damage to that creature, what kind of strange monster was that creature, the only thing you could do was watch in a daze as the fight developed

The creature threw something from its hands causing one of the planes to fall and to your bad luck it fell right next to you, you could barely react when the plane fell in front of you, you were lucky not to be crushed

But it seems luck was not on your side today (if it ever was) You were lucky) there was another explosion and the creature staggered towards you causing its foot to step on the plane causing a huge explosion, you fell to the ground and tried to cover yourself with your arms accepting your end

But you didn't feel anything, you heard the sound of a car braking hard in front of you and the door opening, you looked up and saw it

"Come in, sorry for being late"

The boy said giving you a sad smile, you could barely process everything that was happening it was too much for your poor teenage brain

"What are you waiting for? Come in now!"

The boy spoke again, it felt more like an order than a request, you quickly came out of your state of shock and quickly climbed into the passenger seat, buckling your seat belt tightly.

"Hold on tight, this is going to be a bit of a dangerous ride."

Before you could respond, Richard accelerated the car as fast as he could before the car was run over by the creature.

He drove as fast as the car would allow him until he reached a more remote place, you felt like you were about to die from the car flipping so much.

After a few minutes, Richard stopped on a small hill in the distance, he let out a sigh of relief and then turned his gaze to you.

"Sorry about that, I know it was too much to process but- wait a minute."

Richard stopped talking in the middle of his sentence as soon as he saw something in the window, he quickly took out a pair of binoculars from a small drawer in the car.

He quickly moved closer to the car window to see more clearly.

"Wait a minute, are they going to use the N-2 mine!?"

Richard said in surprise before grabbing your arm and pulling you against him to use his body as a shield.

"Bend down and hold on to me!"

You barely had time to react when a huge explosion was heard making everything nearby shake, with so many explosions you heard today you swore you were about to go deaf

A strong gust hit the car causing it to fall and spin around on the ground, you felt Richard hug you tighter, he wasn't going to allow you to get hurt in any way and if that meant he had to be some kind of human shield he was going to be

After a few minutes things calmed down and they were able to get out of the car unharmed

"Hey little one, are you okay?"

Richard asked worriedly looking at you on the ground trying to calm your labored breathing

"Yes...yes I'm fine"

You gave him a half smile, so many things had happened in less than 1 hour and your head was only full of doubts and more doubts

You just wanted to go home and have that monotonous life

"Okay, now help push the car"

You just nodded getting up from the ground and shaking off your uniform, you helped him push the car with all your strength

It was difficult the car was too heavy but after a few minutes they were able to do it

"Thanks for the help, (name)"

He gave you a grateful smile, he gave you a small pat on the head

"Don't worry, I should be the one who should thank you, thanks grayson"

You said shyly, in a way you were grateful that he had risked his life to protect you

"Just call me Richard, there's no need to be so formal"

You just nodded and then got into the car with him. It was going to be a long trip, but you felt a little safe with him. It was like having an older brother.

_

"This place is so big!"

You said in amazement walking through the large facilities, you had never been in a place like this

NORV was an amazing place, you couldn't believe that you were going to have something to do with this place

"Too big I would say.."

Richard said as he looked at a map of the place, he hadn't remembered that the place would be so confusing and giant

The two of you were going down an escalator, you were too focused on reading the manual that Richard had given you to pay attention to your surroundings

"I wonder where Barbara is..." he said in a small whisper "I'm sorry, I don't know the place that well"

The boy said embarrassed, you just nodded without paying much attention to what he was saying

You were walking for a few minutes until you reached a hallway

"I think it should be here, follow me"

He said grabbing your arm, you weren't going to tell him out loud but it bothers you a little that you touched you so freely, you felt that he had gained too much confidence in such a short time and that made you uncomfortable, he barely gave you your personal space and treated you as if he had known you all your life

You just made a small sound of acceptance and then continued walking, you got into a small elevator and you were there for a few seconds

Just when the elevator opened a red-haired woman appeared with a serious expression looking at Richard

"Ah!, hello Barbara, how long?"

Richard said greeting her with a smile, you just kept your eyes on the book pretending not to pay attention

The girl just nodded and got into the elevator with you

"I could say the same..."

She said in a monotone as she leaned against the wall of the elevator, Richard let out an awkward laugh as he adjusted his uniform

You just pretended not to feel the awkward atmosphere that the two of them radiated together

"Is this the girl Bruce was talking about?"

Barbara pointed at you, you just shrank further into your book

"Yes, the institute reported to us that she is the third kid chosen"

Mmm, I see, well it's nice to meet you"

He gave you a small smile as he gave your shoulders a small squeeze

"Likewise"

You nodded nervously, you returned your attention to the book at this moment you felt that your only safe place was this manual on the NORV facilities

"You and your father look so alike, it seems that neither of you are able to smile or show your emotions"

Richard let out a small laugh as he said that, Barbara simply nodded at Richard's poorly made joke

They continued to go up in the elevator, they began to talk about something that you didn't really understand nor did you care

They exited the elevator and arrived at a hallway, just as the three of them arrived and entered the door slammed

"I-it's really dark!"

You said confused, it's not that you were afraid of the dark you were just afraid of not seeing your way and tripping over something

But before anyone could answer the light went out Suddenly it turned on

And there it was, it was the biggest robot you had ever seen in your life, you could only see its head but it still looked big, it was buried in a bright pink liquid you wanted to ask what it was but you decided not to say anything

You decided to flip through the book to see if you could find any information about this giant robot

"You won't find any information there"

Barbara said staring at you

"Uh..."

You looked at her confused as you listened to what she was saying

"This is the latest combat weapons system created by humans, an artificial life form called...evangelion or in a few words unit 01"

You just nodded at all the information you received, you barely understood what she was telling you, this was too much to understand for a teenager like you

"Is this what my father does?"

You asked curiously staring at Barbara

"You got closer, congratulations, (name)"

You heard A voice, one you recognized all too well, you looked up and there he was

Watching you from a window above, it seemed as if nothing had changed he still had that cold and disinterested look he always gave you when you were younger

"D-dad..."

You said in shock, so much time had passed that you didn't even know how to start a conversation with him, what should you tell the man who left you for more than 10 years

"Activate the Eva"

Bruce said bluntly as he stared at you

"Activate the Eva!? But unit 01 is still in preliminary phase, did they lose their minds?"

Richard couldn't believe what Bruce was asking, it was too dangerous for you to get on that Eva, you could easily die or get hurt

The mere thought of you being hurt made Richard's stomach turn, he wasn't going to allow another innocent child to get hurt to fulfill Bruce's whims

"We have no choice, Richard"

Barbara said dryly

"But Damian is too hurt to be able to be a pilot and (Name) doesn't even know how to fly one!"

Richard tried to get Barbara or Bruce to see reason but his attempts were only ignored

"Well today he will learn, are you ready (name)?"

Barbara turned her gaze to you, you swallowed hard you felt too scared and confused were you supposed to get into that thing!?

"What...really?"

You said confused

"Yes..."

No There was time, all the pilots they had were too injured to be able to handle any Eva, (name) was the last salvation

The angel was approaching and causing destruction in its path, it was now or never, the fate of the world right now weighed on your shoulders

"But it took Damian more than 6 months to synchronize with the Eva! She barely arrived and if it's too dangerous and she won't stand it, have you thought about that!?"

Richard got defensive again trying to get Barbara to see reason

" (name) just needs to get into the capsule and everything will be fine" Barbara said "But-" Before Richard could speak again Barbara interrupted him "defending humanity from the angels is our highest priority, we need someone to be able to synchronize with the Eva even if the chances are almost zero"

Richard just stayed quiet, he knew she was right but he didn't want to admit it, he hated the way he felt his heart tighten every time he thought about the possibility of you getting hurt or worse yet dead

"Fine, but if something happens to (name), you'll regret it"

Richard spoke in a somber tone looking at Barbara, the woman just looked at him for a few seconds before just nodding

"Okay, (name) get ready you'll get on the Eva"

You just nodded, you didn't know what was about to happen but you didn't like it

_

You had woken up in a hospital bed, your whole body hurt, you felt like you had a bandage on your left eye

You barely had time to react when the door opened abruptly, there was Richard

He had a worried look on his face, before you could say anything he launched himself at you giving you a big hug

"(Name)! Thank god you'are okay I thought you were going to die..."

He said hugging you tighter, you didn't know what he meant by that you could barely remember what had happened but you thought that finally you were going to be able to be calm

But how wrong you were

The days passed faster than you would like, you were accepted to be an Eva pilot

It seems that in your fight with the angel the Eva went into an aggressive mode and controlled itself while you were in a state of shock

During your short time being an Eva pilot you learned to control it better But you still hated handling it

You managed to meet other Eva pilots called Tim and Damian

Tim was very talkative not as much as Richard but he still talked a lot, you made a small friendship with him

With Damian it didn't go so well, he was too quiet it seemed as if he had no emotions, you simply decided to leave him since you thought he didn't like you

Days passed and you met more people like Jason, stehp, Cass and Duke

Some were retired pilots and others who helped repair the Evas like Jason and Stehp

For the first time you felt important as if you really mattered

Too bad that happiness ends little by little

Every day that passed you felt like each one of them became more possessive and weird

Every time you met someone other than them that person disappeared out of nowhere

Every time you came back from a fight with an angel and was too hurt Richard treated you like a fucking baby

And you hated him too much, you were old enough to be able to take care of such superficial wounds

They didn't even let you be with other people other than them, they even fought to see who would sit with you at lunch, in those cases you simply went to your room to lock yourself in and eat

But you didn't even feel safe there, the last time you checked your room to clean it you found a hidden camera among your things, and there was only one person who would be able to do that

Bruce, that son of a bitch you swore that if you saw him again you would kill him

But you knew very well that you would never You were going to be able to do it

You had no one, Bruce was the only family you had left out there you were no one, not even your mother her death was still engraved in your head, you still had nightmares about it

The only thing you could do was ignore all of that and pretend it didn't affect you

You felt like you were tangled in a spider web and every time you moved you only got more tangled

Maybe you should just stop moving and hope that maybe at some point those spider webs would loosen and you could get out

But you knew it wasn't true

You were trapped just like an insect, being the spider's prey and you would stay trapped there until your body is completely rotted

Dying there without being able to be free again

What's the point of living if you're not even able to enjoy life

If you see any similarity with Evangelion chapter 1, it is literally lol

So far I think this is the longest one shot I wrote

I hope the person who asked me for this enjoys it, I'm really happy with the result

Maybe I'll do other one shots about this Evangelion AU 🔥

[nor-ay]

Unrequited Love Reader and Pure Vanilla Angst bc I’ve been sad these days. (Not canon to the main story.)

The moon is captivating, you think. How it shines and covers you with its light as if it were the critic and you the performer. You feel like you’re trapped on a stage. And no matter how you try to divert the narrative, someone always finds a way to put you back in your role. And you suppose that you’re not in the wrong. You are in Shadow Milk Cookie’s domain, after all. The need to be comforted fills your heart as a tear falls down and wets your cheek, clinging to your chin.

You smell the faint scent of vanilla before you hear him talk. “[Name] Cookie, oh, I am so sorry to interrupt, but I can’t help but worry about you. You’ve been acting a bit…” 

You’re a bit annoyed, no, scratch that. You’re really pissed off. Your mind can’t comprehend what’s his deal. Pure Vanilla Cookie is someone who cares about his friends and people. He’s kind, empathetic and lovely. But at what point does he help because he really feels like it? Or he just does it out of duty? Is he always genuine? 

“Why are you asking, Pure Vanilla Cookie? What would you do if something was wrong?” He seems surprised by your tone but doesn’t comment on it. It takes him a good minute to answer, calm and firmly. 

“I would do anything in my power, you do know that, right? You are my friend, my old friend, you can count on me.” 

Shaking your head, you smile, but it feels like a grimace. Of course, you knew he was going to say that. He always says the same things, just in different fonts. You know that it shouldn't hurt you; you’re feeling like this because you are allowing it. At least, that is what you think. “That’s so cruel…you can’t say that you’d do anything and then just call me a friend.” 

“Pardon me? [Name] Cookie,” His eyes are open now, and you can’t look at him, so you convince yourself that the floor is more beautiful. “You would do the same, is that right? You told me…” 

“Ugh, let's stop dancing around this topic,” Frustration and anger flares up and helps you ignore the uncomfortable dread in your body. “I told you that because I did not mean it as just a friend. I love you, but right now, I hate you a bit for it.”

You finally look at Pure Vanilla Cookie, and his face is just so pretty that it makes you feel sickly. He’s not looking at you. “I am terribly sorry…but I can’t—“ With furrowed brows and a hoarse voice, he tries to reject you as softly as possible.

“I understand, you don't have to reject me. I was just stating it.” You can’t hear him finish that sentence. Somehow, it feels like if that thought materializes, I’ll turn true. And you so foolishly try to keep some hope for your heart.

“…[Name] Cookie,” For the first time since he found you, he approaches and holds both your hands. “I’m not very good at this. But thank you for telling me. And- we can still be friends If that’s…what you want?” 

You agree and reassure him that nothing will change and that soon this feeling will go away. Bizarrely enough, you think that it may happen sooner than you’d expect.

It’s been a while! As I said, I’ve been struggling a bit these days but I’m better. Please feel free to share your opinion on this fic as long as it’s respectful. And no, this is not canon. In the main story, the reader does not confess to Pure Vanilla. Maybe someday.

[growth-opportunities]

Even though we don't talk anymore, this is the picture I love to go back to when I think about my old friend group. It's just so thrilling to me, to think about what this picture used to show. We were all moderately busty when we met (I have my own theories about women of similar bust sizes becoming friends, but that's for another day.) Jenny, sitting next to me in the leopard print, was the biggest at an E cup and I was the smallest, though still sitting pretty with a pair of juicy C cup tits. We were all headed up to my parents' summer home for a few days to really break in the new swimming pool. It was meant to be a dream vacation with my best friends, girls who had been my best friend for a long, long time.

All it took was a few shots of Pink Whitney to turn it into a nightmare.

Okay, that's kind of an exaggeration. It was already a nightmare, I just didn't know. But alcohol helped loosen Allison (in the back, behind Jenny)'s lips. As soon as she mentioned Joe, my boyfriend, I knew something was up. A few more shots and a screaming match later, it all came tumbling out. Turns out Joe had been cheating on me with Jenny for a few months now. Allison and Shannon knew about it but they were all keeping it a secret from me. It broke my heart, of course, but it really twisted the knife when she started talking about how her boobs meant she could steal any guy she wanted and that Joe deserved someone better than someone 'small' like me. Needless to say, I kicked them out and made them find their own way home. I had never been more furious in my entire life. Just the betrayal of it all, from people that, just days before, I felt like I could trust with my life.

I still had a few days at the vacation home, so I continued to drink all by myself, threw myself a nice little pity party. And, in a moment of impulsiveness, I may have kind of turned to magic. The others had always teased me for my interest in the occult, so I thought what better way to get back at them. And if they were all fine with stealing my boyfriend, then I had no qualms stealing something back from them. And what better than the things that Jenny thought made her so fucking superior. I threw together the stuff that I needed (though admittedly, it was a little janky to use my mom's scented candles for the ritual) and called upon the Powers Beyond to help me. Turns out, the Powers Beyond respond really well to revenge. Not only did I steal almost all of their tits, but they rewrote reality so that I always had tits that big and they were always that small.

It was unbelievably arousing to look down and see my tits swelling, watching my bikini top shift as reality adapted to my new size. Feeling their growing weight, watching as they swelled larger and larger, spilling out of the top until reality gave me a new one... I can see why people keep going back to make deals with otherworldly powers. I thought the picture of us together and happy, just before my world shattered, would always be a painful reminder, but now it's proof of my revenge. I doubt Joe is with Jenny still, in this reality, but I couldn't give a shit about them anymore. Their tits have made me absolutely enormous and I can't wait to see what life is like at this enormous size.

[respectthepetty]

I really love that Wa and Yotha are good exes to each other now that they are in other relationships fifteen episodes into Perfect 10 Liners. And I love that they keep talking under the "Don't text your ex" sign.

Because even though Wa's relationship with Klao has more than its share of problems, they balance each other out. Klao needs someone to save him from himself, and Wa wants to be a savior.

And Wa couldn't be that person for Yotha. Wa couldn't rescue Yotha all the time. Yotha needed a guy who saw all his darkness and embraced it.

Sometimes a Black Brooder doesn't need to be saved by a Heavenly Human. Sometimes he simply needs a chill Green Guy to remind him that the world isn't such a dark place.

And Yotha found that light in Gun.

Much like Red Rascal Arc realized he could experience happiness every day instead of believing every day was a fight through his love for Yellow Yal Arm.

And Blue Boy Sand and his elite Mean Girls shirt found the perfect guy to understand him in Orange Oddity Pond.

Pond makes him breakfast and leaves little orange notes with daily encouragement.

And Sand loves every second of it!

So it's time for these color-coded boys in love to follow their seniors into domestic bliss, so now that Yotha has apologized for hurting his Green Guy, all is well.

Regardless if Faifa likes it or not.

They could have at least waited until Faifa was pretending to be asleep. The disrespect!

But our pretty Blue Boy still comes out on top after becoming the newest campus star, and he gets a beautiful crown of flowers for it because he deserves nice things.

So while his brothers and brother-in-law are about to go through trails and tribulations, Faifa is just going to be enjoying his win.

And while MY HEART IS BEING RIPPED OUT OF MY BODY, Faifa is going to be celebrating in the bar with his friends.

AND WHEN YOTHA'S HEART IS BEING RIPPED OUT OF HIS BODY AND BEING SMASHED IN FRONT OF HIS FACE, Faifa will be drinking the night away knowing he is the bestest boy on campus.

Narrator: Faifa will, in fact, be very pissed off.

But thank goodness Newton is about that business and decided to bring a gun to a knife fight, so the Jets and Sharks will have to sort out their differences another day.

(These two are so dramatic and constantly remind me that this is a JittiRain series)

But, thankfully, Faifa and his "Where there is love, this is life" shirt exit quickly once he sees everyone is okay and notices that Gun is wearing Yotha's black shirt since he knows that shirt isn't going to stay on long now that Yotha is aware of his feelings.

Gun is pulling a Sally Field right now and is shocked that Yotha actually loves him when all of the signs pointed to Yotha being in love with him, but I love this journey of realization for Gun.

And now Yotha has to negotiate how many cows he is willing to give Gun's family so he can keep him and Gun's dad said he just needed to pay a utility bill every now and then (probably electricity, am I right?), and he can keep his son for life. I love this for them!

BUT I DON'T LOVE THIS! Love does not heal trauma, babes! NO! You are not certified to perform exposure therapy! Don't make Gun cry like this. IT HURTS ME!

*rocking back and forth* I'm going to look at the parents' books about colors and design to calm down. Just leave me here for a second. I'll be fine.

Now this is more like it. Just be there for him when he wakes him. Comfort him. Love him.

Be his sunshine in the darkness.

But do NOT do what you are thinking about doing in his childhood room in his parents' house.

You know what? Actually, go for it! They deserve this.

I have a sister to put to bed anyway.

AYEEE

[charmed-quill]

The Bet// F.W x Reader Part 2

authors note at end

Summary: Fred Weasley and y/n make a bet: whoever gets a date to the Yule Ball first wins. But what starts as harmless competition devolves into full-blown war.

Word count: 4.7k

Previous Part

Look, Fred Weasley wasn’t the worst person in the world to go to the Yule Ball with.  

Not y/n’s first choice, not by a long shot, but also not the worst.  

Still, standing in her dorm, adjusting her dress for what felt like the millionth time, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off.  

It wasn’t like Fred had never seen her in a dress before. They’d been friends for six years, of course he had. 

But this? 

This was different. The whole "dressing up" thing was throwing her for a loop.  

The last time she wore something this fancy was her cousin’s wedding when she was ten, and even then, she had hated every second of it. She still remembered the way the lace had itched against her skin, how uncomfortable the frilly socks had been inside her too-tight shoes.  

But this dress it wasn’t stiff or scratchy, wasn’t something her mum had picked out last minute. 

It was hers.

 And it looked…good.  

Angelina had swept her hair into an elegant bun, leaving just a few soft curls framing her face, while Alicia had carefully applied her makeup, just enough to highlight her features without making her feel like she was wearing a mask.  

Y/n barely recognized herself.  

It was uncanny, looking in the mirror and seeing someone who actually—Merlin forbid—looked pretty.  

She swallowed, fingers tightening slightly on the fabric of her dress.  

It was just one night. Just Fred. Nothing had to change.  

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, ignoring the way her stomach flipped at the thought of heading downstairs.

—

Fred stood by the fireplace, hands stuffed in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The common room buzzed with energy, students heading off to the Great Hall in clusters, adjusting dress robes and exchanging last-minute compliments.  

George, Lee, Angelina, and Alicia had left just moments ago, after much teasing and knowing smirks thrown his way.  She’ll be down in a moment, they had assured him before disappearing through the portrait hole.  

But it had been more than a moment.  

Fred huffed, glancing up the dormitory stairs. Had she changed her mind? He wouldn’t blame her. Their whole arrangement, or whatever you’d call it, was far from ideal. A last-minute   truce  , born out of mutual stubbornness and sabotage. He knew y/n hadn’t exactly been   thrilled   about going with him.  

Still… part of him didn’t want to be left standing alone in the common room like some abandoned fool.  

With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and took a step toward the stairs. If she wasn’t coming down, he’d bloody well—  

The door opened.  

Fred froze.  

His words, his thoughts,   everything   slammed to a stop as y/n stepped into the warm glow of the common room.  

She looked…  

 Merlin.   

Fred wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, he’d seen her in dresses before, plenty of times. 

But this? This was something else entirely.  

The firelight cast a golden hue over her, catching on the delicate fabric of her dress as it moved with her. Her hair, swept up with effortless elegance, framed her face in soft tendrils, highlighting the curve of her jaw and the brightness of her eyes. Her makeup was subtle, just enough to make every little detail stand out, her lips, her cheekbones, the way her lashes fluttered slightly as she scanned the room.  

She was beautiful.  

And Fred?  

Fred was stunned.

He barely managed to school his expression before she looked up, meeting his gaze.  

"Got tired of waiting?" she teased, stepping forward, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her dress.  

Fred cleared his throat, forcing himself to breathe properly. "Thought you’d done a runner," he said, managing a smirk. "Was ready to heroically charge up the stairs and rescue you."  

Y/n rolled her eyes. "You just wanted an excuse to break into the girls' dormitory."  

Fred chuckled, but it came out almost   nervous, and since when was he, nervous   around her?  

His eyes flicked over her once more, like his brain was still trying to process that this was   actually y/n standing in front of him.  

"You clean up alright, y/l/n," he said, voice lighter, teasing, though there was something else beneath it—something even he wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge.  

Y/n raised an eyebrow, tilting her chin slightly. "Just alright?"  

Fred grinned, stepping closer, offering her his arm. "Don’t get a big head about it."  

She huffed, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes, something challenging, something thrilling.  

As she looped her arm through his, Fred couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this arrangement wasn’t as terrible as he had thought.

—-

Fred and y/n stepped through the entrance to the Great Hall, and for the first time that night, neither of them had anything to say.  

The entire space had been transformed.  

The usual long house tables were gone, replaced by elegant round ones draped in shimmering fabric, flickering candlelight bouncing off crystal goblets and golden plates. The ceiling was enchanted to reflect a breathtaking winter sky, soft flakes of snow drifting lazily down before vanishing just above their heads. Ice sculptures lined the edges of the hall, carved into delicate figures that seemed to move when you weren’t looking. The chandeliers overhead twinkled like a thousand tiny stars.  

It was… stunning.  

Fred let out a low whistle, eyes sweeping over the scene. "Blimey," he muttered. "They really went all out, huh?"  

Y/n didn’t answer right away.  

She was still taking it all in, her gaze moving from the enchanted icicles hanging from the balconies to the grand staircase leading to the raised dance floor. She had never seen the castle look like this before, so ethereal, so dreamlike.  

It almost felt unreal, like stepping into some sort of fairytale.  

Fred glanced at her, catching the way her eyes shone under the candlelight, the soft parting of her lips as she stared in quiet wonder.  

Something shifted in his chest.  

"You alright there, y/l/n?" His voice was teasing, but noticeably softer than usual.  

Y/n blinked, snapping out of whatever spell the Great Hall had cast over her. "Yeah," she said, glancing up at him. "It’s just… I dunno. I wasn’t expecting it to be so—"  

"Romantic?" Fred finished, raising an eyebrow, his smirk playful but his voice lighter.  

Y/n scoffed, nudging him with her elbow. "I was gonna say impressive, but sure, Weasley. Whatever helps you sleep at night."  

Fred chuckled, but he didn’t tease her back. Instead, he let his gaze linger for just a second longer than necessary.  

The music swelled in the background, students filing in around them, laughter and chatter filling the air. The entire evening stretched before them, full of possibilities neither of them had really considered until now.  

Fred shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on her arm before tilting his head down toward her. "Guess we better get on with it, then," he murmured.  

Y/n met his gaze, something flickering between them that neither of them wanted to name just yet.  

With a quiet breath, she nodded.  

Y/n stood beside Fred, her hands clasped in front of her as she watched the champions and their dates take to the center of the dance floor. The music started soft and elegant, a slow waltz drifting through the air, filling the Great Hall with something delicate, almost fragile. The enchanted ceiling reflected the winter sky, stars glittering overhead like they had been placed there just for this moment. Snowflakes spiraled lazily down before vanishing into shimmering wisps of light.  

It was beautiful.  

She had never seen Hogwarts like this before. Had never felt this kind of stillness, this quiet anticipation that wrapped around her like a whisper. The usual laughter and chaos of the Great Hall had been replaced by something softer, something weighty in its beauty.  

She stole a glance at Fred.  

He was watching the dancers, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth like he was amused by the whole thing, but there was something else there, too. A quietness she wasn’t used to seeing in him.  

And that was when it hit her

Something felt different tonight.  

They had been friends for years, partners in crime, rivals in pranks, always pushing and pulling, always toeing the line between bickering and camaraderie. But this, standing here beside him in a ballroom full of flickering candlelight, the warmth of his arm just inches from hers, the way he had looked at her when she had walked down those dormitory steps,   

It didn’t feel the same.  

It wasn’t uncomfortable, not exactly. But it was new. Like she had stepped into something she hadn’t expected, something unfamiliar but thrilling all the same.  

The music swelled, couples twirling across the dance floor in graceful, sweeping movements, and suddenly, she was hyper-aware of Fred beside her. Of the way his fingers twitched slightly at his sides, like he was debating something.  

She swallowed.  

"Getting bored already?" she asked, keeping her voice light, teasing, as if nothing in the world had changed.  

Fred turned his head, his gaze flickering to hers. He smirked, but not in his usual way, not in the way that made her roll her eyes or shove his shoulder. This was something softer, something amused and knowing all at once.  

"Nah," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "Just waiting to see if you trip over your own feet when we dance."  

Y/n scoffed, nudging him with her elbow. "Bold of you to assume I’ll dance with you at all."  

Fred chuckled, looking back at the floor. "We’ll see about that, y/l/n."  

And something about the way he said it sent warmth curling through her chest.  

She exhaled slowly, turning her attention back to the dancers, pretending she wasn’t thinking about the way his voice had dipped just slightly, or the way her stomach had flipped at the sound of it.  

Y/n barely had time to protest before Fred was tugging her toward the dance floor, his grip firm but light as he grinned down at her, mischief dancing in his eyes.  

"Come on, y/l/n," he teased, his voice low enough that it sent a strange, warm shiver down her spine. "Let’s show them how it’s done."  

She rolled her eyes but let him lead her anyway, her fingers curling against the fabric of his robes as they moved into the sea of swirling couples. The candlelight flickered overhead, casting soft golden glows against the ice sculptures, the music swelling around them in a gentle rhythm.  

Fred slid a hand to her waist, his touch lighter than expected, and lifted their joined hands. "Try not to step on my toes, yeah?"  

Y/n huffed, settling her free hand on his shoulder. "I’d worry more about your own coordination, Weasley. We both know you’re all limbs and recklessness."  

Fred chuckled, the sound low and warm, and for a second, she forgot they were in the middle of a crowded ballroom, surrounded by students, teachers, and swirling magic.  

"You know," he mused as they moved to the beat, "I don’t think we ever settled our bet."  

Y/n raised a brow, amused. "Oh? And what exactly needs settling? I’d say it was a draw at best."  

Fred scoffed, spinning her suddenly, pulling her effortlessly back into his arms before she even had time to process it. "A draw?" he echoed, shaking his head. "No, no, no. I clearly won. You were the one who asked me, remember?"  

Y/n narrowed her eyes, her fingers tightening slightly against his shoulder. "That is not how I remember it."  

Fred grinned. "Sounds like selective memory to me, love."  

She huffed. "Fine. Even if I asked you first, which I didn’t, you were already on your way to ask me."  

"Exactly!" Fred said triumphantly. "Which means I still would’ve won in the end."  

Y/n rolled her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it.  

Because the truth was, she wasn’t even thinking about the bet anymore.  

She wasn’t thinking about the competition or the weeks of sabotage.  

She was thinking about the way Fred’s hand rested so easily at her waist, how effortless it felt to fall into step with him, how his grin softened when he looked at her now—like maybe this wasn’t just about winning anymore.  

And that realization sent her stomach flipping in ways she wasn’t prepared for.  

She exhaled slowly, focusing on keeping her voice steady. "You’re impossible, you know that?"  

Fred smirked, tugging her just a little closer as they turned with the music. "And yet, here you are, dancing with me anyway."  

Y/n swallowed, feeling that damn warmth creep into her chest again, curling beneath her ribs, making it increasingly difficult to remind herself that this was just Fred.  

Just Fred Weasley.  

Her best friend.  

Her rival.  

Her date.  

And, Merlin help her, something about that last word felt different now.

Dancing with Fred Weasley was dangerously easy.  

Y/n had expected him to be all awkward footwork and dramatic spins meant to throw her off balance, but instead, he led her through the steps effortlessly, his grip firm but light, his movements confident without being cocky.  

The warmth of his palm at her waist sent a slow heat curling in her stomach, something she tried desperately to ignore.  

Because it was just Fred.  

Fred, who she had spent the last several weeks sabotaging. Fred, who had annoyed her beyond reason since they were twelve. Fred, who, despite all of that, made her laugh more than anyone else ever had.  

And maybe that was the problem.  

Because something had been shifting between them, something she had been too stubborn to see before tonight.  

The music changed to something slower, couples swaying close, and Fred leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear.  

"Alright, y/l/n," he murmured, his tone far too smug. "Who do you reckon is shagging who by the end of the night?"  

Y/n snorted, instantly snapping out of whatever ridiculous romantic haze had been creeping up on her.  

"Subtle, Weasley," she said dryly, shooting a glance around the ballroom.  

Her eyes landed on Jack Carmichael and his date, who had definitely been sneaking off toward a shadowy alcove near the back of the hall. She nodded toward them.  

"That one’s a given," she said. "He’s been trying to get her out of here for the last half-hour."  

Fred followed her gaze, chuckling. "Bet you ten Sickles he barely makes it up the stairs before she tells him to piss off."  

Y/n grinned. "You’re on."  

Fred twirled her unexpectedly, pulling her back in a little closer than before, and she hated the way her breath caught.  

Get it together, she scolded herself.  

Fred’s eyes flicked toward the table where a few sixth-years were gathered, drinking out of goblets that definitely weren’t filled with pumpkin juice.  

"Alright, new bet," he said. "Who snuck in the booze?"  

Y/n scanned the room, eyes narrowing. "I’d say Nathaniel Burke, but he’s an idiot and would’ve gotten caught already."  

Fred smirked. "True. So?"  

She exhaled through her nose, thinking, then grinned. "My money’s on Lillian Moore. She looks too innocent. It’s always the innocent ones."  

Fred laughed, his grip at her waist tightening briefly. "You know, y/l/n, you might be onto something."  

Y/n opened her mouth to throw another sarcastic remark his way, but something in her chest twisted unexpectedly when he smiled at her.  

Something warm, something alarming, something that had been creeping in for weeks without her permission.  

Because suddenly she was remembering every little moment leading up to this

The way he had looked at her when she first stepped into the common room tonight. The way he had teased her but never once insulted her. The way he had waited for her reaction before taking her hand, before leading her into this dance.  

And, Merlin help her, she realized all at once that this hadn’t just started tonight.  

It had been building for weeks.  

Every time he had grinned at her, every time they had gone back and forth with playful insults, every time their arguments had felt more like flirting than fighting

She had been falling for Fred Weasley.  

And she hadn’t even noticed until now.  

The thought was so overwhelming that she nearly stepped on his foot.  

Fred raised an eyebrow. "That hesitation, was that you losing the bet already?"  

Y/n blinked, snapping herself out of it. "Absolutely not."  

Fred chuckled, shaking his head, completely unaware of the internal crisis she was currently having.  

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on the banter, on the laughter, on anything except the fact that she was looking at him differently now.  

Because the second she acknowledged it?  

She knew there would be no going back.

—-

Fred leaned back against the wall, his butterbeer warm in his hands, the golden glow of the Great Hall flickering over y/n’s face as she took a sip of her own.  

She was grinning, her lips still curled in amusement from whatever ridiculous bet they had just made, her eyes bright despite the dim lighting. She was leaning slightly toward him, like it was natural, like it had always been that way.  

And maybe it had.  

Fred took a slow sip of his drink, pretending he wasn’t completely distracted by her.  

By the way she looked tonight. By the way she always looked, if he was being honest.  

And suddenly, it hit him.  

This wasn’t new.  

This feeling, this warmth curling in his chest, the way he kept catching himself looking at her longer than necessary, this hadn’t come out of nowhere. It had been building, sneaking up on him so slowly he hadn’t even noticed it.  

It was there in the little moments, moments he could suddenly recall with sharp, stupid clarity.  

Like the time she had shoved a stolen Chocolate Frog into his pocket during first year, grinning as she whispered, “Take the fall for me, Weasley.”  

Or the time she had patched him up in second year when one of his own pranks had backfired, muttering the whole time about “how much of an idiot he was”, but her hands had been so gentle as she wiped the blood off his chin.  

Or the way she always seemed to understand him, even when he didn’t say anything.  

The way she could read his moods better than anyone else could, the way she knew when he needed a joke and when he needed quiet.  

The way she never treated him like a joke, even when he made himself one.  

Fred swallowed, staring at his butterbeer like it held all the answers.  

He hadn’t meant to feel like this.  

Hadn’t meant to notice how pretty she looked when she was focused on something, or how her nose scrunched when she was thinking, or how her eyes lit up when she was about to start an argument with him.  

But here he was.  

And for the first time, he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.  

"Oi, Weasley," y/n nudged him with her elbow, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.  

Fred blinked, forcing himself to smirk. "Y’know, y/l/n, if you wanted to get close to me, you could’ve just asked."  

She scoffed. "Please, I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t passed out. You looked a little dazed there."  

Fred chuckled, shaking his head. "Just thinking."  

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous habit for you."  

Fred snorted, taking another sip of his drink.  

Yeah.  

Dangerous indeed.

The Great Hall had gotten too much.  

Too crowded, too warm, too many couples tucked into corners, whispering to each other like the entire world had disappeared around them. Everywhere Fred turned, there was some overly romantic display, some sickeningly sweet gesture, and Merlin help him, he needed fresh air.  

So, naturally, he grabbed y/n’s hand.  

"Come on," he muttered, already tugging her toward the doors before she could argue.  

Y/n let him, though he could feel her curious gaze on him as they slipped out of the hall, the sound of music and chatter fading behind them.  

"Where exactly are we going, Weasley?" she asked as they stepped into the cool night air.  

Fred inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air fill his lungs. "Anywhere but in there. Too many people snogging like their lives depend on it."  

Y/n snorted. "Jealous?"  

Fred rolled his eyes, nudging her with his shoulder. "Oh, absolutely. Watching Kevin Whitby nearly eat his date’s face off was thrilling."  

Y/n gagged. "Disgusting. Alright, lead the way."  

And so they walked.  

The path leading away from the castle was quiet, save for the faint sounds of the ball still drifting from the open windows. The stars above were bright, the sky clear, and the lake stretched before them like a dark, endless mirror. The wind was cold but pleasant, ruffling the edges of their dress robes as they followed the stone path toward the water.  

It was… nice.  

Comfortable.  

Like they had done this a hundred times before.  

And maybe they had, maybe not in fancy dress robes, maybe not with the weight of something unspoken pressing against Fred’s ribs, but it was still them.  

Still easy.  

They fell into natural conversation, talking about nothing and everything—making fun of McLaggen’s tragic dance moves, placing one final bet on whether or not Olivia Davies had smuggled an entire bottle of firewhiskey under her cloak.  

But beneath it all, Fred could feel it.  

That… thing.  

That stupid, frustrating thing that had settled in his chest hours ago and refused to leave.  

Because every time y/n laughed, something in him twisted.  

Because every time she nudged him, teasing and light, it sent something warm rushing through him.  

Because every time she looked at him, really looked at him, he felt like she was about to figure him out.  

And that, that scared him more than anything else.  

He had spent so long not noticing. Had spent years thinking of her as just y/n—his best friend, his competition, the one person who could match him beat for beat.  

But now?  

Now, all he could think about was the way she looked under the stars, how the silver light caught in her hair, how her lips curled when she was about to say something smug.  

Now, he was noticing everything.  

And he wasn’t sure he liked it.  

Y/n nudged him again. "You’re quiet."  

Fred blinked, forcing himself to smirk. "Unusual, isn’t it?"  

"Extremely." She shot him a suspicious glance. "You sure you’re not getting emotional over all the romance in the air?"  

Fred snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Oh yeah, I’m the emotional one. Not the girl who gasped at the ballroom decorations like she walked into a bloody fairytale."  

Y/n gasped again, but this time out of offense. "I did not—"  

"Did too."  

"Fred—"  

"You even twirled, y/l/n," he teased, his smirk widening. "Don’t try to deny it, I saw it with my own two eyes."  

She groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. "I hate you."  

Fred grinned. "No, you don’t."  

Y/n turned to shove him, but he caught her wrist before she could, laughing as he held it up between them.  

And suddenly

The laughter faded.  

Not completely, not abruptly, but just enough.  

Because suddenly Fred was staring at her, and she was staring back, and something about the night felt too still.  

Her wrist was small in his grip, her pulse just barely thrumming beneath his fingertips.  

For a second, just a second, he almost didn’t let go.  

But then

He did.  

And whatever had settled between them slipped away before it could take root.  

Fred cleared his throat, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "Anyway. Should probably head back before George accuses me of running off and eloping."  

Y/n snorted. "I dunno, Weasley. I think we’d make a pretty tragic love story."  

Fred smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.  

"Yeah," he muttered. "Tragic."  

And as they made their way back up toward the castle, Fred ignored the fact that something about that word didn’t sit right with him at all.

They were just steps away from the castle doors when Fred couldn’t hold it in any longer.  

It had been building all night, all week, really, if he was honest. Maybe even longer than that.  

Every glance, every laugh, every stupid little moment that had felt so normal before had suddenly taken on a different meaning.  

And now, standing beneath the stars, the castle glowing softly in the distance, it hit him all at once.  

He loved her.  

Maybe he always had.  

Maybe he had just been too thick to realize it until now.  

But now, now it was all he could think about.  

Y/n was walking just ahead of him, her dress shifting with the breeze, hair slightly undone from the night, still looking as effortlessly beautiful as she had when she first stepped down the dormitory stairs.  

And Fred, heart pounding in his chest, suddenly realized he couldn’t go inside without saying it.  

Without doing something about it.  

"Y/n."  

His voice was quieter than usual, but she stopped immediately, turning to face him with a curious tilt of her head.  

She hadn’t expected him to stop. Hadn’t expected his voice to sound so… careful.  

Fred took a breath. Now or never.  

"I—" He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to find the words when really, there was only one way to say it.  

"I like you."  

Silence.  

Fred barely noticed the cold anymore, heat rushing through his chest as he watched her eyes widen, her lips parting slightly in surprise.  

Maybe he should’ve eased into it. Maybe he should’ve said it differently. But hell, there was no stopping now.  

He took a step closer.  

"I like you, y/n," he repeated, voice steadier this time. "And I—I don’t mean in the way we joke about, or the way everyone always thinks we do. I mean, really. And I think I have for a while, I just…" He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "I was too much of an idiot to see it."  

Her lips parted like she was going to say something, but nothing came out.  

She just… stared at him.  

Fred’s heart dropped.  

Oh, hell.  

Maybe he’d messed this up. Maybe he’d just ruined everything

But then

Y/n moved forward so fast he barely had time to react.  

Her hands curled into the front of his dress robes, pulling him down as she kissed him.  

Fred’s mind blanked.  

For a second, he didn’t breathe.  

Didn’t think.  

Didn’t do anything except feel.  

Because Merlin’s bloody beard, he hadn’t expected that.  

But then, instinct took over, and his hands were at her waist, tugging her closer, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it.  

It was slow, softer than he ever thought a first kiss between them would be. No teasing, no sarcasm, just… her.  

Just them.  

The night was silent around them, the only sound between them the faint hitch of breath, the quiet shift of fabric, the snowflakes drifting through the air like the universe had planned this all along.  

When they finally pulled away, Fred’s forehead rested against hers, his grin so wide it was almost ridiculous.  

"So, uh…" He exhaled, still catching his breath, his hands still resting firmly on her waist. "Can I take that as a yes?"  

Y/n laughed, arms still wrapped around his neck, eyes shining with something he had never seen before but desperately wanted to see again.  

"Fred Weasley," she murmured, shaking her head fondly. "You are such a bloody idiot."  

Fred smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Yeah, but I’m your idiot now, yeah?"  

Y/n grinned, tugging him down into another kiss.  

And Fred?  

Fred was completely okay with that.

A/n: so I wasn't planning on writing a part 2 for this but so many people asked so I hope you enjoy this!!!

[chelseeebe]

timeless

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of drugs. no use of y/n!

you find yourself back in hawkins, with nothing but your grandad’s old diner and a bunch of conflicted feelings about your old best friend, can you say goodbye to him all over again?

a/n: set in the 80s but also the 50s idk i just wanted that old timey feeling pretty long fic i was originally going to split up but decided against.. hope you read it and enjoy anyway:)

⋆ and you were headed off to fight in the war, you still would’ve been mine, we would’ve been timeless ⋆

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

hawkins was really the end of the road for you. 

deserting the dreams of the big city to come right back to where it had all started. 

it had been years since you’d stepped foot in this town, not much had changed since then, if you were completely honest. 

still the same old shitty, rundown dump it always was. 

eternally grateful that your grandad still owned the old diner at the other end of town, meaning you’d flounced right into a job and somewhere to stay once you’d packed your bags and left new york behind. 

it’s nothing like the office used to be, barely seeing a dozen customers a day, only if you were lucky. but it was nice, a change in pace after the hustle and bustle of the city. 

the radio hums on quietly in the background, a couple of regulars sit sipping their coffee at various tables. they did this day in, day out. drink coffee, complain about some mundane new issue they had with the town and then shuffle off back to their homes. 

it didn’t exactly seem like your idea of fun. 

there’s a bang from outside, metal hitting the ground and a chorus of laughter pulling all attention to the back of the kitchen. 

you don’t hang around, barrelling through the kitchen to just about catch the gaggle of kids sprinting off down the road leaving behind their cans of spray paint and a delightful new mural on the back wall. 

“what the fuck?” screaming out after them though it’s really no use, they’d already gone. 

exasperated that in the seven years you’d been gone, the kids hadn’t changed a bit. 

you slink back inside, immediately reaching for the phone, hoping that maybe the police had gotten a little better since you’d left. 

though you hold no hope, if they were anything like they were when you were a misfit teen, you’re screwed. 

-

the sun had set, the regulars had scurried off home and now it was just you and the crude painting on the wall. hours and hours of waiting for someone to get out to you. 

only for the patrol car to rattle up into the parking lot, just as you had given up all hope. 

you storm out of the building, infuriated by the nonchalant attitude hawkins police still seemed to hold, “oh, how nice of you to come! i only called three-,” stopping dead in your tracks as the man exits his vehicle. 

you still completely, frozen to your spot, blinking rapidly in disbelief. 

eddie fucking munson stands, with his thumbs hooked into his belt, at the door of his patrol car. hawkins police department uniform to boot, a complete shell of the man you had known years ago. 

“when’d you blow in?” he asks innocuously, slamming the door shut. a new found confidence, or maybe it was cockiness, in his stride. 

“last week,” still coming to grips with the fact that the man stood before you was the same nerdy metal head you were once inseparable with, “when’d you become a cop?”

out of all the possible occupations you could’ve imagined eddie munson in, cop would’ve been dead last on that list. in fact, inmate was several dozens of spots higher. 

he chuckles, realising how ridiculous it must look, “few years ago,” he’s close now, close enough that you can see his long black curls peeking out the back of his hat, “didn’t know you were coming back, i would’ve been quicker if i’d have known it was you.” 

you scoff, very much doubting that, “you should’ve been here hours ago anyway,” beckoning him to the back of the building, no time for reunions while you had a diner plastered in lewd drawings. 

“these fuckin’ kids,” you huff, shaking your head like a scolding old lady, “look at it,” motioning at the hideous spray painting they’d vandalised the entire back wall with, “if you were here on time, you might’ve been able to catch ‘em,” turning your displeased scowl to eddie. 

the corner of his lips twitches, creeping into a full smile. only angering you further. 

“what? d’you think this is funny?”

he shakes his head, cautiously meeting your eye, “no, it’s just.. pretty sure we got taken to the station for doin’ this behind melvalds,” his shoulders shaking as he chuckles. 

you stand, straight faced, the irony wasn’t lost on you, it just didn’t feel like a laughing matter. 

“are you joking? no, really? you’re serious?” rubbing your fingers viciously over the dried paint, “you can paint this shit since it’s so funny to you.” 

“alright alright,” eddie soothes, “i’ll help you paint it,” eyeing the large canvas he’d now been tasked to paint. 

“no,” you frown, “i said you can paint it, i’m not helping you.” 

he smiles, teeth peeking out from his lips, “you get the paint and i’ll do it, deal?” 

driving such a hard bargain, it’s almost impossible not to fall at his feet and sarcastically thank him for his help. 

“fine, deal.” 

“great,” he beams, “now how about some coffee?” 

“we’re closed.”

he exhales, pursing his lips slightly, “please?” 

-

eddie blabbers on about the vagrant youths in hawkins, how just yesterday he was dragging some boy by the scruff of his neck back to his parents. 

it’s all great, exhilarating stuff really. except, you can’t help but let your mind wander, noting his lack of visible tattoos and a ripped up band tee. 

and then further down onto his wedding ring. 

wedding ring?

“you’re married?” you blurt out, staring at the plain band on his fourth finger. eddie munson, married. a feat you had never thought possible. 

“huh?” following your gaze down to his hand, “oh, no,” sliding the silver band from his finger, “it’s the only one they’d let me wear.”

his fingers once adorned with various rings and shoddy stick and poke tattoos, now plain and simple with only the shadows of once black markings. 

“oh,” looking back at his face, “i don’t like it,” shaking your head as if you had any real say on his jewellery, “doesn’t feel like you.” 

eddie takes a sip of coffee, looking just through you, rather than at you, “maybe this is the new me.” 

you ponder, wondering whether you should get as equally profound as he was, “maybe.. still don’t like it,” turning to slide the rest of the dirty plates through the hatch, “when’d you decide to become a traitor anyway?” 

eddie chuckles loudly, the walkie on his shirt crackling incoherently, “a few years ago, it was either this or jail so..” 

“how was it between this or jail? what the hell d’you do?” motioning to his iron pressed getup. 

he sighs, looking down into his mug, “hopper caught me selling at the high school.. not just weed but,” he nods, making a circular gesture with his hand, “like, real hard shit..” sighing softly again as his eyes meet yours, “he told me that he could turn me in and i’d be lucky to get a couple years, or he could get me a job down the station and we could forget all about it.” 

you can’t help the pang of guilt from seeping across your chest. you’d left pretty abruptly in ‘89, much to eddie’s defiance, leaving him to a  town full of people that either hated him or only acknowledged his existence when he was useful to them. 

there’s no question as to whether your departure was anything to do with him peddling hard drugs, that was a given. 

“well shit,” the frown between your brows deepening, “i’m sorry for opening my mouth,” brushing your hands down your apron, hoping that he would see the funny side. 

eddie just shrugs, sliding the empty coffee mug back over the polished wood top, “it’s alright, i don’t mind it actually, not much happens in hawkins anyway.” 

“i wouldn’t say that,” you frown, deciding that the mug would simply have to wait until tomorrow to clean, “there’s a bunch of ugly graffiti on the side of my diner,” quirking your brow, hoping it’ll serve as a reminder to why you’d even called him up here in the first place. 

his eyes sparkle in the dim light, creasing with contained laughter, “i told you i’ll paint it,” his chair scrapes across the wooden floor, straightening his hat, “where’re you staying now anyway? need a ride?” 

you shake your head, looking back at the clock, “i’m at my grandpa’s for the time being.. he should be here soon,” silently praying that he’d arrive so you weren’t forced to ride in the back seat of his patrol car. 

certain people would have plenty to say about that for sure. 

“alright well.. i’ll see you later,” saluting with his two fingers as he leaves. 

an indescribable feeling settles in your stomach. somewhere between melancholy and regret. 

maybe things would’ve been different if you’d stayed. 

maybe not. 

that’s what makes you the most unsettled, it’s a sick nostalgia for something that never even happened. 

a question that had plagued you for the past seven years, one you’ll probably never know the answer to either.  

you brush whatever wistful, reminiscent reflections out of your mind, turning the lights off to wait for your ride in the mellow july evening instead. 

-

the coffee machine hums, the only thing in this place that seemed to be used consistently. forced to make hundreds of bland black coffees for crony old men day in, day out. 

that’s how bored this place had you, pondering the feeling of the inanimate coffee machine. jesus christ. 

time creaks on by, ticking slowly as the sun clears off and the night settles in. one more hour and you’d be on your way home, ready for another night of re-runs and a stale tv-dinner with your grandad. 

you couldn’t complain really, he’d been extremely welcoming, sorting your own little bedroom out for you in his unused office. 

tires screech into the parking lot, crunching on the gravel, alerting you to that damned patrol car pulling up again. 

you watch as he does his little routine, strolling into the diner with a tiny smile, sidling up to the counter with such an air of self-importance, it actually makes you a little sick. 

“you come to paint the wall?” you quip, offering nothing but a tight lipped smile back. 

he clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth, “uh.. no, coffee actually,” pointing to the used and abused machine. 

“hmph,” shaking your head, “you promised.”

“yeah and i’m gonna do it,” holding his hands up, admitting that this was a battle he had already lost, “tell you what, i’m free all day next saturday, you get the paint and i’ll be here.” 

you don’t believe him, you have no reason to but alas, you nod anyway, “you better or you can kiss this friendship goodbye.” 

eddie grins, splaying his palms out flat as he shrugs, “so how about that coffee?” 

-

eddie makes sure to stop in every single day this week. and next. often for hours at a time until his walkie dragged him away and back to the work he’d been ignoring. 

like clockwork, his car crunches over the gravel, swinging in to the same spot without fail. 

nobody even looks twice as the bell rings, too invested in the financial times to spare a second of their attention. 

“you’re here an awful lot,” raising your brows, sliding your notebook back into your apron. 

eddie shrugs, placing his hat onto the counter, “what can i say? i like the coffee,” smiling innocently as he takes his seat. 

“oh i’m sure,” rolling your eyes in return, grabbing a mug and pouring his coffee before gently sliding it over the bar. 

he stays until close tonight, lingering behind as you lock up, no doubt pretending to offer some sort of protection though you’re absolutely sure that you’d be more capable of fighting off any potential threats than he’d ever be. 

you look at your watch, knowing your grandad should’ve been here by now. it was a long, treacherous walk back to his place, not exactly something you wanted to tackle at ten pm either. 

“you need a ride?” eddie asks, standing at his car with his keys in his hand. 

you press your lips together, taking another look at the ticking clock face on your wrist, “if you’re going that way, that’d be great.” 

his eyes roll back, knowing that even if he were driving to the other side of the country, he’d still take you home first, “c’mon,” opening the passenger door as you begrudgingly slink over. 

he certainly keeps his car in better condition than he ever kept his beat up, old van. sometimes it felt like you’d die from dust inhalation than his shoddy driving. 

“they give you this for free?” you ask, admiring the plush leather seats. 

“yup,” tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, “pay for the gas too.” 

“wowww,” feigning amazement, “you’ve got it good.” 

he glances over, scowling just so, unappreciative of your sarcasm, “who’s the one with a driving license and a car here? because it’s not you.”

your mouth falls open, blinking rapidly at his terrible attempt at a joke, “ouch okay,” hoping he’d regret his callousness, though it wasn’t likely. 

“i offered to teach you.. you could’ve been on the road by now,” his eyes leaving the road every other second, fingers itching to rest on your knee. 

“pffft. driving lessons from you? i’d rather walk.” 

you wish he’d just do it, his hands were twitchy, begging to make contact.  

they don’t. 

keeping on the steering wheel instead. 

but he chuckles, low and grumbly, “dustin didn’t wanna learn with me either for some reason.”

“oh wow yeah, i wonder,” turning to stare blankly at the side of his head. 

he glances over, shaking his head before turning back to the road, “you’re so mean,” throwing out a pathetic pout. 

the car rolls onto the familiar street, an unwilling sinking in your gut that the journey was over too soon. 

eddie taps the wheel, peering out of the window at the decaying row of houses, “jeez,” air blowing out of his lips, “hasn’t changed a bit.”

you shake your head, wanting to stay in the car just a bit longer, “nope..” emphasising the ‘p’ as you follow his eye to the splintering door. 

he nods, still staring straight ahead rather than daring to meet your eye, “i’m really glad you’re back,” his fingers playing a repetitive tune on the leather, “i feel like i’ve been waiting for you to come home for so long now that i wasn’t sure if you ever would.”

you hadn’t ever planned on it. 

dreams of new york had filled your mind for as long as you can remember. 

that was supposed to be it. 

and at the start it really did seem like you’d spend the rest of your life there. but a string of tumultuous relationships and an awful

boss had forced you back to hawkins. 

“i didn’t think i was ever gonna,” sighing softly, “i’m sorry for just.. leavin’ you,” turning unexpectedly bashful, “i thought about you all the time you know? new york’s not really that great but i think you would’ve made it better,” feeling the heat soar to your cheeks. 

it was true, at least, at the start. you’d often find yourself wondering about what eddie was up to or if he was thinking of you too. 

“don’t apologise for that,” shaking his head, “i get it. if i coulda, i woulda done it too. you’ll have to show me around one day when i’m-,” clearing his throat, “when i’m not stuck at work.”

he sounds off, something hidden in his tone that you really don’t understand. the moment too tender to query it too much, apprehensive to change the subject just as things had started to feel normal again. 

“i can do that,” turning to eddie to find him already gazing back. “you gotta give me a tour of the station first though, it’s only fair.” 

“deal,” eddie nods, offering his hand out for you to shake. 

you do it, not acknowledging his clammy palm or the way his fingers are shaking just so. 

“alright,” you nod, breaking the tension, “i better go, you’ve gotta busy day tomorrow,” reminding him of your long-awaited agreement. 

“wait-,” grabbing ahold of your fingers before you’re able to climb fully out of the car. 

you turn, eyebrow raised, “what?” 

he’s been so strange all night, like he’s edging to say something

“uhm.. what time did you say again?” 

you blink, baffled by his outburst, “uh.. anytime in the afternoon, i’ll close up early and come and help.” 

“o-okay yeah perfect,” letting go of your fingers. 

your face contorts but you keep your thoughts to yourself, he was pretty peculiar at the best of times, this was no exception. 

“goodnight eds,” finally closing the door, leaving him to his confusing little stupor. 

-

eddie’s there right on time, with a paint bucket in hand and the brush tucked into the pocket of his ratty, paint spattered shirt. 

he looks a picture, resembling more wayne than the eddie munson you knew. 

“what?” he questions your marvelling expression. 

“you look ridiculous,” tucking the cloth back into your apron to get a further look at his get up. his jeans closely resemble the ones he wore as a teen, tattered and torn with spatters of paint adorning the denim. it’s no wonder who he’d stolen his clothes from. 

“ouch,” clutching his heart, “i can just go home if you want? leave that graffiti on your wall?” 

“i didn’t say that,” tutting your tongue against your teeth, “go on out, i’m just gonna finish up in here and i’ll join ya,” ushering him back out the door. 

closing takes longer than you’d expect. mr. casey wasn’t best pleased to hear he had to finish his coffee and go, grumbling all the way out of the door and into his car. 

you make it outside just as eddie spreads the last lick of paint onto the wood, “nice of you to join me!” 

you stare up at the freshly painted wall, grateful to never have to look at the god awful eyesore every again, “doesn’t look like you needed my help anyway,” feet crunching against the stones as you make your way over to him. 

“what d’you think?” proudly showing off his work. 

your eyes scan the wall for anything you can make a quick quip about, only to find that he’d really done a great job. 

“yeah..” frowning slightly as you peer at the wall, “you just missed a tiny little spot,” gesturing for him to come closer. 

“what? where?” stomping over, displeased with your criticisms of his hard work. 

“right here,” grabbing the brush from his hand, smearing a streak of dusty grey across his cheek before immediately jumping back to admire your handiwork. 

eddie stands in shock, hands in the air while the cogs in his brain tick away slowly, figuring out how to get you back. 

he goes for the can, picking up the full metal bucket and angling it in your direction, a maniacal, nay, evil grin on his face. 

“don’t even fucking think about it eddie, i’m serious!” dropping the paintbrush in defeat, surrendering your hands in the air. 

he cackles, thunderous laughter that makes you shriek in response, hands flying over your face to protect yourself for the onslaught. 

eddie bounds over, the paint spilling over onto the floor as he goes, forcing you to brace yourself. 

except the paint doesn’t come, daring enough to open your eyes to find him a few steps in front. 

“come on,” he complains, “you didn’t really think i was gonna do it, did you?” 

“yes! i did!” 

he collapses into a fit of laughter, placing the can safely back on the ground, “i would never,” inching closer to prove his innocence. 

only, he isn’t at all. 

his fingers swipe the paint from his cheek to wipe the dusky colour onto yours instead, a perfect hand print encapsulated on your face. 

“you’re an asshole,” grabbing his wrist to redirect his paint covered palm back to his own face.

eddie is, no doubt, stronger than you are. twisting your arm until it’s tangled around your own body. encasing you within your own limbs, held tight by his own unfaltering grip and his chest pressed against your back. 

“what was that?”

“you’re an asshole and i’m going to scream if you don’t let me go,” an empty threat really, considering the dreary regulars had all shuffled off home and the nearest neighbourhood was a good mile east. 

“i mean, you can if you want to but i don’t think anyone’ll hear you,” snickering into your ear. 

you hadn’t anticipated that he’d now had years of experience with apprehending criminals, you were never a worthy opponent nowadays. 

you lurch forward, taking both of your bodies over to the wall, eddie’s clumsy clown feet knocking over the tin of paint on his way. splashing the bottoms of your legs and shoes with the ghastly stuff. 

you go stumbling into the still-wet wall, eddie following closely behind, pressing your back into the sticky paint. his chest heaves, still holding onto your arm though you’d come to face him now. his fingers twitch against your skin, slotting his between yours, holding your hand against the wall after the most painful few weeks of almosts. 

quickly, his other hand comes to cup your chin, tilting it up to meet his. in a split second he goes from staring at your lips to crashing his into them.

knocking your head back against the wall with such ferocity, years of tension and unanswered pining leading to this moment. 

“jesus christ,” he mutters through rushed kisses, “i’ve been waiting to do this for so long,” combing his dirtied fingers through your wild hair. 

your arms snake around his neck, surely spreading white finger prints across his clothes and into his hair, “you should’ve.”

the sun beats down on your skin, painting his face a glorious orange hue, wanting nothing more than to bask in this view for the rest of your life. 

eddie pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours, “you okay?” 

you’re breathless, chest heaving against his, “yeah,” falling into a fit of giggles, “yeah.. are you?” 

he nods, fingertips gently tucking strands of messy hair behind your ear, “yeah.. well, i’m better now,” ducking his head to lean in and meet your lips again. 

you’d read about sparks flying and all sorts of other romanticisms in books for years, brushing them off as exaggerated works of fiction, only now, the very happenings you’d denied were happening to you. 

to feel that someone’s lips were made so perfectly just for you seemed absurd, but truly, it was possible. 

eddie’s words rumble against your lips, incomprehensible as your brain is preoccupied with processing what was happening. 

“hey.. hey,” only really hearing him once he’d pulled away and was staring into your eyes with his deep, brown ones. “anyone home?” laughing at your vacant smile, as if he weren’t the culprit behind it. 

“just shut up and kiss me again.”

-

the evening winds down rather quickly, now covered in peeling eggshell paint, your uniform half-off, half-dirtied. 

you didn’t mind one bit, slowly making your way inside the diner to attempt to clean yourself up before heading home. 

“since we’re in here..” eddie starts, leaving you wondering what was going to come out of his mouth next, “coffee?” eyeing the machine you’d already polished and turned off. 

“seriously?” dead-eyed as you turn to face him. 

“i wasn’t lyin’ about coming for the coffee,” smiling from across the bar, “i just didn’t mention that i was also coming to see you.” 

your eyes roll back instinctively, however sweet he was being. 

eddie offers to take you home, a gesture of goodwill after you clean him up and fill him with free coffee. both of you skirting around the fact he had you pinned up against the wall just mere hours ago. 

if he’s not going to, you have to. 

there was no going to back to normal, not after that, not after he had proclaimed that he had been waiting for that. 

“pull over,” you blurt out. too loudly, too rushed that eddie can’t help but panic, questioning your urgency and most likely, safety. 

but he follows your orders, pulling into the nearest clearing, all the while looking completely panicked and a little unsettled. 

the engine is barely off before you’re sliding over onto the drivers seat, thighs resting either side of his as you skilfully lean down to push his chair back all at once. refusing to give him the chance to jabber his way out of this one. 

“hey.. woah, what the fuck?” chuckling softly though his hands reluctantly come to rest on your hips, eyes darting around the dark outside of the window, “i’m in my patrol car.. what if someone sees?”

“who d’you think’s gonna see?” 

“i-i dunno,” allowing himself to get comfortable, “but i’ll get fired,” reluctance in his throat. 

“you can come work at the diner, you’re there all the time anyway,” interrupting his worrisome whining with a kiss to the side of his lips, taking his bottom lip between your teeth. 

he indulges for a moment, sighing softly into your parted lips before hastily pulling away, “i mean it, i can’t,” gazing up to you with his doe-like eyes. 

“fine,” you grumble, sliding back into the passenger seat, “d’you wanna come over? grandad’ll be asleep by now,” picking at your fingernails like some teenager talking to her crush. 

that’s sort of what he was, an eternal crush that you’d never really get over. 

“you sure? we could.. i mean, wayne still lives with me but i’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” eddie offers, though the thought of doing anything in that trailer made you recoil and shudder. 

it was cozy and served you well during your adolescence but privacy was nonexistent, every breath or movement was projected very clearly into the next room. 

you shake your head, “i’m closer anyway, i’m sure it’ll be fine,” after years of living on your own, debating where the safest place to have sex was seemed like a hundred steps back. 

eddie can hardly focus, hand squeezing your knee the entire drive over. any longer and he’d have broken skin, that’s certain. 

but now it’s your turn, you can’t keep your paint tarnished hands off of him, the second eddie steps over the threshold and into the corridor, you pounce. wrapping your arms tight around his neck, pressing your lips together with such ferocity that he falls back into the wall. 

but he catches up quick, finding your waist as he walks the both of you up the hall, hungrily grabbing at the sliver of flesh peeking from underneath your shirt. 

a light at the top of the staircase flicks on, forcing your lips apart. 

“hi sweetie,” your grandad calls from upstairs, “good day?” 

eddie’s fingers squeeze your waist, sharing a panicked look before you clear your throat, “hey grandpa.. it was good,” knowing full well that he wouldn’t venture out of his room at this time to catch you, “i’ll see you in the morning, alright?” ushering eddie through the kitchen door. 

“okay, goodnight dear,” he calls, the light finally flickering off allowing you to release the breath you weren’t aware you were holding. 

silently pulling him down the tiny hall and into your converted bedroom, holding in a devious cackle. 

it really wouldn’t matter if he had caught you, grandad had always been a huge fan of eddie’s, cooking him dinner and offering him unsolicited dating advice during your teens. if anything, he’d be championing the ship. 

“oh my god,” you mouth, closing the door, your room was the tiny office space right at the back of the house, which in hindsight, seemed like the best option now. 

eddie’s hands find you again, resting on your hips with a sickening smile, “thought he was asleep?” 

your eyes roll back on their own, hooking your arms around his neck once again, “so did i,” guiding him towards the bed, “just be quiet and we’ll be okay,” rushing to unbutton his shirt. 

fifteen years of friendship boiling down to this very moment, a litany of teenage tension and hidden feelings bubbling to the surface all at once. 

eddie moves your bodies as one, lowering your back onto the bed with tepid hands, coming down on top of you, “i don’t know if i can do quiet.”

“well try,” you hush, connecting your lips in a haste, rushing to unbutton the rest of his messy shirt. 

grandad was partially deaf, the likelihood of him hearing anything was minuscule, but you weren’t willing to take that risk.  

his tongue swipes across your bottom lip, no longer the novice he once was apparently. groaning softly into your mouth with every slight move of his hips. 

you struggle with his shirt, his now-defined arms hold himself above you, leaving the fabric draped around his shoulders. you can’t complain, fingertips tracing over the solid muscle, a stark contrast to the spindly biceps you once clung to. 

he taps your hip, signalling for them to move, allowing him to slide your pants down your thighs. 

eddie had seen you naked a handful of times, mostly followed by you screaming at him to get or close his eyes. it was different then, when being naked in front of someone was the most personal thing you could ever do. 

now it feels natural, his hands roaming your body as if they’ve always belonged there. 

tossing his shirt to the ground before working on removing yours, all the while pressing hungry kisses to your lips, jaw and neck. chest heaving with the palpable tension. 

it’s mostly silent bar your concealed sighs and the sound of his lips smacking against the crook of your neck. 

he’s so hard, nudging against your aching core, you can feel it with every tilt of his hips, painstaking in the way he comes so close just to pull back again. 

your panties end up on the heap of clothes last, eddie’s teeth gnaw at his bottom lip, watching the lacy fabric slide over your supple thighs. 

“fuck,” gasping under his breath, marvelling your bare body. 

his boxers go next, your eyes trailing down to his slick cock, far different to how you’d ever imagined. 

there’s a slight jolt in your stomach, wondering why you’d ever waited so long for this to happen. 

you’d have to make up for lost time, secret pining and infantile crushes all gone to waste. 

two fingers tease your hole, shining in your release as they draw in and out. stifling the squeaks of pleasure into your palm, thighs closing around his arm. 

you could truly cum from this alone, so pent up, so turned on that just his thumb tapping at your clit had you clenching around his digits. 

“need.. more,” holding onto his bicep, refusing to let him prolong this any further. 

“yeah?” eddie nods, “i can do more,” positioning himself at your sopping entrance, waiting for your go ahead to slide in. 

“yes.. yes.” 

he slips inside with a groan, only, the groan doesn’t come from his lips, but instead the creaky old mattress holding you both up. 

eddie freezes, wide-eyed as his hips still. there was no way you could have sex on this old thing, at least not indiscreetly. 

your lips twitch, laughing at the sheer insanity of this entire encounter, the world was clearly against the idea of you two having sex. 

he falls into a quiet chuckle, still halfway inside of you at this point, “what should i do?” unwilling to disrespect your grandad while also being unwilling to give this up. 

you felt like a teenager again, sneaking around with boys you shouldn’t, except, this time you’re twenty five and far too old to be worrying about being caught in the act. 

“just- just fuck me,” you order, sick of the karmic interventions. there was only so much you could tolerate before things became too ridiculous. 

eddie’s eyelashes flutter, letting his hips move as your cunt envelopes him. 

“god- fu-uck,” fingers gripping at the sheets besides your head. beginning to lose his sanity already. 

your pants fill the room, closely followed by the sound of his skin colliding with yours. moving in perfect harmony around one another in a bid to keep this as quiet as possible. 

“eddie,” you sigh, loosening your grip on his neck only to cradle his cheek, meeting his eye in what was possibly the closest he had ever felt to anyone in his life. 

there’s no hope in this lasting much longer, not with the way he was fumbling his words, certainly not with his cock twitching as he reached new, otherworldly heights. though his strokes are slow, they make your legs tremble, his tip nudging softly against your sweet spot. 

your chin tilts, pressing clumsy kisses to the side of his mouth, panting in tandem with one another. 

there’s something skilful about the way he angles himself, sliding in and out of your glistening pussy, pulling almost all the way back out just to end up filling you to the hilt again. 

refusing to think about the implications of that. 

“sweetheart i can’t- won’t last much longer,” whining against your cheek, carelessly pecking the soft skin. 

“nearly.. nearly there,” you breathe, letting your eyes roll back, focusing on the way his core meets your clit and his soft cries that fill your ears. 

this gives him the much needed determination to not let himself topple over before you had. coming even closer as he lowers himself, using one hand to glide down to your throbbing clit, two fingers rubbing lazy circles in time with his messy thrusts. 

your stomach flips without warning, falling to pieces underneath his body as your thighs tighten around his hips. cumming around his cock, accompanied by incoherent mewls, an attempt to keep quiet though it fails miserable. 

eddie’s hips sputter, grunting with each feeble, final thrust. barely pulling out before he cums, thick ropes of his release paint your cunt and stomach. 

“ohh shit,” he curses, sitting back on his knees to assess his mess. 

heaving for breath as he searches frantically for something to clean you up, a reformed gentleman. there’s no way eddie of the past would ever think to do something so thoughtful. 

“there’s a towel.. somewhere,” gesturing vaguely to the floor, though your legs are intertwined with his, making it a much harder ordeal. 

he scrambles off anyway, sweaty skin on skin causing him to fumble, almost tripping over completely just to save himself seconds before disaster. 

your cackle erupts, watching him stumble around like a mad man. this had been anything but the quiet endeavour it should’ve been, and yet you can’t bring yourself to care. 

after years of waiting for things to fall into place, they finally felt like they had. like something had clicked and you were right where you were supposed to be. what you had been missing was eddie, a best friend before he was ever a lover. someone that knew you and not just the version of you the city brought out. 

“jesus christ,” he huffs, wiping his release from your stomach, “i tried,” tossing the towel back onto the floor, coming to collapse beside you. 

immediately nestling into his side, still giggling over his pathetic tumble, “you’re ‘bout as grateful as a baby deer,” placing a hand on his chest, much leaner than his teenage years. 

“be grateful i’m too tired to fight back,” sliding his arm under your resting body, bringing you in close. “god i missed you so much,” he sighs, melancholy out of nowhere, “i uh.. i..” trailing off into silence, while his fingers find their way onto your shoulder, drawing lines on the goosebumped skin. 

you’re too weary to pay too much attention to his muttering, dozing off to sleep with the help of his chest. there’s something about his thumping heartbeat that soothes your messy head, he could tell you in the morning if it were truly that important. 

-

a late august morning blooms outside the window, peeking through the curtains to pull you from your slumber. 

only to find an empty bed and the scent of bacon wafting into your bedroom. 

that can only mean one thing, and that petrifies you. 

there’s no saying what your grandad would divulge about you over morning coffee, he was terrible at secrets at the best of times. 

“..what’s going on?” rounding the corner with apprehension in your face, not wanting to disrupt whatever conversation they were having. 

you meet eddie’s eye first, his lopsided grin and messy hair making your own smile emerge, grateful that he hadn’t ran off during the night. 

“breakfast,” your grandad replies, sharp and snappy but soft as always, “we normal folks tend to eat it in the morning,” a dig at your late awakening, despite the clock only reading 9:30. 

“has anyone ever told you how funny you are?” pulling a face behind his back, purely for eddie’s benefit. 

your grandad hums, “i found eddie here, rather underdressed, coming out of your bedroom this morning,” transferring the greasy bacon onto a plate, thankfully avoiding all eye contact, though you can spot his cheeky smirk a mile away. 

“oh.. right,” catching eddie’s eye just to widen your own, terrified for what else he may come out with. 

there’s a silence between the three of you, only the sounds of cutlery clinking against the plates and your feet shuffling awkwardly around the kitchen. 

“i don’t care,” he announces, breaking the uncomfortably long quiet, “i think you deserve this more than anything,” finding your gaze, a gentle, sincere smile plastered over his face. 

“thank you grandad,” ignoring eddie for a second, you’d shared tidbits of your time in the city, but nothing compared to what your grandad had heard for years. 

“i mean it,” he starts, including eddie in the conversation finally, “you’ve both grown into remarkable young people and you..” pointing his fork at eddie’s smiling face, “you, i would’ve never guessed you’d grow up,” eddie doesn’t wince, taking his jabs on the chin, “but look at you.” 

eddie nods, grinning sincerely, “thank you sir, i appreciate it,” a tender moment that makes your heart swell. 

you don’t want to call it what it so obviously is, not yet. but watching him grin at your grandad, completely domesticated and tender, you can’t help but think about it. 

your grandad smiles, sliding plates of food in front of you both, “now get and eat this before it goes cold.” 

-

the diner had apparently become a circus of sorts, only you seemed to be the main attraction. 

now that things were partially out there and eddie didn’t feel so scared to let you ride him in his patrol car, people, namely his colleagues had become regulars at the diner. 

you wouldn’t have ever cared, really. it was bound to get out at some point and if this was going to be a permanent, serious thing, you’d have to meet them all eventually. 

what you aren’t fond of, is their incessant staring, the gawping and tittering about your endeavours. 

eddie hadn’t believed you, always arriving just after they’d left, leaving you feeling crazed all alone. 

except for today, too busy refilling coffee to notice his car pull up, his lackeys too busy watching you refill coffees to notice either. 

the bell rings above the door, your eyes flitting up to find him staring at the table. 

they notice one by one, quickly looking down into the mugs and unfinished eggs, embarrassed and rosy-cheeked. 

vindicated in your madness at last. 

“afternoon,” eddie nods, strolling over to the counter, looking more amused than the angry, stern eddie you’d hoped for. 

“hmph,” awaiting his reaction, 

“you weren’t joking, huh?” eyeing the rambunctious table, his chest puffed out to showcase his seniority. 

you scoff, rolling your eyes, “no,” making your way around the bar to grab his arm, “what’ve you told them? i thought we weren’t going to make this a big thing,” shoving the mug of coffee into his chest, though he didn’t deserve your hospitality. 

eddie holds his hands up high, a plea for his innocence, or forgiveness, “i just.. i told a few people about you. i’m happy, im sorry,” opting for puppy dog eyes. “i didn’t think they’d come up here to antagonise you, honest,” stroking your arm, a gesture of peace you can’t help but resist. 

your eyes narrow, slipping away from his grasp to get back to your job, “you’re so lucky i like you.”

-

eddie had stayed until close again, mumbling something about vacation and helping out. but you’re ravenous the second the door locks, a one track mind to get into his pants and out of yours.

tugging him by the collar into the kitchen, throwing yourself on him with such ferocity his body almost sends the cutlery to the floor as he holds the counter for stability.

“okay.. okay,” he laughs, breaking away from your lips to hoist you atop of the cold, steel counter, “rough day, huh?”

you nod, wasting no time in getting your legs wrapped around his midriff, arms draped over his shoulders. now that having this was a real thing, you didn’t want to ever stop. 

your lips find solace in the crook of his neck, working your way up to his ear, your teeth nibbling at the sensitive skin. 

“huh- fuck okay,” eddie’s hands clamp down on the surface top, enveloping you perfectly within his grasp. his uniform hangs off of his frame, disheveled by your wandering hands. 

eyes scanning the clearly empty restaurant for what feels like the thousandth time already, as if even he believed that someone would sneak in just to catch you two out. 

“eds please,” huffing frustratedly into his ear, “i practically own this place.. no one’s gonna find us,” snapping his distracted gaze back to your pouty lips, his hands settling on your hips almost immediately. 

“i know i know,” nodding along, “okay, shit,” further diving into the space between your legs, his cock teasing as it nudges your clothed entrance. 

“need you so bad,” jutting your bottom lip out further, fingers dipping below the messy collar of his button up, in dire need of something a little more substantial to satiated the ache between your legs.

his twitchy fingers struggle with the button of your jeans, failing him in his time of need. 

“ah fuck,” eddie gives up completely. head dipping into the small space between you, forehead resting on your chest. 

“what’s wrong? what’s.. what’s the matter?” you tug at his hair in an attempt to bring him back upright. 

he sighs, the warm air splaying across your exposed skin, “i gotta tell you something,” finally reemerging to meet your eyes, “you’re gonna be mad but.. i just need you to listen, okay?” 

your brows furrow, features crumpling in sheer confusion. he was terrifying like this, cryptic and coy. what could he possibly have to say that couldn’t wait until after you’d fucked? 

“what is it?” your voice trembling, still cradling his face, terrified for whatever he might blurt out. 

he sighs again. deep and guttural as his gaze flickers, “i’m.. sorry, first of all. for not telling you about this.” 

your anger and worry both grow increasingly stronger, “sorry for what? eddie, i don’t understand what’s going on.”

eddie pauses, brushing his thumb over your hot cheek, “i’m being shipped out on monday,” chewing down on his lip nervously. rightly so too. 

dropping the bombshell of the century at five in the afternoon as you sat pathetically, covered in grease and coffee stains all the while ridiculously turned on. 

“what?” 

his mouth opens but nothing comes out, he’d run out of things to say already. he’d had weeks and weeks to tell you, to at least prepare himself for what to say and this was the best he could come up with? 

“why didn’t you tell me?” dropping your hand, positively raging with the stupid boy, “how long have you known?”

you can almost hear the gulp, regret and guilt seeping through his face immediately, “the day after you got back,” sounding utterly pathetic. 

your hands push him back instinctively, anger pulsing through your veins, “and you didn’t tell me?” you slide off of the counter, shoving him backward. 

“i didn’t know how..” scrambling now, refusing to allow his cowardice ruin this, “i wasn’t expecting to fall in love with you again-“ 

“-don’t! don’t do that!” jabbing your finger harshly into his chest, “why didn’t you fucking tell me!” 

“because i was scared,” eddie somehow remains level-headed despite your lack of control, “i didn’t know that i was gonna feel this way or that you were gonna stick around again,” sighing frustratedly, “i never wanted to hurt you,” a complete and utter dejection in his voice. 

your lip trembles, tears threatening to spill over, “and you thought that not telling me would be any better?” 

“no! i didn’t..” shaking his head, hands reaching out one more time, “i wasn’t thinking at all,” you don’t push him away this time, too encompassed by your devastation to notice his hands grab yours. 

“you’re unbelievable eddie,” scolding him for his ignorance, but he can feel you relax into his touch, “three days… three days is all i’ve got to say goodbye again,” forlorn, already wishing away the year. 

what if he never come back? 

he could meet someone else, decide that hawkins was a dead end and stay the rest of his life with someone other than you. 

it’s unfathomable, the last time you said goodbye, you didn’t see him again for years. 

eddie’s eyes are wet, 

“wait for me,” he nods assuredly, “a year and i’ll be back,” trembling as he speaks, desperate to not lose you again, “please.”

“a year?” you fret, angry all over again, “i’ve just.. i’ve just got you back! you can’t-” struggling to breathe through your sobs, “what if you don’t come back? and then i’m stuck here for the rest of my life waiting for you!” 

“that’s not gonna happen,” pressing the rough pads of his thumbs into your wrists, keeping you in his hold, “i’m coming back for you,” wrapping your arms around his waist, pulling you into his chest where your cries become muffled wails. “i want to be with you forever. you don’t have to worry about that,” resting his chin atop of your head, drawing soothing patterns into your back. 

“promise me,” you blubber, pulling back just enough to catch his eye, “promise me that you’ll come back,” sniffling through your words, a mess that would scare any man from coming back. 

“i promise you, i’m coming back.”