#let the boy be a little brown DAMN

[cherrybarry]

I’d like to hc that in the summer regulus tans up a bit meanwhile Sirius burns. Siri is a tomato if he doesn’t put on enough sunscreen but reg only needs a normal about and he’s good to go. I’d also like to think reg has more melanin in him

[ewqjeon]

⚤ BACKSHOTS | JJK

pairings: soft dom!jungkook x sub! bratty!reader

genre: fwb, smut

warnings! grinding, weed, high sex, unprotected sex (pls no), fingering, tit sucking, thumb sucking, praise/spit kink, ass spanking, bigdick!jk, doggy

Jungkook slightly groans as he sits up straight with a groan, grabbing the small grinder off of the low-height wooden table with his left.

"Shit, never knew weed hits harder after a breakup." He chuckles with a scoff. After having gotten the weed and his bong, you soon have a lit blunt in your hand and a smile on your face when the effects of the weed sets in.

"Damn, Koo, this is strong stuff." You comment with a smile, laughing and inhaling another whiff of the scent of the weed.

"I know, right?"

Jungkook replies with a satisfied smile and a nod, taking a huge inhale of the burning end of the blunt which causes his lips to slightly burn. He blows out the smoke in that attractive way that just makes you want to kiss those pierced lips of his right then and there. However, you're too stoned to know what you're thinking or feeling so you just take another hit and chuckle.

"Damn, baby, you're high, aren't you?" Jungkook chuckles while taking the blunt from your mouth, placing it into his own and blowing out that smooth and steady stream of smoke. With the slight slur in your words, the redness of your eyes, and the glazed-over look you're giving him.. he knows you are pretty stoned.

"Hell yeah." You admit with a giggle, leaning back into the comfort of the couch and looking at Jungkook. "You ain't so sober either, pretty boy." You add with a smirk.

"I can handle more shit than you, love." Jungkook chuckles and gives a smirk right back, his glossy dark brown eyes peering into yours and his pupils dilated just a bit from the drug. He exhales the last bit of smoke that he's been holding in and places down the half-smoked blunt onto the table, his lips curved into that cocky little smirk of his.

Jungkook spread his legs, arms on the headrest of the couch with his eyes fixed on you. His gaze wanders down your face and body biting his lip as he does so.

"Damn, baby.. I gotta be honest with ya'.." Jungkook laughs when the drug settles in further and he takes hold of your jaw with his cold and calloused hand. "You are a cute and pretty thing, you know that?" He murmurs, his mouth slightly parted and his eyelashes looking longer than usual. He doesn't let go of your jaw as his cold palm makes you slightly shiver.

"Mhm, you flatterin' me or somethin'?" You murmur, blinking your glazed over eyes. Your skin is more sensitive because of the drug, so you can feel the roughness of his palm much more than you usually would, yet his touch doesn't feel uncomfortable.

With a smirk he pats his lap. "Sit on it, baby."

"Sit on it, you say?" You chuckle, though with no protest and no hesitation your eyes half-lidded, glossy and pink-tinted lips parted with a smirk, you straddle his lap without a second thought feeling his hard cock under his grey sweatpants.

With a satisfied groan Jungkook wraps his tattooed arms around your bare waist, squeezing you. "Oh, look at you... pretty girl on my lap, huh?" He chuckles while looking down at your chest, licking his lips with a smirk.

"You like this? Hm." You hum and chuckle, your hands reaching up to grasp the back of his soft and dark brown locks, pulling at them as you start to move your hips, grinding on him.

Jungkook lets out a satisfied groan at the pull and grind, tilting his head back a bit. Damn, that was a move that nearly sent a shudder through his whole body. His hands grip your waist further, his hips giving a slight buck against yours, his chest rising and falling with light heavy breaths and his eyes never leaving your face. "Mm, that feels good, baby."

A small moan slips from your lips as his hands grip your bare hips further and his hips grind back against yours. "Yeah? Like this?" You ask with a smirk, now grinding your pussy against his hard bulge with more force.

"That's it, baby. Just like that.." He groans, his arms wrapping further around you in a possessive hold that has no intention to let go. "Mm, you're so good at this." He murmurs while looking down just to watch your hips move against him, licking his dry lips again.

"Mhmm." You hum, pulling at his messy hair again to make him look up at you with his glossy doe eyes. You chuckle at that, leaning down to place your lips over his, pulling back ever so slightly with another chuckle before diving back in for a kiss.

His lips are warm and slightly chapped, his tongue eagerly pushing into yours to taste you. His hands grip your back, dragging down your skin just enough to leave faint but red marks behind. As you pull back and chuckle, he bites your lower lip and smirks, squeezing you with a tight grip and pulling you back into another kiss. His tongue invades your mouth once more, dancing and rolling with yours with needy and desire.

As he pulls you in for a second kiss, moaning into your mouth as he explores your wet and hot mouth, you feel his hand slowly finding its way into your shorts, pushing your panties to the side.

His cold fingers touch and rub against your clit, his teeth biting down on your lower lip. "Mm, you're already so damn wet, baby." He groans, his lips planting against the sensitive spot behind your ear that makes you shiver.

"Yeah? 'Cause of you. And nobody else." You moan softly, tilting your head a bit so he has better access while closing your eyes. You can feel his lips and tongue lapping against your neck, leaving hickeys and marking you as his.

He then pushes two fingers into your aching pussy, curling them inside of you.

"Mhm, nobody else but me. That's right, baby." He groans, his lips continuing to kiss and mark down to your collarbones then stopping there to kiss them as his teeth tug on the fabric of your top. "This is comin' off." He states, tugging on the material while looking into your eyes, his dark brown eyes meeting your gaze.

His breath hitches at the sight of the familiar pair of breasts. Nipples hard and so damn gorgeous.

"Fuck, I missed them so much." He murmurs and places his mouth on your left tit, sucking softly.

You throw your head back at the feeling of him having your nipple in his mouth, releasing a few soft moans for him.

He smirks, the feeling of your nipple in his mouth feels like fire. His eyes meet yours, his teeth grazing your nipple gently as he stares at you. "So beautiful, baby. So, so beautiful." He murmurs in a low voice that's only meant for you to hear. His one hand continues to rub your clit, teasing you while the other is squeezing your other tit, his touches almost needy. With your back arched and moan falling from your lips, his eyes watch you with pure unbridled desire and want in his eyes as an attractive laugh falls from his pink lips at the sight of you.

A moan slips past your lips when his mouth places a kiss against your chest, his breath hot against you. “Jungkook..” You giggle and chuckle while reaching for his shirt, tugging on the hem of it as you try to push it upwards.

He sits up at that, raising his arms above his head to allow you to pull his shirt over his head. He gives a smirk when his shirt falls on the ground, the dark ink of his sleeve on display.

“Need something, baby?” He teases.

A pleased gasp leaves your lips when his ink-covered arm is revealed, along with his muscular and toned torso. Your eyes rake up and down his body for a couple seconds before you chuckle and pull on his necklaces. “Shut up, you know what I need.” You scoff with a smirk.

“Oh, I do?” Jungkook chuckles deeply with a smirk at your statement, placing a hand on your neck then gripping it with a tight hold. “And, what’s that? Hm?” He asks with a tilt of his head, his eyebrows raising with a cocky look on his face while looking into yours.

“Your cock.” You grumble with a groan when he grips your neck with a firm but rough grip and his smirk drives you nuts. “Need you, Jungkook.” You murmur almost in a whimper, leaning in to his ear for a whisper while placing kisses on his jaw.

His dark brown eyes peering at you while his hand pushes your head back by your chin and you’re suddenly looking into his eyes. “Need me, huh? Pretty little thing like you needs me?” He chuckles softly and mockingly, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

You let out a small whimper at his words, his thumb running across your lower lip which he then taps to get you to open up. So, without any hint of hesitation, you immediately open your mouth wide open for him.

“Good girl. Gonna put that pretty mouth to use." He chuckles lowly at your quick compliance, his thumb slipping between your lips.

You hum at his chuckle, wrapping your lips around his thumb and sucking lightly to tease him. Your tongue swirls around the digit, letting out slightly whimpers and whines as you suck.

You can see Jungkook's adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly, his breath slightly hitched but still steady as to not allow a groan slip past his lips. His thumb presses against your tongue and he leans in to your ear, hot breaths fanning. "Don't tease me, baby.” He whispers, a low but slightly strained chuckle leaving his lips.

"Oh, or what?" You raise a brow at his whispered words. The urge to tease him even more was growing larger and larger, so you lightly bite on his thumb, letting the digit pull out from between your lips. Your tongue slides across the pad of it, smirking when his breath hitches again.

"Fucking slut asked for it."

A gasp is forced out of you when you're suddenly flipped over onto your stomach by Jungkook, your cheek laying against the soft pillows of the couch. You feel his presence above you, before a slap is delivered on your plump cheek.

"Don't act all smart now.” He mutters with an arched brow while rubbing his hand over the red spot his palm left behind, delivering another hard slap on your cheek at the same place.

"Ouch-!" You exclaim with a gasp when he spanks you, feeling that delicious sting from the slap. "Don't get so cocky-" You start to respond sassily, feeling his hand rub over the stinging spot before he slaps you again. Your words get cut off at the sudden slap, a low moan slips from your lips.

"Who was the one being all teasing and bratty? You." He huffs out with another smack that leaves a red handprint behind on your cheek. "Now look at you, moaning for me.” He grunts with an obvious smirk, his hand rubbing his large over the reddened skin.

"Shut the f-fuck up, Jeon." You try to form words, but fail to when the next smack has you moaning out again from the sting and burn of the slap. You look up at him over your shoulder while he rubs over the painful and red skin, giving him a bratty look while biting your lip.

"Mm, you're so pretty." He murmurs while licking his own lips, his eyes raking down your body and the way your chest and cheek are pressed against the cushions. He slaps you once more, his cold fingers touching your burning cheek before his hand slips down to your exposed hip.

"Now lift that ass up for me."

Slowly and teasingly, you wiggle your hips and lift them up, your hands coming down to grip the end of the couch with your chest still pressed down.

His lips spread into an amused smile at your teasing actions, a small sigh escaping him. "That's it, baby. Just like that." He whispers and looks down at you, watching each one of your move and arch of your back. He then reaches for his pants before pushing them down.

Feeling him entering makes you whine into the pillow and gripping the couch. "So big," You whine.

"Fuck, such a tight pussy." He moans as he begins to thrust into you.

Your lips are parted, small moans falling from between them as you rest your head against the pillow. You're unable to see behind you, but feel his hand gripping your hips.

He holds your hair in a ponytail, letting out a small chuckle at the sounds he pulls from you. His other hand's still gripping your hip, his thumb pressing into your skin. "Mngh.." You whimper upon feeling his cock so deep in your pussy, chills running down your body. “J-Jungkook..” You breathe out, the breath of your words shaky with anticipation.

“Do you missed having this cock inside of your pussy?” He murmurs with a small chuckle against your skin.

You slowly nod your head at his words, your breaths shaky and eyes fluttering. You missed this so damn much. "I've missed your dick so much.." You whisper, a small pout forming on your lips as a light whine slips from between them. "Missed us." You breathe, tilting your head back to look up at him over your shoulder.

"I missed us too, baby." He murmurs, placing a hand on your cheek and caressing the skin before placing his lips over yours, kissing you. His breath is hot, his mouth needy against yours as it works along your own. His cock is deep in your pussy, your bodies molding together as the kiss continues and his hand on your hip grips harder.

The needy and demanding kiss causes whimpers to leave your lips while you feel his body molding with your own, your hands reaching behind you to place your hand on his waist to pull him in closer. You can feel him groan slightly into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of his wet lips moving along yours. When he fucks you harder, a small gasp escapes both of your mouths.

"God, I've missed how your tight walls wrap around my cock.." He moans into the kiss, his teeth nipping at your lower lip before his tongue slips into your mouth. You let out a soft mewl at that, your fingers intertwining with his.

A muffled moan slips from your lips as he pulls away from your lips. Your back arches at how good it all feels. "Tell me," He groans and his hand wraps around your neck from behind as he pulled you up, your back know pressed against his chest.

"Tell me how good I fuck you, love." He whispers into your ear.

"Mmm.." You hum and nod your head at his question, whimpering when his hand wrapped around your neck. "Good, feel so good. Fuck.." You respond, your chest rising and falling at a faster rate as the slapping sounds of your skin's growing louder.

"Yeah, baby?" He whispers against your ear, his teeth lightly nipping at your earlobe before fucking his cock even harder into you. "What a good fucking slut, I'm so proud of you.." He chuckles under his breath while his hand slips down further from your neck toward your stomach pulling you closer to meet his thrust.

"Take that fucking dick, baby." He says between his thrusts.

With each thrust you're getting closer to your orgasm and you let out a pleased scream which is quickly muffled by his palm pressing against your mouth.

"It's 1am, baby." He laughs and snaps his hips even harder into yours. "We don't want to piss the neighbours off, don't we?"

You quickly shake your head. "I'm so fucking close, Koo." You try to speak through his palm.

"Mhm, already?" He breathes in your ear, a teasing tone in his voice. You can practically hear the smirk on his face when he whispers, his palm pulling away from your mouth.

Your eyes flutter at his words and breath in your ear, your heart beating quicker and your skin burning from his touch. “Yes..” You answer him with your own small smirk, biting your lip and tilting your head back to look up at him with hooded eyes, seeing him vice versa. His eyes boring into yours and his gaze looking intense with desire.

"I love the way you fuck me," You whisper.

“I fucking love you, Y/n. ” He says in a whisper in your ear which sends shivers down your spine, leaving goosebumps on some parts of your skin. He places small kisses against your neck then gives it a small lick on a certain spot, a small smirk forming on his face. That teasing, cocky smirk.

“Let go for me. ”

A low, breathy groan leaves your lips as his cock hits you like a damn truck bringing you closer to your release. Your teeth biting your tongue and eyes fluttering at the feeling of your orgasm.

He lets out a chuckle at the sight of your narrowed eyes and agape mouth pressing his lips on your forehead a messy and sloppy kiss.

"I'm so fucking close, baby." His breathless and needy whine has your heart stutter in your chest, and your breath hitches softly. The way he's pleading and pleading so desperately for you has your heart flutter and your body tingle, and you can't help but feel pride flood through you.

"I know, baby," You whisper back lovingly. "You're doing so well."

His whole body aches and throams with the need to release. As he moans and groans, you can't help but chuckle lightly with a soft moan. "Come for me, baby," You whisper.

Your words are enough to push him over the edge, and his hands grip your hips with a shaky groan leaving his chest. And after a couple of more thrusts, he finds his release and slumps down against you. "Fucking hell."

[wttcsms]

triple trouble, atsumu miya

pairing atsumu miya x f!reader word count 1.6k synopsis atsumu steals every reporters' attention as he introduces the media to his triplets during a post-game interview; or, more accurately, his triplets steal all the attention. like father, like sons. content contains domestic fluff, dad!atsumu, atsumu & reader are married and so in love, babies, mention of pregnancy more in this collection!

The flashes of cameras going off, the constant exclamations of “Miya! Miya!” coming from the crowd of journalists and reporters all vying for his attention, the fact that the foldout chairs they use for all these post-game interviews are harder on your ass than falling on asphalt — all of this is being handled with ease by a smug Atsumu Miya.

Or, normally all of this would be handled with ease by a smug Atsumu Miya.

But right now, the Atsumu Miya struggling to take a seat in the most uncomfortable chair known to man, dyed hair a mess, his usual trademark smirk replaced by furrowed brows and a look of concentration, doesn’t appear to be the godlike adversary on the court. In fact, he looks oddly human. 

The cause of what has humbled this cocky athlete and reduced him to mere mortal man are the three chubby toddlers he’s cradling in his arms. 

All of them are identical, from their chubby cheeks to their little grubby hands. Heads full of thick, dark brown hair (reminiscent of their father’s natural color) poke out from Atsumu’s hold, and the eighteen-month-olds’ eyes are all full of childlike wonder as they watch the crowd, confused as to who all these people are. 

After finally getting settled into his seat, Atsumu addresses the crowd casually, as if he didn’t spend the last two minutes ensuring that his baby boys weren’t going to slip from his arms while he tried to prepare for this interview. Akimitsu is secured in his left arm, Akihiko in the right, leaving poor Akinari to cling onto Atsumu’s neck. 

While athletes have been getting more comfortable with bringing their kids up on stage with them, no one has ever seen a professional athlete haul his three babies with him. 

A fact that one reporter is more than happy to point out.

“Miya, wife put you on babysitting duty?” A male journalist calls out from the crowd. A few chuckles follow, but Atsumu just smiles at the mention of you.

“Nah. It’s not babysittin’ if they’re your damn kids, right? Besides, she deserves a break.” A few appreciative murmurs flutter through the crowd. 

After the initial surprise of seeing identical triplets being carried in the MSBY Black Jackals’ setter’s arms, the reporters are back to business as usual. They’re all professionals — even if hearing Atsumu give them a great quote to use as a hook (“I respect Nakamura as a human bein’ but calling him a setter for a professional league volleyball team is an insult to setters everywhere.”) is followed by him cooing sweet words of affirmation to whichever of his sons happens to be babbling in his ears. 

“Nakamura isn’t a very good player, is he, Akihiko?” No one outside of your family and his teammates have ever heard Atsumu sound so affectionate. His words are practically coated in sugar, and it’s hard to remember that he’s insulting another player in the league whenever he’s practically bumping noses with his toddler son when he says it. 

Akihiko, most likely due to his father’s influence, lets out a stream of enthusiastic gurgles that Atsumu automatically translates to him being in complete agreement with him. 

“Write that down.” He says to the crowd. “Even my baby knows he’s shit at the game.” 

There’s a few more minutes of Atsumu answering the usual post-game questions, but halfway through one of his responses, Akinari loses his grip on Atsumu’s neck and is about to tumble to the floor before Atsumu’s reflexes kick in. You’ve made a joke once that you think Atsumu’s reflexes have become heightened after becoming a father; his athletic instincts have merged with the famous “dad reflexes” all fathers seem to be gifted with. (Atsumu tells reporters that this is why he keeps on becoming a better player; people think his family would hold him back, but once again, family is his greatest blessing.)

“Ya gotta hang onto me, buddy.” Atsumu can’t even pretend to be stern when he tells this to Akinari, who only smiles at him and exclaims something unintelligible. He shifts Akinari to his left arm, relaxes back in his seat, and is even excited to answer a question concerning his play style compared to Tobio Kageyama’s, but as he readjusts the two boys in his arms, Atsumu can’t help but startle at the fact that he has three kids. Not just two. 

Momentarily panicked, he almost wants to ask why the hell no one told him one of his kids jumped ship but then he feels a tug on the bottom hem of his volleyball shorts. 

Peering under the table, Atsumu is greeted with the sight of Akimitsu’s mischievous little face. He’s the oldest of the three and takes after Atsumu the most — meaning, he’s the cutest little nightmare there could ever be. 

“Whatcha doin’ under the table, Mitsu?” Atsumu asks, and Akimitsu gives out a happy, gleeful shriek. He’s clapping his grubby hands together and cheering. 

“Dada found me!” 

“I did find ya, buddy.” Atsumu coos. “Now why don’t you come sit on daddy’s lap?” 

After wrangling up all his kids once more, Atsumu sighs and looks up at the timer in front of him. 

“I have enough time for one more question.” He tells the crowd.

“Are you excited to get out of here and get back home to the wife?” 

“I’m always happy to come home to [Name]. If there’s a professional league for motherhood, she’s going into the hall of fame. I don’t know how she handles these fools by herself all day.” 

Akihiko takes a tiny, chubby hand and smacks Atsumu in the face. Repeatedly. 

“Home! Home!” His slaps get slightly more aggressive, but Atsumu’s received some serves with his face before, so it doesn’t really phase him. “Home! Mama!” 

“Well, you heard the man.” Atsumu actually gives a genuine smile for the cameras. “We gotta head home.”

You’re applying your moisturizer in the bathroom despite the mirror being fogged up from the hot shower. It’s probably why you don’t anticipate strong arms wrapping themselves around your body, and you gasp before your muscle memory recognizes him. Your body easily relaxes against his, and you’re smiling as you ask your husband, 

“Had a good day today?”

“We took ‘em in two straight sets. Slaughtered the other team to the point where it wasn’t even fair.” He angles his head just right so he can kiss you on the cheek, but you gently slap him away.

“I’m putting on moisturizer right now.”

“Great. My lips are dry.” He goes in for another kiss, and even though you’re giggling, trying to pull away from him, he still plants a peck on your soft skin. “Should I go for seconds, just for good measure?” He teases.

“Hmm, I guess so.” 

“Oh? What’s with the change? Realize how much you can’t live without my touch?” He pulls you in closer to him, your back pressed firmly against his chest. He’s fresh out the shower, stray droplets of water greedily clinging onto his skin. 

“Maybe.” You tilt your head back on the front of his shoulder so that you can see him. “You know your interview is trending on Twitter, right?” 

“Oh, yeah? Bet Nakamura’s pissed.” Atsumu sounds too happy at the concept. 

“No. There’s actually an interesting clip that keeps going around. Someone already used it as an intro for a thirst edit of you.” 

You like it when Atsumu is thinking. There’s an adorable crease in between his furrowed brows, and you can practically see him going through the memory files in his brain, trying to figure out what could possibly be worthy of inspiring an edit of him. 

“You seriously don’t know?” You’re laughing at him, and it’s the sweetest sound in the world. Atsumu doesn’t take kindly to being the butt of a joke, but from the moment he saw you, he knew he’d do anything to stay by your side, even becoming a fucking court jester if that’s what it took. 

You reach for your phone on the counter, taking a few seconds to load up the fan edit you have favorited. 

He’s burying his face in your hair, hiding away as he hears the audio of him going now why don’t you come sit on daddy’s lap playing on a loop. He groans when you let it replay, uncharacteristically shy as you keep telling him to watch it. 

“The comments are the best part, though, baby!” You haven’t been able to stop giggling at jackingthejackalsoff’s very bold and very true statement of yeah, if i were [name], i’d pop out triplets for him too tf 😭🙏.  

As Atsumu’s hands travel to rest against the growing swell of your belly, you tease him. “So, when the twins are born, do you think you’ll have enough space in your arms to haul all five of our kids, or should we finally use that baby chest carrier Shoyo gifted us?” 

“I can carry all of ‘em and you onto that stage.” He regrets making this smug remark whenever you slightly drop your teasing tone and use what he dubs The Mom Voice on him.

“Oh? If that’s true, then why did it take you so long to realize Akimitsu crawled out of your arms while you were busy calling your opponents scrubs?” 

“Have I ever told you what a wonderful mother you are? And this moisturizer! Wow, I don’t know what you’ve been doing with your skin, baby, but keep it up.” He’s peppering your face with more kisses, hurriedly trying to change the subject, and you gladly let him.

[oatmilk-vampire]

Steve Harrington needed hearing aids.

He wasn't born needing them. In fact, he was just about as healthy as a young man in his social class could be. But numerous head injuries eventually led to gradually worsening hearing loss, leading him to needing mostly useless hearing aids.

His damage was so severe he actually needed cochlear implants but his parents kicked him out of their house and off of their insurance plan when he got caught kissing his teammate back in high school. With his minimum wage job and splitting rent with his roommate Robin, he currently did not make enough money for such a luxury.

So he did the next best thing: he learned ASL.

It was free, other than his time invested, and Robin was the one to suggest it. After all, she was already fluent in five languages and had been in band for twelve years. If anyone could teach herself and a hard of hearing person to sign, it was Robin Buckley.

The only bad part was, they were the only two who seemed to know the damn language, leaving Steve to strain to hear or read lips lest he get (mostly) silently yelled at by some deranged customer.

So when he spotted a guy around his age with long, dark curly hair and perfectly round black glasses with side shields, he knew he had to act.

He knew what it was like to have people gloss over the fact that you exist, or even berate you for it; so he took a page out of Robin's book.

He learned braille.

Sure, technically Steve could still speak to the boy, but wouldn't it be more special if he could read what Steve wanted to say?

So he practiced and practiced until he was happy, bringing the card to work where his crush appeared to be a regular.

As Steve sees him walk in, he knows today's the day.

⠓⠊ ⠊ ⠁⠍ ⠎⠞⠑⠧⠑ ⠎⠕⠗⠗⠽ ⠊⠋ ⠞⠓⠊⠎ ⠊⠎ ⠺⠑⠊⠗⠙ ⠃⠥⠞ ⠊ ⠚⠥⠎⠞ ⠺⠁⠝⠞⠑⠙ ⠞⠕ ⠎⠁⠽ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠁⠗⠑ ⠗⠑⠁⠇⠇⠽ ⠉⠥⠞⠑ ⠁⠝⠙ ⠊ ⠺⠕⠥⠇⠙ ⠇⠊⠅⠑ ⠞⠕ ⠁⠎⠅ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠕⠥⠞ ⠕⠝ ⠁ ⠙⠁⠞⠑

Hi I am Steve sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you are really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

Steve is giddy when he wanders over to the boy in dark clothes. He had on black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a Metallica band tee, a leather jacket, and a denim battle vest. He's perfect. He's hot.

Steve's footsteps must be louder than he expects because the object of his affection immediately turns in his direction.

"Hi," Steve greets as he presses the thick stock paper into his hands.

The boy angles his head down with a frown as he traces an index finger over the raised dots, before looking right at Steve behind those dark frames.

He takes them off, and Steve learns after so long that his eyes are brown.

"I'm sorry," his crush says, Steve recognizing those syllables easy enough, "But I can't read this. What is it you're trying to say?"

But now that response is too much, Steve can't keep up. All he knows is the card he worked so carefully punching little holes in with a special tool he had to buy was now being pushed back into his hands.

Steve doesn't try to answer, he just wants to get the hell away before his tears spill over, but a hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks.

He tenses, squeezes his eyes shut and braces for impact, but when a familiar hit doesn't land on his face, he cautiously opens his teary eyes to find him staring right at Steve.

"Are you okay?" He asks, but Steve can't be quite sure if he's checking on him or asking if he's gay.

Steve's own frown appears on his face as he points to his ears.

"Can't hear too good."

His mouth drops open, rushing to spiel something Steve doesn't catch. He must realize this because he's taking Steve's card back from him now as he mimics writing something with raised eyebrows.

Steve nods his head, more confused that the guy he thought was blind seemed to be understanding him perfectly.

He fishes out the little pad of paper and pen he keeps with him for moments not quite like this, passing the two items over.

He scribbles for a moment before letting Steve read what he's written in big loopy letters.

Hi, I'm Eddie. Sorry, I can't read braille. What did you say?

Steve furrows his brows.

I thought you might know it. Aren't you blind?

Eddie shakes his head with a little smile.

The glasses? I have killer migraines. Never go anywhere without them.

Steve smacks himself in the face. He's been such a fool!

Eddie taps him to gain his attention once more before handing him the notepad and pen.

What did you say? I'd like to know :)

Steve worries his bottom lip.

Hi I'm Steve. Sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you're really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

He's nervous as he hands it back, but Eddie's wide grin and eager nod does wonders to knock back those worries.

I thought you'd never ask, Steve.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 3 to Truth or Dare and Truth or Dare Part 2

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader, Soap

Summary: After being so rudely interrupted in the middle of you and your lieutenant's tryst, but he made a promise. "This isn't over." You hope that he plans to keep it, but when? Things might have to wait as you are assigned to a mission with him. But when being close proves to much, will both of you be able to hold off on your lust or will you succumb to all that tension?

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings:

Part 4: READ HERE

Lt. Riley storms out of the munitions depot seething with frustration as he searches for the private waiting to relay Price’s message to him. Of all the fucking times to be interrupted, why in the hell did it have to be this one time when he was so close to exploring the depths of what the connection sparked between you could bring. Now he is left with nothing but anger and a sizeable bulge in his pants that he has to discreetly readjust before anyone can catch him hard as a fucking rock.

That piercing brown gaze locates the private standing against the side of the building a few feet from the door, his face red, his jaw tense, brow wrinkled up as if he is deep in thought about his predicament at having seen something he shouldn’t. The poor boy has no time to react as heavy-booted steps quickly approach before the lieutenant grabs him by the shoulders and pins him to the wall, glaring at him intimidatingly down through the holes of his mask. 

“Let’s get one thing fuckin’ straight, yeah? ‘Fore I let ya go ‘bout your business,” he says, his tone firm and menacing. “I’m only gonna say this once, so ya best listen up. Ya didn’t see a damn thing back there, nothin’ at all, got it private? It’s in your best interest to rid your mind of anything ya think ya might have misunderstood or there will be consequences that ya may not like. Is that clear?”

The private is visibly shaken by his threatening warning and struggles to speak. 

Dropping his voice, the lieutenant leans in. “Is. That. Clear?”

Quickly the private collects himself so that he can answer, if only to be released from the lieutenant’s fury. “Y-yes, s-sir,” he confirms. 

His answer seems satisfactory enough; Lt. Riley is sure his intimidation has done the trick to keep the boy quiet and he gives him a nod of approval. “Now,” the lieutenant says as he releases the scared private and sets him up straight before stepping back, “ya said Price is lookin’ for me? Did he mention what for?” 

“Y-yes sir,” he nods, his voice still shaky, but slowly calming down. “It’s about mission a-assignments.”

“Good man, you’re dismissed.”

With that the private scurries away as fast as he can to leave the lieutenant alone, ready to head towards Price’s office to see what this is all about. He gives one last, lingering glance back at the building, wishing he could just run back inside and pick up where he left off, but he steps off back across base back to where he had just been a little while before. 

As he walks he can’t help but wonder how much time is going to pass before he will get the chance to see you again. Who knows what this round of missions will hold; it could be weeks or months of being separated before you both get another opportunity like this.

With a sigh he heads into Captain Price’s office with no expectations other than the same routine that he is accustomed to: get in, get out, job well done. Yet as the lieutenant sits there listening to Price go into detail about the plans for what will be expected on this mission, he catches something that he thinks he’s misheard.

“Sir,” Lt. Riley cuts Price off in the middle of his thought, “can you repeat that last bit.”

Price raises an eyebrow; it isn’t like his lieutenant to interject like this. “Said since I’m wantin’ ya to take a group of the recruits out, I am sendin’ two sergeants with ya: Mactavish and our esteemed female sergeant that you just presumably saw. Help keep ‘em in line to make sure this isn’t a bust.”

The lieutenant’s heart skips a beat as the captain continues on with the brief synopsis of things that will get hashed out over the next days until departure, but Lt. Riley hears very little. Fuck, this is somehow both better and worse than being apart for any length of time. How the hell is he  supposed to stay sane when in such close proximity to you?

It’s a couple of hours before he is able to get away from under the discerning eyes of the captain, tasked with telling you about this new development in the morning. The thought alone of seeing you again keeps him up for most of the night as he runs over scenarios in his mind. You’re both soldiers highly trained in what you do, taught how to put things aside to focus on the task at hand; it should be fine, right? And yet… his skin still burns to feel yours against it.  

That doesn’t sound like he’ll be fine. He wonders if you’ll be just as miserable too?

The lieutenant decides that it is best to talk to you during your time training the recruits, hopeful that with so many people present it will keep you both tame. He makes his way to the range about midday and as he approaches he catches you in the middle of giving orders to a couple of recruits at the end of the range. Instead of announcing his presence immediately, he allows himself a few seconds just to watch you, his eyes following every curve of your body that he can catch even through your clothes. 

There’s no sign anything is amiss until you notice a few recruits are now distracted and no longer participating in the current activity and you follow their eyeline to see the lieutenant standing not far from the group. He nods his head to you in beckoning to come to him and immediately you can feel the heat in your cheeks blossoming until they are glowing warm. 

What could he want? you wonder to yourself.

Turning back to your bunch of recruits, you give your order so that you won’t be disturbed while you go see what’s up. “Continue on for a few rounds, switching partners every empty clip while I speak with Lt. Riley,” you bark and they immediately fall into line. “And I have my eyes on you so don’t fuck anything up. Got it?” 

A round of yes ma’ams trail behind you as you make your anxious way over to the lieutenant, the rapidly thudding beat of your heart making your steps brisk. Even from here you can see his hands gripping onto the straps of his tactical vest, knuckles almost white, as if he is struggling to stay composed. Your eyes meet as you near and all that intensity comes flooding right back into your body to leave you aching with a need to get closer, though you force yourself to stop with a bit of distance still between you. 

“Yes, sir?” you ask, pausing to swallow to keep your voice steady. “How can I help you?”

“Word from Price,” he answers as his eyes inadvertently begin to gravitate to your mouth before he forcefully guides them away. “Mission assignment for next week. You, Soap, and several of the more seasoned recruits will be with me on recon for a few weeks. Nothin’ too intense, should be an easy enough job.”

“Oh?” you say in stunned surprise as your breath hitches. This is the one thing you hadn’t accounted for being a problem so soon, being stuck together on a mission with all this built-up attraction still so hot and heavy between you. 

Things are about to get a lot harder and you hope you can make it through without incident.

You must be blushing something fierce now as you can feel it burning in your face the more you contemplate your predicament. In the middle of your thought you notice the lieutenant quickly glance at the group of recruits to your back to be sure they are occupied completely as he steps in towards you and reaches up to swiftly stroke his gloved fingers against the side of your cheek before anyone sees him do it. It takes everything in you not to turn into a puddle at his feet from the contact.

As he brings his hand away from your face, he steps in even more and leans his head down until his mouth is near your ear. “I swear I’m gonna remedy this fuckin’ thing between us soon as I can,” he says in a guttural, breathy whisper as he places a quick kiss to your face with his mask-covered lips. “Just hang on a bit longer. You can do that for me, yeah? Just a couple weeks and then you’re mine.”

He doesn’t know why he just did that, it’s too risky to pull off such a stunt in the open like this, but it seems to be an automatic reaction the way any part of his body simply wants to get closer to you. Though he enjoys it, it is a bit unnerving that he can’t seem to control himself when you are around. Clearing his throat, he shifts back into that detached facade to hide behind until he can put some distance between you.

“We will be ready to deploy Tuesday, 1300 hours. Price will send for you to brief on all necessaries,” he says as he stands back upright. “We’ll just have ta fuckin’ try and keep this under control, yeah?”

You nod silently.

Having finished relaying the information he hurriedly exits, leaving you alone to collect yourself so that you can get through the rest of your day, but that is a monumental task in itself now. If this is the reaction you both have whenever you’re near, what will the weeks you’ll be stuck together bring? You hope you can deflect your thoughts away from all this by staying even busier than usual.   

The days leading up to departure are a haze as you try to reconcile that you are going to have to share space with Simon. You fill every single second with any task you can pull, just trying to keep your mind away from the inevitable for as long as possible. Maybe if you never stop, you’ll never have the chance to pine for him; it’s not your best plan, but it works for a few days.

Departure day finally arrives and you immediately are put to the test. As the team loads onto the transport plane meant to take you most of the way, you find yourself the last to board and wouldn’t you know that the only seat available to you is right next to the lieutenant himself. Those brown eyes deep set into that skull mask lock on to you the minute you set foot on board and don’t leave until you take the spot next to him. His body stiffens against you as you get situated in the tight space, matching your body’s reaction. 

God, he wants to touch you so bad it physically hurts, but there isn’t a chance that someone wouldn’t see and so he grits his teeth to try and bear it until you land. Next to him, your heart is fluttering a mile a minute, though you aren’t handling it as well as he is. It is the longest flight you both have ever experienced and it cannot end fast enough. By the time you both exit, you feel like you’ve run a marathon just with how much you had been holding your breath through the whole thing.   

It is a short trek to the safehouse designated for your stay and the team reaches it a few hours before nightfall. A small, rundown house waits for you and that means you’ll be on top of each other, though there’s a shack out back that must have been a tool shed at some point now long since abandoned. Good, maybe you can hide away in there at points when things get too much. 

It’s routine at this point how things go in the field: clearing the area, setting up, breaking down rolls for who does what, which is lucky because your mind is not clear enough to focus on more detailed tasks. How can it be when you’ve spent the last several hours sitting beside the one man in the whole fucking taskforce that you want to screw until neither of you can move? 

You need to put some space between you and soon just to get him out of your head for a while to calm down. Even with how tight you’ll be packed together, it will still be farther than you want to be from him. But thoughts like this are dangerous, so when the time comes to discuss watch duty assignments for the night, you spring at the chance to get outside and speak up before anyone else can take that away from you.

“I’ll take the first watch,” you say just as Johnny poses the question. “I’m still wide awake, so I might as well get it out of the way.”

“Damn, ye sure did answer fast; wanna get away from us that bad, lass?” Johnny jokes, elbowing you in the side. 

You scrunch your nose and bob your head at him, the typical interaction helping you to get out of your thoughts. “Well, yeah, there’s enough b.o. to suffocate someone in here already,” you pick back, “gotta get some fresh air when I can. Now, fucking can it. Anyway, is that all good, sir?”

Turning your attention to your superior, you wait for his reply and see a strange spark flash through the pupils of his eyes. It’s almost too subtle to tell properly whether or not it’s something more than just the shadows cast by his mask playing tricks on your vision, but does it really matter? As much as you want something to happen between you, you are here to do a job and that is top priority for everyone, including and most of all Lt. Riley. 

“That’s fine,” he agrees while diverting his gaze even as he speaks to address the group about setting up for the night, though you can’t help feeling like that is not the real reason he can’t look at you. 

Making sure your area is set up how you want it, you double-check your vest and weapon to be sure you will have everything you need for your watch. You set a timer for the clock on your wrist so you’ll know when you should be relieved and then you decide to get a preliminary sweep of the area to be sure of the lay of the land before it gets completely dark. As you head outside, a flash of lightning ripples through the clouds approaching from the distance; it’s going to be an interesting night, that’s a given.

Lt. Riley secretly follows you with his eyes until he can see you move out of earshot and out the front door, only then does he make his way over to the young Scottish sergeant currently setting up his cot in the corner of the room. This is a fucking terrible idea that the lieutenant should immediately reconsider, but he cannot let this go. Bad idea or not, he is in it now no matter what.

Standing at his back until Soap turns around, the lieutenant doesn’t hesitate to speak up the moment the sergeant faces him. “Informin’ ya now, I’ll be the one takin’ second watch,” he says as flatly as he can, even though there is a pronounced pounding in his chest as he says it.

Soap raises an eyebrow before he crosses his arms with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Is that so? Hmm…right after sergeant sass?” he questions curiously as his gaze drifts to the door.

The lieutenant’s eyes narrow into a glare behind the mask. “Ya got a fuckin’ problem with that, Mactavish?” he challenges. “Do I need ta make it more clear who’s in charge here?”

“No, no,” Soap says as he shakes his head, “but… ye know ye don’t have ta go to all this trouble; if ye want some alone time, all ye got ta do is say so.”

A distant rumble of thunder sounds from outside the house to add atmosphere to the death glare that Soap is currently receiving after just having said what he did. “Careful,” the lieutenant warns. Guess any picking is off the table for right now, at least if the sergeant doesn’t want to end up in his superior’s bad graces. 

“Alright, I hear ye. You’re on second watch, sir,” he agrees with a chuckle as another crack of thunder echoes through the darkening sky that can just barely be spotted through the window from where they are standing. Soap draws attention to it with his head and Lt. Riley’s eyeline follows. “Though ye might wanna bring an umbrella later, ye know on account a things possibly gettin’...wet.”

There is something in that last bit that doesn’t sound like Soap’s usual witty remarks, something about the emphasis he puts on the last word is a bit more on the nose, as if he wants to say something about things he shouldn’t, but the moment is gone as Soap continues with setting up his cot and Lt. Riley dismisses it as coincidence. Nothing has happened this far that would give anything away… right?

A few hours pass and everyone has finally hunkered down for the night… Well, everyone except the lieutenant. Try as he might, he cannot relax. His limbs feel jittery as he lays stirring in his cot, staring into the dark as distracting thoughts race through his mind. The more he focuses on them the warmer he gets until he has to roll up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows just to get some relief from it clinging stiflingly around his body. 

It’s still too early for the next watch change, but he can’t just lay here, not when he knows you are right outside the door all alone as everyone is asleep inside. What his plan is he doesn’t fully understand yet, all he can think about right at this moment is just to be near you again. And these types of moments might be the only small chances he will get to even just spend a minute in your company while you’re here.

He gets up and cautiously makes his way through the scattered sleeping team, quiet and careful with his movements until he can make it out the house and into the cooler weather of a gathering storm about to break. The rolls of quiet, distant thunder are more frequent now as he shuts the door behind him, the first drops of precipitation starting to sprinkle over the skin of his bare forearms as he goes in search of you.

Barely getting far, the crunching sound of boot steps are headed his way and he waits on baited breath as you round the corner from the back of the house to return to the spot that you’ve designated at the front for you to sit until your watch ends. Your sight catches a figure standing there in the darkness as you approach, silhouetted by the dim moonlight; by the size of the shadow you instantly know who it is and your heart leaps into your throat. 

“All clear?” he asks as you come to stop before him.

“Si..sir,” you go to address him, but a momentary lapse makes you stumble over his title as you almost say his name, though you quickly recover. 

Simon chuckles; by your reaction it seems like you’ve been thinking of distracting things as well. Guess that means he isn’t the only one suffering. “We’re alone,” he reassures. “Everyone else’s asleep.”

You nod in acknowledgement. “I was just checking the perimeter and the shed,” you say as you point to the small shack out back behind the house. “Still empty. I have a clear view of it from here so I’d know if anything got in there, but I like to be thorough. Everything else is all clear, though.” 

It feels like you are rambling just to stall asking the question you desperately want to ask: why is he out here right now. It couldn’t be that he wants…? No, it is already understood that anything between you is put on hold until later; this must be something else and you chastise yourself internally for getting so worked up over nothing. 

As nonchalantly as possible, you bring up your curiosity. “So, what’re you doing up right now? It’s not time for anyone to relieve me yet.”

His stance shifts. “I know,” he says plainly.

“I-is something wrong?” you continue your line of questions. “I haven’t heard anything inside or out.”

Simon pauses as another rumble of thunder fills the background through the light percussive sound of raindrops trickling around you. “Ya know why I’m out here,” he says quieter, unsure if he even should admit it. “I had ta see ya.” 

An ache slowly spreads through your chest at his words, your heartbeat pounding, the air not filling up your lungs as you watch him take a few steps so that he can reach out to you and take your hand in his gloved one. He leads you both back around the corner of the house a little further from the entrance to conceal you against the side and out away from any prying eyes. 

The light sprinkling picks up as a ripple of lightning flashes across the sky so that the shadows it causes dance across your features. Water begins to stream down over your bodies, coating you in a layer of dampness that soaks through your clothes, your hair, over your skin until everything is moist. It doesn’t take much for Simon’s balaclava to quickly collect too much water for him to stay comfortably underneath it and so without hesitation he takes it off to tuck it into the back pocket of his pants.

He doesn’t mind keeping it off, not around you.

There it is, that face that you have been longing to get a better look at: those beautifully distinct chiseled features with their slight imperfections caused from injuries past. He truly is a fantastic sight, though you may very well be biased now as it wouldn’t have mattered what he had hidden under there, the way you feel around him is attractive enough; this is only a bonus. 

You want to reach out and run your fingers along his cheek, but you know it’s risky. It’s been hard enough being here with him already without making contact; you know if you’re not careful with yourself you might not be able to stop and that could risk putting him in a position he doesn’t want to be in yet. 

But as you both stand there in the silent company of the other trying to find the words, he moves first.

His gloved fingers travel across the skin of your forearm, stroking it up and down as he holds your gaze captive. “Ya know, every single fuckin’ time someone’s said your name on the way out ‘ere, all I can think ‘bout is how I wanna feel ya against me again,” he confesses in hushed murmurs. “Been strugglin’ like hell to hold it all together for the sake of tha mission, but it’s only gettin’ worse. I can’t do it tonight.”

You swallow to coat your dry throat as his lustful words nearly choke you. “Simon,” you whisper in a dreamlike stupor. “What are you doing?”

The pads of his fingers glide determinedly across your palm and down to the sensitive tips of your own fingers.“I need ya,” he says through a heavy sigh. “I need ya so fuckin’ bad, luv.”

What’s breathing and how do you do it again? How in the hell are you meant to hold it together and do your job with desperate words like those being spoken to you in such an aching way? Is this all some sort of punishment? If Simon meant to come out here to torture you, then he has succeeded perfectly.  

“I need ya however I can get ya; I’ll fuck ya in the goddamn dirt if ya want,” he continues as his touch leaves your hand and moves to tease around the top edge of your belt situated between your vest and your shirt. “Just can’t stay away from ya a fuckin’ second more. Gotta make good on my promise ‘fore it eats me alive.”

Your eyes turn to the front of the safehouse as if expecting someone to come popping out at any moment to interrupt this clandestine meeting. “What about the others?” you question as your attention is turned back to him. “We could get caught. You know our track record.”

“I don’t care,” he says firmly as he leans in until his face is inches from your own. “We’ve fuckin’ waited long enough for this. I need ta be inside ya, sweetheart.” 

Being this close with all this moisture coating you both head to toe, blood pressure rising with the agony of his words, skin aching from the proximity of your bodies, it’s too much. You are burrowed into his mind completely now and try as he might to keep sane, your venom is already flowing through his veins. He cannot stand here and simply take it anymore. Those full lips that are so tempting from afar, are unbearable when within range; if you want this to stop you are going to have to be the one to leave because he won’t.

“But if ya don’t wanna do this, you’re gonna have ta walk right back inside that fuckin’ house this second ‘cause I’m not gonna be able to control myself for much longer,” he says, that gravelly voice overflowing with need. “Not with how your lips are callin’ my name.”

The overwhelming tension radiating between your bodies, that steamy, sticky, air that clings to you even through the rain suffocates your every sense until you can’t see straight. The darkness surrounds you like a curtain, concealing you from the world in its protective barrier that is only cut through by the pale moonlight drifting through the clouds to make the rain shimmer like 

crystals as it falls. 

At the back of the safehouse, there is only you and him. Everything else ceases to exist. 

You stare back up into his face, watching as droplets of rain cascade down one by one off the tips of his long eyelashes and the ends of his short, pale hair to fall onto his cheeks and through the dark stubble covering his jawline. The tension is so stifling that it feels like it will suffocate you under the pressure. You don’t want him to remove his fingertips from your frame; he knows just how to embrace your body in a way you have never felt before and you’ve never been more alive than you are under his touch.

With a little hesitation your subconscious makes the choice for you about what to do next and you lower your gaze as the overwhelming need to reach out to him causes you to extend your arm without thinking. Your fingers make contact with his damp clothes and run the lines along his hip bones as they explore the curvature of his body where the wet fabric clings to his form. 

A sharp, sudden exhale out of his nose is followed by a deep, bassy groan. Even over his clothes the electricity of your touch sends him into a tailspin. Your movements betray your innermost thoughts to him, but still he needs you to use your words and say it aloud. He watches as your eyes follow the path of your fingers over him and uses the opportunity to take off his gloves and stuff them away in his vest so that he can feel you as he goes in.

Your gaze drifts back up his body to look into his eyes as his balmy, moist palm is placed at the base of the back of your head, his thumb resting against your cheek. “Tell me what ya want,” he says.

Melting into his touch, your lips form the words effortlessly before you can even stop yourself. “Kiss me.” 

Oxygen disappears as he leans in so that there is barely any space left between you, his mouth so close you can feel the warmth of his breath make the skin of your lips tingle and suddenly every thought outside of the ecstasy of this moment evaporates. There is no mission, there are no other soldiers here mere feet from you, there are only the two of you in a world of your own. With a few deep, jagged breaths his gaze locks to your lips and you feel him hesitantly go in and pull back before his mouth closes the distance to overtake yours in a fierce kiss.

And your fate is sealed.

The cool precipitation runs down between your faces to make your mouths slick, causing your lips to glide across one another as Simon desperately overpowers your mouth. He is relentless in the way he consumes your kiss; no sooner has he broken the connection to quickly swallow down air then in the next second he is already back in as if he needs to feel you more than he needs to breathe. 

Wet strands of hair around your face stick to your cheeks as he presses his features into yours so hard that you can’t catch your breath and the skin around your jaw stings from the abrasion of his stubble. Yet all that moisture is doing nothing to dampen the way you are burning for him; you need to see what happens if given the chance to go all the way. 

“Say ya need me too,” he groans against your lips and into your open mouth. “I have ta hear it. Say ya need me ta fuck ya good, that you’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout me all this time. Goddammit, say it.”

“I need you so fucking bad, Simon,” you whimper. “So bad it hurts. I can’t take it anymore.”

Your desperate words make him ache with an overwhelming ferocity that causes him to lose control. He shoves your back into the wall behind you and pins you to it as he bombards your mouth with his unrelenting passion, open-mouthed kisses overtaking your lips until you can feel them swell and burn from the pressure.

“Christ, I wanna make ya come so fuckin’ bad,” he growls. 

“Please,” you beg, giving into him completely. “I can’t wait. Not again.” 

You’re right, no waiting, not this time; he is not giving anything or anyone the chance to ruin this. The beast of his desire has him in a chokehold so agonizing that it will not let him go until he gets exactly what he needs, what you both need, until he completely loses himself in you. Some place hidden is what he desperately has to find now.

The shed is only a few yards away and his kiss-drunk mind makes the instant decision that it will have to do. At least you will have some privacy out of the rain; that is enough. As long as he gets inside you that is all he can ask for. 

“Come on,” Simon is able to get out as he grabs your hand tightly in his grip and starts to walk in long strides straight for the tiny shack just off the main house. You reach it in no time and he doesn’t stop as he flings open the door and pulls you inside behind him, leaving you to stand in the middle of the small space as he scrambles to block the door; there isn’t a chance in hell anyone is going to get to you both now.  

Not until he has had his way with you.

It physically pains him to be away from your lips for this long as he makes sure everything is secure, but it’s gotta be done. Once satisfied and not wanting to waste any more time away from your body, he moves right back into you and his mouth is crashing onto yours before you can blink. Its inherent, primal, a reaction as innate as breathing the way his lips know the exact way to embrace yours in that dance of back and forth as if you’ve done it for years.

To think he would have never gotten the chance to experience them had it not been for Mactavish’s idiotic game. Fuck, how could something so inconsequential lead to something so explosive that it is the only thing he craves above anything else?

Those determined hands of his paw blindly between your bodies, searching for the tabs at the sides of your tactical vest so that he can pull them to release it; there are more layers he has to get through this time. He breaks away from you so that he can flip the front of your vest over your head and throw it off your torso. Before it even hits the wooden floorboards he is hurriedly doing the same to himself, taking his shirt with it, before capturing your lips all over again; he will not stay away if he can help it and those pauses as he undresses you will be filled with him devouring your kiss.     

His fingers fill themselves with your shirt, clawing at it desperately trying to rip the wet fabric from your form without a care if he tears it to fucking shreds. The rough calluses on his hands create delicious friction along all that soft skin of your stomach as he goes up and under to rip both it and your bra off your head, making you gasp mutedly into his mouth. 

Pausing he can’t help staring at all this new, warm skin at his disposal. The nipples on your breasts are already hardening as they hit the cool atmosphere outside your clothes and he runs a greedy finger over the tiny rosebuds to feel them stiffen more from his touch. You are absolute in your perfection, a sight of sinfully decadent flesh that his mouth wants to get a hold of.

Strong arms wrap around your lower back to keep you locked to him as he bends his head down until his face reaches your breasts and he can bury himself against them so his lips can suck your nipple into his mouth. The moment his lips touch skin you arch your back with a shocked moan at how the suction sends waves of euphoria flooding through your limbs that only builds the longer he sucks. 

“Don’t stop,” you plead. 

Under his touch it feels just like heaven; there cannot be anything better than this. 

“Not this time, not till I fuckin’ make ya come,” he reassures in a husky, muted growl with his mouth full of you before he switches to the other breast, leaving neither out of their overdue pleasure. “You’re mine tonight. Ya hear me: mine.” 

The stubble on his chin pricks against the delicate skin of your breasts as he devours them, taking as much of the tissue into his mouth as he can hold as his tongue skillfully strokes around the areolas. All those contradicting sensations only add to the stimulation until your hips grind into him for the friction to relieve the pulsing in your clit. 

Heavy rain pelts down against the roof over your heads to drown out the sounds of your arousal; he needs to experience them all and so he has to get you closer. There are things he wants to say, dirty things he has fantasized about growling into your ear since that night when this whole fucking thing started and as his fingers itch to play with your pussy, he knows the way to make it all happen exactly as he wants.

Pulling his mouth from your chest, he moves from against you to situate himself sitting on the ground. Quickly he grabs onto your hips to spin you around so that he can promptly pull you down to sit in the middle of his lap. That throbbing bulge barely being contained by his pants is straining even harder now that there is pressure over it and you can feel it pulse into the muscle of your ass as your back molds into the contours of his broad chest and sparsely hair-covered abdomen.

You lean your head back against his shoulder as you enjoy the feeling of being wrapped up in him and he takes that as an invitation to lay more of his claim to your skin. All that gorgeous flesh of your neck is ready to be sucked and bitten till he has branded it with his mark. Taking your chin in his hand, he moves your head out of the way and immediately pounces on it. 

“Goddammit sweetheart, I’ve been in fuckin’ hell since even before we got ‘ere,” he murmurs in anguish into your throat, his heat-filled words warming your skin as his breath drifts down your exposed chest. “Thought I was gonna rip myself apart bein’ forced to only look and not touch. I’ve never wanted to feel someone more in my whole goddamn life than I do ya.”

His hands slip down your chest, drawing goosebumps from your bare body everywhere his fingertips grace until your mind is so numb you can’t feel your limbs; your body only exists in the places where he decides to touch. The poetry of his fingers leaves all those unspoken desires he has yet to fully acknowledge across your skin, searing the flesh until it is branded for him and him alone. His roughness makes you whimper open-mouthed into the air. Down the sides of your waist his hands travel, over your hips to cross in front of your belly button and finally his hand reaches your pants. 

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout your body in the worst fuckin’ ways,” he says with a growl. “You’ve been in my goddamn head since that first kiss. Never thought I could crave somethin’ so fuckin’ bad that I can’t let it go and I want to make ya to feel the same. I want ya so out of your fuckin’ mind from me that ya can’t function.” 

Undoing the belt buckle and button, he pulls down the zipper of your pants with feverish speed until he creates an opening that he can slip his hand into. Once inside he keeps going all the way down to the elastic that he has to fiddle with to get inside your panties. You let your knees fall open to give him more access as he finally reaches that sensitive mound between your thighs. He can feel just how warm you are, the damp heat radiating off your cunt and into his palm as he cups his hand up against your sex.

Your back jolts into his chest at the intense pressure. “Fuck,” he gasps into the crook of your neck. “There ya are, pretty girl. Goddammit, your pussy feels so fuckin’ good.”

His chest is tightening with his rapid breathing as he takes his middle finger to heavily drag over the slit of your cunt until he pushes through and it slips in between your silky petals right to your core. Again your body jolts into him as those thick fingers rub through the sensitive slit and then up so he can find what he is searching for: that small bundle he wants to stroke until you are dripping and grinding on his fingers. 

He can’t help himself once he gets his first real feel of how slick you are down there; it’s more beautiful than he could have ever imagined and brutishly he draws out concise circles with the pad of his finger on your clit. The heightened tension of this finally being the moment you have waited for, being with the man that has made you a mess without even trying, and the way his fingers work that tiny pleasure center like he owns it only makes the euphoria more intense. 

You are drowning in him.  

Your body writhes and squirms as his thick finger suddenly collects a friend to join it and they both travel together to your entrance to spread you open so they can slide up inside and stretch you out. Your hips start to roll over his hand in direct response to his stimulation, grinding so he has to keep an arm around your waist to keep you from bucking off his lap, but it is worth it just to feel the way your body moves against him.

“That’s it, ride ‘em, pretty thing,” he groans at the side of your head. You could almost hear it in his voice how much he is enjoying the sounds of you falling apart because of him.

That deep, permeating warmth gathering in your abdomen begins to spread throughout your entire form, its mind-numbing effects making it hard to speak, yet it isn’t enough. His fingers have taken you almost all the way, but you need him, need his cock filling you up and you need it now.

“Simon, fuck… please put it in,” you say breathlessly. “I want you in me. Now. God, I need it so fucking bad.”

Fucking hell, the desperate whine in your voice is enough to make him come. The moment is here and there is no chance that he is going to be able to do anything other than immediately grant your request after all the pining, all the tension you’ve had to struggle through. All of it comes to a head here and now.

“I’ve been fuckin’ dreamin’ of doin’ this,” he says as he helps you slip out of your boots and pants so that you sit there naked as you wait for him to do the same. “If we would’ve been alone in the rec that night… goddammit, your pussy would already know the way my cock feels, sweetheart.”

As soon as he’s done he pulls you back, turns you to face him, and helps you up onto your knees so you can straddle over his lap. Even through the haze of ecstasy, your sight catches the first glimpse of his body and you can’t stop the way your hands immediately splay over the sparse bit of hair covering his broad chest and stocky abdomen, trailing down towards his V line. Then you see it, what’s been prodding against you all this time; fuck, he’s big.

As your fingers run between the pectorals on his stomach, you can feel the moment his breath hitches. You will be the death of him and him you.

Your eyes meet again and he secures his hands around the curves of your hips. Here it is, the moment of no return. Time seems to stand still as you feel him position the fat tip of his cock at your entrance. 

“Breathe for me,” he says and with that he slowly shoves your hips down until the head is able to slip inside.

The girth of his phallus stretches you out as it fills you and the world falls away into nothingness as you cry out with the pleasure of his body as he keeps pressing down on your hips until the entirety of him rests inside you. It is overwhelming, the sensation that takes a hold of your soul and doesn’t let go, the one of finally having him. Try as you might to not let this get out of hand, you know it is already too late. Nothing, absolutely nothing in this whole fucking world can ever compare to the way your body feels wrapped around his cock: the glorious stretch, the fullness, the throbing that you can feel pulse inside you. 

And from the sounds Simon is now making, you know he feels the same.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck,” that deep agonized whimper echoes through the shed as Simon’s hands bear down hard into your hips so he can keep you still until he can steady himself. His head falls against your forehead where it rests. “…s-shit…so fuckin’ good, luv.”

As he moves your body slowly up and down over his lap, making you bounce on his cock, he realizes that he will not be the same after this. Christ, you are the worst type of addiction; no matter how much he gets he only wants more. Simon is inside of you and yet even that isn’t enough. He wants to fuck you to the point of ruin, so that you will be his and only his from this day forward because there is no coming out of this unscathed.

Even within the first few minutes of being inside you he is already pussy drunk off how beautifully your walls contour to his shape, holding him fixed in all that warmth and wetness, and that leaves him unable to take things slow. Without warning Simon tilts you both back slightly so that he can take over and fuck you even rougher now. 

His fingers grip into the muscles of your hips hard enough to leave purple fingerprints as he pounds up into you furiously. Your body shakes with each snap of his hips as he slams into you with a feral roughness that his brain forces on him as he can only think of one objective: for you both to come.

“Look at me,” he demands through ragged breaths as he grabs at your face with those large hands; he’s falling apart so fast now, “keep those pretty eyes on me. I need… shit…I need ta see what they look like the moment ya come. My fuckin’ pretty girl.”

The rain that had coated your bodies moments before almost turns into steam as the passion of his movements fill the air with so much heat. You are completely at his mercy, his hulking size overwhelming you so that he can do with you as he pleases, but the way he thrusts deeper and deeper only draws you closer to that razor’s edge; it’s approaching fast.

“Fuck, don’t stop Simon, please, I’m so close,” you plead through your panting, your toes curling into the floor as the stimulation makes your brain blank. It’s there, right there; just a bit more and you will fall over the precipice.

He pumps with everything in him and that is it; with a shudder your orgasm rockets through you fiery hot, making your body writhe in his grasp as you cry out and a loud clap of thunder rings through the heavens to drown out the sound. You try to fall against him, but he won’t let you. That firm grip keeps your head up so that his eyes can take in everything about the moment as it crosses your face and fuck is it beautiful.

God, it won’t stop, second after second your orgasm just keeps pulsing with relentless intensity and Simon isn’t letting up. He can’t, he’s so fucking close he can taste it. Shit, the way your engorged walls are fluttering something fierce he just needs a little more friction and he’ll come too.

Bringing your face in he takes your mouth with all the roughness he has left as he allows himself to let go and with a few more thrusts, that is it. At the last second he rips his cock out of you and nestles it between your bodies as he milks out all that warm cum along your stomach, coating you with all that pent up tension he has been holding on to all this time. His abdominal muscles contract hard, heart pounding out of his chest, body writhing as a shiver runs up his spine until his movements finally slow and he stops, completely spent. 

Rain slacks off as you both just sit there a moment, panting to catch your breath as he holds you securely wrapped in his arms, face still close as if he only ever wants to breathe the same air you breathe, his nose nuzzling against yours as his lips fight to stay off of you long enough that you can both settle. It takes a few minutes, but finally he can feel his limbs again.

Just then the alarm on your watch begins its high-pitched beeping to signal that your relief is meant to take your place on guard duty. You laugh under your breath as it seems it’s now your opportunity to say those fucking words that seem to be the signal of the end of your time together. 

“Times up,” you say quietly, but he just shakes his head.  

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart,” he replies firmly as his arms tighten around your form, “not yet. You’re still mine for now, I’ll deal with tha rest ‘a the shit later. I’m not lettin’ ya leave me.”

There’s no way you are going to fight him on it; you want to stay here with him a little while longer as well. Leaning in, you rest your head against his chest to listen to the beat of his heart as it continues to slow with each deep breath. As he sits there bundled up with you in that glowing euphoria as you both come down from the high, he knows this is only the beginning of something that he cannot stop. 

And maybe for the first time in his life, he doesn’t want it to.

Tagging: @kirewinter @spooky-pomegranate @heliumshorns @mudisgranapat @konigs-left-pec @dragonstoneshortcake @cum-tea-and-towels @scaleniusrm @cod-z @shadowydestinylover

[nightingale-prompts]

Saving Batboy

First | Previous | Next

It was as though he was being led through the city. Dick seemed to know exactly where he should go next as he drove.

Dick turned off his location as he closed in on Joker's location. If anyone had doubts about what would happen tonight they knew now. The clown dies tonight.

Batman never did it because he knew there would be no coming back once he crossed that line but he was not Batman.

Tim knew the moment Nightwing's symbol disappeared that he had found Joker's location. He knew he could track him still based on where he was before but he held off. The last time Dick crossed the line and killed the Joker, Tim was there to stop him. In the time since Tim had grown to regret it. Especially after Jason's return. He should be avenged after everything that happened.

Tim never put much thought into what happened when he was kidnapped just like Danny. Joker Jr was just a nightmare and everyone pretends it didn't happen. His past self doesn't exist to him and the gaps in his memory are better as they are.

If Dick was really going to finish this then Tim wasn't going to stop him. Bruce's code was his code alone. What of the Robins that suffer for it? What about his kids that he loves to the point of self-destruction if they die?

It was clear to Tim now. Batman isn't strong enough to kill Joker. If he can't handle it, someone else would.

Maybe Dick just cared more. Or maybe he had seen this happen too many times to sit by and let it happen again. The cost be damned.

Tim took a deep breath. He knew it was a bad move but he shut down the bat computer. No one could locate each other for the next 10 minutes. Enough time to give Dick the lead he really needs. All the comms are down and no information can be shared.

Tim looked up and saw Alfred putting down a cup of tea for him. Tim felt like a child caught doing something wrong under Alfred. But Alfred nodded wordlessly before turning to leave. He cast a forlorn glance at Jason's robin uniform before ascending the stairs.

****

"I was hoping Batman would come for the little bat. Oh sorry, I mean the boy." Joker mocked holding Danny by the back of the neck.

The teen's body was limp. His silver locks stained a rusty brown from dried blood. Blood covered his back and legs. If there had been any doubt if the wings were real there is none now.

"…" Nightwingwing said nothing. His fist clenched.

"You know I debated skinning him next. That fur of his would be a lovely shawl. It's so soft. But it looks like I won't have the time now." Joker provoked, running a hand through the boy's white neck fur.

"Get your hands off him." Nightwing demanded, his eyes locked on Danny for any signs of life.

"You know I am so curious what he was doing here. I was about to build a new trap here for fun when I stumbled upon this little guy here. Practically gift-wrapped. Did he run away from you? Just like you did from good ol'papa bat." Joker's smile widened sickeningly "This all feels so familiar, doesn't it little bird? Are you going to finish what you started?"

"I'm never letting you hurt my family again." No witty one-liners. No games. This bad joke ends today.

****

Batman had scoured the area. He memorize the last location Dick was before the system went down. He wasn't these kids' father for nothing he knew what they were doing.

When sound came back he had already made it to the abandoned factory. The comms rang back to life as the sounds of crying came through.

"Nononono…please no. Wake up. Please wake up." It was Dick's voice. "It's okay. I'm here now. So just wake up. We need to get home soon. Your favorite show will be on soon. WAKE UP! YOU CAN'T DIE!"

Batman bolted to their location and found Dick hovering over Danny trying to resuscitate him.

His son looked at him with pleading eyes.

"I can't hear his heart. He's not breathing." He let out a shaky breath. As distressed tears ran down his cheeks.

Bruce knelt next to them. Danny didn't react to the pressure on his chest. The pain should have at least caused an involuntary jerk if he wasn't too far gone.

Bruce signaled Dick to move back as he checked Danny's pulse again. Nothing. And he wasn't breathing. Bruce looked at his son. Deep down Dick probably knew.

"I'm sorry. He's gone." Bruce said simply as he took off his cloak.

Danny looked so peaceful. Like he was sleeping soundly. Bruce hated that his own suspension had been the thing that had prevented him from having a relationship with his own grandson. He felt foolish to not realize that of course Danny and Batboy were the same. It was a brilliant disguise. But he'd never get to say this to the boy.

Bruce wrapped the boy in his cloak.

"Come on. We'll fix this." He told Dick, carrying Danny for him.

The journey back to the manor was silent until.

"I'm sorry." Bruce said.

"Don't. Just Don't. He's my son. Its my fault." Dick rasped his voice scratchy from crying.

Bruce felt a bitter sting. That was exactly what he felt when he lost Jason and what happened with Tim. When Damian lost his life. These pains didn't go away.

When they arrived back in the Batcave Bruce laid Danny's body on the table. The others were notified about what happened and had already gathered.

Barbara looked like she had bawled her eyes out as she hugged Stephanie.

Damian had pressed himself close to Tim as the older brother told him that it was going to be okay.

The new hole in the wall was clearly Jason if his bloodied knuckles were any clues.

Cassandra paced the floor deep in thought. She was moments away from starting a new crusade.

Duke stared off into the distance. His anger boiling under the surface. All he could think about was the number of lives ruined by the Joker and even in death he took another.

Dick stood still as a statue. Thinking about if Danny could be brought back and even if he was his wings were gone. What if he was gone for good? Could he live like that?

Never had he understood Bruce more than in that moment.

Bruce braced himself for what would come next. He had a plan to bring Danny back at any cost.

But suddenly a sound broke through the tension.

A sneeze.

A fucking sneeze.

It came up from under the cloak.

Everyone snapped to look at the body hidden under the cloak. It shifted under the heavy black blanket groggily and yawned. Then Danny jumped up twisting to feel his back.

"What happened!!" He yelped.

[mapis-putellas]

Jealousy jealousy

Pairing: Alexia x Reader

Words: 2817

Warnings: none

Summary: No one told Alexia that when you got a dog, she’d drop down to the second most important thing in your life. Based on this request.

Notes: this came our way longer than expected, and also way more angsty. Enjoy!

[prompts]

In retrospect, getting a dog may not have been Alexia’s best idea. Sure, it was cute little thing with brown fur, ocean blue eyes and tiny little legs. And sure, it kept you comply whilst she was at training. But she had no idea that somehow, she'd end up becoming second best to it.

It didn't quite click at first, honestly. The missed dinner dates and matches were all something she hoped would pass as soon as the novelty of having a new puppy wore off.

But that unfortunately that hadn't been the case.

It had been two weeks, and Alexia had probably spent an hour alone with you total. Any time she tries and gets you by yourself, that pesky puppy would appear and you'd do nothing but encourage him to stay. At first, it was just mild annoyance on Alexia's part. She knew you were excited and the last thing she wants was to discourage it.

But the dog was around all the damn time.

In the kitchen cooking dinner; you'd wonder in with him in your arms. You'd no longer wrap your arms around her waist and murmur sweet things into her ear.

In bed trying to sleep; you'd beg and plead with her to let the dog sleep with you too and if she said no -which more often than not she did because she did not want dog hair in the bed- you'd abandon her and go sleep on the couch despite her own pleads and protests for you to come back.

Alexia didn't sleep well without you. You knew that and having to call you back with that stupid crack in her voice was humiliating. Especially when you'd either ignore or not hear her. It had happened almost every single night since she’d brought you the puppy, and now she’s slowly given up hope in getting you to stay.

You didn't seem to notice the constant irritation or the bags beneath her eyes which was normally something you were smart enough to catch on to before she did.

All in all, just wanted you, but apparently all you wanted was the stupid damn dog. It was obvious that her annoyance would slowly transform into pure hurt and irritation. Not just at the dog now, but you too.

She didn't mean to be jealous. She didn't want to be jealous either, but it was hard not to be when it seemed as though you no longer cared about her.

"Good morning.” you greet cheerfully as you walk into the kitchen, kissing the dog tenderly before easing him down onto the floor to start preparing his breakfast.

Alexia simply grunts from where she was sat at the kitchen island, arms folded on the marble with her head resting on top of them. She'd been here since four after yet another sleepless night without you in the bed.

"Did you sleep well?" You don't even look at her as you ask, eyes diligently reading something on the of a box that held the dogs treats.

Alexia shrugs.

"Such a good boy! Eat up little man and then you can have a treat." Alexia feels her throat constrict and the tone of your voice, the softness and warmth of it normally reserved for just her. Feeling more pathetic than she's felt in a long time, she stands up with the intention of trying to find somewhere to hide until she has to leave for training.

"Ale? Where are you going?" She hears you call as she makes it to the kitchen threshold, and though she pauses, she doesn't turn around.

"Shower." She forces out, ignoring the way her voice unmistakably trembles as she tries and holds herself together.

You don't respond verbally, but she feels your loose grasp on the materiel of her shirt, lightly tugging to encourage her to turn round. She shakes her head, knowing deep down she wouldn't be able to do so without inevitably crying.

"Ale. Look at me." You place a hand on either of her hips to physically turn her when she yet again refuses to do so herself, immediately alarmed at the shiny eyes and trembling bottom lip that greets you.

"Baby? What- hey, it's okay." You loop an arm around her waist to tug her body into your arms. She immediately falls limp against you, her body shuddering almost violently as her hands desperately cling to the back of your shirt.

At this moment, you long to be the taller one between the two of you. You would love nothing more than to just scoop her up into your arms and hold her just like she did with you. But that was physically impossible.

Instead, you tighten your hold around her as much as you were physically capable of doing, tucking your face into her neck and pressing a gentle kiss to the warm skin.

"Shh, I've got you baby. You're okay." You murmur, lightly swaying her side to side.

Suddenly, a quiet yap fills the room, and both you and Alexia startle at the unexpected sound. The blonde immediately tenses in your hold, arms tightening around your shoulders to a point where it becomes slightly uncomfortable. Another yap from the puppy tightens it further, and you wince as you place a hand on each of her hips in a futile attempt at loosening it.

"Ale, let me just-" You try.

"No."

"Baby, the dog-"

"I said, no." Her voice breaks.

Your heart breaks at the sound, and you wish desperately she would let you go so you could let the puppy outside and focus all of your attention on her.

"Alexia, just give me a sec to let the puppy out."

No response.

"The dog needs-"

"I need you!" She cuts you off, the unmistakable sound of a sob slipping from her lips.

"What? Baby I-"

"I need you."

"Ale, please-”

"Fine!" She chokes out, ripping herself out of your arms and storming down the hall to your bedroom. You wince as the bathroom door slams loudly, echoing loudly throughout your shared apartment, and you take a few steps towards the door before retreating and turning back to the puppy.

"Okay, I need to go see mama so you need to go in here for a while." You place him into his play pen, ignoring his little barks as he jumps up and rests his front paws on the side. "I know. It's okay. I'll be right back."

You're reluctant to leave him by himself, but Alexia was your main concern right now.

Your shared bedroom was empty as you push against the partially open door and step inside, the sound of the shower water splattering against the tiled floor filling your ears. Knowing she'll be in there for a while due to the fact the shower was normally her escape from everyone and everything, you perch on the end of the bed and let out a quiet sigh.

You didn't quite know just what was wrong, if you were being honest. Sure, you'd been quite distracted with the puppy these past few days, but Alexia hadn't seemed to bothered. In fact, the numerous times you'd tried to check on her, she'd been busy with whatever was keeping her occupied.

Did something happen at training? You were doubtful she'd tell you if that was the case. What ever happens at training usually seems to stay there. Usually, if something does happen that you needed to know about, Mapi was the one who usually reaches out, and you'd not heard from her in days.

You were stumped.

Alexia felt much the same. Stood beneath the hot stream of water, she contemplates just how she was going to get out of this without having to talk. It wasn't that she didn't want to, but she was embarrassed. Embarrassed at herself for being so jealous. Embarrassed at herself for freaking out.

Embarrassed for being so needy.

In the end, eighty percent of her shower was spent stifling her sobs whilst the other twenty was spent actually getting clean. With no other option than to face the music, she stops the water and steps out onto the bath mat before bundling herself up in a towel.

With a soft sniffle, she roughly wipes the tears off of her cheeks and blows out a deep breath before unlocking the door and pushing it open. She see's you immediately on the edge of the bed and purposefully avoids eye contact as she passes you to get to the closet.

Once clad in her training gear, hair brushed and put up in its usual ponytail, she stops at the threshold of the closet door not quite sure what to do with herself. You end up deciding for her, sending her a smile as you hold out your hand.

"C'mere." You encourage, Alexia sighing softly as she complies and makes her way over to you, stopping just in front your legs. You pat your thighs to encourage her to sit, but Alexia shakes her head.

"No, amor. You are too sm-"

"Baby, please. Let me hold you." You plead, reaching forward and gently grasping her shirt before giving it gentle tug. Alexia visibly hesitates, and you tug again, this time a little harder. "Sit, ale. Let's talk."

Alexia hesitates before giving in and allowing you to pull her onto your lap. This position wasn't one you sat in often, or, ever, if Alexia really thinks about it. More often than not, she was the one to hold you, especially in this sort of circumstance. She'd always feared she'd be too big. But you take her weight with ease, looping your arms around her midsection and pulling her chest against your own.

She moves with you, arms settling around your shoulders as she lowers her head and rests her chin on your shoulder.

"What happened, mhh?"

Alexia couldn't help but scoff, but she couldn't find it in herself to pull away. This was the first piece of attention she's had in weeks and she'll be damned if she gives it up.

You hear her loud and clear, letting out a quiet sigh as you burrow your nose into her neck.

"Right. Stupid question. Can you tell me?" You plead.

Alexia shakes her head. "It does not matter." She murmurs, and you immediately frown.

"Yes, it does. Especially if you're this upset."

She pushes herself away from you, hands resting on your shoulders as she gives you a look of exasperation. "You seriously do not know?"

"No." You shake your head. "Is it something at training?"

"No, it is nothing at training. It is the dog." She grumbles, purposefully avoiding eye contact as the feeling of embarrassment creeps back in.

"What did the dog do?" You don't seem mad as you tenderly cup her cheek to encourage her to face you, just confused.

“What did the dog do? Are you kidding?” She gets off of your lap before turning to face you with a glare, your hand falling to your lap.

“Ale-”

“No! I am tired of this. I am tired, amor. I got you this dog to keep you company when I go away. But now he is all you care about. All of your attention is always on him! You do not even sleep in the same bed anymore because I won’t let him in the bed and you refuse to leave him alone. I know he is just a puppy, amor, and that is why I bought him a playpen!”

“Ale-”

“And I do not even know how many date nights you have missed because you cannot leave him alone for an hour. An hour, amor! I am not asking for much!”

“Baby-”

“I have not slept in weeks! Because I cannot sleep without you, and you know this! I am tired. I am angry, and I am frustrated because you do not care about me anymore!’ She finally finishes her rant, and you stare at her, mouth agape at eyes wide.

You had no idea she felt this way. Sure, as you’ve said before, you knew you’d being paying more attention to the dog, but you’d assumed Alexia was okay with that. She was the most stubborn and independent person you knew, often preferring to be by herself after spending the majority of her day surrounded by people at training. You occasionally sat with her, you would never talk or touch. It was simply just existing together in one another’s company. Perhaps that had made you naive enough to believe she’d be alright without you around because she hadn’t said otherwise. But then again, Alexia never willingly tells you anything so maybe assuming had been the wrong thing to do.

When you don’t say anything, Alexia seems to take that as her answer.

“But it does not matter. Go see the dog, I have training.” She murmurs, picking up her kitbag and hooking it over her shoulder before making her way out of the room.

“Hey, no! Come back!”

Nothing.

Feeling a little desperate now, you rise to your feet and rush after her, wrapping your arms around her waist and holding her in place just as she nears the front door.

“Amor, I need to-”

“No, you’ve had your turn to talk. Now it’s mine.”

“Amor-” she attempts to pry your hands away from her stomach.

“I’m so, so sorry that I haven’t been a good girlfriend ale. And I’m so sorry that I haven’t picked up on how upset you’ve been.” When she stills in your arms, you loosen your hold around her waist and slowly turn her to face you. Her eyes were shiny, and you pout softly as you yet again pull her into a hug. She falls into you for the third time this morning, and the only way you could tell she was crying was by the tears that drop onto your neck.

“Having a puppy, especially as young as ours, is a big commitment. I knew you didn’t want a dog, especially this far into the season so I was trying to do everything to save you a job. That’s no excuse, baby, and I’m so sorry I’ve pushed you away. It wasn’t on purpose, i swear to you. And I know you bought the play pen for him, and I fully intend to use it but he’s only a baby, ale, and I don’t want to leave him by himself.”

“But…but you are okay with leaving me by myself?” Alexia pulls away from you, her voice sounding absolutely miserable.

“What? No! Of course not.” You reach up and wipe her tears away, leaning up onto your tiptoes and kissing her forehead. “I absolutely did not want to leave you by yourself and neither am I okay with it, but you understand why I can’t be there and he can’t. It won’t be forever, just until he’s old enough to understand, and he will, because he’s been doing so good with his training. I know I didn’t talk to you about any of this and it was stupid of me to assume you’d be okay with it and I am so, so sorry, Alexia. I’m so sorry.”

“It is okay. I am sorry.”

“No, it’s not okay, and you don’t have to be sorry. All of this is on me and I promise to make it up to you, okay? This weekend, it’ll be just us. My mum can watch the puppy.”

“Just us?” Alexia looks so hopeful it only amplifies your guilt by a thousand.

“Yes, baby, just us. I promise.” You assure, blinking back your own tears as you pull her back into your chest. Alexia sighs deeply as she falls against you, hand rising to cup the back of your head.

It was a couple minutes later that Alexia speaks again.

“I am late to training.” She whispers, and you sigh softly as you reluctantly pull her away from you.

“Go to training ale, I’ll see you later yeah? I love you.”

Alexia tightens her grasp around you for a moment, before kissing your neck and pulling away. Her hands cup your face, and you melt into the gentle kiss she places to your lips.

“Te amo, bebé.” She murmurs as she pulls away, bending down to pick up her kitbag. She makes her way to the door, hand lingering on the handle as she turns her head to face you. “See you later.”

“See you later, baby.”

**

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@liloandstitchstan @simp4panos @goldenempyrean @codiemarin @girlgenius1111

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter one

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a small town somewhere in beautiful greece, early morning coffee runs, and the cute boy that you keep running into. (4.8k)

warnings: sort of shy!reader, a bit of swearing, lando being both smooth and a little awkward

a/n: series masterlist coming soon :)

“That guy is totally checking you out.” 

You reluctantly drag your attention away from the truly addicting pasta you’d ordered to meet your friend’s gaze across the table, slightly suspicious, but also a little curious as to what she’s talking about.

Samira is grinning knowingly at you already, mischievously, like she’s got a tasty bit of information you don’t know about. Probably not tastier than the food in front of you, but your interest is piqued nonetheless. 

“What guy?” You sigh, giving into your curiosity quite easily. She arches a perfectly sculpted brow at you, then tilts her head to the side discreetly, and you follow her gaze towards—

Oh. That guy. 

You saw him on your way to your seat at first, a group of four guys sitting a few tables away in the same patio area of the restaurant, drawing your attention even before you’d sat down. Artfully messy brown curls swept up out of his face, thick dark brows framing bright eyes crinkled with laughter at something his friend had said, you’d felt yourself growing conscious of the man’s existence with just one glance. 

And then his gaze had flicked to your friends passing his table, but more importantly, your own gaze, and you’d nearly stumbled on your own feet.

Your cheeks had grown hot at the intensity of his stare following your path to your seat, not to mention the embarrassment that had flooded your veins at the thought of nearly eating shit in front of this very attractive stranger. 

Had you grown the nerve to look back at him at the time, you would’ve seen his lips quirk into a goofy grin, as well as all the shoving he’d gotten from his friends as they’d caught wind of his unabashed staring. 

Now you’re almost done with your meal, and you could swear you’ve felt him looking at you plenty more times. Not that it mattered at all, because your eyes have been firmly glued to your food and your friends only. 

Okay, so you might’ve hastened a few covert glances over in his direction too, but he’s been chatting away to his friends every time, so maybe you’re just making nothing into something. 

“Don’t even try to hide it, you’ve been making eyes at him too, girl,” Your other friend, Maren, pipes up, elbowing you in the arm playfully. The last of your girls, Camille, nods her agreement, smiling gleefully. “He’s hot.”  

Right, so perhaps not as covert as you’d thought. 

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” You reply, spearing another piece of pasta through your fork. You’re kicked under the table at that moment, hard enough to warrant the whine that escapes your mouth. “What?” Now you're met with three pointed glares your way. “Okay, fine. Yeah, he’s cute.” 

“Go talk to him!” 

“Go flirt with him!” 

“Absolutely not!” You exclaim. Your voice comes out louder than you intend and you duck your head quickly, worried you’d disturbed the peace of the quiet area. “He’s probably got a girlfriend already or something.” 

“If he does, she better dump his ass because he's been giving you fuck me eyes all damn night.” 

“No, he has not,” You hiss, which only gets you yet another look from them. You’re starting to get tired of all these looks, actually. “Has he? I mean—are they? Fuck me eyes?” 

“Oh yeah, he—” 

Camille clears her throat, cutting Samira off. “No, they’re not,” She assures you, placing a hand over yours. “He’s been smiling every time he looks over.”

“Maybe he’s looking at one of you guys?” 

“He’s definitely been looking at you.” 

You bite your lip, nose scrunching skeptically. You haven’t really been the subject of any guy’s attention before, let alone one as handsome as this one. You’ve learned it’s better not to get your hopes up when it comes to certain situations. This seems like one of them. “Are you sure?” 

“If I’m wrong, I’ll give you back your share of the villa rental.” 

“Can I get that in writing, or…?” 

Before any of them can come up with a smart remark, a plate is placed into the center of the table, on which is a large square of baklava, light and flaky with that sweet, sugary filling spilling out the sides of the piece that almost makes your mouth water. You’d seen it in the dessert section of the menu earlier, but had decided against ordering it in favor of trying an appetizer instead. 

“Oh, excuse me? We didn’t order this,” Maren speaks up, looking up at the waiter. 

He does a half turn, sweeping an arm in a vague direction. “It is from the gentleman in the blue shirt.” 

You follow his gaze, and fuck, your heart skips a beat in your chest, because it’s him. It’s the same guy you’ve been drawn to all night, and he’s actually looking right back at you this time. His hand comes up in a wave, then back down to his side almost immediately, like he’s worried about it seeming too eager, before settling with a reserved nod. All the while, he’s still got that smile gracing his face that makes your stomach flip flop. 

“He sent over a dessert?!?! I am so keeping that money, girl,” Camille hums, picking up her fork to dig in while Samira and Maren voice their agreement. 

You, on the other hand, well…you’re not sure what to think. You appreciate the gesture, but you're also confused. Why did he send something over? What did he want? 

It doesn't occur to you that he’s truly taken an interest in you until you're huddled outside with your friends talking next steps of the night. Whether you want to keep exploring this new place, or call it a day and go home. You’re firmly on the latter’s side because you're tired. But you’ll go along with whatever is decided. 

The guy and his friends have coincidentally left the restaurant at the same time as you did, judging by the sudden commotion that erupts behind you. Like a moth drawn to a flame, your gaze lands on him yet again, only this time, you actually lock eyes with him. Something jolts through you, something electric up your spine like a tiny shock. Something you’ve never felt before. You shove the foreign feeling deep down, no matter how much you’d like to explore it. 

He looks away, teeth sunk into his bottom lip to quell the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, and you avert your wandering eyes too, before anyone else notices. Evidently you’re a little too slow, because all three of your friends catch on instantly. 

“Go talk to him already.” Camille says matter-of-factly. 

“No, I—what do I even say?” 

“Maybe hello would be a good start?” 

You press your lips together, unimpressed, and you get a snicker in return, something about how you're not asking for his hand in marriage, you’re just trying to make conversation. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him, it’s that you’re not exactly sure how to approach it. You’ve already convinced yourself of the worst, but to possibly have it play out in real life is a tangible fear of yours, and always has been. 

One of your girls (you’re willing to bet more money it’s Maren) gives you a not so gentle shove towards him, as does one of his friends over in his group. Now you’ve got no choice. You meet each other in the middle, just looking at each other for a few moments. It’s awkward and you have half a mind to turn and go, but then he speaks. 

“Hey,” He says. 

“Hi,” You reply shyly, shifting on your feet nervously. He shoves both hands into his pockets. He looks a bit nervous too, which does a significant wonder to calm you. “Thank you for the baklava. It was delicious.” 

“Yeah, of course. Glad you guys liked it. Figured you can’t go wrong with a classic.” He bobs his head, shoulders creeping up towards his ears in a shrug before dropping back down. “I’m Lando, by the way.” 

Lando. It’s not a name you’re expecting, but it suits him well. 

He sticks his hand out almost instinctively, like he’s been conditioned to do so. Maybe he has, considering the aura of professionality it gives off when you do shake his hand. 

His palm is smooth and warm against yours, long fingers curling around your hand like the sincere smile that curls his lips as you tell him your name in return. Dimples bracket his mouth on both sides. 

The handshake almost lasts a little too long for two people who’ve just met literally a few moments ago, as does the way his eyes linger upon yours. 

Even in the dark of the night, illuminated only by the warm glow of the lamps above you, you can see him much better up close. His sunkissed skin does little to hide the flushed pink on his cheeks that travels down to his chest, disappearing under the generously unbuttoned blue linen. You feel exposed under his intense gaze, looking back at those mesmerizing eyes. Blue, green, gray—maybe a mix of all three, you’re not sure, but you can’t help but want to figure it out. 

Then you remember that you don’t know this guy at all, and it brings you back to reality. 

“Lando, like…the guy from Star Wars?” You ask. It breaks the invisible tether between the two of you and he smiles, laughs a little bit too. 

He shrugs casually. “Not according to my mum and dad, but I do get that a lot.” 

“You must get tired of hearing it from people then.”

His head tilts to one side, smile going endearingly lopsided. “Depends on the person. Like, I didn’t mind when you said it just now.” You’re not sure how to respond to that, so you just smile, and he takes your reaction in stride, moving on. “Are you guys from around here, or…” 

“No, actually, we’re—um, we’re just here on holiday.”

“Oh, same! Yeah, we’ve been here a few days now, it’s been great. Is this your first time in Greece?” He asks, smile turning warm. You nod. “Have you checked out the local market yet?”

“Can’t say we have yet, no. We just got in the day before last, so…still figuring out our footing first. But I’ll keep it in mind, thank you!” 

Lando inhales sharply, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Hey, y’know, if you want, maybe we could—” 

“Oi, Lando! Let’s go, mate!” 

He glances back over at his friends, one of whom is waving for him to return to his group rather wildly, before turning back to you. Whatever he was about to say is lost now, because he shrugs loosely. “Guess that’s my cue,” He sighs. Then his gaze softens, smile turning a little hopeful. “Will I see you around again? Small town and all.” 

“Uh…I dunno. Maybe, if it’s meant to be.” You have to try with all your might not to take the statement back, even though you really, really want to. 

If it’s meant to be—who the fuck says that? Like fate has anything to do with this miraculous interest Lando seems to have taken in you. If you were him, you’d find your words quite off putting. Instead, he smirks, crooked and cute. 

“Meant to be,” He repeats, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah alright, I’ll take my chances. Have a good night.” 

You bid him a soft goodnight, barely able to stifle the giggle that spills from your mouth when he nearly trips over the cobblestones on his way back to his friends. He’s awkward, you think, but still confident. It’s cute. 

Lando stays rooted in your mind the rest of the night, all the way up until you’re lying in bed, waiting for sleep to take hold of you. It’s weird to think this much about a guy you’ve just met, a guy who you’ve only had one conversation with and have left things up to chance in terms of seeing him again. 

-------

You’re the first one awake this morning, roused from your sleep by bright sunlight pouring through the window, even through the curtains. Contemplation of going back to sleep crosses your mind, but it’s no use. You’re up now, so you might as well make the most of your early morning. 

You love your friends dearly, but some alone time sounds like heaven right about now. There’s a coffee spot not far from where you’re staying that you remember seeing on your way in that seems like a perfect match to your solo walk, so you head there. You’ll be a nice friend and bring coffee home for when they eventually wake up too. 

After dropping them a text letting them know you’ve gone out, you set off. The walk back into town is short but serene, a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of your daily lives, and a reminder of why you’d all decided to vacation in this particular region of Greece in the first place. 

Someone calls out something that sounds like your name before you can step into the shop and you pause, casting a glance around to see if your ears might be playing tricks on you. You’ve only been here a few days, and the only other person who knows you other than your friends is…Lando. 

You squint a little harder to see through the glare of the sun, and lo and behold, there he is, hands linked behind his head. The grin that lifts your face is almost embarrassing, or would’ve been had Lando not been so eager upon seeing you wave at him. 

He’s clad in athletic shorts and a cutoff tee that shows off muscles you’re trying your very hardest not to stare at as he makes his way closer, curls tucked away in a baseball cap pulled low on his head. Headphones dangle from around his neck, and he’s panting, chest rising and falling heavily very clearly once he’s stopped in front of you. 

“Hey, good morning! I thought that was you,” He breathes, attempting to catch his breath. “Early riser too, I take it?” 

“Honestly, not usually! The sun decided I would be today, though, so…here I am.” 

“Here you are. Guess it was meant to be then, huh?” He chuckles, reaching up to flip his cap backwards. If you thought he was tan the night you met, he’s even tanner in the sun, bronze skin stretching over sinewy muscle that flexes as he sweeps a hand through his hair before tugging it back down in one smooth motion. “Doing a coffee run?” 

“Yeah, I’m the only one of us awake at this hour so I figured I’d bring them back a little something.” 

“You’re a saint. I’d let my mates suffer if it were me,” Lando snorts. 

You shrug. “Guess that’s the difference between the two of us.” 

“Yeah?” He hums, looking amused. “What else is different between you and me?” 

“Well, first of all, I would never be on a run at eight in the morning. Is someone punishing you, or is this a self-inflicted torture type thing?” 

That gets another laugh out of him, shoulders shaking with mirth. “Gotta keep in shape or my trainer might try to kill me with workouts instead.” 

“You’re an athlete?” You pry, intrigued. He looks the part, you think. Lean but not skinny, strong but not massively built. A runner, maybe? 

Lando freezes a split second, rocks from foot to foot, scratching at his nose. “Kind of, yeah.” 

“What’s your sport?” 

“Uh…golf. It’s more like a hobby than anything else.” 

“Golf,” You repeat, an amused smile poking at the edges of your mouth. “Can’t say I know a thing about it.” 

“Oh, it’s definitely something else, for sure. Super intense stuff, really grueling.” His words say one thing, but he’s grinning like he’s pulling your leg, lip pulled between his teeth in that same way as last night, nose scrunching adorably as he bobs his head quickly to further sell it. 

“Sure, if you say so. But d’you think your trainer would get mad if you cut your super intense training short to grab a cup of coffee with a friend?” 

You’re almost expecting him to say no, but Lando perks up instead, eyes crinkling happily at the corners. “Not at all. Shall we?” 

Over coffee, you find that Lando is an excellent conversationalist—funny and a good listener, an even better storyteller. He asks about you without seeming pushy or prying, and because of that you feel yourself relaxing a bit in his presence. Opening yourself up to the possibility of a good thing with him, no matter how short or fleeting it may be, whether it’s friendship or something more. 

A few weeks of summer in a place you've never been with a boy you don’t know is the time to be a little bolder. Chances are you’ll never see Lando again after this trip, so why not loosen up just a little bit? 

It’s only when more people start to trickle into the shop and you start to notice Lando’s eyes shifting over your shoulder more that you realize you’ve been here with him for a while now. And judging by the dozens of missed calls and texts from all three of your friends on your phone when you go to check it for the first time since you’d left, you’ve been gone a lot longer than you said you’d be. 

You know them well enough to know that they’re not above calling the local police to send out a search party for you if you don’t find your way back soon. 

“Friends wondering where you are?” 

You nod, sending a quick message that you are indeed alive and not kidnapped like they feared, before tucking your phone away again. “Guess I better get them their coffees for sure now, or else they might not let me back in the house.” 

“Lemme buy it for them,” He offers sincerely, offering you a lopsided grin. You shake your head rapidly at the suggestion, but he continues, “I’m the reason you’ve been gone so long, the least I can do is buy them drinks. Call it an apology for making them worry, yeah?” 

“You really don’t have to, Lando.” 

“I know. I want to,” He insists, looking truly genuine. First dessert last night, now coffee today. You have half a mind to push back a little more, but you get the feeling Lando is as persistent as he is handsome, so you taking a firm stance on something like this seems like a moot point. Giving in, you nod, and he mirrors it, looking proud. 

He lets you take the lead in reciting your friends’ orders once you’ve made your way back over to the front counter, stepping forward with a hand to the small of your back to pay for the drinks before you have any bright ideas to pull one over on him and pay for them yourself. 

The barista smiles politely, pen hovering above a cardboard cup. “And a name for that?” 

Lando casts a furtive glance around the area before leaning in and saying his name quietly, as if he’s worried he’ll run into someone who he doesn’t want to see. You notice, but don’t really pay it any mind. You understand far too well not wanting to talk to someone you're unprepared for. 

Soon enough Lando’s got the drinks in hand and you’re back outside, and he’s smiling again. You’ve noticed he does that a lot when he looks at you. You’re sure you’re the same way with him. 

“My mates and I, we’re planning on having a little barbeque at our villa tomorrow night. You should come,” Lando says encouragingly, tilting his head to the side. When your brows raise in surprise, he hastily adds, “And your friends too, obviously. We’d love the company.” 

“Ah! Um, I dunno. Wouldn’t wanna crash your thing.” 

“You wouldn't be. Seriously, come hang out. We’re fun, I promise!” 

“I just—I forget if we’ve got plans, that’s all.” You’re not lying when you say it, you truly forget if you’re free tomorrow night. Most of it stems from your awful memory, but a small part of it attributes to how your brain kind of stops working properly around Lando. 

“Right, well, you figure that out, and if you find you’ve got a free evening,” He balances the drinks deftly in one hand, the other fishing his phone out of his shorts pocket and swiping at the screen briefly before holding it out to you, “text me, let me know.” 

You’re not sure where you find the boldness to tap your phone number into his contacts, but you do it with confidence, saving it under your name and a smiley face. 

“Cute.” Lando smirks, chuckling as he sends a simple hi so you've got his number too. “Now, I believe these are yours, and…maybe I’ll see you tomorrow? If it’s meant to be.” 

You smile at the mirroring of last night’s words from him as you situate the cardboard tray in your own arms. “Maybe.” 

The smile hasn’t left your face even by the time you arrive back home, because you’ve been thinking about Lando the whole way. For a stranger you’ve met only yesterday, he’s sure been occupying a lot of space in your mind. You aren’t entirely sure how to feel about it. 

You’re already prepared for the berating you’re about to get as you close the front door behind you carefully, making your way to the kitchen.

“Where the hell have you been?” 

You look up to see all three of your friends sitting around the kitchen table, and none of them look particularly happy. You smile innocently, holding up the cardboard tray of drinks up as a peace offering. “Coffee?” 

“It better come with an explanation.” 

Nodding vigorously, you dole out each drink to your friends. “It does, I swear. I didn’t just disappear, I ran into—” 

“Hold the fuck on. Why does this say Lando? Why is that man’s name on my cup—” 

“Oh my god, you did not get coffee with him without telling us!” 

“You bitch!” 

That’s how you end up telling them the whole story—running into him in town, talking for ages, and that brings you to your next point. 

“We don’t have any plans for tomorrow night, do we?” 

“There’s the vineyard tour in the afternoon, but that should end around five. Why?” 

“Lando invited us to a barbecue at his villa,” You say quickly. That gets their attention immediately, all of their eyes widening in the same shocked looks. None of them answer your question though. “Is that…something we’d be interested in?” 

Samira is the first to snap out of it, mouth curving into a playful smirk. “Invited us, or invited you?” 

“Definitely just her.” 

“Whatever! Do we wanna go or not?” You grumble, doing your best to fight the grin threatening to overtake your face. The thought of him wanting to spend time with you brings you a teensy bit of satisfaction. 

“Of course we’re going!” 

After they’re done poking fun at you, you’re able to take a moment to top out a quick message to Lando. That barbecue invite still up for grabs? 

You're not expecting an immediate answer, but your phone dings with a text back before you even set it down. 

Lando: Of course. Plans fell through? 

You: seems like you’ve really made an impression on my friends 

Lando: Not sure whether to be scared or flattered…

You: your guess is as good as mine! we’ll find out tomorrow :)

Lando: Brb gotta go call my lawyer and update my will 

“You’re texting him right now, aren’t you?” 

You look up from your phone to see Camille leaning in the doorway to your room, a soft, knowing smile on her face. “Yeah, he—uh, he says he’s looking forward to meeting you guys again.” She comes to sit beside you, looking like she wants to talk about something. You set it aside, head tilting in a silent question. 

“Do you think you’ll stay in contact with Lando after we leave?” 

“I’m not sure. Haven’t really thought about it all that much, to be honest.”

If you do think about it, you haven’t even known Lando for more than a day. You’ve only just met him yesterday, seen him twice, one of which was completely spur of the moment. So what if that spur of the moment encounter was the most connected you’ve felt to someone in a long time? 

You don’t know him, and chances are, he’s not looking for anything serious. You don’t even know if you’re looking for anything serious. 

“It’s okay if you want to.” 

“I shouldn’t want to,” You say. It feels like you’re trying to convince yourself more than anything. You look to Camille for an answer, but she just pats your hand. “Right? I’m never gonna see him again, so I shouldn’t get attached.” 

“You don’t know that for sure, do you?” 

“I guess not. It feels scary, though. Opening yourself up to something when you don't know what’ll happen.” 

Camille hums, a placating, even comforting sound to soothe your worries. She’s always been pretty good at getting you to see the brighter side in things. “There’s fun in that too. Being spontaneous, surprising yourself. You never know, Lando could be just the thing you need, the one you didn’t know you were looking for. And if not, you don’t have to see him again. A win-win, I’d say.” 

She leaves you alone to your thoughts after that, left to ponder what exactly it is you want. It might be stupid and entirely over-optimistic of you, but Lando has already pulled you in. You’re not sure what it is about him. He makes you want more, want to know more. 

Whatever happens will happen, and if things don’t work out…well, Camille is right. You never have to see Lando again. 

His name flashes across your screen later in the night, right before you’re about to go to sleep. You’ve been texting back and forth all day, but this one is different. He’s video calling you right now. 

You stare at his name for longer than you should, finger hovering over the answer button a few beats before pressing it. His face pops into view once the call connects. Like you, he’s sitting in bed, leaned up against the headboard, cozied up in a soft looking jumper. He looks like he’s moments away from drifting off, but he called you, so he must want to talk. 

“Hi,” You say softly. 

“Hey, you.” He smiles, warm and sleepy and all squinty in a way that makes you want to crawl through the screen and tuck him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. “You must be tired.” 

“Eh, I’m alright. Why?” 

“‘Cause you’ve been running through my mind all day.” 

You let out a wildly unappealing snort of laughter at his poor attempt at a pick up line. “That’s terrible! Oh my god, that was awful, Lando, seriously.” 

“No?” His smile grows giddy, shoulders shaking with his chuckles. “Yeah, it was pretty bad, wasn’t it? Got you laughing though.” 

Conversation falls into the same easy nature as this morning, like you’ve known him for ages. He makes you laugh until your ribs hurt, smile until your cheeks feel the same. It still amazes you just how comfortable you feel around him, as someone who usually takes a while to warm up to people. 

Maybe you should take it as a sign. 

A jumble of muffle voices offscreen some time later makes Lando squint. “Hang on, I’ll be right back. Don’t hang up. ” He lets the phone drop onto the bed, checking once to make sure you’re still there before disappearing from sight. 

You hear his footsteps fade, then more voices you can’t quite make out. Someone laughs off in the distance, and then he’s back, resituating himself with the remnants of an amused grin on his lips. 

“Everything okay?” 

“My mates are yelling at me to turn off the light, so I’d better go,” He sighs goodnaturedly, lips turning down into a frown. Then he yawns widely, and you realize how late it’s gotten since you’ve picked up his call. Losing track of time when you’re talking to Lando seems to be a recurring theme. “I’m glad you’re coming tomorrow.” 

Your breath catches a little in your chest, both at his words and the way he’s looking at you through the screen as he says it, nothing but genuine. “Me too.” 

You’re starting to think this whole try not to get attached thing is going to be much harder than you thought. 

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[yopossum]

The Laredo Javi gifs made me do this. I was powerless against them.

Main Masterlist

The Secret Place

Pairing: Javier Peña x best friend f!reader

Rating/Warnings: E - 18+ only! Post S3 Javi, Laredo, no age gap, friends to lovers to no contact to friends and lovers like no time ever passed, filthy fluffy smut, Chucho being the best and also a troublemaker, brief mentions of narcos and sex workers (Javi uses the word whores, paraphrasing the people who bother him about Colombia), drinking questionable whiskey, oral (f and a tiny bit of m receiving), boob in mouth action, PIV with a condom *and* on the pill good job guys, sex in an old treehouse probably not a great idea irl. Reader is described as having dark, prominent nipples and genitalia, grown out black pubic hair, heavy hanging breasts, thick dimpled thighs and a fleshy waist and belly. Her hair (on her head) is not described, nor is her skin tone (she does not blush or redden). Both Javi and reader speak Spanish, which is in italics.

———————————————————————————

“Javier Peña. Long time. Back for good?” You reached out for a friendly handshake.

“Nah, for evil.” He winked, holding your hand in his a little more firmly, a little bit longer than he would anybody else’s. You acknowledged it with a fond squeeze, undetectable to curious eyes.

“Sounds about right. Catching up with everybody?”

“Trying to avoid it.”

You laughed, hand on your hip. “No surprise there either. Well, I just came over to your table to ask the handsomest man at the wedding for a dance.” You smirked.

“I’m not sure that’s me, cariño,” Javi said, eyebrow quirked and jaw tensing skeptically.

“Never said it was, Javi. I was talking about Chucho.” It was your turn to wink.

He huffed out his nostrils and shook his head with a smile as you turned to his father with outstretched arms, yelling, “Take me for a spin, viejo! Let’s remind your boy where he got all those smooth moves.”

“He won’t know what hit him, mija,” Chucho laughed, standing to take your hands. “Watch my beer, Javier.”

“You got it, Pop.” He nodded at the older man, whose eyes were crinkled shut in laughter at the way you twirled onto the dance floor and beckoned to him. Javier nursed his own drink, dark eyes following you under heavy lids as you and Chucho spun around the floor.

After several songs, Chucho bowed out, making his way back to the table, and Javi lost track of you.

“You’ve still got it,” he murmured to his father around the lip of his beer bottle.

“Damn right!” he crowed. He took a long sip of his beer, looking out at the wedding reception, and sighed. “Listen, I know it’s been a long time, but—”

“—Pop, don’t.” Javier cut him off, shooting him a stern look.

Chucho raised his palm. “Let me finish, son. You know it was always her. I know it was always her. Hell, all of Laredo knows it was always her.” He stared intently at Javi’s face. “Folks weren’t as surprised as they acted when things went sideways with Lorraine. Doubt Lorraine was.”

“Yeah.” Javi looked at the table, ran his thumb along the label of the bottle, the condensation on the glass making the paper ball up and peel as he rubbed over it. “Everyone knew. I was an idiot, fucked it up.” He swallowed the dregs of his beer and stared through the empty brown glass, his own frowning distorted reflection wobbling back at him.

“You got that right,” Chucho chuckled, running a weathered hand along the brim of his white cowboy hat. “Was saying, mijo, it’s been years. Don’t you think you’ve punished yourself long enough?”

Javi scrubbed his hands down his face, careful not to muss his hair and ruin any of the photographs, incur the wrath of a coven of tías like he had at Danny’s wedding. “The shit I’ve done? A life sentence wouldn’t scratch the surface, Dad. Things change, life goes on. Looks like your dance partner left, anyway.”

“She sure did, pendejo!” Chucho laughed from deep in his belly. “Why the hell d’you think I’m talking to you about it now? Our girl fue al lugar secreto, she told me to tell you.”

Javi’s guts stuttered, and he tried to school his features into a convincingly stoic look. “The secret place, huh? Not sure I even remember where that was.” His eyes were pulled to the clock on the wall. 9:40.

“No manches, Javier. You know exactly where it is.” Javier avoided his gaze. Of course he knew exactly where it was.

Chucho turned to chat with a relative while Javi rolled his empty bottle on the tablecloth. Several songs played through, the party still boisterous. From across the dance floor, Javi locked eyes with Lorraine, who smiled brightly. She waved, and Javi groaned, feeling obligated to stand and cross to his ex would-have-been wife.

“Lorraine.”

“Javier. You look good.”

“Thanks. You too.”

“Oh gosh, you think so?” Lorraine tucked a lock of loose blonde hair behind her ear and flushed. “The kids make me feel so haggard sometimes. They sure keep me busy!”

Javier gave a half smile. “Sounds like it. I’m glad you, uh, got the life you wanted. I’m sorry, for… all of it.” He pursed his lips and glanced at the clock again. 9:57.

“Yeah, I know,” she nodded. “I forgave you a long time ago, Javi. Lord knows I wasn’t entirely innocent. And now I have Randy; I have the kids. It would’ve been wrong, the two of us.”

“Definitely,” Javi snorted, dimple deepening in his cheek. “Well, just… thought I’d say… something. You really do look good, Lorraine. I’m glad life’s treating you well.”

Lorraine smiled soft and a little bit sad. “Thank you. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Javi gave her a tilt of his chin in farewell as a blur of a child crashed into Lorraine’s legs before striding back to his table.

“Taking a piss, Pop,” he muttered to Chucho, who was still deep in conversation with whichever cousin. He clapped a hand to his father’s shoulder.

“Sure you are, son,” he replied, patting his son’s hand without looking back at him. “Dile que I owe her another dance. See you in the morning. I’m cooking breakfast.”

Javier rolled his eyes and bit back a reply, just squeezed gently and made his way out of the reception hall into the night. 10:10.

———

“Took you long enough, Peña.”

“Mierda. How the hell did we used to do this every day?” Javi grunted, swinging precariously on the old knotted rope as he clambered into the treehouse.

“For starters, we weren’t fucking old,” you laughed, taking a drag of your cigarette. You offered it to Javi as he pulled the last of his body through the hole in the floor and flipped the hatch shut, sending the hanging lantern swinging.

“Nah. Tryin’ the gum thing.” He flopped onto the wooden floorboards and tried to find a comfortable way to angle his wide frame in the small space. Their lugar secreto.

“¡No mames!”

“En serio.”

You spit on the floor and stubbed the cigarette into it. “Well shit. Good for you, Jav. Must’ve taken a lot of willpower — I don’t imagine you have any less need for vices now.” You grinned at him.

“Yeah, no fucking kidding,” he sighed. His fingers tapped on the ground, antsy.

“You’ve always been a stubborn asshole, though, so if anyone could do it, it’d be you,” you said with a cackle.

“Vete a la chingada,” Javier grumbled warmly.

“Quite the mouth you’ve got on you, Javi,” you tutted, turning to sit with your back against the opposite treehouse wall and stretching your legs out parallel to his.

“You know better than most how true that is,” he said, eyebrow quirking suggestively.

“Sucio,” you chided. “Glad to see some things haven’t changed.”

Javi smirked, sat silent. He let his head tip back against the wall, looked up at the stars through the open hole in the roof of the old treehouse. The wood there had rotted through years before the two of you found the place, when your necks and shoulders had ached from sunburns and monkey bars instead of tension and grief. Back then, before Laredo was haunted, you’d climbed up here and patched each other’s hurts with bandaids, hugs, shitty liquor, and eventually, after some years, soft touches, kisses, hot skin sticky and desperate against hot skin.

“You’re not gonna ask me about Colombia?” he said eventually, leveling his eyes back at you.

You shrugged. “Do you want to talk about Colombia?” you asked.

“No.”

“I figured as much. No, I’m not going to ask you about Colombia.” The treehouse was silent again.

“I came home, few years ago. Went back.” Javi said, eventually.

You hummed thoughtfully. “Why?”

He cracked his knuckles. “Got in some shit. DEA told me to leave. Then they asked me to come back. So I did.”

“You done now?” you asked simply.

“Yeah.”

“Feel like a hero?”

Javi gritted his teeth. “Feel like a piece of shit, usually.” He clenched his hands into fists, released them, repeated the action without looking up from the toes of his boots alongside your knees.

“Well, hey, at least you don’t look it,” you offered, and Javi couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re much better looking than you were in the 70s, even if your clothes haven’t changed.”

“Fuck you,” he snorted. “You didn’t seem to have any complaints back then.”

You scrunched your nose at him and stuck your tongue out. “I didn’t know any better back then. You’re not the only one who expanded their horizons, Peña.”

The smile slid from his face and he bit at his lip, a sneer creeping into his expression. “You too with the brothel shit, huh? Christ. All anybody fucking wants to talk about, what narcos I shot and what whores I fucked.”

“Did I say any of that, Javi? Jesus. Don’t try to pick a fight with me, it won’t work. I’m glad you were fucking around down there. I’m sure it was hell. Sounds like burying your traumas in warm pussy helped bring you back alive. I’m grateful for that.” You looked at him plainly, like it was the most obvious reaction in the world for you to have, like his confusion at your response was the strange thing.

“Besides,” you added, “I’m sure you treated them well. I know better than most, right?” You waggled your eyebrows at him and his frustration and surprise melted away, dripped out of his mind.

“So, I was memorable?”

“Stop fishing for compliments.” You whacked one of his boots with the back of your hand, and he tipped it back toward you, pushing at the hem of your skirt with his toe.

“You were memorable,” he said quietly.

When you glanced at him, moonlight brightening the piloncillo brown of his eyes, his expression was softer, less closed off. Echoes of a younger Javier, your playmate and closest friend and confidant and co-conspirator and lover, here in your secret space like he’d never left, never grown out of Laredo, never been hardened by the cruelties of the world.

Your Javi.

“So you definitely remember what we used to get up to in here, then?” you teased, reaching for a lidded crate shoved into the corner and pulling out an ancient bottle of whiskey.

Javi’s mustache twisted up at the corner. “I remember you were a handsy drunk,” he said, grabbing the bottle and twisting off the lid, taking a slow pull from the mouth of it and wincing. “God, this is awful.”

You laughed and took the bottle back from him, taking a sip of your own. “Beggars couldn’t be choosers! We didn’t have many options for sneaking liquor.” The whiskey warmth flowed through your body like bitter sunshine. “And handsy, hm? I don’t think I was usually the one to start anything.”

Javi pawed at the bottle, downing another gulp, and you watched his Adam’s apple slide down his taut, tanned throat. “Hm, maybe not,” he mused, rocking his jaw to the side and letting his eyes rake down your body. “But I always made sure you finished,” he grunted.

You grabbed the whiskey for a final slug and capped it, sliding it back against the wall before pressing yourself up to your knees. “Is that a habit you’re still holding onto, Peña?”

You leaned forward and placed your palms flat on the ground, crawling, partly seductively and partly pragmatically because you couldn’t stand upright in the treehouse, along the length of Javi’s legs. You knelt immediately next to him and reached out to smooth the red and blue plaid collar of his flannel, then cupped a hand to his cheek.

Instinctively, Javi turned into your touch, letting his eyes close for a second and giving a gentle kiss to the meat of your thumb. He looked back to you and let his face rest in the cradle of your palm.

“Still holding onto it. Held on to everything that had anything to do with you.” He worried at his plump lower lip with his teeth, then tongued at the plush cleft there.

You swung one leg over his lap and sat in a straddle across the tops of his thighs, denim of his jeans scratching against the bared skin under your dress.

“Should’ve held on to me, Jav.”

Javi placed his hands at the flare of your hips, splaying his wide thick fingers to knead at the flesh there, more plentiful and pliant than the last time he’d touched there. Where the world had made him rough, shattered, sharp, you’d been tumbled like sea glass. Smoother, softer, light shining right through you, spilling onto him.

“I should’ve.”

“I could’ve held tighter too.”

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

“You’re right.”

“That’s a first.”

You both snickered, and you let your body rest against Javi’s chest. He threaded his arms around your waist and pulled you tight to him, pressing the bridge of his nose into the shelf of your collarbone to inhale deeply.

“It was always you. You know that, right?” he breathed against your skin.

“I do. I knew then, I know now. Things happened how they happened. It’s been a long time.” You spoke the words into the dark waves of his hair, tickling at your mouth and chin.

Javi’s voice was smaller than it had been, more hesitant. “Do you think…” He paused for a beat. “Do you think it’s been too long? Or, not long enough?”

“I don’t know. Me vale, Javier. I don’t give a shit. ¿Sabes?” You ran a finger in a small circle around the top button of his shirt.

“I don’t know if I do,” he answered honestly. His grip on your hips tightened slightly, and he scooted you just an inch or two further up to the apex of his thighs.

“I think it’s a series of miracles that you’re here and I’m here and we can still manage to squeeze our ancient asses into this treehouse,” you said frankly. “I don’t need to figure anything else out right now. Tonight? It’s enough for me to know we’re both still here, that this is still here.” And when you said this, Javi knew you didn’t mean the treehouse, but the real lugar secreto, the secret place that lived inside you both, where neither of you had ever let go of the other.

“Lie back against the wall, cariño,” Javi ordered in a soft, even husk.

You climbed off his lap and crawled back to the place you’d been sitting before, legs out in front of you.

“Knees up,” he rasped. You obeyed, skirt of your dress slipping down your raised thighs to pool at your waist. “Let them fall open nice and easy for me, baby. Just like that,” he murmured, coming up onto all fours and rubbing a thumb on your ankle bone as you let your knees drop outward.

Javi failed to bite back the moan that fell from his mouth as you spread before him, only a slip of your black thong visible as the thin wet gusset nestled into your sex, dark lips and an Eden of black curls devouring the fabric. He, too, wished to be devoured.

He reached his hands up under your ass, hooking his fingers into the floss of your underwear and peeling them from your center, wiggling them down your legs and tossing them aside. Javi carefully lowered himself to his belly, flat across the floor, his body longer than he used to be so his knees were bent and his feet rested against the opposite wall. He looked up with wide, curious eyes, asking silently for permission.

“It was always you, Jav. Still is.” You carded your fingers through his thick hair and he growled.

Javi slid his hands along your thick thighs, trying to memorize the feel of every new dimple and stretch mark on the once-familiar canvas. When he reached the end of your legs, that divine join, he used the breadth of his shoulders to press your knees even further apart, sliding his forearms under your legs to grip around your hips.

Your folds pulled open languidly as your legs spread, stretching glossy strings across your entrance, the long dark sticky swollen petals of you blooming like something rare and tropical, heady and intoxicating. Javi nudged forward, nose brushing through the course hairs as he nuzzled its strong curve against you, dragging it in a lazy back and forth over your clit. Your pussy fluttered and you drew in a sharp breath through your nose.

“Looks like she remembers me too,” Javi chuckled darkly.

He pressed sloppy open-mouthed kisses to the creases of your thighs, over your puffy mound, running up and down along the seam of you, puffing hot wet air over your asshole to see it clench and quiver.

“She wants you to stop teasing,” you whined, but your complaint was cut short with a gasp when you felt a broad lick along your slit, Javi sliding the flat of his tongue through you and flicking at your clit with its pointed tip.

Your legs fought to fold closed on Javi’s head, but his arms kept them pinned open, on display for him, bisected and dripping. He ran his tongue over and around every fold, prodding and sucking and nibbling, stretching you gently with his teeth and slotting his lips with yours in an intimate, hungry kiss.

His tongue moved through you instinctually, patiently, reverently. A disciple, attending to the temple of his deity. Javier Peña did not believe in God. He believed in worship.

Javi slid one thick finger, then another, through your shining slick, swirled them at your clit before pressing them inside of you up to the knuckles. He relished the groan that clawed out of your throat, the clench of you around his digits, as he pumped them in and out, fingertips dancing on the spongy spot that made you writhe for him. He watched your face, lips parted and panting, brow glistening, both exactly as he’d remembered you and more perfect and beautiful than you’d ever been before this moment. And you’d always been perfect and beautiful.

He dropped his face again to suck the bead of your clit between his soft lips, alternating slurping around the hood with laves of his tongue as he continued to thrust and curl his hand inside you. The obscene thick wet sounds of your pleasure wove with mingled moans and soft gasps. Javi felt, sensed, the small escalations in your as they built on each other — the flickering tense of your leg muscles, the tightening of your stomach, your affrettando breathing. He increased his efforts, dribbling a stream of spit onto you, into you as he stuffed his fingers into your pulsing cunt over and over again.

“Oh, oh, Javi. Fuck, Javi. I’m…” Your legs began to shake, some overwhelming and impossible pressure building deep inside you. Javi didn’t slow, just lavished prayers into your pussy and ground his hips against the old creaking floorboards.

“I know, baby, I know,” he chanted over you, “I’m here, baby, it’s me, I’ve got you.”

Your fingers were thrust into his hair and twisted around the soft dark strands, and you tugged, pulling a guttural roar from Javier’s chest. “Dámelo, mi vida,” he snarled. You felt the irresistible urge to bear down on Javi’s hand, walls seizing up around his fingers until that delicious pressure burst. You arched and shrieked as a dizzying pulsing gush erupted from your cunt, cascading over the man between your thighs as he groaned, swallowed and suckled desperately as he rutted into the floor. The sensation continued to crash over you, waves smashing against a cliff without end. Your vision was flashing, teeth chattering violently as you keened and bucked at the overstimulation. Javi withdrew his fingers from your channel and slid them around your clit, using your release to slip rapid circles around the swollen pearl until the world around you exploded, a razor sharp orgasm ripping through you on top of a final wave of warmth that poured out from your wrenched body.

Javier looked up through long lashes, his pupils blown and lips swollen and red. He was dripping with you, drenched and devoted, as though he’d been dunked in a baptismal font.

You gestured faintly at him, not able to move your hands beyond a small wave up your body. Javi got the message, clambered up over you and let you throw your sagging arms around his neck so he could roll with you onto his back and drape you over him. You melted against his chest, still panting, and he ran his hand over your shoulders, down your spine, over the curve of your ass. His cock throbbed against the zipper of his jeans, straining painfully in the tight denim, but he tried his best to ignore it. To just hold on to you.

“I think I owe your informants a thank you card,” you wheezed finally, breath slowing closer to its normal pace. Javi snorted into your crown, kissed your forehead at your hairline.

“Quite the mouth, huh?” he teased softly, and you pinched at his waist through his shirt with a chuckle. “Mierda. That was…” Javi trailed off, running a hand through his sweat-curled hair.

“Yeah. It was,” you agreed, neither of you needing to finish the sentence. You reached up to touch his face, the deep furrows that creased his skin there smoother and shallower now. “So. Mi vida, huh Peña?” You smirked up at him.

Javi’s cheeks pinked and he bit at the inside of his mouth, bashful as if he hadn’t bathed in you minutes before. “Too much?”

“Nah, I liked it. Did you mean it?”

Javi paused before answering, looking down at you almost meekly. “If I did?”

You smiled against him. “Then I like it even more. Kind of how it’s always been here, right? How it’s always been for us.”

He smiled back with relief. “Yeah,” he huffed out. “Yeah, it has been. Could still be, maybe? It feels like… like we… fuck. It feels like this is the first time in a long time I’m where I belong. Here, with you.”

“Between my legs?” you said with a laugh playing at your eyes.

“Sí, yes, Christ, forever.” Javi groaned again, licked the taste of you from around his lips, nostrils flaring when his dick twitched insistently. You clocked it.

“Enjoyed yourself, guapo? Need some attention?” You rolled your hips slightly, pleased when Javi sucked in a breath through his teeth and shivered.

“Are you… can you…” he stuttered out, and you shushed him with a finger to his lips, which he kissed.

“Can I stand? No,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “But I want to stay right here in your lap and let you fuck me, Jav. Te quiero.”

Javi sat bolt upright, holding on to your body as he scooted to the wall and leaned back against it. “We’re gonna be so fucking sore tomorrow. Fucking in the treehouse.”

“We don’t have to,” you offered breezily, teasing. “If it’s too much for you in your old age.”

“Don’t you dare. Pinche chiflada. Yes, we fucking do,” Javi objected immediately. “Besides,” he jabbed with a pointed finger, “we’re the same age.”

You laughed at his urgency. “Ahí está. ‘Atta boy, Peña. You’re overdressed, in that case.” You moved to unbutton his flannel, revealing more of his smooth, freckled chest. “This is a nice shirt, by the way. You looked handsome as hell tonight.” You undid the last button and slid his shirt off his shoulders, running your hands over the firm rounds of his muscles.

“Not the handsomest, though?” he smiled, leaning forward to nip at your collarbone.

“Nope, sorry. That’s always gonna be your pops,” you said with a shrug.

“Pendeja,” Javi muttered. “Can we stop talking about my dad right now, please?” He fumbled at your dress clumsily. “This needs to go.” You guided his hands to the buttons that ran down the back and chuckled against his ear as his fingers flew over the closures and he yanked the thin cotton up over your head and discarding it to the side.

“Fuck, querida. These tits…” Javier lunged toward your chest, starved, pulling one brown nipple into his mouth and moaning around it while he palmed the weight of your other breast in his hand, lifting and squeezing. You tipped your head back as he swirled his hot tongue around and over, coaxing you to a peak, then pulled off with a slurping pop. “Gorgeous. Even better than I remember,” he groaned, wiping spit from the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

You wriggled your naked body back on Javi’s legs, eliciting a whine of protest before he realized your hands were deftly unfastening his belt. He reached down to assist and you swatted him away with a laugh. “Let me have my fun, huh?” you chided, slipping your finger through a belt loop and giving his jeans a firm tug before undoing the button at his waist. You smirked at the thatch of hair peeking out from the fly. “No chones? Hussy!”

Javi’s dimple deepened, his lip curling. “Always prepared, baby.”

You shook your head. “You’re still a menace, Peña. Pero, speaking of prepared, I’m on the pill, but…”

Javier cut you off. “Tranquila. Wallet.” You reached into his bulging front pocket and slid out the weathered leather, opening it and fishing through until you felt the telltale foil square.

“Thank god. I’m sure we have some stashed up here still but I don’t know I’d trust them to hold up,” you huffed with a smile, and sat back on your heels in front of him. With practiced ease, you tore open the packet, wiggling it at the man in front of you. “Now you can take your pants off.”

Javi didn’t break his gaze, just lifted his hips and slid his tight jeans down his thighs. You pulled his boots off for him, one at a time, then yanked his pants the rest of the way down his calves and over his feet, socks coming with them. You hurled them into the corner and let your eyes rest on Javier’s nude form. He brought one fist to his base and gave himself a few slow tugs, watching you watching him.

You crawled your way up over his body and relished the way his thick cock bobbed in anticipation, the way Javi’s stomach muscles quivered under your hungry stare. Glancing down at the blushing tip of him, you couldn’t resist when you saw the gleam of precome beading at his slit, and you dipped down to taste him, his distinct salt and musk making you dizzy with want. Javi’s hips bucked wildly at the unexpected touch of your tongue. You flicked your tongue over his frenulum, licked down his shaft to the seam of his balls, and back up along a delicious pulsing vein before taking his fat head into your mouth, giving a firm, but brief, suck.

Javi gasped, biting back a moan and sucking air in through his nose with a shiver. “Can’t… do… that…” he managed, his voice graveled and tight. He grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger to and pulled your head up level with his. “Need you too bad. Need to be inside you, cariño. Now.”

You pulled the condom from the foil and pinched the tip, then unrolled it down Javier’s throbbing length til the ring was snug around his base. His eyes didn’t leave your hands until you finished, and you reached up to his shoulders and eased yourself to straddle across his strong thighs, his latex-covered cock wedged between your stomachs. He was breathing heavily, sweat starting to pool at the dip of his throat. He brought both hands to the sides of your face, hooking his thumbs under your jaw, and looked into you with his big dark glassy eyes. They reminded you of the night sky that shone through that hole in the roof, the way if you let your vision unfocus it felt like you could see the deep blacks and browns reveal themselves to be layers and layers and layers of stars. You felt like you could see on forever, see the whole universe.

Javi brought your forehead to his, his nose pressed next to yours, and gently rolled his hips into you, the slight friction reawakening your still-sensitive clit and releasing a fresh stream of slick. You lifted up and brought your hips forward, bringing one hand from his shoulder to grasp him firmly and slide him through your folds before angling him at your entrance. Faces still flush together, breathing each other's air, you let yourself sink down onto him, both exhaling soft whimpers of pleasure as you stretched around his girth until you were fully seated in his lap, your channel squeezing around him greedily.

“Oh, fuck,” you whined. “Oh Jav, oh fuck. I missed this. I missed you.” You let your face drop to his neck, dangled yourself from his broad shoulders, and ground your hips in slow circles against his belly. Javi dropped his hands from your face and grabbed onto your sides, guiding your movements and digging his fingers into your skin, like he needed to be sure you were really there, needed to mash into your flesh and bone to know you weren’t an apparition, not some whiskey-conjured ghost in his empty apartment in Bogotá.

He let his head fall back, giving you space to lick and kiss at his neck while you rode him lazily. “You feel so good, baby. Christ,” he rumbled, words crawling out from deep in his throat. You pressed your open mouth to his collarbone, dragging your warm wet lips over the slice of it, sighed deeply. Javi could feel your legs shaking as they bracketed his own, fatigued from your earlier pleasure, and he slowed you to a stop before lifting you from his cock.

“Acuéstate,” he whispered, grabbing his forgotten flannel with one hand and fluttering it over the floor before turning you in his arms, nudging you onto all fours facing away from him and encouraging your cheek and forearms to rest on the brushed cotton.

“Mm,” you hummed sweetly, closing your eyes and wiggling your hips invitingly. Javi had to squeeze himself tight at the root, tried not to lose his mind when you presented your glistening pussy, swollen and stretched and desperate for him. “Need you, Javi.”

He sat up on his knees and pushed into your fluttering hole with a single thrust, crushing into the ring of your cervix and forcing a sob from your throat.

“¿Estás bien?” he panted, quaking with restraint as he held himself flush to your ass, letting you catch your breath.

“Oh fuck, yes. Cojeme duro, Javi,” you rasped beneath him.

He wasted no time. Javi withdrew quickly and slammed back into you, a deep wail spilling from your open mouth. He set a breathless pace, one hand clenched around your hip and the other spread possessively over the base of your spine. The brutal snap of his hips would’ve driven you forward across the floor if he hadn’t been holding you in place with such bruising force. His heavy balls swung and slapped against your bare skin with every thrust, and you could feel his sweat puddling at the sway of your lower back as it ran from his face and chest. The air was thick with the lewd squelching sounds of your bodies smashing together and the chorus of your breathy, rattling prayers and curses and cries.

Javi’s hips began to stutter, and he tensed his thighs and ass to try to control his thrusts. “Not gonna last. Need you to come, querida. Give me another, come on my fucking cock. Please, baby,” he rambled, an edge of desperation tinting his words. He slid a hand between your legs, bringing the rough pad of his finger to your clit to press and swirl frantically as he pounded into you. He could feel when you clenched around him, so strong he could hardly stay upright. When Javi hunched over you and pressed a hot, panting kiss between your shoulder blades, you broke apart with a hoarse scream. A burning climax crashed through you, your body going rigid with electricity, the overwhelming squeeze of your cunt ripping a howl from Javi as he came so hard his vision went white. He spurted with staggering jolts, thrusting weakly until your body went limp in his hold.

As the last of his seed dribbled out, Javier lowered you both gently to the floor, curling around your body as he pinched at the bottom of the condom and slipped his spent, softening cock from your clutch. He tied it off, set it aside, and laid back down to wrap around you again. You wriggled back into him and he tucked his arm into the plush fold of your waist, hand splayed over your panza and fingers tickling softly, no sounds but the breeze of your breaths and the thrum of your heartbeats in your ears. Eventually, you rolled over to face him, wincing as you turned.

“Won’t even have to wait until tomorrow to be sore,” you griped, rubbing at your neck. Javi reached out and covered your hand with his, dwarfing it, and massaged the knot that had started to form there with a firm thumb. You melted under his touch. “No regrets though,” you added with a reassuring snicker.

“Good,” he smirked, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “Probably should put some clothes on before I get a splinter in my dick, though.” You snorted and nodded, sitting up to let him extricate himself and re-dress. Javi pulled his jeans up, not bothering to button them, and shoved his arms back into his shirt, leaving it hanging open. You scooped up your dress and pulled it over your head, your underwear nowhere to be seen. Javi sat back down against the wall and stretched one long leg out in front of him, bending the other at the knee. “Come here,” he said, his words lazy and syrupy.

You walked on your knees to the vee of his legs and turned to sit between them, letting your back rest against Javi’s warm, wide chest. He hooked his chin over your shoulder and nuzzled at the base of your ear with the tip of his nose, looped his arms around your ribs and squeezed you tight to him.

“My dad said to tell you he owes you a dance,” he muttered, dragging his teeth lightly over your trapezius muscle, his mustache ticklish against your overstimulated body.

“Ha! I knew it,” you said with a clap.

“Knew what?” Javi sucked at the thin skin at the base of your throat, just enough to make a small bruise begin to blossom there.

“We had a bet about you.”

He stopped peppering your neck with affections to look at you curiously. “A bet? What kind of bet?”

You cackled. “When I told him to tell you to meet me here, Chucho said you’d come running after me right away. I said you’d try to play it cool, sulk for a while, then when you got too desperate you’d tell him you needed to take a leak and disappear. If he was right, I’d buy him a six-pack. If I was right, he had to take me dancing.”

“Shit,” Javier chuckled under his breath. “That’s… yeah, that’s pretty much exactly what I did,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re predictable, cabrón, what can I say?”

“I did talk, a little bit.”

“To Lorraine?”

“Damn,” he laughed. “How’d you know?”

You grinned and turned your face to rub your cheek against his skin, closing your eyes. “Like I said, predictable. Did you brawl?”

Javi hummed thoughtfully. “I apologized. So did she. It was… fine. It’s okay between us, I think.”

“That’s good,” you murmured, not moving from where you were snuggled into him.

He took a few deep breaths, and you waited patiently for him to say whatever it was he needed to work up to. He pressed his face to your shoulder again and kissed it softly. “I owe you an apology, too,” he exhaled against your skin.

You turned to look at him, to cup his face in your hand. “You don’t, Jav. You don’t need to apologize to me.”

His mouth began to move in protest. “I should’ve—“

“Basta.” You pressed a finger to his lips to still them, shaking it at him admonishingly when he tried to nip at it. “No should’ves, none of that. Everything brought us back here, right?”

Javier ticked his jaw, licked at his lip thoughtfully, before conceding with a half nod. “Nuestro lugar secreto survives,” he said with a soft smile.

“It does,” you agreed, running your thumb soothingly along the lines of his face, over the two creases permanently etched between his eyebrows. “You were gone, but you were still here, you know?”

“I thought about you. All the time.” His voice was quiet, somber.

“I know,” you grinned.

Javi huffed and snorted. “Oh, you already knew that, huh? How so?” he teased, pinching at the underside of your arm.

You squirmed away from his fingers, giggling. “You’re too predictable, ¿recuerdas?”

He sighed dramatically, quickly gave up his game in favor of hugging you close again. “I think you just knew me too well. Still do.”

“I know because I thought about you all the time, too,” you admitted, sitting back against him and tilting your head to look out the roof and up at the night. Javier did the same. “Eres mi vida también,” you said towards the sky.

“I fucked up tonight, though,” he rasped against the shell of your ear.

You stilled, raising an eyebrow in question. “¿De qué manera?”

Javi pressed a palm to your cheek and turned your face to his once more. “I didn’t kiss you yet.” You threaded your hands through the curls at the nape of his neck and pulled him to you, your mouths melding as easily as your bodies had. The kiss wasn’t heated or frantic; there were no clashing teeth and wanton cries. It was slow, soft, familiar. Two parts of a whole, slid back together where they were meant to be.

“So…” Javi breathed into your mouth between slips of tongues. “Pop is cooking a big breakfast. Want to come by the ranch?” He drew back enough for his eyes to focus on your face.

“Mm, a famous Chucho breakfast sounds great. What time should I come over?”

Javi grinned devilishly. “Right now.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving at his chest before kissing him deeply once more. “I don’t know what I was expecting,” you snarked. You both stood, joints creaking, both hunching over to avoid smacking into what remained of the ceiling. Your eyes scanned the treehouse for your missing thong while Javier pulled on his socks and boots, then fastened his clothes and tucked his wallet back in his front pocket.

“Missing something?”

You turned to answer him, seeing your underwear hanging from the tip of his index finger. He spun them around and smirked. “I’ll trade you for one of those cigarettes.”

“Keep ‘em,” you said with a wink. “We quit. We’re gonna try the gum thing.”

Javier beamed at you, sliding your panties into his back pocket. “Don’t have to tell me twice. You ready?” He lifted up the hatch.

“Mhm. But take that condom with you - there’s a trash can by the fence.” When he’d grabbed it, you flicked off the lantern, plunging the treehouse into darkness, moonlight just catching on the rough fibers of the rope below.

“Let me go down first,” Javi said, lowering himself through the hole, his boots finding a sturdy knot a few feet down, descending a short way before hopping to the dirt.

You grinned down at him from the treehouse. “You want to help me down? Tan caballeroso.” You dropped a pair of sandals to the ground and started to clamber down the rope barefoot.

“Of course, mi vida,” Javi said warmly, looking up at you with a wide, crooked smile. You’d made your way down a few knots when he added, “I’m also appreciating the view.” You shook your head and let go of the rope, jumping into Javi’s waiting arms and falling into another languid kiss before your feet found solid ground. When you bent down to grab your sandals from the dust, your skirt suddenly flew up, a hand cracking sharply over the bare flesh of your ass cheek, and you squealed, flying upright and glaring back over your shoulder.

“Shameless,” you tsked.

“Claro,” Javi shrugged, unapologetic. “But you love me.”

“Yeah,” you mused, slipping your sandals on and closing the short distance between your bodies to ruffle his hair. “I sure do. Always have.”

Javi leaned into your hand and purred, content for the first time in a very, very long time. “As long as I’ve loved you,” he said, quiet and firm. He nosed a kiss to your cheek and laced his fingers through yours. “Ready to go, mi vida?”

“Been ready for a lifetime, Peña. Take me home.” You walked hand-in-hand down the winding dirt road that led to the ranch, your path together lit, as it always had been, by a sky full of stars.

—————————————————————————

Some random taggies:

@timelordfreya @mothandpidgeon @hellfire-state-of-mind @maggiemayhemnj @beefrobeefcal @yourcoolauntie @jolapeno @whocaresstillthelouvre @schnarfer @jennaispunk @wordywarriorwrites @ameerawrites @survivingandenduring @freelancearsonist @artsy-girl-76 @goodwithcheese @javierpena-inatacvest @bluestar22x @carusolikey @beldroxramscal @tonysopranosrobe @toxicanonymity @for-a-longlongtime @luxurychristmaspudding @magpiepills @gasolinerainbowpuddles @oliveksmoked @sp00kymulderr @rebel-held

[dorkszn]

“ say it’s big but you take it. ride, cowgirl. “

thinking about riding cowboy!logan…

Riding cowboy!logan means having Logan’s eyes flick over inch of you as you try to take every inch of him. His hands settled on your already-quivering thighs. His dog tags jingling between your pecs. “Can’t do it, Lo.” You mumble to him embarrassedly as you struggle to lower yourself down onto his thick cock.

Logan lets out a short scoff but that closed-lipped smirk graces his face anyways. “Such a spoiled little thing, aren’t you? Want me to do all the work.” He’d comment. His hand would slip back from your thigh to your ass, his fingers slightly digging into your skin before lightly coming down on it.

That pulls a jolt and a pathetic whimper from you. “C’mon, you’re not even tryin’, sweetheart.” Logan says, almost tauntingly as his hand that just spanked your ass now gently rubs circles over the skin.

“I am trying! S’not gonna fit,” you practically whine back at him, slightly pouting at his dismissal of your attempts. Your next words immediately fall into a sharp breath when Logan suddenly tugs you closer by his tags sitting so prettily around your neck. His breath softly fanning your skin.

“Then, we’ll make it fit.”

Riding cowboy!logan means sitting in his lap while he takes swigs of his Jack Daniel’s. One large hand gripping your hip while the other is wrapped around the neck of the bottle. That stupid smirk on his face as he watches you cry and moan on his dick. Your skin decorated with deep bite-marks and bruising hickeys from the edge of your jaw to your chest.

“Look at me, darlin’,” he’d tell you. You shyly drag your eyes up from where they were shamelessly stuck on his strong chest to his sharp brown eyes. And damn, you could cum just from the way he was looking at you.

Luckily, his hat on your head happens to tip forward and block your view of Logan’s face. Reminding the both of you of what a little thing you are in his lap. Logan just chuckles lowly in response before reaching up and adjusting it. “Atta boy.” He’d say when you meet his eyes again with a weak whine.

[mattslolita]

come get her - c. sturniolo

in which ... you'd been teasing your best friend all night at a party, so he makes you pay on the car ride home. ( bff!chris x black!fem!reader )

warnings ; smut, semi-public sex, riding, oral ( male receiving ), dom!chris, bratty!reader, unprotected piv ( wrap it freaks )

"𝒊 𝒂𝒊𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒏𝒐 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏' 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

all fuckin' night.

it wasn't that bad when the four of you had first arrived at the club — course, chris was still weary about the black dress that rode up your thighs, giving little imagination to any wandering eyes about what treasure lurked underneath. your smooth, brown skin was coated in coconut oil, driving him crazy when they had picked you up from your house.

chris could tell you had already took a few shots before they came, you giggling at the smallest things as you retouched up on your makeup whilst you conversed with nick, as matt drove you guys to the club.

he felt territorial when matt had complemented on how good you looked, catching his eyes lingering for longer than usual — he narrowed his eyes at you as you blew said boy a kiss in the rear view mirror. he groaned subtly when matt's cheeks tinted a rosey, pink hue; he knew his brother didn't harbor any feelings for you, but he wasn't fucking clueless, either — he knew that matt found you attractive.

but you were his — it was only chris would should be flirting with you, chris should be the only one who rested his hand on your upper thighs whilst he whispered his dirty jokes in your ear. only him to watch you squirm and readjust yourself as you bit your lip, easily flustered by him.

so imagine his anger when you all finally arrived at the club — nick was immediately dragging you over to the bar, your ass bouncing in your dress and chris could already feel his frustration pent up while he watched you with wandering eyes.

he watched as the bartender whispered into your ear, you batting your eyelashes at him innocently as you flirted with him whilst he made your drinks ( free, of course — with your charm, you'd never been paying for a damn thing. )

from the comfortable cushion of his seat across from his brother at one of the tables, chris watches as nick then takes you to the dance floor. with a few drinks in your system, you could get restless.

his jaw ticked as people crowded around you, watching you caress your body as you danced to the sexy, sensual song that blasted throughout the speakers of the club. there were multiple guys who'd tried to grab your attention, hands flying to your waist. you batted your eyelashes and pouted your perfectly plump lips at them, giving them a no as an answer — you were so much fun, but you weren't easy.

your ass swayed side to side, one hand nursing yet another margarita as you danced with one of your best friends. you were loose, yet not carefree. for a moment, you turn to where your other best friends sat at their respective tables. chris was already watching you unashamedly, causing you to grin at teasingly as you flash him a wink whilst beckoning him towards you. he shakes his head at you, though; he was gonna let you have all the fun wanted.

because he knew he was gonna make you pay.

the tent in his jeans, all because you decided to get up on the stand and give everybody a show — multiple bills were thrown at you as you smirked down at all the people who gushed over you, the life of the party.

it wasn't until nick had decided that you'd had enough drinks for the night and you were beginning to grow restless — you pouted at him, annoyed that your fun had to end so abruptly.

nick held his hand out for you, helping you off of the stand as you ran a hand through your freshly done lace front — giggles emitted from you as nick helped you to walk over to where his brothers were.

chris had been so caught up in sipping on his own drink, that he didn't see a girl trying to talk to him the entire time. even matt was busy shooting the breeze with a cute girl who came up to him earlier, resulting in him getting a number to call before the night had ended. the pretty, blonde girl trying to get chris's attention had gotten fed up with his ignorance towards her, that she decided to leave him be.

when you and nick approached the both of them, you send a wave to both boys, your eyes lingering on chris a moment longer causing you to giggle.

"you shoulda came and danced with me," you tease him, running your acrylic nail through your hair, "i was havin' so much fun."

"bet you were, y/n," chris hums lowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he gets up from his spot. "sure everybody enjoyed the little show."

"m'surprised you didn't break a hip up there," matt chimes in, having already said his goodbyes to the girl who accompanied him a few seconds ago, "i think it's time for you to go home."

"just what i was thinking!" nick grins, and you pout and frown, crossing your arms over your chest as you roll your eyes. "don't pout y/n, you've had enough to drink."

"fine!" you snap back, but it quickly turns into a grin as you prod a finger into matt's chest, "but i wanna have aux."

matt chuckles and shakes his head, holding his arms up. "whatever you say, kid. c'mon, let's go."

chris is quick to slither an arm around your waist, dangerously low to your ass causing you to lean into his touch as he guided you outside. nick and matt led the way, which gave chris the initiative to land a smack to your ass.

"ow!" you whine, narrowing you eyes at the boy beside you, "what was that for?"

"hush up doll, and get in the car," chris whispers to you, causing you to roll your eyes as you both finally reach matt's car. "ladies first."

he grins at you as you smack your lips together, climbing into the car — chris's eyes darken as he watches your ass up in the air, your lace panties underneath nearly peaking up at him, begging to be ripped off of you. when you situate yourself inside, you giggle at chris's wandering eyes and motion for him to get inside beside you.

nick was already asleep in the second row of the car, his snores carrying throughout the car as matt had started the car up. you lean up across the seats, snatching the aux cable up as you connect your phone to it quickly. chris pulls his lips in between his teeth, the soft flesh of your ass practically in his face as you squirm trying to balance yourself on the counsel.

"don't skip a song either, matt!" you warn the middle triplet brother, settling back down in your seat.

"yeah, yeah, just relax back there, y/n!" matt calls from the front, pulling from off the curb.

you start to move around in the car, getting lost in come get her by rae sremmurd which was currently playing throughout the car. you weren't in your seatbelt, much to chris's disappointment beside you.

you rolled the window down beside you, carefully leaning up to set your lower half on the window as half of your upper body was outside the window. chris watched with narrowed eyes as your body swayed side to side, the dress riding up with every movement from your body. the youngest triplet brother was growing angry — he was sick and tired of watching you tease him all night.

when you came back into the car, a grin pulled at your lips as you looked over at chris — you had to know what you were doing. his nostrils flare as he looks at you, rubbing his hand along his jaw as he manspread.

"can you just sit the fuck down in ya spot?" chris hisses, his eyes narrowing as you pout at him, "for fucks sake, y/n."

"m'just havin fun, why you all mad for?" you say with a roll of your eyes, pursing your lips.

you cross your arms across your chest, then sit back down in your fully, before giving chris a sultry gaze as your eyes flicker all over him.

and that's when he snaps.

he's muttering curses under his breath as he forcefully takes ahold of your chin, bringing your close impossibly close to his own, embarrassingly making your panties. "you get on my damn nerves, y'know. think you can just dance on everybody and get away with it? huh?"

you say nothing, your thighs clenching as you whimper and look up at chris with puppy dog eyes. he licks his lips as his blue eyes graze over your lips. you eyes trail along his, inviting him to make a move.

he pulls you in by your hair, smashing his lips onto yours hungrily — it's a mess of teeth clashing and tongues fighting, yet all chris could think about is getting his hands all over you.

your hands rest on his thighs, inching closer to where he wanted, no needed you the most — the restriction in his boxers become hard to contain as your hands graze over his belt.

"wanna...suck you off..." you mumble into chris's lips, you moan into his mouth.

"yeah? get on your knees then, slut," chris orders you, pulling you back by your hair, eliciting a whimper from you, "show me what that pretty mouth can do."

wasting no time, you pry yourself in between his legs, running your hands up and down his jeans. he groans, his eyes narrowing at you as he hurriedly slips his pants down just a reasonable amount — you bite your lip as the large print against his boxers, greedily thinking about how much you want to wrap your lips around him.

you run a hand over his boxers, palming him through them as you look up with sultry eyes. "takin' too long, sweetheart. hurry up an' get to it."

you giggle and nod, chris lifting himself to help you slide his boxers down — your eyes marvel at his size, wondering if you could take it all. he grins when he sees your expression. "y'so big baby, it might not fit..."

"don't even try it, doll," chris hisses, grabbing you again by your hair causing you to gasp slightly, "you can take it."

you maintain eye contact with chris as you take his length in your hand, causing a soft groan to leave his lips — you grin up at him with your pouty lips, stroking him slowly as he watches you intently. you spit on his tip, lubricating his cock in your saliva before kitten licking his tip.

"shit, y'teasin' me, ma," chris groans above you. he takes ahold of your hair, shoving you onto his cock, causing him to throw his back back in pleasure. "fuck, thas it, baby..."

you gag immediately, his tip almost hitting the back of your throat as you first struggle to adjust to all of him in your mouth — slut him out by baby tate now mindlessly drowns out the sound of chris's soft moans as you whimper and suck him off. your head bobs up and down, before your acrylic nails wrap around his shaft to stroke the rest of what wouldn't fit in your mouth. you look up at chris with lidded eyes, watching his expressions contort into ones of pleasure.

"s-s'good baby, yeah, s'right..." he groans out in pleasure, his grip on your hair easing up only slightly, "so good f'me, always so good..."

you feel your panties dampen at his words, whimpering around his cock as you continue to bop your head up and down — his cock twitching in your mouth was letting you know how close he was.

"hol' on," chris grunts, pulling you up by your hair.

you look up at him in confusion, wiping the drool that gathered at the corners of your lips, before pursing. "you was close baby, why'd you make me stop?"

"y'gonna ride me, sweetheart," chris grins darkly, grabbing your legs and hoisting them on either side of his lap. you gasp as your hands fly to his neck, but you glance behind you. "who cares if he hears us? sure didn't care givin' everybody a whole show, did you?"

you whimper helplessly, causing chris to chuckle. "s'what i thought. c'mon baby, need you on top of me."

you bunch your dress up to your knees, wriggling yourself out of your panties and setting them to the side — you glance backwards again, looking to see that matt's eyes were on the road, with the music on full blast.

chris's hands are on your waist, gripping the plush flesh of your brown as he sinks you onto his cock — a moan leaves your lips as you immediately throw your head back, followed by chris's obscenities.

"s-so big, fuck, chris," you mewl, his hand gripping your chin harshly whilst he grips your thigh harshly.

"fillin' me up so well, atta girl," chris praises, the words going straight to your already pulsating pussy, "c'mon baby, start movin'..."

slowly, you rock your hips back and forth, lewd noises escaping your lips as you hold onto chris for dear life — he hands a harsh smack to your ass, watching where his cock slides in and out of your dripping cunt.

"mm, feel so good, baby," you whine out, not caring anymore that your other best friends might hear you.

"shit, fuckin' amazing," chris babbles, watching you bounce up and down on his cock, "could stay in this pussy all night..."

his eyes are lidded, lips in between his teeth as he grabs your chin to force you to look down at him — your lips are parted as lust is clouded within them, the eye contact you're holding with chris causing you to clench around his cock.

"squeezin' me up so tight," chris grunts. his hand goes down to rub tight circles around you clit, causing you to moan out.

"m'so close, chris," you whine, his lips attaching to your neck, sucking a dark purple mark there. his fingers on your clit are relentless as your bouncing becomes sloppier within seconds, "can i cum, please?"

"g'head doll, cum for me," chris moans, both of his hands now on your thighs.

with a loud moan, your head is thrown back as you came around his cock, lubricating it with your juices — but even after your orgasm, chris's hands are tight on your hips as he takes it upon himself to thrust into you repeatedly.

"sensitivee," you whine out, pouting as your head falls in the crook of his neck, still holding onto him.

"nah, open your eyes you slut," chris orders, his thrusts hard as he continues fucking into you, "wanna see you when i cum."

you whimper as his hand goes back up to your chin, holding it in place as your eyes glaze over whilst you watch his lidded eyes as he thrusts into you — they become sloppier, letting you know how close he was to letting go.

"shit, m'close ma," chris grunts, his head thrown back momentarily, "get up..."

weakly, you lift yourself off of his cock, tiredly falling down beside him as you hiss at the sensitivity of your cunt — chris turns to the side, giving himself a few more strokes before ropes of hot, white cum envelope your thighs. he continues stroking himself until he's completely milked dry, then he falls back down onto his seat.

you catch your breath, running a hand through your hair, which was surely messed up by now — you smacked your lips and rolled your eyes at chris, pointing to your hair. "look at what you did, i just got it done!"

chris rolls his eyes at your bratty behavior. "i'll take you to get it redone, now stop actin' up."

"whatever, you better keep your promise!" you sass back, feeling around for your panties.

when you turned around, your ass was facing the air yet again, causing chris to land a swift smack to your ass — you turn around and mean mug him. "fuck you, i'm tryna look for my panties!"

"you just did, ma," chris grins smugly, holding your lacy black panties up in front of you, causing you to smile and reach for them. he retracts his hand, clicking his tongue as he stuffs the material into his pockets. "keepin' these, i'll buy you a new set."

you huff out, pulling your dress back down as you situate yourself back in your seat and cross your arms over your chest, refusing to look at your best friend. "mhm, whatever."

matt pulled into the triplets' house sooner than you expected, and you quickly took out your body spray and gave the backseat a few good spritz, feeling guilty about the sex smell that lingered in the back of his car. "nick, wake up!"

the older triplet brothers stirs, before jolting awake — he looks around, then turns around and shoots you and chris a weird look; you shoot him a nervous, yet confused smile and he shakes his head as he hurriedly climbs out the car.

"hurry up an' get out," chris tells you, arching his eyebrow making you roll your eyes at him for the millionth time that night.

you climb out the car, chris quickly following afterwards. he grimaces when he sees nick's sleepy figure attempting to hobble towards their front door. the cold breeze of the night air sifts past you, and you run a hand through your hair and smooth your dress out.

"next time, can you both keep it down back there?" matt suddenly says beside you, causing you to gasp and hold a hand to your chest.

"the fuck, you scared me idiot!" you snapped, narrowing your eyes at matt, before an embarrassed expression paints your features, "how much of that did you even hear?"

"fuck chris, feels so good, don't stop-"

"you fuckin' pervert!" you say, chasing matt up the steps of their house.

( lilly's corner 💌 )

happy birthday baby ( @55sturn ) i love you endlessly babygirl! this one's for you🫦.

i hope y'all enjoyed this fic !💌

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @cottoncandyswisherz @thenickgirl @guccifrog @nicksgirlfriend @streamermattsgf @sturnprime @eyeliketoeatpoosay @middlepartmatt @chrissturniolossidehoe @chaossturns @chanelles-world @chris-slut @chrissgirlonly @mbbsgf @pinksturniolo @l0akkzz @summerssover @sturnioz @lanas-doll

[l13]

spiderverse twt links<33

WARNINGS : NSFW, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, f!reader, the links are literally p#rn, proceed at your own risk, there's also peter x miguel soo yknow

CHARACTERS: miguel o'hara, peter b parker, hobie brown, spider noir

miguel o'hara

♡ miguel fucking your pretty throat and holding your head till you're almost choking on his cock, his thighs shaking as he shoots his cum down your throat- knowing damn well you're gonna be a good girl and swallow for him, "Fucking choke on it, baby.." "S fucking good for me.. taught my pretty girl so well.."

♡ brain empty only miguel rubbing your pussy while he's snapping his hips up at you, snarling when he feels you clamping down on his cock, as you squirt messily, but oh he's not stopping yet "Thaaat's right.. That's. fucking. right," "Fucking cum for me now, baby"

♡ miguel playing with your pussy till you're clamping down on his fingers, gushing prettily as you cum, and he's barely holding himself from bending down and tasting your sweet cunt, his hard cock pulsing each time you tighten around his fingers, and he so badly wants to replace them with his cock, but he reminds himself to be patient 'cause he also just loves to see you fall apart like this:(

bonus miguel fingering you again (he's obsessed)

peter b parker

♡ peter + side fucking while you're facing himmm. he gets to have you pressed up against him, fucking into your pussy, and he gets to see your face? oh, yeah he's sold. gets SO fucking pussy drunk it's insane, "'h my God, baby- you're so fucking pretty- pussy's so pretty too. Doing so good for me, ah-" just can't seem to stop thrusting into you, coming in you over and over again

♡ peter thrusting his hips up to no use- literally humping the air as you kiss him, your hands running up and down his body, and he's whimpering, so so happy that you're even letting him cum that he doesn't even care that you're not touching his cock<33 "You're gonna make me come, baby... mmffuck yes, please-"

♡ peter humping the bed cause he misses you sooo much:( that's it that's the post

hobie brown

♡ hobie loves when you're on top of him, but that doesn't necessarily mean he lets you control the pace. he just loves pushing you down on his cock as he bucks his hips up, chasing your tight little pussy, as you mewl above him sweetly, "Cunt's suckin' me in, love, Christ-" "Greedy lil' thing, ain't ya?"

♡ gjdfkgjdkgj yeah yeah yup yeah. no yeah. YEAH. HOBIE jerking his cock while you're riding his face??? "Like that, lovie, mmf ride m'face harder-" his words are muffled against your drenched cunt, and he's slurping it all up greedily. 'nd then almost coming when you're riding him, thinking it's so unfair that you stopped- and he chooses to chase after you, start fucking you from behind, head tilted as he stares at where you're joined, slack jawed, squeezing and slapping your ass for good measure. "S rude, love, leavin' me like tha'. Not that rude now, are you, pretty?"

♡ very very very rare BUT when it happens it's absolute *chef's kiss*, pretty boy hobie thrusting his hips up to meet the pace of your hand, his pants and moans are so pathetic and it's so cute, and he's being so obedient for once:(( just sitting there taking what you give him- "FFuck yeah, love," "Ah just like that, you're s'good oh-"

spider noir

♡ shower sex with noir:(( where you're both just so infatuated with each other, stopping your kissing just for him to rub at your pussy before sliding his cock in, both of you letting out moans at the pleasure you're getting. he literally can't keep his hands off of you<33 "So God damn beautiful.. you're perfect, honey.." "I can't stop- Christ, you're tight,"

bonus :')

♡ mm he loves letting you take control once in a while, just absolutely losing himself when you tease him, showing him just what modern vibrators can do(LMFAO), he's moaning so sweetly for you as well, pretty boy just wanted a break:( "S-slow down a bit, Jesus christ- y're gonna kill me,"

♡ he loves to rub your pussy over your underwear so much, he's drooling at the sight, making sure to circle your clit as well, "Oh, honey... 's there something you want, hm?" "Look. at. that."

miguel x reader x peter

♡ um yeah.

miguel x peter

♡ ♡ ♡ i had to 🤭

[headkiss]

you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

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It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

-

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

-

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

-

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

-

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

-

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

-

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

-

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

-

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

-

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

[ashwhowrites]

Dustin's babysitter

Eddie x Dustin's babysitter

A small idea that ran through my head. I hope you guys enjoy this🫶🏻 and thank you for reading!

Dustin wasn't a fan of admitting he still had a babysitter. His friends always teased him but his mom was just scared of the world and wanted extra eyes on him. Dustin loved his babysitter, Y/N. He always had a blast with her, she interacted with him and he liked to believe they were good friends.

Dustin groaned when he saw Y/N's car pulling up to grab him from hellfire. He hated his friends knowing, and he didn't want to admit to Eddie he needed a babysitter.

"Awwww Dusty's little babysitter is here!" Mike mocked, his voice like a baby.

Dustin blushed and rolled his eyes. So much for not wanting Eddie to know, Dustin thought.

"Woah! Henderson, do you still have a babysitter? Aren't you like in high school?" Eddie asked, confusion on his face and a slight smile peeking out.

"My mom is paranoid, okay!" Dustin argued he tried to quickly walk to her car as she still drove up, but he yanked open her door before she even parked.

"You okay?" She asked, Dustin sighed and nodded. It wasn't her fault he was embarrassed. She was simply doing her job.

"...well let me meet this said babysitter." She heard a deep voice say, definitely older than the young teens she was around.

Then a face appeared in Dustin's open window. She saw dark curly long hair and dazzling brown eyes. This boy was much older, and she was thankful for that because he was damn hot.

Eddie wasn't sure what smart-ass remark he planned to make. He met her eyes and found himself wishing he needed a babysitter. She was gorgeous, hot, and sexy all at once. In simple jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, but he swore she glowed. He snapped out of his daydream and turned on his charm.

A smirk on his face as he held out his ring-filled hand, "Name is Eddie Munson, and you are?"

"Y/N, it's nice to meet you." She said with a polite smile as she shook his cold metal hand. The weight of his rings made his hand feel heavy, yet she didn't mind.

Dustin watched between the two, eyeing the way they stared, and didn't let go of each other. He awkwardly coughed, causing them to jump apart with embarrassed smiles. Eddie pulled back his hand and held it behind his back.

"I'll see you around, Eddie." She said and pulled out of the parking lot. Eddie straightened his spine as he watched the car take off.

"Wow, she's -" he started but Mike and Lucas cut him off.

"Hot," they said in unison with a knowing smirk.

"Yeah, hot." Eddie agreed, his mind filled with her and her only.

~~~

"Pizza is coming at 7, so just don't be later than that," Dustin said to the gang as they circled in the hallway.

"Do I have to be there?" Max asked with a sigh, she did not want to spend her Friday night at Dustin's house.

"Not like you have anything better to do," Dustin argued with a glare. Max sighed but agreed that he was right.

"So my house before 7!" Dustin said one last time, the gang nodded and everyone understood.

"Having a party little man?" Eddie asked as he walked up, overhearing the conversation. It was a Friday night and he kinda hoped Dustin's mom had big plans for the night.

"Sorta! Why? Are you interested?" Dustin asked excitedly, Eddie was slowly becoming like a big brother and he wanted to hang out with him more.

"Will your mom be there?" Eddie asked slight hope in his voice.

"Nope!"

"Then I'm there," Eddie said with a wink. He couldn't wait for tonight.

"Okay! Bring your apron!" Dustin said as the final bell rang. He was quick to walk down the hall for class.

"WAIT! APRON!?" Eddie called after him but the halls got loud with all the commotion.

~~~

Once school ended, Eddie raced him with excitement. He dug through his closet to find his best clothes, and he picked out his best jewelry. He sprayed cologne all over himself and covered his lips in chapstick....just in case.

He didn't want to seem too eager so he waited to show up around 7 o'clock. He knocked on the door and rocked on his heels. He planned to talk Y/N's ear off all night and then ask her out. And hopefully, end the night with his lips on hers.

"You made it!" Dustin cheered as he opened the door. Eddie walked through and saw the gang all covered in flour.

"What's going on?" Eddie asked

"Bake sale!" Dustin said as they walked into the kitchen. Eddie did not know what he got himself into. A bake sale? Eddie does not bake, he gets baked.

"Oh hell no, I'm not baking." Eddie laughed, he took in the room and noticed Y/N wasn't even there.

"Where's your babysitter?"

"Right here," Steve said as he walked into the kitchen. A towel over his shoulder and a dirty apron on his body. "You must be Eddie?" Steve asked.

"Son of a bitch!" Eddie groaned.

~~~

After Eddie's big fail of a Friday night, he didn't have much energy for Saturday. Of course, Henderson has two babysitters and Y/N wasn't there the night he was around. And he got stuck baking over a hundred cookies. Safe to stay, he learned his lesson of jumping into plans.

Eddie was trying to work on his campaign when his line rang. He groaned and walked over to pick it up, figuring it would be Wayne. But instead, he heard Dustin's familiar voice on the other line.

"Hey! I got this new video game, wanna come over and try it? Mom's gone so you can bring your beers."

Eddie had to admit, drinking and video games were tempting.

"Babysitter gonna allow that?" Eddie asked.

"Y/N wo-" "I'm on my way" Eddie cut him off and raced to his room. Once again, he found his best clothes, sprayed himself in cologne, and grabbed a beer case from his closet.

Eddie prepped himself during the car ride. He had limited time to make his impression on her and a little time to get her number. He didn't want to ditch Dustin too much so he needed to give equal time to the young kid. And to make it not noticeable Eddie was going for the hot babysitter.

~

Dustin raced to the door to answer it when Eddie knocked, excitedly dragging him to the couch as he had the game all set to go. But before they could start, Eddie's prayers were answered.

"What's Eddie doing here?" She asked confused, Dustin didn't need permission but she wasn't aware he invited anyone over.

"New video game!" Dustin said, remote in hand.

"Nah uh, you still need to clean your room. Mom said that before the new game." Y/N reminded him with a stern tone. Dustin sighed but listened. His shoulders slumped as he walked into his room. "ONE SECOND EDDIE!"

"I'm sorry to make you wait. He didn't tell me." Y/N said, "But you can play if you want while you wait for him."

"Wanna join me?" He asked, holding out Dustin's remote with a smile. This was his chance.

"I don't know how to play," Y/N said, a little nervous. She didn't want to look like an idiot in front of Dustin's incredibly hot friend.

"I'll teach ya, baby. Come sit." He patted the cushion next to him, excitement in his stomach as she shuffled towards him. She tried to fight off the blush on her cheeks from the nickname.

She sat next to him and tried to listen to his instructions, but her nose caught his scent and traveled to her brain. All she could focus on was how amazing he smelled, how his T-shirt fit him in all the right places, and how his jeans touched her legs.

"Ready?" He asked, his head turned to look at her. She felt her breath get stuck in her throat, she had no idea what to do. She coughed and snapped herself back into reality. "let's do it!" She smiled.

Within the first five minutes, Eddie could sense she was struggling, he reached over and held his hand over hers. His fingers and thumbs pressed her fingers into the correct buttons. Again his scent filled her nose and his hair tickled her neck.

His hands felt warm and rough, but she liked it.

"See, you got it!" Eddie encouraged, slowly taking his hands off hers as she focused on the game. She was playing it by herself and successfully!

"Like this?" She asked but her eyes were still on the screen. His head turned as he looked at her. "like that" he whispered.

She turned her head to look back at him and held her breath when she noticed how close their faces were. She bit her lip as his eyes looked at her lips, her eyes, and back to her lips. She couldn't help but look at his lips as well. They were so pink and looked so soft.

"Did good?" She breathed out, her eyes still on his lips.

"Very good." He whispered, his right hand cupped her cheek and he slowly leaned in. He smiled as her eyes fluttered shut and her head moved forward. He closed his eyes and killed the space between them. His lips were on hers as he softly tasted her. He felt a fire burning in his stomach and fuzziness all over his body. Her hand slipped from the controller and moved to his chest. Her palms rested against him as she kissed back.

"ALL DONE!" Dustin screamed, causing Y/N to jump back and shuffle over. Eddie groaned in disappointment as Dustin interrupted.

"I'll leave you boys to it." She said softly with a smile, her fingertips touching her lips as she stood up, a little dazed.

"Can I get your number? Maybe take you on a date?" Eddie asked before his chance was up.

"Oh absolutely. I'll go write it down." She said as she rushed to the kitchen. Eddie couldn't help but keep his eyes on her as she walked away.

"That excited to play?" Dustin asked, seeing the huge smile on Eddie's face.

"Very damn excited," Eddie said, his smile never leaving as Dustin pressed play.

Eddie scored a date with the babysitter.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞✯

IN WHICH…. Chris is obsessed with Y/n's lips and her lipgloss combo

WARNINGS: nothing really. kissing, mentions of kids. no smut but sexual activities are hinted at and talked about.

shoutout to my pookie @bratzforchris for giving me this idea!!!

Chris was obsessed.

He couldn’t help it, watching his baby momma glide the lip pencil in a dark brown shade around her lips, a nude lipstick following before her signature lipgloss that just so happened to be cherry flavored.

It was his favorite lip combo on her. The way it made her lips pop, the way it shined when caught in the light, and most of all, how it tasted when he went to kiss her.

“Why you keep looking at me like that?” Chris snaps out of his love daze and blinks a few times before meeting her eyes. “Huh? Look at you like what?”

“You staring at me mad hard with those blue-ass eyes. It can be cute but kind of scary.” She jokes as she sets her lipgloss back in her purse.

The family of three had just finished eating out as a celebration for their child winning her spelling bee. Y/n’s lip combo had gotten messed up due to her eating, hence her fixing it in the car.

“Damn, these blue-ass eyes can’t admire their fine-ass baby momma?” Y/n rolls her eyes before flipping the mirror up and fastening her seatbelt.

“Boy bye. Let’s go, Solana is falling asleep and she still needs to take a bath.”

“Let me get a kiss.”

“Boy, I just put my lipgloss on! No!”

“And? I don’t care, give me a kiss.”

She huffs but leans over the compartment to give him a kiss. What she planned on being a short and simple show of affection, turned into something a bit steamier. She quickly pulls away and points to the half-asleep child in the back seat.

“Your daughter is right there Christopher. Take us home.” He huffs and licks his lips, the artificial cherry flavor coating his taste buds. “Fucking cockbloc-OW!” he holds his shoulder in pain, glaring at the girl in the passenger seat.

“Don’t call my child a fucking cockblock. Now stop being a little boy and drive!”

They drive home and quickly get Lana in bed, rinsing her off in the shower before dressing her in pajamas.

Y/n walks into the bedroom and sees Chris sitting on the edge of the bed, already clad in sweatpants and his gold chain dangling on his naked chest. She walks past him to get to the closet but is quickly snatched onto his lap. Her hands fly to his shoulders to steady herself as his hands grope her ass.

“Lana’s asleep?”

His eyes are focused on her lips, not even bothering to look her in the eye.

“Yes Chris, our child is asleep.”

He smiles and smacks her ass, the sound echoing in the room.

“Good.”

His lips are instantly planted on hers, moaning as the cherry flavor he loves and worships so dearly invades his mouth.

“Fuck I love this lip gloss,” he mumbles through the kiss, flipping them over so she’s under him. “I’m running out.” She breathes heavily, out of breath from the intense makeout session.

“Then I gotta buy you more.”

The two make out for what seems like centuries before he goes to snake his hands down her shorts. She stops him and flips them over, straddling his waist.

“You gonna ride me tonight?” he has a cheeky smile on his face before it's quickly wiped away.

“No.” Chris furrows his brows in confusion making Y/n snicker. “So what are we doing then? Wait where are you going?” Y/n climbs off of Chris and begins walking to their bathroom.

“To the bathroom, I need to shower.” She states as if it was obvious.

Chris sits up, using his arms to support his weight, “are we going to have sex in the shower?”

Y/n lets out a laugh before stripping out of her clothes in front of Chris. His eyes hungrily take her in, his dick rising and forming a tent in his sweatpants.

“We aren’t doing anything besides sleeping tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m on my period.” Without another word, she closes the bathroom door leaving Chris irritated and tremendously horny.

“This is bullshit,” he mumbles as he flops down on the bed, his arm covering his eyes.

He waits a few minutes before speaking loudly so Y/n can hear him.

“Your mouth isn’t bleeding!”

“Shut the fuck up before I put you on timeout for two weeks.”

Chris groans before grabbing his phone and going to his photo gallery.

“Looks like it’s me and you.” He pulls up an old video of him and Y/n from a few months ago, already pulling down his sweats.

something short while i attempt to work on other things!!!

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[amara-scott]

Imagine Mattheo and Theodore fighting over you constantly.

P.1

Reader x Mattheo Riddle / Reader x Theodore Nott

"The picknick was a good idea, I have to admit." I say, dropping another grape into my mouth, a full mouth turned into a smile. I sneak another one out of the basket Theo is carrying.

I glance over at Theo and he nods, grinning. He winks. "I know, Carina. I always have the best ideas, you should know that by now." I roll my eyes in amusement at his cocky statement.

As if on cue, I see a brown mop of curls rounding the corner, making me sigh. Great. Just great.

"Hey, what a surprise." Mattheo says, not seeming too happy as his eyes land on Theodore beside me. Mattheo shuffles something inside his jacket, flashing white, which I only catch a glimpse of. But I can't even question what it was before these two begin staring each other down.

An undeniably painful pause is the only thing holding me back from just turning around to run away. It's scaring me to even move a muscle. If these two don't sort out whatever is bugging them, I won't hesitate and avoid them both. I really did try to help them befriend each other once more. Their inner rivalry didn't get unnoticed by the rest of our friend group either. What has gotten into them these past few weeks?

"(Y/N), let's get going." Theo's free hand wraps around my wrist, not even glancing at me once while talking. He turns and tries to pull me with him, but not before Mattheo steps up, pushing Theo.

I stumble with him, still being in the grasp of Theo's strong hand. He let go and I take a step back.

"Excuse me?!" I get out before straightening up, rearranging my cloak. My glare hits Mattheo, but he is fixed on the boy in front of him as they now nearly graze noses. If I didn't know these two, I'd say one of them would be a Gryffindor. That would make sense at least. This is worse than Draco and Harry.

"Where do you think you're taking her, huh?" He grits out, and I can't say a word, too stunned I am being dragged into this ongoing fight now.

"Stop it, both of you!" I yell, but neither of them are backing down, making it really hard not to just ask a Professor to break them off. I glance around, only a few students hushing past, not daring to spare a look.

"We are going somewhere that is none of your concern, Riddle."

"Yeah? I don't think so, Nott."

"Why don't you fuck off and shag one of your whores, mind your own damn business!"

I had never seen either of them so worked up, which certainly was scary to look at. I try once more, "boys, come on, this is ridiculous." I gulp as they still don't look at me. My heart starts racing, and I try to find a way out that won't result in broken noses or wands at each other throats. What is going on with these two?!

"Come on, (Y/N)." Theo says again, making me debate what I should do. Pick a side? I don't want to be the reason one is more mad or disappointed by what I do.

"No." I mumble, feeling my eyes sting as I blink. I gulp once more, Theo's eyes finding my form a few feet behind Mattheo. His face relaxes as he looks at me.

"See? She doesn't want you, Nott." I can only make out the corner of Mattheo's lips as they curl up into a grin. Which doesn't help my situation.

"I'm not picking a side here, Matt, you are both acting extremely childish over – over, who knows what!" I turn and storm off, ignoring Matt and Theo yelling my name.

These idiots took it too far now. I won't speak a word – won't spare them another glance. Ugh, boys!

___

"-and he pushed Theo! Like a little kid! What is going on with these two?" I sat across from Pansy, piercing my fork into my piece of chocolate cake over and over again until it went mushy and the appetite left me. I sigh, my fork dropping onto the table, and I bury my face into my hands.

"You know them. They will get over it. Theo probably stole Matt's last fudge fly. They're boys, just like you said." She mumbles and keeps chewing on her dessert, eyes scanning the next page of her Witch Weekly magazine.

"I hope you're right." I mutter under my breath.

"Hey you two-" Draco joins us at the table, sitting down next to Pansy, Enzo settles beside me, I send him a brief smile.

"What's pestering you, (Y/N)? Or should I ask – who's pestering you?" He snickers and earns a stare from Pansy, making him shut up.

"Wait – do you know something, Draco?" I ask him and squint my eyes at him. He obviously does, as he stutters for a word, shaking his head. His cheeks slightly pink.

"Enzo, what is going on? Where are the others?" I turn to him, he sighs but shakes his head, sending me a small and sorry smile.

"I promised not to tell anyone. Especially not you, love." I grow irritated with the lot and push myself up, sending another glare at Draco, he would be easier to break. I take out my wand, holding it by my side and start boring holes into his head. He tries to avoid my deathly stare. But then he makes the mistake of connecting his eyes with mine.

"If you won't tell me right now where they are, I will personally make sure to have you grow a second nose every day, for the rest of the year – you will smell things you wish you didn't –"

"– come on, (Y/N), we promised –"

"– In the library, in the far back corner on the second level –" Draco squeaks, making Enzo glare at him in shock.

"We promised, Draco!"

"I don't care, I know she'll do it. I don't want a nose on my bum one morning! She knows how to get into our dorm." Draco snarls and glares at the table as I hurry off. Pansy only smirking and eating her second dessert in peace.

"Go get them!" She calls out without looking up and I wave her off, pushing past a few people on my way. My heart is racing and I don't know if I want to even meet these idiots. I promised myself to ignore them. Well that didn't take long for me to break.

I round the corner and walk into the library. My racing thoughts made this quiet place unbearable as I heard every damn thought of mine. But just as I take the last couple steps on the stairwell, I am met with hushed shouting.

"– how about you're both idiots? I really am hungry and if you two make me miss dinner, you won't sleep another night –" I hear Blaise taunting. I glance between a few books on the shelf, making out three heads. There they are. Blaise sits by the window, I could see his face clear as day. Theo sat sideways, eyes turned to the table in between them both. Mattheo on the other hand stands, pacing back and forth. He stops, just as my breath.

"Theo simply has to admit that he went behind my back. He took away the only thing that really mattered –"

"The only thing that mattered? The only thing that mattered to you was to simply get laid! Like always – just pick a different girl!" Theo stands up too now, Mattheo stepping up to his figure.

Blaise suddenly steps between them, hands on either chest and looks back and forth. "Hey, boys, you truly think we haven't had these lines already tonight? You're both ridiculous."

So this is about a girl? Is this about –

"Well, (Y/N) would never pick someone like you."

Shit.

"Like me? You're one to talk, Nott – stealing her from me, right after I told you I liked her. I trusted you, you are supposed to be my fucking best mate!" Their hushed voices are not so hushed anymore and I glance down to Miss Pince's desk. She narrows her eyes, scanning the upper level.

Blaise is struggling to hold Mattheo back now, Theo's lips curling into a smirk. I lean closer, my eyes still wide. How do they both like – me? Is this a stupid prank?

WHACK!

I was obviously leaning onto the shelf a bit too much as a book fell to the ground. Their heads turn to me and I could now clearly see all of them through the opening. I give them a weak smile and wave. "Hey –"

"(Y/N)?" Theo asks, stepping forward, around the shelf. I meet him half way, Mattheo’s eyes as hard as stone. My mouth feels dry while I try to think of what to say. I shrug and try to smile. My eyes land on Blaise who seems relieved, sighing as he walks up to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder, glancing between Theo and Matt.

“Maybe you’re the best to talk to them right now.” He pats my shoulder and turns to leave, I turn my head, wanting to tell him to stay, my heart racing. Blaise stops, glancing back at me. “Good luck.” He smirks and skips down the staircase. I really don’t want to turn back around so I take my time, gulping as I focus on both their shoe pairs instead of any eyes. Theo steps up slowly. “Carina, what did you hear?” My eyes shoot up at his question and Matt huffs, falling back into a cushioned arm chair.

“Obviously she heard it all. Otherwise she would be smacking our heads by now.” He mumbles at the end, his head held high as he’s glaring down at his knees, his hands squeezing the soft armrests. His sharp jaw clenching every now and then.

“I- I really-“ I take a deep breath shaking my head. “- don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Theo sends me a small encouraging smile. Matt’s head rolls back as he groans out.

“Oh please, stop that stupid emphasizing scheme!” Matt stands back up and joins us, glaring at Theo in disgust. Theo just rolls his eyes, turning to him.

“Just because you’re cold-hearted and only care about yourself doesn’t mean everyone has to-“

“-oh I only care about myself? You’re one to talk, fucking backstabber-“

“-Me? You are-“

“Hey!” I yell out, them both turning to me as they are once again almost choking each other. I ignore a few shushes thrown our way. Mattheo’s eyes soften as I look directly at him. His lips part and in his eyes I see that he’s struggling to hold back from saying what’s on his mind. “Matt-“ I get out, holding back my own emotional rollercoaster.

“I- I can’t-“ He stammers, rushing past me and running down the stairs, leaving. I walk up to the railing, my hands closing around the cold wood while I am looking after him.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” My head snaps around, Theo’s sad eyes glossy. He looks down, stepping closer and stops a foot from me. His eyes wandering back up, like he’s taking one last good look at me. Taking me in.

“It’s always been him.” He continues.

———

For part two choose your ending:

Mattheo

Theodore

Third ending?... (coming soon)