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nereidprinc3ss · 3 months ago

Text

hourglass

in which spencer disappears from fem!reader's life entirely for three months, right as it seems they were finally about to make things official. when he comes back they reunite, all the while knowing things can't be the same as they were.

18+ (smut, angst) warnings/tags: oh god so many. NOT canon compliant in the slightest, i make shit up, softdom!spence, nipple stuff prob, fingering, oral f receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex, pet names, tara mentioned, depression, mentions of trauma cause its the prison arc duh, passing mentions of alcohol, mentions of spencer losing weight, reader mistakenly thinks spencer tried to kill himself BUT ONLY FOR A SECOND, where is diana reid, nobody knows or cares, probably filming glee, optimistic ending a/n: haven't posted smut in forever but this wip required it and the angst was so angsty i just had to finish it. it was started in jan or feb and subsequently added to and changed months apart and then edited so the writing quality varies from section to section which i apologize for. originally based on good guy by julia jacklin... also the odyssey by homer? can't really explain that one you'll just have to see for yourself anyway byeeee ilysm!!! PLS tell me if you liked it! or if you hated it! but preferably if you liked it! MWAH! wc <12k

It’s been about three months since you last saw Spencer Reid.

About three months since you had an early Valentine’s Day celebration (even though you weren’t a couple) complete with champagne (even though he doesn’t usually drink) and slow dancing (even though you swore you’d be terrible and he spent the first ten minutes laughing at you as you stepped on his toes.)

About three months since you finally settled your head on his shoulder and let the warbling vinyl carry you somewhere distant as the two of you danced slow circles on the parquet floor for what felt like hours.

You’d have liked him to stay later that night. You’d have liked him to stay all night if you were being honest with yourself, but at 11:45 he gently pulled away and told you he had to go.

“Curfew?” you joked, the corner of your mouth lifting a little and you hoped you were hiding your disappointment well.

“Actually, I’m going down to Texas for a few days to speak with one of the leading doctors in experimental Alzheimer's and dementia treatment. I’m going to see if he can get my mom into a clinical trial. I leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing, Spencer! What are you doing still here? You should be at home getting ready to go!”

A rosy blush stains his cheeks and he looks down at the ground, laughing that little self-deprecating laugh of his. It makes your heart dance to see him so happy, makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let him go so that he knows how much you absolutely adore him—but you settle for an affectionate squeeze where your hands have come to rest on his biceps.

“I wanted to see you tonight because I won’t be here for Valentine’s Day... but I still really wanted to spend it with you,” he admits meekly.

If before your heart was dancing, it is now melting.

The dreaded ‘what are we’ talk has been lurking in the dark corners of every conversation you have with each other lately—at least, in your mind it has. What you have with Spencer is not easily defined, and near impossible to explain to your friends—you act like a couple, you go out on dates, he introduces you to his team like you’re his girlfriend without ever putting it into so many words—but this validation that your pseudo-relationship might be evolving is better than any flowers he could have gotten you (although the peonies he brought will look very nice on your bedside table.)

“Four whole days... what will I do without you?” you whisper, brushing a hand along his face, and your chest aches with the heavy truth of it—despite the fact that he often is gone for stretches about that length. They don’t ever start to feel shorter.

“Well, you can start by reading that copy of The Odyssey I annotated for you.”

“Depressing,” you admit. “And a little ominous, considering you’re about to embark on a hero’s journey.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he smiles.

You chew on your bottom lip, looking up at him as you think.

“Give me something to look forward to,” you say, earnestly.

“I—well, honestly, I just really want to kiss you and I’ve wanted to for a long time now and, you know, if that’s something you’re maybe also interested in then we could, uh, figure out a time to—”

“You want to kiss me?”

“Wh—you couldn’t tell?” Spencer says, like he can’t believe it.

As if on reflex, you lunge up and capture his lips with your own. It obviously catches him by surprise, but when you lower from your tiptoes he follows you, pulling you in closer and holding your face in his hands.

It’s too natural, too right, to be exhilarating. There’s no rush of adrenaline—it's more like stepping into a hot bath or warming your freezing hands at a fire. Like pieces clicking into place. It’s a relief.

You breathe into it, letting more and more of yourself melt against him. He keeps coming back to you deeper and deeper like a rising tide, and you want more than anything to keep getting closer to him—but then he stops. He stays close enough for you to breathe his air, but dodges your kiss gently before supplanting it with a gentle one to the corner of your mouth.

“I really have to go,” he breathes, before moving away from your mouth to kiss your forehead and speak softly against your skin. “If I don’t leave now I’ll be here all night.”

Which is exactly what you want, and the implication does little to make you want him less. But you care about him too much to be so selfish.

At some point, his hands found their way into your hair, and you gently grab his wrists.

“Incentive for you to come home.”

Nearly three months since that night.

At first when he stopped answering texts, you’d assumed he just had too much going on down in Texas. Which you could understand—you knew how stressful this situation with his mother was.

Even when four days came and went without even an alert from him that he was back in town, you thought, okay, maybe he’s been called away on a case. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s disappeared because of his work. But even then, he’d at least text you enough information so that you would know he was alive. Now, radio silence.

So you tried not to be clingy. You tried to act like an adult, to focus on school and your life outside of Spencer, but when Tara Lewis cancelled your weekly meeting due to an “unforeseen work-related emergency”you called her immediately. Tara was something of a mentor, and it was she who had connected you and Spencer to begin with. You had met the other members of his team by that point, yes, but none who you knew as well as Tara.

When she had informed you that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico and was now facing prison time for murder, you laughed.

Laughed until you realized her end of the line was silent.

Realized it was not at all a joke.

In a catatonic state of tranquility, you asked her for more details. Beyond assuring you of his innocence, she couldn’t (or more likely, wouldn’t) provide them. Asked where he was now. Asked all the right things that made sense to ask.

Then you hung up and had a panic attack because Tara said something about 25 years and you saw Spencer evaporate from your future like an apparition.

Slowly, you felt him evaporating from your past, too. Those memories from the night he left, became visions of you swaying with a ghost. Holding nothing but light between your hands as you kissed the peony air of your apartment.

He doesn’t want to see you, she had said into the phone one night, her tinny voice cutting in and out. You’re not on his list of approved visitors.

“You asked him about me?” you had whispered, curled up on top of your made bed in the dark.

I tried. I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I know more.

All your days melded together like a muddied smear of paint. Suddenly you felt you had nothing to look forward to. No anchor, no goal. Yes, a PhD... and then what?

The only thing that punctuated one 24 hour period from the next was the time you spent crying because Spencer was in prison and he didn’t want to see you and by the looks of things you may never see him again. When you weren’t crying, you were thinking about how your life was a big cosmic joke. An unfortunate statistical anomaly that didn’t mean anything to anyone else, and that you couldn’t do anything about.

That copy of The Odyssey, which wasn’t even bound and instead was a thick stack of printer paper organized by a single black clip, became something of a manifesto for you—a tome that your poured over, reading and re-reading each note in the margins, each word beautiful and imbued with meaning because you knew Spencer had selected every single one specifically for you. You traced the letters reverently, because in a way this was the last thing he had said to you—about Lattimore’s faith to the original text, Merrill’s strict use of dactylic hexameter, the stylings of Wilson and Lombardo, and how he thought you would enjoy Hammond’s prose just as much as he did.

Day by day it was becoming more prophetic than fictional, and you allowed yourself to sink into madness. You would rather be a deluded zealot than be nothing at all.

He didn’t want to see you.

He might as well have been dead, for all that you were grieving him. And you started to hate him, because he wasn’t dead, but wouldn’t do you the kindness of proving it. Like a festering wound, scratched open day after day so as not to ever heal, you had to live knowing he was less than an hour away. So no, you weren’t exactly over it. You lived day by day, waiting for the occasional call from Tara to keep you updated on Spencer, but either she didn’t want to share much about how he was doing, or he had specifically barred her from doing so, because she was always sparse on the personal side of things. That thought actually lifted your spirits, because it meant he was at least acknowledging your existence in some tiny way.

But your routine was becoming more regular, and so you staid on top of your classes and your non-Reid related meetings with Tara once a week, and you learned to dip your toes into existential dread and the oily black pool of depression every night without ever fully submerging yourself. You learned hope, because it was pretty much all you had, and the BAU had confidence that they would get Spencer out one way or another so you did too.

So you didn’t really think about it when you missed a couple of calls from Tara some evening in May. You were preparing for finals and had way too much on your plate academically to think about anything else which was a welcome relief so you fully embraced it. I’ll call her back tomorrow, you think, as you clean up from dinner before going back to the living room where your textbooks and papers are completely covering every available surface. Maybe I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life after school, but I’ll be damned if I don’t even make it that far.

Hours later, well into the night, you’d all but forgotten about the calls. A knock at the door takes you a bit by surprise, and you frown as you stand again, tugging your Georgetown sweatshirt down over your shorts as you shuffle to the entrance of your apartment. You’re not expecting anyone, so you crack the door, peering around the edge of it.

And you couldn’t even consider trying to hide that shaky inhalation of dead air when you see Spencer standing on the other side.

Surely you’re hallucinating.

Surely this man in front of you who looks like he just got back from a day of work didn’t spend three months in prison pretending you didn’t exist.

He looks the same. Hair a bit longer, maybe—and gaunter even more than is normal for him.

But it's him.

You can’t think about the apprehensive look on his face—you can’t think about the impossibility of him being here. You can’t think at all. Without your explicit permission, your body surges forward into his, and he’s real, and alive, and warm, and he is an anachronism in the hallway as he accepts everything you pour into the embrace, doesn’t flinch when you move your arms from around his waist to loop around his neck and back to his waist again with crushing force because you just can’t get him close enough.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mutters into your hair, I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry, he keeps saying, rubbing your back as you try to find a solid grip on the sleek material of his suit—try to gather all the pieces of him, already afraid he might fall apart and float away again.

“You—dis—disappeared,” you hiccup after an eternity, pulling away enough to look up at his pretty face. Tears blur your vision and darken the front of his jacket, bending the florescent lights so they form a kind of halo above his head.

Through the surreal haze you can see his throat bob.

“I know.”

He knows?

You scoff.

“You have no fucking idea, Spencer. What the fuck is wrong with you? I—I'm—”

The hot anger is such a relief for a second, boiling the oceans of your despair into a wrathful, scorching fog, but as soon as you try to tell him how you feel, the barbed wire cuts into your throat again. You shove him away, skin burning where his hands had been.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, hands hanging uselessly at his side. There’s that kicked puppy look about him—and it’s familiar, but now there’s more damage. You don’t know anything about his time in prison, you haven’t heard a damn thing, but beneath the glassy desperation in his eyes there is an unfathomable void that seems to be preventing him from being fully present—and you realize for the first time that he is different.

It chills you.

Before, you and Spencer shared everything. There wasn’t one part of his internal machinations that you didn’t understand, nothing you kept from each other. But as you study him now from a few feet away, you realize there might as well be a yawning chasm between the two of you.

He is so different.

Those eyes look deeper. No gears turning just behind the slashes of gold and brown anymore—only an endless dark corridor that goes places you will never go.

Gone is the perpetual boyish up-turn at the corner of his lips that always made him look slightly vacant in a way that you found incredibly amusing. Something you had been so fond of, even if you teased him.

He seems to have aged ten years—if not physically, then in demeanor. And now you feel like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

You cross your arms, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

You’re embarrassed. And pissed. And relieved. Everything is worse and better. You want to fall back into his arms, but you have been jarred by the revelation that this might not be the same Spencer. It might not be the same relationship. You have no idea where you stand.

He says your name gently, with so much familiarity you’re briefly jerked into the past. It makes you wish you could look up to find him as he was three months ago. Wish this was just a bad dream. But that’s not fair to him.

“Sorry,” you mutter, studying the grey carpet fibers instead of looking at him.

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says immediately, “you’re right. I don’t—” he clears his throat— “I’m being incredibly selfish. I shouldn’t have just shown up, I’ll just—I'll leave. I’m sorry.”

A silent moment passes.

You don’t look up as he turns and swiftly begins to move down the hall toward the stairway, leaving as quickly and silently as he had come, like a few bars of a song sighed in and away on a fleeting breeze.

Your bare feet are concretely planted, imagining him jogging down the steps and speed-walking away from your building—

And suddenly you’re sprinting after him, feeling like you might puke because Spencer was just here and you let him go again—and even though you’re still so mad and confused and hurt, the realization that he is leaving again makes the entire building spin and lurch.

“Wait!” You yell, almost wiping out as you run down the stairs and whip around corners in your slippery fucking socks. “Please, wait!”

The lobby is already empty as you spill out into it, and cold dread tightens around your neck like a fist as you shoulder your way through the double doors and right into Spencer.

“Please don’t leave again, you just—I'm sorry, I really need you to not go—” you blabber, lachrymose once more, gripping onto his forearms for dear life.

“I’m not going,” he breathes shakily. “I tried to leave because I think you were right and maybe I should and maybe it would be better for you but I can’t.”

“You can’t,” you agree, more sob than spoken word. He cups your jaw, then your cheeks, wiping tears and brushing away hair like he can’t figure out how to hold enough of you between his hands. The wild kaleidoscope of his eyes, bright and alive and real as he scans you desperately captures your attention enough to slow the tears to a trickle. He notices this and stares back, entranced.

A silent agreement is made, or maybe an inevitable fate is accepted—either way, something was set in motion three months ago and it matters to see it through. Spencer kisses you and you’re ready for it. You don’t need slow or tender. You need to feel how he feels. You need to know what he knows.

You sling your arms around his neck and he pulls you closer until you almost tip backward, chasing the bruising kiss even as you regain your footing. You want to drink him in and you do your best, breathing deeply as he kisses you deeper, backing you inside and toward the elevator.

“Is this okay?” he manages, only after blindly reaching for and mashing the up button on the wall panel.

Ideally it wouldn’t happen like this, but the world you live in obviously isn’t ideal and your personal situations as they coincide are far from ideal, so this is how it has to happen. But it’s hard to explain, and you’d rather not admit that this is so far from what you wanted for both of you and follow up with the fact that despite that you need him like you need water. So you don’t say a word as the metal doors slide open promptly. Instead you pull him in and let him press you to the chrome wall as he hits your floor button, and that very hand comes back to grab your ass like you didn’t think Spencer Reid capable of. It almost aches as his fingers dig into the flesh, but it’s a good ache because it means he’s real and he’s there.

You gasp as he hitches your leg up, arching into him. The shorts that you’re wearing leave very little to the imagination to begin with, but they become downright indecent like this.

Quickly the elevator stops and the doors hiss open. You don’t hesitate to pull Spencer by the hand down the hall. When you notice you left your door wide open, you don’t even care. Neither does he, apparently—once you’re inside he slams it shut, flipping the deadbolt while his eyes are glued to you like you’re already naked. Now Spencer is shameless in the way he drags his eyes over every curve, every place your clothes and hair are disheveled from his touch and eye-fucks you so obviously it makes your face warm. Three months ago Spencer would have at least been bashful about it when he met your eyes again, but this Spencer is far from apologetic as he pins you with his burning gaze once more. His hand stays stuck to the door like he’s holding himself back.

“Is this what you want?”

There’s an undercurrent of sorrow below the gravely arousal, like this isn’t what he wanted for the two of you either. But you’re both at the mercy of fate. This is all you have, and it might be all you can do for each other anymore. So you don’t need to say that, because he understands.

“Yeah. Yes, this is what I want.”

For just a second more he watches you from his place by the door, and there’s an unexpected softness to it. He looks at you the way he would have looked at you before. Like as long as he stays there he can entertain the idea of being that person again.

Need wins out quickly, though, and he surges forward. Immediately you’re caught in the riptide of him, helpless as he kisses you all the way to your bedroom.

He’s never been in here before. You find yourself glad it’s relatively clean—one of the pastimes you’d picked up in his absence was keeping everything tidy. It was something you could control.

A lamp glows at your bedside. You lean against the footboard of your bed, hands timidly behind your back and suddenly shy to have in him in your intimate space. Both of you set aside the heaving desperation long enough to catch your breaths, and for him to scan the room like he too is being forced to reconcile with the innate and unexpected intimacy of the moment. He cuts a harsh, dark gash in your sweetly decorated bedroom, radiating something wild and powerful and unsure of himself like a chained bull as he takes in the soft, pale bedding, the paintings and photos taped to the walls, the woven rug and the sheer drapery. His breathing slows as he studies it all—eyes eventually catching on something behind you. Looking is unnecessary. You’re sure he’s spotted the dried peonies in their ceramic vase. Or maybe the now worn stack of papers that is his Odyssey, marked up and soft around the edges from constant flipping-through.

Then Spencer looks at you, and that softness seeps in again. Along with something like... fear? Grief?

In some other universe your first time with Spencer is sweet and giggly and kind and he smiles at the decor in your room and looks around with wonder because it’s another way he gets to know you. It’s a different way to learn you from the inside.

You sense that he’s caught in between universes right now as well, painfully aware of what he would have given you that he can’t anymore.

He breathes your name like an apology, and foolishly you let a second go by in which you think he might offer you one. But he doesn’t. Not with his words, anyway. His eyes tell a different story.

“It’s fine,” you say unprompted on a whispered exhale, then a little louder as you push off the footboard, crossing the space until your hands are on his chest. You focus on his tie, not making eye contact as you rush to undo it. “It’s fine.”

He lets you do this for a few seconds before finally covering your trembling hands with his own. You still can’t meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to do—”

“No! No, please. I want to. I need—I need us to be okay.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, catching your chin and forcing you to look at him. “We are okay. Me and you are fine.”

It’s a pretty thought, but it’s not true. In fact, it’s a hideous and abject affront to the truth. Sure, maybe you’re fine in comparison to last week. Maybe anything feels fine compared to an eight by six cell. But it would be impossible for you and Spencer, for your relationship, whatever that relationship may be, to be fine. It’s especially impossible for him to make that claim, after all he did or rather didn’t do while he was gone. What you need is for him to stay anyway. What you need is to find a way to be with him, to exist with him, even when you are so clearly not fine.

“I just need you to stay,” you whisper, and he’s already nodding, wide-eyed like he’d do anything for you. You ignore all the bitter venom rising in your throat. You pretend this isn’t all happening after he cut you out of his life with a dirty switchblade. Instead you focus on his hands on yours, the familiar smell of him, which invites you to let go of each and every thought and worry. He must’ve showered before coming here, you realize. How long has he been out? What happened?

“Okay. Okay, I can stay. What else can I do? How do I make it better?”

You sniffle and look back down.

“You can untie that for me.”

He hesitates, then nods some more, fingers working under yours to undo the tie around his neck.

“Okay.”

A moment goes by and after that final whispered word, the tension begins to build again. Spencer senses it in the way your fingertips linger on his chest and you step even closer, dragging them down to his belt. The metallic sound of it unbuckling, despite being your own doing, still manages to flip your stomach. How many times have you pictured this? When was the first time you realized you wanted it? You’re sure you haven’t stopped wanting it even once since then.

Spencer tosses the tie away and is shrugging off his jacket now, then before you see it coming he’s kissing you again, ducking down to do it. He feels taller this close up, and especially in your bedroom, where he just seems rather out of place. But you want him here. God, you want him here.

You break the kiss, forced to look down as you fumble with his belt.

“Sorry,” you gasp, embarrassed by your lack of dexterity. The light is barely sufficient to see what you’re doing, especially when he’s wearing black on black and your eyes are still bleary.

“You’re okay,” he assures you, and it’s so Spencer a fresh round of nerves electrifies the tips of your fingers. That thing is happening—the thing you’d hoped to avoid if you hadn’t lost momentum partway through, where you’re allowing your actual feelings for him to get in the way rather than getting swept up in the pathos of the moment and letting everything be easy and mindless. “Here, can I help you?”

But he doesn’t actually wait for an answer before he’s finishing off the belt for you, tugging it loose from his hips till it’s a leather coil in his hands. Your fingers brush the material and he lets you take it as if it were your prize. It’s heavier than you thought it’d be, and you just feel the weight of it in your hands for a moment, your dropped head brushing his chest.

You have a terrible feeling that if you do this now, it doesn’t mean everything will be alright. Because it can’t just go back to normal. Spencer has told you nothing of what must be an enormous trauma, and you haven’t spoken about it at all, but you sincerely doubt that after this he’s going to be ready to just jump into that committed relationship the two of you had been toying with for months before his absence. You’re almost... scared of him, now. Scared of where he’s been and what he’s endured—things you’re sure you couldn’t have taken. What that does to a person, you can’t imagine. He seems so solid and real in front of you now—but you know that’s not always enough. Maybe you’re just scared that somehow whatever he’s been through will have made him care for you less. That you were too far removed from the whole ordeal, and now you’ll never understand. If you could understand, maybe you could fix it for him. Maybe he’d stick around.

Still—even if you do end up pushing him further away in the long run—won't it have been worth it to have had him so completely, even just once?

You toss the belt to the ground, compressing all of these very complicated thoughts and feelings into a few seconds so short he can’t ask you any questions about them. Instead you find his top button, and just as you manage to undo it with relative ease he’s gently grabbing your wrists. You look up at him, immediately surrendering.

“If we’re going to do this I need you to relax a little bit.”

Gears grind in your chest. You feel need and anxiety comingling in every square inch of your body. It’s a sick buzz—a high on an empty stomach.

“I can’t,” you admit.

“Yeah, you can,” Spencer gently disagrees, slowly lowering your hands. When he’s sure you’re not going to try ripping his clothes off again, he releases, and his eyes lower to the zipper of your hoodie. His fingers follow, warm against the soft triangle of revealed skin at your chest as he grips the small piece of metal between barely shaking fingers. “You can.”

You match his eyeline, breathing shallowly and watching as he slowly drags the zipper down. You wonder if that sound has haunted his fantasies the way the sound of his belt has haunted yours. If he’s seen this hoodie on you and wondered what’s underneath, staring at you and daydreaming during movie night with you none the wiser.

Both of you have your eyes glued to the span of skin as the zipper parts. Spencer stalls with the zipper at your sternum, just below the band of your bra.

Right. No shirt.

You look up and find his eyes already on you, tinged with a curious kind of humor.

“I wasn’t expecting guests.”

The words come out shy. Spencer’s chuckle has its own nervous airy quality as he resumes tugging on your zipper, leaning down until your noses bump.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Then he kisses you again, a little sweeter now. Sweet enough to give you butterflies and for them to flutter right out of your stomach and spill from your lips in a little whimper against his.

It comes as a surprise when he pushes the fabric from your shoulders without looking or asking. Not that you’d have said no—you're just underprepared for how assertive he is in this foreign context.

Left just in your flimsy shorts and your thin bra, you feel quite exposed—but Spencer’s hands are as demanding and hungry as his mouth. They skim up your sensitive sides and sweep lower, suggesting less proper placement over your ass and pulling at your bottoms until you gently put a stop to their wandering.

“Wait. We’re... we’re uneven.”

It’s a struggle to get any words out at all when he keeps chasing your lips, nipping at you like he physically can’t stand not kissing you, but they catch his attention and he laughs airily, pulling back to let his gaze pour over your less clothed form. It lingers and catches and lights you up everywhere it touches, drops of heat soaking into your skin and making you feel all fuzzy and needy.

“We are,” he acknowledges, tone low and colored with the faintest smile. “You’re a lot prettier without your clothes on than I am.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The challenge comes immediately and thoughtlessly. Spencer’s golden eyes flash up to yours. He’s breathing a little harder than usual.

“You want me to show you what I mean?”

If that means getting him naked, then yes, absolutely.

You nod, but rather than immediately stripping, he takes your hand and holds his own open next to it. A thick pink scar bisects some pretty significant palmistry lines, but you don’t mention that. Instead you swallow—your thoughts, your words, your nausea.

“That’s new.”

You wonder how you hadn’t noticed it earlier.

He nods.

“A lot is new.”

It sounds almost like he’s challenging you—there's a kind of tremulous force in his voice, despite the perpetual softness there, like he’s inviting you to say it’s ugly. And you realize he’s referring to more than just the glowing scar cutting an asteroid trail against the flesh of him palm. The scars he obtained in prison must form a constellation over his body.

“I don’t care. I wanna see you.”

Spencer swallows, cupping your face with the scarred hand once more. You can’t feel it against your cheek but you know it hasn’t gone away.

“I’m sure you think you do,” he permits, and that’s where the conversation ends for the moment—with his hand on your face and his lips back on yours. “For now why don’t you let me worry about you?”

Obediently, you breathe, “okay.”

This is, for whatever reason, amusing to him. The brief levity dies as quick as it comes like a snuffed-out brush fire as soon as he lets his hands fall back down to your hips.

“I want... I want to give you slow. But...”

But slow is for people who didn’t lose three months of their life. Slow is for people who don’t know what it’s like to be starving. Slow is not for the desperate.

You understand the feeling.

“I don’t need slow.”

You’ll let him use you up like quick-burning fuel if that’s what he needs. You’ll go as fast and as bright and as hot as he tells you.

“But you want slow,” he murmurs, a secret acknowledged into your own waiting mouth. You’d keep it there forever. You could be the object he hides his soul in. “I know you do. You deserve to get what you want.”

“I can go fast. I want whatever you can give me.”

Spencer’s shuddering exhale is like a drug, dizzying as you inhale it and your eyes flutter at the high, pressed head-to-head with him. For so long you’ve needed him so badly. It’s overwhelming to have him now, all over you. If only your walls could breathe him in the way you are, if this room could remember what it feels like to hold him the way you will, if any inanimate object could bear witness to how you’ll give yourself, any part of yourself, over to him, so willingly.

“I’m going to try.” Spencer’s voice is hoarse as he walks backward to the bed, taking you by the hips as he goes. “I want to do it right. I want to do this the way I... the way I imagined it, before...”

Now he’s sitting, and you’re standing between his legs as he finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it, his fingers a comforting pressure where they ghost down the slope of your back. Your heart is pounding at the confession, at the way his tongue darts over his bottom lip and his fingertips journey back up to your straps, looking up at you with haloed irises as if he’d find anything other than the most dangerous kind of smoldering devotion in your eyes—the kind cult-leaders seek and spend years nurturing, and he’d earned with a mere brush over your bare skin.

The fabric slides down your arms, and as it falls to the floor, you watch something like despair flash-flood his eyes. It is a deep, distinctly human grief. The ineffable kind where something is almost too beautiful; so perfect it offends the mortal senses because it should be permanent, but nothing is, and the clash of divine beauty with unstoppable time which oxidizes copper and covers marble with vine is almost as grotesque as metal rending delicate flesh. It is the grief that drove the first poet to write and the first parents to press their baby’s painted hands to the walls of a cave. It is the desire to do the impossible—to capture ephemeral perfection and make it eternal, and the knowledge that it is hopeless. You recognize it because you’ve felt it for him.

“I thought about you all the time,” he whispers, doesn’t bother calling you beautiful but you don’t mind because he’s telling you with his hands and his eyes and the waver of his voice. “When I was gone, I thought about you—”

You’re just as quiet, just as soft.

“Don’t, Spencer.”

He doesn’t get to tell you about when he was gone. Not now. Not after he acted like you didn’t exist.

“Okay.” He swallows the things he’d wanted to tell you like you choked on the things you needed to tell him for three months. “I’m sorry.”

But his hands—his hands are perfect over your waist and his lips are perfect where they kiss your ribs like they’re his homeland. You could forgive a thousand wrongs for each kiss he puts to your skin. Light from the full moon stretches over the room like a blessing from the cosmos, and you have every intention of making the most of that gift, how the silver gilds the planes of his face and highlights curls like they were carved, and invites you to search for something in each shadow.

Some of his kisses land over the sensitive skin of your breasts though you doubt he has much intention or that there is any sort of end-goal with the trail he blazes—in fact, you have to root your hand in his hair and pull gently back when he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s making you wait again. His eyes are glassy and cheeks slightly pinkened—you weren’t expecting this wave of fondness to knock you on your ass but here you are, falling all over again.

“You don’t have to go that slow.”

A slow smile splits the heart of his mouth at your bashful tone and he’s emboldened to bring his hands higher for a moment, thumbs brushing particularly delicate though not downright indecent spots. Nonetheless, your breath catches.

“Impatient girl,” he scolds, and though it’s lighthearted it still inspires heat to dance across your face. Oh, I think I’ve been plenty patient, you itch to say, but you bite it back because it’s only sad and true and unkind.

Still, he gives you the beginning of what you want, really only the tip of the enormous iceberg that is your desire for him, by slipping his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down. His hands slide up the fronts of your thighs, tracing the trim of your underwear, and you’d swear he’s not even breathing. The moment one of his hand loops behind your knee and pulls forward until it’s pressed to the mattress and you’re half-kneeling, half standing, desire begins to truly cloud your mind. Manhandling never seemed like Spencer’s style, but when paired with how softly he reveals your hip, pulling gently down on the fabric of your underwear just to admire you up close, you don’t mind it.

More kisses are littered over your stomach, and he takes you by surprise a second time with a quick maneuver landing you on your back and him on top of you.

“I wasn’t doing you justice with my imagination,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I couldn’t have known.”

“Couldn’t have known what?” you pant as he shamelessly digs his fingers into the plush of your ass. You almost hope it bruises.

“How pretty you would be,” he coos like he means it, and you dissolve, slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. “You were holding out on me.”

It’s a tease, not at all serious, but you manage to hit him with a, “Was not, asshole,” and he chuckles, placating your little hurt with another sticky kiss, and you get another disorienting glimpse of some other timeline where you’re both a little less damaged. Where it’s a little easier.

But in this timeline, his touch becomes starving and ragged and urgent, and you accept the drag of his thumb up your thigh and between your legs, gasping when he runs his knuckles up the center of you. This touch is metal on screeching metal. It does not pretend to be anything more than what it is—brute, powerful, executed to elicit sensation. You get the sense that Spencer’s never touched anyone this honestly, and while you do envy the girls who got to have him gentler, you’ll take this as the compliment that it is. A kind of vulnerability that is nearing primal.

His lips, though—always his lips—are kind when they brush and land on your skin guided by some invisible map. A dip down your neck and chest and then a plunge, his tongue dragging over your hips, chasing the fabric of your underwear as he almost pulls it off and then reroutes, making room for himself between your legs and pushing lace aside to mark the hinge of your inner and upper-most thigh. Your chest heaves and you don’t dare move for fear he’ll stop leaving signs of himself on your body and you won’t be able to reassure yourself that it was real and he was here and it was not another dream.

Because something in you knows, if only consciously recognizing it for the first time now, that he will disappear again. That this may be your only chance.

The desire to make the ephemeral eternal. An impossibility.

He’s clearly losing himself to something, eyes shutting blissfully. You wonder when the last time he let his guard down even a little was. You’re okay with being the thing he gets lost in, even if you’re not exactly okay with him—something you are becoming more acutely aware of as each touch makes a part of you want to cry. Maybe you still have some things in common. A strange pain that doesn’t quite feel like it belongs to you, for one thing.

You slam back into your body as his nose nudges against you through fabric, and his lips catch on cotton as he drags himself up, eventually settling a kiss against the little bow at the waist of your underwear. There he stays, eyes closed, mouth pressed to you.

“Is this okay?”

You swallow, buzzing. Is this really what he wants? After everything?

“You don’t have to...”

“But is it okay with you?”

Nothing more than an airy whisper, you reply, “Yes, if that’s what you want.”

Being emotional at this point seems wrong, but it’s difficult to ignore the fact that you have thought about this before and it’s finally happening but it’s not exactly as you’d imagined it. There is an indelible sadness to it, to the way he’s so hungry for you because he’s been deprived, to the desperation with which he touches you because he’s had everything taken from him.

For a moment, before he tugs your underwear down, he pauses, and you wonder if he’s freezing one moment in time, this moment, and grieving all the other ways it could’ve been, and accepting that this is the way it is going to be. You are.

These higher realms of thought abandon you as he finally pulls the last barrier down your legs and encourages you to spread them further. You don’t have time or energy to be embarrassed, not even by his staring, or the way his eyes dart up to yours and back down again, wide and shining, as if to say, have you seen yourself? Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

All you feel is the lack of him on you, the pull to have him closer so strong it’s almost sickening because he could be gone at any second. Maybe he understands that because he doesn’t waste anymore time before he’s kissing the most sensitive part of you. The drag of his tongue has you loosing a shuddering cry.

His mouth wanders, making connections you wouldn’t have realized the value of until you feel them on your skin. Your hips buck as he traces you and you’re unable to stop yourself from tangling your hands in his hair. Speech fails you—hell, you can hardly breathe as you watch his with a furrowed brow and parted lips, only expelling air from your lungs in the form of little cries and gasps and failing to hold your hips down to the bed.

The tip of his tongue teases around your entrance and he catches your leg as your foot rises off the bed, slinging it over his shoulder and consuming you more fervently until you have no choice but to moan though you’ve never been one for theatrics. Nobody has done this for you like he’s doing it for you. Locks of hair fall in front of his face and you hold them back for him, shuddering as he shifts his weight and presses the tip of his finger to your cunt.

“Ah—please,” you manage, your first words since he started. Spencer groans against you and the sound is so wonderfully unexpected, so much better than in your dreams. You cant your hips up in further invitation, chirping as he takes it, pushing two fingers into you at once. Your eyes screw shut and you bite back a whine at the slight stretch, unconsciously writhing your hips either to get further away or take him deeper, you’re not sure.

Spencer pulls back, kissing your hips and thighs and pumping his fingers very slowly as you adjust.

“’M sorry,” you pant, “it’s been awhile, I...”

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says like it’s simple, his own breath coming quicker. “How’re you feeling? Need me to stop?”

“No! No, it feels really good, I feel good.”

He holds your burning gaze, matching it with his own, and his hair is tousled and his cheeks are flushed as he continues to move his hand.

“Yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

This little show of obedience, of call and response, has him smiling before he occupies his mouth with something else once more. It’s a different smile than you’re used to from him, but you decide you don’t at all mind it.

Like that, with his tongue and fingers working tirelessly, your orgasm comes on quickly. The feeling is rare but not entirely foreign, and in that brief moment of utter disconnect between your brain and reality, of sheer white-hot pleasure, you don’t feel you’re missing out on anything at all. How could you be, when you are here and Spencer is here and for a moment all your neurons are lighting up and flashing neon? How could there be anything more to life than the searing feeling of him slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, than your hips between his hands like he’s cradling the world, and his lips, indiscriminate with where they kiss because every part of you is worthy of attention?

You’re reeling, and your legs are gelatinous as he so affectionately sucks the darkest mark yet onto your inner thigh like a parting gift, like he’s signing his trembling work. If you could clamp your legs shut around the almost painful aftershocks you would, but he’s climbing back up your body, so all you can do is wriggle against him and release delayed, stunted little moans. He stops to kiss your neck before he makes it to your mouth and drinks down all your sounds until you’re gentle and pliant for him like you haven’t been yet.

His voice is soft and sympathetic when he speaks. “Better?”

Wordlessly you nod, both comforted and unsettled by how well he knows you. What, exactly, has been made better, you’re not sure. Not trust. You don’t trust him anymore. Something cheaper, but temporarily effective. A sense of permanence, maybe, however fleeting it may be. You’ve completed something with him now, and he’s still here, still sweet.

He looks into your eyes, then, for a moment—and there is just enough light in the room for you to tell yourself that the shadows dancing there as he looks at you are love.

They morph as you watch into haunting, wild hunger. Pained even now.

He sits up abruptly and so do you, scooting back against your headboard and pulling your knees to your chest to protect your pounding heart as Spencer takes you in with darting eyes and quick breaths. His fingers find the collar of his shirt and he begins to unbutton.

“I need you to remember it’s all going to heal.”

He swallows, and you hardly have the wherewithal to study the way he unbuttons his shirt, a way he exists in the world that you had previously not been privy to. The words are too distracting.

“What?”

Sometimes he reminds you of a deer, with those big brown eyes that can’t help betraying anxiety. Moreso in those old pictures he’d shown you from his early days at the BAU—but it shines through occasionally even now. It’s reassuring to know that something inside of his has remained soft.

“Just...” his fingers don’t stop at their task, and you come to the disturbing realization that his knuckles are bruised. “Please don’t freak out, alright?”

Your mouth goes dry, eyes glued to the lengthening span of revealed skin.

And before he even has his shirt fully undone, something isn’t right.

He’s like a Pollack of bruises—starbursts and watercolor blots of discoloration blooming over his side and stomach.

You’re glad the light is off for two reasons: one, being that you don’t think you could handle the bruising in all its glory, and two, you hope the look of horror painted on your face is at least partially obscured from Spencer.

But you can’t. You simply don’t have the gas in the tank to freak out, as he’d said—at least not externally. Those bruises shouldn’t be there, but 96 days is a long time to be gone.

You drag your eyes back to his—nervous, deeply insecure and mistrustful. A deer. Just like those pictures of a 24 year old Spencer in an FBI jacket that was too big for him.

It’s enough to have you scooting on your knees across the mattress to him. Those big eyes stay glued to you as you draw near, falling as you carefully push open his shirt, cautious not to bump any tender spots as it falls to the bed. A flash of white gauze wrapped around his forearm that makes your stomach flip. How? You want to ask. Why?

He doesn’t seem to know what you’re going to do, and neither do you, until you’re grabbing his hands, bruised knuckles and all, and just... holding them for a minute.

“I lost weight,” he says quietly, as if that’s the most shocking thing about his current appearance, though it is noticeable.

“You’re still pretty.”

He smiles at this—a true Spencer Reid smile. Flattened lips, eyes tinged silver with sadness, voice quiet and anxious and wavering.

“I didn’t have a lot to spare.”

A moment goes by.

“I’m not going to ask you about them,” you promise, though you care so much and you want to know but you already understand that he won’t want to tell you.

Another moment. It doesn't surprise you to watch the shiny vulnerability in his eyes to freeze over completely. But he squeezes your hands once in thanks, and you know it’s still the same Spencer.

“Lie down.”

Oh. Right.

This.

You do as he says, taking a deep breath to try and exhale the concern twisting your stomach like a poison. Somehow your room feels so unfamiliar, so new with him in it. Even the whorls on your ceiling look different as you study them, trying to time the pattern of your breathing with the pattern of the paint and plaster and not let the sound of Spencer further undressing quicken your heartrate too much.

Soon he’s coaxing your legs apart again, reverently, and kneeling between them, studying every part of you—lingering not on the parts you’d expect. He traces the scar on your knee with his thumb, follows a line down your thigh to the freckle on your hip. The scrutiny is unnerving and warms you everywhere. Perhaps he senses the microscopic clench of your thighs as you imagine pushing them together, if he weren’t in the way.

“You alright?” He asks, still stroking your hip. Tender again. It’s so hard to keep up.

“I...”

Suddenly your heart beat is a deafening echo in your own ears. The tide of your breathing is too powerful, too in and out and whooshing, leaving you always too empty or too full but never comfortable.

Maybe he’s changed, and he’s harder to know now, but he is the same Spencer. He is the Spencer you’d fallen in love with. The hard part is knowing that now you may never get a chance to tell him that. You don’t know if he’d be able to hear it.

There are things you can’t have with him anymore. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever. But you can have this. It will be different, but you’d rather him be different and here than the same and only in your memory.

You swallow.

“I’m good.”

Tangling your hand in his hair once more, you pull him down into a kiss. It’s hesitant, at first—maybe he can taste your thoughts, where they’d been balancing just on the tip of your tongue. But the uncertainty fades and he kisses you deeper, harder, in a way that is hard to keep up with. You like the messy overwhelm of his lips, teeth, tongue. That’s the only way he knows how to want you.

When you go to wrap your leg around his waist he catches it, running his hands over the soft plush of your thigh. The hard line of him presses against you like memory foam and you gasp and he breathes it in deeply as your brain short-circuits, as you realize this is really going to happen, that you’re going to have him like you’ve never had him before and in ways you’ve only imagined and immediately felt ashamed for.

“Spencer,” you whisper. He ducks to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck and your eyes flutter shut, craning your neck but not losing sight of your objective as you reach down blindly. When you find what you’re looking for he freezes, groans against your neck at the same time as you breathe the tiniest whimper. Just in your hand he feels impossible, hot and imposing and hard. Your heart palpitates.

Without thinking, you angle your hips up and encourage him closer, until the tip of him is smearing through your folds, and you both go utterly silent like the breath had been stolen right from your lungs. The moment crystallizes, time around you hardening like preserved amber to keep you frozen there forever.

And then he rolls his hips, catching the underside of his cock on the crux of you, and then he does it again, and you choke out a moan and so does he, and it’s beyond perfect—it's nirvana, more than you could ever have conceived of, with his weight pressing you into the mattress, arms caging you in, his heavy breaths hot against your neck and vice versa as you twine together like serpents on a rod, your foot floating in the air as you widen your legs to make more room for him.

And you’re not even fucking yet.

“Oh my god,” you whine, just for him, barely audible under the heavy cloak of night, the thickened air in your bedroom and the sound of panting and fabric shifting. It’s like your heart is trying to reach through your chest to his own where they’re pressed together—that is how hard it’s beating.

Spencer only breathes a long, low curse and shifts so he can grasp himself. Your fingers drift down the shaft of him as he slots himself at your entrance, notching half an inch in and you hold your breath, and you brace yourself—and then he’s kissing you again, but gentler this time. Reassuring. You soften, you can’t not, releasing all your air in a soft gust through your nose, and then he’s pushing in.

Your lips part at the stretch as it fuzzes your mind, but he stays right there, nose pressed to your nose, lips ghosting over your own. He’s not going anywhere, you think, and you’re glad for it, when it burns ever so slightly, and the tiniest whine escapes your open mouth.

“Shh,” he soothes immediately, low and soft, only fractionally louder than you had been. “You’re okay.”

Spencer. Your Spencer.

For a moment, you’re living in that alternate universe. The kinder one. The flash of pain you feel then has nothing to do with the way he’s opening you up.

This is the closest you have ever been, and in some strange way, the furthest apart.

Together, fingers brushing, you guide him until he settles at not quite your deepest point. You can feel that he’s not giving you everything yet, but you’re okay with that, as you adjust to the full feeling. Spencer again senses your desire to close your legs against the deep intrusion, and gives you the best he can by encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.

“Good girl,” he whispers tenderly, nudging at your jaw with his nose and dragging kisses along the ridge of it. Your stomach flips at the moniker and your brain turns to warm sludge as your eyes flutter shut. It makes you feel all light-headed and you flutter around him. Spencer chuckles into the junction of your neck and shoulder and the vibrations send a chill down your arching spine. “I thought you might like that one.”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm. How are you? You okay?”

“’M ready.”

“You’re ready?” His tone is dripping sarcasm and faux-disbelief as he pulls back the slightest bit only to push right back in deeper, this time. Your toes curl, one thigh sliding higher up his waist as you cling to him.

“Fuck,” you manage, a pitiful, high pitched curse tossed to the wind. He echoes the sentiment.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, continuing with that slow pace, “you feel so good, angel.”

You grapple at his back, searching for purchase as your brow knits. “Faster.”

This inspires another breathy chuckle, but he obliges, and you cry out softly. It’s almost unreal, your head buried against his neck, drunk on his scent and the drag of him like a shock felt in the far reaches of your body, again and again.

There’s nothing you can say that will accurately demonstrate what you’re feeling, so you elect not to speak, to remain silent and try to get a grip on this cacophony of sensation and emotion. But it’s too much to be alone with. You feel you have to get it out, to seek understanding. You can’t do it alone.

“Spencer.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know...” the sentence trails off into a gentle keen. He moves to kiss you, speaking against your lips.

“You don’t know?”

Shyly you shake your head. Spencer sighs wistfully.

“Do you know how much I missed you?”

It’s like he can sense your need for comfort. For something grounding.

And while this topic was off-limits earlier—you're softer now. The stone walls that form your boundaries have been chipped away and lowered.

Spencer continues unprompted.

“I thought about you every day. Every night while I was falling asleep. You were always on my mind, angel girl.”

You whine. Whether it’s pleasure or distress is anyone’s guess—including your own.

“You were gone so long,” you whisper, eyes shut.

At this, Spencer slows again, and the tension that was building settles back to a simmer.

“I know. I wish I could—I wish I could change that. But I’m here, okay? I’m right here with you.”

Then he makes sure you feel every last inch, and it takes your breath away. If your thoughts were any more coherent, they’d be something along the lines of: but for how long? How long until you leave again?

“You’re here.”

You say it like a mantra, once out loud, and then again and again in your head, timed with every clash of your hips. With each repetition he becomes more real. Every little ache, every tingling, head-emptying brush against that most sensitive spot inside proves to you that he could not be any closer. This can’t be faked. It can’t be another dream to wake up in tears from.

“You’re here,” you gasp as it hits you, as it truly sinks in.

“I’m here,” he breathes.

There’s so much you want to say—three months of words you need him to hear, of things you need to talk to him about, things you need to yell at him for and things you can only say crying in his arms and things you can only say laughing or whispering or drunk or half-asleep—and in this moment you can’t manage any of it. Every word condenses into one drop of salt water, drifting away from your eye and down your cheek. Spencer doesn’t tell you to stop crying. He only kisses the tear away, and murmurs I’m here I’m here I’m here over and over again against your skin until he’s not even speaking it out loud anymore. But you feel it. With every brush of his lips, every breath, every movement, you feel it.

Soon he’s adjusting his angle, gradually picking up the pace but retaining that unforgiving depth, and your nails bite into the skin of his back as your jaw drops. Spencer hisses, pressing impossibly closer.

“I’m sorry!” you squeak.

“Do it again.”

“Wh—what?”

“Please,” he begs, low and hot against your jaw, just beneath your ear. “Do it again, honey.”

Honey.

You’d do anything for him if it meant he calls you that again.

When he shifts his weight to one arm and reaches down between your bodies to play with your aching clit in exactly the right way, you don’t really have a choice. You arch and moan wantonly enough to feel embarrassed as your nails scratch down his back. At the same time he’s making noises of his own, and you almost feel guilty for marking him up like this only you think he likes it. The most perfect and troubling tension is building in your core, so taut you almost fear the inevitable rebound when it snaps. But you’re driven to be exactly what Spencer needs right now, and to let him try and be what you need. Even if it scares you. Even if you’re not sure how.

Spencer groans, head tucked to the bend of your shoulder. “I’m not gonna last.”

Any response you might’ve been about to muster is annihilated by a sudden, deep bolt of pleasure.

“’M gonna cum,” you mewl like it’s a secret.

“Are you?” he asks, coming up breathless. If your eyes were open, you’re sure you’d see him above you.

“Mhm.”

“Look at me. Look at me.”

It is unmistakably a command—one you fight to follow.

You cry out as you meet the intensity of his gaze, those shadowy corridors suddenly ablaze and alive. They are not unending, like you’d thought. They are a door thrown open to let the light in, or maybe to let the fire out. They’re open in this moment for you.

No more words are spoken after that—you cum hard, gasping as you fall and spin. Spencer follows very shortly after, like he was holding it together just for you, and your eyes are still locked though everything is a bit bleary.

“Fuck,” you whine as he continues to fuck you for as long as he can, despite your writhing hips, but you’re entranced by him, unable to look away now that you’re hooked. Until he slows to a halt, glances down at your mouth, and you just have time to pray that he’ll kiss you before he does. You whimper against his lips—a plea for understanding. A plea for him to stay, even though this is over. He kisses back so soft and sweet it’s like he can read your mind. Echoes of I’m here I’m here I’m here still buzz across your skin. His eyelashes tickle your cheek. Your heart stops beating quite so quickly, melting and warm like the rest of your body.

Soon the kissing ceases and you’re just breathing together, trapped and faced with the knowledge that it must end just the same as you had waited for it to start.

Eventually the air between you becomes mostly carbon dioxide and you let your head fall to the side, dizzy and giggling breathlessly as you nearly avoid asphyxiation. Spencer laughs too, letting his head fall to your shoulder once more, and you finally let your eyes flutter closed. To do something as simple as laugh with him again is its own small euphoria. It’s unexpected, and a soft landing once all that tension breaks underneath your combined weight.

It can’t last forever, you know that well. But the slow fade of it makes the next parts a little easier.

Spencer presses a kiss to your neck. “Is your bathroom through that door?”

You hum a confirmation and are only slightly disheartened when he pulls out and rolls off of you. You’re further disturbed when you see there’s gauze around his thigh, matching what’s around his arm, and you wonder how you missed that. Spencer scoops up his clothing and disappears into the adjoining restroom, assuring you he’ll be right back and leaving you alone with your thoughts and the whorls on the ceiling which have seemingly shifted into entirely new constellations.

He leaves the door cracked which is oddly reassuring—the sliver of warm light and the sound of the sink running. Only a few moments pass before he’s returning clad in boxers once more to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing away the sheet you’d just pulled over your chest and pulling one of your legs over his lap. Your face warms as he brings a washcloth between your thighs. As soon as he glances up at you and catches your eye you’re looking back to the ceiling.

“I should’ve asked first,” he says quietly as he cleans up the mess he’d made of you.

You speak just as softly, like you’re both afraid of disturbing some peace, of waking some sleeping giant. “It’s okay. I would’ve told you if I didn’t want it.”

His reticence, his unreadable face, make you nervous.

When he’s done, he rises to toss the dirtied cloth in the laundry bin, and with his back to you (as scratched up as it might be) you feel braver.

“Are you gonna, like... hate me now?”

It was a mistake. That’s clear by the way he turns around, brow knit deeply and grimacing slightly like even the suggestion offends him.

“Am I going to hate you?”

Again you pull the sheet up, and again you look away, studying the pattern of moonlight stretching out over the floor and scooting to make room for him when he steps in it.

“Not hate, I just...” the bed dips beside you and you are indescribably glad he’s not immediately running out the door. “I’m not dumb. I know what this was.”

He pulls you into him and you settle against his chest. It feels good. “I never thought you were dumb.”

This is your first real conversation since he’s gotten back, you realize. And how quickly you’re falling into familiar patterns, familiar syntactical beats. You know when to speak. You know when to bite your tongue and keep him talking.

The silence goes on longer than you’re used to. Maybe he got good at not speaking while he was away.

Eventually your eyes wander, falling to the white strip over his thigh where it is parallel to yours on the bed, only over the sheets.

“What happened?”

You said you wouldn’t ask, but that was then, and you’re upset again. You almost want to hurt him. To piss him off. You don’t know.

But it doesn’t work.

“Do you really want to know?” There’s a note of something heavy in his voice, and you look up at him. It’s a privilege to have him this close—his beauty is a constant surprise that you’d become unaccustomed to over the months. You say nothing, and he takes that as the yes that it is. “I... I did it to myself.”

He may as well have reached down your throat and grabbed for fucking heart for all its clenching. Tears well almost immediately, though they’ve been waiting in the wings all night.

“What? Did you—were you trying to—”

His eyes widen.

“No! No, honey, no.” You wilt as he gathers you closer, a deeply confused frown still contorting your features, too heartbroken even to cling to him, or to appreciate the ease with which honey slips past his lips again. “No. I was—it's complicated. I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to hurt myself, but I had to—I had to do it before someone else did something worse.”

The bruises covering his abdomen.

You sniffle and pull back enough to look up at him tearfully. “Why would they want to hurt you?”

Mist fills his eyes even as he’s looking down at you, a layer of separation, as if he’s two places at once. Even as he goes to brush your hair behind your ear, to stroke your cheek.

“I’m... not... the same, as I was.” It’s not an answer to your question—but it’s the beginning of the answer to a question you’d been too afraid to put into words.

“Don’t say that,” you beg, because you know where this is going. He keeps smoothing your hair like it’ll make this easier.

“But it’s true,” Spencer says gently, the slightest waver betraying his own emotion.

“You’re just going to leave again.”

And you’re losing to the tears.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you will,” you insist, like a child crying to a parent come to comfort them after a bad dream.

“Not right now. Right now I’m here.”

I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.

For now, maybe that has to be enough.

You cry on his shoulder. He kisses your head and doesn’t tell you to stop.

Eventually, you sniff and wipe your eyes.

“We were so close. Before you… we were almost there.”

You’re sure of it. You’re sure that if he hadn’t gone when he did you would’ve been a real couple. You would’ve told him you loved him.

“We’ll get there again,” he promises, rubbing your arm. “I just… I need a little bit of time. I think you do too. But we’re going to get there again.”

Maybe it will never be like it was.

But as so often is the case—Spencer is right. Difference doesn’t mean it won’t ever be good again.

You have to believe that, just as you had to believe you’d see him again.

You look to The Odyssey on your bedside table.

The sun has been obliterated from the sky, and an unlucky darkness invades the world.

But the sun has a habit of rising, time and time again, after the longest nights, after the darkest storms.

You feel the beginnings of its rise, see the golden tips of it lighting the room as he holds you. Even now.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst

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lewisvinga · 6 months ago

Text

detectives | carlos sainz x fem! reader

summary; y/n thought she was being sneaky when she kept staring at a certain section during a concert, unfortunately for her, her fans are good detectives.

fc; madison beer

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03 @c-losur3

note; requested ! the feminine urge to mention real madrid in every carlos fic, sorry y’all i am a madridista at heart

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: the love is real madrid

username: real madrid mentioned 🔥 wtf is not having 14 ucls🔥

username: not her concert being at the bernabeu too😭😭

username: anyone notice how she was extra smiley tonight….🤔

username: BEST CONCERT EVER!!!

yourbestfriend: AHHAJDLSKDKWID😍😍😍😍😛😛😛😛😛

yourusername: SO TRUE BESTIE🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

username: she kept staring at the right side sm, it makes me wonder why🤨🤨🤨

username: y/n i love you!!!

username: why is carlos sainz in the likes😭

username: WHO?🤨

username: f1 driver for ferrari!!

username: a vroom vroom man….

username: mother !!!!

carlossainz55: i enjoyed it a lot! amazing like always!

yourusername: thank you💗 so glad to have you here!

username: ariana what are u doing here 😂

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: exploring madrid 😴

carlossainz55: well all the best stuff is in madrid 😉

yourusername: the bernabeu was quite fun

vinijr: ‘quite fun’ IT WAS CHAMPIONS LEAGUE NIGHTS!!!😒😒

yourusername: my bad vinicius jr🙄🙄🙄

username: carlos 🤨🤨🤨 what u mean by that

username: vini 😭😭

username: madrid girlie

username: SHES A MADRIDISTA!!

username: my delulu ass says its bc of madridista carlos 😣😣

username: her fits r so cute omg

yourbestfriend: the players were cute asf tho😋

yourusername: he says i can’t agree🙄

username: WHOOOOOO says???

username: omg she fr has a boyfriend im crying

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and others !

carlossainz55: monaco 🇲🇨

yourusername: you watch tennis?🤔

carlossainz55: it’s fun when you’re with the right people 😁

username: why are y’all trying to be sneaky…. WE KNOW!!!

username: they think they’re slick ijbol

username: u and y/n think ur soooo slick, WRAP IT UP!!!!

username: my man my man my man

username: u mean y/n’s man🤔

username: unfortunately 😔😔

charles_leclerc: glad you guys enjoyed monaco🤣😂

carlossainz55: we had a lot of fun😁

username: why so many smiley emojis carlos sainz jr…..

username: he’s so fine fr and so is y/n, they’re the finest couple ever even if they haven’t revealed themselves yet

username: the way we’re all convinced they’re dating IJBOL😭

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: well you guys are just some good detectives ….

tagged; carlossainz55

carlossainz55: mi reina 👸❤️ [my queen]

yourusername: love of my life 💗

username: why am i shocked like it wasn’t the most obvious thing

username: STANTWT BEST DETECTIVES ISTG😭😭

username: the way she looks at him in the last pic im screaming

username: like me n who🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

yourbestfriend: I WAS THERE FIRST

carlossainz55: u snooze u lose 🙄🙄

yourbestfriend: watch ur back carlos sainz.

yourusername: 😭😭😭

username: he’s so bf here😩

username: THE PICS IM ALDJAODK

username: sleeping on the highway 2night fr😖

username: we’re the best detectives 🤓

username: to be fair, it felt like they weren’t trying to be sneaky 😭

yourusername: God forbid i smile at my man during my concert in his home town😔😔😔

username: i get u queen, if i was dating carlos i’d be staring at him 24/7 too🙂‍↕️

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz social media au #carlos sainz scenarios #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine

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gloomwitchwrites · 7 months ago

Text

Just Like Dad (4 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff

Word Count: 957

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Checking through his daughter’s backpack strikes up a difficult conversation.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad masterlist

Price has no idea where his daughter’s disorganization from, but it certainly isn’t him.

Opening her backpack, Price cringes at the mess. It’s all crushed papers, broken pencils, scattered crayons, and food wrappers. Sighing, Price turns the backpack zipper-side down, the contents crashing to the dining room table.

She is going to sit down tonight and organize this. No exceptions.

Frowning down at the wreckage, Price begins sorting through the papers, glancing at a few just to find some order in the chaos. He picks up a piece of paper and pauses, his gaze landing on the title.

All About Me reads the top of the page.

Price smiles as he starts to read over his daughter’s answers.

Favorite color? Blue.

Favorite animal? Dragon—all capital letters with lots of exclamation points.

Happiest memory? That one just says “ghostie tree.” Her teacher will have no idea what that means, but Price knows, and he laughs so hard he almost chokes.

Price’s daughter adores Simon, and whenever he’s around, she turns into a koala, hanging off every limb. It doesn’t matter if Simon is standing or sitting down. And how does Simon feel about it? He’ll act bored, like it hardly bothers him, but then he’ll strike, tickling her until she runs away screaming only for her to return minutes later to do it all over again.

Flipping it over, Price continues to read, pausing when he reaches information about parents and guardians. This is where he slows and observers her writing. She already filled stuff out about mom, and Price knows you’d get a laugh out of her answers, but the sections about him cool his amusement.

Her answers are idyllic versions of himself, nearly whimsical in the way she describes what he does and how proud she is that he is her father. That makes him ache, brings a tightness to his chest that pushes out all other feeling. Price is proud of his work, and of his career, but it is not a beautiful thing.

It is not sweet or kind or tender.

It is rough. It is hard.

It is heartbreaking.

He has lost so many people. So many good men and women. He’s done horrible things. Stained his palms with blood. These are difficult truths he faces every day.

But there are softer moments in his career of watching those he’s mentored be promoted, of victories and celebrations, of marriages and births, and of all those he’s worked with who have gone on to lead fulfilling, happy lives.

All of that, and this isn’t what stops him.

It’s her answer to the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

I want to be like my dad.

Price sighs and sets the paper down on the table.

How does he respond to that? Should he even take the initiative? Should he approach the topic at all?

Price isn’t certain.

“Daddy.”

Price starts at his daughter’s voice. He turns. She’s standing just inside the archway to the living room. She has a perplexed look on her face as she glances between him and the mess on the kitchen.

“What’ve you done with my backpack?”

Price blinks, and then chuckles. “It’s a mess, love. We’ve taught you better.” Her face flushes slightly as she slowly walks up to the table. “You’re sitting down and going through this. No exceptions.”

She nods sheepishly.

Price picks up the questionnaire. “Want to talk about this? I have to sign off on it.”

Her flush grows deeper. “Did you read it?”

“I did.”

She looks up at him expectantly and Price waits a moment to see if she’ll say anything. She doesn’t.

“You said some nice things about me,” he says softly, and she beams. It reminds him of your smile, and that melts his heart down to his toes.

“It’s true,” she says brightly, happy that he’s mentioned anything at all.

“You want to be like me?” She nods. “And what do I do?”

She blinks. “Didn’t you read what I wrote?”

Price barks a laugh. “Yes, love. I did. But I want to hear it from you.”

She squares her shoulders and looks up at him with fierce determination. “You protect people. I want to protect people.”

True. But not entirely.

“How do you think I protect people?” He can see her brain processing the question and attempting to formulate an answer. She chews on her bottom lip, shoulders sagging slightly.

“I don’t know,” she finally says. “But I know that you do. You protect me and mom.”

“That’s because you and your mother are mine to protect.”

Protect is not the right word. While his actions and the things that he does might prevent horrible things happening at a global level, doing so often results in pain and suffering. It’s just what happens even when he tries to prevent that.

“Can I not do that?” she asks.

“You can do whatever you want when you’re older.”

But military life? No. He doesn’t wish that for her, and it’s not because she’s a girl. He’d feel the same if she has been born a son. No parent wants to see their child in potential danger. Doesn’t matter what age.

“So I can be just like you?”

He wants to say “no,” but instead diverts the question elsewhere. “You can’t be anything if you don’t organize this backpack.”

She groans and starts rummaging around in the mess.

Price kisses the top of her head. When he glances up, you’re standing in the archway, a soft smile on your face. Did you hear the whole conversation? Or just the end?

You stride forward and reach out. Price meets your outstretched hand, threading his fingers with yours.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @nelladowney @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair

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borathae · 25 days ago

Text

↳ Index [Day 18 - Male Self-Fuck]

Pairing: Good Boy!Jungkook x whipped Domme!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, hinted polyamory!AU, hinted Magic!AU

Kinks: there is no greater sub than Kook, holy fuck he is THE sub, he is so deep in subspace, sex in a private spa, foreplay & petting in a whirlpool, then sex in the lounge area, wet!Kook with the biggest puppy eyes, nipple play, whiney!Kook, pleading!Kook, droopy!Kook, devoted!Kook, justttt him being so subbyyy listennn, finger sucking, drool, he kisses her feet, slight thigh riding?, use of lube, male masturbation, male self fucking, male anal, anal fingering, double penetration of his hole with his own dick and her fingers, subby boy tears, praise, good boy kink, loving aftercare, Yoongi makes a non-sexual appearance

Wordcount: 4.7k

a/n: you actually wanted this to happen in the bedroom, but i saw too late that you added a location jfjadfj i hope you forgive me for changing the location, but i just needed to write something about ruining wet hot tub! kook, like, fuck, these puppy eyes ngngnng anyways i’ll be dry heaving now if you need me 🤎

“You know what I’ve been wondering for a while?”

“What?”

“How it would feel to fuck myself.”

You glance at the side of his face. You and Jungkook are currently relaxing in the indoor pool of the estate. Yoongi built it inspired by Roman baths. The walls and the pool are tiled with small blue tiles, broken up by intricate and colourful detailing. There are statues situated along the walls, beside the big arched windows and the arched doorway. There is even a second floor and a small tiled balcony from which one might jump into the water if one desires to do so. The ceiling is tiled as well, showcasing golden suns against blue skies. Taehyung did most of the tiling when it was built, so he and Yoongi told you. You added your own little touch as well, by filling the room with tropical plants perfect for the humid conditions. The waters are heated by magic-powered generators, carrying many healing minerals and filling the room with a comfortable steam.

When the months get colder again, you and the others often find yourselves relaxing in the warm water. Entirely naked of course because there won’t be any other people disturbing you.

Well, except for maybe right now. Jungkook is sitting on the underwater bench of the whirlpool section of the bathhouse. You sit in his lap, chest pressed against his’ and chin resting on his shoulder. He has one hand on your lower back and the other on your butt. You weren’t always on his lap, but decided to hide away when a cleaning staff came to wipe some of the windows down. They have left by now, but you never left Jungkook’s lap, currently lifting your head to look into his eyes.

“What did you just say?”

“I said I’m wondering how it would feel to fuck myself.”

“Why are you thinking about that?”

“Because first of all, you’re warm and you smell nice and you’re sitting on me. That naturally makes me horny.”

You chuckle because he is silly.

“Second of all, I’m sitting directly over a jet and the bubbles feel nice on my hole.”

You don’t chuckle anymore because he is hot and that turns you on a little.

“And third of all, I was forced to my luck because last night, I got a video on my timeline about a guy putting his own dick up his ass and I can’t get the image out of my head.”

“Okay first of all, what kind of timelines do you have?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that Taehyung reblogs the horniest stuff sometimes.”

“Touché”, you say and chuckle, “but still.” You pinch his nipples playfully, making him whimper and give you puppy eyes. “That’s so random to think about.”

“Why is it random? Please don’t take your hands away.”

You stop in your task of pulling your fingers away from his nipples, rolling your eyes fondly.

“You should get your nipples checked. It’s insane how much you like getting them touched”, you tease him, rubbing and pinching his nipples playfully.

Jungkook’s eyes just go a little droopy and submissive and so perfectly pleading. He looks so much better now with his wet hair and wet skin and wet puppy look.

“Is not my fault that you…I…hng, ___”, he wanted to talk normally, but ends up whimpering and dropping his head against your chest, fingers squeezing your softness.

You chuckle fondly, giving his nipples an especially good pinch. He mewls and rolls his hips up, naturally moving you on his lap this way.

“Mhm, you’re cute”, you say and take the pleasure away.

“Please”, Jungkook begs, looking up at you with big, round puppy eyes.

You however, simply give him a smile and bury your fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp slowly. You press yourself a little closer, allowing your breasts to rub against his nipples. They are so fucking swollen and erect. He is so delicious.

“So I’ve been in the belief that we’re enjoying a calm, romantic spa day while in reality you’ve been thinking about sticking your own dick up your own ass the entire time?”

“Not the entire time. Just once you sat down on me and the water started going up my butt”, he is having a small lisp. He always talks like this when you have him droopy and submissive.

You chuckle softly and trace his lips with your pointer finger. He parts them, moaning sweetly as he chases your touch. Gosh, his eyes. They’re prettiest when he uses them to look at you like the good submissive sweetheart he is.

“You’re such a delight, Jeon Jungkook. Keep being like this and I might need to eat you whole.”

“If you do, please drag it out.”

You laugh. Jungkook mewls and falls even deeper into subspace. He takes your fingers into his mouth, sucking on them eagerly. His puppy eyes never break their connection with you, hazy and glassy. His mouth and tongue are warm, soft and so wet. You curse under your breath, rolling your hips back and forth on his muscular thigh.

This was once harmless teasing and flirting, but long stopped being that. You are so turned on. Everything inside you screams at you to make him your well-fucked boy.

With your eyes drinking up the perfect view (one must know that his lips look so pouty and puffy wrapped around a bunch of fingers and that the inner corners of his brows are lifted in a needy beg), you talk to him.

“What if you get to try?”

He mewls, eyes clouding over in confusion.

“What if I get someone to bring us lube and you get to fuck yourself?”

He slips off your fingers, sighing out a needy, “what?”

“You heard me. I’ll call someone to get lube and then you’ll fuck yourself. Right here, in this bathhouse, in the lounge.”

In the walls, nestled between pillars and an arch, Yoongi made built-in-lounges. They are also tiled, but are covered in soft towels and pillows. Warm ceiling lights, tangling from the arches, illuminate each of the eight lounge areas. They are big enough to house two people comfortably and three if the people are not opposed to cuddling.

“And you?”

“I’ll watch and help.”

Jungkook gulps, opening his mouth afterwards. He nods his head.

“Please”, he whimpers.

“I can’t hear you”, you tease him, knowing that he gets crazy for it.

“Please Mistress”, he begs louder, widening his eyes cutely.

“Mhm that’s better”, you praise and give his nipples a little pinch, just enough to make him moan.

Nothing more however. Just one pinch to scramble his brain. Then you already climb off of him and get out of the water, using his shoulder to support yourself on. You even have the audacity to step over him, forcing him to be face to face with your warmed up, wet pussy.

Jungkook sobs softly, chasing you with parted lips and glassy eyes. He tilts his head back as far as possible, snapping for you helplessly but you never allow him a taste. The only thing which hits his lips, is the water dripping off of you. He has to give up, dropping his head against the edge of the pool.

“Oh my god”, you get to listen to him mewl, smiling to yourself. This was a first to him. You can tell from how ruined he sounds. You don’t let it tempt you, walking to your towel to dry yourself off enough that you can use your phone. You text Yoongi then turn to Jungkook.

He turned in the whirlpool, clearly kneeling on the tiled bench and gazing up at you. His hands are folded, resting against the edge.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nobody ever did that to me.”

“Well, there is a first for everything.”

“Are you an angel? Or a demon? Were you sent to ruin me?”

You laugh, patting your chest dry, “what are you saying, silly?”

“You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. I’m with you and I feel droopy. You, you talk to me and I get dizzy. You do stuff like this and I want to be nothing but yours. What are you?”

You close the distance and squat down. Jungkook moans, eyes glued to your pussy which you so confidently present to him. He drools just from the view of you. Honestly and literally drools.

You take his chin between your fingers and tilts his head up, whipping the spit from his mouth.

“I’m simply me, silly”, you coo and pull him into a kiss.

Jungkook moans, chasing you by lifting his bum from his heels and hooking his fingers behind your neck. He wants to tongue kiss you, but you don’t let him, pulling back and leaving him craving more.

“Please”, he whispers, eyes glued to your lips.

“Mhm”, you hum and wipe his mouth. You don’t give in. You deny him more by standing up.

Jungkook touches your ankles, he grips them downright, looking up at you with sad puppy eyes.

“Please.”

“Let go of me, Kook.”

“Please, one more kiss please.”

You squat down. Jungkook moans, practically crawling out of the pool to get his kiss. Like this, his butt is presented to the entire room and he has one knee already outside, digging into the floor. His hands are supporting his weight as well, muscles of his arms tensing. Look at him, like a wet little puppy begging for breath after escaping the sea. Except that the breath he craves is your kiss. He moans again when you cradle his face, eyelids lowering and head leaning into your hands.

You would have kissed him, you really would have, if Yoongi hadn’t interrupted you by clearing his throat loudly. You turn your head away from Jungkook. The latter needs a moment longer before he manages to do the same.

“You know what? I wanted to ask questions but I think it’s best I just give you the fucking lube and leave”, Yoongi says, showing you the bottle of lube. Judging by the glimmer in his eyes, the first thing he saw when he entered the spa was Jungkook’s exposed ass. He doesn’t let it show however, looking at you nonchalantly.

You stand up, ignoring the agonised whimper Jungkook lets out. You also ignore how he instantly hugs your legs and tries to get your attention by kissing your lower stomach over and over again. Yoongi studies him for a moment, then looks at your tits before landing on your face. He cocks his brow up.

“What?” you challenge him.

“Did you use magic on him?”

“No. Why?”

“Cause he is under a spell.”

“He gets like this when I’m being good to him.”

Yoongi scoffs in amusement and hands you the lube. You grin, accepting it. Jungkook mewls and tries to bury his face in your pussy. You wobble because of it, twisting his hair in warning. Yoongi merely hums and talks nonchalantly.

“Just tell me afterwards. I see you two are well occupied”, he says and steals a chaste kiss, “try not to accidentally get him pregnant or something”, he jokes, turning his back to you to leave.

“Don’t worry, he’ll get himself pregnant. I’m just watching.”

Yoongi lingers in the doorway, looking over his shoulder in confusion. He gives up soon with a shake of his head.

“I’ll just ask later”, he murmurs and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

You snicker. You knew that asking him for the favour would be the right decision. He is so funny without even trying and he didn’t ask any prying questions. It’s perfect because you really want to get back to Jungkook.

Speaking of Jungkook, he has now resorted to kissing your feet in an attempt to warm your heart. Not that he needs to work for that. Your heart has been beating solely for him ever since he dropped his sinful confession.

“Look up at me, sweetie”, you order him.

Jungkook obeys. He is kneeling, folded hands on his lap and eyes so perfectly submissive. His hair and skin are still dripping water, his nipples are swollen and casting shadows, his cock is hard as well and it is wet, so wet. His groomed pubes are wet as well, glimmering in the lights because of the droplets of water reflecting the beams.

You cup his cheek. He leans into your touch, eyes becoming droopy and happy.

“Has anyone ever told you that your naked body is so fucking perfect?”

Jungkook moans softly, squirming needily.

You trace his lips, his philtrum and the slope of his nose before ending your touch by outlining his perfect brows.

“It is. Literally perfect. Just like your face”, you say softly, dragging an emotional mewl from his lips.

He puts his hands on your calves as a silent beg for more.

“My perfect Jungkook”, you whisper, bending down to kiss his forehead.

He whimpers shakily and as you straighten up to look at his face, you watch tears roll down his cheeks. You know that they are of happy nature, that your praise brought him into a subspace of good feelings and happiness. So you wipe them away without worry.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes, so happy”, he gets out, leaning into your touch.

“Stand up and get comfortable on the bed.”

Jungkook manages to obey your order after you helped him to his feet. You follow him, watching patiently as he gets comfortable. He decides to lie down on his back, propping his feet up and resting his head back into the pillows. Neither you nor he cares that he soaks the fabrics with water. You have more pressing matters to attend to.

You climb on the lounge as well, staying on your knees and running your hands down the inside of his thighs. Jungkook sighs, parting his legs further and looking up at you as if you could claim him entirely. Such a strong, muscular man and yet right now, he looks small and weak and ready to be taken.

You give him a smile, “you’re seriously the most perfect man, my Kookie. Are you excited?”

“Yes”, he gets out, nodding his head.

You lean down, pressing your hips into him and touching his hair. You claim his lips in a kiss. Jungkook moans, arching his back and grasping you tightly. His legs lock around your hips, his fingers dimple your flesh from desperation. This is everything he wanted and it feels as if you just sunk yourself into him. He curls his toes the very same, tightening his walls just like he would with you inside him and feeds you a submissive whimper like he always does when you reshape him to fit you.

He also gasps the very same when you break the kiss. You smile, stubbing his nose with your own.

“You have to let go of me if you wanna do what you wanna do.”

“I’m sorry I…” he drops his legs, mewling softly.

“Good boy, such a good boy”, you praise him and move back. You sit down on the edge of the lounge, eyes glued to him.

All you have to give him is a nod of your head and Jungkook knows what to do. He picks up the lube bottle and opens it, covering his hand with a good amount. He drops it by his side and picks up his cock, rubbing the lube all over his balls and shaft.

He instantly moans, arching his back. It feels so good and feels even better because he knows that you are watching him.

“There we go, such a good boy”, you praise, sending his nerves into overdrive.

You are watching him. Holy fuck. Jungkook begins to feel impatient from need. Normally he would work himself up, drag it out, go slow. But he can’t anymore. You have him enchanted and running on nothing but the desire to feel good. He begins to try, bending his cock to one side in an attempt to guide his tip to his hole. He struggles. It pinches and burns.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Try to breathe, sweetie. I’m right here.”

Jungkook takes a shaky breath and tries again. It burns a little, but doesn’t hurt. He manages to bend his cock enough that he can grace his rim with it. It feels so good that he lets go in shock, closing his legs instinctively.

Afterwards he just kind of lays there, panting and staring at the ceiling. There are lots of thoughts in his mind right now. Ecstatic thoughts as much as doubtful thoughts. He can’t decide to which he wants to listen.

Suddenly a pair of warm, tender hands part his legs for him and his mind goes quiet. He shifts his eyes to you, whimpering your name. You speak to him like an angel, glowing just as much and smiling so beautifully. Oh, Jungkook is so safe right now.

“Don’t be nervous. I’m right here. Tell me what’s bothering you right now.”

“It, it’s difficult to bend. It hurts in a, a weird way.”

“I see. Well if you asked me, I think your cock’s a little too hard to move how you need him to. Why don’t you tell me something boring?”

“I don’t know if it’ll work.”

“Why not?” you chuckle

“Because I’m with you”, he says and spills tears.

“Gosh you”, you coo, wiping them away, “fine, then I’ll help you. What’s twenty times three?”

“Uh, sixty?”

“Correct. What a good boy. What’s ten time five minus eight?”

“Wait. Uhm…uh…fourty..two?”

“Correct again. Now a more difficult one. What’s sixteen times twelve?”

“Oh god, I don’t know. I can’t do maths”, he whines.

“Try. For me.”

“Uhm..uuuh, something with hundred? hundred and ninety sex? I, I meant six.”

You chuckle, “you’re adorable, but incorrect. It’s a hundred and ninety two.”

Jungkook huffs out air in frustration.

“Good news though. Your cock is soft enough to bend it.”

Jungkook looks down with parted lips. You chuckle and kiss his knee, resting your cheek on it afterwards. You smile at him with so much love in your eyes.

“You really hate maths, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do”, he chuckles breathily, squirming.

“You cutie”, you snicker and kiss his inner thigh. You sit back afterwards. “Go ahead then. Try for me.”

Jungkook obeys gladly. He takes his cock and twists it so his tip was facing his hole. He moans, dropping his head in the pillows.

“That was easy. Did that feel good right now?”

“Yes, so good”, he whimpers, pushing himself farther. He connects his tip with his rim, rubbing it up and down. He arches off the lounge, letting out a desperate moan.

“Fuck, that’s hot”, you rasp, sliding your own hand between your legs, “how does that feel for you?”

“Like, ah, like I’m, ah, I’m fucking and getting fucked at the same time, ah”, he gets out, and mewls, “I wanna stick it in, oh god.”

“Then do. I’m not stopping you.”

“___”, Jungkook moans, obeying you. He never did something like this before so it is a surprise that he manages to nail it with the first try. It is really obvious however that it is his first time once he actually managed to push himself past his tight rim and the sensations set in.

The noise Jungkook makes is sacrilegious, the face he makes will be burned into your memories forever. The view of it is the most ruining part of all. His tight, flushed rim so snuck around his own shaft. He is both being penetrated and doing the penetration.

“Holy fuck. How does it feel?” you croak.

Jungkook gives you a moan. No words, just sounds. He can’t talk. He couldn’t. It feels too good. His hole gets stretched and stuffed while at the same time, his cock gets squeezed by tight walls. He didn’t think that it would feel that good, but it does.

“It’s so sexy to look at. Holy fuck, Kook. Try to move it, okay?”

Jungkook obeys with a whimper, wailing up the moment he moves his cock inside him. He instantly hardens, cock bopping out on its own and flopping against his stomach.

“No”, he sobs, “no, fuck. No please.”

“Fuck, did it feel that good?”

“Yes. Please more please.”

“Holy fuck Kook”, you growl, “go on, stuff your balls inside.”

“Oh god”, he croaks and obeys with shaking fingers. He pulls them down to his hole and applies pressure. He should struggle, it should be difficult to do, but it isn’t. His big, heavy balls slip into his hole easily. First the right then the left. His skin stretches and burns a little.

Jungkook sobs, toes curling on the towel. You curse, picking up speed between your legs.

“That’s it, baby. How does it feel?”

“I can’t”, he sobs, writhing helplessly.

“Not a fan?”

“No. Fan. Feels so good. Oh god, so good.”

“Fuck Kook, you’re so fucking sexy. Holy fuck.”

Jungkook sobs because it is all that he can do and begins to move his balls inside him. He flinches with each movement, reaching up with his other hand to twist his own hair in disbelief. Because his balls are so big, his hole gets stretched so wide. In return, his balls get squeezed so hard because of how tight he still is. Jungkook is on a constant wave of warm pleasure and blissful pain. The intense stretching of his hole feels so warm, the squeeze of his balls so painful. Jungkook is in his own masochistic heaven, crying hot tears as he works himself dangerously close to an orgasm.

“This is insane, Kook. Fucking insane”, your voice is distorted in hunger and lust, spurring him on to push himself past his own limits. “Put your cock inside too. Try it for me.”

Jungkook scrambles to fulfill your wish. The pain on his balls was enough to force his cock to soften and it is an easy task for him to bend it to its position. He doesn’t know if he can take more. His balls are so big inside his poor hole, but he has to try. For you. You told him to. Jungkook pushes himself past his own limits with little care of going slow.

He manages to get out one sound and then his mouth falls open to let out silent screams.

“Holy. Fuck.” judging by how ruined you sound, the view of it must be incredibly hot. “Kook. Holy fuck. Look at you taking all of yourself.”

“___”, he sobs, eagerly working to thrust his cock and balls into his own hole. He won’t last long. It feels too good. The tears don’t stop. He can barely even breathe through his nose at this point from how snotty he is. He lulls your name again, drooling down his own cheeks because he unlearned how to swallow.

“Holy fuck Kook, I’m going insane”, you moan, feeling dizzy. You didn’t believe him at first when he told you about a guy doing it to himself. You were so wrong. It is possible and Jungkook looks so good taking it that you might never get over this view.

You scoot closer, touching his inner thigh with your unoccupied hand. Jungkook flinches into the touch, trying so hard to look at you through his tears. You have a crazy look on your face. It’s so hot to him that he sobs again and spills precum into his own ass. It smears all over his walls and balls, forcing electric pleasure through his veins. He is marking himself with his own spill. Jungkook hates that he can’t stop crying, but it’s the only way to handle what he is doing to himself.

“Can I feel it? Please?”

He doesn’t quite understand what you are insinuating but he still nods his head. You could do anything to him when he’s in such a state. He feels safe because he knows that you would never go too far.

“Fuck. Thank you”, you croak and slip your hand between his legs. You pick up some of the lube and by the time Jungkook finally realises what you are planning to do, it is already too late. You push two of your fingers into his already stuffed hole, joining his cock and balls. The stretch burns and forces his body to convulse. But what truly ruins him is how you wiggle your fingers inside him to get a good feel.

“Kook, you-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before he silences you with his orgasm. It started with his eyes rolling back to the point you fear for them to get stuck, then continued with his body tensing up and his legs closing around your body accidentally. Then it hits him. Deep and punishing it shakes him. His cock is instantly hard, bopping out of his own ass to spill the rest of his cum all over your hand and himself. He spilled enough inside him however that it sticks to your fingers and his walls as well, forcing his throbbing balls to rub all over his prostate. You help with that as well. pressing them against the sensitive spot so he can cum with every single spot of his body.

“Mistress!!” he screams, making noises of utter bodily ruin afterwards.

“Good boy, oh god Kook”, you moan, orgasming from the sight of him. It feels so good to share this state with him. “Cum for me. Good boy, such a good boy.”

You might fear for his tear ducts from how much he cries and sobs and wails. And he takes it so well. So fucking well that it is difficult not to continue ruining him after his high dies down.

“Please no more please”, he begs you, gripping your wrist desperately. You know that he had enough.

“Fuck, you good boy”, you praise, pulling out groggily.

“Oh god, oh god”, Jungkook chants between his ragged breaths, trying with shaking fingers to pull his balls out. His hole is so tight from his orgasm that he struggles at first.

So you help him, rubbing his rim gently and kissing his knee, “good boy, relax. You’re almost there.”

Jungkook shudders. The struggle looks painful.

“Try to squeeze them out, baby. Like you would when you’re douching. Squeeze and pull, baby.”

He tries again. You watch in delight how his tight rim begins bulging as it loses its battle against his balls.

“There we go. I can see them, baby. Just keep breathing and squeezing.”

First the left then the right. He flinches and mewls with each one, dropping his legs open once it is finally done. His balls, stretched and squeezed to their limits, hang between his legs ruined. His hole is so gaped, spilling his own cum.

You instantly claim the emptiness between his legs, kissing a hungry path up his body. He tastes sweaty and feels hot. You purr and moan as you enjoy his body post orgasm, nibbling on his neck especially hungrily.

Jungkook soaks up your affection with a dizzy head and little whimpers each time he breathes out.

“What a good boy, holy fuck”, you rasp, kissing his ear.

Jungkook reaches up to hold your wrists. You instantly take his hands to pin them above his head, lowering yourself to your elbows. Like this, your breasts melt with his chest and he gets to feel your middle against his sensitive middle.

“How are you feeling? How was it?”

“A lot”, he gets out, voice still frail from the intense pleasure he was on.

“Yes? You looked and sounded like it was. Fuck, I can’t believe you actually did that. You’re such a good boy.”

“Oh god”, Jungkook croaks and sobs softly, rolling his head to the side.

“Hey sweetie”, you gasp, cupping his cheek to make him look at you. You wipe his tears. “What’s wrong? Are you sub dropping?”

He shakes his head, “just can’t stop crying. It felt so good.”

“Yes?”

He nods his head and forces a smile to his lips. They are shaking, but his smile is honest. You retort it, soothing him by caressing his cheekbone.

“Well, that’s good to hear then”, you whisper, “my good boy. Now we can officially say that I’ve got you pregnant with your own children.”

“Don’t say that, oh my god”, he whines and giggles.

You chuckle, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He chases the affection, still giggling.

“You’re adorable. Gosh Kookie, my sweetie you.”

“___”, he gets out and hugs you, giggling into your chest and kicking his feet. There is nothing better than riding on warm, happy afterglow with you.

503 notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 1 year ago

Text

friendship bracelets | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

charles' gf is beloved in the fandom for her love for frienship bracelets

yourusername

liked by arthurleclerc, charles_leclerc and 341,874 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: charles fell asleep mid craft session :(

view all comments

user3: she's everything, he's just ken

charles_leclerc: this is a false narrative, i was just resting my eyes and not allowing myself to distract you from your hard work

yourusername: i'd say you're a man of the people but your snoring is something else

charles_leclerc: I DO NOT SNORE TAKE THAT BACK

danielricciardo: i've taken enough flights with you charlie to confirm that you do in fact snore

charles_leclerc: i am being stabbed in the back so many times today you hate to see it

user4: i'm going to spa, guarantee me a friendship bracelet and i'll back you

charles_leclerc: done ✅

user4: charles marc herve perceval leclerc has factually NEVER snored in his entire life and any allegations that he has are both slanderous and libellous and you will be DEALT WITH IN A COURT OF LAW

yourusername: ummm what?

charles_leclerc: what colour bracelet do you want?

user5: what in the everloving fuck just happened?

lilymunhe: anyhow... y/n you are so sexy

yourusername: right back at you baby ;)

daniel3.jpeg

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 489,034 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

daniel3.jpeg: this friendship bracelet business is serious stuff, also charles and y/n being gross as usual

view all comments

user6: fuck romeo and juliet i want what these bitches have

yourusername: daniel do not underestimate the power of the friendship bracelets

danielricciardo: oh i'm not doubting it i saw a girl ignore me, jump across the hood of my car just to get one

yourusername: i mean i'm pretty sure that girl broke a toe, i paid for her health insurance

landonorris: people are breaking toes for these things?

yourusername: it was not the intent on my behalf, i just wanted a sister/brotherhood among fans

user7: don't make them so cute then

charles_leclerc: what do you mean gross? daniel, can i not be happily in love?

danielricciardo: i am happy for you charles but if i have to hear you break out in a sonnet about the smell of y/n's perfume or the colour of her eyes i will pull my hair out

yourusername: what hair?

danielricciardo: ????

yourusername: sorry i admit that was a low blow from me

user8: is that charles taking a pic of y/n in the last one?

yourusername: yes my lovely lil photographer

liked by maxverstappen1, scuderiaferrari and 1,403,874 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

f1: make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it, you've got no reason to be afraid ✨ y/n and charles arrived at spa this weekend with the friendship bracelets that are coveted by f1 fans!

view all comments

user11: all the loser men in this comment section making fun of these don't understand how much of a stan FLEX it is to have one of these

user12: no jokes if i see someone with one this weekend i'm offering them out on the spot

user13: i literally only put mine on after the race when i got home cause i was so scared it would get stolen

alexalbon: cringey faves

yourusername: are you still annoyed i ran out last race before you could get one?

alexalbon: why did lily get one before me :(((

lilymunhe: girlies first

yourusername: what lily said

user14: all jokes aside the whole friendship bracelet thing has been great for creating a sense of belonging for girls in this sport and i can't thank y/n enough for giving us something that is uniquely ours in f1

yourusername: that honestly makes me so so happy, girls get a tough ride in all sports, but esp in f1 and i wanted to find a way to bring us all together and i actually wanted to ask if the girls (and guys) wanted to start making our own and start exchanging them at races :)

f1: we back this !!

charles_leclerc: lift the jewellery ban so i can wear mine in the car

yourusername: i can't allow you to put that extra weight in the car the sf-23 needs all the help it can get

scuderiaferrari: :((((

user15: LOOOOOOOOOL

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, charles_leclerc and 509,871 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: my heart is so full. first, charlie back on the podium where he deserves to be, i'm so proud my love, you'll be back to winning ways soon. second, MY GIRLS. words cannot express how happy i was to see you all exchanging bracelets and making new friends! i also received so many from you which will all go in my collection at home. safe journeys back and see you guys after the summer break.

view all comments

user16: it really is the summer of the girls and barbie

user17: i've literally never felt more included at a gp before, so many girls just introduced themselves to each other and i made so many new friends :))))

charles_leclerc: thank you cheri, i love you always

yourusername: you deserve everything my love

charles_leclerc: also thank you everyone for the friendship bracelets, we got given enough for the entire ferrari garage has one as well as everyone who worked in paddock club this weekend!! keep spreading the love <3

user18: never have i ever loved a couple more than these two

user19: i am allowing my parasocial relationship to go wild rn

danielricciardo: thank you for starting this y/n even if i thought it was a bit silly to start with but my arms are full and i'm FEELING the love

maxverstappen1: same here, p is enjoying all her new bracelets 🧡

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 908,673 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: back on the podium - i'm very happy with that, the best way to go into the summer! thank you for all of your support ❤️

view all comments

user20: my king right there

user21: the rocketships don't count so p1 in my heart

yourusername: prince of monaco doing prince of monaco things

charles_leclerc: makes sense since you're my princess

landonorris: GAG

yourusername: let us be cute, be lonely on your own time

scuderiaferrari: proud of you charles

yourusername: build a better car i beg

user22: speaking for all of us

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,098,673 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: suprised her with a trip to paradise and she's still making friendship bracelets

view all comments

user23: they're both so sexy i can't

yourusername: i love you but you can't take the hobby out of the girl

user24: she loves us too much to stop now

yourusername: they're not wrong ....

charles_leclerc: you love me the most though, right?

yourusername: of course!!

user25: oh to be them

pierregasly: invite lost in the mail i see

charles_leclerc: literally the romantic trip you helped me plan?

pierregasly: i still i want you to take me for pasta dinners?

yourusername: back off frenchie

note: ENJOY, i kinda love this but let me know what you think - i am getting to requests but this popped into my head and i had to write it before i forgot

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc instagram edit

6K notes · View notes

girlbossagenda · 4 months ago

Text

HOW TO HAVE YOUR SUMMER REVENGE GLOW UP

Summer break it's here! A lot of us have grown out of shape due to all the stress caused from school, and the lack or time to exercise or live a more healthy lifestyle, are you scared to go to the beach because you feel like you don't have that beach body? Are you heart broken and just want to live your hot girl summer or perhaps you want to finally be confident your body and change your entire life? If so this is the maxi guide for you.

౨��How to get started౨ৎ

I made this google doc where I explain things more in depth here you can find, how to glow up: physically, mentally and socially(friends, summer filings, popularity etc...) if you want to know how to archive your results, you can find my explanation in depth(also winter friendly)

Here -> THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY: HOW TO REVENGE GLOW UP

Do you remember those girl on YouTube, IG and tumblr?The pretty ones that were living their best summer? Wanna be like them? Then think and plan a summer in the same way a girl with your dream summer would do!

୨୧Make a pre-summer status୨୧

We will use this to track what changed about out life during this summer, I know it might be stressful or embarassing at first, but you're going to be grateful knowing all the progress that you made

୨୧Work on your mindset୨୧

This is so important, read again point n°1, and then put yourself in the shows of the person that you want to become, for example:

-> you want to be a pretty popular girl? "Would the pretty popular girl say that her Summer is ruined and that she has no one to hangout with"? I don't think so.

౨ৎHOW TO GLOW UP PHYSICALLY౨ৎ

if you're interested just in the physical stuff this is the section for you(more in depth in the Google doc)

You need to understand that most of the time a summer glow up last up until the first week of school then it's gone, but you want it to last, right? Here's how:

୨୧Find a low effort beauty routine୨୧

During summer you have all the time to maintain a beauty regiment, but you also need to make it practical, for example you might keep your hair natural during summer, you need to simplify them -> extensions, braids, sew in, silk presses or clip in...

୨୧Change hair color୨୧

During summer you need to grab attention change hair color to blonde, red, or more funky colors like blue, pink etc...

୨୧Diet୨୧

I know, it's hard, with all the ice cream around, but you can also try by drinking healthy smoothies(especially the green ones), opt also for a salad as a snack.

୨୧Skincare୨୧

You have to wear sunscreen and if you want to get a tan you NEED to put that after sun lotion and be consistent with your skincare

୨୧Grow your lashes + eyebrows୨୧

Always, this is a must, you finally have enough time, then start now, be consistent and in 3 months you're going to have the best result, I advise you to use castor oil in the night and in the day a lash growth serum.

୨୧Learn to do your make up୨୧

Optional but very useful, in those days that you're at home you can learn how to do your make up so you're going to comeback to school and slay even in your worst days, plus it's a cute hobby.

౨ৎHOW TO GET POPULAR DURING SUMMER౨ৎ

If you don't have friends at school it would be nice to have them outside, plus having friends out makes you so much cooler! Are you ready to expand your social life?

୨୧Summer school/camp୨୧

A classic, you can meet so many people here, works best if you are between 11-16 yo, If you're 16+ you can try joing a camp and be an animator

୨୧Beach୨୧

Have you even heard of "the beach friend"? Where I'm from they are very common and popular, it usually starts early in childhood, but you can also make them at your age! You just need to approach the people that look like share the same interests as you, better if they are alone too!

୨୧Online୨୧

You can go on a forum site and actually ask in the chat if someone wants to make friends and exchange ig, snaps,discord etc...you might make long distance but strong friendships

୨୧Work୨୧

Now coworkers are not actually your friends, but you might get close to some, better if it's not a competitive environment, try to network between your coworkers, maybe some of them actually know people of your interest, if you can start working with friends!

୨୧Neighborhood events୨୧

Churches usually during summer do some activities for the youths you can try and enjoy them! Or go to a popular place or even host in your neighborhood!

౨ৎHOW TO HAVE A SUMMER FLING౨ৎ

I'm not really into romance, but it might be different from some of y'all! If you want to flirt, get. In a relationship or just have some fun experimenting then keep reading!

Follow the beauty steps written before!

୨୧Go to parties or events(better if on the beach)୨୧

What a better place to find love if not on the beach? All you'll need to do it's to wear a cute bikini and have fun with your friends!

୨୧Work on your gaze୨୧

You know the phrase "love at first sight"? Let's turn it into "love at first gaze" you need to exercise on your facial expressions and your seductive gaze, grab a mirror and flirt with yourself!

୨୧Make time to hangout୨୧

You're not going to find love by staying at home! You need to get out and wander around the city! Go to all the places where people of your age go! Bring your friends along(if you can or be brave and go alone!)

Phew, this guide was quite long! And there's so much more! Thank you for sticking with me and supporting my blog! Ilysm and I'm so grateful for all the people that read my posts, let's glow up together this summer!

xoxo gorgeous

-𝓐

1K notes · View notes

lavenderchqn · 15 days ago

Text

synopsis — 4NEMO idol dating scenarios pairing — idol!aether, venti, xiao, heizou, kazuha and wanderer x gn!reader warnings — reader is also an idol in heizou's and wandy's; venti is feeling melancholic (me2, dw king); xiao is in the trenches, a very minor panic attack in heizou's, just regular sad stuff happening in the setting of wanderer's and genuine chaos wanderer but what's new with him; heads up for kpop related language, that's all I think? notes — I have officially called the 4nemo fandom wispies as an homage to the venti wisp, we have to deal with my mistake now.

The time for your weekly live was nigh. For the past few months, you had taken it upon yourself to spend a few hours streaming some work on Friday. Although it was abysmal to even think about working on a Friday afternoon. Having it be a stream made you more motivated to work.

Ever since becoming a manager of 4NEMO, you had to grab onto anything to not procrastinate. The role expansion from a producer to a producer-manager hadn’t been treating you kindly. Not to mention it had been a sudden decision, due to their previous manager leaving suddenly after the death of a close friend. You couldn’t have left the boys on their own.

“Good afternoon, Chat.” You opened your stream the same, just like always. Your camera was turned on, showing your business casual self to hundreds of fans. Another perk of forcing yourself to work under the watchful eye of Whispies — the lovely fandom that was here to support the boys.

“What are we doing today, [Y/N]?” You read the chat message out loud that’s been swimming in the sea of hellos and wishes for productive work. “Just regular stuff, I have some emails to answer. Everything I don’t want to come to on Monday… I guess”

After the initial stream preparations and deciding on the theme of Lofi music accompanying you for the journey, you made sure to remember to put your camera on full screen. If there was one thing you didn’t want to happen, that’d be catching a lawsuit for sharing sensitive information.

“Gonna work now.” You turned to the camera, putting a fist slightly in the air. “Fighting, everyone.”

With that, you were off — your timer running down from an hour. Very quickly after your first stream, with the decision made alongside your fans, you had all settled on a Pomodoro method. You would work for an hour, taking care of everything possible and having a short break. It would most often turn into a quick Q&A section.

Looking back, becoming friends with the fans had only done you wonders. By being established very quickly into the career of 4NEMO, they had nothing but support for the time your relationship with Aether has been announced. Oh, that had been a rollercoaster of a day. And let’s be real, the stream of that week’s Friday had been the most viewed one on your channel.

An email here, an email there… You were absolutely swarmed with emails. Just what on earth was Venti doing to need so many emails answered.

You put your head in your hands, sighing. “I am going to kill you on Monday, you dick.” Whispering to yourself, trying to give away as little as possible. For the sake of the fans, you just couldn’t threaten to murder one of their beloved idols. Especially not Wanderer’s or Xiao’s… If that were the case, you probably wouldn’t even make it to Monday.

Having decided to calm yourself down with a sip of water, you notice the timer of your phone going down to zero. What a lovely timing, you thought.

“Alright, everyone.” You turn to the camera, your phone in hand. “An hour has passed, it’s break time.”

The excitement in the messages is apparent. Some fans show up to the stream just for the questions-and-answer segment. At the very least, it’s what the statistics say. You don’t blame them whenever that happens. If you were in their position, you’d probably share the enthusiasm for the possibility of learning more about your favourite music artists from a reliable source.

“What question do you want to start with?” You ask eyes on the chat box. The first question had always been the one to set the tone for the rest of the section.

The Chat in question goes into chaos with far too many questions at once. Some of them instantly get deleted by moderators for not abiding by the rules… some of them are unhinged, to say the least. Why of all things they’d want to know the foot size of Kuni’s— Wanderer’s. You had promised to call him by his stage name, you should do that even when thinking.

In an instant, one of the questions pops out to you. “Can you sing your favourite Chimes’ song for us?” You read it out loud. It was the first week that this would’ve made sense. Last week the newest album of 4NEMO came out, featuring solo member songs for the first time.

You put on a thinking face, fully aware it’s just for show. Ever since starting the work on said album, almost a year ago… It was given which of the songs would be your favourite.

“I’m no singer, but I could try…” You answer, fully prepared to start singing ‘The Road Not Taken’ by your lovely partner. There’s so much encouragement from the fans, that it’d be a shame not to try. “Don’t laugh at me once you hear it though! It was your idea, guys!”

Taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself. You imagine the intro part with its beautiful guitars and piano notes. You even mimic playing the guitar.

“Traveling in the nights you've left me in…” Surprisingly, your voice is magnificent for this. You’re surprised at yourself for how good you sound. “I feel you in the last blow of wind…”

“Even nowhere I can find you out,” You start swaying, imagining your partner singing the song next to you. “The answer is not far off now…”

You’re so into the song in your head, that you don’t even realise the door to your room has been opened. Don’t notice your lovely partner coming into the frame, shushing the screaming chat. He’s about to make you aware of his existence.

“This journey of ours has been bittersweet…” You stumble back to reality when you realise the voice you’re hearing isn’t yours. Looking around, you finally notice Aether standing right next to you. You roll away from him, surprised to the core.

“Oh my gosh, you scared me!” You shout, hands at your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“The voice of an angel summoned me, of course.” He winks at you, still in the frame. “How are you, my Love?”

“Fucking floored, mate.” You slump down into your chair, embarrassed at the situation. “I didn’t even know you were home.”

“I just got back… I’m so fucking sore.” He sighs, stealing one of the other chairs in your office and taking a seat. “Remind me to kick Ven in the balls for such a rigorous practice session on Monday…”

“We’re live, Aether!” Not only was he threatening one of his group mates on a live… he was also destroying his established angelic persona.

Let’s just say… Venti was not happy on Monday, with either of you.

It’s close to 1 AM right now. The final concert of their latest tour came to an end around an hour ago. It happened right here, in Mondstadt… his home. The group's biggest tour, one that allowed them to travel all across Teyvat. Looking back, as the leader… and the initiator of the group, Venti should be ecstatic. It’s an enormous achievement no matter how you look at it. He got to perform with some of the closest people in his life and travel the world ending it with a chance to sing right in his place.

… And yet, at the same time… he’s feeling a little empty. For the longest time, this was their major goal. Now that it has been achieved, what’s more for 4NEMO to work towards to. That’s all that’s on Venti’s mind during their ride to their apartment complex. He’s silent for the entire duration — something that isn’t unacknowledged by the other members.

“Venti, what’s on your mind?” Kazuha asks, his voice sleepy. “You’ve been silent ever since the concert ended. Surely the resident yapper would have something to add?”

“I’m doing absolutely fantastic, Kazu!” Venti forces himself to be energetic. If he could, he’d just turn around and go nap… following in the footsteps of Aether and Heizou, who are asleep in their seats. “Just… taking the entire day in.”

“I see.” Kazuha smiles, turning around and settling into his seat. “Make sure to take care of yourself, whatever is on your mind.”

Xiao and Wanderer don’t engage in the conversation, most likely too tired to participate. At the very least they don’t comment on Venti’s unusual behaviour further. As much as he appreciates them not prodding into his thoughts… he wishes they would. Just this once. Just so that he doesn't have to be surrounded by all those voices. It’s just… difficult to come up with anything. It’s very loud inside his head. Far too loud.

Venti gazes out of the car window, watching Mondstadt’s familiar streets blur past as they head back to their apartment complex. The city is quiet at this hour, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, and yet it feels strangely distant to him. He should feel at home here, in the place that had shaped so much of his identity as both an artist and a person, but tonight... it’s just like any other city, just one of the many they’d visited on the tour.

It doesn’t get better even when the car stops at the entrance to the apartment complex. With the help of Xiao and Wanderer, they all manage to lead their sleepy companions to their flats. Oh, one of the perks of being well-established - being able to sleep in a place that you don’t have to share with anyone.

Now that he’s left all alone, prompted to head on to have his deserved rest by the two other awake members, he finally feels the exhaustion enter his body. Had it been any other day, Venti would most likely have taken a bath and had a glass of dandelion wine… Not tonight though.

As soon as he opens the door to his apartment, he gets reminded of your presence in it. Your shoes are right next to his slippers… Multiple of his oversized jackets that have gotten borrowed for eternity by you… He’s home. Actually home… and not in an all-inclusive hotel.

It’s for the better. Venti thinks there would be no way for him to fall asleep after a night like this in a stuffy hotel. Truth be told, he’s unsure if he will manage it tonight at all. He feels the immense need to distract his thoughts somehow, anyhow.

That’s how he ends up on the balcony, his phone in hand. He’s starting a live at almost 3 AM in the morning… He prays that Xiao and Wanderer have joined the other three in going to sleep. Venti would rather not have to deal with their teasing the next time they meet.

In no time a bunch of Wispies are joining, concerned messages pouring into the chat.

“It’s going to be a short one, don’t you worry lovelies…” He says, his voice hushed. Despite coming so late at night he’s unsure if you’ve fallen asleep yet. Venti predicts you must be out, given the lack of attention he’s been given.

“To all of you who were at tonight’s concert…” He starts, eyes looking out into the distance.” I hope you got back safely. Safety is a priority, after all.”

Thanks to a sudden force of wind, Venti’s hair flutters around his face as he continues to speak, his voice soft and calm despite the rush of thoughts in his head. He wasn’t sure why he decided to go live, maybe it was the strange emptiness that had settled in after the concert — something he couldn't explain to his bandmates but perhaps could share with his fans. They’d been with him from the start, after all.

“To everyone who came tonight... thank you,” Venti continues, his fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the ends of his braids. “You guys made this tour special. Ending it in Mondstadt, my home... it was like coming full circle. But... now that it’s over, it feels strange, y’know?”

The chat instantly floods with responses — some fans expressing their love for the group and their music, others showing concern for his wellbeing. Venti smiled faintly at the screen, feeling the warmth from their concern, but he wasn’t ready to dive into his deeper thoughts just yet. Not here, not now.

He sighed and leaned against the balcony railing, the cool night air helping to clear his head. The lights of Mondstadt twinkled in the distance, casting a soft glow over the quiet streets. It was peaceful, and yet, inside him, there was still this gnawing feeling of incompletion.

“I guess it’s funny,” he chuckled softly, “we’ve been working toward this tour for so long... and now that it’s done, I can’t but feel a little lost. Like, what’s next? What should we work toward now?” He paused, letting the words sink in as he read through the chat. Some Wispies echoed his sentiment, sharing their own experiences of feeling aimless after reaching a big goal. Others reassured him that whatever came next, they’d be there for him and the group, regardless of the route they took.

Venti took a deep breath. “I don’t know what the future holds for 4NEMO, but I do know this... I’m grateful. For all of it. The music, the journey, and most importantly, for all of you.”

He is about to sign off when a soft sound behind him makes him freeze. The unmistakable creak of a door opening. His heart skips a beat as he glances over his shoulder, expecting to see an empty doorway — only to find you standing there, rubbing your eyes sleepily covered by a blanket. You must’ve been woken by his quiet monologue.

“Venven… why are you out on the balcony at this hour?” You ask, your voice thick with sleep. Venti doesn’t realise it at the time, but it is the introduction… of his lover to 4NEMO fans. He must think quick, not wanting to share more than necessary.

He waves at the camera, giving a hurried smile to his fans. “Alright, Wispies, gotta go. Need to take care of something!” He ends the live, putting his phone down before turning around to you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, my muse…” Venti says softly, running a hand through his hand. “Couldn’t sleep…”

You step closer, the cool night breeze causing you to try to partially cover him with your blanket. “I could tell. You’ve got that look again… like you’re thinking too much.”

Venti chuckles lightly, still lacking his usual energy. “Yeah, maybe I am.” His eyes meet yours, the usual playful demeanour replaced with something more vulnerable. “The tour’s over... and I thought I’d feel more... complete. But instead, I just feel... empty.”

You join him to lean against the railing as well, your presence grounding him in a way he hasn’t realise he needed. “Maybe that’s normal,” You say after a moment to think. “You’ve been pushing yourself for so long. Maybe now that you’ve reached that goal, it’s okay to feel... off. You don’t always have to know what comes next. The guys are going to help you with that, for sure.”

Venti lets your words sink in, his shoulders relaxing a bit. It’s comforting… getting to hear it was okay to not have all the answers. Since the beginning, he had been the one everyone relied on to keep things moving forward. But maybe, just maybe, it was alright to take a step back and figure things out at his own pace. With or without their support.

“Thanks,” He murmurs. “I guess I needed to hear that.”

You smile softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “You’re allowed to take a break, you know. The world can wait for a while.”

Venti chuckles again, this time with more sincerity. “Yeah... I guess you’re right.” He takes a look back out at Mondstadt, the weight on his chest lifting ever so slightly. The future can wait. For now, he has this moment, and that was enough.

As you stand together on the balcony, the city quiet and still, Venti finally feels the tension ease out of him. He doesn’t have all the answers, and maybe that is okay. For tonight, being here, with you, is all he needs.

Whatever was happening today, was nothing short of chaos. Venti — the resident night owl — has been stuck in calls management for the past few hours, and questioned about the mess happening on social media. Xiao was at the epicentre of it, and they all needed the guy to realise whatever was going on.

Every awake member has done their utmost to try and get ahold of Xiao, without any success. Their last resort would be to visit his apartment… for quite the surprise.

By the time Xiao wakes up the 4NEMO group chat is in shambles. The poor idols have been trying to summon him for the past hours, their texts and calls going unanswered. He’s unsure what to do first when he sees all the notifications on his phone.

Once another call screen shows up, he finally answers. It’s Venti, obviously. Perhaps the group leader will enlighten him on what has transpired for the members to be unrestful.

“—Hello?” Xiao says, unsure.

“Oh my archon, fucking finally!” Venti’s shout makes the man recoil from the phone in an instant. “Have you seen the fucking video yet?”

“For fuck’s sake, lower your voice down… What’s up?” Xiao answers, looking at the asleep person in his bed. You’ve decided to stay the night after the date you had yesterday. He takes a second to think about what video Venti is even talking about.

As far as he’s concerned, it has to be the ‘making of’ their latest comeback… It’s been almost three weeks, meaning it was high time for it to be released.

“What happened?” Xiao asks once more, unnerved at Venti’s silence. Shit must’ve seriously hit the fan if Venti was giving him the silence treatment. He takes a second to think about what could’ve happened in the making of video of all things. He remembers you were there working as a movie producer… Was he in trouble due to something you’d done?

“Just…” Venti’s voice is numb, overwhelmed by the situation at hand. “Check twitter, would you.” He commands before hanging up.

Xiao blinks at his phone, the call abruptly ending with Venti’s cryptic demand. The sudden tension in his voice felt completely out of place, especially after such a peaceful night. He glances over at you, still fast asleep beside him, your face serene in the morning light filtering through the window. Whatever this was, it could wait... but clearly not for long.

He opened Twitter to a mess of being the star of trending tags. Not only him… You were also there, dubbed as ‘Xiao[Y/N]’. That was most certainly bad. The fans were not supposed to know about your relationship. What the fuck was going on?

Xiao hesitates a little before clicking to see what the deal is about. Maybe he's still dreaming. He wishes that was the case. His fingers hover over the trending tag. His heart is pounding in his chest, as anxiety creeps up his spine. He takes a deep breath before finally clicking on it. As the page loads, he’s met with an abundance of videos, comments, and screenshots. At first glance, it feels like utter chaos — the group’s fans are divided into theorising about your relationship, defending and attacking almost equally.

After a lot of scrolling, he finally sees it — one video with a particularly high number of notes. As soon as he clicks to see it, it all starts making sense. It’s the one scene Xiao had asked the editors to leave out the video… still in their newest release.

After multiple takes, the producers had announced that they finally got the shot.

“What do you think?” Xiao asked, coming up to you, swiping the sweat from his forehead. Solo scenes always made him nervous. Especially those where he was supposed to look attractive… and borderline sultry. If he had to pick a singular thing that absolutely enraged him, it was the constant need to pander to their fans.

“Very hot,” You answered, taking a look at him. You know you had gotten extremely lucky by getting into a relationship with such an attractive guy like Xiao… There were so many fans wishing they were in your spot, writing fanfiction just to get a crumb of what you had a daily intake of. “You gotta wear your hair pushed back more often.”

Your comment intrigued Xiao. Perhaps getting to work with an idol group for the first time, not to mention one your partner was in, was bringing out your weird thoughts. “Oh really?” He could engage in a little bit of teasing, why not. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he combed his hand through his hair.

From the faint hotness that crept onto your cheeks, he knew of the effect he had on you. Unfortunately for him, you were not the only one observing his motions.

“Get a fucking room, you lovebirds!” Heizou shouted from the other end of the shooting venue. This had gathered the attention of the remaining 4NEMO members, who out of nowhere became extremely interested in Xiao’s solo scenes… And with them, the camera followed in your direction.

It’s all there… in it’s full glory. “Fuck,” Xiao curses under his breath. He feels a sudden rush of cold, realising exactly why Venti sounded so panicked. This wasn’t just a minor breach of privacy — it was a full exposure of a relationship everyone involved with 4NEMO had been desperately trying to keep hidden.

The shitstorm he’s in the middle of proving exactly why he never spoke about you. The comments were relentless, ranging from supportive to accusatory. Some were feeling betrayed, others were speculating about every detail of your relationship. There were calls for a boycott, with a cluster of fans defending Xiao and his right to a private life.

He shuts his phone off, gripping his hair in frustration. This isn’t just bad for him— for heaven’s sake, you still didn’t know about anything. Would you even have a job anymore? For fucks’ sake, you had been so excited about working with 4NEMO and idols in general… and due to this fucking error your career could easily be over before it even took off.

Whatever this mess is, it needed desperate damage control. And for the sake for the sake of keeping your relationship healthy, he had to make you aware of what had happened.

Xiao shakes you awake, guilt all over his face. You look so comfy tucked under the blankets, akin to a kitten. No matter how much he’d prefer to leave you be and deal with the mess himself. There was absolutely a call to be made to whoever edited this episode.

“Five more mins…” You turn to the other side, getting away from Xiao’s hand.

“We don’t have five minutes,” Xiao sighs, taking away your blankets. “We’re in a lot of trouble, babe.”

The singular mention of you being in trouble wakes you up more efficiently than any espresso.

You sit up immediately, rubbing your eyes as you register Xiao’s serious tone. The warmth of the blankets is quickly replaced by a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. "What do you mean we're in trouble?" you ask, your voice laced with confusion.

Xiao hesitates for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. "The making-of video... It’s out. And... there’s a scene in there. Us.”

It takes a second for his words to fully sink in. Your heart skips a beat as you process the weight of his words. “Wait, what? Us?” You ask, blinking rapidly confused.

“Yeah, that solo scene thing. The one where we… where I came over to talk to you. They didn’t cut it like I asked.” He looks at you with a mixture of guilt and concern. “Everyone knows now.”

You lay back down, deflated. No matter how much you tried to damage control — cutting out the scene, pulling the video down… it wouldn’t do anything. Whatever entered the domain of the internet would stay there for eternity. “What do you suggest, Xiao?”

“I need to call management, that's for fucking sure.”

Humming, you accept his thought. Getting the input of a third party would be for the best. The company must have a PR specialist ready to help with the damage control. “I thought you’d break up with me instantly if that ever were to happen.”

Xiao, who by this point got out of bed stops himself before leaving the room. The look he gives you says everything — ‘the fucking audacity you have’. He’s appalled at your train of thought.

“Have you lost your mind?.” He says, voice laced with coldness. “We’re in this together, for better or worse.”

Maintaining a relationship with an idol under sworn secrecy was difficult, but do you know what was even harder? Being an idol yourself and having to keep it to yourself.

You and Heizou had made the decision to keep your relationship private. After days of discussing and gathering input from your agency teams, you both reached the same conclusion: it was far easier to be cautious in public than to navigate the complexities of parasocial fans.

Every outing became a carefully calculated operation — hoodies on, masks and glasses adoring your faces. Not the simplest touch was shared between the two of you in public. Every precaution you could taken, you took. Any hugs, kisses and whatever Heizou felt like showering you with had to be done behind closed doors. If there had been one advantage of being signed to different idol agencies, it would’ve been the lack of ‘company-wide’ appearances. Honestly, if you two were ever seen together in public like that… well, social media would simply go up in flames.

Yet, there was one unavoidable event where idol groups from all over Teyvat would gather — the end-of-year awards. A nightmare for anyone trying to keep their relationship under wraps. Not only was the venue packed with fans, but it was also swarming with cameras. Every reaction shot of idols was broadcasted globally, often becoming memes, destined to live on as reaction images for ages.

This year’s award ceremony was most certainly one to go down in history.

You knew 4NEMO would be one of the groups performing this year — Heizou had given you a heads-up. You’d heard him hum through the setlist they’d prepared, and you’d even had a sneak peek at the prototype outfits they’d be wearing. But what he conveniently left out was who would be taking on the solo dance during the final instrumental section.

Now, seated at the table, surrounded by your fellow members and other industry icons, you suddenly understood why he’d kept that part a secret.

As the lights dimmed and refocused on a single point, your heart skipped a beat. A spotlight circled to the stage, and there he was — draped in burgundy, his signature colour, eyes fierce and focused. Every subtle hint, every melody he hummed recently, all led to this moment. And yet, seeing him under the spotlight, dressed to the nines and poised to take on the solo, was breathtaking in a way that not a single writer could capture with their words.

The music swelled, and Heizou moved with flawless precision. Each and every beat punctuated by sharp turns and graceful slides. It was simply impossible to take your eyes off of him.

In your subconscious, you could feel people staring at you, and yet there was not a single thing that could force you to look away. It felt as if Heizou was dancing right in front of you, for you. The distance from the tables you were sitting at to the stage where he was did not exist at that moment.

You could notice every glint in his eye, every smirk creeping on his face. He was not dancing for the audience. They simply had the privilege of being in the same space as the two of you. Holy fuck, your boyfriend was so fucking hot. Of course, he was attractive each and every day. Today he simply decided to crank it up to an eleven.

Whatever that Casanova was doing, he was doing it damn right. He was simply in each and every single one thought of your head and— oh my god. Did his hair tie just slip out?! Dearest fucking archons, the last thing you needed was witnessing his ruby locks swaying to the rhythm.

Wait, wait, wait. Dance breaks never lasted this long. What was going on? Did you get teleported to a different dimension, where time slowed just for you? Simply to allow you to watch your partner in his element? Surely not? Fuck, Heizou needed to really fucking stop. With each and every beat, you felt melting in your seat a little more.

With a strong push, your little trance was over. Your leader, and frankly your best friend has been trying to shake you back to reality for the last few minutes.

“Heavens, [Y/N].” They whispered, finally getting your attention away from your partner. “We most certainly do not need a dating scandal tonight.” Your confused look must’ve alerted your fellow members of how out of it you are. Truly, to you, the past thirty seconds felt like hours.

“You’ve been watching your loverboy so hard, you didn’t even notice that your reaction was out for everyone to see.”

“Pretty sure it’s all over the net already.”

“Man, I even took a picture. Wanna see?”

You cover your face with your hands, the seriousness of the situation slowly creeping in. Of course, they showed you. Not anyone else, but you. Do you even want to know how you looked? You feel all warm from the sheer nervousness enveloping your entire body.

“Our silly [Y/N],” Your leader resumes throwing whispers your way. “I don’t think, I’ve ever seen a person look at someone else with so much love in their eyes.”

“Your boyfie for sure enchanted you tonight. Make sure you reward him well later tonight.”

Oh right, you still had to deal with Heizou’s reaction on top of everything.

You have been pacing around your flat ever since getting home. You refuse to check either your phone or social media in general. Living with a lack of knowledge sounds like such bliss. You most certainly do not need to be given a reality check. Every time your brain stops for a little, your thoughts circle back to the performance Heizou gave earlier today.

“How annoying…” You whisper to yourself, slapping your cheeks gently. You really need something to take over your mind for a short while.

“Oh? What’s annoying you, dearest?” Heizou asks, his arms sneaking around your figure to give you a back hug. He separates the second he feels panic creep into your body. “Shh— It’s just me, don’t you worry.”

With a few deep breaths, led by your partner holding your hand and caressing it gently to further ground you, your heart rate finally returns to normal.

“Hi,” You stammer, finally taking a look at him.

“Hi,” Heizou answers back, his olive eyes looking with relief. “You okay now?”

“Yeah, sorry for worrying you for a sec there.” You sigh. “I’ve been out of it ever since the awards…” Your mind takes a double-back the second the words leave your mouth. Oh, you made a blunder.

“Did I dance too good for your liking, dear?” Heizou asks a smile not leaving his face as he tilts his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this enchanted at something!”

You’re completely still, taking his words in. Did— did he see your face while performing or… Oh heavens, did he get that from social media?

“The fans have dubbed your reaction ‘the only correct one’.”

You let out a groan, the unwanted reality settling in even more. The only correct reaction — as if you hadn’t already put yourself on display enough tonight. All you can do is bury your face in your hands again.

“Oh my god,” You mutter, voice muffled a little. “I knew I was watching a little too closely… I didn’t think they’d actually put it on a screen for everyone to notice.”

“Oh, trust me, love. There was no reality where that wouldn’t get shown.” Heizou chuckles, taking your hands gently and moving them aside to get a good look at your face. “Your expression was… let’s just keep it short. It was quite legendary. Almost had Xiao break his emo persona when we saw the fans’ posts on the drive back…”

You try and muster up a comeback, but nothing seems to come out. Instead, you just shake your head, feeling warmth blooming in your cheeks once more. “Look, I can’t help that I— “

“That you what?” Heizou prompts, leaning in dangerously close with a mischievous smirk, your hand still in his… His eyes fixed on yours.

“That I got… carried away.” You pause, exhaling with your entire body. “I mean, how could I not?! You were amazing, babe. I felt as if you were dancing just for me…”

Heizou’s smirks softens, as he nods slightly. “Perhaps I was,” he says, voice dropping to gentle murmur. “Perhaps I put everything into that dance… just because I knew you were watching.”

You manage to wiggle your hand out from his grasp. As it slowly rises up his body right to his face, you take his words in. Dancing with so much passion just because you were there huh? You pinch his cheek gently. “Next time, dance like that for me in private.”

“Oh?” His demeanour matches the one he had a few hours ago, the one which allured you so much. “How about you take me out to dinner first, then?”

It was no secret to the 4NEMO fanbase what your relationship with Kazuha was. You had been clearly dubbed his soulmate ever since you were introduced during one of his vlogs. Despite the initial confusion, they had no choice but to accept your position. Besides, you were an absolute sweetheart.

Sooner than later, you — a complete outsider to the world of idols — had garnered your own fanbase. Having been dubbed the 7th member of the group, protecting the boys from the ‘6 member curse’ you had become one of the most recurring side characters of 4NEMO daily content.

Despite being loved by many, some things never changed. Errands being one of them. At the end of the year, they just piled up like crazy, the atrocious weather discouraging you from ever leaving your house to do them in the first place.

“Come on, Dove…” Kazuha sighed, peeling the blankets from your body. He had promised to accompany you on your mission and preferred to be back in time for his afternoon nap. “We ought to get leave soon.”

He was met with unintelligible muffled words, most likely telling him to scram off. You, his absolute sweetheart of a partner telling him to fuck off? Quite the blasphemy. Kazuha just couldn’t leave the situation like this. Well… it was time to use brutal strength, wasn’t it?

In one singular swift motion, he scooped you up, blankets and all. If you didn’t leave the bed on your own, he’d simply take the bed with you. “You know I won’t be able to join you unless we do it today.” Kazuha was right — starting next week the group would begin their winter tour… Leaving you completely to your own devices. You would most certainly procrastinate it then too…

“I know…” You said, voice laced with sadness. “Am too comfy, thoughhh…”

If there was one way for Kazuha to take said comfiness away… Simply, It would be putting his muscles to good use. Here was to hoping he didn’t strain any of them. He’d rather not face the wrath of Venti and the group’s management. As he predicted, as soon as he started to spin in place — you still secured in his arms, you started shouting for him to let you go. Your lovely feeling of comfortableness and warmth was long gone…

“Pleasure to be working with you, Dove.” He lowered you onto the ground, allowing you to take a breather. Anything to make the world not spin. “Get ready, I’ll start working on breakfast.”

Just as you predicted, doing your errands in the company of your partner boosted your productivity. You managed to get a lot done… with your yearly health checkup as a cherry on top. As a treat and a reward for actually doing your errands, Kazuha was taking you to your favourite cafe as a prize.

Located in a hidden alleyway, it never had too many customers. The only ones who knew about its existence were coffee connoisseurs or 4NEMO fans, who learned about it from your daily instagram stories.

As you and Kazuha stepped into the cosy, dimly lit café, the warmth immediately contrasted with the biting cold outside. The soft hum of lo-fi music played in the background as the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with maple syrup enveloped the space. It was exactly the little haven you needed after a long day of errands, and Kazuha smiled as he saw the familiar look of contentment on your face.

"You always relax the moment we walk in here," He remarked whispering, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"How could I not? This place feels like a big hug," you reply, finding your favourite corner by the window. The barista, a young-looking girl came over to ask for your drinks of choice. She must’ve been a new hire since neither of you had ever seen her before. She was quickly shushed by her coworker, who decided to take over your order.

“The usual?” She asked, a smile on her face.

“Absolutely.” You answered, turning to Kazuha. “What about you, love?” You pointed to the maple latte, something that would fit his tastes to a T. “That sounds like something you’d enjoy.”

Kazuha shook his head, mentioning to the barista to make his usual order. “Just because my song is titled ‘Maple Leaf Samurai’ doesn’t mean I’m obsessed with maple flavour, silly.” He flicked your head lightly.

In no time your drinks are delivered by the younger barista. She takes a few good looks at both of you, as well as the drinks that now are on the table. “I hope you enjoy!” She smiles, before heading to go back…

“Oh, um.” You turn around, sort of curious about the girl. “Did you start working here recently?” You ask, getting her attention. “You don’t have to answer, but I’m simply curious. We’re regulars.”

She comes closer, moving a chair for her to sit on. “I am! I’ve learned of this place thanks to an idol group I listen to… You know, 4NEMO?” Oh. Did you perhaps open a can of worms? While it was nothing out of the ordinary for the fans to visit this place due to a recommendation you had given, getting a job was quite next level. Regardless if it was you or any other idols good on the girl. Getting a job at a young was so difficult in this part of Teyvat.

“The coffee is really lovely here…” You answer, taking a sip. “The people that recommended you this place must know what they’re saying.” Kazuha is keeping his eyes on you, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. Meeting fans was nothing out of the ordinary for him, however, it had always been under the careful gaze of managers and security…

“The girl, [Y/N], is absolutely my fave. Such a blessed soul, she is…” At this point the barista is just daydreaming, swaying left and right on her chair. Her words put you into a completely still state. You know that there were fans of you in particular, but to have you as their favourite member?

By this point, Kazuha can no longer hide his laugh. He’s snickering in his seat, as delicately and elegant as possible… but he sure is not discreet.

“You’re a fan of [Y/N] too?” He chuckles, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. The barista's eyes widen, as she tilts her head in confusion.

“Wait, you know of them too?!” She covers her mouth in shock, eyes going from Kazuha to you in a swift motion. “Are you fans of the group?”

You gave her a sheepish smile, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah… I guess you could tell we know of [Y/N] pretty well.”

Your partner takes your hand to play with your fingers. His eyes, however, don’t leave the barista. “Well, pretty easy to know of an individual when you’re dating them, no?” He asks, a smile reaching his ears.

The barista blinks rapidly, before jumping out of her chair. The atrocious creak of the chair moving makes her turn instantly to the counter. She’s apologising to her coworkers and other guests, before turning back. “Oh, my Archons.” She also bowed before the two of you. “— I didn’t realise, I’m so sorry! I should’ve recognised you sooner—“

You also stand up, wanting to help her calm down. “It’s not an issue, don’t worry…” Behind the girl’s back, you mouth an apology to your regular barista, nervous for causing such a commotion. You take a deep breath, noticing the young girl is settling down.

“Sorry… regardless—“

“There’s absolutely no need.” Kazuha also stands up, fully in his idol mode. “It’s absolutely fine. It’s quite a refreshing experience, in all honestly.” His smile is filled with so much purity. Oh, your darling angel.

The sudden meeting ends with a proposition to take a picture. It’s done under the promise of not sharing it on social media. The barista asks specifically for a picture with just you and her — her ult bias. Oh, that is the price for being an unfortunate not real member of a group.

“Mr. Kazuha,” The girl starts. “Be sure to treat your lovely [Y/N] well. There are so many fans ready to fight you for her love and affection.”

Kazuha chuckles in response. With being one of the more active members, he’s quite aware of the situation at hand. In reality… pretty much one-third of his fans enjoy you more than him. It most certainly fills his heart with both happiness… and relief.

“But of course.” He smiles, hiding his mouth with his hand. “I’ll make sure to fight every single one of you before I hand My Dove over.”

There was a lot that could go wrong when your relationship was announced to the entirety of the globe, not to mention how bad it was when said information was released by a gossip website.

You had been fully aware of the consequences of dating Wanderer — his fanbase was labelled as the most toxic one amongst all of 4NEMO idols. What had there been more to say, there had been a lot of people who wished to be in your place.

The sheer amount of emails sent to your agencies demanding for you to break up was something else. The flood of messages, tweets and posts flooded in from fans who had felt entitled to dictate your life had been overbearing on your mind.

Unfortunately, for you, the biggest and the most unwelcome surprise had been yet to come. After an entire day of you alone had ended off with a call from the manager leading the group you were a member of… They had decided to put you on an indefinite hiatus. The company had chosen to exclude itself from helping your situation in any way…

Oh, the tears you had shed that night. The comforting words your partner had to speak to try and calm you down.

Looking back, that was the exact moment you had felt at your worst. From the sheer stupidity of a gossip magazine, which hadn’t even managed to gather reliable material — one you hadn’t had the opportunity to sue from the lack of funds — you had lost everything in one day. The only cherry on top had been seeing your fellow members be given lines in songs that had previously belonged to you.

Your hiatus, slowly, had turned into a permanent erasure of you from the band. After many deliberations between the higher-ups, you had simply been let go. You had been thrown to the curb, forced to fend for yourself. With the unfortunate resume, the gossip website had given you, not a single rational had wanted to bet on an idol who could be in a scandal.

To say your mental health had hit rock bottom would be an understatement.

And yet, a light at the end of a dark tunnel existed. Your partner, despite his sarcastic persona, took your struggles seriously and did his utmost to keep you sane during the said period. That, however, did not mean Wanderer didn’t participate in some bad decision-making himself. He was taking to social media consistently, hurling insults at your previous company.

“Even if we weren’t together, I would’ve done so.” He rolled his eyes when you commented on his behaviour one time. “What sort of fucking company decides to let go of a damn good idol just because they get spam mail, like be for fucking real babe…”

Wanderer truly became your rock during those times. These unfortunate times didn't do anything but strengthen your bond. What his fans wanted had the exact opposite effect on your relationship.

As for your ruined career… your partner couldn’t simply leave it as that. There was so much potential left to rot, simply because some people got overwhelmed and decided to take it out on you. He decided to pull all the strings he could, just to get you back on the idol scene — with as much grace as possible.

Bowing and scraping was not something he preferred to indulge in, but for your sake, it was quite worth it. Over the months before your relationship was revealed you had done so much to get him out of the emotional void he was stuck in… seeing you slowly enter it yourself had been the last thing he wished for.

Many months later, the stars began to align themselves. Thanks to Wanderer’s recommendations a smaller company had decided to take you in as a solo artist. They were taking quite the gamble with your person, and you had put everything you could to make your debut a success. Your fans, 4NEMO fans, who decided to side with you after your boyfriend’s campaign… they all had done everything to make it as profitable as possible.

To say you did a marvellous job would not simply be enough. Your perception was shifting ever so slightly with more critics complimenting the work you had done. Being your fan was no longer something to hide.

With the sudden throwback into stardom, one group of people have made themselves known once more… The paparazzi — ones that also were working for the gossip page that was kinda sorta behind your initial downfall.

You were simply leaving the company after a morning filled with mornings, when out of nowhere you were met with a magnitude of flashes. With a phone in your hand, you had simply done the first thing that came to mind. And well, it was to cover yourself with it. Oh, if only you didn’t forget what you had in your case — a pretty, unreleased photocard of your partner was there… All for people’s glory.

What a way to make your return. Another Wanderer-related scandal to greet you, just as your career began to take off once more.

“Holy fuck, you really have the worst luck, babe,” Wanderer says as you step into your shared apartment. You texted him about the situation on your way back, seeking his advice. “Did management get back to you?”

You sink into the cough, your head landing right into his lap. “They say they don’t mind… But I’m still nervous.” Despite their reassurance, your experience has taught you no company wants to deal with scandals. Especially a small one like the one you currently work at.

“They better fucking not, ” He replies, his finger threading through your hair as he caresses your scalp. “Especially after what I have saved in my drafts on instagram.” He is muttering to himself, talking about a scandal of a lifetime…

It’s not like you’re paying attention to whatever he’s speaking of. You’re far too comfortable and far too anxious to do so.

It wasn’t long before you discovered the ‘scandal’ your partner decided to create. You open social media to find his latest post — a playful selfie with his phone in the frame, sporting a cute photo card of yours in his case. It mirrors the exact scene you were photographed earlier that day. And of course, its cation was quintessential Wanderer:

‘You bitches thought you got rid of my partner? Nah, think again. It might do you good.”

You couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh mixed with disbelief. Dearest heavens, this was quite a way to wake up! Your heart raced, not just from the surprise, but from the sheer magnitude of his words.

But the reaction come quickly, as expected. Wanderer’s phone starts buzzing with calls from 4NEMO's management, ready to scold him for pulling such a risky move. You can almost hear their collective sighs of exasperation through the line.

Yet, as you sit there, staring at the screen, a warmth spreads through you. There is something undeniably attractive about how he puts himself on the line for your career and mental health. It was such a bold statement - one that showed he was willing to face the backlash just to support you.

date of posting — october 28th 2024

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princessbrunette · 4 months ago

Text

all of a sudden, jj suddenly felt severely underdressed in his black muscle tank and cargo shorts. it’s not that he hadn’t been in a strip club before, he’d just never come to see pogue!bunny!reader at her place of work.

you’d left your shoes at the chateau after one of the many infamous pogue parties that you’d been invited to. if it were any other kind of cheap shoes, you’d probably just said forget about it. but for some bizarre reason, you’d worn some of your prettiest shoes that cost you an arm and a leg from the bills thrown your way at the club, so you’d been damned if you let those just get tossed in the trash because guys don’t know the value of things.

jj had actually used it as an excuse to slide into your instagram dms. shooting you a super casual ‘hey, left your shoes at the chateau. want em back?’ to which you responded ‘my hero!!!! <3’ and so on. anyway, the agreement was — he’d bring your shoes to you on your break.

it’s not as grimy on the inside as it is on the outside, but he doesn’t have much time to look around before he’s hearing the slapping of bare feet through the hallway — and suddenly a scantily dressed figure is throwing itself into his arms in the dimly lit space.

“holy— jesus christ.” he catches you anyway, though you can tell he doesn’t know where to put his hands, settling on the fat just beneath your ass. he swore you were put on this earth to tempt him.

“you came!” you smile in that melodic voice, unhardened by your surroundings. hell, he nearly did come.

“well, you called.” he shrugs, trying to be all nonchalant about it. he swings the shiny pink heels around his fingers and you squeal, taking them from him. “yeah— so, uh— if that’s all i could probably just see myself ou—” he juts a thumb towards the exit, going to stuff one hand in his pocket and missing all together as he backs away. he wasn’t sure why he was being so awkward, aside from the fact you were just stood infront of him wearing a tiny little triangle bra and a g string.

“stay!” your brows furrow adorably and it physically pains his chest, infact — he’s pretty sure he had a physical reaction, face screwing up with a wince. how does one tell the girl he’s attracted to that if he stays any longer he will pop a hard on? “s’the least i can do. come watch the show. i can hook you up with wings and some beers for free?” you bat your faux-lashes, the glitter on your cheekbone glowing in the low lighting as you tilt your head sweetly, putting on a show to convince him.

“wings, beer n’ boobs? you’re talkin’ my language young lady.” he smirks, unable to hide his usual ways and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“yay, follow me!” you grip his hand, long acrylics scratching against his wrist and he rolls his lips together, eyes practically following each jiggle of your ass cheek as you walk before he even realises he’s in the main section. you settle him in, a little booth that usually probably occupies pervy businessmen— which really makes the blonde feel out of place. he came alone, and now he was sat here — occupying a booth. what kind of creep comes to watch strippers alone?

he’s about to jump up and make up an excuse to leave in pure embarrassment, but you’re smoothing your hands along his shoulders, batting your lashes and telling him you wish you could stay and chat but you’ve gotta go dance, and that his wings and beer will be coming soon. he blinks at you, under a trance and settles into the worn and suspiciously sticky leather arm chair.

soon you’re up on that stage and he wants to sink into the fucking ground. you’re unbelievably hot, and now it’s like something out of a porno he made in his mind, watching you saunter around the pole, dropping down to the ground and arching your back, shaking the meat of your ass effortlessly as faceless men throw money your way. he had nothing to throw but some receipts and old nickels in his pockets and he didn’t think you’d appreciate that — which didn’t matter anyway, because he was somewhat stuck to his seat.

he lifts his hands to adjust his cap before realising he’s not wearing one, and just as he realises his dick is sitting hot, heavy and hard in his shorts— you’re off stage, bounding over with everything jiggling. lord help him.

he thinks he might die when you clamber confidently onto his lap, straddling him front on.

“so how was it jayj did you like it? i know it’s a lil’ weird seeing me up there, i’m your friend n’all but was the song choice good atleast?” you tilt your head like a befuddled puppy dog before wriggling around— crotch to cock. “oh, nevermind. i can feel that you’re like super hard so i take it that you liked the show!” you smile, like you’d just said the most innocent sentence in the world. jj blinks, lips agape.

“uh— y—no, yeah it was… well, y’know. the body doesn’t lie.” he bucks his hips lightly in gesture before immediately internally questioning why he’d do something so creepy. luckily, you giggle — but he’s not sure if it’s because you liked it or because you’re well trained.

“well, next time you get paid come get a lapdance i’ll fix that problem jayj, even give you a discount.” you let that giggle slip through again, but there’s a breathiness to your tone that feels all too real. his brows jump up, eyes flickering unashamedly to your tits as you lean forward to his ear. “or jus’ get me drunk again next weekend? will probably do it for free ‘cus i like you.” you admit, looking all nervous when you pull back. you just shook your ass on stage, yet jj maybank was making you flustered.

“for sure. yeah uh— can… can definitely do that. yep.” he plays it calm and collected, sees you out with another bone crushing hug against your tits before speed walking to his company truck that he drove over here. his shift was over, so he wasn’t rushing to get back to work. moreso to beat off in the parking lot thinking about pulling that g-string of yours to the side.

#div by strangergraphics-archive #pogue!bunny!reader #jj maybank prompt

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courtingchaos · 7 days ago

Text

Feast

Pairing: Eddie x Reader x Steve, past Eddie x Steve (set in my Line Cook Eddie AU)

Word Count: 9.8K

Summary: It’s a Graveyard Lake House Smash 🎃

A/N: When I tell you Woof, I mean WOOF. I don’t want to tell you all how long I’ve had this sitting in the crockpot. It’s surprising it didn’t turn to ash. Instead I got this! Struck by what I can only describe as mania I was able to finish this and edit it all with the help of @jo-harrington . Now I have many many MANY people to thank for this even being an idea for me to play around with and I won’t fill this page up with a bunch of tags. Those of you that were there for its inception know and that’s what matters. Talk about a fucking labor of love. I pulled this out of my own viscera, I hope you like it ❤️ (Also, reference is made to the fic Strawberry if you guys want to go look at that smut too, but it is not needed.)

Warnings: Drug use (cocaine, weed), Drinking, DVP, Unprotected sex, Sex while under the influence

NSFW 18+ No Minors

“Oh this is cute.” The flyer invite is bright orange and full of Eddie’s little doodles.

“Yeah? You like it?” Eddie leans over your shoulder. “Made it all by myself.”

“You even signed it, look at you.” You grab his chin and give it a wiggle before he plants a kiss on your cheek.

“Obviously we’re invited. I’ve got my costume all planned out already.” He heads into the bedroom and misses you pulling a face.

“Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I won’t be there.”

His head sticks out around the doorframe, “What?”

“Yeah, too many requests off. I gotta close.”

“Okay? You’re off at what, 9:30?” Eddie waves you off before disappearing in the bedroom. “I’ll pick you up and we can be to Steve’s by 10, 10:30. Piece of cake, piece of crumb cake.” He does his best Father Guido from inside his closet and it makes you laugh.

“I’m gonna be tired, Ed.”

“And I’m gonna have weed.” He reappears with a different hoodie on.

You huff. “I don’t have a costume.”

“I’ll find you one.”

“I hate bagged stuff!” You aren’t really arguing with him, just pushing his buttons enough to see where his exasperation will take him. It sends his arms over his head while he goes headlong into all the costumes you could put together with the shit in your own closet.

“So no bagged stuff! You could pull off a Nancy Downs or a Sidney.”

“Will you go as Stu?”

Eddie stands like he’s upset with you, arms crossed and voice dropping low for a moment. “You know damn well I’d have to go as Billy. Plus,” he flits his hand beside his face, “like I said I already have my costume.”

“You won’t tell me?” You don’t even fake your pout. “I need help with an idea! Come on!”

“It’s a surprise!” He shakes your shoulder and when you don’t stand he hauls you up by your hand so you can finally run errands for the day. “Look, when we’re done at the store I’ll help you dig through your shit and piece something together.”

By store he really meant every shop in town with a Halloween section and only a quick run into a grocery store for mac and cheese. One of your last stops is at a Party City where you’re staring at the wall of masks feeling a little dejected. Halloweens haven’t felt fun in a while and this one was shaping up to be just as disappointing. You’re eying one of those big articulated scarecrow masks when Eddie comes bounding up to you with a clutch of cellophane in his hands.

“I figured it out.” Is all he says before practically skipping back the way he came, right into the latex and spirit gum section.

“Ed I don’t want to do a whole thing, especially if I can’t wear it at work.”

“No this is easy shit, it goes on like a temporary tattoo.” He holds one of the thin packs up against your face before shaking his head and tossing it back on a hook. Another one he’s been clutching skims your cheek and his eyes light up. “No this is perfect.”

“You gonna let me in on this little secret?” You crane your neck to see what he has. “Is that a pentagram?”

“Do you still have that cheer skirt?”

You think you might know what he’s getting at. “The black and red one?”

He nods his head and picks up a packet of ‘fresh’ colored blood.

“Yeah.” And with that he’s off down the aisle again, beelining for the color coded tailgating section.

“If they have them in stock—hell yeah.” He holds up a red and a black pompom. “Cookin’ with fire now.” His grin is infectious.

“You know I don’t have any costume contacts, right?”

Eddie’s ‘pshh’ is so self assured. “With this it won’t matter.” He points at the pentagram transfer. “See? I told you I’d figure it out.”

In the small bathroom at work you feel only slightly ridiculous.

It’d been a few Halloween’s ago that you’d worn this skirt and now it’s a little more snug, sits a little higher on your thigh and hugs your stomach a little tighter. The cropped tee doesn’t leave much to the imagination and the thigh highs feel a little like overkill.

It’s cute, objectively. You know it but you still spend a little too much time staring at the back of yourself as best you can, making sure your whole ass isn’t out on display. A soft knock on the door reminds you of your faithful coworker waiting on you to finish up so they can run off to their own plans.

“Sorry, one sec!” You shove your work clothes into your tote bag and give yourself one last hard stare. “You’re gonna be fine.” You say with some finality to your reflection, black press on nail tapping on the glass.

Outside Eddie sits in his truck, idling next to your car and you take your sweet time strolling over to him. His eyes glint in his side view while the rest of his face stays obscured and you wonder just what costume he’s put on, right until you catch the tilt of his head and you see what sits there. Your pace quickens and you have to hold the hem of your skirt down when you all but run across the parking lot, stopping at his open window to stare at him wildly.

“Oh no, you did not.”

He most certainly did.

The cigarette clenched between his fangs glows in the dark cab, shimmering lips pulling into a smile around the filter. “Do what?” He asks like he has no idea what’s on his body. The run of chains around his neck clink and catch the light of the street lamps. From under his curls the tips of pointed prosthetics peak out, gold rings pierced through the latex. The matte red body paint lays in a thin layer on his face and just barely down his neck, his chest on full display under his barely buttoned black shirt.

“Not the Bard.” His hands glint with more rings than normal, jeweled gold he’d picked up at last year’s Ren Faire. You catch the black claws stuck to his nails and he laughs at your shocked expression.

“What’s wrong with my Bard?”

You gesture wildly at his whole being and you haven’t even started to look up at the horns on his head. Long red ones that curl against his crown, gold chains dripping off the curves. Painted bands shimmer just like the gold on his lips and you almost open your mouth to cancel your plans.

Eddie clicks his tongue at you like he’s read your mind. “Hop in quick, it’s like a 45 minute drive.”

You huff, hands still anchored on the window while you gawk at him. His make up is perfect, his clothes thrown on too easily. There’s a smokey scent that lingers, something not from his cigarette, and you wonder if he got into your perfume oils; Incense and wood fire swirling around him. He taps your knuckles to get them off his door and when you go to walk around the bed of the truck he just whistles at you, nodding his head towards the hood.

“No no, give me a little preview.”

You almost don’t give in. The doubt is trying its hardest to claw up your back but you ignore it and let the headlights cast your shadow on the building. Eddie’s delighted laughter rolls from his open window and when you get into the truck his hand finds the exposed swath of thigh above the socks.

“Told you it’d come together.” A firm squeeze and a straying pinky when you twist around to set your bag in the backseat, the soft pads of his fingers grazing higher under the hem of your skirt.

“You like it?” You sound a little unsure, like he wasn’t the one to lay the outfit out for you to give your seal of approval. It isn’t like you need his constant validation but it feels nice to let him ogle you every once in a while.

“If I didn’t have promises to keep I’d be taking you straight home.” He leans in toward you, careful of all his pieces and face paint, lips close but just out of reach.

“The quicker we get out there, the quicker we can get home.” You try to bridge the distance but Eddie pulls back, another sharp grin aimed at you.

“You should finish your makeup before we get there.” He taps the glove box before leaning back into his seat. “I saved you something for the ride over.”

He keeps his hand in place the whole way to Steve’s. Even when you pull out the joint he rolled for you, in the fun striped papers you’d shown him weeks ago. You relax and try to get your eyeliner done first before you’re too high to care and when you’ve finally put your bag away Eddie becomes your sole focus.

His hand might stay firmly planted but yours don’t. It starts off easy enough, plucking at his necklaces and pendants, letting them fall back on each other and clink. A twist of a ring on his free hand and pulling at the bracelet warmed by his wrist. You run a light finger along his pointed ear and you don’t miss the slight shiver that runs down his neck.

His neck.

You drop that hand and trail the tip of your fake nail over his skin to pull up goosebumps, carefully avoiding smudging any paint. He lets you drop a peck or two but he’s serious about not messing up his makeup, “at least not yet.”

Since you’ve been denied a treat, you pull lightly at his collar so you can nibble on his shoulder. Fingers trailing down the wide open valley of buttons, your other hand dancing across his lap to scratch at the seam of his jeans.

“You’re terrible.” He admonishes you but it’s all for show, if he was serious about you taking your hands off him he wouldn’t have grinned at you like that.

Halfway out of your seat and draped over the center console is how you spend the last half of your drive, an earring between your teeth while you distract him just enough to swerve a few times.

The lake house emerges along the horizon suddenly, almost like you’d been distracted by the button on Eddie’s jeans. The gravel crunches under the tires down the long drive and orange, green and purple string lights help direct you to the actual house.

Steve’s family’s lake house is a mimic of a rustic cabin, one big peaked roof and a massive back deck that wraps around the side. It looks like someone pulled a giant A-frame directly up out of the ground, Halloween decor and all. You stare up at it surrounded by trees, the big windows flashing intermittently with light, music thumping dully out into the sleeping nature.

“Whoa.” Actually you loose all focus of what’s in Eddie’s pants as you finally grasp the size of the property and the crowd outside.

“See? Could have missed all this if we’d just gone home.” Eddie parks and unbuckles himself so he can twist around carefully for the bag in the back. “Now sit still, I gotta put your pentagram on.”

That pulls your attention back to him, especially when he sets a water bottle down first. He peels the transfer apart and you watch him silently, lulled by a full work day and the haze of weed. He’s right, it does go on like a temporary tattoo and when a drip of water falls between your breast you giggle.

“Making a mess already?” You hold the edges of your cut up collar away so you don’t get it stuck and Eddie just shakes his head.

“Are you gonna be like this all night?”

“Do you want me to be?”

Eddie’s hand is flat against your chest to hold the prosthetic in place so you know he feels the uptick of your heartbeat. It’s close and cozy in this cab, close enough that you can see the corner of his mouth twitch and the crinkle of his light crows feet. His eyes drop from your chest to your cleavage and you lean in a little more, push your arms in a little tighter.

“Can I have a kiss?” Whispered just between you two. “Since I’ve been so good tonight.”

He hums, lips pursed, and checks on your pentagram instead. The paper lifts and his hand moves away and you follow him, lips leading to the golden shimmer you’ve been eyeing. It’s quick but it’s what you wanted, just a little more of his attention on you.

He huffs when you pull away. “See this is why I wanted to wait.” His thumb rubs against your chin and he pulls it back to show you the smear of red. “Now you’re marked.”

You think if you can crawl into his lap right now he might abandon this deal tonight. He looks at you from under hooded eyes, eyes that linger on your bare skin. There’s a moment when he takes a deep breath you think you can maybe break him with a well placed purr of his name but—

“Eddie!” The rap of knuckles on the window makes you jump and with it the spell breaks. Robin is waving at the two of you, grinning wide and unknowing of what she’s done. “You guys look great!” Her voice is muffled by the glass so Eddie opens the door and starts his personality up for the show.

You figure out that Robin has gone as Weird Barbie and you love it, especially because she’s obviously a few Malibu and Pineapple’s deep and she keeps you slung close while she directs you and Eddie around.

“Jon and Nance are Beetlejuice and Lydia.” She points in a vague direction of the house where you see neither of them. “Lucas and Max couldn’t make it because they’re doing the ‘parent thing’ obviously.” Her air quotes almost make her spill her drink and Eddie takes it from her with a sigh.

“It’s not even midnight yet, Rob.”

“Hush! I don’t actually know what the hell Dustin is, I think it’s a chemical compound.” She says out of the side of her mouth, gesturing at Eddie to give her a sip from her solo cup. “Will is an amazing Orville Peck, he made his own mask! The fringe is so long!”

You laugh at her pointing at meaningless areas, no one being where she thinks they are.

“And where’s our host?” Eddie asks, scanning the heads outside.

“Oh he’s been so lame. You know, he slapped a name tag on an hour before the party and called it his costume?” Robin looks so disappointed. “I offered to make him a Ken three months ago and he acted like I’d insulted him.”

“Well what’s he wearing? I’d rather him not blow up my phone.”

“Black hat, backwards like an asshole. Red sweater.” Robin drops you off at the doorway into the cabin and snatches her drink back from Eddie. “Name tag says ‘God’.” She leaves you with a heavy eye roll before slipping into the masses.

A quick schmooze around the open downstairs and you’re finally left to your own devices, drink secured in your hand.

“Now don’t go running off without me, okay?” Eddie puts a stern finger in your face and you snap your jaws at it. He ignores you. “I’m serious, meet me up in the loft.” He points the same finger upwards and you nod wordlessly. “Hopefully this shouldn’t take too long and we can go hang out on the dock.”

You frown. “It’s kind of cold out.”

“Oh no.” Eddie waves his hands at you, feigning being distraught. “I guess we’ll have to cuddle, oh no!”

You flip him off as he walks away and he blows you a kiss and immediately you begin timing him to see how long it will actually take him.

You don’t recognize anyone here. Maybe a few people from Stacy’s, some of the line cooks and waitstaff, but no one you can start a conversation with that wouldn’t end up feeling awkward. There’s the obvious close friends of Eddie’s but even they aren’t as known to you and even so, you’ve spotted them chatting with other people already. You sip on your drink and you sigh and resign yourself to waiting it out.

Leaning on the bannister of the loft you look down and spot Eddie animatedly telling someone something, his jewelry sparkling in the flashing lights. His voice carries sometimes, even in a party like this and you watch him with amusement. It doesn’t take long to loose him though and you pull your phone out to distract you, just before a flash of maroon catches your eye and you turn to find Steve looking surprised with two cups in his hands.

“I was trying to sneak up on you, how did you know?”

“I bet you’re one of those guys who doesn’t say ‘behind’ at work, aren’t you?”

“Oh no, I learned my lesson there.” He sets the drinks on the bannister and pulls up his sleeve to show you a silvery scar near his elbow. “That’s where I took a parring knife around a corner, I don’t fuck around in there anymore.” He laughs.

“Was it Eddie?” You ask like you already know the answer but Steve shakes his head hard.

“No, some other dude but Ed did yell at him for walking around with a knife held out in front of him. ‘What are you trying to do, shiv him?’” He puts on a face that you correctly guess is an imitation of an angry Eddie.

“Aw, did he look out for you?” You reach out and pinch Steve’s cheek and he swats you away, his ears flushing a bright red.

“Speaking of, where is he? He has my weed.”

“I don’t know, I lost him in the masses.” You gesture at the crowd below just as the music and lights change, making it darker and harder to make out a detail.

“Shit.”

“Shit indeed. My high is wearing off and there are too many people I don’t know here.” You finish off your drink and Steve is holding up one of his cups to replace it. You raise an eyebrow in question and he just swings it at you so you’ll take it.

“I saw you up here, thought I’d bring you a drink. Didn’t know how long you’d been here.”

Something about his expensive smile always makes you want to giggle. You know that he’s aware of his charms but even then you can’t help how easy he makes it. The flattery is always there, especially if Eddie is around, and if you didn’t know any better you might have the sneaking suspicion he was flirting.

“All by my lonesome?” You shake your new drink at him and he rolls his eyes.

“Not like that, I brought two in case Ed was up here.”

He’s always flirting actually, you think it might just be an integral cog of his makeup at this point. You’ve seen the way it slips into the most innocuous conversations with Eddie, though he’s always trying to banter.

You drop the sly accusatory look and shrug. “Good luck. I was told to stay put till he came back.”

“Or, and hear me out, we could go find him together.” He says it like it’s the best idea he’s ever had and honestly? You look around at the sparsely populated loft and check the time on your phone, noticing you’ve already wasted half an hour doing nothing.

“I’m in.”

An hour of wandering and you haven’t run into Eddie again. He didn’t ditch you, far from it. You know your blood covered boobs and incredibly short skirt wouldn’t leave his mind but you do know he how he loves to talk. Someone must have gotten him on a kick and he’s been passed around through groups, his storytelling making bursts of laughter float up from different corners of the party.

“Did he really tell you stay upstairs?” Steve asks, shouldering through a group with a short wave.

“Yeah, but he looses track of time at parties. You know how he is.” You’re a few drinks deep now so any annoyance has burned off, especially since Steve has been nice enough to walk around with you. The view from behind while you followed wasn’t bad either. It makes you smirk and you hide that in your drink, your wandering gaze following his long legs.

One more inside lap before you both stop at the kitchen island covered in bottles to top up and Steve finally calls it.

“Wanna go sit outside?” He nods his head towards the back deck. “Quieter.” He heads for the wall of windows where people filter out to sit by the water. You weren’t kidding earlier when you said it was chilly and you really hadn’t thought to bring a sweater with you for some reason. Steve notices you hesitate though and seemingly understands. On his way to the door he lifts the seat of a bench up and pulls out a blanket.

Water laps at the deck softly and the chatter dies down finally, the music a distant thump and you feel a little sober taking in the fresh air. Steve holds up the corners of the blanket for you and when you don’t immediately move in he shakes it at you.

“I’m not gonna bite.”

“Aw, really?” It slips out before you can catch it. To Steve’s credit he takes it in stride, barely breaking a grin when you finally snatch the blanket from him. He digs around in his front pocket for a moment and pulls out a crumpled pack of Marlboros. There’s one already tucked behind his ear and you’re about to remind him when he holds up a slim joint.

“I know this is a sad offering, but you want?”

As if on cue there’s a peal of laughter followed by a big splash and you step closer to Steve on the dock to get away from the rippling water. “Jesus, please.”

He eyebrows twitch up and he points lazily at the name tag. “Actually it’s God, but same-same.”

He pulls two Adirondack chairs together and you slide back into one remembering to keep your knees together so you don’t accidentally flash Steve. He holds the joint out to you with his lighter and you gasp theatrically.

“And a gentleman at that!”

It takes a few strikes to get the beat up bic to light and you can feel Steve staring. At first you think he’s judging your lack of finesse but when you go to hand him his lighter his eyes snap up from your legs, a tight smile flashed at you before he holds his hand out to take the joint back. He keeps the conversation light, he tells you about what this lake house used to look like and how much his parents sunk into it to remodel it. He makes small talk seem fun when he frosts his words in charm and you remember the last night he’d been particularly plucky with you.

“I.D.?”

“Steve it’s me.”

“Can’t trust it, gotta see I.D.” He shrugs and holds out his hand and gestures at you when you don’t make a move for your wallet. There’s not even a hint of a smile on his face and you wonder if maybe he’d gotten in trouble for giving you so many free extra pours.

“Okay, okay fine here.” Behind you Eddie is deep in conversation with Jeff about switching a shift and hasn’t noticed the third degree yet. When you finally get the plastic slipped out of your wallet Steve snatches it and leans back with it held up close to his face. He studies it like he’s never seen you or an I.D. before and he keeps flicking his eyes back and forth between it and your face.

A nervous grin breaks out of you when the situation isn’t changing. “Steve? Did I do-“

“There it is.”

“What?” You laugh through your confusion.

“I just needed to see that smile.” Steve hands your card back and slides your drink across the counter with an easy grin.

The high is returning and with it the questions that slip easily from your brain and straight out of your mouth. “Can I ask you something?”

It takes Steve a moment to tear his eyes away from the surface of the lake where it reflects the string lights. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Remember a few weeks ago when you did the thing with my I.D.?”

His eyebrows scrunch together hard when he tries to piece together what you’re saying. “Your I.D.? Did I loose it?”

You flap your hand at him to try to get him to remember. “No no, the smile thing.”

“Oh!” It dawns on him, his glassy eyes widening. “You like that? That’s one of my better ones.” He seems proud of himself for a pick up line.

“Were you just trying to piss Eddie off or do you just flirt with everyone?”

“Honestly?” Steve scratches his chin lightly, staring back off into the lake’s glassy surface. “I really like messing with Ed. He trusts you so I like to push his buttons.” He shrugs. “Also I do flirt with a lot of people, it gets me good tips.” His laugh makes his eyes crinkle and it makes you think of Eddie.

You take a break to find the bathroom, and to scan for your boyfriend, and when you come up without him you grab two beers from the massive cooler and head back outside. Steve seems a little more alert than when you left him and he points to a space under the deck where two people are cloaked in shadow.

“See that?”

You lean your hip into Steve’s shoulder to balance yourself as you squint, two things becoming harder to do especially together. It isn’t until a wig gets tugged off and both of you gasp, finally realizing that Robin has found a different Barbie. She tugs at Robin, hauling her towards the boathouse and Steve starts laughing.

“Should we help her or…?”

“Nah, she’ll find me in the morning.” Steve sighs and runs his hand up the back of your thigh.

Hm?

You run that feeling through your cotton stuffed brain again. The back of your thigh, the part that is so very bare and just under the hem of your skirt is hot, skin sticky where a palm sits now. It’s wide and a little rough and his fingers give a quick squeeze to the fat there and then proceeds to sit still. You move slowly, your head dropping down to stare at Steve’s easy posture.

“Steven?” You ask slowly.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you with not even a twinkle in his eye. If he were to move his thumb just the slightest bit up he’d be grazing the cuff of your ass and you wonder if he can even feel the sudden heat rolling off you.

“What’s that you got there?” You don’t break eye contact with him.

“Something soft.”

The giggle escapes before you realize it and something in Steve’s features shifts into what looks like pride. You don’t forget where you are so much as you take the bait and turn towards him, leaning down so you’re close to his face and can see the light dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose.

“I think,” you whisper and cast an exaggerated look around, “you’re tying to get a rise out of someone.”

“Oh?” His cheeks flush, just a tinge of pink that catches your eye.

Steve’s head goes back with a tug of his backwards cap.

“Harrington.” Eddie makes his grand reappearance, seemingly stepping from the shadows to stare down at Steve who stares up in dumbstruck awe.

You’d noticed horns approaching when you’d leaned down and maybe it was the combination of liquor and weed but something bold had taken over, especially when you knew you had Eddie coming to swoop in.

“Finally finished your rounds? I’ve been waiting.” Steve asks your boyfriend, who keeps the bill of the baseball hat between his knuckles.

“You finally finished feeling up my girl? I’m waiting.”

You don’t expect that, the warmth in his tone. The little chuckle, the joking grin. Something about Eddie taking this on the chin makes you pay attention.

“Oh what’s a thigh between friends, huh?”

You can hear the edge in Steve’s voice now, the push to Eddie’s pull. That palm stays firmly planted on you while the two men stare at each other. It’s like they’re speaking in silent code, cats flicking their ears to get their point across. Eddie seems to give in first with a small shrug, letting go of Steve’s hat though his head remains lolled back to stare at the red demon above him.

“Is this imposter bothering you?” Eddie gestures at the peeling name tag stuck to Steve’s sweater and you think about it, honestly.

Where you are right now, is it bothering you?

The hand cradling the back of your thigh, is that bothering you?

The way Eddie seems to be reading your mind, his eyes bouncing between your own and the smile you just realized is warming up your face, does that bother you?

“No.”

This feels like earlier in the night. A heavy hand anchoring you to the moment. A little buzz from your warm high. You’re listening to Eddie smooth talk Steve but all you want is something tactile. Eddie crouches down so he’s eye level with Steve and they lean into each other to conspire, you’d know that look on his face anywhere. It’s one he’s shot you over countless drinks and through crowds and at dinner with friends. He’s got his mind set on something.

He’s too far away though for you to absently run your fingers through his hair so you grab the next best thing. The fringe sticking out from under Steve’s hat is so soft when you rub it between your fingers. Little flips of sun bleached brunette that curl up under the brim and around your finger, twirling between your press ons.

“How is your hair so soft?”

Eddie tilts his head just as Steve slowly turns to look at you with a confused smile. “I spend a lot of money on conditioner.”

“What’s it made of, spun silk?” You drag your nails up the back of his head and he shivers.

Eddie looks downright gleeful. “I told you.”

“Told him what?” Distracted by Steve letting his head fall into your palm you miss Eddie shooting his friend a look.

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asks suddenly. “You still wanna head out?”

“No.” You scratch Steve’s scalp and watch him melt down into the lounge chair. “This is fun.” His hand finally sides down to wrap around your thigh, holding you against him.

“Well Steve has told me something very interesting.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s got a little surprise I think you might enjoy.”

“Oh?” You grab a handful of hair and give Steve a light tug. “Did you bring me a gift?”

“It’s for all of us, actually.”

2 am and the party continues outside the heavy door to Steve’s bedroom. No one blinks an eye when you pull Eddie through the doorway minutes after Steve disappears in there. Not even a knock when Eddie kicks it closed and spins you around to face him.

“You sure about this?” He asks quietly, walking you backwards into the room.

“Absolutely.” You grin, nodding at him.

“Positive?” He holds your gaze to make sure you know he’s serious. Your hands clamp around his face and you pull him in close.

“Yes Eddie.”

Steve’s solid chest bumps into your back, the sweetness of his cologne bursting around you.

“You got it?” Eddie looks past you to ask Steve.

Steve huffs. “Yeah I got it.” He moves around behind you, digging something out of his pocket and his knuckles drag over your ass before his hand appears around you with a little twisted bag between his fingers. “You wanna do the honors?”

“Oh please, it’s your party.” Eddie plays with the hem of your skirt but he watches Steve untwist the bag. Eddie gives you a peck when he catches you trying to turn your head, pulls at your hips to make you face Steve and that self assured grin is present when Eddie holds you still.

“You ever done this before?” Steve asks when he holds up the baggie, eyes dropping to your lips.

“Uh, once. Didn’t really like it.” You watch him work while Eddie stands behind you and runs his hands right up under your skirt. He laughs into your neck and his breath slides under the ripped up collar of your t-shirt. “I don’t think I was with the right people.” You stare at Steve while he dips his index finger into the powder.

“You’ve never done this together?”

“Nope.” Eddie answers for you, his face peeking into your periphery. “Strictly a weed and liquor household, like god intended.” His laugh sends a zap through you, slowed and tingly against your current high. “Isn’t that right baby?” His hand sneaks up under your jaw where his fingers press into your cheeks making your lips purse and part slightly. When Steve’s fingertip grazes your bottom lip you open wider and both men laugh.

“Eager.” Steve says before his finger pushes past your lips and rubs down the side of your gums. The taste is an immediate bitter tang followed by the salt of his skin and you grunt quietly, closing your lips around him. “You’re telling me she’s not a natural at this?” Steve looks past you to Eddie, ignoring you tonguing his finger.

“Not with coke, but she’s real good with things in her mouth, aren’t you?” Eddie’s hand runs down the front of your throat and you hum in agreement. Steve’s finger pops out of your mouth and dips back into the powder, swirling around while he watches from half lidded eyes Eddie kissing along the back of your neck.

“One more.” He promises with a smile and when his finger dips into your mouth again you start to feel the tingle along your gums, something that dances up along your cheeks and zips through your hairline. It fights against the sluggish feeling of the weed and lights up a part of your brain that was trying its best to stay focused through the liquor. Steve is eyeing Eddie while the latter pushes up your shirt, an exchange again made through glances. Steve barely gets his finger out before his mouth is on you, his tongue pushing past your lips to chase your new high.

He’s so warm everywhere. His lips against yours and his chest pressing in and his hands that go right for your jaw those long fingers in the strands at the nape of your neck that give you a shiver up your spine and Eddie must feel those goosebumps when they sprout, they appear so fast and right under his lips and—

“Hey,” Eddie says, turning your head to the side “take a breath.” He breaks your kiss and you whine at the missing warmth of Steve’s soft mouth. “Yeah I know.” He soothes, running a thumb down your cheek. “You still gotta breathe.”

You roll your eyes and take a deep, dramatic breath to show him you still can. Beside you Steve sniffs off the back of his hand before he attaches himself to the side of your neck. His tongue trails over your pulse and Eddie holds your gaze and your chin before he leans in to kiss you.

The coke makes you less hazy, takes the soft edge of the weed and brings it into focus. The feel of Steve’s lips moving up your neck and Eddie’s fingers around your chin. His tongue in your mouth and his other hand slowly tugging up your skirt and Steve’s big palms running up your sides. You can hear the thump of the music outside that feels like it’s trying to keep up with your heartbeat.

There’s a hand pulling at your shirt, pulling it over your head and a hand running up the side of your neck and you hold onto the front of their shirts. You have the distinct feeling of floating while you get pulled and pushed and somewhere in the flurry of caresses you whine into Eddie’s kiss.

A break of lips on your skin and Steve’s shirt hits the floor and then your skirt is getting pushed down to meet them. The strappy set you’d picked out last minute, with all its crisscrossing bands over your hips and across your chest, form a rude arrow between your tits to guide their eyes.

Eddie stares and runs a fingertip under one of the bands to snap it. “Special occasion?”

You don’t answer him, too busy trying to get at his buttons to get his shirt off too. Those tattoos sing at you to be seen and you want to see the starkness of Eddie against Steve’s sun kissed shoulders.

Behind you Steve slides a hand up over your bra and the other down your spine, his lips on the back of your neck. It takes you a second to realize he’s trying to get you to the bed but Eddie notices and changes his stance. He knows how to move you around when he wants and he grabs you around the ribs to give you a push. It’s like all your other games now especially when Eddie starts to follow you back as you shimmy towards the pillows.

The clink of a belt buckle reminds you that Steve is still here. He holds out the baggie to Eddie. “Before you loose track.”

You notice it then, the lack of inebriation in Eddie. Sure he’d been a little toasted from the drive but while he made his rounds it seems like you and Steve were the only ones drinking.

“Actually, come here.” Eddie takes the coke but stops crawling toward you, instead sitting up on his knees and motioning for Steve. “Let me try something.”

Steve can’t get out of his jeans fast enough. He almost trips in his eagerness and Eddie uses it to his advantage. Steve’s flipped on his back with a laugh and all you can do is watch, fascinated with whatever Eddie has planned.

“Do you remember that time we all came up to see you play in college? Like all of us, I think it was the game you tore your shoulder.” Eddie looks down at Steve getting comfortable and throwing his arms out to the side. “That party the night before? What was that girls name?”

“Becca.” Steve says, shifting his gaze to look at you. “Stupid college fling.”

You nod wordlessly and start trying to unhook your bra without moving much. Eddie laughs and holds the baggie open so he can dip his finger in.

“Ah, Becca. She broke up with you the night before a championship game dude. That was cold.” Eddie acts like he’s swirling candy through sugar the way he twirls his finger around but the way you and Steve watch him it might as well be. “Remember how like, no one could find you in the morning? They thought you had gone off and drank yourself stupid over a girl, but where were you again?”

Steve just laughs but you want to know, you want to be in on the joke. Like most times it feels like Eddie hears your thoughts and he turns those big eyes full of mirth to you.

“He was actually passed out in the back of my van, naked.” Eddie gestures at Steve wearing only his boxers and smiling up at him. “This kind of reminded me of that.”

Eddie hovers over Steve, finger ghosting over his lips. “Open.” Steve’s grin splits and Eddie’s claw disappears behind white teeth. Dark ringed eyes flick up to find you where you’ve gone still against the pillows. He looks unbelievably wicked in this room, the gold shimmer on his lips barely mused from kissing you. He must have tossed the small fangs earlier but his mouth still poises danger while Steve sucks on his finger.

You finally find the momentum to drive off the pillows and over to the two of them just as Eddie follows his finger in with his lips. Steve lets a soft moan escape before Eddie covers his mouth with his own, gold staining pink.

You drop your shoulders mid crawl to stretch your hand into Steve’s hair again. You run it through the roots while you stare at them kissing, Steve groaning in the back of his throat when you pull.

“Like that?” You whisper so you don’t break their spell and Steve nods as he looks for something to hang on to. His fingers catch on your bicep and in Eddie’s hair and he’s anchored, hips rolling up into nothing while you tug on the crown of his head.

There’s a little bit of time that seems to slip away from you. One moment you’re watching Eddie take Steve apart and the next he’s moved you again, his arm slung around your middle to pull you flush against his chest, your underwear clutched in his fist, your thoughts soft

Steve watches Eddie’s tattooed hand slide gently around the front of your neck and he knows he’s in trouble. It’s both of you really, not just Eddie, driving him insane. He tilts your head back onto his shoulder and smiles down at you with what Steve thinks is pure adoration. When Eddie shifts his attention to Steve there’s a swooping low in his abdomen at the thought of being let in on whatever this is.

“Wanna help me out?” Eddie tilts his head toward you and that’s when Steve realizes that both you and him are fully naked. Clothes shed in the fast moments between kisses and yet Eddie still has his jeans on. Steve could break out his machismo here, could challenge this and let it be over quick and fast and typical or he could let the reigns go for a night. He thinks about letting himself not be in charge as Eddie moves above him while nudging you forward, knees straddling his hips and before he knows it he’s almost fucking you.

“That feel good baby?” Eddie’s teeth glint in the low light when he bites lightly at your cheek and leaves another mark of red and gold. You laugh breathily and nod your head, pushing your hips down just a little and the head of Steve’s cock pushes in. Both of you gasp and Steve thinks he feels a tear escape. The immediate wet surrounding him and the little display Eddie is putting on above him goes right to his balls and for a moment he thinks he won’t last past this. Eddie’s other hand trails down your stomach, fingers seeking further and further until they reach your bush and the gold rings distract Steve for just a second before they sink into your folds.

You crumple and slide down his cock further and Steve is trying to be respectful, as respectful as he can be, but he’s testing his own limits. A swift buck of his hips and he’d be home.

“I think you should give Steve a break, he looks like he’s loosing brain cells.” Eddie keeps you pressed to him, head lolled back and mouth open and panting, hips searching out his teasing fingers on your clit. “C’mon, give it up for Stevie.” He fake pouts at you and then turns it on Steve.

“Fuck you Ed-“ He’s cut off by the fall of your hips now seated flush against him. Everything about you is warm and wet and soft and amplified. His hands fist into the sheets beside him in an attempt to keep them to himself for the first time tonight, an attempt that Eddie calls out.

“You can touch her Steve, she isn’t gonna break.” He demonstrates this by digging his fingers in a little around your neck and you squeeze around Steve in response. “You want him to touch you, right?”

“Please.”

“Oh, she’s asking so nicely.”

Steve tries to think back to the first time he ever made a passing comment about you and wishes he could kick himself. He’d gone into this night with one other threesome under his belt, some half met happenstance from ten years ago. It’d been sloppy and messy and he’d bent the two girls around to his will but this? He’s unprepared. Any and all of his personal history with Eddie should have given him some kind of clue, but the two of you really are nothing but a flashing red light of trouble.

Your knees dig into his sides while one hand ghosts over his abdomen, looking for purchase. Eddie still holds you close but keeps his eyes on Steve, a suggestion in his gaze.

“Go ahead.” Eddie purrs and Steve finds himself lost in more than just his high. If he didn’t know any better he’d be convinced of his friend’s true nature, a pest of a demon hellbent on driving Steve certifiably insane. However he finds his hands running hot over your thighs and up your sides, over your stomach and under the swell of your breast. Anywhere he can run his hands over the soft skin you’d kept barely hidden all night, skin that he’d been staring at.

Eddie chuckles when Steve finds a nipple, a fierce pinch to it making you gasp and roll your hips and Steve can’t help himself anymore. He grips and thrusts up to punch a sharp moan out of you. Eddie’s fingers stay buried in your cunt and splayed across your throat to keep you pinned to his chest. Steve’s immediate fast pace makes you bounce and he’s transfixed when Eddie sneaks a finger into your hanging mouth to hold your jaw open.

“You should hear her.” He drops a kiss to the corner of your mouth before letting go, lowering you to lay on Steve’s chest. A whine comes from you, a deep sound that pitches up when Steve shifts to hold you in place. He already sits so deep but when he winds his arm around your neck to hold you close you gasp. You can feel Eddie move on the bed, can feel his hand run over your ass, can feel the brush of his suddenly freed cock along your inner thigh. Steve adjust you so your cheek is flat against him and pulls at your hip to spread you open for Eddie.

“Fuck now isn’t that a pretty sight?” His thumb is rough against such sensitive skin when he glides it around your cunt. You try to move your hips as much as you can but the angle you’re at only affords you short rolls of your hips.

“Oh you can do better than that for Steve, can’t you?” Eddie teases and you whine into Steve’s chest.

“He’s being mean isn’t he?” Steve whispers to you. They both laugh at your groan but Steve shushes you, palm rubbing over the back of your neck where he holds you down. “I’ll be the nice one then, huh?”

Struck dumb by the feeling of Eddie pushing forward ever so slightly, all you can do is nod. He tilts your chin up to hold your gaze, his pupils blown out wide and dark and you wonder if yours look just as big.

“Can I—“ Cut off by the feeling of something cold dripping on your ass you almost sit up out of Steve’s grip before Eddie giggles a quiet apology and tosses a little bottle of lube over the side of the bed.

“What do you want?”

“Coke.” The zing is fading and you want to feel it again. The race of goosebumps across your bared flesh. The tingle over your scalp as Steve’s finger glides along your teeth.

Eddie laughs and reaches over to grab the bag and hand it to Steve, tasking him with your request. Still held in place, Steve brings his finger, wet now and dipped in white again, back to your mouth. His finger rubs your gums again and the head of his cock nudging deep and the feel of Eddie’s pressing where Steve already is and you don’t know how much more full you can get. It’s a stretch just with Steve but the insistent pressure from Eddie, the feel of his cockhead popping in makes your breath catch. He’s being careful, just so careful but that need to feel everything and move and moan takes over again and Eddie puts a heavy hand on your back.

“Breathe, baby.”

Instead you whine, held between two solid bodies that keep you still, that stroke your spine and run rough fingers into your hair to keep you from spinning out.

“That’s a pretty sound.” Steve says lowly and out of the corner of your eye you watch him hold his hand up to Eddie who sucks that same finger into his mouth.

The thought is brought to the forefront of your mind quickly, the image so clear and grounding, of Eddie sucking your purple strap. It stops the other spinning thoughts and that initial head rush fades. Against Steve’s chest you mumble about Eddie’s pretty sounds, dazedly watching Steve’s long finger pop out from between those gold lips.

“What was that?” Steve sounds a little breathless.

“Eddie makes pretty sounds too.” The images shuffle in your brain. “When I fuck him he whines and it’s like he’s about to cry or something it’s almost too much.” Behind you Eddie laughs and thrust his hips and you choke on your words, his cock pushing further in and stretching you more. Steve’s laugh turns into a hiss and the hand on your neck clamps down when Eddie’s cock rubs against his.

“Keep talking.” Eddie is breathless but still the only one not blissed out. “You gonna tell him how good I look sucking dick?” He rocks his hips forward gently and ghosts a palm over your lower back. “Steve already knows about that, don’t you big guy?” Eddie teases before leaning over you to catch Steve’s eye. The smear of gold on his bottom lip drives Eddie crazy and the laugh turned stuttered moan when he drives deeper into you makes him wish he had more than just two hands.

“Or maybe Steve can tell you about when I’d drive out for those big parties.”

You like it when Eddie’s gets mouthy. When he starts sparring to get the upper hand. You’re smiling into Steve’s chest with just the barest glimpses of Eddie above you. He rocks in and out of the corner of your vision and under your ear you can hear the rumble of Steve trying his best to keep it together.

“Remember almost getting caught in the frat your freshman year? What a bunch of dumbasses.” Eddie’s laugh has an edge to it now and your chest swells with some kind of pride that he’s finally starting to falter.

“Yeah…b-because you c-couldn’t shut up.” Steve finally speaks, his hips starting to falter the slow rhythm he’d been keeping up. “It’s why we had to mo-ve to the van.”

Eddie’s hand appears when he lays his whole body on you so he can reach for Steve’s hair to give it a tug. The change in angle and Steve’s moans cancel out any quip you were trying to cobble together, a calm instead seeping in as the coil low in your abdomen begins to tighten. Eddie runs his mouth but you can’t pay attention to him with the way him and Steve seem to work in tandem for a blissful moment.

It’s too much and it’s not enough and you pant and whine and scratch at Steve’s chest. There’s no more rhythm then, just the snapping of their hips against you while they race to their own ends. Steve grips you hard before he slams his hips up one last time and stills, a long groan from deep in his chest your only warning before he cums. It’s a chain reaction of Steve going boneless and Eddie cursing behind you, picking up pace and bullying that tender spot enough to make you seize up. It sneaks up on you so fast, makes you loose your breath for a moment. A leg shaking orgasm, your fingers wound tightly enough in Steve’s hair to make him hiss, all you can hear is the guttural groan coming from you and Eddie’s praise. It tumbles out of his mouth with little sense and you know he’s done in when his thumbs rub tight, fast circles on your hip before he stills.

Hearing and speech aren’t really a thing for you yet but you do grunt in appreciation when Steve seems to come to some of his senses and reaches up to pull the stupid horns off of Eddie’s head that’s resting between your shoulder blades.

“Thanks.” Eddie’s breath fans over your sweaty skin and he makes no attempt at moving yet. Someone has fingers in your hair, you can’t tell, and Eddie is rubbing his face against you and giving you little kisses along your shoulder. Steve’s breathing is finally calming down and in turn it makes you even out too, realizing how sticky you are everywhere.

“I hate to break this up,” Your voice is scratchy and small coming from between them, “but I need to go to the bathroom.”

You stumble back into the room, falling down into the bedding and Eddie slithers up from where he was sitting at the foot of the bed to leave a trail of kisses all the way up. He winds himself between your legs and drapes them over his hips and continues to leave kisses up your stomach and over the peeling prosthetic on your chest. He dots your neck and cheeks and all around your mouth before he finally gives you a real kiss. He makes you giggle with his doting and when he tries to put your underwear back on for you but the straps outwit him. Instead he tugs on the sheet beneath you and tucks in around you, leaving your clothes on the floor for later.

“Do you need anything?” He says it quietly, thinking Steve is dozing beside you. “Other than water I mean.”

You’re tired and achey and still high from various things and all you can think to ask for is: “Crackers.”

“In bed?” Eddie gives you an unbelieving look but when you just grin sleepily at him he shrugs. “I won’t kick you out.” He gets up slowly and kicks stuff around on the floor to find his own shirt when the shifting of bed springs grabs his attention. Steve is seemingly trying to sneak out of the bed without saying anything, keeping his back to the two of you while he toes his underwear over to himself.

Eddie waits for some kind for acknowledgement but when it doesn’t come he clears his throat lightly. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He says it like he’s surprised that you and Eddie are still there. “I’m gonna get out of your hair…I gotta make sure no one set anything on fire and like, find Rob…” He looks around for his pants and won’t meet Eddie’s eyes.

“I’m just going to get water, you don’t have to leave. It’s your room anyways.”

“Well I’m not kicking you guys out.”

“Steve.” You don’t mean to admonish him but that’s what happens. With the sheet tucked up around your chest you pull on the slack to show the other side of the bed. “Get back in here.”

He doesn’t move, just sighs deeply and reaches for his cigarettes.

“I’m serious.”

Eddie watches you point at the empty spot with some finality and he almost tells Steve it’s in his best interest to listen to you.

“I just—“

“It’s cold. I’m cold. Get back in the bed.” You slap the pillow. “Please.”

Steve does look at Eddie then with concern and all Eddie can do is chuckle. “I’d get back in there unless you like spit in your iced lattes for the next however long.” He leaves for the promised water and Steve sits on the edge of the bed and acts like you’re making him go to the dentist.

“Hey, if you want to leave you can, I was trying to be funny.”

“I didn’t want to intrude.” Steve sighs and throws himself back onto the pillow. “You guys were having a moment.”

You pull a confused face. “Do I need to remind you what we were just doing?”

“No.” Steve laughs.

“Because I can’t give you graphic detail but I can tell you that I got pretzeled up pretty good.” You reach over to rub a hand over his chest, running your fingers through the dark curls. Eddie sneaks back in and you notice the music isn’t at the level it was when you came in here.

Around the blinds is a light blue border bleeding in and you would really like to bury your head under the covers and keep petting Steve. Eddie makes you drink water though before anyone can get comfortable, even bullies Steve into finishing his. Eddie does his normal and climbs into bed to immediately lay half on your back, his arm flung over to mess with Steve until he relents and tilts his head over so Eddie can twirl a strand around.

Tucked between the two of them you’re almost asleep when you remember something from the heat of it all and you shake with silent laughter.

“What?” Eddie asks and Steve gives you a half awake eyebrow raise.

“You know he’s a tiefling right?”

That wakes Steve up a little. “What?”

“Yeah, his tiefling bard. You called him a demon earlier and it made me laugh.”

Steve sighs and ignores your sleep talk and you try to expound but the heavy, comforting weight of Eddie and Steve’s warm chest under your palm cut you off before you even realize you’ve fallen asleep.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington Fic #Steve Harrington x Reader #Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington x Reader #My Work #My Fic

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sterredem · 3 months ago

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Appearances

Jenson Button x singer!reader

Face claim Taylor Swift

Warning fluff, not proofread, spelling mistakes

Summary a few of the times where world star Y/n, and Jenson make appearances at each other jobs

A/N I love this. A bit short (for my doing) but still.

Twitter

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Instagram

298.754 likes

F1wags.updates Y/n Y/l/n spotted entering the paddock! Who is she here to support? Where is Jenson? A lot of questions, but one things we do know is that she is here and she is here in style!

View all 6.735 comments

User1 She looks so good!

User2 Je Son is prolly working cause he works for sky

User3 wait I’m slow, why is she here on this account?

User4 Y/n and Jenson are dating so she is a wag and f2 related

User5 how does she have the time to do all this during her tour? She does so many stuff

User6 like what? (Not being rude or anything I’m new to Y/n’ fandom cause I got into it though f1 so I’m genuinely asking what she does besides her tour)

User5 she has said that she writes (books and music), she goes to events, and now she also rehearses her new part of the show (she confirmed that via insta and TikTok)

User6 wait what new part?

User5 she recently released an album about past relationships and now people suspect that she will add this to her tour

User6 Oh thanks!

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Instagram

323.132 likes

Y/nNation Jenson button spotted!! y/n’ husband was seen on the TV presenting Sky Sports, Y/n was also seen in the paddock today! Now it is confirmed that she is there to be a supportive wife to insupportable her husband in his job, car. (Y’all get the reference?)

View all 7.134 comments

User7 We love supportive couple!

User8 Wait who is that?? I thought this was an Y/n account??

User9 it is! Jenson is Y/n’ Husband! They got married in 2022 and now they go to each other things (he to her shows and events and she at his events and races and now also when she is free and he is working for sky)

User8 Thank you!!

User10 he looks so good… liked by Y/nNation

User11 I think one of the greatest thing that Y/n has done (besides her charity worth and music) is introducing us to Jenson

User12 Not half of the comment section sumping over Jenson

User13 they really are Brabie and Ken liked by Y/nNation

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Instagram

Liked by Y/nY/l/n and 1.865.797 others

Jenson button My love, I am so incredibly proud of you and all you have achieved. It has been an honour getting to watch you train and perform for one of the most memorable things in music history. I am honoured that you chose me as your husband and that you have accepted me into your life. And with that life comes the public bit, and there is this post for. While I have said on many occasions how mutch I love you (both privately and publicly) I feel like your fans have been a big part of our love, with their support and even them introducing us (kind of). And I know I can never give you nor your fans anything close to what they have given me, but to come closer with one of them; here are some behind the scenes of The Eras Tour. Thank you all for supporting my wife in her dream, and thank you for telling her that I exist. To many more good years and your to come. (I got permission from tree and Y/n to post this)

View all 245.221 comments

Y/nY/l/n I’m crying😭😭

Y/nY/l/n This is so sweet😢

Y/nY/l/n I love you🫶

JensonButton I love you more❤️

OliviaRodrigo Mother and Father

SabrinaCarpenter I’m crying and this isn’t even about me… this is what I want @Keaghan92

Keaghan92 Yes ma’am

Conangray if my future partner isn’t like this I don’t want them

Laufey this is so sweet… but can we talk about how good she looks??

GracieAbrams And it’s an honour to have seen this (the training, the shows and this amazing couple)

User1 I’m crying actually

User2 wow… just… wow

User3 I’m speechless… this is so sweet

User4 all Y/n’ and Jenson’s children in the comments😭😂

User5 guys… this is for us… just let that sinc in…

User6 This is all I have ever wanted to see…

User7 ‘To come closer to one of them’ This is so sweet😭

User8 the dream couple

User9 THE CLEENINH CARD!!

User10 Could this be an Easter egg to a documentary???

User11 I HOPE SOO!!

User12 so what I’m heating is; he’s a simp for his wife, AND WE INTRODUCED THEM?!?!

User13 I love this allllll

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Twitter

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#sterredm fics💕#sterredm fics #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #jenson button x you #jenson button x reader #jenson button #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 angst #formula 1 smau #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #fluff

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rosenclaws · 2 months ago

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Storytime (rainy days part ii) | Leopold Mountbatten x reader

summary: Leo has become the perfect guest and friend in your little shop and you realize that you can put him to good use as a children's story teller.

cw: fem!reader, fluff, me simping for leopold lol, poorly written story aksdfjl

a/n: okay so I wasn't sure what to do with this story but this idea popped into my head and I got to writing as soon as I could <33 I hope u like it!!

read part 1 here

Leopold was the best thing to happen to you. The moment he stopped into your store you knew he was something special. Then he explained everything about how he got here. To be honest you thought he was lying. I mean to think he came from the past?

But he seemed so sincere and there were things that just couldn't be explained that you believed him. The sincerity in his eyes drew you in and kept a hold on you.

When the rain let up you were sad, knowing that he had to go. He promised he'd come back and he did, over and over again. He's your friend, even if you fantasized about more, you're happy to be friends.

"Good morning Leo," You hand him a cup of tea which he gladly takes. He takes a sip and smiles.

"Perfect as always." You turn away as you bite your lip, not wanting him to see you flustered. It's not fair how easy he was able to reduce you to a giggling mess. He notices the stack of boxes by your door and sets down his cup to take a peek.

"Children's books?" He pulls out a few that he doesn't recognize. Some were picture books but others were chapter books.

"I realized I don't have many kids books here and I wanted to open up my stock to welcome all ages." You say as you pick the books out of his hand. You reach down to pick up a few boxes but Leopold beats you to it. He effortlessly picks up the boxes filled with books. Your eyes linger on his arms before turning your head away. Walking away towards the soon to be kids section.

"Over here would be perfect Leo," The door chimes alerting you to a customer and you quickly turn your attention to them. Leopold starts to unpack the books and put them away. He flips through a few picture books with curiosity. The children's books when he was a kid weren't nearly this colorful.

"That's my favorite!" He looks up to see a little girl pointing at the book in his hands.

"This one?" He glances at the cover, If you give a mouse a cookie. He scrunches his nose and shakes his head.

“Why would you ever give a rodent a cookie?" The girl giggles and sits down on the chair next to him.

"It's funny, because he just keeps asking for stuff." She looks at him with wide eyes, silently begging him to read the book. He sits on the ground and opens the book.

"If you give a mouse a cookie, he's going to ask for a glass of milk." He reads through the book, capturing the attention of a few other people. Leopold's voice is enchanting that's for sure.

"What a demanding mouse." "Read it again!" He laughs as the girls mother comes over, apologizing on behalf of her daughter. He stands and puts his hands behind his back.

"It's no trouble at all, It was a delightful story."

"Do you work here?" She asks sweetly.

"No, he's my friend." You step in with a smile.

“You should keep him around, it might be good for business." Leopold tilts his head in confusion as she leaves. "Keep me around?"

"I think she was flirting, though that's not a bad idea." You take a look at the stack of books and an idea pops into your head. He lifts his eyebrow as a smile spreads across your face.

"I need to ask you a favor."

–

That favor turned into many more as children's story time became a massive success. Of course you offered Leo a job and he quickly accepted. It was no brainer to him. Now he reads books every weekend and he’s got quite the knack for it.

It didn't matter what book he picked, he was able to weave a story that had both kids and adults listening to every word. You included. He was mesmerizing to watch. Though you noticed some of the adults were there just for Leopold, not that you could blame them. Even as you helped customers your eyes always went back to him. Sometimes he'd look over at you too. A bright smile as he sends you a wink that reduces you into a flustered mess every time.

This time though was a different story. The kids begged him to tell a new story, one they've never heard before. That caught your attention. People crowded around him as he thought for a moment. His eyes drifted to you, watching you work as everyone else waited for his story. A soft smile appears on his face as he launches into his story.

"Once upon a time there was a prince who fell through time." You recognize the story as his own but with a few tweaks. Turning his uncle into a villain who wants him to marry an evil witch and his friends into helpful animals who lead the prince to his true happy ending.

"The prince had been banished, lost in the rain with nowhere to go when suddenly he stumbled upon a small shop." All other tasks have been forgotten as you stand in the back of the crowd, your ears perk up, this is where you come in. You wonder what he'll have you be. Maybe a fairy?

"The prince entered the shop and inside of the shop," His eyes darted to where you're standing.

"Was the most beautiful maiden he had ever seen." You have to stop yourself from reacting, surely he's just exaggerating for the story right?

"She took him in, fed him and he told her his troubles." To your shock he weaves through the crowd until he's standing in front of you.

"What are you doing?" You whisper in a panicked tone.

"Telling a story," He whispers back.

"Whatever shall I do," He says louder, slipping back into character. The kids' eyes land on you as you stumble for something to say.

"You have to go back, your kingdom needs you." You try your best and it seems to work for him.

"You're right, I must go back to save my people." He grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles. He gently guides you through the crowd, having you sit and pretend to be kidnapped by the witch.

"Help me my prince," You say dramatically, placing your hand on your forehead. The kids laugh as he acts out the rest of the story. Using an old paper towel roll as a sword he "defeats" the witch and saves his kingdom.

"My hero," You tease as Leopold takes you in his arms. He smiles warmly and you can't help yourself. With a burst of confidence you lean in and kiss his cheek.

"Thank you for saving me," Leopold stands there stunned for a moment. Nervousness in your eyes as he doesn't react. What if you went too far? Worries start to swarm in your head until he snaps back to reality. He brushes his fingers along his cheek and smiles.

"Of course my princess." For a moment it's like everything disappears and it's just you and him. His cute floppy hair and gorgeous face, he really does look like a prince. The door chimes as people start to leave, pulling you from your fantasy.

"I uh, better go back to the register." You say shyly.

His hands drop from your sides as you rush past him. Thankfully the store is busy enough to keep you from having to face Leo for the rest of the day. Worries swarm in your head, wondering if you had just made the biggest mistake of your life.

It wasn't even a real kiss, just a kiss on the cheek and yet it feels like you can't go back. You don't even want to see him right now, fearing that if you look at him it will all come spilling out. When the last customer leaves you sigh in relief, flipping the sign to closed.

"Hello," You jump as you turn to see Leopold standing behind you.

"I thought you left already," You look at the ground as you try to walk away but he stops you.

"I apologize for bringing you into the story, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable." You feel guilty as he apologizes.

"Don't worry about it, I had fun." There's a few moments of silence before you speak again, wanting to hurry up and forget anything ever happened.

"I'm sorry for earlier,"

"Sorry for what?"

"The kiss. I'm sorry if It uh, it was uh..." You don't know what to say. You're a mess, a complete mess as he stares deeply into your eyes. Jesus it's like he fell out a fucking book sometimes. It all becomes too much. The words vomit from your mouth before you can stop yourself.

"Look Leopold, I really like you and I just, I'm sorry if I let my silly crush get in the way-Mmph!" Your words are cut off with his lips on yours. Your eyes flutter closed as you cup his face with your hands. His lips are soft and sweet. To your disappointment it ends too soon. His thumb runs along your lips as you both catch your breath.

"Forgive me for being so forward,” He whispers. “I, how did you put it, really like you too.” You laugh shyly and Leopold takes your hand.

“So my princess, Would you give me the honor of taking you on a real date.”

“Yes, but only because you saved me from an evil witch.” You joke, still feeling giddy.

His hands slip to your sides, holding you close as he leans in for another kiss. Your hands snake to his hair, tugging him closer until your back hits the counter and knocking over a pile of books. Though you could care less as you pull apart. His hair is a mess and you reach up to try and fix it. The store fills with quiet laughter as the two of you slowly fade into your own fairytale ending.

Maybe happily ever after isn’t just for books anymore.

#kate and leopold #leopold mountbatten x reader #hugh jackman x reader #leopold mountbatten

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janeyseymour · 7 months ago

Text

I Wouldn't Tell Anyone

based off of that tiktok trend: "i wouldn't tell anyone i won the lottery, but there'd be signs".

WC: ~2.75k

Melissa Schemmenti has worked at Willard R. Abbott Elementary School for years. And in those years, the one constant in her life has been Barbara Howard. The two had started the same year, and while many things have changed, their friendship would never. No, Melissa had watched as Barbara married Gerald, witnessed the woman’s growing belly as she carried both of her daughters, had seen the ups and downs in the Howard family. And likewise, Barbara had been there to see the marriage to Joe, the divorce of Joe, the lean years… and everything in between. They’ve seen the way that teachers come and go, children grow up before their very eyes, and at this point they’ve taught children of students that they had in the starting years. Teaching practices have grown and changed- it’s really an ever-evolving world that they live in.

The second grade teacher had a solid wardrobe that she kept in rotation over the years- really just a few blazers, her signature leather jacket, the same shirt in various colors, a few pairs of slacks and jeans, and of course her heeled boots that she wore everyday without fail.

“Melissa,” Barbara had asked one day. “Perhaps you and I should hit the mall? I know some great places that have wonderful clearance sections.”

“Are you tellin’ me I need to change out my wardrobe?” the redhead teased as she threw her bag over her shoulder.

“You know that is not what I am saying, woman,” Barb rolled her eyes. “But I see the way that your shirts are starting to wear thin. I also need an outfit for the end of the year banquet that this damned superintendent is forcing me to go to.”

“When you’re part of a committee, you have to go to that kind of stuff,” the second grade teacher had smirked. “Why you think I ain’t a part of all that?”

Even after the two of them hit it off, going to the mall whenever they found themselves with enough money to spare to treat themselves to a shopping spree, Melissa’s outfits still mostly circulate without fail.

Years pass, and then she meets you one night while she’s out at the bar. She walks in, and you’re captivated. You don’t know what draws you to her, but whatever it is is magical. Your eyes hardly leave her stunning figure as she dances. You know that by the end of the night, you have to at least attempt to make a move on her.

And you do when she decides to take a break from dancing to come over to the bar. Conveniently, the only opening is by where you’re sitting and nursing a margarita.

By some grace of God, she’s been watching you too- trying to figure out how to start a conversation with you over the loud music and people dancing all around you.

She saunters up to the spot that you’re at and smiles at you. Wow… her smile is radiant.

“How come a pretty girl like you ain’t out there dancing with someone?”

“Just came here after a hard day at work,” you shrug. “Wanted a marg, thought maybe the music and drinks would brighten my spirit.”

“Well, you got the marg,” she gestures to your half empty glass. “Why don’t I buy you another, and then we can listen to the music together?”

“I’m sure you have friends here that wouldn’t want me crashing.”

“I’m here alone,” the redhead reveals. “The name’s Melissa. And you are?”

“Y/N,” you tell her.

“Well, Y/N, why don’t you let me buy you a drink, and we can be alone… together.”

You end up getting her number as you part ways for the night, and simply text her when you get home that night, time and place.

She’s just walked into her own house when your text comes through. How does Renata’s Kitchen at 5:30 on Tuesday sound?

I have to wait tomorrow and Monday to see you?

I mean, I could grab a coffee tomorrow after church if you’d rather that, the redheaded beauty sends.

You send her the address of your favorite coffee place, which just so happens to be hers as well. You wonder if the two of you have ever run into each other and just not known it at the time.

The outing for coffee ends up being an entire day’s worth of just walking around the city together as you chat about life. You find out that she’s a second grade teacher at one of the local schools and that she has Sunday dinners with her family every week (that is actually the only reason she has to regretfully leave you that day) among many other things. She finds out that you work for one of the local law firms down the street from Abbott, ironically enough. How have the two of you never bumped into each other, or at least seen each other? You get to your place of work at the same time as she does, you’ve both gone down to the same Wawa at the same time for lunch because your lunch hours coincide, and she quite literally walks past your firm to get to happy hour specials with her coworkers.

Once she leaves you to head to her family dinner, she texts you to let you know that she would still love to do dinner with you on Tuesday. You excitedly reply that you would be absolutely delighted.

The two of you have been going out for quite some time now, and it’s quite funny that you’ve both kept it on the down low. You’re a bit concerned that while courtrooms have progressed with society that if your relationship were to become public, it could get in the way of cases. And she, similarly is nervous that she could face backlash at the school she works for for being in a homosexual relationship. So, neither of you have said anything to your coworkers. And it’s all going swimmingly. While you had both just stumbled upon each other one night at the bar, not expecting to find each other, here you are two years later as a happy couple.

You land the case of a lifetime, one where you could make a decent profit off of your already relatively high paying salary. On top of that, you know that you’re about to be promoted after working with this firm for the last five years.

You end up winning the case, bringing in some good money, and then you’re moving up the ladder and finding yourself with more cash outflow than you know what to do with at the moment. It’s too much for you, living in a small apartment in the city by yourself with nothing else to worry about. So, when your girlfriend comes over to your apartment for dinner, you propose something.

“Mel?” you ask as she stands at your stovetop. She hums to let you know that she’s listening, but her eyes stay trained on the vegetables that she’s chopping right now. “How would you feel if we moved in together?”

The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board halts, and she turns to face you. “What?”

“We’ve been together for almost two years,” you tell her. “I just got that nice promotion, plus a huge payout from the settlement with DuBoise, so… I was thinking maybe we could move in together? Find a nice townhouse somewhere in the city and settle into our lives together?”

About a million emotions flicker through the redhead’s face before it settles on a smile. “I think that might be a good idea.”

So, after months of looking, you both say goodbye to your small apartments and are able to move into a beautiful townhouse in Queen Village. When Melissa files the paperwork to change her address for paychecks, Ava comes flying into the staff lounge with her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.

“Uh, ahem,” the principal coughs out and raises her brows, waving the paperwork in front of the second grade teacher during lunch.

“What?” your girlfriend grumbles as she grades a few papers and shoves a forkful of her salad into her mouth.

“Since when did you move?”

“A couple of weeks ago,” Melissa shrugs.

Barbara’s brows furrow. She wasn’t aware her friend was moving house. “Oh, Melissa. Could you not afford the place anymore?”

“Girl, she upgraded big time! Went from living in the slums to a three bedroom townhouse in Queen Village!”

“Queen Village?” the kindergarten teacher repeats.

Again, the redhead just shrugs.

“Melissa, how did you manage that? I know what you make, and there is no way you could afford to live somewhere like that!” Janine cuts in.

“Can it, pipsqueak,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “Let’s just say… I have my ways.”

Nobody is brave enough to ask the mob-like woman what the hell that could even mean.

“Well, when do we get to see the place?” Jacob tries to invite himself over.

Green eyes glare over at the man. “If I can help it, never.”

“Oh c’mon, Mel Mel,” Jacobs whines out. “I lived with you at one point! Why can’t we come see your new place?”

“At the time, I did not know it was you,” the redhead huffs. “And then you moved out on me.”

“Because I found

The second grade teacher blows out a breath. “Maybe once I have it all furnished and put together.”

So, once the two of you have the place put together for the most part, the Abbott clan makes their way over while you’re out of town for a convention that you were forced to go to.

To say that the crew is beyond impressed is an understatement.

“Melissa, this is beautiful,” Barbara compliments.

“How? How?” is all Jacob and Janine can stutter out.

The redhead just smirks. “I know a guy.”

They leave not knowing that the guy that she knows is you- her girlfriend of almost two and a half years at this point. And because it’s you, and you have an unwavering love for Melissa, the house is impeccable and everything she could ever want it to. You take good care of her.

Since moving in together, Melissa’s meals have only become more extravagant. With both of your finances almost entirely combined at this point, you spoil her with the best foods and ingredients that you can get her at any moment. So when she comes into the staff room with way fancier dishes for her lunch, it raises a few eyebrows. The teachers have seen Melissa stretch a dollar like a big headed baby stretches a… the redhead smirks.

“I know a guy,” is all she offers up.

The eyebrows of her coworkers only creep further up her head when she comes in with leftovers from one of the nicest restaurants in the city- a place known nationally for the delicate dishes and absolutely delectable desserts.

She’s eating the extra slice of cheesecake the two of you had brought home when Janine leans over. “How’d you get that?”

“I know a guy.”

“You sure seem to know a lot of guys.”

They have no idea that there are not multiple people- you are almost singlehandedly responsible for the lavish lifestyle that your girlfriend suddenly leads.

Somehow, Melissa is forced to go to one of the banquet dinners that the district is holding because she’s hit a milestone in her teaching, and they’re highlighting her. So, of course Barb offers to go with her to try to find something nice to wear to the dinner that she too will be attending.

“Oh, I think I actually have an outfit,” the redhead refutes the offer. “But thank you.”

“Girl, you never turn down an opportunity to go out shopping,” the kindergarten teacher raises a brow.

“I just… know a guy that already bought me an outfit.”

Melissa shows up to the event looking like a million bucks, and Barbara almost can’t believe it. The redhead’s hair is curled to perfection, the dress that she’s in has clearly been tailored to accentuate all of her curves and to be the proper length. The shoes that she’s wearing are not the black heeled boots Barbara is so used to seeing her work wife wear- no, instead she’s got on a pair of heels that have to be at least two hundred dollars if the kindergarten teacher had to guess.

Of course, their picture gets snapped and is posted to the school website a few days later.

At lunch, while Janine is eating and on her laptop, her eyes go wide. “Melissa!”

“What?”

“You looked beautiful the other night!”

“Thanks, kid.”

“How did you get all of that?”

“I know a guy.”

Jacob moves his chair so he too can get a look.

“Melissa, that is…” he thinks to himself quietly. “At least a six hundred dollar look! For a school event? Girl, where are you getting all of this stuff?!”

“I told youse, I know a guy.”

It’s a weekend when the Abbott crew decides to get together, and they all have plans to go to Barbara’s house for game night, but Gerald gets sick and they can no longer use the Howard residence.

“Well, I guess we should cancel,” Melissa sighs as they’re all leaving the school that day.

“What if we just came to your place?” the kindergarten teacher asks. “It’s the only other space big enough to accommodate us all.”

Begrudgingly, the second grade teacher agrees. As everyone is on their way over, she calls you.

“Hello?”

“Hey hun,” she says softly. “So… change in plans for tonight.”

“Oh? Do I get you all to myself tonight?”

“Not exactly…” the redhead trails off. “We’re moving game night to our house.”

“Oh,” you say softly, your face dropping as you thumb through papers in your office.

“Yeah,” she hums.

“I mean, I guess I can go out to dinner with my mom or something to pass the-”

“What if we just… came out? At least just to the crew,” your girlfriend suggests quietly.

You mull that option over for a few seconds. “Y-yeah. If you’re ready for that.”

“I am if you are.”

“I can pick up dinner,” you tell her. “I should be out of here by 5:30, and then I can head over to grab some food before coming home.”

“There’s…” she counts in her head. “eight of us.”

“Eight?”

“Somehow Mr. J wormed himself into this get together,” Melissa laughs softly. “Something about getting the band back together- whatever the hell that means.

Once you’re free from work, you head over to one of the nicer restaurants in the city, and because you and Melissa have become frequent flyers there, they’re able to oblige your request for a few trays of food. You leave a generous tip before packing the food into your car and making your way back to your townhouse.

Upon pulling in, you take a few deep breaths before gathering your briefcase and the food and making your way to the door.

When you push it open, all eyes are on you.

“Hey,” you sigh as you kick off your shoes and head for the kitchen table to put down all the food.

“Melissa, you didn’t tell us you have a roommate, never mind a hot one!” Ava grins.

The redhead just rolls her eyes before glaring. That glare is gone though once you make your way back into the living room and sit down next to your girlfriend.

“Hey babe,” you smile at her before kissing her cheek softly.

“Babe?” Barbara’s eyes go wide. “Melissa Ann, do you have a girlfriend?”

The redhead just smirks. “Oh, did I not mention that I am happily in a relationship and have been for two and a half years?”

“Wait a minute,” Mr. Johnson furrows his brows and looks you over. “Ain’t you one of those fancy lawyers that works at the firm down the street from Abbott?”

You nod. “Hi. I’m Y/N.” You cordially shake everybody’s hand with a kind smile.

“Wait,” Janine pieces it all together. “Is this why you moved and could afford this place? Why your meals have gotten a lot fancier, and how you could afford the clothes you wore to the dinner the other night?”

Melissa just nods. “I guess you could say… I won the lottery with this one.”

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