#sounds fake but okay (<- once a week)

[thecatspasta]

Also got:

Reality is justtt outside my window but Im sitting on the floor and cant get up Am I tired or did reality delete itself again .... -WAIT HOLD UP IM MEANT TO BE A HUMAN RIGHT NOW *perfect imitation of a zombie* 'Damn this VR is really good' My brain has locked me out again *melting into the floor* *feels sad for two seconds* Brain: Oh thats deeper than I wanna go *removes any and all feelings*

types of dissociation:

existing but a little to the left

am i crossing my eyes or is everything just blurry?

clipped right thru the floorboards

what the fuck is a “body”

i have too many bodies at once and they’re trying to start a fight club. how many arms are humans supposed to have again?

floam

sounds fake but ok

pick two: harsh noise, dial up tone, cantina theme [10 hour version]

360 no scope

the atmosphere is lighting me on fire very, very slowly.

someone: “wow! you handled that stressful situation so well! so cool and competent!” me, unaware that anything happened: “i what now”

*forgets to breathe for 5 hours*

feel free 2 add ur own

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - chapter 1

(Rafe Cameron x Reader, series, 3.9k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

The drive down to Miami was idyllic. Windows rolled down, you and Carter sang along to the playlist you’d made for the trip and ate your favorite childhood snacks. Blue skies above you as Carter’s new Jeep flew down the coast, you actually started to feel excited for the week ahead.

Then, you pulled up to the Airbnb, and it all faded.

The second you saw all of Carter’s high school friends in the driveway, unpacking their cars and exchanging hugs, it all came rushing back. The way you felt like you never really fit in, how they’d tease you for being quiet, how the boys’ eyes would skip right over you in search of your sister.

Carter turned down the radio when she noticed the way you were biting your lip with trepidation.

“It’s gonna be fun,” she tried to assure you. “Promise.”

You put on your best fake smile, determined to make this a good week for her. After everything she’s done for you, if all she wanted in return was a fun week at the beach, you’d give her that. You pushed your anxiety down as best as you could and hopped out of the Jeep.

“Oh shit!” Topper called, standing at the open trunk of his Range Rover. “Is that who I think it is?”

He rushed over, sweeping Carter up and throwing her over his shoulder.

“Put me down, Top!” She yelped, not entirely convincing that she wanted him to.

He set her down and smiled wide at her, just as smitten as ever. She gave him a playful pat on the head, like a dog, and went to get the bags from her car. Topper’s eyes shifted over to you and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

“No way, Little Carter is that you?” He teased, using your least favorite nickname.

“What’s up, Topper?” You tried to sound unannoyed.

Before he could answer, still slightly gawking at you, another voice emerged from the front door of the house.

“Yo who is it, Top?” Kelce yelled down from the top of the front steps.

“Come see for yourself, jackass!” Topper shouted back.

Kelce hopped down from the top step and approached you in the driveway, throwing his arm around Topper’s shoulder.

“No fucking way,” he said, when it finally dawned on him who you were. He looked you up and down and added, “what do they put in the water at that fancy school of yours?”

“Smoothe, man,” Topper smirked at him.

Your cheeks burned, you rolled your eyes at them to try and seem unaffected. They had never talked to you like this before. The majority of your interactions with Topper and Kelce in high school consisted of them teasing you about Rafe and asking where your sister was. They never even came close to flirting with you, and now you couldn’t decide whether you liked it or not.

“Can you two stop drooling over my baby sister and come help me with these fucking bags?” Carter called to them from the back of her Jeep.

“Yes ma’am,” Kelce winked at you before going to help your sister carry in the hundreds of dollars worth of beer she’d made you stop to pick up on the way here.

“You assholes better pay us back,” she told them, passing Topper a couple of 12 packs.

“Okay, give me your sister’s number and I’ll Venmo her right now,” he responded with a smirk.

You actually laughed at that one, which caused his chest to puff out with pride. Boys had always been somewhat of a mystery to you, but these two were painfully easy. Their playfulness helped you relax a little, wondering if this week might not be so bad after all.

Once you were inside, you and Carter each chose your own rooms, all your recently opened trust funds allowing you to rent the biggest house in the neighborhood. After unpacking, you walked down to the beach with Topper, Kelce, a couple of Carter’s girlfriends, and a guy you’d never met.

Topper and Kelce introduced him as their friend from college, a frat brother. His name was Tom, he was on the taller side, brunette, super cute. The way his toned arms flexed in his sleeveless shirt was the first thing you saw, but his bright, dimpled smile is what really caught your attention.

When you told him your name, offering him your hand to shake, he held it for a few seconds longer than any of the other girls and Carter gave you a knowing look. You’d never wished so badly that you knew how to turn off your blush.

Once you got down to the water, you helped Carter set up the umbrella and volleyball net you’d brought. You played intramural volleyball for your college and had actually gotten really good at it, you were excited to play with Carter, who’d always wanted you to get into sports with her.

When everything was set-up, you started to take off the bathing suit cover you had on over your bikini, but quickly realized there was a problem.

“Shit, Car, did we even bring sunscreen?” You asked your sister.

“Fuuuuck,” Carter said with a careless giggle. “Guess we’ll just burn.”

“Um no, I’m not listening to you whine about your sunburn all week,” you scolded her. “Top, did you bring sunscreen?”

“I hate to say no to you, beautiful, but…no,” Topper answered.

“Great, so we have eight hundred Natty Lights but no sunscreen,” you huffed.

“Sounds like a perfect vacation to me,” Kelce joked, already cracking his first beer.

“I brought some sunscreen,” Tom offered helpfully.

“Ah, my hero!” you smiled at him playfully.

You could feel all eyes on you when you said it. None of them had ever seen you flirt so comfortably before, or really even heard you speak. This was the person you were at school, but they had never met her before. You cleared your throat, feeling uncomfortable.

“Could I borrow some?” You asked Tom, who appeared oblivious to the shift in atmosphere.

“Yeah, it’s up at the house, I’ll go grab it!” You watched him run up the beach, his toned back muscles flexing, Carter bumped her hip into yours.

“Five minutes and he’s already whipped for you,” she teased. “Told you this trip was a good idea.”

By the time Rafe finally pulled up to the house in his truck, all the rooms had been claimed except for the shitty basement, with its low ceiling and lone twin sized bed. After dropping his bags, scowling at the mildew smell in the small space, he filled one of the coolers he brought with some imported beers and white claws and headed toward the beach.

“Yo, Top!” He called from the back porch, beckoning Topper up from the beach to help him carry the heavy cooler.

“Jesus, what you got in here?”  Topper grunted, struggling to lift his side of the cooler.

“Nicer shit than anything you brought,” Rafe said. “I’m not drinking cheap gas station beers all week.”

“Fine by me man,” Topper added a second hand to the cooler to help him lift it.

As they carried the cooler down the beach, Rafe mocking Topper for his inability to lift his share of the weight, Rafe scanned the private section of the beach to take a manual headcount of his housemates for the week.

He saw everyone he expected, the same people that would gather at the island club every time there was a break from school, the party always finding its way back to Tannyhill. The same girls that hung around him and his friends in high school, Carter, who he had never gotten along with, Kelce, who he had seen just last week, and…someone he didn’t recognize.

The mystery girl was facing away from him, but he could still tell she was gorgeous. Her bathing suit wrap hugging her body, her shiny, bouncy hair flowing in the ocean breeze. She bent down to set up her beach chair and he nearly dropped the cooler. 

“Woah, man,” Topper laughed. “Now who’s got butterfingers?”

“Who is that?” Rafe asked sternly, ignoring Topper’s harassment. 

“Dude, are you serious?” Topper eyed him.

Before Rafe could ask what Topper meant, you turned around, looking up towards the house in his direction, shielding the sun from your eyes and smiling a big, beautiful smile.

This time, Rafe really did drop the cooler. It was you. He hadn’t seen you in four years, and nobody told him you were coming on this trip. Nobody told him you looked like that now, either.

Everything that happened between you was so long ago, but he assumed you still hated him. But now, you were looking right at him and smiling. His lips started to turn upward for a moment and he almost lifted his hand to wave at you, when someone bumped into his shoulder.

“Shit, my bad man,” Tom said, his eyes not even looking at Rafe, glued to you. He ran off and approached you, and Rafe realized with a punch to his gut, it was this random guy you were smiling at and not him.

Rafe and Topper dragged the cooler a bit farther down the beach, dropping it behind all the umbrellas. Rafe immediately grabbed one of his expensive IPAs and twisted it open, throwing back a sip bitterly as he watched Tom hand you something, you smiled and touched his arm gratefully.

Carter approached the boys and the cooler, following Rafe’s eyes to you. She twisted her lips, trying to hide her smile, everything about this day going exactly as she had planned.

“Hey, Rafe,” She smirked. “You good?”

Rafe looked at her, eyes narrow as he tried to catch her meaning. When he realized she had caught him staring, he cleared his throat and took another sip of his beer, trying to seem nonchalant. 

“Fine,” he mumbled.

Rafe reached in the cooler and grabbed a white claw, offering it to Carter. Things had always been chilly between them, though they’d still been cordial with each other. Aside from that big argument senior year which they never talked about. Now, it hung in the salty air so prevalently, your presence after all this time stirring up old tensions.

Carter accepted the drink with a thank you, cracking it open and looking back to you. Both Carter and Rafe’s eyes went wide when you took off your cover-up, revealing a barely-there bikini and the new body none of your high school friends had seen yet. 

Everyone on the private beach was staring at you, but Rafe was staring at you, his knuckles going white around his beer as he eyed you up and down. His heart pounded so loudly in his chest he was afraid Carter and Topper would be able to hear it. Then, when you handed Tom the sunscreen and asked him to rub it on your back, an unfamiliar feeling bubbled in Rafe’s stomach and crawled up to his chest. He glared at Topper.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” He barked.

Carter and Topper’s heads both snapped towards him, neither surprised to hear the usual edge in his voice, though while Topper looked at Rafe with concern, Carter’s face only portrayed pure amusement.

“Who, Tom?” Topper asked, watching as Rafe’s eyeline returned to you, starting to catch on to the source of Rafe’s irritability. “He’s a brother from Alpha Tau.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a high school reunion trip,” Rafe snapped at him.

“Wow, someone’s pressed,” Carter beamed at him, delighted in his discomfort.

“I’m fine, just didn’t know we could invite people, that’s all,” he insisted.

“Sure, Rafey, that’s all,” she goaded him.

Rafe and Carter gave each other a knowing look, Topper’s eyes flashing between them, utterly out of the loop.

“What did I miss?” He prodded.

“Nothing,” Carter assured him. “Let’s play chicken, you’re on my team, Topper.”

“Oh hell yes,” he dashed after her like an excited puppy.

Rafe ignored the interaction, eyes glued to you in the distance as you settled into your beach chair and pulled out a book, Tom leaving your side and heading toward the water to join the game that had started. Rafe smiled, of course you were reading while everyone else was partying. Maybe you hadn’t changed that much after all. 

The spine of the brand new book cracked as you opened it, you sighed happily, loving the sound. You rarely ever got to read just for fun, always so busy with schoolwork, and you were so excited to dig into the fluffy romance you’d bought off tiktok and turn your brain off.

But then, just as your eyes grazed over the first sentence, you heard a voice from behind you that made your sun-kissed skin go cold.

“Whatcha readin’?” Rafe asked, his tall frame casting a shadow over your sunbathing spot.

You had pretended not to see him when he arrived a few minutes ago, throwing your attention at Tom instead, who took it happily, no idea that he was just a distraction from the flips your stomach was doing at Rafe’s arrival. You actually thought for a minute you might be able to avoid him this whole trip, but of course, he was pouncing as soon as you were alone. He always preferred talking to you when no one was around, sharing hours of meaningful late night conversations together, yet ignoring you at parties and in the halls at school as if you barely knew each other.

You closed the book slowly and placed it in your lap, any clever words you had to say to him flew suddenly from your brain. Regret swept over you, it was foolish to think you could pretend to be unaffected by his presence. He’d said two words to you and you were already nervous, overthinking every movement you made.

When you didn’t answer him, Rafe took it upon himself to plop down in the beach chair next to you, leaning over to read the title of your book.

“Is it any good?” You still didn’t look at him, but you could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“Wouldn’t know,” you looked down at your lap. “Just started it.”

“Well let me know what you think, might need to borrow it,” he kept his eyes on you, running over your body, making his own face go warm.

“Since when do you read?” You finally lifted your eyes to him.

Rafe’s jaw went slightly slack, all the swagger he’d brought on this trip with him suddenly disappearing. You were even prettier up close, your features more defined and striking than he remembered.

“People can change,” he finally mustered up, less bravado in his voice.

You gave yourself exactly three seconds to look at him, eyes sweeping quickly over his nose, lips, chin, anything but his eyes. His eyes were like a prison you’d once been held in, and you swore you’d never go back.

After your three seconds were up, you shifted your gaze to the ocean, hating that you wished you had three more to take him in. He was just as, if not more, gorgeous as you remembered. His features somehow sharp and soft at the same time. His lips pink and soft, skin a golden bronze even though the summer had just started. His hair was a little shorter now, but still long enough to stick up in the back in that messy way you liked.

The familiar red hue crept up your neck slowly, making its way to your cheekbones. You needed him to get up and leave you alone before you broke into an all out blush. You picked up your book and pretended to start reading again.

“You should go play with everyone else, looks like Kelce could use someone on his team,” you threw out, hoping he’d take the hint.

“What if I’d rather stay here and talk to you?” He asked, voice dropping just a hint.

You thought you could handle this, but you couldn’t. Was he seriously flirting with you right now? If you knew Rafe, the second you tried to flirt back, he’d grow uninterested and blow you off. With him, it was always like he convinced you to jump off a cliff with him, but then at the last second, he’d step back, watching apathetically as you fell all alone.

“I need to go unpack,” you said, standing from your chair and grabbing your book and beach bag, knowing full well your stuff was already neatly sorted in your room.

He looked up at you as you collected your stuff, and you hated the way you were sucking in your stomach. You spent four years working hard to love your body the way it was, and now, in front of him, all that self-consciousness came flooding back. 

You hurried away, catching Carter’s eye as you beelined for the house.

“Where are you going?” She said, slightly out of breath by the time she caught up to you.

“I can’t do this,” you explained, still walking fast.

“Wait,” she grabbed your arm, causing you to halt, hot sand burning your feet. “What happened?”

“He’s here,” you didn’t have to explain any further for her to understand.

“I know,” she said sympathetically. “But we knew he would be. We’re gonna ignore him, remember?”

“I don’t think I can, Car,” you sighed. “I think I should just go.” 

“No, please please please don’t go,” she begged. “I need you here. And you were having fun before, right? Tom’s cute! Just hang out with us and tell Rafe to go fuck himself.”

“That sounds more like something you’d say than me,” you smiled at her.

“Okay, fine,” she agreed. “I’ll tell him to fuck himself and to leave you alone.”

“No, don’t, I don’t want to cause any drama,” you requested.

“Well I think storming out twenty minutes after we got here would be pretty dramatic,” she argued.

Your lips in a tight line, you gave her an annoyed look, but she did kind of have a point. Everyone would ask why you left, and how would Carter explain it to them? Plus, you didn’t want to give Rafe the satisfaction of knowing he affected you this much.

“We’re about to play volleyball,” Carter said. “Come show them what a beast you are now! And then after you kick everyone’s ass, if you’re still miserable, you can leave and I’ll tell everyone you got sick.”

You squinted back at the group on the beach, considering her offer. Topper and Kelce were wrestling in the sand, somehow both losing. You smiled affectionately at their antics, you were really enjoying hanging out with them before Rafe got here.

“Okay, fine,” you agreed. “One game.”

It took half of one volley for you to get comfortable, head fully in the game. You were tempted to put your cover-up back on before playing, well aware of Rafe’s eyes on you through the net, but you decided not to, determined to love yourself the same way you had grown to when you thought you’d never see him again.

Tom was on Rafe’s team, also eyeing you through the net, but with a much more innocent, friendly expression.

“You’re pretty good!” He said when you’d spiked a ball into the sand right next to him.

“Thank you,” you smiled sweetly. “I play at school.”

“Hey man, stop flirting with our opponent and focus,” Rafe snapped at him from the serving line.

Tom just raised his eyebrows at you in amusement and mouthed “I’m in trouble.” You giggled and Rafe seethed, slamming the ball so hard on his next serve that his hand was red. 

After a few more volleys, you had rotated until you and Rafe were face to face across the net again. As you waited for one of your sister’s friends, Sabrina, to make her third attempt at serving, Rafe eyed you up and down.

“You look good,” he said quietly, so only you could hear.

It lit a fire in you, but not the one he was hoping for. You locked-in, bent low in a competitive stance, ready for the setter to tee you up. When Sabrina finally made her serve, you went all out, diving in the sand and running all over the court to keep the ball in play. Rafe’s athletic instincts took over, and he met every one of your attempts to score with a firm block. Eventually, your lungs burning with your heavy breathing, Rafe spiked the ball and you slipped in the sand, letting it get past you and land next to your feet with a thud.

You looked up at Rafe, who was high fiving his teammates and looking down at you with a smirk. He ducked under the net and reached out a hand to help you up.

“Sorry, kid,” he grinned as he lifted you to your feet. “I’m just that good.”

Kid. It all came back as you stared at him. The hours spent in your car, waiting for him dutifully. All the late night texts that meant everything to you and nothing to him. The cheek kisses and side hugs that fueled your fantasies. His hands around Cassie’s waist as he kissed her in broad daylight, though he’d only talk to you behind closed doors. 

Your cheeks turned red as they so often did, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment, it was from anger. He wouldn’t make you feel small anymore, you wouldn’t let him.

You turned to your team to fire them up, “let’s go, fucking lock in guys! You got me Top?”

Topper nodded with excitement, loving your new energy, as he got ready for his turn to serve.

“Fuck yeah, I got you, captain,” he saluted you.

Topper served. Rafe tried to dominate again but you were two seconds ahead of him on every play. Now it was you that had him diving around in the sand like an idiot. The smug smile wiped from his face, his jaw now clenched in frustration as he grunted with effort every time he hit the ball.

You were on fire, un-fucking-stoppable. After a few more volleys, your team was winning, one point from game.

You wiped the back of your hand across your forehead and down your neck, flicking off the sweat that had pooled. You felt two sets of eyes on you, Tom’s and Rafe’s, but you didn’t care, laser focused on your next play. When you lifted off the ground, body stretching to reach for the ball, you threw every frustration into the hit, hand colliding with the ball as hard as it could. Rafe dove, but he couldn’t get it, he crashed down hard, sand flying in his face as he whiffed, and you won the game.

Your side of the net broke into cheers, high fiving and whooping obnoxiously. Tom approached the net to offer his sportsmanlike congratulations, but you didn’t notice him, already making your way towards Rafe, who still sat defeated on the ground, eyes burning from the sand.

He smiled as you approached, reaching out his hand, thinking you were gonna help him up. But you just stepped around him, bending down, lowering your voice so only he could hear as you said,

“Sorry, kid, but I’m better.”

You left him sitting there, hand reaching for nobody like an idiot, dumbstruck and down bad as you sauntered up the beach.

(chapter 2)

a/n: I know I literally just posted the prologue but I didn't want to wait to get into the actual story. I'd love to hear what you think and where you want to see the story go! xoxo

[princesssmars]

can you do submissive reader x vi

oh my god vi who just loves how submissive you are for her…nsfw.

it was the little things that tipped her off about the other side of you she’d yet to on see.

your relationship was new, only a few weeks since she’d asked you to officially become her girlfriend. the two of you still hadn’t had sex, only a few intense make outs that were promptly stopped when she notice your tense posture. she made sure you knew that she’d never push you to do anything you didn’t want to do.

but she had to admit that while being respectful she noticed things that made her eager to nudge you a bit. you were always a strong willed person who gave her a run for her money when it came to being stubborn, but behind closed doors she notice just how obedient you could be.

a lazy murmur of asking for a drink the next time you grabbed one was met with her hand filled with a glass of water before she could blink. a casual reminder not to forget your jacket in the morning and wrapping the fabric around your shoulders leads to a far off look in your eyes that she just can’t ignore.

your first time together she’s oh so sweet and gentle, asking repeatedly if you’re sure you want to go through with it while she’s leaving trails of kisses up and down your body. but she can see how your anxiety deflates, how pliant your body becomes as she moves and guides different parts of you to her will.

and then with a desperate voice you beg her, give her the permission to do whatever she wants with you, that you’re literally aching for it. and how could she say no to that?

she’s on cloud nine and she’s dragging you up with her as she manipulates your body using her hands and words. a simple command to take off your clothes and lay down for her has you laid out on the bed willing and waiting for her.

you follow her instructions so smoothly it almost seems like you were made to do it, made specially to be obedient to her. a weird thrill goes down her spine at the thought and the same happens to you when she voices it, giving you endless praise about how well you follow her instructions.

“cmon, do one more for me, okay?”

her eyes nearly roll back into her skull at the sound of your whine mixed with the sound of her fingers thrusting into your cunt, the squelching and sloshing after multiple orgasms she’s ripped out of you sending her brain into a frenzy.

“v-vi, please, violet, wan’ it, need you-“

she pushes her lips into yours to capture more of your moans while she groans into your mouth and speeds up her fingers, putting her all into giving you yet another orgasm. she feels your legs twitching against hers, your hands grasping and shaking against her back. right when she feels you about to trip over she pulls back and looks into your eyes to burn the look of you into her brain.

“cum for me, cum for me right now pretty girl,”

she barely finishes her sentence when your clamping down on her and moaning like she’s tearing your soul from your body. she has to muffle her own sounds against your neck when she realizes you’re squirting against her hand and soaking the bed underneath.

once you both catch your breaths she finally loves her body from slouching into yours to flopping onto the bed next to you. you gently kick her when she sticks the fingers that were inside you into her mouth with a comical groan, laughing as you fake being upset at her crudeness.

“gods, you’re such a pervert.”

“says the one whose shown me how obedient she is. you think if i ask to go again you’ll let me?”

“…for my own sanity i’m not going to answer that.”

vi chuckles. she can’t wait to see just how pliant for her she can make you.

[teapartyprincess4two]

Hi

Can i ask for a johnnie guilbert x reader where the reader is a friend of tara who is a very private person, so she gets know in the channel as "baby" and people start to notice that johnnie gets shy and is always looking somewhere off camera (to her)

A LOTTTT of pinning by johnnie (like so much it hurts)

And maybe at the end he confesses she kisses him and a lil sum-sum 😏

Thank uuuuu 😘

Babygirl- J. Guilbert

pairing: shy!reader x Johnnie

classification: fluff

warning: use of y/n, slight cursing, slow build up, Jake and Tara are dating in this, suggestive content but NO smut, very long

inspiration: request^^, Deaf, Mute, and Blind Baking, Becoming Tara Yummy for a Day

summary: You didn’t choose a life in the limelight, you were just famous by association, and now you’ve earned yourself the nickname “babygirl” by the entire internet.

—

Most people wish they had the fame you had, they spend their entire life reaching for an unattainable dream that fell in your lap by coincidence. They wish for the fancy cars, the expensive clothes, and especially to be so famous they’re stopped by fans on the street for a picture.

Tara, your best friend, was one of those people. She spent her childhood and teenage years fangirling over pop stars and YouTubers, hoping that one day people would be fangirling over her too. She worked hard to earn the platform she has today, bringing you along with her to the top. But you never asked for any of this.

At first her newfound fame didn’t affect you, you were just a recurring background character in her videos and would sometimes, but very rarely, have a main role in them. Although you tried remaining in the background, the internet is quick to get attached to shy, background characters and before you knew it the fans were begging for more content with you.

So now you and Tara are a well known YouTube duo and you’re featured in almost every one of her videos, most of the time opting to participate from behind the camera. You especially remain behind the scenes when Jake and Johnnie are involved, specifically because you’re never able to hide your crush on Johnnie and would probably die from embarrassment if the fans caught on.

Like today for example, Jake and Johnnie are over at your house filming. They’re filming a video they’ve filmed many times before, they’re turning Tara emo. The three of them are piled onto the couch, discussing topic after topic as Johnnie packs on black eyeshadow on Tara’s eyes.

“Ow, Johnnie. You’re hurting me!” she squeals as Johnnie accidentally pokes her in the eye with the bristles of the brush. You can’t help but giggle from behind the camera, watching as Johnnie becomes flustered. “Sorry! I only ever do my own makeup, okay?” he apologizes, not becoming any more gentle with his motions. Johnnie glances at you quickly, a smile forming on his face because of your laughter.

“Why are you laughing, Y/n? You’re next,” Jake chimes in, following his statement with a boisterous laugh. Your face flushes slightly as you reply with a laugh, “no I’d prefer not to be tortured.” Johnnie laughs at this, sending you a fake pout, “you hate my look that much?”

Your face becomes even more red, if that was even possible. You didn’t mean the comment like that. Tara, whose face is being attacked with makeup, chimes in, “No, Y/n is too babygirl for this.”

“Oh God, you’re making me sound so high maintenance,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief at Tara’s comment. “It’s true though!” she exclaims, turning to face you just as Johnnie begins applying eyeliner, causing a black streak to run from the corner of her eye to her hairline.

“Guys, Y/n is probably the most high maintenance out of the four of us. She gets a manicure exactly every two weeks, she gets her hair redyed like once a month, her room is NEVER dirty. She almost never ever has dirty laundry, AND she irons her clothes. Who irons their clothes?” Tara exclaims, flailing her arms in the air dramatically.

“So yes, she’s babygirl,” Tara’s talking to the camera now, completely oblivious to her appearance. You scrunch your name at the nickname, the internet tended to latch onto things like that, “First of all, you look ridiculous right now. And secondly, don’t call me that. I don’t need to be known as ‘babygirl’ for the rest of my life,” you reply, laughing as Johnnie tries to fix his mistake but fails.

Jake, who’s sitting on the couch next to Johnnie, straightens up and leans forward to look at Tara. He immediately laughs at the sight, the black eyeliner smudged all over her face. “You’re just mad that it has a nice ring to it,” Tara retorts, choosing to ignore the mess Johnnie made. You scoff, glad that the camera isn’t on you to catch how your eyes train on Johnnie.

“Okay, but doesn’t it sound cute?” Tara proposes the question to the boys, waiting expectantly for them to answer. Jake was always quick to agree with her, it was a trait she trained him to have over the years of their relationship, “yeah, it’s pretty cute.” Tara nods her head in triumph, turning to Johnnie for his response.

Johnnie doesn’t know what to say, he agrees that the nickname is cute, but he’s afraid he’ll say too much and expose his crush for you. “Johnnie?” Tara says, widening her eyes as she awaits his response.

“What was the nickname again?” Johnnie asks, trying to act casual. But if the cameras zoomed in they’d easily catch how his hands tremble as he fixes Tara’s eyeliner. “Babygirl?” he reiterates, attempting to sound confused and oblivious. Tara nods her head, causing Johnnie to mess up once again, but he’s too busy trying to keep his composure to care.

Coming from him the nickname doesn’t sound so bad, it actually makes you want to take back everything you just said. “Babygirl is cute,” he murmurs, sending you a small glance before quickly turning back towards Tara. You hide your face in your hands, trying to hide your flushed cheeks and the smile that won’t go away no matter how hard you try.

“Enough with the babygirl talk,” you groan, but you really loved hearing him say it.

—

From that moment on, you were known as babygirl within the fandom. You couldn’t escape the nickname no matter how hard you tried, and the fans loved teasing you about it. Whether it be through edits, Instagram comments, or tweets; the fans were always calling you the nickname.

Johnnie, Jake and Tara are currently filming yet another video, despite your protests. The three of them are standing behind the kitchen counter, with either tape on their mouths, earmuffs on, or blindfolded. They were trying to bake a cake, something they struggled to do even without the inhibiting factors, so all they were really doing was making a big mess.

They understand your hesitance with being on camera, so they never force you to make any special appearances, but you still loved to watch. You sit behind the counter, just out of view of the camera, watching in amusement as the three interact.

Johnnie keeps getting distracted by you, fumbling and stuttering his way through the intro. You watch as Johnnie struggles to find the supplies needed for the video, searching through every cabinet in the kitchen. “Every time Johnnie says he’s ready, he’s never ready,” Jake comments, adjusting the black beanie on his head. “Where the fuck did I put it? No, Jake where did you put it?” Johnnie replies, scavenging for the baking supplies.

“They’re in the pantry,” you comment, walking over to Johnnie briefly and guiding him towards the pantry. Johnnie smiles at you, grateful that there’s at least one sane person here to help him. The interaction was caught on camera, but you were too distracted to realize.

“Thanks babygirl,” Tara exclaims, bopping her head to the music blasting through her headphones. You roll your eyes, helping Johnnie take everything out of the grocery bags and sprawling them out onto the counter. Once everything is in order, Johnnie’s mouth is quickly covered with a sticker, but he’s happy he isn’t blindfolded because he can keep sneaking glances at you.

The entire situation was chaotic, none of them had any clue how to communicate properly and they had less knowledge on how to bake a cake. Jake’s arms were stretched forward as he tried finding his way through the kitchen, Tara’s loud singing making it hard for them to concentrate on one task alone.

Tara, who wore the headphones, was more focused on singing than the cake. You watch them intently, unable to stop yourself from laughing, “you need to whisk the cake!” Tara, who can’t hear a single thing you’re saying, repeats your statement causing you to burst into laughter.

Johnnie pulls out a plastic butter knife, deeming it appropriate for the task. “Get the beater!” Tara yells, following it by belting out song lyrics. Johnnie has no idea what Tara is talking about, so he sends you a pleading look. If there’s anyone here who’s going to help him finish this cake, it’s you.

“The whisk, get the whisk!” you exclaim, trying to talk over Tara’s singing as best as possible.

“What’s going on?!” Jake asks, one of his flailing arms slapping both Johnnie and Tara. Johnnie’s laughs are muffled by the sticker as he holds the whisk out for Jake, guiding him to the bowl.

“Babygirl?!” Tara is being so loud, her voice a good three octaves higher than normal. “Stop yelling!” you exclaim, but she ignores you and changes the song, continuing to belt out the lyrics.

“Y/n, we need your help,” Jake comments, stirring the bowl so aggressively that it was twirling. “We have no idea what we’re doing,” he continues, lifting the whisk up and blindly taking a lick.

“JAKE DON’T LICK IT!” Tara yells.

Johnnie’s laughter and shocked scream are muffled, his face scrunched up as he laughs uncontrollably, and you can’t look away. You wish you weren’t so shy, so that way you’d be able to join them in this fun activity without feeling anxious.

“This cake is going to be so bad,” you chuckle, catching Johnnie’s attention. His eyes linger on you for a little too long, a moment the fans were definitely going to clip and edit.

“What did you say?! Did you say my singing is bad?!” Tara is still yelling, following each and every statement with loud singing.

Many dirty dishes and a messy kitchen later, the cake is finally done. The oven rings throughout the kitchen, and Jake and Tara send Johnnie to fish the hot pan out. The cake didn’t look too bad, but considering you watched them make it, you weren’t too excited to actually try it.

“You have to wait until it cools to frost it!” Tara exclaims, the headphones causing her volume to be more than pleasant. Johnnie can’t respond because of the sticker, and he doesn’t want to wait for it to cool, so he continues haphazardly spreading the icing over the camera. Jake, on the other hand, is in his own world.

“That actually looks disgusting. It’s raw,” you gasp, watching as Johnnie lifts the spatula to reveal an uncooked, watery mess. “It’s undercooked!” Tara yells, her inability to hear you causing her to repeat everything you say in different words.

Johnnie’s muffled laughter is infectious, earning a string of laughter from you. “Let’s just eat it,” Jake suggests, facing the complete opposite direction of the group. The beanie on his head inhibits him from seeing the state of the cake, but even if he could see it, he would probably still ask for a bite.

“Wait let me help,” you get up from your seat and walk behind the countertop, immediately searching for something to serve the cake in. “This is gonna have to do it,” you hand Johnnie three plastic cups. He scoops up the raw batter, the liquid cake jiggling in the cup and running down the sides, immediately coating his fingers in frosting and batter.

“We’re gonna get salmonella,” Tara is staring at the goopy mess in shock, how had they managed to mess up such a simple recipe?

“I wanna see… I think we should take this off,” Jake yanks his beanie off, a fit of laughter attacking him as soon as he sees the state of the cake. Tara was subconsciously poking at it, creating a big hole in the center. Johnnie’s hands were full of chocolate frosting, and he held them up in exasperation as he waited for someone to remove the sticker from his mouth.

“Here lemme help you,” you murmur, gentle hands removing the sticker. Your touch lingers a little too long, but he doesn’t complain. If he had it his way, you’d have your arms around his neck and his lips would be on yours.

“Thanks, babygirl,” he whispers in return, loving how easily the nickname riled you up. You hated how much you loved hearing him say it.

“This is actually not that bad!” Tara’s boisterous voice breaks you two from the intimate moment, forcing you to reenter reality. “Try it,” Jake suggests, going back for a second scoop.

Johnnie is hesitant, but he grabs the cup and puts a spoonful of the raw cake batter in his mouth. His face contorts in disgust, but it couldn’t be that bad, could it? “Here let me try,” you take the cup from him, using his spoon to take your own bite.

As soon as the cake hits your tongue, you’re gagging. “Oh wow this is horrible,” you say, fighting the urge to throw up. They’re all laughing at your reaction, Jake pulling a long hair from his mouth in the process. “I love this hair, adds flavor.”

“Oh my God, I’m gonna throw up,” the hair Jake held between his fingers was only making the situation worse for you.

“See, she’s so babygirl,” Tara laughs, joking about the situation even if she found it equally as gross.

—

It seemed like your friends were always filming because every time the four of you hung out there always seemed to be a camera lurking not too far. Like today for example, Tara gathered everyone for a casual hangout, but once you arrived she explained that everyone was going to be living like her for the day. At first, you declined her invitation, making a lame excuse about not feeling good. But she begged and begged for you to be in the video, and before you knew it you were an integral part of it.

“Okay, since you guys are becoming me for the day, it’s only fitting that you dress the part. So, put on these track suits,” Tara says as she hands you, Jake, and Johnnie each a pink track suit. You’re trying to hide from the camera as much as possible, but Tara keeps pulling you back in every time you almost wander away.

The three of you shimmy into the outfits, immediately feeling the Tara Yummy essence wash over you.

“This is sexy,” Jake comments, admiring his figure as the sweatpants hang loosely from his hips. “I’m serving cunt,” Johnnie says, joining Jake in admiring himself. Their tattoos peeked through, contrasting the pink outfits entirely.

You emerge from the hallway seconds later, the track suit providing you with a newfound confidence, “I feel so stupid, but I also kinda feel like that bitch.” You stand still, allowing the camera to pan to you before hitting a dramatic pose. You turn around to show the camera the backside of the suit, the word babygirl written in curly white letters across your ass. “Slay, babygirl, slay,” Tara chimes in, strutting over to you and hitting the same pose.

“Let’s please not start with the babygirl jokes,” you groan jokingly, adjusting the sweatpants that kept riding up, you were starting to get a wedge. But you knew you weren’t going to escape the babygirl comments today, especially not with it written across your backside. It was like a label that you were forced to wear for the rest of the day, and the fans would surely seize the opportunity and run with it. To top it all off, the four of you were so well color coordinated that you looked like a 90’s girl group, ready to perform on stage at any moment.

“This is fun, but I still don’t understand why I’m being forced to do this,” you say, staring at Tara blankly.

“Because you’re my best friend,” she replies cheerily, offering you a big smile and booping your nose. It was hard to stay mad at her. She walks away, joining Jake as they engage in conversation.

“And you’re babygirl,” Johnnie teases, coming up from behind you unexpectedly, immediately causing a blush to form on your face. He loved watching you get flustered over the nickname. He laughs at your reactions, relishing every bit of it.

“Alright, first things first, time to eat. Mama’s hungry,” Tara says, ignoring yours and Johnnie’s interaction before facing the camera and leading everyone to the car. Jake and Tara are far ahead, leaving you and Johnnie to trail behind.

“It’s gonna be leaves,” Johnnie whispers to you, earning a laugh in response. He loved making you laugh. “Yeah, how much you wanna bet we end up at Health Nut?” you ask, settling the bet with a firm handshake between you and Johnnie. His hand holds a firm grip on yours, almost like he’s hesitant to let go as he says goofily, “$2, take it or leave it.”

As predicted, the four of you end up at Tara’s favorite restaurant; Health Nut. It’s no one else’s restaurant of choice, but you’re living as Tara for the day so it doesn’t matter what the rest of you want. You’ve been here with Tara enough to be familiar with the menu, so you order a simple salad and drink before moving to the side and allowing Johnnie to order. Once he’s finished ordering, he pays for your meals before letting Jake and Tara order.

Johnnie is playing it up for the cameras, trying to embarrass himself with his actions before the pink track suit does it for him. He’s sitting on a toddler chair and you stand next to him, choosing him as your comfort zone.

Because you always opted to remain behind the scenes, most of the viewers weren’t completely aware of yours and Johnnie’s dynamic. You two were always clinging to each other in uncomfortable or unfamiliar situations, making quiet jokes to make the other laugh. You both also had a huge crush on each other, which further served as a gravitational pull.

“Order for… babygirl?” the employee calls out, a hint of confusion in their voice as they read the name on the order. This immediately causes you to laugh out loud. “You did not do that,” you whisper shout at Johnnie, who held his hands up in feigned defense as he tries not to burst into laughter. You awkwardly grab the food, both of youwalking over to Tara and Jake’s table.

“Did they just call you babygirl?” Tara asks as soon as you’re sitting down. “Yes dude, fucking Johnnie told them that was my name,” you laugh, hiding your red face in your hands. They call out Tara’s name and she dismisses herself briefly to pick up the food.

“Let’s go!” She exclaims from the restaurant’s front door, bag and drink in hand as she pushes the door open and walks outside. “Oh, I guess Tara Yummy eats in the car,” Jake says sarcastically, the three of you following Tara to the car.

Once you’re in the car, you and Johnnie sit in the backseat while Jake and Tara occupy the front. “I wanted to eat in there, but you guys are so embarrassing,” Tara says, handing Jake his food.

She doesn’t give any of you enough time to respond, “you guys are already pretty embarrassing, but the pink track suits make us all look genuinely crazy.” She’s obnoxiously shaking her salad from the front seat, causing the entire car to rock.

“Damn, don’t gotta put your whole pussy into it,” Jake laughs, earning a sly remark from Tara. Soon, they’re lost in a conversation of their own, leaving you and Johnnie to talk quietly in the back seat.

“Why do you keep pushing this ‘babygirl agenda,’ sir?” You ask, both in true curiosity and to make light of the nickname. He blushes, mindlessly picking at the salad in front of him.

“Oh come on, don’t get all shy now,” you tease, piling up a good bite on your fork. He smiles at you awkwardly, preparing to admit something embarrassing.

“I think it’s kinda cute,” he admits with a shrug, taking a big bite of his food. Your eyes blow open in shock, this whole time you thought he was teasing you, but now it turns out he thinks it’s a cute nickname? “Don’t make fun of me,” Johnnie pleads in defense through a mouthful of food.

“I’m not, I just wasn’t expecting that,” you respond, trying not to be too loud. You couldn’t help it though, your giggles were soon filling the backseat. There was something about the confession that gave you hope that maybe you and Johnnie could be more than just friends. But you don’t want to get your hopes up, ir could easily all be for the video. You’re about to say something crazy and bold, but you’re cut off by Tara.

“Are you two done flirting? Cause I’m in the mood for coffee.” Leave it to her to ruin a sweet moment.

—

The day is finally over and the four of you are now wearing pajamas, reminiscing on the day’s events. Tara and Jake leave once the video is over, leaving you and Johnnie to lay on the large couch. The room is silent, but it’s not awkward, you’re both just catching up and joking.

“I was serious earlier, by the way,” he murmurs, staring at the ceiling above. “Yeah?” you say in a teasing tone, rolling over on your side so you’re facing him.

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Yeah. If I’m being honest, I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed, I mean the fans definitely have.” You mindlessly play with the strings of your robe, subconsciously scooting closer to him.

“So that’s why you keep calling me babygirl?”

“Mmm yeah, mostly. I think it sounds cute,” he smiles down at you, your figure just slightly further down the couch. You feel a surge of confidence wash over you, something you don’t usually feel as a shy person, and straddle his lap.

He looks at you in shock, both arms limp at his sides. “Say it,” you whisper, moving your face dangerously closer to his. You use your hands to grab his, placing them on your waist. He feels excited, nervous, and shocked all at the same time, was this really happening?

You grind your hips down onto him, hoping to elicit a response from him. “Babygirl,” he whimpers, the sudden friction sending a shiver up his spine that has his hips bucking. You hum in response, finally inching close enough to connect your lips to his.

You’re in a heated make out session, completely obvious to the world around you. Johnnie’s hands are roaming your body, your hips are grinding down onto him, and your fingers are tangled in his hair. You kiss from his lips down to his neck, sucking and biting the delicious skin until you leave a hickey.

The situation is about to escalate, but Jake and Tara interrupt before it can. They saunter in loudly, both you and Johnnie jumping off of each other in shock.

“About damn time!” Jake says, applauding you both for finally make a move on each other. “Get it babygirl!” Tara laughs, joining Jake in his obnoxious round of applause.

“So annoying,” you groan, throwing a pillow at them and shooing them out. Once they’re out of the room, you and Johnnie share a sheepish look.

“You’re never escaping that nickname,” he chuckles, silently pulling you back on top of him. “That’s okay. If you’re the one saying it, I don’t mind,” you murmur, kissing him again.

“Okay, babygirl.”

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: Such a good request, I LUV being challenged with these specific requests!!! Hope I did it justice bby, I rewrote this like 5 times & had a different storyline each time. Also, I mentioned the famous hickey (💀💀) and I changed it from “baby” to “babygirl” because he mentioned that he’s “so babygirl” on Trisha’s podcast.

anyways, enjoy hunny bunches. Luv uuuuu

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

note: requests are open, I will be writing as many as possible because you guys have sooo many good ideas. Please be patient 💗✨

[foldingfittedsheets]

A friend I had briefly in my teens years was this girl in Arizona. She was a junior when I was a freshman, and as I was socially awkward and very lonely she kind’ve pulled me under her wing for a while. I don’t remember how we met, but I remember riding in her car and meeting her cute miniature Doberman.

But the thing I remember most about this girl was that she loved lying to me. And I had a massive but I acknowledged crush on her so I adored being lied to. Her natural charisma and storytelling was hypnotic.

It’s not what it sounds like because it wasn’t malicious but she came up with this in depth lore to tell me about this fake job she had. I know autistic people are meant to be credulous but I truly never believed her stories, I just adored her storytelling and was very ready to listen to whatever tale she spun that day. Another of her friends chided her once for teasing me but I genuinely never minded.

In her lore she moonlighted as a Professional Liar. People would hire her to get close to a target they wanted rattled. She’d make friends, develop a strong relationship, foster a dependency on her, then disappear. Then when they were confused and missing her sometime when the employer needed their target rattled she’d show back up as a glimpse to knock them off balance. Often it was implied she’d faked her death in the interim.

That itself was fine, it was an okay story. But in order to support that lie she’d make up tons of supporting details that were way more fun. She had this fake boyfriend who got high as balls on a mission and ended up seeing a sheep in a field and carrying it to a farmhouse to try to buy it because he wanted a puppy. I liked that one but suspected she didn’t know how big sheep were.

She’d IM chat with me as this made up boyfriend sometimes; once she had him ask me if I noticed her limping and he told me she’d just lost a toe but was covering for it like a champ. That one was fun.

She told me about something she called “purple charge” which was a way to get instant night vision. I did try looking that one up on the off chance, but was sadly disappointed there.

She said that Professional Liars had such high stakes jobs that they needed a week of insane time where they just partied so hard it was like a Dionysus rave and her IM boyfriend persona implied she’d killed someone during one of those stints.

I had such a fun time with her elaborate fiction that I’d often ask follow up questions and she had to do a lot of world building to keep up with my fascination. We’d get to class and I’d have three or four new questions which I think is why her friend thought her teasing was too far. They genuinely thought I believed her but I was just loving the fiction.

If any of this sounds malicious I’ll also add that when I got harassed on a roleplaying board she went out guns blazing to go after the guy who’d been harassing me. She genuinely enjoyed my company.

I find myself looking back on our friendship very fondly. I can’t remember her last name or have any way of looking her up, but she really was a professional liar to me. The only downside is that I’m completely faceblind so if she ever wanted to pop unexpectedly into my life I’d have no idea it was her.

[chestersturniolo]

“so you miss me when you’re tipsy, huh?”

Chris Sturniolo x fem!reader

In which; you drunk dial your best friend Chris

part two here

⋆·˚ ༘ * ⋆·˚ ༘

You were out with your friends, the music loud and the warmth of alcohol rushing through your body. It felt good to let loose after a long week, the kind of carefree night that made the world seem light and weightless. You leaned back against the booth, watching your friends dance and shout, but your mind drifted elsewhere. Your best friend Chris. He wasn’t there tonight, and you found yourself missing him.

Ypu pulled yourself up and made your way to the back of the club, once you’re stood in the quieter corridor, leading to the restrooms you sighed, pulling out your phone. It felt like a good idea—no, a great idea—to call him right now. You fumbled to unlock the screen, quickly finding his contact

The phone rang, and you held your breath until his familiar voice came through the other end

“Hey” he chirped

“Chrisssssss!” you screech, slurring slightly

“What’s up, kid? You drunk-dialing me?”

You smiled instantly. “Mayyybe-” you say, leaning back against the wall. “-what are you doing?”

“Not getting trashed, apparently” he teased. “Where you at?”

“Out with the girls. But, like, all I’m thinking about is how much more fun this would be if you were here”

He let out a laugh. “Ah, so you miss me when you’re tipsy, huh? Classic”

“Chris, I always miss you-“ you say rolling your eyes “-I mean, who else can make me laugh at dumb stuff like you do?”

“You sayin’ I’m dumb now?” he says with fake offence

“Maybe” you teased, a grin tugging at your lips. “But in a cute way”

There was a pause, and you could almost picture the smirk on his face. “You’re gonna regret all this sweet talk tomorrow, you know that, right?”

“I’ll just blame it on the tequila-“ you joked “-but seriouslyyy, why aren’t you here?!”

“You didn’t invite me, genius-” he shot back, still amused. “-plus, you sound like you’re having a blast without me”

you sigh “Yeah i am i guess, but i jus wanted to talk to you”

There was a brief silence, and you could tell he was trying to figure out if you were being serious or just tipsy-sentimental.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he said, his voice losing some of its teasing edge. “I always got time for you ma”

You smile “Yeah…yeah you do-” you muttered, it was true, Chris always had time for you, and if he didn’t, he would make time. He has been there for you, for quite lliterally anything and everything. “-you’re the besttt”

“Mm-hm, you better remember that when you’re sober…and hey, if you need me to come drag your drunk ass out of there later,I’m just a call away”

You laughed. “I’m fine, I swear. Just wanted to say hi”

“Uh-huh. You sure this ain’t one of those calls where you tell me how much you love me?” he teased.

“You wish!” you scoff , letting out an obnoxious drunk laugh, before pausing “-wait, i do love you, but i’m not telling you that!”

Chris lets out a chuckle at your oblivious statement. muttering “love ya too, kid” under his breath.

“Chris can i stay at your house tonight? Pleaaasse” you whine

“Of course, you know you don’t have to ask” he says sincerely

And it’s true, Chris had told you multiple times before that you could sleepover whenever you like, even clearing out one of his drawers, stocking it with everything you could possibly need, deodorant,makeup wipes, feminine products, your favourite cleanser, toothbrushes, the list went on. He surprised you with it one day and you nearly fell to your knees at how cute you found it.

“Go have fun with your friends, sweetheart. Be careful n keep your phone close—i’ll be checking in okay?”

you nod as if he could see you “Okay, i’ll see you later”

“i’ll be waiting” he says in a soft tone

you smile to yourself as you hang up the phone, and with that, you walk back into the main area, joining your friends on the dance floor, your heart a little lighter, a little happier, knowing that soon enough, you’d be curled up with chris.

⋆·˚ ༘ * ⋆·˚ ༘

PART TWO

MASTERLIST

taglist; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4

@brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @fratbrochrisgf @emely9274 @yn-ws

[patrywoso]

12. Leah Williamson

+18 smut Strap-Ons. Squirting. Vaginal Fingering. Oral Sex.

Didn't had time to proof read so sorry for the mistakes i would do it soon.

Leah’s asleep when you get home, a football file open under her snoring cheek. You poke her up and Leah smiles, even fumbling with sleep. She yawns, her jaw cracking. “What’s that?”

You hide the package behind your back. “Nothing.”

Leah’s squinted eyes narrow. “Liar.”

You twist to avoid her searching hands. “It’s a surprise. Don’t ruin it.” You shove it in your side of the dresser and close the drawer firmly. “I’ll know if you peek.”

Leah grumbles good-naturedly and casts a curious look at the dresser, so you grab her around the waist and drag her to bed. “Set the alarm,” Leah gasps, as you nip her way down her neck and across her chest. “Can’t be late.”

You flail a handout and smack at the clock until it beeps twice. “Okay?”

“Yes,” Leah says and flips you to be on top, grinning.

You wait almost a week, your heart beating too quickly when you see the edge of the package as you get dressed in the mornings. 

You wake up one morning on your back, with Leah sitting on your hips. “Hey,” you croak, still half asleep.

Leah kisses you, once. “Good morning,” she says, far too awake for your sensibilities. “Do you know what day it is?”

You squint at the bedside table. “I know what time it is,” you say, faux-sweet. “Did you know it would be your last day on earth today?”

“Don’t be a grump.”

“It is,” you say, shoving Leah off you and rolling over to smash your face back into the pillow, “five in the morning. You’re lucky I love you.”

Leah’s teeth graze your ear. “I am. I know it.” She pulls the sheets down and you groan as the cold hits your bare legs.

“Leah,” you complain, flailing a hand out blindly for the covers. “It’s our day off. Days off are for sleeping.”

Leah licks the back of your thigh. “Sleep, then.” She bites the swell of your ass, through your underwear, and you groan again, your legs parting despite you not wanting.

“You’re being distracting.”

“Am I?” Leah’s voice is all sex, rough, and fake innocence. She bites again, harder. “My deepest apologies.” She hooks her fingers in your underwear and you raise your hips, letting them slide away. Leah’s teeth sink into your skin and you shiver again, less from the cold this time.

“I don’t believe you,” you mumble into the pillow. “Where was this attitude after that fundraiser?”

Leah’s lips press against the small of your back in a pout. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

You look over your shoulder. “You fell asleep while I was going down on you. I’m never letting you live it down. I’m going to mention it in the wedding vows.”

“Hm,” Leah hums, urging her hips up and digging her hands firmly into your inner thighs, spreading you wide. “I’ll just have to try and make it up to you.”

You suck in a breath at the first teasing swipe of Leah’s tongue. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Leah whispers against your center, pressed close and intimate. “Have I told you that I love your cunt?”

You try to squeeze your legs together, Leah’s firm grip preventing it, and moan. “You know what swearing does to me.”

Leah licks her again, sloppy, suckling obscenely. “Love your cunt. Love fucking you.” She slips in a long finger, crooking and pressing in hard. You make a sound, sharp, when she withdraws, watching your body cling to her finger. “Love your noises.” Leah makes a buzzing sound against your clit and your arches, writhing.

“Stop teasing,” you gasp.

“Of course,” Leah murmurs, pausing to suck a mark into your inner thigh, high near the juncture of your hip. Leah lifts you up onto her knees and you can feel the flex of her forearms and her wrists. Leah licks into you from behind, her jaw working, fingers massaging. She makes soft, hungry noises, and eager growls, rumbling out from her chest and punching into you.

You come embarrassingly fast, your hands clawing at the mattress, and you collapse and gasp for air. Leah crawls up your back and kisses your shoulder, damp from sweat. “Okay,” you pants, “I forgive you for waking me up. Worth it.”

Leah purrs against the back of your neck, satisfied. “Happy anniversary.”

You wait until Leah has fallen asleep, after breakfast in bed, feeding each other by hand chasing fruit with kisses, and letting crumbs spill everywhere. Leah yawns like a kitten until you tuck her against the mattress and urge her to take a nap. You slip off the bed, careful, quiet, and rummage in the hall closet, muttering, until you find what you’re looking for.

“Five more minutes.”Leah is boneless under you, mumbling into the pillow and pushing back against your hands. “Okay,” you say, sliding off her. You extend a hand and Leah takes it, letting you lead her into the bathroom.

“Shower sex will never work,” Leah says mildly. “We’ve talked about this.”

You sigh, heavily, stripping your clothes off and tossing them into the corner. “Stop stomping on my dreams. C’mere.” Leah steps close, pleased, and you kiss, easy and familiar. You turn the both of you around, slow, until Leah’s back leans against the counter. You meet your own eyes in the mirror and smile.

Leah is watching you, amused. “Hedonist.”

“Your fault.” you kiss Leah’s throat, watching the shivers roll up Leah’s back in the mirror. “For being so hot. Can’t help it. I’m powerless against you.”

Leah flushes faintly pink; still, after all the times they’ve kissed and all the minutes they’ve spent talking and the hours you have mapped Leah’s body with your fingers, your tongue, your skin; still Leah looks disbelieving when you whisper how beautiful she is, how strong, how brave. “Flatterer,” is all she says, almost demure. You kneel before her and nuzzle at the inside of her knee.

“I love you,” you say, and watch it roll across Leah’s face as her eyes close and her legs part; acceptance, wonder, reciprocation. You love your tongue in Leah, the taste, the textures, the way she breathes your name on a shudder, her hands in your hair. Leah bucks her hips and you urge Leah’s hands until Leah’s holding you still to grind against your chin, your cheek, your jaw, sloppy and gasping, until she cries out, once, sharp, clenching hard. You keep going until Leah tugs you up for a kiss. “You taste good,” you hum, and Leah rubs a knuckle over your panties.

“Let me,” she says, soft. “You want my mouth?”

“All I want is you.” You step closer, kissing harder, and find Leah’s fingers, guiding them to where you want them. You watch Leah’s back flex while she fucks you, leaning your forehead on Leah’s shoulder while you gasp and moans and shudder. Your knees give out and Leah catches you, sliding you both down into a puddle on the cold tile.

Leah draws a bath and settles against the back of the tub. You sigh when you slip into the steaming water, candles burning on the windowsill. Leah massages your scalp until you go boneless, suds sliding down the back of your neck, and you both sit, breathing quietly and nuzzling, until the water gets cold.

Leah pays the delivery of food and you take the opportunity to take out the parcel from your dresser drawer, hiding it under the couch. You both have dinner at the table as you both split a bottle of wine on the couch, curled around each other and giggling, spilling on the floor, the cushions, each other. “I bought something,” you say, the wine humming in your blood in the best way; warming, daring. “I’m nervous.”

“The mysterious package,” Leah says seriously, then snorts when you giggle. It’s so adorable you have to pause to kiss her before retrieving what’s under the couch. You present it and Leah takes it from you, brow furrowed. She looks at it a long time, then at you, then back at the dildo and harness. Her expression flinches, and you grab her before she can retreat, pulling Leah on top of you.

“Stop it,” you say firmly. “You know that’s not why. We could throw this away right now and our sex would still be the hottest around.”

“I have never,” Leah starts, hesitant.

“It’s not about that. It’s just… if you want. If we want.”

Leah rubs a thumb over the head of the toy. “You want to…?”

You bite your lip. “Actually, I thought you might.”

Leah's breath catches. “Oh?” Her voice comes out slightly strangled. She stands, quick, and it takes you both a minute to figure it out, but soon she has it strapped around her hips, snug. Leah looks down at herself, slightly bemused. “Is this what all the fuss is about?”

You flick it to watch it jiggle. “It looks better on you than half the dudes I’ve been with.” you go to your knees. “Can I blow you?”

Leah looks down at you, reaching out a hand to wrap your hair around her fingers. “I can’t feel it, you know.” you take the toy into your mouth, drawing it into your throat, letting your lips stretch, spit shiny.

You pull away. “No interest?”

Leah’s hands sink into your scalp, and she holds you still as she tilts her hips forward. “Maybe I spoke too soon,” she murmurs, hoarse. Leah fucks you’s face, slow and steady and careful, and you relax your throat, taking it.

You close your teeth around the toy and give a soft tug. “I need you in me,” you say, and Leah’s eyes go darker. She pulls you to your feet, eager, and kisses you, hot and filthy. You link your fingers and go to make for the bedroom.

“No,” Leah says, low. She pushes you until you bump against the dining table, knocking the wine glasses on their sides. She steps close and frowns, the height’s not quite right. “Turn around.”

“Fuck,” you say, bracing your hips against the edge, facing away. “Wait..” you yank the hoodie off and lean over, bracing your elbows and forearms flat against the table. “Okay, yeah.”

Leah’s fingers trace up the inside of your leg. “You’re so wet,” Leah says, and you shiver. Leah fingers dip in you, teasing, and then disappear. “For me?” Leah asks, and you hear her sucking on her fingers.

“Fuck,” you choke out, impossibly turned on.

“Now even wetter,” Leah murmurs. She uses her foot to knock you’s stance wider, and when you lift your hips up you hear Leah’s breath catch. Leah braces a hand against the small of your back. “Okay?” she asks.

“Yeah.” and then Leah enters you, torturously slow, and you don't exhale until she bottoms out, your hips bumping. “Oh,” you say, your breath rushing out. You suck in a lungful of air, and then another. “Oh, fuck me.”

Leah shakes in a small laugh. “I am.”

You open your mouth, for something sassy about Leah’s attitude, but Leah thrusts forward, minutely, and the words fall away. You gasp instead, your head falling forward. “More,” you beg, “harder.” Leah draws back, inch by inch, then slams in. “Yeah,” you say, your legs shaking, “c’mon Leah..”

Leah fucks you, fast and controlled, her hand keeping you flat against the table, the glasses rolling off and shattering against the floor. “Jesus,” Leah says, wrenched from her chest, “you..”

“My hair,” you rasp, your forehead pressed against your hands as you rock back into Leah’s rhythm. “LeLeah, please..” Leah grabs a handful and yanks it and you clenches, going on your tiptoes. Leah stops, suddenly, her hips still and her hand gone, and you moan, your nails scrabbling at the wood. “No…”

“Quiet,” Leah says, breathless, and you feel fabric swoop against your skin, tickling. Leah’s taken off her shirt, you realize, and when she bends low, bearing your torso flat against the table, it’s skin to skin, her breasts brushing then pressing on your back. Leah starts moving again, grinding circles and sharp snaps of her hips, too varied for you to predict, and you moan again, helpless.

“Leah,” you pants against the table, drool escaping before you can suck it back.

“You feel amazing,” Leah growls in your ear. “I didn’t think…” Leah stops for a soft noise, low and rumbly, and you clench again.

“Close,” you manage to choke out, and Leah picks up the pace even as she sneaks a hand around to press against your clit, firm and unrelenting.

“I didn’t think it would feel this good,” Leah pants. “I think I could come from just this. Just you.”

There’s pressure building inside you, unfamiliar and inevitable. “Uh,” is all you manage, just a grunt. The table legs scrape against the floor. “Uh, fuck. Fu-fuck,” you lean your head back and to the side, and Leah kisses you, almost missing your mouth, jolting you farther forward.

“I want to feel you come,” Leah is saying into your shoulder, rushed and rough. “I love you.” She bites the back of your neck, hard, and you feel it again, the full rush of wetness, waiting to overflow, the pressure unbearable.

“Wait..” you panic, abrupt, trying to pull away, “stop..” Leah stills immediately, her hands resting on your hips, but you are already coming. You feel it gush out of you, flooding; you can hear it hit the floor with a splash. You collapse onto the table, twitching violently.

Leah rubs her sides, hesitant. “My love?”

“Sorry,” you gasp when you can talk again, still shuddering, “sorry sorry, oh my god, fuck…did I just pee on you?”

There’s a pause. “No,” Leah says, gently. “Did…did you think you did?”

You flushed so hot and bright you could feel it, your cheeks on fire. “Shit. That’s never happened before.”

Leah shivers. “Hot,” she assures you. She hesitates, “You okay?”

You shudder, your body still jolting. “Yeah. It was…it was really good. Fuck.”

“Good.” Leah pulls out, careful even as she moves quickly, pulling you up and around and propping you to sit up on the table. She kneels and licks up your legs, slurping up to your cunt and licking inside.

“I cannot believe,” you pant, one hand on the back of Leah’s head to keep her close and the other leaning behind you, “that I ever thought you were vanilla.” Your whole body locks up for a second and you rock, moaning. “You’re so fucking dirty,” you say, faintly strangled.

“Made you squirt,” Leah hums, smugly self-satisfied. She gives a final lick, broad and long, and stands again. “Nobody else has ever..”

“Okay,” you say, pushing two fingers into Leah’s mouth. “Back in me before your head gets too big.” You hook your legs around Leah and pull her in, guiding Leah in even as Leah sucks at your fingers, teeth grazing. “You can..” Leah surges forward and you gasp. “You can come from this?”

Leah leans her forehead on your shoulders, her thrusts sloppy and jerky. “Yeah,” she breathes.

You lock your legs together and lean back, bracing your hands on the table over her head and shoving yourself back onto Leah’s thrusts. “C’mon,” you say, and Leah half-collapses onto you, hips pistoning erratically. “You made me come so hard,” you say softly, slipping your fingers back into Leah’s mouth. “Made me feel so good.” Leah groans, shaking. “Good girl,” you say, and when Leah’s entire body shudders up, her hips going faster, you say: “my good girl.”

“Fuck,” Leah sobs. She strains her head back, her palms slapping against the table as she fumbles for more leverage.

“Come for me,” you say, “please, baby? For me?”

“Almost,” Leah mutters, “almost..” She sounds high, breathy, and wobbly.

“Come,” you say, putting an order into it, and Leah’s body draws up tight for a few long seconds before she suddenly relaxes, tucking herself against your body and riding out her orgasm in little shivers, tiny mewls. You pet her hair and nuzzle her cheek, before shifting with a slight wince.

“Sorry,” Leah mutters. She hauls herself upright and pauses. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, and shudder when Leah pulls out with a wet noise. Leah’s fingers are fumbly on the harness and you sit up to help her. “Clean up tomorrow,” you say. Leah sways, and you both lean on each other as you stumble down the hall. “Fuck,” you sigh as you collapse facedown into your pillow. “Bedtime.”

You pat Leah on the ass. “Talk tomorrow?” Leah grunts, agreeing, and you open your eyes enough to kiss her once, stating. “Happy anniversary.”

“Made you squirt,” Leah mumbles, smashing into your shoulder. “No more fundraiser teasing.”

“We’ll fucking see about that,” you say, and passes out, Leah breathing warm against your neck.

[heartmix]

Spoiled - LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x gn!reader

Word Count: 800+

Warning: making fun of the british (slightly), expired food

A/N: the idea popped into my head after watching max's stream a few days ago. Also i'm pretty sure its Lando's birthday already somewhere in europe!

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

Some days you wondered how Lando was still alive. Never mind driving a rocket ship on wheels for living, no, it was because he decide to put anything in his body without a second thought. Despite spending millions on cars and watches and other material items he didn't give a second thought about something he needs to survive, food. You blamed it on him being british and the fact that they don't have anything good to eat. You knew about the sweet potato incident, even if it was before you knew him. Finding out he went and ate spoiled food again was enough to give you the ick and put your foot down.

The plan was simple. Buy new groceries, do some meal prep and clean out the fridge for Lando while he was playing Tarkov with his friends. He mentioned that he was going to play all day and that max was going to stream later on in the night. That gave you enough time to run to the store and cook some easy meals so you could surprise him with a full fridge.

After waking up early and sending a text to Lando that you were going to drop off something later tonight, you headed to the grocery store to pick up everything you needed. A bunch of fresh produce to meal prep and some snacks that can last on the shelf for a few months. With Lando's strict diet (or lack of there) you pulled out all the stops for a healthy and tasty meal. 

As night time crept up you packed everything in bags and made your way over to his apartment. You got a notification that max started his stream a few ago so it was the perfect time to sneak in and fill his kitchen while dropping off some dinner. Any noise you made wouldn't be too out of the blue seeing as he knew you were coming and that you already had a key. 

While entering the house you could already hear the screaming and weird random sounds coming out of your boyfriends gaming room. That should keep him distracted for awhile. First you started with cleaning and sterilizing his fridge. Doubt he didn't have much which is probably why he ate expired chicken, but one could never be too careful. Once that was over with you packed away all his food that should last for the week. Seeing the finished product brought a smile to your face. At least he was going to be eating good for the week. 

Once his current raid ended you quietly made your way into the room being aware that his mic was on and that possibly a couple thousand fans could hear what could be said, even with this shit mic. When his door opened he saw you and an immediate smile was plastered on his face. 

"Hey baby." He smiled taking off his headphones and motioning you to come by him.

"Hi. I just came to drop off dinner. Don't want to keep you long." You smiled placing the plastic bag on his desk before he pulled you onto his lap.

"It's okay, raid just ended and the mic is off. Stay for a few seconds."

"Alright. I made you my famous stir fry. There's another serving in the fridge for tomorrow." You said bringing out the food and fork setting it up for him.

"What would i do without you."

"Eat expired chicken." 

"Haha i get it." He gave a fake laugh making a real one erupt from your throat. 

"Yeah you seriously gave me the ick. This was going to be a surprise but i stocked up your fridge and did some meal prep. You just have to heat it up in the microwave, although i'm scared you'll even mess that up." You laughed at another joke your boyfriend seemed to be the butt of. 

"Move in with me." All of the joking mood went out of the room as he looked at you with a serious almost pleading expression. 

For you it came out of the blue. Sure you've been together for almost two years and you've spent a good portion out of the year traveling with him to races, but moving in together never crossed your mind. It seemed like the next logical thing in the relationship but neither of you brought the topic up till now. 

"What?"

"Sorry, i was either going to blurt out that or marry me. I figure it's best to go in order." The words came out like it wasn't the most bizarre thing he could say in the moment. 

"You're crazy."

"Yeah, for you. So what do you say?" How could you say no to that adorable smile.

"Well someone needs to keep you alive." a smile slowly crept upon your face liking the idea of seeing with him more and being closer to him. Also it would save you money, monaco wasn't cheap. 

"Perfect." He said leaning in for a kiss before you pulled away. 

"I'm not kissing you after you just ate expired chicken."  

"That was yesterday!" 

[loveshotzz]

bartender!eddie x fem!reader Eddie’s night.

🎵my man gives real love that’s why I call him killer, he’s not a ‘wham! bam! thank you ma’am!’ he’s a thriller.🎵

summary: After being stood up on a blind date, the cute bartender you’ve been ‘trying’ not to flirt with keeps you company.

word count: 12.6k

warnings: 90’s AU / 18 + no minors! /eddie is in his early 30’s, fingering, oral (f receiving), semi public smut (p in v), cream pie, dirty talk.

authors note: my love letter to the 90’s 💕after one month of brain storming and three weeks of writing here’s part one of Whatta Man! Eddie’s night. (This is a singular one shot. Steve’s night is part two, can you find the easter eggs for his night 😉)Thank you to my very talented friends who always brain storm with me and share ideas. This fun lil AU wouldn’t have happened with you. ily 💗 edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

You didn’t want to go on this date. Not when your roommate set you up, and you certainly didn’t want to go when he picked The Foxy Lounge. But when Weather Man Mike predicted the first warm day after three months of bitter winter you’d take any excuse to wear your favorite dress. 

You’d been here before, always stumbling in after a night out with friends because they were the only 4am place in town. Those late nights turned to early mornings were more of a thing of the past now so when you got to the familiar chipped red door you didn’t recognize the bouncer standing outside. He has a head of honey colored hair that’s just long enough to run his fingers through. His toned frame sits pretty wrapped in a tight black tee and long legs covered in dark wash jeans tight enough for you to really have to focus on keeping  your eyes on his face. A freckle covered neck leads to a strong jaw and a chiseled nose. Leaning against the brick wall with his boots crossed at the ankles a toothpick twirls between his straight teeth.

The platform of your sneakers hitting the pavement as you come to a stop and the jingle of your power beads alerts him of your presence, hazel eyes going round like the moon in the sky. Straightening his posture he snatches the tooth pick out of his mouth, stuffing it in his back pocket. You swear you see a Tamagotchi tucked away as he clears his throat with a puff of his chest.

“I.D.?” 

Your lips twitch, the forced deep baritone in his voice isn’t fooling you, and you wonder if it fooled anyone when the signature beep of a Tomogatchi pet needing to be fed goes off in his back pocket. He coughs to try to cover the noise while you quickly pull what he needs out of your cross body. Holding it out for him to examine you look up with a glossed smile matching the one in the picture. Narrowing his eyes, you catch a glimmer of playfulness when he clicks on his flashlight. 

Examining it like it could be a fake, you bite back a giggle while he turns it around giving it one more once over before handing it back to you with a soft chuckle.

“Funny, we have the same birthday.” His voice comes out normal this time, soft and friendly just like you thought.

“Twins!”

A genuine smile lights up his face like the sign above your head, his boyish features coming out despite the stubble on his chin.

“Might as well call us the Olsen’s.” Throwing you a wink he pulls the gold handle to open the door for you. The sounds of Return of the Mack break through the hums of the street behind you. “Have fun tonight honey, be safe. If anyone bothers you, just come grab me okay? I’m steve.”

Your cheeks heat up at the endearment and you have to remind yourself that you’re here for a date. You catch a hint of his cologne when your shoulder brushes against his chest on your way in, the expensive scent making you dizzy when it hits your senses.

“I will, thanks Steve,”your words are shy when they come out, making his lips twitch in response. Nodding his head, you catch the tinge of pink on his skin before he closes the door with a small wave.

It's even louder inside with the drunk conversations battling for dominance against the music. Tugging nervously at the bottom of your dress you look around the bar for the vague description of this guy Craig your friend gave you. 

You scan the crowd a few times before your eyes catch the big brown ones of the bartender. The stool in front of him freeing itself at the same time your eyes connect, the corners of his plush lips pull up as he beckons you over with two heavily ringed fingers. The unruly dark auburn curls that hit just below his shoulders catch the low light behind the bar, the yellow glow softening up all his edges. 

Rocking back on your heels you pull the strap of your cross body closer, doing your best to collect yourself before you push through the crowd accepting his invitation. His smile widens, pulling up his stubble covered cheeks to reveal a set of perfect white teeth to you. The one you give him in return comes out a little shy as you plop down on the ripped vinyl that matches the red of the door.

Ink litters his arms disappearing under the frayed ends of his sleeves letting you know there was more under the tight fit of his worn faded black Metallica shirt. The two rips near the collar give you a glimpse of the chain wrapped around his neck. The scruff lining his jaw adds a few years from afar but from this close he looks your age. The silver hoop in his nose catches against the bright lighting under the bar like the rings adoring his fingers. Pulling out two empty shot glasses with a twirl he quickly fills them up with Jameson.

“This one’s on the house sweetheat, it’ll help make your date cuter.”  He winks with a sly grin, your stomach flutters with his full attention on you like this.

The glass is heavy in your grasp as you stare at the dark liquid with a faint grimace. His low chuckle catches your attention before the pop and hiss of the soda fills your ears. As if reading your mind he slides over a coke, letting you keep your pride by not having to ask for a chaser.

“How do you know I’m here for a date?” Raising a questioning brow, the sides of your lips twitch as you struggle to hold a straight face. “A girl can’t come to the bar alone on a Friday night?”

The chocolate in his eyes lights up at your playful banter, slinging a white towel over his shoulder he leans in, forearms pressing hard against the counter as he invades your space. The spice of his cologne and the burn of cigarette smoke joins with him and you find yourself sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Are you telling me you’re available then?” Dropping his voice low enough to feel between your legs, you wished more than anything you had a different answer to give him.

The heaviness of his gaze has your cheeks warming, the intensity of the eye contact forcing your gaze away for a second as you clear your throat. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear you muster enough courage to meet his eyes again. 

“N-no unfortunately, you were right.” Exaggerating a heavy sigh, his confident demeanor never wavers despite his confirmed suspicions.

“Unfortunately is right, huh?” Winking, he pushes back leaving only the lingering scent of his cologne raising his shot in an offering of cheers. “To what could have been, baby.” 

A giggle bubbles past your lips when his fingers brush against yours meeting in the middle with a clink. Downing his shot like a professional, he’s left to watch the way you struggle with yours. Amusement is evident on his face while he watches the way your throat stays unwilling to open. Holding the alcohol in your mouth longer than anyone would want, it finally gives in letting the bitter liquid go down with a bite. Pushing the can of coke towards you with his knuckles, his laugh booms loud from his chest as you search for reprieve in the sweetness with desperation.

Chugging with abandon, you forget your surroundings for a second before your eyes meet his over the rim of the can and it’s almost enough to have you snort the rest of it all over yourself. 

Coming up for air you grumble a half assed “shut up” doing your best to try and fight the smile begging to spread across your lips as you wipe them with the back of your hand.

“Not a whiskey girl I take it?” Punctuating the ‘t’ harder than normal, his teasing falls on deaf ears when you get distracted at the way his thick fingers wrap around the shot glasses.

“Not a shot girl in general, I’d rather not taste the alcohol if I can help it.” Shrugging, you trace invisible patterns on the sticky quartz of the bar top with french tipped nails silently reminding yourself for the second time tonight you’re here for a date.

“So how’d you two meet?” He raises his voice so it comes out sickly sweet while a shaker and a lemon appears in his hands. Setting them down on top of the worn jagermeister logo that covers the drink mat he starts rolling the fruit against his palm.

“We haven’t met yet actually, a friend set us up.” 

Eddie’s movements freeze for a second, eyebrows furrowing together in a look of confusion as if that was the craziest thing that anyone had ever told him. He grabs the bottle of simple syrup adding more to what looked like it was going to be a sweet drink before he answers.

“Someone like you shouldn’t need to be set up, sweetheart.” He looks up at you from under the hood of his lashes quickly picking up on the effect he has on you.

He twirls another empty glass onto the counter top before he smashes the lid of the shaker on, not giving you a chance to respond he starts shaking it louder than you know is necessary. The bats tattooed on his arm dance across the muscles with the flex of every flick of his wrist.

“Really? Laying it on thick, huh?” Raising your voice enough to know he could hear you, he taunts you by cupping his free hand over his ear to make a show of pretending he can’t, mouthing a ‘sorry’ with a smirk. The laugh he earns from when he finally relents is the prettiest sound he thinks he’s ever heard. 

“Well I hope this ‘friend’ has a good vetting process. No less than three interviews or no dice.” He pours your drink with panache, like he’s putting on a show for you, like you’re sure he does with all the other girls.

Grabbing a straw he plugs one end with his index finger before he dips it into the slightly lighter liquid. The heat between your legs becomes almost unbearable when his lips wrap around the end tasting his creation with a low groan, his pink tongue pokes out to collect the sweetness left behind.

“I think, I think you’re gonna like this one. It’s an Eddie Munson original, I’m calling it "Wasting Love.” The roll of your eyes makes him bark out another laugh. The signs of the smoke you smell on him are more noticeable in this one’s rumble.

“I wonder what could have inspired it?” Biting your lip to hide your smile, you knew you shouldn’t be flirting with him while you waited for Craig, but you can’t help yourself. Besides, he was already ten minutes late.

“I think you know what inspired it sweetheart, I can tell you’re not just some pretty face.” Dimples poking through his cheeks, he finally takes notice of the glares from the customers filling up the bar. Everyone’s patience starting to wear thin while they waited for whatever this was to be over. 

“I gotta stop ignoring all the other people in here real quick, but I’ll be back for your review.” He throws you another wink and it has you shifting in your seat as he starts to walk away.

“Wait! I never opened a tab!” Calling after him as you reach for your purse, he tuts loudly, turning around to face you, continuing his path walking backwards. 

“You shouldn’t be paying for a thing tonight, gorgeous.” He waves his hand dismissively before his back is to you again giving his undivided attention to the bearded man who looked ready to murder the carefree metal head if he didn’t get his Bud Light in the next five seconds.

Trying not to get too caught up in someone that wasn’t your date you timidly bring the straw to your lips. Humming appreciatively when the sweetness hits your tastebuds you’re pleasantly surprised at how much you actually like it. Feeling bold enough to take a bigger gulp, you look around for Craig again. So lost in the little bubble you had been in with Eddie you didn’t realize how much more the bar had filled up since you arrived. A new kind of rowdy energy in the air — the low murmurs of conversation get loud enough to drown out Semi- Charmed Kinda Life.

Glancing down at your pink swatch watch, your date was now twenty minutes late. Turning around to check and make sure the lavender cross body you told him to look for was visible, you crane your neck around looking one last time. It’s easy to shrug off the sinking feeling of rejection when you turn back around to watch Eddie in his natural habitat. 

He moves behind the bar like he’s been doing it his whole life, like everything was muscle memory.  As if he could feel you staring he catches your gaze throwing you a smirk before he tosses a bottle of tequila in the air catching it with ease. Pouring it into four lined up shot glasses, the group of girls in front of him celebrating what looked like a bachelorette party with all their multi-colored hats and boas squealed with drunk delight. Your eyes hit the back of your skull in a hard roll when one of them bats their eyelashes at him with a hand on his arm.

Sucking down the rest of your drink, the slurping once you hit the ice is loud enough to annoy the guy next to you who shoots you a warning look over his shoulder. Mouthing an apology you push your empty glass away looking around the bar one more time. The guilt of flirting with Eddie starts to disappear when you look at your watch again and start coming to terms you were actually being stood up. Searching for his doe eyes again, your heart sinks when you find him this time.

Dimples in his cheeks again, he’s practically beaming at her. Their body language telling you this isn’t their first time meeting and how animated he is when he talks to her is like he’s known her for years. Gesturing wildly with his hands while she nods enthusiastically, something he says has her throwing her head back with a laugh loud enough you can hear it over the music. You huff through your nose, the sting of rejection sneaking its way back in. The reminder that he was just doing his job and you were here for a date, one that never showed up, slaps you right in the face.

Averting your gaze to spare whatever confidence you have left, your eyes find the bouncer at the front door. Inside the bar now with a hard glare set on his handsome face. His arms sit folded across his broad chest while his jaw clenches at the same time as the muscles in his shoulders flex. Steve looks pissed.

Interest piqued, you follow his line of sight despite it going in the direction of the bar you were trying to avoid. Somehow not surprised when your eyes land on her again, you notice Eddie has already busied himself with someone else. With his back towards both of you he fills two pints with Blue Moon, the uncomfortable look on her face couldn’t be missed. The greasy blonde hair on the man that was clearly invading her personal space told you he’d been drinking all day. The grimace on her pretty face says she could smell it on his breath too.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end when you see him grab onto her arm while trying to whisper in her ear. You feel yourself ready to stand up and help when she pushes him away, with the way the veins in her neck were flexing whatever she was saying to him wasn't nice. Shoving her hand in his face she storms towards the front door where Steve is waiting, looking seconds away from killing the man who followed her path out of the bar with a leer.

The scowl on her face softens instantly when she’s met with Steve opening the door, the glare on his face being replaced with a deep flush when you catch a “Thanks, Stevie” fall appreciatively from her lips.

SMACK

Jumping at the sound of metal hitting wood, Eddie’s dimples show themselves only this time they are for you as he leans forward on his arms again, eyes flicking towards the spot next to you. He pulls himself even closer when he notices no one new occupying the stool, making you search for friction with the fat of your thighs. 

“Penny for your thoughts, beautiful?” Flashing you his perfect teeth for the second time tonight the bruise to your ego already starts to disappear.

“I drank it without gagging, didn’t I?” Crossing your arms on top of the bar it's your turn to lean into his space and you swear you hear his breath hitch at your new boldness.

Licking his lips, your eyes greedily follow the path of his tongue. His smile stretches across his face even more when he notices, making no effort to move- unwilling to back down from the silent standoff you’ve challenged him too.

“‘I’ll have you know I take that as a very high compliment coming from you.” His breath fans across your cheeks from this close, mint and whiskey hitting your nose when he huffs a laugh. “Where’s Prince Charming?”

“Turns out there was no Prince, just an ugly old toad.” Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you look up at him through half lidded eyes, “Good thing I didn’t kiss him, huh?”

A low rumble shakes in his chest as he dares to lean in even closer, the tips of your noses almost brushing while the bubble you’d lost yourselves in reappears.

“Yeah baby, you can’t give those out to just anybody, they gotta be for someone special.” His voice is low, dripping with the kind of want you’d never had directed at you before. His eyes take in every inch of your face from this close while you try to keep up with his smooth tongue.

“Got anyone in mind, Eddie?” Doing your best to match his tone, his brows pinch together at the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth taking one last look at your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah, I know a guy actually. He’s a bartender with a great head of hair.” Wiggling his eyebrows when you snort, the front door swings open, breaking you two apart as the girl from before commands the room like a record scratch, silencing the bar for the first time all night.

“Eddie! It’s bad, Steve needs you!” The sheer panic in her voice is enough for the jealous monster inside you to stay at bay as Eddie pushes back on his heels.

An irritated sigh escapes him while he mutters ‘not a-fucking-gain’ under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before his eyes find yours. You jump a little when he grabs your hands, the warmth of his palms enveloping yours while he gives you a pleading look.

“Don’t - I mean, please don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back, I need to go save my buddy’s ass again. But I promise I’ll be right back, this conversation is too important to leave unfinished.” He flashes you that million dollar smile like chaos isn’t ensuing outside and all you can do is nod, signaling that you’ll stay put.

Hopping over the bar his loose fitting combat boots squeak over the counter top, the black jeans that were hidden from your sight somehow fit him even better than his shirt. Your gaze is shamelessly hungry as it follows him until he’s out the door. The scuffle outside leaking through the music with a blur of bodies outside. 

Too focused on the glimpse of Eddie’s towering frame stepping between the two guys to break up the fight, you don’t notice the person who walks through the unattended door until it shuts behind him with a thud. Ready to glare at whoever it is your eyes widen when you meet the ones belonging to who you can only assume is Craig. The burnt auburn hair he sports and the way he zero’s in on your purse confirms your suspicions. This was Craig, you're incredibly late and not even remotely as attractive as the bartender, date.

“Shit, shit, shit.” No matter how quickly you averted your stare, you knew it was too late, he saw you. Panic sets in while your brain goes a mile a minute trying to think a way out of this.

Looking around the bar for some sort of escape, the thought of ducking into the bathroom sounds like a winner but then the image of Eddie coming back and seeing you gone seeps into the forefront of your mind making you quickly toss that idea out the window. Turning to the people on either side of you who are too lost in their own conversations to notice your dilemma, you try to decide which one you could interrupt the most naturally. 

The couple on your right looks like they’re on a date going really well and the one on your left seems like two friends catching up. The tap on your shoulder is enough for you to make a split second decision, clearing your throat you spare the newly blossoming romance next you from your desperate antics, choosing to interrupt the friends who are reconnecting with a loud fake laugh.

“That’s when she told me- um excuse me do I know you?” Gruff and confused, the man closest to you looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads. First your loud slurping and now this? This plan was never going to work from the get-go.

Another persistent tap on your shoulder has you grasping for straws. You open your mouth to try to sell whatever this was one last time. 

“Umm excuse me?”  Craig’s voice comes out loud enough to cut you off and for the poor guy next to you to give you the final cold shoulder. Unable to ignore him any longer, you force yourself to turn around and face him head on. Kind of. 

Channeling your inner Alicia Silverstone you try to give him the best Clueless look you can muster and he returns it with an even more confused expression, clearing his throat.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. I’m Craig, Ariana’s friend. I think I’m supposed to be meeting you?” Shoving his hands in the pockets of his tan slacks, the maroon sweater he wears fits loosely over his thin frame, dirty black chucks on his feet, his look screams ‘I listen to Nirvana’.

“Umm, I think you have the wrong person? I wasn’t supposed to be meeting anyone here tonight.” It’s not believable in the slightest when the words leave your mouth, your less than confident delivery giving you away. The look on his face lets you know you’ve definitely been made

“Are you sure? I was told to look for the girl with a lavender purse.”  As if to prove his point he points to the exact one he’s talking about slung across your shoulder. He scoffs when you keep up with your charade, “I know I’m late but this is ridiculous.”

“A lot of girls have purple bags, Craig.” His name comes out dripping in venom, the need to get rid of him before Eddie’s return throwing any logic out the window. You needed to believe your own lie.

The sudden harshness has him raising his hands in defense, backing down a little under the daggers of your glare.

“Whoa, chill out, my bad. You just match the exact description I was given, that's all.”

Clenching your jaw in frustration because he just won’t give up, you try to hold your composure while your eyes flick towards the door in anticipation for his return.

“Well you’ve told me you were late twice already so she probably just left. Rude of you to keep her waiting honestly.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you know that he’s aware of exactly what you are doing but you don’t care anymore.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what happened, and not her being bitter I’m one measly hour late.” The way his words clip signal the rejection sinking in, a glare setting firm on his face.

It’s the stare down of the century before Eddie comes barging through the entrance with a loud huff and a clap of his hands. Cheeks red from yelling and hair slightly more wild than before. He checks to make sure you’re still exactly where he left you before he glances over to Craig for a split second not registering who he is. Hopping over the bar with another skid of his boots, he still manages to give you a lopsided grin when he gets to the other side. Hitting the top of the bar in a series of beats - he’s a ball of energy.

“Sorry to keep you waiting sweetheart, Steve’s lucky the girl he took a knuckle sandwich for has a first aid kit. Rick keeps saying he’s gonna get one but I have yet to see it. Want another cocktail?” Talking a mile a minute with the leftover adrenaline from the fight, he still doesn’t notice the way Craig watches the two of you until he catches how awkward you’re being. Eddie’s face hardens, the softness he was giving you disappearing. “Something I can help you with buddy?”

You don’t even have to look at Craig to know he’s puffing out his chest with a point of his chin addressing Eddie.

“Actually pal, maybe you can.” His tone makes Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, a tested smile spreading over his lips while he lets Craig continue. “I was supposed to meet someone here for a blind date, I was told to look for a girl with a lavender purse exactly like this one. You haven't seen another girl with this exact same bag have you?” 

Eddie’s wide eyes meet yours, amusement filling the specks of golden brown as he picks up on exactly what’s happening. The corners of his lips twitch before he nods his head licking his bottom lip holding your gaze long enough to make you squirm before bringing his attention back to Craig with a low whistle.

“Oh yeah, I remember that hottie, man. It’s a shame you were late, she took off with this dude she met waiting for you. She didn’t stand a chance, though, honestly. I know the guy, he’s too smooth for his own good. Pretty good looking too. Can’t be leaving your girl unattended around him. Probably wouldn’t have worked out between you two anyway.” Eddie catches the roll of your eyes at his self indulgent story as you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand to hide your face splitting grin.

“Why don’t you walk away with some dignity. What’s that saying? There’s always more fish in the sea or some shit.” Eddie adds more salt to the wound, finally breaking Craig enough to give up.

“Whatever you say man, this bar is fuckin’ lame anyway. Who wants to drink to Third Eye Blind.” Grumbling his insults as he slinks away, he takes one last look at you and Eddie before his final exit with a flip of his middle finger.

Eddie’s stare is hot on your face, while you bashfully avoid his gaze keeping your eyes lingering on the door. When you finally dare to meet his eyes the shit eating grin on his face makes you groan, the buzz of your drink pulling a giggle out of you. 

“Eddie, don’t —“

“Well, well, aren’t you just a little heartbreaker, huh?” His teasing only makes your cheeks grow hotter as you try to hide your face from his view.

“Don’t you need to go attend to all the customers you left?” Your words come out muffled from behind your hands as you slowly pull them down just enough to uncover the fake glare you were sending his way.

“I’ve got my favorite one right here.” Voice dropping low with a smirk, he was right, you didn’t stand a chance.

“I haven’t paid for a single thing, you refused my money if you remember.” Bringing your hands down to fully come out of hiding, he bites his bottom lip when he can take in your features again.

“It’s no good here, baby, I could actually get arrested if I take it and then how would I be able to take you out to get pancakes after my shift if I’m behind bars?” Bringing his hands together in mock shackles and a pout, the chain wrapped around his wrist catches your eyes for the first time.

“You’re takin’ me to get pancakes?” Flirting like a love sick teenager, you even start to kick your feet under the bar.

“It’s the least I can do since you’re my fill in bouncer for the rest of the night.” Smirking, he nods his head to the man at the opposite end of the bar flagging him down with a twenty dollar bill. His eyes sparkling with something new now that he had you.

“Me? A Bouncer? I’m not intimidating in the slightest!” Your cheeks hurt from how hard you smile at his retreating form, the game of ‘playing hard to get’ becoming a thing of the past now.

“Sorry, you owe me, heartbreaker.” He shrugs like it’s out of his control before flashing you the same lopsided grin leaving you a mess of nerves from getting to spend the night with him.

The hours till close go by faster than you anticipate with Eddie topping off your drink any time you ask, the buzz from the alcohol is just enough to handle the growing intensity of his flirting. Now that the only obstacle in the way of each other was time, he was relentless.

Enjoying the game of chicken the two of you had started unconsciously playing, you stop noticing the clock. Every six customers earns you five —sometimes ten minutes of his time and he makes sure to use every second of those breaks as an excuse to lean in close, whispering in your ear, holding your face close every time you talk. He was getting off on the way he could make you shift in your seat and hide your bottom lip between your teeth when he got close enough for his lips to brush against your ear. Your fingers find excuses to wrap around his wrist when he invades your space, playing with his chain, you keep him close making sure to tilt your head just enough for him to catch a glimpse down your neck into the low cut of your dress.

The small hand on the clock above the door hits the three and it’s not until his breaks start getting longer and your touches are able to get a little bolder that you notice the murmur of voices over the music disappears. The few stranglers left sipping their last drinks of the evening are paying the two of you no mind despite the way he’s tucking your hair out of his way to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his nose.

The realization that you’re finally about to be alone with him brings your nerves to a head and the need to check yourself over in the bathroom mirror becomes urgent. The flick of his tongue along your earlobe distracts you for a second as your head nudges against his when it tickles making a giggle slip past your lips.

“I gotta go to the bathroom, Eddie.” You inhale the scent of pine lingering in his shampoo, giving him one last nudge with your nose before hopping off the stool. He gives you his best puppy eyes as you get up to leave, pushing out his bottom lip when you tug your dress down.

“Please, I’ll be like three minutes.” You roll your eyes at him but the smile that lights up your face tells him you’re eating it up.

“I’ll be counting every second you're gone, baby.” Holding his hands over his heart for dramatic effect the man at the end of the bar snorts loudly ruining the moment. He earns an annoyed glare from the bartender, “Better hurry up and finish that shit old man, it’s closing time.” 

You hear him grunt in response to Eddie’s rude reminder before disappearing into the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. Stickers and writing with permanent marker cover every inch of the dark crimson walls. The doors of the black stalls barely hang from their hinges, dents from many reckless drunk nights at The Foxy Lounge punch random spots into the metal. The bottom of your sneakers stick to the floor with every step to the mirror where more stickers and black scribbles line the surface including a girl named Leigh’s phone number with the note ‘for a good time call’ attached at the end leaving just enough room to see your face.

The space buns on top of your head are messy from Eddie nuzzling his beard into your hair all night. You try to salvage what was left of them by tightening the knots a little more before deciding it's a lost cause. He was probably just going to mess them up more anyway. The thought of Eddie’s hands being free to touch you in every way you’ve wanted all night has you taking a deep breath while you hold your own eyes in the mirror.

“It’s happening, you’re gonna have sex with him. You’re gonna fuck the super hot bartender who flirts like it’s his second language tonight and you’re gonna be confident about it okay? You hear me?” Pointing to yourself in the mirror, the determination in your stare is enough for your tipsy pep talk to work its magic.

Taking one last look at yourself with a nod of your head you pull open the bathroom door ready to take on the rest of the night. Only to stop in your tracks when you notice the stool that was occupied is now empty and every inch of Eddie is also in full view from where he stands in front of the jukebox. Your eyes are insatiable taking in his tall frame like this for the first time all night. 

You notice the giant chain that hangs from his belt loop this time, and there’s even more rips in his jeans than before giving you a peek at the pale skin hidden underneath. His shoulder blades move under the thin fabric of his shirt when he clicks his choice on the machine. Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer spills out from the speakers of the bar as he turns on his heels, the smirk that plays on his lips dares you to catch the hint with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Very subtle.” Crossing your arms as if to act immune to his charms, you know he sees right through your facade but he plays along anyway raising his big hands up in the air in mock surrender.

“It’s just one of my favorite songs, I don’t know what kinda ideas you got going on in that pretty little head of yours.” He takes a few more steps towards you slowly closing the gap, daring to be closer to you than he had been all night without a wooden bar separating you.

“Interesting, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Sixpence fan.” Raising your eyebrow, you have to look up at him when he finally takes the last few steps to stand in front of you. 

“Why? Cause I’m such a tough guy?” His grin grows wider when he looks down at you catching the roll of your eyes while you uncross your arms opening your body up to him with a laugh. 

“I can’t stand you.” Your swat is flirtatious with your palm hitting his chest. He’s quick to catch it, using your hand as leverage to pull you closer, biting back his groan when a breathy gasp slips past your lips when he tucks you into chest. First your giggle and now this? He just knew you were going to sound so pretty falling apart for him.

“I think Craig would call that bluff sweetheart.” He gives you a minute to let his words sink in, throwing his head back with a loud laugh when you huff at him embarrassed. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing. He needed to be dumped, a girl like you deserves someone that's gonna show up when they’re supposed to.”

The sweetness of his words has you melt against him, the playful pull from before surrendering to his touch and you swear there’s hearts in your eyes from the way he looks down at you after saying something like that. 

“Thanks for tonight Eddie,” your voice is small when it comes out laced with adoration, and it’s his turn to get bashful making your favorite dimples come out again.

“No problem sweetheart, honestly it’s my fuckin’ lucky night.” Pulling your knuckles to his lips, he places a gentle kiss to the skin stretched over them before letting your hand drop, noting the disappointment on your face that you’re quick to cover up. 

“Wanna get some fresh air while I smoke before I close this place down?” 

——

Eddie somehow looks even better under the twinkling stars and pink fluorescent lights of The Foxy Lounge sign. The low hum of the electricity filling your ears as you lean against the brick of the building. His eyes are brighter out here, catching them with your own when he looks at you over the end of his cigarette.

He winks when you meet his pointed gaze, the flame of his lighter casting shadows that dance across the strong lines of his jaw, the orange glow highlighting the stubble that covers it. Batting your lashes at him, you push your hips off the wall playfully while he keeps his eyes on you through his entire first drag, only breaking contact for the split second he needs to blow the smoke he inhaled away from you. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” His words come out like a warning before he takes another hit.

“How am I looking at you Eddie?” Biting your lip to hide your smile, you make sure to say his name extra sweet just how you figured out he likes. He shakes his head with a low chuckle blowing more smoke into the clear night sky. 

Despite only taking two drags, he flicks the barely smoked cigarette to the side before closing the distance with a few steps leaving him crowding you against the building. Your chest brushes against his with every shallow breath. Getting lost in the darkening amber inside his eyes, the calloused tips of his fingers catch against the soft skin of your chin. The pad of his thumb pulling the velvet of your bottom lip from between your teeth.

“Like you want me to kiss you.”

Ducking his head down he nudges your nose with his, the heat of his breath fanning against your open mouth. His eyes go from yours back down to your glossed lips silently begging for your permission.

“I think it was you that was hinting at kissing me earlier.” Pushing up on your tiptoes, you smile against him when your lips just barely touch. 

“Oh? You think that’s what I was doing hmm?” Asking the question he already knows the answer to, his tongue licks against your top lip as your hands find the material of his shirt, fisting as much of it as you can before yanking him down to collect his lips with an eager mouth, giving up winning whatever game this was. 

You swallow his moan when your tongues meet in the middle battling for dominance, teeth scraping, you taste the few puffs of tobacco still lingering on his taste buds as his muscle massages against yours. Sliding his knee between your thighs, he smiles smug into the kiss when your hips search for friction against the denim.

He breaks away from your mouth long enough to start trailing wet kisses down your jaw, the rough hair on his chin rubbing your skin raw as he starts nipping and sucking bruises along your neck. Biting hard enough at your pulse point to have to soothe it with his tongue after the mewls he pulls from you are enough to drive him insane.

Your fingers tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck, giving his roots a pull while you turn your head, opening more of yourself to him. Taking your silent invitation he nips at the dip of your collar bone before lifting his head to press his forehead to yours. 

“I gotta close up baby, but then…”rubbing his hands up your curves with a low groan he squeezes at the plush of your hips before finishing his sentence, “I think I promised you pancakes.”

Nodding your head because words are stuck at the tip of your tongue, he grabs your cheeks with a strong grip, smushing your lips together before stealing one last kiss.

——-

Eddie doesn’t give you the attention you’ve grown accustomed to all night when he starts the process of actually cleaning the bar. Your body still buzzes like a live wire from the drinks and the kiss outside. He’d been counting his tips with his back to you for the last ten minutes and you were growing impatient for more of him. You needed it. 

Counting the last bill he finally turns around and your thighs press together when you get to see his face again. Shifting in your seat when his eyes barely meet yours, he makes his way to the other end of the bar. Pushing yourself up to lean forward with puckered lips, he ignores your advances passing by without so much as a glance in your direction. Huffing when you plop back in your seat, he flips the knob starting to wash his hands in the mini sink with his back to you again. Your foot taps against the metal of the stool as you watch him grab the scratched up red bucket hanging below and a fresh rag quickly replacing his hands with it to fill up.

You wonder if he can feel your stare when he adds the soap, taking his time while he spins the rag in the steaming water, he starts ringing it out. Arms flexing and suds spilling over his knuckles, you were gonna lose your mind if you didn’t get your hands on him soon. 

He makes big swipes as he starts working his way towards you, keeping his eyes so focused on his task you’d think you were invisible if it wasn’t for the smirk that was getting impossible for him to hide. It only grows bigger when he stops in front of you, adding a low hum to his charade purposely wiping around the outline of your hands that were splayed out on the counter ready to push yourself up again. 

“Eddie - c’mon!”  

You’d be embarrassed if it wasn’t for the laugh that falls easy from his chest when he finally looks at you. His face softens and his eyes darken when he catches your angry pout, your fingers are quick to find his free ones making him tsk at you but he doesn’t pull away.

“My hands are wet baby.” He knew you didn’t care and the teeth showing in his wide grin told you he didn’t either.

Giving into your persistence like it hasn’t been a fight to keep his hands to himself this whole time, he leans forward brushing his nose with yours before nudging it against your cheek so your lips just barely touch. When you go to close the space he pulls back just enough to tease, a small whine escaping you at his games.

“What’s got you so needy, huh?” His words are whispered as he presses with the slightest pressure before pulling back again. “I didn’t kiss you good enough outside, you need more?”

“Please.” Your cheeks burn when you hear how your voice sounds, but his grip on your fingers tighten and a low moan breaks through his front at how desperate you sound just for a kiss.

“Gotta give my girl what she needs.” Your brain gets stuck on the words ‘my girl’ taking you a minute to realize he was finally giving you what you want.

It’s slower than outside, he’s taking his time with you this time. Untangling his fingers from yours, his hand comes up to wrap around the side of your neck. The water feels good on your skin as the pad of his thumb starts rubbing soft lines under your jaw while his tongue swipes at your bottom lip looking for more. You don’t give into his advances on purpose, keeping your mouth closed to get him back for all his teasing you feel his smile grow against your own.

Expecting him to stop and surrender, he only doubles down. Catching your top lip with his bottom, he pulls away just enough for you to open your eyes. God, you wished you kept them closed. The brightness from outside had turned them into nothing but black leaving no trace of the specks of brown from before. The knowledge that he was just as affected by all of this as you sends you reeling. Toes curling inside your sneakers.

“Whining over here for me to give you what you want, and here I am baby, and you’re playing hard to get.” Nipping at your bottom lip he meets your heavy lidded gaze again, “Gonna let me give you what you want?”

He barely lets you finish nodding before he’s on you, the hunger from outside coming back as he leans over the bar to deepen the kiss like you’d been begging him for. Opening your mouth for him without hesitation when he asks for permission again your tongues meet lazily, exploring each other like you didn’t get a chance to before. Pushing up again eager to get more of him he pulls back leaving you breathless with spit slick lips.

Despite the way his chest heaves trying to catch his breath, he does his best to play it cool, smirking when you have no shame chasing for more.

“I gotta finish closing up.” He gives you one more chaste kiss before he starts wiping the rest of the counter down. 

Jutting out your bottom lip into a pout, he laughs, throwing out a ‘you’ll survive five minutes baby.’

You leave him alone doing your best not to distract him, despite how much your fingers itch to have him close again. Grabbing the money from the register and the receipts for the night he disappears back into what you could only assume was Rick’s office. When he pops back out he looks a little more relaxed.

“Just gotta wipe the bottles down and then I’m getting the prettiest girl the best pancakes in town.” Clapping his hands together with a rub of his palms, he grabs another rag.

You were starting to hate pancakes. Not that you didn’t want them, you just wanted him more.

“Hey Eddie?” Trying to hide your ulterior motives in the sweetness of your voice, his eyes meet yours almost instantly and they narrow just as quick.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Setting the rag down he leans forward with his palms on the bar he gives you his undivided attention. An intimidation tactic. Unable to help yourself, your eyes trace up the ink covering his arms.

“Teach me how to make that drink?” Looking up at him from under your lashes, you see something flash across his face, fingertips digging into the countertop after the question leaves your mouth.

“Wasting Love?” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t call it that now, would you?” Laying it on thick, a slow smile spreads across his face. He saw what you were doing and he was going to fall into your trap willingly.

“Why don’t you come back here then, we’ll make our own.” His voice comes out low, his pupils taking over all the brown, pretty white teeth baring themselves at you.

His gaze is predatory when he watches you jump from the stool, the exaggerated sway of your hips keeps his eyes trained on the curve of your waist as you make your way into his space for the first time all night. Leaning against the back counter, his legs are spread wide leaving little to the imagination on how worked up you had him. His eyebrows raise when he sees the automatic press of your thighs at the sight. It wasn’t fair, you were trying to seduce him, not the other way around. He wasn’t even trying.

As if on cue the jukebox that had been left to play all night clicks, Ginuwine’s Pony pouring out of the speakers as he licks his lips unashamed at the way he’s drinking all of you in like this.

“Gonna teach me how to make something sweet, Eddie?” Trailing a finger along the bar while you close the distance, you drag out the ‘e’ at the end of his name just enough to get him to groan.

His hands grab your waist squeezing just hard enough to feel his strength before using it to pull you flush against him. The material of your dress doing nothing to hide how hard he is pressed into your ass. His lips trace the shell of your ear, the heat of his breath tickling your neck as you push back into him searching for more. The stubble on his face rubs rough against the soft skin of your cheek as he punctuates each word with a roll of his hips.

“The sweetest, baby.” 

You bite back your moan when his nose trails up your neck, his lips just barely grazing the warmth of your flesh before they settle back against your ear. You hold onto the wood of the bar in front of you when he hums low, feeling it deep in your core. His calloused fingers start a path up the bare skin of your thigh hiking up your dress when they catch the hem.

“Tell me,” your eyes close when his nose is pressed to your temple as he speaks, “Do you like cherries, baby?” His tongue catches your earlobe sucking it into his mouth, grazing it between his teeth when he lets it back out.

Your knees almost buckle at how good everything feels, the slow rock of his hips never stopping as he plucks at the lace trim of your underwear. 

“Y- yeah, I love cherries,” you whimper when his palms lay flat on the outside of your thighs, the cool metal of his rings biting into your skin when he squeezes at the fat working his way back up.

“Of course you do, pretty.” His thumbs hook the sides of your underwear, “You’re just so sweet all the time, huh?” Despite the need for friction, you spread your legs for him wondering if he can hear the way your lips pull apart sticky, arousal coating the inside of your thighs.

He chuckles soft in your ear praising you with a ‘so sweet’ before giving them a tug, letting the red lace fall to the floor. Keeping his hands on your hips, he presses himself against you hard enough to have the heels of your sneakers pick up off the ground. A low ‘fuck’ slipping out from under his breath when you whine a little.

“Red lace? Was Kurt gonna get lucky or was this just a ploy to get me all along, sweetheart?” Your cheeks burn at his question, his low chuckle tickling your ear when he hears you huff out an annoyed breath. “‘Cause if that’s the case all you would’ve had to do is walk through that door on any given night.”

He grinds himself against you one more time, but you can really feel him this time and it makes your legs shake.

“Are we gonna make this drink or do you wanna keep talking about Craig?”  The shake of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed despite trying to be sharp with him but the grip on your waist still tightens at the mention of the other man’s name

“Sure we can, if that’s really what you wanna do.” His words taunt you but with one hand holding you against him the other flips a clean cocktail glass onto the bar top with ease, like he wasn’t rock hard digging into your back.

Reaching around, his hand trails up the front of your thigh sending goosebumps across your heated skin. A shiver runs down your spine when he dares to dip between your legs inching his way towards where you want him most.

“We better not mix liquors so why don’t you be a good girl and grab the whiskey for me.” His lips brush against your ear with every word, his hand never faltering on their path even when his fingertips meet your slick folds. Feather light, he traces along your slit, not daring to break the barrier yet. Brain hazy with want you don’t even comprehend what bottle you reach for, blindly grabbing for whatever was in front of you.

“That is tequila, sweetheart. Tsk, tsk, tsk are you even listening to what I’m saying? Or are you too…” Before he finishes his sentence he pushes his index finger past your entrance, your warm walls wrapping tight around his digit, “…distracted?”

Your head lulls back against his chest, your eyes closing when he pushes two knuckles deeper. Your needy whimper makes him kick up again making you grind your ass against him in response. Licking your lips, you try to collect yourself only chasing for more of his finger once. 

“N-no, I can do it.”  Determined to prove him wrong, you focus just long enough to grab the Jameson bottle, “What’s next?”

He hums in approval while his smile grows against your skin. Deciding to indulge in your stubborn game still, he curves his finger enough just to make you gasp his name.

“Are we keeping this simple, or do you want something a little more—” Adding a second finger, you stretch easily for him now, dripping down his hand, “Complicated?” 

You shudder, a moan slipping past your lips while your grip on the bottle tightens so much you're scared it’ll shatter. Fuck, you gotta keep it …

“S- simple - oh.” His thumb finds your clit applying just enough pressure to have your mouth fall open and your brows to knit together, and just as quick as he’s there, he’s gone. 

Pulling himself free, he tries his best to ignore the way your pussy tries to suck him back in, your body begging him for more. You whimper at the loss, your eyes opening to remind you where you are.

“I’m gonna need both hands to do this, baby.” His fingers shine with your slick when he wiggles them for show, stepping back just enough for you to see the grin on his face but not enough to get out of your personal space. 

Grabbing his wrist, his eyes go dark when he realizes what you’re about to do. Gaze turning half lidded when your mouth opens, huffing out a deep breath when your tongue flattens against the pads of the two fingers that were just buried inside of you. Wrapping your lips around them, your arousal is tangy sweet hitting your taste buds.

Hollowing your cheeks as you suck them clean, you watch the confidence drain from his face, eyes rolling in the back of his head at the sight. The blunt ends of his nails dig through the soft material of your dress and he starts rutting into you with a little more force when you slide your tongue between each knuckle.

“Jesus christ,” his voice is strangled, words coming out through gritted teeth when you let him go with a loud pop.

“Now you can use both hands,” you say innocently, like you didn’t just suck them clean. You let his fingers tug at your bottom lip before dropping his wrist.

He fists a handful of your dress, a low growl rumbling from his chest getting a taste of his own medicine. Licking his lips, his eyes narrow at you before his teeth start to show, mischievous in the low light.

“Well if we want this drink cold, we need to fill this shaker with ice.” Just like the glass, he flips it on the counter one hand never leaving your waist despite his claim. 

Pressing his lips to your ear again, he makes sure to let his breath linger a little before he talks, enjoying the goosebumps that appear from such a simple touch.

“Fill it up for me, baby?” Your thighs clench at the deep rasp in his voice, both of his hands finding a home spread out on your thighs.

Nodding your head you slide open the silver metal door of the ice chest below you, bending over more than you needed to to scoop it up into the shaker. He groans loud when you press into him like this, his fingers making quick work to flip the back of your dress up. 

“Look at you, so fucking messy for me and I’ve barely touched you.” Grabbing a handful of your ass, he ruts into you, the rough denim hitting your clit in a way that has you moaning his name.

He laughs quietly at your neediness flipping your dress back down when you straighten out. Chests heaving in time with the other, neither one of you was ready to back down. Not yet.

“Might need to unzip those pants.” Looking over your shoulder at him you fake a pout, “Feeling a little strained back there handsome.”

Smugness dripping from the smile on your face, he raises his eyebrows at you in a challenge. 

“Since you wanted something simple sweetheart, we just need two more things.” One hand snakes its way back between your legs, squeezing at the inside of your thigh before he lets you go for the first time since you set foot behind the bar.

Craning your neck so you could follow him, you find him bent down grabbing lemon juice from the mini fridge under the shorter back counter. Shutting the door with his foot when he stands up, he throws a wink your way when he grabs the simple syrup.

Setting the bottles in front of you he steals a quick kiss that leaves you wanting more before he grabs the small tub of cherries from the fridge he forgot his first go around.

“Okay, so you’re gonna grab the Jameson, and I want you to pour it out to the count of three for me then cut it off.” He returns to his place behind you, his large hand swallowing yours when it shadows your movements.

Your pour is shaky when he counts low in your ear, nuzzling his nose in your hair calling you a good girl after each successful addition to the simple concoction.

“Alright, now you’re gonna shake it as hard as you can angel.” His hands squeeze your hips for encouragement.

Doing as he says he pulls you against him even harder when your arms start to go wild. Your chest bounces with each movement making you giggle and you almost don’t hear the hitch in his breath at the sight. 

He helps you by putting the strainer over the rim of the glass when you’re ready to pour. Mumbling soft words of praise while he nibbles at your ear lobe. The drink is much lighter than the one you had all night, the dark orange turning lemon as the white foam fizzed on top.

“I think I could take your job.” You smirk reaching for the cherries to top it all off. 

“You think you could take my job?” He snorts incredulous, watching you unwrap the plastic wrap from the small tub dropping three cherries into the already very sweet cocktail.

“Absolutely.” Grinning while ignoring his stare you reach for another cherry, “No doubt in my mind.” You grab the fruit between your teeth, finally meeting his eyes as you pull the stem, relishing in the burst of sugar and grenadine that erupts against your tongue.

“Tough luck princess, unless you know how to tie that cherry stem in a knot with your teeth, no bar in this town is gonna touch you.” Grabbing his own cherry, he dangles it in front of your frowning mouth for you to bite. Obliging him with it bumps your bottom lip you tug gently, taking the fruit before chewing slowly while he sucks the stem once before it disappears in his mouth.

“I’m calling your bluff now. No one knows how to actually do that.” Daring him to prove you wrong he mutters a ‘watch me’ between his working teeth.

You don’t lose focus on the way his hand on your waist starts to wander, the blunt ends of his nails scratching against the fat of your thigh while his tongue ties the stem like it’s easy. Jaw flexing with each twist of his tongue before he pushes it out to show you, a pleased look on his face when the small knot in the middle comes out perfectly placed. 

Swiping it off his tongue with the fingers that were inside you minutes ago, you wonder if he can still taste you when he sets it next to your drink satisfied by the way your jaw drops.

“How do you think I got this job? I’m more than just a cute face.” The touch of his hands grows bolder when they start working their way up your dress, a thickness in the air that wasn’t there before filling your lungs.

“That’s quite the skill set you have there Mr. Munson,” your giggle is breathless, your eyes going from his down to his lips as you try to play it off.  

“I can do more than that with my tongue sweetheart, if you wanna find out.” His nose nudges against yours, the smirk on his face making you sweat when his fingers trace up your wet folds again.

Surrendering instantly, you forget all about the drink the two of you made nodding without hesitation the desperation for him all night finally taking over.

“Yeah?” His voice breaks when his thick fingers push into your entrance again feeling just how worked up all his teasing had you.

“Please - Eddie,” the pad of his thumb finds your clit again making you beg, “Fuck.”

“Asking me so sweet, how could I say no to you?” Murmuring against your lips, he finally gives in and kisses you. Wet and sloppy he only does it long enough to take your breath away before dropping to his knees.

His big hands on your hips angle you to face forward, flipping your dress up over your ass again. The air of the bar is still hot against your folds, arousal dripping down your thighs, you’re fully exposed to him now. You hear him suck the skin of his teeth at the sight, a ringed hand coming down just hard enough on your right cheek to make it jiggle before both hands palm the fat.

“I can’t believe you were gonna let anybody else but me have this pussy. Should be a punishable offense.” Pulling your cheeks apart to expose more of you to his hungry eyes, he pushes at the small of your back signaling for you to bend over more for him.

He moans loud enough to make you jump when you listen to his command, even you can hear the sound of your lips pulling apart for him. 

“All this for me, baby, fuck, you spoil me.” He wastes no time burying his face between your folds, his talented tongue collecting your juices before finding your clit. The rough hair on his chin rubbing your sensitive skin raw as he shakes his head from side to side. 

Squeezing your ass to pull you closer to his face when you try to run away, he sucks your bundle of nerves harder when he gets you back to where he wants you, dipping his nose into your entrance every time.

He does the motions he would do when he ties the cherry stem into a knot against your clit, a strangled moan ripping from your throat when he does it again.

Your hands find purchase on the top of the bar, eyes closed tight while you see white behind your lids. Your nails dig into the wood when his tongue flattens, the lewd squelching of your arousal filling your ears when he pushes his face so deep between your legs you aren’t sure if he can even breathe. The moan that rumbles through his chest and vibrates to your core tells you he doesn’t care. Wrapping his lips tight around your clit he sucks even harder, not caring when your legs start to shake from overstimulation. 

“Eddie, Eddie, I’m gonna - fuck!” His name comes out long and drawn out when you fall apart on his tongue. Relentless, his teasing never stops, his hands holding you up while your body starts to shake. Humming low in satisfaction against your cunt.

“I n- need, I need…” willing your eyes to open, your vision’s blurry from how hard he made you cum. Pulling away with a loud smack of his lips, he palms your ass cheeks before craning his neck to try and get a good look at you.

“What do you need, baby?” He nips at the curve of your right cheek before pressing his face to it, dazed from getting what he’s wanted all night completely content.

“I just, I just need you to fuck me,” you don’t recognize the choke in your voice when you whine for him. Whine for more.

“Jesus christ.” His words tickle against your skin when he groans, kneading the soft flesh of your ass one more time before standing up. 

His hands are on your hips before you can fully register the change in position, spinning you around and lifting you up he sets you on top of the counter behind the bar. The one where drinks aren’t served and the one that’s low enough for Eddie to slot himself perfectly between your legs. 

Eyes blown black while his beard and nose ring shine with your slick, his lips part - swollen and pink from pulling your first orgasm out of you. Bangs clinging to his forehead, his hair is a wild mess on top of his head from your hands. The confident air about him is gone, replaced with nothing but the need to have you. Snapping out of your daze, you’re quick to find the metal of his belt buckle.

His forehead presses to yours, while he watches the way your dainty fingers work the leather out through the loop. The white tips of your nails catch his eye when you undo the button of his jeans and his cock twitches at the thought of them pumping him for all he’s worth.

He hisses when you push the denim down his hips, his hard dick springing out to smack against his shirt that you immediately wish wasn’t there. Precum leaks from the angry looking pink tip while your hands fist the hem of the worn cotton, silently begging him to get rid of it. The big vein that follows the curve of his length makes your mouth water as he obliges your pleas, ripping his shirt off and throwing it somewhere you’d have to find later. 

You’re able to really take all of him in like this, his chest is heaving covered with just as many tattoos as the rest of him, the silver chain you’d peeped earlier hanging right in the dip between his pecs. Your eyes follow the dark patch of hair that leads to his cock, long with the kind of girth that you know is going to be a stretch, a strangled whine bubbles out of you at the sight while your thighs spread begging for him.

“God, I want you so bad,” you whine wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him even closer giving into your animalistic instincts. 

“I know baby, me fuckin’ too.” He pumps his cock a few times groaning loud, squeezing hard at the base before pressing the head between your dripping lips. Mesmerized at how they wrap around his tip, his precum mixes messy with your arousal making lewd noises as he sweeps it through your folds.

Body shaking every time he hits your clit, you finally hook your ankles growing impatient when he teases your entrance.

“Fuck. Me.” You get out through gritted teeth, the lopsided grin he’d been giving you all night turns cocky when he pushes the tip in, your head lulls back at the invasion, the silk of your walls desperate to start sucking him deeper.

“Not so sweet now are you, huh?” Pushing himself all the way in, his rough thatch of pubic hair hits your clit when he bottoms out. His confidence falters for a second when a deep moan rips through his chest at the feeling. “So fuckin’ tight baby - shit.”

Your nails dig half crescent moons into his inked skin while you adjust to his size, his nose skimming against your cheek while he whispers how good you take him when your walls start to milk him, your body letting him know it was okay to finally move.

“Feel so good, Eddie, fuck - so good.” Your hips start a slow rock, feeling every ridge and curve of him. Your dress sits rucked up at your waist giving a perfect view of the way you take him, and it’s even better than what his imagination had come up with all night. 

He lets you use him for a minute, big hands resting on your waist — content with just watching the way you coat his cock with everything you have left over for him from the first time he made you cum. 

“That feels good, huh?” Cooing at the way your brows knit together and your mouth falls open, he picks up the pace, taking control. 

Pulling you all the way to the edge, his strokes get deeper, the tip of him hitting the spot that you know Craig would have never found. He pulls his cock out half way, relishing how your velvet walls try to keep him in place, he holds his composure before pushing back in, filling you to the brim. Addicted to the way it makes you gasp his name and arch your back, your body asks him for more when you’re too cock drunk to get the words out.

The straps of your dress start slipping down your shoulders with every thrust, your breasts bouncing just begging for his attention. His cock twitches inside you, it's almost too much. Greedy for more despite fighting the urge to cum, he tugs the front of your dress down to reveal a matching bra to the panties on the floor. Hips stuttering for a moment he growls at the reminder of your date before tugging the lace down, your nipple pebbling instantly for him before he takes it in the heat of his mouth. 

Pushing yourself closer, needing more, your hands find their way to bury themselves in his curls, holding him close. You needed him close. His tongue flicks at your sensitive bud and it makes you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. Your hips finding a way to match his strokes, reigniting the flames deep in your gut. God, he was gonna make you cum again.

He grunts around your breast, spit dripping down your soft skin from his ministrations while the snap of his hips start to get harsher and you know he’s nearing his end. He lets your nipple go with a loud pop before his hand comes up to grip your chin, his lips finding yours in a frantic mess of teeth and battling tongues.

The wood creaks underneath you from the force of his thrusts and the bounce of your ass to meet them. Mouths tangled, you swallow each other's ragged breaths, both of you desperately searching for your end when his fingers find your clit. Rubbing circles with just enough pressure to have your body start to shake against his, he nips at your bottom lip grunting when he feels the way it makes you flutter around him.

“Come on baby, give me another one. Be my sweet girl again and tell me how good I make you cum.” His fingers slip against your clit, fingers wet from how worked up he had you but his words are enough to have your world stop for a second.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Ed-“ Going blind behind your closed eyes he coaxes your second orgasm out of you with a silent scream falling onto his turned up lips. Proud of his work, his hips start picking up their pace inching closer to his own release he’d been fighting off since going down on you. 

“God, - fuck I’m close - where d-do you-?” Sweat drips down his forehead while he struggles to find his words, his impending orgasm making him short circuit.

“Inside, shit - please, I need it, Eddie.” Still needy and barely coming down, your legs around his waist tighten their hold, locking him in place while you use the last of your strength to help get him there. 

“Whatever you’re doing - holy shit , Jesus - I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” His hips press hard against yours when his cock twitches, spilling warm inside your greedy walls that don’t stop asking him for more. His face hides in your neck, the heat of his breath fanning against your sweat kissed skin while his body shakes with his release.

The roll of your hips never stops, just slowing enough to make him shiver after he starts softening, spent inside of you. You know there’s a mess starting to drip but neither one of you has the energy to move just yet. His lips start leaving small kisses along your neck, nose nudging against the space behind your ear and you can feel his smile against your cheek before he finally lifts his head up. The brown in his eyes return to a warm auburn like before when they meet yours.

“Rick is gonna fucking kill me if he ever finds out what happened on this counter tonight.” Rolling your eyes, you snort at his joke before shoving against his chest.

“You’re telling me you don’t fuck all your cute customers behind the bar, Eddie?” Batting your lashes at him, he squeezes your hips with a smirk. 

“Only, the really, really cute ones. I take them to get pancakes at IHOP around the corner, too.” Something shifts in his eyes and you think for a second you might see self doubt in them for the first time all night, “That is, if they still want to.”

“Well lucky for you, I only let bartender’s from The Foxy Lounge take me out.” Nudging your nose against his, your smile touches his lips.

“Sweetheart, you know I’m the only bartender here right?” Grinning like someone who just won the lottery, he quickly gets rid of the space between you, kissing you like it too.

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[elysianightsss]

Okay but can we just talk about run away bride reader and soft dark John price.

Your poor fiancé is stood there like what has he done wrong? And that’s the problem, not a damn thing but there’s this gorgeous burly man double your age that’s wormed his way into your heart and between your legs. For weeks he’s been attacking your pussy with his addictingly greedy mouth, it really was an accident. Your bachelorette party had ended with you being black out drunk, your ‘friends’ had left you at whatever club you had been at to move onto the next one when John found you. You could barely sting two words together when he asked you where you lived after carrying you into his jeep, he didn’t know what to do but he couldn’t leave you at that club and Simon was too busy making it with some woman inside, he wanted to go home. Honestly taking you home with him started off entirely innocent but once he go you back to his place and a little bit of water in you, you had began to open up to this stranger about your life. How you were getting married in three weeks and you were scared out of your mind to be married to this guy you’d been with for three years all because of one thing; he had never made you cum.

You explained to the beefy man with a canal glint in his darkened blue eyes in front you that you’d tried everything. At first you faked your orgasms out of courtesy and kindness. Then the emotional and physical toll was too much and you ended up confessing to him. He didn’t take it too well at first but then he asked you to show him how to be better. This really made you happy, he accepted the issue and wanted to fix it. So you showed him in every way that he could, your fingers and your toys and he really looked like he was taking it all in.

Then he took over and any progress you had made building up this wonderful climax completely shattered as he rubbed the wrong place and pushed all the toys off the bed looking offended by them. You even moved in an attempt to slip his fingers onto your clit….and he…he fucking moved them away. You remember the way your eyes stung with tears of frustration, the way your heart ached with want and need. How you felt so used when he had sex with you, he mumbled that he had urned his reward after rubbing you in the wrong spot for five minutes. You remember how you cried in the shower while he slept. And you in your drunken state told John all of this. By the time you were done he looked dangerous and rigid. He knew there were guys out there that didn’t know much about the female body but he couldn’t believe that some cunt had done that to you and by the sounds of it continued to do it for years on end. You were so beautiful, how could that guy not even bother to take the time to learn your body. To commit your wants and needs to memory. That’s how you ended up on your back naked with John kneeling at the edge of the bed face to face with your dripping pussy. John did think about it and maybe if he were a nicer guy he would care that you weren’t sober, maybe he would care that you were engaged but you just looked so sad and he couldn't let a sweet little thing like you go your entire life only giving yourself an orgasm.

His head lulls to the side, his cheek smushing against the inside of your thigh “Such a pretty cunt.” He sighs, the tip of his finger spelling out his name on your clit. His piercing eyes meet yours and your breath gets caught in your throat, the lust swirling in his dark eyes is so enticing. Plus the way he’s on his knees for you, you wouldn’t ever get tired of seeing it.

Your clit pulses erratically anticipating his next move. It’s quick and it makes you jump but then you’re whining into the air, because how can you not when he’s sucking you into his mouth like a starved man. Your body burns with pleasure but it’s oh so delicious his tongue working wonders on your cunt.

“Please-“ you pause, somewhere in your haziness you realise you don’t know whose name you should be calling out, he pulls off you with a soft pop. “John.” “Please John.”

“No flower. You can wait, I’m gonna enjoy this cunt and you’re gonna lay there and take it.” He scowls, placing sloppy kisses up your thigh. “If I have to tie you to this bed, I fucking will.” His lips smack together as his eyes leave yours once more, the pad of his thumb sliding through your folds. “Your pussy is already dripping flower, I’m gonna make you gush.” He grunts leaning forward pressing his nose against you with a sharp inhale. He can’t ever get enough of you.

John looks up his cerulean eyes finding yours at the exact moment his mouth latches onto you once more. It feels so good it hurts, the heat from his mouth has you twisting and squirming. His right hand moves up reaching until they touch your lips, a quick tap against them and you open just enough for him to slip his fingers inside. A muffled ‘suck’ has you closing your lips around them, getting them nice and wet.

He groans against your wet heat images of you sucking his cock the way you’re sucking his fingers floating through his mind. You sob, your body starting to shake when he pushes two thick fingers inside you, the intrusion making you gasp. They rub along your velvety walls bringing a new wave of pleasure, the feeling builds becoming more intense with every thrust.

His tongue laps at your clit while he searches and searches until you squeal “There it is”, he finds exactly what he was looking for striking the spot over and over again watching your back arch off the bed. A ‘fuck yeah sweetheart’ slipping out when you gush all over his hand.

You excepted him to move away, to release your pussy from his torturous mouth but he doesn’t. The bastard stays put the tip of his tongue flicking against you, the sensitivity pulling whines and whimpers from you….you think it was six, no seven definitely seven orgasms, heck you lost count after the third. Your body tired but fuck did you need his cock more than anything. You lay on your side gripping the sheets so tightly as John slides in behind you, his arms pulling you taut against him as you mewl into the air.

“I know flower I know you just have to let me in is all, nothing more.” He strokes your hair moving it out the way so he can press his cheek to yours, it’s so intimate and sweet. And yet when he lifts up your left leg, bending it at the knee so he can slip his ridged veiny shaft inside your tight cunt. You feel the sweet sweet burn of the orgasmic stretch that you never thought you’d feel in your life.

You just about manage to make out the time on the clock before your vision blurs and tears streak down your cheeks meeting the dried ones that had already fallen earlier with your over sensitivity. He feels so fucking good, with each thrust you’re pushed closer to the edge. Your moans and his mixing together in the late evening air, his pace building dramatically, becoming more and more intense the longer he fucks you. It’s brutish, rough and bare. Yet loving and gentle.

“Yes right there don’t stop!” His swollen tip glides over the spot inside you, your body goes still and you can’t do anything except let it happen. And you do, you let the tsunami of pleasure crash into you almost painfully, it pumps through your veins absolutely demolishing what’s left of your energy. You’re barely awake when warmth blooms inside you a deep moan rumbling against your cheek.

“Fuck baby.” He groans softly pulling the sheets over your body, shielding you from the cold breeze that was drifting into your beautiful moment. A kiss to the top of your head and you’re out like a light unaware of the large hand rubbing at your tummy, the sky completely dark now, unaware of the thoughts bubbling in John’s head as he watches your chest rise up and down. The next morning he consoles you as you freak out, you had just cheated and if that wasn’t killing you, the pain in your head was. He listened to you rant and panic while he cooked you breakfast, a small smirk pulling at his lips when you slump down at the table and eat everything on your plate. You leave after he sweetly promises not to tell anybody about what happened. But he insisted on having your phone number yanno in case of emergencies. You don’t think much of it until he starts calling you, a lot.

“I just thought what harm could come from one little call,” he says coyly, ignoring you when you protest he must stop, “I know you say you're taken but I say girl you're takin' too long to tell him that it's over. Then bring it on over, stringing him along any longer flower is just wasting precious time.” You don’t know what to say to him, your words caught it your throat as he takes the silence as an opportunity to continue.

“Sweetheart you know it can't wait, rip it off just like a Band-Aid. The way you look at me, girl, you can't pretend I know you ain't in love with him break up with him.” He pleads, you don’t break up with your fiancé but you do end up back at John’s house, Price’s head between your thighs licking and slurping at your pussy.

He calls you again the next night with the same speech as last time, “I know, you don't wanna break his heart but that ain't no good reason to be keeping us apart. Look, just tell him it's you, it ain't him and maybe you can lie to him and say you'll still be friends.” He scoffs with a smirk at the idea placing his phone down on the kitchen counter on speaker.

“Whatever you got to say to get through to him that you ain't in love. C'mon you can't deny that you and I kinda fit like a glove. It ain't my business to be all up in but I know you ain't in love with him break up with him. I know that you’re so done with him break up with him.” He groans out and once again he convinces you to come over and let him have his dirty way with you.

Weeks of this back on forth go by and finally it’s the eve of your wedding day, “You would've hung up by now if you weren't thinking it too. No pressure whatever just do what you gotta do. But if I was you I'd tell him that it's over then bring it on over stringing him along any longer is just wasting precious time. Flower you know it can't wait. Just rip it off just like a Band-Aid Yeah, I know I said it but I'll say it again. I know you ain't in love with him. Break up with him. The way you look at me girl you can't pretend. I know you ain't in love with him. Just break up with him.”

You don’t break up with him but you’re sure he’s gotten the hint when you run from the church, fists clenched tightly around the material of your wedding dress so your legs can move faster. You arrive at John’s house and he grins when he opens the door.

Grabbing his coat off the hook he closes the door behind him before grabbing your hand and helping you into his jeep. “John, where are we going?”

“You’re already in your wedding dress flower, why waste the opportunity. There’s a little chapel just down the road.”

[rad-batson]

Headcanons of Tim and Damian’s Love/Hate/But-Mostly-Begrudging-Love Relationship (They’re My Babies)

They will take EVERY opportunity to be a little bitch to one another

Tim: “Don’t get too close to me. You probably have rabies.” Damian: *actually bites him*

Damian tripped Tim once, which started an all out prank war that lasted several months. It only ended when Bruce walked into a glue trap and couldn’t reach his phone to call for help. But he couldn’t figure out who put it there so they were both grounded. (It was Tim.)

Tim teaches Damian to finish his vine references when Bruce tells them they need to “bond.” They proceed to try and speak in exclusively vine references and TikTok sounds during patrol. Bruce benches them for his own sanity.

Damian: “I’m not touching you” *gets pushed down the stairs*

Tim: “I’m not in your room” *gets hit in the face with a book*

Tim calls Damian short even tho he’s only like two inches taller for quite a bit of time (and Damian never hears the end of it after Tim’s growth spurt)

Family Game Night could go in one of two ways: they’re opponents and spend the whole night one-upping each other OR they team up and wipe the floor with everyone else’s pieces

Damian: “Just trust me.” Tim: *remembering that one time Damian tried to kill him* “Okay.”

Tim: “Don’t ask questions.” Damian: *recalling the multiple genocidal Tim variants* “Whatever.”

During one Wayne Gala, they make up this game called Freestyle Checkers where they choose guests as their “pieces” then subtly manipulate them into walking to their opponent’s side of the ballroom without talking to someone from the other team or they’re out. No one can know that they’re part of a game or their opponent wins by default.

Bruce is proud of them at first for being more sociable during galas until he realizes what’s going on and immediately loses five years from his lifespan.

Both have attempted to fake their deaths to get out of the same school project

They’re both notorious for stalking people to get information instead of just…ya know…asking like a normal person. So they’re bound to team up one day.

Like maybe it’s Bruce’s birthday soon and both are like “No, I’m getting him the better present,” but then they run into each other in the vents trying to find out what he wants and they end up trading secrets. Just brotherly things

Tim: “I need you to follow this guy for me. I think he’s our culprit.” Damian: “I would rather die than take orders from you.” Tim: “I’ll buy you that fancy oil painting kit you want.” Damian: *already changing into his Robin gear* “Where is he?”

Tim makes Damian play the dumb, helpless kid in all of their covert operations, which pisses Damian off until he gets so good at it that he uses it to his advantage and annoys the hell out of Tim when they’re paired up for public appearances

“God, he’s so annoying.” “Yeah, totally.” “What the fuck did you say about my brother?”

Damian is the only person who can get Tim to actually sleep for once. No one knows how he does it, but the strongest theory so far is blackmail

Tim “I’m ignoring Bruce’s instructions because they failed the vibe check” Drake and Damian “I can totally do this mission that requires four people on my own” Wayne teaming up behind Bruce’s back and immediately getting into deep shit but somehow making it out alive with the bad guys behind bars.

During one of said missions, they thought they were going to die and said “I love you” to one another. After they survived, they silently agreed to never mention it again.

Damian gifts Tim a new board that he designed for his birthday. It took weeks. Tim cries

[angel-sweets666]

Break up

katsuki bakugo x reader

Bakugos been distant which ends up in you two breaking up, learning to live without him was difficult

Warning: angst, break ups, arguments, mineta. (This is a mineta hate page🫶🫶) probably badly written argument but it’s more for practice

Bakugo and you used to be probably the cutest couple 1A had ever seen. He would carry your bags, help with your homework, hell he had even figured out how to threaten izuku into switching seats with you so you two could pass notes in class. You were practically best friends with Mina because of bakugo, you had a group of boys (bakugo, kirishima, Denki and sero) who would come to the rescue if you or Mina were afraid or uncomfortable of someone, usually mineta. Everything was great! Until it wasn’t

Bakugo began to grow distant, his usual warm and loving behavior towards you shifting to something colder and more indifferent. It was like a switch had been flipped, and the boy who once made you feel like the center of his world now treated you like an acquaintance, or even less. The cuddles in your dorm, which had been a nightly comfort, stopped altogether. He no longer accepted the lunches you made with such care, brushing off your efforts with a curt nod or a distracted "thanks."

He didn't wait for you or Mina when the lunch bell rang, a small but significant ritual that had always been a highlight of your day. Instead, he would storm off on his own, his mind clearly occupied by something that didn't include you. It was like he was building walls around himself, shutting you out bit by bit. The boys, Kirishima and Denki, noticed the change immediately. Their concerned glances back at you two during lunch were hard to miss. They would wave, trying to get you and Mina to join them like usual, but you felt too disheartened to follow.

Mina, always perceptive, linked her arm with yours and gave you a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay," she whispered, her eyes full of empathy. "We'll just hang out together today."

You forced a smile, grateful for her support but unable to shake the growing ache in your heart. The cafeteria felt larger and lonelier without Bakugo by your side, and the absence of his presence was like a constant, gnawing void. Mina did her best to keep the conversation light and engaging, but even her bubbly personality couldn't fully lift the cloud that hung over you.

You sighed heavily and walked into the common room, feeling the weight of a particularly rough day of training pressing down on you. It seemed like the past few weeks had been nothing but a series of bad days strung together. Inside, you found Sero hanging from the ceiling with his tape, while Denki and Kirishima were busy playing Uno. Sero, suspended above like a makeshift Spider-Man, noticed your dejected expression immediately.

"What's up with you?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. Kirishima and Denki looked up from their game to see you standing there, looking defeated.

"Nothing… just a bad day," you sighed, moving toward the kitchen area in search of some instant noodles. The prospect of a quick, comforting meal was the only thing that seemed remotely appealing.

"You've had a bad day for the past two weeks," Denki remarked, leaning back on the couch and taking a sip of his Coca-Cola. His casual observation stung because it was true; your mood had been in a steady decline for a while now.

"I know… it sucks," you grumbled in response, frustration lacing your voice as you rummaged through the cabinets.

"Is it because of Bakugo? You should talk to him!" Denki suggested, trying to offer some well-meaning advice about your relationship.

Kirishima, always quick to tease his friends, pointed out, "To be honest, man, I don't think anyone in this whole dorm wants your relationship advice when you can't even pull that green-haired chick from 1B." His comment earned a fake offended gasp from Denki, momentarily lightening the mood in the room.

The sounds of their playful banter and the ease with which they interacted only amplified your frustration. Their happiness and carefree attitudes were a stark contrast to the turmoil you were feeling inside. It wasn’t fair – why did everything have to be so hard for you?

As you prepared your noodles, you couldn't help but let your mind wander back to Bakugo. You missed him more than words could express. His absence from your daily life was like a constant, gnawing ache. You longed for the days when he would greet you with a smirk and a teasing remark, when his presence alone could make you feel like everything would be okay.

You slumped down at the kitchen counter, stirring your noodles absentmindedly. The warmth of the broth did little to soothe the cold emptiness that had settled in your chest. Sero, always perceptive, swung down from the ceiling and landed gracefully beside you.

"Hey, if you ever need to talk, we're here for you," he said softly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Kirishima and Denki echoed his sentiment, their earlier teasing replaced by genuine concern. "Yeah, we're your friends. We care about you," Kirishima added with a supportive smile.

Denki nodded, his usual playful demeanor subdued by the seriousness of the moment. "We're here for you, no matter what."

Their words were a small comfort, but the underlying issue remained – you missed Bakugo. You missed his rough edges and his rare moments of softness, the way he could make you feel safe and cherished with just a look. The rift between you seemed to grow wider with each passing day, and you couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness.

As you finished your meal, you realized that no amount of comforting words from your friends could fill the void left by Bakugo's absence. You needed to figure out a way to reach him, to bridge the gap that had formed between you. For now, all you could do was hold on to the hope that things would get better, and lean on your friends for support as you navigated this difficult time.

“nah, it’s good advice.. I’ll talk to him. If you hear yelling from us just… I dunno come check on us, or get Mina.”

So you made your way towards the elevator and down the hall, clicking the button that had the number four in big bold writing. Bakugo and you both lived on the 4th floor of heights alliance. (I’m being fr when I say I googled this) and walked to his dorm, knocking lightly on the wooden door “katsuki? Hun?” You called out “yeah? What?” He yelled back at you, sounding annoyed. “Can we talk?” You asked softly, trying to simply be nice to him “we talk everyday!” He just sounded so annoyed. “No like.” You sighed “can we talk.” You said it in a different way so he got the idea. Bakugo huffed on the other side of the door “yeah. Sure. Whatever.” He grumbled out, unlocking his door and letting you inside.

The blonde flopped back onto his bed and rolled onto his back to look at you. “What’s up?” he asked, the once loving look in his eyes now replaced by a cold indifference.

“What’s going on, Bakugo? You keep distancing yourself from me,” you said, frustration bubbling up. “I haven’t seen you actually try to talk to me in two weeks!”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Nothing’s going on, I’m just tired. Still love you,” he mumbled, but you couldn't tell if he was lying.

“When you’re tired, you used to cuddle me and sleep. Now you ignore me completely—”

“I said I'm just tired, damn it!” Bakugo suddenly yelled, causing you to wince.

“What the hell, Bakugo! I’ve been nice about it, trying to understand!” you retorted, your voice rising in pitch.

“I’m just… I don’t have time for you, okay?” he snapped, his tone as harsh as ever.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, feeling a sinking sensation in your chest.

“I don’t have time for you! You distract me from being the number one hero. You're nothing but a distraction!” he screamed, picking up a small stress toy that you got him and throwing it at you, narrowly missing your head.

“What the hell, Bakugo! Who the fuck throws something at their partner?”

“Me! Because you’re being annoying! I’ll talk to you like I did before when you stop being such a distraction!” He groaned and tried to turn away from you.

“Will you? Will you really? I don’t trust you anymore!” you yelled, your voice cracking with emotion.

“If you don’t trust me, let’s break up then!” He stomped over and got right in your face, his eyes blazing with anger.

“FINE!” you shouted back, but you didn’t move.

“FINE!” he roared, his breath hot against your face.

“Why are you doing this?” you demanded, tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ve done nothing but support you, and this is how you treat me?”

“You don’t get it!” he yelled. “Every time I look at you, I see all the things I’m failing at. I can’t afford distractions, not now, not ever!”

“So I’m just a failure to you? Is that it?” you shot back, your voice trembling with hurt and rage. “I thought I was someone you cared about, someone you loved.”

“I did love you! I do! But I can’t do this right now,” he shouted, his voice breaking slightly, betraying a hint of vulnerability.

“Love isn’t something you can just turn off, Bakugo! You don’t get to use me and then throw me away when it’s convenient for you!” you screamed, tears streaming down your face.

“I’m not using you!” he yelled back, but there was a crack in his voice. “I’m trying to protect you, damn it! From me, from this life, from everything!”

“By pushing me away? By treating me like I’m nothing?” you cried. “That’s not protection, Bakugo, that’s cruelty.”

“I’m doing what I have to do to be number one!” he roared, his fists clenching at his sides.

“At what cost, Bakugo? At the cost of everyone who cares about you?” you asked, your voice softening with sadness. “If you keep this up, you’ll end up alone.”

“Maybe that’s what I need to be!” he shouted, but there was a hollow ring to his words.

“Fine. If that’s what you want, then I’m gone,” you said quietly, turning towards the door.

Bakugo stood there, breathing heavily, watching as you walked out of his dorm. “Don’t come back!” he yelled after you, but the words felt empty.

You slammed the door behind you, the sound echoing in the hallway as you walked away, each step feeling like it was ripping your heart out of your chest.

as you went down the hall towards the elevator, you saw Mina try to rush down the hall. She also lived on the 4th floor and she heard everything “*name!*” she called out “what happened? One minute the 4th floor is peaceful then I’m hearing you two yelling! I think they even called mr aizawa!” She sounded panicked “we broke up.” You muttered “huh?” The pink haired girl asked “we broke up Mina, me and bakugo. We broke up.” You reiterated to her “you’re kidding…” she looked like she felt nothing but pity for you, pulling you into a tight hug. You sobbed into her shoulder as the reality sunk in…

the next day, aizawa pulled both you and bakugo aside.

“I understand you two have broken up, however I need you two to be civil. I can’t have you two yelling at each other during class time or during school hours. Keep your relationship problems out of school” the blunt man said in his usual gloomy voice “and with that, I’m changing your seating plan so you two don’t see each other.” He handed you two a piece of paper with the same exact seating plan, except you and bakugo were on opposite sides of the room.

“Tch.. whatever” bakugo grumbled and walked Into class, you stared down at the piece of white paper “yeah this is good” you nodded and also walked into the classroom, mr aizawa following behind you.

the tension in class was sickening, everyone had heard of your breakup and nobody wanted to say anything that would set you two off

minetas ugly ass turned around and faced bakugo with a grin “I heard of your breath up, females am I right?” “Shut the fuck up you purple bitch.”

[bkgml]

phone calls with kats !!

you’re rudely awaken by your phone going off like it’s nobody’s business.

“ugh.. fuck off.” you groan, hand tapping at your nightstand in search of your phone.

once you finally grab hold of it your eyes scrunch up from the blinding light of the screen.

you whine lightly, eyes adjusting and clicking the green ‘answer call’ button.

“hello?” you croak out.

“…hey.” you hear from the other line.

you jolt up from bed.

“katsuki?! why are you calling? did something happen? are you okay?!” your mind races a mile a minute. he wouldn’t call you at this hour unless it was important.

“i’m fine, sweets. ‘m sorry for making you worry.” he says quietly.

you pause.

“why’re you calling me kats, did something happen?” you say, now calmed from your previous panic.

you hear a sigh from the other line. it sounds tense and tight in his throat, almost painful.

you let the words come to him, knowing forming words to match his emotions isn’t one of his strong suits, yet.

“just missing you.” he sighs again, to stop tears from forming in his eyes (but he won’t tell you that part).

“i miss you too, suki. you just gotta keep working, yeah? this missions important.” you soothe.

“uh huh.” he says, voice cracking ever so slightly.

“i love you. my big strong man protecting everyone. makes me wanna give you a big kiss as thank you when you come back to me.”

“yeah? you think i’m the strongest, huh? city would be nothin without your man, right?” you hear his grin through his response.

“oh the way to a man’s heart, his ego.” you laugh lightly.

he stays silent while listening to your laugh fizzle out.

stays silent while he listens to your breathing.

stays silent as he listens to you laying back down into the comfort of your bed.

“wish i was there with my sweet girl though.”

you smile lightly, trying to keep him motivated.

“i know, baby, but it’ll feel better after catching your bad guys, more rewarding.”

he goes quiet once more as he thinks.

“i guess you’re right.” he admits begrudgingly.

“i am.” you smile.

he hears you yawn.

“i shouldn’t have woke you.” he frowns.

“i have the day off tomorrow, and even if i didn’t i’d be happy you called, i’ve been missing you too.”

“yeah?” he replies, sounding more longful than he hoped.

“course, kats. love you more than anythin. i should let you sleep though.” you say.

“wait.” he says, urgently.

you do and he sighs.

“can you stay on the phone until i fall asleep?” he grumbles.

“uh huh!” you smile.

“do you wanna facetime so i can see that handsome face?”

he doesn’t reply but you get a request to switch the call to facetime pop up on your screen.

“hi, pretty boy.” you smile.

you watch his brows furrow slightly, faking disgust.

“don’t call me that shit.” he frowns.

“shh. you’re supposed to be going to sleep.”

his frown deepens and he sighs before closing his eyes.

“only a week more. you’re gonna spend your days kicking ass and taking names kats.” you smile as you ramble on quietly.

“my man is going to protect the whole country. all my friends at work are going to be soooo jealous.”

you see him smile slightly, keeping his eyes still closed.

“and then when you’re done doing the job you love you’re going to get on a plane and come see me and all your friends. i might give you a big welcome back party with your friends from high school and your parents.”

you see him frown lightly and you can tell he’s trying his best to listen to you but he’s drifting off so fast.

“but i don’t know, i might have to be selfish and keep you all to myself your first night back. maybe i’ll cook you a nice dinner, your favourite. i could make it extra spicy just for you. or we could order takeout and cuddle up close on the couch while we watch a movie you make fun of the whole time, even though i know you’re enjoying yourself.”

you see his consciousness fade away as you ramble on about all the things you’ll do together when he gets back.

[headkiss]

not just on christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

༄

The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

-

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ‘need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

-

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

-

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

-

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

-

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

-

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

-

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

-

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn’t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

༄

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[avianyuh]

Boring | Min Yoongi

Summary: For almost a year, you've worked for Min Yoongi's company. He gave off the impression of a cold businessman. No one ever saw him smile, laugh or discuss anything other than work. Everyone seemed to think he was a boring guy, who was too consumed with work. You'd assumed there was more to him, and often fantasized about him, but as far as you knew, he wasn't even aware of your existence. You didn't think he noticed you at all in meetings, or when he walked past your cublicle, but maybe you just weren't paying enough attention?

Word Count: 2.9k

chapters [1] ?

The worst thing about meetings is when they are scheduled at inconvenient times of the day. Like this you were currently sitting in. It was 3pm on the dot, on a Wednesday. Two more days left in the work week until you could sleep in until 11am. Two more dreary days of fake smiling at all of the coworkers you secretly couldn’t stand. Two more pathetic days of hearing the mindless office chit chat that you tried so hard to tune out. But one thing you would actually miss as you’d lay in bed until noon on Saturday was the sight standing right in front of you, giving the most boring presentation. Min Yoongi. Your boss, your superior, and your secret crush. Yes, it sounds like grade school to say you had a secret crush on him, but it’s the truth. You hadn’t mentioned it to your friends and definitely not the two women you were friendly acquaintances with at the office. It was an innocent infatuation. You couldn’t help yourself. He looked so attractive when he was dressed in his office attire. You had never seen a man look as good in a suit as Min Yoongi did. And when you happened to catch him adjusting his tie or recuffing his sleeves, it sort of sent you ‘over the edge’ and would become the highlight of the day. You loved to stare at him when he walked down the aisle past your cubicle. You held your breath if you were standing next to him in the elevator on the way up or down. And you fantasized about him while you sat through his boring presentations. You couldn’t fathom why a man so attractive could be perceived as so monotone and frankly, boring. You would see him walk around the office and interact with the other employees, but he always kept a straight face. Even when some of his clients would try to crack some jokes with him…nothing. You wondered why he kept so many walls up, well if that was even the case. Maybe he wasn’t guarded, maybe there simply wasn’t anything interesting about him? And that’s why you were more than okay with keeping your little crush a fantasy. You knew that you would probably be incompatible considering he seemed to have no soul. And honestly, you did like to tell a few jokes. You looked up from your notepad and stared at him, just as everyone else in the room was doing. Though you were basically invisible at this company, you still had to pretend like you were paying attention every once in a while.

“By tomorrow morning I need that file on my desk. It’s crucial that everything’s done and ready to go for the Smith account. Who was in charge of that?”, as the twelve other people in the room all turned their heads to look at me, I suddenly felt nauseous as my stomach started to twist into knots. As I darted my eyes from my coworkers, they landed on Yoongi, who was staring at me expectantly, waiting for his file. I cleared my throat and shuffled through my papers, pulling the manilla file out from under my notepad. I stood up from my chair as I walked over to him. His eyes followed me the whole time.

“Here it is Mr. Min.”, I said as I handed him the file. Your fingers briefly touched and you noticed just how calloused they were. You wondered why that was. He nodded at you and murmured a short Thank You, before he moved on to the next subject and you scurried back to your seat. By the time the meeting was over, I was back at my desk and watching the clock. 4:30. Only a half an hour left. You had finished all of your assignments and was just fiddling with the pencil in your hand when your office phone started ringing. “Hello?”, you answered, annoyed and wondering what could possibly be so important to warrant a call 30 minutes before you could leave.

“Mr. Min would like to see you in his office.”, the woman said before hanging up immediately. Shit, I thought. What could I have possibly done? He’s never wanted to see me in his office except for that one time when he gave a speech to everyone after we secured that big client. You had remembered to take note of his office since at the time you assumed it would be the only time you’d see it. He had photos lining his desk. Him at different sports games. Mainly basketball games. Pictures of him posing next to players, a picture of him on a boat, and a picture of a family. It looked like an older photo, so you assumed it was a childhood photo of his. But that’s all you could remember at the time since that night you had been knocking back quite a few drinks with your colleagues in celebration of the pay raise. But now here you were, approaching his secretary’s desk. “Y/N? Let me notify him before I send you in.”, His secretary looked down at the phone before pressing the button to ring him. “Mr.Min…yes, she’s here. Okay, I’ll send her in.”, She glanced back up at you, “You can go in.”, she said blankly before staring back at her computer screen, you gave her a quick nod as you walked past her desk. You could hear the frantic sound of her typing on her keyboard. You knocked on the door once before peaking your head in.

“Mr.Min? You wanted to see me.”, your voice was timid. Mainly due to the fact you were wrecked with nerves on the inside. You had been raking your brain on the walk down to his office on why you’d been called in. Maybe you were getting fired? But, on the same day you have that interaction with him during the meeting? It was the first time you had properly spoken to him.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. Please close the door behind you and take a seat.”, there it was again, that emotionless, monotone voice. It made it one hundred times harder for you to gauge what this conversation would be about. Was he angry? Was he calm? You had no idea. His face was stone cold. You really never saw him smile. And not to mention, his office was so dark, the blinds were almost completely drawn shut and now the door was closed. You found it concerning that he wanted the door closed. Last time someone went into his office and closed the door, they were walking out an hour later with two boxes filled with their belongings. You started to fidget with your fingers as you took a seat. You took a deep breath in as you watched him pull his hands out of his pockets and move from his standing position against his window and take a seat in his own chair across from you. “First of all”, he started, “You don’t have to worry, you’re not being fired, so you don’t have to play with your fingers.”, Immediately you placed your hands at your sides.

“Oh, um, didn’t realize anybody would pick up on that habit…”, you said, shocked at how observant he seemed to be.

“Well, I’ve seen you around the office and in my meetings for almost a year, and you do it at least one meeting per week.”, he shrugged before looking down at his desk and opening one of his filing cabinet drawers underneath. He pulled out a folder, specifically the manilla folder you had just given him during the meeting. He handed it over to you, and you furrowed your brows in response as you took it. “I skimmed through it, everything seemed fine. Problem is, I just got a call from Smith himself, and it turns out, his assistant faxed over all the wrong information. He’s still coming in tomorrow and expects the folder to be ready to go.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you assumed he was about to ask you to stay late and re-do everything, just because someone else made a mistake? Unbelievable. Before he could continue speaking, you intervened, “So what? Now I have to re-do everything? Do you understand that all that work in this folder took me a whole week. Rome wasn’t built in a day Sir.”, you snapped. Yoongi raised an eyebrow at you, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, seemingly challenging your opposition.

“So you’re telling me that you refuse to do it? I understand it’s asking a lot, but you would be paid for any overtime. I can’t force you but if you don’t stay, don’t expect any big projects in the near future. Maybe Jerry at the cubicle across from you would like your next project?” You narrowed your eyes at him in a silent attempt to say, screw you.

“Sir, all I’m saying is that I sort of feel like this was sprung on me a half an hour before work ends, and you’re telling me I have to do a week's worth of work on my own in one night. I just don’t see how that’s fair.”, you explained, trying to keep your voice from getting too loud. One wrong move or word and he could fire you on the spot for 'disrespect'.

“So you’re concerned about working alone? Fine, I’ll stay and work on it with you.” Yoongi said as he looked down at his wristwatch, most likely mentally rearranging his afterwork schedule.

“Seriously?”, you asked, surprised that he would even offer to stay and work on the file with you at all. He looked back up at you, nodding his head, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Yeah, get your computer, you can set it up in here. We have a lot to get through.” And boy, was he right. The next thing you knew, you were two hours deep into paperwork, calling as many people as you could reach to fact check considering the fact most people had left their offices for the day. By 7pm, you were getting a little irritated as you weren’t making much progress with the file. And not to mention the fact that you were getting hungry. You ran a hand through your hair as you let out a frustrated sigh, throwing down your pen on your notepad. Yoongi looked up from his computer screen, his head resting on his hand, and he had his left arm resting on his desk. You could tell that even he was getting frustrated, and that in turn made you angry. And before you could stop yourself, you exploded.

“So, how exactly do you do business around here? You’re telling me that the whole week there was no communication with the other party until half an hour before closing today, the day before they were expected to come in for a meeting?”, he rolled his eyes at you as covered his face with his hand in frustration.

“You think I did this on purpose? You don’t think I also want to go home?” , he snapped. Now you were rolling your eyes at him, you felt like this whole file was never going to get done and your efforts were pointless.

“Can we at least order some food?”, you murmured. To that, you actually heard him let out a chortle as he reached into his drawer for a few takeout menus. It wasn’t necessarily a full on laugh, but it let you know that he did have a sense of humor. You couldn’t hide your surprise and Yoongi seemed to notice.

“What? Are you surprised that I eat food…”, he questioned as he handed you the menus, “Pick one, I don’t really have a preference. They’re all good.”, you grabbed them, again briefly brushing your fingers against his own like earlier in the meeting room. You decided on Chinese and another half hour later, after Yoongi went to collect the food from the delivery man, you were both sitting on the couch in his office, just silently eating. At first you assumed it’d be awkward, just sitting there, but it was actually kind of nice since it gave you a chance to get your mind off of the file and your impending deadline. But then, Yoongi cleared his throat as he put down his food. “Can I ask you a question?” You were intrigued to see what his version of small talk was, so you immediately replied with a Hm. “Do you find me boring during the staff meetings?”, he let out a chuckle as he asked.

“What!”, you giggled. You were surprised at his question, you never assumed that he would ask something like that. “How would you be able to tell?”, you were surprised at his change in attitude. An hour ago, he was so frustrated and now he’s…trying to be funny? He smiled at you before he started explaining.

“Everytime I look over at you, you’re either playing with your pen, or doing that finger fidget thing. I mean, I get it, it’s boring material we’re going over, but c’mon, everything I talk about is boring?”, he asked, still smiling which signaled to you that this was all just lighthearted banter.

“Well, I mean, you have to admit, spreadsheets and deadlines aren't the most interesting stuff to discuss after the first 10 minutes of the meeting. I just think the meetings don’t have to be over an hour each, that’s all.”, you threw your hands up defensively, returning his smile. He shook his head playfully.

“You do great work here, but every time I walk past your cubicle, you have the most miserable look on your face. “, he smirked, replaying the times he’s walk past your cubicle in his head.

“That is not true!”, you responded back teasingly, “I put in 100% But, it’s not my fault that I have resting bitch face…Also I highly doubt every time you’ve walked past my cubicle I look like that.” He raised his eyebrow, still smirking.

“Yeah, you’re right. The other half of the time I see you, you're always staring at me.” Upon hearing that, you covered your face with your hands and Yoongi started laughing at your reaction.

“Stop”, you pleaded, fully embarrassed now. You had no idea he caught on to that, you always thought you were being discreet. But to be fair, you had no idea he knew you even existed. He never seemed to concern himself with you until today. You had even interviewed with him when you got the job, it was with a supervisor. “I had no idea you even knew of me. I just assumed I was another faceless office worker or something. I mean, you’re always so busy and you keep to yourself…”, you tried to cover your tracks, but you were doing a really bad job of it. “That’s not true at all”, Yoongi said, giving his tone a serious edge. If I saw any of the people I employ out on the street, I would recognize them.” “But would you go up and talk to them?”, you questioned, bringing back your teasing tone. When he didn’t respond, you laughed and he let out a dramatic sigh. “What, are you shy or something?”, you asked.

“I wouldn’t say I’m shy, but I’m a bit quiet, but I think you already know that. I guess you could call me an introvert.”, Yoongi said sincerely. You nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I’m the same way. I prefer my alone time. No wonder we were so bothered at having to stay so late.”, you joked. Yoongi agreed with you as picked the remainder of his food. You looked down at your container and did the same for a few minutes, assuming you were almost done with your conversation. At least now you felt more comfortable around him. And it was reassuring to know that he did in fact have a personality. A sort of perplexing one at that. Before you had the chance to stand up to throw away your containers, he started speaking again.

“You know, I’ve had my eyes on you for a while Y/N. I just never had a reason to talk to you, but I’ll admit, when Smith called, despite how pissed I was about the mix up, when I saw your name on the file, I was looking forward to this.” And with that, those familiar nervous knots in your stomach returned. You really wanted to tell him that you had also been interested in him, that you also despite your frustration, working with him all night had softened the blow of missing your after work routine for once. But you decided to play it safe, after all, he is your boss.

“Well, I don’t regret staying to work on this with you.”, you responded back. Your eyes met, and you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. No one made a sound, and you weren’t sure of what to do. You studied his features. He had the most kissable lips, but you knew that would be a bad decision. One that you’d probably regret. His eyes seemed sad, and you weren’t sure of why you got that impression. You wondered if it was something you had said, but now that you were thinking about it, you always thought his eyes seemed like that. He was a mystery to you, one that you never thought you’d get the chance to uncover, but now, the window was slightly ajar into the man that is Min Yoongi and now you were really curious.

[A/N: So I guess my way of supporting Yoongi through this stupid scooter fiasco is writing a fanfic…Anyways, this is loosely based on a fanfic from years ago I had read on tumblr that I always went back to reread, until last week I noticed the story along with the account was deleted and deactivated :( To make matters worse, the story had never been finished, so in a way I never got to read how the story ended. So to make my teenage self happy, I’m making my own CEO Yoongi fanfic because I have to let my inner Yoongi freak fly. I anticipate that this will be a series, but I’m writing this author’s note before I even started writing the actual story so, we’ll see.]

[anna-357]

Seventeen fic recs

M=smut, F=fluff, A=angst

Choi Seungcheol

baby, it’s cold outside m @idyllic-ghost

synopsis: winter time is the perfect time for love to blossom, in the cold air you find yourself needing to be warmed up in the arms of someone new. this holiday season was something special, something magical. it all started with meeting an old friend in your very own bookstore. somehow, it ended with him in your bed. what once seemed buried started making its way up again, and the ice around your heart seemed to be thawing. can old love be renewed?

In the eye of the beholder m @cheolism

summary: when you don't like how you look in the mirror, your boyfriend decides to take it upon himself to worship you.

Possessive ends m @cheolism

summary: when seungcheol reacts a little too oddly at you calling him a posessive slut, you decide to take advantage of it

Yoon Jeonghan

Apartment 222 m @number1mingyustan

Rule number 1: don't show up drunk at your hot neighbor's apartment if it’s 2am

Holiday m f a @onlymingyus

synopsis: It's only for a week, he's doing you a favor, and he's your fake boyfriend. Why do you have to keep reminding yourself of that?

Sweater paws m f @duhnova

synopsis: your soft and cuddly virgin boyfriend isn’t so soft and innocent when he wakes up in the middle of the night from a wet dream.

Hong Jisoo

Challenge me chapter 1 m @seokgyuu

synopsis: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

Mr. nice guy m @toruro

you thought your next-door neighbor was just being polite when he offered to help you carry in your boxes the first time you saw him, but as you adjust to your new home, you start to notice that joshua’s nice in other ways too: nice eyes, nice smile, nice arms, nice fingers, probably nice di—okay you get the point. but just how long can you go with lusting after your neighbor before giving in to your very much not-nice desires? well, lucky for you, joshua also isn’t nearly as much of a gentleman as he likes to let on.

Best friends brother m a @chocosvt

synopsis: joshua happens to be your best friend's older brother. he's pretty, and he's got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.

Moon Junhui

sounds of the season f @junkissed

synopsis: when your university’s radio show hosts a matchmaking event to raise money, you figure, what have you got to lose? the question you should be asking is, what have you got to gain?

match of the season m f @1-800-hwahui

part 2 from sounds of the season

Something spicy, something sweet m f @onlyhuis

synopsis | the last few days you've been coming home from work exhausted, but now that you finally have a day off you have time for a little something sweet from your boyfriend.

Kwon Soonyoung

7pm ft. Seokmin, Seungkwan m f @onlymingyus

Four best friends, a sleepover, and drinks.

charity f*ck m @ncteez

Have you ever taken anyone’s virginity before? Well, yeah, your first time was both losing your own and taking someone else’s but, that was a long time ago. Have you ever taken the virginity of a twenty-six-year-old man who probably should have gotten laid by now anyway? Nope. Are you about to? Yep.

vowels and veracity m f a @hansolmates

summary: after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher.

Jeon Wonwoo

Challenge me chapter 2 m @seokgyuu

synopsis: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

the regular f @trblsvt

summary: wonwoo couldn't really recommend anything at the bakery he worked at, he couldn't even handle going in a couple days a week. that is until he found his new favorite customer.

Tell me m @fvllingflower

college!wonwoo, f!reader

Lee Jihoon

DON’T SWEAT IT m f @miraclewoozi

Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you.

then you came f a @lovelywoos

in which you, the student council vice president, and lee jihoon, the quiet boy in the back of the class, fell in love despite your differences.

Mwah f @cheolism

summary: three times you said "mwah" at the end of a kiss and one time jihoon said it back

Xu minghao

Rush hour m @lovelyhan

summary: you used to be good friends with the newest dancer in your agency, but your competitiveness gets the better of you when he overtakes your spot as the top performer of the month—for three straight months.

Felix Felicis f a @blue-jisungs

summary. befriending minghao, the slytherin your friends (no one knows why) hated was horrifying at first. but after some time passed, you’d start wondering if it was some unknown side effects of felix felicis

Art project m f @1-800-hwahui

art major grad student bf!minghao x fem reader

Kim Mingyu

Champagne from your lips m @seokgyuu

You and Chan have been best friend for years. Little do you know he is incredibly attracted to you. When you tell him to help you bag him your dad's tennis instructor Chan only has one condition. He gets to join the fun.

the very first night m a @shuadrive

synopsis: the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.

make yourself at home f a @celestiababie

Summary: After months of barely seeing your boyfriend, he offers a solution to a problem threatening the well-being of your relationship

Lee Seokmin

7pm ft. Soonyoung, Seungkwan m f @onlymingyus

Four best friends, a sleepover, and drinks.

I like you m f @seokgyuu

SYNOPSIS: After having a crush on Lee Seokmin for three years, he somehow ends up wanting to be your roommate. Instead of rejecting him, you decide to give him the vacant room - right after confessing your feelings for him.

Give & Take m @ncteez

It’s not weird that you and your roommate do certain things that others would consider, um, strange. It’s not weird because you don’t make it weird, and he certainly doesn’t go out of his way to make a big deal either. or the one where you and your roommate masturbate together casually until it becomes not so casual, and maybe neither of you can do it at this point without wanting more.

Boo Seungkwan

7pm ft. Soonyoung, seokmin m f @onlymingyus

Four best friends, a sleepover, and drinks.

you got it all wrong m f @seokgyuu

SYNOPSIS: One night of careless drinking with your 13 closest friends leads to Chan and Seungkwan finally finding out you have a crush on them. How lucky you are that the feelings are mutual and that they want to show you just how much they worship you.

his reward m f @cheolism

summary: after a long day, seungkwan decides to seek relief between your legs

Chwe Hansol

not a virgin m @ncteez

Vernon, a friend of your friend spills his spicy sex life and accidentally reveals to an entire group of near-strangers (including you) that he’s had sex one and a half times and that it was sick.

tangled in love f @starsstuddedsky

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

Daybreak m @sluttyminghao

best friend!vernon

Lee Chan

Now spit, baby m @rubyreduji

summary: you accidently send a meme to the wrong person, fortunately for you it sparks a conversation

you got it all wrong m f @seokgyuu

SYNOPSIS: One night of careless drinking with your 13 closest friends leads to Chan and Seungkwan finally finding out you have a crush on them. How lucky you are that the feelings are mutual and that they want to show you just how much they worship you.

Champagne from your lips m @seokgyuu

You and Chan have been best friend for years. Little do you know he is incredibly attracted to you. When you tell him to help you bag him your dad's tennis instructor Chan only has one condition. He gets to join the fun.

@matchahyuck