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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut (oral, f receiving), overload of cheesiness, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.8k+

→ a/n: this might be the cheesiest, fluffiest thing i've ever written, and i can't even be bothered to care. it might be unrealistic. it might be too much. i do not care. this has been a long time coming and i think we all deserve all the cheese after this story.

i don't even know what to say besides thank you. thank you to everyone who followed along from the beginning, to those of you joined the journey along the way, to those of you who are reading as we finish it up. thank you for all the support and love you guys have shown this fic. i will always, always, appreciate it more than i know how to say. i love these idiots, and i love you all.

if you would like to see this story continued through small blurbs, my ask box is officially open to requests from this universe. i will also probably be posting some "beyond the hours" content over the next few weeks.

thank you. i love you.

without further ado...

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

EPILOGUE: A BET

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Why are there so many fuckin’ options?”

Eddie stares at the line up of smartphones before him, all different models and different physical sizes, different colors and different memory amounts.

“There’s not that many,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around him from behind as you rest your chin on his shoulder. It’s a bit of a stretch, making you lean up onto your tippy toes, “Besides, isn’t having options a good thing?”

He scoffs as he brings a hand up subconsciously to where your arms overlap on his torso, grip gentle as he runs a thumb over your skin and gives a squeeze, “Sure, options are great. But there’s at least twenty different iPhones on display here, sweetheart.”

The last few months had been interesting, to say the least. A new and exciting journey initially, but also a fairly stressful ordeal given all the hoops you two had been jumping through. You’re both busy people, having to suddenly figure out how to carve out a specific space for each other amongst bustling lives. It wasn’t the same as making time for friends or a weekly night out; it was figuring out times for dates, times for lazy afternoons, times for just you and just Eddie.

And, occasionally, time to take Eddie shopping for a new phone. Finally.

“Well, better pick one fast,” your fingers dig into his side playful, and he blows out an annoyed breath as he side-eyes you. You only retaliate in a fast peck to his cheek before whispering in his ear, “We’re gonna be late if you keep taking all day.”

It was Argyle’s birthday party tonight. His actual birthday wasn’t for another week, but he’d be venturing back home to California for that. And so the group elected to throw him a preemptive party at one of the group’s favorite bars.

Which — fine. Awesome. You were excited, you really were: you loved Argyle, you loved your friends, you even found yourself warming back up to parties.

But your friends didn’t know.

Two whole months, and neither you nor Eddie had told a single soul of what had become between you two. Not even Steve. Not even Nancy.

At first the excuse was to give this time to grow, to find your footing before you brought your lovable yet rambunctious group of friends into the equation. But then you two had found your footing, and you’d worried what they would say. Eddie had nearly made himself sick with anxiety over Nancy finding out he’d kept this relationship from her. They’d support you two — that wasn’t a worry. They’d proven that since the first time the entire group had hung out after the bet.

“So,” Robin started, narrowing her eyes at you and Eddie sitting on opposite ends of her and Steve’s couch. Neither of you had said a word to each other yet (Plenty had already been said that morning as you’d snuck him out of your dorm), “You two really aren’t together?”

“Why is everyone so adamant that the bet has to end with us getting together?” you jeered.

Eddie didn’t help the cause when he was quick to take your side, “Exactly! The bet’s over. We lasted twenty four hours. We’re friends now — isn’t that what you guys wanted?”

“I actually wanted to help you dudes plan a winter wedding,” Argyle chimed from the kitchen where he was retrieving a coke, “So I’m gonna side with Birdie on this one.”

“Of course you are,” you muttered beneath your breath.

Everything in you ached to be sitting next to Eddie rather than so far. You ached for his arm around you, his lips pressed to your temple. Just to share body heat, even — innocent thighs brushing with layers of denim between would have been enough.

“It’ll happen eventually,” Nancy mused from her seat on the kitchen counter, Jonathan beside her and matching her confident energy with a sly grin, “Just give them time.”

What they hadn’t realized is that it already did happen. The moment Eddie showed up to your dorm and the two of you said to Hell with space, it was inevitable.

Now, it was just the challenge of letting your friends in on the secret.

“What about the red one?” Eddie asks you as you finally unravel from him.

“Of course you’re choosing the red one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scowls, no malice behind it as you step up to occupy the space next to him, brushing shoulders for only a moment before his hand is grabbing yours, intertwining fingers like second nature.

You recall that moment on his balcony, where he had once been so nervous and hesitant to hold your hand.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, smiling to yourself as you look at the specific model he was talking about, “You’re just getting a little bit predictable, Munson.”

He opens his mouth to argue, to nip back at what you always offer him, when one of the salesmen approach you two.

“Hi folks! Can I help you with anything today?”

Eddie squeezes your hand, no doubt in an effort to withhold his laughter at the man’s overly chirpy tone. You squeeze back, if for nothing more than to let him know you felt him.

Despite Eddie’s previous claim to a decision, he still chooses to entertain the man. Asking questions about different models, inquiring for recommendations as if they’d change his mind. They go back and forth, both polite enough, but the conversation easily bores you. In five seconds flat, your mind has officially wandered off.

You two hadn’t really discussed the specific details of the night to come. Whether you’d ride with Eddie there, how you’d navigate Eddie’s natural born clinginess once he got a few drinks in him, if tonight might be the night to finally tell your friends.

The last one felt a bit obvious. It was Argyle’s night — you didn’t want to snatch the attention from him for even a second.

But there were layers to your anxiety. Because it was more than just how to navigate how you two would display yourselves to your friends on nights out.

It had been two months, and you still hadn’t said those three little words back to Eddie.

He didn’t pressure you. He never once brought it back up, never once pressured you. But just because he wasn’t constantly reminding you vocally that he loved you didn’t mean you didn’t feel it. You’d felt it, impossible to miss, when all those lazy morning fantasies became reality. You felt it during movie marathons and you felt it every time he’d worship your body. It was there — in the late nights, in the early mornings, in the dull afternoons. A wild thing unleashed in your gardens, all those vines you’d worked so hard to see flourish threatened to be torn up by impatient claws at the feeling growing rapidly in your chest every time you looked at him.

And slowly, surely, you knew that there was only so much longer that like could suffice in describing your feelings for Eddie.

You were falling, whether he was aware or not. You just needed to figure out the right moment for those three little words to unstick, to go from hot honey on your tongue to easy breaths between you two. He’s given you time, he’d filled the months you’d awarded him with making up for every previously bitter exchange, and yet you still couldn’t give him this. And you’re starting to believe maybe that’s why you couldn’t imagine telling your friends yet.

You sort of hated yourself for it.

You’re pulled back to reality once the salesman departs, no doubt into the back to grab Eddie’s choice of phone. You don’t even have to ask; you know he got the red one.

“Hey,” Eddie fully turns to you, bringing your knuckles to his lips in chaste kisses. Your stomach still kicks with flutters, your heart still warms at the gesture. Eddie’s affection has yet to lose novelty, “Where’d you go?”

“What do you mean?” you twist your face, “I was here the entire tim-“

“Not where’d you physically go,” he clarifies, letting your conjoined hands drop back to the sliver of space between your bodies, “Mentally. Where’d your mind just go?”

You hadn’t thought he’d notice your drifting.

“Nowhere,” you shrug off.

“Nowhere? So you’re really just that interested in the newest iPhone model?”

He pointedly looks up at the widescreen display you don’t doubt you’d been blankly staring at the entirety of his conversation with the man who had yet to return.

“Oh, absolutely. You know me so well.”

All bark, no bite. These days, all the previous venom that had infected exchanges with Eddie prior to the bet had finally been sucked clean from the wound, long gone to make room for all the genuine affection to seep into its place. You still argued — or perhaps bantered was a better word for it — but you didn’t fight. You both still grated on one another’s nerves and managed to slither beneath the other’s skin, but not in an unwelcome way.

It was a nice change.

It made you hate yourself even more for not saying those three little words.

Eddie seemingly reads your mind, “Are you nervous for tonight?”

“I-“ you consider lying to him and saying it hadn’t even crossed your mind, but the look he gives you warns against it, “We just haven’t… discussed it.”

“What’s there to discuss?”

You hold up your interlocked hands for emphasis, raising your eyebrows at Eddie.

His mouth falls open softly, eyes widening, “Oh. Are you- Are you wanting to tell them tonight?”

No, your gut screams, absolutely not tonight.

“Is Argyle’s birthday party really the best time to explode their minds?”

You try to keep your tone teasing as you sense Eddie’s own nerves creeping up. Sometimes it was fun, standing in a room with everyone and pretending to be more akin to strangers than lovers. But sometimes, it was just plain painful. Sometimes, the entire group would be laughing at something, and you craved nothing more than to be pressed into Eddie’s side and feel the vibrations of his shared joy rather than just having to listen to it from across the room.

It’s not that you wanted to tell your friends and cause a scene — you just didn’t want to have to hide anymore. And maybe you wouldn’t have to, if you’d just tell him how you felt.

“Probably not,” Eddie murmurs, “I mean, it’s his night. We can always tell them the next time we all get together.”

The issue is that’s what the two of you always say. You always brush it off for the next time.

You can only sigh in defeat as you see the salesman finally bounding back out from the back room, a small box holding Eddie’s purchase in his grip, “Yeah. Next time.”

You can’t even be mad at next time. It’s the same thing you tell yourself every time you felt those words on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far from revealing the most terrifying truth you’d discovered yet to Eddie.

You let go of his hand long enough for him to check out, hardly overhearing when he questions how they can transfer all the data from his current flip phone. When he seems particularly worried about pictures transferring, you don’t think anything of it.

—

STEVE-O: do i need to pick you up tonight?

You don’t see the text. You’re a bit busy with something when it comes through.

Something is currently still between your legs, curls threaded between your fingers as your back arches off his mattress and his name starts to come out as a desperate whimper rather than a chant.

STEVE-O: ???

The initial buzz of your phone on his nightstand doesn’t phase either of you. Eddie’s tongue still works you eagerly, circling your clit as you tug particularly harshly at his roots. Each flick sends white hot pleasure through your bones, nearly making you see stars.

“Fuck,” you gasp out when he brings his fingers into the mix. You can feel his smile against you as he curls his fingers inside of you, mimicking a come hither motion and relishing in your little pants as your thighs tighten around his shoulders, “Oh, fuck. Right there, Eddie. I- Eddie.”

The way you’re moaning his name only encourages him as he slips in a second finger, stretching you further. You feel cool metal bumping your entrance, sending shocks up your spine as his lips suction against you and he sucks hard.

He hadn’t even taken the time to remove his rings when the two of you had gotten home. He had been too eager, dragging you to his bedroom with his lips attached to your neck from the moment he’d shut the front door behind the two of you until he’d thrown you down on his bed.

“That’s right, baby,” his voice vibrates against your clit, “Say my name. Tell everyone who’s making you feel this goo-“

STEVE-O: helllooooo????

“Okay, who the fuck keeps texting you?” Eddie finally pulls back when he realizes you’re slipping out of that bubble he’d created, your head having turned towards the nightstand in curiosity, “Let me guess, it’s your other boyfriend?”

Your head is still spinning and your chest continues to heave from that lingering pleasure he’d been offering so generously to you. He sounds annoyed, but you can guarantee you’re even more irked.

“I don’t have another boyfriend,” you blandly reply, not taking his bait.

It only makes him wrap his hands around your thighs on his shoulder, giving a playful squeeze as you reach out for your phone.

“You sure?”

You squint at the notifications, but don’t properly read them, only rolling your eyes at both the fact that Steve’s the one interrupting this precious moment and at Eddie’s valiant teasing.

You slam the phone back down, eyes trailing down to his, “I am, but I can certainly find another boyfriend if you don’t get your mouth back on me in the next three seconds-“

He doesn’t need a second warning. In an instant, the warmth of his tongue is back on you, lapping at all the spots he’s come to memorize as of recently. That pleasure comes back into reach, edging your vision with feathery black as your eyes flutter shut and the coil in your stomach tightens.

You throw your head back into one of his pillows, one that has started to smell like your shampoo now rather than his, and let a drawn out whine escape your lips.

“You were saying?” he teases, grinning wickedly. He takes that brief moment to come up for air, turning and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh beside his cheek. Not hard enough to draw blood, and probably not hard enough to leave indents. But it is enough to have you preening once more as your heels dig into his bare back and you try to lift your hips, desperate for his mouth again.

He was edging you. Without even meaning to, he was repeatedly bringing you to the edge only to leave you teetering.

With your focus back on him, you can admire how pretty he looks. Mouth slick with you, pupils blown out, hair an absolute mess. You like him best this way, you think, when he looks so absolutely devoted to you. When he’s looking at you with a hunger you almost can’t place. It makes you want to scream from the rooftops about how you’ve fallen for him. How you feel so much more than like for your boy.

STEVE-O: seriously. if you don’t respond, you can just walk. you have five minutes.

At the buzz of the phone, your hands leave Eddie’s hair to form fists, pounding them into the mattress at your side in a brief tantrum. He ceases all actions, pulling his lips away from you again, and it only makes you pout more.

“Baby,” he coos, fingers trailing up the sides of your thighs before he reaches out to hold your fists down, “Maybe you should answer him. Tell him to fuck off-“

Eddie’s interrupted as your phone fully bursts to life with your ringtone.

You were going to kill Steve Harrington.

“On second thought, let me answer it,” Eddie groans as you reach out and grab it once more, “Give the fucker a piece of my mind.”

“Shut up,” you hiss as you realize it’s Robin calling. You turn the screen so he can see, and his eyebrows lift in surprise.

He makes no move to remove himself from between your legs, though. He stays face to face with your aching core.

“Hello?” you snap after swiping to answer.

“Finally! My God, Steve’s been texting you-“

“I didn’t see the texts.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Nope.”

You’ve never been so short with your friends.

But that pleasure is slipping from you, the flames of your impending orgasm dying down to nothing more than embers. It’s enough to piss anyone off.

“Are you sure?” Robin asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “It’s kind of a far walk-“

“I’m running late,” you sigh, realizing that you were going to have to come up with a lie to get off the hook. Another thing you hated about the hiding — it led to your friendships being littered with dishonesty. Always a new excuse as to why you weren’t available, always feigning reasons as to why you didn’t reply to texts as timely as you used to. “With getting ready. I could- I don’t know, do you think Eddie might pick me up? Isn’t my dorm along the way to the bar from his place?”

At the mention of his name, he perks up. His cheek settles against the exact spot he had bit just moments before, nearly nuzzling into you as your free hand comes down to gently push back his bangs. On instinct, you find yourself soothingly pressing your fingertips in slow circles against his scalp. You’re nearly melting beneath his soft gaze, those big and wide eyes locked on you with bated breath.

“You want Eddie to pick you up?” you suddenly hear Steve exclaim in the background.

Your face scrunches up, a wrinkle forming across the bridge of your nose and between your brows. It’s so damn cute to Eddie that he can’t help but press a quick kiss to the skin he continues to lay into, beginning to smile as your absent-minded head massage continues.

So much more than like.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was on speaker.”

“Why do you want Munson to pick you up?” Steve ignores your sarcasm, voice sounding closer to the phone now, “He drives a motorcycle, you know. That’s dangerous.”

Eddie must be able to catch some of Steve’s shrill exclamation, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. You feel his curious hum against your skin and you don’t hesitate putting your own pesky friends on speaker.

“Motorcycles are not that dangerous,” you retort, and it makes Eddie have to hide a slight scoff into your thigh in an effort to stay silent. It was ironic that they cared about how safe it would be for you to ride with Eddie on his bike now, after that allegedly dangerous vehicle had been your main source of transportation for nearly two months now, “He has a helmet, right?”

“Isn’t your dorm the opposite direction of the bar from his place?” Robin questions, “I mean, I’m all for you asking lover boy if he’ll give you a ride but-”

Steve interrupts her flatly, “It’s making him go out of his way. Besides, he might have already left for the bar by now.”

You don’t know what to silently laugh at first. The assumption they were making that couldn’t be further from the truth, or Robin’s new nickname for Eddie.

Lover boy is fitting for him in this current position. He’s still latching onto your leg, cuddling you in every way he could from where he laid, staring at you and hanging onto your every last word. The poster boy for pathetically in love, he gives your leg another kiss, starting a fiery trail with his lips until he reaches your knee. It pangs in your chest, wondering if he can see your feelings also painted so obviously across your face.

“Steve,” you murmur, breath catching in your throat as Eddie’s lips linger in the ditch of your knee. It takes a second to remember you’re on the phone, “No offense, but Eddie hasn’t been on time to a single get together the entire time I’ve known him.”

Eddie reacts in real time to your insult, forcing an over-exaggerated offended look before he bites you again. This time, his teeth do leave an imprint from his nip, and it makes you slap a hand over your mouth to avoid yelping.

Don’t bite me, you mouth at him.

Don’t be mean, he answers right back, silent as ever.

“Technically we’re all already late,” Steve points out. It makes you sit up quickly, startling Eddie in the process. You squint at the clock across the room and- fuck. Steve was right, “Nancy just texted me that she and Jon are there, Argyle’s on his way. She said she tried texting Eddie but didn’t get any response,” there’s a long pause as you motion wildly for Eddie to get up with you, the boy watching as you fling yourself off his mattress and carry the phone with you to his dresser, “Have… you heard from him recently?”

“Why are you saying it like that?” you jab, throwing open one of the drawers Eddie had cleared out for you to keep some clothes here in his apartment. At this point, a good chunk of the tuition you paid was going to waste considering the fact you rarely spent the night at your dorm. You were already half moved into Eddie’s space.

You try not to think too hard about it, because just last week, you’d had a panic attack at the revelation.

You were afraid of smothering him, even if he was the one always insisting you could leave more of your things here. He was always the one conning you into spending another night, promising soft murmurs of giving you a ride to class the next morning if you did. You rarely ever had much of the choice in the matter; once he’d wrap his arms around your waist, curl his body flush against yours, it was always game over.

Practically living together, and you still hadn’t said those words back to him.

“I’m not saying it like anything!” Steve defends himself, “I’m just asking an innocent question!” Eddie’s snort this time is audible, and you freeze as Steve clearly mistakes it for your laughter, “Shut up. It’s a reasonable question. You guys are friends now, remember?”

Friends. Of course, because all your friends jumped at the chance to bury their mouths against your cunt and make you cum repeatedly until you had tears streaming down your cheeks. Because you let all your friends sleep in the same bed as you, and wake you up by burying deep within you as they bite your shoulder with a moan. You and Eddie were friends.

“Trust me,” you glance over your shoulder in your haste, looking at Eddie as he stretches out on his side and props himself up on his elbow, “I remember.”

He gives you a knowing smile, squinting his eyes at you in entertainment.

“Babe, it really would just be easier for you to ride with us,” Robin’s voice sounds again as you tug a shirt out of the drawer, something casual and comfortable that you could style for the night, “Unless you’re just hellbent on having alone time with Eddie for some reason-”

“I’m not hellbent on being alone with him, Robs.”

Another lie. I definitely am. But not in the context you think.

“You just sound like you are.”

“Well, I’m not,” you yank a pair of black jeans free from the drawer and slam it shut, standing and turning to Eddie.

He hardly has time to react before you’re tossing your phone down on the mattress in front of him, the small device bouncing and hitting his chest. He winces and throws himself back dramatically, letting out a small oof that you pray neither Robin or Steve pick up on.

As you dress, throwing on the random t-shirt and shimmying on your jeans, Robins laughs, “Denial isn’t a good look on you.”

Eddie watches you, never moving to get ready himself. All he does is stare as you button up the pants.

When you give him an expectant look, he merely mouths, bra?

You shake your head. You don’t know where Eddie had flung your undergarment, and you’re not in the mood to frantically search for it. You’ve gone without a bra before – you can survive one night out without one.

Eddie’s entire face and chest immediately flushes pink. Cute.

“Now you guys are just being assholes,” you scowl despite the fact that only Eddie can see it, waving your hands to motion for him to get up and also get dressed, “I’m texting Eddie. If he has already left, I’ll just walk. Fuck you guys.”

“Tell lover boy I said hi,” Robin teases.

“Even if he’s already parked at the fucking bar at this point, we both know he’d jump right back on his bike and come pick you up,” Steve’s voice grumbles over the line.

It almost makes you smile. “Someone sounds jealous.”

“Not jealous, just annoyed,” Steve corrects as Eddie finally stands from the bed, “When are you two going to get your shit together?”

“What do you mean?” you play dumb.

You’ve had this conversation with your friends multiple times. They were truly going to have your head once they realized what you’d been keeping from them for months now.

“Don’t you have a 4.0 GPA?” Robin inserts herself back into the conversation, “You can’t possibly be this stupid.”

Eddie pauses in his fumbling with pulling his jeans from the pile he’d left his clothes in at the end of the beg, face scrunching in silent laughter. You almost walk over and smack his bare back angled towards you.

“First of all, no. I don’t have a 4.0 GPA. Thanks for the reminder,” you grab your phone back off of the bed and decide to leave Eddie behind in the room, heading into the bathroom to finish getting ready. You hate to admit it, but if you have to keep watching him giggle so cutely to himself, you’ll also probably break. And you aren’t in the mood for any further interrogation from Robin and Steve, “Second of all, I’m hanging up now. I’m going to call Eddie. At least he won’t be such a dick to me.”

“Oh, you must see the irony there-”

You cut Steve off, “Bye! See you in… like, ten minutes.”

Once you’ve hung up, you put your phone down on the bathroom counter and look up into the mirror. Your hair is a mess, wild and tangled from all the writhing you had been doing before being so rudely interrupted. You give it your best effort, trying to tame it a little bit to look more presentable, but it’s a lost cause at this point. Fuck it.

Eddie appears in the doorway behind you, fully dressed and his hair pulled back into a bun, leaning into the door frame with his arms crossed and an impish grin on display, “Oh, you’re going to call me now, sweetheart?”

You glare at him in a jocosely manner through the reflection, “Don’t look so proud of yourself.”

He pushes off the frame and comes up behind you, still locking his eyes only through the reflection as he leans his chin over your shoulder, “And what if I don’t want to give you a ride? You have been awfully mean – insulting my punctuality, throwing your phone at me, teasing me by going without a bra. The list goes on and on.”

Something deep within you stirs, those embers that still ache to burst into a forest fire. You hate that you could easily spend the entire night here with him, letting him take you every which way between his sheets. And even without sinful actions involved, you would be plenty content with just his presence tonight. As a matter of fact, you might be more content with that outcome rather than heading out to see your friends.

Sorry Argyle, you think guiltily.

“I’m teasing you?” you question just as his hands land on your hips, moving so that he was pressed firmly against the curve of your ass. Making sure you could feel how hard he was against the seam of his jeans’ zipper, “You didn’t even make me cum.”

“Seems like we’ll both be spending the night frustrated, then,” he smiles, almost gleefully, almost devilishly, “Besides, that was technically Harrington’s fault, not mine. We both know I usually have no problems making you cum on my tongue – without interruptions, of course.”

He rolls his hips ever so slightly into you, and your mouth falls open, eyes going glossy as you continue to stare him down through the mirror. The stirring in your abdomen is persistent now as your heart hammers against your ribs, mind melting and completely forgetting the obligation at hand.

And Eddie knows this. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you, and it’s deliberate.

Suddenly, his body completely pulls away from yours, “I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t want to keep them waiting any longer, do we, sweetheart?”

Damn him. Damn him, and damn his dimples, and damn how good his legs look in those jeans as he’s walking away from me right now.

You linger in the apartment, alone, for a few extra minutes to compose yourself. Trying to quelch the heat between your hips that had slowly spread across your entire body, threatening to consume you. You even go as far as to splash cool water across your cheeks, giving yourself a few smacks for good measure as you try to prepare yourself to go into public and put on the usual act. And beneath it all, you also hush the animal in your chest, the one that claws at you to tell him. The one that wails everytime you simply tell him you like him, the one that roars when you let another moment slip you by. It has to quiet, just as your flames need to settle, all for the sake of the act.

You deserve a goddamn Oscar at this point.

After deciding that touching up your makeup would take up far too many precious seconds, you’re darting out of Eddie’s apartment, locking up behind yourself before you head down to where he’s waiting. He’s already straddling his parked bike, the engine roaring to life like the animal inside you as you exit the main doors of the building and his hands extend his only helmet. You don’t fight him on who’s going to wear it – that’s a battle, you’ve learned, you will always lose.

We really need to just buy a second helmet.

The thought makes you smile as you hold the clunky thing. Buying a second helmet. Something Eddie had never done before, because he had never had a regular passenger before. He had never had someone glued to his side as you had become, not even Nancy. It sounds terribly domestic; perusing aisles with him, debating which helmet fits your style best. He’d probably make a joke about your head being big. He’d probably tease you for looking at the ridiculously expensive ones and tell you to opt for a cheaper one. You’d probably end up with a pricier one in the cart regardless, and Eddie would probably refuse to let you pay for it.

Domesticity. The image of it doesn’t ache like it had that night all those months ago. This isn’t something you yearn for hopelessly, smoke and mirrors that dissipate when you dare to reach out for it. It’s something finally in your grasp. Something tangible and something bound to happen, all you’d have to do is say the word and Eddie would comply eagerly.

Anything to keep my girl safe, as he would tell you any time you pointed out how dangerous it was for him to go without a helmet. He’d gotten creative in saying his own version of those three little words.

“M’lady,” he hums, nodding for you to put the helmet on before sweeping a hand over the empty space in the seat behind him, “Your chariot awaits.”

You don’t have a snarky quip to throw back at him, only grinning at the ground as you flip the helmet around a few times to prepare to put it on. All those embers aren’t just desire for him – there’s a warmth there that always exists. A candle on the windowsill of the home you had finally found.

You raise the clunky thing and tilt your head when Eddie suddenly says, “Oh, and babe?”

Immediately, you lower it, eyes wide in curiosity, “What?”

“That’s my shirt.”

“What?”

He motions to the t-shirt tucked carefully into your jeans, “That fine shirt you are currently wearing is mine.”

You look down, and he’s right. It’s too late to go back inside to change, and you know he’s aware of this when you catch his amused smirk. He probably noticed the moment you had put it on, and had deliberately waited until it was too late for you to do anything about it to inform you.

Bastard.

“I-” you pinch the fabric between your fingers, looking between it and Eddie wildly for a second before your shoulders slumped in defeat, “It’s fine. I doubt they’ll even notice.”

—

You were wrong. They do notice.

Everyone is already waiting inside for the two of you, nestled around a table in the bar in a similar arrangement to the very first night you’d been introduced to the group. There’s only two empty seats left conveniently, right next to each other. You don’t miss that mischievous look of success on Robin’s face as she looks overly proud of herself.

They’d set it up so we’d sit next to each other.

You’re grateful for your friends’ antics until you go to take the empty seat next to Steve.

“Is that Eddie’s shirt?”

Robin is leaning around Steve eagerly as she says it, ridiculing the shirt intensely.

“What?” you laugh nervously, looking down and tugging at the fabric.

Lie. Make up a lie. Make it good.

“That is Eddie’s shirt,” Nancy looks surprised across the table, looking up at the two of you questioningly.

“What?” you repeat yourself. Eddie has already taken his seat, and is avoiding the stares of everyone, “No, it’s not.”

“He has one just like it,” Jonathan adds fuel to the fire, “He literally wore it - what? Two days ago?”

In a pathetic attempt of an excuse, you plop down in your seat and force an offended look, “People can own the same shirt. He’s not the gatekeeper of-” you look down, and nearly erupt in embarrassment when you see what the shirt is. “Deftones.”

Ah, fuck.

It’s not just the embarrassment of being on the verge of getting caught in your lie – it’s the memories that flood back. You, on Eddie’s lap. Your mouth and his becoming one. Steve calling, and you sucking so innocently on Eddie’s neck.

Fuck.

You really wish Steve and Robin hadn’t interrupted earlier.

“It’s not like I got it at a show,” Eddie shrugs, and you wonder for a moment if he’s lying, “They’ve gotten more popular lately. I’ve seen their shit in Target.”

“Exactly!” you exclaim a little too loudly, a little too quick to defend yourself, “Exactly. I just thought it looked cool at Target. Besides, tonight is about Argyle.”

You smile at the birthday boy, and he returns the joy as he waves a little at you. The reminder is all it takes for everyone’s attention to return to the focus of the night – everyone’s attention but Nancy’s.

You can feel her eyes on you as conversation sparks up and debates of ordering shots begin. Everyone is busy asking Argyle what his plans for next weekend are – which are mostly composed of normal family gatherings, probably a homemade cake, etc. – but Nancy is watching you and Eddie like a hawk. In the peripheral of your eye, you watch the way she leans back so casually into Jonathan's around her shoulder, looking like she knows. You’re probably just being paranoid. You’re definitely just being paranoid.

You try to ignore it, and instead let yourself just enjoy the moment. All your friends gathered, a group in which you finally feel like you belong to, jokes being made and laughter being exchanged that has you feeling a bit giddy. It’s nice. Even between the smoke of the room and the flickering lights overhead, murmuring chatter of nearby patrons mingling right in with your group’s noise, it’s homely. The smell of drunken cigars and fruity cocktails should be overwhelming, but you just let it wrap you up instead.

And when you turn your head, inhaling deeply the smell of cinnamon and musk rather than all those other foreign anomalies, you find Eddie already looking at you. Soft eyes, bitten grin, a few loose curls framing his cheeks as his bangs curl up into his forehead. Even in the shoddy lighting, he takes your breath away.

He’s looking at you. Just like that first night. Dozens of other people in this room at this moment, and he only has eyes for one – he only has eyes for you.

“So!” Argyle announces, “I think, my dudes, instead of doing what Birdie had so… excitedly suggested,” and oh, he was being generous and calling Robin suggesting he took twenty three shots for his twenty third birthday just her being excited rather than foolish, “We should just take the twenty three shots and split them up amongst the group.”

Steve and Jonathan immediately groan, protesting how they’re driving, and Eddie only shakes his head with a chuckle. So far, he’d only ordered and been nursing on a plain coke, no whiskey.

Somehow, sitting beside him with the group is worse than keeping distance.

When he’d taken off his jacket, you’d silently begged for him to rest an arm across the back of your chair just as Jonathan was doing to Nancy. And he had, almost too naturally before he’d caught himself. It would have been easier to play off cooly, probably would have gone unnoticed, but your boy had practically jumped out of his bones as he’d flinched and tucked his arm back into himself suddenly. He’d even bumped his elbow against his own seat in his haste.

And Nancy had noticed.

“That’s only three shots per person!” Argyle defends, “Four for me, since you know – birthday boy.”

While Eddie may be avoiding alcohol tonight, you aren’t. Not unusual, but it had been odd when Eddie had told the waitress your order of an amaretto sour rather than you telling her yourself.

Another strike. Another thing Nancy had noticed with her watchful eye.

“I’m down,” you shrug, “Hell, I’ll even take an extra shot if those two dumbasses won’t.”

“Is that a good idea?”

You wish Eddie had been drinking to excuse his idiocracy. Because all it takes is him saying that, not with malice but with concern, and the look on Nancy’s face told you she was officially catching on.

He hadn’t said it with the concern of a friend prepared to warn against drinking yourself sick. He’d said it with the concern of someone who would be taking care of you by the end of the night, of someone who would be dealing with the aftermath of that many shots.

You two were bombing this whole secrecy, to put it lightly.

You try to save the moment but laughing it off, turning to him slightly and teasing, “What, are you my keeper now?”

Despite your best efforts, the statement doesn’t come across as friendly banter. It’s not quite fighting either. It’s a dare, you dangling something in Eddie’s face that no one else at this table quite sees. A stupid, idiotic continuation of your flirtatious game of cat and mouse from earlier in the apartment, when he’d deliberately gotten you hot and bothered. When he’d deliberately let you leave in his shirt. His palm is warm when he shifts ever so slightly, placing it on your thigh beneath the table. Out of sight from everyone else. Fueling and fanning all your growing flames.

You two were toeing a very dangerous line tonight.

His eyes darken a bit, and you pray no one else notices in the dim bar lighting, “I don’t know, am I?”

Everyone is distracted enough with your idea. Steve and Jonathan were agreeing, saying they could take one shot and then others in the group could shoulder the extras. Robin was quick to also say she’ll take an extra one. But Nancy is silent, watching your quiet exchange with Eddie.

“I don’t think you are, Munson.”

Except he is. Without a single doubt in your bones, you know that he is.

Your playful smile betrays you. It tugs up the corners of your mouth and it’s clear to any outsider this wasn’t a brewing argument. The game was obvious if anyone was watching close enough. And Nancy, ever the smart one, was watching close enough.

She’s playing her cards right, you realize, when she waits until the group has ordered the round of shots to say anything.

“So, Eddie,” she begins, drawing the entire group’s attention to her best friend, “Do anything fun today?”

He nearly chokes on his coke subtly. “I- Um-”

“You just didn’t answer any of my texts today,” she continues on, “Must have been busy, yeah?”

Eddie retracts his hand from your thigh, far more elusive in this action than he had been about removing his arm from your chair, before he fiddles with his hands in his lap. “Yeah – no, yeah. Sorry about that, Nance.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket for no apparent reason. The shiny new smartphone, having not even bought a case or screen protector yet. You’d already yelled at him for that, claiming out of everyone, you trust him the least to not break the phone on the first day. He’d only laughed and shut you up with a kiss.

His new phone is placed face down on the table, cherry red glinting, “I just had to go to the mall and-”

“Is that a new phone?” Argyle interrupts him, catching sight of the movement and the glinting, “Oh, holy shit, my dude! That’s a new phone! That is an iPhone if I’ve ever seen one!”

Everyone – Robin, Steve, Jonathan – are rapidly leaning to catch sight of it as if they can’t believe it. Eddie continues to shrink at being the center of attention suddenly.

“It is,” Steve laughs in disbelief, “Never thought I’d see the day, Munson.”

Robin scrunches her face, “Does this mean we have to add him to the group chat?”

You let out a giggle at that, lips pressed to try and contain some of that smile breaking through as you look at him and wiggle your brows. He immediately rolls his eyes, but picks up the phone regardless to give everyone a better look.

“Yes, yes. I’ve finally joined the dark side,” he teases everyone just as the waitress returns with the tray of shots. Jonathan is the only one with enough sense to look away from Eddie’s spectacle, thanking her kindly, “Feast your eyes, my friends, for this is where my five hundred dollars went-”

“Holy shit.”

Nancy’s sudden whisper of an exclamation has everyone freezing. Eddie stops spinning and flipping the phone to show it off, staring at her with nothing but concerned, “What? What happen-”

Nancy shares a look with Robin as they both grin.

Oh no.

“Eddie,” Nancy says slowly, turning her head back his way slowly.

“What?” Eddie frowns, eyes flitting back and forth between Nancy and Robin.

Robin is the one to ask the question rather than Nancy, “What exactly is your lockscreen?”

Eddie goes pale. You’re confused, looking at the phone he’s currently cradling with the screen against his palm.

Did he even change it? Wouldn’t it just be one of the default ones?

“Guys,” you decide to come to his rescue, still impossibly confused, “It’s probably just some default screen, don’t tease him.”

“That was not a default screen,” Nancy laughs out.

Argyle looks around at everyone. Nancy and Robin, both with mischievous glints in their eyes. Eddie, still ghostly white as if he’s been caught red-handed. Steve and Jonathan, both just shrugging at each other. “Uh…. Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”

“Show the class your lock screen, Eds.”

“Fuck off, Nancy.”

“Oh my God,” Robin coos, leaning across Steve and pressing you back gently to catch sight of Eddie, who’s dipping his face down, “He’s blushing!”

“Guys, leave him alone,” Steve insists, sharing a look with you now. But you have no clue what’s going on.

You have no clue what his lockscreen is.

“Edward Munson, show us that lockscreen right now, or I’m Venmo-requesting five hundred dollars from you,” Robin continues to threaten.

You look away from Steve and at Eddie immediately, leaning in closer to his space. He looks at you, clearly focusing on your presence more than everyone else’s, and smiles like a child trying to get out of trouble.

“Eddie,” you say quietly, almost impossible for your friends to hear, “What the fuck is your lockscreen?”

He slowly and carefully turns the screen towards you, making sure only your eyes can see it, and- oh.

It’s a low quality photo. Clearly taken on his flip phone. Details just a little fuzzy, and the darkness of the photo wasn’t helping. But you can see it clearly. You can make out exactly what it was that had Nancy and Robin losing their minds.

It’s a picture of you and Eddie, with your head on Eddie’s chest.

For a moment, everyone else at the table doesn’t exist. You hadn’t been insane that night – he had taken a photo. A snapshot of the moment where everything had changed. The moment in which you had given up the fight and completely succumbed to just how much Eddie meant to you, how badly you pined for him and how deeply you liked him.

“I was going to make it the one of you at Betty’s,” he whispers, “But, I just- I really liked this photo.”

He’s still tense, as if he expects you to be upset with him.

You’re the farthest thing from upset at him.

“You made me your lockscreen?” you breathe out, a slow-growing smile beginning to stretch your lips.

You’re not upset at him. As a matter of fact, you’re in love with him. You want to scream it from every rooftop, shout it to every stranger on the street – you are in love with Eddie Munson.

And you have been for a while. You just hadn’t found a way to tell him yet.

“Yeah,” he loosens up a little when he realizes you’re happy, enamored with the fact, “Yeah, of course I did. Who else am I going to make it besides my favorite…. Enemy?”

He says it loud enough for everyone to hear clearly. All of Nancy’s teasing has come to a halt, Robin has settled back into her chair, and Steve is finally looking too curious for his own good.

“As birthday boy,” Argyle breaks the moment, shatters away the bubble you and Eddie always seemed to end up in, “I am demanding I get to see this lockscreen.”

Eddie doesn’t make any move to show the screen to any other person, only watching you for approval.

Well, so much for next time.

You give him a little nod.

Eddie makes a dramatic show of it, sighing heavily before he very slowly turns his lockscreen to face everyone else. But even in his dramatics, you can see that weight lifting off his chest.

This, as a matter of fact, changes everything.

No more hiding, no more lying. One simple flash of his phone screen, of a photo he had taken on a night that no one has even been gifted the details of yet, and all your friends suddenly know.

The reactions all vary.

Argyle leans forward and squints before his face breaks out into pure joy for the two of you, “Oh, fuck yes! Best birthday gift ever. Pay up, my dudes!”

Jonathan leans backward, digging out his wallet as he murmurs, “Son of a bitch.”

Steve only smiles and shakes his head, also digging for his wallet as he seemingly chastizes himself, “I should have fucking known.”

“Hold on,” you look between everyone as Jonathan digs out a couple twenties, “Wait, did you guys fucking bet on this?”

“We did,” Robin answers you, holding up a hand to make Jonathan and Steve pause their retrieval of cash, “What do you take us for? Idiots? Now, gentlemen, before either of you payout, we’ve gotta ask the most important question,” she shoves a palm against Steve’s chest so that he’s out of line of sight, gaze set on you and Eddie, “When did this happen?”

You don’t have any time to be mad at your friends. Because when Robin asks you this, suddenly you’re back to two months ago. You’re outside your dorm with Eddie, kissing him as if tomorrow would never be promised, and you’re home.

You pulled back from Eddie finally, both of you gasping for breath as he held you steady. Your exchange from moments before still hung heavy in the air.

You liked him, you liked him, you liked him.

And the feeling was mutual.

You’d already known, but it was nice to hear. It was nice to be reminded that this, what had happened between you two, was so very real.

“I don’t wanna start over,” the words tumbled from your tongue before you could consider them, upheaving from your chest, desperate for Eddie to heard them, “I- I don’t need to start over. I like our story, okay? You had been right – it wasn’t all bad, and… and I don’t want to start over. I never want you to be a stranger again, and I know that sounds stupid-”

“It’s not stupid,” he interrupted you, forehead meeting yours, “So very not stupid.”

“I don’t care if you were a dick,” you continued on, carefully, “I was, too. We were both… shitty. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you a thousand times over, as long as you keep trying to make it up to me.”

“Make it up to you?” he grinned playfully, “And just how do you suggest I start making it up to you?”

“Ask me out,” his eyebrows raised in surprise, and you knew you must have looked like a wild idiot to everyone else, but you didn’t care, “To dinner, to a movie, to just hang around your apartment with you for another twenty four hours – I don’t care. Just… Just please, Munson, ask me out.”

And so he had. A first date, a second date, a third. You two had gone through the entire ordeal of every cliche relationship despite the unconventional beginning. You’d gone to dinner, you’d gone to a movie, and you had done plenty of hanging out around his apartment and more.

“The night of the bet,” Eddie answers as he finally brings an arm up around your shoulders, just as he had wanted to earlier.

Immediately, both Robin and Argyle let out their own curses, pulling out their wallets just as Steve and Jonathan had.

You look between them, all the annoyance you should feel just being run over with adoration for these idiots. Your eyes land on Nancy, and when you realize she’s the only one at the table not coughing up any cash, you ask her, “I’m assuming you guessed correctly?”

“I did,” she nods, looking proud of herself.

“How’d you know?”

Nancy raises a threatening finger, before suddenly pointing it right in Eddie’s direction, “That idiot has always been down bad for you-”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie stops her, “I’ve already told her the nitty gritty details. No need to embarrass me.”

“No need to embarrass you?” Nancy asks in disbelief, “Good God, just how many times did I have to sit and listen to you pine for her? No, no – I have earned this, Munson.”

You look at Eddie, a glint in your eye, “You only told me about the first time.”

“I only remembered the first time,” he counters, blushing under yellow and faded lights, “I was usually dru-”

“Don’t lie,” Nancy stops him, “There were plenty of rants where you were dead sober.”

Everyone only smiles at Eddie, a few teasing comments made his way, but none of them matter as you lean into his side, your shoulder bumping his to the best of your ability with his arm still around you.

“Aw, babe,” you coo, warm all over for the man beside you, “You had a crush on me? That’s cute.”

His chin lowers, eyes boring into yours with unlimited affection. For a moment, it’s just you and Eddie. The guise of you two having your own bubble of a moment.

His head tilts further, his ears brushing your ear as he whispers for just you to hear, “So did you, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Not mistaken,” you whisper back. Money is now being exchanged, tossed across the table with grumbles that hold no heat.

Yeah, you did have a crush on Eddie. You still do. You don’t think you’ll ever stop having a crush on him, even as he’s surrendered himself as yours. Especially not when his thumb is stroking your shoulder as it is now.

Just like that very first night. The smoky bar fades to nothingness, your tunnel vision focused on Eddie. You know jokes are being made about the two of you by your friends, but it’s all white noise when he’s looking at you like this. Like you’re everything to him, like he’s just returned home after a long week.

You’d really like to be his home to return to after every long week, for the rest of your lives, but there’ll be time to ponder on that later. For now, you two have time.

The voice inside your head suddenly comes to life as it recognizes that this is your moment. You can tell him. Now that you’ve told everyone else, you can tell him those three words. Finally get them off your chest. Make it real.

“Hey, Munson,” you say, still quiet enough for the words to only reach his ears. He perks up, eager to drink your next words. You have all his attention. You always have all his attention, “I-” and then you choke. He stares curiously for a few seconds, and the words just won’t come out. You want to scream – you wonder if it would work if you screeched the three words at the top of your lungs. Probably not, “I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me,” a pathetic excuse at a coverup, “And… I’m really glad they made that first bet.”

He smiles so softly, it strikes you right in the center of your chest. Right amongst your garden that not only had you tended for him, but that he had also had a hand in watering these last few months.

You should have told him. You love him, and you should have told him.

“I’m really glad I didn’t hate you, too,” he remarks, squeezing your shoulder a little tighter, “Actually, I’m glad you don’t hate me. Not anymore, at least.”

“I never really did.”

“You definitely sort of did. You tried to take me out with a glass, remember?”

You burst into secluded laughter, hearing your friends beginning to pass around the shots but paying them no mind.

Eddie can’t help it. He pulls you in close, placing an impulsive kiss to your temple and letting his lips linger there. Just pressed against you, breathing in the scent of you.

That kiss sends shivers down your spine, warmth through the center of your bones. You love him.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

So why can’t you just tell him that?

“Aw!” Robin pulls the two out of your bubble, “Aren’t they just adorable?”

“Yes, yes,” Steve passes two shot glasses down to your end of the table, “Absolutely adorable. It’s nauseating. Also, I’d like to go on record – I totally knew the entire time. I was just giving them the benefit of the doubt.”

“Playing the Devil’s advocate?” Argyle asks, lining up his multiple shots, “I dig it. Even though you’re totally lying right now.”

“You’re so lucky it’s your birthday, dude,” Steve rolls his eyes, clearly holding back an insult.

Eddie’s arm stays heavy on you, a welcome weight as you sit up straighter to take your own several shots.

These were your friends. Somewhere you belonged, filled with people you loved and a boy you could come home to after all your long weeks. A certain happiness that is rare, and impossible to place, and can nearly bring you to tears overwhelms you as you grab that first shot.

“Also-” Steve turns to you and Eddie, “I knew that was Munson’s shirt. The day he got it, all he did was brag about what a rare find it was. Fuck off with your Target bullshit.”

Eddie’s hand leaves your shoulder long enough to reach out and thump Steve, laughter booming and vibrating against you, “Sure you did, Stevie.”

“Target has some nice things,” Nancy offers with a shrug, now holding her own shot glass.

The seven of you all hold up the first of what will probably be too many shots tonight, the beginning of a night that will probably be remembered through killer hangovers tomorrow and possibly even captured on camera by the likes of Jonathan, Steve, and Eddie.

“To Argyle,” you take the lead on the cheers, jittery and anxious as all the love you continue to withhold buzzes in your chest, lifting your small glass in his direction, “The most lovable twenty three year old I know.”

Everyone moves to drink, but Argyle immediately shakes his head, “Nah, fuck that. It’s not even my birthday yet – I demand a new toast.”

He lifts his brows, staring you down and silently adding, you know what to do.

And yeah, you did know what to do.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, leaning further forward, Eddie’s arm following. You relish in the tense silence as everyone waits for what you’re about to say instead. Even Eddie is waiting with bated breath, watching your every move, a contrasting yet easy smile on his face, “To bets.”

A booming applause from your group. Glasses tapping against the wooden table before shots are downed. Groans of disgust as the tequila hits everyones’ tongues.

Eddie hardly waits before you’ve both swallowed to remove his arm and grab your face, turning your cheek so that his lips can capture yours. Everyone only cheers louder, Steve letting out an obnoxious whistle as Argyle claps. You’re surely going to get kicked out of the bar at this rate. But you really don’t care as you kiss your boy back.

Next time. You have to tell him next time.

—

The night ends in more of a whisper than a bang, surprisingly.

Everyone has suddenly become a happy drunk, probably from all the love and good news passed around throughout the night. It’s all warm feelings and warm hugs, tequila on the breath and love on the mind.

You don’t even get kicked out of the bar. Your waitress only smiles at your rowdy table from time to time, and you figure that all the good vibes must be rubbing off on her.

Steve is the first to call it quits. Robin has drank enough to give herself the hiccups, and he says that after that, she almost always gets viciously nauseous. He wants to get in the car and home before she gets to the point, for the sake of his car’s interior not getting covered in puke.

It’s a domino effect from there.

Argyle quickly agrees, Jonathan offers a guiding arm to Nancy, and Eddie’s arm only tightens around you. The group closes out the tab, putting off worries of everyone paying Jonathan back until tomorrow. Quick, simple, painless.

Until you all get outside. And goodbyes are exchanged – that’s not the part that gets to you – with promises of seeing each other throughout the week. Everyone congratulates you and Eddie one more time for good measure, Nancy and Steve looking the most proud of you two as Argyle and Robin giggle like children about it. And it’s fine – you laugh along and it’s all good. You let them get in all their I told you so’s and know it’s all in good fun.

It’s all fine. Until you two branch off from the group, Eddie’s bike across the lot from everyone else’s cars.

The moment you two are alone, you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or if it’s the levity of suddenly having a moment that only belongs to you. Your mind wastes no time of reminding you of your pathetic cop out: I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me. None of those words even sound akin to the real ones you should have said.

I love you.

It’s not because your friends have found out. You know it’s not that, because just last week, right after your breakdown about whether you were smothering Eddie by half-living in his apartment, you’d had a breakdown because you realized you wanted to fully live in his apartment. You’d had a breakdown because you hadn’t grown tired of him yet, hadn’t satisfied the need to see his face every morning when you first wake up yet. You hadn’t gotten bored with all his lingering affectionate touches. You hadn’t gotten used to the way he’d kiss you in the middle of sentences. He was still taking your breath away, two months later, and you had a breakdown because you realized it wasn’t novelty or a pathetic crush making you feel this way.

You had a breakdown because you love Eddie.

You love him, ardently so, and you still can’t find the right moment to say those words to him. He deserves to know – the entire foundation of this relationship was honesty.

It’s all you can think about as his hand finds yours and he’s walking up to his bike, practically dragging you up to his bike as your legs forget how to work amongst nerves.

“So, I was thinking,” he carries on conversation so casually, “You want to spend the night at my place? I know you said you don’t have any class-“

Now. Not later, not next time. Now.

“Hey, Eddie?” you interrupt him, stopping the two of you a few paces away from his bike.

His face is impossibly concerned as he looks down at you, clearly reading the worry on your face, “What’s up, babe?”

Here goes nothing – be brave.

“I-”

Why is this so hard?

It shouldn’t be this hard, because loving Eddie is easy.

It’s easy when he’s looking at you like this, like he always does. It’s easy when he wakes up after you, and he comes into the kitchen to just wrap himself around you as you make him coffee, no matter what time of day it might be. It’s easy when he catches your eye from across the room during outings, sometimes winking once he knows you’ve found his gaze, just to see you laugh. It’s easy when he tries to distract you from homework when you’ve been spending far too many hours hunched over your laptop on his couch, coming and bugging you, laying his head on your lap and insisting his girl needs a break. It’s easy when he kisses you and everything just feels right.

It’s easy. He loves you – you love him. It isn’t hard. You’re making this hard, when it never was.

“I love you,” you admit quietly, voice shaking as the words leave you easily.

Loving Eddie is easy.

“I love you,” you say more surely, voice raising in volume as you find the willpower to look into his eyes, “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”

Each time you say it, you gain confidence in it. It’s true – you love him. You love him so much, it encompasses every inch of your being. It entirely consumes you. You love him.

His face falls slowly, mouth agape and eyes boring into yours.

You don’t wait for his response. You already have it – in the way he’s still holding your hand, in the way he holds you at the end of each night, in the way he knows both your orders at bars and coffee shops. In the way he will always put himself between you and the street when walking down the sidewalk, in the way when he roughly stops his bike at stop lights that his hand always flies back to hold onto you. In every soft touch and every expression of devotion he has offered you for not just two months, but for over a year.

“You love me?” he softly asks, finally beginning to come back to life.

You nod without hesitation, “I love you, Eddie.”

Now that you’ve started saying it, you can’t stop it. And each time, it’s still heavy and sweet like honey, even as the confession comes as easy as breathing. It’s pouring from every crevice, filling up the night air around you.

He takes you off guard with a harsh kiss. His teeth colliding with yours, his breath stealing yours, his entire being molded with yours.

“Say it again,” he begs in a murmur as he pulls you in even closer, desperate as you break into a smile, “God, please say it again, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” your cheeks begin to ache, the kiss no longer even to be a considered a kiss as you two are just mindlessly pressing your smiles together, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” with each repeat of the sentiment, Eddie drinks it in, “I’m so fucking in love with you, Eddie Munson. You and your stupid lockscreen and-”

“You do not think my lockscreen is stupid,” he pulls away, raising his eyebrows as his palms squish your cheeks, “I saw the way you looked at me. You were eating that shit up.”

You bite your lip, trying to pull further away from him, but he won’t let you, “I was not-”

“You were,” he cheekily teases, eyes bright as he looks at you, “You were, and it was the best thing ever. Totally worth stealing Argyle’s spotlight.”

“We didn’t steal Argyle’s spotlight,” you try to defend yourself.

“We so did.”

You shake your head to the best of your abilities, face still between his hands, “We… Okay, we sort of did.”

He grins like a young boy, all his youth and all his love on show for you as he leans down, pausing right before pressing another kiss to your lips, “We definitely did. And it’s fair, because they fucking bet on us.”

“They did,” you agree, not even feeling guilty anymore, too consumed by the love for the man right in front of you, “They tend to do that a lot, don’t they?”

“They do.”

He finally surges forward, lips sealing against yours one last time. It’s less messy this time, more meaningful. A bit more patient as he takes the time to fit his lips into yours, just as they should be.

You have an audience. You’re completely oblivious until you hear the cheering from across the parking lot, snapping apart to both glance at where Argyle and Robin are jumping up and down, screaming their heads off.

“Hell yeah, my dudes!” Argyle’s voice booms as Robin only produces incoherent coos to echo.

Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan are all just watching silently, shaking their heads, but you can also see their grins. Almost as radiant as you felt.

Steve finally cups his hands around his mouth, sending his voice to you over Argyle’s continuing whooping, “Get a room!”

Perfectly in sync, you and Eddie both throw up a hand with your middle fingers raised in their direction, still half tangled in each other.

Your eyes find Nancy. She’s looking at you two with overwhelming pride, a certain satisfaction that breathes out the relief of finally. This may be a weight off not only your chest but Eddie’s as well, yet you can’t help but imagine just how she feels. How many nights she had stomached Eddie’s rambles about you leading up to this very moment. The pay off must be unimaginable.

Finally.

“Congrats on finally getting the girl, Munson!” she calls out, but her eyes are on you, winking.

You see it now. Why they’re best friends. How all her best parts and Eddie’s best parts overlap and compliment one another perfectly.

Jonathan is the final one to yell across the parking lot at you two, one arm slung around Nancy as the other moves to unlock his car, even his usually grumpy face showing signs of elation in that timid smile, “Now take your girl, home, dude. Spare the rest of us the gory details.”

Eddie’s laugh reverberates against you physically from how he holds you, also making its way to burrow deep within your chest where all that liquid bliss belongs, as he throws his entire head back and makes you finally focus on just him again. Home. Not just his apartment, but him. You realize now that it’s simply wherever he goes. Where he leads, you’ll follow. It could be a shitty dorm room with a mattress that leaves your back aching, it could be a comforting apartment that holds you ‘hostage’ for twenty four hours straight – it doesn’t really matter. Wherever he is, home is. He’s your home; you love him, he knows you love him, and he’s your home.

When his laughter finally fades, and he’s looking at you again, his dimples are prominent as ever through his whisper, “Just in case you’ve forgotten – I’m very much in love with you, too, sweetheart.”

His lips meet yours for good measure.

It’s been the longest week of your life, the longest year, but you’re finally home.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

#twenty four hours #eddie munson #my writing #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #i cannot believe it's over holy shit #holy fucking shit #told y'all the photo would make a reappearance!#im resisting the urge to be so so sappy jesus christ

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iamnotoriginalphil · 8 months ago

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Roommates? (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You move into Mel's spare room

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: praise kink if you squint, swearing, mentions of alcohol

AN: Written after 3x07.

You groaned as you dropped into your seat in the break room, not hungry for the lunch you’d packed for yourself. Burying your head in your hands, you did your best to try not to think about the email you’d just received. It was hard when your stress was becoming all encompassing after weeks of it.

“What going on with you?”

You groaned again, even when you felt the brush of an arm against yours. The floral scent you’d grown accustomed to over the last few years wafted towards you. Melissa. Your closest friend at the school, and the person you’d been pining after for so long you’d lost any self respect you might have had.

“That place I was going to move into fell through,” you said, “I feel like I’ve seen every spare room in this city and there is no where to live.”

You peeked at her from between your fingers, hating to sound so whiny but knowing that your stress levels had reached breaking point. She was looking at you with a raised eyebrow and an incredulous look. You sighed, sitting up properly under her watchful gaze.

“You know Jacob’s looking for a place too,” Gregory said from the other table.

“I know,” you groaned, “he suggested we look for a place together and I can’t commit to living and working with that man. He once tried to rap at me about the Martin Luther King Jr and I can’t have that in my home.”

“I get that,” Gregory replied, “why are you even looking for a new place to live? Your place is nice.”

“My roommate keeps watching me when I sleep. Sometimes I wake up and she’s standing at the end of my bed just staring at me. It freaks me out.”

“Well hey, I’m thinking of renting out my spare room. Would you be interested, hon?”

You hadn’t expected Melissa to say that.

“Really?”

She gave you one of those small smiles that you’d never seen her give another person. Your heart fluttered and you found your cheeks heating up.

“Really,” she said, “you can pay rent, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” you replied.

“You can move in this weekend,” she said.

Come Saturday, your things were in boxes and bags, and you had a spring in your step. You were humming to yourself as you packed up your car, your entire life filling the seats and the trunk. You took one last look at the building, sighed, then got in your car and drove to the next chapter of your life.

It wasn’t until you were standing in front of the door that the reality of what you were about to do crashed into you. Living with Melissa. Being in her space all the time. Existing in close proximity. She was going to see you first thing in the morning. You were going to see her late at night.

Your crush was going to either get so much worse or dissipate when you saw all of her annoying habits.

The door opened before you could knock, revealing the red head who starred in so many of your dreams. You blinked, rearing back, not having expected her to suddenly appear. Her lips quirked up, hand snapping out to grasp you around the elbow before you could fall backwards.

“Were you planning on knocking or do you wanna live on my front step?” she asked.

“ I was… just about to… can you help with my boxes?” you asked instead, switching tracks without having to explain yourself.

“Sure, hon,” she chuckled, slipping past you.

Watching her lift your heavy boxes set off something primal in you. You followed behind her, your own arms full of your stuff. She led you up the stairs and into her spare bedroom, placing the boxes down on the made up bed.

“Well, here you are. Bed, dresser, the bathroom is down the hall. You can have a a shelf in the fridge. Your key is just there. Let me know if you need anything else,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“Do you need help with the rest of your stuff?” she asked.

“Only if you want to. I can do it myself. It’s no bother.” You had no idea why you were saying no. You felt flustered. You always felt a bit flustered around her.

“Come on, hon,” she said, giving you an indulgent smile, “the sooner we start the sooner we’ll be done.”

She left you alone after pttling the last of the boxes into your room, leaving you to unpack and settle in. Sorting your clothes into colours helped to ease your thoughts, the mindless work turning your head empty. It calmed you, getting your life in order so you could get your thoughts in order.

It wasn’t going to be so bad living with Melissa. She was being nice to you which was more than Jacob or Janine had been able to say after their cooking lesson with her. Accommodating was the word. She was almost going out of her way to be nice.

And most importantly you could keep your crush to yourself without ruining it all.

That night, she made dinner, offering you some and then curled up on the couch with a glass of wine. You were hesitant about joining her, hovering until she rolled her eyes and tugged you to sit beside her.

But it was easy to fall into a routine with her. Surprisingly easy. So easy that you didn’t even notice until a few weeks in.

Sitting at the table on a Wednesday night, doing the puzzle you’d started over the weekend, you listened to her hum in the kitchen. Something was bubbling on the stove top, the smell mouth watering. You looked up as fingers pushed a piece towards you.

“Thanks,” you said, looking up at her.

She was already smiling at you and you couldn’t help but smile back. It was an instinctual response. You couldn’t help it when it came to Mel.

“You hungry?” she asked.

“Always,” you replied, knowing it was the answer she wanted.

“C’mon then, hon, make some room. Can’t have you starving before you finish that patch of sky,” she said.

“You’re teasing but I saw you get excited when you finished the boat,” you said, clearing your pieces away from one end of the table.

Sitting across from her, the lights soft and warm, there was always something a little romantic to the feeling. Of course, you were sure it was all in your head but you couldn’t help but enjoy it, just a little, more than you should. She would look at you, those twinkling green eyes making you flush, and her smile had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Still, every night felt like domestic bliss. Coming home with her, in the bubble of her house, the quiet night pressing in on the window, it was the kind of life you hadn’t known you’d been missing.

“You’re a goddess in the kitchen,” you said.

She’d waited for you to try her food, just as she always did before beginning to eat her own meal. Her foot brushed against yours under the table, making you jump. She chuckled, doing it again and you felt your cheeks heat and your heart stumble over itself.

Some days it almost felt like she was flirting with you.

“You’re sweet, hon,” she said.

You found your foot brushing against hers again, emboldened by her bashful response. Those green eyes flicked up to you, something twinkling in their depths. You weren’t sure how you looked but you were worried you’d shown your hand to her.

Dropping your foot back to the floor, you averted your gaze down to the plate of pasta she’d laid down in front of you. Her foot nudged yours before resting against it, length to length, the warmth of her skin seeping into yours.

She kept silent the rest of the meal, following your lead. You weren’t sure you could say anything, not with her foot against yours. Certainly not if she was watching you.

You remained silent as you cleared the table once she was done. Standing shoulder to shoulder at the sink, you did the washing up together, working in companionable tandem. You were so in tune with one another after living together for those few weeks, working together came without flaws.

“Are you gonna be watching our show tonight?” she asked into the silence.

You didn’t say no.

Sitting beside her on the sofa had always been trouble for you. Shoulder to shoulder, lit by nothing but the flickering screen, sharing a bowl of popcorn until your hands brushed together, it had always been a specific type of torture for you. The air always felt electric to you, and you knew it didn’t for her.

Except this night her head fell to your shoulder and her body curled towards yours. You froze until she admonished you, doing your best to relax your muscles. And there you stayed until she went to bed, feeling as if you had entered some kind of parallel universe.

Thursday night you’d put the entire odd experience behind you. She hadn’t mentioned it over breakfast or on the car ride over to school. On the ride back home she’d sung along to the radio, keeping her hands and feet to herself. You’d thought it was done. You thought you wouldn’t be tortured anymore.

But after you’d changed out of your school clothes and into something more comfortable, a knock sounded on your door. Opening the door, you found her in the hall, wet hair clinging to the skin of her neck, a towel wrapped around her body. You stumbled back a step, blinking at the vision before you.

“Um…” was all you managed to say.

“Have you seen my Eagles hoodie?” she asked.

“No,” you replied faintly, doing your best to not let your eyes wander further south than her chin.

“You sure? Because I can’t find it,” she said.

“Did you check in the washing?” you asked, hoping that would send her away.

“I thought you mighta borrowed it,” she said, lips tipping up into a small smirk, “you always seem to like it when I wear it. Can’t keep your hands off me.”

You felt your cheeks heat even further, deeper, almost uncomfortably. You looked down at your feet, terrified to be caught staring at her. You didn’t need to come across as a creep to her, ruining your friendship completely and irrevocably.

“I’m just teasing, hon,” she said, shoving your shoulder, “it’s probably in the wash.”

You were left staring at her retreating back as she left you be with your swirling thoughts and thundering heart, breathless from the image of all that skin on display. You were slow to close your door, leaning back against it as you breathed out a long sigh. Pressing a hand to your chest, you could feel the beating of your heart against your skin, practically bursting from your body.

The after image of her in the towel stayed in your mind until you could bring yourself to venture downstairs.

She was standing at the hob, stirring something on the stove, dressed in the familiar grey hoodie she’d been looking for. You blinked then stepped further in. She turned, smiling at you over her shoulder.

“Wanna help me out here?” she asked, seeming not bothered by the interaction upstairs.

“Sure,” you said, wanting to move past it too. Clearly, it hadn’t effected her the way it had effected you.

“Can you keep stirring this for me? I gotta start on the chopping,” she said.

“Sure,” you said again.

Your fingers brushed over hers as you took the wooden spoon from her. She paused a moment, eyes roving over your face. You held your breath, frozen, waiting, wondering what she was thinking.

“Keep stirring, hon,” she whispered, hand guiding yours, the skin of her palm warm against yours.

Slipping away, you kept your eyes on the pot, not wanting her to see the way you were beginning to come undone. One day you could brush off as weird, two made you wonder what was going on.

A warm hand landed on your hip, practically burning through the fabric of your leggings. A soft chin rested on your shoulder, looking over you as you continued stirring. You didn’t know what to do but keep stirring. If you focused on the warmth and the soft body brushing against your back you might melt into a puddle of goo.

“Good job, hon,” she murmured, lips brushing your earlobe.

A small squeak came from your parted lips and her throaty chuckle only made you feel as if you were crumbling in her arms. Those hands on your hips gently pushed you out of the way, fingers plucking the spoon from your hand.

“Go on, go finish that patch of sky. I can finish up here,” she said, sounding as if she had no idea the turmoil she was causing you.

You simply nodded and wandered back to the dining table. You sat, staring at the pieces, trying to reel your thoughts back in. A finger absently ran along the sides of the puzzle, feeling the gaps for the missing pieces. It wasn’t that Melissa wasn’t tactile, sometimes she could be, but this whole thing was something more. A step further.

A little closer to the kind of relationship you wanted with her.

That night she curled up against you again, cheek resting on your shoulder in the flickering light of the tv, hand resting on the thigh hers was resting against. You spent the entire time holding your breath until she slipped away to her room.

Friday left you on tenterhooks. Once again she was normal right up until your return home after a day at school. You were considering retreating into your room and not emerging for the rest of the night. It felt as if she was playing a game with you and you hadn’t been informed of the rules.

And yet you kind of revelled in the attention, if only because it might be your only chance to pretend she wanted you the way you wanted her.

You weren’t given the chance to make the choice for yourself.

A knock on the sounded on your bedroom door once again. You flung on a shirt, covering up as best you could while in the middle of changing out of your work clothes. Pulling open the door, you looked down, finding yourself in one of the lacy camisoles you’d been trying on last weekend when going out with friends for a drink. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to contain the groan you wanted to release. When you opened your eyes it was to find a smirk and sparkling green eyes turned in your direction.

“I was coming to offer you a glass of wine but it looks like you might be going out,” she said.

Her eyes swept down your body and if you were a betting person, you thought her gaze might have lingered on the cleavage on display. You found your back arching, just a moment, until her eyes swept back to yours and her smirk only deepened.

“Come on down, hon. You ain’t going anywhere in those sweat pants,” she said.

“I’ll take that wine,” you said, needing to drown your embarrassment in something.

You trailed behind her down the stairs into the kitchen. It truly was the heart of the home in Melissa’s house. You hoisted yourself onto a bench as she poured the wine. As she’d pointed out, there was no chance you were about to head out in the sweats you were wearing, even if the lacy cami on the top was more dressed up than was normal for slouching around the house on a Friday night.

When she turned back around, her eyes seemed to light up. She sauntered towards you, both hands holding glasses of red wine. Offering you one, she drew closer. You took a deep drink, needing it more and more as she took another step closer to you. Her thumb came up, running along your lower lip, wiping away a drop of wine before she sucked it into her mouth, maintaining eye contact with you.

“Mel.” You felt as if you’d woken up into a dream, breathless and unsure of what you could do.

“Yes, hon?” Her voice had turned so husky you weren’t sure you were existing in real life anymore.

When you didn’t reply she took one last step forward, right between your thighs. One hand ran up your leg making fire lick through your veins and your cheeks heat under her gaze. Her lips ticked up into a smirk again, seeming to enjoy the trouble you were having at forming a sentence.

“What are you doing?” you finally managed to get out in a whisper.

“Aren’t you enjoying it?” she asked.

“I don’t…” It came out strangled, “Mel, please.”

“I’m trying to seduce you, hon,” she said, “is it working?”

You nodded, not sure you were capable of forming words. Just the thought she was trying to seduce was enough to send you into a coma. You hadn’t thought she would ever look at you the way you looked at her.

“C’mon, hon. You can do better than that. Say it.”

“It’s working,” you whispered, not sure you could deny her anything in this moment.

“Good girl.”

She drew ever closer, breath ghosting over your lips. You froze, eyes fluttering shut, waiting to see what she was going to do. A brush of lips, a soft sigh, fingers clenching around your thigh. You barely had the chance to enjoy it before she was stepping back from you. The whimper that came from you was embarrassing but the look on her face when you opened your eyes was smug.

“Mel,” you said again, not sure there were any words other than her anymore.

“Do you know the hell you’ve put me through since moving in? You’re so fucking hot and I don’t think you even know it. You’re the exact woman my Nonna warned my cousin Vinny about,” she said, almost groaning.

“I haven’t been doing anything,” you said, addressing the only thing you could.

“Parading around in your tight leggings and these little tops and those fucking shorts in the morning. And when you’re thinking about something your tongue pokes out and then all I can think about is reaching over and kissing you. Also did you know you hum to yourself when you think no one’s around. Fuck, when I see you in the kitchen humming and dancing I just want to pin you to the closest surface and fuck you until you can’t do anything but say my name.”

You weren’t sure you had a good response.

“Yeah but you wear tight trousers pretty much every day at work,” was your only come back.

“But you weren’t looking at me in them and thinking what it would feel like to have my legs wrapped around you,” she replied as if it was the most natural answer in the world.

“I fucking was,” you snapped, at the end of your rope. She’d been playing with you long enough, “christ sake, Mel. I’ve been thinking about you since the first time we met. You’re literally the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. I didn’t think you were interested.”

“Hon, I let you move into my house. What part of that says I’m not interested?” she demanded.

“I don’t know,” you said, sounding angrier than you expected, “you might have just been trying to be a good friend.”

“Then let me be very clear.” She took a step back between your legs again, “I am very interested in you.”

You legs tightened around her hips, holding her in place as you lent forward. Your lips ghosted over hers and you were surprised by the noise that came from her. It was whiny and needy and she was straining towards you. You chuckled, drawing back.

“If you plan on seducing me, I expect to be wined and dined,” you said, “no more fooling around until you put some effort in and prove I’m worth it.”

“You fucking brat,” she laughed, a hand curling around the back of your neck to pull you closer.

She kissed you deeply, tongue licking into your mouth, sending your thoughts spiralling away from you. Your knees tightened on her hips, your hands cupping her cheeks, indulging her for long enough to let her think she’d gotten her way. You nipped at her lower lip before drawing away.

“Wining and dining, Mel. I’m not some common whore,” you said, “I deserve romance.”

“There’s your wine,” she said, shoving the glass back into your hands, “I’ll make a start on dinner.”

You bit down on your lip, watching her slam down a knife on the cutting board, grumbling under her breath, trying to hold in a grin. The glare she gave you broke the flood gates as giggles tumbled from your lips.

“You keep on like this and I’ll stop seducing you,” she threatened.

“You stop and I’ll wear those shorts you like all weekend,” you retaliated.

You caught her arm, drawing her in for another kiss, just enough to remind her what was waiting. She softened, gently squeezing your leg before going back to cooking. You watched her, finding yourself falling more and more for her, the anticipation delicious, the woman beautiful.

And maybe moving into her home was the best thing to ever happen to you.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti imagine

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multifandomgirl08 · 1 year ago

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Day At The Karting Track [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Nico starts karting. It opens a small can of worms.

Warning(s): Flashback, Mixed Media (Story + Social Media)

A/N: Edited 8/1/2024

Words: 2.2k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

Nico had been bouncing around all morning excited for his first time at a karting track. It had been the highlight of his week after flying to Austria to watch Max race after Nico’s last day of daycare before the summer holiday started.

Although Max was excited for Nico, you also knew that he was nervous.

Nico had taken to sitting in the Kart that was gifted to him for his last birthday whenever he could, waiting for the day until he was able to drive on a karting track. The helmet that Nico wore was a replica of one of Max’s old ones. You had taken photos of Nico in his race suit after he had eaten breakfast, his race suit hanging off his waist, the sleeves just barely touching the hardwood floor. He stood proudly against the wall in the entryway of the apartment, with his helmet under his arm. Looking every bit his father’s son.

Max was silent in the kitchen drinking his Red Bull while you packed up your bag with Nico’s little gloves and a pair of sneakers for him to change into after.

Max hadn’t said much all morning, you had made breakfast for yourself and Nico while Max sat with you both. Nico had so many questions for Max.

“How long does the race last? How many other people are going to be there? Will I be just like you Papa?” Nico had asked one after another in between bites of his food.

Max had answered as many of Nico’s questions as he could, but he had kept his answers short. Although Max loved that Nico loved F1 as much as he did, he wasn’t sure if he wanted Nico to end up driving in motorsports at all.

It was a combination of things; it was hard, it was expensive (both you and Max could afford it), and Max wasn’t sure if he would be the best person to be Nico’s coach. It wasn’t just because Max was away most weekends.

“I don’t want him karting.” Max had said to you late one night after Nico had gone to bed.

“Max, isn’t that his choice to make?” You asked, as you laid with him on the couch in the living room.

“No, because… I’m the one who’s going to have to coach him. I’m the one who’s going to have to tell him when he isn’t doing something right. I’m going to have to do things like…” Max didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was going to say.

Max’s “father”, if you could even call him that, was a constant source of stress for Max when it came to raising Nico. From the media which you now knew how to handle, to dealing with the pressure of Jos Verstappen hanging over his head. It was a constant, never ending battle for him.

Max wasn’t looking at you as his head was resting in your lap staring up at the ceiling.

“You don’t have to.” In reality you didn’t know the intricacies of how karting worked, and when it really started to matter if Nico took it seriously. Nico had been 3½ when he had asked you and Max if he could try, and by the time he would turn four he already had all of the needed equipment sitting in the garage of the apartment building ready to be used.

“Yes, I do. Most kids have a coach by the time that they’re 6, and they start competing at the age of 8.” As Max started telling you about the facts, it made it more difficult for you to not think about Nico. He was a kid, he shouldn’t have to think about if he wanted to pursue this so young. “If he starts later, he won’t have a leg up on the kids who have been doing it longer. Starting him young will prepare him for-”

Max cut himself off before burying his head into your thigh. “UHHH!” He yelled in frustration. “This is exactly why I don’t want him karting. I sound like my father when I was Nico’s age.”

It had taken two more months and having Sophie over for dinner to put Max’s mind at ease with Nico karting. You were sitting at the dinner table with Sophie who had helped you cook. Max had his hand in yours gripping it tightly when you had brought it up.

“I know you're concerned about him pursuing this. When you started living with Jos, and he started teaching you about karting I didn’t want to let you go. I didn’t want you to be raised by him like you were. I wanted to protect you, like any parent would.” She paused for a moment.

It felt like Sophie was acknowledging something from Max’s childhood that you knew nothing about. She didn’t want Max to be raised the way that he was? What had Jos done to Max when he was a child?

“Like you want to for Nico, but I also understood that I had to let you go. I knew one day that I would get to spend as much time with you as I wanted, I just had to wait.” She continued before taking a sip from her glass that was on the table. She didn’t bring up anything else from Max’s childhood, just her own feelings about not getting to spend as much time with him when he was younger.

Both you and Max had glanced over at Nico who was sitting on the carpet in front of the TV with one of his books open. He was turning the pages, looking at the pictures of the characters on the page before Sassy made her way over, pressing herself into Nico’s space. He let out a happy squeal as the cat nuzzled herself under his chin.

“I know that you are concerned about turning out like him. But you’ve already shown your son more compassion as a parent than your father ever did when you were growing up. If Nico wants to pursue this, you should let him. The worst thing he could say to you about it, is that he no longer wishes to compete. Let him have it, and if he no longer wants to let him make that choice, not you.”

Sophie had walked over to the other side of the table and kissed Max on the forehead as if he was still a child before looking over at you and giving you a smile that you read as a silent Thank you. Thank you for being there for my son and my grandson. You didn’t need her to voice the words to know that was what she had meant.

You just nodded before offering to clear the table. Max was quick to get up from his seat and move all of the plates into the kitchen while you and Sophie chatted between the two of you about Nico and yours and Max’s plans for the mid-season break as a way to lighten the feeling in the room.

Once you got to the karting track Nico undid his carseat before Max had put the car in park. He had jumped out of the car as soon as he could. Max had gone to chase after Nico while you went over to handle the forms you would need to fill out for Nico.

You quickly spoke to the woman behind the counter after paying the deposit for the day, and with the receipt she started to collect a small stack of papers.

“You’re going to need to fill out a waiver today before the race starts.” The woman said. She gave you a clipboard and a pen for you to start filling out the information for Nico.

As you looked it over, you added in all of Nico’s info, like his name, date of birth, and then your eyes fell on the emergency information. Adding in Max’s was easy.

Parent 1

Name: Max Verstappen Relationship to Child: Father

Address: **, ****** ********** ********* Monaco, La Condamine, 98000 Monaco

Phone Number: +33 00*******

As you stared at the paper you were quick to write down your name. You kept tapping the pen over where it said Relationship to Child. You quickly scribbled down Step-Mother without giving it another thought before copying the address and adding in your own phone number.

It wasn’t that you and Max had never had those conversations about the future. You knew that your relationship was long term and you knew that Max saw a future with you but you had never really talked about how that would affect Nico. Would you be his mother if things seemed to keep progressing the way that they had? Would you be his step-mother if Max ended up proposing?

You pushed the thought from your mind filling out the rest of the papers before you saw Max and Nico come back. You give the papers over to Max so he could sign where his signature was needed. You saw Max turn the pages back over, looked at the first page and then crossed something out before handing the papers back to the woman behind the counter.

“Everything looks to be in order.” The woman said, giving both you and Max a smile. “The race starts in about 30 minutes. You can have your son set up his things over there.” She pointed to a small set of tables where there were parents sitting strapping their children’s helmets on.

You and Max had helped Nico put on his gloves and his helmet before taking his kart over to where the starting line was. The other kids were standing with their parents, some of them looking over at Max knowing exactly who he was. None of the parents had come up to Max to ask for pictures or anything like that but you knew it would probably happen when you were going to leave.

Nico sat down in his kart, moving around a little in the seat before you kissed Nico on top of his helmet and Max gave him a fist bump and a nod with a smile. You and Max walked back behind the gate to watch as the boys, and a smaller group of girls got ready to race around the track for the allocated amount of time.

You had quickly posted something to your Instagram of a photo you had gotten of Nico earlier on.

ynlnusername added to their story

Nico had ended up finishing the race in third. Max looked at you after it was over, probably blown away at Nico’s natural talent.

You had been at the track for another few hours, meeting and talking to some of the other parents. One of the little boys that Nico had raced against even had the courage to walk up to Max and asked for an autograph. Max at first said that he didn’t have a pen on him before you had pulled out a Sharpie from your bag. You had taken to carrying a few with you just in case.

Max had given you a look that told you everything that you needed to know. Afterwards you had helped pack up all of Nico’s things and put him in the car. You planned to give him a bath once you got back home. You found it astounding that he hadn’t fallen asleep on the drive back home.

When you had gotten up to the apartment Max went with Nico into his bathroom and gave him a bath while you ordered an early dinner for the three of you. Nico ate his fill, and while you and Max had finished eating, Nico went to watch some cartoons on the TV.

Eventually Nico ended up on the couch asleep between you and Max. The sound of the TV gave off a light hum.

“So I wanted to know,” Max started to say after he put his phone down. “Why did you put step-mother on Nico’s emergency contact information earlier?”

You were a little taken aback by Max’s question.

“I mean,” He started again. “I know that we’ve talked about the future and wanting to eventually get married. Did you think that when I ended up proposing you wouldn’t fully be Nico’s mother?”

You knew that in France, and in other parts of Europe the process of “adopting” Nico would take some time especially given that you and Max weren’t married, heck you weren’t even engaged yet. Nico didn’t call you anything but Mimi or your name when he could manage to say it.

“I just didn’t want to assume Max.” Nico had a mother, a birth mother who had given him up, but she was still his mom. It was strange because you felt like Nico’s mother, you did everything that a normal mother would do for her son.

Max reached over to lay his hand over yours moving closer to look you in the eyes. You could see the turquoise of Max’s eyes swimming as if you were caught in the ocean. He moved his other hand up to cup your chin.

“You’re his mother Y/N, in every way.” Max leaned up, placing his lips against your hair, pulling both you and Nico closer. “Never doubt that.” He muttered.

You nodded against Max’s shoulder before thinking, official papers be damned.

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @maximeverstappen

#mini verstappen series #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #max verstappen

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danurso · 1 year ago

Text

NWN Challenge

*At a nice bar in Atlas*

Ruby: You’re still dealing with the fallout of that mess?

Blake: Of course. As the head of the white fang I can't just clean up a mess and ignore what caused it and who was affected by it…..*sigh* The last thing I want is people thinking we’re slipping back into what we used to be years back.

Yang: Good thing your pops is really good at de-escalating, well that and Weiss’ PR team.

Blake: Yeah. Where is her by the way? I wanted to thank her personally for all the help.

Ruby: She said she was coming, something came up during work.

Yang: Or someone. If Jaune went to visit she might be an hour or so late.

Blake: That. . . . . . probably isn't the case.

Yang: Why?

Blake: *nods* Because she doesn't look like she just had a good time.

The trio then turned to see a familiar heiress coming in, looking like she was about to murder someone.

Weiss: *sits down on the table*

Bartender: What will it be mi-

Weiss: Vodka. Pure. And make it a triple.

Yang: Yeesh. Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed today.

Ruby: What happened?

Blake: Who did you kill?

Weiss: He's not dead, the doctors said just broke a few bones.

R_BY: . . . . . . . .

Weiss: . . . .what?

Blake: . . . . .i was joking.

Weiss: Oh. . . .right. . . . .

Ruby: Wait, wait, you tried to kill someone!?

Weiss: I didn't! I just exaggerated a bit while dealing with a jerk.

Yang: What happened?

Weiss: . . . . .*sigh* I was venting to Winter about some private things about Jaune, as soon as she left an associate came in, he must've heard something about what we're talking, because as soon as we were done talking business he tried asking me out.

Yang: Doesn't everyone at the company know you just married?

Weiss: They do and he knew about it. But he insisted saying we could do something “fun” and that he could “Give me what i needed” since my husband wasn't doing so.

Ruby: Oh gods. . . . . .

Yang: Hah!

Blake: Like, I understand why that made you angry, but did you have to send the guy to the hospital?

Weiss: Not really, but i’ve been having a really stressful week and even after i said no multiple times, he kept pushing, and the moment he got too close i catapulted him out of the room with a glyph, though because of everything i miscalculated and sent him through a wall instead of the door.

Yang: *laughs* Please send me the video whenever you can! I wanna see that.

Ruby: Well, jerk aside, is everything okay? You sound like there's been stress even before that.

Bartender: Here miss. *Puts down her drink*

Weiss: Thanks.

Blake: Is everything okay at home? You said you were venting about Jaune, is everything okay between you two?

Weiss: No! The last three weeks been awful! HE has been awful!

Blake: Wait what?

Yang: Wow, That's a surprise.

Ruby: But why? What's wrong with Jaune?

Weiss: He’s been the worst! I keep having to deal with issues at the company! Cleaning the mess my father made! And then, after an awful day of work, what am I greeted with!?

Yang: A blown up house?

Blake: Another woman?

Ruby: Jaune wouldn't do that blake! Geez. . . . .Oh! Was it maybe a dead body?

Weiss: No! As soon as I come in he greets me with that stupid! Bright! And warm smile! He hugs me tight goes on about missing me soooo much! He covers me in kisses! Takes me in to show the warm bath he prepared for me! The house which is basically spotless and the dinner which was my favorite! Aaaarggh! Just thinking about it makes my blood boil! *Chugs the drink*

Ruby: . . . . . . . .

Yang: . . . . . . . .

Blake: . . . . . . . . . .that's it?

Weiss: Oh no. No no no, it gets worse. After dinner he brings me a whole cheesecake! Freshly made! And after we ate he took me to the living room and massaged every corner of my stressed body! I felt like I was melting! Oh gods the nerve of that man!!!

Yang: Wow, sounds like a nightmare.

Weiss: I know! Because it is!

Blake: *deadpan* Is it though?

Ruby: Err, Weiss? Are you sure there's a problem there? Because you make it sound like he's doing something bad but apparently he's been really sweet to you.

Weiss: I know! And it's unbearable!

Ruby: But why?

Weiss: BECAUSE IT'S NOVEMBER RUBY!!!

R_BY: Ohhhh. . . . .

Blake: He’s doing that dumb challenge too? I thought it was just Sun.

Ruby: *sigh* Nah, Oscar was doing it too.

Yang: Sounds like a headache. Lucky me and Arslan don't struggle with that stuff.

Blake: Yes, because she's not a guy, they tend to be incredibly stubborn about the stupidest things. Well, as stubborn as you can be with someone who knows all your weaknesses.

Ruby: Got him to give up?

Blake: Around a week in, would’ve been sooner if i wasn't busy with the fang. Oscar giving you trouble?

Ruby: Nope. He went for ten days straight, then he walked in on me coming out of the shower and he snapped. *Chuckles* I wasn't even trying to make him lose.

Weiss: *eyebrow twitching* Good to know I'm the only one suffering here.

Yang: Come on ice cream. You know that guy is basically addicted to you, if you give him a push in the right direction I'm pretty sure he’ll just crumble.

Weiss: And you think I haven't tried!? Skimpy swimsuits, Lingeries, Nudes throughout the day, dirty comments, cosplaying his favorite characters, offering to do the most questionable things! I used every last trick in the book and he STILL didn't cave in!

Yang: Oh, wow.

Blake: I knew he had a strong will but this is still surprising to hear.

Weiss: It's so frustrating! I get to come back home every day to the most wonderful husband in the world, who pampers and looks after me, doing everything I wish and making me the happiest woman in Remnant! And you tell me I can't ride him to oblivion after all that!? It's unfair!!! Utter Injustice!!! I wished I knew who came up with this challenge so I could strangle them until they're blue!!!

Yang: *chuckles* I can't tell if you're angrier at not getting laid for three weeks now or at him for not falling for your charms.

Weiss: BOTH!!!

Ruby: I mean, you said you tried everything but it doesn't sound like it.

Weiss: I did Ruby. I most certainly did! And wore basically anything you could imagine, I went as far as to wear things that, if images were leaked online, my life would be ruined and Blake would never talk to me again.

Yang: . . . . . . .you wore a-

Blake: *covers her mouth* Please don't, I’d rather our friendship still exist by the end of the night. For once in my life i do NOT wanna know.

Yang: *pushes her out* Wow. You really pulled all the stops.

Weiss: And it did nothing to him!!! *Depressed sigh*

Ruby: I mean, so far it sounds like all you did was dress up and act sexy to try and make him cave in.

Weiss: What else was I supposed to do!?

Ruby: Did you forget who you're married to? It's pretty easy to get him to bend and do what you want once you pin his weakness down.

Weiss: . . . . . .that sounded very wrong, especially being about my husband.

Ruby: What? I never abused that weakness mind you! He's my best friend, I could never!

Yang: Unless he has your favorite cookies.

Ruby: *pink* That's different!

Weiss: Spit it out already!

Ruby: *sigh* . . . . .fine. but he ever asks, you didn't learn this from me.

Weiss: *walks in* I’m home.

Jaune: *wearing pajamas* Hey, how was your night? *Hugs her* Everyone doing well?

Weiss: Yeah. *Kisses him* Everyone is doing well.

Jaune: I left some food for you in the microwave, wasn’t sure if you would eat out so i made something.

Weiss: It's fine, we got something to eat on the way back.

Jaune: I’ll pack it up for tomorrow then. *Walking to the kitchen* By the way, Whitley called. He said something about a guy you sent to the hospital. Is everything okay at work?

Weiss: Yeah, someone tried hitting on me earlier, and I accidentally used too much force to push him off when he tried to get too close.

Jaune: *storing the food* Ouch. Almost makes me feel bad for him. . . . .almost. *feels a pair of arms wrapping around his torso from behind.* . . . . . .Weiss?

Weiss: *inhale* . . . . . .*deep exhale*

Jaune: *serious* Weiss. . . . .that guy didn't hurt you, did he?

Weiss: *chuckles* Good to know my knight is still there to protect me if I ever need, I thought he ended up buried under my cute husband.

Jaune: Weiss-

Weiss: He did nothing, just a few sweet words which I already forgot. I just wanted to hug you.

Jaune: If you say so, then I believe you. What do you wanna do now?

Weiss: Bed. I’m tired, could you come with me though?

Jaune didn't answer, he only turned around and picked her up in his arms, making her chuckle in response, he took her to the bedroom and helped her out of her clothes and into her nightgown, and soon enough, they were both in bed cuddling.

Weiss: *Chuckling*

Jaune: What’s so funny?

Weiss: Nothing. I’m just happy.

Jaune: That's good to hear. You seemed a little stressed these last few days.

Weiss: Yeah. . . .but I'm fine now. In fact, I couldn't be happier.

Jaune: Really?

Weiss: Of course. *Hugs him closer* I’ve got a nice house, a good job, great friends and above all else *Looks up to him* the most wonderful husband in the world.

Jaune: *pink, scratching his cheek* Hehehe, I’m just doing what I can. It's not a big deal.

Weiss: It is for me. . . .for someone who grew up in a cold house, surrounded by people I couldn't trust, having someone that I can trust and love this much is everything.

Jaune: Weiss. . . . .

Weiss: You never ignore me, you always know when I'm not okay, you look after my every need, you go above and beyond to make me happy, and you know me even better than I do myself. I must've been a saint in a past life to be blessed with someone so wonderful as you are. I wanna stay like this and hold on to you for the rest of my life. *Angelic smile* Thank you for marrying me, my love.

Jaune: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jaune: *naked on the bed and spooning her* God damnit. . . . .

Weiss: *sweaty and giggling*

Jaune: I can't believe I fell for that.

Weiss: Fell for what~? I was being honest, you know?

Jaune: I know! And that makes it even more of a dirty move!

Weiss: My heart bleeds for you.

Jaune: *groan* I was just a week away. I resisted everything you threw at me and this is how I lost?

Weiss: Yep. I thought there was no way out until a certain someone reminded me how weak you are to someone being genuinely emotional with you.

Jaune: It was Ruby wasn't it? Every time i have her favorite cookies she'll go on this emotional speech about how much it matters to her that i’m her best friend and all we went through, and when i realize i already gave her the cookies.

Weiss: I won't confirm nor deny anything.

Jaune: Ugh, figures.

Weiss: *turns to him* Oh please, you say it as if you didn't like it.

Jaune: Of course I did, I've been craving you for weeks.

Weiss: Good to hear, I felt the same.

Jaune: Just don't do that next year or I'm telling Blake about your secret costumes.

Weiss: You’re doing that again next year!?

Jaune: *chuckles* That's your main concern?

Weiss: Of course I am! These last three weeks have been hell!

Jaune: If that's the case. . . .*on top of her* Then let me take you to paradise.

Weiss: *pink* That wasn't enough for you?

Jaune: Nowhere near enough to make up for these three weeks. You gotta work Tomorrow?

Weiss: Not really, they have to fix the wall in my office so. . . . .

Jaune: Good. You won't have to make up an excuse then. Might need one for after tomorrow though.

Weiss: *red* . . . . . . .I’m in danger aren't i?

Jaune: The plan was to win the challenge and slowly ease back into routine. You tricked me into losing so now I’m giving you what you want, all of it.

Weiss: *redder* C-can we talk about this for a mome-AAHHHH~!?!?

#rwby #jaune arc #weiss schnee #jaune x weiss #rwby jaune #rwby jaune arc #rwby weiss #rwby weiss schnee #rwby jaune x weiss #whiteknight #rwby white knight #white knight #rwby whiteknight #yang xiao long #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #rwby yang xiao long #blake belladona #rwby blake belladonna

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 7 months ago

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For You, I'd Bleed Myself Dry

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Early-ish Alexandria

Warnings: Suggestive (extremely mild); hangover

Summary: You're hung over and don't really remember how you got to Rosita's house the night before. Or what you had said on the way there.

A/N: Just a fun little drabble born of this incorrect quote. Suggested by @marvelcasey05

*gif is not mine

You didn’t expect to find Daryl still home when you wandered in the next morning. He was always an early riser, and though everyone else still slept, he would usually be long gone and outside the gates. So, when you tip-toed through the door and into the kitchen, your heels in your hand, he nearly scared the life out of you. You flipped the lightswitch and:

“Mornin’.”

“Jesus Christ, Daryl!”

The archer chuckled behind his coffee mug before tilting it the least bit more to take a sip. “Rollin’ in awful late.”

You shrugged “Or early, depending on how you look at it. Any left?” You nodded toward the cup. He gave a quiet mhm and got up to make you a mug. Your head was throbbing. You knew your makeup was a mess and your hair a disaster. You had slept in your dress at Rosita’s, so it was wrinkled and you were almost certain that it was only partially zipped in the back.The party hadn’t been that fun but the liquor had been flowing. That was why you went. Things in Alexandria had been stressful. Your group had been there a while. Long enough for so many problems to come along and be handled. The past week had been particularly eventful. Still, it had been handled and there had been some time to cut loose.

So, you did.

You sat your heels on the counter and muttered a thank you when he slid the mug across the surface, narrowing your eyes across the rim as you readied for a drink. “Do you know how I take my coffee?”

“Guess you’ll need to take a drink an’ find out, won’tcha?” He was perching himself back on the island stool when you realized that Daryl Dixon was barefoot, wearing flannel pajama pants, and a faded Led Zepplin t-shirt.

“You’re wearing people clothes.” You blinked, still holding the mug close to your mouth.

Daryl smirked from behind his own cup. “M’a person, contrary to popular belief.” He took another sip, prompting you to take one of your own. He did know how you liked your coffee. Interesting.

An ache in your left foot reminded you that you wanted nothing more than to go to your room and fall into a coma for a few hours. “I should probably take some—”

“S’behind ya. Got ‘em out earlier. Water too.”

There were two tablets on the countertop by the fridge, along with a glass of water. You warily picked them up, almost as if they would come alive and bite you. “Thank you?”

“Mhm.”

Quickly swallowing them, you downed the water because coffee wasn’t the best tool for rehydrating, but you’d be damned if you’d give up that mug for anything. Collecting your heels and your coffee, you started walking backwards out of the kitchen. “Listen, I’m gonna head upstairs and get off my—”

“Perfectly good chair right here.”

“What?” Now you were looking at him as if he’d grown a second head. There were no other chairs in the kitchen. Carol had the only other stool piled full of kitchen junk she had yet to put away. “Are you sure you’re awake?”

“M’wide awake. How’d ya get to Rosita’s last night?”

Wait. Was Daryl blushing? “She helped—” No, that wasn’t right. Rosita and Tara came back long after you did. You distinctly remembered grumbling at them to turn off the lights. “How did I get there?” You said aloud, though softly.

“I took ya.”

Your shoes hitting the floor echoed through the quiet house, causing both you and Daryl to flinch. After a moment, no baby cried and no adults yelled. You walked forward and placed your mug back on the counter. “What do you mean you took me? You weren’t at the party.”

Cause Daryl’s home. He doesn’t like parties.

He shrugged but the pink tint to his cheeks was now traveling a route up to his ears. “Was workin’ on the bike. Saw ya stumblin’ ‘round in the dark. Didn’t wantcha to get hurt.”

“Did I—did I say anything stupid?”

And if I see him right now, I'm gonna ask to use his face as a chair.

“Nope.” The archer was staring at his coffee cup, rolling the smooth sides between his hands. He absolutely knew what you had said but he was giving you an out. Goddamn that man. He had to be beautiful, rough edged, and chivalrous at the same time?

“Good.” You nodded. “Good. Thanks for the coffee.” You turned to walk out, leaving the coffee mug behind. “And for—you know, getting me there safely last night.”

He nodded with a small, tight smile but didn’t say anything else. Maybe he was just teasing you. No, Daryl wasn’t the type. Well, he was but not with things that were at his expense. He was definitely going out of his comfort zone if the red tint on his face was any indication. Did he want to do that with you? You certainly wouldn’t mind. You’d wanted Daryl for as long as you could remember. Even before he started treating the group more like friends than survival buddies. There was always just something about him that called to you, pulled you in like a magnet, but there was this invisible line that didn’t feel safe to cross. Was he toeing that line with you now?

You might never get the chance again if you were to shut him down.

“Hey, Daryl.” You called from the stairs, barely looking over your shoulder. Your heart was racing.

“Yeah?”

“There’s—there’s no chair in my—what’re you—hey!” You were over his shoulder and being hauled down toward his room in the basement before you could do much more than laugh.

“Weren’t no way ya could make any line ‘bout a chair work.”

“Got a bed, right?”

“Got a mattress.”

“That’ll do, Dixon. That’ll do.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon twd #daryl #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #Spotify

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wintersoldiersoul · 4 months ago

Text

Drowning

A/N: Not sure how I feel about this one but I'm currently going through this situation with my boyfriend and I thought that writing about it might help me feel better. Haven't gotten to the part where I talk to him about it but maybe this will inspire me.

It was late. Too late. You should be sleeping but it was impossible with your mind racing. You and Bucky had been together for almost a year now but you never really felt secure in your relationship with him. Maybe it was the way that your last boyfriend had broken up with you out of nowhere. You wish you knew why, but you always felt like Bucky was going to run.

As much as you loved him, you also wanted more from him. More reassurance. More romance. More small gestures to show you that he cared. And you couldn’t blame him for not giving them to you when you hadn’t asked but as much as you preached the importance of communication to your friends, you were a hypocrite. You could never apply that to your own relationship.

Everytime you tried to express your feelings, you couldn’t do it. What if I’m right? What if I tell him that I’m afraid he’s gonna leave and he finally takes it as his chance to do so? You would think. Or what if I plant the idea in his head?

All of this was made harder by the fact that you were younger than him. While he was established with a career, living on his own, you had just graduated college and were back living with your parents. Finding a job felt nearly impossible despite the countless resumes and cover letters that you sent out every single day. Your brain constantly flashed back to a conversation you had in May, where you asked him if you would stay together when you moved back home. Your hometown was less than an hour from where Bucky lived in Brooklyn, so in your mind it was a no brainer. But when your question opened up a conversation that blindsided you.

Bucky explained that he was ready to be settled down. You were shocked when he had said the words, “Sometimes it feels like we have an expiration date.”

The next morning he said he was being ridiculous. That he loved you and of course the two of you would figure it out. But ever since then, you hadn’t been able to relax. Even now, a month into you living back at home you still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to change his mind. You saw him just as often as you had when you were still living in the city. You didn’t mind taking the train to go see him 3 or 4 times a week. But the stress and anxiety was weighing on you. Combined with adjusting to post-grad life, you were not doing well.

You had never felt so lonely in your life. All of your college friends had also moved back to their hometowns while most of your friends from high school were still dispersed around the country. The job search left you feeling defeated every single day. And the lack of things to do and structure made life feel meaningless. It was safe to say that you had hit a low point.

But you wanted to hide it all from Bucky. Because what if you brought up how hard it was to find a job and he realized that this wasn’t going to work? What if you told him how lonely you were and he was offended that he wasn’t enough? He knew that you struggled with anxiety and he was no stranger to mental health issues of his own but you just found it impossible to open up to him about all of this.

So there you were, in the midst of another sleepless night overthinking everything. Laptop opened, frantically searching on LinkedIn for jobs in the hopes that one thing just might work out. You read back your text messages from the past few days. Does he seem distant, or is my stupid brain playing tricks on me? As your spiral continued, you could feel a panic attack brewing. You tried your best to focus on your breathing but it became impossible. You just wanted to talk to Bucky. You needed to talk to Bucky.

Fuck it, you thought. Losing him would be horrible, but so is living in this fear. Through your tears and shaking hands, you typed a message.

Y/N: Are you awake?

You shook your legs and bit your nails as you stared at the screen waiting for those three dots to show up.

Bucky: Yeah.

You took a deep breath as you sent the next message, trying to not go crazy over the dry single word he had responded with.

Y/N: Can I call you?

You desperately wished you could be with him right now to have this conversation. To analyze his body language in person. But you weren’t with him and you wouldn’t see him til the end of the week and you needed to get this out. Now.

Bucky: It’s late. I’m trying to get some sleep.

You knew work had been kicking his ass lately. He was putting in insane hours, usually waking up at 6 and not finishing up til midnight. You knew he needed to rest and you almost responded back saying nevermind, and goodnight. But no. You needed to be a little selfish or you would crumble. Tonight felt like a turning point. Or a breaking point.

Y/N: Please Bucky. I really need to talk to you.

Bucky: Ok

Pressing dial on his name, you felt your heart rate increase even more. You tried to take deep breaths to calm your tears but it didn’t help. You were practically sobbing by the time he answered the call. “Bucky…” you said into the phone.

At hearing your voice, Bucky was alert. He could tell that something was wrong. You had never cried in front of him. “Y/N? Baby, what's wrong? What's going on?” His desire for sleep was completely gone. All he cared about was you. He knew that he wasn’t the best boyfriend. He knew he could treat you better. But the years of trauma he had experienced made it hard for him to be vulnerable with anyone. He loved you so much that it hurt him and he hated himself that he couldn’t fully give himself to you.

“Bucky, I’m not okay. I’m really really not okay,” you practically hyperventilated. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep living like this. I can’t.”

“Shhh, can you take some deep breaths for me?” He said calmly. “I need you to calm down and tell me what's going on.” He listened quietly as he heard you breathe deeply.

“Bucky, I’m terrified,” you finally spoke after a couple of minutes. “I don’t feel secure in our relationship. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells constantly because I’m petrified that you’re gonna leave. That one day you’re just gonna decide that you’re done with me because I’m too young and I live with my parents and I don’t have a job. And trying to find a job has really been taking a toll on me. I’m trying so fucking hard but it feels impossible. It’s so defeating waking up every single day to an email inbox full of rejections and I feel worthless and stupid. I’m not doing well not being in college anymore. I don’t have any structure to my days and life feels really fucking pointless right now. I’m so lonely. Fuck, I’m so lonely, Buck.” You took a pause, bracing yourself for his response.

“Baby, why haven’t you brought this up sooner? Why haven’t you told me any of this?” There was genuine shock in his voice.

“Because!” You cried. “I don’t want to remind you about how hard it is to find a job right now. I don’t want you to think about the fact that I live with my parents now while you have your own independent life. I never want to remind you of it because I don’t want you to change your mind and leave. And I don’t want you to think that you’re not enough for me because I’m lonely. I love you so much but I just… I really fucking miss my friends.”

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me. Like, really listen to me. I am well aware of your situation. I know it’s hard to find a job right now. I’m not gonna leave you, okay? I’m committed to this. To you.”

You sniffled. “But you said that you wanted to be settled down. That we might have an expiration date.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry for that. I never should have said those things. When we had that conversation I was tired and not thinking clearly. And I spent that whole night wide awake thinking about how stupid I was and how stupid I would be to let you go because you need some time to find your footing after college. I hate that those words affected you so much. I’m so sorry.”

You talked to him for a while longer, pouring out all of your insecurities that you’d been holding back. After a while, the conversation started to shift to more normal things.

“Baby,” Bucky yawned. “I love you so much but I gotta go to bed. And tomorrow after work I’ll come see you, okay?”

“Okay. I love you too.”

Your worries wouldn’t fade overnight. You wouldn’t suddenly be able to get a job. Your friends wouldn’t all come back to you. College was over and life was drastically different. But at least now Bucky knew. And he wasn’t going to leave.

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superblysubpar · 6 months ago

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thank you so much for requesting @retrosabers soooooooooooooo...idk what this is. but it turned into a makeup sex, kind of angry with steve, to I guess, the beginnings of the "How Sweet It Is AU" for me?? - you could just read this as stand alone smut, but please read the warnings below if you're unfamiliar with that AU and don't want a pretty big surprise at the end!

2,119 words

warnings: mentions of wearing Steve's boxers, SMUT (piv intercourse - creampie, angry/makeup sex & all the language and actions that may go with it - some kingish steve vocabulary if you will)| pregnant reader announcement - see How Sweet It Is AU warnings for more | my blog is 18+

Late Summer, Early Fall, 1986

Your fingers slip from his neck and shoulders, sweat slicked tan skin there making the bright red of the scratches you made brighter. Angrier.

They match the mood - the deep lines between his brows, the pout of your lips, the brutal punch of his thrust inside of you, the clench of your jaw so you don’t do something satisfying like scream his name or fuck, say sorry.

Neither of you can remember what started it now. You said something bratty, he said something even more so. Sharp tones and stressful weeks. Cupboards and drawers with volume and slams worthy of a battle of the bands. Silent tooth brushing while glaring at one another in the mirror sessions, and purposeful, childish things, like making only enough coffee for one cup each morning.

Not that you had even wanted any today.

The sun was brutal, the AC was busted, and Steve had found you lying on the hard kitchen floor, practically naked, and sipping something out of a blue, glass mason jar that was sweating more than you.

He’d swallowed at the sight of your stomach and arms fully on display, the curve of lace over your chest, his boxers rolled over your thighs too high to be decent if you stood. Perhaps Steve could have taken the gesture of you wearing next to nothing as a white flag, but all he could think about was how hot he was, how tight the tie was around his neck, and how he was mad at you for a reason he didn’t even remember.

Steve stepped over to the thermostat and without opening your eyes you called, “No difference.”

“When’s the last time you checked?” He grumbled under his breath, tapping at it with a roll of his eyes. “No difference.”

“Right,” you propped up on your elbows, glaring at him as you snapped, “Like I just said.”

He looked right at you for what felt like the first time in years, when really it had only been a day or two. But the sight of eyes that were honey turned hard, though just as sticky as they lingered on your own, had something in your chest warming.

Steve glanced down at your body again as he yanked at his tie, throwing it on the counter before taking on his naturally annoyed position of hands on his hips. His fingers flexed against them while his head tilted in a way that exposed his throat more, made it easy to follow his swallow or the bead of sweat curving down his jaw. It made you want to curse whatever god created this man, and that was before he opened his mouth with a tone bitchy enough to match his pose.

“Can you put a shirt on?”

The bite of his question made your eyes narrow, made you stick out your peachy, lace covered chest more just to spite him. His gaze returned to yours, challenging, fire burning between you both making his gaze molten - pure lava that was sure to consume you before you even had the thought of running from it.

You stood as he harshly unbuttoned the white button down he was dressed in, revealing dark chest hair and the gold chain nestled there, both threatening to make you fold first, but you couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

His finger’s movements slowed as they worked at the cuffs when you set your glass on the counter. As you took a step closer, then another, you both refused to break eye contact until your chests were almost touching and your chin tipped up at him in your own challenge back.

“Make me.”

The space between your lips buzzed, his cupid’s bow mocking you, the heave of your chest doing the same to him.

Maybe you tilted higher first, maybe he bent lower, but your lips crashed into each other - literally.

Teeth against plush bottom lips and noses bumping, hands gripping at each other like you’re about to push the other off, yet you both only get closer.

Steve pants into your mouth, his fingers dig into the skin just below your ribs as he pushes you in a direction clumsily, till your back is hitting the counter and you can feel how hard he already is as he pulls your hips against his own.

You don’t give him the satisfaction of making any noise when his thumb brushes over a hard nipple through lace, or when his tongue meets yours. He doesn’t give you any either when you pull a little hard at the hair at the back of his head and roll your hips.

Neither of you say a word or let your faces show any sign that this is all exactly what you want, what you need when he pushes at the boxers and lets them fall to the floor as he lifts you onto the counter or when you pull and push at his belt and dress slacks enough to free his length.

Steve slips up a little when you wrap your hand around him, his head thrown back and teeth digging into his lip, fists forming against the counter next to your thighs with each slow tug.

“What’s the matter Steve?” Faux pouting lips form the coy question while your hand pumps faster. You smirk when Steve lets loose a shaky exhale on your next words. “You wanna tell me how good it feels? How turned on you are right now? How sor-“

You inhale sharply when his thumbs spread you and a low rumble leaves his lips, too close to your ear, “Oh babe…me? I think if anyone here is turned on it’s-fuck.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass and pushing him closer so his tip hits your entrance, your hand glides it through your folds dripping around him already, teasing at your clit then back down.

“Speaking of fuck-oh.”

Your brows knit together, lips clamp shut as he slides into you slowly. His chest is heaving, white button down open so you could scrape you nails down the gray tank top revealed to you now, but you don’t. Your eyelashes are fluttering, fingers slipping against the counter and back arching so he could go deeper.

He doesn’t.

Steve keeps his thrusts shallow and slow, only giving you just enough to make you angry. Your cheeks grow hot, spine tingling, tongue pushing against your teeth with every glide in, silently willing, begging, him to go deeper.

Your clit throbs, heels dig into him, but Steve stands firm, watching you closely, waiting till you look up at him.

One damp strand of brown hair falls over his forehead, while eyes soften towards you again. Sweat rolls down his temple, each pulse of his steady heartbeat making his cologne sharper, mint and cedar distracting you, placating you. When you grip at his shoulders, finally touching him again, he exhales as his name leaves you in a whisper.

“Steve,” your fingers grip the collar of his button down, “More.”

As your hands slip, nails curling into his chest, Steve finally gives you more.

Then he stops.

Pressed against you, he inhales slow and steady, watching you. His arms flex around yours as his palms press to the cool counter, ignoring how thrilled he is to feel you fluttering around him fully now.

He grins, finally, when a whine bubbles out of your throat at the lack of movement. He can’t help himself, raising his pitch and mocking your words earlier, “What’s the matter? Wanna tell me how good it feels? Wanna tell me you’re sor-“

“I said more,” you gasp around the words, rolling your hips until his hands fly to them and hold them in place.

Steve looks at you seriously, black lust filled pupils taken over his gaze, and his tongue slides over his bottom lip before he speaks, like he’s debating his words.

“I did give you more. Want something else? Gonna have to be specific babe. Maybe use a word that starts with ‘P’ and ends with leas-“

“Fucking, fuck me, Harrington!” You grip the cotton tank between your fingers, voice hot and body hotter and only getting more so when he throws his head back in a laugh. A laugh which only makes you clench around him more and spurring him on.

“Harrington?! Did you just call me Harrington and then tell me to fuck you?!” He grins wider, his perfect smile on display, like he just can’t help himself.

“Would you prefer King Ste-ohmygod!”

Steve pulls out and thrusts into you hard, his forehead furrowed as his mouth searches for yours. You meet him in a kiss that starts with another gasp as he sets a brutal pace. Your fingers slip around his neck and he lays over you so your back is against the counter. His hands drag you to the edge still, so his hips can meet yours over and over again as his tongue works at the seam of your lips once more.

He slows his kiss down, sucking on your bottom lip and pulling, breath exhaled against your cheek through his nose as your back arches and your nails leave their marks. Steve keeps thrusting, coarse hair hitting your clit that only aches for more when he releases your mouth. Lips kiss bitten and parting in shock when he speaks down to you with a deep and hoarse gravel, chest heaving as his nails scratch down your thigh.

“Am I fucking you good enough, honey?” He pushes at your legs, bending them up and towards your chest so you do cry out as he somehow gets more inside of you, “Feel that? Feel how deep I am?”

He rolls his hips, a thumb pressed to your clit and you break, the lava creeping closer.

Steve groans when you gasp a yes, a more.

He thrusts faster, hands skating over your body, pulling and tugging you closer to him, lips brushing against your jaw then your neck as he speaks.

“Wanna come for me baby? Feels like you do, this pussy’s just crying around me.”

You gasp at the filth coming out of him, hating that it only makes him slip inside of you easier, faster.

Steve lets your legs fall, guiding one around his hip and the other pressed next to your head, his torso rising so his gaze can stay on where your bodies meet with an intensity you haven’t quite seen before. He looks like an older version of a Steve you met a long time ago.

Realizing now, his pants aren’t even down, his shirt only just unbuttoned, chain glistening in damp chest hair. His forearm veins and shoulders flex with determination you used to see on a court, jaw pulsing, and his brow sweating, but no longer furrowed - like he knows he’s won. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, tongue between his lips as his thumb swipes over your clit in a large figure eight and you jolt. His hand reflexively pushes your shoulder down, while he keeps working on the swollen nerves in time with his thrusts.

Each pass, each thrust, is a clock counting down drowning out a crowd for him, knowing if he just keeps going, he’ll make it. For you, it’s lava gaining ground, inches from your demise, the heat licking at your body now enough for you to cry out his name just like an adoring fan.

Steve grunts, brow furrowed again so he can focus on what he’s trying to say.

“Oh, it’s first name basis again, yeah? Did that good of a job? An-another slut satisfied with their fuck from Harrington?”

You cry out a yes, literally, your orgasm breaking over you in multiple releases. You clench around him, thighs tightening on his hips and Steve’s rhythm stutters as you take everything he gives you. The rush of every pent up emotion makes it’s way over your lash lines. Angry tears, sad tears, relieved tears. Maybe delirious as you start laughing, fingers swiping at them and Steve’s head whips up.

He slips out of you with a wince, his fingers catching the tears and his forehead furrowed with worry now, “Baby, babe. Hey, hey, hey, what’s-I’m sorry, that was too far, I thought you-“

“Steve,” you hiccup, fingers catching his, eyes doing the same to worried and back to warm honey irises.

He waits, thumbs soothing over yours only pausing when you speak again. The scratches on his neck and shoulders pink now, less angry - sorry. They match the pink lips that part, the cheeks that stand out behind tear tracks. They still match the mood.

Softer.

Sweeter.

Just like the words leaving your lips.

“I’m pregnant.”

#superbly subpar steve smut #superbly subpar's writing #How Sweet It Is AU #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb

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luvhughes43 · 5 months ago

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blue lines | blake hughes au

[blake hughes au]

summary: blake and nico have a pregnancy scare

mentions: periods, pregnancy, anxiety, etc.

word count: 0.9k

blake and nico couldn't keep their hands off each other. it was simply a known fact amongst their shared group of friends. everyone who knew blake as a determined, self-loathing teenager was always shocked to find out how pro pda and touchy she was with her boyfriend.

everyone also thought that the two would grow out of their "honeymoon phase" which to the displeasure of certain family members - commonly known as jack - the months apart during the off-season only reignited the couples... touchy nature.

which is why... after an increased amount of ... physically intensive fall activities blake wasn't too shocked to find that her period was a few days late.

"i'm late," blake pierces the quiet atmosphere in nico's apartment.

"late for what?" nico questions, not even bothering to look up from his phone. "i thought you said you weren't busy today,"

blake pauses and blinks in quick succession. "well no im talking about-" she pauses again before rechecking her period tracking app. she holds the glaring 3 WEEKS LATE page towards nico, "like... im late late. i haven't been late since i was competing," blake passes her phone to nico who studies her app with rapt attention.

"i've really... never been late before," blake repeats as she paces around her boyfriends living room. she suffered from stress and extensive workout related absent periods - and since she retired from skating she had regained and had a pretty consistent cycle. "i'm pregnant," she blurts out nervously as she avoids eye contact with nico.

"okay, it's going to be okay," nico tries to soothe blake. he silently stumbles towards her and she jumps when he rests his hand soothingly against her shoulder. "let's go to the store and we'll get some tests,"

blake nods thoughtlessly and lets herself be dragged out of the door by nico. it's not that she didn't want to be a mother - blake thinks as she watches nico's neighborhood fly by as he weaves carefully through traffic. she was just too young, the relationship too new... she wasn't ready to be responsible for another human being.

blake doesn't remember stepping out of the car and walking into the pharmacy. her breathing is heavy and laboured as she stares at a wall full of pregnancy tests. "i don't know which one we need..." her voice is unfamiliar to her own ears. she was only twenty-one, how was she supposed to be a mother? and nico... he was just announced captain last season and was finally starting to get into the groove of things.

nico grabs a variety of tests and blake takes the opportunity to study his face. his brows are arched in contemplation and if he was nervous blake isn't able to tell. blake grabs a box of the closet tests and examines it.

"how many do you think we need?" nico asks suddenly. he holds his hands out towards her, and different brands flash up towards her menacingly.

"three? two should be fine i don't-"

"nico hischier!" a loud and unfamiliar voice announces to the whole store. "could i get a picture with you?"

blake wordlessly takes the pregnancy tests and wanders down the aisle. "uh, yeah sure," nico smiles with uncertainty as he throws an arm around the young fan. nico pulls him out of the aisle and he sends blake looks of concern but she just waves him off to focus on the fan.

nico's quick with the photo and after a few words about the upcoming season nico's quick to rejoin blake. "do you think he saw what we were buying?" blake asks nervously as she holds up the tests in her hands.

"no it's alright," nico tries and reassures the trembling blake.

"i'm sorry im so scared i just... i dont know how to feel right now," she whispers into nico's side. his arm tightens around her as they stand in the comfort of each others embrace.

"it's okay, just try and relax" nico kisses her hairline and she's suddenly plagued with a rush of guilt. it felt like she was always leaning on him more than she should - instead of allowing him space to feel anxious as well. "i'm scared too," he says softly - as if sensing blakes thoughts.

with no more interruptions or disrupting anxious thoughts - the young couple make it through check-out with ease.

they shuffle into nico's apartment and blake immediately beelines it for his bathroom. nico waits politely outside the door.

"they all say to wait three minutes," blake says with a handful of tests.

"i'll set a timer," nico supplies and fishes his phone out from his back pocket.

the two sit outside the bathroom door - legs crossed with the tests laying in front of themselves face-down. blake wordlessly reaches for nico's hand who squeezes it silently.

"we'll figure it out you know - if they're positive," nico gestures towards the tests in front of them.

"i know," blake whispers. she grasps his arm in both of her own and leans her head against his shoulder. "i'm sorry for zoning out earlier i was just..."

"scared? you have nothing to be sorry for,"

"okay,"

"okay."

the minutes drag, and when nico's alarm finally rings out the young couple jolts upright. blake immediately reaches for the closet test and flips it over with a manicured hand. nico flips another, and the tension in the room finally settles.

negative

blake leans her head back against nico's shoulder and the rise and fall of his breathing soothes her.

#blake hughes au #nico hischier x reader

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year ago

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You Made it Shine

➪the one where you’ve been feeling a bit lonely, and leon intends on making it up to you.

Warnings: first time daddy kink writer - be gentle, age gap, 18+, daddy kink obvi, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (leon just really wants to knock you up), breeding kink, swearing, scratching, biting, hair pulling, choking, y’all are f r e a k y

Word Count: 4.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | Thank you for 3.6k followers mwah

Some trash reality TV show played in the background while you flipped to another page in your textbook. You had been given a fucking stupid amount of homework to do by next Monday, and you were beginning to feel stressed out about it all.

It didn’t help that you missed your boyfriend, either.

Leon had been very busy lately, and you only really saw him when he got in bed with you after eleven PM.

While you didn’t know much about what he did for work, you knew it required him to be gone a lot and he had to dedicate most of his time to it.

You huff quietly as you scribble out a word you misspelt before trying again, glancing over at your phone when it went off from its place on the floor beside you.

Daddy 💖: Gonna be another late night, I think. I’m sorry, baby, I know you wanted to watch that new movie. I promise we’ll get to it soon. Be home in a few hours ❤️

You huff again and quickly type out a message before tossing your phone aside, knowing damn well how childish you are acting, but also not caring at all.

I’m bored, Leon. I miss you. Let me know when you have time for me.

As you started to read over the notes you took during your lecture earlier today, your phone went off again within seconds of you sending that last text.

Daddy 💖: Don’t be like that, princess, I’m feeling bad enough as it is. I’ll be home soon and then we can figure out a time that works for both of us. Only a few more weeks then I’ll get to use some of my unpaid days off, and I’ll be spending every one with you.

You bite your lip and decide not to answer, already feeling a bit bad for how you acted in your previous message to him.

Leon worked very hard and put in more hours than most people, and you knew he got into that kind of work early on in his life. He didn’t tell you really anything about his job, but you knew he started when he was twenty one and had been in the same field ever since, now at the age of thirty three.

You were only twenty two, and you seriously couldn’t imagine putting yourself through half the things he did, so you had to appreciate his dedication, even if just a little bit.

After reading for a while, you ventured off to yours and Leon’s shared room and changed into a lacy, black two piece pyjama set so you could be a bit more comfortable while you studied.

You ate a few pieces of strawberries you had cut up for lunch earlier as you skimmed through your notes, the time passing by quicker than you thought it would.

Before long the front door was swinging open and slamming shut, and the sound of heavy footsteps were heard approaching the living room. “Baby,” Leon rasped as he stood in the doorway.

You look up at him from your spot on the carpet, your books and pages scattered around you. “Hi,”

Leon shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the armchair next to the door before he was slowly crouching down and meeting your eye level. “Hi,” he said back. His eyes raked over the mess of papers and the tired look on your face, his heart aching a bit at how neglected you looked. “I was worried about you.”

You leaned into his touch when he reached over and ran his knuckles along the curve of your jaw. “Why?”

“You didn’t answer my text,” he stated as his gaze dipped down to your lips.

Shrugging, you look back at your book. “I felt bad for how I acted,”

“For how you acted?” Leon laughed quietly and moved so he is kneeling next to you. “Baby, I’m the one who cancelled our plans, again. I’m the one who feels bad.”

You tilt your head when his chin comes to rest on your shoulder. “It’s alright,” you murmured as you felt his lips softly brush the skin behind your ear. “Work comes first. I know that.”

“Not when it comes to you,” he corrected as he moved to pull you onto his lap right there on the living room floor. “You should know that, instead.”

You were finding it hard to focus with his body pressed right up against your back, and his hands running up and down the skin of your thighs, but you played it up as if his actions didn’t faze you.

Until he leaned in and pressed his lips to the side of your neck, moving upwards to whisper, “You look so pretty, baby,” and you just could not stop the shiver that ran through your body. “Did you wear this for me?”

You were helpless as you nodded, glancing over at the time on your phone and seeing that Leon had only been at work for another hour before getting home, and not a few like he said. “Did you rush home for me?”

“Everything I do is for you,” he reminded you as he trailed his mouth along your shoulder blade. “Everyday, you’re on my mind, baby.”

You bite your lip as you turn your head so you can look into his annoyingly pretty eyes. Pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, you close your eyes as you lean back against him. “I missed you, daddy,”

Leon groaned and pressed a proper kiss to your mouth, slipping his hands under your shirt as he murmured, “I missed you, too, princess. Fuck, did I ever,”

You turn fully so you’re straddling his lap and grip his shoulders with your fingers. “Touch me,” you nearly begged, missing the feeling of his hands on your body after going without it for nearly two straight weeks. “Please.”

Leon cooed at your pout, reaching up to pull at your bottom lip with his thumb. “My sweet girl,” he said, more so to himself. “I haven’t been taking very good care of you, have I?”

You shook your head and pressed your knees into the carpet on either side of his hips. “No, you always take good care of me,” you promised, tangling your hands in his hair. “I just miss you.”

He nodded and placed a noisy kiss on your lips. “I’m right here, baby,” he swore as his hands drifted lower, taking the lace of your panties between his fingers and pulling it down with him. “I’ll take care of you, like I always do.” He said against your mouth as he gently lifted you up and placed you down so your back is against the papers that were scattered all over the carpet.

They crinkle under you, but you don’t care as he pulls the lace from your body and immediately replaces it with his lips. You sigh and jolt a bit as you reach down to grip his head with one hand. “Daddy,”

Leon grunted against your core and the vibrations had you bucking up against him. “That’s right, baby,” he muttered, running the tips of his fingers along your wet folds. “You needed your daddy, huh?”

“Always,” you answer, spreading your thighs a bit more as he further delved into you. “I always need you, Leon.”

He hummed against your clit. “I need you, too,” he promised, wrapping his free arm around your thigh and pulling your body closer to his greedy mouth. “Every single fucking day I need you. You’ve made me so damn pathetic, princess.”

You moaned and arched your back a bit, further scrunching up the notes you took. “You’re so good to me, daddy,” you nearly whisper. “That doesn’t make you pathetic. It’s so attractive, you don’t even know how hot you are.”

Leon smiled up at you in appreciation. “I bet you don’t realize how hot you are, either, sweet girl,” he says. “And you taste so fucking good, I could stay down here forever.”

It was a sight that was nearly too hot to handle. Leon hadn’t even been home for five minutes before he was going down on you, still wearing his work clothes, which consisted of black jeans, a black shirt that fit him so well and showed off his toned chest, and boots.

You always thought he looked too hot to be going to work, but then you realized that he simply looked too hot all the time. How you managed to get him all to yourself, you’d never know, but he is somehow completely obsessed with you in every possible way.

“That’s fine with me,” you murmur, running your fingers through his hair and looking down at him. “I’m always so wet for you.”

Leon groaned loudly and began to fuck his fingers into your greedy core. “I know, sweet girl,” he mumbled, coating his fingers in your wetness with every thrust of his hand. “You’re so sensitive. I can just look at you and you’d get wet for me.”

“I can’t help it,” you say quietly. “You’re so hot, daddy.”

“I’m not teasing you, baby,” he promised, kissing your inner thigh as he continued to move his fingers in and out of you. “Not at all. I love how much you need me and how much I turn you on. It’s the same way for me. You make me so hard, it’s painful sometimes.”

You gasp out a laugh that quickly turns into a moan when he curls his fingers in order to be able to reach your sweet spot. “Daddy,” you whined, bucking your hips up as best as you could against his firm hold. “Please.”

“I know, princess,” he hummed, fucking his fingers hard into you and loving the way your face scrunched up at the pleasure. “I know. You just need your daddy to make you come, huh?”

“Please,” you say again, reaching down to grip his hand in yours. His other picked up the pace and his thumb brushed against your clit with every thrust. “Please.”

Leon kissed all along your thighs, never taking his eyes off your face. “I love it when you beg, baby,” he says. “But you don’t need to right now. I’m gonna get you off so good, I promise.”

“Leon,” you nearly yelled as his mouth returned to your clit. He sucked on it harshly and felt as your thighs shook a bit. He moved down when he felt your release coat his fingers, and delved his tongue within your walls to taste you.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl,” he praised, sliding his sopping fingers out of you and licking them clean. “You taste so good, baby. So sweet.”

You whine and pull him down on top of you. “Please, daddy,” you begged, kissing him deeply as he settled between your thighs. “I need you. Want you to fuck me so badly.”

He tsked, bracing himself by his forearms on either side of your head. Next to where your hair is sprawled out was a sheet from the lecture you had earlier, and Leon grinned at the small amount of drool that left your lips and landed on the paper. It smudged your name and made the ink bleed a bit, but you didn’t care at all. “Look at you,” he groaned, licking up the line of salvia from your mouth to your jaw. “My smart girl, all hot and bothered for me. You want me to fuck you stupid, huh?”

“Yes,” came your instant reply.

The sight of you was something that couldn’t even be found on the internet. You were so pure and so rare, and all his.

You were too smart for your own good, yet he could easily get you all dumb for him and his dick. He can easily get you desperate for him.

“Wait,” he requested, grinding against you when you whined at the word. Your whole body shook as his jeans brushed against your wet and sensitive core, and it was almost enough to have you push him away. “See? You’re not ready to get off again. Not yet.”

He leaned in to kiss all over your collarbones and shoulders, one hand reaching down to push up your flimsy top. Your breasts spill free from the thin fabric and he moves further down in order to wrap his lips around your nipple.

“I’ll get you ready,” he promised as he swirled his tongue around the taunt peak, his fingers moving to pinch and pull at your neglected one. “Get you all nice and ready for daddy’s dick.”

“Mm, fuck,” you whined, raking your fingers through his hair and pulling on the light strands. “Leon…Fuck, I love you.”

He grunted against your nipple, pulling away and leaving a strand of salvia behind. “I love you so much more, baby. My pretty girl,” he leaned back on his knees, draping your thighs over his as he slowly rocked his hips into yours. You looked so fucked out already, with your tits on full display, your thighs coated in your own release, and your lips swollen and wet. Leon had never seen a prettier sight.

The front of his jeans quickly began to sport a damp spot from the way he rubbed against your dripping core, and he never wanted to wash them. He could live happily forever while just being covered in your sweet scent.

You whimpered as you played with your nipples, the slow grind of his hips beginning to work you up again. Your quiet gasps and moans were music to his ears, and Leon was prepared to take tomorrow off just so he can spend the whole day eliciting more sounds from you.

The cool metal of his zipper against your heated clit had your eyes rolling back, your chest lifting up and causing your notes to become wrinkled under you. “Daddy,” you whispered, grinding up against him. He stilled his hips and let you rub against him, his eyes following the lift and drag of your core against his painfully hard dick through his jeans.

“There you go,” he rasped, gripping your waist and giving you a sharp thrust. You moan loudly, bucking against him desperately. “You sound so sweet, baby. So good for me.”

“Please,” you whisper.

He pulls away and watches as your core drips with arousal, sliding down your folds and wetting your anatomy notes without a care in the world. He wanted to lick it up so badly, but refrained from doing so when he felt your gentle tugs on his shirt.

Leon reached behind him and pulled off the tight fabric from his chest, tossing it aside to join your damp panties.

You bite your lip and sit up, pulling off your own shirt and throwing it to the side as well. The sound of pages crumpling fills the room as you move to copy his knelt stance, your body much smaller than his and making you have to tilt your head to be able to look up at him.

Leon reaches down and grazes your cheek with his knuckles. “What do you want, baby?”

You hum, kissing his wrist before moving up to kiss his lips. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he deepens the kiss, his hands sliding up to tangle in your hair as his tongue explore your strawberry tasting mouth. “I wanna make you feel good, daddy,” you murmur when you pull away.

Placing open mouthed kisses down his chest, you pause at the waistband of his jeans. You glance up at him as your fingers make work of unzipping them after pulling his belt off.

“Let me go down on you, daddy,” you offered, pushing down his black boxer briefs and freeing him. “Let me suck you off.”

Leon groaned and tightened his grip on your hair. “You don’t have to ask, princess,” he reminded you. “You know I won’t ever pass up one of your blowjobs.”

You grinned, gripping him tightly. “I know,” you say before wrapping your lips around him. Starting off with his tip, you run your tongue along his head before slowly taking more of him. You hollow your cheeks and take him until your nose is pressed to his pelvis bone and he is hitting the back of your throat.

You move so you’re lying flat on your front, your hips pressed to the floor and your juices still dripping onto your homework pages.

Leon groaned loudly, gathering your hair into a ponytail as you began to suck him off. “God, baby, you’re going to need to ask for a new page for your homework assignment,” he announced. “You’re soaking the one you have now.”

You moan around him, your eyes nearly rolling back when you feel your clit throb at his words. You clench helplessly around nothing at all, your walls pulsating with every sound that leaves his sinful lips.

“It’s all for you,” you tell him, stroking his wet shaft with your hand as you lean forward to kiss along his abs. His body was insane and you were sure you could spend the rest of your life exploring it and never get bored of the way it felt against your hands.

He worked out so often, his body had no choice but to tighten up in all the right places. “I know it is, sweet girl,” he mumbled. “All mine, aren’t you? Mine to take whenever I want.”

You moan embarrassingly loud at his possessive words, feeling more wetness drip from your folds. “I’m so wet, daddy,” you gasp, licking his tip once more. “I missed you so much.”

“I know, baby,” he cooed, tugging on your lip with the thumb of his freehand. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. I missed you, too. You need me to fuck you now, sweet girl?”

You hum, pulling off him again and stroking him with both hands. “I need it so badly,”

Leon hummed in agreement. “Lay back, princess,” he instructed quietly. You oblige right away, sitting up only to lay on your back a few seconds later.

“Are you going to breed me, daddy? Get me all knocked up?” You tease, knowing how badly he wanted to see you round with his baby. Being with you had unlocked so many kinks, Leon hadn’t even heard of some of them, but he knew he definitely had them.

Leon cursed under his breath as he pulled his jeans off completely and threw them to the side. “I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promised, staying in his knelt position and grabbing your thighs. He spread your legs and exposed your awaiting core, all ready and his for the taking. “Show all those college boys how badly you wanted me to knock you up.”

You moan loudly, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can watch him coat his salvia covered dick in your wetness before easily sliding in you. Your head falls back and your chest pushes up, your nipples hard and straining against the cool air in the room. “Fuck,”

“That’s my girl,” he grunted once he was fully buried in you. “So fucking tight.”

“Daddy,” you whine, watching as he began to slowly fuck into you. “You stretch me so good.”

Leon grunted in reply. “You were made for me, princess,” he says, draping your thighs over his again and rocking his hips into yours. “Mine from the very beginning.”

“Fuck, Leon,” you moan, the slick sound of your walls taking every inch of him filling the room. “I need you, daddy. Please.”

“How do you need it, baby?” He asked, running his hands up and down your thighs.

“Hard,” you answer, and that was all he needed. He gripped your waist tightly and began fucking into you fast and steady, making your whole body jolt and shake with each thrust. “Oh, fuck. Fuck.”

Your head falls back and you lay down again, reaching down to grab onto his wrists. “Like this?” He mocked under his breath, eyeing the way your tits bounced with every move he made.

“Yes,” you moan. “Fuck yes, daddy, just like that.”

“Good girl,” he praised, adoring how responsive you always are to him. “I’ll fuck you nice and hard, like you deserve.”

You whimper and he reaches one hand up to fondle one of your breasts, his thumb and index finger pinching your already hard nipple. Your whole body shakes a bit as he uses his other thumb to rub harsh circles onto your clit.

It was probably too much too fast, but he knew you could take it.

You were his sweet, cock-hungry girl, of course you could take it.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you lay back and push away various papers, not caring about their well-being at all as you shove them away from you.

You should have more self control. You should be studying right now and watching your dumb reality TV show, but here you are instead, splayed out and taking him so well like you always did.

You couldn’t help it. Leon was so effortlessly attractive and he got you going without even trying.

You missed this physical contact with him for weeks, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get off with him.

“Feel good, baby?” He asked, drilling into you without showing any signs of stopping. “Feel full?”

“Yes,” you respond not even a second later. “Feels so good, Leon.”

He grunted, removing his hand from your chest and sliding it upwards until his fingers were gently pressing against the base of your throat.

At the slight blocking of your airway, your eyes light up and you grin at him. “Yes,” you moan again, wrapping your nimble fingers around his wrist.

Leon stared down at the sight below him, his lips parting a bit as he groaned loudly. “My dirty girl, huh? Letting me do whatever I want to you. Letting me fuck you raw,” he mutters, more so to himself. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want me to knock you up.”

You moan in response, clenching tightly around him. “Leon,”

“Yeah,” he huffed, tightening his fingers around your throat. “You want me to fuck a baby into you, don’t you? Get you all nice and pregnant?”

You both knew that he wanted that, and you did, too, but later down the road. Maybe after you graduate college.

Leon understood that and is more than supportive of it, so he settled on fantasizing about it instead.

It was just so hard to not imagine a future where you and he start a family of your own. He couldn’t wait.

“I want it, daddy,” you whimper, feeding into his kink. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“You do make me feel good, sweet girl,” he murmured, gripping your hips in both hands as he fucked into you hard. “You make me feel so good, wrapped around me so tightly, taking me like the good girl you are. You’re so good to me, baby.”

Your eyes roll back as you blindly reach for him. Pulling him down on top of you, your legs wrap around his waist when he moves so he’s hovering over you.

Raking your nails down his back, you hear him inhale sharply next to your ear. “There you go,” he muttered. “Scratch me up, princess. I want it.”

You oblige and dig your nails a little deeper, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave angry red trails indented on his back. “Leon,” you gasp as you clamp down tightly around him. “Please, make me come again. I need it.”

“Come, baby,” he requested. “All over me. I want you to make it so fucking messy.”

He leaned down and gently sunk his teeth into the skin of your shoulder. His tongue soothed the small sting and your body pulsated a bit as you felt your second orgasm rip through you. “Fuck, Leon, fuck fuck,”

Your walls sucked him in impossibly deeper and each thrust of his hips was noisier than the last. The faint squelch was barely heard over your loud cries as you came harder than before, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunted as he felt your warmth flood around him. “Good girl.”

His words set butterflies loose in your body and you cling onto him with every ounce of energy you have left. “Daddy,” you whispered, your core begging for a break but also begging for him to fill you up. “Come, please…inside me.”

Leon lets out a throaty groan as he fucked into you a few more times before stilling. He comes deep within your soaked walls, painting your core white as he fills you up to the brim. “Fuck, baby,” he rasps, pulling out slightly then slipping back inside you again.

He wanted to make sure his seed reached as deep as it could go in you, even if there was no way you could actually get pregnant right now since you’re on the pill.

You whine a bit when he pulls out completely, replacing his dick with his fingers as he pushes his come back inside you. “Where it belongs,” he mumbles as he leans down to press a kiss to your abused core.

You shudder a bit as he moves back up your body and wraps you in his arms. Relaxing against his chest, you let out uneven breaths as you feel his seed run down your folds and seep into your lecture notes. “Thank you,” you whisper, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. “I really did miss you so much, Leon.”

He kisses your forehead and tightens his hold on you a bit. “I missed you, too, sweet girl,” he replied, knowing both you and he would probably wake up tomorrow with rug burn marks on your bodies. “I’m sorry for not being here very much. I promise it’ll only be a couple more weeks and then I’ll be given a break.”

“It’s okay,” you smile, giving him another kiss. “You made up for it tonight.”

Kind of don’t like this at all, so be gentle and lie to me if you hate it, too x

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