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miabebe · 3 months

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Too Many Beds (Choi Seungcheol)

Reverse Trope Series Installement 1

Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x afab! Reader

Word Count- 13k (don't ask me how I thought I could do this in 2k)

Genre - Enemies to lovers? Frenemies to lovers? Lovers to lovers? Idk man, these two are idiots, that's all. Oh and smut.

Warnings - one mention of blood cause of intense make out wew, other smut warnings under the cut!

A/n - I'm trying to do a Reverse Trope one shot series for all seventeen members, first up Choi Seungcheol :) Next up is 'Accidentally Kidnapping A Mafia Boss' Ft. Yoon Jeonghan hehe send me an ask/message to be tagged in that! Or you can also drop a comment when I drop the teaser in a few days!

Smut warnings - oral (m and f receiving), fingering, brief face fucking, thick dick cheol lol, slight choking, allusions to a breeding kink, unprotected sex (these two are digustingly in love, extremely horny and highly irresponsible, please don't be like them), creampie, mention of the word slut like once, and I'm hoping that's all?

“Absolutely not.”

“No way in hell.”

Seungcheol glared at you as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m not sharing a room with him.”

“I refuse to even breathe in her vicinity.”

“Then maybe I should do mankind a service by being around you more.”

“The only way you can help mankind is by shutting your mouth.” Seungcheol leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You’re not pretty enough for all the stupidity that comes out of it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Rich coming from you. If I had a face like yours, I’d sue my parents.”

“Aw, fifth graders can insult better than you, sweetheart.”

“That was a fact, darling.”

“Ah” The two of you turned to the receptionist, finally remembering her presence as her eyes flickered between you and Seungcheol. “So, the two of you are dating?”

Looking at her incredulously and with unadulterated disgust, the two of you immediately took a step back.

“No!”

“I’d rather stub my pinky toe on furniture everyday than date her-”

“And I’d rather choke on my own spit everyday than date him-”

“Oh baby, I knew you were a desperate one. I can give you something better to choke on-”

“Honey, are you sure? I heard you can stack fruit loops on that skinny thing-”

“Enough!” The old woman behind the counter got to her feet, putting her hands on her hips, the never-ending squabbling finally getting to her. “If either of you say another word, I will personally put you both in the tiniest broom closet I can find and trust me, the ones in this lodge are devastatingly small.”

You immediately shut up, dreading that idea more than anything. Seungcheol too became uncharacteristically and thankfully, quiet.

“Now, as far as your room is concerned, your company booked only one room, number-” She glanced at the paper in her hand and pulled out a pair of keys from the drawer. “- 68. If you can bear each other for 4 nights, well and good, get moving. If not, then take your things and get out of here. Good luck finding another lodge in this miserable weather.”

And as though on cue, a bright light, followed by a loud thunder flooded the room, taking all three of its inhabitants aback.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Seungcheol visibly gulp, well aware of his fear of thunder. Seungcheol too heard the way you sniffled, knowing that your rhinitis would only get worse with the humidity rising outside.

Sighing with the realization that there was no way out of this, both of you reached for the keys at the same time, making the old woman snatch it faster than the damn lightning to avoid yet another fight from breaking out. Ringing for the bellboy, she handed him the keys before he took your suitcase and Seungcheol’s bag in each hand, leading the way to your despair of the night.

Seungcheol followed quietly behind you, hands tucked in his pocket, his large headphones perched on his head as he swayed to the music, blatantly ignoring you. You were thankful for that. Since you were little children, you had always craved moments where you could pretend like this man didn’t exist. Why wouldn’t you? Everything about him was a pain in your ass.

You first met Seungcheol when you were five. Your fathers were college mates turned business partners and coincidentally, your mothers were best friends since high school. Naturally, everyone expected the children of both families to be just as close as their parents but alas, even at the age of five, you could not bear him for more than five minutes. He was so aggressive and unruly, always messing up your dolls, always pulling your hair, never giving you a second of peace when he was around. Albeit that behaviour got milder over the years but there were other things now.

Like the fact that your father always preferred to have a boy, a son who could be his heir, someone like Seungcheol. It wasn’t like he didn’t love you but a different side of him came out every time Seungcheol was around, a side not even you could bring out. He would laugh louder, his eyes would shine more, he would seem so carefree. Seungcheol too never missed the chance to rub that on your face, constantly sneering and claiming that your father would be happier if he was a part of the family.

Over the years, your displeasure and annoyance at Seungcheol only grew into a deep dislike. As though it wasn’t enough that the two of you did your entire schooling together (yes, all twelve years of it), he was always present anywhere and everywhere you went - the debate club, the swim team, the dance academy, the cafes, the libraries, the movies - there was no place you were free of him. Ever since you were young, you had longed to escape to a place far away from home just to be carefree and explore and reinvent yourself without the constant looming of a figment of your past. You had hoped that at least after school you’d have the chance to go away from him but as your luck would have it, the two of you were accepted into the same business school, were interning in the same company, were working on the same project, and had come out of town for the same three-day conference together. It was one thing to have to bear this man’s presence all day, now you had to do it all night as well, thanks to your cheapskate company.

As you got in the lift Seungcheol held the doors open for you before settling in the corner opposite yours, keeping as much distance in between as possible. The bell boy looked at both of you confused.

“I thought the two of you are dating?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, and fished out your phone, scrolling through it instead.

Seungcheol glanced at you before scoffing at the absurd idea of dating you. He wasn’t foreign to that doubt though – people often wondered if they were together and Seungcheol wondered what on earth they saw between them that even resembled a speck of liking or even tolerance for one another.

Seungcheol had honestly not met anyone as stuck up as you. He never understood why his parents constantly considered you as the ideal role model for their son - ‘Look Cheol, she joined debate, you should too’, ‘She got selected in the swim team, you should try Cheol.’, ‘What do you think about dancing Cheol? She’s really good at it.’. Seungcheol was sick of being dragged into everything you were in, only to always be second. He hated debates, he would rather play football than swim, and though he liked to dance, ever since he joined the academy with you, even dancing was not giving him any solace.

Yet he gave his best all the time. He tried and tried and tried but he was always second to you who was evidently a natural at everything. For example, back in the school days, Seungcheol would almost get the same grades as you but at the cost of sacrificing nights of sleep and putting hours and hours into teaching himself. Meanwhile, you would breeze through the notes a day before the test, get a full 8-hour sleep and still score higher than him. As if that wasn’t enough, you’d invite him home, offering to “tutor” him only to constantly berate him about his ignorance, drop snide comments about how you were better, subtly challenge him in a battle that the both of you were well aware he could not win.

No wonder you had no friends while Seungcheol was as popular as could be - who would even want to be friends with you when you were always so cold and condescending towards anything that moved or breathed. If your parents weren’t joined at the hip, forcing Seungcheol to be a constant presence in your life, he wondered who would ever even talk to you? You should have been thankful for him, that he was the one human presence in your life who was always there despite it all, yet you treated him like he was beneath you. He had hoped that at least after graduating the two of you could part ways but the universe apparently loved playing cosmic jokes, putting the two of you together yet again, at the same workplace. And completely up in each other’s space for the next few days as well.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t ever shared a room before - whenever your parents would meet up at each other’s house to drink and talk all night, the two of you had no choice but to crash in the same room, sharing the same bed even but thank God it was usually queen size, allowing the both of you to take two opposite ends, not even your breaths mingling. It had been years since that though…..Seungcheol felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. He had no idea how he was to spend tonight in this room. Or the next few ones.

Neither did you.

As all three of you stood before the door and the bellboy fumbled with the keys, you glanced at Seungcheol. He looked unbothered as one could be. Perhaps you were overthinking this whole thing. It was a matter of four nights, surely the two of you could at least try to be courteous right?

“What in the...?”

Seungcheol’s voice rang in the empty corridor and you leaned to see what had him so shocked. Your own jaw dropped in a strange mixture of surprise, confusion, and relief.

Room 68 was no average hotel room. It was as big as the entire lobby, 7 heavily pillowed and blanketed single beds aligned from one end to the other almost military barrack style, only small bedside tables putting space between them.

“Room 68 is uh our bachelorette party suite.” The bellboy clarified. “For, you know, those big groups of girls who are hell bent on partying all night together?” He looked away like he was recalling a horrifying memory. “Since it’s holiday season, the lodge is booked out, this was the only room we had left. Is... is it not good?”

Seungcheol looked at you and for the first time in nearly 25 years, the two of you could finally agree on something.

“No.” You stepped in. “It’s perfect.”

It had been years since you had seen Seungcheol half-naked.

Well, you frequently saw him during swim practice in those tight speedo shorts of his, ass all plump and taut but you were not talking about that. You were referring to the sight before you right now, him with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his wet hair falling into his eyes as he searched for something in his bag frantically – most likely his aftershave. You knew he must have cleaned up given the conference was starting tomorrow and also that his cheeks were burning because you couldn’t smell the subtle cinnamon spice aftershave that usually followed in his routine.

Seungcheol strangely felt a pair of eyes on him as he rummaged through his things and suddenly remembered he was not alone in the room. He quickly turned, looking for you, finding you curled up in your bed, writing in what he guessed was your journal, unbothered by his presence. You were wearing that cute nightgown with little tomatoes drawn all over it which Seungcheol found funny given how much you hated tomatoes with all your heart and soul. Realising he had been looking for too long, Seungcheol gulped, quickly grabbing the aftershave he finally found and rushed back into the bathroom.

You flinched as you heard the door of the bathroom slam shut, looking up from your journal. Shaking your head exasperated, you returned to your writing. Seungcheol always handled things around him roughly like he was just not built to be gentle - slamming doors hard, breaking at least one coffee mug a month, causing rips in most of his clothes when he would gym because he was so big…. And muscular…. And built…..You bit the back of your pen thinking about how good he looked in his gym wear but if you were being honest, he looked best in a suit.

He’s going to be wearing one tomorrow.

You snapped out of your thoughts realizing you were entering dangerous waters and turned your attention back to your writing. Seungcheol made that process slightly harder as he walked out, furiously rubbing his towel against the back of his head, dressed in a black t-shirt and grey sweats.

As he sat down on his bed, he looked at you sitting six beds across, all the way in the other end of the room, right by the window. The moment the two of you entered the room, he took bed 1, the one against the wall and you took bed 7, the one against the opposite wall, putting the maximum possible distance between the two of you. He let you use the bathroom first, not because he knew you preferred using it when it is dry but because he thought this was the best time for him to call his parents and wish them goodnight….. even though it was still 7:30.

He showered after you did but even now, despite being so far from you, he could still smell your bodywash, the fragrance of lilies, the mildest kind because strong fragrances irritated your sensitive nose. Throwing his towel on the chair he kicked his legs off the floor and lied on the bed, turning to the wall, hearing the faint annoyed click of a tongue. Seungcheol knew exactly what triggered it - you hated it when he tossed damp towels like that. But honestly, he couldn't care less right now, not when there were more important things to deal with tomorrow, not when he was so tired already.

You shut your journal, irritated by his behaviour remembering exactly why being in the same vicinity as this man infuriated you. Flipping the lights off and pulling the covers over your shivering body, you realigned your thoughts towards your goal - Tomorrow’s conference was crucial. You had to look your best and do your best so clocking in 8 hours of sleep was the priority, Choi Seungcheol's character development be damned.

But as you lied down turning towards the window, lightning flashed across the sky, a loud thunder following. You turned to see Seungcheol and his back was facing you, the outline of his figure moving up and down rhythmically like he was already in a deep sleep. Slightly relieved yet still unconvinced, you turned towards him before the sleep and tiredness took you away.

Seungcheol simply stared at the wall all night.

Seungcheol most definitely did not sleep all night.

You could tell by the fact that one, he was up without you waking him and two, he was not there in the room right now. That meant he was out for a run which in turn meant his face must have been all swollen which definitely meant he didn’t get enough sleep. You did notice though that his bedding had shifted from bed 1 to bed 2 and guessed it was because of the coldness of the wall - Seungcheol had the habit of tossing and turning at night and there was nothing he hated more than his bare skin accidentally brushing the cold walls. Considering you were still five beds away from him, you ignored it as you went to wash up and prepare for the day.

When he saw the time on his watch as he finished his last lap, Seungcheol realised he was way behind schedule and that you probably were already at breakfast, sitting with a dozen snide remarks, waiting for him. True enough, as he quickly showered, dressed, and headed down to the buffet, you were there already, going through the proposal, the plate beside you nearly empty. Quickly grabbing a piece of toast and stuffing it in his mouth he walked over, putting on his suit jacket in a hurry. As you saw him approach, you shut your laptop, looking at him top to down in an ensemble that fit him all too well. Seungcheol’s eyes wandered over the pretty way you did your hair, and the plunging neckline of your blouse, a sliver of your pink bra peeking from underneath the fabric-

Both of you cleared your throats and looked away.

“We should leave, the cab should be here in-” He glanced at his watch. “-should have been here ten minutes ago, fuck.”

“It’ll be here in ten.” You pushed a cup of coffee towards him, looking at him pointedly to take a seat. Seungcheol glanced at it then back at you.

“You changed the time on my watch.” He huffed annoyed. “Again.”

“Glad to know you are still capable of basic comprehension.”

“You vile woman.” Seungcheol gritted between his teeth, sitting down. “I showered so fast I thought I was going to pass out.”

“But you didn’t.” You shrugged. “And learn to be grateful Seungcheol, you’re only ever on time when I meddle, so say thanks to me.”

“I’d rather die before I thank you.” He took a sip of the coffee before the extreme bitterness hit his tongue, making him spit it out right back into the cup. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“You did say you’d rather die.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know ten minutes is more than enough for you but personally, I prefer longer.”

Every single time. Every single time you flashed him that sweet, mocking smile and every single time it pushed his buttons like no other. One day he swore to put you in your place but right now he was too low on energy for that.

Well aware that you loved strawberries more than anything, he grabbed the last one on your plate and walked off to the taxi stand, ignoring the way you whined behind him.

“Oh, real mature of you Choi Seungcheol!”

You knew in your stress about perfecting the proposal early in the morning you had forgotten something important and the moment you stepped into the room that night, you knew exactly what that was.

To close the windows.

Thanks to the pouring rain, the water had drenched your entire bed, not to forget, your bag full of your clothes which was conveniently placed right on the mattress, soaking nearly every piece of clothing you owned. Thank God the laundry in the lodge said they would handle it for you so you still had an outfit for tomorrow’s conference but there were still two major concerns - one, what to wear tonight and two, where to sleep tonight.

You solved the first problem (almost) by grabbing your umbrella and heading to the nearest clothing store as instructed by the receptionist only to find out it sold barely any ‘cloth’ at all. It was an adult shop, filled majorly with lingerie of all kinds which were aiming to cover as little as possible. Groaning inwardly, knowing you didn’t have a phone on you to go any further in this weather, you grabbed the most decent nightgown you could find and rushed back.

A hot shower, a change of clothes and a quick meal later you decided to deal with your second problem, moving your things from bed 7 to 6, not too displeased considering there were still three beds between the two of you. You glanced at Seungcheol’s empty bed and then at the time - it was well past 10. Sighing, you settled under the covers pulling out your journal to write but got lost in your thoughts instead.

You were pretty proud of what you presented today - people praised you, congratulated you for a well drafted proposal and even went so far as to offer you jobs in their company. Yet you were not satisfied. Somehow, the one thing constantly running in your mind was the swarm of women who had flocked around Seungcheol the moment the conference was done, ‘mindlessly’ touching his arms, ‘casually’ brushing their chests against his, ‘genuinely’ laughing too hard at whatever bullshit came out of his mouth.

This was not new to you, Choi Seungcheol being the centre of attention wherever he went. He enjoyed it, basked in it, and chose to make a show of it whenever he got a chance. It was all so fake and superficial; you could not bear to stand it. That’s why even though everyone decided to go out for dinner and drinks tonight, yes, all twenty-seven of them, you politely said goodbye citing a headache and took a cab back. You were not interested in casual conversation and definitely not interested in seeing Seungcheol’s pathetic flirting.

Just as you begin to relish his absence and the beautiful silence that came with it, a loud knocking on the door and his voice screaming your name ended your perfect night. Grumbling, you opened the door to a fully drenched Seungcheol looking absolutely frazzled.

“What the hell-”

He stopped when his eyes fell on you dressed in a white floor length satin gown, the material seductively clinging to the curves of your body, your leg slightly visible between the slit. You crossed your arms to cover yourself up, feeling conscious under his gaze as he gulped audibly.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He met your eyes, a slight worry flashing behind the anger. “You just disappeared without letting me know-”

“I told you I was leaving.” You walked into the room rolling your eyes. “Maybe if you could see something beyond all that pathetic fangirling you’d have heard.”

“Fangirling?” He looked genuinely confused, following you in as he stripped off his jacket. You tried your best to not stare at the way his pecs were so perfectly outlined under the wet shirt sticking to his body but Seungcheol caught you peering, his features lighting up with amusement.

“Would you look at that?” He smirked. “Someone is jealous.”

“Please.” You scoffed. “I wouldn’t be jealous even if we were the last people on Earth.”

“Obviously, if we were the last people, who would you even be jealous of?”

You sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“I actually don't, sweetheart. If a little action is all you want, you can just ask for it you know?”

“Funny coming from a guy who kissed me just because another man was talking to me.”

The first tea break of the conference had led to an introduction that was surprising to you considering people did not really tend to approach you on their own. It was even more shocking that this man chose to speak to you in the lunch break as well, completely unprompted. He was sweet, not egging you too much with conversation, simply limiting it to work and the conference and then Choi Seungcheol appeared out of nowhere, snaking an arm around your waist, uninvited. Before you could glare at him and send him away, he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, excused himself and led you away from there, only to abandon you the very next second without an explanation.

“You call that a kiss?” Seungcheol scoffed. “You were so swept off your feet, you were this close to spilling details on our quotation for the project. That was actually me shutting you up.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. “If you really wanted to shut me up, then you should have kissed me on the mouth.”

Seungcheol stared at you wordlessly.

As you began to walk away, he pulled you by the elbow, putting you against the wall, trapping you between his hands on either side.

“Is that how?” He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne taking over your senses. “Because there is nothing I’d love to do more than shut you up.” He cocked his head with a small smile. “And maybe also show you what a kiss really is.”

You tried not to gulp the phantom lump in your throat, cheeks suddenly hot under his gaze. Somehow, as though it had a mind of its own, your hand traced his exposed collar bone, trailing down his chest slowly, eyes following. Seungcheol held his breath under your touch. You stopped your tracks at his hard pecs, right above his heart beating just as fast as yours and looked up at him.

And then twisted his nipple.

Shrieking in pain, Seungcheol stumbled back, clutching his chest.

“What the hell mate?”

You walked towards your bed, grabbing your matching satin night robe and slipping it on. “It's ridiculous that you even think you of all people could show me a real kiss.”

“You forget sweetheart, I was your first one.”

You turned to Seungcheol as he brought up a memory you had actually done a great job forgetting. It was during your senior year - your parents had forced you to accompany Seungcheol to a house party so you could “get more involved in the social scene” instead of holing yourself up in your room all the time. It was a classic game of truth or dare and the worst dare of your life - to kiss Seungcheol for a minute.

Now the last thing you wanted to hear was him teasing you every day about how you were too scared to kiss him so you held him by the collar and pulled yourself into his lap straddling him, your mouth meeting his in a frenzy. If you were being honest, something about that kiss served as your sexual awakening - maybe it was the way he moaned into your mouth, or his hands gripped your ass, or hands entangled in his soft hair or your chest pressed up against his. Whatever it was, there was a video of it that your classmates took circulating somewhere out there, timed around five and a half minutes as opposed to the one minute it was supposed to be.

“Don’t take too much pride in yourself Cheol.” You sat on the bed, leaning back on your hands planted in the mattress. “Only I know how many other guys I had to kiss after that to know what kissing truly is.”

Seungcheol felt his jaw tighten.

Something in you had changed in junior year. Yes, you were still the same antisocial, inhospitable, unapproachable person you always were but somehow every other day, he found you in a new location with a new guy's tongue shoved down your throat. They were not boyfriends, Seungcheol knew that much, and it was the fact that they weren't that made his blood boil with anger.

“You shouldn’t take pride in yourself either sweetheart.” He looked at you with a strange mixture of anger and pity. “There's nothing to feel accomplished about not forming a single real bond in your life.”

The moment the words left his mouth Seungcheol regretted it, knowing he had hit a soft spot. It was too late now; the damage was done - pain was flashing in your eyes.

You looked at the insensitive man before you and laughed at him sadly, mirroring his hurtful words.

“No real bond? I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.”

And with that you turned away from him, tucking yourself under the sheets, turning off the lights on your side of the room. Grabbing his towel and a change of clothes, Seungcheol locked himself up in the bathroom, your words piercing his heart like no other. Over the years yes, the two of you argued and fought and annoyed each other and couldn’t stand one another but hate? He didn’t ever think that’s what you felt for him. Perhaps he deserved it - he had after all crossed a line with that comment.

He knew you had always struggled around people. He knew that even though you detested taking his help for anything, in every social setting, you would always choose to hide behind him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to interact, you just couldn’t. You were a sick child since birth, constantly brought down by various illnesses that often confined you to your room - you didn’t go out to play with the other children, you didn’t join the kids on their trips to the ice cream shop, you didn’t go late night camping with your classmates, you didn’t do a lot of what kids your age did.

And when you were old enough, when you were healthy enough to step out into the world, you didn’t know how to anymore. Hence you continued to stay in your own shell, closing yourself off from everyone, wary of any and all interactions. Seungcheol knew all this, that’s why when he couldn't lay his eyes on you in the crowd of the conference, the panic he felt was like no other. He never thought he would ever feel his heart stop but Seungcheol felt it twice today - once when he lost you and the other when you said that. I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.

You stared out of the window, mildly annoyed by all the light falling in your face, Seungcheol’s words ringing in your ears. It might have sounded harsh but he was right. You never formed real bonds with anyone, you could never bring yourself to. Having spent years all by yourself, you didn’t know what it was like to let another person into a space that was entirely yours. That’s why, though you engaged in all sorts of flings and hookups, you never let it go beyond that - you never let yourself lose your heart to someone, walking away from them before they could walk away from you.

In that sense, Seungcheol was indeed the realest bond you had - just a constantly present, mildly irritating, oddly comforting white noise in your life. It was easy with him - you never had to think in his presence, you never had to wonder whether anything would drive him away, never had to worry about keeping him by your side unconditionally - he was always there. Somehow what you felt for Seungcheol was liberating in a way you hadn’t even realized. Hate could hardly define that; you were unnecessarily harsh earlier.

Seungcheol stepped out of the bathroom, eyes falling on your unmoving figure which he just realized was on bed 6 instead of 7. Noticing the damp sheets and piecing it together, he didn’t think too much of it as he switched off the lights and crawled into his bed.

Hearing the sounds of him shuffling, you turned towards him.

“Are you not going for the dinner?”

“It’s too late now. I would have eaten there if I didn’t have to run back here to check up on you.”

“You could have just called me.”

“I did.” He turned to you, looking at just your silhouette in the darkness. “A few hundred times.”

You checked your phone immediately and it wasn’t a hundred times but there were some fifty odd calls from him and two dozen messages.

“I put my phone on silent during the conference and forgot to take it off.” You mumbled, just a little guilty that he was missing out on a gathering because of you. “Did you at least eat?”

“I’m not hungry, thanks to all the Americanos you kept feeding me all day.”

“If not for that, you would have been snoring in the conference barely an hour after it began.” You turned to lie on your back, facing the ceiling. “And I wouldn’t have had to do that if you’d just obediently drank that double shot espresso in the morning.”

Seungcheol remembered you sliding the coffee cup to him and smiled to himself in the dark.

“Then maybe you should also listen to me and stop munching on those strawberries every chance you get, especially when you know they flare your allergies.”

You remembered Seungcheol gobbling up the last berry and smiled to yourself in the dark.

“Goodnight, you obnoxious prick.”

“Goodnight, you insufferable fiend."

When you woke up in the morning, two things had changed - one, Seungcheol had moved from bed 2 to bed 3 in the middle of the night and two, his shirt was gone, discarded somewhere in the mess on the floor. He was lying sprawled on his bare stomach, his back covered in a thin sheet of sweat, his tattoo shining as the light hit it. Ignoring the sight before you with much difficulty, you shook him awake.

“Get up Cheol, we’re going to be late.”

He groaned, rolling over, eyes slowly blinking open, falling on you first thing in the morning. Even though you were dressed in the sultriest thing he had ever seen on you, Seungcheol controlled himself and tore his eyes away.

“The radiator is right across the other bed; I was literally burning all night.” He mumbled, stretching awake, justifying his move.

You turned towards it noticing how it was in fact between bed two and three, closer to three than two to be honest. Considering Seungcheol was still drenched in sweat, his move in the middle of the night was actually quite pointless, but you chose not to say anything about it. Quickly washing up, the two of you rushed for breakfast, skimming over the presentation notes one last time. Today, neither of you noticed but Seungcheol drank the coffee and you didn’t eat the strawberries.

Day two went by in a flash much like day one. Only this time, you didn’t talk to the gentleman from yesterday, choosing to sit quietly by Seungcheol in the break and he didn’t leave your side either, regardless of all the ladies calling him to join them. In the evening, as the team headed to the city’s best karaoke bar, inviting you and Seungcheol again, Seungcheol brushed them off claiming the two of you had a little more work to do on the proposal. To his surprise, you shot him down, agreeing to join everyone, looking at him with a small smile.

“Don’t be such a killjoy darling.”

Seungcheol knew you were compensating for last night so he followed, well aware that you would most likely want to leave the moment the singing started. Well, he was almost right - you actually wanted to leave the moment you stepped foot into the room, turning to him with pleading eyes. Seungcheol turned you by your shoulder, laughing as he led you in.

“Don’t be such a killjoy sweetheart.”

You sat patiently as the beers poured in and people around you fought for the photobooth props. Seungcheol was sitting right beside you, his thigh a comforting weight against yours, laughing with everyone. As the night progressed, you had downed a beer or two, a slight buzz taking over, not noticing the way Seungcheol had his arm around you now or that you were warmly cuddled against his torso. Soon, one by one, everyone settled on the couches, tired from all the screaming, resorting to chatter instead and deciding on an old-fashioned game of truth or dare. Seungcheol smirked at you and you turned his face away with a soft push.

“So Seungcheol,” The man beside him spoke. “Truth or dare?”

“Neither actually. We should leave now.” He stood, pulling you up, stumbling slightly. “I’ve had too much to drink and it's late, Y/n needs to sleep.”

“Didn’t realize wacky wallflower here also had the bedtime of a toddler.” One of Seungcheol’s many fangirls piqued, jealousy stark on her face. “We can book her a cab, why don’t you stay a little longer, Cheolie?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused at the nickname, and at her jealousy but Seungcheol did not find anything about her words even remotely funny.

“No thanks, I go where she goes.”

“I thought you guys weren’t dating? Then why-”

“That doesn’t change what I said.” His voice dropped an octave. “I go where she goes.”

“Cheol.” You placed a hand on his chest, sensing his anger rising. “It’s fine, let’s stay for a few rounds, yeah?”

Seungcheol looked at you frowning as you sat down, pulling him with you. The girl you already disliked but quite vehemently hate now, spun the bottle with a giggle.

“We don’t have to stay.” Seungcheol whispered as the guy beside you excitedly asked the one across him a question. “You stayed long enough, you need sleep-”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not.” He spoke between gritted teeth. “Just looking at that foul woman makes me mad. I already said I wasn’t interested in her, she had no reason to be a bitch.”

“Well then don’t you want to put the bitch in her place Cheol?”

You looked at him with big doe eyes which terrified Seungcheol even more. What on Earth were you up to?

“Y/n, you get to ask Yuri!”

You looked at the bottle to see it pointing between you and your little conquest of the night. Hook.

“Truth or dare?” Line.

“Dare.” And Sinker.

“Okay Yuri, then I dare you to not take your eyes off.”

You pulled Seungcheol by the collar, smashing your lips on his, swallowing his audible moan. His hands immediately found your waist, pulling you closer, up against his body, teeth roughly tugging your lower lip. Hand sliding up his neck and across his jaw, you entangled your fingers in his hair, drawing him even closer denying even air the right to come between the two of you. Yes, it was all a show for Yuri or whatever her name was, but at a point, she stomped her foot and got up, running out of the room. Perhaps the two of you should have stopped then or at least when you were running out of breath. But you only broke apart when someone dropped a beer bottle, smashing the glass loudly on the floor. Seungcheol and you looked at it, faces flushed, lips swollen. A low whistle echoed in the room.

“We-” Seungcheol cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back. “We should get going.”

“Y-yeah.” You agreed, getting up and grabbing your things as Seungcheol smoothened his hair with his hand, muttering a small goodbye to everyone. As the two of you stepped out of the room, you found Yuri crying at the entrance, her friend trying her best to console her. Not sparing her another glance, you walked away, Seungcheol following you close behind. As the cold air hit you when you reached the taxi stand, you felt a painful sting on your lower lip, making you hiss. Hand cupping your face, Seungcheol wiped the trickle of blood with his thumb.

“Guess you desperately did need a real kiss huh?”

“Shut up.” You smacked his hand away. “I had to help the poor girl get over her pathetic taste in men.”

“By getting a taste of me?” Seungcheol smirked as you rolled your eyes. Before you could say anything, his stomach let out a loud growl making you laugh and look around, spotting a burger joint.

“Let’s get you a taste of that big boy.”

“Sometimes I wonder-” You stared out of the window at the large clouds rolling in. “-considering our parents are best friends and we are not, do you think our children would be good friends or enemies?”

“Wow, children.” Seungcheol munched on his burger furiously. “I never thought that far.”

“Then think about it now.”

“I don’t know.” He hummed. He hated thinking when he was tipsy. “Siblings tend to have a love-hate relationship.”

“I was talking about our children Seungcheol.”

“So was I.”

“No, I mean, my own children and your own children.”

“Yeah, same thing.”

You looked at him exasperatedly.

“Let’s be honest here Y/n. Who else out there can put up with us for long enough to start a family?”

“We can barely put up with each other-”

“But we have, for almost 25 years.” He slurped on his drink. “There’s a reason why you have never been in a relationship and I have never been in one that lasts. Because whatever it is we share, it’s you and I, till the end.”

“Till the end.” You muttered, reaching for his burger, taking a bite from it. Judging by your expression, Seungcheol could tell you liked his better, like you always do. That’s why he made sure to get it without the tomatoes he usually loved and settled to eat your meal instead. He was just about to ask why exactly you were so lost in thought when a loud thunder boomed across the sky sending a shiver running down Seungcheol’s spine.

Shoving the last of the burger down your throat quickly washing it down with some soda, you began gathering your things.

“We should go before the rain starts.”

Seungcheol nodded, finishing up his meal as you threw the trash in the nearby can. As the two of you left, muttering your thank yous to the waitresses, you laced your fingers with Seungcheol’s, gripping him tight as another lightning flashed across the sky. Thank God it wasn’t too hard to flag down a cab because the moment the two of you sat inside, rain began pouring like there was no tomorrow. As you glanced at the obscurity outside the window, Seungcheol stared at his hand, the one that you hadn’t left in all this time.

There were times when he used to stay over in your room, unable to sleep due to all the thundering while you dozed away oblivious to his presence. Those days, you’d turn around, reaching for his hand, holding it in your sleep. Seungcheol now wondered if that might have been a conscious effort to comfort him.

Perhaps not he thought as you began to nonchalantly hum his favourite song. He wondered if you knew he loved that piece because of how beautiful you looked when you danced to it. He wondered if you knew that the reason he was always around you was to make sure you were alright. He wondered if you knew he always carried an extra inhaler for you, that he had written a long list of your allergies in order from ‘can handle’ to ‘keep away from at all times’, that he was constantly alert about everything you ate, smelt and touched. He wondered if you knew, deep down how much he cared about you…..but sleep dragged him away before he could wonder anymore.

Sensing Seungcheol had fallen asleep, you stopped humming, turning to him, smiling at his half open mouth. Scooting closer, you slowly pulled his head to rest against your shoulder, and he groaned softly, nuzzling into it. The driver looked at the two of you through the rear-view mirror, making your cheeks go red as you looked away.

“Is your boyfriend afraid of thunderstorms?”

You nodded, ignoring the title. “Since he was a child. I don’t think he’s been sleeping too well the last few days.”

“The forecast shows it’s going to be worse today.” The driver sighed. “Look out for him.”

You nodded again. You did look out for him. In your own ways you always did - you always challenged him knowing that was what pushed him to do better. You always made sure to wake him up or at least meddle with his clocks so he was always on time. You always made sure he ate and slept enough, knowing how it threw him off whenever he was deprived of either. Even now you were humming his favourite song knowing it calmed him down. You wondered if Seungcheol knew, that deep down you really cared about him…..perhaps more than anything.

When the taxi reached the lodge, you softly shook him awake after paying, dragging his sleepy self through the lobby. The receptionist's eyes followed the two of you, stumbling away hand in hand, mouth curling into a small smile as you disappeared. You only let his hand go when you reached the room and that’s what jolted him awake.

The silence that descended the room today was different. It wasn’t because the two of you were too tired to say anything to each other, rather neither of you knew what exactly to say given there was so much to. So instead, you resorted to washing up and filling in your journal for the day while Seungcheol worked on a few changes in the proposal for the final pitch tomorrow. Just as he shut the laptop and you shut your diary, the two of you looked at each other before quickly looking away, settling in your own beds, for the night.

You were almost ready to drift off to sleep, before the driver’s words rang in your mind - the forecast shows it’s going to be worse today. Without thinking much, you moved your things from bed 6 to bed 5, muttering that the light from the streetlamps was falling in your face there. Seungcheol did not point out that you could just close the curtains instead and curled up in his own bed, glad you were closer to him now.

He looked at you across the one bed that was in between and suddenly you felt too far, like the distance was too much.

You looked at him as his eyes fluttered shut, thunder rumbling across the sky, wondering if he could hear you across all this space, humming louder than usual, lulling the two of you to sleep.

When you woke up, Seungcheol was surprisingly awake and fully dressed, trying to knot his tie unsuccessfully in front of the mirror, expression focused with a small pout. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you stared at his reflection, eyes skimming over the beautiful features of his face which you never really consciously admired - his thick hair, thicker eyebrows, plump, pillowy lips, his jawline sharp and chiselled. He was indeed handsome, in a way you really liked….a lot.

You wondered why you always looked at him like he was the bane of your existence. Was it because it was easier to bury the unresolved tension under pointless banter? Or did you wantonly show him your worst side, hoping it wouldn’t scare him away, hoping he would stay despite every flaw, every shortcoming. What did it mean if in 25 years, he didn’t leave even once?

Seungcheol groaned, annoyed at his futile attempts, eyes finally meeting yours in the mirror. You slid off your bed, walking up to him as he turned to you. Yawning, you took his tie in your hands, tying it for him. Seungcheol’s eyes drifted over the features of your face as he held his breath.

He could get used to this, the sight of waking up to a sleepy you, your hair all over the place, your eyes slightly droopy, nose red. God you were so beautiful - he knew that, but why didn’t he ever think about it? Why did he choose to fight every remote thought about you with irritating banter? Was he scared that the tension would remain unresolved? And what did it mean if you were still here, right by his side, helping him out in everything big and small, always making sure he was going the right way and doing the right thing, every single day for the last 25 years?

You pushed the knot up to his neck, smoothening the material, patting his chest with a proud smile. Seungcheol gulped as you walked away to wash up, trying to get his breath under control.

When the two of you came down for breakfast, you pointedly avoided the receptionist's gaze. There was no time to deal with more thoughts.

The rest of the day went like that, thoughtlessly. It was a little awkward at the conference considering the little show you two put up last night, so the moment it ended for good in the evening, you bid everyone goodbye, citing you had an early flight and had to leave soon. It was true though, you did have to travel in the wee hours of the morning, but leaving from the conference so soon also meant having to spend longer with Seungcheol, all alone. He agreed with you though, stating his social battery was at an all-time low and that he just wanted to go back.

Today the two of you were somehow sitting on two ends of the car backseat, bodies pressing against the door, in complete contrast to last night. It was a silent ride, a silent walk to the room and a silent session of packing up. Suddenly there were very conscious efforts to not brush hands, or accidentally walk into each other or catch the other person randomly staring, lost in thought. It was only when you were finally done that you asked Seungcheol if he wanted to order dinner. He agreed, leading to a very small and very efficient discussion about what dishes to eat and then silence descended upon the room again. While waiting for the food to arrive, Seungcheol muttered that he was going for a quick run, leaving you alone with the thoughts you could no longer stop from plaguing your mind.

Something had changed over the last 3 days. It wasn’t you or Seungcheol - he was still throwing his damp towels on dry clothes and you were still meddling with his clocks. No, the two of you hadn’t changed. Neither did the arguing, neither did the banter, neither did the subtle flirting, neither did the silent support. No…. nothing had changed. It was all the same. It was all the exact same except now, you were finally willing to acknowledge something you hadn’t even admitted to yourself since the age of five, that-

“I’m in love with him.” You whispered, smiling to yourself.

Seungcheol on the other hand thought running around the lodge would mean those thoughts wouldn’t run in his mind anymore. He was wrong - even though you were not there, like always you were on his mind, in his every thought, in his every breath. Seungcheol didn’t know of a life without you. He also knew that you would be there with him for the rest of his life but for the first time in 25 years, he finally found himself owning up to it - that he truly wanted you be a part of his future, that he could not bear to think of one without you in it, that-

“I’m in love with her.” He whispered, smiling to himself.

By the time Seungcheol had returned, dinner had arrived. Between each bite you searched for the right words to say, noticing that Seungcheol was trying the same. Somehow, neither of you could bring yourself to say anything.

You couldn’t peacefully finish up your journal and Seungcheol couldn’t take a relaxing shower, both muttering under your breaths, practicing long speeches, determined to confess everything before sleeping tonight.

But when all was done for the night, both of you laid down on your respective beds, staring at the ceiling, unable to talk, unable to sleep.

Seungcheol turned his head as you did towards him, making his heart clench a little.

Sighing, he grabbed his pillow and put it on bed 4, lying down, facing you.

You looked at him blinking slowly.

Seungcheol held his breath.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your duvet and joined him on the fourth bed, throwing it over the two of you, lying down, facing him.

Seungcheol slid his hand over your waist, pulling you closer.

You gripped the material of his shirt, snuggling into the warmth of his neck.

Nothing was said that night.

Nothing had to be said as the two of you drifted off to sleep.

It was the harsh morning sun and the annoying chirping of the birds that woke you up.

You stared out of the window surprised at the bright light given the last few days were as gloomy as it could be. Seungcheol’s soft breaths tickled your shoulder as his arms held you tight, your back against his chest. Smiling you wiggled in his grip turning towards him, taking in how much more stunning he looked in the morning light-

Morning?

“Cheol.”

He hummed softly.

“Cheol!”

“What?”

“It’s bright outside.”

“That’s how mornings are Y/n.”

“Oh thank you for enlightening me.” You rolled your eyes. “Might I return the favour by reminding you that we had a flight at 5am?”

Seungcheol’s eyes flew open.

He quickly grabbed his phone from the nightstand, 11am flashing on the screen.

“Fuck.” He muttered, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck fuck fuck, I can’t believe we missed the flight!”

You took the phone from him and scrolled through the app. “The next flight out is tomorrow morning, same time, 5am.”

“But the company hasn’t paid for the room tonight, where will we stay?” Seungcheol groaned. “How could you not wake me up?”

You frowned at him. “And why is it my job to?”

“Because, you don’t like it when I put alarms on my phone.”

“Uh no, I don’t like it when you continue to sleep through the dozen alarms you put on your phone.”

“Whatever your reasons are, I think its been established that you are the one who's supposed to wake us both up.”

“Yeah well thanks to you I forgot to set an alarm.”

“Thanks to me?” He looked at you bewildered. “What did I do?”

“Who asked you to..” You pointed at everything around with the wave of a hand, the two of you only just registering the situation you were in.

“You were the one who came to my bed.” Seungcheol shrugged. “This is on you because you were desperate.”

“Says the one who’s boner poking into my back woke me up.”

Seungcheol gawked at you, stuttering. “M-morning wood is a scientific phenomenon, okay? I can’t help it-”

“I could have.” You muttered, slipping out of the bed.

Seungcheol pulled you back under him, half hovering over you.

“Oh yeah?” He bit his lower lip with a small smile. “How exactly?”

You hummed, “I happen to know some good meditation techniques-”, running a finger down his abdomen, tracing a random design.

Seungcheol grabbed your hand and pinned it to the mattress by your face, leaning close.

“Think of a better way, baby.”

The nickname sent a delightful chill down your spine as you slightly squirmed under him, smiling.

“How about I get you some ice-”

“That’s not what I want right now.”

“Then what do you want right now?”

His eyes ran along the features of your face.

“I want to kiss you.” He whispered. “So bad.”

“And what are you waiting for?”

Seungcheol groaned, immediately pressing his lips onto yours, needy and ravenous, like he had been waiting eons for this. Well, so had you.

Pushing him off you and onto his back, you straddled his hips, kissing him again, rolling your tongue over his. Seungcheol moaned into your mouth, one hand wrapping around your waist, the other holding you by the nape of your neck, taking back control. When you ran your hand over his thick pecs, he pulled away with a dreamy sigh, planting a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your throat.

“Strip for me.”

Sitting up immediately, you lifted your hips a little letting Seungcheol push the material of your nightdress up your thighs and you pulled it over your head, tossing it somewhere. In the ten seconds it took you to do that, Seungcheol was a changed man. The old him wanted to take his time unravelling you slowly, pushing you to the edge but the new Seungcheol felt the animal in him come alive with a throbbing, insatiable desire. It became exponentially worse when you pulled your hair up, tying it with the hair tie on your wrist, baring your neck, perfect breasts, soft stomach….unable to reign it in anymore, Seungcheol lunged forward, hungrily sucking a tit into his mouth, making you lose your balance over him a little, grabbing his bicep half laughing.

“Huh, I really thought you were more of an ass guy.”

Seungcheol let go with a wet pop, looking up at you from between his thick lashes. Oh wasn’t that a sight.

“For you, I’m an everything guy.” His hands gripped your ass hard. “Your derriere does take the cake though.”

You laughed, “Who even uses that word?”

“I don’t know, I have no idea what is coming out of my mouth right now.” He confessed, his tongue running up the gap between your boobs, the sweet and salty taste of your skin driving him insane. “I just know what I want in it.”

“Yeah?” You sighed, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him back with a harsh grip, before he latched onto your other tit. “I have better things to put in it.”

Seungcheol grinned like he couldn’t wait, flashing his canines, biting his lower lip.

God he was going to be the end of you.

But you’ll beat him to it.

Palms planted behind you, you slid yourself back off his thighs and sat between his legs, lifting your own up for him. Seungcheol’s eyes darkened in an instant and the moment he saw the wet spot in the middle of your pink panties, he could not hold himself back anymore. With a swift movement he was up on his knees before you, hooking his fingers in the elastic by your waist and slowly dragging your underwear along your legs. Like a man starving he crumpled it in his hand, breathing it deeply, eyes fluttering shut like he was intoxicated by your scent.

“I’m going to be borrowing this, for whenever you’re not there.”

“Pervert.” You whispered as he tucked it in the back pocket of his tracks. “But I’m never not going to be there. I’m afraid you’re stuck for life now.”

Seungcheol fisted the material at the back of his neck and pulled it over his head, flinging it somewhere before he put his hands between your knees and spread your legs apart, groaning at the sight before him. You were quite literally hiding his paradise between your legs.

“Trust me,” He reached for a pillow behind him, throwing it to you. “I want to be stuck here.”

The moment you tucked it under your head lying back, Seungcheol wasted no time in crawling between your legs, tossing them over his shoulder, descending on your sex. You felt your back arch off the mattress as he devoured, his tongue, mouth, lips all showing you stars in daytime.

“Fuck Cheol.” You whimpered as his tongue slipped into your hole, his moan sending a wild vibration against it. Bringing your hands to his head, your fingers gripped his hair, pushing your hips up against him “Give me more.”

Seungcheol smirked, pressing your hips down, continuing his ministrations in a way that made your toes curl. Damn he knew what he was doing. For a split second you wondered how he knew so much and an ugly jealousy began coursing through you but it was lost almost immediately, when he began to suck on your clit.

“Cheol….” You moaned, the sudden stimulation too intense for you, a tightness growing deep inside. “F-fuck that’s good.”

Seungcheol knew he was good. Not because he was experienced, not exactly - more because he was desperate to taste every inch of you. If he thought the taste of your arousal was heavenly, the moment your legs trembled and your breaths got harsher and you came against his mouth, Seungcheol knew he’d cast aside the heavens for it. This wasn’t enough.

This was probably the fastest orgasm you ever had, waves of the buzz washing over as your jaw fell slack. You rode it out against his mouth, tense shivers running down your body as his nose grazed your clit before falling limp into the softness of the bed, chest heaving.

Seungcheol was so noisily devoted to making you fall apart on his tongue, he wasn't sure if you didn't moan his name or if he was too entranced to hear it. Either way, he had to go again, keeping in mind to put his eyes on you this time. When he looked up at you, your face was flushed, lips curled into a blissful smile and Seungcheol thought he fell more in love with you, if that was even possible.

“We're gonna have to talk about why you're so good at that.” You half laughed, trying to sit up. Seungcheol pushed you back down, throwing another pillow at you, humming.

“How good was I exactly?”

“Nice try big boy,” You stacked the pillow over the previous one, leaning back against it. “I'm not going to feed your ego.”

“I'll feed myself then.” He smirked before licking a long strip between your folds making you tremble with over stimulation.

“Cheol not yet-”

“If I don't hear you I'm not going to stop.”

And he descended upon you like a mad man again, making you gasp in surprise. You did not think he'd go through with it.

“Cheol I really can't-”

but Seungcheol did not stop.

When he didn’t listen, you reached to pull him off you but Seungcheol was quicker as he grabbed both your wrists in a flash and held them against your heaving chest, continuing to eat the life out of you.

“Seungcheol please.” You couldn’t even squirm if you tried to, held down hard by his brute strength. “I really can’t-”

He looked up, his mouth wet with his spit and your arousal as he licked his lips. Fuck you really loved this man.

“Do you actually want me to stop?”

He was taunting you but there's a slight concern laced in his voice.

You shook your head slowly.

“I thought so.” He chuckled before continuing his act of wolfing down on you.

Your second orgasm began to rush in with an unreal speed and you don't know how Seungcheol could read your body so well already but the little bitch backed out before you could cum again.

“Cheol…”

You whined, frustrated at the feeling ebbing away, desperately clenching to hold on to it.

“I said I wanted to hear you.”

You glared at him, not used to him having the upper hand. He knew he's got you under control when he finally loosened his bruising grip on your thigh to sit up and you opened your mouth on your own accord to let him slip his fingers into them.

“What a pretty little girl.” He sighed as you sucked on his digits. “My pretty girl.”

“Yes yours.” You moaned, as he pulled them out of your mouth and pushed them into his, wetting them more as you practically panted below him.

“I'll do what you want, just put them in me Cheol.”

“You're quite demanding baby.” He leaned over you looking amused. “I hope you deliver as well as you talk.”

“I'll suck the life out of your dick after this I swear, just let me cum again.”

Enticed by the idea, Seungcheol captured your mouth in another one of his messy kisses, his fingers slowly slipping into your heat. You gasped into his mouth, surprised by how thick his fingers were. Oh his dick would probably make you pass out and god were you ready for it.

“Say my name baby.” Seungcheol pressed his forehead against yours, still holding your wrists between both your bodies with his other hand. “Tell me who's making you feel so good.”

“You.” You moaned as he pumped his fingers, slowly stretching you open, your arousal dripping down between your thighs. “Fuck Cheol, faster.”

He obeyed, picking up the pace as you babbled a string of curses, legs squeezing his hand desperate to feel more. Seungcheol sucked on your neck, enjoying the way you were crumbling apart for him. How was he ever going to be away from you after this?

“Oh god yes.” You sighed, as his fingers curled hitting the spot, eyes rolling back. Seungcheol looked at you in awe.

“I apologise if I ever told you that it was annoying when you rolled your eyes.” He continued to push you over. “That was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

“Yes yes yes.” You chanted not hearing him, too lost in your own pleasure building. Pleased with himself, Seungcheol finally put his thumb over your clit and that was all it took for you to cum all over his fingers with yet another silent scream.

Seungcheol let your hands go and sat back on his heels, admiring his artwork. Your chest heaved erratically like you had forgotten how to breathe, squeezing your tits, hands desperate to claw something. Hair sticking to your forehead, sweat running down your neck next to the bruises he marked, you were a vision to behold.

Seungcheol sucked his fingers clean, relishing the taste of you yet again. You stared at him wide eyed, curious.

“Have you never tasted yourself?”

You shook your head.

“Oh sweetheart.”

Seungcheol pushed his tracks down just a bit, enough to pull his dick out. It's not the longest you've seen but God was it thick, a stark vein running down the length which looked painfully hard. The thought of having him fill your mouth and choking around it literally made you drool.

He pumped it a few times before hooking his hands under your thighs and pulling you towards him with unsurprising ease. You scrambled to raise yourself up on your elbows, watching as he ran it up and down your slit, gathering your release on it.

“Come taste.”

You blinked at the man holding out his dick to you like it was a treat, like he expected you to crawl to him, stunned at just how cocky he had gotten in 20 minutes. Hell no.

You shook your head, tilting it in challenge.

“Come fuck my mouth.”

If Choi Seungcheol had a fatal flaw it was how much he desired control but right now, there was nothing he desired and craved more than you.

Moving over not so gracefully he aligned himself by your mouth, knees planted on either sides of your waist, looming over you.

You immediately wrapped your lips around his tip, humming at the weight on your tongue as he pushed your hair off your face softly.

“I know baby, you taste fucking divine.”

Giving him a half nod, running your tongue over his slit before hollowing your cheeks around him. The mix of your and his arousal indeed tasted….right, like they belonged together.

You tried to take in more of him but you might have underestimated his girth and overestimated your ability. Pulling back with a pop, you licked your lips.

“You're too thick.” Mumbling you tried to push him off you, onto his back. “Let me move over-”

“Oh no no.” Seungcheol clicked his tongue, grabbing the back of you neck, forcing you to look up at him. “It can't be that bad, someone claimed they could stack fruit loops on it.”

You rolled your eyes realising he was a bit too proud of himself. “I still can. I just don't have the cereal to prove it.”

“I'll buy some on the way back and when we go home that's the first thing you're going to do.” He wiped the spit leaking around the corner of your mouth with his free hand. “And if you don't manage to prove your point, that's grounds for punishment.”

You grinned at him.

“Oh you like that.” He hummed, guiding your head back to his cock. “We'll see how much of it you can take baby.”

A lot apparently.

Seungcheol should have known. You were like him - you didn't like to be challenged. That's why the moment he thrusted himself into your mouth, you held onto the back of his thighs with both hands, pushing it in a lot more than Seungcheol had thought you were capable of. Throwing his head back with a satisfied moan, he began moving his hips ever so little, slowly fucking your face, but you had other ideas, taking him as far back as you could, your throat constricting around his dick.

“Alright that's it.” Seungcheol pulled you off him, staring at your confused face. Somehow you had no gag reflex and Seungcheol suddenly had the endurance of a teenager. “Want to actually fuck you.”

He muttered drawing back, kicking off the remaining of his clothes and sitting up, trying to hide his breathlessness.

“Aw Cheol, was I right again?” You laughed, getting up and clambering onto his lap. “Is ten minutes really enough for you?”

“You'll see.” He pulled you into a deep kiss before abruptly breaking away, leaving you confused yet again. “Or not.”

“What?”

“I just realised… I don't have a condom.”

You waited for him to tell you he was kidding but he looked serious.

“Cheol….” He looked at you apologetically. “Ugh Choi Seungcheol, why not?!”

“One, don't call me that and two, I don't know, maybe because this was a work trip and the conference dress code didn't mention dick envelopes.”

You sighed annoyed. “I just always thought you'd carry one on you, xl sized.” You shot his overconfidence down before it even grew on him. “you know, for your head.”

“Oh because I'm a dick?” He rolled his eyes at the comment you had used on him too many times already. “Well, wouldn't that make you a little slut? Since you’ve been in love with me for so many years.”

“Who said I was in love with you?”

Seungcheol looked at you with the biggest, fucking cutest eyes. “Are you not?”

You smiled, surprisingly shy despite all that transpired so far. Honestly, you didn't have to answer that question. What you felt for each other was clear as day.

Putting a finger on his mouth, you whispered. “Less talking, more fucking please.”

Seungcheol groaned. “What do you want me to do? Go buy them now?”

“No…” You hated the thought of him leaving.

“Or…. I could pull out?”

“The last thing I trust in this world is your timing.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Besides, don't you want to be inside me when you cum? Squeezing you tight? Milking you dry?”

“Kinky.” Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, secretly delighted. “And shoot me if I ever say no to that, but you're not on birth control are you?”

“No…” You drawled. “But I can get plan b?”

“Baby, you realize how reckless this is-”

“I know.”

“-we've barely just-”

“I'm aware.”

“-plus your health-”

“Choi Seungcheol.” You pushed him back into the bed, annoyed. “Are you gonna fuck me or not? Because if you don't then I'm gonna do it myself and all you get is to watch-”

Seungcheol, tucked his arm under his head, looking like he liked that idea a little too much.

“-while I cum taking someone else's name.”

His eyes darkened as his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you down to his eye level, “Try me sweetheart.”

“You know how I feel about challenges.”

“And you know how I feel about sharing what’s mine.”

“Then fuck me like I’m yours.”

Seungcheol smiled, dropping a soft kiss on your mouth, much in contrast to what followed. “Remember, you asked for this.”

One arm wrapped around your waist, he flipped you over, putting you below him once again, the hunger in his eyes burning a lot more now. As he shifted to push your legs apart, hand leaving your neck, a soft whine left you and Seungcheol caught it immediately.

“You’re into that too?” Seungcheol smirked as you frowned at him, annoyed.

“Apparently. I just found out as well.”

“I wonder what else you’re into.”

“You can wonder all you want, after you put that dick into me.”

Seungcheol clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I don’t like how you think I’d listen.”

Yet before you could talk back, he slid his cock along your folds, the tip slightly dipping into your hole, pulling out the most exquisite moan from you.

“Now that’s something I’d listen to.” He pushed himself a little further, your hands immediately coming to grip his biceps, gasping again at just how big he was. Seungcheol had been dying to listen to you sound like this and god was it so worth it.

You attempted to relax, adjusting around his girth as he eased himself in, but gave up even trying to maintain the facade of composure when he bottomed out, pressing all the way in.

“Fuck yes Cheol.”

He hissed softly, feeling your soft walls flutter around him. He had never fucked anyone raw and after this, how was he expected to just not spend his whole life buried in you?

“Please, move.” You begged, and he folded immediately, his hips slowly picking up pace as he kissed you along your neck.

“We should have done this years ago.” He groaned, wrapping your legs around his hips, pounding faster, harder. “We should have been doing this for years now.”

You nodded half listening, half submerged in your pleasure, nails running down his back. “Let’s just never get out of this bed.”

Seungcheol chuckled, absolutely agreeing with that idea, snapping his hips faster, delighted by the way you were reacting under him.

He wanted to flip you around and take you from the back, mark your ass with the red prints of his hand. He wanted you sitting on him, fucking yourself on his dick while he watched, your head thrown back in pleasure. He wanted to eat you out till you cried, fuck your throat and make you swallow, pull every moan and every whine and ever chant of his name out of you. God he wanted so much but Seungcheol wasn't capable of any of those right now - he had been hard for almost an hour now and your grip around him was like a vice.

“Seungcheol more.” You whined, despite him already railing into you like there was no tomorrow. He still listened though, sliding his hand down between your bodies and finding you clit, well aware that you would probably go unbelievably tight the moment he touched it, rendering him absolutely helpless. Sure enough, you keened, clamping down on him hard the moment he began rubbing circles, a string of curses leaving your mouth.

“Cum for me.” He whispered, hips rutting against yours harshly, holding his own release back desperately. “Cum all over me.”

And you did, the pleasure washing over you in waves, legs tightening around him before they finally went slack, exhausted. Seungcheol pulled them off him, gripping your thighs instead, shifting from an erratic rhythm to quick, deep strokes as he finally came inside you, collapsing on top.

He was careful enough not to crush you under his weight, holding himself up a little so you could regain your breath, watching your eyes flutter tiredly.

“We need to get you cleaned up.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, glancing at your mixed arousals dripping out of you. “I don’t know how long the statute of limitations for ejaculate is….”

For the first time in your life, Choi Seungcheol had managed to turn you dumb, as you nodded mindlessly, not having registered the stupidity that just came out of him.

He chuckled, rolling off you, but you dragged him back by the wrist, wrapping your arms around him.

“Hold me.”

And as though the universe hated you, a sharp knock on the door made you two jump apart. Seungcheol still proceeded to hold you but the knocking only repeated, louder this time. He huffed annoyed, sliding off the bed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and threw it on. Opening the door just a little, half hiding behind it, lower half specifically, he peaked out but his plan was foiled when the receptionist pushed the door fully open and came barging in, throwing her hands around.

“Check out time was 12! You’re late-”

She froze as Seuncheol quickly covered himself with a towel from nearby and you scrambled in a hurry, hiding under the sheets, squirming in embarrassment.

The old woman slowly, still shocked to the core, muttered an apology and walked out of the room as Seungcheol smacked his head against the wall, regretting not wearing his pants.

“You…” She cleared her throat from the other side of the door. “You have till 2. Get it together and get out of my lodge.” She then walked away, the sound of her footsteps fading, before they suddenly got louder again. “I would also like to add that I knew this was going to happen from the moment you two stepped foot in here!”

You covered your face trying not to pass out from the embarrassment as Seungcheol locked the door laughing.

"Why does she sound so happy?"

“I cannot believe she saw us." You groaned. "Who walks in like that-”

“Who cares?” Seungcheol walked over to you. “I cannot believe we still have two more hours.”

“You’re not even ready to go again.” You looked pointedly at the softened dick in his hand that he was pumping lazily. “Besides, we're going to have to book the room again, for tonight.”

“2 hours isn’t enough for you? Oh baby-”

“Our flight is at 5am tomorrow you idiot, we still need a place for the night.”

“Right.” Seungcheol recalled, “I forgot we had to go… that this had to come to an end.”

“Nothing’s ending.” You clarified, putting a rest to his worries. “Didn’t you say, you and I, till the end?”

Seungcheol nodded as you held your hand out to him. He walked over taking it, dropping a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Say.” And you knew an unholy thought was brewing in that head of his. “We have all this time and there are seven beds here.”

“I don’t care how many there are.” You laughed, pulling him into the softness of the sheets. “I only want one to share with you.”

A/n - this was supposed to be out a few hours ago but tumblr was being a bitch to me. Im adding the tags in the comments! Reblogs with tags, comments and asks are much appreciated, thank you for reading :)

#svthub #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #choi seungcheol smut #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seungcheol x reader #scoups × reader #seungcheol fluff #scoups fluff #seungcheol angst #scoups angst #seungcheol fic #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #seventeen #reverse trope prompt #one bed #too many beds

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hellfirenacht · 7 months

Text

Candygram

Summary: It's Valentine's day and you shoot your shot with Eddie by sending him a Candygram.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, fluff, sfw

4.8k Words Master List

“Just do it.” Robin said, following your line of sight to the booth in the corner of the Hawkins cafeteria. It was a simple table with a red cloth thrown over it and a handmade banner that read ‘CANDYGRAMS $1’ and was decorated with tacky hearts.

Every time you glanced over at the booth, your heart would start pounding and your stomach would twist in knots. You had never considered yourself to be shy before, when you first moved to Hawkins a few years ago, Robin had joked that you didn’t need a welcome wagon because you had thrown yourself into band and had introduced yourself to everyone with ease.

You had masked your anxiety over being the new kid with an overinflated sense of confidence and it had worked out really well for you until you caught feelings for the freak who sat next to you in remedial science.

“I think... I would rather chug formaldehyde.” you said slowly, staring so hard at the offensively pink and red booth that Robin was sure it was going to catch flames.

“Either go up there and buy a candygram or I’m going to do it for you.” Robin said. “If I have to hear you waffle about this for one more day I’m gonna rip my hair out.”

“But if I send him one, then he might actually acknowledge me and realize I might have something resembling a feeling for him, and that’s just not really cool, you know? Goes against my chill and mysterious personality.” you said, leaning back on your chair with a cocky grin.

“Last night I saw you and Steve cry over Bambi.” Robin deadpans.

“Okay, so we were drunk and also shut up.” you snorted, rubbing your face.

“How are you going to know if there’s anything there if you don’t even take the chance?” Robin scolds. “Come one, I’ve seen the way you look at him. I’m surprised the whole school doesn’t know-”

“Again, cool and mysterious personality.” you tried again.

“Plus I know he’s just as weird as you.” Robin continued, ignoring you. “I mean, last week I saw him get Jason Carver to back off one of the freshmen by pretending to exercise a demon out of him!”

You stared at Robin for a beat before thunking your head on the lunch table. “I’m going to marry him. Holy shit, he actually tried to expel the demon lurking in Carver?” You were laughing at the thought.

During your first senior year and his second, Eddie Munson had caught your eye when you had the same lunch period. He was loud and energetic and so fucking weird you couldn’t help but to be drawn to him. Had your parents not forced you to stick with band, you would have considered joining Hellfire. Unfortunately even with this last go-round as a super senior, they still made you stick with it despite your senioritis reaching terminal levels.

You never had a good opportunity to talk to him, and the more time passed the harder it became to justify just randomly approaching him. This semester you finally had your opportunity when you’d been put in the same class and sitting next to each other no less. Still, the most you’d been able to say was “yeah, sure” when he’d asked you for a pencil once.

Four weeks sitting next to Eddie, and you had barely spoken to him while noticing every little thing about him. He read a lot in class when he could get away with it, and doodled in his notebooks constantly, especially dice and dragons seemed to be the biggest theme. His school notebook wasn’t nearly as filled in as his Hellfire notebook, and he was always fidgeting in class. He also didn’t talk much, and at least once a week he’d end up falling asleep in class with his head in his hand.

“There’s not gonna be a wedding if you can’t even talk to the guy.” Robin said. “He’s not even scary! Dustin comes in to talk to Steve all the time about Hellfire. He’s just a dork.”

“I know and that’s the problem.” your voice was a strangled laugh mixed with a groan.

“You showed up the first day of band and introduced yourself to everyone, even if they weren’t in your section. What is the hold up with you talking to Eddie?” Robin pried.

“Because back then, it didn’t matter.” You looked over at Robin, poking at your mystery meat. “When I first got here it didn’t matter if anyone liked me or not. I was only supposed to be in this school for a few months and then graduate. Then I didn’t. I could handle it if someone didn’t like me. None of you were really supposed to matter to me. No offense.”

Thankfully, Robin didn’t seem offended. “You were just making nice with the inmates until parole.” she joked and you nodded.

“Yup, and then when I realized that I was going to have to actually have a full other year of school, that meant that I was going to have to care if I was ever gonna graduate.” You continued. “Luckily you saw through all my bullshit bravado and started dragging me to movie nights with you and Steve.”

“Yeah yeah, we love friendship. So what does any of this have to do with Eddie?” Robin said, not needing you to explain the backstory that she had been present for.

“It means that with Mr. Munson, I unfortunately, care so fucking much what he thinks of me.” you relented. “He’s the biggest freak in school, and the dorkiest loser, and if I try and talk to him and he’s not interested in talking back I won’t be able to take it. Robin, I will simply lay down and be dead for the rest of my life.”

“That’s not how that works, you can’t be dead for the rest of your life.” She shook her head, her brows furrowed. “Because if you’re dead then... you’re not alive”

“Schrodinger's corpse then. Alive and dead at the same time.”

“Look, just send him the stupid candygram. The worst he can do is say no.” She stood up from the table and grabbed your hand. “Let’s go.”

And that’s how you ended up at the booth, jotting down Eddie’s name on a piece of paper and shoving a few quarters in the till with Robin looking smug. “I doubt he’s ever gotten one anyway, if anything he should be thrilled that someone wanted to send him one.”

“If this kills me, Steve’s in charge of the music at my funeral.” you sighed.

---

Candygrams were being handed out and delivered through the week. You weren’t paying attention to what period they were supposed to be handed out, and so when two students in obnoxious heart shirts and fake wings burst into your science class with Eddie right next to you, you were about ready to throw yourself out a window.

No one was surprised when Janet and Charlie were tossed a few candygrams, but everyone’s head whipped around when the red heart shaped lollipop and card was set on Eddie Munson’s desk. Eddie himself seemed more surprised than anyone.

He had the lollipop in his mouth before he even opened the note attached and you were seconds away from bolting out the door. With any luck, maybe he didn’t know your name even after weeks of sitting next to each other.

“Who’s it from, freak?” asked Patrick, the basketball jock who sat a few rows ahead. That earned a few snickers from the class.

“It’s from your mom.” Eddie said without missing a beat and taking out the lollipop. “Tell her I say thanks.”

More laughter from the class as Patrick stood up as if ready to fight, but the teacher quickly told him to sit down.

Shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen. You felt a bit guilty that your candygram had kicked up a fuss, but at least Eddie didn’t out you as the person who sent it to him. In fact he wasn’t looking over at you at all.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he flipped the card around, as if looking for something. All that was written was his name and “YOU’RE SWEET!” written in cheesy font and his name scribbled in your handwriting.

And nothing else.

You didn’t know if you should laugh or cry at your stupidity. You’d been so jumbled and nervous that you’d forgotten to sign the damn thing. Robin was gonna have a field day with this one.

Eddie kept fidgeting with the card through the rest of class, twisting it and bending it until it was as crumpled and torn as your heart felt. He shoved it in his pocket and didn’t even glance at you as the bell rang and he stood up and tossed the eaten lollipop stick in the trash.

It’s not personal. You told yourself. He has no idea who sent it to him.

That’s when you had a horrible idea, so stupid it might actually work.

---

“Explain how this is going to work again?” Robin asked. “You’re going to keep sending him lollipops this week until he notices you?”

“Sort of.” you said, buying another candygram. “I’ll just send him a few joke ones as a feeler and if he responds positively I’ll come clean. If not, I keep my dignity. It’s a win-win.”

“Since when do you care about your dignity?” Robin sorted.

“Since I caught feelings for the least dignified guy in school, I guess.” You knew it was stupid, you knew it was ridiculous, but you already messed up once so you might as well lean into it. You scribbled his name down, this time signing it with a satisfied giggle. “This is so dumb.”

Oh, but it was so worth it. You had bought it before school started, guaranteeing that it’d be delivered the same day, handing over a crisp dollar to Nancy Wheeler who had volunteered for the booth. If Eddie had been surprised the first time, he looked almost shocked now.

Eddie, sorry I forgot to sign the first one! This card said, once again not giving away any sign of who it was actually from. You saw his eye sparkle in amusement as he ate his lollipop, and this time the card was read over a few times before being carefully tucked into his dungeon master notebook.

By the third day, the novelty of Eddie Munson getting candygrams had worn off with the rest of your class, but Eddie’s grin only grew wider each time.

“Anything for me, Cupid?” Eddie asked as the student council members walked back in to hand out more lollipops.

He whooped as another one was dropped on his desk and he snatched up the card quickly and you had to cover your face and bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling at his excitement.

Eddie, sorry I’m so bad at remembering to sign these things! I just get way too excited about sending them out that I lose focus. So anyway this card is actually from-

You had carefully spaced out your writing on the small rectangle of paper so that it left absolutely no room for you to sign your name. Eddie looked downright giddy as he read the note over and over. Seeing him so happy made your stomach burst into butterflies and even if he decided after this he wasn’t interested, this was enough. Knowing that he was smiling because of you was enough.

Someone said your name and you looked up, surprised to see one of the student council members standing next to you and handing you a candygram. Your eyebrows shot up as you took it with a thanks and opened up the card.

Who had sent one to you? You’d been so wrapped up in your little scheme you didn’t even consider that someone would try and send you one either.

A smile tugged at your lips as you saw your name and a small drawing of what looked like an egg in a nest as the sender. Robin, of course. Probably making fun of you for sending candygrams to Eddie without signing either.

You tucked the candygram in your own notebook safely and dared a glance over at Eddie again. You hadn’t expected for him to be looking back at you, and your heart jumped in your chest. He unwrapped his lollipop and lifted it slightly as if he was trying to toast. You held yours up as well to him, an off sense of camaraderie between two people who had their day temporarily disturbed for commercialized love.

Thursday came around, Valentine's day proper, but they’d be doing one last day of candygrams on Friday as well. This was a fundraiser after all, and capitalism trumps any semblance of real sincerity. Well, you said that but that wasn’t exactly going to stop you from continuing your little plan.

Today was the day you were going to pull out the big guns. You handed over a full $5 to have a carnation sent to Eddie, as well as a return to sender card to Robin for being a good friend.

“Shouldn’t he be the one sending you a flower?” Nancy asked, handing you the card to write on. You wondered how Nancy had time for all of the extracurricular activities she had going on, working with the student council and the school newspaper.

You just shrugged at the question, not realizing how wide you were smiling or how obviously warm your cheeks were. To anyone with two eyes, you were glowing and to anyone with one eye, you were phosphorescent.

The disinterest that your classmates had from the last two rounds perked back up with a flower was delivered to Eddie that afternoon.

“For little old me?” Eddie said, batting his eyelashes at the delivery boy as he took the carnation. You giggled to yourself as he opened the card again.

Man, I’m bad at this aren’t I? Don’t worry, this time I’m writing very small so I have room to sign this card. Seeing you light up when these get delivered has made my whole week, and totally worth it. Anyway this is from-

To be fair, you had actually signed your name this time. However this time you had made an attempt to erase it with one of those erasers. The horrible stiff ones that only made big smudges and made the mistake worse and nearly tore through the paper. You had carefully looked at your smudged signature for a long time before deciding it was illegible enough to send.

Eddie faked a swoon in his seat, nearly toppling over onto the floor. “Come on!” he laughed, pushing himself back upright, smiling with his whole face. He looked over the note again, something clicking in his brain and you quickly looked down at the book you were currently pretending to read.

“It’s someone in here.” you heard him mutter to himself and your heart started pounding in your chest. You focused on your breathing to try and stop yourself from giggling and giving yourself away.

“Stop sending yourself stuff, Munson. It’s pathetic.” Patrick called out.

“If you wanted me to be your Valentine, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask nicely.” Eddie said, but he sounded distracted as his eyes scanned the room for any hint of who this mysterious person is. “And next time, I’m more than happy with just the lollipop, it’s saving me on smokes.”

You didn’t even notice the lollipop on your desk until class had started back up. Unfolding the card you smiled to yourself, seeing that it was from Robin again. This time the egg in the nest had a crack in it and seemed to be hatching. You’d ask her about it later.

Nothing said during the rest of class even registered with you, every word was in one ear and out the other. This had been a fun week sending Eddie all the lollipops and flowers but tomorrow was the last day to have something sent to him.

Were you going to sign your name? That’s the million dollar question. You had told Robin that you would if Eddie seemed interested, and he had made it clear he was enjoying the attention.

But would he still enjoy the attention if he learned it was from you? You two weren’t exactly friends, but not complete strangers either. He didn’t seem to dislike you, after all he’d raised a toast with you with your lollipops the other day.

Well, if you were gonna put yourself out there, you were gonna do it on your own terms.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Robin said that Friday morning as you dropped a handful of ones on the table for one last hurrah.

“Nope, I’ve committed.” you said, taking the small stack of cards and getting to work.

“I’m going to have you committed.” Robin shook her head. “I mean, this is actually insane, you know that right? There��s no reason to go through all this trouble, when you could just talk to him.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that, Buckley?” you asked, as you added one letter of your name to each of the cards. “Gotta make him work for it.”

“So you’re gonna give him a Valentine's themed word jumble as your big sign off?”

“Yup.” you confirmed, adding his name to each of the cards. He’d get them all in one go and then it’s up to him to unscramble your name and figure it out.

After that... well, the ball is in his court.

Besides, if he liked the lollipops enough that he’d reach for one instead of a cigarette then that’s good enough.

“You’re such a weirdo. You deserve each other.” Robin went on. “The Weirdo and the Freak. It’s like Beauty and the Beast except.. Not.”

“Robin, don’t you know three languages?” you snorted finishing up your stack and handing them over to be sent. “You are so much smarter than me, but this is where you lose words?”

“It’s Friday and I haven’t had coffee.” she pointed out. “Oh, thanks for sending me one by the way.”

“Yeah, of course. I mean you sent me one so I wasn’t gonna leave you hanging.” you nudged her playfully.

“I didn’t send you one.” Robin looked at you, confused.

“What?” You reached into your backpack and pulled out the notebook where you had placed the card and handed it to her. “But that’s a robin’s egg...?”

“It’s an egg, probably.” Robin agreed. “But I’m broke. I didn’t send any out.”

You stared at the card with new eyes. If she didn’t send it, then who did?

---

“Holy shit.” Eddie muttered as a bag of lollipops was dumped on his desk with no rhyme or reason, earning a round of laughter and snickers from the class. The teacher had long since given up on trying to keep the class’s attention when the Cupid’s showed up.

He sorted through the cards, a puzzled expression on his face as he looked at the different letters on the cards until he found one that had real words on it.

Figure it out, Sucker <3 Eddie’s face was a wonderful mixture of amusement, bewilderment, and mild offense.

One of the Cupid’s handed you another two lollipops as well. One was actually signed by one of your friends in band, and the other had another doodle of an egg. This time the egg was completely hatched and there was some sort of weird bird flying off.

Not a robin. You decided, trying to figure out what it was supposed to be.

You barely paid attention in class for the rest of the hour, your attention split between the three egg Valentines you received and the man next to you. Eddie had pulled out his Dungeon Master notebook to try and decode your message. You felt flattered that he was using his favored notebook to try and figure out your puzzle.

Eddie was sucking on one of the lollipops diligently as he scribbled down random letters. Now that you thought about it, you’d never seen him look so studious in class before. You wondered if this is what he looked like when he was working on his campaigns and your brain decided to give you a treat of a daydream where the two of you were sitting around in your room while he explained his campaign and how he’d love to have someone like you join Hellfire-

It was three minutes before the bell, and that meant just a few minutes until your last period and the weekend. With Valentine’s day falling in the middle of the week, most of your friends were going to be off doing things with their partners. Maybe you, Robin, and Steve- no wait, Steve actually got dates. Robin worked on the weekend.

Maybe Eddie- NOPE. Not going there, you were not about to get your hopes up for this.

You glanced over at him again, looking at his notebook to see if he was anywhere close to decoding your name. Eddie had the worst handwriting you’d ever seen and so you would be surprised if he could even figure out his own notes. Between unjumbling your letters, he had started doodling in the margins. You assumed that they were D&D monsters from the look of it, since none of them looked like actual animals except for the bats in the corner.

The only other thing you recognized was a dragon, drawn in a larger scale on the side of the page. It’s wings were expanded and it was flying off, and from this angle it looked like a weird...

It looked like some bird

Some sort of weird bird

Your head snapped back down to the card in front of you. This wasn’t a weird bird. It was a dragon. A dragon hatching from an egg. An egg that hatched a dragon. A dragon that was drawn with the same pose as the one in Eddie’s notebook. Eddie’s notebook had your dragon no wait, your card had his dragon-

Eddie Munson had sent you the cards.

Eddie had-

“Oh.” You said out loud. You were nearly fighting back hysterical laughter at this, and you pressed your hands against your face, with your shoulder shaking with repressed laughter.

Why the hell had Eddie sent you those cards? The two of you had barely spoken to each other!

You did the same damn thing, dipshit. You reminded yourself. In fact you had gone way harder than he had. But what did this MEAN?

The bell rang and everyone scrambled to get out of the classroom, and before you could say anything, Eddie was off and running out of the classroom at the speed of light.

What was that about?

Robin was right. If you were ever going to have a chance with him, you were going to suck it up and talk to him, even if it meant possibly embarrassing yourself. Plus, finding out why he sent you three candygrams was currently trumping any fear of rejection. Curiosity killed the cat, but at least he died satisfied. You’re pretty sure how that saying went at least.

You knew that Eddie had Hellfire today, it was Friday and he and all of his friends had been running around in their club shirts. With a deep breath you...realized you had no idea where the hell they actually met.

This whole thing could have been planned better, actually.

You started walking around the school blindly for any sign of the signature baseball tee that they all wore. If you found one of them, they were sure to lead you to Eddie. God, you felt like a stalker.

There. Long dark curls against a stark white shirt with black sleeves. Your heart leapt in your chest, and you had to make the choice now.

“E... Eddie! Wait up!” you called out, walking quickly towards him.

When he turned around to look at you, you felt the air disappear from your lungs. How was it possible for him to be so beautiful and why the fuck did no one in this school seem to notice?

Eddie pulled the lollipop he’d been sucking on out of his mouth, surprised to see you.

“Hey.” he said. “Uh... you sit next to me in class.”

He was either playing dumb, or you were about to make an ass of yourself. But, like Robin asked, since when do you care about dignity?

You reached into your bag and pulled out the candygrams that had been sent to you and holding them out.

To your relief he gave you a bashful smile. “Guess you caught me, huh?” he asked. “You solved my Valentine’s puzzle.”

“I have a pretty high intelligence when I apply myself.” you said, which only made him grin wide. “But I gotta say, Munson. I’m actually a little disappointed. I mean, sadistic and scary dungeon master of the Hellfire club, and this is the best puzzle you could come up with?”

He crossed his arms and took a step towards you. “Well, I don’t know you as well as I’d like.” he said, and your stomach erupted into butterflies. “Had to start somewhere.”

“I guess I had to be sneaky and pay attention to you to figure it out. You’re hard not to notice, you know.” you admitted, crossing your arms as well to mimic him.

“Being The Freak means I fail most stealth checks.” he shrugged.

“High charisma though.” you threw out there, hoping that line would land and to your delight it did.

“It’s the Munson Magic. I come by it naturally.” Eddie’s smile was so wide it was cheesy but shit, it was working on you.

“Not great intelligence though.” you smirked at him.

“Oh? And how do you figure that?” He looked a little offended now, and you saw his shoulder stiffen as if he was waiting for this to suddenly go south.

“Spell my name, Eddie.”

You could see the lightbulb go off in his mind and his eyes widened.

“You- wait, you were the one who kept sending me the cards?” Eddie looked nothing short of bewildered and ecstatic. You had a feeling that if things went well, you wouldn’t have to worry about ever knowing what he was thinking as he wore every emotion on his sleeve.

“Surprise?” you asked, playing with the strap of your backpack.

Eddie licked his lips, chasing the last of the flavor of the sucker he’d been eating. He looked at you, as if searching for something, and you cut in before he had the chance to find it.

“Do you want to hang out sometime?” you asked, a little louder than you meant to. “Like, just us.”

“Do you think you can handle a date with The Freak?” Eddie asked, standing a little straighter. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, and I promise the worst of them are true.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Eddie, I’ve always wanted to join Hellfire.” you smirked. “I’m sure there are worse things for a first date than sacrificing someone to Satan, or summoning demons, or joining a cult.”

“I’m a gentleman, I would never ask a lady to summon demons on the first date. That’s at least a third date activity.” Eddie held his hand to his heart and raised a hand as if making an oath.

Oh yeah, you were going to marry him. You were already picturing proposing to him and taking him away from this town.

“Then how about dinner at Benny’s?” you suggested. “Burgers and shakes on me and you can tell me more about Hellfire and dragons and I can give you a spelling lesson.”

Eddie ran his ringed fingers through his hair and you giggled as the rings got snagged and he struggled to untangle them.

“It’s.. a date then.” he said, but it came out as more of a question, as if he was asking if this was really happening.

“A date.” You agreed, handing him your number, having come prepared.

As you began to walk away, he called out after you.

“Wait! You said you wanted to check out Hellfire, right?” Eddie said and you turned to look at him. “I’m... I’m actually running a one shot tonight. Kind of beginner friendly enough. I don’t often do this in the middle of the semester but one of our usuals dropped out because he had a date so... we have an open seat at the table. If you think you can handle it.”

Your smile widened as you walked over to him. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

Eddie offered his arm to you, as if he were a gentleman which you took eagerly.

“So... how do you actually spell your name?”

---

Dear Reader, I hope you have the easiest name to spell because that would make this fic at least 3% funnier. Also, I'm proud I got this done before Valentine's day because I never even finished my Halloween or Christmas fic. Be proud of me.

Please reblog if you enjoyed it <3

Tag List: @gagasbee, @ihaventgotaclue-really @tastefullyferal @anonymouskiwi @hellfiredarling

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader

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gothcsz · 8 days

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Summary: Caught in a charged and unexpected moment with Javier Peña, you struggle between resisting his relentless seduction and giving in to the tension that has been building since the last shoot.

Tags: smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, no use of Y/N, reader is shorter than javier but other than that no physical descriptions, some dirty talk, semi-public sex (we're in an elevator this time around), reader really doesn't like javi, steve being steve, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: this was supposed to be a short lil thing but then my ass had to drag it out just a little because their dynamic is very fun to write 😭 he's like whyyy don't you like me and she's like how much time do you have? lmfao. this is dedicated to @auteurdelabre 🖤 #1 pornstar javi stan, i almost submitted this for your trope off but decided to save that honor for my other story! anyways, i hope you guys enjoy javier begging to eat you out 🥂 let me know what you think 🖤 mandatory mutual tags: @almostempty / @miss-oranje-disco-dancer

You sit in the cramped waiting room outside of Robbie’s office, the stale air clinging to your skin as you shift uncomfortably in the worn-out chair. The place is too quiet, save for the muffled sounds of the city outdoors.

You glance at the clock on the wall, anxiety creeping up your spine. You have a shift at the bar in an hour, and time is slipping through your fingers. The laundry, the groceries, the endless list of errands— it all piled up today, and now you’re cutting it too close.

But you need this check. It’s the only reason you’re here, tapping your foot in impatience. If you don’t get it today, the money won’t hit your account in time to cover rent, and you really don’t want another lecture from your landlord. It’s bad enough you’re already behind— no need to give him more ammunition to chew you out.

You sigh and lean back, eyes closing as you try to drown out the frustration swirling in your head. That’s when you hear the unmistakable ding of the elevator down the hall and turn your head to see who’s joining.

Your stomach drops and you sit up straight. No. Not now. The air feels heavier, thick with that familiar irritation, as the slow, deliberate sound of boots against the tile grows louder.

Javier Peña.

Just the thought of him sends a hot wave through your being, a mix of irritation and something else you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t want to think about that last shoot, the one where things shifted. Where shit got weird. You behind the camera, filming as always, while he was balls deep in another woman, claiming you were on his mind.

“Bet you’d look just as pretty like this, nena.”

“Did you like what you saw? Like watching the way I fucked her but was thinking of you the whole time?”

It was like he’d stripped you bare with just a few words, leaving you more exposed than them in the midst of their carnal fucking. And the worst part? You’d been affected by it. Skin on fire, pussy wet. It also didn’t help that Steve had heard it too. The mic catching the flirting, the hitch of your breath getting stuck in your throat, clear as day.

He’d asked you about it later at Lucky’s, as promised, all smug and drinking that God-awful beer. But you’d brushed him off, hoping he’d drop it. Thankfully, he had— for the most part— but you could still feel his restlessness, wanting to stir the pot.

Now, Javier is here, of course, because the universe just loves to mess with you. You roll your eyes and cross your arms, leaning back against the chair in defiance. You refuse to look at him. You won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he gets under your skin.

His footsteps stop just a few feet away, the weight of his presence impossible to ignore. You can feel him looking at you, feel the weight of his brown eyes like a physical thing as they rake over your body.

You keep your gaze glued to the wall, focusing on the ugly, generic painting hanging there like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You gonna act like you don’t see me?” His voice is deep, smooth, and frustratingly cocky, just like always.

You grit your teeth, biting back a response. You won’t give him an inch. Not again. This motherfucker will take a mile.

“Okay, so that’s what we’re doing.” Before you can react, he plops down beside you. You stiffen immediately, moving your crossed knees to the side, angling yourself away from him, as if the few inches of space will protect you from the onslaught of whatever the hell he’s about to say next.

He spreads his thighs wide, his posture screaming obnoxious confidence. You just barely catch a glimpse of his bulge pressing up against his left thigh and how the fuck does it look so big even when he’s soft? “You know,” he says, voice dripping with that lazy, arrogant drawl, “you’re the only woman that treats me like this, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”

You snort, the sound sharp and humorless. You still don’t bother looking at him.

Javier frowns, flitting his tongue across the top row of his teeth. “Is it because I came off too strong the first time we met? ‘Cause if that’s the case; then I’m sorry. Can’t help myself from flirting with pretty little things like you.”

You roll your eyes so hard, it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of their sockets. He doesn’t sound sincere at all.

Thing is, you didn’t mind the flirting. Even if he, like he’s so romantically put it, does flirt with pretty little things all the time; it did make you feel like just that. Pretty. It’s what came after that soured your Javier Peña experience.

He huffs, like a petulant child, frustrated by your silence. You don’t give him the satisfaction of even a glance. Instead, you shift in your seat, your mind racing, wondering what the hell is taking Robbie so damn long. He never works, barely lifts a finger unless there’s money or something else in it for him, and now, suddenly, he’s busy? Yeah, right. He’s probably in his office jerking it to one of his films, getting off on his own work. Typical.

You’re done waiting. With a sharp movement, you stand, startling Javier, though you still don’t give him the time of day. He’s used to women catering to his every whim, hanging on his every word. You aren’t going to be one of them. Not even if he did manage to get you all hot and bothered.

You stalk over to the door and knock harder than necessary. “I’m busy,” his voice grumbles through the wooden surface, and you resist the urge to scream.

“And I need my check. Just slide it under the door or something,” you snap, the urgency in your voice making it clear that you’re not in the mood to get fucked around with.

There’s a pause, followed by the sound of shuffling papers before the door cracks open just enough for Robbie to stick his hand out, an envelope clutched between his fingers. He practically shoves it into your hand before slamming the door shut again.

You stand there for a moment, staring at the envelope with your name scrawled across the front. Surrounded by imbeciles. Just one shift to get through tonight, and then maybe, just maybe, you can get some peace. Enjoy the first weekend off you’ve had in months.

Now that you have what you came for, you spin on your heel and stride down the hallway, ignoring the handsome pornstar still lounging in the chair behind you. From your peripheral, you can see him sitting there, skinny jean clad legs spread, looking all annoyingly sexy without even trying. It would be so much easier if he were ugly— or literally anyone else. But no, it’s Javier fucking Peña, with his ridiculous good looks and that cocky smirk that could probably charm the panties off half the city if he wanted to (it probably has, to be honest).

You mentally map out the next hour: hit the bank, dash home to change, then off to work. You could walk to the bank, maybe catch a taxi home if you’re lucky. But with traffic in this city, luck isn’t really on your side. You start considering your options— do you skip changing and just head to work as you are? Would your other boss even care if you showed up a little underdressed? You’re so lost in your thoughts, focused on cutting corners to save time, that you don’t hear the quiet footsteps behind you.

It’s not until the elevator dings and you step inside that you realize you’re not alone. Javier’s slipped in just before the doors close, sliding smoothly into the cramped space beside you. The sudden proximity makes your heart do this stupid little jump, and you curse yourself for it. You’re trapped now— stuck way too close to him in the tiny metal box.

The air feels charged, his presence impossible to ignore yet again. The smell of his aftershave hits you first— spicy, with a hint of something woodsy, layered under the scent of his leather jacket and the faint, lingering whiff of cigarette smoke. He tries to drown it out with minty gum, but it’s still there, clinging to him like an old habit. And damn it, your knees go a little weak, despite your best efforts to stay cool.

The height difference between you is glaringly obvious now. You’re eye level with the habitually open portion of his cream colored shirt, the buttons undone just enough to give a peek at his brown chest. It’s frustrating how effortlessly he pulls off the whole rugged look— like he doesn’t even try, but somehow manages to look better than most men who spend hours on it.

You swallow hard, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you can smell him, that you can feel the heat radiating off his body in the tight space. He’s just too close, and the damn elevator isn’t moving fast enough. You’ve got a million things to worry about right now—rent, work, your life— and the last thing you need is to be distracted by him.

But, like always, he’s right there, invading your space, making it impossible to think of anything else.

“What the fuck do you want?” You snap, breaking your vow of silence. You frown up at him, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface as you cross your arms defensively over your chest— a bad move, you realize too late, as the motion only pushes your braless tits together beneath the thin fabric of your tank top.

Predictably, his eyes drop immediately. You curse yourself for not wearing something more substantial. It’s not like I was planning to run into him today, you think to yourself.

“To understand why you hate me so much,” Javier says, his voice low, carrying that annoyingly casual tone, as if this whole conversation is nothing more than a mild inconvenience to him.

Your brows knit together, and a dry laugh slips from your lips before you can stop it. “Well, for starters,” you bite out, “you can’t even look me in the eyes when you ask.”

His gaze snaps up so fast it’s almost comical, his dark eyes locking with yours, defiance flaring there. But there’s something else too— something that makes the air between you even more tense. You hold his stare, daring him to say something, to make this worse for himself. His expression tightens, but you continue before he has a chance to speak. “And I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you. You annoy the shit out of me.”

He flinches, just barely, but you catch it. The smallest chink in his armor. You reach around him, your hand brushing against his side as you press the button for the main floor. The contact sends a ripple of awareness through you that you try to ignore. You don’t have time for this— for him.

Javier scowls, his mouth pulling into a frown that mirrors yours, and before you can react, he half-turns and punches a button for a different floor, effectively canceling your request. The elevator jolts, shifting direction.

You groan audibly, exasperation washing over you. “And here you are, proving my point,” you mutter under your breath. Every second you waste in this shitty elevator with him is another second closer to being late for work. Another second closer to not getting everything done that you needed to today. He’s not just in your way—he’s deliberately in your way, and the worst part is, he knows it.

“You don’t like me,” he counters, turning back to face you fully, his tone edging into frustration, “but you never even gave me a chance.” His jaw is set now, his eyes searching yours as if he’s waiting for you to crack, to admit that there’s more to it than just annoyance. Like he wants you to say it’s something else, something deeper.

If you had the luxury of time, you’d lay it all out for him, explain in excruciating detail just why you’ve avoided giving him that chance. How his arrogance grates on you. How his charm, though admittedly effective, feels hollow. How the way he flirts isn’t even the problem—it’s the way he looks at you, like he knows something about you that you don’t want to admit.

But you don’t have that kind of time.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to steady your nerves. “As fun as it’d be to stand here and explain this shit to you like a child,” you say, your voice tight, “I have important things to do, and you’re keeping me from them.” You jab the elevator button again, hoping the damn thing will just go where you need it to without another unnecessary detour, but you already know it’s a losing battle.

Javier shifts closer, just slightly, his presence looming. You can smell that damn aftershave again, all spice and leather and smoke, and it only pisses you off more because your body reacts to it before your brain can stop it. You feel your resolve slipping, just a little. His eyes are on you, unwavering, intense in a way that makes you want to both slap him and pull him closer at the same time.

“I’m not trying to keep you from anything,” he replies, softer now, the edge in his voice gone. His tone is almost... apologetic? No. It can’t be. Javier Peña doesn’t apologize. At least not in any way that feels real.

You don’t even bother responding, just stare at the numbers above the door, willing them to move faster. The sooner you’re out of here, the better.

“Just—fuck, give me something. Anything,” he growls, frustrated as all hell. His eyes are wild, and you can see the cracks in his usual suave demeanor, like he’s barely holding it together. “Ever since that last shoot, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, and I don’t know why. You think you’re exasperated? How the fuck do you think I’m feeling over here?”

You raise a brow, leaning into your disdain as you pout at him mockingly. “Oh, boohoo. Cry me a river. A girl doesn’t like me back, wahh.” You mimic the sound of a crying baby, bringing your fists up to rub against your cheeks in the most exaggerated way possible. Then you drop the act, face deadpanning.

His eyes narrow, and you think you’ve finally hit a nerve. Good. Let him stew in it. But instead of backing down, he does something you don’t expect— he turns, reaches out, and slams his palm against the emergency stop button. The elevator lurches to a sudden halt, the hum of motion disappearing as the car freezes between floors.

Your eyes widen, a sharp spike of adrenaline shooting through you as the reality of the situation sets in. “What the hell, Javier?” You’re about to cuss him out, to let him know exactly what kind of shit he’s just gotten himself into, but before the words can leave your mouth, he takes two long, purposeful steps toward you.

Instinctively, you move back, the sudden intensity in his eyes sending warning signals through your brain. But there’s nowhere to go. You can’t escape the tight confines of the elevator, your back is pressed up against the cold metal railing. You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as his broad body looms over yours, trapping you in a way that leaves you feeling both furious and breathless.

He’s too close. His chest brushes against yours, and you can feel his gaze as it drags over your face, down your neck, and lower still, lingering in a way that makes your skin prickle.

Any insult you were ready to hurl at him gets stuck in your throat. You hate how your pulse quickens, how your breath catches. You can feel every inch of him— solid muscle, tense with whatever storm is brewing behind those dark eyes.

For a brief, dizzying moment, you forget to be mad. You forget that you’re supposed to dislike him, that he’s the last person you should let get under your skin like this but somehow is the only one who’s able to. All you can focus on is the way his breath fans across your cheek, the way the small space between you crackles with tension, like a wire pulled too tight.

“You think this is some kind of joke?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, making your pussy tingle in ways you wish it didn’t. “You think it’s easy for me to just... shrug it off? Because it’s not. Not when I keep thinking about you, and I don’t even fucking understand why.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something that catches you off guard, making you pause to wonder if this really isn’t a game to him.

But you can’t let him see that. You can’t let him know how much he’s getting to you (even though he’s more than aware). So instead, you tilt your chin up defiantly, forcing your voice to stay steady. “And stopping the elevator? Trapping me in here with you? That’s your brilliant solution?”

“No,” he breathes, voice dropping to a near whisper as his face inches closer to yours. “But it’s the only way I could get you to stop running from me.”

You hate how your stomach flips at his words. Hate how much you’re fighting against the instinct to lean into him instead of shoving him away. Every part of your body is screaming at you to tell him to fuck off and leave you the hell alone.

“Do you know what I think it is?” The words come out in a low, dangerous drawl, the kind that seems to wrap around your throat and squeeze. He leans in, crowding your space, eyes boring into you with an intensity that has your pulse skyrocketing. “I think you’re too fucking stubborn to let yourself have any fun. The idea of me fucking you is enticing, isn’t it?” His lips curl into a smirk, the kind that drips with arrogance and dark promises. “Could see it written all over your face that night at the hotel. That look in your eye while I was fucking Lexxie.”

His accusations slam into you, pulling up the exact moment you’ve been trying to bury. It should have been a professional gig, routine even, nothing personal… except that wasn’t the case. Not with the way he looked at you the entire time, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to react.

And, fuck, you had reacted. You felt the heat rise in your face, the way your body betrayed you as you stood behind the camera, mouth salivating, thighs pressing together.

“Javier…” You push at his chest, your hand meeting the hard wall of muscle beneath his shirt. The intent is to shove him back, to create some space between you. But the second your palm makes contact, it’s like the air shifts, and instead of moving him, it’s like you’ve anchored yourself to him.

Goddamn him. Goddamn you for your spineless ass, for not being able to follow through on resisting the temptation that he is.

He smirks wider, clearly reading the war going on behind your eyes. “You were shaking,” he continues, his voice a dark whisper that coils around your insides. “Damn near moaning while you watched me go down on her. Rubbing those thighs together while this pretty ass was in my face as she was sucking my cock.”

His large hand snakes around you, catching you off guard, fingers gripping a handful of your ass and pulling you closer. Your body collides with his, and that’s when you feel it— his erection, hard and insistent, pressing into your stomach. The heat between you flares up to unbearable levels, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, every nerve ending in your body on high alert, buzzing with want.

“You’re delusional,” it’s breathless but you’re still determined to keep some semblance of control. You squirm in his grip, your body betraying your words, the friction making your mind tilt. “You just can’t stand the fact that, for once, a woman isn’t throwing herself at you. That I’m not kissing the ground you walk on or falling to my knees, ready to suck you off.”

His hold tightens briefly, pulling you even closer, and for a second, you wonder if you’ll be able to break free at all. It’s damn near impossible to ignore the ache building between your thighs at this point. But somehow, you manage to slip out of his grip, your body twisting away from his until you’ve backed yourself into the far corner of the elevator.

You can’t breathe. Not properly, anyway. You’ve never felt so on edge, so exposed in such a small space. Every fiber of your being screams at you to keep your distance, to reassert control of the situation, but there’s a part of you— dangerous and impulsive— that wants to step right back into his arms.

Javier doesn’t move, but his eyes stay glued to you, watching your every movement like a predator stalking its prey. The elevator is still locked in place, a silent reminder that you’re trapped here with him until one of you decides to relent. His jaw clenches, and you think he’s going to say something cutting, something to tear you down. But instead, he surprises you.

“You’re right.” His voice is rough, but it carries a weight that’s different from the cocky arrogance he usually hides behind. “I can’t stand it.”

His words hang in the air between you, heavier than you expected. There’s no smirk this time, no sarcastic bite. Just honesty, and it’s a fucking curveball.

You weren’t prepared for him to actually admit it. For once, he’s not trying to fuck with you, not trying to win.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

You swallow hard, the weight of his confession making your heart leap out of your chest.

You don’t know what to say, so instead, you just stand there, staring at him, your body buzzing with a cocktail of adrenaline, lust, and confusion. Because as much as you want to dislike him, as much as you need to dislike him for your own sanity, you can’t deny the way your pussy responds to him. The way your mind keeps pulling you back to that night, to the way he made you feel without even touching you.

“Get over it,” you snap, cutting him off before he can sink any deeper into this conversation. You don’t need to entertain this further. It can’t happen, and it will never happen. The second you fall into bed with him, it’ll be game over. Javier Peña isn’t just a casual fuck— you know deep down he’d be the kind that wraps himself around your soul and doesn’t let go until he’s consumed every inch of you.

The problem is, you’re terrified that you’ll let him. It’s why you’re so dead set on not giving in.

You cross your arms over your chest again, as if trying to shield yourself from the strength in his eyes, the way he seems to reach into your very core with just a look.

You try to focus on anything else— on the fact that you still need to get to the bank, then to your apartment, and finally to your bar shift. You don’t have time for this shit, for the endless back-and-forth with him.

But then he says your name.

The sound of it on his lips makes you close your eyes, every muscle in your body tensing. Damn him. It sounds so fucking sweet, almost reverent, and you know if you make the mistake of looking at him right now— if you see those beautiful, pleading brown eyes— you’ll fold.

He says your name again, softer this time, and the way his voice wraps around each syllable has your resolve teetering on the edge of collapse. “Please, just let me show you how good I can make you feel,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his breath fanning across your cheek. “Just one taste, nena, por favor.”

And for the first time since you met Javier— he’s begging. You never imagined that he, of all people, would beg for anything. But here he is, his voice low and thick with desire, pleading with you to give him just one chance.

You blink your eyes open slowly, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that have been ignited by his words. The synapses in your brain light up like fucking fireworks, each one triggering a new thought, a new possibility. There’s a moment— a split second— where you picture it.

You imagine his hands on your body, his lips trailing fire down your skin, his mouth between your legs. The image flashes so vividly, so intensely in your mind, that it steals the breath from your lungs.

You can practically feel the way he’d elicit things you’ve been trying to suppress. Your legs go weak just thinking about it, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself, to remember who you are, what this is.

But your cavewoman, horny brain betrays you— racing ahead, picturing every possible outcome. You can’t help but wonder how good it would feel to let him in, just once. How it would be to let him take control, to let him show you, like he’s promising, just how good he can make you feel.

You’re already late getting to the bank. You should be focusing on that, on getting out of this damn elevator and away from him, but your body won’t cooperate. Every part of you is ablaze, screaming at you to just give in.

Javier’s standing there, staring at you with those chocolate eyes, his dark brows drawn together, pouty lips parted just slightly as he waits for you to say something. Anything. He’s laid it all out in front of you, leaving you to make the next move. And fuck, as much as you hate to admit it, you want to. You want to let him pull you into his world, even though you know it’ll consume you. You want to feel his hands on your skin, his mouth everywhere, his name slipping from your lips.

But you can’t.

If you give in now, you’ll never be able to walk away from him, and you can’t afford to let yourself get tangled up in Javier Peña. He’s chaos wrapped in temptation, and once you let him in, there’s no turning back.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you try to hold on to the last shred of control you have. “Javier,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out. You feel like you’re on the edge of a cliff, teetering between desire and self-preservation. The weight of his gaze presses down on you, and for a moment, you think you might just jump.

But then, with every ounce of willpower you have left, you take a shaky breath, shaking your head and breaking the spell he’s woven around you.

“No,” you say, the word barely above a whisper, but firm enough to anchor you back to reality.

His face falls, the fire in his eyes dimming just a little. You almost regret it, almost, but then you remember who he is. What he does. And you know you made the right choice, even if every part of you is berating otherwise.

You stand there, locked in a silent standoff, both of you doing a piss poor job of pretending like you don’t want to tear each other’s clothes off right here in the elevator.

You’re hoping—no, praying— that he’ll finally let it go. That he’ll stop pushing, stop testing your resolve, and just leave you alone. You’re begging for him to go back to what he does best, to leave you to your job— both of them.

You break eye contact first, glancing down at your watch. You’re definitely not going to make it to your shift on time. Shit. You need to phone your boss and give him a heads up before this gets even worse. But right now, you can’t seem to focus, not with Javier standing there like a Roman statue, immovable and perfect, watching you with that infuriating intensity.

“Now, if you can get the elevator to take us down, I’d really appreciate it,” you say, but the words come out softer than you intended. You hate how small your voice sounds, like you’ve already lost the upper hand, and you mentally slap yourself for it.

But he doesn’t budge. He just stands there, watching you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world, and it makes you want to scream. His gaze is piercing, boring holes into your entire existence, and it’s taking everything you have not to crumble beneath it.

“Do you really mean that?” He asks as he brings a hand up to smooth down his mustache. There’s a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips, like he already knows the answer. “Because everything about your body language is screaming otherwise.”

When the fuck did he get so close again? He’s right there, towering over you, and suddenly the air between you feels impossibly thin.

“It’s my fuckin’ job to read a woman’s body,” he continues, his voice growing huskier with each word. “And you know what yours is telling me right now?”

Your pulse quickens, your heart slamming against your ribcage, and you can’t find the words to respond. You don’t trust yourself to speak— not when his presence is drowning you in your own body.

He leans in, lips so close to your ear that his breath almost has you fainting. “It’s telling me that you want it.”

Your stomach flips, every nerve ending in your body coming alive as his curved nose barely grazes your skin. The touch is featherlight, but it sends electricity straight to your cunt. You grip the railing behind you like a lifeline, your knuckles flushed as goosebumps ripple across your skin.

Javier’s smirk deepens, the asshole clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “Stop fighting it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet, his hand sliding down the length of your figure in a way that feels too natural, too right. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel…”

You should stop him. You should. But you don’t. You can’t. His hands are on you now, moving with a confidence that’s impossible to resist. One large hand finds its way to your tit, groping it gently through the thin fabric of your tank top, and you gasp, the sound escaping your lips before you can stop it. Your body fails you, head falling back against the elevator wall, your chest arching into his touch.

The way his hand moves, so sure, so practiced, has your resistance crumbling, piece by piece.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your neck, peppering soft, teasing kisses along your sensitive skin. “Barely done a thing and you’re already gone.”

Your mind is spinning, your resolve completely undone as you melt under his touch. Every kiss, every graze of his lips against your neck feels like it’s unraveling the last bit of control you have. His body is pressed up against yours, and you can feel his erection through his jeans again, the hard (pun intended) evidence of just how much he wants you.

God help you, it feels too good to resist.

You sigh, a low, breathy sound that’s equal parts surrender and relief. His lips trail lower, his hand still groping your breast, and you let him. You let him because you’ve been fighting this for too long, and right now, you just want to feel something.

Javier grins against your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he pulls you even closer, his voice hoarse in your ear. “Told you,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “I knew you wanted this.”

You don’t respond. There’s nothing left to say. You’ve given in, you’ll figure out how to pick up the pieces later, but right now? Right now, you’re letting yourself fall apart.

It’s like your whole body just deflates against his, sinking into the solid warmth of him as if all the fight has finally drained out of you. You’re giving him the green light, and he knows it. The grunt that escapes his throat is guttural, and you feel the weight of his palm pressing harder against your chest, his thumb and pointer finger expertly pinching your now hardened nipple through the fabric of your tank top.

“After this,” he murmurs, voice rough with restraint, “if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone.” His words are punctuated by a sharp tug at your nipple that sends a surge of arousal straight between your legs. Then his hand moves, sliding up to cradle your jaw with a surprising gentleness. He tilts your head so that your eyes meet his, forcing you to look at him— forcing you to really see him. “You have my word.”

You search his eyes, not entirely sure what you’re looking for— honesty, maybe? A hint of something real beyond the heat of the moment? Whatever it is, you can’t find the words to respond, so you just nod weakly, your breath bated.

Javier smiles at that, a slow, predatory grin, and he leans in as if to kiss you. But you stop him, your hand pressing against his sternum with just enough force to halt him in his tracks.

“No kissing,” you say, your voice more resolute than you feel. “You said one taste, so get to it.” You’re setting boundaries, trying to keep some semblance of control in this situation. No kissing, no fucking— just head. That’s all this will be. He’ll get a taste of you, and you’ll finally get a taste of what all the hype is about. Then it’ll be over, and you’ll go your separate ways. That’s the deal.

His frown deepens, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features, like he’s not used to anyone telling him no in any capacity. But it’s brief, because he’s not about to take the proverbial bone you’ve thrown him for granted. He agrees in his own way, pivoting without protest, his mouth returning to your neck like he’s already forgotten the attempt to kiss you.

Now that the rules are clear, you allow yourself to let your guard down— just a little. It’s not like your sex life has been riveting lately, and truth be told, you can’t even remember the last time a partner went down on you willingly. At least you’re getting something out of this fucked-up little arrangement, and for now, that’s enough.

He kisses and licks a line down your throat, his stubble scraping deliciously against the sensitive flesh. You sigh, your breath hitching as you feel his hands roaming your body with a confidence that should piss you off but doesn’t.

His rough palms map out your curves like he’s trying to commit every inch of you to memory. He’s groping, squeezing, learning you in a way that makes you feel like you’re his personal discovery.

The warmth of his breath, the skill in his movements— it’s intoxicating. You can’t help but respond, your hips shifting, your body bending instinctively toward him when one hand slides up under your shirt, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast.

He’s good at this, you’ll give him that. Too damn good. It’s almost like he’s a fucking pornstar.

You hate that you’re enjoying it so much, hate that you’re already melting under his touch like some lovesick fool.

“Don’t overthink it,” he murmurs against your skin, feeling the nerves radiating off of you.

His touch lingers as he reaches the button on your denim shorts, undoing it with a flick of his fingers before pulling down the zipper, slow and deliberate.

“You and these damn shorts…” you hear him say, more to himself than to you. His voice is gruff, frustrated, like he’s been waging a silent battle against his own restraint. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down over your hips, watching as the fabric slides off your skin. You step out of them, standing there in nothing but your underwear, top and sneakers, exposed in ways you hadn’t intended to be when you walked into that office earlier today.

His brows shoot up, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks. Of course, it’s laundry day. Of course, you’re left wearing your least practical pair of underwear— this skimpy, lacy purple number you hardly ever break out. The delicate string disappears between the cheeks of your ass, and the sheer front does little to conceal the soft tuft of hair just below your navel.

And he’s drinking it all in.

“Fuckin’ hell, nena,” he breathes, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and lust. His eyes flick back up to yours, dark and hungry. “You always walkin’ around like this?” His hands grip your hips, and before you can even formulate a response, he’s sinking to his knees in front of you, taking his sweet ass time, like this is some kind of worship.

“No, I—” Your voice is breathy, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “I had to do laundry today…” It’s all you can manage, barely coherent as his lips begin pressing soft, teasing kisses to the inside of your knee.

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder, steadying you, his fingers gripping your thigh with enough pressure to leave you keening. You brace yourself against the elevator railing, your body tense with anticipation, your mind a chaotic swirl of logic and lust. You barely notice as the check you came here for flutters to the floor beside you, forgotten.

Don’t forget to deposit that, the reasonable part of your brain chimes in, but you tell that bitch to shut up because Javier Peña is currently on his knees in font of you, about to take you on the ride of your fucking life, and you’re nowhere near strapped in.

His head is tilted up, lips brushing dangerously close to where you want him most, and all rational thought is slipping through your fingers like sand.

He looks up at you then, his dark eyes glinting with something wicked, and your breath catches again. You don’t know how to feel about any of this anymore. There’s a line you swore you wouldn’t cross, but now that he’s right there, so close to giving you what you’ve craved for longer than you care to admit, it’s hard to remember why you drew that line in the first place.

Javier’s lips graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and a quiet moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. He smirks against your skin, his fingers tracing a slow path up your leg, sending shivers coursing through you. “Relax, bonita,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “I’ll take care of you.”

You want to tell him to hurry up, to stop teasing, but all that comes out is a shaky exhale as his hands part your thighs wider, positioning you exactly how he wants you. His grip is firm, possessive, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ll survive whatever it is he’s about to do to you.

You don’t even have time to dwell on the thought before his mouth is on you, lips pressing a lingering kiss over the thin fabric of your panties. The sudden pressure sends a shockwave through your body, and your eyes fall closed, surrendering to the moment. His tongue teases the fabric, nudging against your already soaked cunt, and you can feel the wetness seeping through the lace. He hums low in his throat, savoring the first taste of you.

“These are so pretty. Don’t think I’ll take ’em off.”

He hooks his fingers into the delicate fabric and pulls it aside, exposing you to him completely. The cool air hits your slick folds, a contrast to the heat of his breath as he hovers just inches away. He’s staring, taking you in, and when he curses under his breath, it’s like he’s caught off guard by how badly he wants this. Wants you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, as he drags his nose up and down the length of your wet slit. The touch is maddeningly light, just enough to make you clench involuntarily, your body reacting without permission. More of your slick leaks out of your pussy, a response to the subtle stimulation, and you grip the elevator railing tighter to keep yourself from falling with how weak your knees get.

Javier flattens his tongue, delivering a slow, deliberate lick from your entrance to your clit, and it’s like your entire body ignites at once. You throw your head back, a ragged cry of his name ripping from your throat as your hips buck instinctively, searching for more of him, more of that friction that feels like pure electricity.

He’s not done, though. Not even close. One hand snakes around your thighs, strong and sure. His middle and pointer fingers spread you open, forming an upside-down V, and then he does something so filthy, so perfectly Javier— he spits directly onto your exposed pussy.

The sound alone could get you off, but the sensation is something else entirely. His saliva mixes with your slick, making everything wetter, hotter, and you feel like you’re unraveling before he’s even truly begun. A series of high-pitched moans spill from your lips as he latches his mouth onto your cunt, sucking and licking with a precision that has your entire being quaking.

Lips, tongue, teeth—he’s using everything he has, dragging you deeper into a haze of pleasure where nothing exists but the heat coiling in your belly, tightening with every flick. He’s devouring you, utterly relentless, and it’s too much but not enough, all at once. Every nerve ending is on fire, your thighs trembling as you fight to keep your balance. His grip on your leg tightens, keeping you locked in place, helpless to do anything but take what he’s giving.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, pulling back for just a moment, leaning his cheek against your inner thigh. His face is glistening, covered in your arousal, but his eyes are dark and hungry, never straying from your face. “With noises like that and a pussy this pretty— you’d be a fucking sight on camera.”

His words send another jolt through you, dirty and wrong and so fucking hot that you nearly forget how to breathe. He nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving faint marks in his wake, before diving back in with that skilled tongue of his. He’s a man with something to prove, alternating between broad strokes and tight circles, zeroing in on your fleshy clit with a precision that makes your head spin.

It’s obscene, the way he’s working you over, all these years spent perfecting this art, but there’s a rawness to it too, a desperation like he can’t get enough of you. You’re soaked, dripping onto his face, and he laps it up like a man starved, the sounds of his mouth slurping against your wetness filling the small space around you. Your moans are louder now, more desperate, each one pushing you closer to that edge where you’re not sure if you’ll survive the fall.

His fingers tighten on your thigh again, and then he’s dragging them lower, inching toward your entrance as his tongue flicks mercilessly against your clit. When he slips two fingers inside you, curling them just right, you nearly scream. The combination of his mouth and his fingers is enough to send you spiraling, your legs trembling uncontrollably as you arch into him.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he grunts when he pulls away to get a good look at your beautiful face and how you look when he’s making you feel like you’re on top of the world. It’s enough to get him to latch onto your clit, sucking on it harshly.

“God, Javier,” you gasp, your voice shaky, barely coherent. You can’t think, can’t form any rational thought, not with the way he’s pulling you apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the pleasure.

“Let go,” he growls against you, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your core. “I’ve got you, nena. Just let go.”

And with that, the dam breaks. You’re coming hard, hips jerking wildly as waves of pleasure crash over you, your entire body shaking with the force of it. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up for a second, working you through it with that relentless mouth until you’re gasping for air, hands clenching at the railing so hard you’re surprised it hasn’t snapped.

Your vision blurs, your mind goes blank, and all you can do is hold on as Javier takes you on the ride of your life, just like you knew he would.

You don’t know how long it takes you to come back into your body after letting him take the reins for a little. You’re trembling, legs weak and body heavy against the cool metal wall of the elevator. He’s still on his knees, knuckle-deep inside you, lazily curling them as if savoring every last second.

His mouth trails soft, teasing kisses across your soaked panties, and the tenderness of the act startles you, nearly pulling you under again. But then he withdraws his fingers, slipping them into his mouth with an almost obscene groan, tasting you one last time as if to commit your flavor to memory. He carefully adjusts your underwear back into place.

Javier stands to his full height, your leg falling from his shoulder, towering over you. His hand comes to rest lightly on your waist as if to steady you. “You okay?”

You nod, though your bones feel like jelly. Your eyes stay closed as you try to gather yourself, forcing yourself back into reality, back into the woman who doesn’t fold like a house of cards for her co-worker. You bend down to retrieve your shorts and check from the floor, fingers fumbling with the zipper as you button yourself back up. He presses the button to resume the elevator, the gears shifting as you’re slowly carried back to the main floor.

And just like that, it hits you. It happened. You’ve came on Javier’s tongue and fingers. You swore it wouldn’t— swore up and down that he was nothing more than a nuisance at work, a distraction you wouldn’t let get to you. But here you are, post-orgasm, in a goddamn public elevator, of all places, with the man who was supposed to be just a headache.

“Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again,” you mutter, trying to summon the biting edge to your words, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Javier just smirks, that infuriating glint back in his eyes like he already knows better, but he doesn’t push it. Not now.

The elevator doors slide open with a sharp ding, and the scene before you is worse than any nightmare you could’ve concocted in the heat of the moment. Two firefighters, the building manager, and— of course because why the hell not— Steve Murphy are standing there with varying degrees of shock and amusement.

You can see the moment Steve takes it all in— your flushed cheeks, the slightly mussed state of your clothes, Javier standing just a bit too close to you. His blue eyes narrow, then widen, and then he breaks into a shit-eating grin so wide you could slap it right off his face.

“Well, well, well,” Steve drawls, barely containing his laughter. “What do we have here?”

Your stomach sinks. Not again.

Javier, ever the cocky bastard, simply raises an eyebrow and slides his hands into his pockets, all cool nonchalance like he hasn’t just been between your thighs minutes earlier. “Just crapped out on us randomly,” he says smoothly, and you want to strangle him for the audacity.

Steve chuckles, shaking his head as if he’s in on some big joke that only you and Javier are the punchline for. And as you step past him, cheeks burning, all you can think is that this will never, ever happen again.

But even as you repeat it to yourself, a small part of you— the part still buzzing from the memory of Javier’s mouth— wonders if you’re lying.

#javier pena smut #javier peña smut #pedro pascal #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x you #javier peña narcos #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña fic #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal smut

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23victoria · 1 month

Text

off the table

pairings: lewis hamilton x fem!reader

word count: 13k

warnings: SMUT (wrap it before you tap it), toxic relationship, cheating, miscommunication, cussing, best friends to lovers, idiots in love, mentions of educational burnout, semi-double pov

authors note: listen to off the table by ariana grande ft. the weeknd 13k words is insane to me, this is the most i’ve ever wrote, i had so much fun writing this honestly, i pray it’s not shit…cause that would be embarrassing, ignore any typos please, also a little self indulgent (not all the way, trust)okay i’m done, hope you enjoy!!

want to be tagged in my works?! CLICK HERE

f1 masterlist 1k celebration

You met Lewis when you were just seven years old. It was a typical summer day, the sun high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the park. You were new to the neighborhood, shy and unsure of yourself, clutching the handles of your bike as if it were your lifeline. The other kids seemed so confident, racing around on their bikes, laughing and shouting as they sped down the dirt paths. You stood on the sidelines, watching, wishing you could join in but not quite brave enough to take the first step.

That's when you noticed him—a boy with wild curls and a bright smile, his bike skidding to a stop in front of you. "Hey, do you want to race?" he asked, his voice filled with enthusiasm. You hesitated, glancing down at your bike, then back at him. He must have sensed your uncertainty because he grinned and added, "I'll go easy on you, I promise."

Something about his easy confidence made you smile, and before you knew it, you were racing side by side with him, the wind whipping through your hair as you pedaled as fast as you could. You didn't win—Lewis was too fast for that—but it didn't matter. For the first time since moving, you felt like you belonged.

From that day on, you and Lewis were inseparable. Every afternoon after school, you'd meet at the park, racing your bikes until the sun dipped below the horizon. He told you about his love for karting, his eyes lighting up as he described the thrill of speeding around the track, the roar of the engine in his ears. You didn't understand it entirely—karts seemed like a bigger, scarier version of your bike—but you loved listening to him talk about it, the way his passion seemed to pour out of him.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

As the years went by, your friendship with Lewis deepened. You became each other's confidants, sharing your dreams and fears late into the night. You told him about your dream of becoming a doctor, and he listened with the same intensity he showed on the track. In return, he confided in you about his aspirations in racing, how he wanted to be the best, to make his family proud.

There were moments, though, where something unspoken lingered between you—moments where his gaze seemed to linger a little too long, where his touch seemed a little too tender. But you never noticed, too caught up in your own world to see the way his feelings for you were evolving.

One day, when you were both fourteen, you were sitting in your room, studying for a biology test. Lewis had come over to help you with your homework, but you ended up talking about everything except schoolwork. "Do you ever think about the future?" you asked, lying on your bed with a textbook open in front of you.

"All the time," he admitted, glancing over at you. "I think about racing, where I'll be, who I'll be with."

You smiled, oblivious to the hint of something more in his words. "I bet you'll be famous," you teased, nudging him playfully. "I'll be able to say I knew you before you were cool."

He laughed, but there was a wistfulness in his eyes. "What about you? Where do you see yourself?"

You shrugged, turning your attention back to your textbook. "Hopefully in med school, maybe even Harvard if I can get in. Saving lives and all that."

There was a pause, and when you looked back at him, you saw something flicker in his expression, something you couldn't quite place. But before you could ask, he smiled and said, "You'll get in. I know you will."

You didn't know it then, but that was one of the many moments where he almost told you how he felt. But your casual mention of Harvard, of a future that seemed so far from his own, made him hesitate. How could he confess his feelings when it seemed like your dreams were leading you in opposite directions?

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

When you were sixteen, Lewis's karting career began to take off even more. He was spending more time at the track, traveling for races, and you were busy with school. But despite the distance, you stayed close, texting each other daily, finding time to hang out whenever he was home.

One evening, after one of his races, he invited you to a celebratory dinner with his family. You were honored, knowing how important these moments were to him. As you sat across from him at the table, laughing and talking with his family, you felt a warmth in your chest, a sense of belonging that you couldn't quite explain.

After dinner, as you walked back to your car, Lewis caught your arm, stopping you. "Hey, can we talk for a minute?" he asked, his voice unusually serious.

"Of course," you replied, a little surprised by his tone. You turned to face him, and for a moment, you just stood there, looking at each other in the dim light of the streetlamp.

He seemed to struggle with his words, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. "I've been meaning to tell you something," he began, his voice low. "It's just... we've known each other for so long, and you've always been there for me. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled, completely missing the deeper meaning behind them. "You're my best friend, Lewis. I'll always be there for you, no matter what."

He looked down, a slight frown tugging at his lips. "Yeah, best friends," he repeated, his voice softer now. "But what if—"

Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket, interrupting the moment. You pulled it out, glancing at the screen, and saw a text from a boy in your class that you'd been talking to. "Sorry, it's just Josh," you said, quickly typing a response.

When you looked back up, Lewis's expression had shifted, the vulnerability from moments before gone. "No worries," he said, forcing a smile. "I just wanted to say that I'm really proud of you. For everything."

You felt a pang of guilt, sensing that you had missed something important, but you pushed it aside, giving him a quick hug. "Thanks, Lewis. That means a lot."

As you drove home that night, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Meanwhile, Lewis watched you leave, the words he had almost said hanging heavy in the air. He had been so close to telling you how he felt, but your mention of Josh had stopped him. How could he compete with someone who was already making you smile in ways he only dreamed of?

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

As you started high school, you started dating Josh. He was sweet, attentive, and everything you thought you wanted in a boyfriend. Lewis, ever the supportive friend, smiled and encouraged you, even as his heart ached every time he saw you with someone else.

He watched from the sidelines as your relationship with Josh blossomed, always there to lend a listening ear when things got tough. And when Josh broke your heart, leaving you devastated just before prom, Lewis was the first person you called.

"I can't believe he did this," you sobbed into the phone, your voice thick with tears.

"I'll be right there," Lewis replied without hesitation. Within minutes, he was at your door, pulling you into a comforting embrace. He held you as you cried, his hand gently stroking your hair, murmuring soothing words into your ear.

"You deserve so much better," he whispered, his heart breaking alongside yours. "Anyone who can't see how amazing you are doesn't deserve you."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. "Why can't all guys be like you, Lewis?"

He smiled sadly, wishing he could tell you that he would never hurt you the way Josh did, that he would cherish you and make you feel loved every day. But instead, he just said, "Because they're not smart enough to realize what they have."

In that moment, you realized how much you had taken Lewis for granted, how he had always been there for you, even when you didn't deserve it. But you still didn't see the depth of his feelings for you, too caught up in your own heartbreak to notice the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

When it came time to apply for college, you were determined to go to the one with the best medical program, whether it was Harvard, Yale, Duke, or John Hopkins. You had worked so hard throughout high school, dedicating countless hours to your studies, extracurriculars, and volunteer work. It was your dream, and you weren't going to let anything stand in your way.

Lewis, on the other hand, was focused on his racing career. He had already been scouted by several teams, and it was clear that his future was on the track. You were both proud of each other's accomplishments, but there was an unspoken tension between you as the reality of your diverging paths began to sink in.

The day you received your acceptance letter from Harvard was bittersweet. You were overjoyed to have achieved your dream, but the thought of leaving Lewis behind filled you with a sense of loss. You had always imagined that you would be there for each other through everything, but now it seemed like your lives were pulling you in different directions.

"I got in," you told Lewis when you saw him later that day, your voice filled with a mix of excitement and sadness.

He smiled, pulling you into a tight hug. "I knew you would," he said, his voice proud but tinged with something else. "You're going to do amazing things, Y/N/N."

"But I'll miss you," you admitted, your heart aching at the thought of being so far away from him.

"I'll miss you too," he replied, his voice quiet. "But we'll stay in touch, right? It's not like we're never going to see each other again."

You nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Of course. We'll text and call all the time. And I'll visit whenever I can."

He smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes that you couldn't ignore. "Yeah, we'll make it work."

As the summer passed, you and Lewis spent as much time together as possible, trying to make the most of your remaining days before you both went off to pursue your dreams. There were moments of laughter and joy, but also moments of quiet reflection, as you both grappled with the reality of what was to come.

On your last night before leaving for college, you and Lewis sat on the roof of his house, staring up at the stars. It was a tradition you had started when you were kids, a way to escape the world and just be together in the silence of the night.

"I'm really going to miss this," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Me too," he replied, his gaze fixed on the sky.

You turned to look at him, your heart heavy with a mix of emotions. "Promise me we'll stay close, no matter what."

He finally looked at you, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. "I promise," he said, his voice steady and sincere.

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Lewis."

He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "You'll never have to find out," he said, his voice filled with a quiet determination.

As you sat there together, the weight of unspoken words hung between you, but neither of you said anything more. There was a part of Lewis that wanted to tell you everything—to confess his feelings, to ask you to stay—but he knew it wouldn't be fair. You had your own dreams to chase, and he couldn't ask you to give them up for him.

So instead, he kept his promise, supporting you from afar as you embarked on the next chapter of your life. You texted and called as often as you could, sharing stories of your experiences at Harvard, while he told you about his progress in racing. The distance was hard, but you both did your best to stay connected.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

College was everything you had hoped it would be. You excelled in your classes, made new friends, and even started dating again. But no matter how busy you were, there was always a part of you that missed Lewis. You missed the way he made you laugh, the way he could always make you feel better no matter what was going on in your life.

You visited home during the holidays, and every time you saw Lewis, it was like no time had passed at all. You fell back into your old routines, spending hours talking and laughing, as if the distance between you had never existed.

But there were moments when you noticed a change in him—moments when he seemed quieter, more reserved. You didn't think much of it at first, chalking it up to the stress of his racing career. But as time went on, you began to wonder if there was something more.

One night, during your winter break, you and Lewis went for a drive, just like you used to do when you were younger. The streets were quiet, the city lights reflecting off the snow-covered ground. You talked about everything and nothing, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence.

As you drove past your old high school, memories flooded back, and you found yourself laughing at the thought of how much had changed since then. "Can you believe it's been four years since we graduated?" you asked, glancing over at Lewis.

He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Yeah, it's crazy how time flies."

You sighed, your smile fading as you thought about how much your lives had diverged since high school. "Do you ever miss the way things used to be?" you asked, your voice filled with a touch of nostalgia.

"All the time," he admitted, his voice quiet.

There was a moment of silence as you both reflected on the past, and for a brief second, you thought you saw something in his expression that made your heart skip a beat. But before you could say anything, he turned away, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

"I've been thinking," he began, his voice hesitant, "about how different our lives are now. You're at college, I'm racing in F2... it's like we're living in two separate worlds."

You frowned, unsure of where he was going with this. "But we're still friends, Lewis. That hasn't changed."

"I know," he said quickly, "but sometimes I wonder if..." He trailed off, as if struggling to find the right words.

"If what?" you prompted, your heart pounding in your chest.

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

You wanted to push him, to ask him what he was really thinking, but something in his tone made you stop. Instead, you just nodded, deciding to let it go.

As the night wore on, you found yourself growing more and more frustrated with your inability to understand what was going on with Lewis. You had always been able to read him like a book, but now it felt like there was a wall between you, something unspoken that neither of you could break through.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

The next few years passed in a blur of classes, exams, and racing events. You and Lewis remained close, but the distance between you became more pronounced as time went on. You both pursued your dreams with a single-minded determination, but in the process, you began to drift further apart.

There were moments when you wondered if you had made the right choice, if maybe you should have stayed closer to home, closer to Lewis. But every time you thought about it, you pushed the thoughts aside, telling yourself that you were doing what you were meant to do.

Lewis, on the other hand, struggled with his feelings for you more than ever. He watched from afar as you continued to excel in your studies, as you dated other people, as you lived a life that seemed so different from his own. But he never stopped caring about you, never stopped being there for you whenever you needed him.

And though he never told you, he knew deep down that he would always love you, even if you never felt the same way about him.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

Your life took a different turn when you least expected it. You had always been focused, driven, and passionate about becoming a doctor. The years of studying, the late nights in the library, the relentless pursuit of knowledge—it all felt like it was leading you toward a future you had envisioned since childhood. But as time went on, something inside you began to shift.

It started subtly at first, a creeping sense of exhaustion that no amount of sleep seemed to cure. The long hours in the lab, the constant pressure to excel, the never-ending cycle of exams and practicals—it all began to weigh on you. You could feel the burnout setting in, the stress gnawing away at your enthusiasm. You told yourself that it was normal, that every med student went through this phase, that it was just another hurdle to overcome. But deep down, you knew something was wrong.

Your friends noticed it too. They saw the dark circles under your eyes, the way you seemed to retreat into yourself, the way your laughter had become rare, replaced by a quiet, pervasive anxiety. One of your closest friends at the time, a fellow student who had always been attuned to your moods, suggested something radical: "Why don't you try something different for a while? Just to take the pressure off."

You were taken aback by the suggestion. "Like what?" you asked, genuinely curious. You couldn't imagine stepping away from your studies, even for a moment. But the exhaustion was so overwhelming that you were willing to entertain any idea that might offer some relief.

"Have you ever thought about acting?" your friend asked, a mischievous smile playing on their lips. "You've always had a flair for drama, and you're great at expressing yourself. It could be fun, and who knows? It might help you recharge."

The idea was so out of left field that you laughed. Acting? You had never seriously considered it. Sure, you had participated in a few school plays when you were younger, but it was always just for fun, never something you thought of as a career. But the more you thought about it, the more the idea intrigued you. Maybe stepping away from the rigid structure of medical school could be exactly what you needed. Maybe exploring a different side of yourself could reignite the passion that had been dwindling for medicine.

On a whim, you decided to give it a try. You signed up for an acting workshop, just to see if you had any talent or interest in it. To your surprise, you loved it. The freedom of expression, the creativity, the way you could lose yourself in a character and forget about the stress of your real life—it was exhilarating. For the first time in months, you felt genuinely happy, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

Encouraged by the positive experience, you started attending more workshops, getting involved in local theater productions, and even taking a few acting classes on the side. It was all just for fun at first, a way to balance out the intensity of your studies. But the more you immersed yourself in the world of acting, the more you realized how much you enjoyed it.

Then came the fateful day when everything changed. One of your acting instructors, who had been impressed by your natural talent, mentioned that a casting call was being held for a new movie. It was a big-budget production, with a well-known director at the helm, and they were looking for fresh faces to fill the lead roles. Your instructor encouraged you to audition, insisting that you had the potential to land the part.

At first, you hesitated. The idea of auditioning for a major film seemed absurd. You were a med student, not a professional actress. But something inside you, that same part that had pushed you to explore acting in the first place, urged you to go for it. What did you have to lose?

So, with a mix of nerves and excitement, you prepared for the audition. You worked on your lines, practiced your delivery, and did your best to channel the emotions of the character you were auditioning for. The day of the audition arrived, and you walked into the casting room with your heart pounding in your chest.

To your amazement, the audition went better than you could have imagined. You felt a connection with the character, a sense of ease in front of the camera that surprised even you. The casting directors seemed impressed, and you left the audition feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and disbelief.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

A few weeks later, you received the call that would change your life. You had landed the lead role in the movie. You couldn't believe it. This was supposed to be a temporary distraction, a way to relieve stress—not the start of a new career. But here you were, about to step into the world of professional acting.

The decision to accept the role was not an easy one. It meant putting your medical studies on hold, something that terrified you. You had worked so hard to get where you were, and the thought of stepping away felt like abandoning a part of yourself. But there was also a part of you that was excited, that saw this as an incredible opportunity, a chance to do something completely different.

You’re pacing your dorm apartment, the walls suddenly feeling too close, the air too thick. You can’t breathe. The call is stuck in your mind, you’ve been offered the lead role in a major movie—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But the timing couldn’t be worse. You’re just a year away from completing your medical degree. A year. After all the sleepless nights, endless studying, and grueling rotations, it’s all so close to paying off. And yet…

You drop onto your bed, head in your hands, and your thoughts spiral out of control. What if you’re making a mistake? What if you take the role and regret it? What if you stay in medicine and never know what could have been? You feel your chest tightening, panic creeping in. You need to talk to someone. You need to talk to him.

Without thinking, you reach for your phone and press Lewis’s contact. As the phone rings, you silently beg for him to pick up. “Please, Lewis, pick up. Please, please, please…”

The call connects, and you hear a groggy voice on the other end. “Y/N/N? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His voice is laced with concern, but there’s a hint of sleep still clinging to his words.

Your heart drops. You forgot. You completely forgot that he’s in Belgium for the race at Spa. You glance at the clock, realizing just how late it is over there. “Oh my God, Lewis, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I completely forgot about the time difference and your race tomorrow…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says, his voice softening. “I’m awake now. Are you alright? What’s going on?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the words tumble out in a rush. “I got offered the lead in a major movie, and I don’t know if I should take it. I’m just a year away from finishing med school, and it feels insane to stop now. But at the same time, this is such a huge opportunity, and I’m spiraling, and you were the first person I thought of to call.”

There’s a pause on the other end, and you can almost hear him processing what you’ve just said. “Lead role in a movie? Acting? You’re an actress? When did this happen?”

You blink, realizing you’ve never told him. Your heart sinks a little further. “Oh… yeah, I guess we haven’t talked in a while, have we?”

Silence hangs between you for a moment, heavy with unspoken words. “Yeah,” he finally says, the word carrying more weight than it should. “We haven’t.”

You clear your throat, trying to push past the awkwardness. “I was feeling burned out with all the studying, and a friend suggested I try something new to take my mind off it. I took an acting class, just for fun, but then one class turned into two, and before I knew it, I was hooked. And now… now I’m being offered a lead role in a movie. Crazy, right? How things change so fast…”

He exhales slowly, as if trying to absorb everything you’ve just told him. “Yeah… yeah, it is crazy.” There’s another pause, but this time it feels different—more contemplative. “Look, Y/N/N, I know this is a huge decision, and it’s not one you can take lightly. But I also know you. You’re not someone who backs down from a challenge. You’ve got this incredible intuition, this ability to know what’s right for you, even if it’s terrifying. If acting is something that excites you, something that makes you feel alive, then maybe it’s worth exploring. You’re not giving up on medicine; you’re just… taking a detour. Following your heart. And whatever you decide, I’ll be here to support you. I believe in you.”

His words wash over you, calming the storm inside your mind. You feel a warmth spread through your chest, easing the tightness that had gripped you just moments before. “Thank you, Lewis. I really needed to hear that.”

“Of course,” he replies softly. “I’m glad I could help.”

You smile, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “Good luck with your race tomorrow. I’m sorry again for disturbing you.”

“Don’t be,” he says, his voice tinged with affection. “I’m always here for you, no matter what. And thanks—I’ll need that luck.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, the kind that only exists between people who’ve known each other for years. You can almost picture him on the other end of the line, smiling that soft, reassuring smile of his.

“It’s really good to hear your voice,” you say, your tone almost wistful.

“Yeah,” he echoes, a hint of something unspoken in his voice. “It is.”

You close your eyes, letting the moment linger, not wanting it to end. But eventually, you know it must. “Goodnight, Lewis.”

“Goodnight, Y/N/N.”

The call ends, and you’re left in the quiet of your dorm room, the weight of the decision still pressing on you, but somehow, it feels a little lighter now. You sit on your bed, staring at the wall, thinking about the offer, about your career, but mostly about him—about how much you miss him, miss his voice, his presence in your life.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

In the end, you decided to take the leap. You paused your medical studies, packed your bags, and flew out to the film's shooting location. It was a whirlwind experience—long hours on set, learning the ins and outs of the industry, working alongside seasoned actors who had been doing this for years. It was challenging, but also incredibly rewarding. You discovered a new side of yourself, a side that loved the thrill of performing, the camaraderie of the cast and crew, the magic of bringing a story to life on screen.

When the movie was released, it became an unexpected hit. Critics praised your performance, calling you a "rising star" and predicting a bright future for you in the industry. Offers for other roles began to pour in, and before you knew it, you were being whisked off to auditions, meetings with agents, and photo shoots for magazines. Your life had completely changed, and you were caught up in the whirlwind of it all.

As your acting career took off, your medical aspirations took a backseat. You told yourself it was just temporary, that you would return to your studies once things settled down. But the more time you spent in the acting world, the more you realized how much you loved it. Acting allowed you to explore different aspects of your personality, to tell stories that resonated with people, to connect with audiences in a way that was deeply fulfilling.

But with success came new challenges. The pressure to maintain your newfound fame, the scrutiny from the media, the constant demands on your time—it was all overwhelming. There were moments when you questioned whether you had made the right choice, moments when you longed for the stability and sense of purpose that medicine had provided. But then you would step onto a set, feel the rush of excitement as the cameras rolled, and you would remember why you had chosen this path.

You also had to navigate the complexities of your relationships. Some of your friends and family were supportive, thrilled to see you succeeding in a new field. But others were skeptical, worried that you were throwing away years of hard work for a career that was far less stable and predictable. You had long conversations with your parents, trying to reassure them that you hadn't abandoned your dreams of becoming a doctor, that you were just exploring a different side of yourself for now.

And then there was Lewis. His racing career turned out to be everything you imagined it would be. He’s a four-time Formula 1 World Champion, and despite all the fame and glory, he always made time for you. He had always been your biggest supporter, no matter what you decided to do. But even he had his doubts. "Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked one day, as you sat together in your apartment, reviewing the script for your next film.

"I think so," you replied, uncertainty creeping into your voice. "I never expected this to happen, but now that it has, I can't imagine walking away."

He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "I just want you to be happy, Y/N. Whatever that looks like."

His words stuck with you, a reminder of the person you had always been, the person you were still trying to figure out. You loved acting, but there was a part of you that missed the structure, the challenge, and the sense of purpose that medicine had provided.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

As your acting career continued to flourish, you made a promise to yourself: you wouldn't close the door on medicine entirely. The years of hard work and late nights studying had shaped you, and you were determined to find a way to honor that journey, even as new opportunities emerged in the entertainment world. It was during one of those opportunities that you first met Jensen. The encounter happened at a charity gala, an event you never imagined attending before your acting career took off.

You stood quietly in a corner, nursing a glass of champagne, your eyes scanning the room filled with celebrities and high-profile individuals. You had been invited because of your rising status in the industry, a status that still felt surreal at times. The room buzzed with energy, laughter, and the clinking of glasses, but it was Jensen’s presence that captivated you. He had an effortless charisma, a magnetism that drew you in from across the room.

Jensen, with his boyish charm and magnetic charisma, made his way through the crowd effortlessly. When his eyes locked onto yours, it was as if the world had stopped. He approached you with a confidence that was both alluring and intimidating.

"Hello beautiful, I'm Jensen," he said, his smile dazzling.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," you replied, trying to match his confidence but feeling your heart race.

From that moment on, your life transformed into a whirlwind romance. Jensen's world was intoxicating—red carpet events, glamorous parties, and moments that seemed too perfect to be real. He was attentive, always making you feel like the center of his universe. The late-night phone calls, surprise visits, and stolen moments of affection made you believe that you had found your fairy tale.

Your relationship with Jensen was the epitome of Hollywood glamour. Photographers captured your every move, and tabloids buzzed with stories of your romance. At first, the attention was thrilling. You felt special, adored, and on top of the world.

But as the months passed, the cracks began to show. Jensen's demanding schedule meant that he was often away on set, leaving you feeling lonely and neglected. The glamour started to fade, replaced by the harsh realities of a high-profile relationship.

Jensen's charm, which once made you feel special, started to feel suffocating. His possessiveness grew, and he began to dictate your choices. What you wore, where you went, who you spoke to—all became subjects of his control. At first, you brushed it off as his way of caring, but soon it became clear that his love was conditional.

The late-night arguments became frequent. Jensen's temper, once hidden behind his charming facade, surfaced. He would lash out, accusing you of not understanding his pressures and responsibilities. You tried to be supportive, to be the perfect partner, but nothing seemed to be enough.

You began to feel like a prisoner in your own life, trapped by the expectations and scrutiny of the public eye. The relationship that once made you feel alive now drained you of your happiness.

The turning point came one night when you discovered Jensen's infidelity. You found messages on his phone from a woman named Claire. The words were explicit, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Your heart shattered as you realized that the man you thought you knew had betrayed you.

Confronting Jensen was one of the hardest things you had ever done. He denied it at first, then tried to downplay it. But the evidence was irrefutable. The betrayal cut deep, leaving scars that would take years to heal.

Despite the heartbreak, you tried to salvage the relationship. You didn't want to believe that the fairy tale was over. You attended couples therapy, made compromises, and tried to forgive. But the trust was gone, and without it, the relationship was a shadow of what it once was.

The final straw came when another woman, Lisa, contacted you. She had photos and videos of Jensen with her, and she was threatening to expose them to the media unless you paid her a significant amount of money. You were truly at your breaking point.

The humiliation, the betrayal, and the constant pressure became too much to bear. You decided to expose Jensen and the women who had been involved with him. You gathered all the evidence, and with a heavy heart, you released it to the public.

The reaction was immediate and explosive. Social media was ablaze with shock and outrage. Jensen's image, once so pristine, was shattered. The world saw him for who he truly was—a man who had deceived and manipulated those closest to him.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

Your phone buzzes incessantly on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with each incoming call, text, and notification. It’s been going on for hours now, ever since the news broke. The media is in a frenzy, and your family and friends are no different. Everyone wants to know if it’s true, if the rumors about Jensen’s infidelity are real. But you can’t bring yourself to face it. You’ve been lying in bed, numb and drained, staring at the ceiling as if you could will the world away.

Each buzz feels like a jolt, a painful reminder of the life you thought you had, the relationship you thought was solid. Jensen had been controlling, isolating you from everyone you cared about, but you never imagined it would come to this. The betrayal cuts deeper than you ever thought possible, and the pain is almost numbing in its intensity.

You roll over, burying your face in the pillow, trying to block out the noise, the world, everything. But then, amidst the endless stream of messages and calls, a name flashes across your screen that makes you freeze. Lewis.

You haven’t spoken to him in what feels like forever. Jensen had made sure of that, keeping you away from your friends, especially Lewis. But seeing his name now stirs something inside you, a mix of longing, relief, and an overwhelming sense of loss. You reach for the phone with trembling hands and answer, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. The words are stuck in your throat, your heart pounding painfully in your chest.

“Y/N/N?” Lewis’s voice is soft, laced with concern, and just hearing it makes the tears you’ve been holding back start to fall. “Y/N/N, are you there?”

“Hi, Lewis,” you manage to choke out, your voice cracking as you try to keep the sobs at bay.

“Y/N/N…” He says your name again, but this time, it’s different. It’s like he’s trying to reach out and hold you, even though you’re miles apart. “Where are you? I’ll fly to you right now. Just tell me where you are, sweetheart.”

You close your eyes, the endearment hitting you like a wave. It’s been so long since someone called you that with genuine care. “I just… I just want to be alone,” you whisper, barely audible.

“Y/N/N, no,” he says, his voice more urgent now. “You’ve been through so much, and I’ve been worried about you for the longest time. Please, don’t shut me out.”

“Lewis, please…” You’re crying again, harder this time, the words coming out between broken sobs. “I’m… I’ll be okay. I just… I need time. I need to be alone. And I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry for not staying in contact with you. I should have…”

“Shhh, shhh, no, no, Y/N/N,” Lewis interrupts, his voice firm but gentle. “It’s not your fault, okay? It’s not.”

“But it is,” you protest weakly, your guilt and shame threatening to swallow you whole. “It is, Lewis. I pushed you away. I let him push you away.”

“Y/N/N, listen to me,” he says, his tone softer now, soothing. “It’s not your fault. You don’t have to carry that. I’m just so sorry you’ve had to go through this.”

You’re silent, your chest heaving with the effort of trying to breathe through the pain. You want to believe him, to let go of the guilt, but it’s so hard. Everything feels so heavy, so overwhelming.

“Y/N/N?” Lewis’s voice breaks through your thoughts, anchoring you. “Talk to me. Please.”

You swallow hard, trying to find the words, but all you can manage is a whisper. “I have to go.”

“No, Y/N/N, don’t…” He sounds desperate now, almost pleading. “Please don’t hang up.”

“Lewis, it’s okay,” you say, though your voice is shaking. “I just… I need to turn my phone off and go away for a while. I just wanted to hear your voice before I go.”

“Go?” Lewis’s voice is strained with worry. “Y/N/N, you’re scaring me. Please, don’t do anything—”

“I’m not going to harm myself, Lewis,” you quickly reassure him, though you can hear the fear in his voice. “I just need to be away from everything—the phone, social media, the public. All of it. I need space. I need silence. I need some peace.”

There’s a long pause on the other end, and you can almost feel his struggle, his desire to reach through the phone and hold you, to keep you from slipping away. “Okay, Y/N/N,” he finally says, his voice soft, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “I just want you to know that I care about you so much. I’m here for you, no matter what. Always.”

Your throat tightens again, and you fight to keep your voice steady. “I know, Lew. I know.”

The silence that follows is both comforting and painful, a shared moment of understanding and loss. You can almost see him, the way he would look at you with those concerned eyes, the way he would hold you until the pain wasn’t so suffocating.

“Goodbye, Lewis,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“I’ll talk to you later, Y/N/N,” he replies, a quiet determination in his tone that you know so well.

The call ends, and you’re left staring at the screen, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. The hurt is still there, raw and painful, but there’s a small sliver of warmth now, too. Hearing his voice again, knowing he’s still there for you, gives you a fragile sense of comfort.

You turn off your phone, letting the silence envelop you. The world outside fades away, and for a moment, it’s just you in the quiet, trying to piece together the shattered fragments of your heart.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

For the past year and a half, you distanced yourself from everyone, including Lewis. You buried yourself in work, traveled alone, and avoided any situation that might bring back memories of what you lost. Your heart ached, but you told yourself it was better this way. Safer.

You threw yourself into your career, taking on projects that challenged and inspired you. You even went back to school. You traveled to places you had always dreamed of visiting, finding solace in the beauty of the world. You spent time in nature, hiking, meditating, and rediscovering yourself.

The media had a field day with your disappearance. Speculations ran wild, but you remained silent, focusing on your healing. You took up new hobbies, learned new skills, and invested in yourself. Slowly, you began to rebuild your confidence and sense of self-worth.

You emerged from the shadows stronger, wiser, and more determined than ever. Your hard work paid off, and you made a name for yourself. Your projects received critical acclaim, and your name was on everyone's lips for all the right reasons.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

Tonight was your first public appearance since exposing Jensen. The Met Gala was the event of the year, and you had been meticulously preparing for it. Your stylist had outdone herself, and when you looked in the mirror, you saw a vision of elegance and strength.

As you stepped onto the red carpet, the flashes of cameras and the shouts of fans filled the air. You walked with confidence, your head held high, and a smile that spoke of triumph and resilience.

"Y/N, you look stunning!" the photographers called out.

"Over here, Y/N! Give us a smile!"

You obliged, posing for the cameras and greeting the fans. It felt good to be back, to be seen and appreciated for who you had become.

The crowded after-party buzzed with energy, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. People mingled, dressed to the nines, chatting and dancing in the dimly lit room. The atmosphere was electric, but you found yourself standing still, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. You hadn't seen Lewis in years, and the sight of him now, just a few feet away, sent a shiver down your spine.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

Lewis Hamilton, your former best friend. Lewis had been your rock, your confidant, and your best friend. He had been there through thick and thin, always ready with a comforting word or a warm embrace. It had been years since you last spoke to him, even longer since you last saw him, and the sight of him brought back a flood of memories. You hesitated, unsure of what to do.

Lewis spotted you and made his way over. His presence was as comforting as ever, and when he reached you, he placed his hand on your arm and leaned in close.

"Hi, Y/N," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your nerves.

"Hi, Lewis," you replied, trying to steady your racing heart.

His eyes held a mix of emotions—concern, relief, and something deeper. His presence was both comforting and disconcerting. The familiar warmth of his hand on your arm, the concern in his eyes, and the gentle tone of his voice—all of it felt like home. And yet, there was something else, something new, stirring within you. It was an unfamiliar sensation, one that made your chest feel light and your heart beat loudly in your ears.

You stood there, staring into his eyes, and your mind began to drift back to the countless moments you had shared with Lewis. The late-night conversations, the laughter, the shared dreams and hopes. He had always been your anchor, grounding you when the world felt too overwhelming. You remembered the way he would listen to you, truly listen, making you feel heard and understood. No one else had ever made you feel that way.

Lewis had been there during some of the darkest times in your life. When you first broke into the entertainment industry and faced the pressures of fame, he was the one who kept you grounded. He had a way of making you see the bigger picture, of reminding you of your worth and potential. His encouragement had been a constant source of strength for you.

As your mind wandered, you recalled the moments of pure joy you had shared with him. The spontaneous road trips, the late-night drives, the silly arguments that always ended in laughter. Lewis had a way of making even the mundane feel magical. He brought a sense of adventure and excitement into your life, and you cherished every moment you spent with him.

And then there were the quieter moments, the times when words weren't needed. Sitting in comfortable silence, watching the sunset, or simply being in each other's presence. Those moments had a depth and intimacy that you hadn't experienced with anyone else. It was in those moments that you felt truly seen and understood.

But as your relationship with Jensen took over, you had drifted away from Lewis. The demands of your high-profile romance consumed you, and you found yourself distancing from the people who mattered most. Lewis had tried to be there for you, but you were too caught up in the whirlwind to notice. You regretted that now, more than anything.

Standing here, face to face with Lewis, you felt a pang of guilt. You had shut him out, pushed him away when you needed him the most. And yet, here he was, looking at you with the same warmth and concern as always. It was a testament to the kind of person he was, loyal and kind.

But there was something else in his eyes tonight, something that made your heart race. It was a look you hadn't seen before, a depth of emotion that went beyond friendship. It made you feel vulnerable, exposed, and yet strangely exhilarated. You weren't sure what it was, but it made your chest feel light and your heart beat loudly in your ears.

You tried to make sense of this new feeling. It was a mix of longing, anticipation, and a hint of fear. Longing for the connection you once had, anticipation for what could be, and fear of the unknown. You had spent so long guarding your heart, protecting yourself from more pain, that this new sensation was both thrilling and terrifying.

As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, Lewis gently guided you to a quieter corner of the room. The noise and chaos of the party faded into the background as you focused on him, on the way his presence made you feel safe and cherished.

"How have you been?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the words to convey everything you had been through. "It's been... challenging," you admitted. "But I'm doing better now. I've been healing, focusing on myself."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm glad to hear that. I've missed you, Y/N/N."

Those words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had missed him too, more than you could ever express. The realization made your heart ache with a mix of regret and hope.

"I've missed you too, Lewis," you said softly, your voice tinged with emotion.

There was a moment of silence as you both took in each other's presence. It was as if time had stopped, and all that mattered was this moment, this connection between you. You felt a spark, a flicker of something more, and it both excited and scared you.

Lewis reached out and gently took your hand in his. The simple gesture sent a jolt of electricity through you. His touch was familiar, comforting, and yet it ignited a new flame within you. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"I know things have been tough," he said, his voice low and earnest. "But you're stronger than you think, Y/N/N. You've always been strong."

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words touched a deep part of you. You had been trying to be strong for so long, to prove to yourself and the world that you could rise above the pain. Hearing Lewis acknowledge that strength made you feel seen and validated.

"Thank you, Lewis," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I don't know what I would have done without your support."

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and affection. "You've always had it in you, Y/N. You just needed to believe in yourself."

His words resonated with you, echoing the journey you had been on over the past year and a half. You had fought hard to rebuild your life, to find yourself again. And now, standing here with Lewis, you felt a renewed sense of hope.

As the night went on, you found yourself drawn to Lewis in a way you hadn't expected. There was a new layer to your connection, something deeper and more profound. It was as if the time apart had only strengthened the bond between you, and now it was evolving into something more.

You couldn't deny the way your heart raced when he looked at you, the way his touch sent shivers down your spine. It was a feeling you hadn't experienced in a long time, and it scared you. But it also filled you with a sense of excitement and possibility.

You spent the rest of the evening talking, reminiscing about old times and catching up on each other's lives. The conversation flowed effortlessly, just like it always had. And yet, there was an undercurrent of something new, something that made your heart flutter.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

As the night drew to a close, you found yourself standing outside the venue, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the party. Lewis stood beside you, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of everything you were feeling. The two of you had talked throughout the evening, catching up in a way that felt familiar yet distant. There had been laughter, shared memories, and a surface-level exchange about how your lives were going. But there was something deeper weighing on your heart, something you couldn’t ignore any longer.

“Lewis,” you began, your voice soft and hesitant, “I’m sorry.”

He turned to you, his expression shifting from the relaxed smile he’d worn all evening to something more serious, more concerned. “What for?”

You swallowed hard, gathering your thoughts, knowing this was going to be difficult but feeling an overwhelming need to say it. “I know tonight we talked a little bit about our lives and how we’re doing, but I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. For not staying in contact with you throughout college as much as I should have.”

Lewis frowned, his eyes searching your face as if trying to understand where this was coming from. “Y/N, that wasn’t—”

“No, please, let me finish,” you interrupted, your voice shaking slightly as you pushed forward. “And then, when my career took off… You were there for me, supporting me, and I was with Jensen, and I cut you off.”

“Y/N, that wasn’t your fault,” he said quickly, his tone gentle but firm.

“I know,” you nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “But after everything that happened, I didn’t speak to you at all. It’s been three years, Lewis. Three years since it all fell apart, and tonight was the first time I’ve talked to you in years. And we didn’t even really talk. We just… surface talked. And you deserve more than that. So… I’m sorry.”

Lewis looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions—shock, hurt, confusion. Your words had opened up old wounds, bringing to the surface feelings he’d buried deep down. He was struggling to process it all, his heart racing as he tried to find something to say, to make sense of the flood of emotions you’d just unleashed. But before he could respond, you suddenly seemed to panic.

Your breath hitched as you realized the weight of what you’d just said, the vulnerability you’d exposed. “I—I shouldn’t have brought this up. Not here. Not now,” you stammered, your voice trembling. Without waiting for him to say anything, you turned and walked away, your steps quickening as you headed for your car. “I’m sorry,” you whispered again, but it was barely audible.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

Lewis stood there, frozen, watching as you slipped away into the night. His heart ached, the apology you’d left him with echoing in his mind. “She’s sorry?” he murmured to himself, the words feeling hollow and incomplete. There was so much more to say, so much more he wanted to understand, but you were gone before he could even begin to process it.

As you sat in your car, your hands gripping your purse, you felt a wave of regret wash over you. “What did I just do?” you whispered, your voice laced with self-recrimination. “That wasn’t the time or place… I’m such an idiot.” You stared blankly ahead, the headlights of passing cars blurring as your mind replayed the scene over and over. You couldn’t believe you’d brought up something so deep, so personal, in such a casual setting. And then, you didn’t even give him a chance to respond. You just walked away. Again.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

Meanwhile, Lewis remained rooted to the spot, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of confusion and hurt. Your words had ripped open old scars, bringing back all the pain of losing you, the ache of your absence in his life. And now, you’d said you were sorry, but what did that mean? Was that it? Was that all you had to say after years of silence?

“She’s sorry…” Lewis repeated, his voice barely a whisper. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t explain why you’d cut him off, why you’d let so much time pass without a word, and why you’d left him standing there without so much as an explanation.

As the chauffeur approached him, telling him his car was ready, Lewis felt a sudden rush of determination. He couldn’t let it end like this. Not again. He couldn’t let you walk away without at least trying to understand, without at least saying something—anything—that might bridge the gap that had grown between you over the years.

“Follow that black SUV that just pulled off,” Lewis instructed the driver as he climbed into the car.

“Okay, sir,” the driver responded, nodding as he pulled away from the curb, keeping the distance between the cars minimal.

Lewis leaned back in his seat, his mind racing. He didn’t know what he was going to say when he caught up with you, but he knew he had to try. He couldn’t let you disappear from his life again, not after everything you’d just unearthed, not after the years of silence and buried feelings that were now clawing their way to the surface.

He watched the road ahead, his heart pounding, as the chauffeur followed closely behind your car. He didn’t care how long it took, or what he had to do—he wasn’t going to let you slip away again. Not this time.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

You had just returned to your penthouse after the Met Gala after-party, exhausted yet exhilarated by the night's events. The gown you had worn now lay draped over a chair, and you had just managed to slip into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a loose-fitting t-shirt. The clock on your bedside table blinked 3:40 AM. You were about to crawl into bed when a knock on the door startled you.

"Who the fuck?" you muttered to yourself, rubbing your eyes as you made your way to the door.

Opening it, you were met with the sight of Lewis, looking disheveled and intense. You blinked, trying to process the unexpected visitor.

"Lewis? What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice a mix of confusion and concern.

He didn't say a word, just walked past you into the penthouse and sat down heavily on your couch. You stood there for a moment, stunned. This was not like Lewis. Closing the door behind you, you walked over to him, trying to understand what was happening.

"Uh, okay. What's going on?" you asked, your voice tentative.

Before you could say anything else, Lewis turned to you, his eyes blazing with a mix of hurt and frustration.

"You're sorry... Sorry, Y/N? After all these years of not speaking to each other and being best friends, that's all you have to say to me? Sorry? I deserve more than that. No, fuck that, I need more from you," he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your confusion deepened, and you took a step back, trying to gather your thoughts. "Lewis, I—what do you want me to say? I mean, friends drift apart, a lot of shit happened" you began, but he cut you off.

"Friends?! Friends, Y/N? I've known you since we were kids. I know your favorite movie, your favorite color, your favorite flowers—yeah, flowers, because you have three. I know how you like your eggs cooked, I know you love ketchup but hate tomatoes on anything. I know you're allergic to mosquito bites, and you hate when people say something and then say 'never mind'. I know you, Y/N, everything about you. You're my person, my Y/N. We are not just friends, Y/N. At least not in my eyes."

You stood there, speechless, as his words washed over you. He continued, his voice growing more desperate. "So yes, I'm mad at your 'I'm sorry' after three years of not hearing from you, having to call your parents, friends, your siblings, hell, even your assistant to know how you are doing. So, sorry if I feel like the girl I've been in love with since forever deserves to give me more of a conversation."

His words hung in the air, heavy and charged with emotion. You stared at him, your mind racing to comprehend everything he had just said. There was a silence, thick and palpable, stretching between you both.

"You... love me?" you finally managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.

The room seemed to close in around you as you waited for his response, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

Lewis’s silence was deafening. He stared at you with a mixture of vulnerability and determination, his usual confidence stripped away by raw emotion. You could see the pain etched in his features, and it mirrored the tumultuous feelings inside you.

"Yes, Y/N," he said finally, his voice hoarse. "I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And it’s not just some fleeting feeling or a phase. It’s been there, in the background, every day, every moment we’ve been apart. I’ve watched you build your life, your career, and I’ve cheered you on from a distance. But it was never enough for me to just be on the sidelines. I wanted more, I needed more, and I didn’t know how to make you see that."

You took a deep breath, your mind reeling from his confession. The realization that Lewis’s feelings for you were not just platonic but something deeper, something that had been lingering all these years, was overwhelming. It made you feel exposed and vulnerable in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

"I... I didn’t know," you said softly, your voice trembling. "I had no idea you felt this way."

Lewis’s eyes softened slightly, but the pain was still evident. "How could you? I kept it hidden, buried under layers of friendship and missed opportunities. I thought maybe if I stayed out of the way, you’d figure it out on your own. But the longer I stayed silent, the more I realized that I was just hurting myself. And when you disappeared, I thought I’d lost my chance forever."

Your mind flashed back to those moments when you were close, when you shared everything with him. You remembered how he always seemed to be just a step away from being more than a friend, but you had never let yourself acknowledge it. Your focus had been on your own life, your career, and Jensen. Now, standing in front of Lewis, you saw the depth of what you had missed.

"I was so caught up in everything that happened with Jensen," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. "I pushed everyone away, including you. And now... now I’m not sure what to do with all of this. I didn’t know how much I missed you until you were back here, but I’m still trying to understand what this means."

Lewis stood up and walked towards you, his gaze never leaving yours. "What it means, Y/N, is that I’m here, laying it all out for you. I’m not asking for anything other than the chance to be honest with you. I need you to know how I feel, and I need you to decide if there’s a place for me in your life—beyond just friends."

The emotion in his voice was almost palpable, and you could feel the weight of his words pressing down on you. Your heart ached with the complexity of the situation. You had been through so much, and now faced with this raw, unfiltered declaration of love, you felt torn.

As the silence stretched between you and Lewis, you felt a tumult of emotions roiling within you. The weight of his confession had struck a chord deep inside, stirring feelings that had long been buried. His words had opened a floodgate, and as you stood there, the realization that you had harbored a deep love for him all along became crystal clear.

"I love you," you said softly, the words escaping your lips almost as a whisper but carrying the weight of years of unspoken emotion.

Lewis’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth slightly open as he struggled to process what he had just heard. "W-What?" he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. The disbelief in his tone was palpable, and for a moment, he seemed frozen, as if he couldn’t quite grasp the reality of the situation.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart and the tears that threatened to spill over. You locked eyes with him, your gaze unwavering. "The recent years apart made me realize just how much I truly missed you. I was so naïve and stupid when we were younger. I didn’t see how you looked at me or how you treated me. You were always there for me, through the good and the bad days. Even when I wanted to rot away, you were there, holding me up."

Tears began to slip down your cheeks, and you reached up to wipe them away with trembling fingers. "Tonight, seeing you again after all these years, my whole mind and body were flooded with emotions. It made me realize what I knew deep down: that I love you. I’ve always loved you more than a friend. I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve put you through. I know I can’t make it up to you, and you have every right not to forgive me. But I am so sorry, Lewis. I love you. I really do. I’m in love with you."

Your voice broke as you spoke, and the tears you had been trying to hold back began to fall freely. The intensity of your emotions was overwhelming, and you felt a mixture of relief and sorrow as you poured out your heart.

Lewis’s eyes were wide with disbelief, and his own tears began to form as he processed your confession. He stood up slowly, the gravity of the moment clearly affecting him. Without a word, he walked towards you, his steps filled with purpose and urgency.

When he reached you, he cupped your face gently in his hands, his touch both tender and fervent. He leaned in, closing the gap between you, and his lips met yours in a passionate, urgent kiss. The kiss was filled with all the longing, love, and frustration that had been building up over the years. It was a kiss that spoke of pain and hope, of dreams lost and found.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were filled with a mix of wonder and joy. "You have no fucking idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words to me," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "I’m not even sure if this is real or if my mind is just playing tricks on me."

You managed a soft, tearful laugh, the joy and relief mingling with the sadness of your confession. You reached up, gently cradling his face in your hands. His hands were still on your face, his touch grounding and reassuring. "It’s real, Lewis," you said with a trembling smile. "I love you, Lewis Hamilton. I always have."

Lewis’s expression softened, and he returned your smile with a mixture of adoration and relief. "And I love you, Y/N L/N. Always have, always will."

With that, the intensity of the moment took over, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing onto yours in a fervent, passionate kiss. The kiss was deep and urgent, fueled by the years of longing and unspoken feelings that had been bottled up. Your bodies pressed together, the heat of the moment making you both lose track of everything but the electric connection between you.

As the kiss continued, Lewis’s hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer to him. You could feel the strength of his arms around you, and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. The kiss was a dance of passion and tenderness, each of you exploring the newfound closeness with a mix of fervor and delicacy.

With a sudden surge of energy, Lewis lifted you off the ground, his arms strong and steady as he cradled you against him. A surprised yelp of joy escaped your lips, but it was quickly swallowed by another deep kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling the thrill of being held so securely.

Lewis pulled away briefly, his breath mingling with yours as he looked into your eyes with a mix of desire and determination. "Bedroom," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

You nodded, guiding him towards the bedroom with a sense of excitement and anticipation. "It's this way," you whispered, your voice breathless. As he carried you through the penthouse, his lips never left your neck, trailing kisses that sent shivers down your spine.

When you reached the bedroom, Lewis gently laid you down on the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. The room was dimly lit, casting soft shadows that danced along the walls. The atmosphere was charged with a mixture of passion and vulnerability, the culmination of years of unspoken emotions.

As you lay on the bed, Lewis’s hands roamed over your body with a mixture of reverence and eagerness. He kissed your neck, moving slowly down towards your collarbone, his lips brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your heart race. His touch was both soothing and electrifying, igniting every nerve in your body.

You reached up, your hands working on the buttons of his shirt with a sense of urgency. The fabric fell away, revealing his well-defined chest. You traced your fingers over his skin, savoring the warmth and strength beneath your fingertips. Lewis responded with a soft, appreciative murmur, his hands continuing their exploration of your body.

You continued to undress him, your movements growing more confident as you removed his pants and underwear. Each layer of clothing that fell away seemed to bring you both closer, the physical closeness mirroring the emotional connection that had finally been acknowledged.

His kisses were searing, each one more urgent than the last. His hands roaming your body with a hunger that left you breathless, igniting a fire wherever they touched. His mouth moved from your lips to your neck, kissing, nipping, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You arched into him, the need for more overwhelming.

Without breaking contact, he settled between your legs, his hands sliding under your shirt, lifting it over your head. As you unclasped your bra, Lewis’s eyes were filled with adoration and desire. "You’re beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. He leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it while his fingers teased the other. You moaned, your back arching off the bed, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Lewis trailed kisses down your body, his mouth hot against your skin, until he reached the waistband of your panties. He looked up at you, his eyes locking with yours as he slowly pulled them down, the anticipation building with every second. He spread your legs wider, his breath hot against your most sensitive area. When his tongue finally made contact, you cried out, your hands gripping the sheets. He licked and sucked, his tongue exploring every inch, driving you wild with need.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "I can't get enough of you."

You gasped, the sensation of his mouth on you too much and not enough all at once. "Lewis, please," you begged, your voice trembling with need.

"Patience, love," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "I want to savor every moment."

He looked up, his eyes dark with lust, before diving back in, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers. He slid one, then two fingers inside you, curling them just right, hitting that perfect spot over and over again. Your body responded immediately, the pressure building, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. When the first orgasm hit, it was like a wave crashing over you, your body tensing, then shuddering as the pleasure rolled through you.

But Lewis wasn't done. He continued working his fingers in and out of you, relentlessly, not giving you a moment to come down from your high. His tongue flicked over your clit as his fingers worked you, the sensation almost too much. You could feel another orgasm building, the intensity of it taking your breath away. When it hit, it was even more powerful than the first, your body convulsing with the force of it. You screamed his name, your vision going white with the sheer pleasure of it.

"You taste so sweet," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I could do this all night."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locked on yours. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "More than okay," you managed to say, your voice hoarse with pleasure.

He smiled, a wicked glint in his eye. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."

He climbed back up your body, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. You could feel his erection pressing against you, the need in him just as fierce as your own. Without breaking the kiss, you flipped him onto his back, straddling him, your hands running over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingers.

"You’re so sexy," you murmured against his skin, your voice thick with desire. "I can't get enough of you."

You kissed him, your lips trailing down his neck, over his chest, worshipping his body. You moved lower, taking his thick cock into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip before taking it deeper, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn't reach. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, his control slipping.

"God, Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough with need. "Feels so fuckin’ good, sweetheart."

You continued sucking his cock, taking your time to pleasure him until he was teetering on the edge.

But he didn't let you finish. He pulled you up, his eyes burning with lust. "I want to come in you," he said, his voice rough. He flipped you over, positioning himself at your entrance. He pushed in slowly, the sensation of him filling you making you gasp.

He moved with a steady rhythm at first, his thrusts deep and powerful. The pleasure built quickly, the sensation of him inside you driving you wild. "Who's my good girl?" he whispered in your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "You like that, right?"

You could only moan in response, the pleasure too intense for words. He moved faster, his thrusts harder, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you. He leaned down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting gently. The combination of sensations was overwhelming, and you felt another orgasm building, the pressure intense. When it hit, it was like an explosion, your body shaking with the force of it.

But Lewis didn't stop. This time he put a pillow under your lower back, throwing your legs over his shoulders. His thrusts were relentless, powerful, driving you to the edge again and again. You could feel another orgasm building, the intensity of it almost too much to bear. When it finally hit, it was like a tidal wave, crashing over you, leaving you breathless, dizzy with pleasure.

Even though you had come, Lewis hadn't. He continued to move, his thrusts never losing their rhythm, overwhelming you with pleasure. You could feel another orgasm building, the sensation almost too much. When it hit, it was like a white-hot explosion, your body convulsing with the force of it.

"Lewis, I can't... it's too much," you gasped, your body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure.

"You can take it, baby," he whispered, his husky voice filled with love and lust. "You're a good girl, right baby. Take it for me.

Lewis finally let himself go, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. When he came, it was with a deep groan, his body tensing, then shuddering as he emptied himself inside you. He collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your skin, his body trembling with the aftermath.

He rolled off you, pulling you close, his arms wrapping around you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his fingers tracing patterns on your back. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft, concern lacing his tone.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "That was... incredible," you managed to say, your voice hoarse.

Lewis smiled, his eyes softening. "You were incredible," he said, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. He kissed you gently, his lips soft against yours, a stark contrast to the rough passion from earlier.

He got up, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a warm, damp cloth. He cleaned you up gently, his touch tender, his eyes never leaving yours. He tossed the cloth in the damper and climbed back into bed, pulling you into his arms.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"I'm perfect," you said, snuggling closer to him, your body still humming with the afterglow of your multiple orgasms.

Lewis’s fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin, his touch soothing and tender. He looked at you with a smile, his eyes filled with a mixture of contentment and adoration. "I never imagined this would happen," he said softly, his voice filled with wonder. "But I’m so glad it did."

You smiled back at him, your heart full and your soul at peace. "Me too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve never felt so complete."

He continued to hold you, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back. "You're everything to me," he said quietly. "I want you to know that."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the depth of his words touching you deeply. You had always known that there was something special between you, but hearing it aloud made it all the more real.

"You mean everything to me too, Lewis," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Lewis smiled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Good," he said, his voice soft. "I want you to feel safe and loved, always."

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with emotion. "I do," you said, your voice thick with feeling. "I love you, Lewis."

He looked at you, his eyes shining with emotion. "I love you too," he said, his voice steady and sincere.

You lay there in each other's arms, the tension and passion of the night giving way to a comfortable silence, the only sound the soft beat of your hearts in sync. The world outside ceased to exist, and in that moment, there was only the two of you, wrapped up in each other's love and warmth.

.•☆.°. taglist ☆.°.• . @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @yoncesgroove @tellybearryyyy @exotic-iris13 @magixpracticality @eoduuung @eternoangel @xoscar03 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @danieldaviddarren33 @flowerpetalk @xoscar3 @jimcarreyfann42 @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @oliviah-25

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genshin-obsessed · 1 year

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When Someone Flirts with You! | Honkai Star Rail

Someone saw this coming and I'm very proud of you for figuring it out. Yeah, I've been getting into star rail and I thought I'd just write since I can't really think of genshin things to write right now lol this is barely edited, so have mercy <3 idk tags rn so please help me out :') ✧ Includes: Dan Heng, Welt, Sampo, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Blade ✧ Extra: Luocha and Blade might be ooc, I'm not too familiar with them as of right now. ✧ Come one, come all! See what happens when someone flirts with you in front of your men!

Dan Heng

Dan Heng is a really private person, he’s not a fan of showing off everything. So he’s not one to flaunt you around, but it’s not hard to tell you’re both in a relationship. He’s around you like… all the time.

He’s not one to follow around like a helicopter boyfriend, but he’s got an eye on you. If he sees someone bothering you, he’s behind them in an instant.

0/10. Dan Heng’s not super scary so they could ignore him and continue flirting with you. For a moment, he’ll just stand there as he listens to some of the dumb things they’re gonna say. You two make fun of them later for it. But then he hears something along the lines of, “come on, i’ll treat you better.” he don’t like that.

How is this creep better than him?! They couldn’t even tell you were uncomfortable. Dan Heng will usually place a hand on their shoulder and his grip gets tighter every second the creep is still in front of you. Paired with his glare…

10/10 the creep is gone. You sigh in relief and walk to Dan Heng quietly, wrapping your arms around his waist. He immediately hugs back, stroking your hair a little.

“Let’s go somewhere else. I don’t like it here anymore.” You agreed.

Welt

Well, he doesn’t hang around you 24/7, he’s a busy man. But it’s also not hard to tell you’re dating either. Welt isn’t crazy about PDA, but he’ll give you a quick kiss every now and then and often gives you hugs (per your request).

He believes you’re capable of taking care of yourself, so he’s often not paying attention. That doesn’t mean he won’t look over at you every now and then. This time, he just happened to see some creepy creep trying to creep up on you.

“Are you ok, (y/n)?” Is the first thing he asks when he walks up to you. He will literally ignore the existence of the creep beside him. Usually what happens here is that you’ll nod and he’ll “accidentally” shove the creepy away and urge you to come talk with him and his friends. The creep is usually so confused they walk away. But sometimes- sometimes- they follow.

Welt does NOT like that. I mean it was one thing to not take the hint from your face, but then to stop you when you’re actively trying to leave?

Welt will turn around and just glare at them. Like that silent, “I will kill you” kinda glare. It’s a staring contest for a moment before the creepy creep just kinda turns away and leaves. Sometimes, Welt does have to smack them with his lil cane. Sometimes.

“Anyway, we’re over here. Would you like a drink?”

Sampo

Sampo is all over you, usually. He loves you and the world should know? Sometimes, he can go too far so just let him know. Anyway, since he’s always over you, people know you’re dating him.

Usually at parties and events, he’s hanging off your arm, but sometimes he’s gotta go talk to some of his other friends and acquaintances. He keeps an eye on you.

Here’s the thing, he’ll come up and flirt with you too but try to one up the creep. “You look fine, darling,” - the creep. “You look so beautiful, every star in the sky and the moons pale in comparison.” - Sampo.

0/10. Of course, the creep gets irritated and asks what the hell Sampo is doing. Sampo just gives him a condescending smile and says, “that’s my partner you’re talking to. I’m not gonna let you just creep up on them.” There’s… a glint in his eyes that’s unnerving. Even you can see it.

69/10. The creep runs off, making some excuse or whatever. Sampo watches them for a minute before turning to you and smiling. You rush to give him a hug and he happily returns it.

“Wanna go home? Seems like that idiot trashed your mood a little.”

Gepard

Gepard is a very shy guy and he’s not one to be all touchy-touchy without you doing it first. He gets all flustered and looks away… but he’ll lean into your touch.

He usually sticks around you, keeping your attention so no creepies come by, but sometimes he gets pulled away. He always lets you know he’ll be right back and leaves for just a few moments. Enough for a creepy to sneak in >:0

When Gepard notices the creep, he wastes no time walking over to you. “Is everything ok?” He asked, looking at you. If you shook your head, that was it. The captain of the silvermane’s came out!

The first glare is usually a 50/50. Sometimes, the creeps acted all annoyed and walk away, pretending they’re not scared but other times… they challenge him. Gepard just places a hand on their shoulder and shoves them back. It’s actually surprisingly strong- they’ll fall over sometimes.

10/10, that usually sends them running. On rare occasions there’s that ONE creepy who just stands up and tries to take him on lmao. You know to take a step back because Gepard kinda skips the arresting and just goes to ass kicking. And he’s the shy boyfriend.

“So… we should go now. Yeah, no, just leave the creep there.”

Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan isn't the most affectionate boyfriend, but he doesn’t mind letting people know you two are together. Depends on your comfort level.

He’s a busy man, so at that fancy event, he can’t always be at your side but he tries to keep you by him. Of course, you decided to go get a drink, he happily agreed. You went off and he kept greeting more officials. You didn’t return, so he looked over and he just saw you turning away from a creep who just grabbed your arm!

Jing Yuan elegantly excuses himself and basically sneaks up behind the guy. He’ll stand there which brings you tons of relief, enough to let the creep ramble and ramble and ramble. “I could take you out to dinner, (nickname you don’t like). I’ll buy you (food you don’t like).” “Actually, they don’t like that. And they don’t like being called that.” The creep jumps away and is standing beside you at that point.

5/10, honestly, some just get scared and leave. There’s the other half though that just kinda scoff and look at you. Before they can even say anything, Jing Yuan grabs them by the shirt and force them to look at him. “Do not speak to them like that. Do not look at them, and don’t even think about them. You leave now or I’ll drag you out myself.”

10/10!!!!!!!!! They are GONE. No sign of them for MILES. Jing Yuan huffs and looks down at you. At this point, everyone’s looking at you two, making you extremely uncomfortable. He’ll stand beside you and pull you close, using that half of his jacket thing to cover you.

“We can leave. I’ll deal with everything else later. Come on.”

Luocha

This man is unpredictable. Sometimes, he’s grabbing your hand to prove your dating, others are just a straight kiss. You don’t mind. Either way, the world knows you two are together.

Luocha doesn’t mind leaving you alone, he’s got confidence in himself and you. That doesn’t mean he’s not there as your backup. Creeps creep on a daily- he’s gotchu. He sees the creep and he’s already walking toward you.

“No!” You exclaimed with a frown, “I'm not interested. Leave me alone.” Luocha didn’t mind scaring the creep off… but it was when they grabbed you that kinda set him off. “Hey.” Is all he says as he grabs their wrist to shove their hand away. 3/10. SOMETIMES people do get scared off by his demeanor. But there’s always that one. Our favorite.

For those guys, he’ll just get physical. There’s just this switch that goes off when it comes to you. 10/10. They’re either gone or out like a light.

“Come, we should go somewhere else.”

Blade

Lol. First of all, people know you’re dating this dude because you’re still alive while hanging off his arm. He’s not affectionate in public other than some sweet words. “You look nice today.” “I think you did well.” Things like that.

Blade can… be a helicopter boyfriend because he just has a 6th sense for creepies. You can be doing your own thing and he’s just standing there. Menacingly. There are days where he’s away from you, but he keeps a sharp eye on you. Then he notices the creep.

“Go away.” You say with a huff as you turn away. “Stop!” You yell, trying to pull your hand away. Suddenly, the creep is silent and frozen. You probably know exactly what happened.

You feel your arm come loose and look behind you to see Blade pointing… well his blade at the creep. He doesn’t say anything and the creep can’t help but just feel the icy fear in their veins. 10/10, Blade doesn’t fail.

“Thank you.” You say with a sigh as you run and hug his arm, looking up at him. Blade sighs and looks down at you, feeling that relief in his chest knowing that you’re fine and right beside him where you should be.

“It’s because you look cute today. Let’s go somewhere else.”

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #sampo x reader #welt x reader #luocha x reader #gepard x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader

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xxblairexxss · 1 year

Text

Belief

Pairing : dad!Charles Leclerc x mom!reader

Theme : Angst, fluff

Still felt like something’s missing with this one 😩

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“Y/N, listen–“

“No, Charles, I’m done.” You brushed past him with your duffel bag that you had prepared days before because you knew he would still keep on denying everything.

“What do you mean you’re done? Y/N, please listen to me.”

“Let’s go, baby.” Taking your baby girl’s hand, you pulled her up to her feet as she threw her toys on the floor.

“Where are you going? Y/N, you can’t do this to me.

“I’m going home. I’m not coming back until you set your priority straight.” You took little steps while your daughter trailed after you, constantly checking back, wondering why her daddy is not coming along.

“I told you she’s a new physiotherapist ! Please, don’t do this.”

“Physiotherapist won’t be in your room all cuddled up like that! You think I’m a fool?” You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, eyes still looking at your husband in disbelief as you felt every trust you had for him far gone.

“I don’t know what the news said but those didn’t happen, baby–“

“Don’t call me that.”

He breathed in, hand on his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut and took a step back. “Y/N, none of the things happened. Yes, she was in my room but nothing happened. You need to trust me!”

“Dada not come?” Your daughter asked as she stood up after you put on her shoes. Her little hand goes back into yours.

“Dada’s not coming, sweetheart. Dada has work.” You tugged on her little hands and turned around to leave but she refused to follow, pulling you back the the little force she had.

“But I want dada.” She yanked her hand from your grip and ran back to hug Charles’s legs. “Dada follow?”

Charles then crouched down and gave his little girl a kiss on her forehead. “Dada can’t come, princess. Take care of mommy for dada, alright?” His arm went around her little frame when the circled her arms around his neck, hugging him.

“See you later, dada!”

“Y/N.” The soft tone of his voice nearly knocked down the wall that you were trying to build in your heart. When you turned around, you saw he took few steps closer to plant a kiss on your forehead, mumbling the words “I love you” as he pulled away. Both you and Charles had made a promise on the early stage of your dating life that both of you would never go a day without an I love you because tomorrow wasn’t confirmed, regardless of how bad the arguments would be. “And I’m sorry…”

You didn’t look at him when you pulled away to make your way to your car. You didn’t want to ignore the words, but you also didn’t want to say it back so you just mumbled the words back under your breath. Your little girl had her half body turned sideways jusy so she could kept on waving to her dad, unconcerned with the problems going on.

If it wasn’t for the constant tagging, you would have been left in the dark. Checking your social media had always been apart of your wind down activity but you weren’t expecting to have over 100+ notifications one night, people tagging you on a screenshot of news article about your husband exposed to be having a short “intimate break” with a new woman. The articles were supported heavily with a blurry picture of your husband and the woman walking out of the driver’s room after which was what they assumed as a quickie before the race in Hungary. People started making fun of your marriage, saying that you tricked Charles into one by getting pregnant on purpose or you got pregnant as soon after the wedding because you wanted to secure the bag and some of them even assume Charles was forced to stay in the marriage not because of love but because of the child and his image.

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Though you had been living separately for nearly a month, Charles would always came by. Sometimes it would a short 5 minutes where he just dropped by to give his little daughter a new toy or just a short cuddling session. You felt guilty of course, because your daughter had always been daddy’s girl but you couldn’t be in the same house with him without thinking about the pictures so you had to continuously tell her that Charles was busy with his fast car.

“Don’t go!” Your daughter cried out and tugged on her dad’s hand, dragging him back into the living room. “Dada can’t go!”

“I need to go, princess.” He drew his lips back, squatting down to level his face with hers. “We spent half a day together, didn’t we?” His arm was stretched out again as she kept on trying to pull him back.

“Can dada stay?”

He looked up and caught your eyes on him with your arms folded. “I’m not sure mommy wants that. Why don’t you go and ask mommy?”

“Can dada stay tonight, mommy? Please please!” She ran to hug your legs and pulled on your shirt to get your attention.

“Sleep on the couch. I’ll get a blanket for you.” You left those two together shrieking with laughters and came back with blanket to find both of them cuddling on the couch. “Are you gonna sleep with dada on the couch tonight?”

“Yes! Mommy too?” She scooted aside and pat on the empty space. “Mommy too!”

“Mommy will sleep in the room, okay?�� You bended down to peck on her forehead and looked at Charles who has been staring at you. “Make sure she sleeps by 9.”

“Thank you.” He took your hand and you snatched it back before matching to your room.

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“Baby, what are you doing with my phone?”

You had just done putting on your skincare and walked out of the bathroom to see your little girl looking sullen as she was holding your phone. “No answer?” She raised the phone up as it shook a little from the unbalanced weight between the phone and her little grip.

“Answer? Who are you calling?”

“Y/N, is there–“

“Hi dada!”

“oh, hi, princess!”

You froze when you heard Charles’s voice. When did she even learn how to call someone or more specifically, her own dad.

“Dada! Hello!”

“Hi, I miss you so much.”

Your daughter squealed and clapped her hands, bringing the phone that was larger than her hand closer to her mouth. “Miss you too!”

“Where’s mommy? Is mommy okay?”

Your lips were pressed into a thin line. Sure, you can still acted all fine in front of your daughter but that doesn’t mean you could play pretend with your feelings. I miss you, Charles.

“Mommy is okay. Mommy was putting cream on face.”

“Oh, yeah? Mommy always takes a long time in front of the mirror, right princess?”

“Yeah, very long time! Mommy always goes dab dab.”

You heard him chuckle and continued the conversations until he had to end the call. “Princess, dada has to go. Listen to mommy and be a good girl. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Bye, dada! I love you.”

“Bye, princess. Tell mommy I said I love you.”

She stood up and ran to you, handing you back the phone with the brightest smile, which had everything to do with the little time with her dad.

“Dada said I love you mommy!”

“I love you too.” She giggled in your arms as you poked on her waist. “Who taught you how to call dada, hm?”

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You were sitting at the living room, leaving Charles and your daughter having their own time. Faint giggles and maffles could be heard filling the silence.

“Girl secured the bag but still got cheated on.”

“Proof that a child is not enough to make a man loyal. Good try, girl.”

Though it had been more than a month since what happened, your social media was still full of unpleasant comments. Your life had been in a downward spiral, even more when Ferrari’s official account had posted a few photos from the weekend and you saw the woman who was in the picture with Charles months ago in the background of the photos. The comments were quick to jump into their own assumptions and speculations, making you felt more oppressed within every minute you spent on your phone.

“Where’s she?” You asked when you saw Charles in the living room, no longer hearing her squeals and laughters. Your phone was no longer in your hand as you turned it off. Charles had took a seat on the couch, afar from you since you kept on shutting him out so he just knew you wouldn’t want him close to you this time as well.

“She’s asleep.” He grabbed your hand as you were walking trying to walk pass him to get yourself a drink. “Bab– Y/N, can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Charles.”

“You can’t keep on doing this.” He was now standing only a step away. “I miss you. I don’t want to come home to an empty house. Please, tell me what you want me to do.” His fingers softly traced your cheek, making your heart beat faster, yearning for more of his touch. “I’ll fix the mess. I’ll speak up about this, let the news clear out my name, your name. I need you, Y/N, please.”

You wanted to give in. You were so close to give into his wishes, his plead but you couldn’t. Never once in your life would you imagine yourself to be in a situation where your husband got tangled up with another woman that people started making fun of your innocent child.

“You need to leave.” You paced back, feeling his touch leaving an imprint on your skin.

“Y/N,”

“Leave, please. I’m not doing this tonight.”

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The scream of your daughter took up the house as she saw Charles walked through the door. You had told Charles you wanted to do a small birthday for her and he had set everything up that you didn’t have to lift a finger. A day before a group of people came by to start putting on balloons and ribbons in your house. The food and drinks started ti arrive a few hours ago so you were only left with a few task when you had to dress her up and prepare a few starter and dessert. The guests were not a lot. You had invited your friends, their kids, family members and of course, Charles.

“Hey, princess! Happy birthday!”

Charles immediately picked her up and attacked her chubby cheeks with kisses, causing her to squirm while giggling. “You are so pretty, princess. Did you wear mommy’s lipstick?” He laughed and wiped the smudge at the ends of her lips.

“I stole mommy’s lipstick!”

“Knew it! You should have asked mommy to help put it on you. Where’s mommy?” She had ran to join her friends back to the small backyard garden, leaving Charles’s question left unanswered as he ambled to the kitchen to see you were preparing a cheese board for the guests.

“Do you need help?

“Oh, yeah. Can you help me open the pack of crackers and just plate it nicely on this serving board? You handed him the board to which he took it and started opening crackers that you had placed on the kitchen counter while you went back to cutting the cheese.

Both of you were doing things in silence so you didn’t bother to check up on him as you only asked his help for the simplest task ever. One that even your daughter could do.

You had realised it wasn’t as simple as you thought it was when you looked at the board which was supposed to be filled with crackers, were only filled with a few ones while the rest went into his mouth.

“Charles!” Charles’s hand stop moving as he looked at you. “I asked you to put them on the board, not eat them!”

“It’s addictive. Give it a try.” He offered you one and you took it, chuckling as you chew. “Right? I told you! It’s tasteless but it’s good. Do you want more?”

He moved closer to put the cracker to your mouth when you declined, making you laugh as you tried to move your face away. “It’s not that good. I don’t want it!”

He cackled along, arm finding its way on your waist as he pulled you close. “God, I missed you so much.”

“Hello?”

“Yeah–” The smile on your face ceased as your eyes landed on the owner of the voice, the same woman who was caught in a gossip with the guy standing in front of you. “Oh, hi.”

“Y/N, this is Leah. She’s–“ Charles tried to grab your arm as you tried to walk out of the kitchen. “Baby, wait–“

“I need to check on my daughter.”

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“Isn’t that the girl that was in the picture? Did you invite her?”

The drink in your hand tasted somewhat bitter. “No, she came with Charles.” You replied, eyes locked on your daughter as she played with her dad and Leah in the backyard.

“Is he trying to introduce you to his new girlfriend?”

“I don’t know.” You stretched out your arms as your little girl came running to you. “Did you have fun with dada?”

“Yes! Can mommy play too?” She jumped and tugged on your finger to get you off the couch. “Please please!”

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.” You patted her head, giving your friends a glance as you trailed after her to the backyard where Charles was on the grass, joining by your daughter after.

“Dada, let mommy be the tagged!”

“You asked me to join you only for you to gang up with dada? Come here!” You gasped dramatically and chased after her while she waddled to the end of the backyard. “Oh, tag.” Charles had just stood on his feet and stopped by your side as he saw you focusing on the little girl when you tapped on his arm.

“Oh, come on! Really? I thought you were chasing after her.” Charles groaned. He barely had a 5 minutes break and thought you were chasing after the little one instead of him, which was why he wasn’t running away.

“I can’t catch her!”

“Okay, then I’ll just tag you back.” He poked on your cheek, laughing when you clicked on your tongue, thing that you always do when you get annoyed.

“Charles, can I borrow you for a second?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” He left your side when Leah called out for him, both of them seemed to be engrossed in a discussion. Leaving you alone while your daughter had found her way back into her group of friends. You saw your friends’ sympathetic eyes on you as they called you out to join them back.

You felt pathetic.

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For the rest of the birthday party, you tried to ignore Charles and his partner though you could feel his eyes on you the whole time. Every time you caught a glance of both of them, exchanging conversations and smiles while she kept on showing something on her phone, tears would welled up in your eyes and you couldn’t cry, not today. Today isn’t about you.

“Baby, can you please stop ignoring me?”

You bumped into Charles as you tried to head to to kitchen and he had gripped on your arm, forcing you to stay as you were trying to get away from Charles again when the front door opened as you saw a man with 2 kids around your daughter’s age walked in with a birthday present nicely wrapped in his hand.

“Happy birthday!” The kids shrieked and handed the birthday present to your daughter as they ran to join the kids outside.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Leah exclaimed as she pulled the man into a hug. “Y/N, this is my husband and my kids. I hope you don’t mind three extra guests?”

“No, not at all.” A soft smiled creeped in as a mask to hide your true feelings before you made your way into your room with Charles chasing after you.

You felt so dumb. First you had to see your husband’s new “girlfriend” then having to constantly see your husband played with your kid while his new girl a step away as she laughed and smiled along, one when your husband left your side in a blink the second Leah called out for him, only to find out that all of that was just an act and that she actually had a husband and kids. You felt your throat tighten up as you breathed in a short intake. “Did you try to make me look like a fool because you aced it.”

“No, that’s– no, not at all. Y/N–“

“I feel so woeful and pathetic. If this– if this is your payback because I took your daughter away, I’m sorry.” You sobbed into the palm of your hands.

“Baby, no. No, that– that’s not it. You got the wrong idea. I brought her along because I had a scheduled medical checkup and she had to tag along. I thought she could be the one to explain to you what actually happened since you refused to listen to my explanation.” Your trembling hand in now in his while he cupped his free hand on your left cheek, thumb wiped off the fresh tears that rolled down you cheeks. It had been a week since the last time he touched you, month since he hugged you and there was a hole in his heart from your absence. You didn’t reject him, not this time so he continued. “Yes, she was in the room with me but I was asleep and she was looking for my stuff. Something that she wanted to borrow. We didn’t cuddle or do anything at all. Not like how the news portrayed. She came in with Joris because he had the access to my room but they didn’t catch that moment so it just seemed like there was only both of us.”

Your tongue was tied, your head was in a shamble. You didn’t know know what to do, what to react, what to respond. If what he was saying was true, then why did he seemed so close with her. Why would he go to his daughter’s birthday party with her. Why would he left you just because she called out for him.

“You know how much I love you, Y/N. I would never do anything that would break your trust on me. I was asleep. I would have asked Joris to not allow her inside my room if I was awake. I didn’t know there were pictures taken.”

“I don’t know, Charles. I’m just– “ You tilted you head away as you felt your throat closing up. “Everything I saw earlier didn’t make it seemed as if nothing happened between you guys.”

“What did you see?” He leaned in, tugging on your hand in his just so you would look back at him. “Tell me, baby, what did you see?”

“You came to the birthday party with her looking like a happy couple as if you tried to shove that in my face.”

“We didn’t. We didn’t come together, Y/N. She drove her own car but we came from the same place, remember? Her husband wanted to buy a last minute birthday gift, just before they came here so she had to ask for my opinion since they didn’t know what they should give.” You felt his thumb kept on stroking the back of your hand, he wanted to pull you in his embrace but he couldn’t afford getting rejected again. He didn’t know if you wanted him to touch you but grateful enough that you didn’t retract your hand away so he wouldn’t ask for more if your weren’t comfortable just yet.

“I am such a fool…” Your voice trailed off with tears streaming down your face.

“No, you are not a fool. You needed reassurance which I failed to give.” Charles then surrendered to his own wish and eventually engulfed you in his arms. “Is this okay? Can I hug you?” He didn’t get your response but he felt your arms on his back, returning the hug.

“I’m sorry…” You tilted your head to look at him with swollen eyes.

“We are both at fault here.” He drew in his arms tighter around your frame. “Will you come back to me? Come back home?”

“Do you still want me back?”

“I will always want you back, baby. Always.” He pulled away and pecked on your cheek, chuckling when you started having hiccups from crying too much.

“Dada?”

He pulled away and turned to look at his little girl walked in with a lollipop in her hand. You stayed behind Charles so you could pat your eyes dry before she noticed.

“Is mommy okay?” She slanted her body to peek on you as Charles continued to cover you with his back.

“Mommy’s fine, princess. Mommy’s eyes just hurt a little.”

“Give mommy this!” She offered Charles her lollipop, making both of you laughed.

“Charles took the lollipop and extended it to you. “Would you like a lollipop, baby?”

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj

if your usernames were crossed meaning I can’t tag you 😭 let me know if you would like to be removed or added to the taglist! or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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yapperblog · 26 days

Text

Thought you'd hate me

but instead you called and said I miss you

Tags: unresolved feelings, a little big of angst, she fell first but he fell harder, smut +18 only, softdom!joost, fem!reader, fingering, riding, unprotected PinV.

RPF below don't interact if you are not comfortable with that

You sigh as you find yourself in front of his door. Again. In the message he sent at 3:15 AM he told you the door will be open, but you still ring the doorbell. After no one opens it, you feel a slight nervous shiver down your spine. You decide to leave the dilemma of your weak morals for tomorrow, you are already here, might as well see where the night leads you. You reach for the handle and open it.

"Hello?" you say as you enter his apartment.

You turn to twist the lock on the door, a familiar smell envelops you. Not much has changed since the last time you've been here. More often you have been rushed past his front door, already tangled in a kiss, tearing at each others clothes. This time you weirdly want to look around and take it all in, you are still not sure if this is the last time you walk past his doorstep, but you want to remember it.

You and Joost have a messy history. It all started so simple, you met through a mutual friend and found out you two have a lot in common. As soon as you started talking, you knew something special could brew from this. It was so easy to be next to him, every bit of attention from him was intoxicating.

You also found out you live a walking distance from each other, which led to you two hanging out more often outside of the friend group. After one drunk night out, just the two of you, one thing led to another and you ended up on his lap, hands wrapped in each other's hair, having the best sex of your life. Your relationship turned into friends with benefits, never crossing into anything more even after a year. You did everything a couple would do together, but never put a label on it. Due to him traveling a lot and focusing on music, you felt he didn't want a serious relationship, so when he asked what you thought about dating, you just brushed it off, not wanting to be a burden to him.

You did this often. You were so overprotective of your feelings, you wouldn't let anyone near, in case they hurt you emotionally, which from your past experiences - they usually did. So you learnt to end things before you get too attached. You knew it was too late, he was the best partner you've had. So thoughtful, caring, funny, incredible sex, but you could just not open up to him the same way he did to you. It hurt, but gradually you made an effort to see him less, you would decline his invitations to hang out, until one day you just simply ignored his message to come over.

Until today, when you saw him again at a friend's birthday party. You knew he got back from tour already and would be at that party. You were nervous to see him again, but to skip it would be even worse. You immediately spotted him, even in a room full of people, somehow you could always tell where he was, your eyes just gravitated towards him. When eventually, after mingling with different people, you ended up in the same circle, he made it seem so easy to see you again, like it was no big deal. You felt a sting of pain, but you couldn't be upset, you were the one to push him away. So, you came to a conclusion that you made the right decision, if it is so easy for him to move on, it is better this way. You stayed until the end of the party, everyone got pretty drunk, your heart still felt heavy knowing he is close, but at the same time so far away, and it was all your fault for pushing away the one good thing you had.

You got back home around 3 AM. You were ready for bed, until you got a notification. You checked your phone and saw it was a text from Joost.

"Come in." his voice brings you back to your current situation. You notice a warm glow from the nightstand lamp coming from around the corner, where his bedroom is.

Your legs start walking as if by themselves, you don't remember making that decision. His voice just draws you in.

You stop by the doorframe, leaning against it. You take in the sight of him. Only one nightstand lamp is turned on, you remember your shared hatred of overhead big light. He is laying on the bed, his legs swaying off the side of it. His jeans are halfway unzipped, low on his hips, the belt undone and shirt half unbuttoned, like he couldn't decide what to take off first and gave up on both. He must be as drunk as you are now, he should look like a mess, but he doesn't. He always managed to look clean, one of the many things you liked about him. He turns his head to look at you and you notice a cigarette hanging from his lips.

He got into a bad habit of smoking in bed, you used to joke he would end up living in one of those houses that have yellow walls from the constant smoking.

"You should start locking your door." you say, your arms crossed, leaning against the door frame. You want to look nonchalant, like your heart isn't trying to get out of your chest.

"I don't usually leave it open." he says, his voice raspy, like it usually got when he was drunk. "Only on special occasions." he puts one hand behind his head not to crane his neck to see you better.

"Have a lot of special occasions?" you ask. You do wonder if he was with anyone in the time you haven't seen each other.

He huffs in amusement and turns to look at the ceiling. You think he looks so pretty, just laying there.

"Come here." his voice barely above a whisper, but he knows you will hear. You always do, sometimes he thinks you can hear his thoughts, his deepest secrets.

You don't move from your place, your hands crossing tighter on your chest. The distance you want to keep breaks his heart, he needs to stop this feeling and distract himself. He reaches for the lighter in the pocket of his jeans.

"Joost, open the window at least." you say softly before he lights the cigarette. It is not your place to tell him what to do, but you still care.

He smiles and remembers your joke about the yellow walls. Always so quick with a funny remark. He misses it. He sits down on the bed, his movements slow. He zips up his pants and puts the belt back on, his hands fumbling trying to put it through the loops. With his shirt still half unbuttoned, he stands up and walks past you, around the bed and heads towards the window. There is a chair next to it already, you notice a sketchbook you got him on the windowsill by an ashtray. You never saw this little routine of his, you imagine him drawing next to an open window, a cigarette in his hand. You want to flip through it.

He sits on the chair, lighting a cigarette. "Will you come in now?"

You finally walk in and head towards the bed. You prop yourself against the bedframe. His bed is as comfortable as you remember, you even bought the same duvet and pillow set he has, but you swear it still doesn't feel as good his. Maybe you expected it to come with that familiar aftershave smell, which of course it didn't.

"What did you want to talk about?" you break the silence.

"Us." he says quickly. Always honest and straight to the point.

"What about us?" your eyes focus on him. His legs are crossed, a light breeze coming from the window tussling his hair.

"You have been ignoring me and I want to know why. I really don't understand what I did wrong."

"I told you we should have ended this a long time ago." you did tell him this in the last time message you sent him. But he wasn't going to accept that, so he walked to your apartment, when you opened the door, you could barely even look at him. Very abruptly you told him you need to stop seeing each other, it's not healthy for the both of you. He was so confused at the sudden change, he couldn't even come up with anything to say in defence. He thought you must have met someone else, you haven't promised each other anything, but he felt betrayed. So he turned around and left.

"Why did you come then?" he asks, looking at you intensely.

"I knew you were drunk after the party and would pass out on the bed, I didn't want you to sleep with the front door open." you come up with an excuse. He has always been like an open book with you, however you are now doubting yourself if you've read him correctly. It was you who was scared of the relationship and deeper feelings, not him. You realise the huge mistake you made all those months ago.

"You know..." he takes another drag of the cigarette. "I really used to think I had you figured out. And then you pulled that surprise on me. Really took me for a spin." he points to his head with the hand that has a cigarette in between his two fingers.

"Have to keep you on your toes, you know. You always said you wouldn't like the simple life." you try to joke. The room is silent for a second, you are worried, did you overstep, will he find it inappropriate. But he laughs with his whole chest, the tension resolving a little bit. If you can joke about it, he feels he still has a chance to fix things out between you.

"So why did you come?" his voice more relaxed now.

You both know the answer, he wants to hear you say it, but you are willing to drag this game a little longer. "You've got a great view from your apartment. I missed it."

He laughs again. You realise it might be your favorite sound in the world. He blows the smoke out of the window, then turns to look back at you. "You missed the view?"

"Yeah." you try to keep a straight face.

"It is a nice view." he looks out of the window. "I don't think you see it well from the bed though." he puts a cigarette in between his lips. "You should come closer to enjoy it." he beckons you closer with his hand. He tries to act cool, to hide the fact that you also still make him nervous, like it's the first time you met and he is trying so hard to win you over, to see you smile at something he said.

You stand up from the bed, and slowly make your way towards the window, you cross your arms to shield yourself from the breeze and lean in against the windowsill admiring the view. You can faintly see your own window from here, you wonder if he ever tried to see you. You can feel him next to you even without looking at him, your legs almost touching. You can almost feel the heat radiating from him, always so warm, even on coldest nights. You miss the feeling of him under your hands.

Slowly as if careful not scare you away, like a cat, he stands up and comes to stand next to you. Neither of you speak for a while, enjoying a silent night, it feels so natural to be next to each other. The months apart and previous tension slowly melting away. He notices you shiver.

He stubs out the cigarette in an ashtray and stands up to reach for a hoodie hanging on the back of the chair. "Here, put this on."

You turn to face him and he puts the hoodie around your shoulders. His hands brushing your exposed shoulders and arms in the process. A sigh leaves you, which he catches.

"Better?" he asks.

"I think this is the first time you put more clothes on me in this room and not the other way around." you joke.

"You are probably right." he laughs and you feel him physically relax. Humour has always been a common ground for the both of you to get more comfortable.

"I missed this." he confesses, his voice quiet. "I missed us." he reaches to put a strand of your hair behind your ear. As soon as he touches you, he studies your face, trying to see if it's okay.

You touch his hand. "I miss it too." you say and turn to look outside of the window again, you feel so stupid for the way you handled things. He moves to stand behind you, slowly wraps him arms around your waist, giving you space to retreat if you want. You don't. It feels so good to have him close again. You lean into his touch. He puts his head on your shoulder, next to your face.

"How did it take us so long to find each other again?" he asks, happy you didn't deny his embrace.

"I'm sorry" you say and you mean it with your whole heart.

He moves to sit back down on the chair and you turn to look at him. "So, is the view everything you remembered?" he says with a smirk.

"It might have become even better." you say and walk up to him, he spreads his legs to let you in even closer.

He looks up at you, his eyes are so blue even in the dim light. You place your arms on his shoulders. He hugs you around your middle, and puts his face on your stomach. You slowly brush his hair, enjoying the closeness of him.

"Have you been with anyone?" he asks, afraid to hear the answer.

You tried, you had a date planned with this guy you met at work, but you didn't end up going. It didn't feel right.

"No." you say honestly. "Have you?"

He is still holding you close to him, "I kissed someone." he says.

You shut your eyes. Your confidence slightly falling apart, the self-doubt creeping back in, he can move on and eventually will.

He feels you go solid under his arms and continues "But all I could think was you. It was not long after you broke things off with me. I was mad at you, I kept looking for things to distract myself with. I was mad that you wouldn't leave my head. Mad at the light I could see coming from your window" he looks up at you, his hands on your hips. "So I kissed this girl, who seemed interested in me, and all I could taste was you."

You look into his eyes, he looks so vulnerable like this, all you wish for is to go back in time and change everything, but you can't. You wait for him to continue.

A small laugh escapes him. "I ran away from her. I ran all the way home. It's embarrassing, I never figured out how to forget you." he hides his face into your stomach again, you smell just like he remembers. If he could freeze time and stay like this forever, you running your hands through his hair and so close to him, he would.

"Joost" you let out a breath you were holding. "You don't understand how sorry I am. The amount of pain I caused both us" you voice breaks and he looks up at you. "I don't know how I can ever fix this mistake I made."

"Baby." his hands on your hips move in soothing motions. "Come here" he says and this time you do, he moves you to sit on his thigh, your legs stay in between his.

Your face is right next to his, you can't stop looking at him. His stubble has grew in a little. You put your hand on the side of his face, he immediately leans into it, chasing your touch. All the walls you both tried to put up, crumbling completely. You close the distance between you, your lips moving against his, he wraps his arms around your waist, your chest now closer to his. One of your hands is holding his shoulder, the other is on the nape of his neck. He licks your bottom lip, asking you to open your mouth, you do and his tongue explores your mouth. He missed you in his arms so much, now he can't get enough, he can still taste the cocktail he saw you drink at the party. You feel him groan into your mouth as you pull at his hair, remembering how much he likes it.

You pull apart to catch your breath. You smile and wipe his lips, shiny with your lip gloss, it makes you throb between your legs, that it is your gloss on his lips. You close your legs looking for at least a slight friction, he moves his hand to your thigh, squeezing the soft skin, which startles a moan from you. It makes him twitch in his pants, you sound so much better than the scenarios he kept replaying in his head late at night, his hand moving in a fast pace under the covers, wrapped tightly around his dick, trying to imitate the tight squeeze of your pussy around him.

He moves his hand under your knee, moving you to sit on his lap your back to his chest. He spreads his legs, moving yours apart too.

"I want you." he feels so warm against your back, you can feel an outline of his hardening dick through his jeans pocking at your lower back.

"You have me." he says leaning closer to your ear. He stays close and leans into your hair, kissing softly. You swear you can feel him sniff your hair and moan quietly. This is not the first time you notice him doing it, he denied it the one time you asked him about it, but it turns you on even more. He leans in to kiss your shoulder, placing open mouth kisses to your neck. He bites gently on your skin, you hold his bicep by your side. You need something to ground yourself or you feel like you will float away, his mouth feels so good on you. His hands move from your thighs under your top.

"Is this okay?" he asks, you feel his hot breath on your shoulder.

"Yes." you reply. He smiles and places another kiss, his hands continuing to move under your top caressing your skin. He hasn't done anything yet, but you already feel how aroused you are, your panties sticking to you. His heavy breathing so close to you, only making you even more hot. The open window next to you is of no help. You feel him everywhere, but also want to speed things up.

"Touch me, please." you plead. Your needy voice feels like music to his ears.

"A little bit of patience." his hands move to cup you through your lacy bra. He massages your tits, feeling your nipples harden, you moan and cover your mouth with your hand. "So sensitive." he murmurs. He wants to watch you unravel for him just by touching your nipples, but decides to stash this idea for another time. He hopes there will be another. He moves your bra down to reveal you fully to him and continues his ministrations twisting and pinching your nipples, squeezing your soft skin, until you are writhing on top of him. Your ass moving right against his now fully hard dick, but he can wait.

"Let me hear you." he moves your hand away, which was covering your mouth.

"But the window" your voice is weak.

"Everyone else can also know how good I am making you feel." his hands move to the plush of your thighs, makes sure to push them apart. "Keep them like this, love" he tells and you nod. He pushes your skirt up, moving his hands higher up your inner thighs, your head falls on his shoulder while you let out a soft moan. There is already a wet pre-cum spot forming in his boxers from all the sounds he is pulling from you.

He swipes a finger in between your folds through your panties. "So wet." he says quietly, sitting up straighter, pulling you up with him by wrapping a hand around your middle. He moved his neck to see his hand in between your legs better. He spreads his legs even further, your hips are so wide apart, you feel a breeze touch your wetness, as he moves your panties to the side.

"Were you this excited to see the view?" he says feeling how wet you are. You can't even come up with anything to joke back as he finds your clit and starts moving his finger in slow circles around it, applying slight pressure.

You moan holding his wrist, your head still resting on his shoulder.

"Feels good?" he asks, you can hear him smiling.

"So good." you say and he speeds up his finger pulling even more delicious sounds from you. He wonders if anyone can actually hear you, would the neighbours complain, but decides it is worth it seeing that you don't mind. His finger moves lower through your folds, collecting the wetness as he circles around your hole. He feels it clench around nothing and you whine at his teasing.

"Shh, I've got you." he puts one finger inside of you. You feel so tight around him, he puts in a second finger and starts to make scissoring motions to stretch you for him.

You start to feel the pleasure building, moving to hold his bicep for support. You turn your neck to the side trying to find his lips. He lowers his head towards yours and you collide in a heated kiss. He puts in a third finger in and speeds up his motions, swallowing your moans.

"I'm so close." you turn to look at his fingers disappearing between your legs reaching deeper than yours ever could. Your skirt bunched up, legs spread wide, his hand that is wrapped around your middle is now applying pressure to your lower stomach, you must look a mess, but this is the most beautiful sight to him. His brows are in a frown, focused on a task at hand, so lost in bringing you pleasure.

"Cum for me. Cum on my fingers" he says and you feel the band snap and release on his fingers. Intense pleasure spreading all over your body. Your back arches, as he lets you ride your orgasm.

He pulls out his fingers, shiny with your slick and brings them to his mouth, licking it clean. You hear him groan, as you are still feeling aftershocks from your orgasm. It has been so long, you forgot how good he is at listening to your body, knowing exactly what you need.

He kisses your temple, as his lips slowly reach yours. The kiss is not rushed this time, tender. His lips feel soft against yours. You leave his tight embrace to stand up. Standing in front of him you take off your top, as well as your bra, which is still pulled down, revealing your chest to him and kneel in between his legs. You slide your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles tense under your touch and reach for his belt. You quickly undo it, unzip his jeans while looking into his eyes, he is watching your every move. You reach to take off his jeans, he lifts his hips to help you and kicks them off, leaving them in a pile next to your top.

"Take off this too." he points at your skirt as he reaches for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the windowsill. You stand in front of him, placing your hands on the zipper of your skirt and pull it down slowly, making a show of shimmying it down your legs. Your panties are next. His eyes never leave you as he sits with his legs spread only in his half unbuttoned shirt and boxers, he lights the cigarette and takes a drag blowing smoke away from you towards the window.

"So beautiful." he can't stop looking at you.

Meanwhile you are thinking the same about him. You want to take a photo right now. He is leaned against the back of the chair, you can see an outline of his hard and waiting dick, the collar of his shirt reveals his chest hair. He brings a cigarette to his lips, the end of it glowing as he takes a long drag. You want to remember this forever.

You come closer to him, he leaves the cigarette hanging between his lips, as he puts both of his hands on the backs of your thighs and brings you flush against him and looks up at you. You can't help but giggle at how good he looks and all for you. You start to unbutton his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders. Once again you kneel in between his legs, your hands reach the waistband of his underwear and you look up at him for confirmation. He nods and you take them off, his dick springs up free and rests against his lower stomach, leaving a wet spot of his own pre-cum. He looks like a dream come true.

"Show me how much you've missed me" he says, his voice raspy from the cigarette and his arousal.

You move to straddle him. You take his dick into your hand, he sighs at your touch immediately. He needs this he needs to know you want him as much as he wants you. You spread his pre-cum around his length, moving your hand slowly up and down, twisting your wrist on his head, moving your thumb through the slit. He groans loudly. "Yes, just like this." You always loved how vocal he is during intimate moments. One of his hands is holding a cigarette, the other is on your hip, holding tight. You lean in to kiss along his jaw moving down to his neck, listening to his soft moans, as you keep touching his dick. You continue kissing his neck, he feels you start to suck on his skin about to leave a love bite, but you stop abruptly.

"Can I?" you ask unsure if he would want you to leave marks. You both know each others bodies so well, but this feels new at the same time.

"Please do." his head falls back, giving you more space. You lick up his throat and leave a few marks along your kisses. You smile at your work, this will be a fun reminder in the morning.

You decide not to tease him any longer, you want to feel him inside right this second. You lift yourself up using his shoulders for support, he is holding a cigarrete in one hand, and puts the other under your ass spreading your folds apart, helping you lower yourself onto him. You hold his dick and hover above him, swiping the head a couple of time to cover him in your slick. You are still wet from your previous climax, so it's easier to take him in. You both let out a moan as you start to lower yourself onto him, your walls stretching to accommodate his length.

"You are so tight." he puts a cigarette in between his lips and starts to circle your clit carefully aware of your recent climax, not to overstimulate you. "Relax for me baby." the words coming out funny due to the cigarette hanging from his mouth. You take the cigarette and take a drag yourself. You inhale, keep it in for a while and then blow the smoke in his face slowly. He watches you and you can feel him twitch inside of you.

You pass the cigarette back to him, when he is fully inside of you. You start to lift yourself up and lower back down, setting a steady rhythm, trying to bring him as much pleasure as you can.

His pupils are blown wide, the blue irises barely visible, he is so hard, he could cum right now. But he wants this to last. One of his hands leaves your hips, he leans on the back of the chair and smokes, enjoying the view. Your head is thrown back, eyes shut, tits bouncing, you reach to pinch your nipple and clench around him. He thinks you look so good right now, lost in pleasure, this is what heaven must feel like. He can't ever loose you again.

"Good girl. Making me feel so good." he praises you and feels you clench even harder, as you continue moaning and moving on his length. He moves his gaze from your face, down your body and watches himself disappear between your folds, a mix of your arousal pooling at the base of him.

"I'm so close, Joost." you whine bouncing on him.

He wraps a hand around your back and reaches to put the cigarette out in the ashtray. Now both his hands free, he takes hold of your hips to help you move on him. He starts kissing your neck, and matches your moves with his own thrusts.

You feel him so deep inside of you, you scream in pleasure, as he starts to move you faster on him, holding you by your hips.

"Fuck. You feel so good." he is breathing heavy against your chest, his own climax getting closer. He brings his thumb up to your lips, you open your mouth and suck on his finger. "The things you do to me" he sighs at the picture before him. He hopes he remembers this forever. You swipe your tongue around his finger and he pulls it out, wet with your spit bringing it to your clit and starts to draw fast circles.

He leans in to whisper to you. "I think you were made for me." Somehow he always knew what to say to make you melt under him. It's like he knows exactly what you are worried about in that exact moment.

Your back arches, he puts an arm on your back to hold you. He feels you clench around him rapidly and with a loud moan you cum on him.

"That's it. That's my girl." his own rhythm becoming more sporadic. "Just a little longer. I'm right there." he starts to chase his own release.

"Where do you want me?" he asks feeling himself getting closer.

"Inside." you feel overstimulated, but still it feels so good. "Please." your nails on his shoulders are bound to leave red marks from how hard you are holding on to him.

After a few more wild thrusts, he pulls you flush against him and you feel him release into you. Some of his cum spilling out of you. You put your forehead against his, breathing heavily into each other's mouths, trying to come back to your senses.

He holds you close to him. "I'm glad you read my text today."

"Me too. And I really am sorry, Joost. I hope you can forgive me."

"Let's talk in the morning. We will figure everything out, yes?" he asks bringing your face closer to him, to look into your eyes.

"Yes."

"Can you stay over tonight? or do you want me to walk you home?" he asks.

"I don't think I can walk right now, Joost" you laugh.

"That was incredible, wasn't it?" he laughs too.

You start to stand up with a wince when he pulls out. He cleans you up and you fall asleep on his bed. The pillow still more comfortable than your own. You will try to figure your feelings for each other in the morning.

#joost klein #joost klein smut #joost klein rpf #joost klein x reader

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predestinatos · 9 months

Text

cinnamon taste ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙ — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader

summary: your best friend showing up at your apartment isn't the only surprise you had that day

tags: best friends to lovers, giddy and shy charles, sooo much fluff, christmas vibes, improvised and creative mistletoe confession

words: 2.6k

note: someone requested something along these lines and i had sooo much fun writing it!! my heart is full and warm... rlly hope u guys like it too and happy holidays for those who celebrate

The scent of cinnamon and apple filled your lungs as you entered your apartment door. You congratulated yourself on the good choice of incense, apparently, but also punished yourself for seemingly leaving the music on while you were out. Jazz-y Christmas songs were playing softly, your living room feeling like a daydream of warmth and coziness.

But that dream was soon shattered upon the realization that you had brought your phone with you – there was no way it was still connected to Bluetooth. Someone was in your house.

Before you had time to panic as you removed your gloves and jacket, a figure appears before you and spins you in the air, embracing you tightly. At first, you screamed, terrified. But then the figure placed you on the floor, continuously repeating “it’s me it’s me I’m sorry” while giggling.

You immediately recognized the voice – your best friend was wrapped in an apron, glasses on and remnants of flour on his messy brown locks. Immediately, your heart went from racing to galloping, fear replaced by happiness. However, before you could show the good part, you punched him slightly in the chest, the hit clearly not producing any sort of damage. “You are such an idiot, Charles! You almost killed me” you said, although a smile was creeping in your lips and eyes as he pulled you for a hug.

Despite how long you’ve known each other, the hugs always felt the same: earnest, meaningful, his heart beating next to your ear, hands wrapped around you like a warm caress. It felt like this when you were 10 and played together, when you were 15 and snuck out together, and now this. You weren’t expecting to see him, especially not this close to Christmas day.

“I thought I’d do something with the spare key you gave me when I crashed here for a few weeks,” he said, as if reading your thoughts, already jumping between wondering how he got in and when he did it. His eyes, filled with affection, seemed simultaneously nervous, registering your face as if in analyzing it carefully.

Before you had time to ask, he pulled your arm and guided you to the kitchen – your own kitchen – warmly telling you “I have a surprise.” You followed him and as you entered the small marble kitchen, the scent hit you even harder. It smelt of comfort, of a cozy campfire feeling, of sweet bakeries opened and filled with decorations, all inside your house. The kitchen itself was slightly messy, hinting at its use, and Charles stood in it proudly, grabbing some mittens to remove the delicious smelling content from the oven.

They were cookies, made in all possible shapes and sizes – some unidentifiable, as he clearly did them by hand. The image of them filled your heart, your best friend placing them on the counter as he checked if they were ready to be eaten, almost like a postcard waiting to be stilled in time. “For how long are you staying?” you asked, afraid of the answer.

That fear proved itself right as you saw his expression change suddenly, the smile leaving his eyes and remaining only on his lips, an attempt at feigning comfort where there could possibly be none. “The day after tomorrow” he said, after a small cough, acting as if it was nothing, trying to lessen the pain of not knowing when you’d see him again.

Just for that moment, you decided to shrug it off as well, to ignore the elephant in the room that were the less than 48 hours you had to enjoy each other’s company, the knowledge that the old times of friendship won’t come back. “Better eat all of those until then!” you said, in your best effort to showcase as little sadness as possible.

You opened one of your cabinets and removed two mugs from it, one of them farther away than expected. On your tiptoes, you reached for the red mug with a big C on it, with “clumsy” written underneath in small letters. It was reserved especially for Charles, a small part of him that remained untouched from the moment he left and would only be touched again when he came back – which wasn’t often. Upon seeing it, his smile lit up once again, dimples showing on his slightly flushed cheeks, his upper arm reaching to fix the glasses he was wearing as his hands were busy sprinkling cinnamon all over the biscuits.

Placing the just made hot chocolate on the small glass coffee table in your living room, you waited for Charles, who showed up holding a plate decorated with all of his creations, which he placed next to your mugs.

You wrapped around blankets as you sat on the floor, mimicking simpler times, nostalgia running through your veins as the liquid you drank ran through your throats. Charles’ eyes scanned your living room again, “did you decorate this all by yourself?” he asked, as he analyzed the matching patterns in your white Christmas tree and how well they fit with the honey tones of the decorations scattered carefully around the room.

“Depends,” you replied, smiling, “Do you like it?” He looked at you then, the same nervousness returning to his cheeks, red from something that couldn’t be the cold, given the warmth inside your apartment. For the first time since you knew him, his eyes studied your face in a way that made you look away timidly. “Yes it’s amazing” he replied, answering the question as a way to break the sudden tension, but creating an opposite effect.

“A friend helped me” you confessed to him, shrugging. “I don’t think you know him, he-” you were about to begin, but Charles’ eyes shot to you and then quickly to the content inside his mug, fidgeting as he did so. “He and his girlfriend, love decorations and had some extra stuff from their last year so they added a lot to this” you explained, emphasizing the word ‘girlfriend’ as if it needed to be, as if you owed your best friend an explanation or seal of approval that you weren’t aware of until now. You knew it was necessary, however, when you saw his shoulders relax at your words, chest rising and falling softly underneath his sweater.

You rested your head against his shoulders reassuringly, letting him know that he wouldn’t miss any detail of your life, that you’d always make sure to update him on everything. You weren’t sure that’s what he wanted but you hoped he would understand the sentiment behind it, and you were sure he did when he laid a soft kiss on the top of your head.

His body smelled of cinnamon itself, sweet and lovely, and you couldn’t help but pull him closer by the arm, feeling his warmth which you hadn’t for so long. “I missed you, Charlie” you said, smiling to yourself. “Me too, silly” he replied whilst slowly pushing you away and getting up. “Which reminds me, I have something for you.”

You looked up at your best friend, feeling the cold spot from where he previously was, as he ran hurriedly to one of your spare rooms – which could be called his room since that was all the use it had. “Why don’t you just give it to me and I’ll open on Christmas? I don’t want to jinx it!” you yelled from your sitting place, biting one of the tree-shaped biscuits he had prepared, amazed at its taste and softness.

he came back holding a small box in his hands, carefully wrapped and decorated with a red ribbon at the top. Pride was written all over his smile and gaze as he sat down in front of you, handing you the present as he grabbed one of his own biscuits. “Because,” he said, in between bites “this is very important and urgent” he continued, giggling excitedly. You could tell from his tone that his voice was overly excited, almost acting, but you didn’t want to push him, not when he stared at you anxiously, eyes big and expectant like a puppy. His giggles were quickly replaced by sudden seriousness as soon as your hands started unwrapping the present carefully, not even wanting to ruin the package.

You were faced with a box, beautiful and cushioned, its surface gorgeously reminding you of wine nights with the company of the man who seemed not to be able to sit still in front of you. “Open it” he said, swallowing hard and nervously, leaning closer and closer with your every movement. You complied, your own curiosity threatening to jump out of your mouth, hands shaking as Charles’ own breath seemed almost irregular.

Inside it, you saw a delicate crystal, green, red and clear, in the shape of a plant. Not a plant – mistletoe. It glistened beautifully and its fragility fascinated you. It was beautiful, and you remained speechless as you examined it. “Charlie it’s-” you started, though you had no words to describe what you were feeling. Of course, the gift was absolutely mesmerizing, a small token that was impossible to not notice. Yet, you didn’t exactly know what it meant.

Charles gave you no time to think about it before he moved awkwardly, getting closer to you, closer than usual even for you two. “Listen, I… Do you want to hang it somewhere?” he said, the question so sudden, like a window that opened quickly and let all the cold wind inside the room. You looked into his eyes and found yourself still unable to speak, resorting to a simple nod as you got up, the box still resting in your hands, and he followed your movements.

You decided to hang it carefully in one of the tallest branches of your Christmas tree, where the lights hit beautifully and made it the centerpiece, stealing all the attention from the star at the top. “It’s beautiful” you finally managed to say, along with an earnest thank you, and you were about to turn back to the warm blanket when his fingertips stopped you by softly resting on your wrist.

“Wait,” he started, barely moving. All movement you could witness came from his nostrils as he exhaled deeply, his gaze completely focused on you. “I need to tell you something” he continued, looking up at the gift he had just given you. Following his gaze, you realized what he meant. “Oh. Oh this was for someone else- it’s fine Charlie mistakes happen-” you began, rising to your tiptoes in order to remove the ornament, almost laughing at your own silliness.

Once again that night, Charles stopped you, laughing warmly. “God, you’re so silly sometimes,” he told you, and despite the cold toned color of his eyes, they expressed such warmth it took your breath away. “No, this gift is for you. That’s what I mean,” he said, stumbling across his every word, “I gave you this because you’re the one I want to experience this with. The whole mistletoe kissing thing. Maybe this is silly…” his hand flew to his neck awkwardly, reminding you of when he was younger and in high school, trying to impress some girl he had a crush on.

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant, nor what it could mean for your friendship in general. But you were sure you wanted to experience that moment with him as well, feel him closer to you than you ever did, your every muscle begging you to act. “Do it then” you dared him, your own nervousness coming out. You thought about how silly it was, your nervousness, given how old you two were, how much you had witnessed together, the moment so out of the ordinary yet seemingly so predictable, as if it was destined to happen.

At that, Charles’ eyes widened, but his whole body went into action. His hand went to your cheek as the other pulled you by your waist, eyes falling on your lips as if everything moved in slow motion. You placed your own hands on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat as his lips fell on yours, so soft and familiar despite how unknown it all was. The sudden smell of chestnuts and ginger intensified as the room seemed to transform, how despite the warmth you almost felt snow falling on both of your bodies. Charles couldn’t get enough of you, his hand going from your cheek to the back of your neck, begging you for more, for the moment to last for as long as possible.

Like a magnet, your own hands caressed and pulled his hair incessantly, reassuring him that you weren’t going anywhere, as his heartbeat stabilized in calmness and comfort in how well your lips fit on his. His closeness was intoxicating, and you felt dizzy from how good you were feeling with his sheer presence, how right everything seemed to feel, how effortlessly he got you in your best mood.

Pulling away, you saw a smile which you had rarely seen in Charles’ face. It happened at his most happiest moments – when he won races, when he beat you at rock paper scissors when you were kids, when he got the best scores in spelling bees – it reached every muscle in his body and yours, so contagious was his cheerfulness.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he said, giddy and red from shyness, looking so innocent all of a sudden, despite his grip still on your waist. “I’ve been so confused, especially since the last time I stayed over. No one can make me feel like you do, and this is so hard to explain, and I don’t know how it got to this point but I have been thinking about it every day, about how good I feel when I am with you, how I just get so incredibly happy and-” you quieted his rambling by giving him a shy peck on his lips, giggling at how he stood motionless after it, eyes widened and eyebrows raised.

“I love you too” you told him, meaning every word, anxiously looking forward for the rest of your life.

580 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 9 months

Text

falling is easy, catching is hard

rated m | also on ao3 cw: recreational drug use, implied sexual content tags: friends with benefits, secret relationship, shotgunning, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @sidekick-hero!!! Sandy, you deserve the world, but this 3000 word thing will have to do for now 💖

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

December 19, 1985

Steve Harrington needed sleep.

Eddie Munson had the only thing that would put him to sleep.

But Eddie Munson also held a grudge, a reasonable one, but an annoying one.

“You want me to sell you the last of my good shit? For half price?” Eddie snorted. “You’re out of your damn mind, Harrington.”

“Munson, please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Steve begged.

“Why would I do you any favors? You never did me any.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, waiting somewhat impatiently for a response from Steve.

Steve didn’t have one.

Eddie was right; He didn’t really deserve a favor from someone who had let his friends make his first senior year absolutely miserable.

But Robin’s voice looped in his head: “Be vulnerable sometimes, Steve. People may surprise you.”

“Listen man, I just really need to sleep, alright? I’ve tried everything else.” Steve sighed. “This is pretty much my last hope.”

Which was a truth and a lie. He’d already tried smoking some weed, knew that it worked.

Eddie’s forehead creased in the middle.

That’s kinda cute, Steve thought to himself before shaking his head. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted by big, brown eyes and shiny lips.

“You been to a doctor?” Eddie asked.

“The sleeping pills make them worse.”

“Make what worse?” Eddie pushed.

“The nightmares.”

Eddie nodded once, understanding flitting across his face as he relaxed his arms by his sides.

“How long you been havin’ them?” Eddie asked as he walked around to the bench at the picnic table, opening his lunchbox.

“I guess…technically years. They’ve been worse since July though.” Steve knew he had to be careful about what he said, couldn’t give away more than what the public knew about what happened at the mall, but Eddie seemed trustworthy enough to handle this part. “Doctors said it’s normal for trauma or whatever.”

Eddie nodded, whispered something under his breath, and shuffled through his box.

“Forgot you worked at the mall over the summer. Kinda crazy what happened,” he said as he pulled a small discolored plastic bag from the box. “I’ll make you a one-time only deal, Stevie.”

Steve ignored the butterflies in his stomach at the nickname, kicked at the dirt under his feet, and gestured for Eddie to continue.

“I’m not giving my product away for half price. I’m a businessman and that’s not a smart financial decision for my business.” Eddie held up a hand when Steve looked like he was going to argue. “But! I will share a joint with you right here, right now, for free.”

“Um. What?”

“I was gonna smoke this one tonight as a celebration for passing all my first semester finals by the skin of my teeth. I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.” Eddie’s smirk made the butterflies even worse.

Steve was going to regret this.

God, he was so stupid.

“Yeah, okay.”

Smoking with Eddie the first time was nice, but the second, and third, and fourth times were even better.

— — — — — — —

January 16, 1986

“You’re late, Stevie. I was starting to worry you’d gotten frostbite.” Eddie’s smile warmed Steve from the inside out, the shiver wracking his body more to do with the growing fondness he had for the curly-haired man in front of him.

Eddie was bundled up like they were in Antarctica, and to be fair, it was below freezing outside right now.

Steve offered to meet somewhere else, but Eddie insisted they come to his usual spot.

And then Steve saw it: Eddie had built them a fire. It was small, he probably didn’t want to draw any attention from the road, but it was throwing heat that Steve craved.

“Come warm up before we get into it,” Eddie waved him over, his gloved hands looking out of place.

Steve was used to seeing shiny rings on his fingers, blisters on his fingertips from playing too much guitar.

Steve stood next to him in front of the fire, holding his own gloved hands out to try to warm his body as much as possible.

“Any reason I couldn’t just come to your house or something?” Steve asked, not quite getting rid of the attitude in his tone.

“My Uncle has tonight off. He’s a pretty chill guy, but I think actively watching me sell drugs to someone would maybe cause a heart attack.” Eddie sighed. “I told him I had a date tonight so I couldn’t really have you show up after that.”

“A date?” Steve grinned, nudging Eddie’s arm. “I didn’t even bring flowers.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but looked away to cover a blush. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to put out until there’s a dozen roses in my hand.”

He meant it as a joke surely, but something in Steve’s chest clenched at the thought of spoiling Eddie like that. Maybe not roses, that didn’t quite seem his style.

“I’ll try to remember them next time,” Steve managed to say, nearly choking on his own words.

What was he even doing? Flirting? Eddie didn’t even consider him a real friend, why would he want him to bring him flowers?

“Got a new strain tonight. It’s supposed to be a little stronger, but fades faster, so you should be good to drive back home in a couple hours.” Eddie pulled the baggie out of his pocket, lunchbox long gone after meeting twice a week for the last month.

Steve wasn’t really a customer anymore, no matter how they tried to keep up appearances that he was.

He still tipped Eddie, or tried to, but usually Eddie ignored it and just said it was a favor to help him sleep.

“How strong?” Steve finally asked as Eddie pulled the lighter from his pocket.

“Might make you a little floatier than usual. Not hallucinogenic, though.” Eddie knew he couldn’t handle that kind of trip. That’s why he stayed away from his other offerings. “I tested it out myself earlier this week.”

Steve wasn’t reading into that.

“Okay.” He fought off a shiver, this time from actually being cold. “Guess it’s worth a try.”

“I’ll drive you home if it’s too much.” Eddie’s offer was kind, going above and beyond what a dealer would do for a customer, but Steve wasn’t reading into it. “Or you can nap it off in the van for an hour or so before heading home. Whatever.”

Eddie lit the joint, breathing in long and slow, holding the smoke until Steve was sure he would pass out before slowly letting it out.

He handed the roll to Steve, who didn’t think about what Eddie meant by stronger, and took his normal pull, choking halfway through.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he took the joint from him, his hand grabbing onto Steve’s arm as he coughed.

“Jesus Christ, man, you good?” Eddie asked him.

“Yeah,” he coughed. “Sorry. It is a lot stronger.”

Eddie searched his face, relaxing as Steve’s breathing went back to normal. “Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe take it slower?” Eddie teased. “Or- no never mind.”

“Or what?” Steve asked, already feeling the heaviness that came with smoking.

“Ever shotgunned before?”

Steve’s heart stopped. He’d venture to say he was even stone cold sober again after that question.

“Um. No.” He hadn’t. He’d wanted to with Nancy, figured it would be the only way she would be interested in trying weed, but it never worked out. “Would it be easier?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “Usually. We can give it a try if you want.”

Steve nodded before he really processed what he was being offered.

Eddie’s mouth would be very, very close to his. Possibly even on his.

And he’d be sharing breath with him, probably more than one if it worked.

Eddie pulled the picnic table closer to the fire and sat on the bench. He patted the seat next to him.

“Might as well get comfy, then,” Eddie said.

Steve sat next to him, close enough to feel the warmth coming from his side, close enough to hear Eddie’s hitched breath when they made contact.

Close enough to want to be closer.

“Alright, so I’ll start with a small one, and you just have to breathe in when I breathe out.”

“Is it-” Steve played with a loose thread on his gloves. “Your lips are gonna touch mine?”

Eddie suddenly looked nervous, like he regretted offering this at all, and Steve couldn’t allow that.

“I don’t mind! I mean, I want you to!” Steve panicked. “Like, it’s fine! I know we have to for the whole thing to work.”

“Yeah. Um, it’s not like, weird or anything. It’s just me helping you get high.”

It wasn’t weird, but it definitely was hot.

Eddie took a drag, leaned into Steve’s space, and cupped his jaw, tilting his head back for easier access.

Steve couldn’t breathe.

But he had to, that was the whole fucking point of doing this.

His lips parted and Eddie’s warmth coated him, covered him better than the fire.

He breathed in as Eddie breathed out, his hand seeking contact with anything solid to keep him on this earth.

He found it in Eddie’s hip, his fingers gripping tight as Eddie lingered beyond the point of the smoke clearing from his mouth to Steve’s.

Their lips brushed lightly, an agonizingly soft touch that Steve tried his best not to chase as it drifted away.

He bit back a whine at the loss, opening his eyes to see Eddie still surprisingly close, pupils huge.

It’s just the weed, Steve thought to himself.

It definitely wasn’t their almost-kiss.

Steve breathed out, swallowing once the smoke was gone from his mouth.

“Good?” Eddie asked.

Steve should answer him, should nod and thank him for doing this, maybe ask him for another hit so he could try to blame his fidgeting on being high.

But Steve wanted to kiss him.

Not shotgun, not barely brush lips, not act like this wasn’t something more than what it started as.

Robin told him he deserved nice things, and he deserved to be happy, and he did.

So Steve let himself try to have a nice thing.

“Again?” Steve asked, leaning in before Eddie had a chance to take a drag.

“Woah, big boy.” Eddie’s hands grabbed his shoulders, not pushing him away, but holding him back from making contact that he so desperately wanted. “Think that first hit might have gotten to you already. Let’s take a minute.”

“No, I-”

“Steve. You’re high.”

His tone was final, and something about the way his eyes darted away made Steve think that maybe this wasn’t the first time someone tried to make a move on him because he was giving them something.

He didn’t know Steve was into men, either.

Steve could just tell him, though. Let him know it’s not just the drugs, that he’d already had feelings for him before.

But the high was kicking in and Steve’s tongue felt like an iron weight.

“How about I get you some water?” Eddie asked, pulling away and walking swiftly to his van.

Steve didn’t protest. He did need some water.

Eddie sat on the other side of the table when he came back, handed over a bottle of water with a small smile, and watched as Steve gulped most of it down.

“This is good shit,” Steve admitted, slurring his words a little from the effort of moving his mouth. “Better than usual.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice treat once in a while.”

They sat in silence for another 30 minutes or so, though the time didn’t even feel like it was passing to Steve until Eddie stood up and guided him to the passenger seat of his van.

“Wha-?”

“I’m gonna drop you off at home. You got someone who can help you get your car tomorrow?” Eddie buckled his seatbelt, Steve tried not to be too endeared. “Maybe Buckley? Or Wheeler?”

Steve’s brows furrowed.

Nancy had barely talked to him in months, not since she gave him one awkward hug after Starcourt. Robin couldn’t drive, or at least said she couldn’t. That’s why he drove her to school and all of her work shifts.

“Maybe you could?” Steve suggested.

Eddie sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

— — — — — — —

February 14, 1986

Steve got him flowers.

He hadn’t seen him since the night he drove Steve home.

By the time Steve woke up the next morning, his car was parked in the driveway with a note on his keys that said ‘Promise there’s not a dent on her.’

And then Eddie had ignored his calls. He’d conveniently never been at his spot anytime Steve had ever met up with him before.

He couldn’t even pass a message through Dustin because Dustin was too curious for his own good and would probably figure out that Steve wanted to kiss him.

Which is all Steve thought about for the last month while he figured out what to do next.

Robin was no help at all, said he should just corner him after Hellfire one night and make a move if he wanted him so bad.

As if that could ever be an option.

This was his last chance, though.

He’d confirmed with one of his bandmates – Garrett, maybe? – that he didn’t have plans tonight and refused to sell on Valentine’s Day.

Steve stood in front of Eddie’s trailer, a bouquet of white and pink daisies in his hand, feeling particularly stupid.

The van was here, so Eddie was here, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk up the steps and knock on the door. This was maybe the most idiotic thing he’d ever done and he probably should leave before he was seen by someone.

“Steve?” Eddie opened the front door, confusion clear even from a distance. “The hell are you doing here?”

“I said I’d bring you flowers.”

He felt so dumb, standing here holding a bouquet of flowers for a guy who didn’t even want to sell drugs to him anymore. He considered dropping the flowers and making a run for it, but Eddie leaned against the door frame and scrunched his nose up.

Like he was trying not to smile.

Like maybe Steve did something right.

“Better bring them in so they can get water, then,” Eddie said with a hesitant smile.

Steve would take any type of smile, as long as it meant he wasn’t being sent away with his tail between his legs.

He rushed inside, didn’t think about the smell of Irish Spring coming off of Eddie, or the way his arm brushed against his side as he passed him.

Steve stood in Eddie’s trailer, taking in what Eddie called home, holding the flowers in front of him with hope.

Eddie closed the front door and walked over to him, holding his hand out.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers just for me to sell you drugs again, ya know.” Eddie smiled sadly. “I would have let you buy if you really needed it.”

“You won’t return my calls so how would you know if I needed it?” Steve countered.

“Ouch.” Eddie sucked a breath in through his teeth. “You’re right. I, uh, was giving you some space.”

“What made you think I wanted any?” Steve took the flowers back from Eddie’s hand, setting them on the coffee table behind him. “If I wanted space, I wouldn’t have bothered calling at all.”

“That’s what Wayne said, but-”

“Well, maybe you should’ve listened to Wayne.” Steve sighed. “I’m sorry I fucked things up by wanting to kiss you. I’m sorry if the flowers are too much. I’m sorry if I’m too much.”

Steve couldn’t look at Eddie after his confession, or his attempt at one. It may have been more of an apology, but he figured his intentions were clear enough.

“Steve. Stevie. Look at me.” Eddie cupped his cheeks, that familiar warmth covering Steve in safety. “You’re not too much. Don’t ever, ever let anyone tell you that you’re too much. You were so high, I didn’t wanna take advantage. I thought if I just left you to think about it long enough, you’d realize what happened was just from the weed.”

Steve shook his head, reaching his hands up to circle Eddie’s wrists. “It wasn’t just the weed. You’d know that if you let me talk to you before now.”

Eddie rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone, eyes dancing across the freckles that covered Steve’s surprisingly sun-kissed skin. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.”

“You’re forgiven if you listen now,” Steve took a breath, letting his hands run down Eddie’s arms and settle on his hips. “I like you. A lot. Definitely more than a customer should, more than a friend should, maybe more than a regular boyfriend should. It’s okay if that’s too much, but it’s what I have to give.”

“You’re really something, Stevie.” Eddie leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I think I’ll take what you’re giving if that’s alright with you.”

“Please,” Steve breathed out as Eddie’s lips crushed against his fully.

Steve always felt so much, always gave so much, hardly ever had anyone who would take what he had to give.

But Eddie was taking it, forcing it from Steve to his own body, his own heart, like it was the only thing he wanted or needed.

“If you wanna buy tonight, you’re gonna be real disappointed,” Eddie gasped out against his lips when they came up for air minutes, maybe hours, later. “I don’t sell on major holidays.”

“Is Valentine’s Day a major holiday?” Steve asked, brows furrowing.

“It is when I get to have you in my bed.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“That sound okay to you, big boy?” Eddie was smooth. Who could have possibly guessed?

Steve barely got out a ‘yes’ before Eddie was pulling him down the short hallway to his bedroom and rattling off things he wanted to do to him.

Steve Harrington probably wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

But Eddie Munson would make it worth his while.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #birthday fic

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wonderlandwalker · 9 months

Text

Cherished Moments | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick is trying to get you to relax and, well, it works maybe a bit too much.

Content Warnings/Tags: Mostly fluff, small injury, lovesick Finnick, grumpy!reader x sunshine!Finnick, insinuations of violence, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.2k

Requested by Anon: I love your writing!!! What do you think a grumpy reader × sunshine finnick would be like? Love the back cat gf golden retriever bf trope haha and I feel like finnick would be obsessed with someone who was mean to everyone BUT him! Feel free to ignore if you don't feel inspired, I'll read everything you write anyway!!

A/N: Can someone pls let me know if they actually manage to find the request after I've posted them I have no clue if these are getting through. Ngl this one was a struggle for me but once I found the right idea it came pouring out. Do they even have darts in the Hunger Games universe? Well, they do now. Keep sending me requests I genuinely love doing them!!

“Come on, I know you can do it! I’ve seen you throw knives, this is pretty much the same thing, only smaller.” Finnick was trying to encourage you, but you weren’t easy to win over.

“I’m telling you, I can’t. This is just different. The darts are so much smaller and lighter, it throws me off balance.” You were at a party in District 13, well, calling it a party would be generous.

“Just try. I’ll help you come on. I promise it’ll be fun.” He couldn't hide his smile at your antics, but he also knew if anyone was able to convince you, it was him.

“Fine, but if something goes wrong it's on you.” You looked him in the eyes, and could see a spark of light inside them, and you wouldn't admit it, not with all the other people in the room, but it warmed your heart a little.

“It’ll be fine, what’s the worst that could happen” He asked you, and you almost scoffed at the question.

“I could hit someone, and then everyone will hate me even more than they already do”

“They don't hate you, they just don't know you the way I do.” Whenever someone would ask him what he saw in you, he would always be dumbfounded. Sure, you had a hard exterior, but when someone has gone through as much in their life as you did, were you really to blame? No, he didn't understand the question, because, to him, you were perfect. Whether you were sulking at breakfast for having to leave the bed or smiling at him because they were serving your favourite dish for dinner, he would take anything you gave him.

“Are you telling me that you, the victor of the 70th Hunger Games, are afraid of hurting someone with a tiny dart?” He was challenging you, and it was working.

“I'm not afraid, I just don't want anything to go wrong.” The way your voice softened around him made his heart beat faster for you and sometimes, he swore you knew and were doing it on purpose.

“You won’t, just throw it straight into the board.”

Finnick is standing behind you, grinning like he’s just won some sort of lottery while he guides your arm up for you, you can feel his breath on your neck before he whispers “Come on love, do it for me.” You’ve never been able to deny him, to your own annoyance at times, so you do as he says.

The dart flies through the air, and it doesn't hit the board, but it comes relatively close. So you throw a second dart and it hits the board, but you don’t manage to score any points just yet. As you throw another one, it manages to hit the board, but only for a little while before it falls to the floor. You throw your hands up in defeat before saying “See, told you I couldn't do it.” But Finnick hasn't given up, in you, he would never give up.

“That’s nonsense, you just have to try again, be patient.” He walks over to collect your darts and hands them back to you. He steps behind you again, guiding you into the right position before speaking.

“Just close your eyes, imagine you’re throwing them at Snow.” It makes you laugh and he can feel your muscles relax. He would always feel so proud of himself when he made you laugh, he didn't mind that you don't do it often, it would only feel like so much more of an achievement.

You do as he says, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath right before you throw the dart, hitting it right in the bullseye. You throw another, hitting the bullseye again. But you miss the board with the next one when Finnick leaves a small kiss on your shoulder, and your breath hitches. You can feel his body moving from behind you, and focus to throw another dart. It’s only when you hear an exclamation of pain coming from right in front of you that you snap open your eyes, you would recognize it anywhere. In front of you was Finnick, standing right next to the board with one of his hands clutched in the other, and when you take a closer look, you can see the dart that is stuck in the back of Finnick's hand.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry are you okay.” He would never tell you this, but he doesn't even mind that it happened, seeing you being sweet on him so openly, it makes him forget anything even happened in the first place.

“I'm fine sweetheart.” there is a strain in his voice, and he knows you can hear it too from the way your brows furrow in regret. You knew he wasn't trying to be tough for you, no, you had moved past that years ago. he was trying to not make you worry, it was something he would always do no matter how much pain he was in. But you were worried, because in contrast to all those other times, this time it was your fault that he was hurt. It never phased you much when someone would get shot, it never phased you much as you heard the canons each night in the arena signalling another death, not in the way it phased other people, but this, this broke you.

“Finnick you are not fine, there is a fucking dart inside your hand and it's my fault.”

“Well, most people don’t throw a fourth dart sweetheart." He says, and he chuckles a little, but you don't hear it in your state of worry.

“I am so sorry I-” You were choking up over your guilt, and while he loved getting to see your raw emotions, this one he didn't enjoy.

“Hey, no, I'm sorry too, don't get yourself worked up over this. It's just a dart, I will be fine. Why don’t you go get me a first aid kit?” He really was fine, and he could have gotten it himself, but he knew how much you would get in your own head when you didn't have anything to do in these kinds of situations.

Once you come back and help patch him up, he looks up at you and you catch his gaze. A smile crosses his face in a way he knows his cheeks are going to hurt.

“Why are you smiling” you ask, confused at his glee in a situation like this.

“Because I know you care about me. You don’t always show it, and you don’t have to, because moments like these I’ll cherish forever.” His eyes are sparkling as he looks into yours, he swears he could just stand here and look at you for the rest of his life.

“Oh, would you shut up already” you tell him while swatting his hand away from your face and rolling your eyes.

“You can’t tell me to shut up, you threw a dart into my hand.” He’s still grinning like an idiot, and it's infecting you. One of the corners of your mouth lifts up, and it's subtle, but he catches it, how could he not with how intently he is watching you. You’re back to your old dynamic, but he loves it just as much.

747 notes · View notes

bitchesuntitled · 1 month

Text

Lies, Excuses and Bullshit

Pairing: Exboyfriend!Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: A man with a double life willing to do anything to keep his obsession around, and a woman who doesn't know what she's gotten herself into.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! Breaking up, creepy!Dave, infidelity, stalker behavior from Dave, oral(f receiving), spanking, unprotected PIV(make smarter choices), manipulation, and if there is anything I missed please let me know!

A/N: Phew, not sure what happened here. This is a first, I don't usually write darker stuff but something about Dave made it just fly out of my finger tips. This was written for @punkshort's AU August Challenge! Thank you Shortie for letting me be part of the challenge 😊 I need to shout out @beefrobeefcal @strang3lov3 @ozarkthedog and @mothandpidgeon thank you all for the encouragement and lending your eyeballs for this story! ❤️

@jay-zzle, my love, my bestie. This one is for you! 🥰❤️🥰❤️

Masterlist||AO3

divider by @saradika-graphics

You thought things were fine. Dave is the perfect gentleman. It is a complete shock to see this text from your friend. It was a picture of Dave with another woman and two little girls at a soccer game. Maybe it’s his niece's soccer game and he’s just there being a good uncle? Until the next text comes in.

Isn’t that your boyfriend?

Another picture is attached featuring Dave, his arm around the woman. Then another and another and another. More evidence to suggest he is obviously in a relationship with the woman and you are the one left in the dark on this whole situation.

You stopped responding to your friend a while ago, staring at the pictures they sent. Back and forth, memorizing every detail. The way he’s looking at her. The way his arm is around her. The way he’s touching her. The way he kissed her - that was the one that sealed your fate of knowing you had in fact not been seeing a recently divorced man but a married one. Your phone buzzes with another text notification.

D. York: Hey baby, still picking you up at 9 right?

You glare at your phone unsure of what the next step is. Obviously he is cheating on his wife unbeknownst to you. How does somebody even handle something like this? You really liked Dave, you saw a future with him. Your relationship has been going on for months now.

After neglecting to respond your phone buzzes again with another text from the man himself.

D. York: Been thinking about you

You roll your eyes and text him back.

You: Not tonight. Don’t feel good.

D. York: Aw you poor thing. Do you need anything?

You didn’t even have the energy to respond with this new found information rattling around your brain, pressing the button to make your phone sleep and making your way to your bedroom. You plugged your phone in and crawled into bed, ignoring the constant buzz against your nightstand as you tried to drift off. The sun was still out but you couldn’t be awake right now. You needed to shut your brain off and this was the only way you knew how.

There was a pounding on your door when you woke with a startle. The moon casting shadows through the curtains into your room. You checked your phone, seeing the multiple notifications, some from your friends and some from Dave. He’d also tried calling several different times.

D. York: Are you okay?

Did you talk to him yet?

D. York: Do you want some company?

Want me to kick his ass?

D. York: How are you feeling?

What do you plan to say?

D. York: Baby, please answer me. Getting a little worried here.

The pounding on your door continued as you checked your phone. The doorbell camera he insisted on getting for you and installed showed Dave at your doorstep holding a plastic bag, grumbling, you got out of bed and walked towards the door.

“I’m coming. Give it a rest,” you shout, hoping Dave can hear you over his loud knocks.

Sliding the chain lock you open the door.

“Baby,” Dave sighs with relief, “What have you been doing? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours now!”

“I told you, I don’t feel good,” you shrug, “I’ve been sleeping.”

“I’m sorry to wake you, I started to get worried,” Dave says, looking around your living room, “I got you some stuff to hopefully help with whatever bug you’ve seemed to catch.”

You watch as he carefully steps into your space, placing the bag on the coffee table in front of your couch.

“Dave,” you sigh, “I know.”

“Know what?” Dave asks, hands on his hips and shaking his head with a smirk.

“I know you’re still married.”

You see his adam's apple bob as he swallows, flopping back onto the couch, and clasping his hands together. He stays silent for a moment, contemplating what to say next.

“How’d you find out?”

Your eyes widen, not expecting him to fold so easily.

“A friend sent me some photos from today at the soccer field,” you murmur, trying to keep the wavering in your voice to a minimum.

“I see,” Dave says with a nod.

“You also have kids?”

Dave nods again, facing you this time.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Dave scoffs, “Sleep with you?”

“I wouldn’t just call what we’ve been doing as ‘sleeping together,’ Dave,” you say, using your fingers as air quotes when the words sleeping together leave your mouth.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Dave chuckles, “I get bored from time to time and like to play with someone new.”

“Your wife know that?” you ask, glaring at him. This man who you thought you knew is showing an entirely different side of himself, and you don’t like it.

“She doesn’t need to know because it’s not a big deal.” Dave sighs exasperated.

“I think it’s best if you left.”

“Alright,” Dave says standing, “If that’s what you want.”

“Yep,” you say with a sharp nod.

“Listen,” Dave says, reaching a hand towards your arm, and you slid your arm back letting him know not to touch you, and he put his hand down beside him, “Okay, well, it’s really not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. I like you, I like what we’ve been–”

“Dave, you’re cheating on your wife,” you grit through your teeth interrupting the spiel he was going on, and swung the door open for him, “Leave.”

—

“Fucking take it.” Dave growls in your ear, thrusting his hips harshly into you, “Just like that baby.”

Your moans fill his ears, he can tell you’re close. The way your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tighter. He can practically taste your climax in the air around him, gripping your hips tighter and angling them so he can get deeper.

“Dave,” you sob, after a particularly harsh thrust. Fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, back arching as you continue to cry out his name.

Dave. Dave. Dave.

“David!”

Dave jumps to the sound of Carol’s voice. Looking around to see he’s in his own bed in his home, not yours.

“Honey, your alarm has been going off for 10 minutes now.”

He lets out a sigh facing his reality, adjusting the hardness in his pajama bottoms. It was just a dream. It’s been months since he’s seen you. You’ve seemed to make your way into his brain at all times of the day, conscious or not.

“I’m gonna get the girls ready but you don’t need to be late for work again,” Carol says, giving him a smile and wink. After last night, he’s not sure how much longer he can do this. He’s been trying to have sex with Carol more. Sure, she’s his wife but she doesn’t scratch the same itch you did.

He’s tried. He’s tried to be a good husband, he’s tried to be a good dad and he’s exhausted. Dave feels himself becoming more of a shell since you told him to leave.

You’ve made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with him. He tried to reach out to you, only to have his number blocked. You disabled your doorbell camera after he left that night. You must have known he’d try and look at it on his phone, you knew he had the information for your account. Why wouldn’t he try to look?

What you don’t know is that once Carol takes the girls to school, he gets the second phone hidden in the false bottom of a shoe box in his closet that is an exact copy of your own. He can see who you’re texting, where you’re at, how things at work are going, who you’re hanging out with. It’s become an obsession to check it daily.

—

As he steps out of the shower, Carol shouts up the stairs that she’s leaving with the girls, and the front door closes shortly after. Time to start his day.

Getting dressed in his running gear and snatching his headphones from the dresser. He makes his way to the closet. Finding the shoe box with your duplicated phone.

Texts from your friends, a text from your boss and a missed call from your mom. What catches his eye the most is the notification from some jackass on Tinder. James. Scanning James’ profile he’s definitely not your type: blonde hair, green eyes, gelled back hair, and a full beard.

James, 29

Looking for a girl who just wants to have some fun, if it leads to more that’s cool too. I like hiking, graduated from Harvard, hanging with my bros, anything else hmu

Dave shakes his head as he reads the messages shared between the two of you. He scans reading hellos, good nights, sharing random facts about each other, until he stumbles upon the most recent messages

James: Hello gorgeous 😉

Hello 😊

James: So I’ve been thinking would you wanna meet up? Go get a drink or something?

Sure! 7 good?

James: Awesome! Yeah. Do you know where Sal’s is?

I do! It’s not far from my job

James: Perfect! I’ll see ya then beautiful

No. No way in hell is this James guy meeting up with you. Dave calls the office letting them know he’s taking a personal day, he has some business to take care of.

—

Sal’s is exactly what you expected it to be. Dark, dingey, and small. Not too crowded thankfully, it’s definitely got character though. The random decor on the wall is confusing. You can’t tell if this is supposed to be a sports or a punk bar with the random band posters on the wall along with sports jerseys next to them.

Making your way to the bar you sit down on a stool, flagging down the bartender.

“What’s your poison for the night?” He asks, wiping his hands on the towel he was carrying.

“Jack and Coke,” you say, slipping your hand into your bag to get your wallet out. He makes quick work of mixing the drink and placing it in front of you, handing over your card while you hear the jingle of the door.

“Starting a tab?” The bartender asks, swiping your card.

“No, thank you,” you smile as he hands your card back to you, putting it back in your wallet.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see someone standing a couple stools away. Looking down at your drink, moving the straw around before taking a drink. You take a peek at your watch to see it’s 10 minutes before you’re supposed to meet James.

Maybe this was a bad idea, you haven’t had to do this in months. It was easier when Dave just kind of fell into your life.

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up when you heard the familiar timber of his voice, head snapping to look at him. Dave. His smirk as he waits on his drink says it all, he knew you would be here. Was he James?

“Are you fucking serious?” You hiss through your teeth.

Dave thanks the bartender, moving closer to you.

“I come in peace,” Dave says, sitting in the stool one away from you, “All I want to do is talk.”

“Are you James?” You ask through clenched teeth, glaring at him.

“Oh baby,” Dave tuts, “I’m not James, he’s very real.”

You continue to glare at him. Unable to force your brain to work with your limbs on moving, leaving, throwing your drink on him. Anything other than sitting here being in his presence.

“He wasn’t hard to convince to leave you alone though,” Dave looks at you with a smirk, one eyebrow raised and begins to chuckle, “One mention of snapping any finger that touches you sent him running.”

You try to swallow but your throat feels like a desert, gripping the tumbler in front of you and taking a swig. Did he… did he do something to James? Surely not, Dave wouldn’t even kill the spider that appeared in your apartment one day, scooped it up and took it outside. How could he cause harm to anything?

“Dave did you…” pausing pondering how to even ask the question.

“Did I hurt him?” Dave asks, scooting to the stool next to you and leaning in closer, invading your space and you nod your head, “No, just made it known what’s mine.”

You let out a sharp gasp at his words, arousal seeping into the gusset of your underwear, thighs clenching together at his closeness, feeling goosebumps erupt across your skin. This shouldn’t be happening but your body thinks otherwise.

“I’ve missed you baby,” Dave hums into your ear, “Don’t like how we ended things.”

The way he says it has the ice around your heart melting. You hate him but can’t help the way your heart betrays your brain at his words. Dave lets out a small growl, gripping your bare thigh beneath the bar top possessively.

“I’m staying in a hotel room tonight,” he says, the grip on your thigh becoming less and smoothing his hand against your inner thigh. Gliding his hand up, up, up. Pinky finger playing with the edge of your underwear under your skirt.

You grab his hand and pull it away from your core, bringing it to rest on your lap. Lacing your fingers with his, while his thumb rubs along your palm. You sigh, contemplating what to do. Go with him or send him packing like last time. The devil on your shoulder telling you to go with him, it’s just stress relief, it won’t- it can’t mean anything, he knows your body better than anyone else. The angel on the other side just repeating the same words, he’s still married.

In the words of your mother, if he doesn’t cheat with you then he’ll just find someone else. Might as well have fun.

“I’ve missed you too,” you confess with a soft whimper in his ear. Finally seeing him again after months of nothing has your practical sense crumbling.

“Let’s go then,” Dave smirks, standing pulling your hand slightly to stand with him and leave.

—

Dave drove like a bat out of hell to the hotel, dragged you to the elevator and his room as if this was his last chance to have you. Clothes flying off the moment you crossed the threshold of the room.

“Dave,” you moan, his lips ghosting down your neck to your collarbone. His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush against his front, feeling his erection against your stomach.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he groans, his mouth sucking the flesh of your breast, capturing your nipple in his mouth and giving it a nip. A whine escapes past your lips at the sudden pressure of his teeth, moving your body with him until you feel the back of your knees hit the bed.

Dave releases your nipple, pushing himself against you to lay back on the bed, making room for himself between your thighs. His dark eyes swimming with lust study your face. His hand comes to rest on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Why’d you let me leave like that?” His voice barely a whisper, lying his forehead against your own.

“You’re married,” you wince hearing the words leave your throat. You shouldn’t be doing this.

“I can change that,” he smirks with a chuckle, kissing the corner of your mouth, “I’d leave if it meant you’d stay,” kissing your jaw, “I’d spend every single day of my life making you happy,” he coos, trailing his lips down to your neck, laving his tongue against your pulse point.

“Dave,” you plead, hoping to stop his words. You don’t want to hear this, it’s all lies to get you to stay. The ache between your thighs begging for more.

“Mean it baby,” Dave says with a hum, mouth traveling down the expanse of your body, “Only want you,” he breathes when his face inches away from your sex, “Looks like you want me too,” he teases.

You feel the warmth spreading through your body as he sighs using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, staring at your glistening slit.

“Oh yeah, she’s definitely missed me,” he hums, flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Dave,” you gasp, gripping the sheets between your fingers. He works his tongue along your bundle of nerves swirling and sucking.

“God I’ve missed this pussy,” Dave growls, gripping your hips tightly before fucking you with his tongue.

“Fuck,” you moan, back arching off the bed. The fire in your abdomen grows more intense. You reach for one of his hands, linking your fingers with his. His other hand moving, fingers prodding at your entrance.

“Please,” you beg, “Dave, pl- please. More, I- I need m-“, you cry out when his fingers plunge into your cunt. Swiftly curling them inside you as he moves the pads of his fingers back and forth putting delicious pressure against your g-spot.

“That’s it baby,” Dave groans, nipping your inner thigh, “Let me have it.”

Your toes curl feeling the coil in your lower belly tightening, leaning your head up to watch him. He looks as wrecked as you feel as he rapidly flits his tongue against your clit. His brows furrowed in concentration as he worked his mouth and fingers in sync for you to reach your climax, his lips shiny from your arousal. He opens his eyes to see your mouth hung open in a silent scream, brows pinched together as you pant looking into his eyes.

“Dave,” you pant, “Baby, I’m gonna come.”

Your walls clamp down on his fingers as you stare into his dark orbs. White hot heat spreads throughout your body, letting out a soft shriek.

“Flip over,” Dave instructs, moving your pliable limbs so you’re on your stomach. You cry out as he pushes his cock into you sharply.

“Fuck.”

“Shhh,” Dave tuts, “It’s okay baby, you can take it.”

You whine, it feels like he’s splitting you in two, walls gripping his length. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust before he’s roughly snapping his hips into you.

“Make you mine again,” Dave grunts, “No one else deserves you.”

The pain quickly turns into pleasure as he works his cock in and out. The sound of your squelching pussy filling your ears as strangled noises crawl up your throat.

“God damn baby,” Dave hisses, tilting your hips up as he grinds his hips into you, hitting that spot deep inside only he’s been able to reach.

“Missed this so,” he grunts, slapping your ass, “Fucking,” another slap against your skin, “Much,” another harsh slap before soothing the marks he’s left with his palm.

“Dave,” you let out a choked sob, feeling the pleasure building, thrusting your hips back into him, “Faster.”

“Dirty girl,” Dave hums, gripping your hips again, pounding into your pussy at a frantic pace, “You gonna- oh fuck- come again?”

You can only nod your head weakly, feeling the sizzling pressure in your abdomen start to boil over. Your walls spasming and contracting around his cock. The muscles in your legs tensing before screaming out.

“Oh fuck,” Dave moans, “That’s it baby. Come on my cock. Just like that.”

Dave leans over caging you between his arms, thrusting into your wet heat a half a dozen times before his hips start to lose rhythm and going still, your name tumbling from his lips, letting your walls milk his cock feeling the warmth of his seed paint your walls.

“I really have missed you,” Dave admits slumping against you with a sigh, “So fucking much.”

He kisses your shoulder before pulling out with a hiss. You groan feeling the emptiness before he helps you up, guiding you to the bathroom.

You shower together, taking time to wash each other with delicate touches, and sharing intimate kisses before crawling back into bed with his arms wrapped around you.

You wake sometime in the middle of the night. Dave’s snoring beside you, finding your phone amongst your belongings scattered around the room, you make your way to the bathroom. Looking at Dave sleeping so peacefully from the doorway of the bathroom you can’t help feeling torn. You loved him, still do if you’re being honest with yourself, but this isn’t what you two should be doing.

You find an uber available and schedule to be picked up. Quietly making your way out of the bathroom and grabbing your things when you hear two identical dings. One from your hand and one from Dave’s bag. Slipping your clothes back on you slowly wander over to his things. Rummaging around until you find a phone, similar to yours. Pushing the button on the side you see a notification for an Uber 5 minutes away, looking at your own phone to see it displaying the same.

“What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself, head snapping to look at Dave hoping you didn’t wake him. You look around to find a pen and piece of paper.

—

Dave wakes the next morning with a smile, remembering what happened last night. Sliding his hand to where you should be, feeling the cool sheets under his palm, peeking an eye open to see the empty spot next to him.

He listens closely to his surroundings, hoping to hear the shower but is met only with silence. Frowning as he sits up, scrubbing his hands against his face trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Looking around the room for any sign of you, taking note of your things being gone.

He sees a folded piece of paper lying on top of something on the dresser. Dave gets up to inspect what it is. His name is on the paper, sitting on top of two phones. Immediately recognizing one as yours and the other the duplicate he had made. His eyes scan the note you left, unable to believe what he was reading.

You’ll never be anything but a lying, cheating, manipulative douchebag. Figure your shit out. Don’t ever reach out to me again.

Dave’s hand curls into a fist as he reads the note over and over again. You left. You really left and this time it’s going to be even harder to find you.

He smirks, shaking his head as he collapses on the edge of the bed. You must not realize how much he loves a challenge.

#shortieswritingchallenge #dave york x f!reader #dave york smut #dave york fanfiction #dave york x you #dave york equalizer 2

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tokkiiecloud · 2 months

Text

It’s hot outside so get hit by this bus take whv this is (Also don’t mind my writing, I ain’t no writer I have written a few fanfictions here and there soo..yeah)

WHB : it’s summer and it’s hot / Beach dates :

Characters : gn!reader ; Belphegor ; Bael ; Gamigin ; ppyong (Juno p) +angel : Raphael

CW : Sweating ; OOC

Belphegor :

this dude just sleeps through the heat

He’s inside with the air conditioner on

You just came back from a small trip in town with Agares and Vassago, and directly joined Belphegor who was sleeping in his room, you were drenched in sweat because of the FUCKING HOT AIR OUTSIDE and you were too lazy to go shower and change into a pair of fresh and cool clothes(he rubbed off on you)

You collapsed on the bed where Belphegor was sleeping, when he felt something that resembled a wet rat, he had to wake up from the discomfort, when he saw it was you he pushed you off the bed :

“WT- BELPHI?! THIS HURTS!” You yelled at him, he ignored you and went back to sleep, you were forced to take a shower and change when you came back he finally used you as a pillow.

Bael :

This man works through the heat (ac broken)

Collapsed bcs of the heat after waking up he started working again.

You walked inside of Bael’s office, he was still working despite when entering you could feel the unbearable heat, you started sweating profusely how could Bael work in this environment??

He smelt you’re sweats and looked at you giving a weak smile, he was close to collapsing, alerted you quickly went to him and grabbed his face worry in you’re eyes :

“Bael?! Your office is like an oven?!” You said worried, he just looked at you and apologized

“Sorry..the ac is actually broken but I’m used to the heat do not worry about me, go somewhere where the ac is on-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence before you dragged him out of the room, he wasn’t able to fight back because of his brain being turned to mush because of the heat.

After dragging him to a random chamber placing him onto the bed, making him drink some water, changing him into more comfortable clothes and going into the bed to cuddle with him.

He smiled softly before kissing your forehead and letting himself be taken care of by you.(Bael my beloved)

Gamigin :

He’s very worried about you staying hydrated

“Please don’t go outside too much”

Paradise lost, for some reason is not that hot?? But Gamigin still worries a lot about you he heard from Lucifer that human’s can’t withstand too much heat so he’s constantly checking on you, giving you water to keep you hydrated!

Ppyong (Juno p) :

Spends his day at the beach to be able to cool himself in the water

Listens to Avril Lavigne while swimming

He begged MC to go to the beach with him so he could spend some alone time together! Drinking wine together, watching the sunset together, swimming, his perfect idea for a date! Sadly he can’t hang out because the others will tag along…

At least he got a kiss on the forehead for the cute idea! It was worth it :

“Ppyong, I mean Juno, this is a very cute idea! Let’s do this next time!”

He giggles as you kiss his forehead, his smile is super bright almost blinding you more than the sun

Raphael :

Doesn’t give a flying fck at the heat

Has tried to kiss you while watching the sunset and will continue to try when he can

Interestingly, you found Raphael at the beach while hanging out with the devils of Gehenna and when he saw you…He took you away from them so for the rest of the day you spent you’re time with him

It was fun! You had a really good and goofy time with him he was still acting high and mighty but he was softer than usual until the sun started to set, both of you were sitting down on the golden sand :

“The sunset is beautiful..all those golden and pinkish mixed with a hint of blue create such a unique and ethereal look…”

He looks at you, eyes sparkling, he smiles at you as he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, extremely gently as if he was handling a crystal glass :

“You know what else is beautiful and ethereal?” He looks deep into your eyes, leaning in closer to your face, when suddenly a bunch of demons intervened and brutally ended the sweet moment by starting a fight after the fight Raphael left but not without saying one last thing :

“Our moment was interrupted but we’ll have time to continue it some time later. See you dear” he smirks and flies away.

It’s donneeee!! YAYY! Don’t mind it going from weird /goofy or cringe ?? To sweet, I couldn’t stop myself from writing about them I just had too before the fandom completely dies you know?? So every time I get an idea I’ll write it!! :3

#what in hell is bad #whb bael #whb ppyong #whb belphegor #whb x reader #whb gamigin #whb raphael #I was in a weird mood don’t judge me #small writing #my friend approved of this

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xoxoladyaz · 1 year

Text

It Hits Different This Time, Part 2

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rock Star Eddie x Steve Harrington

TW: Mentions of alcohol, drug abuse

QUICK AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm so sorry that the last entry was so angst heavy, I promise this one provides some comfort! Eddie needed to take a big step here and he really, really does. Also, much love to everyone who commented, I've tagged you at the bottom of the post - let me know if anyone else would like to be notified of the next entry!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

It was another five days before Steve heard from Eddie. Another five torturous days of radio silence, only this time, there wasn’t anything online. No new articles were popping up saying he’d been spotted somewhere, no new TikToks of him meeting fans on the street. The rest of the band was MIA too; Steve had thought about sending Jeff a text to check-in but ultimately decided to wait another couple days. Robin had been texting with Chrissy, after all, and if something bad had gone down, she would know.

When Eddie did finally call, it wasn’t from a number that Steve recognized.

“I’m getting a call from Malibu.”

“Holy shit!” Robin sat up on the other end of the couch and shot him a look. “Okay, just breathe dingus, okay? It’s going to be okay, I’ll be here the whole time.” She squeezed his ankle comfortingly. “You can do this.”

Steve accepted the call with shaky hands and brought his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey Steve.”

He shut his eyes and swallowed, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “Eddie.”

He heard Eddie let out a watery laugh across the line. “Do you, uh, have a minute?”

“Mmmm hmmm,” Steve hummed. He physically couldn’t get an actual word out.

This was it. Eddie was leaving, he’d cheated, it was over –

“I’m in rehab.”

Steve’s eyes shot open. “You’re what?”

Robin started rocking back and forth. “Turn it up!” She hissed, and Steve obliged, turning up his volume so she could just barely hear what was being said. (Was this a private conversation? Yes. Did Eddie know he’d probably immediately tell Robin everything? Also yes.

Was this news big enough to warrant having Robin eavesdrop?

Absolutely yes.)

“Yeah, I’m, uh, at the Promises Treatment Center in Malibu,” Eddie continued. “We got back about five days ago and when I saw your note, I –

“Look, Steve,” Eddie continued, and his voice was choked up, like he himself couldn’t speak, “I fucked up. I’ve fucked everything up. You are – you said in that note that you didn’t want me to give up on my dreams, and you’re right, making it big and getting famous for my music was my dream for literal years. Because I kept thinking “once I get a record out there,” “once I go on tour,” “once I win a Grammy,” “once I get a million dollars,” then I’d finally be happy.

“But it turns out the only thing being famous has done is make me pretty fucking miserable,” Eddie let out a harsh laugh. “But I was so goddamn convinced that this was it, you know, that I’d accomplished my dreams so I must be happy that I started taking whatever I could get my fucking hands on to make me feel that way. The thing is drugs and the alcohol and the parties never made it fucking last. It just made every other second that I was in the public eye that much worse.

“But I’d still made it, you know? I felt like I didn’t deserve to feel this fucking miserable. And everyone back home was so fucking proud and I didn’t want to let them down - ” Eddie paused for a few moments to clear his throat before continuing. “I didn’t want to let you down. Because Eddie “The Freak” Munson didn’t deserve you, but maybe Eddie “The Rock Star” could.”

Steve can feel his own throat closing up and he can barely see Robin’s face, his eyes are watering that bad. “Baby,” he sobbed. “I wish you’d told me.”

“Me too,” Eddie sniffled across the line. “I didn’t though, I just kept self-medicating and ignoring it, because that’s always worked,” he huffed sarcastically. “But then - ” Eddie cut off again, and Steve can hear that he’s trying so hard to hold back his own sobs, “then I came home last week and realized that I’d missed our goddamn anniversary because I was too fucking high and that you were gone and I just – I called Jeff and I told him to get me on a plane out here because you – you, Steve Harrington, you are the best thing in my goddamn life. And the only dream I want to chase now is the one where we get married and adopt some kids and grow old together.”

“Eddie,” Steve sobbed out again, and he heard Eddie start to cry too, and then suddenly they were crying together, even from hundreds of miles away.

“So I’m gonna be here for the next six weeks,” Eddie finally continued, his voice still full of tears. “I’m, uh, meeting with a therapist for a few hours every day and working through my shit. I wanna be a guy who deserves good things, baby. I wanna be a guy who deserves you.”

“What – what about the band?” Steve sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. A handful of Kleenex appeared in front of him. Robin must have gotten up to grab them at some point. He shot her a thankful nod and patted at his eyes; Robin nodded back and did the same, her face flushed that bright shade of red that accompanied her own tears.

“Murray wrote a provision into our contract where if one of us checks into rehab, then the band is instantly put on a two-year, non-negotiable hiatus.”

“But – what about your momentum, the label kept talking about it?”

“The label can go fuck themselves” Eddie practically growled over the phone. “Who do you think hosted the party where I first got my hands on the hardcore stuff anyways?”

“Babe - ”

“Murray said he was going to look into some sort of contract termination so we can sign somewhere else. And even if we didn’t have that thing written into our contract, we probably would have gone on hiatus anyways, or worse. That – the last leg was rough. Gareth was just as fucked up as I was and Jeff was fucking pissed. He kept having to pull Gareth out of orgies and shit while babysitting Phil and I too.”

“Did,” Steve swallowed harshly, “did - ”

“No, baby, never,” Eddie declared quickly. “Even when I couldn’t fucking see straight, you were the only one I wanted to be with. I honestly don’t even know who we were partying with at the end there, the label sent them for some PR shit, I don’t know. It’s just another reason why we want out.”

“Oh,” Steve murmured, “okay. Good. Or, well, not good. You know.”

“Yeah, baby, I do,” Eddie replied softly.

They sat in silence for a few moments, just listening to each other breathe. “I, uh,” Eddie started up again quietly, “I’m wearing the ring.”

“Yeah?” Steve found himself smiling despite the fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice was just as choked up as before. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Eddie - ”

“Look, I know, I know I hurt you so, so badly and I’m never going to fucking forgive myself for what I did, but I – you’re everything I want, baby. If I had to give up Corroded Coffin tomorrow for you, I would do it in a heartbeat. And I – I know I can’t expect for you to just, like, forgive me after the shit I pulled, but – will you be there, when I get out? Can I – I want to come home to you,” Eddie finished, and Steve could hear that he was crying again.

Steve looked over at Robin, who was wiping more tears out of her own eyes. They looked at each other for a few moments.

It might be crazy, but I think I want to say yes.

I don't blame you. I mean, this is one hell of an apology, especially from Mr. “I’ll Never Need to Go to Rehab Ever.”

Yeah. And I love him.

And you love him.

“I’ll be there,” Steve murmured reassuringly, and Eddie burst into a new wave of muffled sobs on the other end of the phone. “Just do what you need to do and come home when you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting for home.”

“At home?” Eddie’s voice broke on a whimper.

“At home. I’ll even clean the bathrooms and everything,” Steve joked, and Eddie let out a loud laugh despite the quiet sobs Steve could still hear.

“Really? You’ll be there?”

“Yeah, Eddie. I’ll be there. We can get through this.”

“Together.”

“Together. Because I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.”

“Fuck, Stevie,” Eddie let out an incredulous laugh again, “I love you so fucking much, baby. I’m going to marry the fuck out of you someday.”

“Save the sweet talk for when you get home, okay?” Steve could feel his heart settling in his chest, and whatever tears he’d had left to cry were all gone now. There was just the twinge of missing Eddie, but that would go away soon enough. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Eds.”

“Thanks, baby.” Eddie’s answer was soft now. “So I, uh, get a couple hours to call people every day from one of the site’s phones. Can I keep calling you?”

“Please,” Steve heard Eddie exhale in relief. “Every day sounds perfect.”

“Good, good. I’ll have to, uh, use some of my time to talk to Wayne, but the rest of it is yours, baby. And Gareth, Jeff threw him into a different center too. His check-in was much less voluntary though.”

“Shit,” Steve winced. “Is there anything Robin or I can do to help?”

“Take Jeff and Chrissy out to a nice dinner and use the Amex,” Eddie snorted, causing Steve to laugh.

“Consider it done.”

“Good." Steve heard the sound of another voice behind Eddie. Eddie replied something Steve couldn't understand, but it was in the affirmative. "Doc says my time is up for today. My, uh, talk with Wayne took up a lot of time,” Eddie returned, and his voice trembled as he spoke. “But I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll see you in six weeks.”

“Yes you will.” Steve shut his eyes and imagined Eddie was standing right in front of him. Eddie with his riotous curls and holey graphic tees and tight jeans. Eddie with his rings on his fingers, with Steve’s ring on his finger. Eddie, standing across from him and smiling at him with that twinkle in his eye that had first caught Steve’s attention all those years ago.

“I love you, Eds.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Tags List: @gregre369 @starman-jpg @skoomy-doompy @thequeenrainacorn @sleepyboosstuff @strawberrykore @paintsplatteredandimperfect @amoris-no-smut-allowed @steve-the-hairrington @iknewyouweremuggle @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sunfloweringstories @loverkasp @hyperfixationgoddess @steddie-as-they-go @zerokrox-blog @messrs-weasley @thelittleclare @lovelyscot

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #robin buckley #platonic stobin #rock star Eddie munson #sweetheart steve harrington

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 6

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort

Part 6: “Just Casual”

A few days after the house fire that claimed the life of Paul Richardson, father of two, Chief Bobby Singer was joined in his office by Detectives Winchester and Novak, along with his resident Squad Captain and Truck Lieutenant, Benny and Dean.

“The Richardson fire has officially been determined an arson,” Bobby revealed.

“They found a time-delay incendiary device hidden in the attic. No fingerprints. But that’s not even the odd thing,” he said. “The medical examiner found a brand mark on his wrist that was inconsistent with his other burns. Which is why you’re here, I reckon.”

Bobby directed his gaze at both John and Cas, who didn’t look surprised to hear this news.

Dean raised a brow. His gaze shifted to his father, but John only met his stare for a moment before he answered Bobby’s unspoken question.

“We’ve been investigating a series of murders in the area over the past six months,” John said. “Each victim died in their home, with the same brand somewhere on their body. Typically the wrist, or the back of the neck.”

“So we officially have a serial killer turned arsonist on our hands,” Bobby concluded. His attention shifted to Benny and Dean. “Keep this close to the vest, but keep your eyes open.”

“Arsonists are hard to catch,” Dean said, looking to the detectives. “What do you know about this guy?”

Cas glanced at John. The older man could feel his stare, but had to ignore it for now.

“Not much as of yet,” John said. “Right now he’s a coil of smoke, if you’ll pardon the phrase. Our psychologist says he’s most likely a white male, statistically speaking. College educated, or at the very least intelligent, efficient, and so far, he thinks every step through. Like he said, no prints. But the brand is a message.”

“To who, and why, is what we’ve been trying to figure out,” Cas added. “We think that’s the key to pinpointing a suspect.”

“Really,” Dean said. He raised a brow and crossed his arms. “Six months, and that’s all you’ve got?”

“Dean,” John started, but the Lieutenant shook his head.

“Come on, Dad. I know you. Who is this guy?”

“Dean, this is the best I can give you right now, but believe me, we’re working on it,” John said, that tone that boded no further argument.

Bullshit, Dean wanted to shoot back. But he held his tongue for now. He knew that John wouldn’t budge. Instinct still told Dean that his father was holding something back though.

As the men filtered out of Bobby’s office, Dean held Cas back for a moment.

“Watch the old man’s back, all right,” Dean said. “He’s got a penchant for being reckless.”

Cas gave him a wry, pointed look. “I’m doing my best. Winchesters are a stubborn lot.”

Dean smirked and walked out with him. Meg was headed inside, having just come in from an ambulance call. She smiled when she saw her boyfriend.

“Hey, lover,” she greeted. And she smacked his ass in front of God and the entire Rescue Squad, who liked to sit outside the firehouse and play cards at their table.

Ramirez and the others smirked and called out their customary whoops and cat calls. Dean smirked at the actual blushing discomfort that tightened up Cas’s face and shoulders.

“Dinner tonight at Casablanca’s, right?” Meg asked, unfazed by the catcalling peanut gallery.

“Right,” Cas said stiffly. But he still brushed her cheek with his thumb in affection. “See you later.”

“Yep,” she nodded, though she shot Dean a wry brow. “What? I stole your boyfriend. Get over it.”

She continued on her path back inside the firehouse, leaving Dean and Cas to stare after her in annoyance and begrudging fondness, respectively.

Dean turned to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good luck and Godspeed, my friend. That woman’s fuckin’ terrifying.”

Cas gave him a lazy salute as he walked away. He found that John had already started up their police car. He was in the driver’s seat, as always, with a hand resting casually on the steering wheel.

Dean typically sat in much the same way. Cas thought both men were more comfortable in a car than anywhere else in life. Except, maybe, the precinct and the firehouse.

Cas slid into the passenger seat and gave his partner a knowing look.

“I still think you should tell Sam and Dean what’s really happening here,” he said.

John looked over at him with an almost unreadable expression. But they had been partners for a few years now; long enough for Cas to get a read on the older veteran.

“I understand why you want to keep them out of this, but now this guy is starting fires. Here, in Dean’s district,” Cas pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be safer for him if he had clearer eyes walking into the next one?”

If, God forbid, something should go wrong on the next call Dean responded to, John would never forgive himself. Both he and Cas knew this, but John never answered his partner’s question. He didn’t want his sons getting their noses in this just yet, even if it meant the worry he saw in Dean’s eyes.

So he put the car in “drive” and peeled away from the firehouse.

Trying to match your schedule with Dean’s was a challenge you two were trying to figure out. Though you’d fallen into a pattern of talking on the phone to fill the void when you two couldn’t meet.

Even after almost two more weeks and a third date, you were pleasantly surprised that you and Dean still had plenty to talk about. You told him more about your childhood with your grandparents, while he told you funny stories about him and Sam growing up with their dad, though he was often gone while working on cases.

It was family friend and Fire Chief, Bobby Singer who looked after them whenever John couldn’t, or his old partner Jody Mills, or even Ellen Harvelle, owner of the Roadhouse.

The more you learned about Dean, the more invested you became. And he listened to you when you went on tangents about new recipes you wanted to try out (as long as he got to be your official Taste Tester).

You two argued, playfully and fervently, about music. And you’d been creating a list of old shows the other hadn’t seen, but absolutely needed to.

Dean had suggested Dukes of Hazzard, for example, while you suggested Smallville. You each only agreed to put up with this list if you two watched it together. (Needless to say, there would be some marathon binge watching in your future.)

You particularly took notice though, when Dean invited you to join him at the Roadhouse to meet Cas, one of his best friends, and his girlfriend Meg. You’d invited Andréa to come along, and even Dean’s friend Benny, who she’d also been seeing ever since that night at the Roadhouse.

Apparently, the couple had their own plans.

You tried not to feel some type of way about her brush-off, but your friend had been increasingly distant since she met Benny Lafitte. However, you supposed you couldn’t judge. You hadn’t been calling her as much either, ever since you met Dean.

You knew that if you kept dating him, some adjustments would have to come in your life. You also promised yourself that you’d never be someone who forgot your friends for a man…even for a man like Dean Winchester.

Tonight, however, you’d come directly from work to meet him at the bar. It made more sense than to make him come pick you up from your house, so you sat with a ginger ale while you waited. He’d promised you via text that he was on the way, just stuck in traffic.

Okay, drive safe. 😘 Don’t speed, please.

You knew how he liked floor the Impala with that damn lead foot of his.

No promises. 🏎️

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you were smiling unconsciously as you read his reply.

You were soon knocked out of your thoughts when a smooth voice said your name. You looked up and to your right, and there stood a familiar face. The man greeted you with an easy smile as he sat down next to you.

“I thought that was you,” he said. He reached out his hand and re-introduced himself. “Gordon Walker. Not sure if you remember me.”

“Oh, yes! Of course I do, Gordon,” you smiled and shook his hand.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said. His dark eyes subtly took you in from head to toe in your skirt, heels, and blouse. “Though I’ve gotta admit, I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Ah, right,” you said. “Well—”

Before you could explain, Gordon held up a finger as he noticed your drink of choice.

“Oh, wait a sec. Let me get you something stronger than soda,” he said. He started to flag down Jo, but you shook your head and made a cutting motion with your hand.

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” you said. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“What?” Gordon asked.

It was getting busy in the bar, making it loud enough that you could understand why he hadn’t heard you. You leaned over towards his ear.

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you said, raising your voice a bit. Gordon leaned in even closer and chanced resting a hand above your knee.

“You sure?” he asked. He gave you a smile that was all smooth sex appeal and confidence, without being arrogant.

It was undoubtedly attractive, but you were more shocked than charmed in your blush. You instinctively leaned back when you felt his hand on your thigh. Your hand clenched on the counter.

While your brain scrambled to figure out a response that would successfully remove it (without snapping rudely like you were itching to), a hand slipped along your lower back.

You jolted a bit in your seat with a flare of unease, until you turned your head and found Dean.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, and dropped a kiss at your hairline. He also clapped a heavy hand on Gordon’s shoulder and squeezed. The other man graciously got the hint and leaned back, withdrawing his hand from your thigh.

“Hi,” you said, finally able to breathe a bit easier. You gave Dean a smile, and he returned it.

He looked over at his friend with a sharper smile. “Hey, Gord. How’s your night goin’?”

“Good.” Gordon nodded, now with a knowing gleam in his eye. “Though I’m sure your night’s gonna go better.”

You weren’t sure how to take that remark, considering the way Dean reacted with a tighter expression and pursed lips. Then, they flickered at a smile.

“Well, we’re meeting up with Meg and Cas in a minute. You should join us,” Dean said. Even though his tone wasn’t so very inviting. The two men seemed to have a wordless conversation between the lines that you couldn’t decipher.

Gordon shook his head, but raised his drink. “No worries, you guys hang. I’m leaving in a few.”

“All right. Let us know if you change your mind,” Dean said. He thumped Gordon once more on the back, more friendly this time.

Dean’s other hand slipped around your waist. He tapped you on the side.

“Come on, I’ve got us a table. It’s quieter,” he said.

You nodded and slid out of your seat. You offered Gordon a polite smile, even if you’d rather not.

“Have a good night,” you said.

The other man’s smile was less flirtatious and more polite this time as well.

“You too,” he said.

Dean helped you onto your feet, like the gentleman he was, and he continued to lead you away from the bar with a hand on the small of your back. You instinctively pressed against his side to squeeze past the throng of patrons.

When you reached a high-top table in the corner, he pulled out your chair and held your hand as you climbed up in your skirt. You thanked him with a more genuine smile. Though once he was seated next to you, you leaned towards him and laid a hand on his arm, which rested on the table.

“I tried to tell him I was waiting for you. He took me by surprise,” you whispered.

Dean’s brows rose, but his face soon evened out with a smile. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t worry about it. He didn’t know about us,” he said. “He was shootin’ his shot…a bit aggressively. Sorry about that.”

“Oh…it’s okay. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you replied. Though butterflies ran through your belly when you considered what us meant.

You noted his frown at what you’d said though, and so you aimed to change the subject.

“But Cas and Meg know, right?” you asked.

Dean nodded. His frown started to lift. “Yeah. Cas is one of my best friends. Meg is…well. She’s the little sister I wish I didn’t have.”

You shook your head in amusement. Then you let out a squeal as Dean hooked a foot around the leg of your chair and brought you closer. He stopped you from becoming too unbalanced by wrapping an arm around your waist. You clenched your hands into the open panels of his plaid shirt, and his charming smile greeted you.

“Hi,” he said.

You laughed. “Yeah, you mentioned that earlier.”

“Well, I’m doing it right this time,” he said. And he dipped down for a lingering kiss.

Across the bar was Jo Harvelle, doing her job behind the counter. She poured five shots in succession and doled them out to a party of frat bros without even looking.

Her eyes were drawn to the back corner of the bar, where you and Dean sat closely together, exchanging whispers and the occasional steamy kiss.

“Mind your business,” came Ellen’s whisper in her ear.

Jo whipped her head to glare softly at her mother, but she saw Ellen’s point. It was both obvious and pathetic of her to stare.

Despite the unease making her feel a bit sick to her stomach, Jo went over to Gordon down at the end. His sympathetic smile bothered her; she knew then she hadn’t just been caught by her mother.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” he remarked.

“What?” Jo said. She began wiping down his area of the counter. “Would it kill you to keep it in the glass?”

Gordon gave her an amused look as he sat back in his seat. His tumbler of whiskey was drained.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” he said.

Both of them knew he wasn’t apologizing for the spill.

Jo’s brows knitted together, mostly in annoyance. “Again, for what?”

“I know it’s gotta be hard to see him actually moving on,” he replied.

Her lips pursed, and her eyes darted to the back of the room again. She stared for a moment at the side of your face.

“Knowing him, whatever it is won’t last,” she muttered.

Gordon hissed at the "burn," with a deep chuckle. She knew her words weren’t kind, but it was how she felt.

“That may be,” he allowed. “But he’s not just chasing tail anymore. That’s what scares you.”

Gordon dropped a nice tip for her next to his glass. He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and left Jo with the churning in her gut.

Cas and Meg finally arrived a few minutes later.

Dean knew you’d been to the Roadhouse before, but this was different. You were meeting some of his friends, and he realized how much he wanted you to. He felt…comfortable around you. And he wanted his friends to know you, and to like you.

“As you know, Meg’s our Paramedic in Charge over at 25,” he began, gesturing at the woman as she got settled in her seat.

You admired her long brown hair, tall boots, and black leather jacket. She seemed to ooze confidence and dark charisma as she tossed you a smirk.

“Guilty,” she said.

You smiled back. Dean gestured at her boyfriend next, clad in a beige trench coat, slacks, and blazer.

“And Cas, who bravely suffers being my dad’s partner on the job.”

Cas nodded wryly at the introduction. His dark hair and blue eyes were striking, you could admit. His tie was loose and slightly rumpled. Along with the stubble coating his face, he was handsome, if a bit scruffy. It was hard for you to believe he’d earned the top scores his year in the Police Academy, but you supposed that looks could be deceiving.

“What’s that like?” you asked with a smirk. “From what I’ve heard about John Winchester, he sounds like he’s a bit of a hard-ass.”

Dean barked with a dry laugh. “An understatement.”

“He has a crab-like shell,” Cas agreed. “But he has a soft center where it counts, not unlike his sons.”

You turned to Dean with a more teasing smile. “Aww…”

He rolled his eyes, even though his arm, which had been draped across the back your chair, now dropped to curl around your waist.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Columbo,” he remarked at his blue-eyed friend.

Always had to get the last dig in, it seemed, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little along with Meg at Cas’s expense.

“You guys all seem really close,” you said. It was nice for you to see.

Dean shrugged like it was no big deal. Or rather, like it was commonplace.

“Well, maybe family ain’t just about blood,” he said.

Meg rolled her eyes. “Ugh. What a friggin’ sap.”

“You love it,” Dean grinned. She smiled, begrudgingly.

Family ain’t just about blood.

You liked that sentiment as well. It seemed to be true here.

Even Ellen Harvelle treated Dean like a son when she came over to greet your table. She kissed his cheek and gave Meg and Cas’s shoulders a squeeze. Even you got a warm hand on your shoulder when she introduced herself.

“Welcome, hun. I understand it’s not your first time here, but if you got any questions on the menu, you let me know,” she said.

Dean shot you a conspiratorial smile, and it got you wondering what he was about to do.

“I mean, I don’t know why you don’t put the order in for chili fries the second you see me come through the door,” he teased. “Come on, Ellen. How long’ve I been coming here? Since before I had a license?”

Ellen narrowed her eyes and flicked the side of Dean’s head, regardless of his flinching protest.

“Don’t you go sayin’ that so damn loud,” she reproached. “You never drank underage at my bar.”

His eyes averted with a smile, in a way that told you Ellen was a damn liar. You bit your lip to try and hide your smile.

“Anyway, I’ll get your damn fries—”

“And a beer,” Dean interjected. She rolled her eyes.

“And a beer. Four?” she pointed at the rest of you, and you, Cas, and Meg nodded in agreement.

“All right, four beers. Anything else, darlin’?” She looked at you with a mother’s charm.

You looked up from the menu and unconsciously smiled.

“Um, sure. Can I get the chicken sandwich?”

She patted your shoulder. “You sure can.”

Ellen then took the rest of their orders without writing a thing down. You were impressed by her memory. At the end though, Dean didn’t let her go without a hand on her arm.

“Thanks, Ellen,” he said with a more sincere smile.

“A-huh,” she replied, with all due sarcasm. But there was a fondness in her eyes that was hard to miss when she playfully grabbed the back of his neck. “Knucklehead.”

A giggle escaped you, and Ellen tossed you a wink before she went to put in the orders and get the drinks.

Conversation flowed easier when the alcohol came. One beer became two, and even three (four, for Meg). By then, you were sure it was one beer too many for yourself, but you didn’t want to be the odd one out. You were mostly listening to the three of them bounce back and forth between reminiscing with old stories and roasting one another mercilessly.

It was hilarious and entertaining, but you were trying not to get caught in the crosshairs of the volleying. Inevitably though, Meg’s attention turned to you with a certain sly smile.

“You must be real special,” she remarked, gesturing at Dean. “He usually doesn’t bring his girls around here, where he actually likes to hang out. Guess that’d mean he’d have to see ‘em again with the lights on.”

You blinked in surprise.

“Meg,” Dean’s voice cut like a warning.

Your eyes widened as you took in the change, his deeper voice, his more serious gaze, versus Meg’s nonchalance. Even Cas gave her a chiding look.

“Not sure I want to know what that means,” you tried to joke.

But you could guess. It was fairly obvious.

You glanced over at Dean, whose lips pursed. Before either of you could say anything more, Meg chimed in.

“Oooh, is this gonna be your first fight?” she teased.

Dean’s brows furrowed with a glare. “That’s enough.”

“And that’s our cue,” Cas nodded. He’d already slipped out his wallet as soon as his girlfriend started talking. He left a generous few bills to cover their half of the night, plus tip, and got up out of his seat. He claimed his coat and then encouraged Meg off her chair.

“What? I’m not done with my beer,” she protested.

“I think you are,” Cas said.

Meg scoffed, but she allowed his manhandling as he wrapped a supportive arm around her waist.

“You’re not the boss of me, Clarence,” she snipped.

“Certainly not,” he agreed. “But you’re a lightweight. Time to go home, before you insult the entire bar.”

“You’re no fucking fair,” she groused, hitting his chest over his jacket. Cas leveled you and Dean with a long-suffering look of apology.

Dean waved him off with a “no sweat it” look and a shake of his head. Meg annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, especially when she was drunk. He turned to you with a sigh.

“Again, sorry about that. I didn’t think I’d have to apologize for my friends more than once tonight,” he said.

You shook your head. “It’s...okay. Overall, they were really fun.”

Dean scoffed. “I don’t think Cas has been called fun even once in his life.”

You smiled in amusement, but Meg’s words still swirled around in your head like heady wine.

“Dean,” you began, but your attempt to broach the issue was cut off by his cell phone ringing. He gave you an apologetic look and fished in his pocket for his phone. His brows rose when he saw the caller ID.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I gotta take this,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay—” You’d barely nodded when Dean was up and out of his chair, heading out of the bar. You could still see him through one of the faded glass doors as he held the phone up to his ear.

It was late, and quieter now. A blonde server came to take your plates, and you actually remembered her.

“Oh, hi! Jo, right?” you asked. She hesitated when you spoke, but she bobbed her head.

“That’s me,” she said. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” you said with a smile. “I met your mom. She’s really nice.”

Jo uttered a wry laugh as she stacked the plates and silverware. You helped her collect the silverware and empty beer bottles.

“Yeah, when you get her good side,” she replied.

You smirked at that, remembering how Ellen snapped back and forth with Dean. You had no doubt that woman could be a pistol if you pissed her off.

“Well, it's nice here,” you admitted, once again taking stock of the décor. The music, the warm lighting, the good food… “It’s cozy.”

Jo’s smile quirked to one side as she paused.

“Well, it’s been in my family for three generations of Harvelles,” she said. “This was my father’s favorite place in the world.”

You caught the note of melancholy in her words, in her eyes.

“Was?” you echoed. She met your gaze and nodded.

“He was a firefighter,” she said. “He died on the job.”

You dimmed considerably. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jo only nodded.

“How did he…” Your curiosity got the best of you, but you soon shook your head and backtracked. “Never mind, you don’t have to explain.”

“It was a fire that wasn’t properly vented,” Jo answered your half-spoken question. Her blue eyes were heavier. “He got caught in an updraft…but he actually worked at Firehouse 25. He was their brother. That’s why this’ll always be their place.”

You processed that with a slow nod of wonder.

“It’s good that you and your mom will always have that support,” you said eventually. “Even though…it might be hard too, to always be reminded.”

Jo’s lips quirked again. “It’s more the first one, but…sometimes the second one. A lot of these guys have known me since I had braces. It’s hard to shake that perpetual little sister thing.”

You smiled at that. “Yeah, I’d imagine that gets old real quick. A bunch of over-protective older brothers.”

“Overbearing, more like,” she scoffed. You laughed.

Unconsciously, you glanced over to the front of the bar, where you saw Dean still on the phone. You remembered the second date you were meant to have, when he was late due to a five-car pileup his team responded to.

You remembered that night he called you for the first time, after a long day he didn’t want to tell you about. He’d let you distract him instead. All the while, it had you wondering what he’d seen. What he’d responded to that day.

Had it been another car accident? A fire? What made someone as upbeat and funny and smooth as Dean seem to lose all the life in his voice?

Though while you were lost in your thoughts, Jo was watching you.

Jealousy roiled inside her, unbidden. She didn’t want to hate you, because unlike the girls Dean usually messed around with, you had some self-respect. Jo heard Meg’s snide clips at you earlier, and no one could fake the surprise in your eyes. Unless you were just that good a damn actor…

But no, she didn’t get that vibe from you.

It didn’t mean she had to like you though.

“You’re right to think twice,” Jo said, earning your attention back with a swivel of your head. “What Meg said…she wasn’t wrong. Dean’s broken a few hearts, if you catch my drift.”

Just a few well-placed words, Jo thought. She realized then that she had the power to twist the wrench here, widening the gap between you and Dean. Feed your doubts.

She didn’t have to feel bad about it if it was the truth.

And yet…she saw the way your gaze fell. The disappointment setting in, the anxious clench of your hands on the table. You glanced over at Dean again out of the corner of your eye.

Jo realized then just what she was doing, not just to Dean, but to herself.

You’re not some petty bitch, she dully reminded herself.

“But,” she found herself adding. You raised your gaze back to her. Jo let out a subtle breath.

“It’s not always his fault,” she admitted. And maybe she was speaking a bit too much from experience. “The job demands a lot from him.”

Slowly, you nodded. You looked pensive, but not like you’d made up your mind.

Fine, Jo thought, as she collected the dishes and left your table.

She didn’t know if she wanted to sway you one way or the other on taking a chance on Dean Winchester.

While you were talking to Jo, Dean was taking his father’s unexpected call.

“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” he said.

“Hey, son. How are ya?” John’s voice was gruff and tired. Dean frowned to hear it.

“I’m good. I’m out right now, but did you need something?”

“Have you responded to any fires lately?”

“You mean like the Richardson fire?” Dean asked pointedly. “No, haven’t had one since. And no cattle prod brandings either.”

“All right, good. Just checking in.”

Good? Dean thought. John would be chomping at the bit for a new arson. If he was “just checking in,” then he was worried about something. Is he worried about me?

“What’s going on? Is there something I need to know?” Dean asked in suspicion. This was why he had taken the call. “Seriously, you can tell me. I’m not even gonna bitch at you like Sam does.”

John chuckled. But then he hesitated. Dean knew he’d hit on something.

“Dad?” he pressed.

John’s sigh was a heavy one. “Okay. What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.”

Dean’s brows furrowed in trepidation. “Okay, fine. What the hell is it?”

“Richardson, the father of two?” John reminded. “He was a lawyer, linked to a money laundering scheme through a company called Stull Storage. It’s an old company, dates back to the seventies.”

“Okay…”

As John continued to explain, the more confused Dean became…

About 30 years ago, John Winchester had been a young, but promising officer in the Narcotics division. He’d married young, and by then was just barely clearing the five-year mark. Already he had the house he’d inherited from his wife’s parents, a four-year-old son, and a newborn.

Stull Storage’s units were used by a drug ring that John had been trying to infiltrate, undercover. Those units had stored cocaine, illegal weapons, and other flavors of contraband, mostly from South America (and back).

“We got close to breaking that case, once, but after the fire…I transferred out of Narcotics, as you know,” John said.

Dean knew the real story there. After his mom died, his father went into a spiral, trying to find whoever set that fire—even after the Fire Department found no evidence of arson. John had eventually been forced out of Narcotics. He requested Homicide.

As he’d told Dean once when he was extremely drunk: I seem to do better at my job when the bodies are already dead.

“Now I know that I was right about your mother’s death,” John said.

Dean released a shaky sigh. “Aw, man. Not this again, Dad. For Christ’s sake.”

“There was something wrong about that fire, Dean,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over Dean’s objections. “I just didn’t find the connection…until now.”

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. His gaze fell to the ground. Sam was usually the one who drew a hard line at hearing any more about their mom’s supposed murder, but now Dean had reached the end of his tether. It was too much.

He glanced back through the glass doors to make sure you were okay. He saw you talking to Jo, and he frowned at himself.

Here you were, waiting on him back in the bar, and his dad was calling him in the middle of the night, chasing ghosts again.

“Look…it’s been my whole damn life with this.” Dean held the phone to his ear with one hand, and rubbed at his forehead with the other. “I just can’t do this with you anymore.”

“Dean, listen,” John urged. “You wanna know what I’m digging into, this is it. I got Mary’s file unsealed.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What? Thought you couldn’t do that without new evidence and a court order.”

“Well, I’ve got the evidence…maybe I was a bit impatient with the court order.”

Dean rolled his eyes. His father liked to play a little fast and loose with the rules.

“At the time, the medical examiner dismissed it. She’d been burned…” John paused on a deeper breath. “But I saw it. Mary had a burn on her wrist. It was the same brand found on Richardson. On Jerry Stillwell, CPA. Amanda Waller, journalist. It’s all connected, Dean. How they’re connected to one another, I’m not sure yet. We’re still digging…but I do know this. Richardson was a message.”

Dean’s back hit the wall of the Roadhouse. His brows furrowed as he struggled to digest everything John was saying.

“A message?” he asked. “To who?”

“To me, I think. Those kids, and their mother…you got ‘em out alive, but they weren’t meant to,” John said, his voice sounding heavy. "The wife told me her husband was erratic when he got home, holding his wrist. He'd been burned before the fire. He wouldn't say what happened...then they smelled the goddamn smoke."

"Shit," Dean replied. He leaned heavily against the wall, pressing a hand to his forehead. There was an ache starting between his eyes.

“Yeah," John agreed. "The drug ring I was investigating, when I was in Narcotics. I was getting close. And I mean close. I was about to get the Big Kahuna. The kingpin of the whole operation…and then the house fire.”

Fuck. Dean wiped at his mouth anxiously as he realized what John was saying. Fuck.

“He burned me, Dean. He must have,” John said. Meaning, the drug lord he was trying to pin down somehow discovered his identity. “Your mom paid the price of that.”

“Who is this guy?” Dean asked. His hand holding the phone was starting to tremble.

“I still don’t know his real name. Workin’ on that one too,” John said. “But they called him Azazel.”

When Dean eventually hung up with his father and returned to you at the bar, he saw you brighten. But you soon dimmed with a tinge of worry. Something of his thoughts must’ve shown on his face.

Shit. He tried his best to school his features.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he said, grasping your shoulder. “I’ll take you home.”

“I met you here, remember?” you asked.

Dean paused, then shook his head. Get it together, asshole.

“Right," he said. "Well, I’ll walk you to your car. Let me just pay real quick.”

After he sorted out the bill (he didn’t know that you’d slipped in an extra $30 in Cas’s stack for your part), he led you out, saying goodbye to Ellen and Jo while you went.

You hesitated when the two of you got to the car. Something wasn’t right with him. And both Jo and Meg’s words still rolled back and forth through your head.

“Dean, are you okay? Who was it on the phone?” you asked.

“I’m fine. It was just my dad, called to have me take a look at his car. We were just arguing about our schedules…I’m sure you can relate,” he replied, trying at a smile.

You weren’t sure if you believed him. Though he was nearly convincing, he was also shifting on his feet, hands in his pockets. His gaze roamed away from yours, above your head and over your shoulder.

“Um, I might’ve had a beer too many,” you said with a half-chuckle. “Could you walk with me for a bit? Just until my head clears enough to drive.”

“I could take you home,” Dean offered.

“And leave my car here?” you asked. In a public parking lot behind a bar?

You shook your head and pointed down the road.

“Just there and back…but if you need to go, I guess I could just sit in my car for a while.”

Dean shook his head with a frown. He couldn’t tell you that a damn serial killer was on the loose.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s a relatively safe neighborhood, but not so much at night. Not by yourself.”

He laid a hand on your back to start walking with you, but his hand soon fell back to his side. You glanced at him, but he looked straight ahead, unusually quiet and reserved.

It felt like he was checking out of this night with you. Like he just wanted to usher you into the car and leave. Did he just not want to deal with what Meg said?

Letting out a breath, you tried to see if you could broach the subject.

“It was nice to meet some more of your friends,” you said, and with a nervous laugh, “even if it did get awkward there at the end.”

Dean finally looked over at you.

“We never exactly talked about what each of us was looking for,” you said. “What we were really doing here.”

You stood your ground, but you tried not to look censuring. Just open to whatever he might have to say. Even so, unease churned inside you.

Dean sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Look, she wasn’t exactly wrong about me.”

You considered that with a nod, biting the inside of your lip.

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” you asked. Dean gave a humorless huff of a laugh. This really was the last thing he wanted to get into tonight, but he had a feeling he had no choice.

“A few months ago, for about a minute,” he said. “But uh, before then…never.”

Together, you began to cross the street while the cars on either side waited at the red light. Pedestrians had the right of way for the next 30 seconds. You looked over at him and steeled yourself.

“Dean, is this is something casual for you?”

“Define casual,” he attempted to joke (or to deflect). Though the bravado fell the moment he saw that look on your face: tight and disappointed…and hurt.

He reached for your hand, but you weren’t having it. You slipped away from him and continued walking at a more brusque clip, even in those platform heels.

“Okay, hold on.” He quickly followed after you and tugged you back by the hand. It had you both stopping in the middle of the crosswalk.

Dean squeezed your hand and peered into your eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry. Don’t close up on me,” he implored. “…Please.”

Despite your better judgment, and your pursed lips, you waited. Something told you this man didn’t often say please.

“The truth is, I’m trying to do something different here with you. I don’t think we would’ve made it to date #4 if we were just casual,” he said. “I’m not playing games either.”

You wanted to trust that he was serious. Once again, your mind and your heart were at odds; the former told you to be wary, while the latter told you to trust the earnestness in his eyes.

Your heart won. “Okay, Dean.”

“Yeah?” he asked, with hopeful brows raised.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

You finally smiled. And you leaned up, resting a hand against his chest, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His stubble was coarse, but familiar against your lips.

Dean turned his head and leaned in for a proper kiss. His hands found the curve of your waist and brought you closer against his chest. You both sunk deeper into it, your lips gliding as your head tilted into the kiss…

Until a horn honked loudly, making you both jolt at the sound.

The streetlight was green, and several cars were waiting for you to cross. You snorted in amusement, leading Dean to grin down at you. He tugged you back into step with him across the street.

Again, you hesitated at your car. Dean was more himself as he’d held your hand all the way back.

He now held your car door open while you threw in your purse. But when you turned back to him, you still saw something brooding behind his eyes.

You drew near and grasped the open edges of his shirt. This man wore a lot of plaid when he was out of uniform, always with an undershirt. Tonight it was green plaid on gray, complete with some faded jeans and a pair of boots. This was the only “casual” way in which you wanted Dean.

“Hey,” you started.

“Hmm?” he replied, holding you by your arms.

“I get that we haven’t known each other all that long. So you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you said. “But did something happen when you stepped out? When you talked to your dad?”

Dean paused. His eyes, a pale green under the streetlamp, flicked to yours.

“I just want to know that you’re okay,” you said. “And if you’re not, that’s okay too.”

After a moment to blink in surprise, your earnestness got to him. His grip moved down your arms, and he took one of your hands. His dad’s warning echoed through his mind.

What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.

Dean knew his dad didn’t make demands without a reason, even if he wasn’t typically so forthcoming with them. But Dean drew enough courage to be as honest as he could be. You deserved that much, after everything you'd put up with tonight.

“My mom died...when I was about four,” he said. “It was a house fire.”

Your eyes widened. All this time, you’d assumed his mother had passed away. You hadn’t expected that, though. You squeezed his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, and you meant it. Dean just shook his head.

“It was ruled an accident. Really they just didn’t have much evidence either way,” he continued. “But uh, my dad’s been obsessed with the idea that it wasn’t. That someone started the fire on purpose… Well, today, he might’ve found his proof.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could, but in the end, he just couldn’t. His chest was tight. Saying those words out loud made them real, and he wasn’t sure of how to handle it.

“Oh, Dean,” you said, starting and stopping, as you struggled to formulate a response that wasn’t just “I’m sorry,” or “Are you okay?”

He clearly wasn’t. You also didn’t want to give him platitudes like, “That’s crazy,” or the ever-inspired: “Wow.”

Or some other variation of what you’re supposed to say. You wanted to give him something honest. Something real.

So you curled your hands around his arms, earning his gaze.

“You must be reeling right now,” you said. “Do you think he’s onto something this time?”

“I don’t know what to think,” said Dean. “I’ve been pressing him for answers, but…honestly? I wish he hadn’t told me a damn thing.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You were surprised that he actually confided in you with this. But the only thing you could think to do was lean up on your toes and slip your arms around his neck. You hugged him, warm and tight.

You couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling, but you just wanted him to know that someone was there for him. You were there for him.

Dean eventually hugged you back. He held you, reassuring you as well as himself. He blew out a cathartic breath, and his hand came up to cup the back of your head. His lips tugged upwards.

“You’re a sweetheart, you know that?” he said.

A smile spread across your face. Your fingers soothed through his hair gently. You pressed your lips into his neck.

“I aim to please,” you said against his skin.

Dean smiled more fully at that. The new warmth in his chest warred against the roiling in his stomach. Despite his best efforts, his smile faded.

His mom’s killer was still out there.

The thought was haunting his mind, and he knew it probably would for many nights to come.

So for now, he’d just hold you a bit tighter.

AN: 🥲 I honestly didn't mean it to end so angsty, but Dean finally got some much-needed hurt/comfort there! What did you think of how Jo handled her jealous side? And Gordon "shooting his shot" lol.

Coming soon in Part 7, we finally get to a huge milestone between these two lovebirds, with a side helping of baking shenanigans. 😏❤️‍🔥

Next Time:

“Ey, ey!” he raised a warning finger with his free hand. “You’re about to take this to a new level.”

You met his gaze through your lashes with a playful smile. “So?”

Dean raised a brow at you. He could admit, you had audacity. All he could do was call your bluff.

He took one of your battered fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widened at the feel of his soft tongue swirling around your finger, sucking it clean. All the while, his eyes never broke from yours.

Lord have mercy, you thought. Really, it was the only coherent one in your head.

Keep Reading: PART 7

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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