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wishcamper · 5 days

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Nessian Week Day 5 - Behind Closed Doors

I meant to write a sexy, Casino Royale-esque poker scene but it somehow ended up as Cassian fangirling over his wife for 3k words so uh. Here you go.

Read here or on ao3!

High Stakes

A/N: This prompt really made me want to play with the idea of layers of intimacy in long-term relationships because a) I don’t think we have enough representations of healthy, fulfilling, functional monogamy and b) I‘ve always thought there was beautiful potential for Nessian to know and understand each other to the point where they can see all the layers of the other person, and be able to hold space for the other’s complexity. I’d just really like to believe that’s possible. So I hope that comes across.

I’m exploring some of these same ideas in ACOVAV, my ongoing ACOSF fix-it. Questions around the character’s experiences and my own, like: what does it look like to build tension in a story and depth in a relationship without miscommunication or people treating each other badly? What if it’s two people trying their best to get close while also wrestling with their own individual shit in very real, understandable ways? What exists at that intersection between me and us? Something interesting, I think.

If that interests you too, you can read that fic on ao3 :)

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“Mr. Archeron.”

“Marlowe. How’s she looking tonight?”

Two males stood before the door of a long-vacant tavern, sweating slightly in the night air thick and lush as it only was in summer, Velaris bursting with vitality after dark. The cobblestone streets were full of revelers who passed by without a second glance, ignorant that beyond the hidden entrance lay a world where fortunes were won and lost, where the honor of courts rose and fell at the discretion of a female known only in whispers as the Queen of Cards.

A female who just happened to be Cassian’s wife.

“A strong start,” Marlowe said as he ushered Cassian into the candlelit basement, flickering shadows belying the bustling street above. “The High Lord from Autumn has cheek, though.”

“Yeah, Eris gets like that when he’s losing.”

They shook hands and Cassian made his way down the dim hallway, the sounds of chatter and shuffling and clinking coins drifting toward him. He could hear Eris braying high above the others, Rhys’ smooth voice giving back just as good. When he reached the arched entrance to the playing room, everyone had their backs to him except Nesta, who glanced up from her three-card hand and smiled.

She always faced the door during games, ready to protect her players’ privacy in case someone got past Marlowe, though it had the unintended effect of giving him a moment to take her in uninterrupted. Her gown was midnight blue tonight, long sleeves in tiers of iridescent silk like a dragonfly’s wings, hair cascading over one shoulder studded with opals that turned fiery in the faelights.

A glittering queen holding court. And damn if Cassian didn’t want to go to his knees before her, still, after all this time.

“Can we get on with it or do I need to send you two to time out?” she asked the still-squabbling High Lords without missing a beat, tossing her cards in and signaling to the silver clad dealer to begin the next round before. She threw in her ante next, silver bracelets chiming at her wrist with the movement.

With some grumblings the players turned to their hands, and Cassian edged along the wall to where Emerie sat at a high table on her own, grazing on the arrayed refreshments and accounting her winnings in a worn ledger.

“I was up and didn’t want to push my luck,” the female whispered when he nodded in greeting, giving him a sly smile. Cassian smiled back - Emerie always came out on top. He suspected Nesta was subtly losing to her friend on purpose after the female refused to let her fund an expansion of her shop. And he suspected Emerie knew it, too, but both were too proud to say it aloud. She licked the tip of her pencil and made another note. “Plus, it’s fun to watch your mate knock a few High Lords down a peg.”

“Sometimes I wonder if that’s the real game,” he confessed, and Emerie grinned smugly, wings ruffling with delight.

They observed the game in silence for a moment, allowing Cassian time to survey the other players in attendance tonight. There was an endless rotating cast of characters at Nesta’s now-famous monthly games, the invitation so coveted they’d had all manner of bribes delivered to the House of Wind by very confused messengers. Thankfully all gifts were now rerouted to a third-party location, after a lesser lord of Summer sent a dozen peacocks they’d chased about the House for hours.

There were seven of them tonight as usual, including Emerie, all faces he recognized buried in their cards around the half-moon table. Granted, it helped that nearly half the players were his wife, her best friend, and Rhys, whose pile of coin looked so pitifully low Cassian couldn’t help but smirk when he caught his brother’s eye.

“We should raise the blind,” Rhys interjected. “What's the point of playing if you’re eschewing risk?”

It still surprised Cassian sometimes that Rhys kept coming back despite showing no taste for gambling in the past. But he supposed Rhys had always been weirdly competitive with Nesta, and even though they’d buried the hatchet long ago Nesta still loved winning her brother-in-law’s money fair and square. Which she did without fail, hand over fist, with a silent pact between them not to tell Feyre.

Neither of her sisters knew, by design he suspected, and Mor was off in Montesere ‘finding herself’ again, whatever that meant. Azriel had a brief, brilliant run before his competitiveness got the best of him and he was banned for brawling at the table, one of the only standing rules. Emerie and Eris were regulars, and he’d seen the others in attendance before: broad-shouldered Megrin Stonecutter of the Velaris maester’s guild and Nuan of Dawn, who perched cross-legged in her chair, a pair of elaborate spectacles whirring on her round face

Opposite Nesta tonight sat the High Lord of Day, still radiant despite having foregone his usual golden adornments. Helion looked nonplussed by his own losing streak as Cassian watched him toss his cards face down in front of him, leaving only Rhys, Eris, and Nesta still alive in the hand.

“I fold. You all are vicious. Are you not joining us, Cass?”

“And add one more body to the slaughter? No thanks.” He’d never had much interest, content to watch Nesta splatter egos against the wall.

Megrin grunted in agreement and slid her cards to the dealer past the large pile of gold in the center. “I’m out, too. Clearly someone knows something I don’t.”

“It’s yours to call, Eris,” Rhys said breezily. “Unless you’re waiting to ask your father’s ghost for permission.”

Cassian snorted, making eye contact with Rhys again, who shot him a shit-eating grin as Eris covered his mouth with a stiff hand, brow furrowed.

To everyone’s surprise, Beron Vanserra had been felled two years prior by an ordinary fever. No one in Autumn nor elsewhere could make sense of it - it was as if one day the hands of hel simply reached up and snatched him back into the earth. So a court that had once been destined for a bloody coup passed the crown peacefully, which was a good thing all around, though Rhys loved painting Eris as a cowardly dawdler whose target put himself in an early grave just to end the waiting.

The Autumn lord sneered at the insult, still waffling. “Some of us prefer to think about our actions, Rhysand, instead of barrelling forward with whatever scheme will inflate our self-importance the most. Stealing things from other courts, for example, books, brides -“

Nesta glanced over at Cassian then, crossing and uncrossing her fingers where they lay against her cheek, and he had to stifle the laugh that bubbled forth at the private joke, just for him. It was her signal that sexual tension was present in the room, sometimes to indicate she wanted to leave whatever function they were at, sometimes so they could share a roll of their eyes. In this case he knew she meant the squabbling lords, as many a late night they’d mused that Eris and Rhys could get past their rivalry if they just had sex about it.

“As much as I enjoy seeing Rhysand’s self-importance punctured,” Nesta drawled when the latter opened his mouth to retort. “You can’t delay your bet with old, petty scores. We’re all rather bored with it. If you’re going to cheat, at least use some imagination.”

She sipped at her glass of pomegranate juice, a frequent gift of affection from Helion and a nod to the other rule: no alcohol.

Rhys’ expression flashed briefly with betrayal, but he schooled it quickly, knowing better than to give himself away. But Cassian knew Nesta’s smoky eyes clocked it before they turned to Eris.

“I remember you once tempting me with an invitation to Autumn, to see how a High Lord plays. Is this what you had in mind?” She gestured to the modest pile of gold in front of him. “I rather think I made the right decision, don’t you?”

Emerie chuckled beside him, and Cassian felt a thrill low in his stomach to see Nesta so self-possessed, lit from within. After everything they’d been through with the Trove, with their families, a part of him wondered if he’d ever see her ferocity again, if the sharp point of that viper’s tongue would smooth over for good.

She’d become very soft for about a decade after the Blood Rite, and they’d taken long walks through the Illyrian Steppes and the Myrmidons, swam in streams and lakes and the oceans of Summer, watched the bees drift lazily from flower to flower in Elain’s gardens in Day. It was as if she’d needed to come completely to rest before deciding what to do next. And the solitude seemed to give her a sense of clarity, but he’d been glad as fuck to be an exception to that rule, to witness the private puzzlings and support her in finding purpose in her life.

They’d only just returned to Velaris the previous spring, when the threads of family and duty pulled them home at last. Their time away was intimate and lovely, some of the best years of his life, yet Cassian enjoyed seeing Nesta confident out in the world again. The poker game had been the first of many things to draw her out, and he couldn’t wait to see what she’d surprise him with next, his strong, clever, deadly little wife.

Eris grumbled and tossed a few coins in the middle. “Happy now? Or would you prefer to seduce it out of me?”

Cassian watched her swallow the barb, which would’ve sent her into survival mode in the past and now rolled off her with barely a ripple. Leashed his own instincts to leap across the room and tackle Eris to the ground, because Nesta wouldn’t hesitate to kick him out for breaking the rules too, mate or no, and he’d miss his favorite show.

“Your luck doesn’t extend that far tonight,” she said demurely, and Cassian knew the smug prick was too stupid to see her coiling up to strike when the time was right. Nesta won the hand a moment later to groans all around, her Winter flush beating Rhys’ three pixies and Eris’ two pair, nymphs and kelpies.

“I propose a wager," Nesta declared as the next hand was dealt, her voice velvety and inviting. "The victor of the evening wins one favor of their choosing...” Eyes lit up around the table, anticipation deepening. “...from my husband.”

They all turned toward Cassian where he was leaning against the wall with an amused grin now, and he raised an eyebrow at his mate. Her eyes flashed silver where she stared back at him, and he felt her send a soothing wave down the bond, assuring him of her intent. Inviting him into the ruse. Cassian made a show of looking chagrined, shuffling his feet as he looked down.

Rhys was the first to respond, smirking. “I’ll take that bet.”

Cassian knew he was incensed at the idea of losing, wrongly fancying himself more clever than his sister-in-law. Nesta knew it, too, and that arrogance made him play more recklessly.

“Count me out,” said Helion, winking. “You’re pretty, Cass, but my minister of finance will have my head if I lose any more.”

“Ah, why not?” Nuan flushed, uncomfortable with the attention now drawn her way, and chuckled nervously. “Not sure what use I’d have for you, dear, but who knows what worth it may hold!”

Megrin pursed her lips, sizing him up. “He has a strong enough back I suppose. I’ve been meaning to rearrange my forge.”

“Any favor of my choosing?” Eris mused, and Cassian felt the Autumn lord’s gaze roving over his body and then Nesta’s, possessive and hungry. The years hadn’t changed everything. Nesta answered with nothing but a feline smile.

The next few rounds passed in a blur of bluffs and bold plays. Nesta remained composed even on the hands she lost, an almost bored air to the way she watched the males bluster and crow. Eris' anger grew while Rhys shot daggers with his glare at her every win, turning each hand into an unnecessary battle of wills that made him play sloppy. Nuan ducked out when it became clear the prize wasn’t hers, and Megrin hung on for a while longer, bluffing her way through until her luck ran dry, to Cassian’s relief.

One by one, Nesta outplayed them, her composure never faltering as she watched her opponents fume, each loss reigniting their fervor to win.

At last the players were down to the final hand, and the air in the hidden basement crackled with anticipation. The dealer laid down the community cards as bets went around: a wyvern, a lord, a lady, and a cave troll. Each still in signaled for new cards, Nesta tapping once against the table, her face revealing nothing. Cassian could feel his chest tighten as they sized each other up before Rhys pushed all his chips into the pot with a confident smirk.

"All in."

Unfazed, Nesta called his bet, gesturing idly at her pile for the dealer to sweep into the center with his crook. That left only Eris to decide his own fate, as well as Cassian’s.

He puzzled for a long while with his head in his hands before he finally spoke, low and deliberate. "I’ll call."

Coins cascaded into the center, a shower of gold. Then the final card was revealed—another lady. All coins in the center, it felt like everyone held their breath as the three remaining players revealed their hands.

Rhys set down two lords, the grin spreading across his face triumphant and sure, the poor bastard. Eris only clucked his tongue and revealed his full house, ladies full of wyverns, smug despite achieving it on the last draw.

But Cassian knew it wasn’t over yet. He turned to where his wife was toying with the edge of her hand, and he’d seen that pose too many times not to recognize it at once: You Have Just Royally Fucked Yourself. Silver rolled over Nesta’s eyes, and with prim efficiency she laid down the three remaining trolls in the deck, one after another.

The room erupted, Eris upending his chair as he leapt to his feet, Rhys shouting about cheating and Helion tipping his head back to let loose a peal of laughter soon joined by Emerie and Nuan’s, by Megrin’s groan. Cassian couldn’t help the dopey grin that spread across his face, how at home Nesta looked in the sea of chaos when she winked at him, calmly piling her coins into neat stacks.

Once everyone had regained their heads they all passed a lovely hour in conversation, the air hazy from the cigarettes Nesta usually smoked with Lucien at their gossip sessions disguised as afternoon tea. Rhys departed first, claiming a return to his fatherly duties, though they all knew he was off to beg Feyre’s sympathies while he licked his wounds for reasons he’d never confess. Emerie left with a tight hug and a promise to have them up to Windhaven soon to see her new expansion, and Eris gave Nesta a begrudging bow before Helion swooped in and kissed her on the cheek. He did the same to Cassian, and they heard his warm voice echoing down the corridor, giving Eris shit all the way up the stairs.

Alone now, Cassian came up behind where Nesta was tucking a handful of coins in a pouch for Marlowe, looped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. She batted at him but he felt her lean backwards all the same, cracking the door to that soft place within, that only her loved ones were allowed to enter. He knew she liked the affection, even if part of her still hated to admit it, if she only wanted it when it was just them.

“Wicked woman,” he teased, and he felt her smile against his cheek, the press of her nails into his forearm. “Were you seriously going to let Eris have his way with me?”

Nesta turned in his arms and he took her in close up for the first time all day, having left her snoring softly that morning when he departed for Windhaven. He warmed to see her face still relaxed and open, the ease in her posture.

“If he won, sure.”

Cassian snorted. “I don’t know if that’s a testament to your confidence or your willingness to torture me.”

The candlelight flickered silver around them for a moment and he drew her close once more, breathing deep the vanilla and jasmine scent of her hair, the lingering smokiness. Nesta linked her hands behind his back and squeezed him hard, impatient.

“Can’t it be both? Now take me home, Lady Death is tired.”

“Is that your favor for winning, sweetheart?”

“No,” she said, eyes dancing and devious when he pulled back. “I’ve much bigger plans for you.”

And oh, she did.

They ended the night in Cassian’s favorite way, with him sprawled atop her, head pillowed on her chest, her long fingers working through the snarls in his hair he’d earned in their pleasure. The House dimmed the lights in the bedchamber that was once his, the door now warded to both their hands. Hands that bore twin golden rings and tattoos of an eight-pointed star, tokens of their promises, both his and hers.

“Goodnight, I love you.”

Nesta’s voice was thick and fuzzy, and he felt a quiet contentment on her end of the bond. It was rare for her to inhabit it in public as much as she had tonight, and Cassian remembered when her end of the bridge between them had been locked tight, impenetrable. He’d made a fool of himself trying to break through early in their love, using brute force to smash past her defenses, leaving her exposed.

But now he knew the secret that should’ve been obvious, that he only had to knock.

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

She smiled with her eyes closed and pursed her lips, kissing the air before sleep dragged her under.

#nessianweek2024 #nessian #nesta x cassian #day 5: behind closed doors

23 notes · View notes

sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

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~𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 ~

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ; hyunjin x fem!reader, SMUT!! childhood!bestfriends, in vino veritas, sex under influence, summer!au, uni!au, drunken confession, (not really) mutual pining, explicit language, piv, unprotected sex (once again, a bad example! don’t forget the raincap in the storm), riding, kinda vanilla sex, uuuh,,, corruption kink if you squint, orgasm (m/f), cum, muffled moaning? (that is not the correct term but lets go with that)

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 2.8 k

𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 ; ye ye thank u anon!! <3

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦 ; lmao i know he has dark hair in the picture but just imagine that he’s blonde aight also damnit wtf happened to that edge of the header picture aaah,,, im no editor u guys- also once again, the fucking title has nothing to do with the story, i just felt like it

holy shit now i understand why i dont write vanilla sex or like slow stuff,,, because it pains me with cringe- or maybe i get flustered,,,

29. “Maybe I would like you better if you took off your clothes” ; The 1975 - If you’re too shy (Let me know)

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

Hwang Hyunjin.

You liked him in every type of way. You even liked the way his name rolled of your tongue like some kind of sweet mantra. You would have confessed if only he wasn’t your childhood best friend.

“y/n! ready to parteeey?” he yelled across the crosswalk, holding up a slightly dirty tan canvas bag, the bottles of cold liquor clinking against each other as he moved, the green man lighting up on the red stoplight. His high platform sneakers moved swiftly against the white striped concrete, making his way over to you and stretching out his arms, catching you in an embrace when he finally crossed the road.

“i see you brought drinks even if it’s only a casual sleepover” you chuckled, patting him on the back as you pulled away, walking towards the direction of your house in the scorching summer evening.

“of course, who said you couldn’t have a party with two people?” he answered back, slightly embarrassed by the way the bottles hit each other, causing other pedistrians to turn their heads. You shrugged your shoulders, looking at him as you walked closeby his side, admiring his profile and the way his blonde long locks were pushed behinds his ears, exposing his cute studded earrings. He turned his head, gazing at you to which you quickly diverted your eyes towards the ground below your feet, hearing Hyunjin giggle from your antics.

“how’s your mom? she doing good?” he asked after walking a couple of meters, holding the bag in one hand and his phone in the other one.

“yeah! but why do you ask? you literally messaged her yesterday” you smiled to which Hyunjin hummed, pouting and shrugging.

“because she’s like my best friend,,, duh?” he chuckled, poking you playfully at the side of your tummy causing you to flinch away, you being rather ticklish.

“hey! you can’t just make my mom your bestie, tsk,, stealing away my mom like that” you said, laughing in between words and noticing that the two of you were soon standing infront of your house door, the kitchen and living room window radiating warm yellow light and a silhouette moving behind the dark curtains. You retreived the keys that were in the pockets of your shorts, something you threw on quickly to go meet Hyunjin even though he knew the way to your house. It was just an excuse to be with him a bit longer.

You put the keys in the lock, jumbling around as Hyunjin looked at you with glossy dark brown eyes, holding the bag with two hands in front of his knees. The door opened and the light shined on you, illuminating the front yard that was getting dark as the sun was setting. The two of you stepped in, removing your shoes and hearing Hyunjin place the bag down on the cold tile flooring moments before your mother walked out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn.

“Oh hello Hyunjin! How’s school?” She asked, placing 3 pieces of popcorn in her mouth and chewing, her jaw moving from side to side.

“Uni is going great, stressful but y/n helps me,,, kinda” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head and looking down at the ground, you playfully hitting him on his upper arm. Your mom smiled at the two of you.

“Don’t stay up too late!” she yelled as she made her way to the living room where your dad was lounging on the sofa with a cold beer in his hands, watching a game of football.

“We won’t mom!” you yelled back, grabbing Hyunjin’s bag and waving your hand, signaling for him to follow you to your bedroom. He tiptoed carefully, not wanting to knock something down even though he’s slept over at yours well over a thousand times since your early childhood but still, it was in Hyunjin’s nature to be gentle and timid at first glance, another reason as to why you liked him so much.

Your bedroom was nothing out of the ordinary. White walls filled with various trinkets, family photos decorating them. Your bed was big enough to fit two but you had a sleeping bag in the corner of the room from just how often Hyunjin would crash at your place. There was not much more besides a cluttered desk, your single bed and a carpet along with a white drawer and a mirror. You plopped down on the bed, feeling the soft material against your exposed calfs. Hyunjin knew what to do, grabbing and unfolding the sleeping bag before emptying the contents of his beige bag, multiple bottles of beer and cider along with a small bottle of pure vodka.

“Why the fuck did you bring vodka? You know my parents are gonna kill me if they find this in my room” you sneered, rolling your eyes at the boy that was sitting on the bedroom floor, mischievously looking up at you.

“y/n you’re in uni, what are they gonna do? ground you?” you shook your head.

“Yeah? or kick me out of the house” you persisted, tilting your head as Hyunjin looked around the room in search for a bottle opener.

“Says the girl that puked behind a slide” he laughed to which you kicked him, causing him to fall over and you getting the final laugh.

“I’m gonna go grab some snacks and a bottle opener since you’re too weak to open them” you tsked, heading towards the door and turning the doorknob.

“ppft,,, too weak” you heard Hyunjin complain as you exited the room, small steps making their way to the kitchen. You flipped the light switch, the grey lamp hanging from the ceiling, you witnessing the messy dishes from dinner earlier. You opened the dark brown cabinet where you usually stored your snacks, grabbing two packets of crisps and rummaging through the smaller cabinet that was home for the multitude of kitchen supplies your dad and mom like to collect. You found one, decorated with some picture of a sea, probably from one of dads business trips you thought, closing the cabinets and turning off the light, stepping back to your bedroom.

“Here” you said, throwing the metal opener towards the blonde boy that was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, lying sprawled out on the carpet. Hyunjin dramatically clutched his stomach, acting as if he’s been hit with a boulder to which you scoffed, sitting down next to him on the floor and opening the first bag of crisps and being once again disappointed by the air to chip ratio.

Hyunjin opened two bottles of beer, handing one over to you which you happily received, putting the slightly cold edge against your hot lips and drinking the bitter liquid, feeling it burn a bit in your throat but soothe it in this summers heat. Your face contorted into disgust, looking on the rather dodgy blue lable that was peeling a bit on the edges. You looked over to Hyunjin that was making a similar expression to yours, his nose sqrunching in that cute manner it always did.

“aren’t we both like,,, too easily influenced?” he said quietly as you stood up, retrieving your computer to put on a movie. You nodded, giggling when you sat back down and placed the computer on the floor, typing something on your computer and pointing towards the screen.

“this one or,,,, this one?” you said to which Hyunjin pointed at the latter, knowing he would pick the animated movie, him being childish as he is.

An hour passed and at this point the two of you were tipsy, multiple bottles making their presence known by standing beside you, all emptied to the last drop. The alcohol was flushing Hyunjin’s cheeks, tinging them with a light red along with the tips of his ears, your hearts thumping from how dangerously close his hand was to yours. You were starting to get tired, probably drowsy from the alcohol you thought as you layed down to which Hyunjin reacted, patting his lap.

“Put your head here, why put it on the floor?” he chuckled, his words slurring slightly. You froze, comtemplating on whether or not you should do it or if your heart could even manage being in contact with him. You cleared your throat, trying to get back to your senses. He was your childhood best friend for fuck sake. Shyly you put your head on his thigh, still watching the movie and trying to focus on what was happening on the screen but being completely lost in your own lewd thoughts, wondering how his soft lips would feel brushing up against yours, ctaching you in a hasty kiss. You sighed as the end credits rolled, seeing Hyunjin’s angular face reflecting on the screen and his gaze catching yours on the reflective monitor. Both of you burst out in laughter, the substances intoxicaing you into a laughing fit. You sat up again, pushing him by the shoulder and causing him to fall over with his arms stretched out to the sides, you falling closely to him and using his forearm as a headrest.

“y/n, have you ever liked me?”

You gulped. Was it that apparent? You shook your head, mumbling a quiet “no” to which Hyunjin giggled, his chest heaving up and down. He messed with his blonde hair, pushing it back and furrowing his eyesbrows before relaxing his facial features, closing his eyes softly.

“i like you but maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes”

You choked on your own spit, sitting up and patting yourself on the chest. It was unlike Hyunjin to speak this bluntly, especially about such suggesstive topics. He laughed at your reaction, acting as if he hadn’t just made you choke with only his words. After the initial shock set in you decided to play smart, if he was being oblivious so would you. You looked back at the blonde boy that still had his eyes closed, smirking and with a tone interlaced with pure erotic connotations you said;

“yeah? and if I did take off my clothes, what would you do?” you giggled back at him, feeling a warm flash of heat zap through your body and ultimately landing in your dripping core. Hyunjin’s eyes sprung open, the corners of his mouth curling upwards into a exuberant smirk. A million thoughts ran through Hyunjin’s mind. Should he continue the little game he had started or end it all now in order to save your friendship? But maybe ruining your friendship was exactly what he needed or more like what you needed.

The tall boy sat up, pulling you by your wrist and quickly pursing his cherry red lips, clashing them against the surface of your gently chapped pout. You thought you melted right then and there, taking in the scent of the boy you never invisioned yourself kissing but here you were, your lips pressed up against his. He grabbed your hand, encasing yours in his and feeling the warmth radiating from your nervous state. With a slight tilt of the head, Hyunjin could reach deeper inside your mouth, tracing his tongue over yours and pursing his lips causing a smooching sound to escape. Your felt his hot breath stroking your heated cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

“a-are you ok, y/n? I’m s-sorry!” he said, pulling away and hiccuping after finishing his sentence. You shook your head, giggling which caught Hyunjin by surprise. You were ecstatic.

“please kiss me Hyunjin, i’ve been wanting you so bad” you mumbled, Hyunjin’s jaw clenching in confusion.

“me? i want you!” he said, laughing at your seriousness causing you to crack a smile, pushing him down on the floor and slamming the computer shut, the background track of the movie disappering. Now only the sound of the loud TV downstairs was heard along with your lips pecking Hyunjin’s. You hovered above the boy, your hands on either side of him. You felt your wet cunt aching for him, you wanted him inside of you and it seemed like you weren’t the only excited one, Hyunjin’s bulge growing bigger with every caress of his body. Your hands snaked down to the zipper of his ripped jeans, with a steady hand unzipping and unbuttoning, wanting to free him from his clothed prison that was keeping you from him.

“Eager or something?” Hyunjin tsked, trailing kisses along your jawline and neck. You didn’t answer his stupid question. Of course you were eager, this was what you had dreamed of for years. This was what played out in every single wet dream you ever had. This was what occupied your mind when nothing else mattered. It was him. Hwang Hyunjin.

Hyunjin bucked his hips upwards, granting you the honor to pull down his pants and boxers in a brisk motion which you happily took. His cock sprung free, leaking with precum embarrassingly enough causing you to snicker. Could the sight of his best friend make him this horny? You quickly moved aside from Hyunjin’s figure in order to free yourself from your shorts and white lace panties. The blonde boy was in a dilemma. He liked you,,, a lot, but you were his best friend. Was it worth risking a friendship for sex and maybe even something else?

Your answer was yes. Yes if it was Hyunjin.

You straddled Hyunjin’s thigh, balancing on your knees and placing your hands firmly on his hard abdomen, positioning your hungry hole above his dick, the slit being decorated with a shining pearl of precum. Hyunjin’s eyes were closed in anticipation, his hands trying to grab onto the carpet on the floor, clawing at the material.

“you good? ready?” you asked in worry, thinking maybe he was uncomfortable.

Hyunjin shook his head in agreement. He was nervous. If he opened his eyes he could cum by just the lewd sight of your pussy about to swallow his dick whole. He was adorable being this shy, always acting innocent but not really living up to that standard, at least not in this moment. You slowly sink down on his erect cock, Hyunjin letting out a hiss at the same time you gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth in order to not be too loud. The boy was stretching you out to the brink of completion, it was impossible to bottom out from the sheer size of his throbbing cock. Hyunjin turned his head side to side, his cheek coming in contact with the cold floor. He looked in pain, his forehead furrowing but he reassured you that it felt good, maybe even too good. Your gently bounced up and down his cock, with each thrust earning another groan from the panting boy. Seeing him lost in pleasure made your core burn with arousal, needing to chase your impending orgasm. The boy slowly opened his eyes, peeking at you rocking backwards and forwards on his cock, biting your lip and tracing your hands along his abdomen underneath his shirt.

“d-does it feel good?” he asked in a dazed voice, striking a half smile as he moved his hands to your waist, simply resting them there. You nodded, lulling your head backwards, your tits bouncing underneath the fabric of your oversized t-shirt, hardened nipples poking through. Hyunjin drooled at the sight and the sensations. He had longed for this just as much as you had. Hyunjin’s hands trailed up your shirt, wrapping his hands around your boobs and harshly kneading them, the pads of his thumb gliding over your nipples. You shuddered, clenching around his cock, Hyunjin’s eyes shut tightly and his toes curling from the sensation of balancing on a pinnacle, tumbling into his orgasm. He couldn’t control his words, whispering your name out like a mantra along with the words “i love you”. Those were words you didn’t hear him say often.

The feeling of his hot cum oozing between your velvety walls got you holding onto Hyunjin’s shirt for life, his hand gently placed over your parted lips that continusly spilled with whimpers and pleas. You looked at Hyunjin with lost eyes, your pace slowling down as you rode out your orgasm, thighs shaking involuntarily, giving up beneath you. Hyunjin lifted slightly by your hips, you pulling off him and with a thud rolled over on your back, laying next to him on the floor. The room filled with heavy breathing, sweaty bodies trying to find composure after the rather interesting orgasm. All your thoughts were in once big mush, hindering you from forming a sentence.

“What now?” Hyunjin said in a sleepy manner, rolling over to his side and hugging you awkwardly. You didn’t know. All you knew that you wanted him. You were hoping he would become yours. More than once.

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co-reborn · 3 years

Text

Yacht Party

Jeongyeon & Sana x Male Reader

view on AFF

2,326 Words

Note: This was one of my earliest works and has not been edited since posting

It is quite a hot day, perfect for a day out in sea. My friend, Kyung Woo, is celebrating his birthday and has invited almost the whole class and a few others to his huge yacht for a party. I am not one that likes huge parties, but this one is an exception to me. The popular girls were coming.

Everyone broke out into their smaller groups after a while of interacting, and me being the introvert I am was sitting in a small room of the yacht alone. I just looked out the small one-way windows as everyone got their hands on water guns and started spraying water all over the place. I was glad that I’m away from the crowd as I didn’t like getting wet and that the windows were one-way so others couldn’t see me staying inside.

“Damn it Jeong, I told you I didn’t want to get my clothes wet.”

“If you said so earlier perhaps we both won’t be soaking right now. And what’s the difference anyways, you said you wanted to go for a dive later on.”

I looked over from the corner I was sitting at. Entering the small room was two of the girls from the most popular group of girls in school - Jeongyeon and Sana. While I saw them come in, they didn’t see me sitting at the corner.

Sana and Jeongyeon changed to their bikinis, putting their clothes aside to let them dry. I was shocked from the sight. Two gorgeous girls stripping and changing in front of me. I could see the cleanly shaved pussy and their large boobs from the side. That sight alone will probably be enough for me to jerk off to for the rest of my life.

I closed my eyes, fantasising what I would want to them. How I wish I could enjoy both their mouths on my dick. Or their boobs squeezing me tight. Or having their pussies ru—

“Hey Sana, there’s someone here. Do you think he saw us change?”

“Nah, he’s probably sleeping. Look his eyes are closed. Anyways, won’t it be hot that someone we don’t know...” Sana’s voice got fainter as the two girls left the room. That was a close call.

I waited for the water gun fight to stop before exiting the room. I went over to Kyung Woo and talked to him for a while. I thanked him for inviting me to the yacht and halfway through, nine girls came walking over, two of them in their bikinis, the other seven in slightly wet t-shirts and shorts. “Hey Kyung Woo, happy birthday, thanks for inviting us. Who’s this hot stud over here?” Sana asked. I think she remembered that I was “sleeping” in the small room earlier. “Hi, I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.” I winked at her, leaving her with slightly blushing cheeks.

I excused myself and walked off, removing my shirt and lying down on a nearby bench to tan myself. It felt weird being complimented by Sana, but then again, she was known around for being the playful type. Grabbing a cocktail from the waiter, I drank it as I watched tons of people around me dive into the surrounding water. As I said, I’m not exactly an active person.

I laid down for quite a while before deciding that I might as well have some fun since it’s the first time I’m on a yacht. Also, the hot girls changed into their swimwear and are preparing to take a dive as well. Seeing all of them in swimsuits and bikinis made me hard, although the sight of two naked girls earlier was better, but thank goodness no one noticed my raging hard on... or so I thought.

I have no idea why Sana keeps splashing water onto me, all I want to do is feel the coolness of the sea amid the summer heat. I retaliated, splashing it even harder to her. This is now war. Somehow in the midst of the fight, she came over towards me and I caught her in my arms. Within that moment, it felt likd we were a young couple madly in love, even though we barely know each other.

This moment was interrupted by up and down movements made by her. She was grinding against my crotch. My hand crept down, rubbing her through her bikini bottom and later on, directly.

“Ahem” I turned my head, looking at the other girl I saw naked earlier. Jeongyeon shook her head in disproval, but her tomato cheeks told me otherwise. I swam past her apologising, but also giving her butt a light slap. I swear I heard a whimper coming from her.

I got up to the yacht, drying myself off and going to a similar room to the one I went to before. “Damn Y/N, I didn’t know you got game.” Kyung Woo called me out. I shrugged my shoulder before I entered the room to change.

I left my wet trunks to dry on the small couch and went out to get another cocktail. When I came back with a drink in hand, the door seemed to be stuck. I used my body weight to force the door open and immediately after, I realised that was a bad idea...

Or a good one.

Sana was in the same room as me, intending to change into her now dry clothes. She nearly screamed when she heard the door opened, but I dashed up to her and covered her mouth with my hands.

“What’s wrong with changing with me around? You already did so a few hours ago.”

Her eyes widened and she tried complained against my hands, but obviously, I couldn’t understand. My hands began to rub her pussy just like earlier and soon enough, her muffled complaints turned to moans. I removed my hands, knowing Sana was not going to resist me anymore.

I untied her bikini, exposing herself once more for me. My fingers pinched her nipples and my lips attached to her neck, sucking hard to leave a hickey, marking her as mine. I pulled down my pants and boxers, unleashing my cock for her to play with.

I grabbed her hand and placed it on my shaft. Sana reacted immediately and pumped it up and down. While my hand felt great around my cock, Sana’s one was better by at least tenfold as she shot shockwaves up my spine.

“What the hell is going on here?” You left her delicious neck and saw Jeongyeon standing by the door. She tried leaving upon registering the madness in front of her, but Sana grabbed her, locked the door and shoved her to me.

“Y/N is giving me a good time, and I think he should give you too.” I too stripped Jeongyeon naked and she tried covering up her body. I slapped hands away as I knelt down to eat her out. Sana, on the other hand, stood next to Jeongyeon and kissed her deeply, hands fondling the breasts just as I was doing so moments ago to her.

Jeongyeon tasted great, better than the cocktail I had in my hand. She squirmed, body shaking as the pleasure coursing through her body affected her balance and ability to stand. I led her to the couch as I stood up, poking her stomach to tease and get her to beg.

“You can have this in you if you ask nicely.” She whined for my cock, now aroused and eager for sex, but I still didn’t hear her ask nicely.

“Jeong, just ask for it so I can get my turn.” Sana begged for Jeongyeon’s compliance as she inserted two fingers into herself.

“Please fuck m-OH” I didn’t wait for the full reply. I instead just penetrated her as fast and hard as I could and didn’t bother to let her adjust. Her cunt was so tight, not expecting an intruder to enter. But while she is wincing in pain, I’m groaning in pleasure.

Sana held my cheek and kisses me as I was fucking Jeongyeon, leading my hand to finger her slutty cunt so that it won’t feel left out. My fingers got drenched immediately and they pumped even faster in and out the cunt.

My other hand took my cocktail as I left the messy lip locking with Sana to take a sip. I then went to kissed Jeongyeon, dumping the drink into her mouth. She chocked slightly and moaned afterwards, pussy walls tightening around me. I went faster, guessing that she is close and I was right.

Her juices spilled out of her hole, wetting out crotches which now made our fuck even noisier. I too can’t take it anymore and pumped my own cum in and on her. She was fucked tired, leaving her lying on the couch eyes half open, mouth still left wide open as her saliva slowly dripped out.

I turned to the other girl next to me, ready for some action with her as well. I did the same with my cocktail, taking a sip before engaging in a make out to transfer the drink from my mouth to hers. Knowing what exactly is happening, she doesn’t flinch but instead moans in approval. Seeing that she loves what I had done to her, I decided to bring it up a notch. I took the small cocktail glass but didn’t drink it this time. Instead I took the glass and poured the remaining onto her body.

I sucked on every inch of her body, enjoying the texture of her skin on my tongue as well as the taste of the delicious drink and her sex-drunk body. This time, she moaned even louder than when I fed her the cocktail. Once I was done cleaning her up, I shoved her body against the one-way window. Sana’s breasts pressed hard against the window, and it was pressed even harder when I inserted my dick into her cunt and rocked my hips back and forth.

“Won’t it be hot that someone you don’t know saw your naked body? Saw that you are taken brutally by someone you just got to know? I’m pretty sure that’s what you said when you saw me in the room earlier, right?” Sana didn’t answer, or couldn’t answer, but just let out another moan as her cunt tightened up. Similar to Jeongyeon, I went even harder to push her over the edge and soon, we both came together, bodies growing limp as our energies were temporarily expended.

Upon recovery, I saw the two still eager girls kissing each other. Their tongues were circling each other as their hands went on to different areas of the others’ body. Seeing as this is the prime opportunity to live out my fantasy earlier, I jerked off my cock to get it back to hardness, before presenting it to them by putting it right between their mouths.

Their attention turned to me and their tongues serviced my cock instead of duelling each other. I petted their heads like they are children, and they doubled their efforts, turning it into a competition on who is better. Jeongyeon went first, engulfing my cock and bobbing her head up and down. She deliberately gagged on my cock, the vibrations of her throat sending shivers throughout my body. Sana then came next, using more tongue action then Jeongyeon did. My tip was attended to more and although she did not take my cock fully into her wet cavern, her hand was also twisting around the exposed version of my dick.

When they were both done, they both looked at me like small girls, eyes open and presented to me as if looking for approval. I could not decide who did better and decided to go down their bodies. “Your mouths are both good, I can’t decide. How about use your breasts together instead.”

They sat upright, breasts held in their hands. My cock was then sandwiched between the two pairs, being pleasured from all 360 degrees. It was so satisfying to feel soft flesh pressed against my dick, but what got my blood flowing through my groin was the sight of the two girls’ breasts pressing against one another. I brought my hand down towards the mess and gave pinches to all four nipples.

“Your mouths and boobs are good, now for the final act. I want your pussies rubbing against my dick.”

They got into position, legs spread open to accommodate the other. I sat on the floor and they begun, moaning from the contact of my rod of flesh with their sensitive lower lips. The lubrication from their cum as well as mine that was dumped earlier in them made the feeling better. My dick was massaged and I could not take it anymore. I felt the biggest load of the day flowing out of balls and I needed to cum soon.

“We want your cum on us.”

That was the triggering paint for me and I pushed them to lie down next to each other. Each spurt of cum flew out and I alternated the streams between both girl’s bodies. I painted their torsos and their breasts with white and they stayed there as if they are masterpieces being appreciated, which they are to me. They each scooped up whatever cum they had on their bodies and consumed it. If I had more energy, I would proceed to fuck them one more time each.

They thanked me for the session and kissed me on the cheeks. I dressed up and left the room, smiling like an idiot from what has happened within the past hour.

*Bonus*

“You guys are so horny, why didn’t you invite us to join you guys?” Seven other girls pouted and whined as they entered the room after hearing a commotion from a particular room on the yacht.

#kpop fanfic #kpop smut #twice #twice smut #yoo jeongyeon #minatozaki sana #jeongyeon smut #sana smut

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brvdges · 3 years

Text

Like A River Flows - Stark!Reader x Peter Parker

Title: like a river flows

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Y/N hopes to meet her soulmate on her eighteenth birthday. Soulmate No Blip AU

Warnings: none

A/N: I've been gone so long but here's a new imagine! I got a new laptop! So hopefully there will be tons more of these. I listened to "Can't Help Falling In Love" by Kina Grannis if you wanna get the full experience.

Word Count: 1824

___

You could hear the sound of glasses clinking and laughter echoing up from the main room as you tugged at your dress at the top of the stairs. You turned around and looked in the ornate mirror behind you.

Everything about you was perfectly polished and plucked; your lace was perfectly laid with every hair beautifully framing your face. Your ears were adorned with simple gold diamond studs and a matching name necklace sat daintily on your collarbone.

Your makeup was done to perfection with your brown eyes sparkling from behind layers of shadow, liner, mascara, and false lashes. For the first time in your life, you had gotten your makeup done professionally. Your father had paid for it of course -- it was at his insistence that you had gotten it done.

In fact, the entire party was at his insistence and he had taken it upon himself to have every detail perfect. You didn’t really want a big elaborate birthday party, but today was the big day.

Everyone had a special day when you’d finally know the person you’re meant to be with. At a young age, you’d come to the conclusion somehow your meeting would be on your eighteenth birthday. When your father was enlightened with this fact, he had taken it upon himself to make everything perfect -- including you. Thanks to him, you looked undeniably stunning. It was the most beautiful you had seen yourself in a long while. Ever since your mom had passed, you hadn't felt the need to dress up anymore -- so it no longer felt like you.

“You look absolutely radiant, Y/N.” Pepper assured you as she joined you in looking in the mirror. “Your father outdid himself. Just wait until he sees you.” You understood immediately what she meant, you were almost a spitting image of your mother. Your mahogany skin and high cheekbones were hers, as was your smile and arched eyebrows. The only evidence of your father was the occasional facial expression. “You ready?” she asked turning you back towards the steps.

You nodded and smiled cautiously, “You’re gonna be okay. There’s so many people down there and they’re all excited to see you.” The two of you peered over the banister down all the sea of people below. Your father had indeed gone for a more sophisticated approach, but as with all Stark parties it was pretty much promised to liven up as the night went on.

“All right! Chin up!” You did as you were told and began your way down the grand staircase. As you made your descent, you saw the attention shift to you as everyone took you in for the first time that night. “The birthday girl is here!” Natasha raised a glass to you. You smiled to her as you were welcomed with a myriad of birthday wishes.

As the party continued on, you felt almost like a princess. So many promising people had come up and introduced themselves to you; however nothing had clicked yet. You were starting to wonder if all the theatrics had been for nothing when your dad found you. You were standing against the wall watching your friends have a ball of a time dancing to the DJ that had recently taken place of the string quartet.

“Y/N, shouldn’t you be dancing?” he asked, his dark brows furrowing in confusion. You sighed disappointedly, “Yeah, I guess.” You picked at a string on your dress, “I thought I’d meet them today.” Your dad nodded glancing over at Pepper. She was talking excitedly to Natasha -- likely about wedding plans. The way he looked at her was so beautiful. The way you could tell everything he felt for her from just a look was absolutely amazing. That was it -- that what you wanted.

“Well, Y/N, you never know there’s still a few hours left to your birthday.” you frowned a bit, “I’ve talked to every person here that I’ve never met. I’m pretty sure it’s not happening today.” your dad chuckled, “You know Y/N, I know I’ve told you the story of how I met your mom.”

“Italy, 1999.” you mumbled looking up at your father. He nodded, “We met and it felt right. I’m not one to be very emotional, but I knew I wanted to keep her around. There was just something about her.” you tilted your head, “She wasn’t your soulmate though. Pepper is.” He sighed, “She was the one for me -- well until she passed, of course. By that time, I had known Pepper for years and I didn’t see her in that way until one day, I just did.” He looked over at her again, her and Natasha had been joined by Maria.

“I don’t know if you're understanding what I’m getting at. I don’t know if I’m explaining it clearly. What I’m saying is -- it could be someone you’ve already met and maybe you just haven’t realized it yet. No one ever said it had to be someone new -- just that there was a day that you would know.” He gave you a small smile, “You should enjoy your night because either way, you look amazing, kiddo. Happy birthday.” he playfully hit you on the shoulder before walking away.

Taking your dad’s words to heart, you decided to let it go for the night and just have fun. You made your way out onto the dancefloor, your friends cheering at your arrival.

...

It was finally the end of the night, cake had been eaten and presents had been surveyed as there were too many to open. Most of the guests were beginning to go home but some still lingered out on the cul-de-sac. You stood on the front porch, your heels in your right hand as you waved people goodbye with your left.

“I seemed to have missed most of the festivities.” A familiar voice made you turn around to see your father’s prodigy, Peter Parker, standing behind you. You were pretty good friends with Peter as he had been working with your father for little over three years now. Even still, he seemed to have his moments where he seemed to shut himself off from you and get quiet. He seemed to have his moments and his secrets and so you didn’t really hang out much outside him visiting the tower.

He also wasn’t a social butterfly so even though you had invited him to your party, you didn’t actually expect him to show. Even though it was the end of the night, your spirits still rose seeing him here. “Yeah, you did. My dad got so drunk he serenaded Pepper on the bar.” the two of you laughed.

You looked out over the seemingly never-ending property, your father had held your party at the summer home. It aided in you feeling like a princess, there was a garden maze on the south side of the home and a long driveway lit by lanterns. You glanced over at Peter and stepped off of the porch, “Would you like to join me on a walk?” He smiled and followed.

The two of you slowly made your way towards the garden maze on the other side of the property. “You look...” he trailed off while admiring you. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks and were glad he couldn’t actually see it, “Thank you.” The two of you turned into the garden maze as lightning bugs flew overhead and a cool breeze filled the air. As you walked, you tried to catch and release a few lightning bugs.

The sounds of late summer night hummed in the background as you spotted the small black rectangular box in his hand, “What’s that?” you asked. He looked down at it sheepishly, “It’s just something I got you. I don’t know if you’ll actually like it.” He had thought to buy you something? That was unexpected, but very welcomed.

Without you saying anything, he slowly opened the small box to reveal another gold necklace. “It’s not 100 percent pure gold like the ones your dad gets you,” it was absolutely gorgeous. It was a small heart pendant attached to a gold chain. “It’s stupid really-” he scratched the back of his neck, looking down at it. “It’s beautiful, Peter.” You whispered in awe.

“Would you mind? You can take the other one off.” You said turning around. He carefully removed it from the box. He put it over your head and placed the pendant on your collarbone before securing it in the back and you felt a warm sensation in your heart. Suddenly, everything changed.

It was like your senses had sharpened. You could hear the distant conversation at the front of the property and the chirping of the crickets. You could feel the soft summer breeze across your body and Peter’s soft breath on the back of your neck where goosebumps had started to form. Every time his skin accidentally brushed yours, it felt delicate yet intense all at once. The world seemed to slow as he pulled your hair over the chain after removing the other necklace and turned you to face him.

You studied his face and your eyes fell upon his brown ones. His hand found yours sending shivers through your body. You lightly squeezed his hand before pulling him closer feeling your knees start to get weak.

Resting your hand on the side of his face, you slowly guided him to the ground. You were close enough to lightly feel the air escaping his nose. He looked down at your lips and was about to lean in when- “Y/N! Come say goodbye to your grandmother!” your father called off from the distance somewhere.

The two of you fell apart still sitting on the ground the closest you had ever been. You frowned slightly looking away, “I should say goodbye to my nonna. I usually give her a kiss and a hug goodbye.” You licked your lips looking down to avoid eye contact. “She flew in from Italy -- my mom’s side of the family. I don’t get to see her like that.”

“No, no. I understand.” he mumbled as you both quickly stood. You began dusting off your dress as he helped. You looked up at him again quickly before looking back down again, “Thanks again. It’s beautiful.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes again because his gaze suddenly felt so intense, it felt like you’d melt. “You’re welcome.”

“Y/N!” your dad yelled off in the distance again. You gestured towards the balcony of the house where your dad was likely yelling from, “I have to go.” Peter nodded quickly, “I understand.” You admired him and watched as his eyes softly gazed over your features one last time. “Good night, Peter.” you waved quickly, “Good night, Y/N.” You gathered your dress and hurried off towards where your dad and nonna waited for you on the balcony.

That was it.

#avengers imagine #avengers au #avengers x reader #stark!reader #peter parker x reader #dad!tony x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #peter parker au

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peaches-writes · 3 years

Text

don’t you worry, baby

member: chan

wc: 1.4k

genre: fluff, summer au, childhood friends to lovers au, beach day au

warning: explicit language

note: third installment to the skz cheese agenda (skcheese? lmao) + eun is the name of the mc from doll in this fic!

The occasional tourist would give you strange looks as they pass by, wondering why you and Chan would plant your tie dye mat and beach umbrella set so close to the waves crawling back and forth. The two of you have learned to ignore them over the summer years, however, too busy giggling over the way the water would tickle your bare feet on the hot sand and occasionally bring in the most random of objects.

Especially now that an entire academic year of the two of you separated in different colleges has passed by, this being the first summer that the two of you could spend together leisurely without the worry of school requirements or part-time jobs in the city.

As per your long-standing childhood beach tradition, the two of you compete in collecting 8 of the same things that you find under the sands or the waves bring in—this time with a carefree conversation on just about anything and everything that you’ve missed in each other’s life the past 10 months. It’s a tight battle this sunny Friday afternoon, with you guarding 6 olive shells in the space under your folded legs while Chan has a nice line of 5 cerith shells he’s worked hard in digging while ranting about one of his younger siblings hanging out with Seo Changbin.

“Why are you being like this all of a sudden, anyway?” You chuckle in amusement as your conversation on tonight’s beach bonfire party suddenly finds its way back to Chan expressing his disapproval of the younger boy from your neighbourhood. “This is the first time I’ve heard you remotely close to being mad at someone and he’s not even some random stranger your sibling suddenly started hanging out with. It’s Seo Changbin. We literally raised that punk when we were kids.”

“Exactly, it’s not ‘cause he’s some guy.” Chan pouts, angrily poking a random twig he found on the way to the beach into the sand and occasionally poking out a harmless crab crawling out of the little hole he’s made while picking up shells. “It’s because he’s Seo Changbin.”

“So?” You shrug, feigning an innocent tone over your mischievous smirk as you watch him sulk next to you. Arms crossed over his bare chest and folded legs and chin resting on top of his folded free arm like a child, everything about him right now just simply looks so endearing and funny at the same time. “Isn’t that a bit better than just, say, a guy who suddenly popped up when we went to college? You know Changbin well enough and Eun definitely knows Changbin super well since they’re classmates. If he screws up, then you know where to find him. If he takes care of them, then you know how to thank them.”

“Since I know him, I’d be more disappointed when he screws up.” Chan rolls his eyes, lazily tilting his head to the side to glance up at you waiting for the waves to come back. “Anyway, are we even talking about the same Changbin, Y/N? Even if we grew up with that punk, he also smokes, drinks, has a lot of tattoos and piercings, and scares a lot of his classmates.”

This time, it’s you rolling your eyes as you try nudging him off-balance with your arm to his thigh. “It’s not like you didn’t smoke, drink, or got piercings with me without auntie’s permission when we were in high school. If anything, I’d like to think he got that from us.” You point out with a scoff of disbelief, eyeing the helix piercing on his right ear that now sports a safety pin earring different from your matching golden stud one. “Plus, you know Changbin only gets a bad rep in his batch because their classmates aren’t exactly the nicest people out there. He’s nice, has good grades, and he showed me his acceptance letter to my uni the other day. You’re just picking out ‘bad traits’ now because he’s dating your sibling.”

“Ya—”

You cut him off with a palm in front of his face immediately, sensing his pout grow bigger even with the back of your hand blocking his face. “Admit it or not, Eun’s an adult now who can date whoever they want, even a childhood friend. And Changbin’s a friend so I’m sure it’s all going to be fine.” With a giggle, you then use your other hand to pick up another olive seashell that washes up on shore as if on cue. “You have good intentions, I understand where you’re coming from, but you gotta stop worrying, you big baby. Just worry when Changbin does screw up—though if you’re asking me, I doubt he will.”

Chan scrunches up his nose, just as another cerith shell surfaces from his mini excavation site on the sand. “Hm, I don’t know. I still can’t shake it off.” He practically whines like a child, his hold on the poor and almost broken twig loosening the more he thinks his thoughts and rants through. “How did this even happen? We literally raised Changbin and Eun ourselves when we were kids...”

You snicker at this, swiping an olive shell from his excavation site as you see it. “Now, you’re picking on him being a childhood friend? What’s your problem with that now?”

Chan waves both of his hands up defensively in front of him, shaking his head. “It’s not like that! I don’t have problems with childhood friends dating or whatever, not at all! I’m just saying that, all of a sudden, Changbin’s taken an interest on my sibling! Doesn’t that sound a little random to you? Why now, when they’re about to leave for college?”

“Nope, it still sounds like you have a problem with childhood friends dating.” You teasingly accuse with a disapproving shake of your head before shrugging. “You know, sometimes stuff like that just happens! With people you’ve known for so long, sometimes you just fall for them out of nowhere because you start seeing them in a different light! I mean I, for one, like someone I’ve known for a really long time like Changbin but it’s only rece—”

“What?!—”

“It’s only recent because I thought they were cute when I saw them again.” You finish your thought despite the abrupt shift in Chan’s expression. Eyes wide, posture suddenly straight and alert, and the twig branch in his hand held up like a threatening knife, you bite down your lips in between certain phrases and sentences as you hold back your laughs. “Maybe if we were like 16 again or something, I’d find it gross. But since we’ve been away from each other for a long time and have only been talking on call until lately, I miss hanging out with him and he’s super duper cuter now than before so—yeah, it just happens! It’s normal and totally not weird!”

“Wha—you...you like someone?!”

“That all you picked up from my long ass speech? That’s not even my point. My point was to defend Changbin and your sibling dating.” You furrow your brows and feign a frown. “I’m disappointed. You really are a big baby, barely comprehending anything in that pea brain. Oh dear...”

But as if Chan’s thoughts are still transfixed on your previous statements, he ignores your mocking comment and repeats, “You like someone?! Do I know this guy? Also, what do you mean you’ve known him as long as Changbin and I and why don’t I know this gossip?! Ya, not you too, Y/N!”

You tease him further with a shrug before picking up an olive shell that the wave brings in, exclaiming in victory. “Ha! I win!” You stick your tongue out at him, picking up your 8 little shells in your cupped hands. “I should make a bracelet out of this, ‘no? For cute guy I’ve known for a long time.”

“Who is it?!” Chan pesters you even further, poking your rash guard with the twig branch. “Who’ve you been hanging out with since we were kids besides me and Changbin?!”

“Don’t you worry about him, you big baby, he’s harmless.” You put your collected shells on the side and wave your sandy hand dismissively. “Now, I don’t think 8 shells are gonna cover your entire wrist so would you mind help me picking up more? We could walk a little and check the lagoon.”

m.list

@skzwriternet

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kafka-ish · 4 years

Text

without my enemy what would i do | r.t.

richie tozier has been announced to come to dinner and y/n doesn’t know if things could possibly get worse for her.

word count: 8.3k

warnings/included: !!TW!! mentions of suicide/attempted suicide, nsfw (smut, fingering, oral -- male receiving), enemies to lovers, bratty!fem!reader

a/n: this was in no way meant to glamorize/romanticize suicide or any topic relating to that so if that’s triggering for you either don’t read this fic or the end. also i was heavily inspired by freaky friday and some other fics i’ve read

y/n couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mom’s mouth that morning. It had started pleasantly. The two were sharing a fruit medley her mom had prepared the night before at the breakfast nook. But those eight words had ruined the rest of her day.

“I’m inviting the Toziers over for dinner tonight.”

The tea in y/n’s mouth must’ve fallen out because she had been scolded for soiling the white tablecloth. But y/n didn’t care. The only thing occupying her mind was the fact that Richie Fucking Tozier would be in her house.

“How could you do this to me?” y/n accused her poor mother who was now frantically sopping up the stained green tea from the white fabric which she had just bought. She supposed she could just switch out the cloth for the time being, but everything had to be perfect when the Toziers came over.

“I don’t understand why you have... such disdain for them,” her mom said calmly. She always had a way of keeping her heels in the ground while her daughter’s head was stuck in the sky. “The Toziers are a family friend,” she insisted.

“I don’t have an issue with all of them.” y/n got up and gently placed her plate and mug in the sink. She washed them thoroughly before exiting. “Just Richie.” She mumbled the last part under her breath as she made her way up the stairs. y/n still had to put on her school clothes and make her way to school—something she was going to do rather unwillingly now.

y/n and Richie went back—way back. The Toziers and y/l/ns have been family friends since the two were in diapers; always forced to play together while their parents had their Sunday luncheons, the awkward lets-be-partners-since-I-don’t-know-anyone-else in middle school. Sometime in between the summer of ‘89 and their freshman year of high school, something changed. Richie changed. He was still the funny guy who hung out in the back of the room making offhanded jokes, but he was also the guy who made it his mission to hook up with every girl who stepped foot in Derry.

And somewhere in between, maybe y/n changed. She traded her pastel sweaters for cropped, graphic shirts and tight-fitting tees. The pleated skirts she always wore were replaced by ripped jeans that hung low on her hips with the help of her trusty studded belt. And her virgin hair was highlighted to the roots ever since sophomore year picked up.

Maybe y/n changed.

It was after a long day of incessant chatter and a math teacher who couldn’t seem to stop talking about his ex-wife when the dismissal bell rang. y/n was then stopped in her tracks by the one and only, Richie Fucking Tozier.

“Hey, princess.” His eyes were hazy with smoke and she was sure the Marlboro in his mouth wasn’t his first of the day.

“What do you want, Tozier?” y/n was reluctant to actually stop walking so she could talk to the scum on earth also known as Derry’s resident Trashmouth. Her beat-up high tops scraped against the cement and the undone hot pink laces swung in every direction imaginable. How she hadn’t tripped over her own two feet yet was beyond Richie as he watched the girl in front of him with amused eyes.

Richie’s back slumped against the bricks that made up the walls of their high school. One foot was propped behind him on the bricks, the other planted firmly on the sidewalk. “Your shirt’s inside out.” His pink lips curled into a smirk as if he knew something she didn’t, and y/n’s frown turned into a scowl.

y/n looked down. He was right. Her favorite black shirt with neon red and yellow stitching of a guitar on the front was, indeed, inside out. But she wasn’t going to let Richie Fucking Tozier have the satisfaction of getting under her nails. Not like this, anyway. “Thanks.” She let out a breath, half to calm herself and half to let Richie know how annoying he was being.

But he knew.

“You’re wasting precious oxygen.” y/n’s glare flicked from his eyes to the cigarette caught between his teeth and Richie only smiled.

“What, from smokin’?” He took the, what Stan called, cancer stick out from his mouth with his index and middle finger.

“No, from breathing.” It was a lame comeback. y/n was never good at comebacks, but she felt her cheeks heat up and blood stir when a chuckle fell from his breath.

He hummed thoughtfully, “Hmm. Okay, sweetheart.” He stood up straight, now towering over an uptight and pissed off y/n even more. He took another puff from his Marlboro, waiting for her response. But she only plucked the cigarette from his mouth and stomped it out.

“Did you call me over to say something important or did you just wanna waste my time?” y/n should’ve just walked off before this conversation even started, but it was too late and she would curse herself forever for giving this boy the time of day.

She was met with a cloud of smoke in the face and she coughed furiously. His breath smelled like ashes and cinnamon Altoids. Richie Tozier had blown his stupid cigarette smoke in her face. And before she could tell him to fuck off or screw himself, his words rung in her ears.

“Your ‘rents contacted mine. Looks like I’m comin’ over for formalities an’ shit.” His features were still twisted in a sick grin that y/n wanted to slap right off him.

“Formalities doesn’t usually consist of the word shit,” y/n said and began to start on her way home. It was bad enough she was forced to spend an hour (or more) with him at dinner, she didn’t need to linger any longer.

Her feet dragged on the graffitied pavement harshly and her pissed-off-ness transferred from the front door to the dining room where her mom was already setting up. Her dad had yet to arrive home from work, which was at five o’clock on the dot. Their family ate at six.

“Are you still upset about this morning?” Mrs. y/l/n’s soft voice sounded condescending as she was too focused on polishing the fine china to see her daughter’s scrunched eyebrows and squinting eyes.

“Yes.”

y/n huffed and one of the highlighted pieces of her hair flew from her face when she did so. “This dinner is ruining my life. Richie Tozier is ruining my life. You’re ruining my life!” She cried. It might’ve been an exaggeration, but so be it. Her life was, essentially, ruined.

“Your life is ruined?” Her mother was in disbelief. “How so?” Even though she asked the question, y/n could tell she wasn’t interested.

“Because you’re inviting the Toziers over when I’ve explicitly told you how much I hate them.” A growl left her lips in a fairly animalistic way to which Mrs. y/l/n told y/n that hate was a strong word and to make sure she didn’t bring that attitude to the dinner table tonight.

“Why don’t you take a hot bath? You can blow off some steam.” She laughed, thinking about the absurdity of ‘cooling-off’ in a tub of hot water but y/n crossed her arms at her mom’s negligence. y/n’s mother finally looked up at her daughter, her eyes judging y/n’s outfit carefully. “I’d like you to change, too.” Mrs. y/l/n wasn’t really fond of her daughter’s recent style. She had always loved the soft cardigans and floral dresses she used to wear in her early years. Granted, she was the one who picked them out. But they were just so cute. Mrs. y/l/n didn’t understand the recent trend of choker necks and buying jeans pre-ripped and she knew she never would. She could only wish her daughter were the same cute, innocent little girl she knew from way back when.

y/n grunted, making it known that her mother was being unreasonable.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my day? No, because you never do,” y/n mumbled only loud enough for her to hear.

It was after three hours of painfully solving logarithms (which was more like staring at the dreaded piece of paper until eventually expressing defeat), a long soak, and an outfit change when four faces arrived at y/n’s front door and Mrs. y/l/n called her down to greet the guests.

“Are you sure you want to wear that?” Her mother’s thin eyebrow rose skeptically at y/n when she saw—what she would call—the atrocity she was wearing.

y/n shot her mom the same look, unsure of what was so offensive about a black tank top and low-rise jeans. She could be so conservative. “I can change.” y/n didn’t feel like putting up a fight tonight, but her mother placed a hand on her shoulder before she could move.

“There’s no time, now.” y/n could tell she was about to break out in a scowl, but Mrs. y/l/n did a better job at containing herself than her. “Just…just get a jacket or something. I don’t know.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation and y/n left before she could see Richie Tozier unabashedly walk in with his so-called ‘rents.

“Look who I found just as I was coming home, honey.” y/n overheard her dad kiss her mom on the cheek as she fished for her jean jacket in the coat closet. Gag me with a spoon.

“Maggie! Wentworth!” y/n watched her mom hug the two from the corner of her eye as she reentered the foyer wearing a jean jacket. “It’s been too long.”

“Indeed.” y/n found it hard to swallow her scoff and keep a neutral face.

“Yes. I’m so glad you invited us over tonight.”

Richie then appeared from behind his parents. His parents had also made him change, seeing as he wore a navy blue button-up (wrinkled, of course) and the only pair of jeans he owned that wasn’t ripped and reached his ankles. y/n suddenly felt embarrassed about wearing such casual clothes. It seemed as if everyone were dressed for the occasion.

“Oh my, Richie. You’ve gotten so tall,” A gasp left her mother’s red and overlined lips. She took a few moments to welcome the family, making her version of witty banter and repeating how it’s been too long. She then walked them to the dining room which was lit up by the chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Why her mother set up a candelabra in the center of the table still unknown to y/n.

“I see y/n’s still shy.” Wentworth chuckled as he took his seat and y/n could feel the blood rush to her neck and cheeks (is it getting hot in here or is it just me?) when she realized she hadn’t said anything since the Toziers arrived.

She took her seat across from RIchie and begun to pick at the green beans on her plate.

“Oh, Went, don’t be fooled. She’s not shy. It’s just her teen angst.” The words left y/n’s mother’s careless mouth and her daughter’s eyes widened at the statement.

“Mom!”

“Ah.” Maggie smiled at her friend knowingly before stabbing into the perfectly seared cut of stake that sat on her plate. “Wentworth and I know a thing or two about teen angst.” She tittered into her napkin and it was now Richie’s turn to shoot his mom the side-eye.

y/n tuned in an out of the Toziers’ conversation with her parents. The topics ranging from their jobs, newfound hobbies, and the best recipe for meatloaf. Surprisingly, y/n hadn’t heard a peep out of Richie throughout the whole meal.

“Wow, you have outdone yourself,” Wentworth said as he had just about cleared his plate.

“Oh, that’s not all. I baked a lemon meringue pie for dessert if you’ll stay.” It wasn’t as if Maggie and Wentworth were just going to leave after finishing their meal. That’d be too easy. They had both complied, exclaiming that they could already taste how delicious it was going to be. “y/n would you be a dear and go fetch it for us?” Her mother asked. “It should be in the kitchen. On the island.” y/n stood up from her seat, grateful to get away from the scene she felt trapped in.

“yeah, y/n. would you be a dear and go fetch?” Richie couldn’t help himself but take a jab at y/n as she was walking towards the kitchen’s entryway. She’d turn around to give him the finger if this were any other setting. Maggie turned to face her soon, silently scolding him and whispering that it might do him good to help her out.

Richie bit back a sigh while he got up and trudged his way to where y/n was.

His eyes roamed y/n’s delicate fingers that moved with grace and dexterity as she handled the sharp knife that sliced through the homemade pastry.

“Hey.” If y/n were any less skilled, she would’ve dropped the weapon, ruining her mother’s sugary creation.

“Jesus, Tozier.” She set down the knife. “Don’t startle me like that.” She made sure to keep her voice low, not wanting her mom to become suspicious.

“You’d hate me for knocking and you’d hate me for just standin’ around like a creep.” He shrugged and y/n brushed past him. She held the pie dish in one hand and a stack of plates in the other. “Lemme help.” His head tilted to the side and his doe eyes looked pathetic under the dim kitchen light.

“You are a creep.” But y/n complied, allowing him to take the plates so she could focus all her effort on the pie.

“I’m a creep?” Richie looked to her amusedly. y/n didn’t answer. Her lips were sewn shut as soon as she found herself back in the dining room with all eyes on her and Richie hot on her trail.

“Thank you so much, y/n.” Mrs. y/l/n awed at her own work and started to dish out the precut pieces onto the plates Richie set down. “Speaking of y/n—as if I don’t speak about her enough—did you know she recently won the Academic Excellence Award for both Math and English?” The enthusiasm in her mom’s voice was alien to y/n’s ears.

“That’s great, y/n.” Maggie looked to her with a sort of light in her eyes she never looked at Richie with. “Rich, you never told us about this.” Her fork started for the meringue on Jenny’s pie first; soon after it would make its way down to the actual pie part.

“I didn’t see the point in sayin’ anything.” His face was stuffed full of pie and he shrugged.

Both Wentworth and Maggie looked at their son with disappointment.

“We care.” Wentworth then looked at y/n reassuringly. “Don’t listen to him, y/n... Wow, Jenny, this is great stuff.”

Once more, y/n got up from her seat. She didn’t bother helping herself to a slice of her mom’s pie and if she had the option, she wouldn’t have bothered making an appearance downstairs. “Can I be excused?” She asked her dad in particular who nodded. A sympathetic look was plastered on his face which was also stuffed with her mom’s dessert.

“Hey!” This was the beginning of one of Wentworth’s many great ideas. “Why don’t you show Richie your awards? It seems our boy could use a new outlook on what an Academic Excellence Award actually means.” He gave Richie a firm pat on the back before he begrudgingly stood up and walked over to where y/n was already making her way up the staircase.

“I wouldn’t blame ya if you feel all hot an’ bothered,” Richie said once they reached the top of the stairs.

y/n’s nose wrinkled at his words and she could already feel herself frowning at his unwanted presence. “What?”

“Aw. Don’t be like that, princess.” He threw his arm around her shoulder and y/n felt an odd warmth heat her body that wasn’t from the doing of her flimsy jacket. “Everyone wants a chance at the Tozier.” He took his free hand, the hand that wasn’t resting on her covered skin, and pointed to himself with his thumb.

y/n was about to ask who everyone was, but she didn’t want to give Richie the chance to list off the names of the girls he’s done. “I don’t like you, Richie.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, babe.” The two were now in y/n’s room. y/n didn’t allow her eyes to meet his. Instead, found herself organizing her already tidy desk. The only thing on it was her homework from earlier and a slew of highlighters.

Richie, on the other hand, took it upon himself to take a tour. His long legs made their way across the perimeter of y/n’s room. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be found and if she had spent half the time she did cleaning to go to the attitude adjustment program his mom always talked about, maybe they’d get along better.

“Your room’s changed.” Richie was now admiring her trophy shelf. Above it hung multiple metals; all gold and he stood in amazement for a while. Richie had always been smart. His grades always surpassed his parents’ expectations, but he never tried. He never made a deal to push himself or shoot for the stars. He never got why awards were such a big deal. Hell, Derry didn’t even make a big deal out of them. But as his magnified eyes stared patiently through his coke bottle lenses at the shiny medallions and gold cups that were displayed proudly in y/n’s room, a part of him wished he had tried harder.

“Yeah.” y/n wished she weren’t so quick as she cleaned because that meant facing him sooner. “People change, I guess. The room’s just a part of the process.” She bit her lip and thought back to how things used to be. Richie and y/n were nowhere near close, but she hadn’t always hated him.

“y/n, I want you to meet someone,” Maggie Tozier said softly to a small girl who wore her hair in pigtails and a puppy dog face wherever she went.

y/n, who spent her days hiding behind her mom’s legs and was never the one to talk to people who weren’t her friends or parents, looked between Maggie and the boy standing next to her as she sat crouched in the grass in her backyard.

The y/l/n’s had invited the Toziers over for lunch and Maggie thought this would be the perfect day to introduce her son to their daughter.

“Hey!” Richie Tozier had always been a loudmouth. From when he was first able to speak, the Tozier household was filled with nothing but incessant chit-chat, whether or not it was worth listening to. Maggie and Wentworth loved him regardless. “I betcha can’t fit your whole fist in your mouth. I can-!” Richie unhinged his jaw and he was about to force his balled-up hand to the back of his throat until Maggie scolded him for being ungentlemanly. “Sorry, ma.” He looked down, discouraged until he caught a glimpse of y/n’s shy smile and the beginning of a laugh.

It would be the beginning of a beautiful friendship—maybe even more—both the Toziers and y/l/n’s had suspected.

How wrong they were.

Sure, Richie and y/n were ‘friends’, but they were the forced-acquaintance-like type. The only time Richie and y/n had any solid interactions with each other was when their parents had their lunch dates together and they served as the tag-a-longs.

At school, y/n found her own group of friends with Stacy Howards and Regina Carmichaels. Stacy was a pretty girl who found out about her love of cheerleading at an early age and even though the popularity got to her from time to time, she still knew where her loyalties lied. Regina was like y/n—quiet, reserved, and focused on her studies. But she didn’t wear anything that revealed above the knee, on account of, she wasn’t allowed. The three had been inseparable ever since the third grade.

Richie had seemed to find his own group, too. A young boy named Bill Denbrough who would grow into his looks and lead them through silly adventures, Stan Uris (one of the only Jews in Derry), and a hypochondriac whom Richie called ‘Eds’, short for Eddie Kaspbrack. But his group would only continue to grow while y/n’s would stay because while seven’s the lucky number, three’s company.

y/n exhaled sharply, recalling how things used to be. The simpler times. She looked over from her desk to see Richie, whose hands were tracing the raised words scrawled on the metal trophy.

Perfect Attendance Award (1989-1990)

“Don’t touch my stuff!” She shouted and a startled Richie pulled his hand away shakily but also clumsily, causing the golden cup to fall from its stand and the others to shift. They were now slightly askew from their original place. y/n cringed at the sound of the award hitting the hardwood floor; certain that would leave a mark.

“Sorry,” Richie mumbled insincerely while he bent down to pick it up. He recklessly put it back and it was definitely not in the position it sat in beforehand.

A scoff accidentally left its way from y/n’s mouth and an idea formed in Richie’s head.

“Is this how you treat all your guests?” y/n couldn’t see the smirk on his lips because he was turned away from her.

“Only the insufferable ones.” y/n’s eyes narrowed at the back of Richie’s head. “You can be a real asshole sometimes.”

“I hate to break it to ya, but you’re no walk in the park either.” Richie turned around. He was preparing himself for a smack to the head or jab in the gut. He didn’t expect for y/n’s searing stare to have some sort of newfound effect on him.

y/n had always been pretty. Whether it be when they were twelve and she wore white, collared shirts under her yellow, cable-knit sweaters. Or in freshman year when her hair grew longer and her shirts got shorter.

But the question, if Richie had ever thought about her or not, would remain a mystery to y/n. It would be weird to make out with the girl you knew since Velcro shoes and He-man, right? Right?

y/n’s eyes trailed from Richie’s to his lips, similarly to how she’d done earlier that day. But earlier that day a cigarette was nested between his perfect—chapped lips. Now, the only thing that stood between their lips was the space between them and tension.

“Whatever.” y/n was about to leave, not caring that Richie Tozier would be left to his own devices in her room. She just wanted to be in any room he wasn’t. But a hand, decorated in silver rings and chipped nail polish, stopped her from doing so. This was the second time someone had stopped her from leaving by laying their hand on her shoulder.

There was no time to ask for questions because Richie’s lips were attached to hers, kissing away her grimace. It was a total paradox: his lips were cracked, yet soft and even though they had just eaten dinner she could taste mint on his tongue.

The kiss was rough and full of want. Richie wanted to know what she tasted like. Richie wanted to know what she felt like. Richie wanted to know her.

y/n pulled apart from him. She stayed long enough to know what his kisses felt like but left fast enough to leave him wanting more.

“Why’d you do that?” She said in between gasps for air. They were both left breathless from the intensity of it all.

Richie shrugged and y/n hated how apathetic he could be. “Just felt like it.” His hands slipped into his back pockets. His eyes then started to travel from her neck to her body. He started to wonder what she looked like without that jean jacket on. Or any clothes on.

y/n knew what Richie wanted. It was just the question if she’d give it to him or not. She shrugged her shoulders in an equivalent fashion as to how Richie shrugged his so that the jacket slipped off, revealing the exposed skin her tank top allowed for.

A faint whistle echoed from Richie’s lips. The same lips that were just on hers a moment ago. He took the time to stare at—no—admire her sharp collarbones and the skin that her top left no imagination for. A sudden rush of goosebumps pricked y/n’s now exposed shoulders at the sound of him whistling and she had to tell herself to keep her composure.

“Is this the part where we have amazing sex and afterward I’m just suddenly supposed to forgive you?” y/n’s words were like a knife, stabbing into Richie’s unusually open state. Nonetheless, her arms were reaching to take off her shirt and her legs were already kicking off her loose jeans.

“Don’t try an’ break the fourth wall.” Richie mirrored her. His shirt flew across the room, it wasn’t like he cared where it landed. His only pair of good jeans marked where he once stood. He was now on her. His lips left sloppy, wet kisses that trailed from her heated cheeks to her neck.

The two were fast to make their way to y/n’s bed—Richie taking his rightful place on top of her and y/n wrapping her legs around him. Her hips bucked up to his as she tried to relieve the built-up stress and ache in her core, but it only caused the heat in her underwear to pool, even more, soaking it further.

“Christ, you’re dripping.” Richie felt the dampness from her panties transfer to his boxers. His index and middle finger reached down, swiping at her heat through the lacy fabric. y/n whimpered as she watched him lick the slick from his fingers afterward. “You have to be quiet, okay? If we get busted my dad’ll sock me.” Richie whispered in her ear, his lips barely ghosting the shell of it.

y/n’s eyes fluttered at the small sensation. Do it again, Richie. But she would never admit her longing for him. Her legs tightened around him (if that were even possible) and she only wished that Richie would get the hint without her having to say it.

“Needy, are we?” y/n’s eyes rolled under her shut eyelids at the sound of Richie’s voice. The boy was all talk, non-stop. If they didn’t hurry, y/n feared her mom would check up on the two. All she could do was pray the Toziers kept them busy with conversation.

Richie held himself up with his left arm while his right hand rubbed indecipherable shapes on her clit. y/n wanted to cry out, but she knew better than that and she would get more than just a handful from Richie if she did. His long, dexterous fingers knew their way around a girl and y/n couldn’t help but think to how many times he’s done this before.

He was fast when he slipped a finger into her, then one became two, and two became none just as the top of y/n’s head hit her headboard from throwing her head back in pleasure.

“Why’d you stop?” y/n whispered. Her hips ground against him again and she could feel how hard he had gotten. These few seconds of paused breaths were about as much fun for her as it was for him.

“I think I hear someone.” Richie blinked and sat up. His full attention had reverted to the sounds outside her room and he was sure those footsteps weren’t y/n’s imaginary friend.

y/n saw this as an opportunity to get Richie back for all the times he’s gotten at her. The accidental trips in the hallways. The snide comments. The times he’s hooked up with other girls that weren’t her. She pushed him so he laid flat on his back, all sprawled out for her. She pressed a kiss to his lips. She kissed him hard. All the pent-up anger and resentment she had towards him was released into that kiss. Her lips then trailed their way down his body. They were feather-light and tickled his freckled skin. She was careful not to make marks, but it was tempting. It was tempting not to leave a purple bruise on his hipbone only for his next hookup to ask who’s that from? And for him to reply actually, I don’t think we should do this.

y/n looked up at Richie with the same puppy dog eyes she used to wear when they were six and Richie just about had a heart attack. The girl relieved him of his confinements (and other things), only for his manhood to unveil itself. It was eager for her, the tip glazed with precum and y/n’s mouth couldn’t help but water at the thought of being the one to get him off. She took him in her dainty hands. The same hands he watched handle the knife with. The same hands that wound their way around his neck and played with his unruly hair when he was on top of her. She pumped him cautiously; tenderly, before taking him in her mouth. She first kissed the tip, remnants of precum glossing her lips, and then swallowed around him.

Richie moaned at the feeling and y/n giggled, the vibrations sending him into endless bliss. The girl below him took one of her hands and placed it over his mouth in the same way he had told her to be quiet earlier. She smiled, feeling his mouth on her hand and her mouth-

“Richie?” It was Wentworth Tozier and y/n had never been so glad to be behind closed doors.

y/n released the hand that was cupped over his trash mouth. “Yea-yeah, dad?” His eyes were wide and not because he was in awe of the night he had been waiting for since forever, was finally happening.

“Are you ready to go? We’ve just about finished up.”

Richie found it all of the sudden harder to contain his sounds and the sensation of y/n’s mouth taking his length multiplied by tenfold.

“Ye-yeah.” Richie cursed himself for turning into his stuttering friend. Except instead of a stuttering Bill, it would be a stuttering Richie.

“You’re not having any issues in there, are you?” Wentworth pressed further and Richie’s hands flew to y/n’s hair. Her head bobbed up and down at the command of him and the only thing Richie could do now was cross his fingers for a fast release.

“I just lost my ring,” he managed to get out.

“Aw. It’s not the nice one, is it?” Wentworth recalled how much that one had cost. The rings Richie wore were mostly costume jewelry, aside from the one plain band made of real silver.

“N-no.” Richie was frantic. “But it’s just one I like.” He stifled a grunt using his own ring-clad hand—where every ring resided just fine.

“Do you need any help?” I need you to go away.

“No!” He was suspiciously eager. “y/n’s helping me.”

“Okay, okay. Three’s a crowd.” Wentworth knew how to take a hint. “Your mom and I’ll be waiting in the car. Please be down shortly.”

It was only until Richie couldn’t hear his father’s footsteps anymore when he choked out a moan he’d been holding in for far too long.

y/n separated from him after swallowing the lst of his high. She left him with a thick stripe from her tongue pressed to the underside of his cock and breaths so heavy he could barely hear himself think.

“Christ.” Richie was still trying to find his breath and y/n only eyed him innocently. She got up from the bed to retrieve her clothes, he would have to get his own, giving him a full view of her backside.

“You talk too much,” y/n said nonchalantly. Her hands that were once on him were now searching through her drawers for a different pair of underwear. She’d have to shower again once the Toziers left but the pooling between her thighs felt too uncomfortable to tolerate for a second more.

Richie was sat upright on y/n’s four-poster bed. His glasses were fogged, an accurate representation of how his mind felt. A weird haze kept him from thinking straight. It was different from when you smoked green and he couldn’t help but think that this was the first time he’d gotten off in weeks.

“Richie?” y/n asked almost concerned. She appeared in front of him and she looked like she came straight from one of his dreams. Her cheeks were still flushed and hot from earlier when their skin collided and she hadn’t combed the sex out of her hair yet. Richie hated the Led Zeppelin t-shirt that covered her figure and he wordlessly pleaded to stay the night, the only indication coming from his big doe eyes that were blown with lust and sinful thoughts. “Richie!”

The shrill sound of her voice made him blink and he finally saw y/n for who she was.

“You have to leave.”

“Gee, sugar. You sure welcomed my stay.” His pupils were quick to contract when they made a trip to the back of his head.

y/n scoffed and before Richie could make a smart comment he was met with his clothes thrown at his chest and another order to leave.

“The princess gets what the princess wants,” were the last spoken words before y/n slammed the bedroom door behind him. But y/n wouldn’t confess that it was Richie she fantasized about that night while her left hand traveled beneath her fresh pair of underwear. She’d pretend her fingers were his, but it wasn’t the same when she couldn’t meet the same feeling of euphoria he gave her.

Unsurprisingly, it was Richie to address their rendezvous the next day. They were at school: y/n hung by a row of lockers with Stacy at her hip as she talked about her new cheer routine.

Richie immediately spotted y/n who was sporting dark wash skinny jeans and another band tee, but the hem reached just above her navel. He faintly recognized the blondie next to her, recalling if they had ever done it or not but he assumed if y/n was friends with her the answer was most likely no.

“Hey.” His voice was coarse and a shallow part of y/n wanted to know if he had found another girl to get off with when he left her place.

“Hi.” y/n’s eyes never left Stacy’s and she pretended not to be interested in what he had to say.

“y/n.” Her stomach felt hollow at the sound of him saying her name. She digressed, still giving her friend her full attention. “y/n.” His voice was firmer now. They had all the time in the world, seemingly because it was the end of the day, but Richie needed to talk to her now.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to talk to someone?” y/n bit back harshly. She didn’t mean it.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to talk to you?” Richie grew agitated and y/n liked the sound of desperation from him. Desperate for her.

“It’s fine, y/n.” Stacy was understanding but she shot Richie an offhanded glance that left him speechless and self-conscious. “I have practice anyway.” After she kissed y/n’s cheek goodbye, she skipped off to what y/n presumed was the football field.

“Whew, where can I get some of that action?” Richie wiggled his eyebrows which earned him a slap to his shoulder.

“What do you want?” y/n still didn’t make eye contact with the boy in front of her—a pattern he was just now starting to pick up on.

“Last night…” Richie’s eyebrow raised suggestively, and y/n knew exactly what he was hinting at just from the tone of his voice because what else had happened last night?

“Last night was a mistake,” y/n lied. She had to keep her guard up around him or else she’d get hurt.

“You think so?” Richie’s back slumped against the lockers next to hers while y/n continued to shove books into her bag. “I kinda liked it,�� he admitted.

y/n’s eyes widened, and she swore her ears were deceiving her.

They weren’t.

Richie and y/n had spent the past week switching between each other’s houses. On Tuesday it was Richie’s because the ‘rents would be AWOL and on Wednesday it was y/n’s because it was her house the yearbook club would be meeting on that day and she had to be there to set up.

“I don’t see why ya have to go to that stupid thing,” Richie grunted before pushing in. “Who buys yearbooks anyways?”

“A lot of people.” y/n said, partially annoyed that they had to be fast and also annoyed at how much Richie talked during sex.

Their sessions were usually quick and sloppy. Neither taking the time for foreplay, and neither caring. Hands gripped skin and teeth clashed. As long as the other got their release, it didn’t matter. It was a system. Richie would meet y/n at her place and y/n would meet Richie at his. They’d part with a goodbye and nothing more. Anything more would be crossing the line.

It was on a Monday when Richie Tozier found himself shakily opening the handle to y/n’s front door. It was out of character for him to be nervous about this stuff, but he was. They’d been hooking up after school for a few weeks now and although they hadn’t had a session planned for today. It was like an unspoken agreement.

He didn’t bother to see if the door was locked or not. He already knew the y/l/n’s kept a spare key under the welcome mat so he welcomed himself to use it.

Her house was eerily quiet. He bet he could hear a pin drop if he tried to find the one sitting at the bottom of his backpack. But he didn’t. For a second, it occurred to Richie that no one was home. He wanted to recheck if the cars were in the driveway until he remembered y/n didn’t drive. Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier was now Richie ‘The Snoop’ Tozier as he made his way up the stairs to her room. An uncomfortable stillness blanketed the air but Richie only continued his path.

He caught on quick once he saw the door to her room was open, giving Richie a full view of y/n leaning against the edge of the balcony that was connected to her bedroom.

“y/n!”

She looked peaceful as the wind lifted her hair—it would take her body too, just one push.

y/n didn’t notice her name from his lips as he called for her. The only cohesive thing that ran through her mind was the sound of her thoughts. Do it. Do it. Do it.

She was about to. Her grip on the railing tightened before letting go completely and her feet pushed off to meet the air’s welcoming breeze. But the exoneration y/n had ever so hoped for was replaced by the tight embrace of Richie Tozier as his arms wrapped around her torso. He held her tight even though her body fell limp at his touch.

“y/n.” She wanted to crawl in a hole at her name on his tongue. The high-spirited and playful little girl Richie Tozier once knew and held close was replaced with a sad—miserable—teenager and Richie had to take a step back because it became apparent to him that he didn’t know her at all.

A hot tear burned its way down her cheek which Richie wiped with the pad of his thumb.

“Why do you care?” y/n whispered. She was too weak to move so she sat with him. She sat with his arms strewn around her to keep her from doing anything stupid.

“What do you mean why?” Richie was calm under the weight of the situation. Honey dripped from his voice, soothing her open wound and y/n reluctantly felt her body relax with his.

“We hate each other.” The words stung because honesty hurts and Richie’s dry mouth swallowed, buying him time to think of a reply.

“Where did it all go wrong, sugar?” He asked. Richie genuinely wondered what had changed between them and y/n’s heartbeat picked up rapid-fire because she remembered the events, as well as she, remembered her eighth-grade valedictorian speech.

It was the summer of ‘89. School had just let out and y/n rushed home to change from her school clothes and call up the Toziers’ landline—a number she had memorized by heart.

She threw open her closet door, blood was rushing through her veins as she decided what to wear. It took her a moment and she wondered what Richie’s favorite color was. She finally decided on blue to match his eyes.

Mrs. y/l/n had scolded y/n for running in the house because she just swept the floor and she didn’t want tracks again, but y/n didn’t care as she dialed the home phone with the precision of a hunter. y/n sat patiently in her baby blue sundress with her legs crossed on the velvet armchair while the dial tone rang. A giggle couldn’t help but escape her lips from the thrill of it all.

She’d never been so bold to call up her crush and now she was finally doing it.

“Hello?” It was Maggie Tozier’s voice and y/n could tell she hurried to the phone before this.

“Is Richie there?” y/n asked timidly. She wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t get the chance to talk to him because she died from a heart attack right there, but she praised herself in her head for containing her loose giggles.

The other end was silent for a moment. “Richie can’t come to the phone right now.” Maggie sounded sad and y/n understood. “Maybe try again tomorrow?”

She did. She had tried again that whole week and she was met with the same answer each time.

Embarrassment finally took the form of a soon-to-be-highschooler as y/n couldn’t bring herself to call the line, or even look at the phone that next week.

Summer of ‘89 went by as fast as it came. y/n had grown a few inches only for Richie to shoot up like a tree.

She’d only seen him sparingly. Once at Mr. Keene’s pharmacy where he was hanging out with Eddie, Bill, Stan, and a few other familiar faces; faces she’d seen before but couldn’t place a name to. The other times she’d seen him were at the barrens, but she couldn’t bring herself say anything to the boy, let alone look at him.

Their final meeting was on the first day of school: freshman year. Richie stood a good head above her and y/n had finally found the courage to confront him after her fun-less summer.

The days were still hot even though school had started to pick up and it didn’t help that Derry High had neglected to get their AC unit fixed until snowflakes carried through later that year. To combat the scorching sun that beat down on the Derry residents’ backs, y/n wore a yellow, pinstriped sundress that jutted out at the hip and ended above the knee. Her mom insisted she wore the new Mary Janes she’d splurged on, just for her, and to go with them she paired white frilly socks and a silver necklace.

“Hi!” y/n was hopeful that the one and only Richie Tozier hadn’t forgotten who she was over the summer of not calling back and sparse interactions. She stood at his locker and looked at him with the same puppy dog eyes she did when they were six. The same puppy dog eyes she’d give him the night he would come over for dinner and over welcome his stay in her room.

Richie stood there frozen. His hand had a death grip on the new history book he had just received earlier that day and even if he wanted to move, his muscles wouldn’t allow for such a thing. He forced a smile on his pretty lips that had snuck a cigarette in the bathroom earlier—a habit he picked up from over the summer—but didn’t say anything.

“I called you…” y/n said, a sort of sadness hinting in her words. She could tell there was something different about him, but she didn’t know what it was. “Busy summer?”

He felt his breath hitched and found his fingers, along with the other muscles in his being, able to move. Richie swiftly and recklessly stuffed the textbook in his backpack while y/n was tracing the numbers engraved on the metal plating of the locker next to his. The thrill of finally being in high school hadn’t yet left her body when all Richie could think about was when they’d get the fuck outta there.

“You could say that.” Richie didn’t really know what happened that summer. All he knew was that there were a couple missed calls from y/n—according to his mom. And it’d be too embarrassing to try and rekindle what little they had now.

“Well, if you aren’t busy right now…” y/n’s words started to trail off, becoming a distant memory in Richie’s mind until they picked up again. “We could hang out after school?” There sparked a glimmer of hope in her big eyes and Richie felt his insides twist into a bow.

The loud, ear-piercing sound of metal hitting metal made y/n jump when Richie slammed his locker door shut. “We’re not friends.”

“What?” She was in disbelief at what the boy in front of her was saying even though he wore a straight face.

Richie sighed. “Look. I don’t know how many times I have to explain this to ya but listen good: just cos our parents are all chummy doesn’t mean we gotta be.” He hadn’t blinked since he started talking and his hard stare confirmed the awful feeling in y/n’s stomach.

“F-fine. If that’s how you feel.” y/n kept herself from bursting in front of the boy she harbored a crush for. She turned away from him and made quick to excuse herself from his presence.

y/n remembered never touching her Mary Janes after that day. They still sat in the back of her closet collecting dust—still shining as if they were new. She would spend the rest of her freshman year in t-shirts she’d cropped herself and figuring out how to get the most natural-looking tears in her jeans.

y/n remembered hating Richie Tozier ever since.

Silent tears streaked her cheek. Some fell on Richie’s sleeve and he felt guilty. “Oh, kid. I don’t hate you.” The sound of his heartbeat through his shirt soothed her, like how a lullaby calmed a child. Richie didn’t expect an answer from the girl in his arms. He just stroked her hair and hoped she’d stay as still as she was in his arms when it was time for him to go.

“Regina hates me.”

y/n gave Richie no further explanation as to why three became two in her already small group of friends. It was earlier that day when she had found out Regina Carmichaels had been talking to Ellie Wozniack behind her back—revealing y/n’s deepest secrets and embarrassing stories—since grade school. She only found out from Stacy who was in the handicapped stall during her lunch period. The cheerleader was doodling pink hearts on the wall that separated the two toilets in the girl’s bathroom next to the cafeteria when she heard a familiar voice groan in disgust about how much she couldn’t stand y/n. It was in study hall when y/n and Stacy finally shared a period when Stacy told her friend what she’d heard and seen through the crack of the door.

“My mom hates me.” y/n’s voice cracked, and Richie felt his grip tighten. She didn’t go into detail either. She didn’t have to.

“You have me,” Richie whispered in her ear. His thumb traced indistinguishable patterns against the sleeve of her shirt much like the night that started it all. One last sob escaped her dry throat and y/n felt herself turning in Richie’s arms.

Her eyes meticulously searched his, noting every fleck of color, every detail. His mirrored hers in expression and she felt her heartbeat slow.

The two didn’t have to say anything, they just knew.

It was Richie who pressed a kiss to her temple. The soft skin of his lips made their way down to her lips—they spent extra time on her cheekbone which was wet and salty from the tears that streamed down it.

The other times y/n and Richie kissed, it was rushed, neither of them taking the time to notice the other; only caring about getting off. But as Richie’s soft lips captured y/n’s, it was different from the times before. It was slow as each party took the time to explore each crevice of each other’s mouth and discover the natural feeling that stayed hidden in the pit of their stomachs in which only at this moment did it reveal itself.

The kiss they shared exuded a feeling y/n had never felt with him the previous times their bare skin found each other. It was nice. Richie was taking all the precious minutes he had with her and it was as if he were seeing her for the first time.

A certain feeling of loss washed over both of them when they had to pull apart for air. When her lips were bare, the only thing y/n wanted being to feel him on her again.

“I never meant to hurt you.” Richie took her hand in his. He knew he wasn’t the sole reason for all her problems, but he could be the one to relieve her of at least one.

y/n was quiet. Her hand squeezed his, letting him know she heard him. “Stay with me?”

“I’ll stay with you forever,” Richie said, his words only loud enough for her to hear, only meant for her to hear.

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier x reader fluff #richie tozier x reader angst #richie tozier x reader smut #richie tozier smut #richie tozier fanfiction #richie tozier imagine #this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and i don't wanna leave u guys in the dark #posting bc i hit 100 followers and im not done w my wips yet #if this is triggering to u just lmk and i'll take it down or we can work something out #maybe this does work out bc it's suicide prevention month..#maybe #tw: suicide mention

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bellafarallones2 · 3 years

Text

a/n: t-rated indruck fluff from #21 on Veronica Bunch's college au prompt list: I get stuck with a late class that doesn’t end until 9pm and I’m always anxious about walking across the campus to the dorms, so you offer to walk with me and one night, I find out that it’s in the exact opposite direction that you need to go in

Duck had signed up for Performance Studies because he needed arts credits and because the meeting time, seven to nine in the evening Tuesdays and Thursdays, worked well with the rest of his schedule. He was less happy when the professor emailed out the homework for the first day: a reading that examined the question “what is performance?” for thirteen dense pages without managing to come to a conclusion.

By the time he showed up to the first class, he barely remembered any of the points the reading had made. Most of the other students already seemed to know each other, and were talking in groups when he arrived. Only one man, a tall guy with silver hair whose black roots suggested he’d spent an evening bent over a sink for it, was sitting alone and silent.

“Anyone sitting here?” said Duck.

“You?” said the guy hopefully. He was wearing jeans and a soft beige cardigan over his white shirt, and there was a small rainbow-flag patch on his black backpack.

“I’m Duck,” Duck said. “And my pronouns are he/him.” He still occasionally got read as a butch lesbian, and it was better to establish the pronoun thing right out of the gate.

“Indrid. I also use he/him.”

That was all they said before the professor showed up and class began. The professor genuinely cared about the material, which made the whole thing more interesting, though Duck was still distracted. Indrid had very nice hands, nails painted chipped black, and he doodled the entire class, filling a whole page with spiky fractals.

Finally nine o’clock arrived. The sky outside was pitch-black. “I’m not really looking forward to walking home this late,” Duck said as he stood waiting for Indrid to finish packing up. “Wish I had your punk privilege.”

“Excuse me?” Indrid looked amused.

“You know. You’re tall and you have piercings.” As Duck said that, Indrid stood up, revealing that he was even taller than Duck had previously thought. Jesus, this guy had Slenderman legs. “You look like you could throw a punch.”

“I could use my punk privilege to walk you home, if you’d like.”

“I’d appreciate it, if it’s not too out of your way - I live on High Street next to the REI.”

“Yeah, I’m going that way.”

Duck held the door as they left the building and walked together down the half-lit street. The planes of Indrid’s face looked almost unearthly in the streetlights.

“You an art major?” Duck asked.

“Visual arts and math. I needed to take something in theater or music as a distribution requirement and this was the least theater or music class I could find that was also after noon.”

Duck laughed. “Yeah, I’m in the forestry program and I had to take something artsy.”

Indrid nodded. They walked in silence for a while, but Indrid didn’t seem to mind, his hands shoved into his pockets and his face turned up.

“This is me,” Duck said when they reached the REI. The door to the apartments above was almost unnoticeable next to the brightly-lit storefront.

“Alright,” Indrid said as Duck fiddled with his key. “See you on Thursday!”

“Goodnight!” said Duck when the door swung open, looking around. As soon as Indrid saw that Duck was inside, he turned and walked back the way they’d come. Duck wondered vaguely where he lived; this block didn’t have many students. Ah, well. A question for another day.

On Thursday before class Duck stopped at the snack bar for dinner and spotted a familiar head of silver hair. Indrid was drawing, his head tilted at an odd angle so he could both look at the page and drink from the straw on a sixteen-ounce cherry slushy.

“Mind if I join you?” said Duck.

Indrid looked up and his face lit up. “Of course! I don’t mind, I mean. Please sit.”

Duck realized then that what he’d assumed was art was in fact math, that Indrid was taking notes out of a slim, intimidating textbook. Duck recognized a couple of integral signs and that was about it. “Math, huh?”

Indrid nodded.

“I had to take Calc 2 for my major, I wish I’d known you then so you could have helped me with it.”

Indrid laughed, tapping his pencil. “I’d have been happy to. Certainly numbers make more sense than people do, sometimes.”

“Probably more sense than that performance reading.” Duck leaned forward. “I don’t suppose you’d be down to walk me home again?”

Indrid shrugged. “You’re good company.”

Duck met Indrid again at the local park that weekend. Their homework for the week was to record themselves performing in a way they did in their daily lives, and Duck didn’t feel like getting into gender, so he’d decided to show how he performed when giving a nature talk, and he’d asked Indrid to help film. (He’d offered to help film Indrid’s performance in return, but Indrid had politely declined, joking about performance anxiety.)

It was less awkward than Duck had been expecting. He walked around the park, pointing out the fungus on a tree trunk and a frog sitting with just its eyes over the surface of the water. Indrid, filming on Duck’s phone, smiled encouragingly whenever he met Duck’s eyes, and it was all Duck could do not to break his train of thought to grin back.

“Thank you for helping me,” he said when he was done.

“Thank you for the free nature walk!” said Indrid as he handed Duck’s phone back to him. Their hands brushed against Duck’s smooth phone case. “I come here to draw sometimes, but I’ve never noticed all that before.”

They watched everyone’s videos in class that week. Most of them were pretty boring. Duck cringed through the playing of his own video, though Indrid had done a good job with the camerawork, and a few of the music majors in the class had recorded themselves playing their instruments, which was at least nice to listen to. And then it was Indrid’s turn.

The video opened on a close-up shot of Indrid’s face. I am an artist, the voiceover said, Indrid’s own voice booming across the classroom. Sometimes I even look like it.

The Indrid on the screen bent his head - he was looking not at the camera but at a mirror behind it, putting on heavy eyeliner and spotty mascara. He switched out the subtle studs along the shell of his ear for something heavier, flashier, chain running between the holes. Then he stepped back from the camera and shrugged on a black leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders. A punk jacket. He posed, self-conscious, and as he started laughing the camera cut sharply to his face, again large.

I had an internship last summer with an insurance company calculating risk. He rubbed the makeup off his face with a makeup wipe, his eyes reddening slightly at the contact. He removed the jacket and folded it carefully before placing it out of frame. And then he picked up a pale blue button-down and buttoned it carefully down over his undershirt, and tied a tie in a perfect Windsor around his neck. He removed the bar from his eyebrow and the chains from his ears, which looked rather naked without them.

I perform to look like the things I know I can do. He dabbed concealer over the rosy maple moth tattooed at his neck, one wingtip peeking over the collar of the shirt. Then he held his hand out for a handshake, a business handshake, and sure, he looked like the kind of person Duck would trust to sell insurance. But there was something about his smile, something Duck wondered if anyone else could see. Something that lingered no matter what he wore.

Duck probably should spend less time thinking about his mouth.

“So my lease ends in January,” said Duck casually as they turned the corner onto his street. “And I’ve been having trouble finding other places that rent to students in this neighborhood, so I was wondering how you found your place.”

“Oh,” said Indrid, sounding guilty. “Well, I don’t know how much help I can be. I live up by the corner of 16th street and Broad.”

Duck did some quick mental geography as he climbed the step up to the front door. “That’s completely the other direction!”

“I know.” He was dressed like neither an insurance salesman nor a metal punk, today, with gold studs glittering in his ears like grains of sand and a soft, oversized sweater falling off one shoulder. The black roots of his hair had grown since the beginning of the term.

“You told me the first day of class that walking home wouldn’t be going out of your way! You know I don’t need walking home, right?”

“Of course. I just. Uh. I wanted to spend more time with you. I’m sorry for misleading you, we can stop if it makes you feel weird.”

Duck looked down at him. Indrid stood silently, awaiting judgment. “How about you come in?”

Indrid looked up. “I don’t mean to impose, it’s no trouble to walk home -”

Duck held out his hand. Indrid took it and followed him up the stairs without letting go. “You aren’t allergic to cats, are you?” Duck said when he finally had to take his hand back to unlock the door.

“Even if I was, I’d happily resign myself to sneezing.”

Duck opened the door and, as soon as Indrid was inside, crowded him up against it. Indrid slowly lifted his hands, trembling, and rested them on Duck’s shoulders. His gaze beneath his glasses flicked from Duck’s eyes to his lips and back again.

“Can I kiss you?” Duck said.

“Yes please.”

Indrid’s mouth was warm and soft and yielded so easily to Duck’s tongue, fuck, they should have done this sooner. Class would have been so much more bearable if he could have been looking over at Indrid’s lips the whole time knowing that as soon as class was over he could drag him out into the hallway, into one of the gender-neutral bathrooms in the arts building and kiss him silly.

“You don’t have any morning classes tomorrow, do you?” Duck asked when he finally pulled away enough to speak.

Indrid shook his head.

“Want to watch a movie and make out?”

“That sounds perfect.”

#indruck

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billyhargrove-imagines · 4 years

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Kindred Outsiders: Pt. 1

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x OC

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2374

A/N: Hello! This story was originally posted on my fanfiction.com account but I decided to bring it to tumblr as well :) Anyhow, this story is going to take place in the beginning of summer & will later lead up to the events starting in the beginning of season 3. Gif used isn’t mine. Enjoy!

Indiana is…different.

I moved out here merely two weeks ago from Los Angeles, California. My father died from a plane crash over a month ago. He was on his way home from a business trip. My mother, on the other hand, isn't in the picture because she passed away from cancer 5 years ago. I was 15 years old at the time.

I couldn't stand being alone in my father's mansion any longer. It just wasn't the same without him. It caused me nothing but pain having to enter a home where I am not greeted a simple 'hello' from my father. Dinners were always lonely so I ended up resorting to going out with friends almost every night for dinner, followed by drinking at home from my father's in-home bar.

When it came around to bedtime, I felt a pit in my stomach whenever I passed my father's office and didn't see the light shining under the crack of the door. He always worked in his office late.

One day I made a bold move by giving my aunt Joyce a call and moved in with her in Indiana a month after the incident. Aunt Joyce is my father's sister.

Her small house is nothing compared to mine and lacked the useless amenities I was used to. But I didn't care. Living here so far with her, Will and Jonathan was much better than living back in California all alone. Sure, I had friends but it doesn't compare to family.

Since I am an only child of my parents, I inherited all of their money. I also made a selfless decision and paid off my aunt's mortgage. When I told her the news, I was thanked with a slap across the face followed by a tight hug. She never wanted any handouts from my parents in the past and still doesn't til this day.

It is 1pm and I just clocked out for my short shift at this clothing store in the starcourt mall. Yes, I have a great amount of money in my bank account, but I still wanted to keep myself occupied by working a part time job. I didn't want to just sit on my ass all day. Especially since I still don't know what I want to do for my career. I am 20 years old and time is ticking, but I don't want to waste my time and money on schooling when I don't know what the hell I want to do yet.

After every shift I've been stopping by the ice cream shop, Scoops Ahoy and I always see the same duo, Steve and Robin. I've become quite acquainted with them and I learned so far that they're fresh out of high school.

"Let me guess, rocky road?" Steve said with a grin.

"You know me too well, Steve." I replied with a smile, stretching my arm out to hand him cash.

"God Steve. Just ask her out already." Robin added, rolling her eyes playfully and crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the back counter.

"Can you not?" Steve snapped his head at Robin, cheeks flushed red.

"Very funny, Robin." I let out a chuckle and waved goodbye to the duo as I licked my delicious ice cream on my way out.

As usual, I took my time walking through the mall. I wanted to make sure I finished my ice cream before I arrived to my car and headed home. A variety of families, couples and friends seemed to be enjoying their shopping trips. Though word on the news is that many local business owners are enraged about the mall being built due to losing business.

A familiar female voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Hi Victoria!" Aria, my eccentric coworker greeted me, her shoulder-length blonde hair bouncing as she kept up to my steps.

"Hey Aria, I thought you're off today?" I asked, still enjoying my ice cream.

"Yeah I was just shopping around for a gift for my mom's birthday next week." She briefly lifted the shopping bag in her hand. "Did you just get off or are you on lunch?"

"Um, I just got off."

"Yay! I'm going to the pool after this. Join me so I'm not alone!" She suggested. "There's also this hot hot hot lifeguard they hired last week. I went to school with him!"

"Okay sure. But I'm not really into that."

"Come on, Victoria." Aria groaned. "I know you don't have any plans today."

"No I meant the hot lifeguard or whatever. Not into that." I gave a dismissive wave of my hand before taking a generous lick of my ice cream.

"Oh. You're into girls? So sorry. I didn't know."

I snorted in amusement, but internally I was rolling my eyes at her. She's always been quick to make assumptions.

"No no no. I like boys." I made known. "I just don't care to drool over a piece of meat. But I'm down to take a dip in the pool."

"Oh! Okay. Sorry. Sorry again."

"It's fine Aria," I dragged. "I'm gonna go home and change out of this and I'll meet you there."

"Yay! Okay bye!" Aria shouted with glee before going our separate ways. She sure can be annoyingly hyper sometimes, but she's the only real girlfriend I've made here so far. Robin is always working and when she is off, she's always busy doing god knows what.

Like clockwork, my ice cream was finished off before I made it outside to my car. Or should I say my late father's black 1984 Porsche 911. It's quite showy for someone who now lives in Indiana, but this car was my father's baby. I'm never letting go of this.

The Rubberband Man by The Spinners blasted on my stereo as I drove to Aunt Joyce's house. Music from the 70s has always stuck with me. On my face are my favorite pair of black aviator sunglasses.

After a moment of driving down the familiar roads, I pull into the front of my aunt's house. I take the keys out of the ignition, remove my aviators, hop out of my car and enter the non vacant home. "Hey Jonathan." I greeted my cousin who is watching television on the couch with a full plate and fork in his hands.

"Hey there, Vic. You're home early." He said with a full mouth. I hummed in response before scurrying to my bedroom.

I searched through my dresser drawers until I found the perfect bikini for my mood, which is a two piece. I paired my black cheeky bottoms with a neon green strapless top. After quickly peeling off my work attire and slipping into my bikini, I made sure to at least cover up my ass cheeks with denim shorts before throwing on a pair of sandals.

Now I am out the door, tossing my bag of pool essentials in the passenger seat and making sure not to forget my aviators. The sun is at its peak and I am ready to cool off.

Minutes later I pull into the parking lot of the community pool for the first time since moving down here. I've driven past it plenty of times but never had the need to go yet until Aria randomly invited me.

Exiting my car with my bag under my arm and my aviators on, I hear various sounds at a short distance of people enjoying themselves in the water.

The sun is beaming down at me as I'm making my way through the gate, glancing around until I find Aria. "Victoria! Hey!" She shouted with glee, waving her hand. I found her lying on the pool lounger.

"Hey Aria." I greeted, placing my bag on the ground.

"Go on in the pool if you want. I'm waiting for him to show up for his shift. It should be any moment now!"

"Really?" Sitting down at the foot of the empty pool lounger, I shook my head at Aria in disapproval.

She scoffed. "Oh don't give me that look, Victoria." I shook my head at her, dropping my shorts and tossing it in my bag.

Aria let out a gasp out of the blue, sitting up straight. "Speaking of Billy. There he is!"

"Where?" I asked, casually pulling a flask out of my bag. I'm not an alcoholic and I don't plan to get plastered, but a little buzz is well deserved.

Aria doesn't respond. Instead, I scan my surroundings until I spotted the only male lifeguard walking the grounds to my left. He is tastefully shirtless, wearing red swim shorts, a whistle necklace and brown aviator shades. His dirty blonde hair is styled into a mullet, which surprisingly fits his face perfectly.

Billy's head snapped my direction as I'm taking a swig out of my whiskey filled flask. I couldn't tell if he was directly looking at me due to the shades masking his eyes, but all of the women's eyes were on him. And by the swagger of his steps, I can tell he's reveling in it.

"Eh." I shrugged my shoulders, once Billy passed me and sat comfortably in the lifeguard chair. "He's alright." I lied.

From his perfectly tanned skin to his flawlessly sculpted muscles, it's as if his body was made by angels. Even from a distance, I could see that his plump lips could lose any woman in his kiss. But no, I had to feign being unimpressed because a man that looks like that is bad news for me.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" She briskly pulled her sunglasses off, shooting me a look of disgust.

"Are your sunglasses blinding you?"

I snorted. "Nope. I can see perfectly clear."

"Ugh! If you think that Billy Hargrove is just alright, then I don't even want to know what kind of men you consider perfect." Aria mentioned seriously to me as she laid back and placed her sunglasses back on.

"Don't care. I'm going for a dip." I threw my flask back inside my bag before rising to my feet towards the pool to swim a few laps.

Stroking through the water, there is no one alive who can stop me. It's a moment like this that makes me miss the beaches in California. But I close my eyes and lose myself, pretending that's exactly where I am.

Unaware how long I've been swimming to and fro, I do one more lap before I take a break and reward myself with another sip of whiskey.

As I am motioning out of the water and my feet are planted onto the cement, a deep, male voice captures my attention. "Here."

I look and it is the stud himself, Billy Hargrove handing me a towel. "Oh thanks." I accepted with a soft smile, almost hesitant because I have a towel in my bag but I didn't want to seem rude.

I begin pat drying my long, black hair with the towel and begin sauntering towards my designated pool lounger, but Billy halts me, "Hey sweetheart." I spun around to face him with furrowed brows. "What's your name?" He asked, removing his glasses to reveal his annoyingly beautiful, blue eyes.

"Victoria. And you?" I asked even though I already know.

"The name's Billy." He said, randomly placing a piece of gum in his mouth which caused me to catch a glance at his lips, then to his abs and back to his eyes. I swear I saw the corner of his lip quirk up when he caught me. "Nice to meet ya Victoria."

"You too Billy." The sun was so hot that I didn't even need to dry off my body anymore. Instead, I threw the towel over my shoulder.

"Am I mistaken or is this your first time here?" He asked, smacking his gum as he's indiscreetly giving me an elevator look.

"No you're right." Before Billy had the chance to speak any further, I pointed behind him towards the pool. "Hey, I think there's a kid drowning over there."

Just as I predicted, he cautiously looked over his shoulder and that's when I made a beeline towards my pool lounger next to Aria.

"You. Dumb. Bitch." Aria remarked with obvious displeasure as I'm searching for my flask. "I can't be friends with you anymore."

"What now, Aria?"

"Billy the hottie was obviously into you and you blew it! Ugh, the things I'd do to be in your shoes right now."

"Oh please. He's just another pretty boy that wants one thing." I implied before taking a sip. "Go over there and talk to him yourself then." Flickering my eyes, I am now seeing that Billy's back on his lifeguard chair.

"Um no. If Billy wants somebody, Billy always makes the first move. Do I look like I want to embarrass myself right now?"

"If you say so." I said, readjusting the pool lounger so that it was flat and I lied on my stomach, using my arms as a makeshift pillow. "Can you rub sunscreen on me and wake me up in 30. I'm taking a nap."

Being the good friend that she is, Aria stole the sunscreen from my bag and did as I asked. She knows I'd do the same for her.

"I know you can't see right now," she started after a minute of no words exchanged, "but he's looking over here. Probably at your ass." She paused. "I wouldn't blame him though."

She's right. I do have a nice ass.

"Billy can stare all he wants. What do I care?" I uttered lazily, eyes closed and ready to sleep.

"You're insane! If I can't have him, then can you have him for me? And tell me if it is big!" She whisper shouted, rubbing the last bit of sunscreen needed on me.

"Im not having sex with anyone, Aria. Especially not him. I'm taking my nap now."

Billy is just another handsome face with a Calvin Klein body which doesn't impress me because it seems like he's used to getting any woman he wants. But I'm not any other woman, so he can use that charm on the next one for all I care.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fluff #dacre montgomery #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #joe keery #robin buckley #maya hawke #jonathan byers #joyce byers

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catb-fics · 4 years

Text

Bit nervous to post my first fic request in case it’s shit and I also know I’ve waffled on for far too long in it lmao... 😆

Jealousy (Van McCann) Part 1

Request prompt: Van’s on tour and gets upset about reader getting close to another guy whilst he’s away and the resulting fallout...

Warnings: none really (not this part... 😉) bit of angst / Word Count: 2.8k

“Every relationship’s got it’s ups and downs Y/N, nobody’s perfect.”

You’re sitting in a pub garden with your best friend Erin, drowning your sorrows.

“I know. I just miss him so much, it’s like a part of me’s missing when he’s gone. I just don’t think he feels the same anymore.”

You’re practically sobbing into your glass of Pinot. Erin knows wine has this effect on you and she should have known better to be honest. She thought taking you out for drinks would cheer you up but now the alcohol’s taken hold there’s no consoling you.

Of course you know that there’s rough and smooth in every relationship, you’re under no illusion that yours is a fairytale, but when you think back to meeting Van just under a year ago it certainly seemed like he was some kind of prince sweeping you off your feet. Admittedly it was probably a more adult version of your average fairytale, but nevertheless...

You’d met him by chance in a bar after a show he’d been playing, and although you’d been pretty star-struck at first the chemistry between the two of you just couldn’t be ignored. You’d consummated the relationship that very same night back at your apartment, fuelled by the heady excitement of the attraction you both felt.

Since then you didn’t think your ardour would ever cool. Van’s driven and passionate and his energy is one of the things that keeps your relationship so vibrant, but recently you’ve been starting to worry.

He’s been on tour in the States for four long weeks and he’s due back in a few days. You’d normally be beyond excited, marking off the days on your calendar, but this time something’s changed. It started off well enough, lingering phone calls when neither of you wanted to hang up, silly selfies sent from different cities, and quite frankly, utterly filthy late night text exchanges, but the last few weeks there’s been a shift. Van’s been distant. The phone calls have been rushed and sometimes non-existent. Van always apologises profusely, he says he’s tired and under pressure, but that’s not Van. He doesn’t get tired. Maybe he’s just getting tired of you.

You swallow the bitter thought along with the dregs of your wine, just contemplating going to the bar to order another, when Erin jumps up out of her seat, waving to someone she’s just seen over the other side of the pub garden.

“Jack! Over here!”

You look up in time to see Erin’s older brother making his way over to your table and surreptitiously wipe the tears that have started brimming in your eyes away.

“Erin! Didn’t realise you were out tonight!” Jack starts, then he notices you sitting across the table and his face lights up. “Y/N! How ya doing? Not seen you for a while. I’m surprised you’re not out with that rockstar boyfriend of yours. You’re still with him aren’t you?”

You smile, it’s been a couple of weeks since you saw Jack and you two have always got on so well. Growing up he always had your back whenever you got in a fix, and Erin used to tease you that he always had a soft spot for you.

“Yeah... we’re still together...”

Jack nods. “How come you’re down here on a Saturday night then and not at some fancy star-studded celeb party?”

“Oh Van’s not into all that...” you say, “and besides he’s away on tour at the moment in America.”

Jack raises his eyebrows as he slips into the seat next to you, mumbling something about how he can’t believe Van goes off and leaves you all on your own for weeks on end. You choose to ignore the comment, steering the conversation away from the topic of Van, and before long all three of you are reminiscing about your childhood summers of the past when Jack and his mates used to terrorise you both.

“And remember when we had that water fight on your ninth birthday and I went and got that huge super-soaker water gun?” Jack laughs.

“Oh god yes I remember! You soaked my favourite party dress and made me cry and then I banned you from my party!” You giggle, memories coming flooding back.

You’re all laughing so hard that your cheeks are hurting and your worries about Van seem distant and inconsequential. That’s until your phone rings and it’s him.

“Y/N! How are you love?” Van’s voice is quiet and you struggle to hear him over the background chatter of the pub. You press the phone hard against your ear.

You don’t bother with niceties, fuelled by the alcohol in your system you launch straight into an attack.

“Oh, so you finally bothered to call me then?” There’s an icy edge to your voice which makes Erin and Jack immediately stop their conversation and look up, so you turn away from them.

“I’m so sorry, I was gonna call you yesterday but the radio show we had the interview with had this huge party, and then by the time it was over it was really late, and then I didn’t want to wake you...”

He’s babbling, talking fast, his words spilling out like they do when he’s feeling guilty about something. You’ve just been saying that parties aren’t his thing and then there he is, having so much fun at one he’s not even given you a second thought.

“Don’t worry about it!” You cut him off sharply. “Anyway I can’t talk now, I’m actually busy. I’m out with Erin... and Jack...”

“Oh... okay... well I suppose I’d better let you go then...” He mumbles.

His voice sounds flat. Is he disappointed? He doesn’t try and keep you on the phone. Maybe he’s just not bothered. You’re gripped with apprehension. All of a sudden you have the urge to end the call. You worry that if you stay on the line you might say something you’ll regret.

Your goodbyes are brief and strained, and you end the call and turn back to Erin and Jack with a smile plastered on your face, but it’s not genuine and Erin sees right through you.

“Oh honey, what’s wrong?” She consoles you, pulling you into a hug, whilst Jack looks on with concern in his eyes. You don’t want to cry but the wine has amplified your emotions and you can’t help the tears that roll down your cheeks.

“I think he’s falling out of love with me,” you sob.

As soon as Erin releases you, you feel a strong arm around your shoulder and Jack’s there. “Don’t cry Y/N, I’ve got you,” he says in a soothing voice, and he feels warm and he smells good and you sink into him. For a moment it doesn’t matter that you’re seeking comfort in another man’s arms. All that matters is that you feel pacified.

“Maybe we should get you home.” Erin eyes your nearly empty glass, and you consider putting up a fight, but you just don’t have the energy.

You allow your friends to cajole you into a waiting taxi, and once you’re home you crawl up to bed, burrowing under your duvet. Your phone pings with a text notification and you eagerly snatch it up off the bedside cabinet, hoping to see Van’s name displayed, but it’s just Jack checking that you got home safely. You reply and drift off into a discontented sleep.

* * * * *

The following day you awaken to a thick head and a dry mouth and a desperate urge to speak to Van. His empty side of the bed looks bigger and more stark than it normally does, prompting you to reach for your phone and call him. The phone rings and rings, his voicemail eventually picking up and you try to console yourself with the fact that’s he’s seven hours behind and that’s why he’s not answering. You don’t want to consider an alternative reason, you’d rather not deal with that right now.

The morning passes uneventfully, you try to keep yourself busy but you realise you’re spending too long staring at your phone, willing it to ring. When the doorbell chimes you’re not really in the mood for company but maybe a distraction is what’s needed.

“Hey Y/N, thought you might need a little TLC...”

Jack’s standing on the doorstep, laden down with edible treats and a DVD box-set of the latest series you’ve been binge-watching, and he’s such a welcome sight you keenly beckon him in.

Just before the tour you and Van had a disagreement about your relationship with Jack. It wasn’t an argument as such, but he made his irritation clear. You’d had a party at your house and Jack had passed out drunk on the sofa so you’d let him stay over. You’d assured Van that there was nothing for him to worry about but he was keen to point out how attentive Jack was with you, and how he always seems to hover around you when you’re down the pub. The thing is, you’ve been best friends with Erin since primary school so Jack’s always been around. He’s like the big brother you never had.

You spend the afternoon lounging on the sofa watching TV and eating snacks, and it feels comfortable with Jack. He’s easy-going, undemanding, and you can completely be yourself with him. After a while you feel your eyelids getting heavy, you’re still tired after over-indulging the night before.

“Come ‘ere sleepyhead,” Jack smiles, reaching out an arm, urging you to lean into him and you do. It feels completely natural and he strokes your hair as you feel yourself drifting...

The harsh sound of your phone ringing drags you out of the depths of sleep and you awaken suddenly, confused for a moment as you feel a strong arm wrapped around your waist. You and Jack have both fallen asleep on the sofa and you struggle up, grabbing for your phone, answering it with your eyes half closed and your voice thick with sleep.

“H... hello...?”

“Y/N... are you okay?”

“Van!” His voice revives you instantly and you push yourself up, your sleepiness falling away.

“What’s up? You sound funny.”

“Errr... nothing... I’ve literally just woken up. I’ve been asleep on the sofa.”

You feel a little flushed as you feel Jack’s body brushing against yours as he moves to sit up too. You feel a twinge of guilt but immediately dismiss the thought. Jack is just a friend, it’s completely innocent.

“Look, I’m really sorry about not ringing you enough these past few weeks. I hope you’re not pissed off with me.” Van’s voice sounds earnest down the line.

“No, of course I’m not pissed off,” you reassure him, even though that’s a blatant lie.

“It’s pretty relentless. Steve’s got us on back to back shows, then there’s all these appearances, meet and greets. I tell you what though Y/N, you’d love LA, we’re playing at this amazing venue tonight...”

Van launches into telling you all about his plans for the next few days and you listen, rapt, but Jack’s waving a hand in your face, trying to get your attention.

“I’m gonna head off Y/N...” you hear him say, and you nod as he gets to his feet, and then he’s shouting his goodbyes loudly as he heads for the door.

Van’s stopped talking and you urge him to carry on. “So is it San Diego tomorrow? That’s your last stop isn’t it before you fly back?”

Silence.

“Van? Are you still there?”

His voice is quiet now as he speaks and he sounds tentative. “Was that... Jack?”

“Err... yeah... he just called in to see me. He’s just going actually.” You keep your voice light, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel. “So how’s Larry doing?”

Your effort to steer the conversation away fails. Van hesitates before he speaks again.

“Hold on Y/N... so you’ve been asleep on the sofa... with Jack?”

Your gut twists with guilt and you cringe, aware that it sounds bad. How would you feel if you knew Van was taking afternoon naps, cuddled up in another girl’s arms?

“We just fell asleep watching tele, that’s all,” you say, sounding defensive. “What’s wrong with that?

“Sounds very fucking cozy,” Van snaps.

His tone riles you. You haven’t actually done anything wrong.

“Well I’m sorry for seeing my friends whilst you’re away,” you rant back. “What do you want me to do? Sit here on my own for a month? It wouldn’t be so bad if you remembered to fucking call me when you said you would!”

“I said I was sorry!” He cries.

There’s a pause, and you hear him sigh. “Look Y/N, I don’t want to fight... please. I hate us fighting when I’m away. I just... I miss you so bloody much.”

You feel a lump in your throat and your voice cracks. “I miss you too...”

“I... I don’t want to have to say it but...”

He trails off, and you detect an awkwardness.

“What?”

He sighs again. “Y/N... you know I don’t ask a lot of you but... do you think you could... errr... maybe not see Jack so much?”

His voice raises up at the end of his sentence and you freeze, shocked by what he’s asking. His request hangs there between you, and the surprise slowly wears off to be replaced by a hurt kind of disbelief. He doesn’t trust you...

“I can’t believe you’re asking me that,” you say quietly, hurt flooding you.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you...” he begins but you’ve heard enough.

You cut him off. “You know I’ve been friends with Jack for years. If you don’t like me spending so much time with my friends then don’t keep fucking off on tour!”

“Y/N that’s not fair!” He protests.

You can feel the sobs rising in your throat but you don’t want Van to hear you cry. You try to swallow them down but your voice wavers as you speak, betraying you.

“I’ll tell you what’s not fair. You never being here. Snatches of phone calls here and there. I miss you so much when you’re not here. I don’t think you realise how much.”

“Of course I do, and I miss you too. It’s not easy for me either.”

“But you’re visiting all these amazing places, meeting new people. You said yourself how busy you’ve been. I feel like I’m just here waiting for you. And now I can’t even see my friends?”

His voice comes quieter. “I didn’t say that.”

“But I can’t see Jack?” You say bluntly.

There’s a pause. “I tell ya Y/N... he likes you... as more than just a friend.”

You’d be lying if you said the thought had never crossed your mind but you don’t want Van to know that. And besides, it doesn’t matter anyway. You’d never cheat on Van. You love him too much to do that.

“You’re delusional,” you tell him. “I’ve known Jack since I was seven and he’s never done anything to make me think he fancies me.”

Van lets out a laugh but it sounds bitter. “Oh believe me, I know. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’m a guy. I know how guys’ minds work.”

This statement just makes you angry. You have to put up with female fans swooning over Van wherever he goes, and although you hate it you really make an effort these days not to complain about it.

“Yes you are a guy, and you’re surrounded by girls constantly. Does that mean that you can’t control yourself too?”

“Hold on, don’t turn this around...” Van starts, his voice raising, but you interrupt, anger overtaking your emotions.

“It’s takes two Van!” You cry out. “You obviously don’t trust me do you?”

There’s quiet on the line and this seems to confirm the answer to your question. You don’t wait to see if he’s going to answer. You feel really furious now. In the whole time you’ve been with Van you’ve never considered being unfaithful. No one even comes close to him.

“Van... I don’t wanna talk about this now... I’ve got a headache and I’m tired, and I don’t wanna hear your shit. Goodbye.”

You angrily jab the end call button, flinging your phone down on the sofa. It immediately starts ringing again but you let it ring out. The tears are spilling from your eyes now and you can’t control the sobs that burst from you.

Your anxiety about your relationship is a full blown fear now. If you can’t cope with being apart for four weeks then how will you cope when Catfish’s new album comes out and they head off on a world tour? You’re not sure if you’re strong enough to do this. Maybe it would be best to end it now and deal with the heartbreak rather than face a future full of uncertainty and arguments?

Read Part 2

#catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #fanfic #vanfic #van mccann x reader

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devil-in-those-eyes · 5 years

Text

Sweetheart part2- Ben Hardy

Hi guys! here is part two! Part three is where it starts to get smutty so strap yourselves in. don't forget to send me thoughts!

Y/N-

It was weird, having Ben be in the same house as you let alone the same country but it felt amazing to wake up the next day with the sun shinning through, while in your bed with your parents downstairs, rustling in the kitchen.

The last couple years had been amazing, you truly needed to get away and spread your wings. You became a different person, you were independent and confident but one night in had you feeling like your old self. The old self that had been pushing her way through the last two years. The old self that had been whispering I want to go home. You had been thinking it for a while now, but kept pushing that thought back and repeatedly telling yourself that New York was your home now.

It wasn’t like you weren’t happy in New York, you loved it. But you missed your parents and siblings more and more and phone calls and facetimes just weren’t cutting it anymore. If you listened close enough, breathed quietly and stayed still, you could hear your mum and dad in the kitchen, preparing for the next couple days of birthdays and a wedding anniversary, you could hear them speaking to one another. You couldn’t make out actual words, just distant voices. Your heart stilled in your chest when you heard Ben and Matt talking somewhere downstairs.

You sighed and curled further into your pillow but then heard another voice and it made you smile. It also made you jump out of bed and rushing out of your room, despite being dressed in a college sweater and cute little cloth shorts you ran down the stairs and found everyone in the kitchen and a familiar head of hair.

“You’re here!” you exclaimed and watched as your brother and sister turn towards you.

Val immediately smiled and pushed Matt out of the way, both of you rushing towards each other for a hug. “You’re home!” Val yelled out happily as you both squeezed the hell out of one another.

You and Val spoke basically every day. She was the first person you called for everything, from telling her about your first night in the states to telling her about your first date with an American all the way to when you got a real adult job. You and Val had been inseparable all your lives and no ocean could keep you two apart. Sure, you and Matt were close because of the close age difference but there was nothing quite like a sister bond.

You both pulled back and she smiled at you, “How was your flight, you never called when you landed.”

“Heathrow is a mess, and I knew I’d see you.” You shrugged.

“How come Val gets a greeting like that and all I got was a smile and half assed hug?” Matt questioned from his spot behind Val.

You and Val rolled your eyes and she turned to face you with a smile, “Are we still going shopping? Grab some food? Get day drunk?”

“Girls,” your mother scolded, missing the way Val’s eyebrows wiggled mischievously before she turned to face her with mock innocence.

“Yes?”

You smiled at your mum, wearing the same smile as your sister. You both tilting your heads to the side at the same time.

“It’s scary how much you girls act like twins.” Ben chuckled, the sound was deep and caused your stomach to quiver from the inside. You and Val turned to look at him, almost forgetting that Ben was there. He smirked over the rim of his cup as Matt leaned towards him while they watched the two of you.

“Twins.” Matt and Ben whispered to each other before they burst out laughing.

You rolled your eyes and looked at Val, “I need to spend some money and day drink.”

Val bounced on the ball of her feet with a smile, “Let me change and we’ll go out.”

“Wait, why don’t Ben and I join you?” Matt asked and looked towards Ben, who began nodding.

“I could do with getting day drunk.”

“Uh,” Val started followed by you who said, “you guys don’t want to spend the day with us.”

Ben smirked behind the rim of his cup, one that was lost on Val and Matt but not by you. Matt was the one to look at you girls with a shrug, “Not gonna pass up the chance to spend the day with my sisters.” He looked at Ben, “you in, Benny-boy?”

“Let’s get ready to go.”

Val faced you and raised her eyebrows, giving a silent big sigh, before both of you headed towards your rooms. “I tried,” Val whispered to you before you walked into your separate rooms to change.

Over an hour later all four of you were walking through the mall, you had already discussed on what you would be having for a late lunch and where you guys would be day drinking to kick off all the festivities began tomorrow with a family cookout. The four of you were walking around, stopping in a store every once and a while to do some shopping, when you came across a jewelry store.

You tugged on Val’s hand and she stared at you in confusion, “I didn’t get mum a present.”

Val’s eyebrows lifted, “You haven’t gotten her a present?”

“No,” you shook your head as the two dimwits known as Matt and Ben joined you.

“Val, Burberry is right there.” Matt nodded his head over you and Val.

Val looked at you, “Matty and I need to hit up Burberry.. Get her a present and meet us there.”

“I’ll stay with Y/N,” Ben replied as Matt and Val started to slowly back away from you two.

“You really don’t have too.” You argued, looking to your side and at Ben.

Ben ignored you and nodded at your brother, “We’ll catch up with you two in a bit.”

You sighed as Val and Matt walked away. Val casting a sympathetic look over her shoulder, because she was fully aware of what went down between the two of you, but Matt was completely oblivious. “Not like you need to watch over me.” you grumbled before heading into the jewelry store.

“Not doing it to babysit you.” Ben answered as he followed closely behind you as you looked at all the pretty necklaces and bracelets. “You’re doing everything you can to keep me at arms length, so this is me doing everything I can to get some time with you.”

Your heart stopped inside your chest as you paused to look at a pretty bracelet. Ben came to stand behind you, you could feel the warmth radiating off of his body as his chest just barely brushing against your back. “Besides,” he whispered, “I’d rather follow you around some jewelry store instead of Burberry, sweetheart.”

You whipped around to face him, feeling an annoying coil in the pit of your stomach at the sound of it roll off of his tongue. It was so smooth and perfect, like it belonged there and it pissed you off. “Stop it.”

He smirked and his green eyes shined brightly at you. “I’d rather not. I quite like the way it gets to you.”

“It isn’t getting to me,” you lied.

His green eyes flickered down to your mouth, still wearing a stupid smirk. He stepped towards you, brushing his fingers against yours as they rested on the case. He looked back into your eyes, “It’s alright, sweetheart, it’s getting to me too.”

“Ben,” you whispered, wondering how you found yourself in the situation again. When his fingers brushed against the back of your hand, it caused a pretty shiver to race up your spine, waking you up from the trance he had you in. You breathed deeply and found the earrings, knowing your mum would wear earrings more than a necklace or bracelet. “Don’t you have some girl back in London? Met her on some dating website?” you tried to sound nonchalant, as if it didn’t bother you that he turned to dating websites.

You’d be wrong to think that your itty-bitty almost meaningless fling with Ben would have stumped him from dating someone else. You knew he had dated some girl a couple months after you and stayed with her for years, it was in that period that you convinced yourself you stopped caring and feeling for him. It wasn’t until Val and your best friend told you that he was on dating apps that you felt a slight sting of jealousy and ever since then you had buried that jealousy.

“I haven’t been dating anyone for a while.” Ben replied, following you as you pointed out a pair at a worker. “What about you? Any boyfriends in the states?”

“I’ll take them,” you said to the worker with a smile, knowing your mum would love the diamond stud earrings. As you paid for them, with Ben behind you, you answered, “It shouldn’t matter to you.”

“Well, it does.” Ben answered as you walked out of the store. He touched your hand and stepped in front of you, “We should talk about it, love.”

“It was years ago,” you answered. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Well, I want too.” He argued.

“Guys!” Your sister called out, pulling Ben away from you. You looked at your sister as Matt held his hands out, “what’s taken you so long?”

“Nothing,” you answered immediately and left Ben standing there. “Let’s go drink.”

The next day everyone was at your house for the cookout that would kick off the next week and a half fill of festivities. Today was the beginning of the two birthdays, for you and your mum, then the final party was the big wedding anniversary for your parents.

You were so beyond excited to see everyone, having not seen any of your family members in years, but you were more excited to see all the little ones that your cousins had started to push out. You and your older sister were sitting in the backyard, watching all the kids play football in the hot summer sun, while everyone was scattered around. Matt and Ben were somewhere around, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to turn around and find him.

He had been bothering you all morning and afternoon, showing up randomly and trying to get in on the conversations you were having but you were always able to sneak away. You didn’t get why he was trying to sneak under your skin, what would it bring him? What would he gain out of it? Your annoyance? Because you would never be able to trust him again, you’d never be able to be friendly with him.

“So… Ben, huh?” Your sister breathed as you both nursed some fruity drink your aunt had made.

“Yes?” You asked, squinting to look at her through your sunglasses, wondering where she was going with this conversation.

She sipped on her drink and shrugged, relaxing into the lawn chair she was sitting in. Even though there was ten years between the two of you, she was still your best friend and sister. She knew things that you could never tell Matt, even though you and Matt only had a year apart, there were just some things you could never tell a brother. Such as sleeping with his best friend and him sneaking you out of your house and being your designated driver whenever you wanted to drink.

“He looks good, gotten much sexier over the years.”

You kept silent, looking ahead and watching your fourteen year old second cousin play football with a couple of the younger kids. You and your siblings were more like aunts and uncles than cousins, but you hadn’t seen Chris since he were eight and now he was almost your height and a really killer football player.

“You wouldn’t agree?” Val pressed.

“What’re you getting at, Val?” You asked back, turning your head to look at her.

“Just that he’s still looking at you like when you two were kids.” Val said from over the rim of her glass, smirking your way and noticing the slightly flush in your cheeks.

“We were kids, nothing more.” You said, trying to shut down her hidden meaning behind her words.

“So, you’re telling me you really don’t see it?”

“No, I don’t!” you exasperated and tilted your head, “Val, do we really have to talk about him, because I’d rather not remember the way he made me feel afterwards.”

You watched the playfulness slowly slide off her face as she looked away from you. She grumbled unhappily as she stared into the big backyard, “Still don’t get how he could have acted like that towards you.”

Your shrugged just as Chris turned towards you and wiped the sweat from his forehead, “Hey, old lady! I heard you played football, you any good?”

You noticed he was staring at you. You pointed to yourself, “Are you calling me old lady?”

He grinned and nodded. You stood up, still in shock he called you old even though he was only thirteen years younger. “You did not just call me old lady.”

He grinned, “Oh, I did, Y/N. What ya gonna do about it?”

“Kick your ass,” you retorted, giving your glass to your sister and kicking off your sandals.

He raised his eyebrows, “Barefoot?”

You made your way towards him as the littler kids ran off the makeshift football field Matt had helped Chris map out earlier in the day. All three of you had played football, but your sister soon learned she didn’t care for being active like that and Matt gave up during secondary school. You loved it. You still watched it on the telly whenever you had the chance, and you missed playing it. The sport was how you and Ben really bonded because he loved playing it as well, he used to give you pointers on how to get better, how to be faster.

“Y/N, be careful! He’s only fourteen!” His mom, your cousin, called out from her spot on the back porch.

You rolled your eyes, “He’ll be fine.”

“Honey, she plays rough!”

You looked at Chris and shrugged, “I had an older brother and his best friend played dirty.”

“Rough is the only way to get it done anyways,” Chris shrugged, siding with you.

Chris kicked the ball to you while you fluffed your shirt out, so it was no longer tucked into your white shorts. You pushed your hair off of shoulders while he said, “Don’t go easy on me, old lady.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to hide the amused smile. You were going to kick the overconfident tone right out of him. “First to reach five?” He nodded in response and you started the game.

It had been five years since you played football, having stopped when you went to UNI in the states, but it came back easily to you. It was a lot of teasing him with the ball, dribbling and faking the different passes. He was younger than you, but you had the experience on him. You scored. He stole the ball from you and scored. It went like that for a while. You admitted he was good, but you were no where near done.

Somewhere down the line, and without you knowing, Ben took the spot beside your sister, holding the cold beer in his hands and keeping his eyes on you. As he watched the game, he chatted idly with your sister, both of them not really paying attention because he couldn’t look away from you. He almost forgot how much he loved watching you play, because it had been that long since he last saw you, but as he sat with your sister he had a reason to stare at you that wouldn’t warrant questions by prying eyes. Such as Val and Matt.

“She’s still got it, yeah?” Val said to Ben, smiling as you scored again, causing Chris to huff unhappily.

“Hard to lose crazy talent.” Ben replied softly, sipping his beer and putting his elbows on his knees. “She should’ve continued through uni.”

The game continued on for what felt like forever, both because talented feet kept it going. It wasn’t until he accidentally tripped you, your feet getting tangled, that you were able to take a deep breath. You heard his mum’s gasp as you both rolled around in the grass. It wasn’t a harsh trip, not something that would keep you from playing, maybe a bruise on your leg, but nothing to whine over.

“Two left feet, buddy?” You asked, laughing and pushing yourself off of the ground.

“Y/N, for God’s sake! You’re wearing white shorts. Do you not realize how hard it is to get grass stains out!” Your mum yelled out in annoyance.

“It’s four to three, mum, calm down!” You called back, hanging your hands on your hips and breathing deeply.

You glanced at Chris to see him pressing his hands into his knees, breathing heavily. “Ready to accept defeat?” You asked him.

“Fuck no,”

“Christopher!” His mum scolded and you smirked at him.

“Shut up, Y/N,” he grumbled.

“Sweetheart, go easy on the poor lad!”

Your head whipped around to find him watching the small game between the two of you as he sat beside your sister with a beer in his hand. “Ben, help me out here!” Chris called out.

“Excuse me?” You exclaimed. “Two on one? That’s not fair!”

“And you’re winning!” Chris exclaimed back and held an open palm towards Ben, “He can help even the playing field!”

“Scared of losing, sweetheart?” Ben asked, getting up from his spot and putting his beer on the ground. You looked his way, almost glaring from the pet name that rolled off of his lips because he was doing it on purpose, and watched as he strode towards you barefoot and in light jeans and a light blue top, showing off his bright green eyes and blonde hair.

“You play dirty,” you narrowed your eyes in at him as Chris pushed the ball towards you while on his side of the field.

Ben smirked down at you, lifting his shirt and putting his hands on his hips. “So do you, babe.”

TAGLIST:

@luvborhap @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @jazzman-19 @manuosorioh @bellamy1998 @thessxoxo @bubblypenguin123 @groovyhoundsoulbiscuit @ixchel-9275 @radiob-l-a-hblah @orchideax @mrsmazzello @quirkydeaky

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hvckleberried · 5 years

Text

yeah, he’s smoking inside. fucking sue him. miles leans back against the countertop and watches these idiots actually work. he takes a long drag. blinks. are you gonna, like, help at all, man? his exhale’s elongated; he watches his own breath fade into the rafters.

“ oh, does this bother you ? ” he asks, feigning concern. even cocks his head to the side for good measure. he lifts the cigarette in question to confirm their distaste. the other boy nods. miles’s forefinger taps against the cig and flicks ash onto his stupid west ham high shirt. and there it is. the smirk.

“ my. bad. ”

or, alternatively : ‘tis i, linc, with *dj khaled voice* anotha one !! greetings & salutations to huckleberry jeremiah vernon. call him MILES or he actually might kill you.

[ m i l e s v e r n o n –– OPEN FLAME .

✔ oc + wc┊❝ ( aria shahghasemi. he/him &. cismale ) eighteen year old huckleberry jeremiah vernon was listening to "paint it, black” by the rolling stones when the field trip buses turned around. rumor has it he spent two years in juvie & is the unbeknownst father of becca’s child, but who knows if that’s true? what we do know is that their friends describe them as alluring & deft, even if they’re known to be a little anarchic & noxious from time to time.

( &&. general information )

full name: huckleberry jeremiah miles vernon

nickname(s) or alias: miles, vernon, fuckleberry finn ( west ham football team, freshman year ), that asshole, the scary one, the kid ( his foster parents )

preferred name: miles. call him anything else and it’s your funeral, fuckface.

current age: eighteen

astrological sign: scorpio

gender: cismale

preferred pronouns: he/him

sexual preference: bisexual

romantic preference: biromantic

home environment: the kiersney household. a manor-like three-story at the edge of west ham’s easternmost woods. it looks like ikea ate pier 1 imports and fucking barfed up its bones the next day. statement walls. matching furniture. modern art on the walls. his foster parents have a motherfucking sculpture in the front foyer. it’s sickening. suburban. tame. tidy.

current occupation: student. delinquent.

language(s) spoken: english. i’ll-wring-your-neck-with-just-my-eyes. spanish, barely.

native language: english.

current relationship status: his knuckles kissing your face.

( &&. background )

reason behind name: huckleberry jeremiah vernon won his name in the lottery of misfortune: at least, that’s what his aunt used to say to the young boy. he doesn’t know a lot about his parents. enough to know they were royal fuck-ups, crackheads with nothing better to do than fuck and get high and have an accidental kid. they thought it’d be a hilarious form of payback: this monster takes nine months of their precious time, so they’d make his life hell. simple. so when his parents died when he was just an infant, his aunt had the opportunity to change his name. shift the tide. but she couldn’t bring herself to go against her dead sister’s wishes, however fucking twisted up she got because of her bad-news boyfriend. she took huckleberry in and insisted on calling him by his birth name until, at three years old, he was sent home from school with a drawing of his aunt with x’s for eyes. “ my auntie if she keeps saying it ”. from that day forward, he was jeremiah. then miles. only miles.

birth order: first and only for his biological family. the second-youngest of his cousins, when he lived with his aunt. they had a massive falling out after he returned from juvie. she chucked him out like he was rotten meat. the oldest ( or perhaps same age ) as his current foster brother.

ethnicity: what’s it to you. iranian-american

nationality: american.

religion ( tw: death, acts of violence ): fuck that shit. there’s no god. if there were a god, it’d be fucking him. this wasn’t always miles’s view; it started when he was 4, and accidentally killed his aunt’s cat in front of his cousins. they always hit people when they were doing something wrong in cartons! the cat was trying to steal his cheese stick. so... he hit it with a book. his aunt she made him go to bible camp that summer, where he was vilified for his name. “huckleberry’s a dingleberry! hahaha! where’s tom sawyer, huh?” whatever god there was wouldn’t let him have this name. or this life. he wouldn’t have let his parents die: huckleberry would later find the news clipping. “ bronx couple found shot dead in stolen vehicle, ruled double-suicide. ” religion’s the opiate of the masses. it’s how pansy people sleep at night. young huckleberry wasn’t allowed back at church after he dropped one of those big candles and watched the altar go up in flames. fine by him. he started playing with fire. messing with the wrong people. getting wrapped up in sketchy city boy shit. any shred of faith left in his body was torn away when he and his older buds planned to rob a bank: miles was 12; his cohorts ( ty & presley ) were 18. miles did most of the electronic work: hacking the cloud, derailing the security system. they stormed the fucking bank of america. one of them whipped out a gun. miles... stabbed somebody in the shoulder, to get them off of ty. he watched that security guard die, that day. but not before his bullet ripped through ty’s head. juvie happened. two years. aggravated manslaughter. he got off easy, as a minor. presley’s still behind bars. so, yeah. there’s no motherfuckin’ god out there. and if there is? he can kindly suck miles’s dick.

political views: politics. are. bullshit. go cry to somebody else about your opinions. there’s 7 fuckin’ billion people on this planet and you think your thoughts on zoning laws and gun control matter? cry him a fucking river.

financial status: he’s secure, because of his foster parents. he keeps testing ‘em, to see if they’ll fuckin’ send him back. broken merchandise; we want a refund. but they don’t, so he... just keeps taking. stealing money from their wallets. selling expensive shit from the house to buy good shit. pocket knives. lighters. alcohol. a gun.

hometown: bronx, new york city, new york. now it’s west ham. fuck that.

level of education: high school junior. because of his time in juvie, he entered school in west ham as a freshman at 15. he’ll turn nineteen before his senior year. not that it matters. he’s already planning his escape. he’s lifted enough money to skip town soon, go back to new york. avenge ty’s death. he’s got the other security guard’s details, from that day. it pays to be skilled with a keyboard. he’s brilliant, when he wants to be. sharp-witted. his idea of a prank last year was sending an anonymous tip in to the school saying the whole place might blow. hacking the database to make it look like it was sent from a real address. he’s still surprised people aren’t more fucking grateful. he secured them a stupid day off. he’s also known to hack into the cloud to get test answers, and sell ‘em to people that don’t completely make him want to punch them.

( &&. physical appearance )

looks like (or face claim, if applicable): aria shahghasemi. he’s got these midnight black curls. piercing gray eyes.

height: 5′10. but don’t let that get your guard down.

figure/build: lean and muscular. won’t be caught dead in west ham’s stupid gym, but he’s fit. his foster parents put in a whole boxing studio in their basement just for him. he’s been known to get into fights, throw punches. it was their way to kind of, like... get his anger out. joke’s on them; he’s not giving it up. that shit’s his.

hair colour: black.

hair length: mid-length. curly, so it looks shorter than it actually is.

eye colour: gray.

glasses?: no. just shades.

skin tone: olive. smooth.

tattoos: he got one in juvie, on the side of his right wrist. a cross. makes him laugh. irony. he’s in the process of self-tattooing fuck between his left forefinger and thumb, but only the jagged f is there right now. it’s a process. he can’t stomach the needle.

piercings: one diamond stud in his left ear. it’s about the side of a pencil eraser. stolen.

birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: a few faded cross-hatches near his hairline, from fights that resulted in stitches. a six-inch line across his chest. knife. a few patches of scar tissue from burns on his palms. all juvie.

dominant hand: left-handed. you can tell because that’s the hand he always uses to flick his lighter on and off, on and off. he’s always playing with that damned thing.

if painted, what color are their nails?: who do you think he is, fuckin’ bowie? jesus.

usual style of clothing: black on black on black. did i mention black? black t-shirts, leather jackets, denim jackets, dark jeans, boots. wouldn’t be caught dead in fuckin’ sneakers. failed gym because he wasn’t about to put on dowdy shorts and t-shirts just to run around a glorified prison for 30 minutes every day. oh, there’s a pep rally? we’re supposed to wear centurion colors? fuck you.

frequently worn jewelry: he wears a thin gold chain around his neck every day. sometimes he’s got rings.

describe their voice, what accent?: his voice is very punchy, low. cat-like. glimmers of some new york peppered in here and there.

what is their speaking style (fast, monotone, loquacious)?: clipped. acidic.

describe their scent: amber. tobacco. smoky.

describe their posture: he stands tall, defiant, aloof. chin always tipped up in the face of oncoming threats. his whole body’s a proverbial middle finger to the world: yeah, i’m here. bite me.

( &&. legal information )

any speeding tickets?: yep. went 80 in a 25 zone.

have they ever been arrested?: yes. at this point, the west ham police force is really tired of his shit.

do they have a criminal record?: absolutely. various misdemeanors. cybercrimes. property damage, breaking & entering. shoplifting. aggravated assault.

have they committed any violent crimes?: hAs He CoMiTtEd AnY vIoLeNt cRiMeS ??? ( he’s laughing. )

property crimes?: affirmative.

traffic crimes?: should be the least of your concern.

other crimes?: don’t even get me started. the moral compass on this kid is... nonexistent. the answer to the world’s problems is fuck ‘em. anarchy.

( &&. medical information )

blood type: o negative.

date/time of birth: december 3rd. 3:32am. witching hour. ha.

place of birth: shitty hole-in-the-wall crackhouse. his parents dropped him at his aunt’s before freewheeling.

vaginal birth or cesauren section?: vaginal birth.

sex: male.

smoker? / drinker? / drug user?: yes / yes / yes. what can he say? he’s an equal-opportunity employer.

allergies: grizz visser. fuckin’ ass. nosy people. pop music.

ever broken a bone?: his nose in second grade: the other kid got it worse. his hand in fifth grade. worth it. couple ribs in juvie. his arm, when he was a baby. his parents wanted to see if gravity was, like. real.

any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: nah. not that he’d tell you anyway.

any medication regularly taken: nyquil, sometimes. helps him sleep.

( &&. personality )

direct quote from them: *blinks at you like you’re speaking swahili*

positive traits: alluring, deft, crafty with computers. sly.

negative traits: anarchic, acerbic, explosive. heedless. noxious.

likes: the flick of the flame. beat poetry. darkroom photography. scared glances. messing with the system. sidestepping boundaries. wintergreen lifesavers. blueberry slushies. ac/dc, the stones, lynyrd skynyrd, sting, the offspring, kansas. buttered toast. milk duds. history. cigarettes: he’s always got one tucked behind his ear.

dislikes: fucking football team. working on yearbook ( detention punishment ). catch him taking photos of those morons with his middle finger in frame. his roots. his aunt, for casting him out. his foster family, for giving him so many chances. he doesn’t deserve them. his name. bright sunlight, hurts his eyes. pistachios. remembering. weak alcohol. fraternizing with the idiots of west ham.

strengths: he’ll figure out your nervous ticks within two minutes of talking to you. he can go hours watching someone ramble and not say a thing, and not break his expression. making others feel small. digging his fingers into your dirt. finding back doors, loopholes, and getting through cybersecurity like a hot knife through butter. baking – but tell anybody and he’ll end you. tying cherry stems with his tongue. making sense of ginsberg. remembering stupid historical facts. pope gregory ix executed cats and that allowed rats to spread the bubonic plague in masses. still fuckin’ like your religion, asshole?

weaknesses: vengeful. his definition of justice is very much based in vigilante action; an eye for an eye. he’s got an aloof disposition, but his past wounds are still seething. empathy. expressing emotions other than anger. patience. impulse control. he can’t hide that you’re pissing him the hell off. swears in front of kids, often. probably slept with your aunt two towns over. can’t lose an argument, ever. even with authority figures.

insecurities: what if he... caused ty’s death? what if that’s on him? is he worth shit? he’ll make himself worth something. he’ll get them back. all of ‘em. he’ll make ‘em pay.

fears/phobias: hates needles. but fucks with ‘em anyway. fears oblivion, but puts up a front like he’s chill with it. fears he’ll never muster up... a purpose. or whatever the fuck people call it. fears this is all he’ll ever be: an eighteen-year-old fuckup with a record, hands that itch to fight, to crush, to destroy.

habits: playing with his lighter. chewing on toothpicks. popping milk duds like pills. glaring at everyone, no one, nothing. everything. laughing in the face of authority. making unprecedented digs at people, just because he can. propping his feet up on the desk in front of him when his teachers ask him to answer questions, twirling a pencil in his hands like he’s god. grabbing a slushie from 7/11 just to have something to do with his hands. messing with the popular kids’ social medias, just for fun. hacking the online lunch menu to see his classmates get fuckin’ pissed when mozzarella sticks are served on friday, not today, sorry. driving to neighboring towns’ parties and hooking up with chicks there. masquerading as a man with a reason. hitting up college parties often. lingering in shadow. living in gray areas. writing his own notes in the front of library books, on the title page, in sharpie. “ fuck you ten thousand ” on the school’s copy of pride & prejudice. “ kindly die, thanks ” in gone with the wind. “ congrats, you’re literate ” in the front of catcher in the rye.

quirks: always sits in the back left corner of the room, near the window. he literally jumped out, sophomore year, when the school security officer tried to bust him for selling pills to a freshman in the hall earlier that day. popping his earbuds in during lectures. maintaining unbroken eye contact with teachers as he does so. getting ~very close~ and speaking ~very low~. purring threats. can never drink lightly. skipping school often, fabricating online attendance to avoid suspension. barely eating the food his foster parents prepare. leaving the table early, unexcused. digging into the leftovers after everyone’s gone to bed. severing ties. if he’s lucky, never makin’ ‘em in the first place. his new yorkisms come out when he’s drunk, or high, or tired.

hobbies: darkroom photography. reading poetry. burning shit. smoking. walking around the mini mart like he’s a hunter in the wild, just to make the clerks uncomfortable.

guilty pleasure: he listens to “lore” and “my favorite murder”. but he disguises that shit, saving the album covers of the podcasts as seether.

desires: to avenge ty’s death. get the fuck outta west ham. to find a reason to be here. a reason why.

wishes: his parents didn’t kill themselves. cowards. they deserved to deal with him. they deserved to be tortured, for doing this to him. he wishes he hadn’t pulled that knife on his aunt. then at least he’d still be in new york city, instead of here, with this stupid fuckin’ foster family that just won’t let him go.

secrets: killed a guy. the reason for his juvie sentence is redacted on his public record. he’s lonely, a lot of the time. and, oh yeah: he’s becca’s baby daddy.

turn ons: no bullshit. sarcasm. intellect. no strings.

turn offs: sentimentality. smileyness. too much perfume. caring.

lucky number: 1. he’s all he’s got.

pet peeves: chewing gum: fucking pellegrino and his damned bubbles. bubbly people. cassandra pressman and the tree-sized stick up her ass. foot tapping. prying. school involvement. slow drivers. slow walkers. slow thinkers.

their motto: “ fuck you very much. ”

( &&. favourites )

food: falafel. shut up.

drink: he brought vodka to school in a water bottle once. diet coke.

fast food restaurant: wendy’s. he likes the chocolate frosties.

flavour: chocolate.

word: fuck. for a vast array of reasons.

colour: black.

clothing: his most worn leather jacket. touch it and he’ll end you.

accessory: the gold chain ‘round his neck. it was ty’s.

candle scent: smoke. tobacco. whatever that shit is, patchouli.

game: fuck games. fuck fugitive. leave him alone.

animal: he has such a soft spot for caterpillars.

holiday: christmas. he likes baking shit. but if that ever gets out, he’ll flip.

weather: pouring rain, with patches of sun in between. it’s rare, but damn. it’s kind of beautiful.

season: summer. fast drives, windows down. no school. no bullshit.

book: on the road, jack kerouac.

artist: aerosmith.

band/group: ac/dc, kiss, guns ‘n roses, van halen, def leppard.

song: we’re not gonna take it, twisted sister.

movie/film: star wars. fuck off, it’s good.

tv show: history docs. he likes those decade pieces on the history channel.

sport: boxing.

possession: his lighter.

number: 1.

person: that’s the dumbest question he’s ever heard. himself. he’s lying.

( &&. skills )

talents: hacking. lying. breaking rules. testing limits. photography. playing people.

ability to drive a car?: yes. recklessly.

can they ride a bike?: yes, chooses not to.

do they play any sports?: tonsil hockey. heartbreaking. boxing.

anything they’re bad at?: empathizing. serenity.

do they have any combat training? why?: yep. his friends in grade school. juvie.

( &&. firsts )

childhood memory: crushing a handful of cheerios in his tiny hands and feeling... powerful.

crush: ava watson. she said she liked his eyes.

email address: [email protected]

job: reception at a local gym in west ham. lasted a day; he punched a guy.

phone: flip-phone. now he’s got an iphone.

kiss: hanna parler. 6th grade. said she’d miss him before he left for juvie.

love: HA. nice try, dick.

sexual experience: josie thwaites. 6th grade. they didn’t know what the fuck they were doing.

( &&. childhood )

best childhood memory?: try again.

worst childhood memory?: seeing ty’s eyes go dim.

what were they like as a child?: angry. electric. not easily tamed.

any crushes growing up?: some. he doesn’t do that now. crushing.

( &&. this or that )

expensive or inexpensive tastes?: expensive.

hygienic or unhygienic?: hygienic.

open-minded or close-minded?: close-minded. his way or bust.

introvert or extrovert?: introvert. buzz off.

optimistic or pessimistic?: pessimistic. optimism’s dead.

daredevil or cautious?: daredevil. caution’s an early grave.

logical or emotional?: emotional.

generous or stingy?: stingy.

polite or rude?: rude. so rude.

book smart or street smart?: both.

popular or loner?: loner. notorious, though. everyone knows who he is. wonders what his deal is. he’s got this... dark magnetism. if you’re smart, you’ll stay away.

leader or follower?: leader. follows his own path. likes disrupting order.

day or night person?: night.

cat or dog person?: cat. despite what his childhood mistakes might lead you to believe.

closet door open or closed while sleeping?: open. come get him.

( &&. social media )

do they have a facebook? twitter? instagram? vine? snapchat? tinder/grindr? tumblr? youtube? yes to facebook and instagram. no twitter, no vine. has a snapchat, rarely uses it. yes to tinder.

if so; name on facebook: miles vernon.

instagram user: milesvernon.

snapchat user: milesvernon.

( &&. musical tastes )

theme song: paint it, black –– the rolling stones.

makes them sad: anything by the beatles. makes him think of his aunt’s apartment. and then he gets angry.

makes them dance: nope. he wouldn’t be caught dead dancing in front of the likes of you. when he’s drunk, anything with a decent beat will make him sway his hips a little.

( &&. miscellaneous )

do they have a fake i.d.?: hell yeah. a couple.

are they a virgin?: ha. no.

describe their signature: chaos. barely legible.

how long would they survive in a zombie apocalypse?: he’d bite a zombie’s fuckin’ head off, if that answers your question.

do they travel?: nah.

one place they would like to live: anywhere but here.

one place they would like to visit: anywhere but here.

celebrity crush: camila mendes. tell anybody and he’ll hunt you down.

what can you find in their pockets/wallet/purse: cigs. lighter. some form of tic tac.

place(s) your character can always be found: in the shadows. on rooftops. places he shouldn’t be.

when does your character like to wake up?: 7:03am. he doesn’t like rounded numbers.

how does your character spend their free days?: reading. burning some stuff. driving out to other towns to do reckless shit.

what’s your character’s bedtime routine?: read some poems. have a cigarette. knock out.

what does your character wear to bed?: boxers, no shirt.

if your character can’t fall asleep, what are they thinking about?: ty’s brains. that knife. juvie. getting back. making them pay.

what is their idea of perfect happiness?: revenge.

on what occasions do they lie?: on what occasions don’t they lie ?

most marked characteristic: his ghost-gray eyes. his smirk. his hair.

what is one thing they’d most like to change about themselves?: only one?

how would they like to die?: in a blaze of fucking glory.

do they snore? no.

can they curl their tongue?: yes.

can they whistle?: yep. he likes doing that yoo-hoo kind of whistle. makes people uncomfortable.

do they believe in the supernatural?: nope. bullshit.

has anyone ever broken their heart?: no.

have they ever broken anyone’s heart?: yes. on purpose.

are they squeamish?: not at all.

have they ever seen anyone die? what happened?: see above: ty. that security guard. he’s sure they won’t be the last.

are they a lightweight?: not at all.

#newhamhq: intro

1 note · View note

thegreatwhiteferret · 7 years

Text

Waiting For Tonight

Summary: Eddie always thought that he would wait until he was married to have sex, but after a year and a half of dating Richie with all of his teasing and innuendos, Eddie snaps. He can’t wait any longer and he challenges Richie to do his absolute worst on him and wreck his virgin body.

Pairing: Reddie

Rating: EXPLICIT

A/N: This was an unbelievably amazing PowerBottom!Eddie request from @theriodiaries , I am so sorry that this took me so long to finish, I wanted to make it the best that I could for you and definitely overthought some thing, but I really hope that you like it! (Especially since I have two more requests to write for you now!!! Super excited!) ❤️❤️❤️ Also, this is a shameless self promo but... @reddieforlove ...for your consideration for the next Reddie Fanfic Friday.

NSFW Under the Cut...

Eddie wasn’t sure what it was. It wasn’t out of some moral or religious obligation. It wasn’t his mother, and her horrific stories about all of the diseases that could be spread. It wasn’t because he was disgusted by the thought of it. Scared? Maybe a little, but not enough to keep him from doing it. It was none of that, he wasn’t sure what it was, but nonetheless he had made himself a promise a long time ago that he would wait until he was married to have sex.

The problem with this of course, was that Eddie had made this decision when he was seven years old. When he didn’t understand what it meant. When he hadn’t been able to come to terms with the fact that he found little girls icky, and didn’t think that his feelings would ever change about that. He had made the decision before he realized that he was hopelessly in love with Richie Tozier.

Being in love with Richie presented its own set of unique...challenges, but Eddie wouldn’t take him any other way. He loved him more than he ever imagined was possible.

One of Richie’s many strengths was how understanding he was. Eddie had told Richie way before they had even started dating, way back the summer they turned thirteen, that he wanted to wait to have sex. Richie had balked at first, shocked that anyone in the world wouldn’t be itching to tickle their pickle, but stopped immediately when he saw how serious Eddie was. If this was something that Eddie was adamant about, he would never pressure him.

That didn’t mean that he was going to stop with all of the innuendos and obnoxious jokes, that’s just who Richie was as a human being, but he did curb them a bit when it was just the two of them.

------

They started dating at the end of their sophomore year of high school. It was long overdue. Eddie had known deep down that he was in love with Richie for at least four years. It took him a while to process it, and even longer to actually admit to himself, and then to his friends, that he was gay. Richie had known that he was bisexual since he had snuck into the backroom of the video rental store when he was a kid and saw the glory that was Deep Throat. That film was his bisexual awakening, which he would tell anyone who would listen, and then they would yell at him for being too young and disgusting. He had also known even before that movie, that he loved Eddie more than anything and would stop at nothing to protect him. He was his Eddie Spaghetti, and anyone who even came close to hurting him was going to die.

Eddie had been the one to make the first move. Richie had been casually seeing this kid from a few towns over that was in a band. Richie had fallen hard for the guy, he wore all black and smudged eyeliner around his eyes, he had metal studs up and down his ears and had a tongue piercing. Eddie was repulsed. Mainly because he was the one that Richie would run to with all of the details from his dates. Would sneak into his window at night, with fresh hickeys sucked into his neck and tell Eddie about how amazing, Freddie was.

It lasted three months and then things changed. Freddie decided that Richie was too simple for him, he had called him one dimensional. He didn’t like the neon colors and crazy prints. Couldn’t stand how Richie ran his mouth, or the fact that he seemed to talk about one of his friends more than any of the others. He told Richie that he wasn’t experienced enough for him, and it broke Richie’s heart. They had had sex for the first time just a few days earlier, and Richie couldn’t help but feel the rejection ten times over because of it.

Richie tried to pass off his pain with humour, like he always did, but Eddie saw it. Saw the pain in his eyes. Richie stopped being so bright. Stopped being so loud, he withdrew inside his head, and it broke Eddie’s heart too. Richie stopped climbing through his window at night to have their talks as well, and that’s where Eddie drew the line.

One night, Eddie snuck out of his own window and rode his bike the few blocks over to Richie’s house and climbed the old tree outside of his bedroom window. Richie bolted from his bed when he heard a knock on the window, sliding his glasses onto his face before grabbing the baseball bat that he kept next to his bed and preparing to swing.

“Whoever the fuck you are I will fucking kill you!” He aimed towards the window as a small figure slid the glass open and all but fell inside. Richie raised the bat preparing to slam it down onto the person’s head, when he heard familiar wheezing. “...Eds? Eddie? What the fuck? You almost gave me a heart attack! I could have fucking killed you! Jesus Christ, you’re choking. Where is your inhaler?” RIchie slid on his knees so that he was next to Eddie, searching for his fanny pack and his inhaler. Eddie looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Hi.” He choked out, and Richie shook his head in belief at his friend, crashing through his window in the middle of the night, just to say that. He helped Eddie to stand and moved him over to sit on his bed.

“Well shit, hi, Eds.” Richie said, joining him on the bed. He tried to straighten out his sheets a bit so it didn’t look like a complete mess, he knew that he didn’t have to impress Eddie, he had seen his room like this a million times, but he still felt the urge. Eddie didn’t look like he was going to start talking anytime soon, so Richie did what he did best and filled the silent void. “So, not that it’s not a nice surprise and all, but what are you doing here, Eddie?”

“I uh...I had to come and tell you something.” Eddie forced out, and Richie looked at him confused, urging him to continue. “I uhm...wow. In my head this went better.” He looked pensive, like he was fighting a battle within himself, and it was unnerving for Richie.

“Look, Spaghetti Man. Why don’t we just...you can either sleep here or I can walk you home. We can talk about whatever you wanted to in the morning…” Richie was cut off by Eddie pressing his lips to his. It was quick, before Richie could even registered what had happened, Eddie was pulling away. “Wait, no come back.” Richie murmured and pulled him in for another kiss. This one more drawn out, but he was still careful to not spook Eddie too much. They pulled away breathless after a few moments, looking wide eyed at each other.

“Richie, will you be my boyfriend?” Eddie asked, and Richie could have sworn that it was the most adorable thing that he had heard in his entire life. His heart swelled in his chest and he just nodded. Eddie looked relieved.

“Took you long enough.” Richie sassed and Eddie just rolled his eyes and pulled him in for another kiss.

------

Eddie held true to his pledge of abstinence, even after Richie became his official boyfriend. Always careful to stop things before they went too far. They had been dating for a little over a year and a half now, and they had experimented with some heavy petting and a few handjobs, but nothing more. Richie respected Eddie’s boundaries.

Richie being Richie however continued to make crass jokes all of the time. The other Losers didn’t know about Eddie’s vow for purity, they never pried, but Richie supplied plenty of innuendos anyway, maintaining his position in the group as the Trashmouth.

“Ow, shit this soup is hot.” “Yeah, you know what else is hot? My boyfriend’s ass.” “Beep beep, Richie!”

“What does the sign on an out-of-business brothel say?” “J-jesus Christ, Richie. I’m t-trying to do my h-homework.” “BEAT IT, WE’RE CLOSED! Hahahaha.” “Get o-out of my h-house. Beep f-fucking beep.”

“What’s the difference between a tire and 365 used condoms?” “I will kill you.” “One’s a Goodyear, the other’s a great year. Stanley, let me tell you man, I’m having a great year.” “Let go of me, Bill! I just want to strangle him a little!”

“I’ll have a Dr. Pepper please.” “Oh, that reminds me of a joke. Hey, Mike?” “No.” “Why does Dr. Pepper come in a bottle?” “Richard, why can’t you just let me enjoy my soda in peace, I don’t…” “Because his wife died.” “I...I’m sorry guys, I have to go, I can’t…” “Are you fucking happy? You broke, Mike!”

“Bevvvvvvvvvvy Baby, I have a hot lesbian joke for you.” “You also apparently have a death wish.” “What do you call a lesbian dinosaur?” “Don’t…” “A lick-a-lot-of-puss!” “Eddie, I hope you don’t need your boyfriend’s dick for anything, I’m about to castrate him and shove it down his fucking throat.”

Eddie was a semi-patient person, he had taken to boxing as a way to control his anger, but Richie’s constant teasing and joking had brought him to a new level. He wanted nothing more than to shut his boyfriend up. Truth be told, he was tired of waiting. Tired of listening to Stan describe how Bill had made him fall apart on his tongue and fingers. Tired of how sweet and soft Ben was in his descriptions about Beverly. Mike kept pretty tight lipped about his trysts, but Eddie had seen many a girl swoon over just the sight of him walking down the street.

Eddie was tired of waiting. Tired of his boyfriend’s jokes about how tired he was of dating his left hand. He wanted some action, and he was going to get it.

------

It was the night of the Homecoming football game, their senior year. Eddie had decided that this was the perfect opportunity. They would all be cheering Mike on and then heading back to the farm for a bit of a party, win or lose, there would be an excuse to consume copious amounts of alcohol.

Mike’s farm also had the benefit of lots of places where people could sneak away. Eddie’s favorite had always been the loft in the old supply barn. He would always find himself sitting in the loft, legs hung over the side of the hatch, watching the sun come up. Richie joined him most of the time, cigarette poking out from his lips. They’d just talk and be themselves. Eddie couldn’t think of a more perfect place for them to be together for the first time.

“Hey Mike, would it be okay if I decorate the loft in the old barn a bit for the night of Homecoming?” Eddie asked as he and Mike were moving through the lunch line a week or so before.

“Why do you want to decorate it? The party is going to be in the big house, my grandparents are going to stay in the cottage that night so that we can have free reign.” Mike responded, smiling at the lunch lady to get an extra slice of pizza, damn that charming bastard.

“I uhh, well I uhh…” Eddie stuttered out, and Mike froze turning to look at Eddie with the most deadpan face Eddie had ever seen him make. He blushed under the gaze. Mike rolled his eyes.

“You want to use my barn to create a sex dungeon?” Mike deadpanned, and Eddie choked on his own spit, Mike patted his back a few times, helping Eddie regulate his breathing.

“Can you not use the words ‘sex dungeon’ ever again???” Eddie whisper yelled, trying to not draw any additional attention to them. “I just need a safe space where I can feel comfortable…” Mike stopped walking and turned to Eddie again, realization dawning on his face.

“Eddie, are you a virgin? Are you planning your first time with Richie?” Mike asked carefully, not wanting to embarrass the other boy. Eddie frowned slightly and nodded. “Well, okay. Are you sure you want the loft? We have the guest bedroom, it might be more comfortable?”

“No. The loft is perfect, it’s kind of our...place.” Eddie explained, they had reached their table now. The others would be arriving soon. “Look, Mike. I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell the others, or say anything to Richie. It’s kind of a surprise for him.”

“Sure thing, Eddie. My lips are sealed, and the barn is all yours.” Mike said, taking a bite of his pizza and nodding to Bill and Stan who had just walked into the cafeteria. Eddie nodded in thanks, and dropped the subject.

Mike had helped Eddie drag a spare mattress up to the loft, and then kept his mouth shut without judgement when Eddie sprayed the entire thing with disinfectant. Eddie had strung up so old christmas lights too, giving the space a nice romantic glow. He put new silky sheets on the mattress and even laid out some condoms and lube, which Mike had graciously provided for him. Everything was set up and perfect. Now Eddie just had to make it through the rest of the game and convince Richie to leave the afterparty to go to the barn with him.

The game was almost over, there was only five minutes left in the fourth quarter and most of the crowd were on their feet. Eddie and Stan sat huddled together under a blanket while the other Losers stood around them.

“Go team! Throw the ball, yay sports!” Richie called out from where he was standing next to Eddie, a goofy grin on his face. He turned around and plucked Bev’s cigarette out of her hand to take a drag. Bev slapped him across the head, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

“What’s happening, Bill?” She asked with a bored tone in her voice. It made sense to ask him. Bill was the only one besides Mike that could follow almost any sport. Eddie and Ben ran track, and Bill and Stan played baseball, but none of them were really all that focused on all sports. Bill sighed.

“It’s t-third down and t-twenty, we are o-only up by one t-touchdown, if they m-manage to keep p-possession of the b-ball and score, t-then we are t-tied...and we d-don’t want that.” Bill explained, squeezing Stan’s hand that was peeking out of the blanket for him to hold.

The ball snapped, and the opposing quarterback threw the ball, but as it soared through the air Mike sprinted, faster than any of them had ever seen before, he jumped, grabbing the ball out of the air and took off running in the opposite direction. He was so fast and everyone was so stunned that he had intercepted the pass, that it was like time had stood still. Eddie and Stan jumped up, joining everyone else in the stands who were jumping around and screaming. Mike ran straight into the endzone as the clock ticked down, scoring the winning touchdown.

The crowd went ecstatic. Everyone was screaming and hugging. Richie lifted Eddie up and spun him around. They sure as hell didn’t give a shit about sports, but their boy just won the game, and that they did give a shit about.

------

Mike’s house was packed with people, everyone talking and drinking. It seemed like most of the school was there. A game of beer pong was set up in the kitchen. Bill as the reigning champion of beer pong, had decided to challenge Richie to a duel. Eddie and Stan were their partners, but they were really just there to look pretty. At least that’s what Bev had said while she watched them and sipped on her own beer.

“We need to get you too some pom poms.” Bev said, and Ben nudged her in warning. “What, they are definitely the pretty little trophy wives. Ben, don’t even try to fight me on this.”

“Benjamin, control your lady.” Richie teased, as he sunk another ball in one of Bill’s cups. “Drink up Denbrough, don’t make Stan do it for you. Be a man!” He finished dramatically, and Eddie looked over at Stan with wide eyes.

“First the fuck, Richard. My man is plenty of man. Secondly, Beverly...I am a damn fine trophy wife, don’t be jealous.” Stan said waving his hands around and sticking his tongue out at Bev. He had enjoyed a few too many shots of Malibu, and was feeling himself.

“O-okay, Babe. Point m-made. Let’s go g-get some water and f-food.” Bill said, trying to diffuse the situation a little bit, Stan snapped his head towards Bill, and Eddie had to try and hold back his laughter. Richie did not have the same courtesy.

“William Denbrough. Did you just imply that I have had too much to drink? That you know my body and limitations more than I do?” Bill stayed very quiet while Stan was talking at him. No sudden movements or words. “Mhmmm. That’s what I thought. I will decide when I have had enough…” He spun around towards Bev, but he froze and grabbed onto Bill as his stomach lurched and the room began spinning. “Okay, I’ve had enough.” Bill nodded towards the others and helped Stan make his way to the bathroom.

“Hey.” Eddie said, pulling his boyfriend’s attention to him. “Come take a walk with me?” He asked, fluttering his eyelashes a little and biting his lip. Richie gulped at the sight, alcohol and general lust for Eddie.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He said and allowed Eddie to pull him through the crowd and out the back door. They started walking down the familiar path, but Richie figured he needed to break the silence anyway. “So, where exactly are you dragging me off to, Spaghetti Man?”

“You know where.” Eddie said with a playful roll of his eyes. They reached the barn a few minutes later, and Eddie pulled open the barn door. Richie threw himself on top of the stack of bales of hay while Eddie closed it behind him. He giggled when he saw Richie struggling to sprawl out on the rough material. “Hey, I’ve got a better idea.” He headed over to the small set of stairs that led to the loft and he climbed up them easily.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, hold on…” Richie froze at the top of the stairs when he looked at what was in front of him. “Eddie....what is all of this?” He looked from all of the twinkling lights hanging from beams, to the hatch that allowed the moonlight to shine in, and finally to the bed. Covered with tons of blankets and soft looking sheets.

“Richie, I want you to make love to me.” Eddie said, taking his hand and pulling him towards the bed. Richie shook his head, and then stopped moving.

“Eddie. No. You want to wait until you’re married. You’ve been saying that since we were kids. I don’t want...I don’t want you to just change your mind because you think that I need sex to be fulfilled. I love you, just the way you are, we don’t have to…”

“Do you not want to have sex with me?” Eddie asked, face dropping as he looked at Richie. “Is that what this is? You don’t find me attractive and you don’t want to sleep with me?” Eddie said, tears filling his eyes. Richie’s heart dropped.

“No. Eddie, no, listen to me. That’s not it. You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I just don’t want…” Richie promised, trying to explain his feelings, but failing miserably. “I don’t want you to regret it.” Something changed in Eddie, like a switch was being flipped.

“There you fucking go again, thinking you know everything.” Eddie shook his head, he was pissed off now, no one got to decide for him. “You like challenges, huh, Rich? I know you do. You can’t resist them. I challenge you to do your very worst, Tozier. To wreck my virgin body. Think you can handle that, or should I go back to the party and find someone else to do it for me?” Richie’s jaw dropped open in shock, he had never heard Eddie talk like that before.

“Challenge accepted.” Richie murmered, moving to press a bruising kiss to Eddie’s lips, pulling him with him towards the bed. He pulled his own jacket off and toed out of his shoes, then let himself fall back on the bed, sliping his shirt and jeans off before leaning up on his elbows to watch Eddie. “Going to do a strip tease for me, Eds?” He asked half joking, but there was a sparkle in Eddie’s eye.

Eddie licked his lips as he looked down at Richie. He let his jacket slipp off of his shoulders and drop to the ground. His scarf was next, he shimmied with it a little, dropping down and pulling back up so that his jean clad ass was on display for Richie. He dropped the scarf to the ground and pulled his sweater over his head, tossing it in Richie’s direction. He took his time unbuttoning his shirt, not wanting to destroy it even in the heat of the moment. Richie watched him eagerly as more and more of his toned little body came into view. He turned around again, as he slid his jeans down over his hips and ass, kicking them off and leaving him only in his tiny grey briefs. He wiggled his hips for Richie putting on more of a show for him. He turned around and stepped on the mattress moving over Richie and then dropping down until he was straddling him.

“Holy fuck. That was the hottest thing ever, Baby Boy.” He let out as he ran his hand up and down Eddie’s torso. Eddie ground his ass down on Richie’s dick, moaning when he felt how hard he was already.

“Mmmmmm no. The hottest thing you will ever see is me riding this pretty cock of yours, but there’s some work you need to do first, don’t you think?” Eddie asked sweetly, and Richie almost came right then and there. He nodded and let Eddie move off of him a little to lean over the side of the mattress. He came back with a condom and a bottle of lube. “I think you’re going to need these, but first, there’s something I want to try for you.” Eddie smirked at him and moved down the mattress, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down, letting his erection spring free.

Eddie smirked at Richie one more time before taking his leaking cock in his hand and leaning down to tease the head with his tongue. Richie’s hips thrust up without him even thinking. Eddie used his other arm to push down across Richie’s hips and keep him still. He took just the head of his ock back in his mouth, a little tentatively, and began sucking. Richie threw his head back from the feeling. Eddie decided to push himself a little bit further, he licked a strip up Richie’s entire length first, and then slid his mouth around his dick. He could only take a few inches in at first, but he worked his way down little by little. Richie was moaning and writhing on the bed beneath him, obviously unphased by Eddie’s inexperience.

“God, Baby Boy. That mouth. Ahhhh, Eds, I’m gonna cum.” Richie was moaning more and more, getting close to finding his release. Eddie pulled off, stroking Richie from root to tip a few times, until Richie’s body tightened up and he blew his load all over Eddie’s hand and his own chest. Eddie stroked him through the aftershocks, then looked down at his hand that was covered in Richie’s cum. He thought about it for a minute before looking Richie dead in the eye and lifting his hand to his mouth, and starting to lick it off. “Oh my fucking God, Eddie that’s fucking filthy…” Richie groaned out as he watched his boy.

“Mmmmmmmm. So good.” Eddie moaned, as he leaned down to lick a stripe up Richie’s chest, collecting the rest of his cum on his tongue. He caught Richie’s mouth in a kiss, letting him taste himself. Eddie pulled back, and kept his eyes trained on Richie. “Richie, are you going to open me up so I can take that pretty cock of yours, or do I need to do everything myself?”

“I’ve got you, Baby.” Richie said, pulling himself up into a sitting position. Eddie crawled down the bed a little bit, staying on his hands and knees and popping his ass out for Richie. “Oh, Baby Boy. Those briefs are doing nothing to hide that beautiful ass of yours.” Richie moved behind him, palming one of his cheeks in his hand. Eddie moaned at the feeling, and Richie gave him a little pat, before he pulled the fabric down over his ass, leaving them bunched up on his thighs. He used his thumbs to spread his cheeks apart. “My God, Baby Boy. You’re killing me. Soft and hairless. So pretty.” Eddie mewled at the compliment.

“Come on, Richie. I need more. Give me what I need.” Eddie begged, and Richie leaned in licking all the way from Eddie’s balls up his crack. “Oh fuck!” Eddie had never felt anything like it before. He’d never even played with his own hole, Richie’s tongue was the first stimulation he had ever had down there, and it was enough to make his cock drip precum into his briefs. Richie repeated the action, letting his tongue poke lazily at the ring of muscles. He suckled around his hole, finally breaching the muscles properly with his tongue. Fucking gently into the heat. Eddie moaned at the intrusion, it felt weird, not bad but weird. Richie kept playing with him, gently licking his hole open. He moved his hand around on the bed, trying to find the bottle of lube, he snatched it up quickly when he felt the hard plastic. He gave Eddie’s fluttering hole a light kiss before pulling back completely. “Are you going to fuck those long fingers in me? Come on, Richie. Do it.” Eddie instructed. Richie was taken aback by how vocal Eddie was.

Richie popped the cap of the bottle off and let some of the slick liquid drip down his fingers. He closed the bottle before dropping it back on the bed. Her rubbed the tips of his three lubed up fingers around Eddie’s hole, teasing circles around the muscle until Eddie was groaning and whining from being forced to wait. Richie took pity on him and began to push his first finger in slowly. Eddie choked out a sob at the feeling.

“It’s okay, Eddie. You’re doing so good for me. Taking my finger, just relax baby, so good.” Richie praised as he pushed his finger in the rest of the way. He could feel Eddie relaxing and took the opportunity to slowly begin thrusting his finger in and out, letting Eddie get used to the feeling. It was strange, feeling this full, but Eddie knew that there was so much more to come. Richie waited until Eddie was moving his hips back to meet his thrusts before he added a second finger, careful to keep them still so the stretch was bearable. When Eddie signaled that he was ready to continue Richie began twisting his fingers and scissoring them open, on one of his thrusts he hit something inside Eddie that ripped a scream out of his throat.

“Ugh. Fuck, Daddy, right there.” Eddie moaned, and Richie froze at what Eddie had just called him. It was unbelievably sexy, and Richie was pretty sure that he should be ashamed to admit that. Eddie seemed to realize his slip because Richie was no longer moving. “Your two fingers are in my ass and that’s what trips you up? Keep fucking moving, Daddy. Open my ass for your cock.” Richie choked on his own spit, but began moving again, thrusting in to hit that spot again, before adding another finger.

He made sure that Eddie was good and stretched, not wanting to hurt him when he thrusted in. He had Eddie flip over on his back and pulled his briefs the rest of the way off of his legs. Eddie pulled his legs to his chest, giving Richie space to move between them. Richie tore open the foil packet and slid the sheath down his shaft, he added more lube, making sure everything was nice and slick before moving into position over Eddie. He looked down at the love of his life, trying to make sure that this is what he wanted.

“We can stop right here, Eddie. We can wait. I love you so much, I’d wait forever.” Richie said looking into his eyes. Eddie looked up at him, with a smile on his face, and it touched Richie’s heart.

“I love you too. Now stick your fucking dick in me now. Did I stutter?” Eddie sassed, looking at Richie with determination in his eyes. Richie nodded, knowing that Eddie knew his body better than anyone else. He pressed the tip of his cock against Eddie’s hole, and then slowly pushed in. Eddie’s mouth flew open and he screwed his eyes shut at the feeling, so new. Richie went slow, inch by inch until his hips were resting against Eddie’s ass. Eddie gasped out a breath. “Holy fuck.”

“Are you okay? Is it too much?” Richie asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. Eddie just nodded that he was okay, taking a few deep breaths. He relaxed. “Do you want me to move?” Richie asked and Eddie nodded again. Richie started thrusting in, slowly and gently, barely moving at first. Eddie quickly started to get inpatient, he knew that Richie was holding back.

“Fuck me like you mean it.” He let out, wrapping his legs around Richie’s waist to pull him in tighter. Richie sped up a little bit, pumping in and out in a rhythm, Eddie rocked his hips to meet his thrusts, legs still wrapped around his waist. The discomfort had turned to pleasure and now he wanted more. “Richie! Harder! Fuck me harder, Daddy. Please!” He cried out and Richie tried to move faster to satiate his boy, but Eddie was moaning like a porn star and Richie was a little lost. Eddie raked his nails down Richie’s back, trying to encourage him to go faster, and Richie cried out from the mixture of pain and pleasure. He wasn’t the most experienced, and his only other partner had definitely not been as enthusiastic and receptive as Eddie.

Eddie was done waiting, he rolled them over so that Richie was on his back. Eddie straddled him again and grasped his cock, he held it in place and let himself sink down on it, feeling Richie way deeper than he had before. He started to pound himself down on it hard and fast over and over, rocking his hips until Richie’s cock was brushing against his prostate with every thrust. Eddie braced himself with his hands on Richie’s chest. He kept fucking himself down, his own cock slapping up against his belly from his movements. Richie lay beneath him, trying to thrust up in time with Eddie’s thrusts, watching his boyfriend get himself off by using his cock like a toy.

Richie could feel his stomach getting tight, his body racing towards his climax. Eddie was doing so well for him, his tight hole milking his cock perfectly. Eddie slammed down one more and Richie was cumming in the condom, screaming Eddie’s name as his body started to tingle all over before going numb. Eddie kept bouncing, hitting his prostate, and then wrapped his hand around his own cock, flicking his wrist just how he liked it, and cumming in thick streaks across Richie’s chest. He let himself catch his breath then carefully moved off of Richie before falling onto the mattress next to him. He could already feel how tender his ass was, but it was worth it.

He grabbed a pack of baby wipes that he had left off to the side and wiped himself and Richie down a little bit. He wanted a hot shower, but he wanted to curl up with his love even more. Richie opened his arms and let Eddie snuggle into them, pulling the sheets and blankets up over them. It was quiet for a moment before a thought popped into Richie’s head that he had to voice.

“You were right. Watching you ride my cock, is the hottest thing that I’ve ever seen.” Richie admitted as they lay wrapped up in each other. Eddie giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. They fell asleep intertwined, the sounds of the party in the background and the moon shining through the hatch.

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katvondworld · 7 years

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Before there was Kylie Jenner, there was Kat Von D. Nearly a decade ago, the tattoo artist famous for a career in reality television and a string of tabloid-fodder relationships took her notoriety and turned it into a global beauty empire. Today, Kat Von D Beauty is one of Sephora’s most successful brands, with products that sell out in a matter of weeks and rack up tens of thousands of glowing reviews and live events that attract hundreds of fans.

Like Kylie, Kat has an instantly recognizable, highly-stylized aesthetic. It’s a combination of punk, goth, and good old-fashioned rock ’n’ roll, featuring lots of black (and lately, head-to-toe red) outfits in faux leather and kooky avant-garde shapes. Jet-black hair, red lipstick, and predilection for mismatched eye makeup have become her signatures. But she doesn’t want an army of Kat clones.

“My biggest nightmare would be if somebody came to Sephora, saw my brand, and said, ‘Oh, I want to look like her, so I’ll buy this makeup,’” Kat Von D proclaimed to an audience of beauty world professionals at the WWD Beauty Summit this summer, her first-ever appearance at a major industry event. “I think that model may work for Kylie or whoever else bases their career on vanity or some kind of superficial thing. It’s quite a gamble because that can be very fleeting a lot of times.” Despite the similarities, Kat doesn’t appreciate Kylie comparisons.

After Kat’s session at the summit was over, she mingled a bit with the suit-wearing masses and then walked downstairs in towering platform shoes, gently guided by a member of her team. “I’m very impressed by Kat Von D!” a gray-haired man said admiringly to a younger woman standing beside him.

“She’s not bound by any rules,” the woman replied.

“I wanted to get a tattoo afterward,” he said.

Tattooing is where it all began for Kat, who was born Katherine von Drachenberg. The 35-year-old is a professional tattoo artist by trade and is known for her elaborate, life-like grayscale portraits. She’s tattooed a ton of musicians and celebrities, including Miley Cyrus, Lady Gaga, and Harry Styles. She’s inked everything from the Mona Lisa to images of beloved pets on people’s bodies. It’s still something she does when she’s home in LA, though she tries to “limit it to one a day,” whereas a normal workday in her previous life would have had her seeing five clients one after another. Kat has a years-long wait list and is no longer taking appointments, in order to catch up. She recently said in a YouTube video that she doesn’t charge for tattoos anymore, preferring to do it for art’s sake.

“I feel like my name works against me sometimes, you know? People think, ‘Kat Von D, oh it's somebody that was on TV or somebody that dated somebody.’”

Kat’s own body is covered with tattoos, which you can see in zoomed-in detail in her New York Times bestselling book High Voltage Tattoo. (She has published two other books since.) In it, she models in a bikini and describes the origin of each batch of ink. She’s perhaps best recognized for the spray of stars around her eyes, a motif which shows up frequently in her beauty products. At first, she only had one star on each temple. While Kat lore has long held that the Motley Crue song “Starry Eyes” inspired at least the first few stars, in her book she says she added to them because her ex-husband and fellow tattoo artist Oliver Peck once told her to stop tattooing her face. She even has stars tattooed on one eyelid. One of her best-selling products, a liquid eyeliner, is called Tattoo Liner.

Kat was born in Mexico; she’s fluent in Spanish and identifies as Latina. Her parents are from Argentina and her father’s family originally hails from Germany. Her father is a doctor and she grew up with a conservative background as a member of the Seventh-day Adventist Church, where her parents were missionaries. She credits her paternal grandmother with instilling in her a love of art and music. (Kat’s a classically trained pianist and has a huge portrait of Beethoven tattooed on her thigh.) She says her father used to catch her on the floor drawing underneath the pews at church.

Kat moved to Colton, California, when she was four years old with her parents, brother, and sister. Her parents divorced years later and her mother moved back to Mexico. At 14, Kat discovered punk rock and started dating a boy named James, who was two years older and had a mohawk and tattoos. She got her first tattoo, an old English “J,” on her ankle at that time. Expanding on her interest in drawing, she started experimenting with tattooing, practicing on her friends. By 16, she had dropped out of high school and moved to Georgia with James. After three months, she moved back to California without him and started looking for jobs in tattoo shops. She secured a position at a shop near a San Bernardino jailhouse before moving to LA, where she landed a new gig every year or so and built up her reputation as a tattoo artist.

Kat didn’t become a public figure until she was cast in Miami Ink, a TLC series which documented a group of tattoo artists, their work, and the usual reality-show conflict and drama. She moved to Miami for the show, going home to LA on weekends. Kat appeared on the series from 2005 to 2007, until Ami James, the owner of the 305 Ink tattoo shop featured on the show, unceremoniously fired her. She was then promptly offered a spinoff called LA Ink, which ran from 2007 to 2011. Prior to its debut, she opened her own shop, High Voltage Tattoo, located in West Hollywood. Fans began to focus on her love life and some of the notorious men in it, like Motley Crue’s Nikki Sixx, Jesse James (best known for being Sandra Bullock’s ex and wearing Nazi uniforms), and Steve-O of Jackass fame. She became a bit of a gossip column mainstay.

“I feel like my name works against me sometimes, you know?” Kat says at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel in June. She’s there for the relaunch of two perfumes, Saint and Sinner, which she’d previously released in 2009 as limited-edition products. “People think, ‘Kat Von D, oh it's somebody that was on TV or somebody that dated somebody.’ And to me as an artist, it's kind of soul crushing. It's like, oh wow, what about all my hard work and what I would love to be known for?"

Kat says she knew that people would initially focus on her brand because it belongs to “that tattoo chick.” She really wanted it to evolve to the point where the product got attention rather than the founder. It might finally be getting there. She tells a story about a young woman who approached her on an airplane and said, “Hey, aren’t you that makeup artist?” Kat corrected her, because she isn’t a makeup artist, but was happy that this fan knew her from her work in the beauty world and not from reality TV.

Kat still has her rabid tattoo fans, though. One late September afternoon at High Voltage, Ashton Williams, the shop’s merchandise manager, is wearing a T-shirt that reads, “Who the fuck is Kat Von D?,” an homage to the “Who the fuck is Mick Jagger?” shirt Keith Richards famously wore on a Rolling Stones tour in the ’70s. There are sweatshirts and tees hanging all over the shop, many featuring a red and yellow High Voltage logo, skull motif, and Kat’s name. But exactly how many people are coming in for Kat merch?

“Tons. We have tour buses that let out in front of the shop all the time. People are obsessed with her. It’s crazy,” says Williams. “We have everyone from grandmothers from England to punk rockers. Nothing surprises me anymore. Literally, you’ll have a grandmother coming in who’s 70-something years old getting tattooed and she’s like, ‘I never really liked tattoos until I saw Kat.’ We have the broadest mix of people.”

People line up at the front windows of the shop and peer in when Kat is in the shop tattooing. She tattoos in plain sight on one of the tables that’s set up in the open-plan shop. They also run around to the back parking lot, Williams says, which features a building-sized mural of Kat and the shop’s other artists, to try to catch her as she’s getting into her car.

The look of the shop — moody red tapestry wallpaper, dark wood, dripping candles, crucifixes, “heartagrams” (a pentagram with a heart shape at the top), paintings in heavy gilt frames — is cohesive with the design of the beauty brand. Kat Von D products come in black boxes featuring gothic lettering and Kat’s original artwork. Shiny black studded tubes house her lipsticks. Religious iconography appears in the packaging and is echoed in the shade names, like her limited edition Saint and Sinner palette, which looks like a stained-glass cathedral window and includes colors like Sacred Heart, Worship, and Vestment. Her brand is everything that so-called millennial beauty lines are not. There’s no soft pink, no sans serif — everything is full coverage and ultra-pigmented. To compare her to Emily Weiss, another brand founder with a reality TV background, Kat Von D is the aesthetic sinner to Glossier’s saint.

Kat has always been a makeup person. She’s worn it since she was a kid and comparesbuying beauty products to “candy shopping.” Makeup has long been another artistic medium for her and she has said the process of applying it is therapeutic. She used to collect lipsticks, telling the LA Times that she’s tried every shade of red ever made, from CoverGirl to Chanel. Though it’s unclear whether or not she ever actively aspired to create her own makeup line, Kat did tell the paper, “I went through all my favorites and said, ‘If this was mine I'd add more purple, use a different finish.’” She has a tattoo on her abdomen that spells out “Hollywood” written in red lipstick, though it’s an homage to the New York Dolls’ logo rather than an ode to that particular beauty product.

Back in 2008, Kat got a call from a Sephora executive who told her people had been inundating sales associates with questions about the red lipstick “that tattoo girl” always wore on Miami Ink. So Sephora, which at the time was producing some of its own house brands, brought Kat up to its American headquarters in San Francisco for a meeting. She told the team there that she was bored (“so fucking bored,” actually) with things she saw in stores. The brand originally launched with four red lipsticks, which almost immediately sold out. This success led to an expanded line inspired by the inks and pigments Kat uses at High Voltage.

“My goal with the makeup line was to create something with a formulation you couldn't argue with. Whether you liked me or not, the product was good.”

“Let's create high-performance, bold, highly-pigmented, long-wear shit that no one else is really doing,” Kat says she suggested to the Sephora team. “I don't think any of us really knew that it could grow into something bigger. My goal with the makeup line was to create something with a formulation you couldn't argue with. Whether you liked me or not, the product was good.”

By all accounts, it is good. Kat Von D Beauty now has over 350 products including lipsticks, brushes, and eyeshadow and contour palettes. The brand sells the products on the Kat Von D Beauty website (international shipping has been available since September) and in stores in 34 countries, 18 of which debuted in the last 12 months. It’s almost exclusively sold at Sephora. In countries where there are no Sephora locations, like the UK and Ireland, it’s available at Debenhams. While brands like MAC, Make Up For Ever, and Urban Decay were already making richly pigmented products, Kat Von D was one of the earliest beauty brands to introduce matte liquid lipsticks, called the Everlasting Liquid Lipstick, back in 2013. Again, she did it long before Kylie introduced her Lip Kits, which, yes, feature longwear matte liquid lipstick.

Sephora does not share sales statistics, but at one point, Lolita Studded Kiss was apparently the retailer’s best-selling lipstick. The dusky rose color is now available in several formulations and is one of the brand’s signature shades. You can even buy a $104 “obsession” kit that includes the original Lolita Studded Kiss lipstick, an eyeshadow, three slightly different Lolita lip liners, and two versions of the shade in the Everlasting Liquid Lipstick formula. Kat originally named the shade after the Japanese street style movement, but later dedicated it to the actress Denise Richards’s daughter Lola, according to a Kendo representative. (The two met when Richards went to get her “Charlie” tattoo — inspired by ex-husband Charlie Sheen — covered up by Kat in 2008.) It is not named for Lolita, the titular underage object of lust in Vladimir Nabokov's controversial classic.

“The color Lolita is a perfect everyday color. I literally wear it every day,” says 15-year-old Samantha, who owns three $20 Lolita tubes. A friend gave her one as a birthday gift and her mom bought her another. “Then I just came to buy another one because it’s so perfect and I love it so much.”

Samantha’s friend, Valentina, also 15, adds solemnly, “It’s a holy grail.” (Holy grail, or HG, is a common designation in the makeup community, meaning it’s a product that works best for one person’s individual needs.)

Samantha and Valentina are at the Sephora at Hollywood and Highland, the same store where Kat herself shopped for red lipstick during her LA Ink days. It’s a bit messy and disheveled, much like the crowded, touristy neighborhood in which it resides. The Kat Von D Beauty section is in a highly trafficked area at the center of the store, with tester pans worn down to the bottom and caps missing from lipsticks.

Samantha first heard about Kat Von D Beauty on Instagram, where fans frequently tag its handle; the brand has 4 million followers and Kat’s personal account has 6.4 million. Kat launched the brand on Instagram herself back in 2015, after a marketing employee (who is no longer at Kendo) scoffed that it wasn’t worth it. The account gained a million followers in one month and Kat is still intimately involved with the imagery that’s posted there, though she now has a dedicated social team.

In January of this year, Kat Von D Beauty had its highest earned media value (or EMV) ever at $42.8 million, according to Tribe Dynamics. EMV is an indirect measure based on mentions and engagement, but it does have some correlation with actual market share and revenue. Since 2015, Kat Von D Beauty has shown up regularly on Tribe’s top ten EMV beauty list, along with social-media heavy hitters like Anastasia Beverly Hills and Too Faced.

“It’s a holy grail.”

“When we think about patterns of successful brands, the thing that they tend to do really well is make great products. The large majority of this content is organic and people aren't going to give you editorial content if they don't love your product,” says Tribe’s Brit McCorquodale. She notes that in the second quarter of this year, over 4,000 influencers were talking about the Kat Von D brand online, but the majority of them were micro-influencers, with under 100,000 followers. “The fact that Kat Von D has performed so well within the influencer community speaks really highly of the products that they're creating, which is something Kendo does very well across their brands.”

Ah yes, Kendo. While Kat provides the ideas and creativity and is the very public face of the brand, Kendo is the entity behind the scenes that quietly brings her visions to life. The company is also the reason that Sephora maintains exclusivity when it comes to Kat Von D Beauty. David Suliteanu, then-CEO of Sephora Americas, started Kendo as a “private label development arm for Sephora” in San Francisco in 2010. In 2014, Suliteanu became the CEO of Kendo, which split off from Sephora as a freestanding entity; it now identifies itself as a brand incubator and credits Kat Von D as being the “seed brand” that launched it.

The luxury conglomerate LVMH is the parent company of both Sephora and Kendo. Kendo owns lip brand Bite Beauty and skincare brand Ole Henriksen, both brands it acquired. It developed Marc Jacobs Beauty, Rihanna’s just-launched Fenty Beauty, and Kat Von D Beauty. It also developed the now-defunct Sephora nail brand Formula X (a rare failure for the company), as well as Elizabeth and James fragrances, the Olsen twins’ brand, which is now under the auspices of Butterfly Beauty.

Kendo does not like to share information about its inner workings nor give any insight into its product development process, although Nancy McGuire, the vice president of product development for Kat Von D Beauty and Ole Henriksen, does sometimes share sneak peeks of products on her Instagram page. Kendo declined to make anyone from the company available for interviews for this story. Instead, they sent email responses which included information taken verbatim from Kendo’s site and the review section of Sephora’s site. A representative did share that “Kat Von D Beauty is among the top-selling brands in all of our retailers, and our products consistently rank as top performers in each category.”

Social media definitely catapulted Kat Von D Beauty into the stratosphere, but its steady success happened in parallel with Sephora’s. It’s impossible to dissect the causality: Did Sephora help Kat Von D or did Kat Von D help Sephora? Yes and yes. Sephora, since it shares a corporate parent with Kat Von D Beauty, naturally seeks to heavily promote the brand, a situation non-LVMH brands are not too pleased about. And as Kat Von D Beauty becomes more ubiquitous on social media, there’s only one place a fan can walk in and try it: Sephora.

Sephora is the number one global beauty retailer, and number two in the US after Ulta. In 2009, it had over 1,000 stores worldwide. Today it has 2,300. According to a recent New York Timesstory, Sephora has doubled its revenue since 2011; a Fung Global Retail & Tech research reportestimates the retailer made between $4.4 billion and $4.9 billion in the US last year alone. That’s a lot of potential Lolita sales. As people are turning away from department stores for beauty, they’re turning to specialty stores like Sephora instead. Sephora also has a reputation as a kingmaker, as Business of Fashion noted in 2013, and brands (especially indie brands) that sell there say they enjoy more perceived legitimacy from customers.

Kat Von D Beauty anticipated making about $2 million its first year and instead made an estimated $12 million.

According to WWD, Kat Von D Beauty anticipated making about $2 million its first year and instead made an estimated $12 million. That momentum has apparently not slowed. The brand’s success is the result of a combination of Sephora’s support and Kendo’s uncanny knack for releasing the right products at the right time, presumably thanks in part to access to Sephora customer sales data. Take the holographic Alchemist Palette, which Kat says took seven years to develop. It debuted (and sold out) right as the unicorn makeup craze was at its apex. Kat Von D Beauty’s success also hinges on Kat Von D the person’s enduring star power.

Since LA Ink ended in 2011, Kat has attended countless Sephora store openings and launches for her brand, traipsing the globe to places like Dubai, Australia, Spain, and the UK for photo ops with fans. From the beginning, she’s maintained a steady line of communication with her fans via Facebook and YouTube; in 2013, a Stylophane report named Kat Von D the most engaged beauty brand on Facebook and she still makes frequent appearances on the brand’s YouTube channel. She has stayed in the public eye in other ways too, releasing her third book in 2013, accompanied by a tour. She also showed up on the Grammys red carpet that year with then-boyfriend Deadmau5. Now, she continues to be most available to fans via her wildly popular personal Instagram and in real life at Kat Von D Beauty events.

Kat is undeniably charismatic in person. Her deep, raspy voice is mesmerizing. She is a hugger. She is beloved by people in her orbit, and they are fiercely loyal to her. Williams, the High Voltage merch manager, credits Kat with convincing him to move to LA, telling him he would “blossom.” Kevin Lewis, a tattoo artist who’s been at High Voltage since LA Ink was still shooting says, “One of the biggest things for me is that, for someone who has made so much for themselves, she’s so grounded. She’s not cocky. She’s not arrogant. She’s not a celebrity.”

Ashley Sherengo, the 24-year-old Kat plucked off Twitter to run the brand’s social media says of their first real-life meeting, “I didn’t expect for her to be so open and kind. I felt like we were just friends who had gone a long time without talking.” Even Amber Rose, who showed up at the Saint and Sinner party after having Kat on her podcast, gushes, “I’ve always been a huge fan and I just kind of took a chance and I went up to her and told her that I love her and she was so gracious and sweet to me.”

None are quite as loyal, though, as the group of four official Kat Von D Beauty makeup artists, dubbed the Artistry Collective.

In a nondescript conference room at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, hours before the Saint and Sinner party, party greeters in black-and-white latex dresses get their makeup done and drag queens from the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence cover their facial hair with purple glitter and put on their habits. Kat Von D makeup palettes are scattered everywhere. Steffanie Strazzere, whose taxi-cab-yellow hair, Barbie-pink lips, and aqua eyeshadow fit right into the colorful scene, is helping get everyone ready. She credits Kat with being her “fairy godmother of makeup.”

Kat hired Steffanie, along with Leah Carmichael, Tara Buenrostro, and Kelseyanna Fitzpatrick to be surrogates for her as the Kat Von D Beauty brand grows globally. She discovered all of them (except Leah, who she’s been friends with for years) on Instagram. As faces of the brand, they create content on YouTube and Instagram, do Kat’s makeup, represent the brand at stores and trainings, and help out with product testing. They’re all trained and talented makeup artists. The common thread between them is their artistic vision for what makeup should be, which is, well, uncommon. Kelseyanna, in particular, creates otherworldly, occasionally terrifying, looks.

“I get a lot of people sending messages thanking us for being ourselves and saying that it's pushed them to take more risks with their makeup,” Kelseyanna says. “Someone thanked me last night for doing ugly makeup, like, not caring about being pretty. That's the real stuff, and that really motivates me to keep creating.”

“Everybody's kinda like, ‘What the hell is going on?’ And then they're like, ‘Oh. Kat and the Kittens.’"

Steffanie worked at MAC for more than a decade but left because of animal testing, since the brand sells in China. “From a work standpoint,” she says, “I feel really safe because I know Kat has the best interests of the brand, animals, and us in mind, so it’s a very safe place.”

Kat is an outspoken vegan, and her brand is vegan (meaning the products don’t contain any animal byproducts) and cruelty-free (meaning they aren’t tested on animals nor are they sold in mainland China, which requiresforeign brands to test on animals before they sell their products there). There’s a gray area when it comes to the cruelty-free designation, though. Kat Von D Beauty and all the other Kendo brands do not test on animals or sell in China. However, Kendo parent company LVMH owns beauty brands like Benefit, Givenchy, Make Up For Ever, and Fresh, which do sell in China. In the cruelty-free community, this is a point of contention that comes up whenever an indie brand that doesn’t test on animals sells to a large company. But it’s a big part of the brand’s identity and one, according to NPD Group beauty analyst Larissa Jensen, that is an asset. “The brand’s cruelty-free positioning,” she writes in an email, “enables it to connect with consumers on a value- and emotional-based level.”

Kat has tattooed Steffanie twice, once on each calf. One tattoo is an image of her fluffy white cat Baby Ghost and the other is a portrait of Lydia Deetz, Winona Ryder’s character from Beetlejuice. “I just feel so lucky,” she says. “My legs are the most valuable part of my body now.”

The foursome has become famous among makeup fans in their own right. They’ve each experienced huge jumps in followers on their Instagrams and fans regularly recognize them in real life. Tara carries around products to give out to people who come up and talk to her. She says that when the group and Kat are all together in the airport, it causes a lot of commotion: “It's just a sea of black and a ton of suitcases, and everybody's kinda like, ‘What the hell is going on?’ And then they're like, ‘Oh. Kat and the Kittens.’"

“I feel like her bodyguard, a protective shield, constantly looking around and making sure she's okay,” Leah says. “People obviously recognize her, especially when she's decked out in a full red outfit. She'll never be the bad guy, she'll never say no, so I think that's where we have to step in sometimes. She's so kind and gracious with every single fan.”

Fans know that Kat handpicked the Collective, and Tara considers the group “a little extension” of her. Fans consider them the next best thing to Kat herself.

The Artistry Collective has garnered criticism, though. As one commenter noted on an early Instagram shot of the group of light-skinned artists, “would be cool to see more ethnic diversity represented in the artistry team!” Some fans thought Kat’s response seemed defensive. She replied in the comments: “Diversity? We have American, Canadian, Dutch, Mexican, Australian, and Argentinian? Not sure what is lacking in ‘diversity’ here. And as for true diversity, I have put together an artistry team that is diverse in each artist's approach to makeup. This group’s experience, talent and hard work in the beauty world speaks for itself and covers the entire spectrum of style and technique.”

When the commenter wrote back, “There are also amazing makeup artists with deeper skin tones out there too and it'd be awesome to see them included in the future,” Kat’s response was, “I'm sorry, but I don't judge or hire people based off of their skin tone. I don't care if you’re black white or neon green - I select my crew by what's on the inside…”

The reality is that beauty companies do need to consider skin tone, because makeup goes on skin.

Kat Von D Beauty has 32 foundation shades and its social media channels sometimes show swatches on different skin tones and repost pictures of women of color using the makeup. But Kat discounting her fans’ desire to see more people they relate to wearing her makeup is shortsighted on a community level, but on a business one too.

Take Rihanna’s Fenty Beauty — Kat Von D’s sister brand at Kendo, let’s not forget — which launched with 40 foundation shades and a public commitment to people of all skin tones. The darker tones sold out, and the media was pretty unanimous in its praise. Kendo’s CEO David Suliteanu has given very few interviews over the years, with the exception of one giddy quote to WWD about how Fenty Beauty would be a “beauty rocket ship that will appeal to a huge and diverse global audience.” He was right. The reality is that beauty companies do need to consider skin tone, because makeup goes on skin.

It should be obvious that Kat is as outspoken as Kendo is opaque, a quality for which she is unapologetic. As befits someone who is trying to sell a saint-and-sinner duality, Kat can be acerbic. “I've just never been afraid of speaking my mind,” she says. This has gotten her into trouble in the reality show of our modern times: social media. Since her brand has launched, she’s found herself embroiled in her fair share of controversies and she’s picked a few fights along the way. But it seems to be working. At the end of last year, L2 credited Kat Von D’s ever-growing digital IQ, a measure of how well a company utilizes technology, to “her uncensored personality and opinions, a successful cocktail no parent company should alter.”

In 2013, Sephora stopped selling a Kat Von D lipstick called “Celebutard” after receiving customer complaints. The most shocking thing might be that the name got past a marketing team in the first place. Kat allegedly tweeted that it was “just a fucking lipstick.” This seems to be one of the last times Sephora or Kendo publicly inserted itself into Kat’s kerfuffles, letting her fight her own fights.

Two years later, there was more outrage over a lipstick shade called “Underage Red,” which had been in the collection in some form since the very beginning. “To go back to the Underage Red or any of the controversial names that I've named some of my products,” Kat says, “it is laughable to me. There is the PC police out there and a lot of times those people just want to be heard in whatever way. I don't really coddle that. Initially, when I named that shade, it was inspired by a specific shade of red that I wore to a concert that I couldn't get into because I was underage.” She ended up writing a defiant Facebook post and Sephora did not pull the shade.

Then there was the great beauty beef of summer 2016, in which Kat called out Jeffree Star, a YouTube and Instagram beauty guru who also used to appear on LA Ink and who Kat had befriended after tattooing him frequently through the years. In a now-deleted Instagram post and then on YouTube, she accused him of bullying, racism, promoting drug use (Kat has been sober for 10 years), and not paying an artist he had used for his beauty line. The accusations of racism prompted some outlets to dig up an old TMZ allegation that, back in 2008, Kat had sent a headshot of herself to her Miami Ink boss Ami James that included a swastika and referred to him as a “Jewbag.” She vehemently denied sending it, calling it a forgery and noting that she had always been “an advocate for tolerance of all races, religions and ways of life.” TLC supported her. Jeffree responded with his own video, calling Kat a liar, and the beauty world buzzed about it for a few weeks.

Kat has also publicly called out other brands like MAC for years because they sell in China, and she targeted Nars on Instagram this summer by posting graphic photos of bloody rabbits after the brand announced it would start selling in the country. “That was just a personal heartbreak,” Kat says. “I'd been a huge fan of Nars for a really long time. It was disheartening. If you're going to choose money over compassion, then that comes with a price as well.”

“There is the PC police out there and a lot of times those people just want to be heard in whatever way. I don't really coddle that.”

She hasn’t been afraid to call out other brands for taking a bit too much inspiration from her products, either. In March, she went after lower-end UK brand Makeup Revolution for copyingher popular $48 Shade and Light Eye Contour palette, from the shades right down to the arrangement of the colors. Even the name was reminiscent of the Kat Von D Beauty product: Makeup Revolution called their iteration the Ultra Eye Contour Light & Shade Palette. She got some backlash from people who couldn’t afford her $50 palette. They perceived Kat as being unsupportive of cheaper brands. She says she can appreciate dupes, but explains, “I'm not for plagiarism and I think that there's a big difference.”

Kat’s biggest controversy to date, however, resulted in her becoming a target of the alt-right and Milo Yiannopoulos. Both Fox News and the Washington Post covered the scandal. It was all because of the Saint and Sinner perfume launch party.

The party was basically goth prom. The night included nuns in drag, pole dancers, a confessional booth, dry ice swirling on the bars, a Nine Inch Nails-heavy soundtrack, Amber Rose and her entourage, and tons and tons of people in extreme makeup with appliques stuck to their faces. The founders of other cruelty-free beauty brands, like Too Faced, Sugarpill, and Melt Cosmetics, were also in attendance. It took a bit of convincing, but Kat’s team allowed her to fulfill her vision and let her invite who she wanted to (rather than simply invite the standard beauty influencers with millions of followers).

“Kendo is really great, and I know that they're obviously putting a lot of marketing dollars into it so I want to respect that. But to them, they want the safe things,” Kat said before the party. “Influencers have a lot of followers. I don't think half of those influencers are on-brand. We don't repost them. I don't really relate to them. I'd rather pick people with smaller follower counts that I actually admire and that are cool and that are different, you know?”

So Kat won. “Of course I won. I will never back up something I don't believe in and they know that. And I think what helps them feel comfortable is that when I am excited about something, it has never failed. When I have doubts is usually when it gets scary.”

She also addressed the huge amount of marketing money that can get sucked into paying influencers. “I see it with other brands and how much gifting they do and the crazy events they throw for people to go on goddamn cruises and shit. To me, it’s just so insincere and fake. We don’t pay anybody,” she says. Then a pause. “I think there’s another influencer event happening right now with actual real, huge influencers. But none of those people were on our list anyway. Not to say that they're not great at what they do, but when you free yourself of all those things then you are left to be able to make cool shit.”

That other event turned out to be the launch of Kim Kardashian’s KKW Beauty line, which Kim had been teasing for weeks. She invited a few editors and some huge influencers to her actual home across the city in Bel Air. Kim’s outfits and the rooms in which she met her guests were all the same muted colors, once again highlighting the difference between Kat and the rest of the beauty world at this particular moment in time.

There was some drama behind the scenes at the Saint and Sinner party, though, which didn’t come to light until a month later. Kat Von D Beauty had run a contest challenging fans to submit their best saint/sinner makeup looks to win an all-expenses-paid trip to LA for the party. The brand announced the winner, Gypsy Freeman, on its Instagram. But then fans noticed the Trump “Make America Great Again” image Freeman had posted months earlier and started flooding the Kat Von D page with comments.

“Like, if you support Hitler I don't want you to wear my lipstick, to be honest, you know?”

In hindsight, Kat was probably alluding to this incident before the party when asked about politics: “I think everybody has the right to vote for whoever they want. To me, I definitely draw a line in the sand in real life. Like, we can't be friends if you support somebody who's anti-immigration, anti-climate change, anti-women.” When asked if people unfollow her for her stance, she said, “For sure, and I'm glad they do, in the sense that I'm not going to invest energy into converting somebody. You can't shake hands with a fist. People think that it's dumb business-wise, but I would feel the same way about Hitler. Like, if you support Hitler I don't want you to wear my lipstick, to be honest, you know?”

A month after the party, the Wichita Eagle broke the story that Kat had disqualified Freeman from the contest because she was a Trump supporter. The Kat Von D social team has wiped all evidence of the contest from the Facebook page. Freeman sent screenshots to the paper of a direct message conversation that she had with Kat. Freeman’s response to Kat was, “We would love to be there, of course, but I sincerely do understand if you decide to replace us with someone who supports the candidate you support.” The photographer who took the pictures of Freeman’s model did go to the party. Kat later insisted on Instagram, in a comment that appears to have since been deleted, that she did not disqualify her and that Freeman chose not to attend.

Places like The Donald subreddit picked up the story. “I talked to my team because there was a heightened sense of concern,” she says. “We were getting a lot of backlash on that, but I'm like, ’Yeah, fuck, I don't care if Fox News talks shit, fuck them.’ I'm very open about my stance on Trump and if you don't agree with me, that's totally up to you. It's a free country and I actually celebrate true democracy.”

Kat has a lot going on in the coming year. She’s going to launch a self-funded vegan shoe line called Von D Shoes which she says includes 28 different styles. One of the boots will feature a compartment that will fit a lipstick. The line is being produced in Italy using high-tech leather alternatives and with the help of Rebecca Mink, who has her own vegan shoe line. “I'm not interested in looking at cheap plastics,” says Kat. “We're looking at all these innovative, different leather substitutes that are made out of mushroom and pineapple and they're actually great for the environment and look equal to, if not better than leather.”

Kat is also releasing an album and planning a tour. Then, of course, there’s Kat Von D Beauty. She collaborated on an upcoming smudgy guyliner with her friend, Green Day’s Billie Joe Armstrong, and has created a palette dedicated to Divine, the late drag queen who frequently collaborated with filmmaker John Waters. Several times, Kat has mentioned wanting to open a store in LA, though nothing is technically in the works yet. She is also in the process of designing a collection for the brand’s tenth anniversary next year.

While Kat and her brand are now a known entity, it cannot be overstated how much of a trailblazer she really is. Reality stars have come and gone with flash-in-the-pan beauty launchesthroughout the years (see: Snooki and any number of Real Housewives and Basketball Wives cast members). But Kat has a unique and unreproducible authenticity, a quality that all beauty brands are now chasing, that is undeniable regardless of how you feel about her personal aesthetic or opinions. Her unabashed love of a full face of makeup and her brand’s use of ultra-pigmented products before it was popular outside of pro brands presaged the moment we’re in now: a moment where more is more when it comes to makeup. She’s also exhibit A for the argument that celebrities should have a strong controlling hand in their brands, as opposed to simply slapping a name on a product for a short-lived sales burst.

As Kat declared when detailing one of her many controversies, “If you don't like it, don't fucking buy it. This is my art and my message to give to the world.”

Cheryl Wischhover is a senior beauty reporter at Racked.

Editor: Julia Rubin Copy editor: Laura Bullard

source> https://www.racked.com/2017/12/12/16763338/kat-von-d-beauty-sephora

#kat von d #kat von d beauty

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