#i'm not v good at being comforting but i really mean to be

[memento-fugaces]

.

[saerotonins]

in a world full of boys, he's a gentleman

ft. nanami kento x fem!reader

— in which kento unintentionally proves how much of a husband material he is.

content warnings: fluff, smut, light angst, suggestive, making out, nanami kento being a certified hubby, fiancée!kento, weddings, mentions/implied slut-shaming, reader has horrible relatives, reader is described to be non-traditional, riding, p in v sex, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, choking, hair pulling, curses still exist but nobody dies (yay!) and geto is mentally fine and a teacher at jujutsu tech <33, im so in love with him, some can be considered bare minimum and subtle but idc if he does it he's the standard, kento loves it when you're checking him out, just kento being a gentleman, kento is so in love with you, you you and you in his mind, reader is just as the same btw, corny ass vow (idk how to write one srry)

wc: 5591 (holy shit lol)

note: im!! so!! head!! over!! heels!!! with!! this!! man!! (it's really not that obvious, right?) he's so dreamy he deserves a lot of kissy kisses and a ticket to malaysia <33 also!! just realized this is my first piece for 2024 tehehe happy new year, everyone! 🎀🎆

best enjoyed with: slut! - taylor swift

that time when you both went out for a picnic

the sunset paints the sky with the most vibrant colors as you and kento bask in each other's presence and sit on a picnic blanket, surrounded by the quiet sways of the green grass, accompanied by some people who decided to hang out around the vicinity.

it's one of those days that kento is blessed by once in a blue moon break from being a jujutsu sorcerer. kendo's always grateful to have this kind of day because it would mean that his hands would spend their time stealing soft touches against your skin instead of fighting curses.

a faint clink can be heard when you and kento toast your glasses together, half filled with your favorite champagne. it's a tad bit sweet to kento's liking as he is not good with sweets, but he opted to bring it to your picnic instead of his favorite whiskey because he knows you love it. 

kento watches you put your lips on the champagne flute and drink your sweet alcohol with glee. he takes a small sip from his as he stares at you with admiration. 

satisfied with your drink, you set it aside on your coaster as you lean your head on kento's shoulders. "such a lovely day, isn't it?" you say while you close your eyes, soaking in the remaining rays of the sunshine before it sleeps, allowing the night to take over the sky.

kento hums in approval as he puts his free hand on your head, giving it gentle and loving pats as he rests his head against yours, but not before giving you a quick peck. "we should do this more often," 

"i agree; you should ditch gojo more and spend more time with me," you joked, and you heard your fiancée chuckle, "that wouldn't be so professional of me, darling," it's your turn to let out a chuckle.

"it's gojo; being professional is already out of the window." 

"you're right, maybe i should," kento jested back.

the two of you just sat in comfortable silence until a slightly strong gust of wind blew in your direction. caught by the shock of it all, you close your eyes and hold your sundress down to avoid flashing the strangers. but before you could even do it, a strong pair of arms wrapped around you.

kento had covered you, so any speck of dust blown by the wind wouldn't be able to get into your eyes. your sundress is also held down by his knees between your legs. when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by your fiancée's face close to yours, assessing you. you suddenly feel your stomach tumble and fill with butterflies.

"are you okay? didn't get anything in your eyes?" he says gently, eyes observing you with worry. you give him a slight nod, "mhm, i'm fine kento, how about you?" kento answered with a hum as he tried to fix your dress and some parts of the picnic blanket that was slightly blown away by the wind.

"i think that's the cue for us to pack up, or do you want to stay for a while?" kento asks you while he starts to pack up some of your stuff into the picnic bag. "we should stay until the sun completely sets, it's a shame to leave while the sky looks pretty." 

kento nods and finishes packing before he sits beside you, looking at the view. he then makes your head lean on his shoulders once again, his hands caressing the top of your head. "yeah, i agree, the sky looks pretty." he states.

he feels you nod and continues, "but you're prettier to look at," he says as he looks down at you and to his surprise, he meets your eyes on him. "i could say the same to you, kento," you say before capturing his lips against yours.

kento smiles on your lips before reciprocating your gesture, slightly tasting the remnants of your sweet champagne earlier. 

and at that moment, he thought, it doesn't matter if his tongue tasted something so sweet, as long as it's from your lips.

that time when you went christmas shopping

the mall filled with bustling crowds is not a perfect way to spend time with your fiancée. but when this is the only time your schedules align to go for a last-minute shopping to buy gifts for your loved ones, you don't really have a choice.

kento especially noticed how much you were on edge today despite being excited to buy gifts for everyone especially his mentees. you weren't the type to enjoy a busy crowd, so he knows how to elevate your stress.

store after store, he gave you every opinion he had (that you asked for) ever so gently and thoroughly but not too much to overwhelm you since you're technically a ticking time bomb now. kento was attentive at every store you went to and immediately picked out gifts you thought were best to give. he stood up in the busy and long line as he let you sit on the lounge chair present in the store. 

by the time you're done shopping, he carries all the bags and refuses to give you any (even the small ones). and when you insist, he gives you an offended look, telling you he can manage. 

while you're walking to leave the mall, your stares don't go unnoticed by your fiancée as he sees you mindlessly gawking at his arms that flex every time he has to fix the bags while walking. 

and that makes carrying your shopping bags even more worth it to him.

that time when you got drunk at a new year's party

gojo has set a new year's party that includes everyone in jujutsu tech in one of his vacation homes in japan. it was supposed to be a reasonably small party but this is gojo satoru we're talking about; he's going to be extra about anything and everything.

the party is semi-formal and requires everyone to dress up nicely. kento does not enjoy parties, but seeing you dress up in a pretty dress that enhances your assets makes him think that attending this event has benefits too.

the party wasn't uneventful per se, but despite the semi-formal wear that everyone was rocking, the event itself was casual. the house was filled with laughter and noise, mainly from the students and everyone else sharing stories and conversing. an hour or two into the party, you and kento decided to part ways as you go on your way to interact with gojo, geto, and shoko.

kento trusted you enough to be alone with them so he opted to talk with some of his colleagues whose presence calms him (obviously not gojo). he spent his time talking with higuruma, sharing ideals and mundane stuff they both enjoyed doing. it was a calming conversation for both men, who wanted peace and tranquility.

"there's this store that sells rare vintage vinyl; i think you'll love to shop there," higuruma suggests as they talk about collecting vinyl, a hobby they share. kento was about to reply, but even before he opened his mouth, he heard a very loud— 

"nanamin!" which made both men turn their heads in the direction where the sound came from.

the voice no doubt belonged to itadori, his face painted with concern as he rushed to kento's area. "what is it itadori?" he asked the young man the moment he arrived while panting.

"your wife! she's—" before itadori can even finish his sentence, kento's already sprinting to where you are, itadori following suit.

kento doesn't need to know what he needs to say; the worry on itadori's face, accompanied by your name, is enough for him to look for you.

turns out you're drunk of your mind. 

when kento arrives in gojo's kitchen, it's just you and him having a very drunk and heated argument about whether cereal or milk comes first.

"no! that's so stupid, cereal should come first, think about it you stupid idiot, if you pour milk first, you'll miss the chance to fill the bowl with so much cereal!" your fiancée sees you standing on gojo's kitchen island alongside him, slurring your words as you sway the glass of wine in the air, threateningly spilling as you keep on moving.

gojo scoffs at your argument, "maybe t'was the point! it's all about ratio, how else can you enjoy cereal when there's too much cereal and little room for milk!" he barks back, holding a—

is that a massive cup of sunrise tequila? no wonder he got so drunk, kento thought as he sighed.

"there's no such thing as ratio for you, gojo! you're the same person who adds too much pineapple on pizza that it becomes disgusting!" you shouted at gojo's face as you continuously pointed at his chest with your index finger.

across the kitchen island stood geto and shoko with unamused faces, looking like they were just waiting for everything to die down on its own. kento sighs and asks them, "did they have an alcohol-drinking battle again?" and all they reply is a solid nod.

"gojo got too competitive and drank that sweet poison, which led to this... argument," shoko adds, looking at both you and gojo incredulously. "they immediately started gulping down the alcoholic drinks right after midnight," geto said, a chuckle threatening to leave his lips.

"please help me break them up," your fiancée kindly pleads to geto and shoko. they immediately showed empathy to their former junior and decided to hold gojo back together while kento held onto you.

it took almost half an hour to break you and gojo apart, not to mention the commotion and your silly drunk discussions that blew out of proportion because the both of you are just so passionate and no one would back down without a fight. after successfully separating the two of you, kento immediately guided you away from the party and to your car, not without leaving shy goodbyes to the people he would face along the way.

the drive back home was thankfully not chaotic, but it was definitely filled with your drunken chatter as you slur words kento can barely make out.

getting you to your shared home was relatively easy; you were patient enough to let kento walk you off to the front door and remove your heels before gently placing you on the couch. 

he was about to let go and grab some water until you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to your face; kento felt his heart race. "hey there," you whispered against his lips, distance threateningly close.

kento could smell the alcohol on your breath, probably a mixture of beer, wine, and then some. still, he couldn't bring himself to care when he knew your lips would probably taste slightly sweet. "have you ever been this handsome, kento?" you ask, your voice dripping honey despite being out of your mind, trapped in your own drunken bubble.

"maybe that's just the alcohol's doing, darling," he jokes.

"no no, i think i already saw this face years ago."

"really?"

"really. you look even more handsome now, you should give me a kiss," you say as you pucker your lips, slowly leaning towards his.

kento couldn't even say no even if he didn't want to (not that he will ever not want to kiss you). he decides to give you a swift peck just to entertain your shenanigans, but when he is about to let go, you deepen your kiss, tightening your wrap on his neck, forcing him to lean forward and straddle you with one of his thighs digging on the couch.

he can taste the red wine you had recently drunk, and he's confident he can get drunk with your lips alone. kento's mind went hazy as he moved against your lips languidly, letting himself drown in your kiss. he wanted this to last longer, even take it further, but alas, kento has always been a man of self-control, so he lets go of you, not before giving you one last kiss on the forehead before heading to the kitchen.

the whole night, kento tends to your every need that you couldn't do. he had prepared you a warm bath, removed your makeup, and did your skincare for you that he knows at the back of his hand. he had lathered you up with your favorite lotion, dried your hair (not without a fight since your drunk self found the hair dryer too loud), and kissed you good night before tucking you to bed, leaving a pack of aspirin and a water bottle on your nightstand before sleeping.

the morning after, you woke up to the smell of your favorite soup and your fiancée insisting on feeding you even though you told him you could manage.

you make sure to pay him back really well that same day.

that time when you attended a family reunion 

it's always this dreaded day you always wanted to avoid but couldn't. 

you would rather stay home with kento rather than attend a gathering that will just piss you off, but your mom had pleaded with you to come— "so that they won't gossip about you," she said.

you know that's a lie; whether or not you attend, they'll always find a way to talk about you anyway; there's no winning. but since you wouldn't want to let your mother down, you suck it up and prepare for it regardless.

what makes you nervous is that this is the first time Kento has come along— or more like you let him come along. 

you had heard complaints from your relatives about not meeting kento when he was still your boyfriend, and now that you're engaged, you should've at least let them meet him. you begrudgingly agreed, but it doesn't mean you're not nervous.

your relatives have been annoying throughout your life, always meddling with things they shouldn't even care about. 

it always started with asking about your weight change, school activities, grades, chosen course, and relationships, not to mention the ever-so "you should do better" undertone in all aspects of your life. and for some reason, always making you feel small is included in their mandatory list to piss you off. 

you know that once you let them meet your now fiancée, they would bombard him with questions and annoy you and him for the rest of the day. you only keep up with the tradition because your mother is too kind to tell them off, laughing awkwardly when they berate you and always giving you a silent apology through her eyes.

it wasn't her fault; you just wish she'd shut them off.

kento had noticed your change of behavior ever since this morning while preparing in your home. you had been silent and spacing out, only replying when he had finally snapped you out of your daze. he doesn't know what the deal was with your relatives, but all he knows is that your mood drastically changes whenever they're involved in the conversation, and that's enough for him to tell you that they're not really good news.

"are you sure you want to go, honey? we can always drive back home," kento said with worry, cutting through the thick tension in the car. "it's fine; I can handle it; we're almost there anyway. it would be a waste if we turn around," you tell him with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

Kento replied with a small smile, taking your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles, "just know that i'll always be there, alright?"

you nod, feeling slightly relieved, before looking out the window to drink in the scenery as you pass by. 

it turns out you can't handle it.

you thought your relatives would be a little tamer because you have someone over, but you were totally wrong.

ever since you both arrived, your aunties had surrounded kento and bombarded him with questions. from his age, degree, university he graduated from, where you met, wedding date, monthly income (which is incredibly embarrassing), to how many children he plans to have.

most of it wasn't a problem, but your blood boiled the moment they asked about what he saw from you.

this would've been such a sentimental moment if it weren't for your auntie's sarcastic tone, as if the question was meant to belittle you, to make you feel like you're not worthy of him.

when kento was about to open his mouth just to pour out how much he loves you and how he's lucky to have you, one of your aunties butt in with their loud mouth.

"well, she isn't really a traditional partner isn't she?" she said, a smug smile forming on her ugly and wrinkly face. "yeah, i mean, i assume with a fine man like you wouldn't be attracted to someone like her," another one added.

kento clenches his fists as he felt fury fire inside of him. how dare they think about you like this and talk about you like this, like you weren't just in front of him, seething in pain and anger.

he was about to give a proper and calm response when your uncle had spoken, "besides, she dresses like a... you know," then an ugly cackle. "a what?" your auntie had joined, taunting him to say the word.

"oh, you know, like a sl-"

that was the final nail in the coffin. his words are cut off when kento angrily smashes both palms on the table, seemingly angry, forming an angry red aura you have never seen. "i've had enough," he started, while all eyes are on him, including yours.

"i will not allow any single one of you to disrespect my wife any longer. i will not tolerate your old and immature ways of talking about her. i've been patient enough, but this bullshit is something I will not allow," kento's vulgar choice of words has made everyone's eyes at the table grow wide, shocked.

"i would say this respectfully, but you guys weren't to my wife either, so please, i'll say this once," he inhales, trying to calm himself down. 

"fuck off," kento declares before taking your hand and exiting the venue.

during the walk to the car, he had been slowly calming himself down. once you reach it, kento holds your face gently, "i'm sorry for the outburst there; i just couldn't stand them disrespecting you any longer, so I had to." he says before putting a gentle yet quite long kiss on your forehead.

once he lets go, he sees your face. your eyes had been filled with tears, and it broke his heart. "that's fine, i've been wanting to tell them to fuck off for years anyway. if anything, i should thank you," a smile spread through kento's face before opening the car door to let you in.

once the both of you are finally settled in your seat, you ask, "by the way, I just noticed you called me your wife; what was that all about?" you ask him out of curiosity. he knows you're happy about that based on how happy your voice sounded when you asked him.

"i'm just so sure you'll end up with that title anyway, unless you're having cold feet?"

"oh god, no! i'm just touched, 's all," you shrugged as you settled in your seat, a smile stretched across your face. 

kento chuckles and leans forward to kiss your cheek before starting the engine and driving off.

your mom visited you and kento later that week, saying she was happy she was finally not invited to the next reunion. she then made you your favorite dishes as an apology for that day.

you don't mind what gossip they would come up with next, not when you have the kind of man kento is. 

their little toxic gossip train had nothing compared to the love that kento gives you every single day anyway.

that time when you asked him to be rough

the night is still young and cold but kento does know how to make it hot.

his hands fumble the plush ass as you keep on taking his cock, sloppily riding him as you let your hips and thighs do the work. your cunt meticulously takes all of him, molding your walls just like it was made for him. "hah, faster darling, please," kento pleads, voice broken and desperate for release.

his calloused hands caress your body gently like you are someone sacred, a figure that shouldn't be harshly touched or you'll be condemned, the same hands that used to exorcise and kill curses without a single thought. and yet with you, he carefully carries them lightly, holding onto your waist, not too tight enough to leave you in pain. 

you feel your stomach tie into a knot, slowly feeling yourself come to a climax, "shit, kento, you're so big, mngh, make me feel so full," you say through gritted teeth, further speeding up your pace. the sound of your thighs slamming against his echoes through your bedroom, accompanied by your ragged breaths and kento's broken moans of pleasure.

your fiancée's hands then find their place back on your ass, squeezing it tight, but not too much, guiding you to bounce on his cock more as he feels himself closer. "s'good for me, yeah? taking me like a good girl?" kento looks at your eyes lovingly, his brown orbs touching your soul. you nod, not finding the words to say, mind too hazy to answer as you keep on taking his dick, taking him in like you always do.

"yes, oh god, yes, kento— please, inside— me," were the only words you managed to let out as your movements kept on getting sloppier and sloppier each moment passed by. he knew what it meant, and who he to deny such a polite request?

kento let himself release inside of you with a groan, making sure every drop of his cum is given to you. 

your pants envelope the room as you both try and catch your breaths— then a beat of silence.

you take kento's face in the palm of your hands and caress his cheek, "you know, i sometimes wish you could be rough," you say as you observe his sexed stupor, "i occasionally get rough on you, don't i?" he asks, eyebrows raised with confusion.

"no, like i mean, rough rough," you emphasize, "you're always so gentle. you don't think i can handle you?" faux sadness evident in your voice, one that your fiancée can never say no to, not when you're asking this nicely. "oh darling, i'm sorry, i will do it next time," he coos, fixing the loose strands on your hair by tucking them behind your ear.

"we can do it now?" you suggest, making the corner of kento's lips perk up, "oh? you sure you can handle it?"

"i know i can handle it," you say as your voice rang with confidence.

you knew kento had it in him to be rough, but good god, you never expected him to be this good. 

he had given you a more than good fucking, which leads you drooling on your sheets, with your back arched, ass up, and your hands held behind by kento as he drills his cock into your sopping cunt. his hands left prints on your ass and thighs, which left a delicious burn on your skin. "want to take my babies, don't you?" kento says as his hips meet your asscheeks.

"mnghh, yes, daddy! full— 'f your babies!" that was enough for him to unload himself inside of you, burying himself deeper to make sure you'll take all of it before he pulls out.

you were about to sit up, panting, when you felt kento's large hands wrap around your neck from behind, squeezing it while the other was pulling your hair.

"who said i was done with you, pretty?" the deep timbre of his voice went straight to your pussy.

this side of your fiancée is undoubtedly a pleasant surprise.

the following day, though, you were treated again like a queen, a bath ready for you by the time you woke up, surrounded with fresh flower petals that he had taken the time to buy from your nearest flower shop, and your favorite candle burning alongside your bath products. kento also insisted on giving you a full body massage to ease any tension and muscle ache.

you asked for it anyway, but you also don't mind this kind of treatment from him every now and then.

that time when you had a cold

you woke up feeling like absolute shit.

you don't know when or why it happened; it just did.

your head was throbbing the moment you opened your eyes, squinting at the sun rays that peeked through your windows. your body felt heavier than usual, and your shoulders felt sore. kento had taken notice of this as soon as he woke up, tending to your every need.

it pains your fiancée to see you in such a state, voice hoarse, your sniffles meet with a crumpled-up tissue near your nightstand, a mucus-filled cough every now and then, and an occasional "my throat hurts" whenever you speak. you had begged him to bring you some slightly cold water along with your food because lukewarm water doesn't hit just the same. but being the ever-responsible adult that kento is, he says no, leaving you sulking as you begrudgingly eat your food with a frown.

taking your medicine, though, is a different kind of task.

you stall every single time, finding it hard (or hating) to swallow the pills. even more so if he gave you water with a dissolved effervescent tablet, claiming it's too gross to drink, even if it doesn't really have any flavor. whenever you're sick, this is always the obstacle he has to face.

"please give me some juice or candy kento; it'll help when i drink the medicine," you begged, adding a touch of cooing pleases to make him say yes.

"i think the sweets you ate are what led you this way, darling," he says, which practically means no. 

a pattern he noticed is that whenever you eat too much salt or sweets without drinking the right amount of water, it always leads to you getting this sick. "it'll just be a little sip, please? baby?" you had finally hit a new low, busting out the occasional nickname when you need something from him.

"you're a big girl, honey; you can drink this. here, i'll cover your nose for you," at this point, you just let him do it; there's no way you'll be able to convince him. you reluctantly nod and decide to drink the medicine instead.

kento pinched the sides of your nose together, effectively covering the smell, or lack thereof (he doesn't even know why he covers your nose, he just knows you'll take it if you don't smell anything). your face scrunched as your tastebuds are met with an unfamiliar and unwelcome taste, but you drink it anyway, your throat desperately chugging it so you can be done with it right away.

once you felt that you had finally consumed all of the medicine, you immediately let go of kento's hold on your nose, quickly reaching out to the glass of lukewarm water on your nightstand. after you drink enough to allow the aftertaste of the medicine to go, you place it back and let yourself lie in bed.

"i'll prepare you dinner, and i'll be back, alright?" kento takes away your glasses and places them on the tray he had brought them with. he was about to leave the room when he felt you tugging on his shirt "hm? do you need something?"

you shake your head, "no, just... thank you," 

a small smile spread on his face, your fiancée takes his free hand on your head and gently ruffles your hair, "this is nothing to thank about darling, i'm just doing my job," he bends down and gingerly places a long kiss on your forehead, "i love you, get some rest." 

you nod, but not before giving him a small smile back.

that night after you had eaten your dinner and drank your medicine (albeit hesitantly), you spent the night with kento caging you in his firm, warm arms. 

you feel yourself get better by then.

that time when you got married

when you walked down the aisle, kento looked at you like you had hung the stars for him. his eyes sparkle as he sees you wearing the gown you've been working on for months; even kento himself can't believe he's seeing an angel.

is this what heaven is? is this a dream? are you even real? how lucky is he to be with someone like you?

kento always believed you're out of his league, someone out of reach, and like the stars from the sky, the only way to capture your beauty is through his eyes. but he couldn't believe that the universe was on his side, fate working its way to make him yours, and he happily obliged. 

cupid had shot him through the heart, and you stole it, and he can't even be mad at it. he'd happily give you all of him at the snap of your fingers. let himself be bare to you; let himself mesh with you. your soul, senses, beliefs, and love clouded onto him. 

he consumes every single aspect of you within him, lovers stitched together by fate that no one can even cut. 

kento sees himself becoming one with you, so he will never regret the time he got on his knees to present you with the prettiest ring he could ever find, but nothing can compare to the beauty you carry, not even this ring. 

when you accept him with a delighted "yes," kento swears he's the luckiest man alive ever, blessed by your whole being.

so when you finally reach his side, everyone becomes a blur, his eyes focused on you the whole time, soaking in your beauty; he can't believe this is the face he's going to see every morning for the rest of his life. 

"hey handsome, you look great," you say, holding kento's hand. "i could say the same to you, pretty," he replies, and he had to stop himself from kissing you right there and then.

and comes with the exchange of vows; kento feels slightly nervous but proud because he gets to declare his love for you in front of the people you both cherish most.

he clears his throat before opening up the letter in his hands and looks at you with such love and contentment.

"to the person who helped me see love in your form,

you've always painted colors on my blank canvas, and i cannot thank you enough. you shed light when i'm in my darkest days, have been with me through my stormy nights, and share my gloomy days.

you have been the compass to my lost soul, guiding me to the destination i know as love. you give harmony to my life as your laughter always brings music to my ears; your voice reminds me that you're here with me. you had composed the greatest symphony that sang its way to my heart, making me bare my soul, something that i will never regret," kento pauses, his voice croaked, words stuck in his throat as he tries to stop his tears from spilling. he fails to hear the audience coo in awe, focusing on you.

he continues, "loving you became my eternal pursuit, my garden whose roots are planted deeper than the sea where my endearment continues to blossom. 

every step with you feels like a dance, one that i will not get tired of swaying my heart with. your hands had made a map of my body and soul, imprinted the images of love one couldn't see, and only i could feel.

and the only time i get to call something home, i stare into the deep abyss of your eyes and see myself tangled with you.

with you, i am willing to get even our souls intertwined, dancing through life as we face the uncertainty together, with love ink deep within my veins.

to my anchor, my only solace, the only anthem my heart will forever sing,

i hope the warmth of your arms will forever embrace me, even after death." the attempt to keep his tears falling fails, so does the audience, and so did you.

your eyes filled with tears, but one that's full of love. your heart feels so full that it's threatening to spill out of you. you love kento so much that it hurts; it aches to the core that someone could ever love you this much.

and you're forever thankful.

that day, your promises to each other are officially sealed with a kiss so intense and wedding bands that even evil couldn't break, that no trespassers shall get into and rip your bond away.

when kento's lips met yours, it was soft, it was warm, it was sweet, it was comforting. 

finally, your husband thinks.

that day sealed the chapter to your newfound forever.

another note: i'm not so proud of the vows i made but i hope it captured kento enough lol srry 😭

[noxtivagus]

i'll just ramble a bit again in tags ><

[dollfacefantasy]

Baby Bunny

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!bunny-hybrid!reader

summary: leon helps his sweet baby bunny through her heat.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, breeding kink, daddy kink

word count: 3.8k

a/n: i'm not sure how i feel about this one, but let's go with it. again, thank you everyone for reblogging and commenting, it means the world to me <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld

In his personal life, Leon never wanted to be depended on. That was his job. He didn’t want that stuff following him home. He didn’t want to be tied down, to be responsible for someone like that. People depended on him in Raccoon city and look how that turned out. Every mission he’s been on for the last few years, he’s responsible for someone. It’s exhausting.

But as he nears 30, he starts to look at it differently. An aching sense of isolation grows in his heart. He starts to think about what it would be like having someone, having a companion of some sort. Suddenly, he’s not looking at being relied on as a detriment. Being depended on means having someone to care for, someone to love. There would be someone at the end of long days and the starts of his currently lonesome nights.

That’s how he finds himself with you scampering around his house. The sweetest little thing he’d ever seen. Your long floppy ears, cute little cottontail, those big sweet eyes. From the moment he saw you, he was a sucker for all of it.

A while back he had briefly heard of human-animal hybrids, but he didn’t think much about it. It didn’t really apply to him. If anything, the idea weirded him out a bit.

That was until he started thinking more about his dilemma. It seemed like one of them might be a good solution. He talked to a few people and did some online research and decided to at least look into it. It couldn’t hurt to visit an adoption center right?

He visited the place and was still a little freaked by the whole concept. He walked through the rooms, watching different hybrids move about and mess around. The lady guiding him throughout asked him different questions, trying to decipher what type of hybrid would best fit his needs. But all of her questions were irrelevant as soon as he spotted you.

You were undoubtedly the one. His baby bunny. Not only did he not want any other hybrid, but he didn’t think he could physically leave that place without talking to you at the very least.

He walked over to you cautiously. You kept to yourself, and he could tell from your body language alone how timid you were. He spoke with the softest, most soothing tone he could manage, but you were still so shy.

You’d told him your name so quietly he could barely hear. He didn’t touch you at all, fearing you may cry at something that personal. But he kept talking to you because while others may have found it challenging, he could see you fitting right in with him.

You’d be dependent, sure, but clearly you wouldn’t be overly needy for affection. It would be a good way for him to transition from being alone into having someone.

He kept getting to know you and trying to get through some of your walls. He talked with you about all sorts of things and let you ask your own questions so you could get to know him. By the end of the day, you hesitantly allowed him to stroke your ears.

It was that exact day he told you that he was interested in you coming to live with him. You were still very reserved, but you seemed receptive. You did a little trial run over the course of a week, and just as Leon thought, you were a great fit.

You had grown more comfortable with him in the months since that week even though your core personality hadn’t changed. You were still generally quiet, never asking for much and being appreciative of whatever he gave you. You’d talk with him openly now, mostly responding to him rather than starting conversations but speaking nevertheless. You slept in your own room, but as soon as you woke up, you’d come find him to hang out. It was a nice balance with you.

But Leon still wanted a little more. He would never push it on you, knowing it would make you withdraw again, but he always cherished the moments of progress with you. You warmed up enough that you came around to enjoy cuddling. Leon couldn’t believe how soft he’d become when you curled up to his side and tucked yourself under his arm. The first time you fell asleep in his embrace, he loved it so much he felt chest pains. Once or twice, he’d gotten you to fully sit on his lap, and he couldn’t stop beaming.

He could give you little kisses on your face now, and you’d give him a sweet smile in return that he couldn’t get enough of. You’d never kissed him yourself, but you would nuzzle his cheek in return which was enough to make him happy.

You were just such a sweetheart, a perfect companion for him. You didn’t complain when he had to go to work, but it wasn’t like you didn’t miss him. He could see the way your ears would slump and your eyes would dim as he gathered his stuff and headed for the door. But you also got so happy when he came back. You tried to seem as subdued as possible, but the way you lit up again in his presence was obvious.

The only thing you were still completely closed off about was when you went into heat. Leon understood what it was, he had been nervous about it since bringing you home, but he had no clue about how you dealt with it at all. Every time it happened, you’d shut yourself up in your room for however many days it took, and then return to him as if nothing had happened.

For your sake, he played along. He got the sense it was a touchy subject after bringing up the possibility of getting you some more toys for it and having you immediately shut it down. Your voice had become higher pitched with defensiveness, and your eyes wouldn’t meet his for the next few hours.

He had only wanted to help, but he couldn’t tell you why. Couldn’t tell you that your desperate moans kept him up at night when they echoed down the hall. Those broken whimpers that made it sound like you were crying, so worked up and in need of release that it brought you to tears. 

He also couldn’t share how it made his cock rise to attention. How those pretty little noises had him fucking his fist, other palm covering his mouth to muffle his grunts, searching for relief of his own. His precious baby bunny didn’t need to know all of that.

Today had been a long day. He was tired after dealing with all the bullshit that came with his job. Although, unlike in months prior, he wasn’t all doom and gloom driving home. The thought of his sweet girl at home waiting for him by the door kept his spirits somewhat up as he made the commute back.

To his surprise, you weren’t in the living room like normal. He walked through the room cautiously, a little on edge from the disruption to his routine. He goes into the kitchen and still doesn’t find you. He starts to walk to the back of the home and that’s when he hears something. Those soft, needy sounds of pleasure.

His eyebrows raise, but he continues walking. As he gets closer, he realizes something that adds another level of shock to this situation. The noises were coming from his room.

At this point, he was more concerned than anything else. He makes his way down the hallway to his room and slowly opens the door, cracking it open to peek inside.

His eyes widen as he sees you on his bed. You’re kneeling, doubled over though so your face is in the blankets, his pillow between your legs, and your hips rocking back and forth violently. You’re nude from the waist down, only wearing a shirt of his. One of your fists is clutching the blankets while you keep your face shoved against them in a weak attempt to muffle those cute noises.

His jaw goes slack at the sight. He wills himself to remain calm and not succumb to some of his own primal urges. He carefully steps into the room, trying to be quiet even though he couldn’t see a way to not startle you with his presence.

“Baby…” he says, using the most gentle voice he could manage.

You shoot up in bed, now kneeling vertically. Your eyes are wide like you’ve had the fright of your life, your expression clearly horrified that he’d caught you like this. And even though he tries not to look, he can’t help but notice that despite your reaction, your hips don’t stop rutting against the pillow.

“Daddy!” you gasp.

That short circuits his brain. He pauses for a good five seconds to grapple with what you just said. You’d never called him that before. Not that he minded necessarily… but it still gave him whiplash.

His reaction seems to cause you to realize what you had just blurted out. In the blink of an eye, you go from visibly horrified to completely mortified. Your eyes fill with tears as you whimper out “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

Oh god, and now you’re crying. Leon was still silent as he tried to keep his composure, force the heat building inside of him to cool off before he approached you. Looking at you though, that sweet face with tears leaking down those round cheeks… It made him want to bounce you on his lap till you were crying for a whole other reason.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s alright,” he reassures you as he walks to the bed. He sits on the edge, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on your face. “Is it… Are you in heat?”

“Yes,” you say, tone dripping with shame. You bite your lip and try to restrain any further whimpers. Your hips were slowing down but still moving. After a few moments though, another wave of choked cries erupt from your throat and more hot tears of humiliation slide down your skin. Your hands fly up to cover your face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down. It’s ok,” he says softly. He cautiously takes your wrists and pulls them away from your face. He takes one of your hands in his, soothingly rubbing the back of your palm. You whimper at the touch, but he doesn’t say anything. “It’s ok, honey. I’m not mad. You can’t help it. I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

You look into his eyes with your tearful gaze. Your breathing was a little ragged from crying, but it seemed like he was calming you down slowly. You nod with uncertainty, waiting for him to make the next move.

He was also unsure of what to do. This was so unlike you, he’d never seen you this emotional for one, but he’d also never expected to see you in this position. And the entire time your hips were still grinding on that pillow, back and forth like a pendulum.

“Is it more intense this time?” he asks, keeping his tone gentle to not upset you again.

“I guess,” you whimper, “I just… I wanted you.”

It pained him to see you so uncomfortable and stressed out. He wanted you to be able to come to him with these types of things, to trust him with yourself when you’re in your most vulnerable state. It was clear that you desired that too, to some degree. You were in his room, humping his pillow, wearing his shirt.

“Well… I’m right here, baby. I want to help if I can. If you want me to,” he says.

Your skepticism is written all over your face. But you needed this even if you were a little nervous. He pats his lap encouragingly, and that’s the final push you need to let go of the pillow and crawl into his lap.

“There’s my baby bunny. Sweet girl,” he says softly as he gets you situated. He peppers a few tender kisses on your head and strokes your back.

You had only been there for a few seconds, but your hips were already squirming.

“What do you need, baby? Just tell Daddy, and you can have it,” he whispers. The title rolls off his tongue as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It had caught him off guard when you said it, but after it rattled around in his head for a bit, it took root. Now, he just wanted to hear you say it again.

You whimper, looking at him through your lashes with those sweet eyes. At this point, you were all but riding his thigh. There’s a pause as you decide how to articulate your desire.

“I need… I need you,” you offer timidly.

“I know that, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “Try to be more specific for me. Daddy only wants to know so he can help you. Give you exactly what you need.”

He reaches up and cradles the back of your head, bringing you in to rest it on his shoulder. His other arm wraps around you and rubs your back. He holds  you as close as he can to give you that physical reassurance he knew you longed for in your condition.

You still hesitate, obviously working up your will to explicitly state your cravings.

“I want Daddy inside, wanna be bred,” you whimper, turning your face against his shoulder to hide your eyes. Your whole head felt hot with the weight of what you said. It was almost dizzying, but he swoops in with his cooing voice and gentle praises to keep you together.

“Poor baby,” he croons, “I don’t know how you handled this alone for so long, honey. That’s so unfair to you, all these big feelings you had to work through by yourself. So frustrating.”

You knew he was being excessively caring now, but you had no complaints. The loving cadence of his voice made your mind melt. All you could do is whimper and nod against his shoulder.

“You could’ve come to Daddy anytime you wanted. I could never say no to my sweet baby bunny, especially not about this,” he says, kissing your head and giving your ears a few loving strokes.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you say.

“Nothing to be sorry about, sweet girl. I’m here now. We’re gonna fix it. Daddy’s gonna make it all better,” he says.

He shifts you around a little so he can slide his pants down and free his hard cock. Your curious eyes dart back to his face after a quick look at the flushed tip and the veins spanning the shaft.

“You ready?” he asks softly.

“Mhm, need it,” you whimper in return, helping him get your hips into position.

He lowers you on to his cock. Both of you let out hushed noises of pleasure as the sensation strikes pleasure within you. His fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips as he slides further into you. Your arms tighten around him and your eyes already start to flutter at the snug fit.

You whine and babble out some nonsense when you’re finally flush against him. His cock twitches inside of you.

“I know, baby, I know,” he hushes you. You could hear the tension in his own voice from exerting so much restraint. “You feeling any better?”

“Little bit, need more Daddy,” you mewl.

“Just give yourself a second to adjust, angel,” he grunts. You were pulsing around him, making it harder for him to not let go. 

But it seems you’re feeling the same way. You shake your head in response to his words and start haphazardly squirming around, trying to move up and down while still in his hold.

“Need it Daddy,” you whine, “Can’t wait. Pretty please.”

Like he’d said, he couldn’t say no.

“If you’re sure, honey,” he says and loosens his grip, “Be a good bunny and bounce for Daddy.”

That’s all you need to hear before you’re bouncing up and down. Wet noises fill the room as your slick pussy takes him in and out. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, letting the embarrassment fade and just feeling the pleasure running through you.

Leon focuses on helping you keep your balance as you ride him. His own belly was twisting with ecstasy as your heat engulfs him over and over.

“That’s it, good baby,” he grunts, “Keep going, honey. Get it all out.”

You whine and continue on, up and down, up and down. More cute noises spill from your mouth as the head of his cock nudges all the right places. You ramble on, mumbling things like “love my daddy” over and over.

“Daddy loves you too, sweet girl,” he says softly.

He notices you starting to cling and whimper more. You were still riding, but your rhythm was becoming more awkward. You seemed more desperate even though you literally had him as close and as deep as physically possible.

He tries to help and do more of the work. He pulls you in close again and holds you against his body. Your face is pressed to his neck while he rubs the back of your head. His hips start to do the majority of the thrusting, bucking up into you fervently.

More incoherent strings of words escape you as you melt into his chest. You press a few sloppy kisses to the base of his neck. Despite him taking over, you were still being whiny and squirmy. He knew you were in discomfort, but it should be getting better, right?

“What is it, babydoll? What else do you need?” he coos.

Your head falls back and a sound of general pent up frustration escapes you. Your hips roll into his thrusts in large, needy movements.

“It’s not enough,” you cry, almost near tears from the ache between your thighs, “Need you more. Closer. Need it.”

You tug at his arms trying to get him to wrap them tighter. There wasn’t much Leon could do though. You were already as close as possible, any closer and you wouldn’t be able to move, which he was sure wouldn’t go over well with you. He felt so bad for you though. His sweet baby bunny suffering like this.

He watches you, your weak attempts at getting yourself off by rising and falling on his lap. He can’t take watching you struggle like this. Doing the only thing that could think of, he boosts you up and quickly flips you over.

You’re now pinned beneath him. His toned body is all over yours, heated skin pressed to you in every way. He spreads your arms out and holds your wrists down. His hips are against yours. He’s just grinding into you now, not even pulling out with his thrusts. He was as deep as possible. If this wasn’t enough, he didn’t know what else to do.

“How’s that, pretty girl? Is that how my baby bunny wants it? Wants Daddy nice and deep, ready to spill his cum and breed her cute pussy,” he breathes.

You nod eagerly, eyes rolling back at the relief you felt. This is what you needed. Feeling his weight on top of you, unable to move anywhere else.

“Mhm, this is what you need, sweet baby. You’re gonna take every last drop. Gonna keep it all in to make sure it takes too. If any leaks out, that just means I’ll have to fuck it back in. We’ll just have to go as many times as we need to,” he groans.

“Yes Daddy. Wanna take it all. Gonna be full of your cum for days,” you whimper.

“Yeah you will be. I think that’s what I’ll do from now on. Whenever my baby bunny goes into heat, I’ll have to stay home, make sure to keep you in bed, keep you plugged up full of Daddy at all times. That pretty little head won’t have to think about anything but being bred,” he says.

You just nod again, unable to get proper words out at the minute.

“I feel you squeezing, sweetheart. You getting ready to cum for Daddy?” he coos and reaches up to stroke your ears. He hikes your thighs up more, giving him a deeper angle to drive into you with. You gasp from the change, and your noises get higher as he rams in as much as he can without it being painful.

“Daddy!” you cry out. It’s all you can say. You had more, but it could only come out in the form of that one word right now. He’s all that was on your mind. Daddy daddy daddy.

“Yes, baby. Yes. Daddy’s here. Gonna fill you full of cum and then love on you for the rest of the night,” he purrs, “My baby was so brave, dealing with this all by yourself. But doesn’t it feel so much better when Daddy takes care of you?”

“Mhm, mhm,” you agree quickly.

Your hips start bucking while your body spasms. Leon knew this was it.

“Good girl, baby. Cum whenever you want. Let it feel good baby, get perfect and tight,” he says.

You do just that. You let the release wash over you. You shudder and dig your fingers into his muscles as the feelings bubble over.

“My perfect little bunny,” he praises softly while watching you let go.

It’s not much longer until his cock his pulsing violently within you. He thrusts as hard and as deep as possible before letting out a loud groan and burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck, baby, baby, baby,” he mumbles.

He spills it all inside you, hips twitching and arms locking around you. In the end, you’re both panting. He pulls back a little to kiss your forehead again. He looks down into your eyes.

“How’re you feeling now, sweet girl?” he asks softly.

“Better for now,” you answer. Your head starts to clear and return to its normal state.

He nods and kisses your head again. He rolls over onto his back, scooping you up against his chest while staying inside you. He rubs your back gently.

“You did so good, baby,” he whispers, “Now you see you don’t have to do that alone. You can trust me, sweetheart. I only want to help you. Keep you happy.”

You nod and look up at him lovingly.

“If this is what you need, this is what you need. We can get through it together,” he says softly.

“Together,” you agree softly and scoot up slightly, kissing him gently on the lips.

He smiles big and holds you closer somehow. He leans in for another kiss and another. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to get enough.

[wonwoonlight]

take a chance / jeon wonwoo

Wonwoo x Reader // 1.7k words // nothing but fluff lol they're idiots

a/n: if you cant tell im absolutely insane abt this wonwoo. 100000% self indulgent and 100% not proofread as always ehe <3 v lowkey inspired also by niki - take a chance with me

He drives me crazy, it's so beyond me

How he'd look at me dead in the eye and stay unaware

Niki - Take A Chance with Me

[☆]

Wonwoo has never really been interested in romance.

When he was six and his friends started talking about girls were icky, he couldn't have cared enough to even think about girls in particular.

When he was fourteen and his close cousin who was practically his big brother told him about his first girlfriend, Wonwoo had simply nodded and congratulated him because the older guy looked like he was waiting for it even though he didn't get what's there to congratulate.

When he was seventeen and another cousin got married, he thought a little about what it'd be like to commit yourself for the rest of your life to another person.

Anyhow, now he's twenty seven and still pretty much free from the dating experience.

He just simply couldn't be bothered to try nor was he even curious enough to try.

There's too much risk. Too much things to do. Too many factors to think about. It's too complicated and Wonwoo has never been a fan of complicated.

Sure, the older he gets the more he understands about the attraction and whatnot. But the few dates that he has been on (which he could count with his two hands) was entirely due to his friends setting up with someone and his inability to say no the second time even though he did reject their so-called-help the first time around.

They eventually get the hint and stop setting Wonwoo up on a blind date.

He never sees romance as a necessity and he doesn't feel the need to have a partner, what is there more to say?

“I lost the floor 12 Abyss again.” You pout, half tempted to throw away the joystick in your hands. “I'm never playing this game again, I'm telling you.”

Wonwoo chuckles and tells you to move as he slides next to you, taking the joystick away and getting ready to restart your game.

“You just suck at this.” He teases, not minding your glare because he's way too used to it at this point. “And you say that everytime but here you are, still playing.”

“Shut up.” You pout, both impressed and unimpressed at the way he easily goes through the stages.

“Done.” He grins, all nine shining stars looking back at you.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

“I do!” You take back the joystick from him and close the window. “You don't even play this game! This is bullshit!”

He laughs under his breath and ruffles your hair, saying something about how he can't help being good at it.

You like that side of Wonwoo, as you often tell him, because people have always said that Wonwoo is quiet–that he doesn't talk a lot and it could be awkward being left alone with him.

And whilst it's not entirely untrue and you've been there too, you also know that Wonwoo is much more than his lack of words.

Wonwoo talks a lot once he's comfortable. You just need to be very patient and understanding about his silence before he gets there.

You… have been plenty patient, amongst other things.

You're patient enough to get where you are even though you've never imagined you'd get here.

Here, meaning being close enough with Wonwoo for him to be comfortable with you that he doesn't mind inviting you over to his place with no other companies.

Here, meaning being close enough with Wonwoo for him to not mind the fact that you like him and not act weird about it.

Here, meaning being close with Wonwoo despite the fact that you've confessed to him about your feelings but you're still here in his place, right next to him with not a single air of awkwardness between you two.

Turning off the Playstation, you settle on Wonwoo's sofa and decide to scroll through Instagram instead. You sigh, catching his attention, and when he asks you what's wrong, you simply shake your head no.

“What are you sighing about this time?”

This is something that people don't know about Wonwoo either: he prods when it comes to people he cares about.

Granted, he does it exactly three times to see if the other party would relent by then. He does that because that's how he is, he once tells you, because he rarely opens up at the first question but eventually cracks on the third time. That, by the third question, he's already had enough time to consider whether or not he really wants to talk about it.

“Nothing important.” You try to reassure him. “Just silly stuff.”

Wonwoo looks at you pointedly, but you simply smile and turn back to your phone, which he supposes means you don't feel like bringing it up just yet.

He closes his book and puts it on the coffee table, leaning closer to you to see what you're up to.

You wonder if Wonwoo knows what his action means to your poor, poor heart. If he's aware that, as much you said you're cool despite your confession, you still have romantic attractions towards him and confessing doesn't mean you're no longer affected by anything and everything he does.

After watching you go through your phone for a bit, it is quite easy for Wonwoo to realize what might be the core of your problem.

“You're thinking about why you're single again, aren't you?”

Your fingers freeze and so does your entire body, and Wonwoo would've laughed at how surprised you look right now, but he knows you're actually bothered by this problem from time to time though he doesn't exactly understand why.

And for someone who's observative and quite sensitive when it comes to things around him, Wonwoo can be a bit dense, still.

On what kind of universe does he think this topic would be okay to talk about with someone who literally confessed to you and somewhat got rejected though not explicitly?

“I don't want to talk about it.” You whine despite the fast beating of your heart. You honestly don't think you have it in you to talk about this with Wonwoo. At least not just yet.

“Why?”

You look at him, incredulous. “You know why.”

“Because you like me?”

You shrug, not wanting to deny it.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, voice very gentle and careful.

“What?”

“I'm sorry if this sounds insensitive.” You press your lips together as he starts. At least, he has the conscience to know that. “But… what is it about being in a relationship that appeals so much to you?”

You pause before you answer, wondering what to say. “Do you want me to actually answer that?”

“If you don't mind answering.”

Wonwoo wonders if he makes you uncomfortable by asking such question. But if there's anyone he can ask about this, it can only be you. No one else would answer it in a way that he would understand. No one else would give him the sincerity that you'd give in your answer.

He feels bad knowing you like him and still asking you like this. But he supposes you're both close enough for that discussion, that he doesn't want to let your feelings get in the way of your precious friendship.

Perhaps he's selfish, but he doesn't want to be too conscious when it comes to your relationship with him despite everything.

“I guess it's just the fact that someone's always there for you.” You start, not looking at him even though his gaze is locked at you. “That there's this person who… you can tell everything to, from your secrets to what you feel like eating today. That when you want to do something, you can always run to them first before wondering if anyone else is available. That–”

“But that's already how we are?” He cuts you off.

You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering if it's some kind of prank even though you know he's not that kind of person.

“That's already what I do with you.” He says one more time–more firm and somewhat determined with a hint of confusion. “Why do you think you're in my place so often?”

“I… I– I don't know? You're… bored? And I happen to be free?” You stutter a little, not used to the way he's staring at you.

“I am bored.” He agrees, things suddenly crystal clear in his eyes. “But I'm bored because I don't have you around. And I want you here. That's why I asked all the time if you're available.”

You open your lips to say something–anything, but nothing comes out because your heartbeat is ringing throughout your body right up to your ears.

“You're the only person I send those posts about places I want to visit because I want to visit with you. I don't send them to anyone else. I don't even like going out all that much.”

“I… I don't understand?”

“Are we in a relationship?” He asks rather bluntly, mixing all your feelings together with one single question.

“Wonwoo, I don't think this is how you should go around it–”

“Have we been dating all this time?” He asks one more time, not even seemingly nervous about it.

He looks at you like he's expecting an answer, but how are you supposed to answer that? You've simply been happy that you get to spend time with him. You didn't think for one second that he might be into you despite all the time he asks you to accompany him somewhere and all the time you're alone in his place.

“I've been too oblivious, haven't I?” He concludes by himself, your silence doesn't deter him at all.

He reaches for your cheek, and if he notices how warm your face is, he doesn't mention it. But he caresses the apple of your cheek as he looks at you with the gentlest reflection you've ever seen in his eyes.

“I'm sorry it took me too long.” He whispers, and you bite your lip so hard to hide your smile because you don't want to be too happy before anything's decided. You're not sure what he's trying to say, your head is spinning with thoughts and your heart is beating at an erratic rhythm. “Do you mind… letting me learn a bit more?”

“About what?” You whisper back.

“Being a good boyfriend?” He smiles when you do too, feeling warmth all over his chest at how shy you seem to be. “You know I've never done this before, right? Let me take a chance with you?

You finally let yourself grin at this, no longer able to control the happiness blooming within you at whatever this might mean.

And as you lean your face more into his palm, Wonwoo thinks he's ready to take all the risks that might come together with whatever the future has in store as long as he has you by his side.

[luveline]

𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

You worry your boyfriend is ashamed of you. This is very much not the case. Or, 5 times Hotch hid your relationship (+1 time he didn’t).

7k words, new-ish established relationship, lots of fluff between angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, civilian!reader, reader calls him aaron mostly

༺༻

The security for Aaron's building is weird. Weird as in extensive, intimidating, and extremely intricate. 

You'd really wanted to minimise his stress — the whole reason you're here is to bring him a forgotten sheet of paper that must've slipped out at your kitchen table from one of his case files because you don't want him to have to make up a new copy — but you're too scared to go in. 

You pull your phone out reluctantly and dial in his number, eager to hear his voice even if the security detail a few feet away are freaking you out. 

"Hotchner." 

"Hi, handsome," you say softly. 

There's a small pause. For a split-second a nightmare situation runs through your head, his low voice asking, Who is this?

"Hi, honey." 

You beam so wide it aches, forcing a pleased little breath from your mouth. 

"What do you need?" he asks. 

"I'm outside of your building but I'm too afraid to come in. I'm not sure they'll let me. I need a badge, right?" 

"You're outside." 

You pick at the hem of your sweater, a loose thread marring your otherwise pretty outfit. You'll admit to dressing up unnecessarily to see him. Nice clothes, your most subtle perfume. 

"I found something confidential this morning, a piece of paper. I didn't read it, I promise."

"You really shouldn't be here," he says. 

Your smile abruptly drops. You press the phone closer to your face and wait, hoping he's not talking to you. When it's clear that he is you cringe, the silence pervasive and the most awkward it's ever been with him. 

"Sorry." Your apology is quick, quiet. "I thought it would be easier for you. I didn't mean to… overstep." 

"It's not that. It's busy. Would you hang on to it for me? Maybe I can come and get it tonight, bring dinner." 

You love how he says it. It's not a question, not an assumption. And it's a relief. If he wants to see you on a night where you hadn't planned to get together, he can't be mad at you for being here. 

"Yeah, please. If you want to." 

"I want to. Okay?"

Not for confirmation, it's shorthand. You okay? 

"Yeah. Okay. Have a good rest of your day, handsome." 

"Bye." 

You like to think you can hear the sound of his phone clicking shut, imagining him at his desk in one of his neat suits with a case file open in front of him. You're not sure on the specifics of his job but you know he looks good doing it, and you also know he's very, very busy. You don't take his clipped goodbye as anything but efficiency. 

Maybe you should. 

—

The next time Aaron inadvertently hurts your feelings is in person. 

Compared to him, you wouldn't say you're an incredibly exciting character. Your day job is tame, your hobbies are invaried. You like to watch TV, see movies, you enjoy people-watching. When you hold that stuff up to his job, his profiling, and his hobbies (seriously, who likes triathlon?) you feel rather immature. 

You know deep down that hobbies are hobbies and that your job doesn't define how special you are, but when you're with someone like Aaron who lives and breathes his profession it can play with your head. 

"Is there something interesting about my shirt?" he asks, a murmur under the sound of the TV. 

You look up from the hem of his nice button down and smile, a half-smile. You want it to be more genuine than it is. "Don't you already know?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"You can tell I'm…" You frown, dropping the starched material of his shirt from between your fingers. "I've given myself up, haven't I?" 

"A little," he concedes sympathetically. 

You huff your defeat and let your cheek fall into his chest. Nice to seek comfort from him, nicer for him to give it to you, his arm rising from behind your shoulders to hook around your neck. 

"I'm not profiling you," he says, voice close to the top of your head, "I'm wondering what you're thinking."

You relax under his touch, his big hand settling in the curve of your neck. A semi-hug. It doesn't take long for you to melt into his front completely, your unhappy thoughts dissolving with any tension and leaving only a want to kiss his stupidly nice neck.

"It doesn't matter," you say. 

"You sure?" 

You lift your head from his chest. He has to lean back to meet your eyes and he does it unflinchingly, a bemused smile playing on his lips. 

"I'm good. Better, if you would…" 

"Yeah?" he asks quietly, leaning down, down. 

You can't withstand his charms. He knows exactly how to get you, his smile and his eyes, his lashes kissing in the corners as they close. 

He's imposing in the best way, a heavy presence that overwhelms you. All you can think about is the way he nudges his nose with yours to encourage your head back and the heat of his lips as they touch your own. His arm tightens behind your head.

You try to rise onto your knees, hands vying for his neck and his pitch dark hair. You're doubly pleased when you feel his mouth turning up into a smile, a mirror of your own. 

"Slow down," he chides gently. 

You're about to say something unlike yourself, something loud and brash. Speed up, Hotchner. You're hopped up on the giddiness that comes with being close to him. You're just about to say it when his phone rings. 

He gives you a short, hard kiss. 

"Hotchner." 

You sit back in his lap, his hand sliding to the small of your back to keep you close as his face clouds with confusion. You attempt to climb off of him because you're not a sack of sugar — you're probably giving him numb thighs — but he won't let you.

"Garcia," he says eventually, "is this an emergency?" His tone makes it clear to you that whatever it is Garcia is saying, it's far from an emergency. 

His hand climbs up, over your shoulder. You shudder as he tugs your earlobe, a mild and thoughtless gesture. You're so busy shivering you almost miss his playful eye roll. 

"I haven't changed my mind. Yeah. Thanks for the invitation, but I'm perfectly happy where I am tonight." 

Whatever Garcia says makes him laugh. If you weren't sitting as close to him as you are you wouldn't have heard it. 

"Have fun. Bye," he says succinctly. He snaps his phone closed in one hand, the other dropping from your ear to your shoulder. It's heavy with a remorse you can't allow. "Sorry."

"Doesn't matter," you assure, tilting your head toward his hand and pretending to size him up. You don't know how to profile, but you're a good guess. 

"You're not telling me something." 

"No?" He blinks in surprise.

"No. You've been invited somewhere with your work friends, and you usually go. Why not tonight?" 

"I think that's obvious." 

"You don't have to flake on your friends for me, Aaron." 

He smiles as you say his name. "Like I told Garcia, I am perfectly happy where I am." 

You hide your face in his neck lest he see your doped up smile. "You have nice friends," you murmur, working your hands under the hem of his shirt. 

"I think you'd love Garcia after the infinitial terror." 

"I think I would too. She's good to you, after all. Makes me like her… Maybe one day we can all go out for drinks." 

You don't have to be a profiler to feel the way he tenses. 

"Yeah," he says. It sounds very much like Probably not. 

That's a strumming hurt. Aaron is so nice, so so nice, and he treats you like you're gold dust. He does all the movie boyfriend stuff like flowers, silver earrings on your birthday (with tiny diamonds!), dinner reservations at dauntingly fancy restaurants. And he does stuff you didn't know men did, like calling you near every night to make sure you had a good day, and praising even your smallest achievements, and leaving notes in places he knows you'll find them on hard days. You don't know how he knows when days are hard, he just does. 

You'd figured all of this stuff meant he must really like you, might even love you though he's yet to say it, and that's why his lack of enthusiasm stings. 

Why doesn't he want you to meet his friends? He's obviously very proud of what they do at the BAU. They're not the issue. 

It's you. 

You cuddle him as a pit forms in your chest. 

"You're tired?" he asks.

Funny how it's his comfort you crave when he's the one who's hurt your feelings. You're a little lopsided being upset with him, and you know if you tell him how you feel he'll try to make it up to you, but you're too afraid of the other alternative — a fight. Right now his arms are a sanctity you wouldn't trade for anything. You hope he feels the same. 

You're not sure anymore. 

"Yeah," you say roughly. 

Your eyes burn as he pats your back. "Let's go to bed, honey." 

You'll just… have to prove you're someone worth showing off. 

—

Your plan, loosely titled 'Get Aaron Hotchner to Show Me Off,' is going about as well as you'd thought it would. 

If Aaron doesn't want me to meet his friends there must be a reason. You've been thinking about it and it can't be a coincidence that he hadn't wanted you to return his paperwork a few weeks ago. That must've been something significant. 

But what? 

You start with your hair. Aaron has expressed a lovely and heaping handful of times that he thinks you have pretty hair. He plays with it often, usually when he's limp and tired from a long day. You've always taken care of it. Now you're going to the extreme — hair masks, hair appointments you can't afford, anything to make it look perfect. 

It doesn't work toward the plan, though your boyfriend certainly notices. 

"Your hair," is the very first thing he says when he sees you, stopping only in his smiling assessment to kiss your cheek in greeting. 

"Is it okay?" you ask, turning your face to one side. 

"More than okay. Do you want to go in?" 

So it's kind of a bust. But that's okay, you weren't expecting to get a haircut and magically be invited to team dinners. You persevere, and eventually you forget the plan for the night when Aaron promises to show you how much he likes your new look with a hand at the small of your back. 

Phase two, your clothes. 

You dress as nicely as you can but you're no fashion guru and you can't afford an entirely new wardrobe. You get a bunch of magazines and look for fall staples. What's in this year, and how do you style it? You buy a couple of pieces that fit your budget and try to work around them. 

Aaron's favourite are the new corduroy pants. They aren't a great fit. 

"They're too tight," you lament, pulling the fabric from your thighs where they hug snugly. They're a desaturated sort of burgundy, not bright by any means but a good 'pop of colour'. 

"I know," he says. 

You gawp at him, and when he gets his fingers on the buttons afterward, you break. 

"You like them?" you ask worriedly. 

"What makes you think I don't?" 

"Besides how eager you are to get them off of me?" 

He hooks two fingers in your belt loops and holds your gaze as he tugs them down. "I like them." 

A good time, but still no dice. You suppose a new look, besides looking smarter, doesn't actually prove your merit as a girlfriend. Maybe he wants something a little more concrete before he introduces you to people. Maybe things aren't as good for him as they are for you, and he doesn't see the point. 

That particular thought sparks a wave of panicked tears. 

The next time you see him, it's like he can tell. You wonder if he has x-ray vision, some sixth sense for tear stains that he has yet to tell you about. He's been gone for a few days in St. Louis, and when he'd come back he'd spent the weekend with Jack, so it's a whole seven days since the last time you saw him and your worries have festered. Not even his doting phone calls had kept the thought at bay. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You open your door and there he is in a quarter zip with an overnight bag, matte suit cover draped over one arm. 

"Hi," you say, unsure. 

"Did I get uglier while I was away?" he asks seriously. 

You startle. "No, of course not." 

He smiles and meets you in the doorway, your head dipping back to accommodate. "I think I've had it too good," he says lightly, bringing a tentative hand to your cheek. "Are you okay?" 

You're trying to work out what he means, and when you do your heart skips. "Handsome!" you say urgently. "Hi, handsome. No, you didn't get uglier, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, and-" 

He kisses you. It's malaligned because of your parted lips, but it's good. You'd really missed him. 

"You're definitely still handsome," you murmur. 

"Doesn't count. I begged for it-" 

"No!" you deny, lifting on tiptoes to give him another kiss and stop his slander. "It does count because you're always handsome, I promise. I think I slept too much and miswired my brain when I woke up." 

"I don't mind that you didn't call me handsome," he says firmly, "now let me in. We have dinner to make." 

"Right, sorry."

Aaron frowns at you, then. It's weird. He frowns at his phone, at the TV, at nothing, but he doesn't frown at you. 

"Is something wrong?" he asks as you traverse down the hall. You hold your hands out for his suit and bag to take to your room and hang up, ignoring his question. He doesn't give them to you. "Is there?" 

"No." You smile as you say it. 

You're an awful liar, especially with him. He makes you more nervous than anyone because he's your boyfriend and because he's a literal human lie detector. 

"You didn't even try." 

You cover your face with both hands and groan dramatically, spinning around and away from him. You don't want him to see how flustered you are. 

"Don't make fun," you beg. 

"You're embarrassed." 

"Teach you that at the Bureau, do they?"  

You stop in the doorway of the kitchen, distracted by your own racing thoughts when suddenly there are two long arms needling around your waist and pulling you backward. You gasp a laugh and squirm uselessly to escape. 

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. 

You tip your head back, hands falling from your face in surprise. "What for, handsome?" 

His laugh fans out over your face but when he speaks again there's no humour there, only sincerity, "For being gone so long." 

"Well don't be. You can't exactly help it, Agent Hotchner," you hum. 

"Oh, don't." 

"Going out and saving the world takes time. I knew that when I met you, 'n I know it now. You don't have to say sorry." 

"I'm not apologising for my work. I'm apologising that we've," — his nose presses into the highest point of your cheek — "been apart." 

"I did miss you," you relent. 

He presses his lips to your cheek. "I missed you too." 

It's a nice distraction. You'd missed one another, and now you're together. You forget for a while what you'd worried, and only when he leaves again do you remember. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You're not stupid enough to think Hotch is using you for anything, or that he's insincere. You're level-headed, though. His affection for you isn't necessarily permanent no matter how genuine. 

You don't want to be overbearing. The offers start slow. 

I can wash that for you. Of course I'm sure, I'm great with whites. 

Maybe I could make you lunch tomorrow. You can take it in, spare yourself the federal cafeteria. 

Yeah, I got them shined for you. They were looking a little dull at the toes. 

"Do you want me to press these?" you ask. 

Aaron looks up from where he's sitting in bed. You'd been out on a foray to the bathroom and have come to a stop by his bedroom door where a pair of black slacks hang in wait for the morning. 

He pushes a darling pair of reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No." 

"Are you sure? It won't take five minutes." 

"I'll do it in the morning." 

"I can do it for you, then. Just wake me up," you say, pushing back the sheets on the empty side of his bed. Your socked foot bumps his thigh as you pull up your legs. "What are you reading?" 

He puts his book on the nightstand, takes off his glasses. It's too bad. He really suits them.

"I want to talk to you about something." 

You laugh and slide down onto the flat of your back. 

"What?" he asks, confused, the tiniest hint of amusement in his eyes. 

"It's unlike you to start that way. You always cut around the fat." You bring his bed sheets up to your nose and squint at him. "'M I in trouble?" 

"Depends." 

"On what?" 

"You know I care about you." 

Your heart somersaults. That feels very much like a break-up opener, and he must see your anxiety on your face. He wrangles your hand from under the sheets and leans over you, his face in your eyeline, his fingers massaging yours until they ache in the good way. 

"Do you know how much?" he asks. 

"Is that a trick?" 

"No." 

You wait in case there's something he's going to add. When there's nothing, you pull the sheets to your chin and tamp down your perplexed pouting. 

"Yeah, I know how much." 

"I'd like to tell you how much." He pulls your joined hands toward his jaw. "I know I'm not always here, but I'm always thinking of you. In roundabout ways." 

"What ways?" you ask. Self-indulgence.

Aaron Hotchner indulges you. 

"I see," — he kisses your hand — "trees. I've seen a thousand trees, but when I see the bigger ones I wish you could see them too." 

It's a dropping sensation, near uncomfortable, that's how gutted his confession makes you feel. "You do?" 

"Sometimes women walk past me and I swear that it's you because they smell like your perfume. Flowers growing through cracks in the sidewalk. Lights through the jet window." It's the kind of stuff you like to point out to him when you're together. 

He stares at you, a long, reassuring look. 

He deserves a better reply, but all you can say is, "I think of you all the time, too." 

"I love that you want to take care of me, but you don't need to wear yourself out." 

You bite the inside of your bottom lip. So that's what this is about. Aaron has profiled you, and now he's being the gentleman that he is and assuaging your fears. 

"I'm not," you say quickly. 

He understands that you're saying I'm not wearing myself out rather than I'm not taking care of you. You are taking care of him, the best that you can, the best that he'll allow. 

"I can press my own pants," he says, leaning down for a kiss. "I can shine my own shoes." He kisses you again. You screw your eyes closed as the warmth of his breath heats your cupid's bow. "I can do my own laundry." He pulls back, dropping your hand in favour of your neck. His thumb pushes against your windpipe gently, palm hot over your skin. "I'll accept the lunches, if you're sure you don't mind making them." 

You feel as excited as you did the very first time he touched you, chest full of a dizzying pleasure, heart bump-bump-bumping a racing rhythm. His thumb strokes a lazy quarter circle into your neck. He can probably feel your pulse, see the way your eyes have blown. 

"I love making them," you say, breathless in earnest.

"The team think I'm spoiled." 

"You aren't spoiled." You're adored, you want to say. You cup his cheek instead. "You'd be spoiled if I brought them by everyday." 

Aaron doesn't stay with you and you don't stay with him enough to make him lunch everyday. He might get one or two a week, and that's when he's home. 

"Wouldn't that be nice," he mutters, his fingers pushing between your neck and the pillow underneath. 

You hike up on to your elbows slowly to avoid headbutting him. "Well, I could." 

His easy, loving smile flattens. "No." 

"I wouldn't mind. My lunch break is super long and it only takes me ten minutes to get there. We could have lunch together." 

"That's not going to work." 

"Okay." You wish you could take it as calmly as he says it. You sound choked up. You are choked up. 

"Sweetheart, the office is a war zone. Half the time I'm not there." 

"I get it," you say, dropping flat onto your back again. 

"Sweetheart." 

"Handsome," you mirror, putting on your best unaffected smile. 

You can't hold it very long, his concerned brows too much to deal with. You turn your head to the left and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, throwing at least half of your expression into darkness. 

Aaron doesn't give up. Does he ever? He cups your cheek and pulls you back to face him. 

"I can't promise any lunch dates. But I was thinking we'd go out for dinner next week, Friday," he begins hopefully, "somewhere nice." 

It feels like an apology and you're desperate to take it. 

"I don't need somewhere nice, s'long as you're there 'n not in Kansas, or Colorado, or Idaho, or New Jersey-" 

He hums and drops his head until his nose lies against your own. "Gonna go through all fifty?" 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hotchner?" 

"I love your voice," he says agreeably. 

Disarmed, you let him charm you, and you let him push it all out of your mind. Plan foiled, your fears fall on the backburner for a third time. 

—

His fourth rejection is the first that feels entirely intentional, though you won't know until later. 

Mostly because Aaron pushes you. 

Far from cruel, the two of you are actually out walking in the city when he forces you into an alleyway, your fancy drink sloshing down the front of your sweater. 

You laugh in surprise and almost roll your ankle, hands clinging to his coat to stop an unfortunate fall. 

"Holy shit, Hotchner, learn to be a gentleman," you say as he presses up against you. "What are you doing? I'm soaked, you're gonna ruin your sleeves." 

He kisses you hard. It's a surprise, your head jumping back against the wall to find his hand already there to protect it. 

It's worth noting that Aaron is a sweetheart in practically every aspect of life. He once apologised after having walked in on you changing, which is ridiculous because most of the nights where you're together he insists on getting you some sort of undressed (even if it's just to help you into your pyjamas).

Needless to say, he's never kissed you like this. Your emotions spike so suddenly you laugh into his mouth, a girlish peel of giggles that you'll regret afterward but can't stop for the life of you. 

He shushes you. "Sorry," he whispers, as ill-composed as you've ever heard him. "Sorry, just-" He cuts you both off with another bruising kiss. 

Your laughter fades into sighs and little gasps for air. Somewhere near the alleyway opening a group of people pass by, a jovial series of cheers and friendly laughter trailing behind them. Aaron presses you further into the wall behind, and slowly, slowly winds down. Weirdly, you think his last couple of pecks feel sorry, softer and sweeter. 

Your lips buzz. 

"Why'd you buy me that fancy drink if you were gonna tip it all over me?" you ask good-naturedly when he finally pulls back. 

"You looked too nice today." His deadpan voice wars with the smile on his face. "I'm sorry. We'll go find you something to change into." 

"Was it really that important that you kiss me right then?" you ask, feigning disdain. 

He looks out toward the main street again. "Yes. Where do you want to go? There's a Nordstrom." 

You take a sip of your drink, unsurprised when he takes your hand and starts to lead you toward the department stores. "Have you ever been inside of a Nordstrom?" 

"I'm sure I'll figure it out."

— 

The fifth time is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Or the brick. It feels heavier than a strand of straw. It's technically already come to pass, so it's an invisible brick. 

You're out for coffee by yourself which really means you're out for something sweet, bundled up in a coat and scarf to fight the night-time chill. 

"Thank you," you tell the barista, accepting your drink and receipt with a smile. 

You turn around and almost walk straight into a pretty dark-haired woman with really nice hair. You make a note to tell Aaron about it when you see him next, not because he'll care but because he likes to hear what you've been thinking about. And right now, all you can think about is her feathered bangs. 

I want nice bangs, you think offhandedly. 

"I'm sorry," you say, trying to move around her. 

She steps into your path. 

"Sorry," you say again. 

She's squinting at you, thin eyebrows peeking out from behind her hair. "Sorry, have we met?" she asks. 

You try not to be too hasty, but you're not sure you've ever seen her. You stare at her as she stares at you, and you get a tiny inkling of familiarity, but it's gone as quick as it comes. 

"I'm really sorry, I don't think so," you murmur, tilting your head to one side. 

She bites her lip, let's it go. "Oh!" she says excitedly, voice bright with triumph. "Oh oh oh! I know who you are, you're Hotch's mysterious girlfriend!" 

Your smile turns quizzical. You know nearly everybody calls Aaron 'Hotch'. Whenever you try it he either gives you the silent treatment or covers your mouth with his hand. 

"I'm Emily Prentiss, I work in the BAU," she explains rapidly, shoving her purse under her hand to offer it for a handshake. 

You do the same and shake her hand. Introducing yourself feels awkward. She knows you. You don't have a clue who she is. Only- 

"Oh, I know who you are now, I'm sorry I didn't recognise you before!" you say contritely. "I've seen photos of you and the team together. It's really nice to meet you." 

She nods. "It's nice to meet you too. I have to say, we've been dying to meet you. We even have a betting pool on what you're like, because Hotch barely says a thing about you." 

You try not to look as devastated as you feel, re-wrapping your fingers around your cup. "No?" 

"We didn't even know what you looked like until we saw you the other day. We came looking to say hi and you'd disappeared." 

You lick your dry lips. "The other day?" 

"Yeah, last Friday. We were out for impromptu drinks, celebrating a case. You know, you should come with sometime. It would be fun." 

Emily talks each word with an undertone of good humour. She's stunning, bubbly, and her hair flows around her face with every movement. 

"He really doesn't talk about me?" 

Emily drops into girl code niceties, backtracking. "I mean, not too often. We catch him smiling at his phone and hear your voice sometimes when you call. He seems happy. Well, happy as Hotch can seem." She swallows. "He's a private creature."

He doesn't talk about me. 

You pretend to check your watch. 

"It was really good to meet you," you say, voice airy with a feigned nonchalance. 

"Yeah, of course. Super nice," Emily says. 

You smile at her. It's more like a grimace. By the time you're outside of the coffee shop you're too upset to care, a humiliated shock of tears brewing behind your achy eyes. 

You hold your cup to your chest and unzip your purse to tuck the receipt inside, trying to maintain some control. There's a folded note inside, thick cardstock quartered. 

You take it out. Your fingers tremble with offended adrenaline. 

You're beautiful. 

Short, sweet, extremely Aaron Hotchner. Too bad you can't believe it. 

Emily Prentiss being out and about means the BAU are done for the night, though whether your workaholic boyfriend got the memo is anyone's best guess. You're not sure if it's better or worse if he's in work when you call. You're so upset that you can't help yourself. 

"Hi, honey." 

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" you ask, staving off tears with all your willpower. 

"I wouldn't write it if I didn't mean it. That one took you a while to find, I was-" 

"Are you sure?" 

"...Are you okay?" 

You glare up at the dark sky rather than answer, blinking hard to force down your tears. You really don't wanna cry, but it's been a bad day and meeting Emily has made it worse. No matter how hard you try to think otherwise, all signs point to Aaron being ashamed of you. Embarrassed to be with you. He's hiding your relationship from everybody. 

"Am I- Is it my clothes? My job?" 

"What's wrong with your clothes?" 

"You tell me, detective." 

You're getting angry. He's- he's lying, or he's messing with you. He's making fun of you. At least that's how it feels. 

"Where are you right now?" he asks. You can picture him shrugging on his suit jacket, putting his files in order to come and meet you. 

You don't want to see him. "I'm at the coffee shop by your apartment. I actually ran into somebody, and I'm feeling very well-informed." A first tear bumps down your cheek. You ignore it. 

"I don't understand." 

"I don't understand! What am I doing wrong?" You bite your tongue in last ditch efforts to remain intact, but the tears won't hold off any longer. You swallow a sob. "What's wrong with me?" 

"Nothing. Nothing, honey, nothing is wrong with you." 

You wipe your wet face with mean hands. 

"Stay where you are. I'll come and meet you." 

"No. I don't wanna see you." 

"Honey-" 

"Leave me alone, Aaron." 

You hang up. You walk for a while, feeling as though steam is rising off of your flushed skin with every clumsy step. It had been a short phone call and already you can't remember what you said, all you can feel is angry, and then that runs out and all you can do is cry. 

You've never felt incredibly attractive. Aaron makes you feel better than that — he has the uncanny ability to inspire self-confidence with a loaded look alone. He can smile at you and your skin feels like it's glowing. 

So why doesn't that translate? If he thinks you're so pretty, why does he insist on hiding you away?

Because that day, he'd seen his friends. He could've introduced you but he took you down the alley and kissed you so you wouldn't be seen. That's not too busy: That's secretive. 

That kiss. You fooled yourself into thinking you must've looked irresistible. Fuck. You went home that night thinking you were the best thing since sliced bread. 

"I'm so stupid," you mutter, sniffling. 

Your self deprecation is muffled by the sound of a slowing car. You don't look up. There are two possibilities for who it is, and you don't want to deal with either. 

The car parks and then you do look up. Despite how mad you are you're not suicidal, and Aaron's given you extensive coaching on sex trafficking. 

It's him. Shocker. 

You're half-expecting him to reprimand you. You didn't look up until I parked. You know it takes five seconds to snatch and incapacitate someone? 

He looks haphazardly put together. Suit jacket on but tie loosened, he rounds the hood of his car and joins you on the sidewalk. You don't want to play games with him. He really doesn't need it, he didn't sign up for it, and drama isn't your style, but you're sick of this. 

"You want to tell me what you're thinking?" he asks, standing an amicable two feet away, hands at his hips.

"I'm really mad." 

"What else?" 

"I'm thinking," you say, looking down at your cold hands, "that you… That you're…" You rub your cheek into your shoulder to hide a fresh tear. "I don't know, Aaron. I'm thinking lots of things." 

"Do you want to think about them in the car?" he asks. 

Do you want to talk about it?

You don't want to talk about it. You don't like crying in front of him on a good day. 

You're pretty sure he'll combust on the spot if he knows you're walking home alone in the dark and distracted. 

You get in the car. He has the good sense not to touch your shoulders like he normally would. 

You buckle as soon as you've closed the passenger side door. "I'm sorry," you mumble, looking down at your knees. 

"Let's forget that, for now." He turns the key but doesn't pull out. "Tell me what's upset you and I'll explain." 

"I met Emily Prentiss." 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye.

"She told me that you don't talk about me. Ever. That they didn't even know what I looked like." 

You know he's listening but he keeps his eyes on the road, and you chance a look at the side of his face. He doesn't seem mad. 

"I don't talk about you often," he says. "But that doesn't mean never… It's true that they didn't know what you look like." 

"Until last week, when they saw us together and you pulled me into an alley so they couldn't see me." 

"Yes." 

Your lower lip trembles. "Do you see why that would upset me?" You're asking genuinely. 

"Yeah, honey." 

Your head jolts up. He's diverting his gaze from the road to you intermittently, offering up a regretful grimace. The oncoming headlights splash over his work worn face. 

"Then why are you doing this? What's so wrong with me that you won't even admit we're together?" 

"Nothing is wrong with you. I'm not ashamed of you," he says firmly, volume rising. 

"Then why?" 

His eyebrows pull together. "You're the best person I've ever met that isn't my son, and I selfishly don't want to share you yet. I also don't want to scare you off." 

You pull your sleeves over your hands and turn in your seat, wiping your damp cheeks as he continues. 

"My job is hard, and it's dangerous. It has jeopardised the safety and wellbeing of people I love before. So no, I'm not eager to introduce you to my world. The more intertwined with my life that you become, the more danger I put you in, and…" The car slows down again. He turns to look at you. "And I like that I'm the only one who knows you like this.

"I have been hiding you. I have. But it was a," — his tone turns wry — "misguided attempt at keeping you all to myself. Safe, and to myself." 

You're finding it difficult to be mad with him. 

He's finding it difficult to maintain his poker face. A fat tear rolls down your cheek and you're not sure what it's made of, fatigue or relief or plain hurt, whatever it is he doesn't like it. He pulls over. 

You hold still as he pinches the tear off of your chin. 

"How long have you felt like this?" 

"Like what?" you ask wetly. 

"Like this." He opens his hand against your cheek. It encompasses your face; you lean in, hungry for reassurance. 

"I don't know." 

"This is why you changed your hair. Your clothes. And started making my lunch." 

You cover his hand with your own. "I actually really like making your lunches." 

You stare at each other until suddenly you're laughing, sniffly, short of breath. Aaron joins in soon after. He always sounds so surprised to be laughing.

"I'm glad," he says when your laughter has abated, pinky and ring finger caressing down the slope of your cheek. "I really like having them. Rossi can't hide how jealous he is." 

"They know about the lunches?" 

His mindless petting pauses. "They know about the lunches. You're not a secret. I'm… selfish with the details. I'm selfish." Aaron takes back his hand. "I'm sorry." 

You take as deep a breath as you can. "Okay." 

"Yeah?" 

"Mm. Can we go home?" 

His eyebrows jump and swiftly smooth again. "Yeah, we can go home." He chucks your chin and gets the car moving again. 

You watch him drive. 

When you get home, he doesn't mind reassuring you some more. Actually, it's like he needs to do it. You'd love to say that it's overkill and that his low murmurings of praise are unnecessary, but you can't. 

"You're lovely," he says seriously across two plates of pasta. Again through the mirror when you're brushing your teeth, and again when you've curled into his chest for the night. You're lovely. Nothing that needs hiding. 

You hear him on the phone early in the morning, half asleep. 

"Hey, Dave. Yeah. Okay. Uh… No, that's fine." He laughs under his breath. "Yeah, if she was awake I'd ask her to make you one. I think she would… Okay. See you in forty." 

You bury your tired face into his pillows and beam. 

—

+1 

Aaron's office is terrifyingly hectic. You can see already that the bullpen is full to bursting with agents, including but not limited to his special team of profilers. There's the distinct smell of coffee, sharp and burning, and then the underlay of printer ink, new paper. 

You can't believe you're here. 

You're not brave enough to introduce yourself to his team, and half aren't at their desks anyways. You hover in the doorway until somebody needs to get past you, taking a reluctant step inside.

You shouldn't wait for Aaron. You should be brave. You're a grown up, and you're bringing your grown up partner his very grown up lunch. You'd wanted desperately to do this. The least that you can do is do it by yourself. 

You've scrapped most of the fall staples but kept the burgundy pants Aaron likes so much at his request. They feel insanely tight on your thighs, as does your collar. In fact, the room has definitely shrunk since you got here. 

Like an idiot, Aaron says your name loud and clear, standing with a hand on the railings at the top of the instep. You hadn't even noticed him emerging from his office.

His voice demands — commands — attention. People turn in their seats, first toward him, and then toward you. 

All eyes on me. 

You don't run but you don't walk either, weaving through desk chairs and people looking a mix of busy and curious.

"You're being cruel," you say as you approach him, a brown paper bag held close to your abdomen. 

"Hi, honey," he says. He wears a knowing smile, all dark and tall and handsome as he starts down the stairs to meet you. 

"Don't punish me." 

"Is that what you'd call this?" he asks, hand quick to clasp your shoulder, glueing you in place so he can kiss your forehead.

And yes, this is what you'd wanted. The doting boyfriend not just at home but at work, too.

That doesn't mean it isn't really, really embarrassing. 

"Is everyone looking at me?" you murmur. 

He slips his arm behind your shoulders to walk you up the stairs. "Yes." His voice drops lower. "At one place specifically, I imagine." 

"What part is that, Agent?" 

He laughs and opens his office door to beckon you inside. "Don't start." 

༺༻

my first hotch fic omg. i did a big character study beforehand but i doubt it's entirely in character, hotch is a difficult character to write for! (and im only at season 4). but this was so fun and he's hot so it's worth it. if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging! i promise it makes a difference to me (and also i love seeing what people thought). thank you for reading!! ♥

[daisies-daydreams]

Ghost x shy reader? Would love a spicy scenario where he coaxes us into learning how to dirty talk with him

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Shy!F!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (18+) Warnings: P in V Sex (you know the drill), Dirty Talk (obvs), Pet Names (baby, sweetheart/sweet girl, hon), Swearing Word Count: 1.2k+ A/N: Hello! Thank you for your sweet request! I love shy reader prompts so much.😭I hope you enjoy! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Simon murmured in his low, gruff voice. You held your hands over your eyes and burning cheeks, his cock pushed half-way inside your slick cunt. You shook your head and raised your shoulders. Your lover sighed. "Love, am I hurtin' you?" he asked. You peeked from between your fingers as you shook your head.

"N-No," you squeaked. Simon grunted as he gently grabbed one of your wrists.

"Then what's wrong?" he asked. You bit the inside of your cheek as your heart thrummed against your sternum. You took a deep breath.

"I-I just..." you huffed, cursing yourself for not being able to just spit it out. Simon rubbed up and down your arm, his dark eyes still as he patiently waited for your reply. You inhaled deeply again as you tried to relax beneath him.  

“Hey, look at me,” Simon said. Your lip quivered before you slowly peeled your hands away. Your love gazed down at you with such deep admiration, you thought your heart was going to explode. “Love, I need you to talk to me when we're like this, remember?” he said as he cupped your cheek. You glanced away. 

“I know. I'm just not good at it,” you sighed. Simon hummed as he stroked his thumb over your cheek. 

“Well, no time like the present,” he grunted. You blinked.

"What?" you asked. Simon gave you a wry grin before he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I'm gonna teach you how to talk dirty," he said bluntly. Your jaw went slack.

"B-But I-I'm not good at it!" you flushed. Simon tilted his head.

"Do you want to learn how?" he asked.

"I mean...well...you know...yeah," you muttered. Simon chuckled.

"Alright, sweet girl," he said before kissing your cheek. “You comfortable?” Simon asked. You nodded and bit your lip. “Good,” he grunted. “Now, dirty talk doesn’t have to be a long, flowery poem,” Simon murmured as he brushed his cheek against yours. You gulped when he planted his lips on your neck, sucking on it lightly before letting go. 

“You taste so good, baby,” he purred. You swallowed thickly before parting your lips. “See? Simple. Let’s just start off with what we’re feelin’ and go from there, yeah?” Simon suggested. You licked your lips and nodded. 

“Okay,” you grinned. Simon beamed before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“Such a sweet girl,” he groaned as he pushed his hips forward. You moaned as his dick sank further inside your tight pussy, the stretching sensation making your toes curl. 

“Mmm,” you moaned as you gripped his large shoulders. Simon continued to kiss along your neck as he gently rocked his hips, his cock sliding against your gummy walls. 

“What are you feelin’ right now, hon?” he whispered into your ear, his hot breath falling against your skin. You blinked away a few tears of pleasure as your chest heaved. 

“I-I feel your cock stretching me,” you swallowed. Simon grunted and raked his teeth over the shell of your ear. 

“Yeah? Does it feel good?” he asked. You nodded. 

“Y-Yes! Feels really good, Si,” you moaned. You cried out when he pulled back and pressed his thumb against your puffy clit. You scrunched your eyebrows together as he drew slow circles around your bundle of nerves. 

“And how does this feel, hm?” he asked as he continued to thrust into your squelching cunt. Your walls fluttered around his thick length as you gasped for air. 

“So good, fuck,” your eyes widened before you slapped a hand over your mouth. Simon chuckled as he switched between circling your clit and swiping up and down. 

“It’s okay, baby. Just say whatever comes to your mind,” he encouraged you as he continued to massage your engorged button. 

“I-It’s not that-oh!” you mewled as Simon began to pump his hips a little faster. Your breasts began to bounce with his thrusts as he moved around your clit in tighter circles. You arched your back as he rested a hand next to your side. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good wrapped around my cock,” Simon growled lowly. You whined as you dug your nails into his ivory skin. Your mouth pooled with saliva as you heard your flesh slap against his. 

“Ahh, Simon!” you moaned and ducked your head against your shoulder. You felt his warm lips against your temple as you wrapped your legs around his sharp waist. 

“You can do it, lovie. C’mon,” he urged you as he dragged his cock along your walls. Hot tears poured down your cheeks as you bit your lip. You wailed when he snapped his hips forward, the fat head of his cock sliding against your g-spot. 

“God! Right there!” you sobbed while clinging onto his muscular body for dear life. You felt him smile against your face before he started to thrust against your sensitive spot repeatedly. “Yes, yes just like that!” you whined while hooking your ankles together. Simon groaned into your ear as he continued to paint sloppy shapes around your clit, his cock throbbing deep inside you. 

“I-I love how much you stretch my pussy, Si!” you cried out. He puffed a hot breath of air against your ear as he thrusted even faster, his balls slapping against your wet skin. 

“Atta girl,” your lover praised. You moaned as he hungrily kissed your lips, his tongue swiping over yours before he pulled back. 

“Fuck, (Y/N). Look so pretty when you’re takin’ my cock,” Simon grunted. You whimpered as your walls pulsated around his shaft. He chuckled. “You look even better when you cum,” he grinned as he gently pinched your clit. You felt the cord inside you suddenly snap.

“S-Simon!” you moaned as your pussy clamped down on his dick. You sobbed as you rocked your hips against his as waves of pure bliss crashed over you. 

“Good girl, that’s it,” you heard Simon mutter as he let you ride the rest of your orgasm on his meaty cock. Your legs shook around his waist as you gasped and moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders. You blinked your eyes open just as Simon began to thrust again, his strokes becoming more sloppy as he flared his nostrils. 

“Hold on, sweetheart. Just a little bit longer,” your lover grunted. Your limbs felt like jelly as you basked in the afterglow, your body filled with a divine sense of warmth. Simon growled into your ear as his cock twitched inside your walls. “Fuck,” he hissed. You tilted your head, your lips close to his ear. 

“Cum inside me, Simon,” you whispered. Simon’s eyes widened before he released a deep, feral groan. You mewled as he stiffened above you, his cock snug against your cervix as he flooded your tight hole with his warm cum. 

“So, good, you’re so good to me,” he murmured repeatedly as he finished releasing inside you. You caught your breath as his body went slack, his chest heaving as he gazed down at you. 

“Sorry, I don’t know if I was good,” you blushed. Simon gave you a half-lidded grin before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get better. We’ll just have to try again next time,” he beamed. Your heart fluttered at the prospect of next time. Simon hummed before kissing along your jaw. Your pussy clenched around his softening cock. 

Next time might be sooner than you thought. 

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️ Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999 @lavenderbabu @famouscattale @thedevax @galaxy-dusk @tayleighuh @zombieblogx @mrswhitethornbelikov @migueloharastruelove Want to be a part of my taglist? Comment down below!

[jayke0]

Sorry, Love

Summary: You and Steven had discussed the idea of somno, but never actually gotten round to doing it... until now.

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem reader

Rating: 18+ obvs, nsfw

Warnings/content: somno, desperate and pervy Steven, male masturbation, humping, mentions of using/being used, rubbing pussy with cock (idk what that's called), unprotected sex, p in v, creampie.

.................................

The idea of touching you in your sleep seemed somewhat alien to Steven. He couldn't grasp the thought that you'd want to be touched by him when you aren't even able to feel the pleasure yourself. However, the more he tossed the thought around in his head, the more excited he'd become with it. Of course, you explained the ins and outs of it to him (literally), and it's not like he's a novice at reading the signs from your body... hell, he's probably better at it than you on some occasions.

One night, after a considerable serving of vegan lasagna, you fall asleep on the couch with your head resting in Steven's lap, and that's when he's reminded of your conversation. His cock stirs under your head while he gently plays with your hair, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in hesitation. Carefully, his hand glides over his joggers and grips the outline of his cock to squeeze lightly and get himself hard; which isn't difficult. His other fingers trace your facial features, feather light touches contrasting with the grip he has around his buldge.

She's so pretty when she sleeps. He thinks to himself, a soft pant leaving his lips as he simultaneously runs his thumb over your bottom lip and the tip of his cock. Sliding his hand into his joggers, he pulls his cock out finally and gives himself a few harsh tugs. Your face is just centimetres away from his cock while he pumps his fist around himself, staring at your beautiful features. His thumb swipes over the tip again and that's when he lets out a soft moan of your name, his teeth latching onto his bottom lip in an attempt to not wake you with his noises.

It feels really good doing this, perversely good, he continues to think to himself, she has no bloody idea, not a clue in the world-

His hand starts moving faster, the intervals in which he teases the tip of his cock now becoming shorter.

I wanna cum all over her face- shit- I'm gonna cum on her.

His chest heaves, and just as quickly as he'd gotten hard, he cums over his hand and your face with strained moans, making sure to get it on your lips. The sight in itself would be enough to make him hard again, but he doesn't want to push his luck, or run the risk of freaking you out.

A few days later, he divulges what he did to your face, and much to his surprise (even after the discussion about it), you're not mad at him.

"Steven, i told you that it's ok, it's... hot" you say, chuckling a little bit as you finish your pancakes he'd lovingly made for you.

"God, are you sure? Please tell me if it made you uncomfortable, i mean yeah it was a good wank but i wouldn't want it to be at the expense of your comfor-"

"Steven! Shut up" you say as your hands land on his face, stroking his cheeks with your fingers which soothes him, "i like it, ok?"

"Right- yeah of course, sorry, Love." Steven presses his nose into the palm of your hand, closing his eyes to enjoy your touch.

"You can do more than that, too" you add and gently move your hands down his toned arms to his hands, which are still fidgetting in his lap "i wouldn't mind it if you wanted to touch me, y'know, in all the places you like." You bring his hands up to touch your chest while your eyes linger on his, the gesture making his body falter and his shoulders drop a little in submission.

"You know how to touch me, Steven, so do it, use me."

Those words make steven visibly shiver, you always know how to loosen him up and get him comfortable, and that's one of the things he loves the most about you.

Even so, after a week of waiting, Steven still hasn't taken the opportunity to indulge in his fantasies... even after multiple occasions where you've made yourself fall asleep before him with nothing but a baggy t-shirt on in hopes you'd wake up with his cock burried inside you.

As you get ready for bed and pull that same old baggy shirt on, you notice something is up with steven, almost like he's feeling on edge or ansty; but you know that look, the way his eyes rake over your body and his tongue laps at his lips, he wants you, and bad.

You take that as an opportunity as your tummy fills with butterflies; maybe if you leave him like this, he'll finally act on his impulses and fuck you awake, so that's exactly what you do. Walking right past him, you get into bed and snuggle under the sheets, though the way your body is already reacting with excitement makes it hard for you to drift off, but eventually you do.

Many thoughts roam around Steven's psyche, ranging from she wants this, she's told me she's ok with it, to oh god what if she doesn't though and i misinterpreted it. Despite his doubts, however, the urge has grown too strong, and once he carefully removes the covers from your body, he's reassured by the position you've chosen to fall asleep in.

With no underwear on and your right leg coming up to your belly, your ass is perfectly exposed to him, and he can see the way your slick glistens in the dim light of the moon. The sight makes his half hard cock twitch in his joggers, and slowly he crawls over to you, wrapping his whole body around you.

Now usually, that'd be the perfect position for steven to fall asleep in, because loves cuddling you more than anything in the world, but the way he can feel your ass pressing against his crotch makes that difficult for him. His breathing becomes laboured as he starts tentatively rolling his hips against you, the fabric rubbing against the tip of his cock in a way that he knows will stain them with his precum, but that's the last thing he cares about right now. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, and if you were awake you'd be able to feel his muscles constricting you in the best way, holding you in place while he uses you to get off.

His forehead rests on the back of your head, his fingers sliding over your skin and up to your chest where you cups one of your boobs; admittedly one of his favourite parts of your body. He circles your nipples with his index finger in the way that's been proven to work on you in the past, and even now, as your brain sleeps, your body pushes back on him, rocking your hips in time with his.

That gesture simply urges Steven on, and his worries soon melt away, leaving him with pure desire to use your body. His face burries in your neck before he starts talking quietly to himself... and maybe you, or at least your sleeping brain.

"Shit love, you have no idea how much i love this," he reaches down and takes his cock out of his joggers, sliding it between your thighs thanks to your arousal from just thinking about this scenario earlier. "Seems like you like it too... this what you wanted? Is this why you've been wearing nothing but this cute shirt?" He pants softly and his hips rock a little less haphazardly now, fucking your thighs like he does with your cunt. "God i wanna do this to you every night" he groans "i know how deep you sleep... wonder if you'd even wake up if i put it inside you.." he thinks outloud.

You stir a little, but not enough to wake, so Steven continues what he's doing and holds his cock to your hole "i wanna fuck you awake, love" he mumbles, though it's more of a whimper as he pushes in carefully but surprisingly easily "bloody hell, you really do like this, don't you?"

He pulls out slowly and pauses for a second before thrusting back into you again...

..And that's when you wake up.

Steven's whole body freezes against you when you tilt your head towards him, fear gripping his nerves as if he'd been caught robbing a bank.

"Fucking hell baby, finally" you groan sleepily to him, the tone of your voice a mixture of lust and sleepiness. "Been waiting for you to fuck me awake all week, Steven." You gaze at him with passion while your hand wraps around his wrist "keep fucking me baby, please."

That's all Steven needs before he starts thrusting into you again, his hips setting a desperate and fast pace as if he'd been holding back just for you. "Been wanting to fuck you like this all week, love" he mumbles, though it's more of a whimper "it's all I've been able to.. to think about." His groans are loud and breathy, so he buries his face in your neck in an attempt to hide it.

"You should've done it sooner-" your head rests back against his while moans fall from your own lips "I've touched myself thinking about this so many times baby" you add, which warrants a particularly loud moan from the man.

Sliding his hand down your tummy, he wiggles his fingers between your thighs to find that bundle of nerves, and when he does you buck your hips against his hand "fuck! Steven that's it- that's good.. shit you fuck me so well!-" Your grip becomes tighter on his wrist as your orgasm builds blindingly fast now; faster than you can tell him, but that's ok, he knows your body better than you.

"I can feel you, dove, please- ah- please cum for me, cum on my cock, darling-" it all comes out strained as steven holds back his own orgasm, his hips stuttering and holding on just long enough to feel you tighten around his cock. Your moans fill the room while your body convulses on him, his cock still mercilessly fucking you through your orgasm till you're shaking.

" 'm gonna cum love- shit!" Steven fills you with his arousal, your contracting cunt milking him fucking dry until he's twitching and whimpering with overstimulation.

You both stay still for a long time, calming down from your collective orgasms, and part of you wishes that you could just go back to sleep in his arms now.

Steven's the first to break the comfortable silence. "That really was great, darling" he mumbles softly with a yawn "are you ok?" He kisses your cheek and you turn to face him with a massive grin "more than ok, baby" you reply.

"Let's do that more often."

.

Tagging people: @red-hydra @steven-grants-world @automnepoet @the-king-87 @lokisremainingsanity @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

My Heart Is Thrilled By The Still Of Your Hand

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: okay uh praise kink, touch starved bucky, kinda size kink, a little bit of cockwarming, creampie, unprotected p in v (wrap it UP), oral f receiving, minor overstimulation idk I think that's all but I'm probably missing something

Genre: fluff + smut

Summary: You find out your very not physical boyfriend is actually touch starved

***

Your boyfriend does not like physical contact. You'd figured that out pretty soon after you'd met him. Granted he started out as your neighbor so there was really noreasonto have physical contact exactly, but when you introduced yourself to him, he didn't shake your hand. You seriously thought you messed up that first impression when he glanced at your outstretched hand and just nodded a hello. You obviously didn't because after months of friendly conversation, he eventually asked you on a date. A date on which he didn't touch you not once. Even when he was guiding you somewhere, his hand hovered at your back but never actually made contact. You thought maybe he was being overtly cautious to make sure he didn't cross any boundaries. Your second date was the same and while you tried not to think too much of it you'll admit it was a little awkward when you returned to your apartments and he rushed out a goodbye before disappearing into his place when you had stepped forward to tell him you had fun. Your third date went similarly, except you grabbed his hand while crossing a street without thinking and though he did let go after a few minutes you took it as a good thing that he didn't immediately snatch his hand back.

His lack of physicality didn't bother you really, especially because you'd met his closest friends and they don't seem to touch him either. When they visit he sits in the armchair while they're on the couch even though his couch does fit the three people. You know it does because when you hang out with all of them you usually take that third spot on the couch with your back against the armrest closest to Bucky. You know not everyone likes being touched so you allow Bucky to decide most of your physical contact. Aside from the rare occasions where you hold his arm for balance while walking in heels or grab his hand in busy places, which he tends to avoid, you let Bucky initiate things. He hardly does but your relationship is still new, a few months at this point, so you don't feel the need to rush him. You're perfectly comfortable with that choice until Sam pulls you aside one day when you're all at Bucky's apartment.

"I need to talk to you for a second y/n." Sam tells you, grabbing your arm before you can follow Steve out of the kitchen.

"What is it Sam?" You ask, tilting your head.

"What's up with you and your man?"

"I'm not sure what you mean?" Your brows knit together at his words.

"How do I put this? If I didn't know y'all were a couple I would assume you barely know each other. You don't hug, you don't kiss, you don't cuddle, you don't even sit together when we all hang. At first I thought you were just shy about affection around strangers but we're friends now I think and nothing has changed."

"I'm sorry do I need to reintroduce you to my boyfriend, one of the most physical touch adverse people I think I've ever met?"

"So it's not a you thing?" Sam asks.

"No! As far as I know Bucky pretty much hates being touched. I figured that out when I met him. I just don't push the issue." You shrug.

"I mean I know he doesn't like being touched but you're his girlfriend."

"Being his girlfriend doesn't give me permission to ignore his boundaries Sammy."

"I'm not saying ignore his boundaries, I'm saying his boundaries are probably different with you."

"Sam it took Bucky three dates to hold my hand and that was becauseIgrabbedhishand to drag him across the street. I really don't think I'm an exception."

"At this point I think you've made it seem so small that he assumes you don't like it either. If you showed him that you cared about all of that stuff I'm sure he'd show out." He says.

"Okay but Idon'tcare about all that stuff." You sigh, "I mean, I guess I do but not in the sense that I want to force him out of his comfort zone or anything like that- I'm fine Sam really."

"Are you guys coming because I will start this movie without you!" Steve shouts from the living room.

"We're coming!" You shout back. Sam grabs your arm before you leave the kitchen.

"Just give a little nudge." He says quickly. The two of you make it out to the living room and Sam nudges you as soon as you're by Bucky's seat. You trip just a little at the sudden shove and shoot a glare at him. He makes a not so subtle gesture at Bucky and you roll your eyes.

"Did you guys pick something?" You ask hesitantly placing a kiss on Bucky's cheek before taking your seat on the couch next to Sam who's in the middle. You don't notice the way Bucky touches his cheek or blushes at your sudden affection.

"Technically Sam picked this movie." Steve says.

"I did? Is itNow You See Me? Y/n you know they've never seen that?"

"I believe it." You nod.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve scoffs.

"You two are basically grandpas, now start the movie." You wave your hand at him, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Sam's lap. Sam laughs while Steve starts the movie. By the time you've finished both that and the sequel it's pretty late and everyone seems ready to wind down for the night. Steve and Sam say their goodbyes while you stick around to help Bucky clean up.

"I'll do the dishes tomorrow doll, just leave them in the sink, okay?" Bucky says when he sees you turning on the faucet.

"I don't mind doing them now-"

"It's late,andyou've already helped me straighten up. I'll take care of those." He pulls you away from the sink and turns it off. You put a hand on his cheek, your thumb gently stroking his face for a moment.

"You're sure?" You ask quietly. Bucky's eyes have fallen closed at this point and he lets out a content sigh before he replies.

"I'm sure." He says eventually.

"Alright, then I'll see you soon." You say giving him a quick kiss before going back across to your own apartment. It shouldn't, but your fingers against his skin stir something inside Bucky he hasn't felt in a long time and it makes him ache in more ways than one. For the next few weeks you take Sam's advice and test the waters in small ways. You put your arm around his when you're out together, offer hugs and kisses whenever the opportunity presents itself, you've even been finding ways to touch him while you watch TV together as opposed to sitting on opposite ends of the couch. It's all little innocent changes that you implement over time gaging Bucky for negative reactions and adjusting accordingly. He's not noticeably averse to anything you do so while there's no acknowledgment of your increased affection, you presume he's indifferent to it. Oh, how wrong you are. With each soft touch or gentle kiss, Bucky is only wound tighter over time. It takes everything in him not to react when you press yourself against him while leaving the movie theater or when you shyly kiss him before rushing into your apartment after saying goodnight. The more you do it the more he realizes how desperate he is to feel you but he can't bring himself to do anything about it. He wills himself to relish in the touches you give and not crave more. To his credit, for a while, that works. He's content with your shy kisses and gentle caresses until tonight. You're even more affectionate than you've been as of late and while Bucky loves the feeling of your hands on him, it's making the blood rush south while you're watching TV.

"Bucky are you alright?" You hum looking up at him from where your head is resting against his shoulder.

"Hm? Yeah, why?" He asks.

"Well, you've been pretty tense since I got here. I didn't wanna say anything but- I can feel your heart racing." You say patting his chest for emphasis.

"Oh is it?" He asks with forced ease that makes you chuckle.

"Babe what's going on?" You sit up to look at him.

"Nothing. You don't need to worry doll." He says grabbing your hand that's resting on his chest and squeezing reassuringly.

"Bucky, you don't have to lie to me." You frown.

"I'm not- lying." Bucky says. You look at him for a long moment before you shrug and lay your head back against his shoulder, turning your attention to the TV again absentmindedly tracing patterns on his chest with your finger. A few minutes pass before Bucky lets out a harsh breath and you sigh.

"What's going on with you? And don't say nothing this time. If you're bored or something you can just say so instead of acting all weird."

"I'm not bored, trust me."

"Then tell me what's up with your behavior."

"I'm just- on edge. I guess." He shrugs.

"Why? Did something happen today?" You ask, concern in your voice.

"No no, nothing happened. I'm sorry for being weird, I'm just- god you drive me crazy." Bucky sighs.

"What didI do?" 

"The way you touch me is maddening doll."

"Wait what? I haven't been doing-"

"I know. It's embarrassing how easily you manage to rile me up. All you've done is hug me and now I want to pin you against a wall." He grunts out. Your eyes widen at his confession.

"Pin me against a wall?" You gasp.

"I've been trying to control it so much I'm sorry I-"

"Bucky I'm not scandalized that you want to fuck me, I'm your girlfriend. I'm just- surprised because you hardly initiate contact and sometimes you shy away from it, I kind of just assumed you hated it."

"Well I, I'm not usually comfortable with it and with you, it, makes me dizzy. I can't think straight."

"So like this," you place your hand back on his chest, tracing gentle swirls against his thin t-shirt, "this makes you dizzy?" You ask curiously. Bucky's hand grabs your wrist in an attempt to keep you still.

"Yes it makes me dizzy. It's been making me dizzy for the last hour."

"I had no idea you'd be so easily excitable." You giggle.

"I'm not it's just you." Bucky says.

"If you want to pin me to a wall so bad I won't stop you."

"Y/n, don't tempt me."

"I mean you don't have to if you're not ready for that-"

"That is not the problem."

"Well what is?" You ask.

"Y/n," Bucky sighs and you shrug.

"Like I said, we don't have to. I know it's not you're thing, I'm only teasing." You tell him. Bucky lets out a grunt before pulling you into his lap so suddenly that you gasp.

"I don't think you understand how hard I'm trying to not fuck you silly doll."

"What if I want you to?" You ask and Bucky's hand tightens around your waist. He brings his other hand up to the back of your neck and sighs.

"You're going to be the death of me." He growls out before pulling you down to kiss him. The kiss is rough, Bucky's tongue claiming your mouth. When Bucky pulls away, you're panting harshly as he trails kisses down to your neck. He litters your throat with marks that have little whimpers falling from your lips. "God you sound so pretty." He mutters against your skin. Your hands slip under his shirt and you drag your nails across his abdomen, enjoying the way the muscles tense under your fingers. When you attempt to tug his shirt over his head he stops you.

"Is everything okay?" You ask breathlessly.

"Bedroom." He grunts.

"Does it matter?" You frown.

"To me yes. I'm not fucking you for the first time on my couch." He says. He tucks his hands under your thighs and stands from the couch with ease. You wrap yourself around him, leaving teasing kisses along his neck as he carries you down the hall.

"I'd let you fuck me in the back of an alley if you wanted Bucky." You tell him when he kicks the door of his room open.

"What're you trying to do doll? Gimme a heart attack?" He grumbles tossing you onto his bed.

"Never." You giggle tugging him towards you by his shirt. When Bucky's shins hit the edge of the bed he falls forward with his lips against yours, bracing himself against his hands on either side of your head.

"Hard to believe when you talk like that." He jokes as he sits back on his knees. He tugs his shirt quickly over his head and you let your eyes roam freely across his chest.

"God, you're hot." You sigh which makes him chuckle. He leans forward to kiss you and then pulls your shirt up and off of you, tossing it somewhere behind him. Bucky dips his head to your collarbone, scattering your skin with wet kisses as he tugs your bra below your breasts. With your boobs on display, Bucky is quick to take one into his mouth, his tongue and lips lavishing your nipple with attention while his fingers tug and tease the other. Your back arches against his ministrations, quiet mewls filling the space.

"I love your little noises baby." He mutters, swapping his attention.

"Your mouth feels so good." You whimper, threading your fingers gently through his hair.

"Wait til you feel it between your legs doll." He smiles, kissing down your abdomen. Bucky pulls your shorts and underwear off in one go as he shuffles down the bed. "Such a pretty pussy." Bucky mutters, his hands on your thighs hold your legs open as he stares at you.

"Bucky," you frown, squirming against his hold impatiently.

"I gotchu doll." He says licking slowly between your folds. You suck in a breath at the feeling of his tongue against you. Bucky lets out a groan at your taste before burying his face fully between your legs. He laps at your core like a man starved, his tongue sharp and unforgiving against your clit. He has you so worked up that you're writhing against him, making him wrap his arms around your thighs to keep you still enough for him. Bucky pulls an orgasm from you embarrassingly fast, that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your gut snapping so soon it even shocks you. You draw a shaky breath that turns into a shakier moan when your body registers Bucky's mouth still on you, even stronger now than before.

"B-Bucky wait." You stutter out as you twist in his hold unsure if you want more or less of him.

"Gimme another baby. Love seeing you lose control." He growls out, two metal fingers joining his mouth, gently working you open as your walls continue to spasm helplessly in the aftermath of your first orgasm.

"I- Bucky- wai- I nee- God! I can't think!" You pant out, your fingers in his hair tugging harshly.

"Good, don't. Just be good and cum for me doll." Bucky says and when he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly as his fingers curl just right against that spot inside you, you have no choice but to follow the directive, cumming with a loud whine as Bucky eagerly indulges in your juices. When your breathing starts to slow, Bucky lets up, adjusting enough to shove his pants off and line himself with your entrance. "How ya doin' sweetheart? Still with me?" He asks, softly caressing your cheek. You hum in response at first, giggling as you lean into his touch. "Need you to speak for me doll. Can't give you more til you use your words." He chuckles.

"It'll take more than that to take me out baby." You wink at him, taking his dick in your hand and stroking it slowly. He's hot and hard in your grasp and you smile when Bucky's head drops to your shoulder as he groans at your touch.

"You're killing me sweetheart." He laughs breathlessly. You let out a laugh of your own and turn your head enough that your lips kiss the shell of his ear.

"It's only fair." You whisper, scraping your teeth gently against his earlobe. You can't help but delight in the way he shivers. Bucky pulls your hand from his length, trapping it under his against the bed.

"Who said anything about fair?" He manages before you feel him thrust into you. Your head snaps back at the feeling of him stretching you as he slowly rocks into you inch by inch. His size is almost overwhelming but you can't help but moan when he's finally bottomed out. Bucky's groan is strained as he sets a measured pace, clearly trying to give you time to adjust. His unhurried movements only serve to rile you up more and you're squirming against him as your hands still trapped under his clenches around it.

"Fucking hell Bucky move, please!" You finally grind out when it becomes unbearable. When your walls clench around him, any plans of leisure Bucky had in mind are tossed out. He grabs your hips tight enough that you're sure there will be bruises come morning, but you have no time to dwell on it as measured movements become unrelenting, his hips snapping against yours so hard the bed moves with each thrust. Your back arches into him as he presses into you repeatedly.

"This what you wanted doll? 'Be split open on my dick huh?" He huffs out.

"Yes- fuck, ohGodyes!" You cry out, your body overwhelmed with the feeling of him.

"That's it baby, scream for me. Let everyone know who's got you like this." His commands are breathy and gruff when they reach your ears.

"Bucky! More please! Oh my God Bucky!" You whine.

"Fuck you look so good taking my dick baby. Nice and stretched out like you should be- damn I could get used to this." Bucky's words only pull more sounds from you as another orgasm builds inside you. His fingers reach between the two of you to toy with your clit, rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves and hurdling you faster towards that third release.

"F-fuck- fuck I'm close- god I'm gonna-" it's not a full sentence, your brain is too scrambled to string together the proper thought.

"You gonna cum for me baby? Gonna make a mess all over my dick?"

"Yes, shit- yes, god yes."

"Go ahead doll, cum. Wanna feel you squeezing me." Bucky huffs out and with a few circles against your clit, you're doing just that, your third orgasm making you shake so hard Bucky has to hold you to chase his own release. His thrusts are more frantic now focused on finding his own end.

"God you fuck me so well baby, you're gonna cum in me aren't you? Want your cum leaking out me Bucky. Please- please fill me up." You whine.

"Fucking hell- you want itinyou? Want it flooding that needy little pussy?"

"Yes! Please Bucky! Please cum in me. Want it so bad." You plead breathily. Moments later his hips stutter and you feel the heat of his release as it fills you. His harsh breathing is the only sound in the room for a few minutes as you feel your heartrate slowing.

"Yeah you really are going to be the death of me." He chuckles breathlessly as he attempts to recover from his high. You giggle and wrap your arms around him, pulling his full weight onto you.

"Wait a sec babe let me-"

"Whatever it is can wait, I just wanna lay like this for a while." You tell him. Your soft voice and gentle strokes of his hair are too soothing for him to even want to argue and so you lay like that for who knows how long. Bucky's head on your chest as you play with his hair, he doesn't even attempt to take his dick out of you, just wanting to prolong your closeness.

As it turns out your boyfriend does like physical contact, but only when it comes from you.

***

[loveswrites]

Hey bestie, how you have been? Hope is good! Anyway, i really L O V E D your poly Volturi things, i was wondering if you take requests here goes one...

Ok, listen, fem!reader x poly volturi one where the reader is in her period, like I'm in mine and reading this i was wondering how they will react like smelling the blood all the time... i will love to see the way you work on this, but just if your comfortable.

So is this, take care of yourself and hope you have a great day! (and sorry for the bad English :)

Red Sea Poly Volturi x reader

Time it took me: 4 hours along with a cupcake bake in the middle and then part of the next day which was today so i'd say 8 hours

Word count: 2884

To Coraline: Hello Lovely! I've been doing a little bit better thank you so much for asking! I loved this req seeing as I am on mine as well I felt that it was a perfect time to write it and I guess that's what pushed me to write it so quickly! But I don't think I really did what you asked for? I don't know I always just get the vibes that I don't truly listen to you guys when you req something, I always do something like it lmao. Let me know how you liked it thou! Ps. Your English was lovely!

Love <3

Poly Volturi x reader

Turning a corner you let out a long sigh. Currently you were walking around the castle just going around in circles indecisive on who you wanted to spend time with and who you wanted to ask for some.. Things.  You had woken up today to your punishment for simply being a woman. Your period. The reason you were walking around and not just lying in bed like you normally would is because this is your first time having your period in a castle full of vampires. Your period was very irregular so even though it had been a few months since your mates had found you, you’ve never bled around them before. 

You were nervous to see how they would react to it. You thought about asking Jane for some pads but then you remembered that she doesn’t have a period. And she’s probably never had one in her life to begin with. You thought about asking Felix but you felt that he would just make fun of you or tease you. Which was something you didn’t want to deal with right now. If someone teased you about something you couldn’t control you feel like you’d just snap. 

Asking Alec was just a plain no. You knew he’d just stare at you in confusion like what the hell do you mean your bleeding? With Caius you didn’t want to bother him as he was busy with trails right now with the other kings. Plus you’d have a feeling he’d want to paint with it. He has this infatuation with the way dark red blood looks. And you didn’t want him to paint a mural out of your blood for you. Though you're sure it would be gorgeous, he never disappoints you with his paintings.  

The only one that was left was Demtri. Your gentleman out of all your mates. Now you would ask him because you know he wouldn’t tease you or ask some weird request once you got what you needed but that still didn’t stop you from avoiding him also. 

So when you woke up this morning with the red sea between your legs you rushed to the bathroom and took a shower. Covering yourself in scents you’d only use if it was your last day on earth. Spraying yourself in the most expensive perfume that you could find. God do your mates love to spoil you or what? This one bottle of perfume you knew for a fact was a thousand dollars and yet they still said “It was nothing.” For once you were grateful that your room was on the far side of the castle away from all the other vampires including your mates.

You had picked this room purely based on the views that came with it. Your balcony was facing the ocean side of the castle. You could fall asleep to the sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the rocks. And you could watch the horizon where the moon and the sun would meet everyday, each rise and set of the moon and sun was always better than the last. That was what you loved about this castle. And that was what you loved about your wing of it. It was your small piece of the fortress and no one could take that away from you. Your love’s made sure of it. 

Taking the silk sheets off your bed you did your best to scrub them clean but of course there was still a stain. You tossed them into the hamper and made a mental note to ask the maid to come get it later for you. You placed new sheets on your bed. You changed your makeshift pad that was made of tissue then you were off to pace the halls to grow some balls.  

You wore your robes that matched all the vamps that were with the volturi, hood up and all in attempts to hide your identity. 

It didn’t work. 

You were convinced that everyone in the castle knew your scent by hard because every vampire that passed, rather they were walking normally or vamping away, they would pause in their tracks and make sure to bow to you. Though it was completely unnecessary, you loved how it made you feel. The power that you hold as just a human brung so much pride to you. The 3 kings and your mates always would tell you to own it and so you did. 

You tried hiding in the shadows when you knew that someone was coming. Pushing yourself against the walls, even turning your whole body like you were just put into time out. You knew you looked like a dumbass but that wasn’t the point nor your problem right now. All you knew was that you didn’t want to face any more people than necessary. 

Finally after what felt like hours you finally made it to the receptionist desk. You were thankful that she was even there. She was always off doing something she had no business doing. You were surprised that she hadn’t gotten herself killed yet. But today you were grateful for that. 

“What can I do to help you?” She asked, putting on a voice that you could tell was supposed to be charming. It was not.

Pulling your hood off she immediately stood from her chair but quickly dropped down to bow. 

“My queen, Is there anything I can do to assist you? Master Caius is out feeding with the others. Would you like me to retrieve him?” She asked, speaking softly. 

Respect was a big thing with the kings if someone showed you any signs of disrespect you never saw or heard from them again. So it was understandable as to why she switched up so fast. 

“No, I was wondering if you had any… You know.. Tampons or pads? Anything honestly.” You said rushing it out. But still trying to keep it low.

“Oh! Don’t you have any of that stuff? They practically treat you like royalty.” She laughed with a roll of her eyes. 

That pissed you off. She’s always had a problem with you and you’ve always kept your mouth shut but today that wasn’t how you were feeling.

“Because I am. Now if you don’t like it or respect it I have no problem having this conversion with the kings. I'm sure they would love to hear about this.” You said in a stern voice, sending her a glare. Her eyes widened, you never threatened anyone, you’ve never had to. It was always done for you if it needed to be done. 

She got up and quickly left, hoping she went to get you something, anything at this point. You could feel that your makeshift pad is not working. 

“Till we hear about what, Amore mio?” You heard behind you making you jump and turn around. When you did you were faced by the three kings themselves. You found yourself sort of stung in place. Your plan was to come get some pads and I don’t know, hide until it all went away? Horrible plan but it worked in your head. This was not a part of your plan.

“Umm nothing I was justt..” You dragged out shifting your eyes between the three. 

Aro was staring at you with his wide curious eyes. Marcus looked at you with soft knowing eyes, he always knew when things were wrong with you. And caius looked at you with narrowed eyes.

“Are you hiding something from us?” Caius questioned stepping closer to you. You felt your heart skip a beat. They heard it of course. 

“Caius can you go away?” You asked, covering your face with the palm of your hands.

“Why would I go away? Are you trying to run away?!” Cauis yelled out, making you frown.

“Caius..” Marcus sighed out. There was no doubt that Cauis’s biggest fear was you leaving him and him never being able to find you. It broke your heart that he felt he wasn’t truely loveable.

“I swear you're bipolar.” You said taking your hands off your face just in time to see the receptionist with a brown bag in her hand. When you saw this you grabbed it from her and ran as fast as you could. 

“I wanna be alone right now! No one bother me, pass the message along!” When you turned your head to see if they were behind you they weren't even there. Seeing this you stopped running and caught your breath leaning on a wall. You swear you need to work out more. Or hell even walk more, but what's the point when you can have Felix carry you everywhere? 

Since you were down here on this side of the castle you thought why not stop and get some snacks? So that’s what you did. Big mistake.

Walking into the kitchen you saw Demetri and Felix and immediately turned around hoping that they didn’t see you.

“Bellissima?” Dem said softly, making you turn around.

“Yes?” You said, just as softly.

“Are you alright?” He said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” You said shifting from side to side slightly cringing.

“What’s that sme-” Before Felix could even finish his sentence you dashed out of that kitchen and you ran. You ran straight to your room and you didn’t stop for anything or anybody. Your one mission was to get to your room and stay there. 

Once you got to your room you ran straight to the bathroom and turned the shower on. You didn’t even allow yourself to think about how embarrassingly long it took you to get to this point. You never paid attention to how many people or how many vampires live in this castle until you felt like fresh bait to them. You let yourself relax feeling the hot water hit your back. You allowed it to wash away the mixed emotions you had. 

Once you got out you did your normal hygiene routine and you felt better. You felt ready to rot in a ball for the next week. Opening your bathroom door you stopped in your tracks when you saw all of your mates standing in front of you.

“Hi..?” You said after a minute passed and no words were spoken.

“Why are you acting so strange?” Alec was the first to speak.

“How could I have been acting strange? I haven't even seen you today!” You yelled out holding onto your towel tighter. 

“Yes you have, you’ve seen us both when you were cowering into the ‘shadows’.” Jane said plainly.

“You walked right past us like you didn’t even know who we were!” Alec yelled.

“Don’t yell at me!” You yelled back at him frowning.

“Why not?! If I don’t yell you might walk right past me again!”

“Just cause I walked past you doesn’t mean you can yell at me!”

“I can do whatever-” 

“Where not going to solve this yelling at her!” Dem yelled, cutting Alec off.

“Anyone wanna talk to her and not yell at her?!” He yelled looking at the rest of your mates. 

While he eyes weren’t on you you felt your eyes water and you couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down your face. The moment you sniffled you caught everyone's attention.

“You made her cry!” Alec yelled glaring at Demetri.

“I didn’t do a damn thing!” Dem yelled back at Alec.

That started a yelling war between Alec and Dem which only made you cry harder. It was frustrating. 

“Can someone tell me what that smell is!” Felix yelled out in his own frustration. As he had been sniffing everything like a damn dog since you’ve seen him. 

“It’s me! It’s me okay? I’m fucking bleeding I’m on my period okay?! That’s why I’ve been acting weird all day it’s embarrassing and I needed some pads but I didn’t have any and I knew that none of you did and I didn’t wanna ask so I didn’t and you guess kept popping up in places that you didn’t belong and-”

“You smell good.” Felix said, making you stop immediately.

“What?” You questioned.

“Yeah you smell sweeter but at the same time dull. It’s something I’ve never smelt before. It makes my mouth water.” Felix said, staring at you with slightly darker red eyes.

“I agree.” Cauis said, looking you up and down with greedy eyes. 

“She doesn’t smell like that to me, she smells like a softer scent of her normal self.” Dem said now looking at you with a strange expression on his face.

“She smells like something that I can’t explain but it’s pleasant.” Jane said as Alec agreed with her.

“I smell good?” You questioned with your voice cracking slightly.

“You always smell good. Are you seriously telling us that this is the reason that you’ve been avoiding us? That’s a foolish reason.” Cauis said.

“I’ll go gather some stuff you’ll need.” Jane said and before you could say anything of hell even blind she was gone. 

“I’ve read a whole book about menstrual cycles before-” Felix started.

“You can read?” Alec scoffed, dodging the book Felix threw at him in reflex.

“We're gonna take good care of you, I promise.” Felix said as he appeared at your side and settled you on your bed softly. 

“Master Caius, can you lay down? As much as I don’t like to admit it, you're her favorite to lay on when she’s in pain.” He asked, even though Cauis wanted to respond to Felix's statement he kept his mouth shut for your sake.

Cauis pulled you into him as he laid down and you felt yourself relax immediately. While you felt it they could hear it. 

“I’m in my towel this is not a reliable form of protection if you catch my drift?” You said to your mates hinting at the fact that you’d like to get dressed.

“You think I care if you bleed on me Amore mio?” Caius questioned in a dull tone as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Yes I do.” You said as a matter of fact. This sent your mates into a tumble of laughter. While you looked dumbfounded they just shook their heads.

“Sometimes I think you forget what we are.” Dem said looking at you with a soft smirk on his face.

“We eat your kind for breakfast, lunch and dinner and yet you think we are put off by a little drop of blood. That is foolish.” Cauis said, shaking his head pulling you closer to him. 

“Now relax until Jane gets back.” Felix said leaving no room for argument.

With this being said you watched as your mates took their places in your room. Alec sat in a chair that was next to your bed grabbing a book to read. Felix turned on your tv that they had installed and began flipping through the channels. And dem was busy closing all of your curtains so that the room was dark for you. You felt loved by the smallest things that they were doing. Even if it didn’t benefit you, you felt at peace with your loves just in the same place as you. 

As you close your eyes Cauis begins stroking your hair sending a small shiver down your spine due to his cold finger tips. 

“If you just let us change you you wouldn’t have to go through this pointless pain.” Cauis said, making you shake your head.

“I show one sign of pain and you already wanna kill me.” You said snuggling closer into Caius which he welcomed with open arms.

“You’d be reborn into Una versione migliore di te.” He voiced like it was nothing.

“You know that I haven’t been keeping up with my lessons with Marus!” You yelled hitting caius on his side.

“And whose fault is that?” Alec said casually flipping the page to his book he was reading. 

“Not mine actually! Because everytime I try to go to Marcus study, one of you always stops me in my tracks and leads me in a different direction!” You said pointing to each one of your mates. To which none of them could say anything because they knew that it was true.

“See.” You said smiling at the fact that there was no back talk at all. 

Some time passed and you had fallen asleep. When you woke up you felt a weight on your stomach looking down you saw that it was Jane. Her head rested on your stomach. The sun had gone completely down and it was now pitch black in your room but you felt no fear in your heart because you knew that you were safe. 

When you went to shift your legs you were placed with a reminder of why they were here in the first place. Looking down at your previously white towel you couldn’t help the words that came out of your mouth.

“Fucking hell.” You groaned, rolling your eyes.

“A little free bleeding ain’t never hurt nobody.” Felix said with a smirk that you could just feel in your soul.

“What the fuck.” You said and immediately you heard a few chuckles come from different parts of the room.

[non-stop-imagines]

Mírame

From this request!💖 And a little help from this too 😚

Word Count: ~10.1k words w/ smau

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x Black Rapper!Reader ( JT face claim)

Warning: Smut, p in v, fingering, forced eye contact, a little bit of an innocence kink made its way in there, Twitter Environment, rude comments, mention of food Minors DNI!!! 18+

A/N: AH HA! ITS DONE AND IM SO HAPPY! I have said this so many times and I mean it everytime, thank you, thank you, thank you so much to my 🌶️ anon. For trusting me with this request, for checking in on me, and most of all for being so patient. I hope you are doing well and I hope you enjoy this. 💖 I hope you all enjoy this. I am trying to work my way to reopening my requests because I truly find pure joy in reading the ideas that you guys have. Love you all!!💖💛💖💛💖

A/N 2: All of the pictures used for the smau portions are all from pinterest and are not my own product.

Masterlist

___________

   You and Carlos stroll back over to his car, parked a block away from the park that Carlos took you to, Jardins Saint-Martin, just on the outskirts of Monaco. Since Carlos decided to ask you on this date at the last minute (it was about 11:00pm on Saturday, Monaco grand prix weekend), it was either this or his boat that probably was surrounded by fans in some fashion. Taking you to this park, and finding a place still open to buy ice cream before coming here, was Carlos' best shot at being alone with you.

   "Sorry the date seemed so…basic. I wish I could've taken you somewhere fancier, but I was so nervous about asking you on a date that I didn't do it until late." He's been wanting to do this since he met you at the Miami Grand Prix. When he first saw you peeking into the Ferrari garage as a celebrity guest at the race, he had never plotted so quickly to get someone's number. You were…different. In a good way. You were dressed sexy yet classy, obviously comfortable in your own skin, and you weren't afraid to be expressive when talking with anyone. Heck, when you first talked to him, he could tell you were nervous, but it still did little to dull the fire in your conversation.

   "So, this is yours, huh?" Carlos had led you into the open garage while everyone else focused on a different celebrity that had made their way over.

   "Sí. Not what you expected, huh?" He smiles and watches you closely observe the race car, your eyes tracing its curves while Carlos' traced yours.

   "To be honest, I don't know what I expected. I mean it tried to learn as much as I could about the sport once I learned I was invited, but I didn't really focus on the cars. Mainly teams, drivers, less technical stuff." You were rambling. You knew you were rambling, it always happened when you were around someone you found attractive. "But I do know that this does not look like any Ferrari I've seen." Mental facepalm. Of course not, it's a goddamn race car. You could feel your chest squeezing, scared that your awkward remark wouldn't elicit a response from the driver, but instead the faint sound of an exhaled chuckle shocks you.

   "I know. It's smaller. And seems a bit less safe, but what do I know?" Your tension melts a bit as Carlos makes a joke just as terrible as yours. You continue observing the car, walking around and tilting your head, hair falling gently around your face.

   "Sorry, I'm being so quiet. I just think it's so cool seeing one of these up close." You saunter back over to Carlos, eyes still on the car, not to observe it, but for the purpose of avoiding the intense eye contact that he was trying to initiate, mentally urging you to look at him.

   "So, uh, you make music, no?" This gets you looking at him for a moment, only to answer the vague question.

   "Uh, yeah. I'm a rapper. You probably haven't listened to my stuff, though. Probably not your speed." You flash a small smile then look away again, observing the car one last time before turning your attention to the rest of the garage. Little did you know, that smile knocked Carlos off his feet, and he wanted it to happen again.

   "Maybe I have, maybe I haven't, but I would like to. Here." This brought your attention to his face then his phone that was unlocked and open for you to go to your music. "You can just add yourself."

   "You know you could've done this yourself…" You smile to yourself as you search your name.

   "I know, but now you can put your number in, too." You stopped what you were doing to look up at him, squinting and grinning.

   "Ah, smooth. I see where the nickname comes from." You chuckle and go to do as told, adding your number to his contacts.

   "Thank you. I'm glad you said it because if I said it, it would have been too cheesy." He exhales a laugh, searching your face for amusement, which he finds once you go to hand his phone back.

  "You know, I would've given you my number if you just asked." You didn't know what to do with your hands. If you were bold, you would have allowed your hand to run along his toned arm, but you settled on just letting your hands be expressive as you spoke, lazily pointing an acrylic clad finger.

   "Maybe, but this is more fun." Carlos smiled, a smile that accentuated his bottom lip, making you instinctively and stealthily dart your tongue out onto yours.

   After the brief moment of the poorest example of attraction projecting body language imaginable, it was soon time for you to continue on to God knows where because you weren't paying attention before, and for Carlos to start Friday practice prep, even though he definitely wouldn't be paying attention. He would be thinking about how he was going to text you, call you, something.

   It took him 3 days to text "Hi" and you 5 seconds to respond 

   Okay, so fire was an exaggeration, but you didn't know any better.

   "I thought the date was nice!" You hesitantly reach out for his hand. The motion was initially instinctive, your hand acting on its own, and once you realized what you were doing, you began to pull back, but it was stopped and encased by Carlos' before it was fully retracted, and he continued the conversation like nothing happened.

   "No, no. It could have been nicer. I just didn't give myself enough time." Your heart was racing, and this was when you realized you were still looking at entwined hands and not the man speaking to you, so you quickly refocused yourself.

   "Really, I wouldn't know the difference anyway, I have nothing to compare it to." Carlos tilts his head quizzically at your implication so you continue to explain, chuckling. "I've never been on a date before." 

   "Wait, no? Haven't you had a boyfriend or something?" His thumb starts to move over your fingers and your brain short circuits, your eyes cutting back to your hand.

   "Uh, no. No, I haven't. So I definitely don't know what I'm doing and I wouldn't know better as to whether or not this was the worst date a person could've ever had." You finally got your brain to work again and smiled nervously as you spoke, watching a look of disdain settle into Carlos' face.

   "Well, I wouldn't say all of that, but…wow, I can not believe you've never had a boyfriend." You were greatly enjoying Carlos' shock, but you go on to explain a little.

   "I've been focusing on my music career since I was 16, so someone would literally have had to hold a sign up in my face and shout that they like me for me to even consider the possibility of them wanting to go on a date with me." You giggle nervously, the disdain on his face shifting to curiosity as his eyes traced every part of your face over and over again.

    "So would that be necessary now?" A grin tugs at the right side of his mouth and it seems like he keeps having to pull his eyes from your lips.

   "No, that won't be necessary. Just a simple 'I like you' would be fine." Your laugh was looser this time, and you finally let loose a full smile, displaying shallow dimples and accentuating your lips. Carlos looked at you like a shooting star that had just whizzed by, disappearing into the horizon all mysterious and sparkly.

    "Well, I like you, a lot. And I want to take you on more dates, and be whatever other first I can be for you." His grin slowly fades but it doesn't take away the sincerity in his eyes and his words, now unabashedly staring at your lips. 

   "Oh. Well i- I've, um, never, uh, kissed anyone before." There was obvious hesitation in your statement, knowing it was a bold move for you, slightly surprised at the smile that landed on Carlos' lips.

   "I am so glad you said that." You knew what was coming, especially once you felt him pull you closer with your hand, beginning to lean in, but for some reason you failed to take any steps to reciprocate the action, eyes wide open, watching him lean in for the kiss but stop centimeters away. "It's better if you close your eyes, I promise." Carlos chuckles at the shocked face you looked at him with, his eyes still trained on your plump parted lips.

   "Yeah, I know. I don't know why I didn't…let's-uh-try again." You pinched the bridge of your nose in embarrassment, resetting your brain to try the moment again. Eventually you gaze back up at him, first taking a moment to admire the man in front of you, failing at hiding a laughing grin while you got lost in his eyes.

   Carlos, on the other hand, his mind was going berserk. The eyes you looked at him with were so innocent and trusting, even further indicated by how you, unprompted, fluttered your eyes closed prepared to try your first over kiss again. He had to indulge his own self for a moment, testing the waters to see if he could prove his theory, even the slightest bit, so he unnecessarily lifts your chin and tilts your head to your right, each move smooth and gentle, and with both moves you allowed yourself to follow the modification unhesitatingly, keeping your eyes closed. "Perfect." He finally leans down to kiss you, first just the soft press of each other's lips, you getting used to the foreign, intimate feeling, but after that moment Carlos slots his lips between yours and you try your best to keep up, mimicking his lip movements to the best of your ability. Carlos was considerate of the situation though and held off on the tongue, instead opting for manually lifting and wrapping your arms around his neck and then circling his own around your waist to make the kiss deeper. Your lips were glossy and pupils were dilated upon pulling away from the kiss, chest heaving with slow deep inhales.

   "How was that?" The look you gave him seeked approval, or at least constructive criticism, on your kissing ability. Carlos just like that his opinion mattered so much to you.

   "I feel like I should be asking you that, no?" He keeps a tight grip on you with one hand as he uses the other to gently rake through your hair, fingers going just deep enough to manipulate the top layer.

   "Oh, well you've done this before. I'm the one that needs pointers." You move your arms to wrap them around Carlos' torso, giving your shoulders a rest 

   "You need no pointers." He leans down to give you another lip slotted kiss.

   "Oh, thank you. I-uh- you're not too bad yourself." Carlos just chuckles at your awkward comment and leans in for more kisses, testing the waters more and more to see how deep he could make them, how much more tongue you would allow, and smiling at how you didn't know what to do with the small introduction to the appendage. It was you who had to break up the moment, wedging your arms between you two. "Don't you have a curfew or something? The race is tomorrow right?"

   Carlos wasn't going to lie, he completely forgot it was a race weekend. He was so enamored by you just being here, how when you were with him you exuded a, now more understood, innocence that is hidden behind the nature of your fame. "Not if I pretend I don't." He shines a devious grin at you, and you have to reboot your brain to remember what you were going to say.

   “No, I’m not gonna be the reason you break curfew or whatever.” You try and wave away his eyes that were trained on your face, but his lips approaching your neck, and the reflexive tilt of your head to give him more surface area, shut you right up.

   “Fine, I guess you’re right." He says with his lips brushing deliciously against your ear, then pulls his face away and extends his arm past its previous home if your waist to open the car door for you. He has to move his face into your line of sight, which was off in the distance just past his left shoulder as you contemplated your situation, and use his eyes to motion you into the car.

   "Thank you again, for tonight. I had a nice time." You spoke as you buckled your seatbelt, realizing that was something you did often when you were able to, occupying yourself with something else to avoid having to look Carlos in the eye. He wasn't going to stand for that though, so once he was in and the car was started, he turned his body to you and tilted your chin up so you would look at him.

   "That's good to hear." He brings you forward for a kiss, again testing your response to the addition of his tongue to the equation, liking the effort that you put into following his lead. He didn't worry, though. He knew he had time with you. "When you get to the paddock tomorrow, go to the Ferrari building. I'll make sure they have a garage pass for you." You just nod, eyes dazed and trained on his lips before flicking up to his own deep brown irises, and he couldn't help leaning in for another brief make out session. After kissing you the first time, your first time, he became immediately obsessed with it, trying to teach you and get you to follow his lead each time, and loving that you were a fast learner. 

   After some driving, more kissing, and stealthily making it back to the hotel room, "Good nights" and confirmation for tomorrow's plans were made and, eventually (because Carlos wouldn't leave unless you looked at him while talking to him) you both were in your assigned rooms, wondering what would come of that night.

yn_music

Liked by carlossainz55 and 351,079 others

yn_music Red on me like Ferrari 💋🌶️🏎️

View all 539 comments

user1 New music soon? 👀♥️

>yn_music We workin, don't you worry boo💋

>user1 I literally screamed and threw my phone

>yn_music Hope your phone's okay 😬

normani It's giving 90s dream girl 📷♥️

>yn_music 💋

user2 Uhhhh, Carlos, whatchu doin here blud?

>user3 Apparently they seemed pretty close during the Miami GP

>user2 She was at the Miami GP!?!?

>user3 Yeah! And there were seen in the garage Thursday talking and possibly exchanging numbers 😶

>user2 This is the best possible wag announcement I've ever experienced

user4 I refuse to believe that Carlos Sainz is seeing someone that makes music like hers 🤷🏽‍♀️

>user2 why are you even here

   "I'm sorry. Can you just explain to me one more time why you stopped me?" You let your fingers just barely run through the top of your hair, taking a deep breath and glaring at the man standing in front of you.

   "We have received a couple of complaints regarding your attire and so we have to ask you to cover up." The man in the bright yellow security jacket looked just as done as you did, but you didn't care.

   "Okay, I'm not trying to be difficult or anything, but I have seen outfits much worse than mine and yet I'm the one that gets stopped? I just don't…" Your response may have been directed to the security guard, but it was more for your own sanity trying to keep yourself calm. "Respirar" You repeat the Spanish word taught to you by Carlos for whenever you felt anxious or overwhelmed, inhaling as you say it and then releasing a long exhale. "Let me just-Do you think we could go over to the Ferrari motorhome? Carlos was the one who invited me and maybe he would be able to help…”

   “Ma’am, please. We don’t need to get anyone else involved. Just cover up or else I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The guy reaches out to guide you by your arm but you pull back from his reach, taking a singular step back.

   "First of all, do not touch me. I did not give you permission to touch me. Secondly, I am not going to cover up because there is nothing wrong with my outfit, and it is entirely too hot to do so. Please can we just-I texted him, hopefully he's by-oh!" You felt a hand touch your lower back ever so lightly, making you jump and a flash of anger come over you very briefly before looking to your right and seeing Carlos flash a grin at you. The more severe part of your frustration melted away with the presence of the man beside you, softening your demeanor and allowing him to press a kiss to the top of your head and subsequently fix any bit of hair that came out of place due to the action.

   “Hello.” He still had that grin on, but you could tell it got brighter the longer he looked at you, the more his eyes wandered around your appearance.

   “Hi.” All you could muster was a tired grin to reciprocate, drained from the previous encounter, which made Carlos even more adamant to squash whatever problem you frenziedly and vaguely texted him about. So, after protectively wrapping his arm around your waist, he turns to the man that was previously hounding you about your outfit.

   “So, what’s the problem?” The glare Carlos gave the man could have set the guy’s hair on fire if Carlos willed it. He was messing with his girl, and he wasn’t going to stand for it.

   “Oh, s-she is a guest of yours…” The man started fidgeting with his jacket, pulling at the bottom hem and scrunching up the sleeves before finally just settling on crossing his arms. 

   “Yes. My girlfriend if you want to be specific. So, what is the problem you are having with my girlfriend?” Silence. That is all that followed the question, and it caused the world to just fade away, leaving just you three. Carlos, silent and waiting for an answer. The man, silent and feeling like an ass as he racked his brain for a way to talk himself out of the situation. You , silent and waiting for something to unfold, and then finally registering Carlos’ words but too nervous to say anything. When enough time passed to irritate him, Carlos turned to you for an answer. “What happened?”

   “Um, uh..” Your first instinct was to look away, anything for you to not have to endure the intenseness of Carlos’ frustrated stare. You click your long, decorated nails together, trying to find your words again, surprised by the gentle finger that guides your eyes to his.

   “Mírame. You can tell me.” His glare softened when he turned to you, willing you with his eyes to speak and trying to telepathically convey that it was a safe space to tell him the full story.

   “He told me that there have been people complaining about my outfit and that I can either cover up or leave.” Even though it was hard to initiate eye contact with Carlos, maintaining it was a piece of cake. Getting lost in the dark irises of a gaze that could go from playfully wide to sultry squint was effortless for you, and you eyes seemed to follow the motion of his as he checked out your entire outfit, oversized and low buttoned white dress shirt and blue jean mini skirt down to the gold accented thigh high boots, a sexy elegant look which was one of the many looks he loved to see on you, and definitely did not see a problem with.

   “You must not have been doing this for long because I have seen much worse outfits walking through the paddock.” His hand slid from your waist to your hand as he mildly pointed a finger at the man before turning to you. “You look great today, by the way.” Since a true response would make you dip into having to initiate eye contact again, all you could do was bashfully grin at the ground. “Now, we have somewhere to be, and I think you should go take a break, and just not come back, so you don’t disturb anyone else, okay?” He checks to ensure he had a firm grip on your hand before hastily walking away toward the Ferrari motorhome, but when you guys get close instead of going to the building you two turn toward the garage entrance, stopping along the wall just as you turn down the long walkway. It was only at that moment that you realized Carlos was dressed in his race attire, only haphazardly with the suit pulled up onto his shoulders but mostly unzipped, and your eyes couldn’t help but follow his hands as the quickly performed that task. “That was stupid, I don’t know why…” He mumbled that to himself as he finished strapping himself into his race suit. “I’m sorry about that girlfriend thing. I-”

   “Don't be sorry.” You answered quickly and made sure your eyes met his. When Carlos said that in his haste to defend you, sure you heard an inflected emphasis on the word "girlfriend", that was a pleasant pillow that you were able to rest on while he handled the situation.

   “What, you want to be my girlfriend?” His smirk acted as your reminder that you were holding eye contact, making you want to shrink back down in embarrassment, but you didn’t allow yourself to, and you knew Carlos wouldn’t allow it either.

   “If you don’t mind being my first boyfriend.” You shrug timidly, and smile just as wide as Carlos does after your answer. You could tell Carlos was racking his brain for his next steps with how quick his eyes flashed over you, finally landing on your lips as his hand rested on your shoulders to pull you in for a kiss, quick but still held the happiness he wanted to convey.

   “I told you I want to be all of your firsts. Even though I wanted this to be a bit more special. Flowers and everything.” He pushes your hair behind your ear and finds his eyes moving back and forth between yours again.

   “Yeah, I remember.” Your eyes reluctantly peeled themselves away from his and traveled down to his race suit, pulling you back to the present as your hands act on their own to turn him toward his garage. “Go, please I’ve held you up long enough. What is this anyway? Practice?” Since landing in Britain that morning, you have been non-stop trying to get to the track, so you haven’t kept track of the schedule for the day.

   “Eh, no. Qualifying.” This only made your eyes widen and caused you to put more force into pushing him into the garage.

   “What the fuck!? You could’ve told me! Go, go, I probably completely ruined your concentration.” You continue to push but the action is interrupted by Carlos delicately pulling you around to his front and pulling you close to him wrapping your arms around his waist. His hands found their home on the sides of your shoulders, steadying you for another kiss, meant to calm your worries but also because he found your concern endearing.

   "I'm more than prepared. Trust me. I'll see you later, cariño." He jogs off to his side of the garage, having to leave you at the entrance, but you eventually make your way in, standing behind the barrier separating the guests from the rest of the garage, pulling on headphones and waving at his cousin before finally turning your attention to the main event.

__________

   "Okay, hold on one more moment, cariño. Keep your eyes closed.” You’re walked out of the bathroom that you were very quickly whisked into when you arrived at Carlos' room. Though your eyes were closed, they could still sense the soft glow of what could possibly be candle light, and the lack of sight didn't stop your nose from breathing in the fresh perfume of flowers, though you were unsure what kind. You waited patiently, jumping ever so slightly at the feeling of Carlos' hands over your closed eyes and the faint touch of his breath on the back of your neck. "Alright, open."

   You open your eyes to, as you suspected, the dim, warm lights of several candles around his hotel room, a bouquet of roses on the bed that was sprinkled with rose petals. "Oh, Carlos…" You could've cried. Just a few months ago, you weren't even thinking about being in a relationship, let alone being in one with someone like Carlos, but here you are, with this man who thinks the world of you, and shows it not only in his words but in his actions. 

   "I wanted to get more balloons, but this is what I could get in such short notice." He had his arms wrapped around your torso and his chin rested on your shoulder as you looked at the beautifully decorated room, but you wanted to look at him instead, so you turned around in his arms to hook yours around his neck.

   "You're too much." You slowly lean in for a peck, smiling with each one that follows.

   "I know." You both chuckle as you go to playfully hit his chest. "You deserve this all, I hope you know that."

   "I'm trying too, but still, thank you, Carlos." You go to rest your head on his chest, but you're startled by a sudden exclamation of mild disdain from him.

   "Aye, Carlos is too formal." You eyebrows furrow briefly at him and shift your jaw as you think.

   "Okay, so, um, what then?" Your eyes were wide and surprisingly innocent compared to the usual sultry look you had.

   "Papí. I think that would have a nice ring coming from you." He couldn't help but lean in for another kiss from you. Your lips were his favorite part of you and the feeling of them on his own was his favorite feeling in the world, you embracing him second for the time being.

   "Okay. Thank you, Papí." You place another peck in his waiting lips, liking how the nickname rolled off your tongue.

   "You deserve it, mí amor." A kiss to your cheek begins to trail down your neck, reaching a tender spot that elicits a moan that shocks you but pleases him.

   "Oh. I don't know wh-" Your automatic apology was interrupted and excited Carlos.

   "Let's see if we can do that again." The kisses continued, making it the first time anyone has ever explored the erogenous points on your body. 

   Well, he was at least able to get around to anything above the shoulders.

yn_music

Liked by charlesleclerc and 362,870 others

yn_music 🌹🥀🌹🥀

tagged carlossainz55

View all 402 comments

carlossainz55 Amor ♥️

user5 This is the hardest soft launch I've ever seen

user6 My happiness depends on these two making it so just everyone be quiet and let them live

>landonorris I agree with them ☝🏼

kaliuchis Mamí ‼️‼️‼️🥵🥵🥵

user7 I'm gonna need pointers because I still don't know how you snatched Carlos Sainz 🧐

>yn_music Be awkward as fuck in the Ferrari garage 🧍🏿‍♀️

user8 This is not gonna last I'm calling it rn 🫥

>user9 She probably whined and cried for him to do that for her 🙄

>carlossainz55 Try again. This time pull your head out of your ass so you can think clearer

   You were in the zone, posing as music played in the studio. That was truly the only way you could even begin this shoot as the only things covering your upper body were fake butterflies, but as you got well into the shoot those nerves melted away and you were just vibing to the music. After a couple more shots, the photographer called you over to take a look at what they had gotten and while you were studying each shot you received a tap on the shoulder.

   "Papí!" You turn around and fling your arms around your boyfriend’s neck, his warm woodsy scent, a slightly sweet tinge at the end, swirling around your head. When you pull away, he hands you the robe that you left in the make-up area, aware of the qualm you had about being too exposed for long periods of time, and you graciously and quickly accept it before hanging your arms around his neck again while he brings you closer to him by your hips.

   “Te ves hermosa, cariño. That color is perfect on you.” You looked at him with a dopey gaze, poking out your lips to accept the kiss he was leaning in for.

   “Gracias, Papi.” You guys make your way toward the make up area, which in a large open area such as the studio this was taking place, is a small portion of the large room partitioned off, a clothing rack and a vanity in the vicinity. "What are you doing here?" You sit in the chair facing the vanity, your hand in the unwavering grasp of your boyfriend who walks around to stand in front of you.

   "What, I can't come see my girlfriend?" His eyes wandered around your intricate makeup, while he spoke and you could feel your face heat up and your heart begin to race as he placed you under his adoring gaze.

   "Well, I mean, it's just unexpected for you to be in L.A. when you're supposed to be in Singapore by tomorrow. Wouldn't this fuck up your sleep schedule?" You bring your other hand up to accompany the one already in Carlos' grasp, swinging his arm, eventually turning your attention to the group of hands.

   "Eh, maybe. Maybe not. I guess we will see." He shrugs and then uses his free hand to tilt your head up. "I couldn't pass on a chance to see mi cariño."

   "Oh." He removes his finger and your eyes go back to your guys' hands, to his dismay. But his ears perked when you voluntarily looked back up at him. "I am really happy to see you.”

   It was simple what you said, but it was how you said it that made the moment a sticky-sweet one. “I’m happy to see you too, amor.” He bent in to press a kiss to your lips and then examined your eyes. “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”

   “Oh, no. I’m fine. They provided food." You tilt your head to the table off to the side, and Carlos' eyes are assaulted with the sight of boring looking sandwiches and various fruits and vegetables. He knew you well enough to know that you would only eat what was over there if you had to. But he was there, so you didn't have to.

   "Are you sure you don't want me to get you something, mí corazon?" Corazon. The nickname that you loved and feared the most for the sheer fact it is a sign that you had to be vulnerable. If he called you by that, it meant that he could see through whatever front you were putting up and that you had no choice but to voice whatever was on your mind. A complaint, your feelings on something, an idea you have. He was there to listen, and you were trying to remember that.

   "Well, um, there is this taco place, I think it’s about a block away, they have these amazing carne asada fries with queso, guacamole, pico, sour cream…” Your stomach growls at your descriptive request, and you look up innocently at your boyfriend, who grinned at you like you were a precious jewel.

   “Got it. I think I saw it on my way here. Uh, what about coffee? You seem a little tired.” He reaches to your hair, a feather light touch barley even altering the already perfectly set hair.

   “No, I-uh…” You stop your refusal, feeling Carlos’ intense gaze on you, just waiting for you to lie so he could say something, so you conceded and told him the truth. "Yes, a coffee would be nice." You give him a worn grin and lean into the forehead kiss that he gently guides you into by the back of your head.

   "Okay, mí amor. Iced Macchiato, extra espresso shot, sweet cream cold foam…do you want extra caramel this time?" You look up and slowly nod at him, leaning in for one last peck on the lips. "Okay, I'll be back. You keep being sexy." 

   "I'll try." This was preceded with a girlish giggle, and you were reluctant to let go of his hand, holding on until his arm was extended to its fullest extent. "Love you." 

   Carlos stops in his tracks. Sure, this wasn't the first "love you" shared between you too, but he was sure this was the first time you've said it first. "I love you too, mí cariño." He backtracks to kiss you again, soft and slow, before you finally let him leave.

   He came back with the food and coffee about 30 minutes later and stayed for the entire rest of the shoot, his presence a comfort you didn't know you needed until he was there. He left for the race early the next morning, even though he knew he would be arriving halfway through the media day, it was worth being with you those extra few hours.

yn_music

Liked by nickiminaj and 425,017 others

yn_music Look who decided to visit 🦋😚

.

No Bars out now, y'all‼️ If you haven't listened, where tf y'all been at? 🤨😒😘

tagged carlossainz55

View all 473 comments

carlossainz55 Sexy as always 🥵 Pre-race weekend time well spent cariño ♥️😘

>landonorris Why do I feel like there is some deeper meaning behind this 🤨

>yn_music Don't look to deep into it, it's not for young eyes 👶🏼

>landonorris You're literally a year older than me???

saweetie Y'all don't fuck wit her 🤞🏿💖🤞🏿💖

>yn_music ♥️

>saweetie I've got a shoot next week, you think your man can come bring me some food?

>carlossainz55 She has told me that since you and are her friends I am obligated to. Just tell me when and where 🫡

user10 A lewk❗ Ate left no crumbs❗ Slay hunty to the boots down❗Serving cunt❗

>yn_music You just using them all, huh? 😭

>user10 I just love you so much 🥲

>yn_music ♥️

user11 So we're praising her being basically nude...got it ✔️

>user10 You just wish you looked that good basically nude 💁🏾‍♀️

comment liked by carlossainz55

carmenmmundt Can't wait to see you this weekend, lovely ☺️

>yn_music I say the moment I see you we flake on our boyfriends and go get some drinks

>carmenmmundt Deal 🤝

>user12 Hmmm? You two are besties and no one decided to tell us?? Surprises around each corner this season

   "Amor, can you grab the salad de la navera, por favor?" Reyes instructs as you two move around the kitchen to grab the finishing touches on the dinner that was happening out on the patio of the large Madrid home. It was only you two in the kitchen, as desired by Carlos' mom, while he, his sisters and various other family members stayed out on the patio while Carlos Sr. grilled.

   "Okay, here we are." You set the bowl on the counter and then turn to lean against it as you watch her put finishing touches on various other fragrant side dishes.

   "Gracias, amor." When she gets done turning off the burners of the stove and wiping her hands clean, she whirls around to look at you, a soft content grin on her face as she eyed you up and down, meeting your eyes when she's done. "You are such a lovely girl. And not just beautiful, pero tu aura, how comfortable you are with yourself and how it naturally makes other people more comfortable around you. That's a gift."

   "Thank you, Miss Reyes. You don't understand how nice that is to hear. With so many people talking about my relationship with Carlos, thinking they know what's going on…it's just nice to hear. Especially from you." Your heart fluttered at the compliment. You weren't one to be phased by online comments, but there was a small morsel of your mind that was worried the comments would influence those close to Carlos, convince them that you weren't good for him, but that has been far from the case. They all loved you, and that was an understatement. His mom and sisters would always steal you away from him the moment you guys walked through the door, and his father treated you like his own.

   "And Carlito, he-I have never seen him so in love with someone. When he calls me, two things he talks about, driving and you." You had to do something with your hands as you felt Reyes' adoring eyes focus hard on you, making you mildly nervous.

   “I’m sure my friends would say a similar thing about me. All I do is focus on my music and talk about Carlos.” You chuckle and bring your hand to your hair to shake it out and push some of it backwards. “I always feel like a lovesick teenager when I talk about him. I get giddy about the stupidest stuff.”

   “As you should, mi amor. He always talks about how proud he is of you. How you’ve allowed yourself to be vulnerable. How you've been learning to voice your needs. And, eh, this last one coming from my own hopes, but I hope he is showing you what a good relationship is supposed to be. Even if he is not your only one, I hope he is a good one.” She takes a step towards you and lays a soft hand on your cheek, and you naturally lean into the motherly touch, your lips twitching into a grin.

   “He’s been a great one. He’ll be a tough act to follow, if it comes to that of course.” You two share a quiet moment after that, like a mother watching her daughter fall blissfully in love and being comforted in the fact that she is being loved back two fold.

   “Bueno. Now, let’s talk about that new song of yours while we bring the rest of this food out.” She nods her head at the salad bowl and plate of rosquillas sitting on the island behind you and turns around to grab the dishes behind her and leads the way to the patio where the rest of the family was.

   “Oh, that. I-” You follow quickly behind her, preparing an answer to explain the content of the song but the answer you get before you’re able to finish is one that you should’ve expected.

   “I love it. It’s on my workout playlist.” She turns to the side to walk through the door to ensure that nothing hits the door frame, watching her step as she does so, and you follow her lead, dumbfounded by her confession. “You never need to worry about your music with me amor. I love everything you make because it’s you. You need to take some advice from your own song. Aye,¿cuál era la línea? Ah, ‘I’m that bitch, give a fuck who don’t like me.’” Reyes’ recitation of the lyric invites a playful, riot-like response, a jumble of "Mamí!" and "Tía!" erupting from the group on the patio.

   "Thank you, Miss Reyes. I'm very happy you enjoy the song." You say this through intermittent chuckles as you walk over to the other side of the table, to where you're greeted by your boyfriend trying to take the bowl of salad and plate of dessert from you because he never lets you do any labor if you don't have to, while a similar gesture unknowingly happened in the same moment with his mom and dad. The difference in the moment is, that while Reyes allowed the gesture to happen, used to Carlos Sr.’s impromptu help, you kept the serving dishes in your grasp, telling Carlos that you had it and giving him a short kiss on the way by.

   You two had an audience for that entire interaction, you walking by, Carlos' eyes watching you the entire, and the bright, eye crinkling smile he gave you once you turned to him after placing the dishes down, bringing you into his arms and giving you a deep kiss. He then plops into the chair he was previously sat in, bringing you down onto his lap, eliciting a giggle from you in the process. "So, what did you and my mom talk about in there?"

   "Oh you know, the usual. Food, music…how you're absolutely obsessed with me and can't live without me." You calmly comb your fingers through his hair as you spoke, slowly getting more focused on actually fixing the tousled look of his hair, until his right index finger tilts your head down slightly so you were looking in his eyes.

   "Todo es verdad, mí cariño." You lean down to receive the kiss his partially puckered lips offered, the only thing your brain could register doing is allowing your eyes to travel the hills of his face and lean your head into the light touch his fingers gave the back of your ear following his gentle modification of how your hair fell in front of your face. "Oh!" His sudden exclamation made you flinch slightly and perk you head toward him, eyes widened in surprise, silently waiting for him to continue. "Move your stuff into my room tonight, please. I do not know why you slept in a different room last night, anyway." His index finger continued to lightly scratch at the back of your ear.

   "Oh, yeah. I was so tired last night after traveling, and it was, like, instinct to go to another room at your parents house because that's what I did the last time we came here. But, um, I will. I did miss you last night." 

   "I missed you too. You have no idea how much I missed you." His eyes traipse around your body suggestively, before silently coaxing your eyes to his. Your head follows the guide of Carlos' hand to meet his lips in a couple of light, languid kisses, that is until you hear a low grunt and turn around to see his cousin playfully rolling his eyes at the precious interaction.

   "Consigue una habitación." This was whispered under Oñoro's breath, and a cheesy smile plastered its way onto his face when Carlos' hand briefly leaves your hip to swat at his cousin, a flurry of giggles coming from all parties.

   "Sólo estás celoso." His arm wraps back around your waist and hand gravitates back to your hip, clasping his other hand that has now settled in the same location, hugging your body closer to him.

   "No, he's just mad that I beat him at Padel last time we were here and I could probably beat his ass again." Carlos brings his head adding a curiously raised eyebrow to his amused visage. "He still doesn't understand how I did it with the long nails." You click your, now moderate length (moderate compared to the usual length you get), nails as a subconscious supplement to your coy answer, a complete contrast to the response that comes from the man seated next to you two.

   "You shouldn't have even been able to hold the racquet with those things." Though loud, the tone of his answer was more comical, a chuckle laced throughout his words.

   "Aye, don't be a sore loser." They childishly swat at each other for a couple of seconds before Carlos' attention abruptly moves back to you. "You move to my room tonight, bueno?"

   "Bueno, papí." You press a gentle kiss to his nose and then a few slow exaggerated ones to his lips. Nothing too deep, not in the company of family, only lips were involved, but there was a conscious effort on your part to put most of your attention on his bottom lip, sucking and kissing it.

   Soon it was time to eat and you had to move to your own chair, much to Carlos' dismay.

________

   Three slow knocks to his bedroom door made Carlos rise from his bed and slowly stalk over and swing it open, slowly pulling your tiresome frame into his arms.

   "You moved my stuff already." You mumble into his chest, the scent wafting from him swirling around you, making you realize exactly how much you missed him last night. How perfect he would have been to cuddle up next to, be wrapped in his warm embrace…

   "Cariño? You there?" He makes a knocking noise while pretending to knock your head to grab your attention. You didn't realize how tired you were.

   "Yeah, yeah. I, um…" Your response acted as go-ahead for Carlos to press slow kisses up your neck and behind your ear, a location that he would pepper with his lips when he wanted to mess with you, make you mewl quietly and immerse yourself fully in the sensation. He loved it, watching your face show a level of eros that would rarely reveal itself. He always wanted more, wanted to move further down your body, explore areas that are always tortuously covered in clothes, but he was adamant in not doing so until you were absolutely sure. Until you yourself initiated something.

   "You must be so tired, amor. Can't think straight." He pushes his hands beneath the baggy long sleeve you wore, fingernails grazing the skin of your back, one hand leaving its post for a fleeting moment to push closed the bedroom door, your lips held captive by his.

   "Mmm…no. No. I, uh, I just gotta go do something real quick. I'll be back." It took a moment for you to escape Carlos' hold, you practically wearing him like a backpack until you disappeared behind the bathroom door. He slowly saunters over to the bed, stopping momentarily when he hears you screech out "You even organized my stuff in the bathroom!" 

   After about 15 minutes, you emerged from the bathroom and laggardly made your way toward the bed, where Carlos was engrossed with something on his phone. That is, until he could see you approaching him in his peripheral, making him intuitively set the device down and accept you crawling into bed with him. He noted your change in attire, tight shorts and a baggy shirt, a change from the long sleeve and sweatpants you had on moments before. He also noted your hesitancy in climbing onto the bed, as if you played out an entire scenario while standing at the side before just climbing in and laying to the left of him, turning to your side to wrap your arms around his left arm and to drape a leg over his hip.

   Originally, you both just layed there, intertwined, Carlos ready to go to sleep with you finally there beside him, but that when he felt soft, timid kisses being placed up his neck. He couldn't help but smile endearingly at your attempt to set a mood, working diligently to hold in a chuckle with each unsure kiss you pressed with your pillowy soft lips. It was similar to a doe taking a chance to walk up to you, one wrong move and they'll retreat for good. "Hey, hold on." He says this quietly, and he could tell from your still hooded eyes that you were only stopping to follow whatever brief instruction he had for you, but instead of instruction, he just shifts his body up the bed so he was sitting up against the headboard, taking you with him and ultimately pulling you over his body so you were sitting on his lap eye level with him. The abrupt change in position is what broke your trance and caused you to stare at him in the eyes, unsure of what to do next. "Just keep doing what you were before, cariño." You stare at him for a second longer, just until he gives you the slightest of nods, in which you reluctantly go back to placing gentle kisses along his jaw. "Get closer, amor. Why are you so far away?" He presses his hands to your lower back to bring your lower body up his legs, your core dangerously close to the bulge growing in his shorts.

   There's a quiet hum from you that follows the adjustment. It basically had the same purpose as a warning alarm when starting up machinery, because after that soft hum came the unskilled movement of your hips over his, movement that surprised Carlos and cause him to bring his hands to your hips on instinct, immediately pressing you down onto his crotch and helping you with the movement. You pull away from your previous occupation of your lips to his jaw to allow your brain to comprehend the, not quite new, but definitely enhanced sensation, eyes failing to meet his and instead settling on his lips. He didn't allow that though, as one of his hands came up to grip your chin and manually place your eyes on his. "Mírame, mi cariño. I want to see how good I make you feel."

   Boy did he get his wish. You did as told and held the eye contact, mouth falling open as you continued to rut your hips into his. This is all the stimulation you ever tried to get from Carlos, so he wasn't surprised to see you pupils already blow out in lust, but it was the knotting of your eyebrows that hinted that this time was different. That you wanted more and just didn't know how to ask, but Carlos was patient. But he also knew he would have to force it out of you, eventually. And so his grip on your hips got firmer and you could feel that your body had been pressed further down onto your boyfriend, creating delicious friction that was working to bring you to that high you so desperately craved. You bit down on the inside of your lip and began to move your hips faster, but the even further furrowed eyebrows caused him to put the hand breaks on your hips. You whimper in protest, only wanting to make yourself feel good as you've had time and time again, but your eyes are met with wide ones trying to asses your thoughts, trying to make you answer an unasked question. When no answer comes he is forced to verbalize it.

   "Do you want more, mi cariño? You've got to use your words." You nod, voice trapped in your throat from your earlier shyness, but you somehow manage to rasp out the words you needed to.

   "I need you, Papí." You buried your head into his neck as you said this, starting your hips up again but you're quickly stopped again and Carlos' fingers lace through your hair, gently tugging back, knowing the delicate handling needed by the style, so you were looking him in his eyes again.

   "Eyes on me, cariño." You nod at the instruction and he releases his grip on your hair letting his hand fall to your cheek. "We'll go slow, okay?" Another nod from your lustful but slightly concerned face has Carlos guiding you into a kiss. Starting off simple, like your first kiss in the park in Monaco, lips pressing gently together. You feel Carlos actively work his lips between yours and you knew to open your mouth slightly, and follow along with the movement of his tongue. Your arms move from being wrapped around his neck to his chest, your fingers just now realizing he was shirtless and causing a stifled moan that came out more like a short, pained exhale. It was like the new level of salaciousness you were experiencing caused you to slip in and out of consciousness because it wasn't until your shirt was halfway up your raised arms that you realized Carlos was removing your shirt, exposing the red lace trimmed bra you were wearing. "Eres tan hermosa, mí cariño." He tore his eyes away from your breast to look you in your eyes, eyelids relaxed and mouth slightly agape, showing your teeth a bit when you smile at the compliment.

   "Gracias, papí. It's all yours." It was Carlos' turn to break eye contact now, bring his hands to run over your breasts, his first real look at them, and boy was it a treat. This moment was fleeting, eyes returning to yours and lips crashing back into each other, going back to the sloppy work they were doing before. You pressed your body as close to his as you possibly could, hands combing their way through Carlos' thick, dark locks until you just couldn't hold off anymore. You lift your body from his laps and begin to pull at his athletic shorts, eyes focused on the obvious bulge that you were craving to see the source of. 

   "Wait a moment, cariño." He holds your wrists in a firm grip and silently urges you to look at him, and when you do he gives you a domestic grin. One that you reciprocate before giving him a simple kiss, going back to basics. You sit back and wait, mind finally coming back to the situation at hand, how exposed you both were, what all of it was leading to. Your instincts told you to pull away from the hands that were now wrapped around your torso to undo your bra, but your brain quickly overrode that thought, reminding you that this is the man you love who loves you twice as much and you have been wanting this for a while now. So you let it happen. Let your bra be flung off to the side and kisses be pressed into the valley between. Let his kiss swollen lips mark a slick path to your nipple, your head tipping to the side when he takes it in his mouth. Let innocent mewls drip from your mouth at the new sensation and feel your core get warm and slick in anticipation.

   When Carlos had his fill of your chest for the time being, he pulled back again to look in your eyes but you could feel his hands venturing down to your shorts but not yet inside. He flicked his eyes down to his hand and then back to your face. "Is this okay?" You nod and brace yourself for the sensation, having never been touched in such a way, but when it didn't come, you put your attention back in Carlos' face, stern with an inquisitive eyebrow up. "You need to use your words, amor."

   "Oh, uh, yeah. Th-that's fine." You look back down at Carlos' hand that remains still until a sudden grip on your cheeks from Carlos' other hand brings you gaze back to his, only then did his statuesque appendage dip into your shorts and lightly graze your clit, your body jolting at the feeling.

   "Mírame, mi corazon. Don't look away, please. I want to see what faces you make. Faces that only I have had the opportunity to get from you, mí inocente cariño." Carlos coos before moving his hand again, rubbing a full circle on your clit this time. You let out a lewd whine and squirm your hips, feeling yourself clench around non-existent stimulation. "You want a finger, amor? Does my pretty girl want to feel Papí's fingers inside of her?" Carlos drug his middle finger along your entrance, surprised at how wet you were already, eager to know what sounds and faces you would make being fucked by his fingers, but he waited for your verbal response.

   "Mmm, yes, please." You spoke with a needy whine and bucked your hips against his hand, getting sticky juices up to his wrist. He flashes an maniacal smile and pulls your face to his for a messy kiss you were very much not ready for, finding your impatience darling. He then had to stifle a cruel chuckle when you let out a shocked and slightly uncomfortable whimper when he finally does stick a finger inside of you. He removes it and goes back to rubbing your clit for a moment, giving you light kisses along your jaw.

   "You okay?" There was the slightest remanence of that chuckle in his voice, but not enough for you to notice or care because you just go on to answer his question so he is able to continue.

   "Your fingers are much thicker than mine." You whimper, your pouted lips the perfect target for Carlos' as he presses his finger back inside of you, dragging along your soft walls and his palm pressing against your clit as he moves his finger.

   "You've been using your fingers?" He wondered if you realized what you admitted to when he inquired this, but the answer was obviously no when you go on to mindlessly answer his question.

   "Mhmm. Did last night." You nod, face still being held by the large hand of your boyfriend, eyes still forced to look into his as they being to display a touch of overwhelm.

   "Were you wishing they were mine?" Carlos' finger held a slow steady pace, a second one coming to join the first, adding to the already full sensation. The spongy texture of your g-spot acted as a target that he put more focus into hitting, which caused you to move your hands to grip his wrist.

   "N-no, I-not your fingers. You…" You didn't want to be looking at him when you hinted to imagining him fucking you with wild abandon, but your face was still in his grasp, eyes having only the options to look him in the eyes or the mocking smile on his lips. 

   "You were wishing I was there to fuck you! Oh, cariño, that's cute. How about I help that wish come true, hmm?" He slips his fingers from you and removes his hand from your shorts, his index and ring finger glistening obscenely with your juices and your mind has to reboot after watching him suck said juices off said fingers. He finally removes his other hand from your face and reaches over to his night stand to reach into the drawer to grab a condom, the shiny wrapped object being held briefly between his lips so he could close the drawer again. As he went to pull down his shorts, he stopped to take a look at you vacuously watching his movements. "Here. You take them off." He takes your wrists in his hands and brings your hands to his waistband.

   "Oh, okay." You accept the task with a high-pitched whisper and lightly grasp the waistband of his shorts and underwear, taking a deep breath and then slowly pulling down. You watched as the bulge at his crotch was revealed, his dick springing out, slowly falling onto his stomach, the tip glossy from precum. The crinkle and tearing open of the condom brings your eyes back to Carlos', noticing that they seemed darker and his pupils were obviously blown out.

   "You know how to do this?" He hands you the condom when you begin to nod slowly, watching as your warily remove the object from its wrapping and place it on his tip, shaky hands having trouble starting to roll it over him. He brings one of his hands to wrap around yours, guiding your fingers in rolling the edge of the condom around his tip and then moving that hand to your hair when you're able to finish the task yourself, trying his best not to thrust up into your hand, which looks absolutely adorable wrapped around his dick. You make this a bit harder for him, intrusive thoughts taking over and making you start to stroke him over the condom, hand moving easily due to the lube that came on the object. Carlos had to stop you before it went too far, taking your hand and using it to guide you in flipping your positions, you now laying on your back with Carlos between your legs. He hooks his fingers to the waistband of your shorts and pulls them off with your underwear, a string of slick going with them for a second before he flings them off in the direction that your bra went earlier. Finally there you two were. Naked. Exposed. Ready to engage in the most intimate moment of your relationship to date. But Carlos had to have some fun with it. "If only all those people saw you now. Mi pequeña inocente, fucking herself with her fingers, wishing it was my dick. Maybe they'd shut up about you being dominant. You being the one 'wearing the pants'. But I'll let them believe that. As long as I get this. You waiting for me to fuck you stupid." 

   "Papí, please…" You whine out, reaching up to grip what you could of his hair so you could bring him down for a desperate kiss, pulling away to look at him with wide doe eyes. He takes the obvious cue and lines himself up with your core, eyeing you up and down before leaning over you, placing a hand by your head and using the other hand to toss one of your legs over his waist.

   "Okay, okay amor. I'll take it slow. Just know that it'll feel…different." You nod and look down at the gap between you two, waiting for your hips to connect and for the pressure and possible pain to follow. Instead came the gentle tip of your chin upward so you were looking at Carlos. "Mírame, okay?" You nod, now slightly nervous, but another short kiss, this time given to you by Carlos before he checks again to make sure he was lined up with your entrance then pushed in, slow as humanly possible. He paused when you let out a wail that you tried and failed at stifling.

   "Oh, oh. I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" Your incessant apologies are quelled by gentle kisses that trail to your lips, and a thumb coming up to your cheek to wipe a tear that you didn't know was there.

   "Shh, shh cariño. It's okay. We're on the complete other side of the house. You can be as loud as you need." You nod and wipe some more tears that you were now aware of. "Are you okay? Do you want to stop?"

   "No. No. I just need a moment…" You take a few breaths and try to adjust your body, trying to familiarize yourself with the pressure, trying to distract yourself from the initial feeling of being split in half that caused such a vocal reaction. He definitely felt thicker than he looked, and the visual you did get of his dick beforehand was nothing to sneeze at. But after a few more deep breaths and adjustments, you felt it was okay for him to push again, stopping intermittently when you indicated a need to stop until he bottoms out fully.

   "Everything okay?" Carlos does his best at gauging where you were at, eyes flicking over your face rapidly, searching for any sign of extreme discomfort. Instead, a soft grin appears and one of your hands reaches for his face, a gesture to which he responds to by leaning down and placing two slow, tongue involved kisses.

   "I love you, Papí. So much." There's a unique amount of emphasis that these words flowing from your mouth put on your lips, still swollen and parted as you gave him the "OK" to move. So, his hips hitch back, and as his dick drags deliciously against your walls as he pulls out, it's surface area touching every sensitive spot inside of you on the way out, and then they press forward again, dragging along the same spots, pressure between your hips reapplied but felt to a lesser extent, a gentle press all the way to your cervix, all for him to retract and do it all again. Your head tips down again, watching the agonizingly slow movement of Carlos' hips, watching him disappear and reappear from you, wondering how this was at all possible and how it felt so fucking good. Carlos allowed it this time. He was enjoying watching you, your face, confused and overwhelmed, because fuck, did you looked adorable on his dick. 

   Your arms autonomously drape over his shoulders, inadvertently bringing him down so that your foreheads were pressed together, nails just gently grazing his skin for the moment. "You're taking me so well, cariño. I could fuck you forever." Carlos was becoming more unhinged, hips starting to move ever so slightly faster, even with the tight grip your pussy had on his cock. His mind was traveling elsewhere. He loved you. He loved everything about you. This was no secret to anyone. But there was also a part of him that loved the challenge you presented. Your innocence and inexperience. Your reputation in the world that held no merit. Yeah, you were badass and didn't give a fuck about what people thought, but you weren't the unprofessional, hypersexual person people thought you were. And to be honest, he was glad that he was the only one who knew this you. The you currently bemused by the sights and feelings of having sex for the first time. "Mírame, amor, and tell me something…"

   "Mhmm?" His hand was gripping your face again, guiding your gaze and starving you of the hypnotic sight of his hips crashing into yours, dick plunging in and out, the shine on the condom from your juices increasing. But instead you were subjected only to the site of dark amorous eyes peering down at you.

   "Did you cum when you used your little fingers?" As he asked his question, he moved himself closer to you, changing the angle of your hips, lifting them up slightly which allowed his dick to push deeper. 

   "I-i don't know. I don't t-think so. I stopped when I got too sensitive." You pouted, remembering the intense feeling that you unwillingly had to ride out.

   "Aw, mi pobre pequeño. Let me try. You are going to have to relax, though." In that moment, Carlos seems to change the motion of his hips, rolling them more, causing his pubic bone ever so lightly graze your clit with each thrust. You attempt to protest, worried about what would come with the unknown experience, but a strangled whine instead erupts from your chest in response to Carlos' calloused fingers starting to rub circles on your clit, using your juices as lubricant to make the action more fluid.

   So, with one of Carlos' hand making its rounds on your clit and the other forcing you to look into his eyes as you make each ridiculous pleasure filled face, enjoying a bit too much the extreme reaction he has been able to elicit from you, your legs were left to wrap around his hips unattended. While it would have made sense for them to fall from his waist, they seem to actually tighten as you begin to near your climax. "Mmm…Papí…I ca-, I don't- I-" You weren't unfamiliar with what you were feeling, senses heightened, sensitivity in every nerve ending in your pussy amplified by a thousand. It was whatever came afterward that concerned you.

   "Let go, cariño. It's okay. I'm here. It'll make you feel so good." So you listen to the instructions cooed down at you and let yourself fall over that pleasure threshold, allow all nerve endings reach a peak sensitivity, your body to stiffen and your back to arch. The walls of your pussy fluttered around Carlos' dick as he continued to hitch his hips into you.

   "Carlos…" A whiny sob bubbles from your chest as he continues to thrust, unintentionally overstimulating you as he was too focused on how adorable you were all whiney and tired, pussy still spasming, squeezing him and producing more of it's own lubrication making the obscene sounds of him fucking you senseless louder with each thrust until he finally finishes in the condom, whispering about how in love with you he was in an intoxicating mixture of English and Spanish. Once you both came down from your highs and cleaned yourselves up to the best of your tired ability, you two fell asleep immediately, only to wake up close to noon the next day and, once you both were presentable, make your way to the kitchen greeted by the knowing look of his mom.

yn_music

Liked by theestallion and 428,748 others

yn_music ✨Do not Disturb✨

tagged carlossainz55

View all 463 comments

latto777 An icon 🌟🌟🛥️

carlossainz55 I thought we agreed the bikini photos was for me only, amor?

>yn_music Lo siento, Papí. But I looked too cute not to share ☺️😘

>carlossainz55 Fine. We have more that's just for us anyway ♥️

user13 I see so many people commenting about how they seem so happy together but does anyone else notice that they are only together on expensive looking getaways

>yn_music We were actually in Madrid to see his family, but thank you for showing such concern for my boyfriend 😚

user14 I need you two to stay together forever for my sanity, okay?

>carlossainz55 We will try 😁

>user14 Thank you 🧎🏻‍♀️

carlossainz55

Liked by landonorris and 401,803 others

carlossainz55 Mí cariño hermosa 😍

tagged yn_music

View all 539 comments

yn_music 🥰😚🥰😚🥰

>yn_music Even though you're determined to make me look like the most chaotic person on the planet

>carlossainz55 It's because I like these pictures of you (and the people deserve to know the truth 😶‍🌫️)

>carlossainz55 And not all the good pictures of you I have are appropriate 😘

landonorris Hi Mom! 👋🏻

>yn_music Boy if you don't stop calling me Mom 😤

>yn_music Jk hey baby! 👋🏿😘

user15 AHHHH! THE HEADSHOTS! THATS SO FREAKING ADORABLE

>carlossainz55 I think you'll be even happier to know that she got those taken just to give to me as a birthday present

>user15 I am 🥲

user16 It took some work and emotional damage, but I'm glad to see that Carlos and Yn are unapologetically in love 💕

[stars1997]

left alone

Paring(s): Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader (Trevor Zegras's sister) Warnings: NSFW!!! Smut, making out, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (F receiving), getting caught, swearing, very vocal jack, desperate jack, Use of y/n, nicknames (baby, good girl), not edited.(let me know if i missed any) Summary: y/n gets invited to the Hughes's lake house this summer with her brother. She and Jack end up having the house to themselves. Jack then finds out that she has had a crush on him.

word count: 1.9k

________________________________________________

All the boys were supposed to be out getting food for this big barbeque they wanted to have tonight. I was lying in bed, trying to find something to watch on Netflix, just happy to have the house to myself even if it’s only for a short time.

This summer has been crazy. The lake house has been filled with a bunch of rowdy hockey players, and being the only girl in the house, it can sometimes get overwhelming.

After what felt like ages of trying to figure out the TV and then pick something to watch, I finally decided to watch Mamma Mia.

This was my first time coming to the lake house. Normally, it’s just Trevor who gets invited.

Ellen thought it was a good idea for the boys to invite me. I have been cooped up in my dorm room all school year, so I needed a good vacation.

I also think she told them to invite me because she knew that you have had a crush on Jack for a while now.

As I was pulling the comforter over my legs there was a knock at the door. But before I could answer, they just let themselves in.

Jack walks into the room and tosses himself onto the bed. “Hey.” He says his voice monotone as he puts his hands under his head before his head hits the pillow, his eyes focused on the TV mounted on the wall in front of the bed.

He gives the TV a weird look and reaches for the TV remote. He was already changing the channel before I could even register what was going on. Jack and I have never really hung out alone. So, him choosing to hang out with me caught me off guard.

“Hey, I was watching that!” I say, reaching over to try and take it out of his hand.

“Mama Mia sucks. I’m putting on Jaws,”  he says, still no emotion in his voice as he speaks.

“Don’t you have a TV in your room? Why did you have to come into mine to watch it?” he scoffs at me like I’m supposed to know why he’s in my room.

“Jaws is scary. I was also lonely because the guys left without me to go get the food,” he says, turning the volume up on the TV. I let out a huff and rested my back against the headboard.

Jack made himself comfortable as I picked up my phone to text my friend about what was happening.

y/n:

Jack is in my room right now. He just walked in and changed the movie that I was watching. I don’t know why he couldn’t just watch it in his room. He told me that he was lonely.

y/f/n:

Omg! He totally likes you! You should tell him that you like him.

y/n:

No, I'm not doing that. Are you crazy? He’s just going to laugh in my face and then it’s just going to be awkward between us.

y/f/n:

I mean why else would he be in your room right now if he didn’t like you? I say go for it! I love you and all but I'm tired of hearing you talk about how hot he looks when he has just woken up and that you wish he would just rip your clothes off you.

y/n:

Whoa! I have never said that!

y/f/n:

You didn’t have to I always know what you are thinking about. That’s why we’re best friends. Now go and get your man.

You know that nothing could ever happen between you two. Trevor would not be happy to find out that his best friend is getting with his sister.

I place my phone down and get up to go grab a snack. When I come back to the room I see Jack looking through my phone.

“Why the hell are you going through my phone? How the fuck did you even get into my phone? It was locked when I left.” Putting the bowl of popcorn down, I run over to where he’s now sitting on the side of the bed and snatch my phone out of his hands.

“It kept dinging, and I see you type in your code all the time,” he said a smirk now on his face. “So… you have a crush on me?” The smirk never left his face.

“No. What would make you think that,” I say trying to play it off. Trying to act like he wasn’t just looking through your messages with your friend. “Well, first you’re a horrible liar. Second, you are texting your friend about how you think I'm so hot when I have just woken up and that you wish I would rip the clothes off you.” I’m now painfully aware of how close we are to each other. I’m standing so my legs are in between his.

“Now what if I told you that I have liked you for years? And it’s been hell not being able to tell you.” He looks up at me as I cross my arms at what he’s saying. “You're just messing with me because you now know that I like you. So, qui-” He cuts me off by standing up and kissing me.

“Is this ok?” His voice is almost a whisper, almost too quiet for me to hear over the movie that’s still playing. like he was scared to ask.

I shake my head yes. His lips find mine again. The kiss is hard and fast like he was scared I might pull away. “I have been wanting to kiss you for so long,” He says, bringing one of his hands up to cup the back of my neck. His other hand finds its way to my lower back, right above my ass, as he kisses me again.

His hands now travel to the back of my thighs picking me up and wrapping my legs around his waist. He sits back down on the edge of the bed. My hips rocking against him, trying to relieve the tension that has grown between my thighs.

He lets out a grunt, moving both his hands up to my waist so he can help me grind against him. “Fuck. If you keep going, I'm going to cum soon,” he says, still grinding me against the bulge in his pants. “Jack. Please, I need you,” I say, my voice all breathy and whiny.

That’s all he needs to hear before he picks me up and tosses me on the bed. I pull my shirt over my head throwing it to the side. He climbs over me, taking the waistband of my sleep shorts in his hands, and pulling them off me. I’m now in nothing but my underwear. His eyes rake over my body before he kisses me again.

His lips travel down my body to right above my underwear. He hooks his finger in my underwear and pulls it down, placing a few kisses on my thighs as the cold air hits my wet folds.

“Fuck, you're beautiful. If I had known that you liked me as well, I would have asked you out a long time ago,” he says before he hooks his arms around my legs, his hands holding me down at my hips. Kissing me one last time on my thigh before he licked up my folds, sucking my clit into his mouth.

I let out a gasp that turned into a loud moan. His tongue flicks over my clit as he sucks. I try to buck my hips up, his hands keep me in place. His beard scruff rubbing my thighs, creating a burning feeling, and adding to the pleasure. My hands make their way to his hair, tugging hard. He lets out a few grunts as he switches from sucking my clit to lapping at my entrance, making me moan.

“Jack! Fuck, I'm getting close. Don’t stop!” My hands still tugging at his hair. His hands grip my thighs as he pulls me closer to his face. Letting out more grunts he moves back to sucking and licking at my clit.

A loud moan leaves my mouth and my back arches off the bed. “Jack! Oh god. Yes. I’m-.” My sentence gets cut off with another loud moan as my orgasm hits me hard.

“Fuck y/n. you taste so fucking good," he says, kissing his way back up my body, stopping to suck on my nipples.

When his lips make it to mine, I can taste myself on his lips. He pulled away to take his shirt off, now only in his gray sweatpants. A wet spot where the tip of his cock sits pressing against the fabric.

“Lay down I want to ride you,” I say making my way to straddle him.

I reach my hands out and touch his chest. Running them down so they rest on the waistband of his sweats. Only pulling them down enough to pull his cock out.

My thumb slides over the tip and he lets out a hiss. “Come on baby don’t tease me.” His lips form into a little pout.

I adjust myself so I’m now hovering over his cock. I run his tip through my folds, and he lets out little whines. I slowly slide him in, and he tries his best to hold back a moan. “Fuck! Baby, you're so tight. You feel so good around me. Move baby. Need to you move please.” His voice is desperate.

His hips bucking up into me. I start bouncing, and my head tips back from the pleasure. I feel his hand slide from my hips up to my breasts. I let out a loud moan as he rolled my nipples between his fingers.

“Shit. You're doing good. Such a good girl for me.” He thrust to meet my movements. “Jacky! Yes!” My nails run down his chest. With every thrust, he lets out a little whine and mumbles curse words under his breath.

We were too focused on each other to hear the front door close downstairs or the footsteps up the stairs.

“y/n! Jack! Come help us bring in the food,” Quinn yells as he makes his way up the stairs. Shocked expressions make their way onto our faces as we scramble to move away from each other. I grab the closest thing to cover me, it so happens to be Jack's shirt pulling it over me. Jack pulls up his sweatpants and I'm sliding on my underwear right when the door opens.

“y/n have you seen-” Quinn’s mouth drops open and looks between the two of us. Then he lets out a laugh. “Oh boy. Trevor is not going to be happy about this,” Quinn laughs. “Trevor! You owe me twenty dollars!” Quinn rushes out of the room and back down the stairs. I look at Jack wondering if he knew what Quinn was talking about. He looks at me just as confused. We make our way down the stairs following Quinn into the kitchen.

“You owe me twenty dollars,” Quinn says with a big smile on his face. “No! I told you I was not making a bet on when your brother and my sister were going to hook up. That’s gross bro. Jack, I’ll beat your ass later but right now we have a barbeque to host!” Trevor makes his way back outside. Me and jack just look at each other in shock.

“you guys knew?” I ask, now very confused. “Yeah! Your crush on him was so obvious to everyone, well except to him,” Trevor yelled into the house. Everyone let out a small laugh as they went out to help Trevor outside.

[miinatozakiii]

slow dancing

myoui mina x fem!reader

summary: the papers on your desk start to pile up, you want to fight your boss—though time passes and maybe she's not the worst.

wc: 7.1k

warnings: fluff ; mentions of food and alcohol ; not proofread

little side story/continuation: “after hours”

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ : slow dancing by v

a/n: not proofread at allllll sorry for mistakes :-(, feeling sleepy.

i love mina i wanna wife her up so bad

-

you're stuck at your stupid desk in this stupidly freezing room because myoui is too stubborn to up the temperature; you're almost shivering.

"it's only finance and accounting, and you'll get paid well." your old boss had said.

"you're probably just going to deal with numbers, shareholders, and other business-related stuff—that's why i recommended you, y/n—it should be a breeze!" your old boss added, making sure to pat your shoulder for comfort (it was anything but comforting, if anything, you felt uneasy).

you were set to work as the assistant of the cfo and coo a couple of months ago; screw your impeccable math proficiency, you think. you didn't want to transfer, you were perfectly fine with where you were and you were really not looking forward to working in such a high rank, you miss your old building and your former coworkers.

the more you sit at your desk, you seem to think you're getting more delusional by the second, it's almost as if you can hear your old coworkers bickering and nudging you.

"y/n~ boss has been eyeing you lately, someone's getting a raise~"

"y/n, y/n, you got a girlfriend yet? c'mon, you're so dull."

"gosh y/n, did you get shorter? man, you also look beat."

you miss san and mingi's stupid presence, even if you wanted to punch them every second you had to be around them.

another groan escapes your lips as you stare at the numbers: they seem to scramble the more you look at them. this is your tenth paper of the day, and you have five more to analyze, you're sick of all of this already.

anyone would want to be working at jyp co, it's one of the biggest companies in the city, and a significant amount of your tech friends, even your old coworkers had dreamt of being able to work in the central building. you'd be much more ecstatic if you actually had friends that worked in the same building. to your dismay, you're stuck with the paperwork that mina has been giving you and stuck with her annoying, stubborn self.

"could you turn up the temperature? it's freezing." you try,

"deal with it, focus on finishing those papers."

"mina you're unbelievable-"

"stop slacking, y/n." and she eyes you, "i'll have you fired."

"you wouldn't," you scoff, "otherwise you'd have to deal with these fucking papers yourself."

"i'm in charge of your paycheck, you do know that?" she quirks a brow, boring into your eyes with her own.

you huff and pick your pen back up, looking down at the papers in front of you.

papers, papers, papers, that's all it is every day. hunched over your desk, shivering the majority of the day (but that's technically on you because you're too stubborn to give in and bring a jacket). mina made your work life difficult, almost insufferable. she was demanding, bossy, snobby, and she just pissed you off.

ever since you started working with her, you've received a significantly larger paycheck and much more employee benefits. furthermore, she was actually good at her job, and you were good at yours too — meaning the meetings you had attended with your reports have all been successful, meaning better profit, better business blah blah blah. sometimes you really considered quitting, even if that meant sacrificing that beautiful paycheck and discounted coffee from the amazing cafe in the building; it's all because of one person, your stupid boss.

you couldn't ever quit. you wouldn't ever admit it but the feeling of being approved and praised after said meetings drove you to keep the numbers up, it made you feel so accomplished and the only thing your old job could give you was two stupidly talkative idiots. this wasn't too bad.

but even with that, mina is going to be the death of you.

-

"how's the new job so far? heard the paycheck up there is pretty good." san nudges.

you roll your eyes and take a sip from the can of beer on the table, "if you're trying to get me to pay for our drinks, it won't work."

"hey! i'm not that heartless." san pouts, and you scoff at him playfully. "anyway, how is your job?"

you let out a big huff and lean back against the chair, "it's something."

"seems like they're working you dry." mingi comments, chuckling at your state.

you had agreed to get drinks with your old coworkers, it was a friday after all and you really needed to let loose a little. you sit next to san, the one who had started your mornings off with rolled eyes and groans when you worked at the old office. beside san sits wooyoung, your college roommate that you were placed with accidentally, but it didn't matter because it ended up in a close bond and friendship between the two of you. your other pretentious ex-coworker mingi sits across from you and beside him is seonghwa, who you aren't as close with, though he's just like the rest so it's never awkward. you think he's pretty cool.

wooyoung smirks, "so, i've heard that the myoui girl is pretty high up there, is she your boss?"

you groan, you don't want to think of her right now. your hand reaches for a shot that mingi had poured earlier and you shoot your head back.

"seems like work is rough." seonghwa comments, looking at you while you lean against san again. seonghwa is right, i mean, you probably look like a mess just coming out of work. your shirt is unbottoned slightly and your hair is a bit messy, you're pretty sure the others can tell how bad your posture has gotten too.

"you know, i've seen a picture of that myoui girl, she's really good looking y/n~ seems like your type." wooyoung teases. you groan again.

"don't even mention her, please." you sigh, "she's working me to death, and she's so fucking annoying. as much as i hate you guys i'd rather be stuck surrounded by you than have to deal with her."

"i see this as an enemies-to-lovers type story." wooyoung snickers, and you glare at him menacingly.

"you're like a little girl," you scoff. the guys just laugh at you.

there's no way you'd ever grow fond of myoui, there is no fucking way you would even fall for her for that matter.

-

"finish this, needs to be done by tomorrow." mina says just before it hits five, just before you get to leave your shared office space.

she actually wants you dead.

you know better than to argue with her, you have to fight the urge to do so as anger starts to spread throughout your body, and the soreness in your shoulders gets worse.

"okay," you say in defeat.

for a split second mina almost looks at you with pity, with some regret at the sight of your lifeless expression—only for a split second—yet she continues to type at her laptop.

you might start aging a little faster with the way she's working you, you can already feel the back pain catching up to you.

-

it's necessary for you to get along, and sure you act like you do in those meetings, but you really have to try and get along even if might end with someone's tooth missing. it's only the most important part of collaborating, it's crucial when your job requires the two of you to work together.

it takes a while to warm up or even start to get friendly with each other, though a certain meeting helps speed this process.

you and mina had been in charge of representing your own company and presenting the financial analytics to the shareholders. something in the air seemed to make them think that they were entitled enough to question and criticize mina as if she couldn't take away a good amount of their shares in a second.

one man seems to be so in shock it gives him the nerve to comment on your presentation which quite literally proved the two of you had been doing well with your work.

he sneers, "and we're supposed to believe you did all of this? sorry, it's just unbelievable, i've never seen a y'know... someone like you two." and you already know he's implying that he doesn't believe all this success could happen because you two are women. it makes you furious.

"if you're going to try to question mina like that at least be direct, don't sugarcoat it like a coward." you scoff, glaring at the man in the suit. his stupid face had already looked unpleasing to you, even if he hadn't said anything you could've guessed that he would doubt your success.

"women don't usually achieve this much you know? it's impressive that you're even able to have such a high position," he chuckles, almost challenging you. a few of the men who sit around the conference table seem to smile at his words, it makes you bite the inside of your cheek, and you're hold yourself back from almost leaping across the table and strangling his pretentious self.

"are you doubting myoui's work?" you inquire, gripping the table tighter and mina is taken aback by your sudden shift in tone.

"well," one of the men starts, "from the recent reports, it seems like you've been handling these tasks a bit poorer than before, you sure a lady like you can-"

"i'll have you fucking fired if one more word like that comes out your dirty mouth, you hear me? you should watch your mouth when you talk like that around me or mina, you do know what we can do with your shares no?" and the words come out of your mouth and shoot at the man in front of you like daggers laced with poison. "mina is more than capable, and working with her has always resulted in success for this company."

"look, we all can agree that we just want to ensure that the profits are up and the company's growth and success is guaranteed."

"insulting and questioning those who have power over your investments is your way of ensuring that? if you continue with this behavior, don't be surprised if your positions under this company become rather precarious." you finally warn, and the men seem to finally get the message when you say it with such resentment.

mina is in complete shock as she watches you from her seat, she's never seen you so pissed off before, she has never pissed you off like that. despite initially being taken aback by your bold defense, she finds herself feeling a mix of emotions, even slightly amused by your new, assertive tone.

the tension in the room eases slightly as the meeting continues, and you continue to present your analytics and suggest various ideas regarding the company and its gains. from that moment on, the shareholders are more cautious with their comments and remarks, as they should be.

the meeting ends with the men tensed up in their seats, nodding politely at you and feeling small under your gaze as they bid their farewells. you're happy with the new mood of the room.

the atmosphere seems more delicate when they leave.

"thanks." mina mutters softly, putting a few papers in her folder. she doesn't make eye contact with you. "you could've let them voice their concerns, you know."

"they weren't concerned, they were just being snobby." you respond, helping her with the papers that had been spread across the conference table. "i hated hearing them talking about you like that." you mutter in a small voice, and mina looks up at you, showing a new emotion of surprise.

she looks at you while you close the folder, a split second later you set your gaze on her so the two of you are now making eye contact. the mood of the room changes, it's softer, it's less overwhelming.

"i," mina starts, but finds herself at a loss of words for a moment. she looks at you, just gazing at you for a bit and her voice is small when she mutters her last response. "thanks."

mina breaks the eye contact and moves over to grab the folder from your hand, walking past you and out the door. there are no last words exchanged, just small, significant glances.

she decides that she can let you off the hook a little.

-

mina's fondness for you grows and it's unpredictable, it comes out of nowhere. it's been developing since that meeting.

it grows when she sees your eyes light up after taking a sip from your coffee—you always get three a day, mina notes—two hot coffees in the morning and before work ends, one iced during lunch. she also notices that you've been eating less, and she feels guilty because it's all from the work she gives you. she cuts your workload in half, and she even leaves you a small bakery item here and there (but she makes sure that you won't guess it's from her).

mina catches the small smile you give her when she decreases the amount of work she had given you. the way your lips curve up just barely is different from your usual lifeless expression, it's different and mina decides she wants to see it more.

it sends a shiver down her spine.

-

maybe wooyoung was right about your boss being a nice sight.

you hate it.

you've seen mina smile a total of three times so far, you remember each time clearly.

1.

walking out of the building you see mina approach three women, they don't look like they work there. you almost ignore it, i mean, you're tired and you really don't want mina to be the last thing you see after work.

what changes your mind is that grin of hers.

you catch it from the corner of your eyes, you almost miss it, and as much as you hate to admit it—it's beautiful. she smiles and it's a gummy one, it's terribly charming. she smiles with her eyes too, they almost shut as one of the women hugs her.

your eyes meet for a second and you quickly shift your gaze over to someplace else, it makes you nervous, makes you fiddle your thumbs.

that's strange, you think.

2.

mina picks up her phone—not the work phone on her desk, but her mobile one. her eyes ease at the contact name, and she seems to soften up as she answers.

"hi mom," she starts. you make sure to look away before she can catch you glancing—you don't want to listen to her voice as she scolds you for eavesdropping or not working on the papers in front of you.

you hear the faint sound of her talking for the next two minutes, and you manage to peek at the right time. mina nods her head a couple more times before giggling softly into the phone,

"yeah yeah, don't worry mom." she says, grinning. "i'll call you back tonight, i have to finish work. yes, mhm, i love you too. bye."

cute.

3.

mina watches you enter the shared office, the same bag slung across you and a cup of coffee in your hand. your hair is held up by a claw clip, some strands of your hair poking out, but regardless, you still manage to look business casual.

you stroll in and hang your bag, then stroll over to your desk where the computer is. before you reach your work area, your feet seem to stumble and you trip over the air somehow, it catches you by surprise and you let out a curse.

luckily, you catch yourself and don't fall over completely, but your coffee slips in your hands and now you have to buy a new shirt because now, there's a clear stain on your beige shirt.

"fuck," you mutter in defeat, and you rush for the napkins that sit on your desk.

mina had witnessed the whole scene, and she couldn't suppress the giggles that left her mouth.

you frown—mina laughs harder.

"is this amusing to you?" you groan. your eyes are furrowed as mina smiles widely at you, for some reason the frown on your lips seems to curve up into a small smile.

"very." mina snickers, "made my morning, thanks."

"i absolutely resent you."

"i'm flattered."

you roll your eyes at her.

(maybe you should start spilling coffee more often, if it means seeing mina laugh like that.)

-

the two of you warm up to each other.

annoyed looks in the morning turn into small "good mornings," and maybe you'd bicker here and there, you'd even complain over nothing sometimes just to talk to her, but nothing more than that, not really.

it's hard to start a conversation when papers are piling next to you everyday, it's hard to even exchange words. mina's quiet personality makes it even more difficult, and you're too timid to make eye contact with her, there's a strange sensation that's brewing in your stomach—not that you're going to throw up—but it makes you nervous, and fidgety.

-

wednesday, november 8th. — 4:01 am

y/n:

feeling bad

sick

i won't be there

just send me whatever it is that you need me to do

mina stares at the text for a bit, eyebrows slightly furrowed as she rubs her eyes and tries to read it. her phone had interrupted her slumber—much to her aggravation—at four in the morning. the loud ding was enough to make her groan at the ungodly hour, rolling around to squint at the light from her phone. the young woman rubs her eyes and processes the text as she reads it, sighing to herself.

she actually takes a moment to think about the text, even if she's half awake. mina wonders if she worked you too hard—her heart sinks.

as much as she detested you, she was genuinely concerned. her coworker whom she would argue with over the temperature of their shared office (mina would never admit it, but she actually found it a bit cold too, she was just stubborn), almost smiling when seeing you so frustrated. it was amusing to mess with you (maybe she was a bit cruel for that, but you looked cute when you were annoyed).

mina groans and drops her phone on the bed next to her, returning to her slumber.

-

you stir awake from your sleep, shifting a bit in your place even while you're still half awake. your eyes flutter open and everything hits you all at once.

the ringing in your head is deathly, as if a hundred tiny, teeny men were in your skull just whacking at it with their hammers. your whole body is trembling, the room feels even colder than the office you work in, it's unbearable.

everything is sore, everything hurts, everything is terrible.

the only thing you remember from last night was groggily changing into the orange sweater san had given you as a joke—the one with those ridiculous cats on it—regardless, you wore it in the comfort of your own home because it was incredibly cozy, even if it looked stupid.

the ding-dong sound that's heard makes your head hurt even more; your eyes close and your hand moves to cover your forehead, you mutter something under your breath.

you walk over to the mirror and run a hand through your hair, trying to make yourself look at least a little presentable for whoever it is at your apartment door at nine in the morning on a wednesday. your feet drag on the floor of your hallway when you walk out of your room and toward the entrance to your apartment, trudging over to the doorknob. your hand weakly supports yourself by pressing against the wall while you turn at the knob.

the door opens and the sight of mina temporarily eases the ringing in your head.

mina looks incredibly normal, it's a rare sight.

she wears a white t-shirt with a denim jacket over it and she wears baggy jeans with simple white sneakers to finish the look. you're distracted from the drowsy, sore feeling as you stare at the casually dressed woman, who's also holding a brown bag in one hand, her phone in the other.

mina looks normal; no blazer or button-up, no skirt or dress pants, no clicky heels or work shoes, she looks less insufferable.

you like it.

"did you not get my text?" you say, voice rough and weak.

"did you just wake up?" she asks while studying you. mina notices that you seem half awake, eyes squinting and shoulders slumped. to add to that, your hair is messy and you look like you blindly chose whatever you were wearing. mina notices the way you lean against the door frame for support—you look drained.

"it's only nine in the morning or something," you groan, rubbing your eyes. "shouldn't you be at work?"

"y/n," mina starts, "it's 5:40."

"pm?"

"y/n," mina sighs, pushing the door open and inviting herself in.

mina takes a look around the apartment, it's bigger than a standard one, and it's actually kind of cozy. the interior design is nice, you have good taste in decor and arrangement. mina glances at the framed pictures of you posing with others, and the abstract artwork she has hung up. there's a certain something that catches mina's eyes: the white shelf that displays various leego sets, ranging from flowers to small buildings. there's at least five sets there, and mina knows they're the time-consuming ones too.

mina's interest grows.

it's dim in the apartment, and mina wonders how sick you must be for you to think it was nine in the morning.

"you're just going to invite yourself into my house?" you question, watching mina as she kicks off her sneakers, though she places them on your shoe rack nicely, so you're not as bothered. mina doesn't exchange any words as she hangs her denim jacket on the hook nearby, then fixes her shirt. the dark-haired woman looks at you and you furrow your brows, your facial expression mixed with exhaustion and puzzlement.

"mina, what are you doing here?" you ask again, trying your best to sound stern. mina doesn't respond; instead, she walks over to the small kitchen island to place the brown bag that she held in her hand on it. you sigh, "if you're here to give me paperwork while i can barely stand up, i'm actually kicking you out—and i mean i'm going to physically carry you out i swear to-

"like you can even get to me without holding onto something." mina scoffs, taking out a container from the bag. you walk over to mina, holding onto the counter for support and studying her.

mina points to the stool next to the counter and says, "sit."

you listen.

one thing about mina is that she had power over you, and as stubborn as you tried to seem—you always listened. mina always had the upper hand. as much as you bickered with mina, you listened (after complaining), because mina knew what she was doing and she always knew how to do things well.

you sit at the counter and watch mina fetch a bowl from your dishwasher, almost as if this were her house too. she poured whatever was in the plastic container she brought into the bowl, then pushed the bowl towards you, grabbing chopsticks and a spoon.

"eat," mina says, almost ordering you. she looks at you with a sense of care in her eyes.

you stare at the bowl and move your quivering hand to grab the chopsticks, picking up the udon noodles and eating them slowly.

the taste of the soup makes your whole body relax, and you seem to gain some of your energy back—you start eating ravenously—as if this were your first meal in days.

"thanks." you murmur weakly, looking up at mina with gratitude.

mina almost smiles, jaw clenching.

"don't get too sick," mina begins, "i can't do all the work in the office, and i guess it's kind of boring without you." she admits. her head turns away bashfully as her cheeks start to flush.

you look at her with raised brows, your cheeks feel warm—maybe it was your cold. mina avoids any further eye contact before walking back to the hook she had hung her jacket on, and then putting on her shoes.

"i'll see you… take care of yourself." her tone is so soft, even if she had tried to sound stern and cold.

you nearly smile.

and with that, she leaves. you sit there, hardly processing anything.

mina had come to your home, given you something to eat, and she was actually sweet to you.

-

y/n:

thank you again

i appreciate it

i hadn't eaten all day before that

can't believe you're capable of being sweet

mina:

don't get used to it

you're an idiot for getting sick

y/n:

you're an idiot for coming to my place while i'm sick

mina:

i don't get sick so easily unlike someone

y/n:

whatever

stupid

mina:

i was just making sure you didn't die

i can't do everything by myself

i need someone to look over my papers

y/n:

you're cruel

i'm sick and dying and you treat me like this?

mina:

oh save it,

i know you're feeling better

my mom's recipe always works

y/n:

i hate to admit

it does

how did you even get my address?

mina:

you're stupid

everyone's address and number are accessible to me

i'm the coo remember?

you're probably too sick to remember

and stupid

y/n:

i'll cough on you

mina:

gross

…

y/n

goodnight mina, i'll be back tomorrow most likely

mina

if you feel bad don't come

i don't want you contaminating the others

and me

…

mina:

feel better

...

mina:

goodnight y/n.

-

you come back to work feeling better, mina's eyes seem to light up a bit at the sight of you walking in through the door.

something new is forming, your affection for each other grows, and a friendship starts to build.

-

mina checks her phone, it's almost five. the group chat had been busy whilst she was typing away.

before she checks the messages, her gaze shifts up to see you at your desk, your eyes darting from paper to paper as you analyze and mark them. mina holds back a small smile.

(37 new messages)

sana:

did miss ceo forget about tonight?

women at work

momo:

maybe you should start working like that

you seem to always be on your phone with how quick you respond

and how much you type

sana:

you're just jealous

momo:

hardly

jihyo:

please refrain.

my phone is blowing up, sana

nayeon:

ohh jihyo will kill you

sana:

what about momo and nayeon?

she was texting too :((

jihyo:

she texted twice

nayeon responded once

you, however,

sana:

:'(

mina:

you really do text a lot sana

sana:

mina!

our little businesswoman

if you forgot about tonight i swear...

mina:

i didn't don't worry

nayeon:

hey myoui

mina:

?

nayeon:

you should invite your little work rival

sana:

aww her little work crush?

what was her name...

y/n?

mina:

stop that

i don't like her

jihyo:

you brought soup to her apartment instead of getting coffee with us

momo:

you can't defend this one

even hyo agrees

mina:

i have to finish work.

please refrain from blowing up my phone

sana:

minas got a girlfriend

minas got a girlfriend~

nayeon:

i see you

"you seem to be interested in that phone." you scoff, stretching your arms out. "what happened to 'no distractions, do your work,' huh?"

mina narrows her eyes at you, putting down her phone. you laugh softly and finish stretching, putting your papers in the beige folder and shutting down your computer.

"you're done?" mina challenges, quirking a brow. it's 4:40, twenty minutes before you can officially leave.

"did you forget? i told you i had to be somewhere." you remind her, already putting on your jacket and slinging walking over to reach for your bag. mina nearly pouts as you make your way to where your bag is hung. "i'll see you next week, boss." you say, smiling softly, raising your brows at her before leaving the room.

mina frowns when you're out of sight.

-

mina emerges from the hall of her apartment in dress pants, a black tank top, and her gray coat over it—something casual yet eye-catching for the jazz cafe and bar she's practically being forced to go to. mina has on some light makeup, just some light blush on her cheeks, a peach shade of lipstick, and something light around the eyes. it's casual, it's fit for the occasion.

sana and jihyo, who had been conversing in the living room, turn around after hearing their friend's footsteps. sana beams and stands up to hug her,

"wow~ you look great minari." she giggles, "trying to impress someone?"

mina rolls her eyes, then smiles at her teasing, sana laughs in response. jihyo shakes the keys in her hand, quirking a brow and signaling that they should get going. the two women follow jihyo to the entrance of mina's place, put on their shoes and head out.

they arrive near the jazz spot twenty minutes later, though it's a bit of a hassle trying to find good parking around the area since it's in the heart of the lively city on a friday night—jihyo curses under her breath and it makes sana and mina giggle at her complaints.

they all walk on the sidewalk together, and the breeze of the cool night is refreshing, the air is filled with low chatter and the street lights highlight mina's features. the trio approaches the cafe and mina breathes in through her nose; it smells like coffee beans, and there's that faint scent of alcohol and maybe a cigarette or two.

the cafe/bar is dim, there's a slow hum of the music that fills the room, and it fits the ambience. couples stand hand in hand, glasses make a sound as they clink, and friends laugh together; it gives the scene a warm, lively feeling—mina really likes the environment, it's not overwhelming and it's nice to be in a place where the lights don't flash and the music doesn't make her ears ring.

two familar faces are seen at the table in the back, the two women have already purchased some light drinks. nayeon's face lights up at the sight of the trio, her bunny-toothed grin is contagious and it spreads to the others. momo waves and pats down at the space on the couch she lounges on, sana scoots over and sits down right next to the woman, leaning into her. mina and jihyo sit together on another lounge chair, the group already starts to converse and catch up. mina starts to warm up to the night.

the room seems to fall into silence a few moments later.

the chatter dies down and only faint whispers are heard, the slow hum of the music seems to die down as well. the group turns their attention to where everyone else's is: the small stage where three men seem to set up their instruments. mina thinks this must be the main event of the night.

the three men settle down in their places, situating themselves and fumbling with their respective instruments in hand. mina's interest piques when she sees the empty microphone stand placed under the small spotlight—it seems to be unoccupied—is there supposed to be a vocalist?

the men all look at each other and the one holding a guitar taps at his instrument once, twice, and a third time.

the music starts.

mina notices the slow percussion, it sets the tempo of the slow song. the drummer nods his head along with the beat, and the man on the keys seems to emphasize the romantic tune with the keyboard. the bassist ties the instrumental together, his fingers work at the strings to create a soft, smooth rhythm.

each musician plays a certain role in the song, and the elements from all of the men add up together to create a soft, slow melody —though it's more rnb sounding rather than jazz—but she enjoys it nonetheless.

nothing could've prepared mina for what she had seen next.

a familiar face stumbles onto the stage holding a microphone, smiling at the crowd who cheers calmly, quietly enough so that it doesn't drown the sound of the performers. the performer wears the same trousers that she had worn in the office before departing, but her top is a different color—it's gray and it's unbuttoned down to your abdomen, your white top being visible to the crowd—mina is surprised to say the least, the last person she'd expect to see on stage was you.

the instrumental continues for a few, short seconds, then you start to sing.

it's about time we get it straight

gimme a minute if it ain't too late

mina's lips part slightly as she watches you in awe: you're lost in the melody, singing with your eyes closed, hands holding the mic as if they were something you cherished so dearly, you're evidently enjoying yourself.

"she's good." jihyo comments, nodding her head to the slow tempo.

the instrumental starts to shift into the chorus, and your voice is groundbreaking.

maybe we

could be

slow dancing

until the morning

we could be romancing

the night away

mina seems to have fallen into your trance.

you're completely lost in the music, the whole crowd is in awe as you clutch the microphone and sing into it softly, eyes creasing gently as you tap your foot to the tempo. your head sways to the melody, your body following slowly.

her eyes are glued on you, and there's nothing that could pull them away at this point. your voice is soft and warming, it's obvious that you sing with passion, you sing from the heart. she's attentive to your every move, emotion, and expression—she's captivated by your charm.

you stop singing once the song reaches its last chorus, and you smile at the astonished crowd. your gaze lands on the bassist's eyes, who's nodding his head in sync with you; the two of you exchange a lighthearted chuckle.

your eyes scan the crowd, taking in their satisfaction. there's a couple that slow dances along with the rhythm, another couple that's hand in hand, watching you and smiling; it makes your heart flutter that you're able to create such a loving atmosphere, it makes you wish you had someone to do the same with.

your whole body almost freezes when your gaze lands on the familiar face: myoui mina. your ears shift back slightly, eyes widening and brows raising as you spot her sitting with three familiar faces—the ones that you had seen when you witnessed her first smile.

you almost give into your nerves, you almost freeze in your spot, but the slow melody lets you relax a little, and there's no tension in the air right now, just the sound of a couple of instruments coming together to play a melody that soothes your nerves.

you smile softly at mina; mina smiles back.

your hearts seem to skip a beat at the same time.

-

when the song ends, you take in the sweet applause of the crowd, thanking them and bowing. as soon as you can leave you make your way off the platform and find yourself backstage, sitting on the couch and sipping on some water.

"that was perfect y/n," san cheers, patting you on the back as you ease yourself into the couch. your smile grows and you nod,

"thanks, san, you nailed the bass," you respond as san sits down next to you.

"i'm flattered, but seriously, you sounded like an angel." san adds. a laugh is shared between the two of you before the other two exchange compliments. mingi pretends to blush at wooyoungs little remark, and it brings you back to the late nights spent rehearsing together.

"by the way y/n, who was that girl you were smiling at? you know her?" mingi questions you and you already feel a blush creeping up to your cheeks.

"i-, no, um." you stutter, and you immediately give up as soon as your words come out stumbled. san nudges you and smirks,

"someone's got a girlfriend~"

"shut up shut up." you groan, punching his shoulder.

mingi snickers again, "so who is she?"

"fuck man," you sigh, shutting your eyes tight and pinching the bridge of your nose. "that was my boss."

"are you serious?" they all say in unison, and it's almost like they're telepathically connected and synced with the way their tones are identical. you seem to sink into the couch more as they pester you.

-

you're able to finally escape those three men (who, you might add, are teenage girls at the heart with the way they squeal and giggle when you talk about mina.), you find yourself at a counter, waiting for someone to assist you.

"i didn't know you could sing." a voice says, and you shoot your head towards the woman who starts to sit down in the chair next to you.

mina doesn't make eye contact, she just stares forward with her lips barely turned up. she looks absolutely ravishing, you're in awe yourself at the sight of her like this. it's casual, but it still makes a statement—you're into that.

"it's just a hobby," you reply. mina laughs delicately, it's almost drowned out by the chatter and music playing, but you're glad you caught it. she turns to face you and there a warm sensation that distributes throughout your body.

mina looks beautiful—no, she is beautiful—and you're noticing it all right now, it's almost overwhelming.

"you should've told me about your hobby sooner, y/n. i wish i'd known earlier about how pretty your voice is."

your heart almost stops, you can only nod bashfully.

a barista, or bartender (you don't really know, it's a weird fusion of a place.) makes their way over and it soothes you a bit, breaking the heavy tension in the air.

"what can i get for you two?" he asks, smiling at you two.

"i'll have a chai latte, hot please." mina responds. it takes a moment for you to dart your eyes away from her face, but you manage.

"i'll just have the lychee soda please, iced."

"alright, coming right up." he begins, "by the way, your performance was beautiful."

you nod with gratitude and mina laughs at your nervousness.

"when do you perform again?" mina asks, looking you in the eye. shes leaning towards you now, elbow on the counter and her cheek resting on her palm. your heart might be beating out of your chest.

"i thought you hated me," you note playfully, "you gonna give me papers after i perform next time?" and you mirror her, putting both elbows on the counter and resting your chin on your knuckles. mina laughs playfully, easing the tension in the air.

"i don't hate you, y/n." mina begins, "i just wasn't used to working with anyone else."

you nod.

"and that stupid office is just overwhelming sometimes, i was fond of your work ethic ever since you started," she admits. mina looks away apprehensively. "i hate to admit it, but i'm starting to like you more."

your smile grows. "i think i'm starting to feel the same way, myoui."

the two of you exchange eye contact again, a new feeling and connection being shared. it's exciting, it's scary.

"your drinks," the bartender says, placing the two cups on the table and breaking the anticipation in the air. you thank him and take a sip from the soda, brows furrowing a little from the sweet taste. mina thinks you get cuter by the second.

...

"do you have a ride home?" you ask her, halfway through your small conversation.

"my friend drove me here." mina answers, sipping from the mug again.

the truth is, mina's friends had nudged her over to where you were after finding out that you're the person she's been eyeing at work. she's ninety-nine percent sure her friends have completely left her; her assumptions are proven right after checking her messages for a brief moment.

mina stares at the mug in her hands. "but i think they left early."

"i can drive you home then, boss," you suggest. mina laughs at your remark,

"don't call me that outside of work, or ever—it's weird." she sighs, shaking her head.

"is that a yes?" you ask—just to be sure.

mina nods at you with a warm smile.

-

the car ride is almost silent, except for the light sound of the music playing in your car.

mina stares out the window of the passenger side, gazing at the buildings that the car passes and the strangers on the street who walk hand in hand.

mina wouldn't mind if the two of you ended up like that.

the car reaches mina's place, and you shift the stick to park.

"mina," you mumble softly—she hums in response, quirking a brow up whilst looking at you. the hand on the steering wheel grips it tighter and your flushed cheeks are hidden by the night.

"let's get coffee tomorrow?"

mina almost short-circuits.

"i'd like that," she says gently, and her grin turns into that same gummy smile that you'd seen the first time. the two of you sit there for a moment, nodding to yourselves while our hearts race each other, beating at an irregular pace.

mina unbuckles her seatbelt and reaches for the doorknob, then gets out of the car. before she closes the door, she manages to speak again despite her nervousness that courses through her veins.

"pick me up at one?"

"yes, boss."

"don't call me that." mina groans playfully, and you simply snicker.

mina closes the door and starts to walk away from the car, but before she gets too distant, you roll down the window.

"goodnight mina, sleep well," you speak loudly, just enough for her to turn, and the light shines bright enough and you're extremely thankful that it lets you see her gummy smile again.

"goodnight y/n, i'll see you." she waves. her face warms up a little, and she shakes her head as she walks away.

maybe working with mina isn’t too bad.

[carolmunson]

out on the moonlit floor. (older!modern!eddie)

part six of who knows how many orange colored sky set list

you and eddie walk down to the piers at brooklyn bridge after you both meet up for dinner a couple nights after your embarrassing drunk sleep over. you both spur on conversations about each other over icecream -- and when you get home, you both share more than you expected. inspiration from this series comes to you in part by: @loveshotzz 'all i really want is you' series. wanting to fuck that old man. and readers like you.

tw: discussions of minor character death, drinking some alcohol, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), some vague talk about BDSM, couples first time, reader cries after sex

songspiration: kiss me | six pence none the richer

Now that the humidity broke it was almost a little chilly over by Brooklyn Bridge Park tonight. The water from the Hudson slapping against the posts of the first pier, each little wave winking when it caught the light of the moon. Manhattan sparkled across the river, glittering in both of your eyes while you walked toward the fireboat station turned ice cream parlor. Kids run around with sticky hands and mouths, shrieking and giggling with each other while parents look onward. Other couples walk hand in hand down towards the other piers -- some still under construction.

The air is warm but in a comforting way -- a reminder that fall is on the precipice, peeking itself out in hints so that you want something pumpkin flavored in early August. Eddie's hand is warm and clammy in yours, the silver bands on his fingers warmed by your touch.

"I never come down here," he says, looking around, "Why don't I ever come down here?"

You shrug, "I dunno -- are you a big water guy?"

He scrunches his nose and shakes his head, "Not really -- Steve'll drag me to the beach a lot when he visits and I'm fine with the beach but -- I'm not like, a beach guy. Or a river guy, or whatever. Lakes, sure. Ponds, why not?"

"I love being near the water," you say, leading him into the boathouse. You get in line behind at least ten people, all savoring their dog days of summer with an ice cream cone. It's warm in there, all the fans do is blow around the smell of sugar and cream, waffle cones off the press. He lets go of your hand to lay it gently on your shoulder to guide you through, heated skin to heated skin.

"I can love being near the water," he offers.

"Yeah?" you turn your head to look at him, his cheeks flushing. You look so pretty like this, he thinks. A little warm, a little slick on your skin. In your pretty summer dress that he hadn't seen yet. The soft quirk of your brows when you ask.

"Yeah," he nods, "For you? Of course."

You roll your eyes, taking a few steps forward as the line moves, "What looks good to you?" You pass a sticky menu you to him that he squints to read, apples up his lifting up to hide his eyes. You pull his glasses from the worn collar of his shirt, clearing your throat while you tap them against his knuckle.

"I can read it, baby," he mutters, distracted by the descriptions in light ink on white paper hidden behind a foggy sheet of plastic.

"You're gonna give yourself a headache," you chide. He rolls his eyes this time, taking his glasses and tucking them back on his collar. He passes the menu back to you.

"I already know what I want."

"Sure you do."

You walk out together, him with his Sweet Cream & Cookies cone and you with you Salted Crack'd Caramel in a cup. He's had two bites of yours and already regrets his decision.

"Well if you could read the menu then you probably would've got something more exciting," you tease, pulling your cup away when he reaches again.

"I mean this is good but it's boring," he pouts, "I'm not a boring ice cream kind of person."

"Is Steve?" you ask, his head tilts at the question, turning to you.

"Steve?" he repeats, "Why're you asking about Steve?"

"That's who Big Guy is in your phone, right -- with the little muscle emoji next to it? Your buddy Steve?" you smirk at him, his tongue pressing against the back of his teeth.

"Yeah, that's my guy," he nods, "You know how I said he always drags me to the beach when he visits?"

"I do," you nod, a spoonful of ice cream resting on your tongue before you swallow leaving a coating of mocha, sea salt, and caramel behind.

"He's visiting soon," Eddie smiles down at your lips closed around the plastic spoon, "I'm really excited for him to meet you."

"Do you think I'll like him?"

"I think...Steve's a boring ice cream person," he laughs, "Always gets like -- butter pecan or something. You think I'm an old man? Wait until you meet this guy."

You both laugh with each other like mean girls on the playground.

"Is he um -- is he doing okay? I know you mentioned a few weeks ago that he lost his wife," you're shy while you approach the subject, you could tell it weighed heavy on Eddie to talk about it.

"I think..." Eddie starts, taking a lick of his ice cream while he considers it, "I think he's doing okay for being almost half a year out. I um, I stayed with him for the first three months -- moved him into the house they bought --"

"She passed before they moved," he explains when your brows knit in confusion.

"Oh," you nod along, face relaxing so he can continue.

"Moved him in -- I think he cried for six days straight. We didn't even sleep, just laid on his couch and watched Fever Pitch like, eighty five times in a row," he looks out at the water while he recalls it and then smiles, "Which is so weird considering he's a Cubs fan."

"That's so niche," you giggle before softening, "You're a good friend."

"He'd do it for me," Eddie shrugs, "He's already done like so mu--"

Before he can finish, two runners speed by, knocking him in the shoulder. You both watch his cone fall in slow motion towards the blacktop of the walk way.

"Sorry," the guy calls out while he continues on, barely looking back over his shoulder while he goes. The neon yellow of his running sneakers become little flecks as he gets deeper towards the tree covered walkway on the other side.

"Hey, fuck off and DIE, asshole!" you call after him, a grit in your voice that Eddie hadn't expected to hear. He can't help but laugh at your anger at his expense.

"Hey, hey," he starts, newly free hands resting on your shoulders, "Easy killer."

"There was plenty of space for him to run," you seethe, "He's a fuckin' asshole."

"It's okay," he promises, face relaxed, "It's okay."

"It's not okay," you sigh. You hold your half full cup and spoon out to him, "Have mine."

"But then you won't have one," he says, "I'm not taking yours."

"You already know you like the flavor," you insist, "I'll grab myself another one, I need a water anyway."

Eddie looks at the ice cream and then you, one dimple creasing when a side smile pulls at his lips, "Okay."

When you come back with your new ice cream he's settled down on a bench directly across from the Freedom Tower. You can see all the lights across the water from the Seaport, water taxis and mini dinner cruises coming in an out of dock in the haze of a midsummer night.

"Before Sandy, this used to be a weird sad looking mall," you say, sitting next to him, "And there used to be a really good restauarant called Red -- I loved it cause they never carded me."

"You go to college here?" he asks, you nod.

"I liked the mall cause there was a Bath and Body Works and a Christmas in New York store. I'd go in there every time I was homesick -- just felt cozy for some reason," you shrug.

"But the new stuff there is cool too," you say, taking a bite of your ice cream, "It's definitely like -- for rich people."

"Definitely for rich people," he agrees, his spoon sneaking over to your full cup, his empty one next to him. He steals a bite, letting the flavor savor on his tongue.

"Come on, why do you keep getting amazing flavors?" he sighs. You hold the cup tighter to yourself, a smile working on your lips.

"This one is just for me," you chide, "If you want more go get more."

"Nah, I just wanna taste it one more time," he says smoothly, quietly, leaning in. His hand finds your cheek, ducking in for a long slow kiss, "There we go."

Speechless, you just shake your head and take another bite when he breaks away.

"No, no, I think I need another one -- gotta get the full flavor profile," he smirks, loving the sounds of your giggle when he leans in again for another kiss. He gives you three loud smooches on the lips, enough to make a few people roll their eyes but neither of you notice. Too wrapped up in each other to really care.

Eddie's apartment is as it always is -- it smells like him, the walls are covered in knick-knacks and framed posters. Maximalism at it's finest -- organized chaos -- but somehow streamlined. You leave your sandals in the hallway, barefeet hugging the cold hardwood from the AC.

"You know what I could go for right now?" you ask. He looks up with his brows raised, putting his wallet and keys in a bowl by the door. He'd forget them otherwise.

"A mezcal marg," you say, "I'd fuck up a marg so hard right now."

"Well lucky for you," he starts, walking over to the bar cart behind the dining room table, he lifts up a bottle of Del Maguey Vida, "I have mezcal."

"Yay," you let out quietly, not too far off from our quiet cheer when you were wasted in his kitchen last week. You can tell he used to bar tend by the way he mixes drinks, how he slaps the mixer and shakes it, how he eyeballs the liquor. It's not long after you've situated on the couch that he comes over to you with your drink.

"Here cutie," he says, carefully passing it to you from behind the couch and walking around it with his own. The first sip confirms he's made these a million times, wonderfully smokey and salty, refreshing and fruity.

"Oh no," you laugh, "It's really good."

"I'll make you as many as you want," he takes a sip and settles down next to you, arm outstretched behind you, "Thank you."

"Why're you so good at everything?"

"Me?" he quirks his brow, "Nah, I'm just -- I have a lot of experience with like, mundane shit."

"No, no, you're like -- you're good at a lot of stuff," you nod, "Give yourself some credit."

You feel bold even though you've only had two sips of the margarita, but it gives you some courage nonetheless, "What else are you good at?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well --" the cat catches your tongue for a moment, suddenly unsure if you want to bring it up. But then again, he's already seen you at your almost most pathetic.

"I saw those handcuffs in your room the first time I was here," you start, "You good at tying girls up?"

He blushes hard, laughing off the embarrassment, "S'cuse me?"

"I'm serious," you laugh, "Are you good at tying girls up? Is that the kind of stuff you're into?"

"I -- wow -- um," he bumble through words trying to find an answer, looking down at his drink and then looking at you and back down again.

"I -- yeah," he shakes his head, surprised at his own confession, "Yeah, I'm -- I'm into that kind of stuff. Not like, not all the time -- but for some partners, sure, yeah." "So you are a little freak then," you tease.

"Maybe," he shrugs, "By the look on your face though it looks like you might be really interested in that."

You shrug back coolly, another sip of your marg giving you a moment to consider, "I can be."

"Yeah?" He leans back on the couch, legs spread open while he looks you over. He keeps his eyes on you, sipping slowly on his drink while he does. You start to get shy under his gaze, exactly what he was waiting for, "You think you could handle it, sweetheart?"

As expected, you roll your eyes, "Ew."

He puts his drink on a coaster on the coffee table, coming back up to give you a kiss, "You don't think it's ew."

"I know," you nod, letting his lips trail down your jaw to your neck and back up again. Unafraid, you crawl back onto his lap like you did the first night you were there. His hands wander more freely, sliding up and around your thighs, listening to your sounds and how you like to be touched. When you roll your hips he doesn't stop you this time, he lets you do it, savoring the relief he gets every time the pressure meets his hardening cock in his slacks.

"I'm not," Kiss, "Gonna do that," Kiss, "Tonight, though."

"Oh," you smirk, holdhing his face in your hands while you look down at him, "Are we gonna do it tonight?"

He blushes again, chastising himself for assuming what you wanted, "No, no, only if you want to. And I want it to be nice and like -- I want it to --"

You lean in for one more slow kiss to shut him up, he groans into it, "I want to."

Eddie gulps, looking up at you with a nod, "I'll um...I'll meet you upstairs."

He watches you get up and head towards the small spiral staircase, his mind buzzing a mile a minute. He collects the glasses and puts them in the fridge for later, cleaning up a bit while his hands nearly shake with nerves and excitement. Just as he's about to make it up the stairs he sees his phone start to buzz on the coffee table. Steve.

And normally he never does this, but for the first time in months he clicks 'Ignore' before heading up the stairs behind you.

You undress after him, trying not to gape at his body, trying to ignore the way it drives you insane. His tattoos dance with each move of his waist and arms, each flex of his thighs. He takes his time making his way over to the bed, sliding the throw to the floor when he sits on the edge of it to watch you.

Your dress comes off slow -- he beckons you forward to stand between his thighs. Neither of you speak while he cups your breasts in his hands, squeezing softly. You let out a quiet sigh when his lower lip drags against the top curve, pressing into a kiss. Moving to the next to take a nipple into his mouth, wet tongue sliding over it while his thumb teases the other.

Your hand reactively reaches for his head, pleasure starting as a line up your neck and down to your pelvis -- a whimper coming out of you involuntarily. He gives a final flick of his tongue before pulling your underwear down to your knees, letting them fall to your ankles. He looks up with a smile and a kiss to your lips, "Lay down for me."

He doesn't have to ask you twice, kicking kicking your panties off and sliding onto his bed. You lay back against the soft comforter and look up at him while he kneels over you, eyes gleaming while they take you in.

“Peach you’re…you gotta be fucking kidding me,” he lets out with an airy laugh. 

You look up at him while he lets his eyes roam over you again, suddenly self conscious. You cover some of your chest with your forearm, tucking in on yourself. 

“No, no baby,” he coaxes softly, “Show me, show me you.” 

You reluctantly release, it had been a while since you were fully naked in front of someone. You grimace when your arms fall back flat on the comforter, hands daintily laying just above your head. He bites his lower lip, the pink in his cheeks flushing to a soft red. His hands reach up to the sides of your rib cage, eyes on you for silent permission.

“Jesus,” he says under his breath. His hands slide down carefully, cascading into the dip of your waist and up over your belly. One finger tip traces a stretch mark just above your pelvis that you wished he hadn’t noticed — that you forgot you had. His hands continue their journey over your hips to the tops of your thighs — your body warm and welcoming to his touch. 

“You are gorgeous,” he whispers — partly to himself, partly to you. 

You lean up on your forearms and look down at yourself briefly, “Yeah? You think so?” 

“I uh – fuck –” he shakes his head in disbelief before leaning forward to kiss you, “I really think so.” 

His lips come in for a long peck, settling himself over your calves, forearms and biceps flexing while he leans on his hands to steady himself on the mattress. He breaks away to kiss your neck – gentle, only a few before placing one soft kiss to your chest – working his way downward. He kisses the pad of fat on the peak of your ribcage, down to your stomach, right over the stretch mark that you wish you’d forget about now. He kisses the other side of your belly, mouth and breath warm while he does, eyes blown like he’s mapping you out. 

You revel in the quiet, watching him savor you, adjusting to sit on his knees between your legs. He bends down like he’s praying, lips blessing the top of one of your thighs. He bends one of your legs up and out, kissing the inside of your knee. 

“Please,” you whisper down at him. He kisses the inside of your knee again, feeling your weight shift in the bed while you open your legs further. He looks down between your thighs, brows tilting in awe at the sight of you bared for him. 

“Push up on the bed a little, honey,” he instructs, so quietly you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t so close. If the rest of the apartment wasn’t so still. You slide up on the comforter while he adjusts the pillows behind you, “That’s good? You comfortable?” 

You nod breathlessly, his smile making you melt the more you see it in the light of his lamp in the corner. He kisses you again, hand reaching up behind your neck to pull you to him while you let his tongue into your mouth. It slides against yours with needy precision, wanting to get as close to you as possible while he does. When you part he lets out a shaky breath, nuzzling your nose. 

“You okay?” you press your forehead to his. 

“Yeah I’m just – I think I’m nervous,” he laughs, “You’re makin’ me nervous.” 

“Why’re you nervous?” you ask, pulling back to look at him. 

“I dunno. I guess I just,” he leans back, “I’m never normally thinking my way through it. At least I haven’t for a while.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Like I was just taking people home to fuck, then they’d leave,” he shrugs, “I’m like…I’m taking my time and I wanna make sure it’s like – the best sexual experience you’ll ever have.” 

“Sexual experience,” you repeat back in a tease, he puffs out a breath with a roll of his pretty brown eyes. 

“I’m trying to be meaningful here,” he asserts, “M’trying to like – make love to you.” 

You giggle again at ‘make love’ but cover your mouth, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry – I’m not making fun of you. That’s very sweet, Ed.” 

He tinges an embarrassed pink and settles back on his knees, hands running through his hair. 

“Baby,” you soothe, coming up to smooth your hands over his shoulders, “I’m sorry. I promise I’m not trying to make you feel silly or embarrassed. I’m nervous, too.” 

“Baby…” he repeats back, a boyish grin pulling up on his lips, “I’m not a baby.” 

“Yeah you are,” you nod, kissing his cheek, “You’re such a baby.” 

“Thought I was an old man,” he says, that blushy grin still plastered on his face. 

“You can be both.” You lay back against the pillows, watching him take a settling breath before coming back down to meet you for another taste of warm kisses. He lets himself press a loving kiss to your cheek before dipping down to leave intentional kisses down your sternum, following his map from your rib cage to your belly, the top of your thigh, the inside of your knee. Neither of you speak when he kisses the inside of your thigh, letting him part you right before his tongue starts to flick dutifully over your clit. 

Your quiet gasp makes his eyes flutter closed, feeling you settle down into the pillows while his lips open over you, nose resting on the pudge of your mound. His tongue works steadily, working you while your legs bend and creep upwards, thighs to your chest. One hand reaches up to squeeze the inside of one, spreading you apart a little further for him. You feel the warmth of the back of his head as he leans to the side against your thigh, tongue dragging up over and over before moving right back to center. 

“More,” you sigh out, starting to whimper, hips reacting to each flutter of his tongue. He start to suckle, eyes flicking up at the sound of your voice. He nods while he works, one hand coming up to slide a finger in either ease – he’s not surprised. 

“Oh!” you squeak out, the little quake in your thighs makes him huff a laugh. 

“Does this feel good?” he asks against your skin. He kisses your other thigh why he waist for an answer. You nod down at him, breaths picking up while his finger dips slowly in and out. 

“S’really good,” you slur out, the tingle in your belly rising to an electric buzz. 

“D’you like getting eaten out?” he asks, starting again. His middle finger pushes in with his index this time with mild resistance. 

“Hmmm-yes,” you breathe out at the slight stretch, feeling him hook into you once his fingers push the hilt. You push up on your forearms and then your hands, the pleasure making you dizzy while you look down at him. 

“Don’t stop,” you whisper. He obliges, head down and determined, sucking and teasing, the soft flick of his tongue getting you closer and closer. His fingers pulse, pushing in and in and in, the pads of his fingers pressing on your core that makes heat run through you. You aren’t sure if you’re numb with pleasure or you’re flooding over his finger, the buzz is becoming overwhelming. Your heart hammers, his fingers working in a controlled steady rhythm – too grown to know that when a girl’s about to cum you don’t speed up, you stay the course.

“ShhhitI’mgonnacum – ohmigodI’mgonnacum.” 

His lips break away from your clit as you start to come undone, a smirk prevalent on his face when he leans in to kiss you through it. You moan so loud into his mouth it’s almost a cry – a prayer to God that you make it out with all your senses. 

He feels the gush of your release over his first and middle finger, leaking plentifully into his comforter. He smiles when he breaks away from you — soft kisses on your cheeks while you shiver.

You flop flat on your back with a deep breath, shutting your eyes while you push air out of O shaped lips. 

“You okay?” his low gravelly voice settling in your chest. You nod, a little hazy, shifting over a wet spot under your limp thighs.  “Ugh.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, knowing that you can feel what you left behind. He squeezes your calf with a soft chuckle, “Just a lil’ mess, baby. D’y’need a minute?” 

You nod, another deep breath, peeking through your heavy lids to watch him stretch over you while he clicks on another light. The sconces above his bed glow golden and soft above the both of you, glinting against his silver jewelry like a fire. Eddie’s form shifts the mattress when he lays next to you, rough palm smoothing over the top of your stomach to the opposite dip in your waist. 

“That was uh…” 

“Yeah…”

You lay there with each other, eventually finding the strength to move onto your side to face him. He’s confident now that you came, more sure of himself – he knows he can make you do it again. 

“Don’t give me that look,” you chide. 

He giggles darkly, face splitting smile pulling his cheeks up, “M’not giving you a look.” 

“You are giving me a look.” 

“M’just…you know – It’s always good to know you still got it,” he shrugs, falling onto his back. He tucks his hands behind his head, elbows splayed out on either side, biceps flexing, “And I still got it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you still got it old man,” you laugh, tucking yourself under his arm so that your head lays on his chest. You look down the expanse of him, fingertip tracing one of his tattoos that flows down to his lower stomach. His cock twitches, kicking up at the gentle touch so close to his pelvis. You let out a soft hum when one of his arms comes down to wrap around you, kiss pressed to the top of your head. You tilt up, noses brushing while your fingers still trace, searching lower until the scratch of stubble from week old manscaping finds you. 

You kiss him first, moving out from under his arm, propping yourself up on your elbow while you guide him. He grunts out a low groan when your hand finally wraps around his cock, offering him steady strokes, giving him a type of relief he’s deeply needed this past month and some change. It’s not long before his fingers wrap around your wrist to put you back on the mattress, hard and leaking, desperate to be inside you. Your eyes linger on it while he leans over to grab a condom from his bedside table drawer, he smirks while he rolls it on. 

“Ready?” he asks, cocky, tossing the foil packaging off the bed. You nod hurriedly, grinning while he props your hips up under a couple of his pillows. 

Another kiss and he’s parting your legs again, fingers sinking into the fat of the back of one of your thighs while he guides himself down the slick slit of your core. He goes slow, tip teasing your clit before sliding down to your entrance. He’s concentrating, but he still flicks his eyes up at you beneath his feathered bangs before starting to push. 

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

He eases in, you feel the stretch immediately, legs springing up tight towards your chest. One, two, three short even thrusts before you’re slick enough to accommodate him. He pushes in slowly, both of you sighing in pleasure when he splits you open to the hilt, your legs parting further. His other hand meets your lonely thigh, gripping tight while he starts at a steady rhythm, head lolling back for a moment then coming back to center.  

“Baby…” he starts, a growl of a grunt coming from his chest, “You – oh, honey – you feel so good, so — oh fuck...” 

You can only respond with choked ‘uhn! uhn! uhn!’s at every thrust, the head of his cock plunging deep at this angle, nearly brushing your cervix. His kiss is welcomed when he lets go of your legs to lean forward over you, propping himself up on one forearm, hand  on your cheek. 

“That’s good? This feels good?” he pants into your mouth. 

“Mhm,” you whine, “You’re so deep.” 

“I know,” he coos, “M’really deep. You like that?” 

“Yeah,” you squeak when his thrusts become intentionally strong and slow. 

“Feelin’ me?” he asks, tip of his nose running along your cheek, forehead against your temple. You nod, groaning while he continues, holding his hips in place after every plunge into your core. His cologne and scent of his hair products blend together in a dark spice that makes your mouth water, eyes fluttering closed when you hear his breaths become gravelly – each one its own growl. You can barely think, your mind’s not able to keep up with the pleasure of where his cock keeps hitting, how full you feel, where his free hand wanders, how he kisses your neck. In the haze you realize that he likes this, he likes being in control. 

Your body bounces against his hips when his thrusts start to pick up in speed, not fast like a jackhammer, but fast enough that the buzz in your belly becomes a vibrant hum. He gives you a final sloppy kiss on the neck and then the lips before leaning back up for more leverage, gripping your waist just above the flare of your hips. 

“Look at me,” he huffs out, more of a command than a suggestion. Your heart rate quickens at the sound, bark and bite while his fingertips squeeze you. Your eyes snap to his like magnets, like when you first kissed after your date in the park. 

“God,” he groans, “S-so – fuck – pretty.” 

His next thrust hits a spot that makes you see white, a whimper choking out of your throat. You grab his wrist, whining, “Ohmygod there, right there.” 

“There?” he teases softly, slowing down to slowly drag his cock in and out. He hits it again at an achingly low speed this time, but the pleasure is just as delicious. 

“Yes, yes right there – please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying please for, what you’re asking. You just need to feel this, you need him to get you there. He quickens his pace, the slick and sloppy sounds of skin hitting skin and ragged breaths disrupting the quiet of the room. Tears pool in your eyes in pleasure while you cry out, back arching into each snap of his hips. 

“More, more, more,” like a chanting prayer flows out of you, spurring him on. His heart thumps in his chest while he looks down at you, your face contorted, the way your breasts bounce. He resists the urge to reach down and clamp over your neck when you bare it to him, pushing yourself against the pillows. He busies himself by gripping your thighs again in a bruising hold, holding steady at a pace that clearly feels great for you but feels amazing for him. Eddie bites his lip, the sight and sound of you sending him reeling. He’s getting close, hips starting to stutter while your walls loosen a bit to accommodate him further, you’re already soaking his pelvis – you’re gonna cum, he can feel it. 

You can feel all your sounds in your throat, kneels pulling together as the vibrant hum in your lower belly becomes a vibration. He doesn’t stop, grunting and huffing like a bull with each thrust while he tries to hold back. He pulls your knees apart to make space for him, chest to chest while he pumps in a little bit faster. Eddie’s mouth takes yours hungrily, greedily while he lets out an aching moan. 

“Fuck – fuck - shit,” he growls, eyes clamped closed while your noses rest against each other. He keeps going, fucking you through his orgasm despite his shaking arms. At this position he can adjust to go a little deeper, and when he does you gush. He keeps going, feeling the pulses of your walls over his cock, a confident grin puffing out tired breaths. 

You grip his biceps when he does one final hit that sends you over the edge, thighs and hips shaking when he does. You feel it in your whole body, goosebumps rising like you can’t handle it, back nearly aching in an arch that settles back down. Your moan turns into a cry – a real cry. You shudder while your body comes down, tears pouring down your cheeks and you can’t quite get yourself to settle down. 

“Oh, honey no, did I hurt you? Are you okay?” Eddie swallows, voice back to soothing comfort while he eases up, “What’samatter? Did you not like it?” 

You wipe your eyes but the tears still come, you shake your head no. Embarrassed from blubbering you try to cover your face but he smooths your hands away, “What’s wrong, Peach? Please talk to me. Was that too much? Was I too rough?” 

“N-no,” you laugh a little, “Sorry, this is r-ridiculous. I’m – m’okay.” 

“You don’t look okay,” he says. He settles on his calves, easing you up to sitting – with some coaxing he gets you straddled in his lap. The exhaustion from your orgasm distracts you from the stickiness between your thighs, the uncomfortable wetness leftover between your legs. You feel sleepy and soggy. 

“Did I do something?” he asks again, hands cupping your cheeks while his thumbs swipe away oncoming tears. 

“N-no it was ju-just really intense,” you swallow and cough, another sob racking through you, “J-just came really hard.” 

He nods, looking at you intensely, “Do you just want me to hold you?” 

You nod back and without a second though he pulls you tight into him, bringing you both back down sideways on the mattress. He lets you let it out, running the backs of his fingers along your back until you start to calm down, sobs shuddering down into sharp breaths, to normal ones, to slow. 

“A little better?” he asks, quiet and sweet. You nod with your eyes closed, cheek squished against the comforter. Eddie smiles, easing the condom off his now softened shaft and tossing it in the bin under his night stand. He soothes you for a while, sitting on the side of you and running his palms over your back and thighs, over your calves, selfishly over the swell of your ass. He puts pressure on your lower back, between your shoulder blades, the top of your neck. 

“This is really nice,” you croak out, feeling the warmth of his hands cascade gently over you. 

“Sometimes it’s nice to just get worshiped, huh?” 

You nod again, breaths steady, “Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” he confirms, “You deserve it, don’t you?” 

“I do,” you smile. 

“That’s my girl,” he coos. My girl, my girl, my girl. 

It echoes through the both of you, the declaration – the claim, but neither of you say anything.In fact at this point, it looks like you might’ve fallen asleep. 

Eddie takes the throw that had been pushed to the floor and covers you up for now, he’ll wake you later for pajamas and water and a snack. For now he figures you should just rest, you look so cute like this – all worn out ‘cause of him. He quietly slips on a pair of socks and gray sweats and pads his way downstairs to make you something, swiping up his phone to see two missed messages from Steve on his screen. 

Big Guy💪👔 37m ago Did you just bitch button me? 

Big Guy💪👔 37m ago What the fuck?

Big Guy💪👔 36m ago Photo notification. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, opening his phone to his texts. His eye roll stops when the picture of Bandit curled up on his bed by the sliding door pops up. Eddie said the bed was way too big for him, but Steve insisted he’d grow into it. 

Eddiesorry dude, i was busy. u around? 

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago Taking Bandit on a night walk. You okay? You have a show tonight? 

EddieNah.  🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago Hell yeah dude 😎 Congrats! 

Eddiethanks man.just putting something together for her for when she wakes up.

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago fucked her to sleep lol 

Eddie gotta change my middle name to nyquil 😎

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago so it was good huh? 

Eddie i’ll tell you all the horny details tomorrow but honestly dude? i might end up loving this one. 

He wakes you up later leaving gentle kisses on your forehead, set of his comfy clothes in his hand for you, “Made you a little snack downstairs, you hungry?” 

You stretch, nodding, feeling a dull ache in your hips and inner thighs. You frown when he eases the throw off of you, forcing you to stand up and get dressed. Eddie’s scent is prevalent on his clothes, enveloping you again when he does the same with his arms. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you assure, looking up at him, “Now, don’t get a big head about this or anything – but that was easily some of the best sex I’ve had in my life.” 

He lets go of you, shrugging with a smile and tilt of his head, “What can I say? I –” 

“I said don’t get a big head,” you warn, stifling a giggle, “Don’t you go around bragging about it either.” 

“Okay, okay, I won’t, I promise,” he holds his hands up, leading the way down the stairs. 

“Not even Steve.” You follow him down, body taking over to lead you to the snacks he laid out on the counter of the island. 

“Not even Steve,” he repeats, picking up his phone again. 

Eddie she just told me that this was the best sex she’s ever had in her life lol i’m the fucking man

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago you da man 😎

prev | next

[undercoverpena]

v. you make me feel wild

javier peña x f!reader | chapter five of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. an: it's happening. everyone stay calm. also, we have a new header ;) wordcount: 2.2k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Woke up this morning and remembered that we’re going to meet

I may have also woke up smiling

On a scale of Javi smiles was it bigger than the one when we destressed one another?

bigger you flirt

I’ve learnt from you. Never used to be like this. I was innocent before talking to you.

somehow baby I doubt that

We can argue about it later if you want? When I kick your ass at the crossword.

cant wait. try not to let those assholes get you down

I’m on my best behaviour this week. Need them to not revoke going to Houston.

oh any special reason

Not really.

ouch baby

Ask silly questions, win silly prizes.

im going to houston too

Oh are you? Any special reason?

gonna meet this beautiful woman who is an outrageous flirt

Great now I'm blushing.

you make it so easy

I have to go, the meeting is beginning, I'm sorry. Speak later, baby xx

Pop doesn’t bring it up, even if he knows. He waits—like dads do.

Forcing Javi to bring it up, all awkward—sweat pebbling around his neck, lower spine and brow. Not helped by the sun beating down on them, having to shout parts over the occasional animal grunt heard over their discussion as they repair the barn door.

Lately, his Pop leaves him to do bits like this alone. But he’s been hovering. More since the phone calls began and a level above that since he walked in on him the other night.

He stews in it. Allows it to thicken before he really brings it up—unsure whether to come out with it or skate around it. The two of them have gotten out of practice when it comes to sharing.

Javi is more used to lying to save face than being honest.

A hazard of his old job, he supposed. A mask he applied so his old man didn’t worry. Now, with those same occupational worries gone, Javi still finds it hard to let people in. Truly in. Not wanting to discuss Colombia, discuss Cali or Escobar.

It all adds to a pile of things the two Peñas don't talk about.

This wasn’t even bad news. It was good. Precisely what everyone wanted—including him—yet the words still seem to ball up in his throat. Rounding off, becoming a lump that sits.

Making it hard to breathe as he lifts a piece of wood; making it hard to twist when he moves to grab the hammer.

So much so, the words eventually just burst out of him. More like a confession than anything else.

“—that must have been real embarrassing for you.”

He can hear you stifling a laugh. His verbal reenactment of the conversation in the field with his Pop having tickled you.

“You’re an awful person,” he says, twisting the cord around his finger, smirking.

“If you feel that way, baby. We can always not meet.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. We’re meeting,” he says, coating his words in playfulness, even if there's a serious undertone remaining.

Turning on the spot, he leans against the wall. Finger looping more of the cord—hearing you lightly laugh.

“What... what is the plan, anyway?”

You hum, and he hears you shifting. Likely getting comfortable or reaching for something.

He’s learnt that often when he calls, you’re on your sofa—a blanket, sometimes over your lap. You like to be cosy, even if it's a warm day.

Other times you’re in your room, sitting on the bed—or under the sheets. It depends entirely on how warm you are, and how you’re feeling.

“Well, work will pay for my hotel for my two-night stay, and then if we, y'know, wanted to stay, I’ll just need to sort a room out for after.”

“How long have you managed to book off?”

It comes out shaky, more than he means it to.

Some of the finer details of your two’s meet left simmering in the centre of your usual conversations.

Both of you are evidently too afraid to ask.

“I’ll have managed to book off the week. Two days, including the day I land, for work and then the rest—if you're not a weirdo—can be with you.”

Grinning, he leans his head back, resting it against the wall. “Bit late now for you to be worrying about me being a weirdo, baby. I know the sounds you make when I make you—“

“Javi!”

Smirking, he bites the inside of his cheek. “It sounds good. Tell me the hotel, and I can book a room there.”

He hears it, the relief. The way you let out a breath, it blowing down the phone—making him smile.

“Y-you don’t mind?” 

“You expected me to?” 

Pausing, he hears you shuffle again. Sounding more like you’re on your bed than your sofa. “I mean, no. I guess I wasn’t sure what you’d assume. Cause, while there’s a good chance when I see you, I’ll want to spend every waking moment with you, there’s, y’know…”

Grinning, he curls the phone line around his palm, fingers sliding between parts. “The chance it could be a lot?”

“I just don’t want to fuck this up.” 

He doubts you could.

From what he knows of you, he’s sure of it.

But, he also isn’t quite ready to confess he’s already pretty head over heels for you. That he is without seeing your face, knowing how tall you are—whether you have dimples or not, whether you smile with your lips or your entire face. 

“How’re you gonna fuck this up, baby?” 

You go silent, wondering if that’s the point you’ve shrugged to no one but your apartment. 

“I’ve heard I’m a lot,” you say quietly. 

Something snaps in him, a fracture running through him. “That’s alright. Steve told me I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole—“

“And I promise you’re not a lot. If anything, you could actually talk more to me.”

“Shut up, I talk loads.” 

He smiles, biting the inside of his cheek as he sighs. “I'm excited to see you.” 

“Me too.” 

Moving closer to the wall, he swallows, looking at the chipped tile in his kitchen. “You’re not gonna fuck this up, baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise. Let me book the room for the same amount of days as you, and then we can take it from there,” he says.

Struggling to hide his smile as you excitedly tell him you'll go grab your hotel details. More so when he's sure he heard you trip over something.

Are we going to do this when we meet?

you want to still do the crossword together

Yeah! We can find a place to pick up the paper if you want?

id like that

Good! Now, hit me with the next one so I can get some sleep so I can see you quicker.

got me blushing baby

7th word is d from ciders and clue is replacing, nine

Insteadof. This one is easy.

yeah im beginning to see that

Maybe we’re getting good at it?

let’s put it to the test, self-confidence six

Okay that one did take me a second but it’s aplomb.

you amaze me

Thank you. I think I should try and get some sleep, don’t want to look half-dead when I see you.

I doubt you ever could

I can’t believe I’m going to see the face that matches that suave voice.

suave ay. cant wait to see how pretty your smile is

You’re making me blush again.

tomorrow ill get to see it in person

You will. Goodnight, baby.

If I wasn’t meeting you it would be criminal being up this early.

Actually, it isn't even early. It is still night.

morning to you to baby I’m about to get on the road

Ok, I'm going to make myself the largest coffee.

Also if you’re not there after half an hour I’ll just head to the hotel.

hermosa I’m picking you up 

I know but just in case, least you know I won’t be standing around. 

you won’t be because I’ll be there 

Javi, this way you have options to take one look at me and drive the other way. 

I won’t do that 

I’m just giving options and in case there is traffic 

hermosa, im not going to stand you up

Okay, can’t blame a girl for wanting to help.

you can help me by getting your ass to the airport

Getting bossy, are we? I like it.

fuck baby you cant say things like that to me when i need to leave

Just something to think about on your long drive. Please drive safe, baby. See you soon.

see you in several hours

Javi is surprised at how smooth the drive is.

He watches the sun rise up as the miles tick on, sliding his aviators from his shirt to up on his nose. He finds a surprising road stop that serves not-bad coffee.

The kind that doesn’t leave that cheap tinge on his tongue or bitterly sitting in the back of his throat.

He doesn’t feel nervous, either.

And on top of that, he finds a parking spot at the airport with ease.

In a way, he worries it’s too good to be true. That such smoothness now means a rocky hill later.

That’s when the nerves kick in. It sitting, fluttering in his stomach—at first, all little wings and then all of a sudden something larger.

Shifting the parking brake into place, he turns the key to silence the car. His pulse creates a beat—steady, almost orchestral—as he glances up at the sea of people stepping out of the airport. 

This is it.

He’s been trying not to picture you—attempting not to turn shapes into something solid. Javi wants the experience when his eyes land on you, as though his world is in black and white, and then he’ll see colour.

It’s what he hopes.

A part, small but insistent, keeps chipping away at him, reminding him to plan for the worst. To have a backup plan—a way out.

Picking up his phone, he stares at the blank screen. Somewhat reassured that you hadn’t either texted that you’d arrived earlier—or worse, you’d changed your mind.

Lifting his chin, sliding his palm over his jeans, he takes a breath—deep, heavy, the kind that expands his chest until it can’t anymore.

You should have landed by now.

His eyes glance at the time on his watch as he takes another breath. Checking down at his shirt, making sure for the hundredth time he hadn’t spilt coffee—ensuring dark brown hadn’t stained pink.

It’s what you had asked for.

How will I know it’s you? youll know Because you’re oh so handsome? yes that and ill wear bright pink For me? You spoil me.

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he brushes his palm over his face.

It’s only then that he allows his eyes to flick from face to face, worry creeping in. It trying to merge with the happiness he’s been stifling on the drive. Scanning and scanning, glancing and glancing—

Then, in a worn denim jacket, legs out, dragging a battered suitcase behind, he sees you.

Or who he hopes is you.

If it is, you look nervous. It makes you stand out from the crowd of bustling people around you, as they struggle to get past you, and you struggle to force it behind a smile or banish it from your cheeks.

Even from here, it pulsates. You finding it more difficult as shaky hands pull out something from your pocket, unfolding it, before he sees the most ridiculous hand-drawn sign in between your fingers.

It’s definitely you. 

You who has scratched Javi P onto a piece of paper, all accompanied by a worried expression on your face as you shift from leg to leg. 

Javi isn’t sure why you made the sign. You didn’t need it.

Somehow, against all logic and odds, he knew it was you. His arm shoving the car door wide as he exits, not looking back to check it slams into place as he crosses to you, watching, waiting with his heart in his throat for your eyes to land on him. 

And when they do. 

It’s an eclipse. 

It hits your eyes first, making them gleam like a beacon guiding him home. Then it reaches your cheeks, lips sliding up, teeth showing as you lower the sign, staring at him as he moves closer, forgetting all the others around the two of you.

As though a single soul has never even existed outside the two of you.

It’s just him and you.

Coming to a stop in front of you, he lets himself stare you up and down—voice and texts stitching themselves to the face he now sees. 

Flexing his fingers at his side, Javi watches you slowly lick your lips as his heart slides back into its rightful place. The nerves slowly stop fluttering, and his mind begins to catch back up with him.

And the only thought that remains is: You're beautiful.

More than his mind could ever conjure or create.

“Hi,” you say.

And it falls like glitter from your lips to his ears. 

His lips are unable to relax from their grin, spreading wider, cheeks aching as he fights running his knuckles against your cheek. “Hi.”

an: if this was a sitcom, this would be my season finale... but alas it isn’t, so you only have to wait a week for them to be hanging out *wink, wink*

✨ also, check out this really cool moodboard a beautiful soul made for LNT for the birthday bash

next chapter ->

[luveline]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 

summary eddie munson is super weird. he holds your hand too tight, he has a fascination with your neck, and he can’t give a hickey to save his life. good thing you’re super weird, too. [20k]

warnings two losers falling in love!! vampire!eddie munson, ditzy!reader (kind of), fem!reader, smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, praise), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst (eddie struggling with guilt and grief). canon divergent (the events of volume 2 take place but there’s a mostly happy ending i.e. everyone good lives and everyone bad dies) TW eddie doesn't have suicidal thoughts, but he does think about it briefly. not with intent or anything like that though. requested here for my halloween party <3

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson never wanted to be a vampire, and he wants that on the record. 

It's a ridiculous existence. It's embarrassing. It's nothing like all the movies and books promised him. 

He's looking at you, Bram Stoker. 

In Eddie's mind, Stoker’s nothing less than a liar and a sycophant. 

"Who's dick were you bouncing on, Stoker?" he demands to know, kicking fallen leaf mulch under his feet angrily. "Need'ta fucking impress some vampire lover with your over-exaggerated, over-powered, ridiculous descriptions? Great. Hope it was worth it. Meanwhile I'm here, self-esteem half the size of a grain of rice because I can't scale a building with my bare hands." 

Eddie would know. He's tried. 

He's not genuinely angry with Bram Stoker, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on a guy who's been dead for a hundred years than take them out on the demobats, because he doesn't want to even think about the demobats. They're all dead too. Not before they'd had (see: devoured) their pound of flesh and changed his life for the worse, though.

He shakes his head to drive out the memory like water in his ears. It's easier to pretend none of that shit in the upside down ever happened. (Impossible to pretend. He begs himself to try anyway.) 

He’s pissed because science fiction has promised him a lot of things and reality has delivered on none of them. No super strength, no impermeable skin. He is faster, but that's more a reflexive thing than anything else. And being faster doesn't make running fun. That’s impossible.

Sunlight breaks through the treeline and his skin crawls. Science fiction didn't get that right, either. The sun doesn't hurt. It's just really, really annoying.

He covers his eyes, winces at his itchy hand, pulls his sleeve over his fingers and covers his eyes again. "This blows," he says, and means it. 

In Dracula, the sun nulls Dracula’s supernatural abilities. Eddie doesn’t have any abilities worth nulling, unless you count echolocation.

He doesn’t. 

He walks another five minutes up the road toward Forest Hills when he realises you're behind him. His senses are enhanced now as a bat’s might be, hearing fine-tuned and dialled up every second of the day — which makes living in a trailer park where everyone thinks he's a murderer an acute misery — but he's as prone to distraction as anyone else. Especially when he gets stuck in a memory.

Eddie throws his gaze over his shoulder and finds you thirty or forty feet away, talking to yourself under your breath. He knows you more for your sounds than your appearance. To be able to put a face to your mindless babbling is a mystery solved. Of course you look like that. A skirt made of soft looking fabric bounces over two cute thighs, a pretty lacy corset type of thing that isn't too tight outfits your top half. You look more like a vampire than he does. 

"Hi, Eddie," you call.

His eyes widen, a deer-in-the-headlights kind of surprise. If you notice how he's frozen you don't show it, continuing to push your bike toward him. The tick of the wheels grows louder as you get closer, two hands on the handlebars with wrists draped in bracelets, both silver and fabric. 

Besides your jewellery, your arms are bare. You must be freezing. 

"Hey," he says. 

He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know how you know his, and he’s too awkward to ask. 

Your sounds peak as you close the gap. The wet scrape of your dirty black canvas shoes over shining asphalt, the soft puff of your breath, the clinking sounds of whatever trinkets you have in your bag. If he focuses, he can make out the tiniest pinches of fabric. Your short sleeves rubbing against your arms, your bra straps stretching over your shoulders. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to diminish his senses. 

"Where's your van?" you ask curiously. 

"Piece of shit kicked it in the middle of town. Just my luck." 

You pause at his side, looking him up and down obviously but without the judgement or irreverent disgust he's come to expect from near about everybody in Hawkins. 

"That's not good," you say succinctly. 

It's such a genuine response that Eddie can't find it in himself to be sarcastic. 

"God awful," he agrees sullenly. 

You nod and start to walk again. Eddie falls naturally into step beside you, matching your pace without thinking. 

"You should get a bike." 

He laughs. Coughs to cover it up. "Yeah?" 

"They're way more reliable than a car, and it doesn't hurt the zone." 

Eddie squints. "The o-zone?" 

"Is there another one?" 

You're still so serious that he spares you the ridicule he might dole out to anyone else. If Dustin had said something like that he would've ripped the kid a new one, but you're rather sweet in an odd way. You have a soft manner of talking — each word sounds like you've thought its pronunciation through meticulously beforehand. 

He ignores your question and points at your bike, ring catching the sun. "Why aren't you riding it?" 

"My chain slipped." 

"So much for reliable." 

That makes you smile. Eddie feels it like a punch, a flat palm slapped into his chest. 

"You can't put the chain on yourself?" 

A brisk breeze whips your hair, your earrings. The left kisses your cheek, a silver heart-shaped hoop with pink beads that click together. You lean into it, face tilted to one side as a perplexed smile plays on your sticky lips. "You can do that?" 

"Sure, you pull it back around the gear. It's easy." He hesitates for a moment, and then feels guilty about hesitating. "I'll do it for you, if you want." 

"The guy in no. 62 has been charging me ten dollars." You don't sound as angry as you should, in Eddie's opinion. 

"I'll do it for nothing." 

You beam at him. His chest feels like a bruise. 

Pretty girls don't like Eddie. Not before Chrissy, not after. He's trying to work out your angle, what it is that you want. 

Or maybe you don't know. 

As soon as you find out who he is, you'll turn your pretty nose up at him and walk the other way. He shouldn't smile at you, he definitely shouldn't fix your bike. 

He can't help it. He's so starved for positive attention that he follows you all the way through the park, westside to east. 

He checks the driveway of his own home and smiles mildly when he spots Wayne's new car. It's new in the sense that it's different. It's actually way older than the one he'd had before, the one he'd pawned to pay for Eddie's — well, Eddie's everything. His check-ups, his court dates, his goddamn bail. In the same way that this trailer isn't the trailer, but an older, smaller one as far away from their first as possible. 

Kid, if I had the money…

Wayne hadn't needed to finish. If he had the money, they'd leave. Leave Hawkins, leave Indiana. Settle down in some other mediocre Midwestern state with all the same creature comforts and none of the "You were acquitted but literally none of us believe you didn't kill someone," motif. 

All they have now is debt, each other, and the Great Munson mug collection. 

Eddie keeps his head down as they pass the old trailer. Nobody lives inside now. Only termites. 

He can taste blood by the time they reach your home. Far from the metallicity of his human blood, Eddie's blood now harbours a bitter taste. Not quite like coffee but with that same overwhelming earthiness. He pulls his teeth from the bitten flesh of his bottom lip and quickly raises a hand to his teeth, alarmed. 

No knife-like points. Normal teeth. 

"Are you thirsty?" you ask him. 

Eddie flinches and drops his hand. You've parked your bike against the wooden lifts of your porch and are halfway up the steps to your front door, hand clasped loosely on the railing. 

His heart fucking pounds. 

"I have grape juice?" 

"Right," he says hurriedly, "right. Yeah, that would be awesome." 

Duh, you meant juice. 

You send him another endearing smile and pop up the last of your steps and into the front door. It's not locked. He doesn't follow, thinking you must live with somebody (who's gonna know exactly who he is and tell him to get lost).

He turns his attention to your bike instead. It's easy enough to fix. He rolls the bike so its handlebars are resting against your concrete driveway and covers the top bar of the metal body with his sneaker to stop it from toppling. He rolls up his sleeves and bares his arms, but pulls them back down immediately when he remembers the white-purple whorls of scar tissue lurking underneath. 

"Fuck," he mutters. Everything is a reminder, all of the time. He can't escape what happened. 

It's everywhere. 

He's getting his fingers under the chain when you reappear. You've layered up, bracelets and naked arms hidden by a black hoodie. 

The wind blows and your skirt shifts. From his position he can see a ladder hiding in your tights where your inner thighs are pressed together. He whips his gaze up like a high-school perv caught sneaking peeks in the girls locker room and notices the stitching on your chest for the first time.

"You like Dio?" he asks excitedly. 

"Who?" 

He wilts. "Uh, your hoodie. Dio." 

"I got it for three dollars in the bargain bins," you supply helpfully, all pep as you climb down the stairs and offer him a glass cup adorned in dainty enamel flowers. "Is Dio good?" 

He waves his hand at the glass apologetically. "Two seconds…" Lifting the chain with the second hand, Eddie tugs and then feeds until the links are lined up with the bumps on the big chainring. The skin on his fingertips get pinched and his eyebrows pull together in pain, but it's a mild irritant at worst and after a moment the chain is back in place. 

He pulls his hand away and wipes dark grease down the front of his jacket. "I think I did it." 

You're glowing, earrings like a metronome as you ask, "That fast? You're awesome."

He turns the pedal and your back wheel spins in time with his heart. You're awesome. When was the last time somebody who wasn't Wayne said anything like that? 

Although Dustin had told him he thought Eddie was a much cooler, more fucked up version of the guy from Van Halen the other day. 

You're just saying that 'cos we're both called Eddie, Eddie had said morosely. 

Learn to take a compliment, dude. 

When they aren't pity compliments, he might. 

Eddie lifts your bike back onto the wheels to show you that it's working perfectly. You giggle your evident pleasure. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" you say, super sweet even as grape juice sloshes over the rims of your flowered glasses and drips down your fingers. 

"Here, let me," he says, taking the glasses from your purple-stained hands. 

You kiss your hands clean which is a thing, a lot to watch. Eddie admits to himself that he thinks you're really pretty, recognises that that is a bad thing to think considering the likely very short life span of your acquaintance. God knows you won't be saying anything as friendly when you find out who he is. 

"You're so nice," you say. It feels like you're talking more to yourself than him. "Thank you. It's slipped off three times this month, and ten dollars is ten dollars. Wait, do you want ten dollars?" 

"My services were administered charitably.”

Your smile grows. You accept your glass and take a small sip, eyes lit up as Eddie steers your bike one-handed to rest against the porch. 

"Do you wanna come inside? I don't have any of the Dio, but I have Blondie." 

He holds in a throwaway comment about real rock and roll, astounded that you’d ask him. "Your folks aren't home?" 

"I'm twenty-two." 

Eddie squints at you. "Seriously?" 

"You didn't think so?" 

He shrugs. It's not that you don't look twenty two. Or even that you don't act twenty two. But it's been a long time since he met somebody living alone in the park. Forest Hills is where poverty comes to settle. 

"A boyfriend?" 

"Just me and mister Porterson." 

"That your grandpa?" 

"That's my pet fish."

He smiles. It's his first real, authentic smile in days. He's genuinely elated by your offer and your attitude, but he doesn't know how to handle it, struck with a sudden nightmare of you, afterward, telling somebody you'd invited him in and he'd tried to hurt you. It isn't fair of him to assume you'd do anything like that. You've been nothing but sweet and sincere this whole time. 

Eddie hasn't let his guard down in a long time. 

You're giving him this wide-eyed, imploring look that promptly suffocates any fear. 

And in a week, when she finds out who you are and feels betrayed, feels tricked? What then, Munson?

"You know what happened?" he asks.

"What happened?" 

"Two years ago. Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham?" 

Don't say her fucking name. 

Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand. 

"I know about it. I'm sorry that happened to you." 

He stares. 

This is a trick. Two years and he can count the amount of people who believe him on his two hands, and only because they'd all gone through it with him. Sometimes there are outliers, logical people who seem to realise Eddie couldn't have killed all those people, couldn't have been in all those different places without leaving any evidence behind. And sometimes there are people who agree he didn't kill Chrissy, but he's a coward for leaving her to die. (She’d already been dead.)

Eddie doesn't know what he thinks. Wayne sets the record straight every now and then with a clap on the shoulder. You did what every parent wants their kid to do. You lived. I can't ask for more than that. 

"You don't believe it?" 

"That you hurt her?" You hold his gaze, face practically impassive. "No, I don't believe it." 

He pulls in a breath that fills every inch of his chest. "I could learn to like Blondie," he says. 

— 

You're standing in the driveway of Eddie's trailer with a heavy bag over your shoulder, face to face with a man who kind of looks like him but not really. You assume it's his uncle because who else could he be? If you hadn't seen him here you'd never guess. 

"Eddie's mom must've had strong genes," you say. You bring your shoulder up toward your cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty." 

"She was," he says, peering down his nose at you. 

"I got sandwiches. Do you want one?" 

"What kind?" 

"I have ham and cheese, or ham and lettuce and tomato, or I have pumpernickel cookies. Is Eddie a vegetarian?" 

"Why?" 

"'Cause I only brought one cheese and cucumber, and I have dibs." 

He climbs down the last couple of steps and is still taller but definitely less imposing, face covered in scratchy salt and pepper stubble and crows feet deeply embedded into the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man who has been tired for a very long time. You make a mental note to bring him some lavender for his pillow on your next visit. 

"You're Eddie's new friend?"

You nod your head briskly. "Yes, sir. I'm Y/N." 

He opens his box of camels like a pro, bottom pressed to his chest. He tucks a cigarette between his lips and pulls his lighter out. He doesn't light it. 

"It's nice to meet you," he says eventually, voice warming. 

You search through the mess of your skirt for the zipper on your bag and peel it open, pulling out your tupperware of cookies and cracking them open to release the fragrant smell of cinnamon and almonds. It's a heady scent, fitting for the holiday season approaching. 

You offer Eddie’s uncle a cookie.

"Thought pumpernickel was bread," he says gruffly, taking one. 

"It is, but there's this little town in France that makes these every year at Christmas and they call them pumpernickel biscuits," — he takes a bite and winces at the hard snap — "you're s'posed to dip them in hot chocolate." 

"You don't say." 

You nod happily and he moves aside to let you pass. 

"Thanks, kid." 

You turn back to him with your fingers curled around the door handle. "Of course! It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Munson, sir." 

"Wayne is fine." 

You laugh and repeat his name in a similarly rough voice, letting yourself in as Eddie had told you to do. You find him immediately in a man-made corner of the living room, pale and in his pyjamas. The trailer is open planned, a living room they’ve divided by propping a couch against the kitchen counter, a slim hallway leading to a cramped bathroom and the single bedroom. It's exactly like in your home. 

You're somewhat surprised to see him in pyjamas. Eddie doesn't wear comfy looking clothes out of the house — you've only ever seen him in jeans and jackets like a real rockstar. 

"Are you ready?" you ask.

You've invited him to come and search for bugs with you. Catching any kind of bug, whether beetle or butterfly or spider, is really scary, but you need to be able to catch them to draw them. 

You'd expressed this to him over the phone and he'd said, "I can come and help. I have good reflexes." 

He rubs his hands over his knees. There's a blanket pooled around his feet, a quilt he must sleep with, and the room is decorated with not a whole lot of stuff but enough to make you take a step back. 

"Is this your room?" you ask, enchanted. 

"Kind of." He pulls his hair from behind his ear, obscuring a pale cheek. "I don't think I can come with you today, I'm sorry. I meant to call you." 

You toy with a dark thigh high sock as you ease out of your shoes, height drastically decreasing. "That's okay, we can stay here. I brought you a sandwich. I brought you two sandwiches," you correct. 

He nods. Rather sadly, in your opinion. "Alright. Thanks." 

You step over a tented paperback and hand off the cookies before sitting down beside him on the couch he's occupying. It's smaller than the one against the wall and round like a clam, lots of room for your legs to stretch out. 

"I feel like a pearl," you say. 

You and Eddie have been friends for a little while now. Long enough for you to realise he's either depressed or mentally unwell in some way. You hardly mind keeping him company on his bad days if he needs somebody, so drawing bugs will have to wait. 

His hair is limp, not totally greasy but not super clean either. His face looks fresh enough, though the bags under his eyes make you frown. 

You pull your purse into your lap, thighs covered by the thin layers of your midi skirt. "I have just the thing for you," you murmur. 

"Yeah? Bring me another bracelet?" 

You like that he sounds eager. Making his bracelet had been a challenge, lots of knotting and double knotting, three restarts and one small under the breath tantrum. It's not anything special, black and white hearts seven strands wide, but he'd been very appreciative. 

"No, but I can make you another one if you want. I mastered the inverse chevron last night." 

He hums. You pull a saran wrapped sandwich from the depths of your crowded bag, glad to see it's mostly intact. When you open it up you find that it's the ham and lettuce and tomato one, so you drop it into his lap haphazardly and move onto the next. 

"Aha! Here," you pull a cucumber from your sandwich. "For you." 

He takes it between two tentative fingers. "Thank you?" 

"For your eyes." 

"There's cheese on it." 

"I'll still work," you assure him. 

"M'not putting cheese on my eyes." 

You laugh because he probably shouldn't put cheese on his eyes, cucumber adjacent or otherwise. "Okay, don't. I'll make you a hot towel." 

He drops his hand on your arm as you go to stand. You like how he touches you, soft but not scared. "You just got here. Stay here." He pats you nicely. "Tell me about work last night." 

You settle heavily into the seat beside him, your thigh to his thigh, your hip squished against his hip, doughy flesh separated by nothing more than a strappy tank top and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt. His heat quickly becomes yours, a sinking transference of warmth. 

"Well," you begin, cheek turning into the couch to face him. "It was mostly okay. I dropped another plate, but this time it didn't have a stack of waffles on it." 

He smiles ruefully and sinks back as you had. Neither of you eat your sandwiches. "Progress. Taking it out of your pay?" 

"Yes, definitely." 

"Discrimination." 

"That's what I said! I said, Sarah, I was born with butterfingers and you know that." 

"She didn't budge?" 

"Dishwashing all week next week. Whatever, though, 'cause it's Saturday." 

He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze dropping to your neck. He does that sometimes. You can't blame him; you wear a varying assortment of necklaces because you think they're pretty, and you're glad he likes them too. 

"See my new one?" 

"What?" 

"New necklace." You look down at your chest and pull the newest addition from between the cups of your bra. "It's real silver." 

"It's nice." 

"It's surprisingly heavy. Wanna feel?" 

"That's okay," he says, slightly strained. 

Right, you think. I'm talking a lot. 

You press your lips together in a mild pout and look at him through appreciative eyes. He's a very pretty boy, all soft and pale and sweet dark curls.

"Do you want me to put your hair up?" 

His lips part before he talks. "I don't know if you should." 

"Sure I should. It's getting in your eyes, right?" You take his hand where it's laid unsuspectingly in his lap and slip the hair tie from around his wrist, his fingertips tickling the inside of your palm. "Sit forward, Eddie." 

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and sits up. You twist and then realise you need some more height, pushing a leg under yourself to kneel next to his lap. 

You weave our fingers softly into the hair at the front of his face and rake away in lieu of a brush. After it's mostly tamed you pull it all into one hand and wrap the tie at the base of his head. You hum to yourself as you go, pleased when his lovely curls behave. 

"Voilà," you announce, moving back on your haunches. 

He breathes out. "Thank you." 

You reach for a curl you'd missed at the very front and encourage it behind his ear. He has subtle indents in his cheeks today like he's in need of a good meal, and his skin is colder than it should be when you flatten your palm. 

"You need something to eat," you fret. Your fingertips stroke under his eye, your thumb his smile lines. 

He moves away slowly. 

You pull your hand back into your lap. "Maybe we can go out and get something, if you don't like the sandwich?" 

"What?" he asks, pale lips taut as he simpers at you. "Are you kidding? This is about to fix everything that's wrong with me." 

His enthusiasm emboldens you. "It so will! There's ham and cheese too, if you prefer that one." 

"Get it! I'm gonna eat both of them." S

Eddie eats both of his sandwiches and you eat your own, the two of you with your heads dropped back against the couch as you watch TV. There's a guy you've never seen before running around the streets of Chicago city centre looking for people to be in his play. Eddie's seen it before. He repeats dialogue in time with the characters, performing each line. Impressive, what with how tired he looks. 

"What did he just say?" you ask, mouth full of cucumber.

"He said he's gonna throw himself off a bridge," Eddie informs. "Poor guy. I know the feeling." 

You swallow harshly.

"Seriously?" 

Your sad tone surprises him. 

"I- No, I'm kidding," he says, scratching the base of his throat, friendship bracelet his only adornment.

His nervous itching makes you even more worried. 

"If you did wanna do that, you can talk to me-" 

He baulks, tongue poking out past his lips as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, pet name like a kiss. It sounds silly but it really feels like one, right in the centre of your chest. "But I'm fine. Promise. It was a bad joke." 

"Okay," you say, letting your suspicion shine through. You hold his eyes. 

You haven't known Eddie long. It feels like you met yesterday, though really it's been two or three weeks. You fit together in a way you hadn't expected and adore more than you can articulate, two funny puzzle pieces.  

"Well, I just wanted you to know. I like being your friend, I don't want you to disappear."

He laughs and licks his lips, a rough, chesty sound. "I don't want you to disappear either." 

Tires crunch outside, a shushing sound and then the sharp shriek of a jeep being put into park. Eddie perks up considerably, his shoulders straightening. 

"Hey, Chief," Wayne calls. 

Trailer walls. Basically made of cardboard. 

"Hey, Wayne. Where's the kid?" 

You can't hear what Wayne says after that, words stolen by the TV. 

"Is that Chief Hopper?" you ask, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the mostly shuttered blinds. 

"Yeah, he- He's friends with Wayne." 

"Why's he wanna know where you are?" 

"'Cause I got into so much trouble." 

You bite your tongue. His tone is hard, not stern but almost, and you realise you've overstepped as you usually do. You want to apologise but you don't want to pick the wound, eager to gloss over and make him smile again. 

"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" you ask him.

"What?" 

You spread your legs wider to slide onto your thighs and make him the taller one again, legs bent in a 'W' shape. "Coming back from the dead! First Will Byers, then Hopper." 

Something surfaces in his expression. An irony. 

"The undead," you croon, aiming for a smile, a laugh. 

He cracks. "The undead," he agrees, smiling in bemusement. His eyes are a funny shade of brown. 

—

Eddie shoo’s you home early that night but tries to do it kindly. He feigns exhaustion, a facade that's difficult to uphold when his entire body is thrumming with want. If there's one thing Eddie hates about being a vampire (there are literally hundreds of things he hates, but this one's special) it's that he wants to hurt the people he likes a thousand times more than the people he doesn't. 

He can't explain it. Your blood is more appealing than any lonesome stranger's. Your pulse is practically music to his ears when you sit beside him. He'd kill himself before he ever hurt you, though. Or that's what he likes to think. Whether he has that amount of control is debatable. 

No. He would kill himself before he hurt you, or Wayne, or any of his friends. 

Steve can see the way that he's feeling on his face. 

Hopper's delivery set to one side, a tall glass with blood congealed in a sticky ring at the bottom, Eddie curls under his huge quilt and tries not to pass out. Blood sate feels the same as a thanksgiving food coma. It's awesome. 

He hates how good it feels. 

"Stop feeling guilty," Steve says. 

"He doesn't look guilty to me," Dustin says beside him, taller than the last time Eddie had seen him but still miles off of Steve's tall stature. He's changed his hat again, this one a garish green. It's not a good look. 

"He looks like he's napping," Robin says, delighted. 

"Can you guys go home?" Eddie asks. 

"Shithead." 

"What Steve means to say," Robin corrects, grinning her huge, catching smile, "is that no, we aren't going home. We brought games." 

"I don't wanna play games." He does. Eddie needs the distraction, because eventually the blood sate will fade and all that will remain will be self-revulsion and a cruel desire to do something awful. 

"I do not care even slightly," Steve says, deadpan, as he sits right there next to Eddie where you'd been sitting before. Steve's nowhere near as soft and he doesn't smell as nice, but Eddie's honestly glad someone is willing to sit next to him at all. 

"Ouch, what the fuck?" 

Dustin looks up from where he's sat himself on the floor. Robin giggles in her seat on the coffee table. 

"Munson, are you fucking shedding? I just got stabbed." 

"They don't work like that. They retract." 

Eddie feels at his broken gums with his tongue. There's a clean incision where his fangs come out and then snap back inside after a time. They're remarkably thin, fitting in front of his natural incisors neatly. 

Steve grumbles, hips lifted and hand searching under his butt for whatever it is that jabbed him. He retrieves exactly what Eddie had been expecting but hadn't had the forethought to prepare a lie about with a shocked gasp.

"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced." 

He swallows, knowing it's a very guilty gesture, and meets Steve's eyes straight on. 

Funny how Steve's hair speaks as much as his expression, bobbing as he nods his head to emphasise each word, "Munson, do you have a girlfriend?" 

Silence. 

"...Not really." 

"Holy shit," Dustin says, sounding extremely pleased. "No way." 

Robin tucks her short hair behind her ears, hands paused in disbelief at her neck. "Actually?" 

"I have a friend," Eddie admits. 

"Thank god," Steve says, dropping your heart earring onto Eddie's thigh. The silver feels extremely hot over his pyjamas, like it's been held in the centre of a blistering hearth. 

"I really thought Steve was gonna have to take one for the team and give you a pity handie," Robin says agreeably, scratchy voice coloured by genuine awe. 

Eddie groans, "Harrington, get this shit off of me. You know I can't touch that." 

"I forgot," Steve lies. "Can you wait? My hands are busy." 

—

He has Steve put your earring between two pieces of kitchen towel and holds onto it. He doesn't see you for a week, and he keeps your damn earring in his pocket that entire time worried it's gonna slip out and brand him at any second. 

Finally, you call him. He pretends he wasn't waiting. 

"Hello," you say, like you're announcing something. 

"Hey. How are you?" 

"Eddie, I need your help. Badly." 

He flinches up where he'd been leaning casually, hard enough to make Wayne jump. Eddie smiles at him placatingly and mouths a poor sorry, turning away to pretend there's a semblance of privacy to be found in such close quarters. 

"Are you okay?"

"I gotta find a rainbow leaf beetle. Do you have a torch?" 

"...What?" 

"They only come out at night, so I'm gonna go look but I don't have a torch that works." 

He relaxes, the lilting cadence of your voice enough to make his whole night. You sound so pretty even through the phone. He suspects you could hold any pitch, deep or high, and you'd still sound nice. 

It's all in the way you — he says this with love — perform the words. You speak like each word you're saying has equal importance, and it's calming.

Even when you say stuff that's nonsense to him.

Right now, you don't sound upset or even worried about not having a torch, simply curious to know if he has one. If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels. 

The action makes him think this might be more urgent to you than you'd first admitted. 

"I have a torch." He also has amazing night vision. Like, impeccable. "Can I come help?" 

"You want to?" 

"I'd love to. Are you going out tonight?" He leans back to glance out the window. "The rain is finally stopping." 

"Yeah, tonight! Is that okay for you? We could go tomorrow if you can't." 

You're willing to change your plans now that he's asked to go with you. It's a gesture as lovely as you are. Eddie doesn't think you'd ever think it of yourself; your kindness is so intrinsic you don't notice it, like the fine stitching of a leather bound book. Integral and widely unappreciated.

"That's perfect."

Wayne raises an eyebrow when Eddie relays the conversation. "You're going out in the middle of the night with this girl to… look for bugs." 

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear." 

"Be honest with me, kid." 

"I am!" 

Wayne swirls his coke can around in his hand as he thinks, a reluctance evident in his scowl. Eddie knows he's way too old for a guardian's oversight like this but he lets Wayne have a say because Wayne loves him, and Eddie doesn't ever want to put his old man through the turmoil he went through when he ran away. If that means a curfew in his twenties, Eddie's okay with that. 

"If you're going to have sex with this girl, I'd prefer you did it here. You have to treat women with respect."  

Eddie shivers, full body. "Wayne," he groans, covering his face. He can feel his cheeks pink under his palms, that's how quickly his embarrassment rises. 

"I know you're more responsible these days, and you're a grown up. If you want a girlfriend and you want to do adult things with her-" 

"Jesus Christ." 

"- then that's alright. You don't have to fool around outside." 

He drags his hands down on his face, pained. "It's not like that. You met her, you know she's…" 

"Strange?" 

"Alternative." 

"No, you're alternative. She's cooky." 

"Don't," he says. He knows his uncle isn't actually being cruel, so he lets it lie and fights for his own cause. "We aren't messing around. She genuinely wants me to go find these bugs with her. And…" He hates himself. "She has her own place, you know? If we were going to-" 

Wayne seems stricken by the same mortified embarrassment as Eddie, raising a calloused hand in surrender. "Spare me." 

"Thank you," Eddie says, spinning on his heel to hide in the bathroom for a while. It's only when he's sitting on the closed toilet does he realise Wayne hadn't mentioned his more dangerous ailment. For a time, he'd been a normal (debatable) person having a normal (horrifying) conversation with his dad. Not a vampire. Not somebody who ruins everything he touches. 

—

"It's so quiet," you whisper. 

For you, Eddie thinks. 

You're in the forest surrounding the aptly named Forest Hills trailer park, wielding your borrowed torch carefully into the dark. Eddie's following in your footsteps, trying not to smell everything that's on you today and failing. 

You smell like a person as everybody does. Over that is your soap, a faint hint of milk and honey that sticks to your skin even after you've washed it away. Over that is your deodorant, 'unscented', and over that is your perfume, which he likes most. It's a mix of smells, some Eddie doesn't know and some he does. There's lavender, though that might be down to the bunch you'd brought for his uncle wrapped in newspaper, and there's something fruity he can't quite put his finger on, all of it wrapped up in a cloying pairing of vanilla and coconut. 

"Eddie?" 

"What?" 

"Are you okay? You're almost as quiet as the trees." 

If only you knew the trees aren't quiet. 

"I'm alright," he says quickly, catching up to you where you stand a few feet ahead. "What are we looking for?" 

Best change the subject. How to explain he'd been smelling the notes of your perfume? 

"They rest on tree trunks. You have to be careful, any sudden sound or light will scare them away. But if you flash the torch on them, they shine like oil stains." 

He loves when you talk. "Where'd they come from?" 

"Place called Snowdon. They're so rare, they think there's only about a thousand alive there." 

"Well, how did they get here?" 

You laugh under your breath, so quiet he would've missed it if he wasn't enhanced. "I don't know. How do beetles get to different places?" 

"They fly?" 

A twig crunches under your shoe. 

Eddie tips his head to the side, thinking. "If there's only a thousand, how-" He stops, your circle of torch light growing further and further away. "Are you sure that they live here?" 

"No, but if they do we'll be the first to find them." 

"So they've never found any out here? In- In the midwest?" 

"Not yet. Where'd you go?" 

He shakes his head in an affectionate disbelief. "Right behind you." 

You search in silence for a while. Eddie wishes he could say he was mad, or even mildly annoyed, wishes he had even the slightest regard for his own time, but really he thinks any time with you is time well spent. Especially if it's helping you do something you want to do. Whether you find your rainbow leaf beetle or not, he feels better knowing he's out here with you to keep you safe and in company. 

Conversation is sparing. He doesn't mind. Your footsteps fill the sound and he finds even that stupid detail charming, the crunch, the pick up. His own are silent, a rare advantage to his terrible affliction. 

"Any other beetles you want me to keep an eye out for?" he whispers. 

"I'm not sure…" You turn to face him, torch pointed at your shoes. Rubber toes touched together, you lean in until you're all he can smell. Perfume. Blood. "If you see any cool spiders, too." 

"You have the mason jar?"

"You know I do." 

More than you realise, he thinks. The glass clicks in your bag. 

There's enough light reflected to see the most minute details of your face. Your nose, the circle of your irises but not their colour. He suspects Eddie from early '86 wouldn't have been able to see hide nor hair, and it wouldn't shock him if you were technically blind right now.

"Thanks for coming out with me. I was gonna ask you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, but I didn't want to come on too strong." He can sense your smile even though he can't see it. It's in the way your breathing deepens. "I know I can be a lot to deal with." 

"Who told you that?" 

"What?" 

Eddie doubles down.. "Who told you that?" he sounds heartbroken. 

He kind of is. Yeah, you're weird — Who cares? Who isn't? — but you're not a lot to deal with. He doesn't 'deal' with you.

"Everybody tells me that. All the time." 

"Everybody's stupid." To say it so loudly, scathingly, is sweet. It's therapeutic. "They are. This whole town is stupid." 

Your fingertips touch his thigh. He's willing you to turn the torch up and see his face, because he has a lot of feelings on display that he isn't brave enough to say out loud. 

"You never make me feel stupid," you say softly. 

"You're not." 

You giggle breathily at his vehemence, fingertips pressing in with a touch more pressure before you pull away and shine the torch deep into the trees. 

"This whole town is stupid," you mumble. "But not you." 

He thinks of his friends who are definitely stupid, but he loves anyways. He's about to add them to the not-stupid (subjectively) list when he remembers Steve's discovery: your earring burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for long enough now to forget all about it. 

"Hey, I have something for you." 

"You do?" 

"Don't get too excited. It's not a gift." 

He digs in his pocket for the tissue paper wrapping and hisses in shock as the silver plating of your hoop graces his index finger. You shine the torch at him. His eyes ache like he's been stabbed and he slams them closed, hand pulled to his chest. 

How embarrassing. 

"Eddie, what happened?" you question loudly.

He winces at the sudden overstimulation. Slowly, he blinks, and finds you staring at him in a worry that softens every feature, even your nose. He doesn't know the logistics. 

"It's okay. Stabbed a paper cut on the back. Your earring's in my pocket, the heart?" 

"The hoop? I thought I lost it." Your worry turns to confusion and then melds into joy. You step forward and fish in his jacket pocket for your earring. 

"Steve found it." 

"'The hair'?" 

"Yeah, the hair." 

You both laugh and yours heightens when you find the earring, pulling it out like a knife to be brandished. "Yes." 

"I meant to tell you a dozen times that I had it." 

"You're the best." 

There's a crunch of wood somewhere to the left like something heavy falling over.

The forest sprawls in every direction and the trees tower, their presence looming as skyscrapers. The wind ruffles the topmost branches and their trunks groan with pressure. It's enough to freak Eddie out super sense or not, feeling suddenly like he couldn't protect you. He could hear the individual droplets of drool dripping from a lynx's bloody maw, and he can sense each twig underfoot before he takes his next step, but none of that is going to keep you safe in the face of real danger. 

"Maybe we should head back," he says tentatively.

"Okay. Do you want to come over?" 

His breath catches. "You want me to?" 

"Yeah, we can watch movies, I have leftover pasta." 

That sounds more like what he should've been thinking. "I don't wanna keep you up." 

"What kind of pasta?" he asks. 

The torch flickers. "With the tiny tomatoes. You'll like it, super creamy." 

"How do you know?" 

"You like Alfredo," you say astutely, hitting the torch into the palm of your hand. It flashes weakly, the shadow of the trees flickering and so dark they're violet. 

"Try tightening the handle." 

You turn the barrel of the torch and the light switches off completely. You try to undo what you've done to no success, the sound of plastic rubbing plastic almost as loud as your heartbeat. Your pulse falters and then grows to racing when the light fails to come back on. 

"Eddie," you say, sounding unsure. It's a new sound on you. "I don't know where we are. How are we gonna get home?" 

Your admission is like a dousing of ice water over his head. "You don't know what direction we came from?" 

"No, do you?" 

Eddie wouldn't know if he couldn't hear the sound of the electricity pylon buzzing somewhere to the right. But how can he explain that? "Uh, we were turned around."

You creep to his side and grab his arm with both hands. "Are you sure?" 

"Hey," he says gently. "Hey, it's okay. I know where we are. We'll be fine." 

"Are you sure?" you ask again. 

"I'm positive." 

You take a deep breath that doesn't erase your shakiness, a failed attempt at self-soothing. "I really don't know where we are." 

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" 

"Not really… I don't wanna get lost out here." 

"You won't. I know how to get back. C'mon," he prompts, pulling his arm to encourage you forward. 

You let go of him and navigate a few steps by yourself. He weaves through the trees, waiting for your heartbeat to slow. 

It doesn't. He opens his mouth to reassure you again when you gasp, kicking your foot against a root and tripping. You barely fall, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, and Eddie remembers himself. You can't see the trees. That's why you're worried. You can't see anything. 

Then the smell of blood hits him like a freight train. 

—

Your hand stings where you caught yourself, palm scraped down against harsh bark. 

"Shit," you mumble. 

You're panicking badly, and you're confused as to why Eddie isn't. Not only was it fucking stupid of you to come out here with only one torch, it was stupid of you to assume you'd remember what way was home. It was stupid of you to come here tonight for that stupid beetle, and stupid of you to drag Eddie along. You're an idiot, and now you're bleeding. 

Your eyes sting with tears, pain like a popped seal. I'm so stupid. 

"Hey," Eddie says, his tone silky soft, "you're okay. Let me help you up." 

You hold your hands out. 

"Eddie, this is weird." Hopefully he understands that weird means scary.

He takes your hands, fingers closing slowly over your bloody palm. His breath is loud as he pulls you up toward him like he's panicked but his grip stays kind, and you abandon the notion when he rubs over your knuckles with his thumb. "It's alright." 

He doesn't sound the same. 

"Eddie, we can't see." 

"We'll go slowly, okay? I'll put my hand out and we'll walk around anything that gets in the way." 

"Yeah," you say hurriedly, heart bump-bump-bumping against your ribcage. 

He keeps one hand, the injured one, and starts to drag you slowly through the trees. His grip tightens as you go until it starts to ache, until it feels like it might bruise. 

"Ouch, Eds. You're hurting me," you say, going for a lightly teasing tone and missing the mark. 

Instantly, he eases off. "Sorry, sweetheart. You hold onto me, alright?" 

You do as he'd asked, hand clinging to him as he leads. He doesn't squeeze you again, walking slowly as he'd promised, and the closer you get to the edge of the forest the clearer it becomes. Light pollution from the centre of town leaches through the trees like water trickling from an overflowing basin. 

His second hand is in his pocket. 

"Here," he says after you've traversed to the very edge of the forest. "There's the park. We're bona fide explorers." 

He looks out toward the park and you look at the side of his face. Something isn't right. Something uncanny. 

You drop your gaze from his face to your joined hands. They come apart, blood smeared in both your palms like two halves of a dripping heart. 

— 

There is something weird about Eddie. As a residential freak of Hawkins you think you're an authority in this, and you don't feel guilty for judging him. Your brain can't stop going over your night in the forest. For days you play the scenes back and for days you lose the details. You forget how the wind had tousled his hair, how he'd smelled, what he'd said. 

You remember the way he'd squeezed your bloody hand. You remember the way he'd spoken, strained. 

Not strained like he didn't want to comfort you, he had, but strained. 

Restrained. 

You're poking at the shallow cut half-healed now in your palm at work when a dude walks in, very tall, handsome, and gunning straight for you. 

You straighten your badge and hide your bracelet heavy wrists behind your back, receding slightly as he approaches. He slows in front of you. 

You have a light bulb moment. 

"The hair," you say.

He scowls. "He told you that, huh. Typical." 

"You're Steve?" 

"That's me." Steve crosses his arms across his chest, his back to a booth, your back to the diner bar. "You're Eddie's new friend." 

"What counts as new?" A month and a half doesn't feel so new to you. 

"Trust me, you're new." 

He has the strangest patch covering the outside of his left wrist, the same peculiar scarring that you can see on Eddie's waist when he reaches for a glass out of the kitchen cabinet. You don't ask because you're not a dick no matter how curious you find yourself, but it makes your heart skip. What is that? You'd assumed Eddie's was road rash. Now you're not so sure. 

He tucks it under his arm. 

You meet his suspicious gaze. 

"You want coffee?" 

"No." 

You kick your foot, shoe sliding over the shiny waxed floor with a squeal. "Is Eddie okay?"

"Did you want to come to a party next Friday?" 

"No," you say honestly. "Like a cult?" 

"What?" 

"Are you initiating me into your cult?" 

He finally smiles, eyes creased with amusement. "I'm inviting you to our club." 

"Club where you chew on each other?" 

You look pointedly at Steve's wrist. 

"No. Club where we play board games and drink jiffy pop. Come or don't, doesn't matter." 

"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me?" 

It's a strangely intense conversation to have this early in the morning. Patrons chatter about work, coffee gets poured. The diner smells of syrup and sugar and bitter cold-press. You're both in work apparel, both refusing to move back. If this is some kind of shovel talk then that's fine, and if it's a test you're determined to pass, even if Eddie's been super weird lately. 

"I'll come if you promise not to eat me," you say. 

"It's really not that kind of club." 

—

"I had the weirdest visit in the entire world today," you declare, stopping in front of Eddie's porch with a smile. 

"Yeah?" he asks without looking up, guitar in his lap and pen scribbling over a lined notebook.

You wait for him to stop before you continue, leaning forward with both arms braced on the porch by his feet. "Steve Harrington came to see me, and he was super mean. You said he was nice." 

He frowns at you. "I told you he was a dick." 

"You like him when you tell me stories." 

"How mean?" Eddie asks, patting the seat beside him. 

You climb up onto the porch and plop down onto the couch, worn leather cold with the weather and damp in the seams. 

You take a strand of his hair and curl it around your finger. "Not really super mean, but he was, like, acting like I killed a baby." 

"He's like that." 

You sigh and lean your cheek against the couch cushion, watching Eddie's stubble move as he tamps down a teasing smile. "He invited me to a party next weekr." 

"It's not a party- Sweetheart, what are you doing?" 

You tickle his cheek with the end of his hair. "Nothing." 

"M'gonna sneeze." 

You tickle him again, fine dark strands brushing over his pale cheek. He's a very ashen guy, you've found. Likely because he barely goes out in the sun and he doesn't eat enough. You draw circles around the apple of his cheek and grin softly at his growing smile, a sweet, silly thing. 

"I'll tickle you back," he warns. 

"Promise?" 

He steals the curl back and tucks it behind his ear. 

"You're not a cannibal, are you?" 

Eddie chokes on air. You startle at his coughing and move to pat his back, palm slapping a steady rhythm into his shoulder. When he calms down you run your hand down the length of his arm, long sleeve t-shirt soft beneath your touch. You linger at his wrist and decide to hold it. 

He drops his pen and your hand travels until he's caught your thumb. He kneads it in his fingers.

"I'm not a cannibal. Why would you think that?" 

"I don't, but you and Steve are in your club, right?" 

"Hellfire wasn't like that," he says heatedly.

"No, not- Not that one." 

He doesn't say anything. 

"You have… He has this scar, on his wrist. Like something bit him, or-" He turns to you and he looks formidable and upset and himself, not mad at you but raw emotion in his expression anyhow. It's gone as quick as it came. 

"When all that… stuff happened," he begins quietly, "we got hurt. A couple of us." 

You drop your head, ashamed at having pried.  "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me anything else."

"Don't be sorry…" He squeezes your hand and lets it go. "Don't worry about it." 

"Okay." 

"We usually call ourselves a party, these days. Not a club." 

"Do you really play board games and drink jiffy pop?" 

"Sometimes we get really crazy and order a pizza. You should come." 

You realise as he says it how much his wanting you to go had mattered to you. Eddie's your friend, and you don't think that you're going to stay friends much longer.

"You think your friends will like me?" you ask, voice descending to a new kind of gentle. 

He puts down his guitar and his notebook. His full attention is something you've come to really enjoy, not because of the hunger you often see flitting across his face — though that's neat —, but because of the inklings of adoration clinging to his smile when he looks at you. His blinking lashes. He smiles at you and just slows. A usually frenetic boy calmed. 

"Maybe not Mike. Mike doesn't like anybody. Except for Will," he muses.

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Who do you like?" 

"I like all of them." He juts his cheek toward his shoulder, conceding, " I think Dustin's my favourite. He's funny. He's funnier than I am, and he's the smartest kid I've ever met. And he knows it." 

Your eyes focus on the pink outline of his upper lip as he speaks. It's a pleasure to be this close, and see him in this kind of crazy detail. When you go home tonight you might try to draw him. You'll probably forget.

It's the kind of smile that deserves to be immortalised. 

"I really like your smile," you tell him, hoping it'll last a little longer. 

It stretches. The pink outline turns white. "Shut up." 

"I do. I've seen a thousand different smiles but I've never met someone who smiles like you do." 

"How's that?" he asks, edging toward you, face a mirror in which you can see your own charmed expression. 

"Like you," — you shake your head with your lips parted — "know a secret. Something you won't tell anybody." 

His smile abruptly ends. 

You've nothing if not a talent for saying the wrong thing. 

"A good secret," you amend. 

He picks up his acoustic and gives it an experimental strum. "Maybe one or two," he agrees. 

Relief catches you. You nibble at the inside of your lip and watch his fingers work over the neck of his guitar, tipping your head so you can read the words he's markered over the body. 

"This machine slays dragons," you murmur to yourself. "Yeah? How many?" 

"Just the one." 

"Save any princesses?" 

"Not yet." He plucks at the strings, lost in thought, before turning to you with eyebrows raised. "Can you play?" 

You exhale out of the corner of your mouth as he pushes the guitar into your lap, an arm coming around your shoulder, the other reaching to guide your curled forefinger to the strings. You turn to face him, watching him talk with a growing fondness. 

"It's easy, I swear. We'll do Call Me. Blondie's basic, even a baby could play it." 

He realises you aren't listening and raises his gaze, shiny brown irises stuck on your lips. This close, it would be worse if he didn't look at them. 

You glance at his, an obvious thing, half a wish. If he only lifted his chin. 

Your breath mingles. 

"It's easy," he says again, a murmur of his usual volume as his gaze pulls back up to yours. "I'll show you." 

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding; it's deafening. You wait, and you wait, and you turn your eyes back to his guitar and clamp your fingers down against the struts so he can't see them shaking with adrenaline. 

—

Eddie sits beside Steve and tries not to admit to himself that Steve Harrington is, horrifyingly, his best friend (along with the rest of the party, obviously). Steve is the closest in age and Eddie can't make excuses (though he tries and tries and tries), Steve understands how much Eddie doesn't ever want to talk about anything that's happened to them, so he talks about literally everything else instead. 

"It was the weirdest pawn shop I've ever been in. They had, like, a wall of combi's playing the same video at the same time but all slightly delayed." 

Eddie blinks. 

Steve turns his head from the TV, having expected a response. "Did you say something?" 

"No." Then, because he's not a dick. "Sorry, Harrington. Want me to sit on your other side?" 

"What for?" Steve says. Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie. 

He does end up moving to Steve's other side with a pathetic excuse. "I can't see the TV." 

Steve doesn't say a word until he's sat down again. "Sorry I was mean to your girlfriend." 

"Yeah, what was that about?" 

"I was cranky because it was early and I don't want her to damage the integrity of the party." He gives equal weight to both reasons. 

Eddie snorts at him. "Since when do you care about the integrity of the party?" Steve barely acknowledges that they are a party. He thinks that's a very nerdy way to say friends. 

"Since always, dipshit." 

"And inviting her to join the party was the solution because…?" 

Steve drinks the rest of his coke and pretends to really care about what's on TV. "If," he begins after a minute, refusing to look at Eddie, "something happens with her, and something happens to you, that damages the integrity of the party." 

"Steve," Eddie says, jaw dropped down to his chest, "do you have a crush on me?" 

"Oh my god," Steve mutters. "Oh my god," he says louder. "I can't stand you." 

To prove his point, he gets up from the couch with a wrinkled nose, stops to tap his shoe gently against Max's where she's sitting in the armchair across from the coffee table, and disappears into his kitchen. 

Steve Harrington cares about me enough to give Y/N the shovel talk. 

He feels kind of great about it. 

But he's not sure your the one who needs warning. 

That night in the forest, Eddie had almost snapped. There are rules to follow if he wants to keep people safe, self-imposed, Hopper-imposed, and he's broken too many with you already, the most important being no close proximity when he's hungry. Eddie doesn't even realise he is hungry half the time. He'll be standing by you and he'll want to touch you, and suddenly it's like he's three weeks in to the month without sating. 

He thinks about kissing you and suddenly he's thinking about biting you, and hurting you, and it's literally tearing him up from the inside out. 

How can he want to do that to you? 

"You look so depressed and pathetic," Dustin says out of the blue. 

Eddie pouts and falls back into the couch, Steve's fancy throw falling onto his shoulder. "I used to like you," he says, taking in Dustin's outfit with a kind of parental approval. He's getting older and it shows, slightly more handsome than he had been — he's kept all his baby weight and it suits him, his full cheeks surrounded by the softest brown curls Eddie has ever seen. The outfit stays immature, a funny t-shirt and ill-fitting pants. 

"Sad. You have a sad face," Dustin says. 

"Go play with your nerd squad, please." 

He doesn't listen, collapsing in Steve's still-warm seat like a cheap tent and crossing longer, thicker arms over his chest. He smiles at Eddie genuinely. "Where's your girlfriend?" 

"No." 

"Where's Y/N?" 

Eddie tips his head so he can see past the coffee table and points to where you're almost hidden, sitting with Robin on the floor by Steve's sideboard. You have a basket of tapes in front of you, the two of you trying to choose what's going in the stereo. Eddie prays for anything but Blondie. 

You will most likely choose Blondie. 

"What does she like?" Dustin asks curiously. 

"Everything, kind of. Why?" 

"I wanna know what to say when I talk to her." 

Eddie smiles at his friend's face, a soft, surprised thing. "I don't know if she knows anything about the radio but if you're happy about it she'll be happy too. She's a good listener."

Dustin picks at a piece of lint on his t-shirt bearing a white and black print of a dog wearing sunglasses. "So you talk to her?" he asks without looking up. 

"I mean, yeah. What else do you do?" 

"With a girl that likes you? Huh, let me think." Dustin laughs and ruins his own sarcasm, pointer finger laid against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness. 

"It's not like that," Eddie says lightly. 

"It could be." 

"Could it? I mean… I don't even know if she'll stick around. And I feel bad 'cos I can't be honest with her." 

"Why not?" 

"Hopper said he would literally put me in the hole if I even thought about it." There's no need to expand. Dustin would know better than anyone what he's talking about. 

He cringes at the thought, self hatred a hot poker down his throat. He must've said it to Dustin a hundred times when he finally came around from his coma (that wasn't a coma, but a death, and then a rebirth). I can't believe I put you through that. I can't believe I put you through that. I'm so sorry. 

I'm just glad you're alive, Eddie. 

And for a while, Eddie hadn't felt the same. The world he'd woken up to was hard. There had been lawyers and grief and guilt and becoming. He doesn't have the words to describe how it feels to become something new, something that needs to hurt people to live, something that will hurt people to live, whether Eddie wants to or not. 

The loss of choice is suffocating. 

Though moments like this with his friends– they don't make it 'worth it', they're just how it had to happen. There isn't a scenario where Eddie could give up. He can't leave Wayne, and he can't leave Dustin. He can live with the grief of what he is if it means other people don't have to live with grief of what he isn't. 

"Eddie, are you okay?" 

He's missed something. Dustin isn't the only one looking at him. 

He curls a hand around his forearm subconsciously. "I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom, actually. Gotta piss real bad." 

"Eddie-" 

"I'm fine, Henderson." He puts on a good show, patting Dustin's arm. His heart, usually so slow these days, has enough life in it to ache. 

He can't have been in the bathroom for five minutes when somebody knocks on the door aggressively. He's expecting Steve, pissed at his disappearance and likely preparing a speech on attention seeking behaviours and how they're hurting the youth of America, so he opens the door with a tired glare. 

He finds you, beaming and pretty, dressed ridiculously nicely for his idiot friends. 

"Hi," you say. He can hear something from Blondie's Parallel Lines playing from the living room, familiar because it's your favourite album. "Any room for me?" 

Eddie moves back. You close the door behind you. The bathroom becomes a vacuum of your sounds and smells. 

"They didn't have any Dio," you say with a smile. 

"I honestly wouldn't expect any different." 

"You could've brought some tapes, your mix from the van," you suggest. "I love that one." 

"Which one?" he asks, and he can't help it, whenever he's with you his voice crops to a dulcet murmur. The urge to speak to you as you speak to him is unconquerable. 

"One with the winking smile on the slipcase. I really like it." 

"You can have it." 

You lean against the sink. "I can?" 

"Mm. Whatever you want." Especially when you look like this. 

You smile at him, your 'thank you' smile, all sticky fondness and mischievousness. He has no idea what you're thinking. 

"'S a small bathroom in a huge house," you marvel. Your voice echoes "Where does he shower?" 

"There's an upstairs bathroom." 

"Two bathrooms? That's-" 

"Audacious?" 

"I was gonna say overkill." 

Your candidness has him shaking with laughter. He clutches at his sides, arms crossed and leaning forward. You visibly take in his appearance, eyes panning slowly over his clean hair. He'd taken care to look like somebody you might want to look at tonight. 

"Why don't you sit down, Eds?" you ask, eyes creased with an unreadable emotion. 

Eddie feels blindly for the toilet lid and pushes it down so he can do as you ask, wondering why you're asking.

"You look very handsome today." 

He hugs himself. "As opposed to every other day, when I don't?" 

You take a step forward, a second, hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Your outfit today is delightfully simple, a pressed black t-shirt long enough to cover the waistband of your pleated skirt. There's an expanse of thigh that makes his heart beat spin out, one longer than the other where your thigh-high is falling down.

He wants to pull it up. 

"C'mere," he says. 

You take that last step between his shoes and he reaches out, getting his fingertips under the elastic of your sock and tugging it upward over the soft fat of your leg. Your hands come up to his shoulders for balance, and you say, "No, you look handsome every day. Today you look very handsome. I made the distinction." 

He covers your thigh with both hands, looking up into your face as you look down. "You look really pretty today," he says boldly, fingers spreading behind your knee. 

"Thank you. Do you like my t-shirt?" 

It's a screen print of Debbie Harry. Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. "I love it, but your dedication to Blondie is seriously worrying, sweetheart." He gives your leg a short squeeze and pulls the most giggly smile out of you yet. 

"Like Madonna." 

"No!" he bemoans. 

You laugh and grow closer, arms on his shoulder, a hand threaded into his hair. "Cyndi Lauper?" you suggest. 

He puts a hand on your waist as you move in for a hug. Your arms wrap around his neck and the tops of his shoulders, cheek crushed to the top of his head. 

He'd ask if you were okay if he thought you weren't. You're not upset or seeking comfort. You're affectionate. You've been getting more and more touchy for weeks, as he has. Stolen touches, your almost-kiss on the porch last week. 

"No, not Cyndi Lauper," he says, his hand skirting around your back to pull you in properly. 

"R.E.M?" 

"God, no. Where are you hearing all this junk?" 

"The radio." 

"Tuned into the wrong station." 

You pet the back of his head. "Yeah," you say softly, "I think I was." 

The hug is shorter than Eddie wants it to be. You make one of your happy sounds and pull away to get your hands on his face, stroking curls from his cheeks with a protective touch. "Handsome," you say, turning your hand to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. "Pretty. You have really big eyes, Eddie, so brown, and so…" You tilt your head to one side, face inching forward. 

He turns his face to suit, to fit, breath held as you close the gap. 

"So pretty," you murmur, and kiss him. 

His hands are limp and then alive, one clutching your hip, one splaying against your chest. He can hear the thud of your heart clear as day — you're bumping with excitement as you kiss him. It's a delicate, tender thing, the party suddenly far away, the music drowned by the sounds of your breathing. You kiss as you talk, as you move, gentle but with bursts of ardency. Your lips are a blissful heat, the tip of your nose smushing into his as you part your lips over his. 

He lifts his chin higher, his neck craned to receive you. He's savouring every movement. Each pause for breath that you take. The feeling of your inhales over his quick-bruising lips. 

Your hands play in his hair so sweetly it makes his eyes burn with an embarrassing amount of emotion. He screws them closed and squeezes up your waist, steadying himself as you feel along his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue. 

You don't get much further than that, seemingly pleased with your own brazeness or perhaps his touch, eyes glowing with mirth as you pull away. 

"Sorry," you breathe, not sorry at all. "You just really looked like someone should be kissing you."

You're flushed. Eddie can practically see the heat emanating off of your cheeks. He can feel it. 

He stands up, your pulse a ringing in his ears. The wet valves of your heart opening and closing. 

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, lifting your head to meet his eyes as he walks you back into the door. 

His gums sting. A click. 

It's a compulsion. 

His hands curl around your elbows, holding you in place. Your eyes are wide with confusion, your lightly swollen lips parted. He can see the tiniest slip of your pink tongue. 

He holds your gaze as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter closed. You wrap your arms around him as he descends, totally trusting. 

He's a meaner kiss than you are. He starts slow but swiftly loses a handle on it, kisses short but insistent, hot presses like little crescent moons against your barely open mouth. 

His hands move up your arms, a near vice-like grip until he finds your sleeves. His fingers slip underneath, hands hungry for your warmth. 

You make the worst sound anyone has ever made as he moves back, like something has been ripped from you. A gutted gasp, near silent. 

He placates as he wades back in. Thumbs rubbing your arms, lips mouthing damp kisses down your face. The corner of your pout, the hill of your chin, the skin under your jaw. Your head tips back against the door with an audible thud. You exhale hard. 

Eddie can't feel his hands. 

Your pulse hammers under his lips. He kisses it once. He can't think. He can't breathe. 

"You're always cold," you whisper, your hands drifting lazily under the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingertips trail up his spine. "But your lips are warm." 

He kisses your neck, his lips parting slowly, a hair's width a second as he sucks your skin into his mouth gently. It's barely a kiss. He does it a second time. A third. You start to laugh, a golden sound. 

The point of his fangs touch your skin and you stop. 

Eddie closes his mouth abruptly. His hand leaps to your neck and he feels your heart skip as he holds you still. "I'm sorry," he says, nose rubbing over the damp spot he's left behind, your teased skin. 

Your heart hikes again. 

"I'm sorry," he repeats. He pulls away, an agony. 

"It's okay," you say. Your breathlessness says otherwise.

Eddie takes as many deep breaths as he can stand, wanting to clear his head and filling it with you instead. Your everything; your smell, your skin. Your limp hands against his back. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks when he gets a look at you, your unreadable expression. He takes care to keep his head angled down so you can't see the lower half of his face. 

"I don't think you could." 

You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans into it, his weight against yours.

"I wanted to tell you something," you confess. 

"What-" He licks his lips, wincing when his fangs slide into his tongue and scrape grooves across his taste buds. "What was that?" 

"I know you…" You pause, fingertips rubbing at his cheek.

Does she know? Eddie thinks, horrified. He hadn't realised how scary waiting could be. A thousand worries condensed into a handful of seconds. Does she know?

How could she not?

You press your palm to his cheek with more insistence. "I don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I know you have scars," you say, fingers sliding into the soft baby hair at the back of his neck. "You don't have to cover up. You don't have to cover any of it." 

"I won't hurt you," he says, trying to convince himself. 

"I know." 

-

You stay a while longer. Eddie's friends pretend that you hadn't been alone in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time together. You thank them all silently and less so, trying to talk to as many of them as you can. 

There's Lucas, who's really, really nice, and his girlfriend Max, who's less so. She gives you an unimpressed look through her thick-lensed glasses, but you compliment her crutches and she comes around. 

There's Mike, who actually isn't anywhere as bad as Eddie had described him. He's not frosty or standoffish, he's sweet and he asks questions. There's a girl with him that you don't catch the name of, and a boy on her other side. 

There's Dustin, who you adore immediately, Robin, who you adore more, and then there's Steve. 

Steve offers you a pretzel like you're more than familiar. He strolls right up to you with a bowl of them in hand and doesn't leave until you've eaten half of them. 

There's a couple of people you don't manage to talk to at all, and you feel guilty about it all the way home. 

"What if they think I'm rude?" you ask, tired eyes locking onto the stereo system. The time blinks analog in the dark, 12:59AM. 

"They don't, don't worry about it. You have lots of time to get to know them, anyway." 

You hum and turn to his face, indulgent because you know he can't look back. "You're not too tired to drive, are you?" He's spent. Yesterday had been one of his bad days. 

"I'm fine." 

"You say that all the time," you observe, dropping your cheek into the passenger seat's headrest. 

"I'm fine all the time." 

"Liar." 

"Nuisance." 

You huff a laugh through your nose. The strands of his friendship bracelet, the small beads at the ends, swing like pendulums in the gap between his arm and the steering wheel. You can see the rough skin of a scar creeping out from under his sleeve. 

"Mike was really nice," you say. 

"He has a bleeding heart." 

That feels accurate. "He reminds me of you." 

Eddie rolls his eyes. You feel for every detail, the strange tension between you like a gaussian filter over everything. He's gorgeous in a horrific way, heartbreakingly pale, eyes dark as pitch, hands restless. They squeeze alone the wheel, thick fingers curling tight until his knuckles are stark white. Running down the back of his hands are veins like rivers. They're more purple than green. 

"Eddie," you say, playful, a tiny bit insecure. 

"What?" 

"Wanna stay the night?" 

His hand moves forward on the wheel like he's revving a motorcycle, the tendon in his wrist rising to the surface. He clenches. "Not sure it's a good idea." 

"Just to sleep. It's late." 

"I don't know if I can sleep next to you." 

You don't wanna say please. You don't want to ask Eddie to do anything he can't or doesn't wanna do. 

He pulls up outside of your house with his mind already made up. He gets out of the car and you follow his lead. He locks it, shoves the keys in his pocket as you join him on the path up to your porch. 

He's been in here enough times to know what it looks like, but for some reason you find yourself checking his face, worried about what it is he thinks of your things, all your mismatched trinkets, your stained glass lamps, your life as you let yourselves in. He ducks through the beeded curtain into your bedroom wary that they'll get tangled in his hair like they sometimes do. 

"Do you wanna call Wayne?" you ask, gesturing to your telephone on the right hand side, nestled between a stack of books and a cup full of coloured pencils. 

You pull your knee up to your chest and unlace your shoes one at a time. Eddie punches the number into the phone and holds the receiver to his shoulder to do as you're doing. It takes him less time to pop his sneakers off than for you to get out of yours. He's just taken the phone back into his hand when Wayne picks up. 

"Wayne?" he asks softly. "Didn't wake you up, did I?" 

You can't hear his response. 

"I'm gonna stay with Y/N tonight. Yeah, we had a good time. Yeah…" His eyes drift to you as you peel out of your thigh highs.

"Yeah, I'm still here. What?" He meets your eyes and it feels accidental, because he throws his eyes to your bedsheets and turns his face to the wall. "No," he says firmly. 

You scrape together something to wear for bed and some fresh underwear and leave for the bathroom, telling yourself that nothing is gonna happen so don't get your hopes up but not wanting to get caught out if it does. You freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you should've left your face-powder and your mascara on. Maybe even the skirt. You'd looked nice and pretty for the party. Now you look like yourself, still pretty but without those extra touches. Will he care? Does it matter? 

You debate your pyjama pants considerably. 

There's a lot happening. 

Eddie is… Eddie is something else. He's different, you'd known that for a long time, and his kiss had confirmed it. 

He's something out of a science fiction book. 

Well, nobody's perfect. 

Whatever he is, he'd kissed you. You'd kissed him and he'd responded, he'd come back for more, and now he's sitting in your bed when he could've gone home. You bring your hand to your neck and crane to one side, fingertips poking at your unbroken skin. His hickey's haven't even bruised. 

You screw the pants up and drop them into your laundry basket. You take off every piece of jewellery on your person. 

"Do you wanna use the bathroom?" you ask from behind the beaded curtain. "I left a new toothbrush for you on the sink." 

"Yeah, desperately, I…" He takes you in as you emerge. Fresh-faced, bare-legged. As naked as you've ever been in front of him, physically and otherwise. 

Eddie meets you where you're standing. He's ditched his jacket, and for the first time since you met him you can see the full length of his arms.

"You're not wearing your bracelets," he says, looking between your bodies. His hand twitches toward yours. 

"You have tattoos," you say. 

"They were better, before." 

There's a misshapen mess of black splodges near the crook of his elbow broken up by scar tissue. One arm is less scarred than the other, an almost perfect flank of white skin. 

"Is that a puppet? He's super spooky." 

"Mh-hm." 

You bring your hand to his tattoo and feel over the skin. It doesn't feel like it's there. Eddie holds your wrist and the two of you move together, your fingertips stroking up until you're wrapped around his bicep. 

Eddie brings his free hand to your collar. His index finger straightens, encouraging your chin up so he can ease forward and kiss you. He's firm, eager, and your lips curl up into a smile underneath it. He turns his head to the right and you fall left, smile worsened when you feel his own start to form. 

He nudges your nose. You take it for a telling off and laugh. "Sorry," you apologise, kissing his top lip. 

"You're making this difficult," he chides. 

Despite any sternness, Eddie loosens his grip on your wrists to slide his fingers between yours, pressing your joined hands to your chest. He leans back down and he's careful, almost methodical in the way he kisses. Chaste pecks, hot and precious as tiny stars. 

You reach for his waist. 

Eddie kisses you a final time and steps back. "I'll be back," he promises. 

You lower your chin, flustered and perplexed by his sudden departure.

Walking around to the right side of the bed, you click on your bedside lamp — a beautiful glass and foiled contraption that throws dainty stripes of stars and hearts over everything close in the dark — before climbing in. You sniff one of your pillows experimentally, trying to remember when you last changed the bed. You decide they're acceptable even if they really smell like your hair oil and flip them around to be safe, plumping them up with your hands.

You've curled up on your side and almost succumb to your fatigue when Eddie returns, bringing with him the smell of spearmint and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he shuts off the light and sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing you. The hair around his face is damp with water, baby hair's limp. 

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to wear, I-" Youre cut off by your own gasp as Eddie kisses you, his hand on your neck, his nose bridge sliding into your own. You hadn't been expecting it, and it's no less dizzying than any other kiss he's given you today. 

"It's okay," he murmurs lowly, lips pressed to your lips, "have to wear you, is all."  

You huff a laugh into his mouth. "I swear I'm always laughing when I'm with you," you muse as Eddie dedicates himself to your bottom lip. You cup the back of his head. "You're amazing." 

Eddie groans and eases back. "I'm not good with words, sweetheart. To tell you how I feel about you." 

You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me." 

He shifts in the bed until he can lean over the entirety of your chest, hands cupping your face and lips poised hovering over your own, a millimetre of space between your mouth and his. "Okay," he says quietly.

He dips down. You can feel his bottom lip tremble, and then he's kissing you too hard to feel it anymore. You wrap loose arms around his back. 

"Are you sure?" you whisper to him. 

He rests his nose against your cheek, eyes closed, drawing the tiniest left to right. "I want you," he reassures. 

"And you're okay?" 

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm okay. Do you want to?" 

"Yeah. More than anything." 

Another loving kiss against your cheek, Eddie moves down, down, down. "Tell me if I do something you don't like," he murmurs, top lip dragging and leaving a line of dampness to the base of your throat. 

He adorns the canvas of your neck in half-moon contusions, big hands caressing your shoulders, your chest. You hold your breath as his fingers pass over your nipple, fighting to keep in any embarrassing sounds. 

Eddie disagrees with his plan of action. You shiver as he brings his lips to a close and his bottom teeth scrape upward, as he pulls his head up and says, "C'mon, angel, breathe." 

He follows his command with a manipulative touch, a circle over your nipple that makes you shudder. He kisses you and it feels like a thank you, pressure, a heat as his palm smooths over the bump of your tummy to your thighs. He squeezes the outside of one and for a while you can kiss him back, and then he pulls your thighs apart and you break away. Eddie follows, kisses you even when your reciprocation is weak. 

He pushes your thigh flat to the bed. 

You feel the heat of your excitement start to grow. Your stomach aches with the want to be touched. 

"You're like a space heater, you're that warm," Eddie says, hand coasting down the inside of your thigh. He squeezes until fat melds under his fingers. "Are you scared?" 

His whispering in your ear, his hand as close as it is to where you want it, it winds you up like a coil. You sigh as his thumb strokes the edge of your panties, sound coloured by an awful, devouring desire. 

His face presses further into yours in reaction. 

His touch is like the tide. He wades in, away. His thumb strokes inward over something soft and then his whole hand moves back to your thigh. 

"Teasing," you utter. 

"A little… Why, is there something you want me to do?" 

His clueless whispering is infuriating and exciting at the same time. Your heart races and you can't discern if it's more lust or love.

"Touch me," you plead, pouting, knowing he's a pushover.

Anticipation stabs like a needle in your tummy as he slides his palm over your cunt completely. He rubs a careful, almost casual rhythm into your panties with the breadth of his fingers, lips kissing a lazy stripe up to your forehead, where he rests his face. You both watch his hand move past the valley of your rising chest. 

"M'gonna pull these off, yeah?" He sits up, fingers pushing under the sides. "Lift your- yeah, thank you, sweetheart." 

You buzz with his pet names, his soft voice, the feeling of your panties sliding up to your knees and his gentle exhale. You swear you can feel it fan over your slit. "Shit…" he moan, pulling at your spread cunt. 

He looks like he's in pain, eyebrows pinched together and murmuring curses as he circles the wetness gathered at your entrance. You turn your head searchingly as he starts to ease his index finger inside your heat, a gentle probing. 

One becomes two. He muffles your sighing with firm kisses, amorous praises, "That's it, baby, relax," as he works you open, fingers wet with slickness but not enough. He changes his position, pushing his middle and marriage finger inside and curving as his thumb slides up your slit looking for the bead of your clit. 

Slow, slow circles. "There, huh?" 

You shiver as he pushes in deeper, fingers as far as they can go. He spreads them wide, drops reassuring kisses all over your face when you keen. It's so new to have him kiss you at all, and to have him touching you — you're melting into nothing right there in his hold. 

"I got you. Tell me if it hurts, okay?" 

"Want you to- I want you to fuck me," you murmur, arms wrapping around him so you can hide your face in his neck. 

"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck you just as soon as I can fit," he murmurs back, sinking three of his thick fingers into your snug cunt. He pulls wetness out with every thrust, a line of slick dribbling down onto the sheets underneath. He wipes it upward and pushes it back inside, his chest heaving. "Y'so tight, gotta take my time. Take our time." He rubs his nose against your head until he can kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Make sure you can take it." 

"I can." 

It doesn't bear repeating how quietly you're speaking, a mouthing inaudible under the wet, rhythmic thud of Eddie's pinky finger slapping your sticky cunt as he ups the pace of his finger-fucking. 

"I don't think so," he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt and making a show of spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them, almost invisible in the dark. "Ruin your sheets before any of that, maybe." 

Eddie sits up and gets his hands under your armpits. You laugh as he tugs you up so your shoulders are on top of the pillows, but you don't have time to be confused. He quickly moves to kneel at your feet and pulls your leg over his shoulder, your back lifting unevenly from the sheets. 

He starts with a sweet kiss pressed to the skin closest to his mouth, your lower thigh, and then works his way up, open mouthed, barely kisses at all until his hair whispers against your sensitive cunt and he's nipping at the stripe of skin between your thigh and the place where you most want his attention. 

"Pretty," he says into your damp skin, lips shining. You reach down to stroke his hair behind his ears, worried he's gonna get it dirty. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark in the dim light, their lashes long and soft where the outermost flutter into your skin. He's lovely. 

He holds your gaze as he pulls back to your inner thigh. "Pretty everywhere," he says salaciously. 

His lips part over your skin and you think he might bite you, a bruising hickey, but he pushes you down flat to the bed by your hips and kisses your clit, a simple kiss. Your fingers weave deeper into his hair. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp, every tiny lick or kiss reflected in the minute tightening of your hands. 

He goes slow, mouths down, kisses wetter and wetter as he reaches your entrance. "Poor girl," he murmurs, hands pulled down to further scandalise. He sinks two fingers inside and laughs into your cunt. You squirm. 

"What happened? You're dripping on my fingers." Your thighs draw closed around his head as he curls his fingers against a soft spot.

"Eddie, can you-" You swallow. "Please. Please." 

He pries your thighs open and rubs them soothingly, lapping at the heat of your cunt in face of your pleading. His tongue appears broad and flat up the centre of you until he's kissing on your clit, fingers pumping in rhythm. Your fingers work into his hair and he groans, the vibration enough to make you whimper under his mouth. 

He laps at your clit messily and you tip your head back, breath coming in tight pants. You don't know what you say, only how you say it, desperate "please,"s and keening "Eddie,"s. 

His thrusts grow in enthusiasm, fingers rubbing eagerly against something sweet. You pull your legs up and nudge his face to your cunt insistently, thigh shaking as you hold it up. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement, his pretty pink lips suckling at your clit until you see stars. You make a pained little sound and try to move away from his kissing, startled at the intensity of your high. 

Eddie lets your clit pop out of his mouth with a lewd, slick sound, his hands moving under your thighs and pulling you closer. "Good girl," he says, rubbing his wet face against the inside of your thigh. He inhales hard as you are, though he pauses to kiss your kneecap and pat your leg. "Good girl, sweetheart." 

"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly, hands pulling his hair from his face. Pleasure rolls through you in hot waves. 

"For what?" 

"Tugging on your hair," you explain, shoulder pulled up to your cheek.  

Eddie kisses your tummy lovingly and climbs on top of you to do the same just under your chin. "It’s okay, sweetheart, I like that shit. That was good, huh?" he asks, lips dropping down to yours all wet and warm. 

He's not bragging, he's genuinely asking. 

You nod into his kiss, your hands coming up to his sides. You swear your ears perk up as he unzips his jeans and eases them down, a hand disappearing into the mess of fabric. He moans quietly at the first touch. 

You move his hair out of the way to watch. Eddie tugs at the length of his cock with a cruel hand, a short dribble of pearly precum sobbing down the tip and under his fingers. He spreads it as it goes, the slickness emphasising the ridges and veins of his cock. You can see it throb, if you look close enough. 

He sits back and eases his jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a thatch of curls that brush his hand with every pump downward. 

"You okay?" he asks, smirking. 

You pull your shirt over your head and your chest warms at his adoring smile. "Will you take off yours?"

He doesn't hesitate like you worried he might. He sheds his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over the back of his head and dumping it off the side of the bed. 

You take in his chest and it's abundance of ragged scarring still purpled with newness. He has a tattoo over his heart, a black whorl of legs and eyes. Fine dark hair crawls from the middle of his chest down his navel, joining with the thatch of coiled hair surrounding his aching cock. You shuffle forward and wait with two tentative hands held aloft until he says, "It's okay," before you touch him. You run your hands down the soft slopes of his waist. 

"Does it hurt?" 

"Not anymore." 

"Can I kiss it?" 

He snorts. "Prefer you kiss something else." 

That really makes you laugh. You dot a kiss against his jaw and can't make yourself stop, dropping them all the way to the skin behind his ear. Your hand creeps lower as you go, held to the curve of his tummy. His skin is hot to touch the lower you go, and his stomach feels solid, a heaviness you know all too well. 

"Can I touch you?" you whisper into his ear. 

"Please." 

You drop your forehead against his chest and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head. His cock pulses as you wrap your hand around it, skin smooth and slick as you palm slowly up and down. You watch in awe as a bead of precum wells at the tip, Eddie's rough breathing loud overhead. 

"Lie down, Y/N," he says, hand moving behind your naked shoulders. 

"What way?" 

"How do you want it, sweetheart? We'll do it whatever way you want." 

You think about it. Whatever way you want. No matter how indulgent, you know he means it.

"Will you spoon me?" 

He pushes you gently and follows behind, dragging your body into his front and angling your hips, cock hot and prodding your back. He gets his hand under your knee and pulls it up, splaying your cunt. You jump in surprise as he pushes his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against the still sensitive bead of your clit. 

Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "You wanna put it in for me, baby?" 

You reach between your bodies and take his sticky cock into your hand, shifting until the head nudges against your hole. He sinks in inch by inch, arms tightening around your waist and grinding you down onto his cock until you're whimpering. 

You grab at his arms with your hands and tether yourself to him as he starts to rock his hips, his thrusting tender and his face turned into your neck. 

He presses his hand flat to your abdomen, an anchoring point as he moulds your weepy cunt around his length, each slovenly movement into your heat spreading you that little bit wider. 

"Fuck," he says finally, sounding seconds from a black out. "Oh, fuck- You're tight. Gonna fuck you open slow, okay?" 

You're pretty sure you'd let him do just about anything. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss every white knuckle, every freckle you can see on the back, and when he bottoms out your cover your lips with his stolen hand to smother a tearful gasp.

Eddie's thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, a dirty slap ringing with every punching thrust forward. You curl in on yourself and hide your mouth in the sheets, wet pants smothered by fabric. Eddie's grip falls to your hip, where he pulls your body back and forces your cunt open even deeper. 

His cock pushes into your sweet spot sudden and emphatic. You moan and he stills, rutting into that same space without pulling out until you're babbling his name, body knocked forward with every thrust. 

Eddie turns your face toward him as much as he can without hurting your neck, your moans echoing in time with each thrust. "There you go," he says, "wanna hear how good it feels." 

If he cares that you can't answer him he doesn't show it, arm coming up under you arm to grasp at your chest, your breaststroke soft and aching under his hand as he squeezes tenderly. His cock kisses at the sweet spot inside you intermittently; you're dizzy with it. 

Eddie can't keep quiet either, his moans breathy, his breath hissing between his teeth when you clamp down around him. "Fuck," he begs, dragging his cock out of your heat, "fuck, Y/N." 

He says your name like the syllables alone are appraising. 

You can tell when it gets too much for him. He slows. His face drops into your shoulder, and he matches his pace to the wet kisses he leaves behind. Your wetness feels stickying, each of his thrusts snug. 

His breath hitches, ragged pants accompanying every slow push of his hips. "Where's my girl?" he asks, eyes still closed as his hand abandons where it'd been squeezing the bump of your tummy to search further downward, fingers disappearing into your folds, short curls wet with slick. He can't find any purchase. You roll your hips, chase his touch and the pleasure that comes with it. 

He groans into your shoulder. It sounds more pain than pleasure. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, trying to turn in his arms. He holds you in place. "Eddie?" 

"Yeah, fuck, I'm okay." He grinds up into your cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect." 

"Will you kiss me?" 

He does. It's nowhere near the bruising press you'd wanted. It's too careful. 

"Listen," he murmurs, "I'm gonna get you on your front, okay? Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, waiting for you to nod before he pushes your shoulder away from him and climbs up behind you. You lay flat on your stomach and Eddie settles on your thighs, a heavy weight. 

He pushes into your cunt with two fingers first, the new position allowing for a new pleasure. He pumps in and out and swaps his fingers for his cock quickly after, bearing the full weight of his body into your back as sinks to the hilt. 

You both moan in time, hands fisted in the sheets. 

He kisses your neck, lips parted, and his teeth feel so sharp that your heart sinks as it had in the bathroom. 

"Eddie-" you start. 

He pulls away, stops every movement. 

"Eddie," you say again. What are you supposed to say? You both know what he is. 

There's a lull where neither of you knows what to do filled by your too-fast breathing.

"I won't hurt you," he says, hands rubbing up the length of your back and then under. He holds a hand over your heart. He drops his lips to your back. "Do you want me to stop?" 

He must feel your pulse calm under his touch, but he still asks again when you don't answer. "Do you want me to stop? It's okay if you do. You're okay, baby, I promise." 

You steal a pillow from against the headboard and rise up on elbows. Your admission comes weak but completely honest. "Fuck me, Eddie, please... I want you. I want you-" Your murmuring's interrupted by a sharp breath as Eddie starts to move again, the head of his cock pushing into your cunt, a slick, perfect feeling. 

He moans from the back of his throat as his cock pushes into you again and again, hips smacking the dough of your ass as his pace quickens. You hug your pillow tightly, tears popping up in the corners as he ruts deep. 

"Being so good for me," he groans, clamped down on your hip with a vice-like grip. "Fuck, you feel so good. Fucking clinging to me every time I pull out, baby, Christ." His blasphemy is punctuated by a thrust that has you sliding up the bed, sheets wrinkling under your arms. You spread your thighs and wetness pools at your clit as his pelvis thrusts into you, driving pleasure so deeply it aches in your hips.

You moan pathetically and reach back to hold his hand, wiggling your fingers. He takes it in one and presses your arm against your lower back with the other, struggling to maintain a steady pace as he gets close to cumming. You're a babbling stream of sounds as he fucks in deep, swollen sweet spot tapped against mercilessly.

He throws himself back on his haunches, cock dragged out of your heat. 

You pull your legs out from underneath him and curl onto your side to watch, eyes wide as white spurts of pearlescence jump out of the head of his reddened cock and drip down the bumps of his fingers. He leans back, his stomach and thighs tensed with every pump. 

He groans through a smile, moan's coloured by a happy, relieved laughter. "F-uck," he drags, fisting his cock dry. 

He meets your eyes as the last of it slides down onto his stomach. 

You smile softly. "Fuck," you mumble. 

Eddie wipes his hand in his jeans like a fucking hooligan and tucks his cock back into his boxers with a wince, and then he collapses on top of you. He's sort of nice about it, his arm over your shoulder and his face behind your ear. 

"Fucking beautiful," he praises, dropping his head back on the bed so you're face to face. "You're so fucking pretty. So perfect." He kisses you. "You're perfect," he repeats, staring intently into your eyes. 

You pull a hand from between your legs, smelling of sex. Eddie literally couldn't care less if he tried, and he lets you take his face into your hand without complaint. 

He gets his arm under your arm and starts to rub your back. "You want me to take care of you again?" he asks, eyebrows raised gently. "Yeah?" 

And you would let him, you would, but you need to see them for yourself. 

You touch your index fingertip to his lip. 

"Can I see?" you ask. 

He loses his boisterous joy, tamps it down. He realises that he can't lie, that he hasn't been lying, and he nods. You tremble as you pull his lip up over his canine tooth, excited and scared.

A sharp, exceptionally white tooth pokes out of Eddie's gums. You're taken aback, though you'd known exactly what you'd find.

A fang. 

Blood oozes at the gums. 

"You're bleeding," you worry aloud, touching your finger to the dark beading at the base of his tooth. 

Eddie's eyes rove over your face thoughtfully. He pulls your hand away from his lip and sets it on his neck instead. "They always do that. The gum heals, breaks when they wanna come out." 

"How often do they come out?" 

"A lot more since I met you. Whenever my adrenaline spikes, they seem to think it's… feeding time." 

That is a dizzying thing to learn. 

You're not sure how you feel, but you know one thing: he's Eddie. "It's too bad," you say, forcing a lightness that turns real more easily than you expect. "I really want to kiss you right now." 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I really wanna kiss you too. Maybe a small one?" 

You find yourself leaning forward, unafraid. 

He kisses you once, twice, three times, the two of you holding each other's faces and covered in mess. Slick and sweat and blood. The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist. You rest your hand overtop, feel his keloid scars like hills under your fingers. 

"My boyfriend's a vampire," you mutter, bemused at fate.

Eddie blinks at you. "I'm your boyfriend?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Don't you?" 

Eddie pulls you into his chest and doesn't let you go for a long, long time.

-

Your first time watching a blood sate is weird. 

For one, Chief Hopper is firmly against it. He's got his kid with him, the boy from the party that Mike had been so heavily doting on, and if he didn't you might think he was a pretty scary guy. 

"I think this is stupid," the chief says plainly. "I think this is stupid, I think you're stupid," — he points at Eddie where he's sitting sickly in the round couch — "and I think you're plain crazy, kid." He points at you last. 

You beam at him. "People have said that about me." 

His kid laughs. 

"Will," Hopper says tiredly, "go sit in the car." 

"Look, Chief, I know I messed up, okay, but she kind of stuck her hand in my mouth and I didn't really have a choice." 

Wayne looks at you with new eyes. "You did?" 

You nod at him faux-seriously. 

"And what gave her the inkling that you might have had something in your mouth worth looking at?" Hopper says, which is hilarious. You laugh behind your hand. 

He gives you a disapproving look that you completely ignore. If you'd taken notice of disapproval you would've stopped having this much fun years ago. 

"Uh, well, she might have… felt them?" His pitch rises. 

Hopper looks like he's about to blow a gasket when Will says, "What was he supposed to do? Never talk to anyone new ever again?" 

"He did a lot more than just talk to me," you say. There'd been a fixed bike, phone calls, lots of sandwiches, bug hunts, an entire sketchbook full of drawings. 

"I told you to wait in the car," Hopper says.

Will grins and raises his hands in surrender. "Bye," he mouths. You wave. 

Hopper waits for the door to close before he continues. "I get it, when you're a teenager you think your hormones are the end of the world-" 

"I'm almost twenty three." 

Hopper pinches his hand closed. "But you do not understand the danger that you are creating here."

"Like a stake-ing," you whisper, very very quietly. Eddie's the only one who can hear you, and he laughs so hard he snorts. 

"I'm glad you find this funny." Hopper's tone could not imply the opposite any more. 

He hands Wayne a paper bag that audibly sloshes and stalks out, his anger a palpable cloud of steam rising off of his shoulders. Eddie seizes up beside you at the sound, lips parting as his fangs come through. You don't touch him because you value your blood inside your body, only slide away from him and smile. "You okay, handsome?" 

"Kid, maybe the chief is right. We don't know how Eds is gonna act with you here," Wayne says. 

You nod respectfully. You like Wayne, and he knows about all of this stuff more than you ever could. 

"No," Eddie mumbles, putting his hand out for you across the couch. 

You take it without thinking. 

Wayne sighs. You can hear him grumbling as he disappears from view into the kitchen and puts a pot on the stove. There's the sound of a bag being punctured with a knife, a wet slosh. Eddie's grip on your hand tightens. 

You're still fascinated that he even drinks blood in the first place. That's wickedly sickening. Wicked, because it's cool that he's a vampire, with his impressive hearing, senses and smell. But sickening, because if you had to drink a pint of blood every couple of weeks you'd throw up. 

"I read about a new blood-sucker." 

Eddie raises his heavy head. "Another bug?" 

"No, a finch! A vampire finch. They're really pretty, Teddy. They're small and brown with long beaks and they drink blood because there's barely any water on their island." You give him a loving smile. "They aren't parasites. S'just how they had to change to survive." 

He squeezes your hand, this time on purpose. 

"Are you gonna come and have it in here, Eddie?" Wayne asks, one last shot at separating the two of you.

"I'm okay," he says loudly. His eyes trace your smile. "Really." 

It can't be fun to have two people watch you drink a warm mug of blood, but Eddie finds it funny. He keeps laughing every time he brings the rim of the glass to his mouth. 

"I can't do it if you're looking at me," he says. 

Wayne rolls his eyes and looks away. You cover your face with both hands and part your fingers to spy on him through the gaps. He makes it look easy, draining the mug basically in one long pull, though his hunger turns violent as the cup empties. He chokes. Blood trickles down from one corner of his mouth. 

You automatically want to reach over and wipe it away. Wayne grabs your arm before you can and gives you a fatherly look that says, I wouldn't do that if I were you. 

"Shit," Eddie says, slamming his now empty mug down on the coffee table. It makes a grating sound like a ground mortar and pestle. He sits as far back on the couch cushions as he can, nausea clear on his face. 

"Deep breath," Wayne says. 

"Fuck, Wayne." 

"You're aces. Deep breaths." 

Your heart hurts watching Eddie like this. He covers his mouth with eyes closed tightly and breathes hard through his nose. Already there's colour coming back into his face, not a lot but anything is an improvement. He'd been practically grey. 

When Eddie pulls his hand from his mouth blood has spread over his lips and jaw. Your eyes widen.

"I'll get the shower running," Wayne says, slapping his knees as he stands. He stops before the hallway. "Good job, Eddie." 

The boy in question slouches into a ball on the sofa and nods into a cushion. You wait for the sound of Wayne pulling the shower cord that turns on the hot water before you stand up, head tipped to one side. 

"You okay, handsome?".

"Tired." 

"You want a hug from me?" 

"Is anyone else offering?" He opens one eye to peek at you and grins at your distraught expression. "I'm joking, I'm kidding. C'mere, before I start bawling." You sit and then flop onto your side, pulling your legs up next to his. "Such a frowny face." His voice is adorably tired.

"Better than yours. You look like someone from Night of the Living Dead, baby." 

Eddie's arm lies limp like a dead fish over your waist. "Lemme nibble on your brains," he says, words thick as dark honey, eyes closed. "Just a snack." 

You're waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under your feet. No way your boyfriend, your cries at the end of every movie, brings you flowers because he felt like it, won't step on cracks in the sidewalk boyfriend just skulled a glass of O-negative like it was a milkshake. 

You feel guilty as soon as you think about it. He's not confined to all his softest parts and he never will be. He's snarky and angry and loud. He plays guitar like a real rockstar and he doesn't take anyone's shit. He's a survivor. A glass of blood every now and then was never gonna stop him. 

You keep wondering if you should let him suck your blood. It could be hot. It could also probably be the worst idea ever, a relationship faux pas up there with proposing after a month or saying I love you on the first date. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. 

You brush the hair out of his eyes with your ring finger. "Embarrassing relationship fumbles." 

"Oh yeah? Like letting your girlfriend watch you drink human blood from a mug shaped like Woodstock?" 

"Least it wasn't Snoopy." 

"God forbid." 

"Is it always like this?" You stroke your hand down his face and rub along his jaw with your thumb. "D'you always get sleepy?" 

"Yeah." He turns his face so your hand covers his mouth. 

You've stopped wearing silver jewellery, your wrists bare besides the endearingly awful friendship bracelet he's constructed for you. Not a friendship bracelet, he'd corrected. You're not kissing other friends, are you? Because that's really gonna put a downer on this whole thing.  

You dip your forehead to his chin and the two of you lay there in silence. You can smell blood, a thick, metallic stick permeating every corner of the room. It's especially strong between the both of you. 

"Do you wanna bite me right now?" you inquire without opening your eyes. 

"Not really. Blood sate kicks in quickly. It's the worst for, like, the first ten seconds after. Now I wanna sleep, but Wayne's gonna make me shower." 

"Maybe I can shower with you." 

"I'm sure he'd jump for joy if you suggest it." 

"Really?"

Eddie kisses your hand. "No," he says with a giddy laugh. 

"I'll pretend I'm gonna sit on the toilet. Keep watch." 

"How will you stop your hair from getting wet?" 

"I'll lean out." 

Eddie laughs even more than he had been, peeling laughter that warms you from the inside out as he kisses your hand again. "That'll definitely work." 

Wayne clears his throat. 

"Shower's hot. I'm going out. For an hour." Eddie perks up. His uncle looks him dead in the eye. "Don't make me regret this." 

And while Wayne had been under the impression you and Eddie were gonna have some grown up fun together in the shower, what you really do is an innocent act of affection: you wash Eddie's hair. 

"You have to lean your head back," you chide. 

"I am." 

"More than that." 

"There's no room." 

You're lucky you both fit. You're freezing standing behind Eddie, the only relief the warm water that trickles down from your hands to your elbows as you draw circles in his scalp, working the shampoo into a fine lather. 

"How did you get blood here?" you ask, scratching rusty flakes from the hair behind his ear. 

"I don't know. It gets everywhere. Like eyeshadow." 

You push your chin over his shoulder. "You wear eyeshadow?" 

"For shows." 

"Really?"

"Is it hard to believe?" 

You encourage his head under the water and rake your hands through his curls, encouraging the soapy water down to the ends with patient hands. "Lip gloss too? Hey, can I do your makeup?" 

"Maybe tomorrow," he bargains. While the shower has helped to wake him up, lethargy remains thick and unshakeable as adamant. 

You kiss the wet ridge of his shoulder blade, picturing his pretty face decked out in dark liners and sticky balm. "Thank you." 

"I haven't worn any in a long time. Haven't played a show in a really long time." 

You wring the water out of his hair and search in the steam for his conditioner. It's mostly empty. "You could put on a show for me. I never got to see you play," you say, shaking it really hard. A dollop collects in your hand and you work the dregs through the ends of his long hair. 

"You want that?" 

"I think you're the best guitar player in the world." 

You're not joking. He's the best, and he plays guitar. And he's pretty good, semantics aside. You love sitting out on the porch with him and listening to him play old rock songs off the top of his head. You could watch his hands move over the strings for hours. 

"If that's the case, I can definitely put on a show. Make-up, costume, stage dives. The whole nine yards. Anything for my girl." 

You roll the ends of his hair between two coated palms and step back. "There. You have to let it soak in for a couple of minutes." 

Eddie turns with a grin, angling his chest and hair forward, away from the stream. 

"Whatever will we do?"

You wipe an escaped streak of blood off of his bottom lip and smile. "I have no idea." 

You kiss. Eddie leans down and you move up, damp noses glancing off of each other. You're used to short kisses, never enough to make his heart race in case it prompts an unnecessary appearance of his fangs, so when Eddie encourages your lips apart to wade in deeper you pull back questioningly. 

"Blood sate. I'm 'sated'. They won't come out." 

Your jaw drops. "For real?" 

He shakes his head with a pleased smile. "For real. Kiss me sick, sweetheart." 

You throw your arm around his neck and drag his face to yours, kissing with an ardency that both surprises and amuses him. He laughs into your open mouth until suddenly he's not laughing at all, only breathing, pushing against you with the same urgent force and the same adoring smile. 

"Does this mean you can give me a hickey?" you ask enthusiastically. Eddie has yet to give you a proper love bite.

He leans back under the show spray and pulls you in with him, laughing when you dissolve like rice paper in his arms, finally warm. There's never been a sweeter sound. 

/\^._.^/\

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | my halloween party

if you enjoyed reading his, please consider reblogging. i promise it makes a huge difference