#it's so. my heart feels like it could burst it aches so much from the vibe of this mood teaser LKSDFKL;AFJ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sillyblues · 10 months

Text

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: miguel tells you how annoying you are

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: last and second part of annoying is here!! thank you so much for the huge support yall broke my app my notifications weren’t loading properly lmao THANK YOU! this was supposed to be just a short one but here we are with a part two and a bit bigger word count m’gonna need rest and need more time for the preggo fic

part 1

Wordlessly, you left the team. You returned to your own Earth and did your own thing again. There was a slight tinge of unfamiliarity, knowing that you might never work with other spider people, your friends, again, but you forced the feeling down.

Miguel’s outburst haunted you wherever you went. Even as you fought villains that disturbed the peacefulness of your home, even as you mingled with the other civilians and hung out with your friends, even as you laid down in the comfort of your bed, his words would constantly echo through your head, and they would threaten the fall of your tears every single time.

If Miguel thought you were annoying, what about your other friends? Do they think you were bothersome as well? Maybe, you bitterly thought as you brought your knees to your face. Maybe the civilians don’t like you as well. The thought of the people you treasure and care for so dearly, the people whom you devoted most of your life to save, the people whom you risk getting hurt every day for, hating you, left you breathless.

More tears fell, and you gasped. The ache in your heart was too much to bear and seemed to sting your entire being. You clutched your chest as you laid sideways on your bed, pillows and blanket long scattered on the floor. You tried to muffle your cries, but it was useless, as they still vibrated through the room of your apartment.

Oh, god. Please don’t hate me. Don’t hate me, please. Don’thatemepleasedon’thatemeplease—

“[Name]?” the familiar voice momentarily halted you in your weeping. You slowly rose a bit, supporting yourself on your arm and looked towards the source of it. Peter’s worried look greeted you as he crawled himself out of your window.

“Oh, [Name].” you wavered at his heartbroken voice. He immediately rushed in to hug you. He sat on your bed beside you and embraced you. He rocked you back and forth, one hand on the back of your head that leaned into the crook of his neck, and one hand caressed your back.

“P-Peter, I ca– I can’t,” you hiccupped, and with shaking fingers, you gripped his suit tight. You felt your heart would burst with the way it was beating so fast and hard, ringing in your ears. “I can’t— I can’t breathe.”

“It’s okay, [Name]. I got you. I’m here, okay?” his voice was slightly muffled by the top of your head, but you could still hear him. “I want you to listen to me. Stay with me, yeah?”

You tried your best to respond, but it felt like your body wasn’t listening to you. He pulled back a little and held your face in his hands. You look at his eyes full of undisguised concern overflowing, and you desperately hope he doesn’t hate you too. You gathered what was left of your little strength and nodded weakly.

“Can you tell me three things around your room?” you try to look around as you cling to his arms. You looked away from his eyes and looked around you. Your old lampshade provided you with dim lighting in your dark, cold room. Your messy books were in disarray on the table. You saw a mirror. You saw yourself and how miserable you looked. Your face was wet with tears, and your eyes were red. You also saw how Peter looked at you with such solicitude, and you want to cry all over again.

“Um, lampshade.” You said and winced at the painful scratch in your throat and your hoarse voice. “Books. Mirror.”

“Good job. You did well. Can you move three body parts for me?” you unclasped your hands from his arms and tried to clench and unclench them. You wiggled your head out of his hold, embarrassment starting to creep onto you being seen so sticky and so wet and such a mess. It was fortunate that he understood and he chuckled. You were silent for a moment, and you didn't know what else to move so you settled on headbutting Peter.

“Ow! Of all things, really? Can't believe this is what I get,” he grumbled as he rubbed his forehead. You giggled at his exaggerated expression and unknowingly to you, your tears had stopped flowing, and only hiccups remained.

“Are you feeling better, [Name]? You can talk to me, my shoulder is vacant for you. Or do you want me to just stay quiet? Because yeah, I can do either. Just tell me what to do,” you chuckled even more at that. “I’ll even give you a pass for laughing at me.”

Seeing Peter comfort you like that, there was a sense of relief wash over you. It was obvious he was being genuine with you and if he wasn't, he most likely wouldn't even have the patience to sit with you and let you cry on him.

“It's nothing, um, it's just that,” you sighed as you weakly played with your fingers. The words are lodged in your throat, and you slowly breathe out. He looked at you with encouragement to take it slow, to breathe and you did. “I found out people at the headquarters think I talk too much and they didn’t really like me. Then I made Miguel mad, and I learned how I was annoying him. He probably hates me. And, uh, it got me thinking, what if you and Jess and Hobie think the same way? What if everyone thinks the same way?”

There was an urge to cry again, but it felt like you had cried it all out. There was none left for you to cry anymore.

“Wow, I knew Miguel was all bite and no bark, but I didn’t expect he’d bite that deep. What the hell is wrong with him?” the genuine disbelief made you sputter and chuckle.

“First of all, whoever doesn’t like you is automatically wrong. I mean, who could not like you? You literally make everyone’s day. Jess loves gushing with you about her husband, and Hobie loves talking about how his punk stuff and fighting the literal government which I think it’s really pretty cool of him don’t tell him that he’s going to tell me I should do it as well and I just can’t,” he said. “And I love talking to you because you’re funny and so positive you just know how to make me cheer up. Besides, I’m talking too much now, aren’t I? Always have been. But did you think I was annoying?”

“No! I never once thought you were one.” You replied without a beat.

“Exactly. Us either. Look, [Name], everyone loves you. Trust me when I say that.” He said with confidence and finality that you had no choice but to believe him,

“But, Miguel..”

“He's stupid. I know. Don’t mind what he said because it’s all bullshit anyways.” He grins. “Lyla told me what happened. I’m not taking his side because what he said is just wrong and I get you, you know? Having to hear all of that hurts. But from the bottom of my heart, I think Miguel did not mean what he said. Like, all the pent-up stress got to his head and boom, it suddenly burst out. I’m not saying that it was a valid reason, no. I just wanted to let you know that he doesn’t truly think you’re annoying, you know?”

“Besides, from all the time I knew him, I had never seen him genuinely enjoy his time with someone nor mope so bad when you didn’t come to the headquarters anymore.” He said with a deadpan expression at the end.

“Pfft, really?”

“Yes, really.”

There was a pause, it wasn’t awkward but it made you appreciate him more for coming here for you. He smiled at you and you did too, leaning on his shoulder for support. He hugged you sideways, one arm rubbing the side of your arm and you closed your eyes.

“I missed you, [Name]. We all did.”

“...I missed you all too.”

The decision to come back to the headquarters was a bit hard but you took it slow with Peter’s support. He never rushed you nor forced you to come back which you really appreciated and when you did return, you were sure you didn’t regret it. Jess and Hobie immediately latched onto you, they hugged you tight and told you how much they missed you so bad. They asked you how had you been, if you were alright, if were you hurt, and all that. Seeing their sincere worry for you, you smiled hard enough to hurt your cheeks and slowly you were going back to the old, happy you.

What changed right now was that you avoided Miguel. When you first returned to the headquarters, Miguel was there a bit far away from you. You could feel his earnest gaze at you and you looked at him briefly. The bags underneath his eyes seemed to be bigger and you wonder if he had gotten a bit bigger too. A reminder of his words rang instantly through your head and you breathed deeply silently. You quickly looked away as soon as you laid your eyes on him and that remained true for a couple of weeks.

During the briefing of your missions, he would look at you expectantly as if you would stand beside him like you always did. But you usually stood nearby Hobie who was at the entrance of his office. Sometimes you stood beside Jess and Peter which was a bit near him but not quite so.

“You’re not gonna be near him?” Hobie once asked as he lay down on a flat surface. He nudged his head in Miguel’s direction who was looking at you a couple of times as he talked about the mission details. You smiled bitterly.

“Aight, guess I got more time to catch up with you, huh?” the tip of his lips lifted up, “Wanna leg it and come join the protest in my home?”

“Oh no.” you silently snorted.

“What? It’s fun and we’re doing the right thing, you know.”

“Hobie, are you listening?” Miguel’s voice interrupted you both. You look away, not yet keen on looking at him.

“Yes, big boss. Ears open for you, don’t worry about me,” he stretched his arms before he folded them to lay his head on his clasped fingers. You wondered why he hadn’t called you when you weren’t really listening to him as well. Maybe he targeted Hobie on purpose to make you feel uncomfortable? You bit your lip. No, that can’t be. Peter said Miguel didn’t hate you and you trusted him so despite the voices haunting voices once more, you decided to believe in him.

Sometimes, you two would meet outside the building on his favourite Mexican stand outside the building. Maybe it was a habit formed over the time you knew him that you would buy him his empanadas. Now that you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him just yet, you bought some for yourself. You could not deny that you missed buying his food, only to eat half of it yourself.

“Ah, it’s [Name]! How have you been? I haven’t seen you in so long!” Mrs. Flores exclaimed as soon as she saw your walking figure towards her. You two have gotten close a bit back then and has since then insisted you to call her ‘Abuela’. “Have you lost weight? You’ve gotten smaller since I last saw you!”

You didn’t think you did but before you could deny she was immediately cooking some empanadas, “Just wait, I’ll cook some for you, okay? No need to pay.”

“Abuela, thank you, but I can’t accept this without payment. Please, let me pay,” you opened your wallet and took some money but she wasn’t having it.

“No! I told you I don’t need any money! Do I look like I need some, huh? Don’t make me angry,” she threateningly pointed her clamps at you. You just sighed, knowing full well that her stubbornness was stronger than any villain you had fought. Suddenly, a figure crept behind you and you paid it no mind, figuring it was some other customer but the voice surprised you.

“Buenas tardes, Señora. Lo de siempre por favor.” You looked at Miguel in reflex. He wore a plain white shirt and trousers and oh, he was so close to you. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something but hesitation dripped from him so you took the opportunity to look away and stepped to your side to create some distance between you.

“Oh, ¿es tú novio, [Name]? ¡Lo sabía! Why didn’t you say so? He’s been the one buying empanadas instead when you were gone.” You choked on your own saliva and embarrassment immediately crept up your cheeks. You coughed it out as she side-eyed you. Miguel was silent and you wonder if he wasn’t going to clear this misunderstanding up.

“You had a fight, didn’t you?”

“No, Abuela, he’s not my boyfriend—”

“He isn’t? ¡Qué hombre más estúpido! Are your eyes not properly working? What are you still waiting for?” she snorted at him. The bubbling noises from the oil fill the silence as you didn’t really know how to respond in this situation.

“Well whatever, you will fix it, won’t you?” she glared at him. In that moment, you felt loved once more and you were starting to truly believe that those who said you were annoying were wrong. You bit your lip. You did not deny to yourself that you were expecting to hear his answer.

“I will.” He replied with such determination and resolution as he looked at you. Your heart throbbed, you saw how much he wanted to fix things right with you and you didn’t know how to feel. Glad? Happy? But you also felt upset at yourself because you almost wanted to smile just because of that and it felt like you were too easy in forgiving him even though he hurt you so much. You quickly dismissed the confusing feelings down and when Abuela gave you the empanadas, you hurriedly slipped some bills while you took the food and almost ran off.

But everything would have to come to an end, including this avoidance of yours of him. You sorted out your thoughts, and your feelings, each day as you avoided him like a plague after numerous encounters because you feared that if you saw him one more time, you would burst out and say things that you didn’t mean like he did.

On the day that you decided to finally stop everything and just talk to him, you were beaten to it by Miguel. You were looking through the windows in the building and stared at the beautiful blue skies and the white clouds that decorated it. The flying cars and the mega train running vertically were like the birds and the beam of sunlight back in your home and you were reminded of the differences you and Miguel had.

“[Name],” his voice was so soft, so unlike the tone he had the day he yelled at you. You admit you had gotten comfortable with the pain you felt since that day that you still wanted to evade his gazes and attempts to reach out to you. But the rational part of you, the one that grew from the pain, knew you had to meet his eyes this time. To let him reach you this time. And so you did. You looked at him, you looked at his eyes that were looking at you so desperately, so hesitatingly.

“Can we talk, please? Just the two of us,” he said but to you, it felt like he pleaded with the way his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw was clenched, awaiting your words that seemed like it would decide his fate.

“Okay,” you breathed out and he did too. The crease on his forehead slowly thinned out and his shoulders moved back. You knew that if someone different saw Miguel like this, they would think he was normal and that he wasn’t acting differently. But you knew better. Despite the tough shell he portrayed, there was a man vulnerable just like you. You just had a soft shell.

You two went to his office and the door closed behind you two. He asked Lyla to not let anyone enter for at least a while so nobody would disturb you both. She saw you and waved brightly at you. She then nodded and finally disappeared.

“Before you say anything, can you honestly answer this one question I have? Just one, please,” you asked him, nerves started to creep onto you and you wanted to look away so bad but you have to search for the truth in his eyes. You have to know his answer to your question.

“Sure, yes. I’ll be honest, I swear.” He promised you.

“Did you ever really think I was annoying? That all I do was nothing but cause trouble for you?”

“Never.”

“Liar.” You were disappointed. You were not as stupid and oblivious as others thought of you. There was a part of yourself that knew that you were bothering them. That you were bothering him. But you couldn’t help it. You cared for him and if talking too much, if bothering him would make him distracted from the grief and the pain he had from Gabriella then you would gladly do it.

“No, I wasn’t lying, [Name]—” you looked away. He couldn’t even be honest with you. Were you that unworthy of honesty? That was all you had asked. You clenched your fist and let your nails dig into your palm. “Listen to me, please.”

You start to walk away.

“[Name], por favor,”

You were nearing the exit.

“I— fuck it, yes! I didn’t like you because you were so annoying. I hated you.” You immediately looked back at him. Disbelief was obvious in your face and tears fell from your eyes. You felt a sense of betrayal at this. If he hated me so much, then why did he let me so close to him? Were you just a show to him? Were you entertaining? He was approaching you and strength had left your legs from the shock at what he said but you remained still.

“I hated the way you talked so much I felt like I was losing a part of myself because I wanted to know more about you and listen to you talk. I hated the way you know so much about me. I felt like you could see through me and I was so scared that you would hate me if you knew what I truly am. I hated the way you cared for me like no other because I cared for you too and I was so terrified to lose you too. I hated the way you’re so reckless, you don’t care if you get hurt as long as it’s for others.” He stopped in front of you and tears were also coming out from his eyes. “I hated the way you captured my whole attention whenever you’re there by my side because I can’t look at anything else anymore. I can’t work properly anymore. I can’t think properly anymore and– and I, oh fuck.”

What?

“You’re so annoying because you distract me so much. I hated you because I fell for you and you’re all I could think about and I just don’t know anymore,” he shakily breathed out. His figure was so big but at this moment, you felt like he was so small. His tears ran continuously like a furious stream and you were sure yours were too.

“When you left, it didn’t feel right anymore. I missed you talking to me. I missed you eating my food. I missed you annoying me. I missed you so much it hurts.” His voice turned hoarse and you finally moved. You caressed your hand on his cheeks and he leaned his face against your touch. “Lo siento, [Name]. I really am. Es la verdad, por favor créeme. Por favor…”

“Are you stupid? Why didn’t you tell me?” you cried out as you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tight. But you couldn’t really blame him. Because he was the same as you. Despite his flying cars and vertical running train and your birds and beam of sunlight, there was still the same blue sky and white clouds. Despite his tough shell and your soft one, you two were just as vulnerable as the other.

“I’m sorry, don’t hate me please…” he croaked out and gripped onto your suit tight. You leaned back a bit to hold his face in your palms. His face was wet, his hair was a mess, and he looked so haggard. You lean your forehead against his.

“I don’t, I promise. I could never hate you and I hate you for it as well,” you giggled amidst your tears.

Really, he was such a stupid man and you were so annoying.

tag-list: (i'm sorry if i wasn't able to tag you!) @nxrdamp @um-well @nanasdumbworld @myconglomerateromance @sleepyamaya @harlekin6 @bittersw33t-lotus @saturnknows @miggyoharaswife @innergardentoadpony @asobriquet @mimooyi @misscaller06 @sciencethot @vainillasmil157 @just-a-mothboi @katsukiswrld @zukiizuks @cumbermovels @bigmood-myman @momos-peaches @lunrai @saint-chlorine @themoonsaynotocircus @deputy-videogamer @brittney69 @armins-ocean-seashell @galadrien02 @ranp01 @witherfag @eileen201804 @daryldixonh0e @chinglewingledingledong @mystar-girl57 @lorarri @poopoobuttsy @scarletsloveletter @mimimarvelingmarvel @tfygcdy @skulfan1 @roryrose327 @gamersansblog

#blue writes! ✧˖*°࿐#spiderverse 2 #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv angst

10K notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 6 months

Text

everything.

ln x fem!reader

in which you’re his best friend until you’re something more

hi! here you go lmao. probs the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written and i am obsessed with the concept! thank you for being here and baring with me - i loved writing this one and i’d love to hear what you think! huge shoutout to my girlies @mcmuppet and @lavenderlando ily both!

songs that set the mood: pink and white by frank ocean, daylight by harry styles, angel by finneas, enchanted by taylor swift, hate to be lame by lizzy mcalpine

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, friends to lovers brain rot, slight corruption kink, readers first time, qatar angst

6.4k words

“do you wanna talk about it?” you whispered softly, your hand resting on lando’s sagged shoulder.

your eyes were fixed on the third place plaque on his table in front of you, his very much fixed on the floor.

“no.” his reply was short and sweet, his tone conveying exactly how deflated he was.

you’d only flown in to qatar this morning, the october sun hitting you hard as you walked into the paddock, drastically different to the london climate you’d grown accustomed to. lando had all but begged you to come, your evening before spent on the phone, and you knew that he needed a friend, otherwise he never would have asked you to fly halfway around the world.

friends. that’s what you were.

you’d hugged him tight and told him that the weekend had to get better, and then his teammate put it on pole and got his first win. so, yeah, maybe it wasn’t going to get better and not even the podium could cheer him up.

his radio messages had hurt your heart, your chest aching as he self deprecated in the cockpit. he owned his mistakes, sure, but he’d taken it a step too far and you knew you had a job to do. you’d do anything, quite literally anything, to cheer him up.

you’d always found a way to be there for eachother, your friendship spanning five long years after you’d knocked a coffee over a guy you quickly recognised as the new mclaren driver. both nineteen and awkward as hell, you’d um-ed and er-ed and danced around one another in the busy pret in central london, chucking tissues at him, attempting to mop up the frothy mess all over his white sweatshirt.

eventually you’d just burst into laughter, lando immediately following suit. your cheeks were hurting from smiling at the curly haired stranger, intrigued by the very way his faced moved when he laughed, and he’d looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, not like someone that had just destroyed a brand new hoodie.

and just like that, a connection was born.

you’d gotten used to having a friend for only half the year, but he never let you feel the distance. paddock passes often fell through your letter box and you could usually be located in the background of his streams when he was home long enough to do them, the amount of times you’d been wrongfully accused of being his girlfriend a list as long as your arm. even in those moments of awkwardness, friendship prevailed and you both managed to crack up together about the conspiracy that you were more than friends.

and what an intriguing conspiracy it was.

“we should get you back to the hotel, you need to get some rest.” you told him, standing from the sofa and offering him your hand.

lando grabbed it, squeezing, his own special way of telling you he was grateful for your presence, and let you pull him up. as he tried to walk towards the door, you stopped him, hands on his shoulders. you wanted to shake him, tell him how fucking great he was. you didn’t think he’d appreciate that after an intense session in the car.

“hey, look at me. you got this, okay?” you smiled reassuringly, managing to get the smallest crack back from him, his lips upturning ever so slightly. something in his eyes told you that you’d succeeded, a small glimmer of an emotion that you didn’t know how to unpack.

friends.

that’s what you were.

you tried to ignore how touchy lando was being. you figured he just needed some comfort, physical touch not out of bounds in your friendship, but a new level had been reached.

on the entire walk through the paddock to his car, his hand sat comfortably on the small of your back, despite the endless amount of cameras pointed at you. his hand skimmed your thigh in the car, accidentally, you told yourself, and you had to avert your eyes when his hand graced your headrest as he reversed out of the parking space. knowing that he needed you in qatar so desperately that he’d flown you out was one thing, the way he was treating you once you got there was something else.

he’d opened your door when you pulled up at the hotel valet, helping you out of the car, his hand tucked in yours for a second longer than necessary. once again, his hand seemed to be glued to your lower back the whole way to the elevator.

the ding of the lift had you both shuffling out onto your floor, trailing towards your rooms in a heavy silence, something more left unsaid in the air.

you reached your door first, coming to a stop and shuffling around in your bag for your keycard.

“um, i need to be at the track early tomorrow. breakfast?” lando asked.

you turned to look at him, nodding your head profusely.

“of course, just drop me a message and i’ll come down and meet you.” you affirmed, your fingers finally grasping the piece of plastic that had, of course, fallen to the very bottom of your tardis of a tote bag.

you expected him to leave, but he lingered, as if there was something else on his mind.

“you okay?” you raised an eyebrow, unlocking your door. lando seemed to snap out of it then, awkwardly running a hand through his curls that had taken a brutal hit from the humidity. you liked the look on him, nonetheless.

“yeah, i- yeah, i think i just need some sleep.”

“okay, well, goodnight. let me know if you need anything.” you disappeared through the door then, the tension getting the better of you. you slumped against the shut door, wondering what he so clearly wanted to say.

the clock read 1:32am on your bedside.

a faint tapping had woken you up, and you groggily scanned the room, trying to find the source of the noise. you deduced that it was coming from your door, letting out a groan as you threw the cosy comforter off and trudged towards the disturbance.

you cracked it open, peeking through the gap and coming face to face with your best friend.

“lando?” you croaked, opening the door further.

“i’m sorry, can’t sleep. can i come in? it’s okay if not, i just didn’t know what to do.” he sounded so shy, something you didn’t recognise in the man stood before you, and you quickly swung the door open, ushering him inside.

“come, sit.” you waved for him to follow you across the room to the foot of your bed. he sat down beside you, the mattress dipping.

you patted your lap and he instantly knew what to do, laying down with his head in your lap. it’s something he did quite frequently when you were sprawled on his sofa at home, watching a shitty movie that neither of you were really paying attention to. you’d often be looking at him, praying he didn’t notice, and he’d be playing with your fingers, tracing the palm of your hand.

you couldn’t help yourself, running your hand through his curls. you didn’t mean to, stomach instantly twisting with embarrassment, but it was quickly twisting with something else. his eyes fluttered shut, a low groan falling from the back of his throat. it made your thighs clench, and he must have noticed, the tiniest smirk on his face.

“you okay?” lando asked, his eyes still shut, a look of relaxation finally on his face.

you coughed awkwardly.

“yeah, sorry. are you comfy?” you said teasingly, trying to cut the growing tension in the room.

“i am now, could fall asleep here.”

“you can, you know.” you whispered. his eyes flew open. your heart was hammering in your chest. this was new territory and you were worried you’d fucked up. sleepovers were also a norm, but one of you usually retired to a guest room, not the other side of eachothers beds.

“you want me to stay?” his voice rose in surprise.

“well, i mean, you can if you want, like, there’s space and-“ you rambled.

“do you want me to stay?” he repeated.

“is it gonna help?” you questioned cautiously.

“yes.” the confidence in which he replied did something to you.

“then stay.”

you crawled up the mattress, falling back into the place you’d so comfortably occupied just minutes before. you laid so still, watching with quiet curiosity as he slipped his hoodie off. his shirt came with it ever so slightly, riding up over his back, and you had to pry your eyes away, the ache between your thighs still ever present.

what on earth were you doing, allowing your best friend to crawl into bed with you? emotions were running so high, but it felt like a switch had been flipped ever since you hit the tarmac in qatar. every look, every touch was fuelled by something different to what it had been before and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

lando turned towards you, making his way back over to the bed. he looked apprehensive, as if he was thinking the same thoughts as you, wondering if there was any logic in what was about to happen. he seemed to come to the conclusion that this was, in fact, happening, crawling into bed beside you.

“is this okay?” lando breathed into the darkness of the room, his hand brushing yours. you were both as still as planks, mere centimetres separating you, the only light coming from the lamp beside the bed.

“yeah,” you took a deep breath, preparing for the words that were about to come tumbling out. “i’ve just never done this before.” you spoke quickly, sucking in another breath as you finished.

“you’ve never…”

“i’ve never shared a bed… like this.”

“like what?”

“with a… a guy?” your anxiety riddled words came out more like a question than an answer.

“oh. oh.” it seemed to dawn on lando then. “so, you’ve never… oh. i mean i can go if you’re uncomfortable.”

“lando, no, i just wanted you to know. i’m always comfortable with you.” you said, quietly baring your soul to him.

you weren’t sure why you’d basically told him you were a virgin. it held no relevance, he was just here to sleep, for some friendly comfort. he was not here for any other reason. and yet here you were, spilling the beans, all over the bed you found yourself sharing.

“i didn’t come here to, you know. i just needed you.”

you tried to ignore the pang in your chest and the annoying, minuscule butterfly springing to life in your belly.

“god, yeah i know! i didn’t think that you wanted to, well i mean not with me because why would you want me like that anyway, i get why you’re here, lando.” you rambled into the empty air. you heard yourself, groaning in embarrassment and dragging the cover over your face. lando laughed, pulling it back so he could see you again.

he was leaning over you, perched on his side, resting on his elbow.

“trust me, i’m more than happy with any part of yourself that you wanna give me.”

“don’t tease me, lando.” you scoffed. he was joking, right? right?

“i’m not! i promise, this is the one place i want to be.”

“why? why with me? i mean you could’ve called max. all he does is stream when you’re not home, think he misses you.” you were half joking, half deadly serious.

“come on, it’s you. it’s just… its been so hard this year, being away from you so much more. and then you came all the way here…” lando trailed off, averting eye contact.

you turned on your side to face him, placing your hand over his affectionately.

“you needed me.”

“exactly. i needed you. you.”

he gave you a look, one that you didn’t recognise, but you understood what it meant. it said more than anything had done since this confusingly beautiful interaction began. you got it, then, why you were here.

“lando-“

“i know that i shouldn’t tell you this and i can’t just spring this on you in the middle of the night, but i-“

“lando!”

“what?”

“kiss me.”

and god, he kissed you. the air was sucked out of your lungs, dragged out of you by the way he put his hands on your body, so urgent.

you sunk back into the mattress, his body over yours, a hand cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, stroking the skin there, exposed from your ridden up top. your hands were in his curls, and you revelled in the way that you could shamelessly touch them now.

he paused for a second, nose brushing yours, breathless and grinning down at you, a knowing smile that was so beautiful that it rendered you speechless.

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this.” lando breathed, scanning your face as if he was trying to take it all in. you, panting beneath him, coy smile, cheeks flushed. you’d never looked so gorgeous to him.

you leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, relishing in the moment. you were lost in him, thinking back to the very first time you’d locked eyes and how you never thought it would come to this. this, the way he was holding you, was the best surprise.

lando pulled away, peppering your flushed cheeks with kisses, a dazed giggle passing your swollen lips.

he flopped onto his side, grinning at the ceiling mindlessly. you hadn’t seen him smile that big all weekend.

“are you tired?” you whispered, lips brushing his cheek, his light stubble rough against you. you wondered how it would feel elsewhere, scratching over your bare skin.

“no.”

“then why did you stop?” you asked, the words falling off your tongue slowly, sinking all over him like honey. you felt the way he tensed up, the suggestion that laced the seemingly innocent question making you tingle.

“i didn’t come here for that.” he reiterated.

“and i didn’t let you in for that. but here we are.” you weren’t ashamed of what you were asking, the moment was right, the one, and you knew it.

“it’s too soon.” lando was apprehensive. he was always overly protective of you, previously as his friend, but this, god, this was an entirely different ball park and he was proceeding with caution, against every natural instinct in his body screaming at him.

“says who?”

“it’s your first. it needs to be special.”

“everything about this is better than i could have ever imagined.”

“are you sure you want it to be me?” there it was again, those unrecognisable nerves that made everything inside of you flutter.

“lando, there is no one else i could ever want to do this with more than i want to do it with you. i want it to be you.”

“but… now? are you sure? i don’t want you to regret this.”

“the only thing i regret is that this didn’t happen sooner.”

“one last time. i just need to hear it one last time.”

“i want you, lando.”

and with that, the air changed, charged with a different kind of tension. lando pulled you on top of him, hands firm on your body, the action itself gentle. you steadied yourself, hands on his shoulders, his resting on your waist.

“can i take this off?” he tugged at the hem of your shirt. you nodded profusely. “words, sweetheart. i need you to use your words.” lando cupped your jaw as he said it, squeezing ever so slightly, enough to turn you into putty in his hands.

“please. yes.” you said shakily.

he smiled softly, slowly peeling the material off of your body, up over your head and tossed carelessly onto the floor. he kept his eyes on yours, despite the fact you were now left bare, aside from the white cotton panties that separated you both. he pawed at your sides, kneading gently at your soft hips.

“we’re gonna start slow, okay? gonna take my time with you.” he muttered, eyes on yours before they trailed slowly down, across your face, neck, collarbone, further and further until he was taking all of you in. he began to stroke the underside of your breast with his thumb, watching the way your body tensed under his feather-like touch.

“okay.” you choked out, head tipping back as he placed a kiss to the base of your throat.

his kiss trailed further down your body, peppered in the valley of your breasts, and then you stopped breathing, the air caught in your throat because he was looking at you, really, truly looking at you, as his tongue found your nipple. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was making you feel this good already.

lando pulled away, just for a second, just so that he could shift you from his lap onto his thigh. he was still fully clothed beneath you, totally in control, and you craved him in a way you didn’t know was humanly possible, so much so that you didn’t need the encouragement he was giving you to start rolling your hips, pussy grinding down on his covered thighs, the friction of your underwear driving you insane.

“oh, baby. you want me so badly, don’t you? should’ve asked me sooner. m’gonna make you feel so good.” his hands were on your hips, guiding you backwards and forwards on him.

“it feels so- oh, god.” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls, back arching further into him as your thighs clenched around his. he licked over your collarbone oh so slowly, a shiver running down your taut spine.

and then he was kissing you again, tongue slow over yours, his fingertips surely leaving marks where he was controlling your pace. the kiss was filthy, untameable, and you found yourself dragging against him slower, harder.

“i need you.” you panted, forehead falling on his shoulder as you pulled away from his lips, goosebumps pricking your sweat slicked skin. you were so close to an orgasm, desperate to feel him everywhere.

“i want you to come for me like this first, okay? can you do that for me, baby?” he cooed, bouncing his leg ever so slightly. “look at me.” and you did, somehow mustering the strength to pull yourself back up and find his darkened eyes.

you were a mess of curses when you let go, your body convulsing, collapsing into him as you came. you were throbbing on his thigh, one glance down at where you were grinding against him displaying your slick. his arms went around your body, flipping you onto your back so that you were resting against the mattress.

“you did so well, baby.” lando crooned, resting over you on his forearms. you stared up at him in awe, blinking away the haze. “do you want more?”

“i want everything.” you breathed, pulling him against you. you smoothed your hands over his shirt until you reached the hem, dragging it up over his back. he helped you take it off, and then it was lost to the room. you grabbed at his shoulder blades, smooth, muscular planes of bronzed skin so warm under your touch. you felt insatiable, like nothing was enough, totally intoxicated by him and everything he was managing to make you feel.

lando’s hand slid down your body, searching for the band of your underwear. when he reached his destination, he toyed with the lacy edges, letting them snap against the pudge of your belly, teasing you. you bucked your hips, frustrated, and he used the opportunity to cup your pussy, feeling where you’d soaked through the cotton. the groan he let out was carnal, animalistic, almost needy. he could feel all of you, how you ached and dripped, how you needed the everything that you’d requested.

“you’re so fucking good for me, god.” lando almost slurred his words, voice lower than you’d ever heard it. you keened at the sound, pushing your hips further into him.

lando didn’t give you much time to dwell on it, mouth latching onto your underwear where it met the crease of your thigh. he was so close, so tantalising close to where you were aching for him and you were just about levitating off the bed when his teeth grazed your inner thigh. you couldn’t see him looking at you, losing it, inhibitions out the window. your eyes were already squeezed shut when he began mouthing over your cloth-covered pussy, spit further ruining the sodden material.

“take them off.” you cried out, tugging hard at his curls that you hadn’t even realised you were clutching for dear life. and lando was a good listener, because he complied immediately, tearing the lace down your legs like a starved man.

his tongue was on you then, everywhere all at once, running through your folds and over your clit. you didn’t know if you were dead or alive, a different kind of pleasure than anything you’d ever experienced coursing hot through your veins. lando switched between long, slow licks, his tongue flat against you, and rapid kitten licks, burying his face in your cunt.

everything was moving in slow motion, your hands grasping frantically at anything you could reach; his curls, the sheets, his shoulders. you could barely make out what he was saying, his words muffled, lost to the soft flesh between your legs. it seemed to echo, every lick, stroke, word. you snapped out of it, finally, when he pulled away.

“more? you want my fingers, baby? gonna get you nice and ready for me.” you just nodded, voice lost to the air of the room.

one arm locked around your thigh, pinning you still, and the other snaked up your leg until he reached the mess between your thighs. he took a moment to take it in, how wet you were, how fucked out you looked, knowing full well he must have looked the same, unhinged as he gave into your shared desire that he’d tried his best to keep hidden. he’d never felt more stupid in his life for holding back, as he took in the ethereal delight sprawled under his touch.

when lando slid the first finger in, your stomach twisted deliciously. he watched you carefully, searching for discomfort but all he could find was sheer bliss, written all over your face as clear as daylight. he worked the digit in and out, nice and slow, curling against your walls. he could feel how tight you were, clamping around just one finger and he thought his head was gonna explode. he added another finger, watching the way you took him in, twisting his fingers.

“are you gonna let go for me again, sweetheart?” lando punctuated his words by putting his mouth back on you, teeth grazing your clit as he sucked.

you were thrashing, a silent scream building from the fire in your belly. you could just about make out the way he was spurring you on, his mouth running as you spilled over the edge, covering his fingers. you saw white, maybe god, ears ringing, and when you finally mustered the energy to look at him, you could have come for a third time. lando looked feral, lips red and coated in everything you had to offer him. his eyes were glazed over, a hazy grey that sent a jolt through your body, the aftershocks of the orgasm setting in.

“christ.” was all you could sigh out. a lazy smile painted your face, your eyes blown out, everything a little blurry. everything except him.

you could feel him scaling up your body, crawling over you until he was level with your face. he placed a kiss to your throat, your jaw and finally your lips; when he pulled away all that was left was shared giddy smile, both of you suddenly shy. you couldn’t stop the roaming of your hands, exploring all the parts of him that you could reach. when you found the waist band of his joggers, your hand grazing his abs as you did, he sucked all of the air out of the room, a sharp inhalation making him tense up.

“you still want all of me?” he breathed, his shaky breath fanning your face. lando was obsessed with hearing you say it, obsessed with how you wanted him as much as he needed you.

“all of you. lando, this is… you’re perfect.” you admitted, lips brushing his. your hands pushed the material down his hips, nails raking over him as you did. he couldn’t seem to wait any longer, kicking them off the rest of the way, his boxers quickly following suit.

you couldn’t help but stare, all of him bare against all of you. your nipples brushed his chest, his hands holding you close, your hands threaded through his curls. it was like you were sussing each other out, eyes watching lips and hands getting lost. you stayed like that for a moment, pressed together, closer and closer, until he was slotted between your legs like he was coming home. lando searched your face one last time, hunting for a smidge of discomfort.

“are you ready for me?” he whispered.

“yes.”

the initial stretch burned, but he slid into you smoothly, his cock slipping through your folds with ease. he felt you clamp down on him, his head thrown back as far as it could go, thick neck exposed to you. you bit down on his shoulder, where it met the base of his throat, trying to mask the gasp of pleasure that sent your eyes rolling back in your head. he grunted at the sensation, enjoying the sting.

“oh, fuck.” he was shuddering, trying to keep himself in check.

“don’t, oh god,” you started, meeting the roll of his hips. “don’t hold back.”

“we gotta go easy.”

“i don’t want easy.” you tightened around him then, and he saw stars.

“you’re so fucking good.” lando groaned, an edge of excitement in his voice, and then he unleashed everything that he’d held back. how much he wanted you, and a bittersweet weekend of frustration versus success came crashing down and he couldn’t do anything except give himself to you exactly how you wanted.

lando was a delicious weight on top of you, the drag of his hips slow, meeting yours hard. the pressure made you lightheaded, his body moving against yours like the thick drip of honey, smooth and sweet. you couldn’t make sense of it, of how fucking good he felt, grinding deeper and deeper into you like he’d found buried treasure. the overstimulation had your third orgasm building nice and quick, waves of pleasure making you dizzy.

“you like it like this? like when i fuck you nice and hard?” yes you did. “don’t think i can go without this now, you know that? such a good fucking girl.” you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just let his words wash over you. “so beautiful, taking me so well.”

you couldn’t process that this was your best friend lando. this was a different person, it had to be. yet, somehow, it made sense that the man you knew, the one who spoke his mind, mischievous and troublesome, would be like this, a god above you as he fucked deeper into you with every thrust. he was filthy and gentle, brutal and sweet. it didn’t make sense, but it also just did.

“are you gonna come for me? one more time, baby. need to feel that perfect fucking pussy.” well, his wish was your command, because then you were gushing. the one thing you could feel was him, none of your other senses worked, you couldn’t see past the tears that fell, couldn’t get any words past your lips. maybe you screamed, you weren’t exactly sure.

lando was kissing you everywhere. each hip bone was met with his lips, your stomach, over your ribs, breasts, clavicle, neck. your face was covered in kisses next, your cheeks, forehead, a dainty peck to your nose.

“can you look at me?”

your eyes cracked open slowly, the exhaustion hitting as you came back to reality.

“was that okay?” there he was again, this shy version of lando that you couldn’t get used to.

“okay? lando that was…” you shook your head in awe. “that meant everything to me.”

he smiled then, that gorgeous, gorgeous smile, the one with the crinkles by his eyes and his teeth on full display. you melted.

“me too. you’re fucking beautiful. so, so fucking beautiful. should’ve told you sooner.” he murmured.

his words made you think, way too hard for your current state. what happened next? lando had said some things, some pretty big things that you didn’t know how to comprehend. it was crazy, how scared you were to bring it back up to him, considering he’d just been inside of you.

“sooner?” you whispered, hardly audible. lando was midway through tucking you both into bed, pulling your flushed, naked body into his own under the duvet.

“yes. a lot sooner.” he replied, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

‘how much sooner?’ you thought to yourself, unable to stay awake any longer to agonise over it, your dreams haunted by the way he touched you so well. it was magnificent to fall asleep in his arms, and you couldn’t help yourself from wondering when it would happen again.

you woke up tangled with him, fingers stroking your cheek, smoothing your hair out of your eyes.

lando was always so warm, but now his tanned skin radiated sunshine, a beacon of light in your bed. you smiled, eyes still shut, shielding yourself from the streaks of light casting over the room from the crack in the curtains.

“what time is it?” you croaked, bringing a hand to your eyes to rub away the sleep.

“gone eleven. i need to go, baby.”

baby.

you hadn’t gotten a chance to take my notice of the things he’d called you last night, too caught up in the way he played with your body. now that you heard it, in the calm after the storm, it made you swoon.

“already?” you tried to hide your disappointment, not quite ready to detangle yourself from him.

“need to get to the track. i think i’m already late. i just wanted to be here when you woke up.” lando sounded so soft, not as groggy as you, and you wondered how long he’d been awake, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest.

“thank you.” you knew that you’d have spiralled waking up alone, and you were immensely grateful that he’d stayed.

lando began to get up, wincing at your whine of protest.

“i’m sorry. i’ll have someone pick you up later, okay? i’ll see you soon, i promise.”

you knew he had to work hard today, knew how much analysis he needed to do before the race. he was starting further back than anyone would have liked, and he had something to prove as well, oscar starting too close to the front for lando’s liking. there were places to make up and hard work to be done to get back to the front.

“don’t apologise. i hope it goes smoothly today.” you smiled at him, watching him collect his long forgotten clothes. you were entranced by the way his body moved, the lines and shapes that tensed and rippled as he dressed himself.

“i’ll message you.” he promised, creeping back over to the bed. you weren’t sure what to expect, but the soft kiss to your lips, almost apprehensive on his part, could have killed you off, your heart pounding.

your grinned like a fool when the door shut behind him.

the shower was burning hot, loosening up your muscles. you cleaned yourself slowly, examining your body, the same one that you’d given to lando. he’d taken you apart, piece by piece, and put you back together, the traces of him that he’d left behind delectably apparent.

you followed the trail of marks he’d left, starting with the love bite below your right breast that you couldn’t even remember him leaving, making your way to the litter of fingerprints that were tattooed into your hips. your fingertips ghosted over your swollen lips, the kiss that he’d left at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, reminiscing the evening. you seemed to ache everywhere, the dull pain setting into your bones so nicely.

you prayed it would happen again. you felt like it would, everything between you had changed now, changed from any possible return to the norm. you wanted it to change, you couldn’t fathom the idea of staying friends when the lines had blurred like this, when he’d kissed you so deeply, touched you so intimately.

the shower was much needed, refreshing your body that was now tainted by him in the best way. you tried to keep a clear head while you got yourself ready, taking your time to make yourself presentable to the paddock. the time of your departure was looming, the pink and white sunset outside your window indicating that the race was only a few hours away. the air had cooled slightly, and you knew you needed to make your way to the lobby.

your phone dinged in your hand as you were packing your essentials into your bag. you glanced down at the device, unruly smile gracing your face.

see you soon, the text read, an orange love heart punctuating the short but sweet text. it was safe to say that the butterflies in your belly were well and truly alive.

the screen beeped as you scanned your paddock pass, and you slipped through the gate, making your way into the paddock. it was beautiful in qatar, they’d outdone themselves with this structure, the glass ceilings and jungle of greenery an expression of wealth and elegance.

you made a beeline for the mclaren garage, greeting lando’s pr officer who smiled warmly at you. you recognised oscar smirking as you appeared in the garage, and as you got closer you realised why.

“nice to see you. looking for lando?” his monotonous voice held an amused twang.

“hey oscar, great job last night!” you said, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “yeah, is he around here somewhere?”

“yeah he’s just doing press i think. extra spring in his step today.” oscar gave you a knowing look, one that made you blush.

“what do you know?” you deadpanned, fighting back laughter.

“i know that this was a long time coming.” he smiled, and then he was gone, lost to the bustle of the garage.

you stood there, probably in the way, lost in thought about what oscar had just said. he was right, this was a long time coming.

you jumped a bit when a hand landed on your waist, relaxing instantly into lando’s body when he pressed himself against you, head on your shoulder.

“i’m so glad you’re here.” he whispered, pressing a secret kiss under your ear, and then he, too, was gone, before you could even react.

your nerves were shot, ushered to the back of the garage where you found a headset. you chewed your nails, anxious about it all. the race, the changes that you were surely coming. you wanted it, wanted everything from him that he’d give you, willing to commit to all of it, to him. the distance, borrowed time, chaos of his world. last night had changed everything and you couldn’t have asked for more.

eventually the lights went out and the fight was underway. you found your hands clasped together, sweating in the dry heat and the anxiety. you clapped every time he made an overtake, storming through the field. when he made it into p3, picking the pace up on oscar, the nerves resurged and you prayed for a clean end to this race.

lando’s radio messages flooded your ears, and your leg bounced uncontrollably, your shoe slapping against the floor.

“be sensible, lando.” you muttered under your breath, resting your chin on your tightly clasped hands. he would be on the podium, but you knew it wasn’t enough for him, it never was. would you be enough for him?

eventually he agreed to hold position, thank fuck, and you could breathe again. he’d driven a beautiful recovery drive, bringing the car onto the podium, and you rushed out with the team to congratulate him. you lingered at the back of the pack behind the metal barriers, watching in quiet admiration as he jumped out of the car. he slapped oscar on the back, hugging his younger teammate before bounding towards the team. his head was darting around as if he was looking for something, but you couldn’t make it out with his helmet still on. and then the helmet came off and it became clear.

he was looking for you.

lando pulled away from a hug with a mechanic, leaning over the barrier right in front of you. you gravitated towards him, somehow moving through the swarm of team members until you were pressed against the metal too. he was beaming, eyes brighter than they had been all working weekend, and then his hands were on you. the hug he pulled you into was tight and you clung to one another for a moment, unbothered by his damp race suit, or the tickle of his sweat slicked curls.

the kiss he pressed to your cheek was far less secret than the one in the garage, so was the one he pressed to your forehead, but the one he pressed to your lips, as quick as it may have been, was the one that really took the cake. you were blushing when he pulled back, a mischievous grin on his face. you shook your head in disbelief at his boldness, unable to tame your bewildered smile.

“what are you doing for dinner, baby?” he called out to you as he walked away. the podium high had clearly set in.

nothing, you mouthed back, not quite confident enough to shout across parc ferme.

“good, we’re going on a date.” lando winked and then he was gone, pulled into the chaos of post race duties.

tears pricked your eyes when he stood on the podium, a much happier man than the one you found when you’d arrived. you couldn’t put it into words, how one night had changed everything, giving you everything you didn’t realise you wanted.

then again, lando was always good at beating expectations.

hehe the end

taglist

had to remove some tags that aren’t working! let me know if you wanna be added or removed xo

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @yeolsbubbles @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @organasith @micks-afterglow @blueflorals @juno-1610 @lqvesoph @wilmasvensson @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @h0e-xoxo @mattxxamryli @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3

6K notes · View notes

irndad · 1 month

Note

Hi, I’m so sorry, I searched for request guidelines and must be missing them so if this isn’t something you write I apologize-

Flower prompt heliotrope with Spencer where reader sacrifices herself/or gets shot to save Maeve so Spencer can be happy, even though she’s hopelessly in love with him. 🥹

Little angst, little fluff. You can decide if reader fully sacrifices or just gets really badly hurt and how Spencer reacts.

my dear!! there are no rules yet- i have things i won't fill but thus far the onus has been on me to clarify. i had so much fun writing this- thank you for requesting it!!! requests r open :^) wc: 1.1k

“Is Maeve okay?”

It’s the first thing she says when she wakes up from her hospital bed. Spencer’s shaking, a little woozy too. It turns out that they have the same blood type, and she lost a whole fucking lot of it. He’d been happy to give it to her, although ‘happy’feels like the wrong word to use in this situation.

She had internal bleeding, and collapsed harshly from the gunshot, scuffing her forehead so badly she needed stitches. Comparatively, it’s the least of her worries, but still- Spencer can’t stop staring at it. She’s literally marred by the choice she made to protect him.

Maeve is okay. She’s in the same hospital, but Spencer’s spent about ten minutes with her- the rest of the last 12 hours of his life were spent oscillating between donating blood and praying to a deity he’s not sure exists.

She’d survived. They’d both survived. He should feel relieved- why doesn’t he feel relieved?

It’s a stupid question that he keeps asking himself. Two of the most important people in his life are alive, but still in the moment, her blood spilling over him- the gasp of her breath when the bullet hit her- He’s going to remember the sound of it forever, what it sounded like for her to almost die for someone else. He hates that she’s the type of person to do it. To jump in front of a loaded gun for a woman she’s never met before.

He’s mad at her. He has no right to be- he gets a chance with Maeve now, and that’s all due to the choice she made. And yet- he’s so, so angry at her. Because she could be dead right now. He could never, ever talk to her again. She made a choice that meant that he might have never been able to hear her voice, do a magic trick for her, ever, ever be near her again. How the fuck could she do that to him?

“Yes,” he replies, “she’s okay.”

She nods agreeably, before wincing at what appeared to be an intense ache at her temples.

“My head hurts,” she says, her voice low and endearing, and his heart roars with protectiveness. “Do you think I could have a juice box?”

She’s so sweet- he wants to laugh, in a sad desperate kind of way. This is his favorite person in the world, sitting up shakily and asking for juice, clearly groggy and so endearing. He almost lost her.

“You’re okay too,” he says, “If you’re wondering. You scared us. You had internal bleeding and a concussion. You lost a lot of blood.”

It’s only then she frowns.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she pouts, trying to sit up and speak to him. “But it all worked out, Spence. She’s okay.”

“It didn’t all work out!” Her eyes widen at his outburst, and he feels like scum. Yelling at her when she’s in a hospital bed, taking a bullet so he’d have a chance at romance.

“You said she’s okay,” she says back, slowly. “I don’t understand.”

“You lost blood. You almost died. That is not it working out. You have to tell me you understand that.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so harsh, but he also doesn’t know why he has to explain this to her.

“I know,” she sighs, “I know. But this is the job, and I didn’t have time to get a vest on!”

“Then you wait. You wait. You don’t just burst in-“

“And you would’ve lost the love of your life!”

“What makes you think she’s the love of my life?”

A nurse shuffles by the room and Spencer takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be kicked out of her room, and on some level he knows how crazy it is to be yelling at a gunshot victim. He pinches his nose, eyes winced in frustration.

She’s been his favorite person by a wide margin for an incredibly long time. She joined the team as a consultant and he remembers the first time he did a card trick for her- the first time he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder. He was so grateful to know her. Still is. In this moment, knowing feels like time slipping out from an hourglass- like it was almost numbered. Their time was almost finished.

Maeve was lovely. Maeve listened and she was kind and Spencer really did like her. He’s glad she’s safe, now. But his best friend, his coworker and favorite person- Spencer thought everyone could tell that he’s been in love with the team consultant since the first week he knew her.

Everything he liked about Maeve reminded him of her.

And she’d jumped in front of a bullet for someone she thought he was in love with. And fuck, maybe he did love her in some way- but whatever ‘in love’ meant with Maeve, this sorrow, the pain of knowing she’d almost been someone he’d have to remember was far, far deeper.

“You’ve never mentioned anyone to me romantically. I’ve known you for years, Spencer. She’s important to you.”

Maeve is. She was. It’s all so confusing now. He has liked someone for years, though. He couldn’t tell her, though. Maeve was a welcome distraction from a love he thought was wholly impractical and impossible to love him back— a love that now he has to witness languish in a hospital bed.

Morgan knew. Morgan would tease him every time Spencer drew a smiley face in purple marker on her coffee cup. He would tell him to just ask her out, and it had always felt so improbable. She’d never go for someone as lanky and uncharismatic as him.

“You’re important to me.”

She has no idea how much.

Her eyes soften at that, and not for the first time, he wants to curl into her arms. He wants to lay next to her in the hospital bed, and feel her pulse beat against bare skin. Feel her pulse and with every beat know that she is alive.

“I know that, Spence,” she breathes out.

Even though it’s not kosher, not necessarily the right thing to do when your not-girlfriend/girl you went on one date with is in the same hospital, but when his best friend opens up her arms for a hug, he ends up doing exactly what he wanted.

The team finds her asleep in her hospital bed, with Spencer asleep in her arms. It feels voyeuristic to look at, but Spencer really, really couldn’t care.

He resolved to tell her that he loves her as soon as she’s healed. With the way Morgan side eyes him every time he ‘helps’ her walk across a room by holding her waist, he’s not sure he’ll last that long.

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

2K notes · View notes

headkiss · 11 months

Text

you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

3K notes · View notes

kurogxrix · 5 months

Text

Stomach Empty, Heart Full

Viking!Bucky x Wife!reader

IN WHICH you’re sick and refuse to eat, but it’s nothing that your beefy husband Bucky can’t help with.

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: vague mentions of smut, mentions of puke, beefy!bucky, INACCURATE VIKING UNITS, pregnancy(?).

A/N: my mom is the BIGGEST viking fan and yet idk anything abt em so…yes everything about this is inaccurate. From their beds to their huts but it’s fiction so who CARES.

A huge campfire was bustling outside your hut, that you knew. The sounds of men and women alongside their noisy children made the headache currently gnawing at your head just about 10 times worse. You’d been lying sick since this morning and if you were being honest with yourself, all you craved was for a good sip of water alongside the company of your dear husband.

Talking of, Bucky had been gone for far too long now. Even though he’d just gone on his regular routine as a fellow warrior, it helped that they’d only gone out to hunt that morning.

You suddenly winced as the high pitched wail of a kid adventuring far too close to your hut breached your ear drums, and from the thud that you’d heard a split second before, he’d taken a nasty fall to himself. It didn’t help that his father had chosen the front of your hut opening to reprimand his son, the headache feeling like it would burst out from your head and carve a hole through your skin at any moment now.

You couldn’t tell what sort of sickness you’d picked up on, but hell if you wouldn’t give up anything in your possession in that instant for an ounce of relief. Your stomach yelled at you for food, but the ache in your head only increased the growing nausea that came with your illness. You were sure that once you’d be healed and back on your feet, you’d kill whichever scum had passed on their bug to you.

Comfort only came as you curled over yourself, soft blankets warming you, the stitches and patches of soft furs from all sorts of animals that Bucky had hunted and skinned for you. You missed your husband so, so much more in your sick haze. Your eyes finally started to droop as you felt your body giving in to slumber, which was hard prior to the insane pounding at the far back of your head.

It didn’t take long for your vision to darken, your rumbling stomach being the furthest of your worries as a faint smile overtook your features as you felt the headache begin to dissipate as sleep pulled you in its arms. You could almost taste it, the sweet and victorious taste of relief, when-

“You are not joining us tonight?” And there it was, the pounding in your head almost immediately punched back to life at the loud sound of whoever that was that had breached your hut. You groaned in dismay, turning around reluctantly to find your sister looking at you in confusion. It didn’t help with the fact that she was your sibling, but at that instant you wanted nothing more than to rip her hairs straight from the root and craft yourself a rag doll with them out of spite.

“Get out.” you mumbled before rolling back, not missing the way her eyebrows furrowed at your rudeness. You’d treat her a little better if you felt a little better, but you didn’t, and to add to that the only person that you wanted with you right now was probably fighting off whatever beast was hiding in the forest.

She did, however, listen to you for what felt like the first time in your entire life as sisters. A content sigh left your lips at the newfound silence, as silent as it could be with a meal in preparation happening outside. Finally, you felt the warm arms of slumber welcoming you again in the embrace that you seeked so much, and it felt a little too good to be true. Maybe because you had a knack for jinxing yourself, but the sound of the hut door creaking again had you close to tears.

The sound of metal colliding against the floor however, gave you a brief idea that it was in fact not your sister. You didn’t have it in you to greet your husband, instead choosing to wallow in your pain as you held yourself like a dying child. You didn’t hear much from Bucky but the rustling of something that sounded big and meaty, probably a catch that he’d brought home to skin later.

On his side, Bucky was confused as to why you weren’t outside with the other people. It wasn’t that you didn’t know that the feast had arrived, and if you’d fallen asleep, the doubling in noise would’ve surely awakened even the deafest foe. He contemplated waking you up before his blue eyes fell upon the bucket of water by the door, as full as it was before he’d left home that morning.

With his eyebrow furrowed, Bucky kneeled beside you in all of his silence. You could hear the trinkets attached to his belt clanking against one another, his booted feet causing a heavy thud against the floor.

“You haven’t drunk, you haven’t eaten.” he stated as a matter of fact, and your undying silence threw him off. He’d been your husband long enough to know that you weren’t sleeping, eyelids shut as a decoy more than anything. The beefy brunette sighed at your actions, eyes flickering between the abandoned wooden plate that harboured his food, waiting for him in all of its loneliness. The cut of meat had his mouth salivating for a taste, after all he had been gone all day to bring back food for his people, why shouldn’t he enjoy it?

Yet, he just couldn’t get himself to as he eyed your curled figure. There must’ve been a reason why you hadn’t bothered to take care of yourself today, of course there must’ve been one, and as your husband - it was all the more his duty to care for you. There was no resentment or obligations in his actions, only love.

One of Bucky’s palms slid under your cheek, disconnecting your face from its warm place upon the layers of furs. You whined in dismay, but Bucky didn’t falter. His huge palm covered half of your face, his thumb rubbing at your cheek with inclination. You felt your body relax once more as he slowly let go, as much as you’d normally complain, this time you felt happy as your cheek made contact with the blanket once more.

Your peace didn't last long, not when you had a burly husband who had enough force to take down a 300 pound beast on his own. You gasped suddenly as you felt his arms wrapping themselves around you, before pulling you into the warmth of a familiar torso. You wasted no time getting comfortable, you head pushing impossibly further into the firm flesh of his chest to serve as a pillow. It didn’t faze Bucky, blue iris simply gazing down at your slithering form.

“You haven’t eaten today,” he states again, and this time you’d actually taken the courage to look up at him, eyelids pushing away from each other painfully slowly as you tried to adjust to the dim light of the oil lamps burning by the side of the hut. You could feel his warm palm slowly inching itself into caressing your back through the material of your dress, the beaded necklace that you wore squished between the both your bodies.

Bucky didn’t ask, he could tell that you were ill and you had no intentions of talking if you didn’t feel well. So he did what he could, a hand digging into the meat in his plate to rip a fat piece off. You watched in dismay as his hands dragged to your mouth, pausing before you closed lips as you refused him access.

“You’ll be even more ill if you don’t eat, come on.” his gruffly voice sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the ends of his long, auburn hair tickling your cheeks as the wind whistled past the cracks of your shared hut. Your nose involuntarily scrunched at the smell of the meat before you, which you normally loved like all people in your village. Bucky took notice of your discomfort, lowering his hand slightly to prevent you from puking all over him and the place.

You made a sound of frustration, sick and tired of being sick and tired. You simply wanted to eat and all the more drink but your body just wouldn’t let you do any of it. So sick that tears pricked at your waterline again, resurfacing the throbbing headache that'd been killing you since this morning.

You couldn’t even have told when the sob had burst through your mouth, but it had apparently and it didn’t fail to startle the hulk of a man you were lucky to call your husband. In a split second, the food was dropped back in the discarded plate, and his hands were quick to carelessly wipe clean against his cloak with little to no care for it.

Bucky’s heart was hardened from the series of events that’d turmoiled his life from his birth, being a viking was anything but easy. He’d bathed in blood, his own like not, he was scarred mentally just as physically. Yet, he was fierce with a shell as hard as rock to carry his sorrows in. Despite all, nothing hurt Bucky like seeing you upset, or even worse in this scenario, hurt.

Cradling your head to his chest, he tilted your head softly towards his own as you cried upon his chest. It was weird seeing a woman such as yourself cry over something that couldn’t be seen, yet enough described because your words wouldn’t even allow you to. So to say that Bucky was worried was an understatement, you’d never cried over something so minor, best to deduct that it wasn’t.

“I’ll go and fetch the lach, better hope that Thyra has the herbs to fix you a remedy.” he spoke more to himself than to you, referring to the village healer. You didn’t want him to go though, you’d spent enough time on this miserable day away from the only man you’d wish to see, so you weren’t about to let him go.

“No, I can handle it until daytime. I just want to eat…I’ll try the meat again.” Bucky looked down at you in hesitance, remembering the way you looked so sick at the approach of his food. Nevertheless, he brought the food back up to your mouth, and you had to fight the inner battle to not throw up now and then. He could see your struggles, yet he only focused on your determination.

You chewed slowly so as to not upset your stomach further, giving Bucky the time he needed for him to get a taste of his own meal as well. Sure, the cut was barely enough for a man of his size but at least he’d get you to eat, he could always go out and get some more once you were satiated. His hand that wasn’t busy feeding the both of you was still glued to your back, keeping you flushed against his chest as he sat legs crossed amongst the many blankets.

You couldn’t help with the way your heart soared at his worry, at his care, and at his love. Sure he wasn’t the most verbally expressive man, but his actions meant more to you than any I-Love-Yous. The way his fingers curled against your side as a measure of extreme protection had you weak in the knees, and that said a lot considering you weren’t even standing.

By the time you’d both exhausted whatever food was on his plate, Bucky’s skilled hand worked for water. Grabbing a cup from the side, he sought water from the bucket by your front door. He took a drink first, draining the cup in two quick gulps. You watched as he served himself another cup, a drop of water dribbling past his beardy chin and onto the defined curve of his Adam's apple.

Fuck and if he didn’t just look so hot, you’d really gotten the finest pick of all men in your village. You lifted an unsuspecting hand up to his cheek, the prickly feeling of his beard against your palm made a shiver run down your spine. So much for all the days he’d spent buried between your legs, you felt a ghost of the burn you’d feel on your inner thighs at the friction everytime.

The sounds of water sloshing around brought you out of your daydreams, finally receiving the end of the cup as he lifted the edge to your lips. You liked everything about this, getting pampered while laying in your husband's arms. You couldn’t possibly have gotten two sips down your throat before-

“Maybe I should call the midwife to check on you tomorrow.” Bucky randomly blurted out, and you swore you’d never accidently taken a gulp of water this big before. The choking came first, then the excessive coughing fits before the headache resurfaced again. Now maybe you’d rethought everything, maybe you didn’t want to spend the rest of the night with Bucky anymore.

His hands quickly abandoned the cup to rub at your back, some silent apology of some sorts for surprising you, and eventually causing you to choke.

“You don’t think…” you looked up at your husband after you had calmed down, expectant baby blue iris staring right back at yours. Your lips were slightly parted in the confoundment of his words, you found yourself unable to speak past your sentence. You didn’t know any contraceptives further than a remedy of herbs, spells and whatnot the untrustworthy pull-out method. Yet even if Bucky had been very obedient when it came to following that way, there were some days where he just couldn’t help himself.

His silence made you sigh to yourself, but you didn’t feel like speaking further yourself. The hut fell into a peaceful silence as you both wallowed in the other's presence, soaking each other's affection through soft touches and occasional prayers.You closed your eyes once more for the night, allowing yourself to fully sink into your husband’s burly arms.

Bucky didn’t complain, waiting for your shoulders to fall limp in indication that you’d finally submitted to the slumber you so craved. Now that you were sleeping, tucked and fed, he could finally go out and reach for a serving more appropriate for a man of his size. Though he staggered for a second, kneeling besides your sleeping form along the blankets that he’d arranged over you.

He moved the blanket properly after noticing that you’d already managed to mess up the ‘bed’ despite being dreams deep into your sleep. Bucky allowed his hand to hover over your stomach, before providing extra heat to the area that crossed his palm. He watched as your lips twitched into a smile in your sleep, his thumb uncontrollably caressing at the clothed area at the sight of your delight.

A rare smile tugged at the corner of Bucky’s lips, something that only you and his family had gotten to experience more often. His hand left your stomach as he rose to his feet, a distant dream of an infant swaddled by green cloth burning by the back of his mind. He didn’t turn back as he left the tent, stomach empty but heart full.

i’m working on 2 requests rn but i’ll be busy all weekend so expect a fic by next friday‼️

#IM SO TIRED!#sped ran this fanfic i’m so sorry #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #viking!bucky #viking!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #husband!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x wife!reader #husband!bucky #bucky barnes oneshot

2K notes · View notes

blue-jisungs · 9 months

Note

hiii could i request smth with han jisung simping over his s/o and the rest of skz making fun of him for it? btw i love ur work <3

simp(ly in love)

a/n. thank u sm, it means a lot to me!! sorry you had to wait for so long, hopefully you’ll like it!! :D

everyone was chilling in the garden at changbin’s parents’ house, the man himself frying the meat along with minho’s help. hyunjin and jeongin are playing a volleyball match against felix and chan. seungmin is mere moments from falling asleep next to han, who’s sipping on his iced tea.

it’s almost perfect. there’s just one thing missing.

you.

han let out yet another dramatic sigh, about 10th in the period of one hour time. seungmin grunted, still sadly awake.

“we know you miss y/n, get over it. it’s not like you broke up” he snarled, putting a pillow over his head.

right.

you’re away just on a trip with your friends. it’s just a three day trip to just another city. just without him and just to have some fun.

but god, he misses you so much. the house feels empty, there’s no sound of your sweet honey-alike laughter. your shoes and clothes are in one place, not messily thrown all around like always. when he comes home the silence greets him pathetically while his heart aches because of the lack of his welcome kiss. he’s basically sleepless, unable to rest without you next to him.

phone calls and video chats aren’t enough, han thinks he’ll explode and go berserk if he doesn’t hug you any time soon.

is this normal—?

“ta–da! the meat is done! i’ll go grab some kimchi from kitchen” changbin’s excited yelp makes han snap back into reality.

you’d love it here. you’d love the food, the vibe. he could picture you playing volleyball with the guys, whining that they’re cheating and eventually falling asleep between him and seungmin. only after helping to prepare the meal though…

“–han? oh my god. we lost him, guys” felix chuckled, sitting down. minho snapped his fingers in front of han’s face, a sheepish smile when he looked up at him confused.

“you’re such a… dramatic simp. she’s been away for only two days, dude. and! you’ve been talking like, non-stop. give her a rest” hyunjin chuckled, smiling boyishly. han murmured something incoherent about hyunjin being single and not knowing how it feels like when chan added:

“i never knew that side of you. well, maybe that explains why y/n always accompanied us on yours…”

changbin returned with kimchi and placed it down next to the still sizzling meat.

“he’d die” jeongin quickly summarised “you’re such a love-sick puppy”

“‘m not!” he whined and almost threw himself over the edge when his phone dinged with a message notification.

face lighting up, fingers swiping… only to see a text from minho. ‘lol’.

he glared up at him, causing all of them to burst out laughing.

“ha, ha. very funny. can’t a man just simply miss his gorgeous, beautiful and breathtaking girlfriend who he is madly i love with?” jisung frowned and his phone dinged again. this time it was you.

letting out a loud gasp he swiped just to see a cute picture of you. you were resting your chin in the palm of your hand, the other holding down a colourful drink. the sun shone prettily on the picture but your smile… your smile outshined it.

seungmin leaned forward to peek through his shoulder and smiled softly.

“my pretty y/nnie…” han cooed and saved the picture, fingers typing with the speed of light to tell you some compliments and yet again, to announce how much he missed you.

the others scoffed, starting to dig in the food. changbin’s mom arrived, holding a tray with iced teas for them.

han put his phone down, done for now. you said you’re having dinner too so he thought he won’t disturb you. letting out a deep sigh, he noticed changbin mom’s gaze on him.

“where’s that pretty girl of yours?” she asked suddenly, looking around “i thought she’s coming too?”

“well she’s on a trip with her friends…” han murmured, a pout forming in his lips.

“awh, it’s a shame. i was looking forward to see her again” changbin-mama shook her head.

“me too, mrs seo. me too” jisung sighed and plopped even more onto the couch, sprawling on it.

the woman giggled and patted his head before going back into the house to pack some kimchi for you.

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist.@geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @mirxzii ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang ,, @nfrgirl

2K notes · View notes

sunflowersteves · 2 years

Note

Shy! innocent!reader seeing bestfriend!Eddies boner for the first time and asking him if she could play with it?

i love this with all my heart

warnings || naive!reader, perv!eddie, smut, blowjob, innocence kink, praise kink, 18+ only

You grab one of Eddie’s pillows with a laugh, attempting to hit him with it.

He laughs, too, chest heaving up and down. He whacks you with his own pillow and the blunt force has you knocked back down onto the bed.

Both of your laughter echos off of his room’s walls and settles into your ears. He looks down, seeing your black skirt ride up to reveal more of your thighs.

Shit.

He knows he got a little problem and has had one ever since you walked into his trailer with a skirt on.

He hoped that the entertainment of a pillow fight would distract you. He hoped that once you got tired out, he could run to the bathroom and get rid of the ache.

“Eddie?”

He deflates a little at your curious voice, wondering what the matter was. His breathing almost stops as he follows your line of sight.

You’re looking down at his black ripped jeans—the big tent of his hardened length wasn’t hard to miss. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

He could feel his jeans almost constrict even tighter from the sparkle in your eyes.

Curiosity. Wonder. Desire.

All of those emotions flowed through you and you subconsciously pressed your thighs together.

“C-Can I touch?”

Huh?

Oh, shit. You wanted to touch him? You wanted to help him?

His breath hitches, “what?”

You shy away at his shocked expression, a little bit of shame bubbling in your chest.

“Did I—did I do something wrong?”

His eyes are wide—brown hues darken and his pupils are blown. “Oh, baby, no. You did nothing wrong. You jus’ surprised me is all.”

Your hands itch closer to his member, mouth watering from the idea—the mere thought of what he looked like.

Is he big? Is he thick? Is there hair? Is one ball bigger than the other? How would it feel?

He watched you unbuckle his belt, and he could feel his breath hitch. “S-Shit—” Your eyes are big—blown out wide as you shuffle his jeans and boxers down.

Your jaw almost hits the floor from his length. He was long, veins bulging and his tip was prominent. “Go on, baby, you can touch it.”

“Okay.”

He bites his lip at the curious cat-like tilt of your head. You’re so fucking cute and hot and—

He grips the worn sheets as you open your mouth. His heart almost swoons are your naive experience as you sit there with his cock in your mouth.

“Swirl your tongue, baby. Y-Yeah, just like that. D-Do it again for me, fuck.”

You swirl your tongue to taste his cock and feel the sensation against your cheeks. You wanted him to teach you how to make him come undone. You wanted him to feel good.

“F-Fuck, sweetheart, that fuckin’ mouth on you. You like it? You like my cock in your mouth?”

You bat your eyelashes at him, showing him just how much you like it when you hollow your cheeks. “Oh fuck, baby, shit!”

His hips buck into your mouth and you gag—eyes stinging “S-Sorry, sweetheart.” You shake your head which prompts a lopsided smile from him.

“Look at you, pretty baby, yeah. You’re takin’ my cock so well. S-Start bobbing you head. Yeah, baby, good girl. My fuckin’ good girl.”

His belly starts to feel like it’s going to burst. He knows by the quirk of your eyebrow and the grind of your thighs against the bed that good girl hit all the right spots.

You bring your hand to cup his right ball. You feel the rounded skin and Eddie swears he’s in heaven right now.

There’s no way his sweet innocent best friend who hasn’t even had her first kiss is shoving her mouth even lower on his cock and cupping his balls.

“O-Oh, fuck. I’m gonna cum, baby. I-I’m gonna cum! S-Shit—”

You blink rapidly at the unexpected ropes of hot cum run down your throat. You collect all of it—as much as you can—down your throat and swallow it hole.

Eddie’s gripping your forearms as he rides his high, up and down your mouth using you. His moans were low, but loud and that pride sunk beneath your chest.

“S-Shit, you can spit it out, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

You shook your head, opening your mouth to show him that you swallowed it all. “Did you?”

He pauses, brown eyes wide. “Did you swallow all of it?”

You close your mouth to smile wide at him. “I did, Eddie! I swallowed all of you.”

He groans and drops his head back onto the squeaky mattress. “Christ, you are going to be the death of me.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #smut #eddie munson blurb #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader

10K notes · View notes

harryslittlefreakk · 23 days

Text

obsessed

summary: harry is your roommate, best friend … and crush 💃 he’s finally broken up with his girlfriend and you’re struggling to hide how you feel about him. loosely based on the song!!

warnings: none! fluffy fluff, teeny tiny bit of angst, mentions nudity

wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: i am a loud & proud olivia rodrigo stan sooo naturally i had to write something. it’s silly and cheesy and short! but i hope you enjoy!!

you can find my masterlist here and join my taglist here!! happy reading my loves 💖

“Guess who I saw today?”

“Who?” You didn’t even need to look up from your book to know Harry was about to throw himself down on the end of your bed, his coat and shoes still on. Every time you got home before him he’d bound into your room like a little labrador, too excited to see you to even drop his stuff down first.

“No, you have to guess.”

“Could’ve been anyone, H,” you told him, feigning reluctance as you closed your book and looked up at him. The second you heard his key rattling in the door you’d wait for the sound of your door bursting open, the butterflies in your stomach coming to life. But you’d never let him know that, so every day you’d pretend it was an annoyance to have him perched at your feet.

“Think of someone you really don’t like,” he persisted, a toothy grin nestled between his dimpled cheeks.

“Literally could be anyone.”

“Come on! Blonde hair, tall, pretty…”

Of fucking course. His stupid, evil, awful ex girlfriend. And naturally, the only way you could react to hearing about her was to reach over and shove him before crossing your arms over your chest. “Ow! What was that for?” Harry laughed, rubbing at his upper arm.

“I was having such a nice day. And then you have to come in and mention that.” It was massively childish, but you couldn’t help but feel violent every time you heard about her. She was fine for the most part, maybe a little too conceited for your taste, but she’d made Harry happy. But you’d watched from the outside as Harry went through relationships, and he always morphed into whatever version of himself he thought the girl would prefer. He stopped being your Harry, and your friendship would suffer for it. But you couldn’t say anything, could never treat his girlfriends with anything but a polite smile and quick conversation, unless you wanted to out yourself as a jealous little girl. And you definitely didn’t want to do that.

This time, however, the ability to hate her had been handed to you on a silver platter when she decided to go home with one of Harry’s friends on a night out. You were his shoulder to cry on, the one to make him smile again after days of moping around. So you had full permission to hate her, and you were relishing in it - as much as you could while still tiptoeing around Harry’s aching heart.

“She wants to meet for a coffee this week,” he told you, scrunching his eyes tight as he waited for another shove. When nothing came, he squinted over to see you rubbing at your temples. “Are you gonna?” you asked, brows furrowed as you imagined the two of them back together.

“Am I allowed?” Harry teased, turning round to lay on top of you, his face only inches from yours. “You’re a grown man, H. Couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to,” you told him, your voice void of any emotion.

“Dunno if it’s a good idea. She might find me too irresistible and then I’ll have to deal with that,” he grinned, not noticing the change in your face. You looked down as you felt your lip start to quiver, too proud to show how your heart sank. “I need to shower, H. Dinner after?” you asked, slipping out from under him and dragging your heavy limbs towards the door. He looked over at you with round, questioning eyes, only to be met by silence and a weak smile as you headed for the bathroom.

You barely got the door shut behind you before the tears came, hot and heavy drops rolling down your cheeks. You knew you couldn’t have Harry, but every minute spent with him had your heart breaking over and over again. Every little cuddle, every touch, lit you up with a fire that burned to the bones. But then you’d see the way he acts with a girlfriend, the way he loved someone, and all those moments you shared seemed silly and infantile. He was your best friend, nothing more and nothing less.

You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as the sobs wracked your body. You’d tried so hard to push away the feelings, to convince yourself that you were just confused and overwhelmed. He’s a friend, he’s a friend, he’s a friend, echoing around your mind. But deep down, you knew that no one could ever compare to Harry. He was yours, the only one to ever steal a piece of your heart.

“Y/n? M’coming in.” You froze as Harry’s voice came from the other side of the door, clamping a hand over your mouth to hold the sobs in. “I’m naked,” you called out, scrambling to your feet and wiping away your tears with your sleeve. But he opened the door anyway, stopping in the doorway when he saw your tear-stained face. “Didn’t even turn the shower on yet,” he muttered, glancing over at it.

“Why’re you crying?”

“M’not,” you whispered, choking out a giant sob as you turned your face away from Harry, sinking down onto the edge of the bath.

“Quite clearly are. Move,” he ordered, swatting you away before reaching to turn on the taps.

“What are you-”

“If you’re sad, I’m sad. And I like having a bath when I’m sad,” Harry shrugged, turning around to grab one of your bath bombs.

“I was gonna shower, you can’t-”, between the sobs, your confusion and the need for Harry not to know why you were crying, you could barely string a sentence together.

And when Harry pulled off his t-shirt, you were even more lost for words, left with your mouth gaping and only air coming out. “Joining me?” he asked, tipping too much bubble bath into the steamy water - something you’d have to scold him for later.

“I’m not getting in with you,” you told him, once you’d finally got a grip on your brain.

“Just get under the bubbles. And you can close your eyes when I get in.”

“No way.” You hugged your arms over your chest, drawing your swollen bottom lip into your mouth as you watched a shirtless Harry mix the bubble bath into the water. The way his muscles flexed, the tattoos littered across his tanned, slender frame. His skin always looked perfect, not Barbie doll smooth but irresistibly soft. Your fingers took on a mind of their own, slowly reaching out to touch him before he turned around with a smug grin. “Fine, go away then while I have my nice relaxing bath.”

“I want a bath,” you whispered, barely audible over the running water splashing into the tub. “What was that, angel?” Harry grinned, moving his towel onto the toilet seat. “I want a bath,” you told him, louder now, a tiny smile dancing on your lips.

Harry grabbed a hold of one of your hands, tugging you closer to the bathtub. He turned you around before pulling your t-shirt over your head, leaving you in just your little pyjama shorts. Just the brush of his fingertips against your bare torso sent chills down your spine. “M’not looking. Tell me when you’re in,” Harry told you, dropping your t-shirt to his feet.

You pushed your pyjama shorts and panties down your legs, checking behind you to see if Harry really wasn’t watching. True to his word, he had his eyes scrunched tight and his hand clenched over them. You’d seen each other in bathing suits and underwear so many times before, but being naked in the same room as Harry felt beyond weird. You’d never been overly shy about your body, especially with someone who made you feel as pretty and as comfortable as Harry did, but this would add a whole new layer to your friendship - and you didn’t know if you’d survive it. Still, you sunk into the bathtub and pulled the mass of bubbles to your end, trying to keep your breasts under the water before you told Harry he can look. “It’s really hard to make bubbles stay put, H,” you told him, screwing up your face as you tried to hold them steady.

He was laughing as he pulled his trousers and socks off, great big guffaws tumbling out every time the bubbles tried to escape your grip. “Want me to turn the lights down a bit? Then it’s harder to see,” he shrugged, nodding towards the light switch. You nodded, grateful that he cared enough to make sure you were 100% comfortable. It was one of the things that first drew you to Harry, and definitely what you valued most about him. He was always so kind, always caring, so willing to put anyone’s needs above his own - and that’s why relationships always changed him.

“Close your eyes then,” he said, mockingly holding two hands in front of his bulge. You rolled your eyes, finally starting to lighten up as the hot water washed over you. When Harry reached out to swat at your nose, you closed your eyes tight. You felt him stepping into the bathtub after a minute, his long legs slotting down your left-hand side.

“Hi,” he smiled when you opened your eyes. “Gonna tell me what upset you now?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” you told him, your voice small.

“It is if it made you that upset,” Harry countered, placing a gentle hand on your calf, his thumb rubbing against the soft skin.

You paused for a moment, trying to think of what you wanted to say and how to say it. “It just- she doesn’t deserve you, H. Anyone who hurts you like that doesn’t deserve any of your time and respect.” Your eyes dropped to the water as you spoke, your body frozen. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but as soon as he did, you needed to say more. “You were really sad, Harry. It sucked for you and it sucked for me too because I don’t like seeing you like that. I’ll always be there for you, you know that, but I can’t just sit and wait for her to hurt you like that again. Not when you know she’s capable of it.”

You watched the smaller bubbles popping one by one by one, suddenly anxious in the silence that followed your speech. You hated going against Harry, putting your two cents into something that really didn’t concern you, but sometimes he needed to hear it.

“I know,” he replied finally. “But do you think that because you don’t like her?”

“Harry, no! I don’t like her because she did that to you.”

“You were never her biggest fan,” he shrugged, his brows knitted when you finally pulled your eyes up to meet his.

“She changed you, H. You were different with her, less you. Everything is so surface level with her, it’s looks and Instagram likes and who’s got trouble with who. There’s no substance, nothing deeper.”

Harry’s thumb halted as he shook his head, his jaw clenching slightly. “It doesn’t always have to be deeper,” he sighed, rubbing at his chin with his free hand.

“I know it’s not my place but you need someone who brings out the best in you, you need-”

A bitter laugh from Harry stopped you in your tracks, your mouth snapping closed as a chuckle slipped out of his. He met your questioning gaze with a tiny smirk. “She always used to say you were jealous of her.”

You could feel the tears collect on your bottom eyelashes again as he said it, the words stinging like barbed wire sinking into your skin. How could you even respond? “Harry-” was all you could manage before your mouth ran dry.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, y/n,” he told you, his voice soft as he reached out for your hand. “Come here,” he whispered, tugging at your fingertips. “I’m- we-” you started, gesturing between your bare bodies with your free hand, eyes practically bulging out of your head. “Doesn’t matter,” Harry said, motioning for you to turn around.

Somewhat reluctantly, you did, leaning back into his body until your back hit your chest. You were exposed in every sense, your chest sitting just above the waterline and your heart on your sleeve. Harry wrapped an arm around your torso, his delicate touch careful not to go anywhere it shouldn’t.

“Truth is I probably need someone like you. Only one to make me happy on a shitty day, only one who gives me any effort,” he murmured, his voice so low that if he wasn’t speaking directly into your ear, you wouldn’t have heard him. Your heart quickened as he spoke, your pulse pounding against your inner wrists. “I’m not- I don’t have anything that she-” you choked out.

“S’a good thing, no?” Harry asked, turning his head just slightly until his lips brushed tentatively against your earlobe. “No, Harry. You need more, you need-”

“You,” he finished for you. “Just say the word and I’m yours, angel.”

It was like someone had handed you everything you ever wanted on a silver platter, all you had to do was reach out and take it. But it wasn’t that easy. If anything went south, you risked losing Harry forever. You shuffled back out of his grip, turning to sit in front of him, perched on your knees. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care about him seeing your body, your words willing themselves from your lips. “If anything went wrong Harry, I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, blinking to keep the tears at bay.

“What would go wrong? We know we get along, we have the same traits and the same values. We’re already doing life together,” he reached out a hand to cup your cheek as he spoke, his eyes laced with nothing but earnestness.

“I don’t want to be your consolation prize.”

“Never. Never ever, I swear. I thought about it for a while but it never really clicked until now.”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as Harry spoke, desperately needing to figure out if it was all a dream. The sensation of his touch, the sound of his voice, the gentle heat of the water – it all felt too real to be a dream. But a part of you couldn't shake the feeling that this moment was too perfect, too surreal to be true. You hesitated, unsure if you should dare to believe in the fairytale unfolding between the two of you.

As if he could see the cogs turning in your head, Harry dropped his hand from your cheek, entwining your fingers in yours instead. He squeezed lightly, the corners of his lips turning up into a little smile. "I'm here, y/n," he whispered. "This is real, promise." His words were a lifeline in the sea of doubt that threatened to consume you. Even if it was a dream, it was a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“It’s all I ever wanted,” you confessed, allowing yourself to give into the fantasy for at least a little while. You fought the urge to search for the hidden cameras, check the date to make sure it wasn’t an April Fools prank. Harry was a goof, but you were a thousand percent sure he wouldn’t play with your feelings like that.

“Just say the word,” he repeated, his husky voice laced with sincerity and longing.

“I want this,” you whispered, clutching onto Harry’s hand as if you could fall off the Earth at any minute. His face erupted into a grin so cheesy that you couldn’t help but mirror it, eyes locked onto his as he closed the distance between the two of you.

Harry’s lips met yours softly, as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you melted into him, the air nearly knocked out of your lungs by the urgency and desire behind his soft movements. He pulled away after a minute, his forehead pressed to yours as he searched your eyes for any sign that you wanted to stop. Although all Harry was met with was a sparkle in your gaze, and a further few pecks landing on his lips. “Should’ve done this a long time ago,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands splaying across your back. “Should’ve done it before you got me naked,” you teased, succumbing once again to his kiss.

rrrr i really don’t know how i feel about this but i wanted to get something out

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7

#harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles masterlist #harryslittlefreakk

673 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 9 months

Text

Steve Harrington x fem!reader[4.7K] a little oneshot looking into the relationship that follows from ISITTGG. just smut, my dudes 18+

Steve Harrington was throwing gummy bears at your bedroom window.

It was barely dusk, the sun just setting, that pretty kind of twilight light settling over the town in a blue-pink glow. The grass below your window was still too long, flowers still in bloom despite the way summer was leaving and September had begun. It smelled like honeysuckle and lavender, the air outside was clean like chlorine, like freshly cut grass and the crisp like the beginning of fall. It wasn't as warm as it had been, but when you braced your hand on the sill and looked down to the space between your house and the Harrington’s, your boyfriend was standing there in just a short sleeved t-shirt.

His jeans had a rip in the knee and his hair was wild, no doubt from driving around town with the car windows rolled right down, Eddie and Jonathan fighting over riding shotgun and the radio station. His cheeks were flushed, like he’d been going too fast, like he’d seen Chief Hopper’s flashing red and blue lights in his rearview mirror, laughed and gave him a chase.

Or maybe, just maybe, he’d been too eager to get back to you.

He grinned at the sight of you, head tilted back, the crawling ivy that trailed over the bricks of his house brushing his hair. He had more freckles than ever from the summer passed, a dust of them over his nose, the leftover line from a scratch on his right brow from when Eddie dared him to land an ollie after a keg party.

Steve couldn’t skateboard.

“There she is,” the boy called out. He leaned against the wall, ivy and honeysuckle staining his white t-shirt. “Did you get prettier?”

You snorted, an unattractive noise that only made Steve grin wider. You leaned out the window a little further, pyjama shirt getting pulled by the wind. “You saw me four hours ago, Harrington.”

Steve squinted up at you, a half smile, a half shrug, tongue pushed to the inside of his cheek. He looked like trouble, some kind of James Dean daydream. “Point still stands, princess. You gonna let me in?”

You rolled your eyes like it was all too much effort, even though your heart was bursting against your ribcage and the thought of Steve sneaking in through the garden gate to see you, standing in wait at your front door so he could slip up the stairs behind you. He was leaning against the bricks when you met him round the front, cheeks hot when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to one, ‘cause your parents were in the kitchen making pasta and drinking red wine, greeting the boy warmly and throwing half serious threats up the staircase about keeping your bedroom door open.

You ignored them, closing it behind Steve as he wandered into your room, throwing himself onto your bed like he always did. The window was still open, curtains catching in the breeze, the soft static of your record player singing something he didn’t recognise. You watched the boy stretch out across your sheets, sneakers toed off over the edge and hitting the floor with a thud as he grinned at you. Steve had been yours for a month now, best friends for a decade longer but the sight of him against your pillows still made your inside somersault. It was a giddy feeling, when he coaxed you closer, sitting up so you could stand between his legs, denim jeans scratching at the outside of your bare thighs and he hummed when you wound your arms around his shoulders, fingertips playing with the longer strands of hair at the nape of his neck. His hands found the backs of your legs, the soft skin just under the curve of your ass and he nosed at your sternum, grinning when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all night,” he murmured softly, lips grazing the cotton of your sleep shirt - his shirt. “Too soft, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile, the kind that made your feature scrunch up, cheeks warm and aching with that new kind of happiness that you hoped would never get old. “The softest,” you declared. “You were supposed to be having fun with the guys.”

Steve craned his neck back, face tilted up to you and the last of the sunlight that came through the corner of the window. It turned one eye lighter than the other, honey and whisky, his lashes casting shadows over one sunset coloured cheek. “I did, until Eddie tried to start a fight with Carver. Again.” His fingers pinched softly at the fat of your ass, making you squeak. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a kiss, huh?”

You pulled at his hair in retaliation, smirking when he only grunted in response. You ducked down a little to meet him, nose bumping his, loving the way his eyes found your lips, focused on your mouth. “He can ask nicely, for a start.”

You shrieked when you were hauled against the boy, laughter caught in your throat as Steve threw himself and you back onto the mattress, both of you landing clumsily amongst the pillows, on top of each other. He had you pinned before you could get your bearings, legs on either side of your hips as he grinned down at you victorious. He leaned in, crowding you, the smell of his cologne, smoke that you hoped was Eddie’s and not his, all around you. He was part of you now. Steve clung to your bed, he stayed in your sheets, left a part of himself behind on your pillows.

“Please, princess,” he whispered against your lips.

It was easy to give in, easier than trying to pretend you wouldn’t have kissed him without politeness. It was a sticky, soft thing. The sweetest kind of kiss, the kind that came from being so happy that you were finally able to put your lips to his. He tasted like vanilla, like cherry coke and Steve. It was the easiest thing in the world to let him tug you into him , his smile pressed against your own mouth, as he hummed, falling onto the mattress again and pulling you onto his lap.

You petted at his hair, pushing the mess of it away from his forehead so you could sit some kisses there too, grinning when he squeezed at your waist, the soft of your hips. “You hungry?” You asked quietly, enjoying the warmth of him underneath you, like he’d brought the sun home with him. “Have you had food?”

Steve shook his head, hair brushing your cheek as he tried to tuck his face into the crook of your neck, nosing at the collar of your shirt so he could kiss at your throat. “Had some cereal, at like, ten,” he mumbled.

“Steven,” you admonished, “s’almost nine at night.”

“Mmm, call me that again, s’hot,” Steve teased.

You shoved at the boy’s shoulder, rolling your eyes and hiding your smile even though Steve was grinning. You eased off him, lying next to him on the bed instead. Your gaze met his, so close you could count those new freckles. “I could make you somethin’. Grilled cheese? You gotta eat, babe.”

It was lighthearted the way Steve pulled one of your legs over his hip, palm climbing up your bare thigh, so big his fingers were curling round to the inside, close to grazing your cunt. He kissed a line over your jaw, nuzzling into the crook of your neck until you squirmed. His voice was salacious, only half joking when he said:

“Oh my god,” he groaned dramatically. “That sounds better than head right now.”

It wasn’t out of the blue, that kind of talk, not really. Your sex life with Steve was still new, experimental in the best way. It had been almost five weeks of learning about each other in a way that you’d never gotten to before, working out how the other liked to be kissed, touched, teased. There’d been hurried make outs in the back of his car, on your living room sofa before your parents came home, quick touches and messy grinding on his bed before you had to return to your own.

And when the time allowed it, when Steve got you to himself for hours on end, he kissed you until your jaw ached, until his lips were as pink as yours, working you up with his fingers until he could slide his cock inside of you and press you into the mattress. It was all new, shiny and glittery, warm bodies in the beds you used to make pillow forts out of, his cologne on your sheets, your perfume on his sweaters you stole. You shared bottles of sunscreen, swam in the backyard pools when the day turned to night and it felt like you were floating between stars, leftover barbeque smoke in the air as your legs touched Steve’s under the water.

It was a summer of sex and chlorine on skin, taking late night drives to the seven eleven in the next town over, icee’s for dinner, throwing gummy worms into the boy’s open mouth until he pulled you into his back seat and you could taste the sugar on his tongue. Steve was yours now, and god, your boy was summer incarnate.

But he hadn’t done that. Not yet.

You squirmed, feeling that too hot flush creeping up over your chest and neck. You rolled to the side, lying on your back so you could squint at the ceiling and try to work out how to make a joke out of it. You laughed, a little weakly, half shrugging and refusing to meet his gaze when the boy leaned up on his elbow to look down at you.

“I, uh, I wouldn’t know.”

Steve stared at you, one corner of his lips quirking up like he thought you were telling him a joke. When you didn’t laugh, he wrinkled his brow. “What?”

You didn’t feel embarrassed per say, in fact, you were reminded of a time - years and years ago - when you and the boy were trapped in a cupboard, standing too close to each other in the dark as you whispered about the people you’d kissed, the things you’d been to shy to do.

“What?” you shrugged, unaffected by Steve's bewildered stare. “So no one’s gone down on me, it’s not a big deal.” You tried hard not to sound defensive but Steve must’ve picked up on it anyway.

“No, no,” Steve reassured, leaning in closer to dot a kiss to your cheek, another on your forehead for extra reassurance. “It’s not a big deal at all, babe. I just, I just thought - I assumed - you know. An ex would’ve offered, or something.”

You took the hem of the boy’s shirt in between your fingers for something to do, your gaze lowered when you shrugged again. “I mean, I don’t think a girl’s pleasure was at the forefront of most seventeen year old boys minds - or eighteen - and then, I don’t know, Chris--”

Steve made a face at the mention of the other boy.

“--he tried once, kind of, I think and, I guess it was okay? He didn’t really do it for long? But maybe I just took--”

“Did you come?”

You snorted, unable to help it and Steve grinned. Any chance to one up Chris Maxwell, no matter how long it had been since he’d had to watch you go on dates with him, Steve would take happily. “No, I didn’t get the chance to enjoy myself. It felt weird, and honestly, he was too busy trying to get a condom out at the same time.”

“What an asshole,” Steve groaned and he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, your jaw.

“You’ve always thought he was an asshole, Steven.”

“Point still stands,” Steve scoffed and he pulled back, staring down at you with a sudden intensity. He worked his way between your thighs. “You trust me, right?”

You nodded. Of course you trusted Steve. You’d know him longer than you hadn’t. He’d already seen you naked, shit, he’d been inside of you. But there was something so incredibly new about the way he was lying between your legs, your knees by his shoulders as he pressed what was supposed to be a calming kiss to the inside of one. Instead, your heart jumped. It rattled inside of your ribcage, threatening to break the bones there.

“Can I try?”

You were speechless, blinking at the boy as you tried to imagine what it would feel like to have his mouth on a new part of you. His tongue, his lips, kissing over your cunt. You were suddenly burning.

“You don’t have to say yes, if you don’t want to, babe,” Steve murmured, sensing your hesitation. “If you don’t like it, we can stop.” Another kiss, this time a little higher in the inside of your thigh. “But I promise I’ll try to make you feel real good.”

“I know,” you whispered, hands fisting your sheets in anticipation. “I just— you wanna do this, right? Like this isn’t just ‘cause no one’s ever done it to me properly before?” You hated how unsure you sounded and you felt yourself go hot when Steve raised his brows at you.

“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” Steve laughed, not meanly, not at you. He moved closer, kissing a line up the inside of your leg until his shoulders were pressed underneath your thighs and god— his face was so close to the soft cotton of your pyjama shorts. “Babe. Baby, you’ve no idea how much I wanna do this. Just, relax for me, yeah?”

You looked down at Steve as he shuffled between your spread legs, curling his arms around the tops of your thighs so he could pull them apart a little further, making more room for himself. He looked up, his hair falling over his forehead, into his brown eyes. “Ready?”

You nodded, whispering a small, shy, excited ‘yeah,’ before Steve grinned up at you. You let yourself fall back onto the mattress. Eyes on the ceiling, body electric.

You expected your sleep shorts to be rolled down your hips, over your legs and thrown to the floor. But instead, Steve leaned in to kiss over them, the thin cotton not doing much to dull the feel of his mouth over your cunt. You jumped, gasping, head lifting back up and off of the bed to see Steve smile, his pink, full lips pushed into a pout as he kissed over your covered folds. He hummed, nose pushed to you in a way that made the fabric cling to you, damp seeping through already.

“Good?” Steve asked quietly, hiding his smile at your soft noises of agreement. “You like that?”

It was maddening, the soft lilt of his voice, teasing, gentle, earnest all at once. You wanted to cry out when he let his tongue drag over you, sleep shorts getting more and more wet as they stuck to the lines of you, your cunt almost visible through the damp fabric. Steve pushed his thumbs into the crease of your thighs, soothed you back down a little as he kissed your knee. “Your parents are downstairs, babe, you gotta keep quiet, yeah?”

His words made you spin, too dizzy to comprehend that you did actually need to shut the fuck up. But it hadn’t felt like this when Chris had made an attempt, a thirty second appearance between your thighs in the back of his car before he got too impatient and demanded you ride him. So you whined a little desperately and gasped at Steve’s touch, wondering when your boyfriend was going to put you out of your misery and take your shorts off.

But Steve ducked back down to kiss over you again, proper, open mouthed kissed against the folds of your pussy, his tongue sneaking out every now and then to bump against your covered clit and you were wriggling in his hands, head thrown back, vision hazy because you forgot to blink, lips parted in a quiet moan. You felt fingers at the band of your shorts then, warm and sure and you lifted your bum up in anticipation. But instead of being pulled down your legs, Steve tugged up.

Cheeks hot with a strange type of embarrassment, you gasped out, realising that the thin cotton of your tiny shorts were now tucked between your folds, a firm pressure on your clit that had you reeling. You couldn’t fathom what you must’ve looked like, but when you gazed back down at Steve, glassy eyed and panting, Steve was staring at your pussy like a man starved.

His own eyes were heavy lidded, dark and heated, his lips parting at the sight of you. Steve pulled up again, just slightly, groaning low when the fabric slipped further between your folds. He can see the outline of everything, the soaked patch that’s clinging to your entrance, the bump of your clit under pink cotton. He reaches out to trace it with a fingertip, swearing when you jerk forward, wanting more. He pulls you into him, hands grabbing at your thighs so he can push his face back between them and he licks a flat, slow stripe over your cunt.

You can’t help but arch up, biting down on the meat of one of your hands while the other finds Steve’s hair, fingers twining through the strands and pulling, hard. The boy moans at that, something you already knew he liked too much but it sends his own hips rocking into the bed, chasing any friction he can get, letting you know he’s enjoying this as much as you are. And once your underwear is soaked through, you’re fuzzy, feeling drunk and ready to beg for him to take them off but Steve is one step ahead of you, tapping your ass so you’ll plant your feet on the mattress and lift your hips for him.

You do it immediately, muffling a whine as he has to peel your wet underwear from between your folds, dragging them down your legs before settling back between them, kissing over the soft of your stomach as he pushes the hem of your too big shirt up your ribs. “Let me see you, princess, lemme see those pretty tits.”

The breeze from the evening came through the still open window but you were more than sure the goosebumps on your skin came from Steve’s words, his rough, wrecked sounding voice. You obeyed, pulling the fabric of your shirt up until it rested under your chin. “Steve, please, I really need—”

Another kiss, just below your belly button, another, climbing up your ribcage and the boy hushed you. “S’alright, I know, I know.” He swiped two fingers through you, feeling how warm and slick you were for him. “Shit, baby, wanna really feel me, yeah?”

You nodded, a furious movement that made Steve grin. You settled back on your elbows this time, legs open for the boy, eager to watch. “Please, yeah. Fuck, it’s— Steve, please.”

Steve didn’t hesitate, pressing himself down onto the mattress as he spread you with two thumbs, groaning at the way you glistened in the last of the lowlight, your bedroom turning seven shades of blue as evening rolled in. He could hear sprinklers turn on outside, the faint hum of your parents television from downstairs, the way your breathing picked up when he blew over your clit, pink and swollen for him and his touch.

“So pretty, baby,” he praised, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Don’t tell you that enough, huh?”

You scrunched your face at the praise, cheeks burning, your bare chest rising and falling faster and faster and faster. “You tell me that all the time.”

Steve laughed softly, ducking his head down to kiss you, a chaste peck in the dirtiest of ways, lips sliding over your cunt, still spread for him. You gasped, head falling back for a second, clenching down on nothing and you knew Steve would see, you knew Steve was watching. You heard him exhale roughly.

“Talkin’ about her, princess.” Steve hummed, licked over his lips to chase your taste and dipped down again to drag his tongue oh so fucking slowly from your entrance to your clit. “Yeah? Talkin’ about how pretty this pussy is.”

The compliment made you pull Steve’s hair harder, hips wiggling as you groaned, eyes falling shut when the boy huffed out a soft laugh and pulled you closer, nose bumping against your clit as he pressed his tongue into you, slick, wet noises filling the room and making your breath hitch. Up and down, up and down, up and down, Steve licked you like a popsicle, humming when your hips twitched, pushing his lips around your clit and sucking gently, teasing it with the tip of his tongue before he went back to kissing all you all over.

It was messy, wet, Steve’s lips and chin shining with you, his eyes fluttering shut every time he dragged his tongue through your folds, his hips rocking down into the mattress as he tried to ease the pressure in his jeans. He was harder than he’d ever been.

“Steve,” you whispered, your voice broken and cracking at the pleasure. “Steve, please, I’m so close.”

The boy murmured softly against your skin, a thing you were sure was supposed to soothe you but you just arched against his mouth instead. He pulled back, just slightly, smiling when you cried out, hushing you with wide eyes. “Princess, hey, hey, baby,” he kissed the crease of your thigh, licked the wet there that made your skin shine, growling at the taste. “You gotta stay quiet, yeah? Keep quiet baby and I’ll make you come, I promise.”

You nodded, doe eyed as you stared down your body at him, barely keeping yourself up on your elbows, legs quivering as Steve pushed them further apart. “Lie back for me, yeah? That’s it, good girl. M’gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, princess, tell me what you need.”

Steve sounded reverent, kissing over your stomach and the small thatch of curls before licking into your folds again, pressing his lips to your clit. “Fingers,” you gasped out, clenching your comforter in each hand. Your knuckles were white. “Please, fingers please.”

Steve didn’t even respond with words, he just sucked his middle and pointer into his mouth and pushed them into you, groaning at how easy they slid in. The feeling of being so suddenly full made your head fall back, huffs of air escaping from your lips and making the ceiling fuzzy, it was glittering. The stars didn’t seem to stay outside anymore.

“Pull your legs up, baby, c’mon, open up for me,” Steve rasped, pushing your legs up with his shoulders until you got the hint and pressed your knees to your chest, letting them fall open even further until you were sure you were going to die from the way you were so exposed for him.

But Steve whined, a needy desperate noise and you felt the mattress dip and lift as he jumped himself into the bed, chasing his own release as he gave you yours. “Oh, good girl, baby, that’s so good. That’s it, yeah? Can get my fingers nice ‘n’ deep, huh?” He proved his point by rubbing the tips of his digits in small circles, pressing into the spot you could never reach.

It made your legs shake, toes curling and you were able to gasp out, “mouth, use your mouth, please,” just as you felt yourself getting pulled into the mattress, a hook in your tummy that was getting warmer and heavier, a buzzing in your ears like white static and Steve’s tongue was almost lazy as it dragged over you clit, soft and slow and languid. You felt every bit of it, cunt fluttering around the base of his fingers, sucking him in until Steve swore into you, lips parting around your pussy in a messy, wet kiss and he sucked hard when your back arched, legs falling, feet hitting the mattress, ass lifting up and into his face. You pushed yourself against his mouth, uninhibited, eyes squeezed shut and your hands fumbling for a pillow, an old stuffed teddy, anything to bite into to stifle your cries.

“Shit, princess, so fuckin’ hot, Christ, that’s it,” Steve groaned, pupils blow wide as he stared up at you. “Touch those tits for me, baby, play w’them, yeah.”

The boy’s hands grabbed at your thighs as you obeyed, fingertips biting into the soft skin, pulling you into him, groaning almost too loud when you moved against his tongue, hips rolling as you came. You felt it everywhere, a slow roll into an orgasm that shattered, sending you reeling, unwound, undone. There was glitter behind your eyelids, stars, a new planet.

You bit down into the corner of your cushion, soft, muffled noises caught between your teeth and you felt something wet slip from one eye, a tear that rolled over your cheek and onto the baby blue pillow case. You twitched, whining as you tried to pull away, overstimulated, easing yourself back onto the bed and trying to catch your breath.

Steve ran his wide hands over your thighs, up and down, up and down, one pressing to the soft of your tummy as he soothed you. “Shh, princess, I know.” He kissed over your clit, cooing when you jerked underneath him. “Sorry, sorry, s’okay, just lemme—” he cut himself off to lick over you, soft, slow drags of his tongue that avoided that overly sensitive bump at the top of your cunt.

You sighed prettily, soft moans as your eyes closed again, sucking in deep breaths as Steve cleaned you up, licking away everything you gave him, kissing sweetly over your folds before easing your legs from his shoulders. You lay spent, eyes closed and cheeks warm as the boy crawled his way back over you, dotting kisses over your ribs, the curve of your breast, grinning as you whined when he grazed his teeth over a nipple. You clung to Steve as he burrowed into you, nosing at your neck and humming, letting you grab at his hair and drag his mouth to yours.

This kiss was as languid and hot as it was when he kissed you elsewhere, his tongue licking over yours, the taste of yourself making you whine. You could feel Steve smiling, lips still pressed to yours, his nose against your cheek. He leaned back, just slightly, one hand pushing your hair from your damp forehead, grinning wide at the sight of your glassy eyes.

“You okay?” He asked softly, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice.

You mumbled something Steve couldn't make out and clung a little tighter, pulling the boy down until he was pressed against your chest and you could hide your face in his neck.

“That good?” Steve tried to tease but he couldn’t help but sound sincere, you were still trembling, doing your best to burrow into him.

“Insane,” you said into the cotton of his shirt, lips pressed to his shoulder. “Stupid good, yeah. Fuck.” You were whimpering a little, voice soft and half asleep sounding and it made Steve beam. You wriggled against him, the breeze from the window seeming cooler now that Steve wasn’t working you up and your thigh brushed against a damp patch against his crotch. “Did you come?”

There was no judgement behind your answer, just quiet awe. You smiled when Steve scoffed, nodding as he leaned in to peck at your lips again. “Uh, ‘course I did. How could I not? You were grinding all over me like some kinda wet dream, princess shit—”

“Steve,” you whined, a little embarrassed as the high wore off, cheeks too hot when Steve laughed. You crawled over him, thighs straddling his lap. Your shirt - Steve’s shirt - fell back down, pooling your waist and covering you back up. Steve pouted, hands diving underneath anyway, fingers spanning over your thighs. You raised a brow. “You still hungry?”

Steve smirked, squeezing at your legs, revelling in the warmth he could still feel from between them. “Oh, she’s got jokes now, huh?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington one shot

2K notes · View notes

lilyarchived · 9 months

Text

behind closed doors [simon "ghost" riley]

a/n: URGH this idea literally came from a silly twitter picture, PLEASE SEND ASKS YOU CAN SEE HOW DESPERATE I AM FOR IDEAS!! Also thank you for the love on my first post, you guys are awesome!

warnings: gn! reader, reader has a breakdown, jealousy, cursing, angst (to fluff), 0.7k words.

summary: you overheard a conversation that included you, and it wasn't a positive talk.

"Ghost, please. leave me alone." you whimper as you walk away from your lieutenant just following behind you. “Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.” he replies in that same old gruff voice since the day you met.

You were wandering through the base, having done all the tasks Price had assigned ya. Hearing a familiar deep voice in one of the rooms, you were about to enter but a flash of hesitation hit you once you heard your name. “[mumbled] and what [scrambled] about [scrambled] [Y/N]?” muttered soap, his voice an unserious tone. You gulp, wondering if the context was negative or positive. “What about them?” your heart drops, did he really think nothing of you? Of course not, you were overthinking, you assure yourself this was just ghost being ghost. “I don’t mean to pry ya, lad. Don’t you and [mumbled] have something going on?” your smile reappears after soap’s suspicion. You were about to burst in, smiling, before hearing ghost’s voice once more. “What? No. There was never ‘anything’ between us.”

Oh. Oh. tears blur your vision before hearing soap say “Ah. So you’re pretty serious about this partner you’ve been talking to, huh?” running away before your heart shatters even more.

“Don’t bullshit me ghost. I heard you in there with soap.” you finally turn around once you’re out in the training field, only this time it was empty. You’ve never seen it this empty. What a strange sight. You bring your hands up to your head, fuzzying your hair as you scoff and fold your arms, waiting for ghost to respond. He just looks at you with those same deadpanned eyes, only this time it was laced with a confused look. “What?” he voices in a hushed manner.

You could only fall to the rough ground as you broke down in an out-of-breath manner. Hearing Simon's footstep’s rummage through and leveling with you to hold you in his arms, his grasp tight as he hushes your cries.

“[Y/N], did you get those files i asked yo-” he barely got to finish his sentence before you dropped them at his hands and began to make your way out. “Gotta go, I'll see you later, gaz.” you utter, quickly shutting the door behind you. “What’s up with them?” ghost asked gaz, eyes wide with how the normally-clingy [Y/N] was now being avoidant. “You cannot be that fucking stupid.” gaz remarked. “What?” ghost asked, voice slightly raised now. Gaz scoffs, “you shit talked them to soap, you think they wouldn’t find out?” he added. “I never said anythi- fuck. I wasn’t-” gaz just raised an eyebrow, letting his lieutenant explain himself. “I was telling soap how much i like them.” gaz drops his pen, clearly intrigued now. “Go after them, dumbass!” he yells, and ghost bolts outside, in search of you.

And now here you were, in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. ‘How pathetic.’ you think. “Do I mean nothing to you? All those nights, those- stupid breaks I spent with you, getting to know you, nothing?” Ghost’s heart aches as he hears your broken voice, feeling immense guilt creep up. “[Y/N], I was telling soap how I wanted to be with you.” your sobs quiet down, trying to process what he just said. “There’s no one else?” you whisper, silent cries slipping.

What really happened was, “really? And what about that chick you were talking to, Sarah? still want [Y/N]?” – “I don’t mean to pry ya, lad. Don’t you and Sarah have something going on?”

Oh. he was denying ever having ‘something’ with a different girl. It all seems foolishly funny now. You laugh through your tear stained cheeks as you punch Ghost on the chest playfully. "you scared me." your voice softer than before, if that were even possible. “It’s you, it’s always been you.” he explained, in that same old gruff voice since the day you met. Only this time, it held more emotion than ever.

#rbn writes #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod

1K notes · View notes

targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

Text

Her Words

Summary: You are introduced with the prince as his second option for a marriage in your family. But how will the Prince react to you own affliction and the backlash from your family | Mini-Series Masterlist

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

A/N: You all asked for a part 2 so ask and you shall receive! Again thank you for the request on this one it was really fun to write :)

Warnings: hitting, some sexual suggestions

You could feel your handwriting getting progressively worse as the weeks went by.

That was one thing you had not considered as a side-effect from spending so much time with Aemond.

Every hallway, every corner, every walk in the garden. There was always some off-chance that your paths would cross. And every time this coincidence seemed to happen, there was a stupid smile on your face and your hands grip on your notebook seemed less and less. One a few of occasions he had dared to close the space between you, whether it was to brush a hair from your face or to run a warm hand over yours. All of this serving to send warmth to your cheeks that a smile that reached your eyes.

Nobody was more surprised of this behaviour, than Aemond himself. Though he would never admit it to himself.

He had already gifted you one book, written entirely in cursive Valyrian, promising to read you through it, to teach you how to pronounce the words like a native. The book had been kept well and separate from the rest of them in the library. The cover was a wine colour and there was not a rip on it.

And when he extended the book out to you, your hands delicately traced the patterns on the front, inspecting all the details as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Your eyes had found his, wide and bright with gratitude and a slight film of tears coated them, mouth pulling into a line to stop yourself from crying at the kind gesture.

"Ziry iksos issa jaelagon naejot rȳbagon ao pikībagon bisa, issa riñnykeā"

When he spoke Valyrian, it almost seemed too perfect. His voice was suited to it, and it was a shame that he could not speak it all the time. The way he formed the words, his intonation, all serving to set off a spark inside you. And at the notion that he spoke only to you. For you.

It is my wish to hear you read this, my lady.

The words were sweet. But you relished in the way he said them more so.

The book nestled in your arms, you looked down, trying to hide the blush that very quickly was heating your face from the Prince before you. Your hand smoothed over your clothed arm, picking at the wrinkles in it with anxiety. Your hand went to your side and the mind raced at the notion that your notebook was not there.

And he was stood before you, regarding you and the way your anxious face formed being separated from your notebook. Of course, it had not been an accident. You had dared for this day to leave it behind, but now the space where it would have been seemed endless. Like those soldiers who return from battle with a limb missing, but still feeling it, still being able to control it.

Your eyes briefly met Aemond's and he could see the panic in your eyes. And you need not be panicked or anxious, you knew he was patient and kind, despite appearances.

"gūrogon aōha jēda…" He said quietly, he had his hands laced behind his back and his good eye looked down on you softly.

Take your time.

He looked so peaceful it bought a pain on your heart. Nobody was as patient as him. Nor had anyone in the past been.

You send him a ghost of a smile in thanks, looking away to pull in a long breath of air, so much so that your lungs ached. You let yourself exhale first before bringing another burst of air in, mouth open to form the words,

"i-iska…no, iksā to-l-lī sȳz…" you manage, the nerves being the cause of it more than anything, "…d-dārilaros Aemond…"

You are too kind, Prince Aemond.

You dared look back up at him once you'd finished the sentence. There was that look again, the darkened look he always gives you whenever you say his name. Your grip on the book tightened once again seeing him take a step towards you and he could hear a breath get caught in your throat. He was so close you could see all the details of his dragon-shaped clasps on his tunic. So close you could smell his scent around you. So close that you thought he might touch you.

"nyke hae ziry skori vestrā ñuha brōzi…"

I like it when you say my name.

His hand came to a lock of your hair at the side of your face, running the strands through his dextrous fingers. His other fingers ran across your jaw, sending a chill through you, only to come to rest his palm on your cheek. His motions were so slow and calculated that it sent a heat through your body that settled in your stomach. You swallowed back, suddenly nervous in his presence, even more so when you felt his thumb trace the outside of your lip.

Your eye never moved from his.

"ivestragon ziry aril"

Say it again.

To anyone else it would have been a command. But he seemed desperate to hear it again and a shuddered breath came from you again.

And before you could even prepare yourself, do all your breathing and calming, the words seemed to pass your lips as naturally as the sun rises over the horizon.

"Aemond…"

He was so close still, a smirk on his face and a smile on your own. All anxiety seemed pressed down below the surface, replaced with something new. Something you thought you would never experience.

Desire.

A desire for his company. For his understanding and patience. But also a desire for him. For him to be pressed to you as if in need and desperation. You could feel your throat constrict at the mere thought.

"kostan ūndegon skoros iksā otāpagon…" He started.

I can see what you are thinking.

"…ñuha riña"

Against his better judgement, he withdrew his hand from you to place behind his back once more, standing back to revel in the effect he had on you. You knew what he was doing and it was not original in the slightest, but it still made you smile bashfully, fingers desperately gripping the book he had given you.

He cleared his throat as if he himself was also nervous, " kessa nyke ūndegon ao tolī…tolī ñuha gūrēñare?" he asked. Shall I see you later, after my training.

You nodded in earnest and watched as he turned to leave, his gaze on yours the entire time until his back faced you. Marvelling at his form as he walked away, he took one more glance back before rounding the corner and you wondered how someone could be so expressive with only one eye. And yet even the smallest glance could send a spark through you like no other. That, combined with his words, was the greatest pleasure you had known.

Even the way he walked away served to stir you so. The way his long legs carried his strides and the way he commanded his space with his form, such confidence at face value and yet so often, in your shared language, he had said that it was not always this way. He had learned the cold stare of feigned confidence through the many years he spent hiding himself away, learning to use his words as his weapon and training his body to be his deadliest.

Who would think that a man like this could be so gracious in the presence of a woman.

Of you.

Hurriedly, you half-ran back to your chambers, letting out a deep breath at being alone and able to let out your thoughts on the man. The book he had gifted you was placed lovingly on your bed as a maid softly knocked at your door. All you could do was face the mirror and uncontrollably smile as she loosened the ties of your dress, pulling the gown off your shoulders to pool at your feet.

"You seem in good spirits, my lady" she remarked, preparing the other dress to be worn at the feast. You could tell that when she said it, she was smiling, "Would the Prince have anything to do with that?"

In the mirror you met her gaze very briefly and shrugged, her hm in response seemed to satisfy her question. Without pressing any further, she draped the dress at your feet and once stepped inside pulled the heavy garment up your body to fasten at your front. This maid was quick about her work and laced it effortlessly at the front and at the back, using metal ones at the front that were coated with gold to compliment the deep forest colour of the gown.

Once the skirts were smoothed down, you observed your figure in the mirror. It was quite possibly the only thing you wore which truly fit you and it was here you felt you looked truly beautiful, for the first time maybe ever. All the small gold fastening attached at the front reminded you of the endless times you had seen Queen Alicent with her seven-pointed star accessories, and you thought she had looked beautiful then.

One your hair was styled the way you preferred, not overly braided, the maid stepped back to admire her own work.

"Beautiful, my lady"

You nod your head in thanks as she takes her leave.

You yourself look on your silhouette and shake slightly. To be his betrothed is one thing, but to be his wife. To tame the blood of the dragon. You felt underequipped for the task at hand.

But you had already conquered him. You just did not know it yet.

You had been seated at the table for some time with one of your older brothers before people started to file into the hall. Of course, this wasn't the first time you had been in this room but it had been so altered for the feast that it was unrecognisable. There was a long table in the middle of the room with a red tablecloth and many candles decorating the middle, their flames barely flickering the room was so quiet.

Glancing over to your brother, he had his head in his hand, probably severely hungover. His eyes were closed so tightly that you thought that he might be in pain, and you half thought to ask him if he was alright but decided against it. For he had not spoken a single word to you in the weeks your family had been guests to King Viserys and Lady Alicent.

With a sigh you smooth your hands over your gown and clasp your hands together, sending a glare over to your brother who whispered shut up at your sigh.

You could not even make sound in front of your family. The kindness served to you by Aemond had made you realise how badly they treated you. Especially your father.

The echoes of fast footsteps broke you from your trance and you looked over at the entrance to see you older sister, arms hurriedly beside her in her half-run and a fierce stare tracking the room.

Her daggered eyes landed upon you, finger pointed in your direction.

"You!" the words came from her like a stab.

Her fierce look had you on your feet, a questioning look on your face as your sister made for you across the room, your eldest brother not far behind in his own half-run. The other drunken brother furrowed his brows in curiosity and all time seemed to slow as your sister threw all her weight into her palm to strike you across the face.

You could barely register the pain in your face until you looked back into your sister's hateful eyes which is when the pain started to bloom across your cheek and jaw. More shocked than anything right now, you raised your hand to your now burning face to touch, it was not sore yet but it certainly would be. Your sister looked unnaturally angry, so much so that the lines around her mouth were now visible and she was shaking. Her eyes were scrunched up with her expression, mouth hanging open slightly to say something.

"You fucking whore" she spat at you, her hand came to your bare arm to twist the skin there and you let out a cry at the pain. But she would not let go and seemed to dig her fingernails into you even further, even at the sudden presence of your eldest brother and entrance of your father.

"What is the meaning of this!" your father's voice boomed but your sister never took her eyes off you. Afraid that if she would, you would escape her tight grip.

"How did you do it, hm?" she asked, eye boring into you, "The Prince could not have fallen for an idiot like you…"

Your mouth formed into a flat line in an attempt to deflect her unkind words, pushing the brewing tears back, but an ever-present feeling was there also. Anger.

"Let her go, sister" Your eldest brother was at her side, hand hooked under her arm to pull her away. Not one look from him was given to you.

Your father was not far behind, his booming voice aching for his daughter to release her hold on you, noting the arrival of Queen Alicent into the hall, who looked shocked at the whole situation.

"What did you do then, fuck him?" she snapped and you could feel your anger bubble inside of you. Mouth open ready to say something, the familiar block stopped you, but your sister was so close, so you thought to opt for a whisper if nothing else. You could no just stand idly by while she disrespected you. That is something you had learnt from him. In only the few weeks you had known him, he seemed to have taught you more than your family ever had.

"N-n.." you start, and a moment of surprise passes on your sister's face, but the anger remains, "…not all of us…h-have to…"

She seemed to mull over the words for a long time, fingernails pushing so hard into your skin you were sure there would be bruising and welts. And it was as if it was a language she had not know, you could see her bounce the words in her head. Or perhaps she had never bothered to hear for the sound of her sister's voice before.

It all came down on your sister so quickly and she let a sinister smile pass on her face at the understanding of your words.

"You dare take the Prince from me…" she cursed, her grip tightening like a vice once more around you and you closed your eyes once more to brace yourself for another strike.

"Care to tell me why your hands are on my betrothed?" a voice rang out loud and deep and your eyes popped open again to find Aemond at the doorway, hands ever clasped behind his back, his cold, hard stare at your sister.

Her head spun around with such speed, you thought it might pop off and her confused gaze met the Prince's, but it was not long before a sinister smile returned, her hands still on you.

"I am your betrothed" she returned.

Aemond turned his head so that he could face the sister straight on, nothing needed to be said, saying enough with his gaze entire. The room seemed deathly quiet as he took his few steps towards your sister, his eye never met yours, not even once. There was danger in the room and he felt he had to address it.

"Aemond…" Alicent muttered, trying to distract him. But it was no use. He was trained directly on your sister and you could feel her façade slip away by the second as she shrunk under his look.

"Release her" he ordered. When your sister did not move, he sent a hooded glare down at her, "Now"

It was clear your sister was too out of it to move, so your eldest brother pulled her towards him, with no resistance. Your groaned in pain as your sister's fingernails came from your skin, leaving red half-moon shaped marks on you. Aemond's hand was on your arm instantly, inspecting the damage your sister inflicted on you, his touch soft against the violence that had ensued before. His fingers traced the marks before allowing his eye to meet yours and then your cheek, seeing the way the skin was inflamed, red and no doubt sore.

It was difficult to gauge his emotion at this time. But all you knew it that he was angry.

Turning to your siblings and father, he took your arm softly to push you behind him, whispering to you softly.

"Gaomas ziry ōdrikagon?" Does it hurt? He asked.

You could not dignify him with a lie and simply replied quietly, "M-mirrī…" A little.

Aemond could not tolerate anyone laying a hand on you, and you seemed to understand this as he faced your family.

"What was that?" you father asked, wide-eyed and staring at you. Silence filled the room once more and your father shuffled embarrassed, "Answer me"

"She spoke" your sister said, "So it does speak"

Her laugh filled the room, that cackle that Aemond hated so much. The one that inspired him to cast her aside, now even more annoying.

"You mean to me that you can speak all this time?" your father says, a hint of annoyance in his voice, "And then once in the company of the Prince, suddenly your idiocy is gone?"

"She is a whore" your sister seethes, but your father orders her to be quiet.

"I would suggest you use different words " Aemond warned, his voice low and protective in the face of your family.

The otherwise quiet Queen Alicent seemed to step forward, using her body to separate the two parties. For a long time, she had been the dividing force between families and had no issues stepping back into that responsibility now.

"That is enough" she said softly, her eyes forever on your father, "My Lord, no promises have been made regarding joining our houses"

All at once, the reality of the situation seemed to hit your father. His face changed from one scorned, angry and exhausted to something more hopeful.

"He is meant to be my husband!" your sister called out, eldest brother still holding onto her arm. She looked positively furious and with the opportunity would most certainly have broken free to wreak havoc once more.

"Be quiet" your father warned. Looking towards you, he jutted his jaw upwards, feeling as if suddenly he had the upper hand, "This marriage will still benefit us no doubt and you have done this family an unexpected favour, your Grace"

Alicent wasn't enjoying a moment of this and simply looked onwards, almost dissociated. Your father's tone seemed predatory, his gaze creeping back over to you and Aemond. Your fingers rested on his hand, delicately gripping him and thanking him for his support in this awkward situation.

Aemond cocked his head, knowing your father had more to say.

Stepping forward, your father dared to glower at the Prince.

"You have taken this halfwit from me, at last"

It was clear it was aimed to set Aemond off. And it had almost worked as the man before you went to take a step forward, only to be met with your hand on his chest. Confused, he looked down at you but you simply shook your head. His look was difficult to decipher as many had often said before you, but you refused to allow him to act how others perceived him, so with a soft hand on his chest you gently pushed him back to take your place before him. One hand slipped into his, you faced your father, who had a sick, satisfied smile on his face.

You could see his gaze waver slightly when you went to open your mouth.

He was the one you feared the backlash from the most. Mother, at least, had been somewhat patient and accepting until her death. But after that, it only served to turn your father bitter. If he would not be patient for his other children, there was little hope for yourself growing up with any form of endearment. What could be expected of such a man.

You felt the familiar slam of a block in your throat, and you swallowed heavily, squeezing Aemond's hand beside you. Grounding you. With a deep breath, you looked back up to your father. He would not interrupt you this time. He would not best you.

He could not have the last laugh this time.

"You…" the words came out forcefully, almost clumsy. But no block in sight, "…are no father…t-to me"

The room was deathly quiet and more than anything, everyone was just shocked. You watched your father's face carefully and saw the raw shock that was so clearly there and you hadn't realised just how tightly you had been holding onto Aemond's hand until he squeezed back, a very obvious proud look on his features.

You took a glance about the room once the silence had become uncomfortable, your siblings sharing their own form of shock in equal measure. A sudden feeling of self-consciousness overtook you and you looked over at Alicent and finally Aemond.

Alicent looked entirely neutral if not a little amused, but Aemond did not have to hide his amusement, his lips turned up into a very clear smirk as his eye looked down at you. You dared to send him a smile back, secretly proud of what you had done in the spur of the moment.

"I think it is time for you to leave, my Lord" Alicent said, cutting through the stony silence, "The King and I will send the terms for the marriage in the coming days"

The father looked wordlessly over at the Queen, now haggard and expressionless.

"I trust the matter is closed"

"Hm" was your father's only response. He gave you somewhat of a glare before turning his back, his own hand clamping around your sisters to drag her out of the room. Your brother's seemed to give Aemond a look before following also, the eldest dragging the middle by the cuff of his shirt.

You let out a breath and your shoulders dropped, now relieved of the pressure. Aemond squeezed your hand again,

"T-tolī o-o…olvie?" you ask. Too much?

He shakes his head with a chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, "Daor, īles vok"

No, it was perfect.

The weight of the burden your family was apparently very hefty, for as they arranged their hasty departure the next day it did not seem to bother you to see them off.

You would happily spend the afternoon sat beneath the Weirwood Tree, book softly placed in your lap. Aemond leaned against the tree behind you, reading over your shoulder as your eyes darted across the words scribbled on the page, fingers at the corner ready to turn with excitement.

Aemond smirked knowingly as his eye caught your family passing the gardens, the servants carrying their luggage. Your father leered over, a gaze that could kill settling upon the Prince, but the only thing that could occupy the space between you both was the sound of you reciting the book before you. The one he had given you as a present.

He sat by, watching every now and then as the line formed between your eyebrows at a particularly difficult word, taking staggered breaths to get the long ones through in a single utterance. And for a moment, watching you reciting the text, Aemond swore he saw the passing of regret pass over your father's features.

Your words seemed to be suited to Valyrian, Aemond so often thought, and even now as he listened to your words from the history book, he took a lock of hair between his fingers to play with the strands. A chill ran up your spine at his hand on your neck, pushing the hair away, the smooth skin hiding beneath now exposed to the cold air.

His hand remained at your nape as you finished the sentence.

"Rȳ z-zȳha…sȳrje…sk-skorkydoso gaomas…b-bisa pikībagon?..." How does this read? you pause to ask, a finger pointed at the page at an unknown symbol. Aemond sat up and leered over your shoulder at the spot,

"Valyria"

"Oh" you answer, now feeling stupid, but chuckling in response. You carried on, Aemond's chin now resting softly atop your shoulder.

"Valyria iksin se….ro-rovaja oktion isse se vys. Iemny ziry..."

"Lemnȳ" Aemond corrected, smiling.

You sigh and push the book closed to place beside you, looking up at Aemond's smug face, he was so close now that you could see the stitching of his eye-patch and a shuddered breath came from you at the hand that was still placed on your skin. His eye was once against hooded to look down at you, perhaps you would never get used to the feeling that gave you.

"Ao pikībagon sȳrī" You read well.

"e-emi mērī..sssepār rhēdan" We have only just started. You shake your head at his words.

"Nyke hae aōha elēni…" I like the sound of your voice, he trailed off and you could feel your cheeks heat up at his compliments. Truthfully, you loved the sound of his more. Especially when he spoke Valyrian. It being your shared language, there was a certain intimacy to it. And you found yourself wondering if he would speak it during…

Your sinful thoughts were cut off by his hand on your jaw, turning your face towards him. If he was close before, now he was even closer, and you held your breath and searched his eye for his intent. He was smiling down at you, finger softly dragging across your skin and it seemed like there was nothing more romantic than saying nothing at all in this moment. Eyes zoned in on him, you opened your mouth to say something, his name.

"Aem-"

His lips interrupted you and you could feel how his softness pressed against you, body heated instantly just purely with his touch. All that fire that burned in his blood, pumped around his body, to be pressed against you now; it burned so nicely that you smiled in his kiss. Allowing him to slip into your mouth as you smiled, the warmth enveloped the two of you and you hand was softly pressed to his chest, grasping the collar of his coat, perhaps in an effort to pull him closer. Aemond groaned with need, sending a vibration of desire that descended through you.

You had never felt so wanted in your life. And Gods, it felt so nice to be wanted, to be needed.

Time seemed to pass so slowly when he had you like this and the desire deepened more so when his hand cupped the back of your head, pressing further into you. A ghost of a moan left you which only seemed to spur him on more so, running swiftly out of breath.

"Aōha udra…" he broke away to whisper, forehead resting on yours, "…nyke jorrāelagon tolī"

You smiled, eyes closed and enveloped in his scent, his love. It was other-wordly.

Your words. I need more.

Taglist: @candypurplebutterfly @vainillasmil157 @ysa-psa @angelaevangelion @bellaisasleep @random-human02 @guardian-of-the-imagination

4K notes · View notes

daisies-daydreams · 1 year

Text

Closer (Ghost x F!Virgin!Reader)

Pairing: Simon Riley (Ghost) x F!Virgin!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (18+) Warnings: Soft Sex, Virginity Loss, Penis in Vagina Sex, Graphic Descriptions of Genitalia, Vibrators, Vaginal Fingering, Vanilla Sex, Protected Sex, Slight Breast Play, Brief Sexual/Performance Anxiety, Mentions of Trauma Word Count: 4,088

Summary: Ghost and you are ready to take the next step in your relationship…and he intends to take his time with you.

Author’s Note: This is the fic I wrote for the “Who Should I Write My Next Fic About?” poll. I wasn’t sure which direction to go in at first, but eventually I decided on Ghost with a virgin/inexperienced reader. I may write another one where Ghost’s more rough, but we’ll see.

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You felt warmth spread through you from head to toe. Your lips were wrapped sweetly with Simon’s as you snuggled on your bed. His uncovered chest brushed against your perked nipples that lay beneath your tank top. You’ve never felt safer in your life, held in the sturdy arms of the man who called you his. The bed frame creaked beneath you when he suddenly rolled over, taking you with him. You giggled, cupping his square jaw tenderly. He smiled as he broke away from your kiss. You blushed as he pressed small, individual kisses to every one of your knuckles.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Simon murmured into your ear. The tips of your ears burned while he continued to kiss your hands.

“Simon…” you sighed when he dove his lips to your neck. Your boyfriend chuckled, his voice reverberating into your skin. You realized the warmth you felt was starting to trickle somewhere else…

You raised your hands and pushed at his chest slightly. His lips unlatched from your flesh.

“Love?” Simon asked, brows slightly knitted. You wiggled beneath him, your cunt clenching and unclenching around nothing.

“Si, I-I want to do it,” you gasped out. Simon cocked his head.

“You want to have sex?” his gaze remained glued to your pleading eyes. Your hands rubbed up and down his rugged abdomen, fingers tracing across each dip and curve of his muscles.

“Y-Yes. We’ve been together for a while, and I-I really want to,” you squeaked as you hid your face in his chest. He backed away from you, his raw, calloused hands clutching onto your own. He rubbed the back of your palm with his thumb.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he asked seriously. You gave a firm nod.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you affirmed. Simon inhaled through his nose. The gentle hum of the ceiling fan felt louder as he thought in silence. Your heart felt like it was ready to burst, as did the aching heat in between your legs.

“Alright,” Simon said. You squealed and lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his broad upper back. He gave a breathy laugh as he held you in his lap. “On one condition,” he said firmly. Your love brought you back down onto the pillows, laying you on your back. “You have to let me know if I’m doing something that makes you feel uncomfortable, okay? I want you to make you feel good, (Y/N). Can you do that for me?” he asked.

“Yes,” you agreed with a sweet smile. “And could you do the same for me?” you asked. His eyelids drooped as he shifted above you.

“Of course, love,” he whispered. Your eyes latched onto the distinct bulge growing beneath his dark pants. You looked into his eyes, two dark pools filled with so much love and hunger for you.

You weren’t Simon’s first. Before, he’d usually find a woman at a bar who was only looking for a single night of heated passion, only to leave their beds cold the next morning. With you, however, there was something that kept him anchored. The bear hugs you’d give him when he came back from deployment. The way you’d wrap your arms around him and kiss his temple when he jolted from a nightmare in a cold sweat. Maybe you weren’t Simon’s first to fuck…but you were definitely the first to love.

The scent of his cologne overwhelmed you as Simon lowered his mouth to meet yours. You moaned into his kiss, your hands traveling down to squeeze at his taut ass. He chuckled and bit your lower lip.

“Naughty thing,” he mused. You giggled before he blew a raspberry into your neck.

“Simon!” you squealed. His hands flew to your sides, his fingers digging into your flesh. You howled with laughter as he tickled you relentlessly. “Si! Stop! I can’t-I can’t breathe!” you wheezed. His fingers slid down to the hem of your pants. You gasped when his raspberries quickly turned into sucking.

“Si,” you breathed. He groaned into the junction where your shoulder and neck met, his teeth grazing over your skin. He sank his hips over your clothed cunt, his hard member poking into your arousal. You jumped at the sensation, sparks flying across your womanhood. You raised your hips to meet his.

“Yes,” you moaned. He smiled before licking a stripe over your pulse. You spread your legs as he rutted into you, his cock twitching above your clothed folds. You gasped as Simon gave a sharp suck on your neck, his lips latched onto your skin. Your heart raced as you hung onto his shoulders, the heat of his cock emanating from below his sweatpants and dripping onto your cunt. You blinked your eyes open as he detached from your neck. His light stubble brushed against your cheek as he gave another peck to your lips.

“Let me get something real quick,” Simon said while patting your thigh. You didn’t miss the subtle glint of mischief in his eye. You watched him slip off the bed and stroll over to your dresser. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he pulled out your thick, blue vibrator. The corners of his cracked lips turned up as he eyed your burning cheeks.

“Can I use this on you?” your boyfriend asked, head slightly tilted. You swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Y-Yeah. How did you know that was there?” you stammered, heat coursing through every inch of you. Simon chuckled lowly as he sat back on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight.

“Found it while I was doin’ laundry while you were sick,” he admitted. You pursed your lips as you remember him sucking in a deep breath last week while he was putting clothes away. He flicked the switch on and the toy began to hum to life. Your hips bucked forward in anticipation. Simon grinned, his eyes lidded as he watched you squirm and bite your lip.

“Can I ask you something else, love?” the bulky man asked.

“Anything,” you replied. He strode towards the bed and climbed on top of you. His body was massive compared to your own, his shadow nearly swallowing you whole. His eyes scanned over you before he hovered the vibrator over your covered pussy.

“Do you use this while I’m away?” Simon questioned. His voice was gravely and dripping with lust. You closed your eyes and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Y-Yes,” you gasped. He hummed before fiddling his fingers around the band of your pants.

“Who do you think about when you use it?” Simon grunted. He dropped the head of the buzzing toy just above your clit. You swallowed thickly.

“You…I always think of you,” you gulped. Simon groaned with approval. He gazed back at your lidded eyes, patiently waiting for your permission.

“I’m ready,” you said, your heart hammering beneath your sternum. Simon grinned before he slowly pulled down your pants. He silently gawked at the wet spot leaking through your black, lacy lingerie.

“Christ, ‘ave you been wearing this all day?” he murmured. You swear you were going to burst as his other hand slid up your exposed thigh.

“M-Maybe,” you blushed. His grin grew even wider as he admired the lacy work that adorned your beautiful curves, particularly the panties that barely covered your soaking snatch. “I wanted to-Oh!” You gasped when the head of the vibrator hummed over your bundle of nerves. Your body wound in on itself as he dipped the toy further into your clit. It felt like you were being struck by bolts of lightning each time he circled around the nub. He spread your legs a little wider with his free hand. Your hips jutted forward, riding on the vibrations as he went up to peel off your shirt.

“Simon,” you keened as you pushed your chest out. Your breasts were covered by more black lace, your cleavage a welcomed sight to his eyes. He drank in your whole form as you whined, the toy lapping away at your folds. Simon’s jaw clenched. Part of him, any part of him, needed to be inside of you now.

“Is it alright if I put my fingers in you, love?” Simon questioned as he tilted the vibrator back and forth between your labia. Your eyes shot open as you nodded vigorously.

“Fuck, please I need you, Si,” you moaned with outstretched arms. Simon’s breath hitched. “I need you”. Three words that made every inhibition in him snap in half. You curled your fists in the sheets as he pushed your panties aside. His dark eyes lingered on your soaked folds. You held your breath as you felt him spread your labia with his fingers, your slick coating his tips.

“You’re so wet already,” he groaned. You shuddered as he turned up the speed of the vibrations, the waves now pounding into your core. “So fuckin’ hot,” Simon murmured. You were melting in his touch. He watched your hole clench and unclench around nothing. He leaned forward, the tip of the toy now circling around your clit.

“I’m gonna put one finger in at a time, okay?” Simon whispered into your ear. Your hands clutched onto his tattooed forearms, your delicate fingers a sharp contrast to the bulging muscles.

“Okay,” you assured him. With a few more strokes across your folds, his index finger dipped past your entrance. Your mouth opened into a round ‘O’ as you felt his thick digit stretch your walls. You arched your back when he curled up into your spongy g-spot. Simon kept looking between you and his finger being swallowed by your cunt, watching for any signs of discomfort. Slowly, he dragged the finger out of your walls before pumping it back in.

“Si,” you moaned. You felt every curve of his digit as he stroked in and out of you. The vibrations on your clit sent shockwaves through your core as your walls tightened around his finger. Your legs shook as he soon added another digit, stretching you out more than your own fingers ever could.

“So tight,” he awed. He looked back up at you and your ecstasy-ridden face. You were moaning so loudly it could have shaken the bedroom walls. You pouted when his movements suddenly came to a screeching halt. The toy lay still against your clit, his fingers barely reaching past your tight entrance.

“You alright?” Simon asked. You nodded your head violently, nearly slamming it into the headboard.

“Yeah, why?” you questioned with a nervous glance. Your love looked you up and down, his brows slightly knitted.

“You just looked like you were in pain, love,” he said. The toy still hummed in his hand. Your face grew slightly pale as you opened your mouth.

“I-I was just…trying to do it right,” you admitted. Simon tilted his head.

“Do what right, sweetheart?” he questioned. You sighed and averted his gaze.

“You know, how women act in…” red instantly flooded your cheeks as you bit your lip. Oh. Oh. Simon placed the toy by your side, though he kept his fingers in your snug cunt.

“Hey, look at me,” the man said. You felt tears sting at the corners of your eyes. “(Y/N), please,” Simon said. You drifted your eyes back to him, afraid you’d see disappointment etched into his face. Instead, you found the softest smile you’ve ever seen. His free hand came up and cupped your cheek.

“You don’t have to pretend when we’re like this,” he said. You nodded, a tear spilling from your eye.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to be perfect for our first time,” you sniffed. He leaned forward and gently kissed your lips. You sighed, soaking in the warmth of his kiss.

“I don’t want perfect, I want you,” Simon stated. Your love’s dark chocolate eyes shined as he wiped the tear away with his thumb. He released a heavy sigh before pressing his lips to yours again. “Whatever faces or sounds you make-I want to see and hear ‘em. Because they are yours, understand?” he said firmly. Your lips curved up as you pressed your cheek into his hand.

“Yes. Thank you, Si,” you smiled. He returned your expression before sliding his hand down to your hip.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he said. The dam burst and you found yourself suddenly sobbing. Simon’s eyes widened as he circled his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he faltered. You sniffed before pecking small kisses around his face, lingering on his mouth.

“No, I’m happy,” you said with a small grin. You’ve told each other that you loved one another before, but this time it hit you like an oncoming freight train. His large hand rubbed the small of your back, his clavicle leaning into your wet face. “I love you, too, Simon,” you as you clung to his shoulders. Both of you remained there, holding each other for what felt like an eternity, exchanging kisses every so often.

“Love, do you still want to continue?” your boyfriend finally asked. That’s when you remembered the feeling of his fingers filling your cunt. You leaned back, your head dizzy from all the emotions that crashed over you. You shifted your hips and sighed at the feeling of his fingers sinking in even deeper. He arched a brow as you spread your legs for him.

“Please, fuck me, Simon,” you pleaded while fluttering your lashes. He hissed through his teeth when you clenched your walls around his digits.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he groaned. His cock strained in his pants as he readjusted himself, making sure you were still comfortable in your position. “Gonna start movin’ my fingers again, alright?” he said. You bit your lip and nodded, pressing your hips down onto his hand. He started to pump in and out of your cunt, this time drawing out wet squelching from how wet you’ve become. Each stroke sent shocks down to the tips of your fingers and toes. He brought his thumb up to your clit, circling it tenderly.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your hands grappling at his wrists.

“Look at you, taking my fingers so well,” Simon praised. It sent another ripple of pleasure down your spine. He scissored his digits in your hole, your mouth releasing a silent cry as you were stretched even wider. It wasn’t long after that a third finger found its way into your gummy walls. You gripped his forearms as you felt yourself drawn to the point where pleasure and pain collided. You found a rhythm as you ground on his thick fingers, the discomfort slowly subsiding. You let whatever noises that came to you flow out of your mouth, your face now twisted in pure bliss.

“Si, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, your pussy fluttering around his digits. Your tongue threatened to roll out of your mouth when your felt him spread his fingers inside of you.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Simon murmured. His teeth nipped at your earlobe as he curled all fingers into your upper wall, the pad of his thumb wound tightly against your swollen bud.

“Si!” you cried as the cord in you was torn to shreds. You legs shook wildly as your walls squeezed his digits.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed. You melted into the mattress while you rode out your high, his lips at your ear the whole time. You winced as he withdrew his fingers, your hole now stretched out and quivering for more of his touch. Simon admired your slick that clung to his hand, his eyes delicately observing how it shone in the dim light of your bedroom. Your body shivered when he took the hand into his pants and snatched his aching cock. You moaned at the sound of your slick squelching as he fisted his dick. You stared at how the muscles in his arm bulged every time he stroked his cock.

His growls were damn near feral as he discarded his pants and underwear. When he turned around, your mouth snapped open. You gawked at the sight of his member. It wasn’t very long, but its girth made you realize why he had to stretch you out just moments ago. A drop of precum caught the light of the room before he tightly wrapped his throbbing member in a condom. He popped open a bottle of lube, slathering his cock in the jelly-like substance. His face was now wrought with an insatiable hunger as he climbed over top of you. You shuddered as a cold, wet feeling spread across your folds as he lathered the lube across your cunt. He snapped the bottle shut and tossed it aside. You fluttered your lashes as he line up his tip with your entrance.

“You sure you still want to do this?” Simon breathed. You reached down to his cock. Just a small touch of your fingers made it jump. He groaned when you wrapped your hand around his shaft.

“Yes, Simon. I want you,” you begged. You withdrew your hand, using it to grab onto his shoulders. He licked his dry lips, his fat tip breaching your tight hole.

“Gonna start slow, alright sweetheart?” Simon said. You nodded, breasts rising and falling as you tried to relax your walls. With a deep breath, he finally pushed inside. You winced as his head stretched through your entrance. You felt like you were going to be torn apart from the inside out as he carefully inched his cock into your plush heat.

“You’re doing so well, love,” Simon reassured with soft kisses to your face. Your lips curled into a tight line as you arched your back. Your fingers dug into his broad shoulders as he pushed in further, his shaft falling deeper into your walls. He was halfway in before he stopped.

“Love? How are you feeling?” Simon asked. You sucked in a sharp breath as you looked down. You gasped at the sight of his cock plugged into your weeping cunt.

“It feels so…tight,” you gasped as his cock twitched inside of you. He sighed, letting his hands fall to your hips. His thumbs massaged your sides as he pecked your cheek.

“I know, baby. Just try to relax,” he cooed softly. You nodded, taking slow, steady breaths. Your walls began to unclench around him, allowing him to slip in further. “Atta girl,” Simon praised. You felt your breath knocked out of you as his cock drove further into you. Each inch only added to the pressure inside of you. “Almost there, love,” your boyfriend encouraged through gritted teeth. Your head was swimming as he finally bottomed out inside of you, his balls tapping against your slick folds.

“I knew you could take me,” Simon grunted as he pressed his forehead down to yours. You tilted your head, catching his lips in a heated kiss. He let you to adjust to his size as both of you moaned into each other’s mouths. Simon pulled back, his pupils blown and lips parted.

“I’m gonna start moving. That alright?” he asked. You hooked your feet around his lower back.

“Yes,” you whined while arching your back. Simon hummed before he slowly pulled out of you. The loss of fullness felt strange to you, like letting go of someone after a long hug. It was quickly replaced once more as he drove his length back into your walls. You cried as he dragged his cock inside of you at a steady pace. Each stroke left your body shivering with bliss.

“F-Faster, please,” you moaned. Simon shifted his hips as he began to pump into you at a quicker pace. A moan was ripped from you when his thumb circled around your swollen clit. Your hands fell to his upper back as you drank in the feeling of fullness. Your fingernails dug small crescents into his muscles with each delicious drag of his cock.

“Fuck, feel so good around me,” Simon growled. Your pussy squelched as your arousal bubbled and oozed around his length. The heavenly pressure in your lower stomach was beginning to build again. His lips found their way to your tit, latching on and sucking tenderly. You thrashed below him, making one of his hands fly to your hip to steady you.

“Yes Yes Yes,” you chanted. Simon panted above you, his balls slapping against your slick folds. You keened and curled your toes when his head continued to ram against the spongy spot inside of you. He unlatched his mouth from your breast.

“Taking me so well, my good girl,” he growled before going to suck on your other tit. Your entire body sang with ecstasy as you gazed down the precipice of your release. He felt so heavy inside of you, ramming into you and showering you with praises. Your eyes widened.

“SIMON!” you screamed as you seized up. He hissed as your walls snatched his cock in a vice grip. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, his length dragging through you and helping you ride out your second orgasm.

“(Y/N), fuck,” he groaned as his head fell back. Simon’s dick quivered inside of your cunt as he stilled, his thumb pressed snugly against your folds. Your whole body felt like it collapsed into itself as you drifted down from your high. Your love groaned and panted above you, a sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies. Your pupils were blown, gazing up to his spent form.

“Sweetheart? Are you alright?” Simon murmured, his cock slipping out of you. Even though it slightly ached, you still whined at the feeling of emptiness that consumed your cunt.

“I-I’m okay...more than okay,” you breathed. He smiled and kissed your plump lips. Your grin imprinted on his mouth before he pulled away.

“You did amazing, love,” Simon praised. You frowned as he pulled his cock out of you. The condom was absolutely soaked in your slick. Your eyes gaped at his cum that pooled in the small pocket below. You swallowed thickly and thought what it would feel like when it would spill inside of you someday. Simon patted your thigh before tying the rubber into a knot and throwing it into the bin. His eyes shined when he turned back to you. Your cheeks were rosy, pupils blown and chest rising and falling. Simon slid off the bed, the sound of running water following not long after. You gave a tired smile as he stepped back into the room holding a warm washcloth.

“Gotta take care of my baby,” Simon drawled. Your heart skipped a beat, though the feeling was quickly replaced when you noticed some blood on the inside of your thighs. Your eyes widened. Simon looked down, his gaze soft and voice calm.

“Are you sore?” he asked. Your lips drew into a straight line before you gave a hesitant nod. He grunted before placing the washcloth over your folds. “How much does it hurt?” Simon continued. You flinched when he patted over your swollen clit.

“Not that much, just feels weird,” you replied. His lips pecked your knee as he finished cleaning you up.

“Hymen must’ve torn,” he said bluntly. Your face grew red. Simon stroked over your thighs, massaging the soft flesh. “It’s alright, happens a lot for people’s first times,” he reassured. You sighed, head resting back on the pillow.

“Thank you,” you said breathily. Simon grinned before he crawled by your side, his arms enveloping around you as he pulled you closer. He snaked one of his legs around yours. You sighed as Simon spooned you, your heart fluttering with every kiss he pressed to your neck.

“Want to take a shower with me?” you piqued. Simon lips froze while you turned your face to look at him. His eyes seemed far away as he thought for a moment.

“As long as I get to wash you,” he murmured. You chuckled, brushing your smaller hand over his.

“I’d be honored...but would it also be okay if we stay like this for a little longer?” you asked. He smiled and pecked your temple, his other hand stroking over your stomach.

“Of course, love,” Simon hummed. You closed your eyes as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. The two of you stayed in bed for a long time, wrapped in each other’s love.

_____

#ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #cod #cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare ii #modern warfare smut #cod smut #cod fluff #smut

2K notes · View notes

lovingmattysposts · 5 months

Text

My Brother's Best Friend Part 6

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12

pairing: y/n and Chris Sturniolo

Summary: you just moved into the sturniolo’s home after some family issues and you’re starting to become attracted to your best friend’s brother and you hated yourself for it. But how could you resist?

warnings: cursing, mentions of family issues,

sorry this took a minute, love yall

xoxo Autumn

Chris pov

"A-Any of it? You don't remember any of it?" She asked looking up at me in almost fear, like she was questioning her own memory. Fuck. I pursed my lips and shook my head slowly, like my brain was rejecting my own response.

She just looked up at me evident hurt plastered on her face, she turned away to hide her expression as she nodded. I just looked down at her opening my mouth to say something but nothing came out.

I saw tears start to pool in her eyes. It felt like a punch in the gut. I'd never seen her cry before. I don't even think Nick has seen her cry. I stepped forwards before she turned without saying anything, basically sprinting towards the front door.

Like she couldn't stand standing in front of me for another second. I looked down, feeling guilt run down my entire body so much it ached.

She told me about what happened with her parents. I know what I said to her, I remembered all of it. It just felt too soon. I don't know. I'm an awful person. She hides her feelings so well, we have that in common. I didn't know my words effected her as they easily slipped off my lips.

I placed my hand on my forehead, before biting my lip and picking my head up letting out a breath.

I couldn't do this again. It wasn't fair to myself. I couldn't do this again.

I didn't meant to hurt her. I just wanted to protect myself. I didn't know meant that me turning into a complete insensitive asshole. That's not who I am and that's all i've been showing her.

"Three days ago I was good enough to kiss, then three seconds later it was just a moment and you don't have any feelings for me, this morning I was a kid, and now I'm pretty?"

I winced at the memory moving through my head. I''ll admit that it was easier to be open with how I feel about her when I was a little drunk. I'm to scared to in person, sober. It was like 15 year old Chris speaking for me while looking at her on the roof, spilling out my thoughts as she looked up at me the way she was.

Then 19 year old Chris woke up and was scared to get hurt again. It wasn't fair to her I get that, but I just wish she knew. But she didn't and she was never going to.

God, I need to burn that notebook. Even drunk seeing her holding it made my heart drop in fear.

I swallowed looking back towards the door.

I knew this would happen. The second she showed up at my front door with a bag the size of her. I knew it. I just hated myself for letting it happen, but not as much as I hated myself seeing her start to cry over my words.

I felt a buzz in my pocket, before sliding out my phone.

From: Elmer

Bro where tf u at?? were about to start

I bit my lip looking back up to the door. Before typing up a reply.

From: Elmer

something came up, i'll catch you later

I sent it before taking a deep breath and turning and walking down the street. I had to make this right.

Y/n pov

Nick sighed running his hands through my hair, as I let out a deep breath. I closed my eyes not my now damp eyelashes brushing my skin. Nick let out a breath.

"Can you tell me what happened?" He asked softly from above me. I went running to Nick's room, due to the fear of Chris bursting through the door to chase after me, newsflash y/n he didn't, but I knew he wouldn't come into Nick's room.

I crying uncontrollably not able to make any words form, just helpless cries. I don't know the last time I cried the way I just did. It might have been a year. Or at least 8 months.

I was like the tip of the iceberg that was already falling over. Just that last final push of being punched in the face by someone I cared about screaming "I don't care and I never did" directly in my face after I let my walls come down.

I let out a breath my cries finally stopping. He just peered down over me. I looked up at him.

"I'm a mess Nick" I breathed. He smiled slightly down at me, making me slightly smiling, then dropping it. I looked down at my hands and peering at the door.

He never came after me. He meant it. He had no idea what happened last night and he didn't see me cry. I swallowed, feeling the familar feeling pass through me like a wave of relazation.

I have to move on, again. Someone hurt me and broke me again. I had let someone gain my trust and they smashed in front of my face, again. How could I be so stupid? So navié. I will never learn.

For the rest of my life I will let someone in and they will burn me. I've never know anything differently. What hurt the most in the dissapointment at myself, was that I told Chris what happened before my best friend.

Chris wasn't the one soothing my cries. Nick was. Chris wasn't the one wiping away my tears. Nick was. I had put my romantic feelings for someone over my friendship with Nick, and I hated myself for it. The worst part was that I was feeling the guilt of the situation Nick had no idea about. Worst of all, It was his fucking brother.

I sighed swallowing, looking up at him.

"I just-" I took a deep breath. "I'm tired of trusting people" I said honestly looking up at him. He nodded. "I get that" He said softly. I closed my eyes.

"I'm not trying to get you to tell me something you don't want to, but did something happen at your mom's?" He asked softly, making my heart clench. Chris didn't have to do anything and I openly told him everything when he didn't ask for it. Nick saying this to me only made me feel like a worse friend.

"My mom kicked me out of the house that's why I came to stay here Nick" I admitted looking up at him. His face didn't wavor and he just nodded looking down at me.

"I just-" I sighed feeling guilty for saying I was crying over my mother when I wasn't. I was crying because his brother punched me in the gut and spit in my face.

"Seeing her, it was just-" I shook my head. He nodded, moving his hand back over my hair. I bit my lip. I hated lying to him. I fucking hated it.

I heard the door start to creek open and my eyes shot to the door, before seeing Matt peeking his head in. I sighed of relief. Matt glanced from Nick to me. He studied my face and I looked away from him, guilt present on my face.

"Is everything okay in here?" He asked his eyes not leaving mine as i avoided is gaze. Nick looked up at him. "Yeah, everything's good" Nick answered for me as I stared at the ground.

Matt shifted on his feet before crossing his arms over his chest. "Y/n, why are you crying?" He asked. I blinked up at him as he stared straight at me. I felt his mind, so much it hurt.

"Matt" Nick said shaking his head. Matt looked from me to him. I sat up sighing. "My mom doesn't love me. Would you like me to alaborate Matthew?" I asked tilting my head at him.

His face dropped and he uncrossed his arms. "Oh uh, I'm sorry i'll just leave you guys be" He said shaking his head and then turning to leave. I sighed laying back down. I'm getting way too good at lying.

I looked over at Nick, who was shaking his head. I smiled over at him.

"Do me a favor" I breathed. He just glanced over at me. "Never let Holton treat you badly" I stated looking at him. His eyebrows furrowed at my statement. He leaned back.

"What does that have to do with anything?" He asked blinking at me. If you only knew. I shrugged. "I don't know. I just don't want anyone to ever hurt you" I said softly, looking down at my hands. He chuckled.

"We've only been on two dates, it's not that serious" He said quietly. I looked up at him smiling. I smiled at him before throwing myself onto him, hugging him. He groaned laughing, holding his arms up, hating physical effection.

"Please don't ever leave me" I whispered laying against him. He reached down patting my head slightly. "There isn't anything you could do to make me go away" He repeated from the other night again. I sighed the guilt slowly eating me alive.

The rest of the night, Nick and I stayed in bed laughing over endless movies and I started to feel better. I knew when I had to come in contact with Chris again, that feeling might change, but for now I was okay. I just needed to not show that he effected me as much as he did.

I don't like guys. I always had too much going on in my own life, guys were the absoutle last thing on my mind. So maybe thats why It happened so fast, because I wasn't used to the feelings of butterflies or wanting a text to come through, or the feeling I got in the pit of my stomach when he flirted with me.

I never ever have caught feelings for someone so quickly with them doing nothing. Showing the bare amount of interest and I was head over heels. Now it was gone. Or at least had to go away.

Starting now there would be no more persuing Christopher Sturniolo. No matter what.

"This bitch has zero common sense" I said lifitng my arm up to the TV. The fifth season of Love Island playing before us. When I didn't hear a response, i turned and looked at him. His eyes were closed with his hand propted behind his head, snoring softly.

I sighed realizing Nick was sound asleep. I leaned over picking up the remote before realizing it was past midnight by now. I clicked off the TV and slowly got up before walking out of the room.

I sighed as I closed the door slowly. This is where I was meant to be. Nick's best friend and not the girl who has feelings for his brother. Or at least trying to not having feelings for.

I closed my eyes before rubbing my eyes and walking over to my room.

No more anxiety because no more feelings for Chris. If anything this would make my life better, not having to worry about my feelings along with the rest of my issues.

I opened my door before turning off the lights and climbing into bed. I needed sleep. I craved sleep. As i closed my eyes I heard my door being swung open and the licks being flipped on.

I sat up and turned towards the door, seeing Chris standing there with a huge bag and then throwing it on the floor. I just stared at him.

"Chris what the fuck are you doing?" I asked glaring up at him. He let out a breath.

"Clothes" He pointed to the bag. I looked down at the bag and then up at him. "What?" I asked shaking my head. He looked down at the bag.

"You're clothes, I got them from your house and a couple books too. I also found some shampoo under your sink if you needed that, I didn't know if you were tired of using our 3-in-1" He said looking over at me. I just blinked at him before standing up and picking up the bag and looking through it.

I looked back up at him as he watched me. “What-What about my mom?” I asked stuttering as I looked at him. How did he go into my house and face my mother?

He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it” he said putting his hands into the pocket of his sweats. I let out a breath, setting down the bag. I glanced over to him.

“Thank you” I smiled. He pressed his lips together and nodded. I just looked at him. No. No. No. y/n.“I’m sorry” he said so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. I swallowed looking down at my hands.

“For what?” My voice hitched, knowing he had more than one thing to apologize for. He sighed stepping forward, making me look at him. He reached up to touch my face, but his hand froze as he put it back down to his sides. He sighed looking down.

“For more than you know” he said looking down at me. I blinked at him feeling the tension in the air, thick and hard. I swallowed aw he looked down at me.

He sighed before turning and starting to walk out. “You’re still the smartest person I’ve ever met” he said turning and looking at me, with a sad smile. My face dropped as the memories from last night came flooding into my brain.

“You're more than enough. You're like the smartest person I've ever met"

I opened my mouth to say something but nothing out. He bit his lip before turning and leaving me alone, again.

I closed my eyes shaking my head before turning and kicking the stupid bag of clothes. I shook my head and put my hands on his head.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to march my ass into his room and smack him so hard in the face. I wanted to tell him to stop messing with me. To stop doing this to me.

He’s stringing me along at a pace I can’t keep up with. I keep getting tripped underneath my feet and then he turned around and picks me back up.

I leaned down picking up a book out of the pile of clothes.

Magnolia parks university by Jessa Hastings

I sighed. My favorite book. I turned towards the door he just walked through. How would he know that? There’s no way he knew that. It was just a coincidence. Right?

The next few days were hazy I’m being honest. I attempted to avoid Chris by hiding in my room forcing Nick to bring me food every now and then.

He hasn’t questioned my lack of activity or the lack of being able to get out of bed. He just excepted the fact that I was going through what I was going through and let me be me.

I heard a small knock at my door and set down my phone seeing Nick looking at me with a smile. I raised my eyebrows as I watched him walk over to my bed and lay down beside me.

“You look happy” I said looking down at my smiling best friend. He sighed turning over on his back. “I think I’m gonna ask Holton to be my boyfriend” he said looking up at the ceiling. I sat up.

“Are you sure? I mean you guys have only been going out like a month” I said looking down at him with furrowed eyebrows. He glanced up at me and shrugged. “I don’t know I’ve been thinking about it. I like him and he likes me so why not try it out?” He sighed.

“Nick you are trying it out right now. You’re going on dates that how you see if you want to date someone. Making it official is like a huge step” I said shaking my head. He sat up looking at me.

“I know it’s a huge step y/n, why do you think I’m asking you about it?” He asked looking at me. “I just think it’s too soon, I mean Nick this would be your first boyfriend. Don’t you think you should give it a little more thought? I mean I haven’t even met the guy yet” I asked looking at him. Scared the death that he was gonna get hurt.

His face hardened.

“I told you I have given it thought. I came to you thinking you would support me on this” He glared at me. I sighed really not wanted to fight with him over this.

“Nick I want to support you on this I just don’t want to see you get hurt” I sighed. “That’s life y/n. When you like someone, you go for it and yeah I might get hurt, but I might not. I have to try. If I never went after what I was feeling I would be sitting in my room overthinking everything he’s said to me. I like him y/n. I cant just let that go” he breathed.

“Nick” I sighed. He held up his hands. “No” he shook his head. “Just because you’ve never been in a relationship doesn’t mean that you can stop me from being in one” he said harshly. I let out a breath.

“Nick that’s not fair. That’s not what I’m saying-“ I breathed. He stood up shaking his head. “You’re not in the business to be giving relationship advice when you don’t know the first thing about a relationship” he said above me. I swallowed feeling his words in my chest. Wow that fucking hurt.

“Nick” I sighed looking up at him. He just shook me off. “No I have plans with Holton, and you know what? I am going to ask him to be my boyfriend and he’s gonna say yes” he scoffed before turning and leaving the room.

I sighed leaning my head against my knees. Wow I felt like shit. Nick and I rarely fight and fighting with him right now was the last thing I wanted to do. It was the absolute last thing I needed to be dealing with right now.

I turned over feeling tears come back to my eyes. Now a famailr feeling that I hated. I was so helpless and I hated it. I hated feeling helpless, but that's all that I felt through my body.

I felt like I constantly needed comfort. I have never felt that way in my entire life. I swallowed closing my eyes at the thoughts. I hated myself for what I was about to do, but i didn't know another option.

I picked up my phone.

to: chris sturniolo

are you up?

I sighed closing my eyes already feeling the guilt wash over me again. I blinked down at the phone after a few minutes, seeing no response. God, I shouldn't have sent it. That was such a mistake. I wanted to delete it. No, I wanted to delete myself. Find Nick and apologize.

My phone buzzed. I sat up looking down at it.

from: chris sturniolo

yes why what's up?

I swallowed. I could say never mind. I could just not respond. But we both know that I'm not strong enough to do that.

to: chris sturniolo

can you come in here please?

I bit my lip as I saw the three dots pop up.

from: chris sturniolo

y/n. why

I shook my head, feeling the tears pool again threatend to spill over for what felt like the millienth time today. I was desperate.

to: chris sturniolo

chris please i'm begging.

He typed.

from: chris sturniolo

you don't have to beg, i'm coming

I closed my eyes, leaning back against the headboard as I waited for Chris. A few seconds later he peeked his head in and walked in. His face immediatly softened when he saw my face.

"Hey, what's going on?" He asked quietly as he walked into the door, slowly closing the door behind him. I sighed looking at my lap shaking my head. He walked over to me sitting on the bed next to me.

"Hey, look at me" He whispered. I looked up at him as he scanned my face with his eyes, trying to understand why I was upset. I swallowed and closed my eyes.

"Do you think I'm a bad friend?" I asked quietly blinking my eyes open. He furrowed his eyebrows looking at me. "What?" He asked quietly back. I sighed leaning my head back.

"Do you think I'm a bad friend?" I asked again. Chris stayed silent next to me. I turned my head towards him as he looked at me. "I know that we're not-" I stopped shaking my head.

"But to Nick-" I sighed feeling my eyes swell again. "Hey" He whispered pulling me into him. I let out a shaky breath as he wrapped his arms around me. I breathed in his scent, feeling his embrace.

"I don't think you're a bad friend y/n" He sighed from above me. I glanced up at him. "Don't cry" He whispered wiping under my eyes. I wiped my nose and sighed.

"Nick told me he wanted to ask Holton to be his boyfriend" I explained. I closed my eyes. "And I told him I was worried it was too soon and I didn't want to see him get hurt and he got so mad and-and-" I choked. Chris rubbed my arm with his hands that were around me.

"Hey, hey, hey" He said softly. I looked up at him. "You're not a bad friend. A bad friend would agree with everything he ever said, and you don't. That makes you an amazing friend" He breathed looking down at me. I bit my lip, trying to believe him.

"You're in a senestive place right now y/n, you're not a bad friend. You're just in your head. You know Nick, he's probably just scared and deflecting it onto you. It's not your fault. You just have to let him come to you" He said smiling down at me.

I nodded sitting up, him releasing his arms. I let out a heard breath before wiping the tears from my eyes away. I glanced over at him and he was looking at me.

"I'm sorry, I'm just scared. I can't lose Nick, he's the last person I have left" I sighed shaking my head. Chris paused before nodding slowly. I layed back against the pillows beneath us.

"I feel like i've driven away every person In my life" I shook my head, looking up. "I can't do the same to him" I whispered, glancing at Chris for looking down at me.

"You're parents don't count. Y/n you don't deserve to think that it was your fault they left" He breathed. I just blinked up at him, before furrowing my eyebrows.

"Why did you lie?" I said barley above a whisper. He blinked down at me for a second before sighing and leaning down, laying next to me, crossing his arms over his chest. I just looked at him, as he stared up at the ceiling above us.

"I don't know" He whispered. I just watched him. "I can't tell you" He said looking over at me. I shook my head. "Why not?" I asked feeling like I deserved to know why he hurt me when he didn't have to.

"Because then I'd have to kill you" He said scrunching his nose and then cracking a smile. I rolled my eyes smiling, pushing his shoulder making him chuckle softly. "I hate you" I sighed rolling over and laying on my side looking at him.

He rolled over matching my position as he looked back at me.

"I shouldn't have lied, I'm sorry. It was shitty, I didn't mean to make you cry" He whispered looking at me. I cringed closing my eyes now knowing he saw me start to cry. Embarrassment flooded my body. I blinked my eyes open and he was still looking at me.

"It wasn't you" I lied. "Yes it was" He said back. I bit my lip. "Do you think we could ever be friends?" I asked softly. He blinked at me, as if he were thinking my question over.

"No" He stated. I just looked at him. "I don't think I could ever be just your friend" He whispered. I closed my eyes feeling his response through my entire body. Why was I like this? Why did I do this to myself? Why did I constantly put myself in the same position.

"Y/n"

I opened my eyes, while he just looked at me. "Yeah?" I whispered after a few seconds of silence. He glanced over my face, swallowing. I wasn't going to move, I was waiting for him to. He sighed closing his eyes breifly before leaning over and putting his hand on my cheek pulling my lips to his.

I sighed from relief when our lips finally touched like a breath of fresh air into my lungs. His lips moved over mine slowly as he moved his mouth in accordance to mine. Our lips moved together in an unrushed manner.

I moved my leg over to straddle him, but he pushed my leg down and disconnected his lips from mine, sighing.

“Y/n” he said turning and looking back up at the ceiling. I just stared down at him, not believing he just stopped me. I scoffed shaking my head grabbing his attention. He glanced over at me.

I sat up shaking my head. “Y/n, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-“ he started to speak another excuse of why he fucked up and why he kissed me and why he shouldn’t have, but I wasn’t going to heard it anymore.

“Stop” I held my hand up silencing him. He stopped talking. I peered down at him. “Kiss me or get out” I breathed harshly. His face turned confused as he looked up at me.

“You’ve been doing this to me for a month now Chris and I’m fucking tired of it. You’re spinning me around in circles chasing after something and then you hang it in front of me before just yanking it away” I explained shaking my head. He just listened.

“I’m getting seasick over here” I sighed looking over at him. He bit his lip. “So you don’t have to sit here and apologize for this or that or whatever the fuck you think you need to apologize for, because I’m not really sure you even believe you anymore” I said closing my eyes.

“So I’m not going to sit here and ask you if you like me or if you don’t. I’ve have a hard enough week as it is, so-“ I finsihed looking over at him. He stared up at me.

“Either kiss me. Or get out” I said again not breaking eye contact. He blinked at me for a few seconds before hanging his head. I closed my eyes looking down. Great.

I shook my head as I started to throw the blankets off of me to get up, but I felt him grab my arm, pulling me back over to him, before pinning me below him and hovering over top of me. I stared up at him in shock as he peered down at me with dark eyes.

So dark I couldn’t even see the blue anymore.

“Don’t talk to me like that ever again” he said before grabbing my arms and pinning them above my head and attaching his lips to mine roughly. Leaving me completely helpless under him, not that I was even before he kissed me anyway.

.....did you like the long chapterrr???

tag list: : @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @miastromboli @secret-sturniolo @sturnsclutter @sturniolodreamz @paper-crab @chrisolivia4l @mwah0mwah @recklesssturniolo @ejswift @kitaysworld @meg-sturniolo @nickmillersn1gf @fr3shl0ve @adrianaturnedpretty @jjslovely @noelknowsnothing @frankdelrayy @oversturn @ghostgurlswrld

let me know if I missed you on the tag list

#Spotify #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo edit

464 notes · View notes