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cipheress-to-k-pop · 1 month

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bluetooth j.t.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: A little suggestive if you squint

Word Count: 1.2k words

You don't know how you allowed yourself to get manipulated into being a girlboss and moving out of your childhood home to live in your own apartment. While it was nice to have your own privacy and decorate your home however you liked, you realized just how many privileges you lost now that you weren't in the care of your parents.

There was no one there to make sure you woke up on time in the few cases where you slept through your alarm, no one that you could call on your way back from work to ask to switch on the water heater so you could take a steamy shower immediately.

You didn't have your mother's homecooked meals and you didn't have your father to pick you up snacks from the grocery store.

And one of the biggest thorns in your side was the reason you were dreading the entire day. Car maintenance. The auto shop was one of the most daunting places in your life as a girl who knew nothing about cars. Never once had you regretted not learning how to take care of your car or even the procedure required when you eventually take your car down to the auto shop.

But now standing in the hot and dusty garage, you were seriously rethinking your life choices. You should've scheduled these things for when your dad was visiting so you could ask him to take it instead. Or, even better, you should've gotten a boyfriend.

You were complaining in your head, dragging your feet about having to be here in the first place and whined about handing your car keys, with a bunch of adorable keychains attached to some rando.

But when Jason Todd, 6'2 man with biceps that were larger than your own head and a body that looked like he was shaped out of marble by Michelangelo himself walked out with a form for you to fill out, you were all too happy to be there.

Perhaps you'd be leaving here with a boyfriend after all.

"I have to admit, I don't really know much about cars so please don't scam me."

Jason chuckled, a deep, hoarse laugh that made you a little weak in the knees honestly and the boy-crazed fraction of your brain began to imagine how he would sound as soon as he woke up next to you, after a night of—

"A bit of advice, you probably don't want to let scammers know that you have no idea what they're talking about."

You giggled, scolding yourself mentally for finding that funny.

'Come on, (Y/N), pull yourself together it wasn't even that funny. His face is just great delivery.'

"Or I could keep coming here and have you check my car, since you're so trustworthy." You mused, sparing him a teasing smile.

Jason was completely picking up what you were putting down, giving you a coy smile of his own before responding, "Or perhaps this is just a tactic to get you to keep coming back."

You narrowed your eyes playfully, "Devious."

Looking back at his little clipboard, a thin metal rod of some kind tucked behind his ear instead of a pen, Jason asked, "When was the last time you got your car checked out? If your battery and brake pad was replaced recently, we could probably skip that and just do a routine check to make sure everything's running smoothly."

You winced, "I couldn't tell you, honestly. My dad usually handles this kinda stuff for me, I'm still kind of a new lamb when it comes to taking care of my car."

Jason raised his eyes from the clipboard for a second, "Your boyfriend can't do this kinda stuff for you instead?"

"I don't have a boyfriend."

He perked up immediately and you ducked your head to hide your smile, "I'm sure you probably have a record of it in your glovebox or something. Most places keep a little sticker with the date of your last service under the dash. I'll check it out for you, do you have somewhere to be, or do you have a couple minutes so I can make sure?"

You shook your head, shrugging your shoulders with a carefree smile, "It's my day off so I'm free as a bird."

He grinned, "Noted. Just give me a second."

You watched his back receding as he walked toward your car, shoulders looking like they could span the entire ocean and it was only when he was sat in the car and had turned on the engine did you whip out your phone at lightspeed.

"Ohmygosh Julie, I think I just met my future husband. Holy shit. He's so cute—gorgeous actually. He's working on my car right now and God, those arms, wow. And those eyes? God, I feel blessed just by looking at his face." The end of your message was interrupted by another mechanic running the engine.

You waited patiently for the sound of the engine to die before replaying the voice message so you could re-record the part that got cut off. Only you couldn't hear a thing.

Confused, you increased the volume, taking a sip from your coffee to soothe the inhumane squeal that you had let out while sending Julie the voice message. Once again you heard nothing.

You bit your lip at this, swiping down at the corner of your phone at access your control center and realizing the reason you couldn't hear anything was because it was connected to the Bluetooth on your car.

Wait.

THE CAR?!

You whipped around in horror only to find Jason smirking at you from the front seat of your car. If the world were fair, you'd be struck down with lightning right then and there. Or, since you were at an auto shop, a sentient car might run you over.

Alas, you continued to stand there in horror, completely unharmed no matter how badly you wished to be reduced to a puddle on the ground.

You called him your future husband. The ground should've swallowed you then and there. Instead, you just stood there in complete mortification and embarrassment while you stared at his amused expression.

Something startled him out of his gaze for a second and he pointed at your console, making a gesture like he was taking a call. Confused, you glanced at your phone.

'Incoming call: Julie'

Ah, saved by the bell.

"How much do I owe you?" You asked, quickly popping open your purse to fish out your credit card. You had stretched out the conversation with Julie as long as possible, begging her not to hang up and only interrupting her tangent when Jason finally came up to you, saying that your car was good to go.

"It's on the house." He gave you a charming grin, leaning an arm against the counter, "Can't have my future wife paying for anything, can I?"

Your cheeks flared red, still holding out your card for him to take, "O-Oh, I couldn't, really."

"If you insist, then you can always repay me with dinner. Today's your day off, right? Think you can pencil me in for 7?"

A shy smile grew on your face, your body so warm you had to resist fanning your burning cheeks, "Sounds like a plan."

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multifandomfanatic02 · 2 months

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"You Don't Own Me."

pairing : Alastor x overlord!reader

summary : A new overlord has came to play in Hell, you. Alastor took notice in how many souls you've accrued in such a short time. He has to let you know where you stood in the overlord hierarchy, however things don't go the way he originally planned.

warnings : slight blood play ig? Idk. Author trying to edge the reader :)) not proofread

word count : 900

You hadn't been in Hell for long but it felt as if you belonged. It didn't take long before you started catching the hearts of the sinners. A lot happily giving up their souls to simply breathe the same sulfuric air as you. The way you used these souls was unique. You weren't mean or evil in anyway shape or form. In fact, you were often seen as an inspiration.

The overlords in Pentagram City were a different story. None of them liked the way you shot up the hierarchy without even trying. Instilling fear was what got them where they were at and they weren't going to give up their seat to a goody-two-shoes like you. Your methods interested one overlord in particular, Alastor. Despite literally being stuck in the past, he was quite the open-minded demon.

He didn't know whether or not to applaud you or challenge you. Your talent would be useful. He wanted you for himself. And for years he fought to claim your soul and make a deal. And not once out of the hundreds of proposals did he convince you it was a good idea. The two of you slowly started to develop a strange relationship. Nothing romantic but there was definitely tension. While he didn't own your soul, you were often in each other's company.

It was like mutualistic relationship. He staved off the overly pushy overlords constantly offering you a job; jobs that would obviously make you uncomfortable. In turn, you offered your assistance in a lot of his business. It came with pros and cons like any other agreement. He was extremely possessive of you. You were treated like precious property. You had enough. There was no reason for this behavior. Typically it didn't bother you, but something snapped.

"Alastor. You do not own my soul. I'm not property that you can toy with. I should be allowed to go wherever I please." You crossed your arms in frustration hearing him explain why he didn't want you in the Vees territory.

"Darling, you know I hold you with upmost respect. It's got nothing to do with you being property. I understand you are immune to Vox's hypnosis spell. It's not him I'm worried about. My worry is of Vox's plaything, Valentino." He gripped your wrist, leaning ever so slightly to place a kiss on your knuckles. "Understand that you are a sight to behold in the entirety of Hell. Valentino, is not honorable in his job as I, my dear. Without the proper protection, you might as well be an easy target." His breath ghosted your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

It's like he forgot who you were, what you were capable of. It was time to show him how that talent of yours has affected him over time. And trust when you say, it did.

"Oh Alastor, I think you forget as to how I became an overlord in the first place. The feminine charm that you oh so fear backfiring on me is why you have been by my side after all these years." You wrapped your fingers around his bow tie, pulling him down to your level. An enchanting smile creeping up on your face as Alastor's expression glitched out from the bold action. The other hand running through his hair making him let out a soft purr. His eyes focused on yours trying to determine your next move before you could decide.

To his surprise, you gently pressed your lips against his. His head was dizzy with confusion and guilty enjoyment. Your lips trailed down his neck, biting down a bit. Enough for his blood to trickle down. Your hands were now trading between playing with his hair and drawing small circles on the back of his neck. Your lips returned to his, smearing the blood from your tongue as if it were a beautiful crimson lipstick. The poor guy was so touch starved, he gave in to the sudden intrusion of affection. He couldn't do anything but allow you to press his buttons.

Your tongue ran over your lips, swallowing whatever blood was left on them. You took a step back to view the obvious mess you've made. Alastor's eyes were dazed as if he was in another world. His face beet red nearly matching the color of his suit. It was such an unusual sight to see on him. And you managed to do it.

"My my, Alastor, you look like you would be willing to sell me your soul just readingthe look on your face." You held your hand to your lips to cover the laugh attempting to escape. "How the tables have turned, dear." A joke of course, he would never actua-

"Yes." His ears dropped to the back of his head, still standing at your level. No sign of humor on his face.

"I'm sorry, what?" You blinked dumbfounded, mouth agape.

"I will give you my soul, but only if I'm the only one to experience that from you." Your face flushed from his proposal. Alastor had actually submitted to you because of a single kiss? But it wasn't JUST a kiss to him. It forced out desires he had been holding in for a long time. Now more than ever was he determined to have you be his. It didn't matter as to how anymore.

"You've got yourself deal, Al."

a/n: I know this one is short, it was more of an experiment because of a dream that I had. However if you like this concept, I'd be more than happy to build upon it in the future.

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin #the radio demon #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbinhotel #alastor imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor smut #alastor x y/n #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor angst #alastor fanfiction #alastor oneshot

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charliemwrites · 4 months

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…. So Mister(s) steal your girl, huh?

Content: Unhappy Relationship, (Brief) Gaslighting, Sad Reader

Bombshells, you always thought, were supposed to making a whistling sound before landing. A high pitched warning of impending doom. Too late to escape the incoming devastation, but at least it wouldn’t come out of nowhere. There’d be some time to brace, for all the good it would do.

Maybe you watched too many movies.

Three months. That’s how long you got to enjoy the bliss of engagement before the world began to fall around you.

Your fiance came home and sat you down, his hand around yours. You thought he was breaking it off for some reason. What he did instead was worse.

In the aftermath you can only remember snippets of the one-sided conversation. Like tinnitus, an awful running in your ears left over from a dropped bomb.

Things like,

Still young, I want to explore…

How will I know you’re my forever unless I know what’s out there?

Last bit of freedom before being tied down…

If you love me and our relationship…

You love your fiance and your relationship. You don’t want to lose it just because you’re selfish. He’s still coming home to you, after all. You’re the one with the ring and all the plans for the future. So what if he wants to… explore? He’s even offering the same to you.

An open relationship, he calls it, like it’s some innovative idea.

You’ve heard of them before, never had much interest. Still don’t, honestly, but it was that or the desolution of 4 years.

You insisted on a long engagement. Your fiance promises that you two can revisit the open relationship when you’re married.

Within a week of agreeing, he’s leaves for the weekend. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going, who he’s meeting. He comes back Sunday evening smelling like someone else’s perfume with a hickey on his collarbone. When you refuse any advances, he sighs and says he “understands that this is a transition” and goes to shower.

It’s like that for six months. Weekends without him. Sometimes sending him off Friday morning and not seeing him until Monday evening. Lipstick on his collars, strange perfume invading the laundry. You start doing his clothes separately.

Six months. You spend months suffering in silence, sniffling through Saturdays and drifting through Sundays. Adjusting meal plans to cook for one.

The last straw is when you try to make plans on a holiday. You and your fiance haven’t done on a proper date in months. You want to go out, have all his attention on you, not shared with his phone.

“Ooh, sorry dear, I’ve already got plans with Malorie. Rain check, yeah? We’ll do something next week.”

You decide to go out anyway, sick of feeling sorry for yourself. Nothing fancy, just a bit of self care. You buy yourself a cute new outfit, put on a bit more makeup than usual, do your hair. Find an interesting little late night book shop. They serve wine and food and have comfy booths for people to read or talk or play board games.

The perfect place to be out but alone.

You’re debating the merits of a romance novel when a voice comes from your left.

“Love that one.”

You blink, glance up. Find a handsome man with eyes simultaneously so dark and so warm. Coals, you think. There’s a cheeky little quirk to his mouth as he nods at the novel.

“It’s good if you like will-they, won’t-they.”

You hum. “I’m more in the market for something… easier? If that makes sense.”

He hums, gives you a solemn look. “It does. Here, you might like this then.”

He plucks a book off the shelf and offers it for inspection. You feel awkward reading it the summary thoroughly, especially when you can feel his eyes on you. But you skim it, it looks promising, and a hot guy just suggested it, so…

“Read a lot of romance?” you ask curiously.

He ducks his head a bit, endearingly shy. “A bit, yeah. Call me hopeless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but can’t help saying. “I think it’s just romantic.”

His eyes light up. “Yeah? And what kind of books d’you usually like?”

Before you know it, you’re talking thrillers and horror novels with him. Recommending your favorite spooky novel and then following up that you always read a comedy afterwards as a palette cleanser.

You end up touring each other around the shop, talking books and authors and genres. Yet you’re somehow surprised when he asks if you’d like to sit with him. But you agree, a little thrill in your stomach that you haven’t felt since… a while.

You each buy a stack of books, then claim a booth and proceed to read none of them. He tells you his name is Kyle, that he’s in the military but on leave right now, stocking up on entertainment for flights or long spans of hurrying up and waiting.

You’ve never met a military guy before, and you trip over your curiosity. Trying not to pry but interested in what he does. He’s polite and patient, admitting there are a lot of things he can’t tell you but he’ll answer. You don’t stay on the subject long, figuring the last thing he wants to talk about it work.

He gets you back in the department of uncomfortable topics when he notices the ring on your finger. You’re quick to explain the situation, hot with shame all over again, eyes stinging despite yourself.

Instead of mocking you or just getting up and walking away, Kyle sits back looking flabbergasted.

“That’s fucking mental,” he says, “excuse me for saying.”

You burst into laughter. Haven’t told anyone any of this out of embarrassment, but hearing someone on your side is… good.

“I thought so too, but… he’s happy,” you admit.

Kyle frowns. “What about you?”

You blink, can’t look him in the eye. You know the answer but make a show of thinking about it.

“I’d… like to be again. This — the open relationship thing — seems to be working for him. So… maybe it’ll work for me too?” You shrug. “Worth a try.”

Kyle reaches across the table, a big warm hand enveloping yours. There are callouses you’re not expecting. Tantalizingly different.

“Would you like to try it with me?” he asks. “Don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But my schedule is a bit… it’s hard to keep up a traditional relationship, you know? But I like you, and I think your fiance is a knob.”

You snort, but flip your hand around, thumb brushing over his.

“Yeah…” you muse, and after saying it, a surge of confidence infuses you. “Yeah, I’d like to try this with you.”

His smile is absolutely brilliant. You won’t admit — not even to yourself for a long time — but you fall in love a little right then and there.

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #poly 141 #open relationship trope #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader

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sinofwriting · 4 months

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Every Kiss Begins With Tabs - Max Verstappen

Words: 1,544 Summary: Max and her have a tradition that was born from their first kiss. Note(s): The idea for this fic popped into my head one night, didn’t know what driver to do with it, and then quickly realized Max is the only option with him driving for a literal energy drink company. Also, this features Max and Charles being best friends, because your honor, I love them. (and features a bit of Ferrari bashing, because of course)

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At the end of their first date, Max had watched as she shyly reached into her purse, fishing for something, before pressing a small thing into his hand and instinctively he held it. He didn’t even get a second to figure out what it was, since she kissed him as soon as it was pressed into his hand. It was small, barely a second, just a peck. But it had made him flush, staring at her with wide eyes before he murmured a quiet again.

Her bottom lip had found its way between her teeth for a second, before she nodded at his hand, the one she had pressed something into. For the kiss. He remembers her mumble, making her all the more cute to him, how she was shy yet bold in the same breath.

It had been near painful to look away from her, but he forced his eyes down as he uncurled his hand and saw a generic soda tab sitting in his palm. Her words rang in his ears and memories of watching girls in school give them to boys run through his head and he’s pressing their hands together, keeping it between their palms as he kisses her.

—

Max’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as he messes with the tab on his can of Red Bull. The sound of the press and his fellow drivers' voices washing over him. When it easily tears off, he pockets it, just as he’s asked a question.

“Over these last few months, you’ve been a lot happier. Many people thought it was you winning races making you so happy, but with Singapore happening, that has been disproven. Is there something other than winning that makes you so happy?” Max’s eyes darted over to his press officer, personal questions were on the no list for after races. She looks back at him with a raised eyebrow and he has to resist letting his brows press together. She clearly didn’t think this was personal and in nature he supposes it wasn’t, but it was leading. Raising the microphone to his lips, he speaks. “Well, I think I’d have a very boring, shit life if the only thing that made me happy was winning.” The reporter coughs, “Of course. But nothing new in your life?” “Not that I can think of.” There’s a frown on the reporter's face, but they don’t ask anything else, and the session is called to a close.

“I fucking hate reporters.” Max murmurs as he walks out the room. Charles snorts, hearing him and gently bumping their shoulders together. “I couldn’t tell.” “Haha. Was a good race for you today, though.” “I feel like I need a fucking bodyguard. I’ve been getting threats like crazy.” Max winces, having seen some for himself and also knowing from experience how bad they could get. “Ferrari hasn’t hired any for you?” He scoffs, “No, too much faith, I suppose.” “Stick close, come to Red Bull’s hotel with me, I’ve got an extra room and security.” “Ooh.” Charles teases, poking at his side as they exit the building. “Look at the golden boy with his security.” Max rolls his eyes, but feigns away as he reaches out again. “Are you coming or not?” He scoffs again. “Of course. I’m too pretty to be killed.” It’s Max’s turn to scoff, “You're something, alright.” he mutters.

Entering Red Bull’s garage with Charles would feel weird if it weren't for the fact that for nearly all of this season Bradley, Christian, Tom, GP, or himself had all been sneaking the Ferrari driver in. Max knows that Christian is hoping with them allowing Charles access to their garage and helping hide him away from Ferrari that he’ll join their team, and Max isn’t too proud to say that he’s started to wish that too.

“I’ve gotta get something from Christian first.” Max murmurs when Charles makes a confused hum when they don’t immediately go to his driver’s room. “Also, might want to text something to collect your stuff.” “Andrea will get it. I just need the hotel and room number so he can send some stuff over.” “Don’t want to sleep in Red Bull branded clothes?” Charles sniffs, sticking his chin in the air, perfectly making a haughty face. “Of course not. I have fashion sense.”

—

“You want room service or something delivered from somewhere?” Charles stares at him, “Mate.” Max grins at him before returning his gaze to his phone. “Had to ask. We do have Brazil next weekend after all.” “I want all the tacos in the world right now.” “Margaritas as well?” It’s silent for a second, “why not. Just one though.” Max rolls his eyes, typing out the number ten before hitting send.

“Food has been ordered.” “Thank god. I’m starving.” “Not going to offer to pay?” Max jokes, even though he’d refuse. “God no.” He scoffs before grinning at him. “Thank you, Max, honestly.” “It’s no problem.”

“When will the food get here?” Charles asks nearly thirty minutes later as Max unlocks the door. “Already here.” He tells him, opening the door up and stepping through.

Tossing his backpack to the armchair, he doesn’t see the confused look on Charles’ face or how it grows more confused when Max fishes something out of his pocket and holds it out, a grin on his face as he stands just beside the suite's sofa.

Charles nearly stumbles when a girl appears out of nowhere, words gathering on his tongue, only for them to die before they can form when she takes whatever it is out of Max’s hand and kisses him. He knows his mouth is open, jaw dropped, as he stares at the two.

“Hello.” Max murmurs, pulling away after pressing another kiss to her lips. Her head is tilted up a bit to look at him, nose scrunching a little as she smiles. “Hi. Well done on the race.” He grins and is unable to resist kissing her again before finally separating from her, only to wrap an arm around her and pull her into his side as he turns them both to face Charles. “Charles, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.” The other driver blinks at them for a few seconds before smiling. “Hello. It’s lovely to meet you.” He tells her, stepping forward to greet her with a hug, giving Max a thumbs up when she easily goes along with it. Max snorts at the thumbs up.

“Congrats on your race as well, Charles. Always nice to see you on the podium.” “Oh.” He can feel his cheeks turn a little pink at the compliment. “Well, it is always nice to be there, even if he is always taking the top spot.” She laughs and then she’s ushering them both to sit down at the small table nearly overflowing with food. “Oh my god.” Charles breaths, staring at it all. “It’s beautiful.” “I think you're just hungry, mate.” Max remarks and Charles notices how she passes whatever Max handed her before they kissed back to the driver before giving him a peck on the lips. “Of course, I’m hungry.” His eyes wander over all the food, all the tacos, and he knows that Andrea will be pissed at their next session when Charles tells him what he ate, but he knows he won’t regret it. Even when Andrea makes the session a triple.

“Can I ask a question?” Charles asks, after they are done eating. The twelve tacos he ate and two margaritas he had in combination with pleasant company made him feel content. “Is it a stupid one?” “Max.” She playfully scolds, but there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Of course.” “What is with the thing? The small thing you pass back and forth.” “Oh,” her eyes are a little wide and she seems to have stiffened and it has Charles' eyes widened. “You do not have to answer. I was just curious. You can of course tell me to shut up.” “No, it’s okay.” She shares a look with Max. “It’s just a habit, I don’t even really think about it anymore.”

Charles watches as she carefully extends her hand and opens it so he can stare at the thing the couple has been exchanging. His eyebrows furrow when he sees it’s a tab to a Red Bull can.

“Before I kissed Max for the first time, I gave him a tab from a soda can. It’s become a tradition of sorts.” His face softens at the explanation, and this whole weekend he has missed Alex, but now more than ever he wishes that she was able to come with him. “That is very sweet.” His lips then curl into a smirk and he looks at Max. “Must make sex uncomfortable though.” “You mother,” Max cuts himself off as he hits Charles with a pillow, his fellow driver howling with laughter. Hitting him with a pillow again, Max looks at her to see her laughing as well, face bright with joy and his hand is ducking into his pocket pulling out a spare tab he always keeps on him, pressing it into her hand before kissing her, ignoring the fake sounds of throwing up from Charles as he does.

@gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67

#f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine

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jelliedink · 6 months

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Making love with your DILF!Boss

Warnings: huge age gap, manipulative behaviour, slut shaming, sex.

Author's note: I brought him back, loves. This was originally part of the first headcanon post, but I decided to divide it because it was getting way too big. Please, get yourself comfortable and feast on the depraved fantasies my brain creates about this fictional toxic man.

Divider by @cafekitsune

First let me say that: this devil of a man is patient and he'll wait until you're crawling up the walls from desperation and desire. And then he'll wait a bit more.

DILF!Boss also considers himself an old-school man. He's not entirely opposed to fucking like a dog in heat but, in his head, this treatment is for other people. You are not a "cheap whore" or a random one night stand. He's preparing you to be his pretty perfect wife and new mommy of his children. You deserved to be treated with respect.

And he would tell you exactly so if you asked him to fuck your brains out. He would feel disgusted just by thinking about what kind humiliating of things your previous partners asked from you, his precious doll. But now you were with a man that knew how to treat you. A man that knew how to make you things you couldn't even imagine. A man that's been doing it since before you were born. A real man.

During sex, your DILF!Boss took care of you the whole time. He would take how long it needed to get you soaked and ready for him. Even then, lube was always easily accessible, just to be sure. He checked in with you in every step of the way and in between, making sure he was touching his precious little doll in all the right ways.

"Let me prepare you just a little more." "Do you like when I touch you like this?"

The nickname he used the most in those moments was "my little angel" because you did indeed feel heavenly. Your skin was so warm and soft, your moans, whispers and pleas so beautiful. And you have no idea how big his ego got when seeing you melt under his touch so easily.

Your DILF!Boss held you so close that at moments it felt like you were drowning in him. No matter the position, he'd always find a way to cage you in his arms, his body touching yours in all the places it could. You both were so entangled you could feel the movement of his lungs filling with air, his throat vibrating when he groaned or whispered sweet nothings in your ears, making you tickle. His scent was all you could feel, your sweat and his were the same, your bodies moving in such synchrony that you were not sure where you ended and he began anymore.

His thrusts were slow and deep, most of the times not pulling even half of his cock out before getting it all in and reaching places you didn't think was possible again. The way he rocked his hips into yours made it almost unbearable to keep your eyes open, and he had to ask you many times not to hide your face. He needed to see and praise you when he saw you loosing focus and part your lips to let out another delicious moan.

"Just like that, my buttercup, just let everything go while I take care of you."

Your DILF!Boss's thrusts were agonisingly slow. You felt the pleasure building and, the closer you got to your orgasm, more desperate you got to increase the speed and reach your peak. But he wouldn't let you: he locked your hips in place and kept his rhythm, the delay of your pleasure so overwhelming that it was almost painful. It made you want to sink your nails into his skin. You begged him until your voice was nothing but a whine, but to no avail, and often mixed tears from frustration and pleasure rolled down your cheeks.

All this time he would have one hand at the back of your head, his finger running through your hair in an effort to comfort you, his words gentle despite his laboured breath. "I know, my precious, I know. It will get better soon." "Calm down, my little minx, we've just started." "Breathe, my dear. In through your nose, out through your mouth. See how you can feel every inch of me in you when we go like this?"

It wasn't often that you came multiple times in one night: the first orgasm was so strong for being build for so long that it got you completely fucked up and you just wanted him to hold you in his arms and kiss you better after this pleasurable torture session.

He would often take longer, though. Your pleasure always came first, and after you calmed down a little he would ask if you could take just a little bit more of him. You almost always said yes. It didn't take him very long to finish seeing you so spent from his blissful touch, and he praised you the whole time for being so good to him.

After you're both done, your DILF!Boss would cup your face and kiss all of it, saying how much he loved you, how you were the best thing that happened to him, how he couldn't believe he was gifted with such a perfect angel like you. Then he would carry you to the bathroom; if not for taking a bath, at least to make sure you peed while he threw out the condom and got both of you water.

He couldn't hide his smile while watching how you curled up in his chest when you got back to bed, so tired you could hardly maintain a conversation. He'd still always try to ask how you were feeling, if he had hurt you or done anything that didn't feel good, although most of the time you passed out before he got the chance to finish this questionnaire. It didn't take him long to sleep after that. Feeling your now slow breath in his skin, he drifted off thinking how lucky he was that such a pretty little thing fell so deep into his trap.

#yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #boss x employee #boss x reader #dilf x reader #oc x reader #yandere smut #female reader #fem reader

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itsthewritergal · 3 months

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Just let me go - Bucky Barnes x reader

Okay this one is ANGSTTYYY Also there will be a part two! Posted tomorrow :)

TW: kidnapping, swearing, suicidal thoughts, guns, angst, sadness, suicidal ideation, also I haven't proof read this aha I'm sorry!!

“Sergeant Barnes, there is someone here to see you” One of the agent said as they stepped into the training room,

“Who?” Bucky replied curtly, being halfway through a session with Nat he didn’t exactly want to be interrupted no matter who it was

“I don’t know but she looks upset, if I was you I’d be worried” the agent said with a laugh, making a few of the other trainee’s laugh

“Don’t forget your rank” Bucky said bluntly,

“Sorry Sargent Barnes” The agent said,

“You can start sparring, I’ll be back soon and I expect to see some improvements from yesterday” Nat said following Bucky out the room,

“Who do you think it is?” Nat asked

“I don’t know” Bucky said

“What about that girl you went out with the other night?”

“I don’t think she’d come here” Bucky said with a huff, “she didn’t like me” he said

“Ooh what about the girl from Tony’s party?” Nat suggested, it sounded as though the idea of Bucky having a girl round was entertaining to her, Bucky narrowed his eyes at Nat,

“No” He said bluntly,

“Tensions killing me” Nat said with a dry laugh

“Come on Nat, leave it alone” he said, turning the corner to the common room, he stopped immediately his breath hitching in his throat for a split second,

“Y/N?” Nat beamed running over to give her a hug almost knocking her off of her feet “It’s been like a year since I saw you!” She grinned,

“Hey Nat” She said gently,

“You have to stay for dinner, Wanda’s cooking, she’ll want to see you. So will Steve, and Tony, oh and Sam!” She said “I’ll text them all now, they’ll set up a place for you”

“Nat, I don’t think—” Y/N started

“I don’t want to hear it, you’re staying” She said pulling out her phone and quickly tapping a message,

“Y/N” Bucky said bluntly, his voice void of all emotions.

“Hey” Y/N cut herself off unsure of what to call him so deciding against calling him anything, her eyes wandered to his arm, “the black and gold suits you” She said softly “Always said silver wasn’t your colour”

“Shuri agreed with you” Bucky nodded

An uncomfortable silence settled across the two of them,

“I should go” She said quickly,

“Why did you come?” He asked a part of him not wanting her to disappear, not again

“I, uh I found, I found this” Y/N said her cheeks flushing red as she passed Bucky a t-shirt, one that he had forgotten about, but it certainly looked more worn now than how he remembered it. His heart squeezed at the thought of her wearing it after everything

“This is why you came?” Bucky said

“You’re right, it was stupid. I’m gonna go” Y/N said quickly, shaking her head as she turned, Bucky knew how she felt. He had imaged many times making an excuse to go and see her, he just didn’t think she was the kind of person to go through with it.

“Y/N! Oh my, Nat said you were here. I’ve just laid the table dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes which is just long enough for you to catch me up on your life! Sorry Buck, but she’s with me until dinner. Then you can have her back” Wanda said not offering Bucky or Y/N a second option.

----

“So Y/N where have you been?” Tony asked as they all sat down at the table “it’s like you dropped off the face of the earth

“Just around,” She said quietly

“I came by your apartment, but it was empty” Tony said,

“I had to move out”

“You moved out?” Nat said “How come?” She said worry filling her voice

“Life happens” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Bucky’s eyes fell on her face, watching how her eyes studied her plate not daring to look up

“Well things always find a way of getting better” Wanda said squeezing Y/N’s hand on the top of the table

“How about you guys, I’ve seen good things on the news” Y/N said softly

“We’re okay” Steve said,

“I”m pleased,” Y/N said with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes,

“What’s your new apartment like?” Wanda asked,

“It’s nice” Y/N said gently ,

“You should give me the address,” Tony said commandingly

“I’ll send it over to you, I still don’t quite know it off by heart” She said, it was a lie. Bucky knew it was a lie, even if he couldn’t hear her heartbeat pick up, he would be able to tell from the way she couldn’t look at anyone in their eye.

“What part of town is it?” Steve pressed,

“I really appreciate you guys having me for dinner but I’m going to head home” She said quickly, “I’ll see you guys around” She said picking up her coat,

“I'm sorry if I said something wrong” Steve apologised quickly, he should’ve known better than to press her, Bucky thought

“You don’t need to” Tony said trying to savour the dinner

“Why don’t you stay for a movie?” Wanda suggested,

“I need to go” She said standing up and quickly hurrying out of the room

A gentle silence fell across the room, “I shouldn’t have asked her” Steve said

“It’s not on you” Wanda said “I don’t think that anyone could have convinced her to open up to us”

“I’ll find her address and go over tomorrow, it’ll be easier without anyone else there” Tony said fiercely,

“She won’t talk to you” Bucky said

“And she’ll talk to you?” Tony snapped “You’re the reason we are in this mess in the first place. She is my friend and I will do what I think is right”

“What even happened when you broke up?” Wanda asked

“ Nothing” Bucky said

“Don’t lie” Tony snapped

“What the hell did you do? I thought you two were fine” Nat asked

“You told us all you two were fine after the breakup” Wanda said

“Leave him alone” Steve said sternly

Bucky sighed softly “She just came to drop off a shirt”

“Nobody drops off a shirt after a year” Tony said “She wanted to see you and you couldn’t even give her the time of day” He snapped

“She’ll be okay, I’ll come with you tomorrow, we can check in on her” Wanda said

Bucky didn’t dare to say anything, he just nodded gently. It was a thank you, all be it a silent one, but a thank you none the less.

----

“Tony, you need to see this” Wanda said as an alert popped up on the screen alerting Tony to a new message, they had been in Tony's lab for a few hours scouting out Y/N's new apartment.

“Have you seen where she is living?” Tony said scanning through the photos that FRIDAY had brought up on his screen “it’s worse than I thought”

“Tony now” Wanda said fiercely,

“What is it?” Tony asked, turning around, his face dropping when he saw the screen. “Is that?”

“Y/N” Wanda finished

“Who sent this” Tony asked

“I don’t know, it’s anonymous. I can’t trace the signal either”

“FRIDAY, call the team and get them into the conference room now”

“Yes Mr Stark” FRIDAY answered

“We can’t tell Bucky” Wanda said,

“We can and we will because he is going to help us”

“That’s a bad idea” Wanda said

“He once was one the best assassins, no debate. As much as I don’t like the tinman, he can and will help us” Tony said leaving little room for debate.

“Tony what the hell? We’re meant to have the week off of missions” Nat said, sitting down in a chair with a mug of coffee nursed in her hands

“This is different” Tony said,

“How so?” Steve asked

“This is personal” Tony said sternly,

“It’s Y/N” Wanda whispered,

“What happened to her?” Bucky asked

“I was sent this video” Tony said

“We thought it was best we watched it together” Wanda added

“FRIDAY, play the video please”

The screen went dark for a moment and then lit up with a picture of Y/N locked in a room, Bucky felt a strange wave of familiarity wash over him

“Tell your friends what we want” A voice spoke, it sent chills down Bucky’s spine, he put her in this position. He had done everything to keep her safe, after all these years, this was his fault.

“They won’t come” Y/N’s voice was strangely calm

“Don’t be difficult girl, tell them what we want” The voice spoke again

“You want the soldier, you want someone who’s gone. But here’s the catch. Even if he wasn’t gone, even if the solider still existed he wouldn’t come. Not for me.” She said

“We’ve done our research” The voice mused, there was a hint of amusement in it’s voice, as though it had caught Y/N out,

“Your research is wrong. I haven’t spoken to Bucky in a year, he does’t care” Y/N snapped, a gunshot sounded through the conference room, making them jump

“Turn it off” Bucky’s voice was quiet but cut through the entire room

“Shooting blanks at me won’t work” Y/N snapped “If you’re going to kill me then kill me”

“Turn it off” Bucky said once more

“We want the soldat” The voice behind the camera spoke

“Then you’ll have to find someone who he cares about, because it isn’t me” She snapped

“You have six hours or she dies”

The camera turned off and the room went dark. All eyes turned to Bucky,

“When was this sent?” He said

“Barely ten minutes ago” Wanda answered softly,

“Let’s start at her apartment” Steve said firmly “Wanda, Clint you’re with me, Tony, Nat you should try and find something from the video, there might be an idea of where they’re keeping her.”

“I need to go as well” Bucky said

“No” Wanda said “You need to stay away from this”

“I spent years tracking people down, I think I’m the best chance we have to finding Y/N” He said challenging anyone to speak out against him

“I’ll go as support” Sam said patting Bucky’s back comfortingly.

“We need to go, now” Steve said

----

Steve’s skin crawled at the sight of Y/N’s apartment. He hesitated before pushing the door open, it creaked and echoed through the tiny studio. Clothes were thrown across the room, plates were stacked up by the sink, two blankets were half heartedly thrown across the bed, no sign of a duvet or pillow. Bucky had to tear his eyes away from her apartment for a minute to regain his composure.

“I can’t believe she was staying here” Wanda said stepping into it

“It was a means to an end” Steve said,

“I should have helped her” Wanda sighed softly, her eyes falling on the pile of clothes in the corner of the room,

“We didn’t know” Clint said

“We should have” Wanda snapped “Look at how she was living, we should have been able to help”

“She was always good at surviving” Steve said firmly

“She shouldn’t have had to be, we are her friends and the moment her and Bucky split we left her” Wanda said, tears building in her eyes

“They must have taken her here, look at the mess” Steve said changing the subject quickly,

“No” Bucky said softly “This is Y/N” Bucky said with a sigh

“What do you mean?” Clint asked “this is normal?”

“When she got busy, she used to get messy, never put things away. Found it hard to do anything” Bucky said swallowing tightly “We argued about it” He admitted

“So did they take her here, or not?” Sam asked

“Not here, this is normal for her. It didn’t happen here” Bucky said firmly

“Ok so that’s something” Sam said, attempting at a loose sense of positivity

“It must’ve happened by the compound” Wanda said “think about it, if they wanted Bucky then surely they’d be keeping tabs on him. When she left last night they must have taken the next best thing to get to him” She said

“We need to look at security cameras” Clint suggested

“Who wants Bucky though?” Sam said, “I think we’re focussing too much on Y/N, rather than on what they want”

“Hydra” Steve said through pursed lips

“It can’t be” Wanda said

“It has to be” Clint confirmed “It makes the most sense”

“So who are we looking at? Zemo?” Sam asked

“Maybe” Steve said “Doesn’t feel right though”, Steve’s thought was cut short by his phone ringing

“Steve, I’ve got an address” Tony said, “suit up”

----

Bucky couldn’t stop shaking, he’d been on tougher missions, he’d been in tougher briefings, he had almost died more times than he could count. But this felt like the worst day of his life,

“We’ve been sent an address,” Tony said

“It’s a trap” Nat said

“We don’t know that” Steve suggested, “Who sent it to you?”

“It came with a video, it was from the same people as before”

“What’s the video?” Sam asked, noticing the tension that had fallen across the room,

Tony instructed FRIDAY to play the video, Y/N’s face was brought up on the screen,

“Y/N tell them what you just told me” The voice spoke

“No” She spat through gritted teeth, her hair was matted with blood which dripped slowly from a wound on her hair line, her face was bruised and Bucky was silently pleased he could only see to the base on her neck, anymore and he was sure he would throw up. The skin he had once pressed kisses to so gently was purple and blotted with blood.

“Our captive here has a death wish” The voice said again, “She had her little suicide letters in her pocket when we caught her” it sneered

“Shut the hell up” Y/N snapped, there was something in her eyes that scared Bucky, she looked so void of the love that she had once been filled with

“She was on the top of a building when we found her, she’s only got 3 hours left avengers. Are you going to give in to her wishes?”

“Just kill me” She whispered

“What was that?” The voice asked, it was mocking her, teasing her, it was a sight that Bucky couldn’t stand

“Kill me!” She shouted, her voice sent chills down each of the spines of her old friends “Just kill me” She said settling into a bought of sobs,

The video stopped and cut to a map with a pin placed directly in it.

“We need to go” Steve said “We leave in 5”

----

The quinjet landed softly and Bucky could feel a knot growing in his stomach, he had been on enough rescue missions to know the ways that this could go. It was an old hydra base, one that Bucky was sure should’ve been emptied years ago. But here it stood, admittedly it was partly falling down but the cells were deep underground and the structures were built to last. He knew that much well enough, if he strained his ears he would swear that he could hear Y/N’s cries, but he convinced himself it was all in his head.

“She’s going to be okay” Steve said

“I can’t loose her Steve” Bucky admitted “I’ve lost her once, I can’t watch her die”

“Then don’t let her” Steve said

Bucky followed behind the rest of the team, Wanda stood beside him,

“Do you want me to take the fear away?” She asked under her breath, knowing nobody else would be able to hear her

“No, I need it” Bucky said, he didn’t explain anything else but Wanda nodded,

“Let’s go get Y/N home” Wanda said

Bucky followed Tony’s lead, any other mission he would have tried to take the lead off of Tony but he couldn’t for this. Y/N needed Tony’s planning, Y/N’s life couldn’t be in Bucky’s hands. He would never forgive himself if anything happened. They descended into the base, it was too quiet for Bucky’s liking. Hydra would never have kept it this quiet, something was wrong.

“Welcome home soldat” the words echoed through the halls,

“They know we are here” Steve muttered,

“She’s down here” Tony said, taking another set of steps downwards, Bucky could hear her shallow breaths getting louder slowly with each step he took.

“Y/N?” Steve called out,

“I told you to fucking kill me” Y/N screamed, Tony immediately picked up the pace to a run following the sound of her voice. Their footsteps echoed through the concrete walls, as they came across a long hallway filled with cells made of glass. Bucky’s skin crawled at the sight. This was what he wanted to protect Y/N from, she shouldn’t see this.

“KIll me” Her voice rang through the cells,

“Soldat” Bucky turned to find the voice behind him. “Do the honours?” The man said, he was older than Bucky thought he would be.

“We’re surrounded” Steve said,

“There’s no getting out of this” The man sneered,

“That’s kind of where you are wrong” Tony said smartly, “You really think there’s only four of us?” He laughed

“What?”

“The rest of our team have cleared out your base, and they’re on their way” He said with a smirk “Also not only have we got two super soldiers, we’ve also got a freaky witch and me, ironman, you might of heard of me”

“Ironman, you forget. You have an unstable winter soldier on your team, All I have to do is say a few words and he’s under my control right?”

“Doesn’t work anymore” Bucky snapped

“I’m bored” Nat said sneaking up from behind, with a wicked grin she pulled the trigger and the body fell to the ground with a thud. Instantly Bucky turned and shot the guard who was keeping him surrounded “God why are all the people we go against so boring” Nat said with a huff, once they had dealt with the guards.

“Let’s just get Y/N” Tony said letting out a breath.

Wanda took a step away from the group into a nearby cell, it was as though she felt her.

“Guys she’s here” Wanda called,

Bucky took a deep breath and turned the corner, Y/N sat slumped on a chair, out of breath and covered in bruises and dried blood.

“Please” She whimpered

“We’re going to get you out of here” Wanda said slowly untying her gently

“Please no” She cried

“You’re safe” Steve said kneeling at her side

“No Please, let me go” She said

“We’re letting you go, you’re going to be ok”

“No, please” She sobbed again “You have to let me die” She cried as Wanda pulled the ties away from her

“Y/N, we can’t do that” Steve said,

“You’re going to be okay” Tony promised

“Just let me go please?”

PART TWO

#bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes x y/n #itsthewritergal #bucky masterlist #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x #bucky barnes masterlist #bucky x

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majestyeverlasting · 1 year

Text

Just Another Friday Night

This piece contains 18+ content and explores the idea of Eddie as a soft dom.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson's been your best friend since fifth grade. And on a night you think is going to pass just like any other, you realize you can't keep running from the way you feel.

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N: I hath returned. So excited to finally have this one out for you guys! Hopefully the person who requested this many moons ago is still somewhere in my orbit.

As soon as Eddie feels the pad of your finger meet the skin of his cheek, his lips curl into a soft smile. It brings small lines to the corners of his eyes and reveals the glint of his teeth in the dim light. Concentration sparkles in your eyes like water does beneath the moon.

Both of you are seated on his messy bed. Him with his legs falling over the edge, and you angled towards him with your legs crossed. His breaths are steady, fingers lax from no longer strumming the strings of his guitar.

When you finally manage to collect the fallen eyelash from his cheek, you hold out your pointer finger for him to see. If you’d been focussed on the song he was playing rather than studying his face, you never would’ve noticed the tiny hair to begin with.

“M’kay.” His eyes flick back up to meet yours. “Now what?”

You raise your finger closer to his lips. “You’ve got a wish to make.”

If there was anyone deserving of one, it was him. It had been almost a year since he crawled out of the Upside Down by the skin of his teeth. Half alive. You remembered all the long nights you’d spent by his hospital bed as he recovered.

An air of weightlessness washes over both of you after Eddie blows it off your finger. As if somewhere far away, the course of time and happenings shifted in his favor.

“You can finish your song now. Sorry.” Smiling shyly, you tuck your hands into your lap and wiggle to get comfortable.

He smiles wider, but makes a quick work of tampering it back down.

When he begins playing, you make sure to focus this time, letting the music soak in and flow through you. The passion is palpable, along with the underlying sense of purpose that hangs off the tail end of each resonant note.

You’d been around to listen to him since the days he played off-tune chords with unsteady hands. As he sat playing now, hair curtained around his face, you knew he could easily captivate thousands if given the chance.

As the song winds to an end, he looks at you and his fingers slow as the notes dissolve between you. The only thing left for you to do is applaud. Your approval makes him feel like there’s electricity buzzing beneath his veins.

He absentmindedly strums a few quiet notes to keep his fingers busy, eyes remaining on you. “You’re the first person to hear it all the way through.”

“Really? I loved it.” Honesty drips like honey from your words.

He looks down to the fingerboard so you don’t see the faint flush of his cheeks. “Thanks. Lotta practice.”

When he stands to hang his guitar back on the wall, you watch the way his shoulder blades shift under his t-shirt. You don’t mean to look as hard as you do. There was something captivating about the way he moved. Some days, he couldn’t sit still, but there were also nights like this one where he seemed to have embodied the very essence of ease.

“So are you gonna add it to your setlist?”

He doesn’t answer right away, making sure Sweetheart is mounted securely.

“Maybe after I’ve cleaned it up a bit,” he says. “The turnouts have been sick lately.” Gratitude glints in his eyes as they meet yours.

Playing in front of a crowd at The Hideout was incomparable to selling out a venue like The Garden. But Eddie swore the gratification felt the same. With each new show, it’d been getting harder to find you in the crowd because of how many people had finally started giving him and the boys a chance. He never thought that locating you amid a sea head-bobbing bodies would be a pleasure he ever had.

“Will I be getting a raise for spreading the word?” You tilt your head and bite back a smile.

He plays along as easily as breathing, biceps flexing as he crosses his arms. “You already eat my snacks, steal my jewelry, and make me drive you around,” he lists. “I don’t know what else there is to offer you, but it sure as hell won’t be Benjamin’s.”

You have the nerve to blink up at him like a fawn. “It’s not my fault you hardly tell me no.”

You make it easy to say yes a million times over. Again and again.

There’s nothing for him to quip back with, so he sighs and studies you for the umpteenth time that night. There’s something amused about the glimmer in his eyes, but a fondness there as well. You’re wearing soft pants and a baggy sweater, looking effortlessly beautiful in a way that only you can manage.

Guilt wastes no time prickling beneath his skin when you curl in on yourself a bit, self-conscious. You’ve never grown used to the way he makes you feel so seen. Part of you fears he can see right through to feelings you’ve been fighting to keep tucked away.

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his eternally disheveled hair.

“Maybe I should get better about that then,” he decides. “Start telling you no more often.” A lighthearted smile pulls at his lips.

You look over at his alarm clock so you don’t drown within the increasing warmth of his umber eyes. You’re not ready to fall even though that’s what it feels like you’ve been doing for so long.

He bites his lip in preparation for the weight of his next words, “I’ve been meaning to tell—“

“My folks are expecting me back by ten.” It’s the first thing you can think to say despite the fact that they hardly ever give you curfews. “I forgot to mention it sooner.”

“Oh.” He glances to his nightstand to scrutinize the red numbers glowing on the clock. Disappointment swells within him and makes him fidget. “How the hell is it almost ten already? Thing’s gotta be broken.”

He pats the top of the device as if the right time was suddenly going to appear. “You can’t say for ten more minutes?” You shake your head apologetically. “How ‘bout five?” Another head shake. “Fuck—a minute thirty?”

A laugh bubbles up your throat, making a helplessly gooey feeling melt down the walls of his chest.

All too soon, with no success in convincing you, he’s walking you out to your car.

The night’s chill nips at both of you without reprieve. You hug your arms and break into a jog to escape it faster, leaving Eddie slowly striding behind you in hopes of prolonging his last few moments with you.

He watches you hop inside your family’s old station wagon and give the engine stuttering life. The headlights are soon to follow, illuminating a cluster of jittery moths.

The feeling of his stare boring into the side of your face through the window makes you give into the urge to crank it down, handle squeaking faintly along with your movements.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He huffs out a chuckle. “Where am I supposed to look? Up?” He tips his head backwards, and his demeanor immediately shifts. “Hey, the stars are out.”

You peer through the windshield to see for yourself. Sure enough, countless of them shine like dull guardians miles and miles above lonesome Hawkins. They seem to span forever in every direction. The child in you looks for any surges of brightness or streaks that would indicate a shooting star.

“The view’s better out here.” There’s a persuasive lilt to his voice.

You don’t dare get out of the car. If you do, you wouldn’t make it home at all. It was getting too easy to be in his presence, like he was the bread and you were the butter that helplessly melted on top because you knew it’s where you belonged.

“I really gotta go, E.” You swallow the sadness that wants to color your words as you buckle your seatbelt and settle back into the seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He kicks at a cigarette butt on the ground, and nods. You were always within arms reach, yet lightyears away.

“Tomorrow,” he repeats. “Copy that.”

A silence settles between you. The only sounds that prevail are the hum of your car engine, crickets, and muffled peels of laughter carrying from a few trailers down.

Every time, it was you who pulled away at the eleventh hour before the dawn of something new.

“Good night, Eddie.”

•••

The cash register snaps closed with a resonant clamber. A beat later, you’re reaching out to take your change from the middle-aged lady thoughtfully chewing a piece of pink bubblegum behind the counter. The two of you are the only souls in the store. Humming freezers and a quiet instrumental soundtrack fill the air.

She speaks up as you turn to leave, “You alright there, sweetheart?”

“Just tired.” You sheepishly raise the bag carrying the Melatonin you’d purchased.

Even God knew you weren’t going to be able to fall asleep on your own tonight. You’d lie awake thinking of all the reasons why you should’ve stayed.

You take the time to read her name tag then: Irene.

Her frown is sympathetic. “It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Warmth rushes to your cheeks. She then leans onto the counter and you feel compelled to take a step closer. “What’s his deal?” She studies your face for any hints before asking a different question,

“What’s your deal?”

You shrug lamely, and Irene tilts her head. You don’t owe her an answer, but you can’t help but feel as though you need to hear it for yourself.

“I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared.” She blows a bubble and it pops neatly without sticking to her lips. “But it’s up to you to decide if you wanna be scared forever.”

•••

Eddie’s staring up at the ceiling when a faint series of knocks sound at the front door. Instead of moving, he blows out another cloud of smoke and watches as it dissipates into a thin haze in the air. The breeze entering through the cracked window helps filter it out. It isn’t until the knocks get louder that he’s convinced his mind isn’t playing tricks on him.

What he’s not expecting is for you to be standing at the door.

“Hi,” you say softly.

He doesn’t dare question his luck. “H-Hey.” Eddie lowers the joint from between his lips and turns away from you to quickly exhale. “Tonight, uh, doesn’t count.”

He was supposed to be taking a break from smoking, and you’d promised to help keep him on track. But now, as he stood doing just that for the first time in two months, it wasn’t the joint that captured your attention. It was the reason why, the conflicted look in his eyes that the pungent haze failed to mask.

His next words get cut off with a cough, and he doesn’t bother trying to say them again.

You're met by warmth when he motions you inside. Guilt tries to convince you that you don’t deserve another chance, fear says you’re going to blow it.

“Eddie?” He raises his eyebrows. “I’m really sorry.”

The way he nods suggests he knew your curfew was fabricated from the start. “Don’t sweat it,” he lifts his shoulder. “I’m gonna go put this out.” He holds up the joint.

You trail him back to his bedroom, where your eyes roam idly over the posters covering the walls. Different things to say rise to the tip of your tongue, but none of them spill over.

Eddie turns towards you when he’s done.

“You didn’t have to lie.” Your shoulders sink as you meet his gaze, but he easily turns to humor, “You could’ve just told me you were tired of being cramped up in a trailer. I probably would’ve agreed.”

You can feel the ghost of a smile on your face, but you still mean your next words, “I feel like the worst person in the world.”

His nose wrinkles. “Maybe the fourth or fifth, but definitely not the worst.”

In spite of everything, both of you find it within yourselves to laugh. It feels good, mending.

You regain your composure before Eddie, and upon noticing he tries even harder to quell his amusement. It takes a few extra seconds because he’s high, but he finally manages to get himself under control.

He thinks before his next words, “I wasn’t expecting you to come back. You never do.” A lump forms in your throat as you toy with the hem of your sweater. “And all I can think about every time you leave is how I let you walk away without telling you how fucking much I enjoy you being around.”

You swallow. “I know you do.”

He shakes his head. “I like hanging out with the guys too—I’ll hang out with anybody if they’re cool.” You watch him with doe eyes as he speaks. “But you, you’re a whole different story. You drive me crazy in the best fucking way ever.” Those words hang thick in the air. “When I blew that eyelash of your finger, I wished—”

“Wait,” you hold out a careful hand, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Don’t tell me.” Part of you wants him to, but not at the expense of the wish not coming true.

That keeps him quiet for a few seconds. He’s still charged from his confession, electricity having taken the place of blood within his veins.

“You came back,” Eddie states instead. “Why?”

His eyes don’t leave you, and you take in his entirety for the first time since you’ve been back. Long hair, short sleeve Metallica shirt, faded pajama pants. He doesn’t have his chest puffed out or his chin turned up in that charming way he often does when he’s working a crowd or a group of friends.

He’s leveled. No guard up, no mask on, just Eddie.

The one who’s been by your side since fifth grade. Who could make your sides ache on the days when laughing was the last thing you thought you could do. Who got on your nerves almost every time you were together, but still managed to be one of your favorite people in the world.

“You know how you always say there’s no shame in running?” you ask, shifting your weight. You’d sat in on enough of his D&D campaigns to have heard that phrase uttered.

He nods.

“Well, we both know it’s also worth something when you have the guts to stay. So this is me choosing not to run anymore.” From your feelings or from him.

The room shrinks and grows one hundred degrees hotter when Eddie moves to stand closer to you. He reaches out to grasp your hand, calluses brushing your skin. The chunky metal rings adorning his fingers glint.

Your next breath stalls as he presses your palm flat against the left side of his chest. The quickened rhythm of his heart drums against it fiercely. A mix of vulnerability and courage are married in his eyes.

“Same,” you whisper, and his lips twitch upwards. “Here I was thinking this was gonna be just another Friday night.”

You let your hand fall from his chest.

A grin breaks across his face like dawn, more tender than it’s ever been. “I’m glad it’s not.”

Time slows as he cups your face, eyes flitting over every detail as if to memorize it all over again. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He whispers it like there’s nothing to question, like he's been waiting forever.

You don’t mean to smile as wide as you do. His heart skips a beat, maybe two. He’s done holding back from what he’s been wanting to do for so long.

Not another second passes before he presses his lips to yours.

They move with careful earnesty. Despite the fact that it feels like your entire body bursts into stardust, you kiss him back with an innate sense of knowing. You can feel the puffs of air from his nose fanning over your skin, the way his thumbs brush over your cheeks. It’s intoxicating in a way that makes you weak in the knees. Even with the newness of it all, there’s an air of ease and familiarity that you lose yourself within. You don’t worry if you’re doing it right.

By the time he pushes you backwards to sit on the edge of his bed, he’s taken off your sweater and tossed it onto the floor, leaving your pale pink bra newly on display.

From your seated position, you watch him pull his own shirt over his head, further disheveling his hair. His milky skin hosts a myriad of dark tattoos and fading scars. Anticipation swirls in your core as he encourages you to lay on your back, propping himself overtop of you. He pecks the tip of your nose before slotting his lips over yours once again.

A surprised sound escapes you when his lips begin to plant a trail of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck, head tilting to give him more access. The moment your conscience catches up to reality, you push at his chest and he immediately pulls away.

“Too much?” He studies your face. You can’t bring yourself to say no because you don’t want it to end.

“I think I just need a second. Sorry.” Embarrassment clings to your words, but you muster a shaky laugh. “I’m not used to this kinda thing.”

Eddie had experienced his share of sporadic flings, but his feelings never ran as deep as they do for you.

“You’re okay,” he soothes. “I may like pushing your buttons, but ‘m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, alright?”

In all your years of knowing him, he’d never given you reason to believe he’d ever discount your feelings. Or that he was even capable of doing so.

You raise a hand to cup his cheek. “Let’s keep going.”

“You sure?” He turns his head to kiss your palm. “Absolutely positive?” He dips down and playfully nips at your collarbone. “Cross your heart?”

You bite your lip to keep from giggling, but fail when he begins to move lower. He drinks in your laughter like it’s an elixir.

He continues a disorderly line of kisses down your stomach, and your mind is beyond hazy by the time he reaches the waistband of your jeans. You don’t utter any words of protest when he kneels to pop the button open. The subsequent sound of your zipper being pulled down might as well be thunder with how quiet the room has grown aside from it.

Your panties are the same pink as your bra, trimmed with thin lace that makes Eddie dizzy. Without waiting for him to ask, you lift your hips for him to pull down your pants. Once they’re on the floor, he runs his hands over both of your thighs, trying his best to memorize the feeling. You briefly close your eyes when his fingers ghost over the soft fabric of your underwear. Nerves bundle low in your stomach to the point where you feel like a live wire laying exposed before him.

“You’re gonna be the end of me,” he says like a scripture.

“Me?” you peer down at him in disbelief.

“Yeah, you. Who else?” He lifts the thin waistband of your panties and lets it snap back down to your skin. “I’m gonna take ‘em off.” He only makes the announcement to give you a chance to refute it.

Rather than doing so, you brace your feet so you can lift your hips for him once more.

You’ve known him for the better half of your life. If anyone, your trust can reside in him.

A string of awed expletives slip past his lips when there’s nothing left between him and your heat. To stop himself from staring, he turns his face into your thigh to suck a bruise into the plush skin. You don’t realize that’s what he’s doing until you feel the tiny pinch that stings so good.

Your silence is perceived as permission to switch to the other leg to do the same. You can hear your heart in your ears, and regard it as a reminder that you’re alive and breathing during a moment you never thought would come.

You’re marked now, his.

He runs a gentle finger from your clit to your wet folds, and your own sensitivity surprises you when your thighs snap closed and trap his hand.

“Sorry,” you breathe, slowly blooming them open again. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, where fondness seems to radiate like imperceivable rays of light.

After pressing a kiss to the space just beneath your navel, he stands and climbs onto the bed with you. You sit up and look to him for further direction.

An easy smile spreads across his face as he settles with his back against the wall where a headboard should be.

“C’mere,” he stretches his legs out in front of himself.

You crawl to him and sit so that your back is pressed against the warmth of his bare chest. It isn’t until you shift that you feel his erection pressing into your rear.

You peek back at him with hot cheeks. “Sorry.”

Eddie drops a kiss to your shoulder. “You’ve apologized five hundred times tonight.” You shrink in on yourself because you know it’s true. “You’re not allowed to anymore, capeesh?”

You nod.

“Now prop your legs up, buttercup.” You can hear the smile in his voice that hopes you caught his rhyme.

You press your feet into his sheets and spread your knees into a V.

His pointer finger finds your clit without warning, applying just enough pressure to hitch your breath. You’ve touched yourself before, but had never taken the time to truly gain an understanding of the deeper pleasure there was to be felt.

Here Eddie was, showing you what you didn’t know about yourself.

He switches to rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb while his middle finger glides through the slickness of your folds, making you clench with want. You reach between your legs with the hope of helping, or perhaps egging things along, but Eddie tuts.

“Hands off or I’ll stop.” His tone is gentle and commanding all at once.

Even though you follow his instructions, he still withdraws his touch. A protest ends up dying in your throat when you feel his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra and pushing the straps down your goosebump-laden arms. It soon joins the rest of your clothes on the floor. You’ve never been so bare in front of another person.

“Jesus, look at you,” he murmurs. His large hands raise to cup your breasts, fingers experimentally pinching both of your pebbled nipples. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight.

You watch with hooded eyes and parted lips. Caught off guard when he grabs your hands and redirects them to your chest to take over for him. You tentatively pinch your nipples in the same way he’d done, sending minute shockwaves through your body.

“There you go,” he coos into your ear. A gasp falls past your lips when his hand dips back between your legs to ease the tip of his middle finger into your entrance. As he pushes it in further, your toes curl tighter.

But his touch disappears yet again, making an exasperated breath leave you as your head falls backwards onto his shoulder.

“Eddie,” it’s a whine. “Are you teasing me?”

“No. I forgot to take my rings off.” They clink as he drops them onto the nightstand. “But I think I will now since you just had to say something.” The charged promise of those words sends a chill down your spine.

You’re begging three minutes later. A melodic mix of weakened pleads, his name, and incoherent bargains that only make him smile.

He’s trapped you on the edge of a freefall. Your thighs ache from tensing, and the strong pulse of arousal between your legs consumes the entirety of your mind. His two middlemost fingers pump in and out of your entrance with no sense of urgency, curling into that spot within you that makes you want to shatter. Whenever he senses that you’re about to topple over the edge, he pauses to let a few seconds crawl by.

It’s scary how good he is at reading you. At holding the reins.

“I can’t anymore,” you breathlessly insist, pressing back into him. “Eddie, please.”

“Sure you can.” He suckles the spot beneath your ear. In your head, you scream at him in frustration but in reality you squeeze your eyes shut.

He doesn’t know who he’s teasing anymore. Listening to you whimper and feeling you squirm has him twitching and straining in his boxers.

Somewhere along the line, he remembers mercy.

As soon as the cord within you snaps, your back arches and your walls flutter helplessly around his fingers. Your orgasm crashes over you in strong heated waves, each one fizzling out in their own time, making you tremble.

When your breaths grow even again, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you as you watch, awed and silent. You place a hand on his thigh to ensure he stays close.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, basking in the warmth of each other’s body, the new air between you. It’s as if you’re waiting to be roused from a dream.

“I wanna keep making you feel good,” he eventually murmurs into your ear, smirking when you shiver. “Will you let me do that?”

The feeling of his erection pressing into your backside suddenly registers in your mind again, and you reach behind you to curiously palm the outline through his pajama pants. He feels it in his bones.

“You can do whatever you want,” you tell him.

Eddie grabs your waist and gently pushes you forward so you know to let him get up. You settle in the middle of the bed and pull your legs up to your chest in a halfhearted reclaim of modesty.

He stalks over to his dresser and scans the cluttered surface with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. You trace his back tattoos with your eyes. After pushing a few stray trinkets aside, he makes a sound of frustration.

“What's wrong?” you ask.

He continues looking. “Coulda sworn there was a condom lying around up here.”

After a beat, you crawl to the edge of his bed so you can peek into the drawer of his nightstand. There’s notebooks filled with song lyrics, old magazines, a Walkman, batteries, guitar picks. No square foils in sight.

“Can’t we still…” your words fade when he meets your gaze, but he gives you an encouraging nod. “You know. If we’re extra careful, right?” Your voice is just above a murmur by the time you stop speaking.

The innocence seeping from your gaze makes a helpless fool out of him.

The next thing you know, he’s pulling his pants and boxers down in one go, cock springing up towards his belly as you watch with owlish eyes. A dark tuft of hair curls at the base, and the head is a pretty shade of rose that’s beading pearlescent pre-cum. A prominent vein snakes along the underside.

You’re more than ready. It’s the lightning in a bottle type sureness that you can’t believe you’ve come to know so well. The second he starts moving towards the bed again, you reposition onto your back.

Though you don’t utter a single word, every unspoken thought from your mind seems to shape his smile. It’s not entirely proud, there’s a hint of softness to it. Something giddy residing just beneath the surface that takes the edge off the intensity of his gaze.

A comforting heat radiates from his body as he positions himself overtop of you.

He reaches between your legs to collect the tell tale sign of your arousal on his fingers, and your eyelashes flutter. “Nice and ready for me, huh?”

The tone of his voice makes you want to hide. You feel small and on top of the world at the same time. Eagerness is written all over your face. And in the way your chest rises with quicker breaths. How your fingers are curled into the sheets.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You’re glad he does because you’re certain all words would fail if you tried to speak.

All you can do is blink up at him, propping your legs on either side of him as he lines himself up at your entrance.

It’s overwhelming at first, incomparable to his fingers. But he takes it slow, watching your face the whole while. Before you know it, you’ve stretched to take the entirety of his length, and his eyes are glued to where you’re joined.

He bottoms out with a satisfied grunt, hair falling into his face. The fullness makes up for the dull ache. Especially as he begins to slowly pull out in preparation for another pump. A gasp escapes you the second time he eases back in, and your face scrunches with the new depth that comes with hooking your legs around the back of his thighs.

“If you wanna stop at any point just tell me, okay?” He tries his best to keep his voice steady.

“Okay,” you whisper shakily.

He finds a rhythm before long, cheeks flushed right along with his chest. He looks beautiful like this. Even his pleasured sighs and huffs rush straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Lemme hear you,” his voice comes out gruff. “Stop holding back.”

You swallow a moan. “‘M not.”

Unconvinced, Eddie rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, and your breath stutters on its way out. You don’t remember being this sensitive earlier, and a few more pinches have your mouth gaping open just as he expected.

His thrusts grow pointedly harder, forcing the fire building in your core to burn brighter.

“Oh, god—Eddie,” you finally choke out, gripping onto his biceps.

He swears he grows impossibly harder, orgasm creeping even closer from its place in the distance. You’re so soft, so warm, so wet, squeezing him in a maddening way. Your blunt fingernails move to dig into the back of his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in their wake.

“Say my name again.”

“Eddie,” you sigh, helplessly clenching around him. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” You sound dreamy. It rushes straight between his legs, and he can feel that familiar coil beginning to wear thin.

Hearing you say his name like that was going to do him in.

A sudden burst of confidence finds you. “You’re so deep—gonna make me come.”

His hips falter and something shifts in his eyes. He starts drawing circles over your clit.

“I wanna feel you fall apart around me,” he says, and you nod because you want that for him. “But not until I say, alright?”

Your stomach drops.

When you don’t answer, he slows to a torturous pace that makes your head spin. “Gotta answer me so I know we’re on the same page.”

“We always have been,” you half slur, drunk on him.

As Eddie looks down at you, he sees a large fraction of his world woven into the delicate furrow of your eyebrows, the way your eyelashes meet the very tops of your cheeks, the part of your cherry-tainted lips.

He lowers himself so that his chest is grazing yours as he continues thrusting, pubic bone dragging over your clit. The feeling of his warm breaths fanning into your ear makes you shudder, and when you arch up, you’re only met by more of his warmth, more of him. There is no escape, nowhere to run. Only accept.

“Wish I could, shit, wish I could bottle this feeling in a fucking jar and keep it forever,” he grits into your ear. “Never felt anything this good… five stars from me.” He’s fighting to hold himself together.

You miss half of those words because you’re on the verge of an ascension.

“Eddie,” you breathe, somewhat startled. “Eddie, please. Can I come? I’m so close.”

“How close?”

Your voice goes airy and high because he’s hitting just the right spot. “‘M right there.”

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” Whining, you claw into his skin with the intent of making it sting, but it only makes his shoulders shake with a chuckle. “I’ll shut this whole show down if you wanna play that game—”

“So good!” you whimper, giving in. “You’re making me feel so good. Just… please.” You clench around him in hopes of earning an okay.

It almost makes him fold, come right on the spot, but he still forces out a, “Not yet, angel. I gotta practice telling you no, remember?”

His constant denial was only adding fuel to the fire of pleasure burning within you and he knew it.

By his next thrust, he could tell the beginnings of an unraveling had begun sweeping you under. Even though he sees it coming from a mile away, he nearly passes out himself when you let go.

Eyes closed, your walls flutter around him in a strong, rapid succession that carries on for a while. You’re being lifted somewhere higher than you’ve ever known. The world fades around the edges, and the distant sound of Eddie’s voice washes over you as your jaw slacks open.

There you go, that’s it. Couldn’t hold back any longer, huh?

Only when aftershocks begin to spark through you do you realize how deep your breaths have grown, and the new laxity of your limbs that makes you feel like you’ve become one with his bed, trembling weakly. A wonderful ache resides between your legs.

A gentle weight soon meets your lower stomach, and your eyes flutter open just enough to see. Eddie has pulled himself from within the warmth of you, and rested his slickened tip against your warm skin. You watch dazedly as he strokes himself a few good times before jolting and releasing onto your belly.

All you get is a glimpse of his blissed expression before he leans down to tuck his face into your neck. You lift a hand to his head and gently scratch at his scalp as you feel him begin to place soft kisses to your throat. You can still feel his cock against your belly, and you work your other hand between your bodies to wrap your delicate fingers around him.

His whole body shudders, and when you lightly circle your thumb around the tip your name breathlessly falls past his lips.

He grunts and makes you stop when you start to do the same lazy motion again, and you chuckle weakly.

“Oh, is that funny?” he asks, wrestling a smile. When you bite your lip and nod sweetly, he pushes himself up so he’s propped higher above you. “You wanna know what else is funny? I don’t think I ever gave you the green light to come.”

You blink up at him innocently. “I couldn’t help it.”

He begins tracing the underside of one of your breasts and you suck in a breath, gripping onto his wrist. He pulls from your hold, and that same hand trails down your body, over your ribs and down your sides. His fingers leave a tingly buzz in their wake. You try not to squirm too much because his spend is still on your stomach.

“I’m trying to decide if I should do something about it or be nice,” he says, ghosting a finger over your oversensitive clit.

When you whimper, his fingertips move to revisit one of the marks he left on the inside of your thighs, and the ticklish sensation makes your muscles tense as you huff out a tired laugh. He playfully quirks his brows at that reaction, but you can see the warmth in his eyes.

You smile when he leans down to give your lips a sweet peck. “I’ll be nice,'' he promises. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

•••

When midnight comes, sleep has found neither of you. You’re both fighting it, trying to stay awake so you can continue sharing hushed stories, soft caresses, and smiles that warm you right along with the sheets covering your bodies.

Your eyes are the first to begin fluttering, and Eddie stops talking when he notices.

“No, keep going,” you murmur. “I’m listening.”

“We can talk more in the morning,” he says. You shake your head no, and he chuckles. “Yes. Go to sleep.”

Before you have the chance to say anything else, he reaches out to turn the bedside lamp off. You press yourself closer to his body after he settles back beside you.

Neither of you say anything for a while, so you begin to assume he’s dozed off. When he speaks up again, his words are soft and honest, “This is what I wished for. A moment just like this.”

You mean to tell him that you think you’re in love.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

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xlatiwritesx · 3 months

Text

Serious, serious | CL16

A/N: an F1 imagine 🏎️ !!! Yes, yes, I’m into F1 finally, so I of course had to write something and who else would it be than THE Charles Leclerc. Ngl, this isn’t my best work but I just had to get this idea out of my system 😵‍💫. Hope you guys enjoy it !!

Words: 1.6K

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: after your first serious scare being an F1 girlfriend, you’re rewarded with a new found emotion.

…

Time is a funny thing. Humorous, at times. It goes fast or slow as it pleases. Chooses its pace to get on your weakest nerve.

For instance, the past three months flew by. Meeting him, texting for the first time, your first date, your first kiss, attending his first race, getting to know his friends.

It felt as fast as blinking an eye. Or as fast as you were falling for him.

"A Ferrari car is off the track!" The commentator's voice boomed through the TV speakers. You jumped to your feet from the leather couch you were sat on.

"Oh no" the commentator said soon after. Soon after Charles' car crashed into the concrete wall alongside the track.

Your heart fell, your breath quickening at a dangerous rate. You shut your eyes, reminding yourself of what Charles always said to you.

"Crashes happen. All the time. These cars, though, they're meant to protect us. So, crashes aren’t as dangerous as they seem in F1"

"He's okay" you whispered to yourself. However, when you opened your eyes, everyone's face didn't confirm that, though.

"Right?" You asked, looking around the Ferrari unit. Everyone was frozen, eyes glued on the screen that showed smoke coming out of the crashed Ferrari car.

Charles' car.

Your legs moved before you even decided. You ran so fast. Faster than any car still racing out there even though the world seemed to crumble and break into pieces.

You gasped for air, the wind making it colder than usual. You reached a half empty Ferrari station. All those screens deserted. You barely held yourself up. You wondered how bad was it that half the team had to go to the scene.

"Crashes are normal in Formula One. Almost inevitable"

Not when it's the guy that you were realizing meant much more to you than you thought. The thought terrified you. So much terrified you all of a sudden.

"How do I get there?" You didn't realize how panicked you were until you heard yourself speak. The man stared at you in confusion.

"How do I get to the crash?" You urged. You couldn't believe you were saying that.

"Ma'am, you can't just go-“

"No, no! I have to!" You could feel your eyes well with tears.

"It's Charles Leclerc! Hurry!" A group of paramedics ran to their veichle. You ran after them.

"Ma'am this is not allowed-"

"Please!" You begged them.

"I'm sorry, this is for authorized-"

"Y/n!" You turned around, desperate to believe what you were hearing.

"Carlos! Carlos, please tell me he's okay" you ran to the only person that you felt would care enough to tend to your worries.

"They're taking him to the hospital" he sighed, bowing his head, his fingertips barely holding his helmet.

"W-why?" You stuttered. He finally looked at you.

"Let's just go"

You silently followed Carlos to his car after he quickly changed out of his suit. The drive to the hospital drove you insane. So many questions. Wondering about so much, too much at once.

As soon as Carlos parked outside the emergencies, you ran out of the car and through the glass doors, not caring about all the chaos going just outside of them.

"How serious is it?!"

"Do you think Leclerc will be able to go back to racing?!"

"Will he be there for the next race?!"

It was a lot. Too much, even. You wanted to scream them away. Tell them that this wasn't the time to ask all those questions with bright cameras and microphones everywhere. To respect the other patients' and their families' privacy. But you care more about Charles right now. So you kept running until your hands hit the edge of the counter.

"Charles Leclerc just came in" you breathed. The nurse widened her eyes at your state and just pointed to where he was.

You got to his bed in no time, him just lying there, unconscious. You immediately held his hand and the waterworks began. Carlos walked into the curtain closed space and stood in front of the bed, leaning on the edge.

"Hey" he called so quietly. You just kept crying.

"I don't recommend dating a Formula One driver if you'll cry this hard every time he crashes" he said casually. You stopped sobbing and looked up and to your left. You glared. Carlos shrugged.

"Just saying" he said, looking away.

"Carlos!" You whined. He looked at you, but you just went back to looking at Charles.

You noticed some bruises already forming on his hands. You held it tighter. You felt like time was not moving. It just dragged on and on. Carlos stood there. You sat there. Charles laid there. Just like that. For eternity.

"You didn't eat anything. What do you want?" Carlos' voice reminded you of his existence. You slowly turned to look at him, your tears barely dried on your face.

"How can you be so…chill?" You asked. Not in annoyance. Just out of pure curiosity. Carlos frowned at you for a second, before breaking into a fit of laughter. You stared at him blankly, your hand still holding Charles' tightly.

"I'm telling you! This sport is not for the faint of heart!" He waved a warning finger at you and you frowned at him. This time in annoyance.

"We just" he sighed when he stopped laughing, only a smile left behind from it.

"We get used to this. To seeing it. To being victims of it" he said ever so casually that it terrified you. It was terrifying the things passion makes a person do. How far people would go for what they love.

"I'm getting food and you will eat it. Charles would kill me if he woke up to a starving you while I was just hanging here. Deal?" He raised a brow at you. You hesitated, but Carlos kept his gaze. You finally nodded.

"Good. I'll be back in a bit" he said before leaving. You watched him go and something warm filled you. Gratitude.

You were grateful for him staying with you. With Charles. Not all drivers care enough to do that, unfortunately. You didn't notice the smile on your face until a few minutes later. When Charles spoke.

"What's so funny?" He mumbled. Your eyes shot to his and you stood up in an instant.

"Charles?!" You exclaimed, tears filling your eyes for the millionth time today. He just blinked, wincing.

“Who won the race?” He asked, still trying to find his voice.

"Oh my god" you covered your face, walking away from his bed in disbelief.

“Seriously?!” You spun around, crying. You wanted to fight even harder when a smile slowly took form on his tired face.

“Charles do you know how terrified I was?! And all you’re worried about is who won that race?!” You kept scolding. He placed one arm behind his head, still watching you in amusement. You breathed heavily, not bothering to wipe your tears as you crossed your arms over your chest.

You watched him laying there, smiling with his arm under his head, giving him better view of your tear-stained face.

“You know what?” He spoke. You had to walk a step closer so you could hear him clearly.

“I don’t want to know who won the race. I want to know how on earth did I get this lucky” he started.

“Yeah! I’m so glad it just cane down to some bruises. And, and, you’re awake, and you’re talking, and you seem okay!” You rambled, now sitting by his side on the edge of the bed. He chuckled softly at you missing what he meant, raising a hand to wipe your tears, then tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Right when I realized what was happening, there was one thought that kept echoing in my mind” he whispered, suddenly all serious. Your heartbeat quickened, not enjoying the memory of watching him crash and not knowing what he was feeling or if he was going to be okay.

“I just kept thinking ‘fuck. I didn’t get to tell her I love her’” he confessed. You raised your brows slightly, surprised at the sudden confession. You’ve been together for three months now and neither of you had said it, yet.

But there it was. And it felt like the world that crumbled after the race was patched and stitched back to perfect, pristine condition.

You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. Charles smiled as well, his heart monitor exposing how important this moment was to him.

You leaned down and wrapped your arms around his neck carefully, holding him tightly to make up for all the fear of losing him. For all the fear of him not feeling the same way.

“I love you, too, Charles” you whispered.

You held each other for as long as it took for your flushed cheeks and racing hearts to quiet down, giving your new found feelings some sense of privacy.

Once you pulled away, your faces met, less than an inch apart. Charles leaned in. You were grateful there was no heart monitor on you, or that would’ve been the end.

“So, I didn’t know which is your favorite, so I got all flavors-“

Carlos’ voice sent you flying to your feet. Charles sat where he was and pierced his lips shut, staring at nothing in particular.

Carlos’ eyes danced between the two of you and he broke into a grin when he realized.

“I think it finally happened?” Carlos asked, hinting at what you both just confessed to one another. You glanced at Charles just to catch him glancing at you. He cleared his throat and you held back a smile.

“So now it’s serious, serious?” Carlos asked excitedly.

“Serious, serious” you both answered.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc ferrari #formula racing #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic

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b1rds3ye · 8 months

Note

hi!! this is my first time doing a request so idk if I'm doing this right haha but uh, I was wondering if you could do like. yknow the masked one you made for the 141 (I can't remember the name rn💔)? I thought of like, a sequel idea. like, what if during combat an enemy manages to take reader's mask, and so reader panics and like, rips the enemies throat out with their teeth (or if that's too violent, just goes basically rabid on them lmao) and how they would react?? if this is too violent or specific dw you don't have to!! anyways, I love your content it's totally awesome ur writing is amazing! have a good day!!

YES I LOVE THE BADASSERY AND THE UNHINGEDNESS!! If I'm your first request I'm so flattered anon pls do feel free to drop by again <333 Also just going to do general rabidness because ngl the throat thing sounds like an infection speedrun and we want our masked reader to stay nice and healthy <333

Word Count: 1.2 (it got a little long WHOOPS)

Warning: Canon typical violence, reader does get a lil sadistic and unhinged <333

Beyond Task Force 141 and Laswell, many - if not all - allied soldiers wondered about what lay under your mask. Obscuring even the eyes, your visage was more unreadable than Ghost's. Larger than life, a soldier among men.

There was a running joke that there was just nothing under your mask, perhaps an eldritch horror of sorts. You let the new recruits entertain the thought, it kept morale up as they conjured more myths of you. They said that no one has seen you without your mask. They were partially right.

It simply was that no one lived to tell the tale.

You were never one for close combat, but fighting terrorists was never smooth sailing. The chaos of battle had all of the 141 separated against the tight streets of Las Almas. How uncanny that you could not see your allies but hear their gunfire. Running out of ammo, you couldn't lament at your misfortune as a shoulder pummeling into your chest, sending you to the ground and the air out of your lungs. Head bashing against the floor you groaned as you furiously clawed up to whatever heavy weight was crushing your body. You were starting to make up the figure of a man hovering over you through the blurry haze of a concussion that filled your sight. The distant static of Price's voice through the radio, probably asking where the hell were you but you had more pressing issues at hand.

Through your struggle and flailing limbs you managed to wring the enemy's pistol off of them with a painful twist of their wrist. And they retaliated tenfold, a large sweaty hand reaching down and pressing your head back against the ground. Your adrenaline makes you writhe further, he was going to suffocate you, or worse, poison you with how fucking awful his hand smelt as the stink of burning gunpowder replaced any of your oxygen. But no, he committed a far worse crime.

A singular pull and the grating tear of fabric as your mask is pulled off of your face.

A heavy moment where your enemy looks down at you and his gaze is not like before. It's clear, it's deep. It is not looking at your facade but at you and you are no longer a soldier. You are merely a human, so fragile, so weak. One that is on the verge of death in a foreign land surrounded by bodies of fallen comrades and enemies alike. One whose mythos is all but lost at the victorious and leering smirk of an enemy as they take in your face.

That simply won't do.

Pulling your knee up to create space between you and the man, you pull out your tactical knife from your waist and drive it into his torso. His smile falls only to land at settle on yours below him, just like his blood that trickles as forbidden crimson down your hands and seeps into your uniform. It's disgustingly warm. He grows heavier as he loses all control over his body and you heave to throw his figure off to the side. You stab him once again for good measure. And then again. And again. Quick, short jabs down with a sharpened blade that cuts through uniform, flesh and bone alike. You did not count how many times you drove your blade down, numbers were too complex when your mind was running faster than any comprehensible speed. There was only one goal. To make sure no one knows what happened.

A harsh grip on the shoulder yanks you back up and you swipe with your armed limb to cut your new assailant's neck but they were onto you. Catching your arm, they pull it up as they hold onto your shoulder once again with a tightening grip that digs into your uniform. But they do nothing more, no matter how much you thrash and kick.

"Wake up, Sergeant," your opponent seethes and that voice makes you still, a buoy that floats across through your rage. Deep and grounding and your captain's.

You nearly stumble back but Price catches you before you crumple to the ground in exhaustion. The adrenaline was escaping your body leaving you with barely the energy to stay upright. Your head lolls back for a second before you bring it to the side to look at your direct superior, the remnants of a concussion making your vision blurry.

"You broken?" he asks.

"Negative, sir,” you respond immediately but he looks a little doubtful, a singular eyebrow raised as he inspects you. Not your body, but your face. The dilated pupils and the taut muscles told more than any wound.

"Can't say the same about your wee friend over there," Soap whistles as he tilts his head to behind you. “Christ, you did a number on him.”

You dare turn to look over your shoulder but Ghost already situated himself in front of the body. But between his feet you could already make out the indistinguishable mass of tattered fabric and discoloured flesh. Fresh blood filled the rivets between the cobblestones, the remnants of the body inching its way closer to you-

"Was it the mask?" Simon brings your attention back to him. You nod dumbly. He only dips his head in what you can only describe as understanding as he folds his arms, fortifying his stance in front of the mess you made. You weren’t going to see your handiwork, he was too kind to ever let you.

John drops his hands down to his sides as Gaz approaches you with your mask.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Kyle offers you a sympathetic smile.

"Learnt that the first day I saw 'em on duty," Johnny retorts and you instinctively smile as you take your mask from Kyle. The hardened plaster of your mask had cracked, the fabric that hugged your neck had become torn but it'll do for the remainder of the mission. Slipping the mask back on, Simon offers a nod of approval while Johnny tugged at the fabric for a few finishing touches.

Ultimately the mission was successful. The task force returns to base and although none of the boys mentioned the carnage you left, there are still whispers of it on base. You had hurried to debrief and get your mask fixed but it seemed some privates caught sight of you and that was enough to spark rumours. Your mask had gotten so fractured that a shard was left back in the streets of Las Almas and revealed one of your eyes to the rest of the world. Such a small organ but so vivid. The privates saw, and more was added to the myth that was you. There was now no question about what was under the mask. No lovecraftian horror or empty space, no monster beyond comprehension. No, what was under your mask was terrifyingly human.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #anon mail ❤️#/*avery checks the mailbox*/#/*avery actually writes*/#/*cod x masked reader*/

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lilac-witch · 2 months

Note

Hi cute! how are you? I hope you're well! You could write about Az returning with Feyre from training and they are talking and Az is so unfocused that he doesn't notice that there is another person in the room besides the ic, so y/n screams and runs out to hug Az and they're over. falling to the ground haha they are best friends who have feelings for each other. Y/n had been away on a mission and didn't know Feyre but she knew her from EVERYTHING Az had been telling her jandjsmcjsldk thanks baby

First request! Super sweet ask and a great idea :)

Gadzooks - Azriel x Reader

masterlist | part 2

Summary: After weeks away on a mission, Y/n returns to her family in the Night Court, with the addition of a new member. And thanks to Azriel, she feels like they've known each other forever. Meaning: "an exclamation of surprise or annoyance" Word Count: 658 Warnings: None.

------------

"A letter has arrived for you, m'lady."

Y/n's head drifted from the paperwork before her, to the Peregryn male situated at the door. She motioned for him to come forward, receiving the envelope swiftly.

Once the male had left, Y/n tore into the white paper.

Dear Y/n

So much has happened since you left for Dawn. Feyre is officially living in Velaris, and I've taken over her training regiment. Let's just say her technique could use some work.

She's great though, perfectly suited for Rhys. If only the stubborn bastard would finally confess to her that they're mates.

I miss you. Cassian is as annoying as ever, and Rhys is so busy fretting over Feyre, so there isn't anyone to really talk to.

I hope everything is going well in Dawn, and I can't wait to see you again.

Your loyal friend, Azriel.

Y/n smiled as she finished reading through the letter. Over the many weeks that she had spent in Dawn Court, Azriel had kept her up to date on all things Feyre-related. From their first meeting, to the trauma she'd endured, Y/n knew it all.

Perhaps it was time she returned home. It was coming up on three months since she'd left, and Thesan seemed to no longer require her services. Yes, it was time to return to Velaris.

-------------

"You did well today," Azriel said as he and Feyre strode through the halls of the House of Wind.

"I feel like I'm getting stronger. The regimes no longer hurt so much," she laughed.

"Well then, maybe they could do with an upgrade," Azriel stated, lips twitching upwards into a smirk.

"Don't you dare, Shadowsinger."

Azriel was about to open his mouth in retort, when a solid object collided with his body, propelling him towards the floor.

Azriel would have been concerned regarding his shadows' lack of vigilence, or even his own instincts having not kicked it, had it not been for the warm vanilla scent that filled his nose.

"Y/n..." he mutter, arms wrapping around her warm body. "When did you get back?"

"A little while ago," she muttered into his neck, hot breath hitting his skin in the most delectable way.

"I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you too, Az."

The heartfelt moment didn't last long, courtesy of his brother.

"If you two lovebirds are done, I believe introductions are in order."

Azriel glared daggers into Cassian's skull, doing his damnedest to keep the blush that crept up his neck, at bay.

He helped Y/n up, hands lingering on her waist for a second longer than what just 'friends' would do.

Rhysand cleared his throat, stepping towards the female at his side.

"Feyre, meet Y/n, the last member of our inner circle, and my most trusted emissary. Y/n meet Feyre..."

"I've heard all about you," Y/n stated, mouth spread wide in a smile. "All good things of course."

Feyre's face grew warm, and her eyes met Azriel's.

"Is that so?"

Y/n nodded, taking a cautious step forward, before wrapping an arm around Feyre, guiding her towards the kitchen.

"Indeed it is, and what better way to get to know me than over a cup of tea. Has Azriel mentioned I make a mean cup of tea?"

"He has not," Feyre stated, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

"Hm, how rude," Y/n huffed, smiling at Azriel as the pair disappeared from sight.

He felt his stomach flutter at the sight of that beautiful smile. It had been too long since he'd last seen it.

"You know, you complain about me not confessing to Feyre, but I've had to watch you tiptoe around Y/n for over a century," Rhys drawled, a teasing smirk on his obnoxiously handsome face.

"No one asked you," Azriel grumbled, heading in the direction the two females had gone, in hopes of escaping more of his brother's playful jabs.

------------

And I'm back!

it feels so good to be able to write again, and to be able to bring your requests to life. A reminder that my inbox is open to all your dreams and wishes ;)

Until next time lovelies :)

#acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #rhysand #cassian #feyre archeron #dawn court #thesan

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grimesthinker · 1 year

Text

cw: fluff, basically daryl being soft for you. (fem!reader x daryl dixon) 776 wc

DARYL DIXON had no idea what to do when it came to someone like you. to say the least, he didn’t quite understand you. you had proved countless times you could take care of yourself, so you weren’t weak by any means. still, there were small things that made him really question you.

after daryl’s group got settled into alexandria, they had many new faces to meet, including yours. even though he wouldn’t admit it, daryl was instantly drawn to you. with rosy cheeks, long eyelashes and an innocent smile, he just couldn’t help it. he began to notice small things about you, like the clothes and accessories you wore. although your closet was obviously limited, you always tried your best to make your appearance seem fuller. sometimes you found pieces of cloth or silk, to which you would make bows out of to place in your hair. sometimes you made jewelry, even making a bracelet for daryl. you weren’t really expecting him to wear it, but he did.

one day, you asked daryl if you could join him on a supply run. “nah, i ain’t babysittin’.” he said in a grainy voice as he lit the cigarette between his lips. you didn’t let up though, using those big puppy-dog eyes to plead with him. “damnit girl, don’t ‘ya ever listen?” he grunted, but eventually gave in.

on the way back, unknowingly to both of you, a walker that been stuck in the leaves grabs your shoe and causes you to trip. daryl quickly shoots the creature with an arrow and helps you up. he watches as you grab his hand and gain back your balance. he can tell you’re flustered, as your cheeks grow darker than normal and you fail to meet his eyes. a shy thing, you could be sometimes. he studies you as you thank him and stutter an apology for not watching where you step.

instinctively, you touch your neck where your necklace rests, only there’s no necklace. panic begins to build and daryl can see it written all over your face. “you okay?” you look up at him, shaking your head. “my necklace…” your hand begins to shake a little, and daryl realizes. you’ve worn the same necklace since he first met you, a rusty gold chain with a heart shaped locket. he heard you speak about it to carl once, explaining how it had a picture of your family in it. you drop to your knees and start looking for it, daryl about to join you when you both hear growling in the distance. a herd is coming your way, daryl realizes and touches your shoulder. “hey kid, we gotta go.” he tells you, but you shake your head and continue to search. daryl watches as the herd moves closer, his frustration building as you’re putting yourself in danger. “get yer ass up girl, we gotta go.” he pulls you up, yet his gaze softens when he sees the tears that have already fell down your soft cheeks. “daryl, i can’t-“ you start, but he’s already pulling you both out of the way of the herd and back to alexandria.

a few days pass, and all daryl can think about is you and that damn necklace. you haven’t been the same since you guys returned, and everyone has noticed. usually, you’re the most talkative person in alexandria, but recently you’ve only been speaking when you have to. daryl winces when he thinks about it, absolutely hating the fact that you’re any kind of upset. after stealing a glance of you through your window and seeing the sullen expression on your face, he grabs his crossbow and heads into the woods. a couple hours later, he finds himself standing at your doorstep.

he knocks, and you answer with a soft smile. “hi daryl.”

“uh,” he clears his throat, holding his hand out with the gold necklace in it. “i had to fix the chain but the locket is still intac-“ you cut him off as you throw your arms around his neck and embrace him with a hug. “daryl!” his eyes widen as he stands, unsure what to do with his own arms as he registers the body pressed against his own. “thankyouthankyouthankyou!” you pull back, taking the necklace from his hand and clasping it around your neck. you look down at it before you place a kiss on daryl’s cheek. his stubble tickles you and you give a slight giggle, pulling him in for another hug. he’s taken back at first, but eventually wraps his own hands around your frame.

“you sure are stronger than ‘ya look, huh, girl?”

#daryl x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #twd daryl #twd imagine #twd fluff #norman reedus

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pinkrelish · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Surely, when two friends set up their two friends on a blind date in the very small town of Hawkins, they make sure those two people don't know each other beforehand, right? And, more importantly, aren't coworkers, right?✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, angst towards the end, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 3/20 [wc: 6.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 3: The Accidental First Date

“Is this too much?” you asked, yanking down the visor and checking yourself in the small mirror.

Sitting in the back parking lot of the movie theater, you went through your purse for the finishing touches on your look. Doing your last paranoia check for anything in your teeth, turning your head this way and that to zhuzh your hair, and most importantly, preening your oxymoron of a sweater to show a decent amount of cleavage without flashing the cups of your push-up bra.

Truly a walking contradiction of a top. Cable knit and warm, but with a plunging neckline, to where the top button started at your sternum.

“No, you look hot,” Robin assured with her goofy smile. “New York modest is Hawkins slutty. He’s gonna love you.”

You shrank into your girlish giggle. “Good, I want my dating debut in this little town to be a statement. Set the stage for future escapades.. Until I run out of men, I guess. Seriously, how many bachelors live here and aren’t total hicks? Four?” Robin laughed.

“Could be worse. You could be a lesbian.”

“True,” you concurred. “Good thing you have Vickie. Sucks she couldn’t come tonight.” Robin made a sad huff of agreement, working a mascara wand through her lashes. “Hey, I know I said ‘yes’ without asking, but is this guy you set me up with even my type? Not that I care, obviously; a good story is a good story, but I’m just trying to set my expectations here.”

She furrowed her eyebrows dramatically, and paused unscrewing her lip gloss to rock her entire body into a positive affirmation–almost bumping her forehead on the steering wheel from the force of her nodding. “Oh, absolutely,” she said emphatically. “Looks scary on the outside, but is a total sweetheart on the inside. Overconfident, and obnoxious, but in that charming, swoony way.”

“Perfect!” You clasped your hands together.

Stepping out of the car, she waited for you so you could walk with your arms linked together, and she continued, “I haven’t seen him in years, but Steve was telling me over the phone that he’s been going through a tough time, and hasn’t been on a date in a while.”

“Aw, poor guy.”

There was a beat of silence where both of your faces twisted into knowing smiles.

“I know what that look means..” Robin led, canting her head to you.

Innocent, you lifted your shoulder in a coy shrug, bringing a collection of her soft hair up to your chin. “No idea what you’re talking about. I was just thinking, if he hasn’t been on a date in a while.. Why not make it memorable for him?”

You laughed together, rounding the sidewalk to the front entrance of the theater where the glamorous marquee shined gentle daylight upon the darkened street. Romantic and intimate, with a crowd of people standing in vague suggestions of lines; some broken off, gossiping, smoking.

“There they are,” Robin whispered, letting go of your upper arm to wave at Nancy–who you had met at the grocery store last week. She saw you approaching, and tapped her hand on the chest of the man beside her.

Still a considerable distance away, you peered at him, and placed his luscious hair in your memory. “Oh, that’s the guy who came to the shop today.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, he was talking to the annoying mechanic I’m always telling you about.”

“The one you have a crush on?”

“Shush,” you bristled at the mention of your not-so-secret. “I do not have a crush on Eddie. Anyway! Did I tell you what he did this morning? He fuckin’ stood outside the window next to my desk, just out of my view for like, full on minutes, waiting for me to look at him. Like Michael Myers or some shit. Scared me half to death.”

Robin, still caught on one detail you had somehow failed to mention in the month you worked at the auto body shop, quietly asked, “..Eddie?”

“Yeah, my coworker,” you answered, not looking at her when she fell a step behind, since you were too focused on greeting Nancy, and introducing yourself to Steve to notice her sudden jog up behind you. Too fixated on complimenting Nancy’s skirt to witness the way Steve aimed his confused frown just past your shoulder. Missed his dismissive hand gestures, and Robin’s panic as she tried to wordlessly communicate something dire to him.

You were too busy listening to the cars cruise by on the street, and chatting casually, and savoring the warmth of a new friendship to scrutinize the sound of quick footsteps from the other direction, or the jangle of metal chains attached to their presence, or Robin’s damning groan.

“Sorry, I’m–” a familiar voice said. A bit nasally and on the higher side. Mirthful, awake with youth, and excited to make a good first impression.

You turned to them. Your date.

“..Late,” they trailed off.

Deer in headlights. Big, brown doe-eyes wide with surprise, framed by beautiful black lashes.

He stared at you.

His stomach sank.

You stared at him.

Your heart raced.

Eddie had stopped mid-step with his hand raised in greeting. The chains on his leather jacket tinkered until they stilled. Kind smile frozen from a better time. Chest filled with a held breath. Presenting himself with his best foot forward, and now his ears were tinted with the embarrassment of trying too hard to impress.

Oh, God.

You blinked away, and were intentional to accept the situation for what it was without showing your surprise, opting for a simple, timid, awkward, shaky, exhaled, “Hey, Eddie.”

He wasn’t so poised.

Shutting his eyes, he allowed the realization to wash over him, scrunching his face in a pained expression as the puzzle pieces slotted into place. He hung his head, and released his breath through his nose. “Your roommate is Robin,” he stated, pointing at her to punctuate his sentence. “And you call her Bobbie.”

“Yeah..” It was an apology as much as it was a confirmation.

“You still call me Bobbie?” Robin asked, tugging on your sleeve, forgetting the tense air surrounding the group for the moment. “I haven’t used that stage name in years.”

“Guess it stuck with me..”

Thankfully, someone else added to the conversation. Unfortunately, that person was Steve addressing the elephant outside the ticket booth.

“So, I take it you two know each other,” he deduced, looking from Eddie’s dejected gaze at the ground, to you wringing your purse strap over your chest.

Eddie enlightened him in a solemn tone, sparing a single glance at his friend, “She’s the receptionist at work.”

“Ah.” He turned his attention to Robin. “You set up two people who work together.”

She threw her hands up and blamed him, “Uh! No way, dunce, don’t put this on me. This whole thing was your idea, and at no point in the conversation did you tell me Eddie was a mechanic! If you had told me he was a mechanic I probably could’ve put two-and-two together myself, and avoided setting up people who see each other every day.”

Increasingly red-faced, Steve very pointedly avoided Eddie’s suspicious squint after being outed as the one who set up the date, not Nancy. “You’re the one who lives with her, how could you not–?”

“Okay!” You clapped once to end their bickering. “Then it’s not a date.”

Nancy, bless her, picked up her improv skills fast. “Yeah! Not a date. Just a casual outing between friends. Steve, get the tickets ready so we can get popcorn before the line gets too long.” There was a ripple of unanimous murmurs, followed by shuffling to the entrance.

“Silver lining,” Nancy muttered out the side of her mouth to Steve, “It’s a movie date, so it’s not like they have to talk to, or look at each other.”

Steve tempered his laugh to a hiss and held the door for Robin, who in turn kept the it ajar behind her for you, but as you went to catch it, it was opened for you.

Clack- clack- clack. You’d heard the sound every morning; his distinct rings on the metal frame of the glass door beside your desk, followed by his soft grunt when pulling it open. But whereas his whispered ‘morning’ normally echoed in the tiled lobby, it was now on the back of your neck, fanning your skin, and it wasn’t a sweet greeting, but a reserved, solemn, regretful, sad, “Sorry for.. yeah.” That’s how he started your date that wasn’t a date. With an apology. And still, as the crisp autumn air was replaced by the humid waft of buttery popcorn, your brain was stuck at the garage, filling in the drag of his heavy work boots on the way to the breakroom for coffee, and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke trailing his stride.

Except, as you were jolted back to reality, you came to know he didn’t present himself so generically outside the context of motor oil. Due to the traffic clogging around the ticket ripper, Eddie ran into you and you discovered the nuances of what he smelled like when not at work, with the added intimacy of his chest pressed to your back.

Worn leather enveloped by notes of vanilla musk cologne. Spicy deodorant carried by the sweet earthy tang of tobacco. Dove White on his heated skin, and Dawn on his hands.

A symphony you could immerse yourself in learning for hours if it wasn’t for the crime of your group moving forward.

“Did you want anything?” Eddie asked you, pointing at the concessions.

“Oh, no, I’m good.” You made a clawing gesture at your mouth. “Eating popcorn before the movie even starts because I have no self control and then being forced to sit there with kernels in my teeth drives me nuts.”

Not finding you as endearing as you intended, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and motioned for both of you to stand off to the side, out of the way while you waited for the others to get their snacks. And he just stood there. Not saying anything. You were turned to him as if to carry a conversation, but his gaze was set ahead; not on anything in particular, just away from you.

Rarely had his face been this slack, this devoid of emotion. Even when doing menial work like filling out invoices for parts you would need to order, there was activity. Liveliness in the tic of his eyes reading lines on the paper. Movement of his tongue sliding across his top lip. A subtle crease between his brows. Something. Anything.

You spoke above the giggly teenagers sneaking into the film next door, “For a stick in the mud, you look nice.” He really did, in his well-loved jacket draping his frame after years of being broken in to perfection. Tight black jeans. Sensible boots. More accessories than just his rings.

Try as he might to cut you an unamused look, his freshly washed hair bounced in immaculate waves around his face, catching the low mood lighting like a messy halo.

“Thanks,” he said, not meaning it.

“I can see why you don’t get many dates if you always look this miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Glum, then? Woebegone? Hapless? Crestfallen?” When he seemed hellbent on wishing he were anywhere else, you eased up on your act. Harboring the pit of rejection eating away at your stomach, you pried, “Disappointed?”

The glimpse of vulnerability in your words was not lost on him.

He snapped to, shaking himself out of his funk to reassure you in his gentle timbre amongst the chaos of someone beating the top score on the pinball machine, “I’m not disappointed to be here with you.”

“Then what are you?”

“Sorry,” he guessed, shrugging. He was the type to speak with his hands, moving them despite being confined to his pockets. “I’m sorry our friends suck at communicating and this is how your night turned out; you being here with me when you were clearly expecting someone else.” His gaze didn’t dare dip lower than your nose, but the effort you put into your appearance did not go unnoticed. It wasn't the first time he stared a little too directly into your eyes after you decided to stop covering yourself up.

“I don’t go on dates intending to find my one true love or anything lame like that,” you said, honestly. “I go on them to have fun, and I think we can still have fun, even if we have to share the same tiny lunch table come Monday, and we side-eye Carl for bringing tuna again.” He almost smiled at that.

Sensing he needed another boost of confidence, you kept going, “Before I knew it was you, Robin was talking you up in the car. Going on about how my date was some sweet guy, super handsome, and with a heart of gold. You know, the Prince Charming type. Oh, and totally obnoxious too. Real loudmouth who never shuts up.”

Okay, maybe some of that was ad libbed, but you wanted to know how much of it was true.

Eddie shifted from foot to foot, subduing his grin by biting his tongue, literally. “That’s a pretty apt way to describe me back in high school, yeah, especially with how I’m dressed.”

“What changed?”

“Uh, I had a kid,” he laughed. “She stole all my charm. I swear Adrie can talk me into anything.”

“I think you’re just a pushover.”

“Probably,” he surrendered. Raising his brows, he mused aloud one of the many things on his mind, “Do you not agree that she described me accurately? Sweet Prince Charming guy, all that?”

There was no way in hell you were going to speak your truth. Instead, you smirked. “I don’t think you want to know what adjectives I’d use to describe you.” They were far too vulgar to utter in a crowded room. Hot in the most annoying way. Absolute pain in my ass. Just the worst, especially when I don’t hear you sneak up behind me in the kitchen, and you think it’s funny to scare me right as I open my drink from the Coke machine, and you laugh your stupid laugh when I drop it. An absolute eye-sore when you look up at me while you're on your hands and knees cleaning up the mess you created. Irritatingly handsome when you grin and buy me another one.

Ignorant to your private thoughts, he swung his elbow out to push you, and smiled.

Relaxing into the natural lull in conversation, you both watched your friends make it to the front of the line and order their food. They waited at the counter, starting the clock on when they would inevitably make it back to the two of you, and cease your alone time with Eddie. (Although, first, they’d have to traverse an entire bucket of dropped popcorn, and navigate around more than one group of children reenacting a fight scene they just watched on the big screen.)

“Were you disappointed I was your date?” you asked.

Robin was right. Eddie was a sweetheart. As soon as he detected an inkling of insecurity–whether it be in your strained voice, or etched into your face, or imbued in the question itself–he was quick to absolve your worry.

“No, no,” he said. “Relieved, if I’m being honest.”

“Relieved?” You weren’t expecting that.

“There’s a reason I haven’t dated since having Adrie. It didn’t sound like Steve made it clear to.. you, well, my anonymous date which happened to be you. Jesus, this is confusing. Whatever, you know what I mean, he didn’t say if he told my would-be date that I’m a dad, and I was afraid of coming here and having to tell them myself. Even if we hit it off, it’s a deal breaker for some people, y’know? Not that I blame them. I would’ve said the same thing five years ago.”

You nodded as you listened to him. “Never thought about it from that perspective. All my dates have been one-and-dones. Super casual. Kids were never really brought up.”

“Yeah, the dating world isn’t always so gracious. I’m kinda glad I’m here with you–someone who knows me, at least.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Steve raising his sodas above his head as two boys ran past him, pretending they were in a shootout.

Knowing he wouldn’t have time to respond, you informed Eddie, “You’re worrying about the wrong thing. Adrie’s an angel. You should be more concerned about your curmudgeonly attitude being a deal breaker.” His narrowed-eye glare had never felt so sweet.

Robin’s giddy presence became known. She dropped her chin to your shoulder with a satisfied hum, and wrapped her arm around your waist to hug you snug to her body. You laid your head on top of hers, swaying with her.

She must’ve made a face at Eddie, because a different emotion flinched across his features, and he was back to avoiding making eye contact.

You, however, were more enticed by the drink in her hand than analyzing his change in demeanor. “Shit, now I want an Icee.”

“Yeah, I got cherry,” she said, angling the straw towards you. “They have Coke too–Okay, bye, dork,” she giggled after you.

“Go ahead and sit without me! I want an Icee.” Nancy clutched the largest size of popcorn to her chest to avoid spilling it as you stumbled out of Robin’s hold and darted for the concession stand.

Eddie raised his voice, “You couldn’t have decided that five minutes ago when I asked?”

“Nope!”

————

The theater for the low budget horror flick reflected the town’s perception of it. As soon as the heavy door closed behind you, your footsteps on the dense carpet echoed around the empty room. Your group was sitting in the back row, and their murmurs could be heard from the bottom.

You climbed up to them and flumped into the seat next to Eddie. “We can share,” you said excitedly, shaking the drink at him before placing it in the cupholder at the end of the single armrest.

When the subtle pinch of concern around his eyes remained, you promised him you didn’t have cooties.

He played with his rings, pulling them down the length of his fingers and spinning them while he worked through his confusion. “You don’t have to sit next to me.. You can sit next to Robin.” He motioned beside him, to Steve munching on his popcorn while Nancy held it, and Robin whispering on the end, rolling her eyes at something Nancy said.

“Why wouldn’t I sit next to you?”

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to settle on what he wanted to say, and finishing with a submissive shrug, leather jacket groaning at the act. He bounced his foot quicker, shaking the aglets on his laces against his boot in a chaotic rhythm. “Dunno..”

“You’re silly. I’d pinch your cheek if I didn’t think you’d bite me.” He reeled at that, and you giggled. You didn’t mind making him balk at your weird quirks; whatever put him at ease. Rather, whatever made him stop rubbing his knee against yours, because you were certain the friction was about to cause a fire.

Digging through your purse, you took out a rectangular box and slid your finger under the flap, popping it open and dumping a handful of candy into your palm. You threw it back into your mouth. “Want sh-ome?” you chewed, offering the box to him.

“Who the hell eats Mike and Ikes?”

“Uh, me, jerk.” Right as the lights dimmed to pitch black, and the curtains drew back from the screen, you hit him with the most exaggerated pout. “I only eat them at the movies. They’re a ritual, and you’re rude.” The shadows lining his face twisted into a deeper grin. “Are you more of a chocolate guy?”

“Maybe,” he answered like he was suspicious of your motives.

And maybe he should be. Afterall, you committed the number one sin when it came to cinemas.

“Looks like I chose right,” you said, reaching into your purse and pulling out a Kit Kat. “I was hoping my date would be a chocolate sorta guy–” You went quiet seeing his eyes widen a touch. “I mean, not date. Begrudging coworker? Tentative acquaintance?”

“Reluctant friend,” he answered smoothly, taking the package from you and ripping it open with his teeth.

~~~

Trailers for other films played, bathing the room in flickers of light interrupting the darkness. The opening credits began. Your candy was half-eaten. His was devoured. You took a sip of your Icee, and from the vantage point of pressing your back into the cheap theater seat, you observed him in your periphery.

His gaze hardly left the drink. Your offer to share it gnawed at him in a visible way. Scoping out the straw, the possible trace of spit you left behind, the possible trace of spit he’d leave behind. He peered at the screen to acknowledge the intro, and then back down it was, boring holes into the Icee.

You were no better, nibbling at your lips when he finally caved and took a sip–all too quick, and clumsy, almost missing the cup holder when he put it back down with lightning speed.

The edge of your thighs touched under the arm rest; worse so, when you folded one leg under you, and leaned into him. “Do you hate it when people talk during movies?”

“Not these kind.” He meant the genre in general, which made for great fodder for ripping apart in friend groups, but another popular trope among this realm of fiction became apparent. The first set of tits flashed on screen, and you both found yourselves lacking in the commentary department.

After a moment, you tilted your head. “That actress looks familiar..”

“She’s been in other cult classics. Always acts with her eyebrows.” He turned to you and nudged your shoulder, vying for your full attention. He emphasized the end of each word with an inflection as if it were a question, and raised his eyebrows in every way possible, mocking her slowly, “She’s the one who always talks like this–!” He looked crazy contorting his face to make his point.

“That’s it!” You snapped. “Her wearing glasses really threw me off.”

“Mhm.” His hum vibrated along your upper arm pressed to his, and he asked quietly under the screams of the first gorey death, “Do you like B movies?”

“Hell yeah. Back home they would play them at this rooftop drive in place. I rarely paid to watch them, though. The next building over had a good view of the projector screen.”

His banter dropped in favor of chewing on the corner of his thumb. If it wasn’t for the wild change in scenery cast across his face, you could’ve sworn his faint smile faltered into inscrutability.

Did you say something wrong?

————

“Damn, that was a cool practical effect,” Eddie complimented the purplish fizzing ooze that once was a person.

“I know, right? That’s why I love these bad movies. There’s no budget for good CGI, so they have to do creative stuff like that.”

It was inevitable. Bound to happen. A mere act of fate. Stars aligning in the close knit group leaning forward to exchange witty quips about the hare-brained plot holes in the movie, and not minding their surroundings except to receive everyone’s laughter, making jokes at the expense of the bad acting.

Steve was asking a question that was technically answered by the movie’s lore if he’d paid attention to the dialogue during the second gratuitous stripping scene. You or Eddie could have answered, but Robin took it upon herself to explain, and you two nodded along.

Absentminded, you reached for the Icee.

Distracted, Eddie reached for the Icee.

The waxed paper cup was cold under your fingers, but your hand was blanketed by warmth.

Slow to process, you both glanced down at the reason why neither of you were achieving your goal, and the overload of sensory inputs faded away to one: touch.

Your thumb was trapped under his palm, and his fingers stretched around the cup, meeting yours on the other side and housing them beneath his in a steady amount of pressure. They were almost interlocking. Holding. Wrist on top of wrist–his with the extra harshness of his leather and chain bracelet on your skin. The heaviness of his forearm resting on yours.

Truly, the accident lasted all of two pumps of your heart, but it felt like more when he stroked his calloused fingertips over your knuckles as he let go.

“Sorry!” he blurted.

“S-Sorry,” you laughed, jittery from the encounter.

Your cheeks were hot. His were flushed red. The lewd moaning of a woman feigning to orgasm just from the male lead removing her bra alone played in the background. Neither of you could decide which plan of escape was less embarrassing: continuing to stare like idiots at each other, or watch the actress’ ginormous boobs bounce as she faked riding a guy.

You blinked. His eyebrows ticced up.

Boobs it was.

He adjusted how he sat, tugging his jeans down his legs a little, and crossing his arms. Eyes laser focused on the woman’s face. The why was obvious, and you couldn’t help but tease him for pretending to be a gentleman in your company when you held no such modesty when it came to ogling her tits.

“Thinking about how much Aquanet she uses?”

“Shut up.”

————

Later into the film, after the plot circled back to the juicy gore, you leaned into Eddie to ask him a question.

What that question was, you couldn’t remember.

As soon as you placed your elbow on the armrest and used the back of your hand to tap his shoulder, he dipped his head to hear you. It was an automatic thing starting from the moment you slouched in your seat. That’s all. A shift in your sitting position and intake of breath, and he knew you were going to speak, and he wanted to listen. He cared about what you had to say. He leaned into you as well, because listening to you took priority over the movie.

“Eddie?” You sought any words. Any words at all. Any would do. Any question, even if you knew the answer. “Uhm. The music sounds really familiar. Do you recognize it?”

“It’s the same composer as Chopping Mall and Deathstalker II.”

“Ah.”

Ah. All you could muster when you were charmed by the silhouette of his lips moving. Watching them form letters, pout on the plosives, press into a line on his thick swallow.

Ah. All you could say when his hair brushed over your fingers. Dry, in need of a deep conditioning. Curling around your forefinger. Tickling your palm.

Ah. All you could respond with when you lifted your gaze, and caught him staring at you like you stared at him.

————

As predicted, the filmmakers padded the runtime with another topless scene, and the movie ended on a witty one liner that included not one, but two puns, and no resolution to the numerous plot threads left hanging.

“That was.. certainly something!” Robin summed up, holding the doors open to the subdued hours of the night.

Once outside in the fresh air, the dynamic reverted back to its original status.

Your friends made themselves scarce in the worst way; whistling, shuffling to the side as they found asinine things to comment on, leaving you and Eddie alone. Their intentions were pure, but reality was not so kind.

Eddie cemented his gaze on the sidewalk as he picked at his callouses, and apologized for the mistake of going out with you. Again. “Sorry about all this.”

Itchy sweat broke out across your back. It sucked he was so brazen about rejecting you. You had hoped some of the tender crush you had on him extended past the armrest you shared, the looks you shared, the touches you shared; but maybe you were just tricking yourself into finding things that weren’t there.

Wanting to end on a better note, you appealed to him in a last ditch effort to smooth over the situation, “I meant it when I said you looked good tonight. It’s nice to see you outside of your work clothes.”

“Thanks.”

That’s all. Thanks. A shy glance from beneath his curtain of messy hair, and a somber tone to maximize the awkwardness of the not-date with your coworker.

You needed to get the hell out of there. “See you Monday?”

“Yeah, see you Monday.”

The group winced in unison when they saw the way you two departed.

Robin was quick to link her arm with yours and gather you closer, bringing your heads together to gossip as you walked back to her car. “That bad, huh?”

Around the corner and out of sight, you gave her half a smile, trying to appear in better spirits. “Well, I don’t think he likes me. He didn’t return any of my compliments, and he apologized for being on a date with me no less than four times over the course of the evening.”

She cringed for you. “That’s worse than Balloon Guy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, remembering what would go down in history as the shittiest date you’d been on. “Yeah, that’s more times than Balloon Guy.” Robin hugged you tighter, making your steps go clumsy. She apologized for Eddie’s weirdness, but you shrugged. Maybe you were supposed to find it weird, too. Maybe you were supposed to disapprove of the idea of romantic feelings for your coworker, too. Maybe you were supposed to have no expectations for it to lead anywhere, too.

Maybe you were supposed to reject him, too.

————

Still loitering outside the theater, Steve exchanged a look with Nancy, and jogged to catch up with Eddie before he made it too far in the opposite direction.

“Uh, hey buddy!” Steve clapped him on the shoulder to stop him. “It sounded like you two were hitting it off during the movie, what happened?”

Eddie sulked under the question. His chest fell with a surrendering sigh, and his boots scraped the concrete as he turned to him, not bothering to mask the dullness in his slack expression. Everything about him was tired, including his voice when he slipped into a lower, raspy octave. “She’s nice, but..”

“But what?” Nancy asked, searching his face.

Bottling his burdens, he clenched his teeth, and worked his jaw as he contemplated evading their insistent prying; but after ruminating on it, he explained the source of his problems, “She lives a very.. whimsy life.” He fluttered his hand like a bird flapping its wings, or a butterfly. “She does this thing where she says ‘yes’ to anything anyone asks her; it’s why she moved to Hawkins, and why she ended up on this date to begin with. Y’know, just doing whatever seems like fun. It’s cute, in a way, and obviously I.. feel a way towards her, but this place isn’t where she’s looking to lay down roots. New York is her home.”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, knowing what was about to come.

“I’ve already been left for someone better.. I can’t go through that again.” Eddie’s eyes begged them to understand. “I don’t want Adrie to get attached to someone who’s just gonna leave.”

Nancy started, “Eddie–You don’t know if she’d leave.”

He shook his head, and pulled away from Steve’s lingering grasp. Shushed his friend’s well-meaning words about him being valued, and to forget his insecurities about not being good enough.

“A girl like that doesn’t need me weighing her down,” Eddie said, imparting the wisdom he’d come to accept since you made a mark on his life weeks ago, when it became your mission to befriend him. “I’ll pick up Adrie in the morning. Thanks for watching her.”

The night got darker as he left.

Darker still, when Steve waved at his back, and Nancy played with the locket around her neck, and her goodbye went disregarded.

————

Silence.

It surrounded him. Blood pulsing in his ears, his heart beat, the refrigerator hum, the tink of glass bottles as he grabbed the full six pack and brought it to the couch, springs squeaking under his weight.

Utter emptiness welcomed him.

Not a sound in his home. Not a giggle from his daughter, or scrape of a skillet from Wayne’s makeshift breakfast-dinner before he went to work. Even the dogs around the trailer park were quiet.

Just.. nothing.

It was what he wanted, right? A night to himself; a break from the chores, the questions, the food making, the taking care of a tiny human being who made everything tougher than it needed to be.

He got his wish.

Two beers down in peace, he got his wish.

Eddie looked around his trailer lit by the single lamp beside him.

Quiet, empty, nothing.

Dark silence.

The jolt of his sob startled him. It erupted from his chest so suddenly. Ripped from the tightness of repressed emotions; the things he tried to deny, to feel and then lock away. To keep safe, buried down deep where he could manage them from progressing past the boundaries he created for his own good, and Adrie’s. He felt the agony of them all at once. The morning smiles, the afternoon laughs, the evenings of pretending you didn’t plan to bump into each other in the doorway to the lobby. The game of seeing how long he could watch you twirl the phone cord around your finger before you looked up from your desk. Your sweet way of comforting him after the hard nights of Adrie’s sleep regression by taking his tan work jacket and draping it over his shoulders while he slept at the lunch table in the break room. Your gentle method of fixing his collar when it was tucked on the inside of his coveralls.

The date was too good to be true.

In fact, the truth itself was far more painful.

The date was amazing. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had more fun. More thrills, sure. But not more fun. There wasn’t a day in his youth where he experienced more of the flirty thrum in his veins than when he committed himself to learning the way your lips moved when saying his name in the darkened theater.

The date was perfect. He was happy. And he couldn’t have it again. Shouldn’t have it again. Wouldn’t have these feelings again.

Eddie doubled over and put his third beer on the floor before he spilled it. Nothing was discernible beyond the water invading his ability to see, to fathom his reflection in the old TV. Sad, miserable, and lonely. An idiot for finally getting attached to someone, and it was someone he wasn’t supposed to.

Tears slipped from between his lashes. He smeared them on his cheeks, covering his sweaty face from his possessions bearing witness to his stupidity.

It was in his best interest to reject you–reject your casual stance on dating, and relationships, and people with kids–but the face you made when your advances went underappreciated churned his stomach.

He needed to be stronger. But he was weak.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighed into the stale air. Opening another beer, he nursed it as he huddled into the corner of the couch, and searched for Adrie’s quilt to soothe him. But of course, he sent it with her when he dropped her off at Steve’s.

No baby blanket to hold onto. No Adrienne to sleep on his chest to ease the pain of loneliness. No reason to look forward to Monday after he royally screwed everything up.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned.

Maybe, if he apologized enough, there was a chance you wouldn’t hate him.

Maybe, if you forgave him, you’d go back to the morning smiles, and the afternoon laughs.

And maybe, if he was enough of a masochist, he’d let you gently ease past those boundaries meant to keep you, and your kindness out. If you wanted to trespass, that is. He didn’t know. He was an idiot.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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maybankswhore · 10 months

Text

BARBIE AND KEN

summary: you force rafe to dress up as ken to match you for the new barbie movie— and he starts feeling himself way too much.

warnings: cursing , a little cringe ( but i can’t resist soft!rafe x reader idc how fanon anyone thinks it is. this is the character development rafe we need in the next season. )

— no ‘barbie!’ movie spoiler!

Wearing his old clothes made him feel different. He had ditched the polo shirts for just plain tees. His hair was buzzed , no longer able to be gelled back in a way that made him spend alot longer looking in the mirror than he’d ever admit.

At first when you told him your idea , asking him if he’d do it with you , he was completely against it. He didn’t have a problem taking you to the movie— but he didn’t know how he felt about dressing up for it.

But the look on your face was too hard to let down and eventually , he cracked. A smile tugging on his lips while he rolled his eyes at you , shaking his head when you clapped happily and pulled out the bag of clothes you had bought for yourself.

“Remember that peach polo you’d always wear?” Your heart glimmered that piece of Rafe’s life. Even if he hadn’t been the most liked , and he seemed like a real big asshole— it was the start of everything and it always held such a big place in your heart. Knowing the boy him , before watching him become the man he was now was touching to you. Especially when you thought about him and how he’d watch you do the same. “I got you the same kind just a different color so it’ll match the dress I bought!”

Your smile took up half your face as you laid it on the bed beside you. Rafe’s face scrunched up at the color , rubbing his temples. “Oh fuck me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. The Rafe I knew two years ago would’ve ate this up and you know it!” Pointing an accusing finger in his direction , you burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh! Your perfect little hairstyle too. It’s time like these when I miss that asshole–esq haircut.” You sighed sadly.

Rafe scoffed as he picked up the shirt to examine it closer. “Please , you loved that haircut.”

“I did.” You giggled and stood up. You wrapped your arms around his neck to catch his attention , flushing at his eyes on you. “We’re gonna be so cute! You’re so Ken , Rafey.” You gushed. There were many things you loved and adored about Rafe , but your favorite was when he’d do whatever you asked— no matter how silly other people would think it was.

Rafe smirked and threw the shirt back on the bed lazily to hold your hips. “I am , aren’t I?”

“You so are.” You agreed , kissing at the apple of his cheeks. “You’re like. . . Polo Ken.”

“Okay I don’t dress like that anymore!” Rafe defended himself with a groan.

Your brain flashed back all the memories you had of him , the earliest ones making your heart flutter at how sweet and innocent things were. It all started with a teenage girl with the biggest crush on the King of Kooks— adorning him from afar until he finally cracked first. The relationship wasn’t always perfect and it had its bumpy moments , but the outcome would always make it worth it. Absentmindedly , your hands trailed up to the back of Rafe’s neck. Your fingers fiddled with his hair , feeling the edges of his buzzcut. You remembered when you’d run your fingers through it after his shower and all the gel would be gone. The loose strands of hair making him boyish and sweet , stripped of that ego and left with just him. “Remember those backwards hats?”

Rafe let out an exasperated noise and dropped his head low at your teasing. “Must you torture me with reminding me of my horrible fashion taste?”

“Mine wasn’t any better.” You laughed at yourself , remembering what you used to wear.

“Well back then , you weren’t wearing alot of clothes around me.” Rafe smirked , wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively.

Your cheeks burned up as you slapped his chest , backing away. “Anyways—” you huffed whilst he chuckled. “The movie’s in like two hours so I’m going to shower and get ready.”

“Perfect! Me too.” He grinned. Though his smile dropped as you grabbed your things and walked towards the bathroom without him.

“Not in the mood to be peed on today.” You sang towards him and shut the door.

You smiled at yourself in the mirror , smoothing down your hot pink dress. You had done all the works. The hair and makeup with the dress and wedges. You wanted to feel like a real Barbie , and right now— you did. Your smile couldn’t be any bigger and the girlish excitement you felt rumbling in your belly made your skin dance.

“Rafe! You ready?” You yelled out to him. You had decided in the shower that you wanted it to be a surprise. This would be something nostalgic for you , fun. You couldn’t wait to take all the pictures to store in your camera and keep as a sweet keepsake.

It was something you and Rafe were doing all on your own. It wasn’t Midsummers , or a special costume party. It was just a cute memory to make with your boyfriend , and it comforted you. You felt all the emotions in your belly. Your heart was racing and your cheeks were all flushed and you felt like a little girl again , meeting her crush on the first day of school. . . Even if it did feel a bit silly , it was nice.

“Yeah , baby. I’m ready , alright.” Rafe called back to you. He too couldn’t keep his eyes off the mirror. He looked like him , but not the him he was used to anymore. The attire holding onto so many feelings and memories. Some were good , and some weren’t so good. But it didn’t take away the small , innocent grin threatening to reveal itself on his face.

You threw the door open and was immediately filled with glee. Your eyes lit up at the sight of him , looking like the teenage boy you fell in love with. The two of you were only just entering your twenties— but seventeen felt like a lifetime ago now.

You clapped happily at him. Rafe couldn’t help the blush on his face at the feeling of your adornment. And you had looked— so pretty. It wasn’t just the outfit , but how you glowed wearing it. Your shoulders were squared and your face was so bright and Rafe swore he hadn’t seen anyone more beautiful. “Polo Ken is now my new favorite.”

Rafe smiled down at you. His thumb brushed your hair away from your face , and he couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and press a kiss to your lips softly. The lipstick the last thing on either of your minds. “You look so , so pretty.” He assured you.

“We are real life Barbie and Ken.” You hummed. “I don’t make the rules.”

And you were. Rafe had loved you then , and he only loved you twice as much if that was possible. Sometimes , he felt as though his heart would grow out of his body for you.

It was just you and him in your own little dreamland for now.

And you’d onto that , for now , as long as you could.

#rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe fic #rafe headcanons #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron x you

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