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kiwi-bitchez · 2 months

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The Girlfriend Experience

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie doesn’t think he’s cut out for dating. Self-resigned to a life of one and done hookups, you’re determined to make him see that he has the capacity to be a worthy companion… for when the right girl comes around. Fake Dating AU, classic corny fic for a fav corny troupe, Stranger Things canon divergent ofc, 18+ smut (see warnings below), big dick energy but also slightly emotionally unavailable!Eddie, yada yada yada, you know the drill.

Content warnings: AFAB reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol, smoking the devil’s lettuce, mention of panty stealing, food consumption, semi-public sex, fingering, PIV, Dom-ish!Eddie, oral (m and f receiving), pierced dick Eddie because I said so!, unprotected PIV sex, hair pulling, mild angst but nothing too angsty just like one heated conversation and Eddie feeling a little worthless but happy ending I promise

Word Count: 20k ahhhhhh!!!

A/N: Thanks to all those who comment and reblog! Your feedback and engagement makes my heart soar and keeps me motivated to write this filth! Sorry for the gargantuan length, in very-me fashion I always ending up writing one behemoth fic every so often rather than just separating it out into chapters. Also, realizing after the fact that I use the brand name ‘Goodwill’ a lot in this fic, which maybe not everyone might know is a thrift store, not sure if that’s just an American thing or not but figured it was worth noting.

“I guess I’m just not boyfriend material, ya know?” Eddie shrugs.

“Don’t say that, Eds,” your eyebrows pinched together, “different qualities are important to different people. Not everyone is looking to date a Steve, or a Brian, or a whoever. I’m sure someone is out there looking for an Eddie.”

“It’s not that,” he shot a look towards Steve, who, despite your analogy, was unfortunately everyone’s type and the textbook definition of boyfriend material.

“I just don’t think I’d be very good at gooey romance stuff, or even like, passable boyfriend behavior. I mean, look at me, I hardly take care of myself, I’m loud, I have no money, I’m basically every dad’s worst nightmare, do I need to keep going?”

“The nightmare thing can actually be a bonus,” Steve chimes in, “the whole bad boy persona can be a huge draw for most girls.”

“Sure Steve,” Eddie’s voice grows exasperated, “I’m the mysterious bad boy until they realize I’m a huge loser who runs not one but two dungeons and dragons groups. Real fuckin’ attractive I’m sure that is.”

“Shows you’re committed to something…” you trail off when his eyes tell you to stop coming up with a positive spin for every excuse he gives.

This whole discussion had started because of something that happened at the bar last night. A small group of you decided to meet up for drinks, your usual group of pals. It was a Thursday, so the bar wasn’t too busy. Your friends all squished into a booth in the corner, chatting and catching up over a plate of shared nachos, when Robin started making frantic gesture at you and Steve.

“Please just say what you’re trying to say instead of this elaborate charade,” Steve makes a few mocking hand signals back at her.

“Okay, one at a time, and keep it subtle,” her voice lowered to a whisper, for some reason, “over at the bar, some girl is totally flirting with Eddie.”

You and Steve both turn around. “I said not at the same time!” She whisper yells.

There was, in fact, a pretty girl with shiny hair and glossy lips doing a half fake laugh and pressing her manicured hand to Eddie’s bicep. You whip back around to find Robin with her mouth hanging open in a “can you believe this is happening” way.

“Good for him,” Steve swivels back around too, “She’s pretty hot.”

You return to your nachos, pretending there wasn’t a ping of jealousy in you. Eddie was your friend, that had been made abundantly clear.

When Robin introduced you to all her friends from high school, you had easily gotten along with all of them. You especially got along with Eddie. He was funny, authentic, abrasive at times, but a truly good person at his core, creative, protective, you could go on.

After getting to know him a bit, and developing a budding crush, you had made a few passes at him. Nothing too forward, just small compliments here and there, open ended offers to hang out that never lead anywhere.

It’s not like he flat out rejected you, but any feelers you were putting out to see if there was potential there were met with him looking past your flirtatious intent and just being his goofy, friendly self. He treated you exactly the same way he treated everyone else, which was awesome, except for when it wasn’t.

“Oh no,” Robin’s gaze was not subtly fixed on the unfolding scene at the bar, you and Steve watched her face drastically shift from confused, to a cringe, to an eye roll.

Still half whispering, as if Eddie could even hear your corner of the bar, “He’s totally blowing it. DON’T both turn around at the same time again.”

“Okay, so,” she starts before either of you can even confirm that you want to know, “she was totally laying it on thick, like you could see it from all the way back here. And he must have said something off putting, cuz all of a sudden she like went cold on him and pranced away. Shhhhh, okay okay, he’s coming back.”

She was acting as if she wasn’t the only one gossiping. You and Steve were innocent bystanders in all this.

“WHAT was that?” She immediately blurts out when Eddie returns to his seat, fresh drink in hand.

You and Steve share a side glance to sigh at Robin’s inability to be subtle, god bless her. Eddie shifts around awkwardly and lets out a forced dry laugh, taking a long sip from his drink before facing the wrath of a curious Robin.

“Oh, that,” he gestures to the bar as if she could be asking about anything else, “some girl. Not sure.”

“Not sure? Eddie she was FLIRTING with you,” Robin all but yelled, causing Steve to scan the bar to see if the girl in question had landed somewhere within earshot.

“I know that,” he hisses, “She just… wasn’t my type…”

“Okay sure, hot girl in a tube top and no bra isn’t your type, riiiiight,” Steve rolls his eyes.

“It’s just,” Eddie was so over this inquisition, “she asked if I wanted to get coffee.”

You, Steve, and Robin all give him a blank stare, trying to decipher what he could possibly have against getting coffee with a hot girl.

“That’s like,” he gets defensive, detecting the wall of confusion facing him, “something people do on a date. Coffee is serious, and I’m not a very serious guy.”

“What do you mean ‘coffee is serious,’ coffee is like, as casual as you can possibly be?” Steve’s tone now emulated Robin’s from earlier, half whispering, half yelling, all scolding towards his friend.

“That’s just not really my speed. Coffee dates and flowers and hand holding and all that,” he was avoiding eye contact with all three of you, “Yeah, she was hot, sure, and maybe if she had been like ‘hey lets go fool around in the bathroom’ then I wouldn’t be here having this lame ass conversation with you three. But I don’t do coffee dates, so I’m not gonna waste her time and pretend like I’m that sort of guy when I’m just not.”

“Well good on you for not leading her on, cuz I’m sure you could have agreed to the coffee date and still gotten lucky in the bathroom,” Steve mumbles, and you smack the back of his head lightly to scold him.

“So you only date girls who’ll fuck you in a bar bathroom the first time you meet?” You redirect your now equally scolding energy to Eddie.

“No!” He runs his hands through his hair, “I don’t date. Anyone, really. At all. Ever.”

“Oh,” you think for a minute, realizing in your few years of friendship you never had seen him with anyone, or heard him mention a romantic interest of any sort.

Leading you to your present conversation, you and Steve continuing to question Eddie on his decision to reject the hot tube-top girl at the bar and why he felt like coffee was such a scary commitment.

“You guys know me,” he continued to defend his stance, “If I took that girl out for coffee she probably would have picked some fancy hoity toity place and I wouldn’t know what anything on the menu meant, I’d probably spill something or like, get crumbs everywhere, and the bill would be way more than two coffees should be. It would have been a waste of both our time.”

He was staunchly refusing eye contact with the two of you, knowing he’d be met with something along the lines of pity.

“Fine, we’ll drop the subject,” you shoot a look to Steve, “but I just need to make sure you understand that not every girl likes expensive coffee, or flowers and handholding, or whatever your expectation of girls and dating is. There’s plenty of girls who have similar interests to you, who feel the same way about PDA and mushy romance stuff that you do. You do know that, right?”

“Of course I do, y/n,” you could practically feel his eyes rolling at you, “but girls like that sure as fuck aren’t here in Nowhere, Indiana. Even if she was, I’m sure I’d still find a way to fuck it up given that I’ve had exactly zero serious girlfriends and the closest thing to a date I’ve ever been on is when you me and Steve pooled our ski ball tickets to win that ugly stuffed turtle.”

The memory of what you had all agreed to be the world’s ugliest stuffed animal caused all of you to crack a smile. Steve had silently agreed to change the subject, not wanting to dig Eddie any deeper into his pit of self despair.

Steve’s mouth was half open, about to suggest that the three of you have a smoke and watch one of the rental movies he brought over, the words just about to escape him when you harshly cut off any chance at ending the pity-party.

“Date me!” You exclaim, without much thought. The shocked look from both boys caused you to rapidly back pedal , “You can date me, as practice!” You said it as if it was the simplest concept in the world.

When met with gaping mouths and confused stares you continue on, “You and I can be fake boyfriend-girlfriend for like, a month, and I’ll tell you everything you do wrong, and like generic do’s and don’t’s, so that way the next time some hot girl hits on you, you can be all like ‘Coffee isn’t really my thing pretty lady, but I’d be down to get drinks sometime’,” you did a silly impression of Eddie’s voice, and then switched to a high pitched one to impersonate what you assumed the girl at the bar sounded like, “and then she’d be all like, ‘Oh yeah that sounds greaaaaat, getting coffee is just like, a generic catch-all thing that most people say when they want to get to know someone better, but you can buy me a drink’ and then the two of you will ride off into the sunset and it’ll be great.”

Still no reply.

“It won’t be all romantic and gooey, I promise I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. It’d be a way for you to get some honest feedback and catch up with the stuff most people have to learn the hard way.”

“I suppose you are the most brutally honest person I know,” Eddie doesn’t sound convinced.

Steve just looked between the two of you with eyebrows raised, not knowing if giving his opinion on the matter would be appreciated or not. “I guess I would’ve appreciated someone telling me that most girls don’t want to be asked out with a pickup line from a John Hughes movie, would have saved me a few dozen rejections.”

“I’m pretty sure Robin did tell you that…”

“I don’t know y/n,” Eddie scratches his head.

“It’ll be easy. Ask me out.”

“Huh?”

“Ask me out, for practice, ask me out on a date like I’m a pretty girl you met at some metal show or a DnD convention or something like that,” you stand in front of him with your hands out as if to prompt him to say something.

“Will you go out with me?” He sounds more like he’s asking himself if he even wants to be asking the question.

“No.”

“What the hell!” He throws his hands up.

“I said no because that wasn’t a very good effort. Go out where? To do what? You’re asking me, a pretend stranger, out on a date Eddie, not if I want to go have a smoke with you.”

“Ughhhh,” he spun around and tried to get some sympathy for Steve, who unfortunately was on your side with this one.

“A compliment or two doesn’t hurt as well,” Steve added, deepening Eddie’s groan.

“Hey pretty stranger lady,” his voice was laced with sarcasm, but at least it wasn’t disdain, “you seem really…” he hesitated to find his words, “cool? Would you like to come see my band play this weekend at The Hideout? We-“

“No,” you cut him off.

“WHA-“

“Eddie, you can’t ask a girl to watch Corroded Coffin play for your first date with her, that’s like date four or five material, no girl wants to go sit by herself at a bar to watch some guy she just met play an hour of heavy metal. She would have to know you a little bit more for that to feel organic. Pick something more generic, like coffee.”

“I think you seem cool, would you like to get coffee with me?” it all came out as one monotone mumble from him.

“Sure,” you wait for him to lift his head up to make eye contact with you, “But coffee isn’t really my thing, maybe we can go out for drinks?”

“Oh fuck off,” he flopped back onto the couch next to Steve.

“See, now we have our first fake date, and then you can ask me to be your fake girlfriend, and then you’ll be so comfortable with emotional vulnerability that you can find a real girlfriend to take on real dates.”

“Yeah, I suppose it could be beneficial,” Eddie was slowly coming around to the idea. He knew that he was oddly charismatic at times, but he was just always too self conscious to follow through with the whole romance thing.

This maybe wasn’t a bad idea, because he knew you weren’t the kind of person who would make fun of his hobbies, or put him down if he slipped up, the sorts of things he was always afraid of girls doing. Sure, he’ll agree to the girlfriend experience.

After a night of movies and pizza with Steve fake-third-wheeling, you made sure Eddie knew that the fake-date was actually happening, that the two of you would go out for drinks this weekend as your first official practice date.

After giving it a bit of thought, you realized that you and Eddie had never hung out alone. In your feeble attempts at flirting with him all those months ago you had invited him to have movie nights or grab a bite to eat, but he always showed up with Steve and or Robin in tow.

As the night of the fake-date rolled around, you’d be embarrassed to admit it to him, or Steve, who didn’t care to hide how skeptical he was about this whole idea, that you went through your normal pre-date routine. You took some extra time on your hair and makeup, exfoliated in the shower, chose an outfit you felt confident in, added a few spritz of perfume for good measure too.

Eddie rolled up in his van, only a few minutes late, but a few minutes was very impressive compared to his typical chronic tardiness. The two of you agreed to just grab some food and drinks at your usual spot, considering you and Steve openly agreed that it would be a good first date spot in theory.

“Hey,” he reaches across the center console to pop the door open for you, “you look nice.”

It took you a second to register as you settled into the passenger seat, and then whip around with your arm outstretched to give him a high five. He scrunches his face at you.

“High five me Eddie, that was really good! I know you usually open the door for me anyways, but the compliment right away, A+,” you flop your hand down to gently slap his, still gripping the steering wheel.

“Don’t patronize me, y/n,” deep down he knew you weren’t trying to talk down to him, and deep down he hadn’t even given complimenting you a second thought, he really did think you looked great in your date get-up.

On the ride over to the bar, the two of you discuss some logistics. Considering all of this is just practice dating, you don’t expect Eddie to pay for you, but you explain that in theory if he had been the one to ask you out then he should be the one to pay for the first date.

“To me it’s less of a gender thing and more of a who asked out who thing, but I know some people would abide to the stereotypical ‘the man always pays’ standard, which is why you’d just have to be honest on date like two or three about what you enjoy doing and what sorts of things are in your budget. You can still have fun and be thoughtful without spending a lot of money.”

He asked a few questions, like if he should have gotten you flowers for a first date, or what he should do if someone asks to go to a fancy restaurant that he surely couldn’t afford. You tried your best to give solid advice, but always reminded him that every person is different and every relationship is different, so all he can do is be honest.

You take up a spot at the bar and both order for yourselves, splitting some fries and slipping into some easy conversation.

“Am I supposed to, like, beat someone up if a guy tries hitting on you in front of me or something like that?” you nearly choke on your drink at his question.

“Eddie, no,” you answer, also questioning, “why the hell would you ask me that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “My buddy Jeff was with his girlfriend at this punk show before they were even together, and some guy made a creepy comment to Amanda and Jeff just decked the guy in the face. He say’s that’s what made her want to date him, cuz he defended her honor or whatever.”

“I guess that’s sort of circumstantial, but I prefer my dates to not engage in any sort of violence,” you sip your drink, “even if it’s for my honor. I’d like your face a lot less if you were all bruised up.”

“Well I never said I would get hit,” the two of you were laughing a bit now.

Over a few cocktails you went over some first date etiquette with him. PDA and being touchy, how to follow her lead and gauge if she’s the type who wants everyone at the bar to know you’re together, or keep it strictly platonic to start. How far of a grip on the leg is too far up, that sort of thing.

“So if she does something like this,” you fake laugh a bit too loud and, lean into his personal space, and then run your hand from his slender down his arm, “that doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to fuck you, but it’s pretty close. You’ve at least got a green flag to get a little closer to her, tell her she looks nice, maybe offer to buy her a drink.”

“I know how to tell if someone finds me attractive, y/n, I’m not stupid,” he said casually, “obviously that girl the other night was hitting on me, I’m not blind. I wasn’t going to ask to buy her a drink or try and get lucky in the bathroom because I was out with my friends. I can find a quick fuck in a bar on my own time. I was having fun with you guys, I wasn’t going to abandon all of you to talk to some stranger, even if she was hot.”

“Oh,” you processed his comment, “Steve would be happy to know he ranks above tube-top girl.”

“Steve would be happy to be above tube-top girl in any context,” he jokes.

“You really just find random girls in bars to fuck?” You question, not in any sort of judgmental way, just curious.

“Not specifically, I guess I did make myself sound like some serial bar-bathroom type of guy. I never really had girls interested in me when I was in high school, at least the first four years of it. Then when we started playing regular gigs at The Hideout it was a little easier to find girls who were interested, but it was always that they were more into fucking some guy who could play guitar and was in a band, so it usually just always happened on-site, probably cuz they had an actual boyfriend or husband to go home to. Girls think I’m fun. Which isn’t untrue, I do enjoy a romp in the Hideout bathroom, or the back of my van, or wherever we end up.”

“So that’s what all those blankets are back there for,” you say with a fake scowl, referring to his van set-up.

“Not exclusively! They make a cozy nest for smoking blunts and listening to tapes too!”

You return to your drink, trying not to think too hard about the girls that Eddie brings to bar bathrooms or his van or wherever.

“I just find the energy of those situations very different from like, talking and getting to know someone. Fucking is easy. I’m not interested in ruining that by adding emotions and the looming feeling like sex is contingent on me acting a certain way or checking a certain number of boxes for someone.”

He shrugged, and you could understand where he was coming from, sometimes a quick fuck or hookup could be cathartic and easy. But it also saddened you to think that Eddie believed he had to get in and out before the person on the other end got the chance to know him.

Moving away from the subject of his inability to be emotionally vulnerable, the two of you practice some cheesy ‘first date’ questions as you had called them. As your drinks started to settle into your system you were having more fun being silly with him, pretending to be a stranger on a first date.

“When’s your birthday?” You ask, twirling your drink straw with your finger and making some fake flirty eyes at him to accentuate the facade of asking him a bunch of questions you mostly knew the answers to.

“August 9th,” he flips his hair over his shoulder, joining in on your fake ostentatious flirting.

“Oh my gosh, a Leo! This will never work out, cuz I’m an asparagus…”

The two of you nearly fall out of your bar stools laughing, realizing you meant to say Sagittarius.

“Okay, let’s get you home Asparagus,” he helped you up, having kept his drinking to a minimum so he could drive you home.

“Wait, wait,” you grabbed his arm as the two of you exited the bar, “can we go back to your trailer?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “that’s a little presumptuous for a first date missy.”

“No, no, this isn’t girlfriend y/n asking, just regular friend y/n, who thinks it would be a lot of fun to smoke and watch a movie without Steve there spewing all his annoying fun facts, like, we get it, you read the little insert inside the tape while you were bored at work!”

Eddie did agree that the idea of packing a bowl and watching a few movies with you didn’t sound too different from what his plans would have been otherwise, so he agreed, as long as you promised not to give him any dating advice while hanging out as friend y/n and not girlfriend y/n.

Although you promised to try your best, you immediately started lecturing him on t-shirt borrowing and the potential weight that could hold in a relationship when he offered to give you some more comfy clothes to change into.

“It’s important to know!” You emerged from the bathroom in one of his oversized shirts and a pair of boxers, “Some girls are very touchy about it. Any shirt you lend her to sleep in, you have to be willing to sacrifice for life.”

“For life?!” Eddie finishes making a bowl of popcorn for the two of you, swallowing his words when he sees you in his clothes, an unidentifiable emotion rising in him at the sight of you so cozy and integrated into his space.

“Well maybe not life,” you plop down onto the couch, “but do NOT ask for it back. Most girls will give it back once it stops smelling like you.”

“If she gets my shirt, can I have her underwear?” He asked without thinking, the weed he had just smoked with you hitting him a bit too hard in that moment.

“Oh my god,” you squeal and bury your face into a pillow, “la la la la, pretending like I didn’t hear that!”

“I’m just saying!” He laughs at you, now curled up into a ball, “fair is fair, right?”

“I guess it depends on the girl,” you mumble.

“So I’m guessing not you, by your reaction.”

“Eddie!” You smack him with a pillow, “I don’t know, no one’s ever asked!”

“If my girlfriend isn’t going to ask before stealing my shirt for an indefinite amount of time, I think that gives me panty privilege.”

“Wow Eddie, if I had known you were such a perv I would’ve reconsidered being your fake girlfriend,” you say sarcastically, with no real judgement behind it. The idea of him wanting to steal your underwear dampens them ever so slightly.

“Don’t worry babe, I won’t do anything pervy to you unless you ask nicely,” he shoots a wink at you, which you meet with an eye roll and a turn away to hopefully hide the heat rising in your cheeks.

The two of you carry out your platonic movie night as planned. You suppressed any urge to note on his actions from a romantic lens, and he ignored the itching desire to sling his arm around your shoulder or pull your legs into his lap to get more comfy on the couch.

“Can I sleep here Eddie,” you ask after movie two, “too sleepy to move.”

“Sure, I can take the couch and you can have my bed. It’s been a minute since I washed the sheets but it shouldn’t be too bad…”

“Nonono,” you mumble, “Your legs will totally hang right off the end of this thing. I’m conked out anyways, I can crash right here I promise.”

“Ignoring that you’re my fake girlfriend, I’m not letting you sleep out here on this lumpy thing. You’re taking the bed, no arguments.”

He helps you up from the couch, letting you keep the blanket that’s wrapped around you, snaking his arm underneath it and pulling you from the couch by your lower back. You were slightly taken aback by his assistance, body still limp from your relaxed state, your torso easily arching into his. Your arms fly up to grab his shoulders, steadying yourself with an awkward giggle.

“In the real world, a time like this would be good for a first kiss,” you make note of your closeness, the way he swept you up off the couch and held you steadily as you made your way to your feet.

“I know that, y/n,” his face was closer to yours than it had ever been, making your words hitch in your throat.

“Well, I’m just saying,” you turn your head to avoid the tension, “I’m sure the way you kiss your bar-hookups isn’t the way most girls who’re looking to date you long term want to be kissed for the first time.”

‘Oh yeah? And how do you presume that goes?” He kept his hand planted on your lower back.

You pretend to act wildly drunk, throwing yourself at him and letting your limbs go a bit heavier than they already were. “Ohmygod guitar man, I’ve had like, six dirty Shirleys, please finger bang me in the bathroom,” you slur your words and let your tongue loll out the side of your mouth as if to lean in for the world’s sloppiest and most uncoordinated kiss.

“First of all,” his voice was very serious, “I don’t hook up with girls who are too inebriated to stand, let’s get that straight. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even have our first fake kiss like this on account of the drinking and smoking, gotta make sure you’re in the right headspace. Secondly,”

He spins you around and quickly backs you up against the wall that stood a few feet behind the couch. His hand sliding up in between your shoulder blades, blanket now slumped around your waist, his other hand suavely cupping the side of your cheek, His hips angled into yours, pinning you back against the vinyl, almost collapsing back into it.

He pressed against you, not aggressively, but enough to let you know that if you were to try and squirm away he had the capacity to keep you right where he wanted you. He accomplished this all in one elegant motion, leaving you a bit dazed.

As you started to snap into reality, he moves his hand from your cheek down to grab your chin in between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer, angling your face directly up at him.

“If you were some girl in a bar, it would be like this.”

The moment before your brain turned to absolute mush, you silently cringed at the thought of what you must look like, mouth hanging open, eyes glassed over, body instinctively sinking into his touch. Pathetic, you were sure of it.

Sure, Eddie did think you looked a little helpless, but he also thought you looked perfect. Exactly as he had imagined you to in this situation. Of course he had thought about you before, like that.

Of course he had felt an immediate spark with you when you had first met. But he never flirted back, or lead you on, because as much as he was attracted to you and enjoyed your company, he knew that it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t relationship material, and you were the picture perfect girlfriend that he didn’t deserve.

He spoke directly into your parted lips, mouth hovering just far enough away to toe the line of ‘holy shit, is he going to?’ But no, as he made very clear, he wouldn’t kiss you under these conditions. He had made his point, and slowly backed off and let you find your footing.

As soon as he was sure that you were steady, he backed away and started down the hallway.

“I might have an extra toothbrush stashed away somewhere, let me look…” he ducked into the bathroom, leaving you stunned in the kitchen, head swimming and your stomach traveled up into your throat.

He was teasing you, he must be. That was his little way of getting back at you for thinking you could give him dating advice. If he was unsure about his capacity for romance, he was going to make sure you knew he was more than capable in other ways. Understood.

You shook your head, weeding through your inner monologue of how he could possibly look at you like that and then just walk away. Your shock gave him just long enough for you to to not notice him splashing cold water on his face in the bathroom while he “looked for a toothbrush.”

The two of you decided to ignore the lingering tension from the events in the kitchen, not a peep of fake-girlfriend talk from you for the rest of the night. He did find you that toothbrush, and the two of you moved through a too-easy domestic routine of getting ready for bed.

You told him that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew he was cramped on that couch, and that you were fine with sharing a bed. You mumbled something about getting around to bed sharing etiquette at some point anyways, and sleepily pulled him into being your little spoon.

Eddie lay there, trying not to twitch or fidget, relaxed as best he could into your cuddled form thinking about how horrible of an idea all of this was. He was convinced all it would take is roughly ten more minutes of you burying your face into his hair and making cute little sleepy noises for him to fall irreversibly in love with you.

But what was he supposed to do? Move and wake you up? Never.

You rolled around enough in the night to wake up in a less intimate position than when you had fallen asleep. You knew Eddie was a deep sleeper, and took it upon yourself to creep out of bed and back into your day clothes, make a pot of coffee, and watc a bit of TV before he roused and joined you in the living room.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He rubbed the crust from his eyes and was pleasantly surprised to see you had brewed a whole pot of coffee to share.

“You looked so peaceful and cozy,” he shook his head at you, as if that was no excuse for letting him sleep an extra forty minutes.

After a slow morning, he agrees to drive you home.

“So this is the part where I say ‘Eddie, I had such a wonderful time on our date. I’d love to do it again sometime.’ And then you agree and tell me when you’re free. It’s best to be super direct and make plans to get together again soon, cuz then it’s not an awkward who’s-gonna-call-who-first sort of thing.”

“Uh-huh…” he stares at you blankly.

“But for our sake, let’s just agree that I’m in charge of planning our next date. Okay? I’ll do it from the perspective of what I think most girls would enjoy, so you can steal it for the future. I’ll call you later.”

You hop out of his van before he can agree, and leave him with a “Thanks for letting me stay over!” As you bound away from his view.

He squeezed his eyes shut the moment he caught himself checking your ass out as you walked away, and let his head rest down on the steering wheel. He was fucked. How the hell was he supposed to tell you that you needed to stop being his fake girlfriend without disrupting the homeostasis of your friendship?

On one hand he could lie and say he doesn’t want your advice, making you think he didn’t enjoy your company, which was entirely untrue. On the other hand he could tell you the truth, and you would never be friends the same way again.

He drove home with the music too loud, and patiently awaited your call later that evening to iron out the details of your second fake-date.

Per your instructions, he let you pick him up this time with the argument that you were the one taking him out this time. He didn’t know what you had planned, but let himself fall to the mercy of whatever you had decided was an exemplary date fore him to ‘steal in the future’.

You picked up two coffees and rolled up to the trailer park, popping a mix-tape he had made you ages ago.

“Hey, I thought we said no paying for each other with fake-dating,” he objects to the coffee sat in the passenger cupholder, some abomination of mostly cream and sugar, the way you know he likes it.

“Yes, that’s true, but you smoked me up the other night, and this coffee was like a dollar fifty, so don’t worry about it,” you give him a look that tells him to drink the damn coffee and not sass back, to which he complies, even though he smokes you up expecting nothing in return about every other weekend.

The two of you sip away and listen to Eddies ‘must-know-to-be-my-friend’ mixtape and arrive shortly at the strip mall across town. This was a regular weekly stop for both of you, the strip of connected stores containing the Goodwill, a pet store, the pharmacy, and grocery. A pretty mundane collection.

“Okay, what are we doing at Greg’s?” Eddie gestures to the grocery store, the back of his mind running through the grocery list he’s been making for this week anyways.

“What’s the perfect date?” You ask, and answer for him, “a romantic picnic. But gathering supplies is half the fun. Picnic food supplies at Greg’s, some pills to get fucked up at the pharm, some turtles or something to let loose into the wild from the pet store, and then hats, cups, blanket, etcetera from the Goodwill.”

He turns to you with the most bewildered stare, which sends you into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, I’m joking about the pills and the turtles,” you nudge his arm, “but won’t it be sweet to get together some picnic supplies and then drive out to lookout point? We can still swing by the pet store to check out the ferrets though.”

To Eddie, the idea of a date involved him doing something he didn’t want to do, some awkward small talk, and spending money on shit he truly thought was useless. This didn’t sound half bad. You would “work backwards so the food purchases come last” according to your reasoning, and he followed you in tow without any arguments into the Goodwill.

“So I’m thinking…” you start to wander into the aisles of used clothes and knick knacks, “maybe a blanket? A basket would be sort of corny, but if we find one for cheap I don’t see why not. Surely two glasses for drinking, and maybe some sun hats?”

Swiveling back around to see a half stunned Eddie, who was still processing how in the hell this was your idea of a romantic date, you grab his hand and pull him to the bric-a-brac section.

After it got through his thick skull that the same place he had uncomfortably tried on new pants throughout his growth spurt, and picked up his daily-worn leather jacket, had the same potential to provide some silly, cheap, used items to add some flair to this picnic.

Silly and cheap was right up Eddie’s alley. The two of you picked out mismatched champagne glasses, one with the engraved name of a couple who got married in 1943 and the other a flashy rose color with baby angel carvings dancing around the sides.

You luckily find an on sale beach blanket, and the two of you pick out some very goofy sun hats. A floppy farmers hat for you, and a bedazzled trucker hat spelling ‘hot mama’ for Eddie.

Through the midst of your giggles and debate on whether you should buy a wooden bench to bring out to your picnic destination, Eddie found himself having a really good time with you.

As promised, you visited the pet store and checked out the ferrets and fish and geckos.

“If you could have any pet, what would you want?” You asked him, noses pressed against the chinchilla enclosure.

“Jaguar,” he said, a little too quickly.

“For real, dummy,” you knock your hip into his.

“I don’t know, we never had enough space or extra money for pets growing up, so maybe someday if I had enough room for it to run around I’d like a dog or something,” he tells. Eyes still transfixed on the chinchilla behind the glass.

“I can see that,” you imagine Eddie with some mutt from the shelter, wrestling around and giving it lots of scratches behind the ears.

Skipping the pharmacy, you pop into the grocery store and assemble what may be the world’s most eclectic picnic.

“That’s the definition of a picnic, I’m pretty sure,” you explain after Eddie insinuated that the gingersnap cookies you grabbed, along with grapes and a block of cheese, wasn’t exactly a meal, “you know, just a smorgasbord of whatever we want!”

Admittedly, Eddie had considered a handful of pretzels and a beer to be dinner on more than one occasion, so he couldn’t argue with you. Quickly catching your drift, the two of you picked out an assortment of snacks and some ingredients for pb&j sandwiches.

“I thought picnics were supposed to be classy?” Eddie holds up the Wonder bread and bag of potato chips with a look that suggested his question was rhetorical.

Your response was simply to raise the, admittedly cheap, bottle of champagne you grabbed to accompany with your meal, more for the irony of drinking the bubbly liquid out of your new used glasses with your sticky sandwiches than anything else.

You pack your supplies into a tote bag, not having found a suitable basket at the thrift store, and drive across town to a dirt paved road that leads to a nice lookout point with a view of the lake.

“Let’s walk down the path a little bit, but not too far,” you grab the blanket and tote bag from your trunk, motioning for Eddie to put on his ‘hot mama’ hat and carry your other auxiliary supplies, “I do not fuck with bugs.”

“I’ll protect you,” Eddie puffs out his chest, making you both giggle.

“From bugs?”

“Yeah, I’ll punch a mosquito right in the face, to defend your honor and all that.”

“I know I told you not to do that, but a mosquito might be the exception to the rule.”

You found a nice little clearing not far from the car, a spot that still had a nice view but was a bit more secluded. Eddie sat pressed right up next to you, making your sandwich ‘to be a proper gentleman’ but simultaneously spilling a glob of jelly onto your leg.

“Shit,” he doesn’t think twice before leaning down and slurping the grape flavored blob off of your bare knee, tongue poking out and licking the spilt jelly from your skin.

“Eddie!” You squirm away, barking out a surprised laugh.

“What! Your knee is clean, wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good preserves, or a napkin.”

You feel your skin tingle where his lips had touched you, for only a moment, but you still felt it. He was so confident and casual in his movements, not having any hesitation to grab your hand or brush your hair out of your face. It wasn’t under the guise of fake romance, he had always been like that. Not touchy, per se, just sure of himself. You’d never seen Eddie do anything half assed, that’s for certain.

After the conversation you shared the other night, you were unable to stop your mind from wandering to thoughts of what Eddie does with those girls in bars, if he touched him with the same confidence and sureness he put into everything else he did.

It was wrong to let your mind go to such dirty places about someone you considered a friend, but you couldn’t manage to feel any guilt. He had offered that information freely, so who were you to punish yourself for staring a little longer at his fingers, conjuring up the context in which he’d bury them inside you against some grimy bar bathroom.

The date was all peanut butter smiles and bubbly laughter that floated up into the trees. Silly, yes, but neither of you could deny there was something sweet, maybe even romantic about it. A cheap meal in the woods shared between two friends in ill-fitting fifty cent hats, but an undeniable touch of romance lingered nonetheless.

Eddie started to realize that maybe the whole dating thing wasn’t as uptight and scary as he had initially thought. It could be easy and fun, with the right person. And fuck, if he could even imagine doing this with anyone but you.

Like most things Eddie did, he did not consider any potential consequences before acting. You looked so pretty sitting there in the sunshine, sipping from your cheap ‘Martha & Dave ’43’ glass, a few sandwich crumbs dotting the corner of your mouth.

What else was he supposed to do other than lean over and wipe them away with his thumb, stroking your soft cheek and feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm.

“You had some,” he uses his other hand to motion at his own mouth, “and I suppose this is the sort of moment where I’d ask if I can kiss you.”

You find yourself a bit dumbfounded, his big stupid hand on your cheek and those big stupid puppy dog eyes unrelenting in making everything he says seem so genuine.

“Are you?” You find your voice, only half embarrassed at how shy it comes out.

“Am I what?”

“Are you asking me?”

“Yeah,” his answer comes out in a way that insinuates that he never meant anything other than that, that he was always asking to kiss you, he wasn’t asking in theory, in another universe, in the context of advice.

“Okay,” you found yourself behaving like Eddie, not really thinking of consequences before your words and actions spoke on behalf of your instincts.

Everything so far had been so easy. Your fake first date at the bar, curling up next to him in a haze, making up stories about what sort of people donated the fake palm tree or the Garfield mug at the Goodwill, imagining Eddie running around a yard with a puppy, lounging in the grass and eating your assorted picnic snacks. It was all effortless.

Suddenly, being kissed by Eddie sucked the ease from your lungs and sent your mind spiraling into a cacophony of bells and whistles and giant swirling red flags. If this is how he kissed you, casually across some half eaten peanut butter sandwiches, you’d spend the rest of your days yearning to know how he kissed someone with true intention.

Of course, his intentions were all there, but the lingering knowledge that all of this was happening under the umbrella of “you giving him advice” or “helping practice for the next girl” poisoned any true feeling he poured into it. He cupped your cheek, soft, let his lips press into yours delicately for a moment before he felt your breath hitch, opening his mouth just enough to deepen the kiss and capture your lower lip fully.

He was more careful, gentle, methodic with his movements and so receptive to every little signal your body gave him, it was unlike any first-kiss, heat-of-the-moment-kiss, in-the-throws-of-passion-kiss, any of it. Like hell you’d ever tell him that, inflate that big ego that fuels his snippy comebacks at you, but Jesus, was it remarkable.

While at war with yourself internally, your heart was on the precipice of exploding in your chest from the way he snaked his hand into your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to catch a breath. You suck in a sharp breath and feel that stupid cocky smirk creep up onto that pretty mouth of his.

“’S that sufficient for a first kiss?”

“Fuck offfff,” you were still a little out of breath, smacking his chest and flopping back down onto the picnic blanket, throwing your arms up and rolling your eyes at him, “if you’re so damn confident, maybe we just should fake break up, cuz you don’t seem like you need my advice.”

“Nooooo,”he slumps down next to you, burrowing his head under your arm so he can pop up right next to your face, “I’m learning a lot, I promise! This date was so fun, and cheap! I would have never thought any of this could be remotely romantic. I’m hopeless, y/n, look at me.”

He wriggles around and gives you a big fake pout, “If left to my own devices I would probably do something horribly embarrassing or off-putting, like…” he digs his head into the crook of your neck and blew a fat, wet raspberry right into your skin, making you yelp and squeal, but his position half on top of you pins you down.

“See!” He pulls up for air, you were in a fit of screaming giggles, “I’d go right in for a kiss and just,” and he does it again, leaving you gasping for air, trying your best to tickle his ribs to get him off of you, but not minding the close contact by any means.

“Now I’m not so sure,” he pulls back to give you a minute to catch your breath, “it seems like you enjoyed that, so maybe survey says I should pull that move on the ladies.”

Your airy laughter subsided, but he stays half pinning you down to the blanket and the lumpy grass underneath.

“I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I’m not grateful for your help,” he says earnestly, catching your gaze, “it’s just… this isn’t what I need help with.”

As his statement is processing, you find his lips back on yours, his torso pressed flushed with yours and his wild mane of hair coming down to curtain around your head. He doesn’t take it too far, but kisses you as earnestly as he had before, giving your lip a slight drag with his teeth and running his hand up from your hip up the side of your ribcage, leaving you arching slightly into him by pure instinct.

Before your head got too dizzy again, before you could really throw yourself into it and say fuck it and kiss him back the way you secretly wanted to, he pulled back.

“That.” his voice was even, you hated how needy you felt and how even keeled he could be milliseconds after stealing the air from your lungs, “It’s the rest of it,” he threw his hands up and gestured to all the food and knock knacks around you, “it’s this stuff that you make seem so easy, so forgive me if I lay it on a little thick when we get to the parts I’m actually good at.”

“Just,” you sat up a bit, grounding yourself and formulating a response despite your brain looping the past twenty seconds back infinitely, “don’t do that again.”

“Okay,” he sat back and popped a grape into his mouth, “sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you knocked his knee with yours, struggling to articulate how you felt without showing too much of your hand, deciding to just be candid, “I just- I liked that a little too much if you know what I mean. And this is strictly business, or education, maybe?”

“You liked it when I pinned you against the wall the other night,” he said matter of factly, “I think you liked that a little too much too, and you still took me on this fake educational business date.”

“Yeah, well, you caught me,” you threw your hands up in defense.

“Which one is it though?” He asks and you don’t quite understand, “are you a sweet kiss on the picnic kind of girl, or an up against the wall kind of girl?”

“That’s none of your business, as far as fake-dating is concerned,” you say a little too quickly, “and no you can’t have my panties.”

You say it with a smirk, but he doesn’t press any further. He turns and does that Eddie-thing he’s so good at, just changing the subject and shifting the vibe completely away from what might have been a stale moment or awkward pause. He starts asking if you like green or purple grapes better, going off about how he used to put them in the freezer as a kid.

The remainder of your date went without a hitch, of course. You picked away at your picnic until the sun started to set, and once the sky started turning purple you made your way back to the car. The drive home consisted only of easy conversation and no further mention of the kiss, well, kisses that had transpired. He hopped out of the passenger seat with a ‘thank you’ and a ‘see ya later alligator.’

A scalding hot shower, a restless night of sleep, and too many cups of herbal tea the next morning did nothing to quell the noise in your head that blasted those moments over and over. You couldn’t stop picking apart whether he had thought about it for even a millisecond, and felt embarrassed that you could think of nothing else.

It was simply an amplified version of what your whole friendship had been up until this point. You silently admiring him and wishing he would look at you the way you looked at him, and settling for friendship over heartbreak.

Pushing it aside to the best of your ability allowed you to get through your week, but you had the lingering feeling that the next time you saw him would strike you with warm cheeks and a scrambled mental state.

Guilt had started to seep in at the corners of your mind, but you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t punish yourself for having romantic or sexual thoughts about someone you simply found attractive and compelling, it was your actions that would determine the validity of your guilt.

“Long time no see, loser,” Robin hollered from the pool table across the bar, where she was likely kicking Steve’s ass.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” you shrug off your coat and plop down at their regular booth, knowing her jabs were entirely empty. You notice Eddie’s leather jacket hung up by the wall, and scan the bar to find him ordering a drink.

There was a silent mutual understanding that you’d keep the fake dating thing to a bare minimum when out with your friends like this. Even though Steve was well aware, and therefore Robin was too, you figured tainting your social time with the performance of romance is the exact reason Eddie turned down the girl at the bar in the first place.

“For the lady,” Eddie waltzes over and hands you a drink.

“Oh, thanks,” you take it with a confused smile, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“You bought me coffee last weekend,” he sat across the booth from you, “plus I’m trying to get better at buying drinks for pretty girls, right?”

You remind him that he doesn’t have to keep tabs on things like coffee, but you appreciate the gesture regardless. As per the past few times you’d been out with your friends, you expected him to put a pause on the flirting, but it seems to be bubbling over tonight. You weren’t complaining, but admittedly the arm around your shoulder or the noticeable way he checked you out when you got up to refill your drink took you by slight surprise.

Sneaking in to claim the always occupied dart board for a challenge against Eddie while he uses the restroom, you keep your eyes on the corner of the bar to signal him over once he returns.

“You need a partner?” A man suddenly appears behind you, a little closer than you’d like but the bar was crowded, so you’ll let it slide.

“Oh, I was just waiting for-“

“Let me fill in until your friend gets here, we can get you warmed up, yeah?” His tone wasn’t too pushy, but you didn’t love the look he gave you when making that comment.

Awkwardly staggering for a second, unsure weather to just agree or tell him to fuck off, “He really should be just a minute-“

“Or maybe less,” Eddie comes up right behind you and pulls you possessively into his side.

Your head whips up to see him with a devilish smile, his hand on your waist and the fire behind his eyes telling his guy to get lost.

“Oh, sorry man,” the guy starts backing away with an apologetic look.

“Yeah, better luck next time, pal,” Eddie snakes around to take the guy’s spot in front of the dart board.

He had his darts in hand and took his stance to start the match, gesturing for you to do the same.

“What was that,” you ask with a slight joking tone, but seriously curious.

“What?” He doesn’t make eye contact and instead throws the first dart, “I’m not allowed to get fake jealous?”

“You’re allowed to feel any fake emotion you want, I guess,” your tone is somewhere in between a joke and a question.

“You’d feel fake jealous if I was getting blown in the bathroom by some chick rather than playing darts with you, I bet.”

“Okay,” your tone shifts to defensive, “getting blown is very different than some guy asking to play darts with me.”

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Eddie turns to face you, having thrown all his darts, “for real.”

A moment lapsed where you didn’t register that your mouth was hanging open in disbelief, the look in your eyes Eddie immediately clocked as lust and bottled up to store away for a later time.

“I knew the scary dog thing would work,” his ‘i-told-you-so’ tone rubbed you the wrong way, but he wasn’t wrong, “you said girls weren’t into that, but you totally looooove that I defended your honor.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, I said girls wouldn’t be into it if you punched him,” you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know, babe, I think you liked the whole ‘back off of my woman’ act.”

You mumble out a ‘whatever’ and let him have this win, which he was clearly reveling in, trying to focus instead at beating him at darts.

“Just don’t pull shit like that on a first date, acting too possessive off the bat is a huge red flag for a lot of women.”

“I thought we weren’t doing dating advice tonight?” You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s got that stupid sarcastic smile.

“Yeah I thought so too,” you fail at your attempt to beat him in darts, as well as your attempt to not flirt back with him.

He insists on collecting all the darts, picking up the ones haphazardly strews across the floor from failed attempts to hit the board.

“I’m no pro or anything, but I think you’d hit the board a lot more if you fixed your stance.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you flip him the bird and take back your red tipped darts.

As you steady your arm to aim your first shot he comes up behind you and grabs your hips, causing you to let out an unexpected squeak. He adjusts your stance, not aggressively, but with some force, twisting your hips and using his big combat boot to sweep your foot around so you stood more sideways.

“You’re standing straight on,” he backs up, allowing you to secretly catch your breath, “and all your shots are veering to the right. If you plant your feet more angled you’ll hit the board.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, miss on purpose to show him he’s full of shit. You flippantly toss the dart, not trying particularly hard, and it hits. Not a bulls-eye or anything like that, but a lot closer than your previous attempts had been.

“Good girl,” he comments, leaning in to breech your personal space just enough to make your blood boil.

You drop the remainder of the darts in your opposite hand onto the floor and whip around to face him, half jokingly smacking him on the shoulder.

“Oh my god, fuck off!”

You’re met with his trademark shit-eating grin.

Truthfully, Eddie hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all night. He’d spent the night after your picnic date with his hand in bis boxers, squeezing his eyes shut and remembering the little gasp you had made when he grabbed your waist, the hum in your throat that bubbled up when he kissed you pinned against the blanket, that night and every night since.

“Oh, you don’t like that?” that joking tone he uses to cover up what he actually wants to say.

“Shut up, you know I do,” you didn’t even try to stifle your reaction, knowing it was his intent to get under your skin.

“How would I possibly know that,” he playfully looks up at the ceiling and around the bar, hands clasped behind his back now, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“You better cut that shit out, unless you plan on doing something about it,” you manage the most assertive tone your wobbly insides could muster, a little shocked at yourself for actually saying what you were thinking.

“I’m not much of a planner,” he gracefully takes a stance next to you and rips all three darts, not great shots, but all hitting the board, “I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy, you know that.”

“Well your pants better make up their mind if you’re playing boyfriend tonight or not,” your insinuation was heavy but you had fumbled your hand, and he had already seen all your cards at this point, so there was no reason to bluff.

“The real question is,” he leans in, his imposing figure crowding your space in a way that made your head spin, “do you want me to play boyfriend? Or do you want me to play guy who fucks your brains out in the bar bathroom?”

Your eyebrows pinched together for a millisecond, and before he could decipher your expression you grabbed his hand and started storming through the crowds hoarded by the bar. Why the hell a seedy downtown bar has a single stall family bathroom with a changing table is beyond you, but you drag him inside and slam the lock down behind you.

“You’re not allowed to treat me any differently after this,” you start to fall into the sinkhole of oh my god what the hell is about to happen, but are cut off by him pressing you against the closed door the exact way he had handled you against his kitchen wall that night weeks ago.

“Not unless you want me to,” he doesn’t hesitate to get his mouth on yours, immediately pulling your mind from wondering what the vague sticky substance on the door pressing into your back could be.

“I mean, you’re not allowed to fuck me and then never talk to me again,” you say in between moving lips and tongues, giving him a moment to bury his face in your neck, "Promise me."

“Oh don’t worry about that,” he pulls back, “we can go get coffee tomorrow and you can give me a full performance review. Promise.”

Your annoyed eye roll quickly turns into them fluttering shut as he licks a stripe up to the junction behind your ear that has you melted into a boneless puddle between his pressing hips and the door. He drags his teeth across your lobe while leaning into you with a black denim clad thigh.

“Why don’t we make a deal,” you let out, voice breathy and unfocused. Before he can even pull back to reply you continue, “if you’re half as good at this as you claim to be, and can make me cum in this dingy bathroom, I’ll let you take me back to your trailer and you can do whatever the fuck you want to me.”

He was leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss before he could even process your request, because yes of course, a million times yes he’s taking this deal. Despite the rouse of you playing bar hookup for the night, and despite the idea of bringing you back to his place and finally doing what he’s wanted since the day he met you absolutely terrifying him, he nods and kisses you.

It’s electrifying. His confidence only spurs you on to kiss him harder, grip his hair a little tighter, say the things you would only imagine in the deepest parts of your mind. The feeling of his grin against your lower lip and his fingers quickly unbuttoning your jeans fuels your fire.

“You sure you know what you’re getting into,” he mumbles playfully, pulling you away from the wall with a gasp and leading you over to the tiny built in counter against a mirror by the sink.

“Well I’m certainly not letting you fuck me against any of these sticky surfaces,” you note as you’re lifted onto the counter covered in mystery substance, “and I think you need to earn it.”

Of course it was no surprise to you that Eddie was good with his fingers. You probably could have told anyone that long before this impromptu bathroom hookup. Egging him on and challenging him in a way you were sure he wasn’t used to was well worth abandoning your assumptions.

“Oh yeah? I think, if you’re lucky, I’ll earn it more times than you can count before the night’s over,” he positioned himself in between your legs, pressing your torso into the mirror behind you as he leaned in for another heated kiss.

He pulled your ass to the edge of the counter, and looped his thumbs into the waistband of your unbuttoned pants. You were quick to assume that he’d yank the fabric right off your legs, preparing to lift your ass from the counter to assist.

Eddie paused, pulled back and gave you a look that asked ‘you’re sure about this?’ and when a dreamy smile spread across your cheeks he melted into you with a kiss that turned your stomach inside out and made your pussy flutter.

He snakes a hand from its grip on your torso down into your unbuttoned pants. You arched up into his touch, wanting to urge him to get on with it and get your pants and underwear out of the way, but appreciating how much he seemed to be reveling in feeling you for the first time.

“So fuckin wet,” he mumbled against your lips, his fingers only feeling up your cunt from outside your underwear. He pressed the fabric into your slick center, following the path up to your clit and then teasingly back down to where your panties were soaked through.

“You weren’t lying when you said you liked this a little too much,” he’s rolling his hips ever so slightly against your spread thigh as he rubs your clothed pussy, his teeth sinking into your lower lip as he moves the material aside and sinks two fingers right into your wet cunt with ease.

You were sure that you’d retrospectively have a million quippy compacks that come to mind, but in this moment it was impossible to come up with words when his fingers were buried inside you, still, just letting you squeeze around them, and his hard cock straining against his jeans nestled against the inside of your thigh.

He slowly drags his finger’s up from your hole to your clit, and you let out a whine of desperation as he fully removes his hand from your damp underwear.

Before you can manage the breath to tell him to please, for the love of god, get on with it, he brings his fingers up to his lips and gives them a long suck, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Yeah,” he sighs out and presses his forehead against yours, “I might like that a little too much too.”

Protests and urging words catch in your throat as he yanks down your pants and underwear with one quick pull, not even needing you to lift your ass off the counter more than it already was. He was methodical and moved with intention, folding up your pants neatly and shoving your soaked panties into his back pocket, shooting you a wink.

“Eddie, please,” your overdue complaints are finally bubbling over. You hardly finish your plea before his face is buried in your neck, and his fingers are sliding right back into your needy hole.

The top of your head rests against the mirror behind you, exposing your neck and arching your back into his touch. He sucks and nips at the soft skin between your collar bone and ear, all while letting his two middle fingers pump slowly into you.

“Mmmm,” he mumbles into the crook of your jaw, “such a good girl for me, perfect pussy squeezing my fingers so tight, can’t fuckin wait to feel you soak my cock.”

Nearly orgasming at his words alone, your eyes flutter shut and you let out a moan of his name as he lets his thumb drag circles across your clit. “Eddie, please, just like that, I-”

“Oh, suddenly she’s not questioning my abilities?” he says with a biting smirk, “What was that about me not being half as good as I think I am?”

“Fuck,” you want to raise an eyebrow and shoot something back, hold out and make him work for it, but after hardly two minutes of his fingers rolling inside you, hooked up to drag along that perfect fucking spot, you had no choice but to feed his ego and let him win.

“You wanted to make your little deal,” he pumps a little faster, making your head loll to the side and mouth hang half open, “I’ll sweeten it for you, babe. I say we can get this pretty pussy to come twice all over my fingers before anyone even knocks on this door.”

“Yes,” is all you can squeak out, “yes, please.”

If Eddie was being honest, he was a few half-thrusts into your thigh short of coming in his own pants from how hot you looked. Your eyes glassed over, pretty lips parted and gasping his name, perfect cunt sucking his fingers in.

The hand not occupied by your gushing cunt slid up to cup the side of your cheek, forcing you to look into his fiery eyes. “Feel’s good?” he questions, knowing the answer and not expecting a verbal response.

He drags the pad of his thumb up to your parted lips, running it along your plush bottom lip and dragging it down a bit, relishing in how under his spell you were. His thumb slips into your mouth and you immediately wrap your lips around it and suck.

“Good girl,” his thumb on your clit is rubbing more focused circles, “suck on that and keep your voice down, don’t want the whole bar knowing what a good little slut you are for me.”

Jackpot.

A muffled moan around his thumb and the spasming of your inner walls signaled that you were hitting your peak. He drags the spit slicked digit from your lips and quickly replaces it with his lips and tongue, kissing you with fervor as he feels you ride out your orgasm on his hand.

“Mmmmmmm” you moan, somewhere between a pleading whine and a sigh of satisfaction into his lips as his fingers don’t let up.

Under different circumstances you would tell him to slow down, give you a minute to catch your breath. Eddie was stubborn, this you knew, and he had already made it abundantly clear that one orgasm wasn’t going to be enough.

He pulls back from your lips, loving the sharp intake of breath you swallow as your cheeks continue to flush and eyelids keep fluttering.

“So fucking good, came all over my fingers,” his gaze locks in on where his hand was buried into your cunt. “Gonna give me one more?”

Of course you would, whether it was up to you or not. He did slow up for a second, just enough for you to regain your grip on reality before he started curling them up again.

“Eddie,” you whine out, eyes nearly crossed and unable to focus your attention on his face, hands, anything other than his boner poking into your inner thigh, “wanna feel you.”

The hand formerly gripped tight onto the edge of the counter snakes forward and pulls his hip into you, a permanent indentation of his stiff cock molding against your skin.

“Not yet baby,” he rolls his hips forward, giving you a delicious feel of how it would be if he was inside you, but instead pushing his fingers a touch deeper and then pulling his hips away, “one more and then I’ll take you home. You’re gonna let me ruin that perfect little cunt, right? That was the deal?”

“Yes,” you gasp out, his other hand moving from your hair down to rub fast tight circles on your clit, the other hand still pumping steadily inside you.

“That’s right, I know this pussy is gonna take me so well. You’re already drooling for my cock, so fucking perfect.”

You feel it building up again, that sacred double orgasm that only ever came during your alone time in the shower or when you were so desperate for release that your hand didn’t stop after the first, but never with another person, never like this.

His smile nearly touched his ears at this point, pulling back to take in all of you as your eyes screwed shut and thighs threatened to break his wrist at how fast they snapped together.

Hitting you like a punch to the gut, your abdomen tightened and released rapidly, air sucked from your lungs and his hand working you through it between your clenched thighs.

Yeah, maybe this was a bad idea.

If you were in a cartoon, stars and chirping birds would be swirling around your head as you slowly came back to reality. He gave you some space, and begrudgingly gave you pack your panties after you hand out your hand and gave him a stern look.

“I’m gonna go tell the others that you aren’t feeling great and I’m taking you home,” he makes sure you’ve pulled your pants back up before unlocking the door, “Take your time, and I’ll meet you at the van, okay? I’ll grab your stuff.”

“Yeah,” you still feel a little flustered, looking back into the mirror and smoothing down your hair, “thanks.”

He shoots you a wink before slipping out, giving you a moment to collect yourself and splash some cold water on your face. Okay, so you’re doing this.

Any nagging feelings that this might ruin things or that he’s only teasing you because of your arrangement are quickly squished down into a deeper compartment of your brain, overtaken by the post orgasm bliss and wandering thoughts of what might happen next.

You peek your head out of the bathroom door, and slink your way to the back door without passing your group table or a stray Steve or Robin. The fresh air equalizes your buzzing thoughts, and you spot Eddie, already in the driver’s seat of his van.

“You good?” He asks as you hop into the passenger seat. You won’t let him have the upper hand, just because he made you come twice in under ten minutes.

“Yeah,” you gather as much assertion as your voice will project, “You good?”

“F’course,” he starts backing up, you internally roll your eyes at the way his outstretched arm muscles and curved neck make your stomach flutter, “Just wanted to make sure I passed the test.”

You sit in silence, not wanting to give into the cocky game he clearly wants to play, yet know that he’s entirely correct in his assumption that he’s driven you completely crazy. Once he’s on the main stretch of road, finally rolling to a stop at a red light you let your hand migrate across the center console, dancing its way into his lap.

As you hoped, his cock was still half hard and apparent underneath his jeans. You let your hand draw circles next to it, loving the little twitch you get when you run your nails against his thigh.

“Easy there, tiger,” he lets out a huffed laugh, with just an edge to his tone that suggested you were getting yourself into something you’d soon regret.

“C’mon Eds,” you let your head fall on the corner of the headrest, gaze angled over at his tight grip on the steering wheel while your hand dancing around the bulge in his pants, “you’ve been pushing this thing against my thigh for the past twenty minutes, forgive me for wanting a better feel.”

You put on a pretend pouty face and flash him your best puppy dog eyes to ward off any incoming snippy comments from him. He rolls his pretty eyes at you and silently bites the inside of his cheek as you feel up and down his lap, grazing his growing cock with each pass.

“Forgiven,” through gritted teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut as your fingers circle around his head, now taking visible form beneath his black jeans. He internally reprimands himself for losing focus on the road, and zeroes his concentration on getting back to his trailer as fast as this van can take him.

You have your fun watching him wiggle in his seat, feeling his thigh muscles clench under your palm every so often. You weren’t full on jerking him off over his pants, but you were certainly relishing in the feeling of his dick getting harder and harder with each occasional pass of your hand.

He parks diagonally across the lawn in front of his trailer, not giving a shit where the van ends up as long as it’s stopped. He wanted to dash around the vehicle and scoop you out of your seat, throw you over his shoulder and take you inside to continue with whatever this evening had in store for you.

The second his hand stalled on the clutch, shifting the van into park and taking a moment to let his mind wander to what would happen once he got you inside, you were already halfway out the van and skipping up the steps to his front door.

Entering his trailer, you start taking off your coat and shoes, trying to act as normal as possible. Your facade of keeping it cool entirely shatters when he enters behind you, calmly clicking the door shut and patiently waiting for you to finish unlacing your boots.

You remain crouched down, darting your eyes up at him, deciding against being a brat and undoing your laces as slowly as possible to keep him waiting. Any caution you had was long swept away by the wind, and he’d taken control in your little bathroom tryst, so it was your turn to say fuck it and just do what felt right.

And in this moment, there was only a few quick movements and about six inches of space between you and Eddie’s semi-hard dick. One shoe was only half off, haphazardly kicked behind you as you pivoted onto your knees and had your hands moving eagerly up his tensing thighs.

“Can I?” Your question was half formed and he was already nodding.

You’d teased him enough on the ride over, you wanted him, now. Pants quickly unbuttoned and blue checkered boxers pushed down to his knees, and you were about to go feral and just go for it when a silver glimmer adorning his thick cock caught your eye.

Your mouth was already half open, but your jaw nearly unhinged and hit the floor when the pierced head of his dick falls out of his boxers and lands at your eye level.

Unmoving, mouth agape, you look up to make eye contact, ripping your eyes away from the shock of two silver balls on his cockhead. He knew it was nice, he wouldn’t have bedazzled it if it wasn’t, but the look you were giving him sucked all the unwavering confidence from his body for a split second, suddenly feeling weak in the knees at the sight of you slowly sicking your tongue out, not making any contact but waiting.

He took the base of his dick in his hand and gave it a few precautionary strokes before angling it down and slapping your wet tongue with the tip a few times.

You were two and a half seconds away from being entirely fucked out. If he pulled away and asked you to crawl on all fours to him, you’d do it without a second thought.

You let him slide his cock gently against your outstretched tongue a few times before coming to your senses and wrapping your lips around him, moving your hand to replace his and move against the length that your mouth couldn’t yet reach.

All it took was a few steady bobs of your head, hand twisting and eyes still focused upwards on his face, to have him biting his knuckle and looking up at the ceiling to ground himself to try and not bust on the spot. You love this, of course, seeing him visibly spiral paired with the salty taste of precum already leaking from him.

The hand not jerking him off comes up to the back of his hip, gently pushing against him in tandem with the movements of your head, encouraging him to shallowly thrust into your mouth.

“Jesus fu-“ he grunts out, not wanting to overestimate your encouragement, but unable to keep his hips from rolling forward slightly with the push of your hands and the bob of your lips.

After an unexpected snap of his hips that sent his cock sliding into the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, a pang of guilt struck through him for pushing too hard. That was, until you let your head pull back a touch to catch your breath, but a long string of spit connected your lips to his cock, and a wild smile broke across your face that nearly sent him to the moon.

You dove back in and pushed his cock all the way into the back of your throat, going so far that your nose pressed into the patch of dark curls that sat above his perfect dick. Focusing your breathing through your nose, you make a point to constrict your throat a few times until you feel him twitch inside you.

Pulling off with a gasp for air, you notice his eyebrows pinched together and gaze locked on you.

“I like how these feel,” you comment, letting your pointed tongue dance around the metal balls on his tip.

He shudders and you clench your thighs at the sight of his stomach muscles tensing up when your tongue makes contact with the underside of his head, right where it meets the shaft.

“If I let you fuck my mouth until you come, are you still going to be able to give it to me in a bit, or are you a one and done kind of guy?” You ask with a playfully teasing tone, but genuinely want to know if you suck him off to completion if the night will be over or not.

“Fuck,” he spits out, more blood rushing to his cock at the idea of coming down your throat, “I’d fuck you all night if you’d let me babe.”

Half a second doesn’t pass before his cock is back in your mouth, hips shakily moving forward with your movements, gaining confidence as you flicker your eyes up at him through your lashes, the glimmer in them telling him he can take what he wants.

“Fuckin’ look at you,” he comments to himself, “takin’ it all.”

“Mhmmm,” you hum around him letting your tongue roll around his tip each time before he pushes his cock back down your throat.

“You think you can get away with teasing me like that? That shit you pulled in the van back there, you think it’s cute to try and get me all riled up?”

You nod, tongue out and saliva coating your lips and chin. You could tell he was close by the way his words came out staggered, and his hips started snapping towards you in a new tempo, like his body was chasing it.

Grunts and moans pulled from his chest fill the space mixed with the hums of satisfaction you let out while you take him deeper and faster. Moving in for the kill, you carefully slip your hand up in between his legs, cupping his balls, trying your best not to startle him.

“Oh fuck,” it was a pitch of his voice you’d never heard before, a new tone especially reserved for the moments before orgasm, “you’re gonna make me fuckin come, y/n, y/n, I’m…”

The feeling of his balls constricting in your hands cues the warm wash of come sputtering down into your throat.

Getting the feeling he’d appreciate a bit of a show, you continue to jerk him off and pull off his cock slightly, letting the tip balance onto the tip of your tongue and the rest of his load spills out into your open mouth, some landing around the corners and onto your lips.

“Christ, y/n,” his chest is heaving, his eyes finally pulling from you to squeeze shut for a moment.

Once you’re sure he’s looking at you again you swallow down the salty white substance and lick the excess off your lips. You take his head back into your mouth, sucking just enough to clean off the tip and lap up any stray drops. He’s sensitive, you can tell, so you stop torturing him and place a final kiss right in between the two metal balls.

You thought of asking him if the piercing hurt, or maybe make a comment about the two matching tattoos on his hipbones, ink of his you’d never seen until now. Before your brain can jump from swallowing his come to making post-nut chit chat, he’s yanking you up off your feet and wrapping you in a searingly passionate kiss.

In your past experience most guys wanted you to drink some water or brush your teeth after they came in your mouth, at least before kissing you. Not Eddie. The way his tongue immediately slipped into your mouth, you almost believed he was trying to get a taste for himself.

“C’mon,” he whispers in between slotting his lips with your, “Bedroom. Now.”

He takes your hips in his hands and spins you around, causing a surprised yelp to bubble up from you, making him chuckle behind you as he walks you down the hall, keeping his hands on your sides.

You knew where you were going, there were only so many doors in his tiny trailer, and you’d been here plenty of times before, but you liked the feeling of his hands pushing you forward, guiding your movements and steering you down the hallway into his room.

Before your knees can hit the bed he spins you back around and captures your lips in another heated kiss. His hands trail up your sides, letting his fingertips slide beneath the hem of your shirt and push it upwards until your ribs were exposed. He pulls away from your face, leaving you leaning back into him, not wanting the kiss to end.

“Up,” he pinches the sides of your shirt in his hands, and signals with his chin that he wants you to lift your arms, which you comply.

It slides up and off of you, his hands quickly darting back to unclasp your bra, seemingly without even trying. This makes you roll your eyes, but the realization that you’re bare before him eclipses the thought of making a snippy remark about what a man whore he is.

Flat palms caress your sides and move up to cup your breasts, his tongue pressing into the side of your neck.

“These too,” his thumbs dip into your pants, managing to wiggle under the waistband of your panties as well. You’re going to do it yourself, but he gently pushes you back onto the bed, letting you flip back into the unmade blankets.

“I wanna see you,” he pops your pants button and waits for a nod before sliding your pants and underwear down your legs.

In between the blowjob and now, he’d tucked himself back into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans back up, still unbuttoned, but covering him back up as his cock returned to a half hard state, unlikely to stay that way for very long considering how things were going.

The scene of you now sprawled out onto his bed, naked and needy for him, and him standing above you, basically fully clothed, had a flood of lust traveling south between your thighs.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” you burned under his intense gaze, raking down your body and soaking in the image of your skin laid out against his flannel plaid sheets.

He crawls over you, letting his body melt into yours, the center seam of his jeans pressing against your soaking core, just as it had when he had you pressed up against the door of the bar bathroom.

Rocking gently against you, you feel his cock already starting to harden again. His tongue moves against your neck, hands roaming freely against your skin, arching into his touch.

His breath was heavy against your lips, he was already starting to lose himself, and he knew he wanted to make you come with his tongue at least once before his dick came back out, but it was already pulsing between his legs, growing rock solid with every little whimper that came past your lips.

Your fingers intertwined themselves into the tresses of his long, messy hair. You use your new grip to pull his face as close into yours as your bodies will allow, smushing his nose up against your cheek and foreheads plastered together. The weight of his body on yours, and the lovely rocking motion of his hips against yours stopped as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees.

He slides off the side of the bed, feet returning to the carpeted ground and yanking your body to the edge of the mattress. You let out an unexpected giggle, body limp like a rag doll, moving wherever he wanted you.

He leans back over to give you another deep kiss, teeth dragging against your lower lip and tongue sliding gracefully against yours, before he slides his mouth down, stopping to lap up at your nipples for a moment, not letting any part of your skin go untouched as he takes his time moving down to where you want him most.

Wiggling around on his mattress, your body is begging him to get on with it, but he loves to make you squirm. He takes his time licking up your hip bones, kissing from the innermost part of your thigh all the way down to your knee, and then back up the other side. He even takes a long moment to suck a dark purple bruise into the meat of your thigh, biting down on the flesh and licking over the skin to soothe it, noticing how your back arched a little when he bit down harder.

“Please Eddie,” your voice is hardly above a whisper, whimpering and whiny.

“All you had to do was ask nicely,” he has that too-cocky tone again, but it’s long forgotten once his tongue is buried in between your thighs, lapping up the excess of wetness already pooled there.

“Ohhh,” you let out a moan, sucking in a sharp breath and allowing your body to relax under his focused touch.

His hands push up from your ass to the crooks of your knees, moving your legs back to either side of you, strong palms finding their resting place on the backs of your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide open for him while he buries his face deep in your cunt.

“You-“ the start of a compliment, or maybe a request, escapes your lips but the sudden harsh suck of your clit into his mouth has you speechless and moaning, “Mhmmmmm, uhhhhhhh.”

The sloppy wet sounds of him making out with your pussy are enough to drive you wild, your hands originally balling his sheets in your fists quickly move to the top of his head, resting atop his mop of messy curls.

“Y’can give it a tug,” the first half of his statement spoken directly into your pussy, “I don’t mind a little pain.” He shoots you a wink and keeps his eyes locked on you as he lets his tongue lap a fat long lick up your slit, and then leaning back down to encourage you to tangle your hands into his hair.

Coming to either side of his head you grab two points of purchase, locking your fingers in at the roots and feeling him hum into your cunt when you grabbed it a little tighter.

Your hips start to quiver, so he brings one hand from your thigh up to your lower stomach, pinning you against the bed, and still keeping you spread open with the other.

Working a steady rhythm against your slick center with his lips and tongue, he can tell he’s found the spot you like most by your open mouth and tight eyebrows.

“Ohmygod,” your chest starts moving with heavy breaths, you can’t bear to keep yourself up any longer and flop back down flat onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. He lets go of his anchor on your tummy and returns his hands to your thighs, allowing your hips to wiggle and wriggle against his face to chase after your own pleasure.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” one glimpse of his big brown eyes looking up at you and his nose pressing deliciously into the spot above your clit has your head reeling, “please don’t stop, fuck.”

Rather than reply, he just continues to devour you at that steady pace, your thighs almost snapping shut around his head .

“Uh huh, right there, oh fuck Eddie I’m gonna-“

A strangled moan rips from your throat and your back arches off the mattress, his hands quickly come to wrap around your thighs and keep your center held closely against his face. He’s pulling your hips flush with his face, despite your spasming torso and gushing core.

As your orgasm peaks, your hips angle themselves to push up deeper into his face, and he uses his leverage against the backs of your thighs to lift your ass, the entire lower half of your body now off the mattress and sliding backwards as he keeps his moving tongue glued to your clit.

He climbs up onto the mattress as you slide back, the grip he had on your legs was sure to leave a sore memory of him unwilling to let your coming pussy away from his face.

When he finally pulls away, your hand pushing at his forehead to prevent overstimulation, both of you gasping for air, his knees are propped under your thighs, and your hips are propped up right at perfect level with the bulge in his pants.

“Fuck me,” you say through catching your breath, not as an expletive but rather a demand, “Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” your voice was whiny and desperate.

“This okay?” he starts pulling his dick from its constraints in his unbuttoned jeans, not even shoving them halfway down his thighs before he had that pretty pierced dip dragging through your open and ready folds.

“Yes, inside, please,” you were chasing after his length, while he tossed his shirt off. He teasingly ran it up and down your slit before sinking into you, collapsing down to press your lips into a kiss to swallow your moans as he slid the whole thing in slowly, making sure to take his time and fuck you right.

He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his forehead to yours, finally sheathed all the way inside you and stilling for a moment to relish in the feeling. Pulling back so he can watch your face as he pumps his first few thrusts, he knows he’s beyond fucked.

“So fucking good,” you slur out, eyes almost crossing from how deep his cock was hitting your insides.

“Yeah? This pussy’s god damn perfect, fucking made for me,” he articulates each thought with a snap of his hips, “suckin’ me right in.”

“Wait, can we,” your voice had a little more weight behind it unlike the airy moans he’d grown obsessed with in the past forty minutes.

He pulls back, and rather than finish your thought you slip him out of you and roll over, shuffling up the bed and positioning yourself face down ass up, knees spread and back arched.

“You think you can handle it?” he asks jokingly, swatting your ass playfully and then landing a second, harder smack on the flesh when he notices you pussy clench around nothing at the sensation of him spanking you.

“Want you to fuck me hard,” you mumble into his pillow, wiggling your hips a little bit to jiggle the fat of your ass, “I know your cock is gonna feel so fucking good in me this way, wanna feel that fucking piercing back in my throat from the other direction.”

“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he was genuinely a little shocked at your words, slowly learning that your freak side might match his.

You expected to feel his cock slam into you once his hands came to spread your ass apart, but instead the mattress dipped and he was licking another fat stripe from your clit all the way up past your second hole, running this back a few times until you were moaning into the pillow and thighs were tensed up from the attention he was giving you.

“Sorry babe, just needed another taste,” he pushed the head of his dick into you, and moved the first few inches agonizingly slow into your soaked hole.

“Eddie please, need it, need you,” he loved that his sheets were balled up in your fists, using the tension of the material to bounce yourself back onto him. You only manage to slide back down about three quarters before he’s tightly gripping your hip and pulling out half way again.

“Tsk tsk tsk, you need to learn to be patient, pretty girl,” he’d thrust it an inch of so, and then slowly pull back, making you whine and start to feel tears bubble up in the corners of your eyes.

“Want it so bad,” your cheek laid flat against his pillow, and you could catch a glimpse of him behind you out of the corner of your eye if you craned your neck a bit. You sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you craved him.

He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Restrained grunts left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face.

As his long fingers move your hair away from your eyes, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”

“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”

His vision practically goes black with this new unrestricted passion, allowing himself to thrust into you as hard and as deep as his hips would propel him, twisting your hair in his grip and pulling you up from your laid position, quickly letting your hands jump to his headboard to support you as your head was pulled back.

You tried to bounce back onto his cock, wanting to feel him as deeply and wholly as your bodies would allow, but you could hardly keep up with the pace he had set.

Your ass bouncing against him and the occasional glance he caught at your fucked out expression spurred him on to fuck you even harder. He had your hair pulled back so tight that your back was pressing flush up with his chest every so often, and he took the opportunity to snake an arm around you and hold your chest up flat, his other hand moving down to rub frantic circles on your clit.

“You’re gonna make me come like this,” you manage to croak out, voice hoarse from the harsh bend in your neck.

“Nuh uhh, no,” his voice was gruff and commanding, right into your ear and sent a shiver down your spine.

He pulled out of you fully, and had you flipped around flat on your back again before you could even open your mouth to complain.

“Need to see that pretty face when you come on my cock,” he lines himself up with you again, pushing into you and making a mental note of how the bulge of his cock looked pressing up from the inner part of your lower stomach.

And of course, your face screwed up in pleasure, puffy lips and sweaty brow, slack jawed and panting his name would be something Eddie wouldn’t be able to forget even if he tried.

His thumb found its way to your clit to pick up where he had last left you, steadily building to an earth shattering orgasm. Talking you through it, knowing you were close by the vice grip your walls had on his dick, in between grunts he spilled out some “good girl”’s and “right fuckin there, that’s it.”

When he felt your thighs tense up, and the muscles in your neck strain against the soft skin he’d previously had his lips all over, he knew you were nearing the finish line.

“So fucking perfect, feel so good wrapped around me,” he managed to sweet talk you without altering the pace of his hips, “That’s it, come on my cock, give it to me.”

With that, your body can’t help but throw itself over the edge of pleasure. A deep grunt rattles in your chest, and you lose all sensation other than the wild pulsing in between your legs. You can’t be bothered to worry about what your face looks like, or if your thighs are squeezing him too hard, you only feel the riptide of an orgasm shattering through you.

The animalistic noise that Eddie grunts out, his wild gaze locked on your face only makes your body shake with pleasure even harder. He had that instinct that most men lacked, to keep the exact pace and motion when your orgasm hit rather than speed up or slow down, it was a gift, a talent.

Of course he wasn’t going to change a thing about what he was doing, look at you. You were so fucking perfect, shaking and coming all over him, those sweet noises and the beautiful squelching between your thighs. He’d rather die than change a single thing about this moment.

He stilled only when you paused to catch your breath, and within seconds was flipped over by the power of your thighs onto his back.

Unexpectedly, you began to ride him, trying to match the pace he had earlier set. The aftershocks of your orgasm still washed through you, but you seized the moment to get him right where you wanted him. This angle was different, deeper and more connected. You roll your hips and bring your hands up to his hair, foreheads pressing together once again.

“You’re making me feel so fucking good,” you manage to breathe out into his lips, he quickly comes to the realization of what’s happened and shifts the angle of his hips to hit you even deeper.

“I’d give you everything, if you’d let me,” he doesn’t let a single thought pass in his mind before the words slip out, “always.”

Your lips capture his in a kiss that has far more emotion behind it than two friends play-dating and fucking for fun. His hands come up to grasp your cheeks, your hips continue to roll down into his with purpose.

“I’m- Where-“ his words are hardly intelligible in between breathless kisses, but you know what he means.

“Inside, please, need all of you inside me,” you try to keep your voice steady so he hears you loud and clear, wanting to give him the exact attention he had paid to you, “Please Eddie, come inside me.”

His hands travel down and guide your hips to fuck down onto him one, two, three times before he’s groaning in your ear and letting out the prettiest and most vulnerable sounds you’ve ever heard form him.

The swell of his cock inside you makes you drape your head into his neck, focusing on riding out his orgasm and making sure he was twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm before you let up.

When you felt his grip on your hips tighten, signaling that he’d had too much, you sink all the way down one final time and let your body lay limp on his, pulsing cock still filling you up.

His chest rose and fell harshly with his recovering breaths. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing up through the spot on his neck where your ear laid on his sweaty skin.

Silently awaiting the inevitable tap on the shoulder, the slow pull out and post-sex cleanup process, you try to savor every passing moment. But it doesn’t come. Eddie wraps his arms around your midsection and holds your limp body close to his, letting his cock start to soften inside you.

You nearly fall asleep like that, all wrapped up in him, until you recognize that you should pee and clean up to avoid a UTI. You slip off of him, and hear a disappointed groan from him. He makes cute grabby hands at you as you cross the room, making you roll your eyes, but something deep inside you flip flops with how sweet he’s being, so caring, so unlike the picture of himself that he had painted for you.

You give him a wet hand towel to clean up the remnants of your activities, and slip back into bed with him per his insistence. You doze off for a while, until the rising sun peeking through his blinds catches your eye, striking you with the sudden decision to stay and face the music or leave and let it settle.

You’d already regretted it, but weren’t ready to have the “hey, so I know we had fake boyfriend-girlfriend sex, but I actually really like you so what should we do about that?” conversion with him, so instead you take the cowardly path and tiptoe out of his room in the early morning hours, leaving behind your underwear on his nightside table with a scribbled note saying to call you. Hopefully that was enough of a signal.

Apparently not,

Days pass, and no call.

It was all starting to get to your head. While you had gone through the stages of being nervous that you had done something wrong, that he was avoiding you to spare you the rejection, thinking he regretted what had happened and didn’t want to face you, who was so obviously into him it was painful, you’d just now turned a new leaf. Fuck that. If he was too much of a coward to call you, you'd hope he'd at least give you the decency as a friend to tell you the truth, you deserved to be angry, and you deserved a response.

After stewing in your feelings for longer than felt healthy, you just get in your car and start driving to his trailer. If this all blew up in your face at least you wouldn’t have to keep biting your nails and waiting for the phone to ring.

Three deep breaths, and a quick moment to gather your thoughts, and suddenly your body acted on instinct, putting the car in park and walking up to pound three concise knocks on his trailer door.

“Just a second,” he hollered from inside, giving you a few seconds to be stricken with regret for showing up unannounced without a plan on what exactly to say.

“What do you- oh, y/n,” he was in a pair of plaid pajama pants that hung low on his hips, shirtless and hair still damp from a recent shower, “uh, hey?”

“Oh, hey,” your tone was laced with annoyance, “I left something here last week and I’m here to get it back. If you don’t mind.”

“What- oh,” he’s a second too slow to realize you mean the underwear you had purposefully left behind with that note. The note telling him to call you. Which he never did.

You were left standing on his porch steps, arms crossed and shooting daggers out of your eyes while he stood there in the doorway, an apparent guilty expression plastered on his face while he rocked back on his heels to buy some time to figure out what to say.

“You don’t have to invite me inside, if you can just grab them and give them to me, and I’ll be out of your hair,” you say flatly, recognizing if he does as asked then this might be the last time you speak to Eddie Munson.

“No, no, uh, you should come in,” he steps aside to let you in, “we probably shouldn’t have this conversation on my front steps.”

Avoiding eye contact, feeling an overwhelming mix of anger, confusion, and betrayal, you step inside and don’t make any effort to move into the space. You just stand by the door and give him an expectant look. Either he could go get the underwear, or he could grow a pair and say something to you.

“I, uh-“ he looked so defeated you started to feel bad for using such a pointed tone, but then you remembered the days and days that passed without hearing from him, “I’m sorry, that I, y’know…”

“Yeah, well I don’t really care if you’re not looking for any post sex recap conversations, because you’re obviously pretty sure of yourself in that department,” the words flew out before your mind could even conjure them up, “but you fucking promised me that you wouldn’t do this, so can I please just have my underwear back and I won’t bother you again.”

He runs a hand through his hair letting out a deep exhale and searching the ceiling for words, “I know, I-“

You cut him off, your thoughts were ripping through you now and you were going to say your piece whether he asked for it or not, “You said you wouldn’t pull this shit with me, but I guess our friendship isn’t substantial enough for you to see me any differently than you do every other girl you throw away after you’ve gotten what you want. You clearly don’t want any more advice and you clearly don’t want to be my friend, so please, just give me my shit so I can go.”

“That’s the fucking thing y/n, of course I don’t want to be your friend,” his gaze still fixed on the ceiling.

At this point you were seconds away from just storming out, letting him keep your underwear as some twisted little trophy for breaking your heart.

“Yeah, crystal clear Eddie.”

“Being your friend is already hard enough, and I knew this shit was a bad idea, the whole trial-girlfriend thing. But how the fuck was I supposed to say no to that? The girl of my dreams offers to do all this no-strings-attached romantic shit, I’d be the dumbest man alive to turn that down.”

You just give him a blank stare, your scalding anger twisting into a more confused frenzy of bees swarming in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows pinched together, you just stare at him until he finally makes eye contact with you.

“And yeah,” he goes on, letting all his words out like a big exhale in the same cadence that you had just hurled all your angry words at his, but his tone was filled with guilt as opposed to rage, “maybe we let it go a little too far, but I would never say no to you, I couldn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t know what the fuck to say to you after, but that’s exactly the reason I’m not good enough for you. The more we kept that fake dating shit up the worse it was gonna get, so I’m sorry, but I can’t keep spending time with you like that, because it’s starting to fucking hurt.”

“Hurt,” you say with a dry laugh, which almost scares him, “YOU’RE hurt? Give me a fucking break Eddie. I know you don’t see me that way. So what, you’re too scared to hurt my feelings? You’re doing a wonderful job, keep it up.”

“What the fuck do you mean, not see you like what?”

“Don’t pretend to be dumb Eddie. When we first met I tried so hard to get your attention, asking you to hang out, and you always blew me off. It’s fine that you don’t want to date me or whatever, but at least just tell me that, don’t fuck me like I’m special or something and then toss me aside. I deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, y/n, you do,” his voice was no longer guilt stricken, and was on the same straightforward plane as your last responses, “you deserve so much fucking better than me, that’s why I could never let anything between us happen. I don’t call girls back. I’m rude. I don’t take care of myself, let alone others. I like to smoke, and drink, and get head from girls in bar bathrooms and never learn their names, and that’s not the kind of person that a girl like you dates. I’m a fun quick fuck. You’re the kind of girl that after three dates he’ll already have a ring picked out. You’re everything, and I’m nothing, so forgive me for sparing you of that.”

Your bones are frozen and the beat of silence gives him the opportunity to spin on his heel and start down the hallway, presumably to get your panties.

Snapping back into it, you let out a louder than expected, “Hey,” and you start following him, not taking long to catch up to him in his bedroom.

“You,” you point a finger at him, and start to feel the rage bubble up again, “don’t get to decide that you’re unloveable. And you don’t get to tell me what kind of girl I am. Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you’re so lonely and miserable is because you choose to be? You don’t get to decide what I deserve, I do. And I really fucking like you Eddie, so forgive me for acting like it.”

You snatch your underwear off his bedside table, and give him a look, not fueled by anger or resentment, but empathy.

“I’m going to leave. And if you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine, but if you do, you can call me. Goodbye Eddie.”

You feel out of your own body, floating above it all and rewinding the conversation over and over, body on autopilot taking you home while your soul stayed behind and relived his words over and over, unsure if you feel better or worse than when you showed up.

Days pass by again, and you take his silence as more of a response than anything he had said to you during that conversation. You try not to wallow, but you feel scattered and distraught, at both the prospect of losing Eddie and having to deal with your shared friends, would they allow you to dance around each other, or would they flat out choose him and shut you out? Would group nights out bowling suddenly just turn into the occasional one-on-one coffee with Robin?

Until suddenly, on a random Tuesday afternoon when you've gotten home from work and are relaxing on the couch in your pajamas, three knocks are at your door.

At this point you figured it was over. He hadn't called and he'd made no effort to continue the dialogue. So a thought of Eddie doesn't even cross your mind in between the couch and opening the door.

And there he is.

In a suit, slightly descheveld in Eddie fashion, and holding a slightly wilting bouquet of flowers. Posture straight and brave face, but expecting your brutal edge upon answering the door nonetheless.

"Hey?" you're somewhat at a loss for words answering.

"Hi," he seems like he's running lines of a play in his mind, "I was hoping we could talk."

You reluctantly let him in, and he hands the flowers to you, as if it was a normal occurrence for him to bring you such a gift.

"First off," he starts, hardly breaching your living room entrance before starting his apology, "I regret the way we last left things, and I'm sorry for leaving you waiting for a response."

He flicks those big brown eyes at you and you can't help but give him the benefit of the doubt, he always was so sincere with his words.

"You're amazing. And although I'll remain adamant that I don't deserve someone like you in my life, I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I'm sorry that tried to tell you how to feel."

You remain stoic at your seat on the couch, watching him shift his weight and bare his soul to you.

"You're perfect. Nice, funny, sexy, brave, all of it. And if you're willing to give me a chance, I don't know why the fuck you would, but if you are, I want to put aside all my bullshit and try this out, if you'll have me."

He stood there for a moment, letting you take in his request, bouquet in hand and suit adorned.

"And I owe you a few dates, for real."

As hard as you want your exterior to be, a smile cracks through.

"Okay, but know I don't fuck until the third date, at best," you jab, breaking his nervous exterior and visibly relieving the tension from his shoulders.

"I'm somewhat of a refined gentleman myself, so that won't be an issue," he bows and extends a hand to you.

You pull him down by the hand onto the couch with you, wrapping him up in a deep kiss. He was worth it, and you both knew it was worth the shot to try.

#eddie munson smut #smut #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things smut #eddie munson fem!reader

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rafeandonlyrafe · 15 days

Text

pizza night

words: 2.2k

warnings: mentions/implications of sex but no actual smut, best friend!rafe, jealousy, angst but happy ending, friends to lovers, rafe with another girl, reader sleeps with kelce

“PIZZA NIGHT!” you shout, rafe letting out a whoop as you carry in the two boxes, plain cheese for you, and a mess of toppings for rafe.

“was worried you weren't gonna show up.” rafe glances at the clock. you're only about five minutes late, only running behind because the pizza place was busy and your order wasn't ready on time.

“as if i would miss our weekly pizza night.” you roll your eyes. you've had to shift times around occasionally to make sure you get the pizza night in, like for rafes football schedule, or you having to help your parents out at a fundraiser. for the past three years, it's been every thursday night, even both getting pizza from your respective locations while you facetime when you're not both in the outer banks.

“come here.” rafe opens his arms up to you. you step into his familiar hold, strong arms wrapping around you, tugging you against his chest. you inhale his scent, so uniquely rafe.

he's been your best friend for as long as you can remember, your parents being friends when both became pregnant around the same time. you did everything together. pizza nights started as plum puree, as your mom loves to joke.

“what do you wanna watch tonight?” rafe asks, knowing whatever you put on will soon become background noise to your chatting, rafe happy to listen to any gossip you have to say.

“umm…” you tap your finger against your chin as rafe plates your pizza for you, loading his plate with three slices for himself. you know he's already got your preferred drink sitting on the coffee table. “mulan.”

“sure.” rafe nods. he used to argue when he was younger. you'd want barbie swan lake or a romcom while he prefered superheroes and action. he learned throughout your friendship to just not fight it.

you immediately start to tell rafe the latest gossip, filling him in on everything he's missed since you saw him last, even though it was only two days ago.

“oh and you'll never guess!” you squeal. “callie, my friend from florida?” you see if the name jogs rafes memory, which he quickly nods. how could he forget. the one other friend that competes with him, despite you only seeing her for weeks at a time when you went to visit your grandparents in florida. “she's coming to the outer banks! she's gonna stay with us for the summer while her parents travel.”

“oh, nice.” rafe nods. he's happy for you, he really is, but he hopes she's not going to get in the way of his time with you, especially pizza night.

“girl, why didn’t you tell me rafe is hot as fuck?” callie giggles, looking out the window where rafe and a couple of his friends are chatting on the patio.

“ew.” you scrunch your nose up. you mean the criticism about callie finding him attractive, not about rafes looks, but callie doesn’t take it that way as she rolls her eyes.

“seriously, he’s so fine.” she slices into another lemon, handing one half to you as you squeeze it to make fresh lemonade.

you just frown. you don’t want callie to find rafe attractive and you’re not sure why the jealous feeling builds in your gut, so you quickly change the subject.

“wanna come to a party friday night? at kelces.” you question.

“oh my god, yes.” callie nods, helping you carry out cups while you bring out the pitcher of lemonade, pouring a glass for yourself and whichever one of your friends also wants one before sitting next to rafe.

callie takes the open spot on the other side of him as the conversation instantly strikes back up. you remain quieter than normal, eyes flicking between them as you watch them interact. you’re glad they’re getting along, truly, but you feel like gouging your eyes out when callie laughs and places her hand on his bicep.

“you okay?” rafe asks after everyone else had gone home, callie having taken your car back to your place to shower while you plan on asking rafe to drive you home.

“yeah.” you put on a wide smile. “whats up?”

“you just seem quieter than usual.” rafe watches your face carefully, noting the way your face falls before you perk back up with a shake of your head.

“nope, im fine. just glad you're getting along with callie!”

“speaking of…” rafe pulls his phone out, handing it to you. “can i have her number?”

“oh… yeah.” you nod quickly, grabbing his phone and typing in her number. you have it memorized along with rafes and your mom and dads, the only ones you’ve typed in enough to know by heart. “why do you want it though?”

“i thought i’d get to know her a bit.” rafe shrugs.

“okay.” you force a smile on your face before standing up. “im gonna walk home. see you thursday for pizza night!”

“y/n, wait-” rafe tries to call you back, but you’ve already disappeared into the house.

you struggle to knock on the door with the pizza boxes in your arms. usually its unlocked, or rafe is there to open it for you the second your car pulls in the driveway.

“shit.” rafe opens the door, his face pale.

“what?” you shove past him, needing to set the cardboard boxes down.

you walk into the kitchen, going to place the boxes down on the counter when you realize there is already a box sitting there, opened up with a couple slices missing. you carefully slide the boxes out of your arms onto the marble before looking at rafe.

“i-i forgot-” rafe says as you look into the living room, seeing callie sat on the couch, her eyes on the television screen as she takes a bite of pizza.

“you forgot about our pizza night?” you question, not even trying to hide your tears this time as they form in your eyes.

“i just didn’t realize it was thursday, y/n i-”

“its fine.” you shake your head, heading towards the door. you need to leave before your emotions explode.

“y/n, please.” rafe grabs your hand right as you reach for the doorknob.

“no.” you turn around to look at rafe, knowing that there are tears streaming down your cheeks, yet you still attempt to force a smile. “no, go. have fun with her.”

you pull out of his grasp and leave, rafe standing on the front porch watching you drive away.

“coming to the party?” callie asks, wearing a tiny dress with high heels, showing off her flawless legs.

“nah.” you shake your head. “im feeling kinda tired.”

“alright.” callie frowns, but doesn’t push you any farther as she walks towards the front door, looking back once before leaving.

you are genuinely tired. you stayed up all last night waiting to hear callie arrive back at your house from rafes. she didn’t get home until 10 in the morning the next day. you know rafe has slept with girls before, but usually when he’s way too drunk after a party, and never with a girl you considered your friend.

you turn the tv on to a random channel, just needing something to distract yourself and stop you from crying again.

hours tick by as the sun sets, your eyes burning from staring at the television and holding back tears when a sudden knock on the door makes you jump.

you stand up, hoping its rafe, hoping he’s coming to apologize and to put all his attention back on you. you feel bad when you open the door and see its topper, your face no doubt giving away your disappointment.

“y/n, are you okay?” he asks. “you aren’t at the party.” he states the obvious as you stand in your sweatpants and a flimsy tanktop.

“just not feeling it.” you shrug.

“is it… callie and rafe?” topper asks. he doesn’t need you to confirm as tears well in your eyes.

“i-i like him. i didn’t even realize until i saw them together.” you finally admit it to yourself why you’re so upset.

“shit.” topper pulls you into a hug as you cry into his shirt, glad for his comfort as he rubs his hand up and down your back, hoping he can help you feel better.

“i shouldn’t be telling you this…” topper sighs. “but kelce has a crush on you. if you want to go to the party and… i don’t know, make rafe jealous back.”

“he won’t get jealous.” you shake your head. “he likes her.”

topper just stares at you with a look of pity. so in your head about your friendship that you can’t even put together the pieces that rafe likes you back.

you look down at your outfit. honestly, you can’t even manage to put on anything other than your crocs, you’re not going to change into a dress and heels just to dance up on a guy you don’t even really like.

“just come wearing that.” topper says, sensing your apprehension. “im serious, you look good. it’ll show how different you are then all the other girls there.”

you look back into your house at your couch, the tv still turned on before looking back to topper. he nods at you with encouragement.

“i need to get drunk immediately.” you tell him as he laughs, pulling you out the door.

you let out a groan as you turn over, snuggling into water warm body is wrapped around you as sleep slowly clears from your head.

“good morning, beautiful.” kelce says, making you blink your eyes open as the memories of last night come back, of ignoring rafe and callie dancing together as you move to kelce. topper was beyond right about the outfit as you captured the eye of most of the guys there, especially rafe as he tried to get your attention, but you were up in kelces room before he could steal you away.

it felt good to sleep with kelce, but not completely right.

“morning.” you smile. kelce is handsome, especially with the warm morning light shining in on the two of you, but your heart hurts as you wish it was rafes face you were looking into.

“can i have you again?” kelce asks, reaching down to grab your ass.

“yeah.” you nod with a smile. another distraction won’t hurt.

“where were you?” rafe asks as you arrive home, not expecting to see him snuggled up to callie on the couch.

“sleeping with kelce.” you say with a shrug. if rafe isn’t gonna hide his relationship with callie, you certainly aren’t going to hide what you were doing either.

“he doesn’t care about you, y/n.” rafe stands up, callies face shifting to one of worry as she looks between the two of you, realization sinking in. “he just wants to sleep with you.”

“okay, and?” you laugh, a bitter, spiteful laugh. “he’s got a big dick, and maybe i just wanted to sleep with him too.”

you stomp away towards your room, blaring music from your speaker the second you’re inside. you don’t want to hear any noise rafe and callie might make as you flop down on your bed, quickly falling asleep despite the blaring music.

the music being turned down wakes you up as someone sits on your bed. you groan and turn onto your back, expecting to see rafe.

“callie?” you question, glancing at the bag slung over his shoulder and the suitcase sitting in your open doorway.

you sit up quickly. “are you going to stay with rafe?”

“no.” she says with a gentle laugh and shake of her head. “im going back to florida.”

“what?” you question.

“i didn’t mean to come between you and him. i thought you didn’t like him. i… i don’t want this to ruin our friendship, so i’m leaving. he was fun to be with, but it was never serious for either of us. he’s serious about you.”

the words sink in as you look to her with hope in your eyes. “you talked to him about it?”

“i did.” she smiles with a gentle nod, glancing towards the clock on your nightstand. “the taxi is waiting outside to take me to the airport.”

you shoot forward to wrap your arms around callie, pulling her into a tight hug. “thank you.”

“of course.” she holds you back just as tight. “come visit me in florida, okay?”

you nod enthusiastically before she gets up to leave.

“finally.” topper sighs with relief as he opens the door to tanneyhill. “i’ve been trying to get him to go over and talk to you for the past four hours.” topper pulls you inside before you can even react. “seriously, you guys just need to date already. he slept with callie, you slept with kelce, and now you’re even. go make out.” topper shoves you into the living room before fleeing.

it takes a second for rafe to look up, his eyes red with tears.

“i had no clue.” rafe shakes his head. “i had no clue you liked me. i never would have done anything with callie if i knew. i thought i’d never get to have you, so i thought settling for your friend would be the next best thing.”

“i don’t like you.” you say before quickly clarifying. “i love you, rafe.”

rafe is standing and making his way towards you so quickly that you don’t even process his movements until his lips meet yours in a fierce kiss.

you hesitate for a moment before kissing back, feeling his arms wrap around your body, holding you tight to him, not allowing you to escape or leave ever again.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1 @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

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feyhunter78 · 4 months

Text

Lab Partners

(Image taken from Pinterest, I believe the artist is teletwobees) More Nerd!Miguel here

Also, plz feel free to ask me about college/nerd!miguel bc he is in my thoughts now

Regret, that’s what you’re feeling as you bury your face in your arms, the lab table cool against your skin. You should’ve brought a jacket, but you didn’t have time, just raced out of your apartment to your car in leggings and a t-shirt with your letters printed across the back in purple and white bubble letters.

“Y/N are—are you okay?” Miguel’s voice is soft, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor not as soft, your head aching, pain piercing through your brain at the noise.

Your stomach rumbles and a wave of fatigue washes over you as you lift your head to look at him. “Got dragged to the bar last night.”

He’s wearing a soft looking, long sleeve dark blue shirt, the sleeves pushed up exposing his forearms, his glasses flecked with raindrops, his hair is tousled and slightly damp curling slightly at the ends.

“On a Thursday night?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing as he unpacks the lab equipment.

“It’s the night everyone goes out, I don’t know why, and I hate it.” You whine, massaging your temples.

Miguel’s large warm hand presses against your forehead, and you startle for a moment, causing him to jolt back, stuttering apologies.

“I—I just wanted to make sure you weren’t sick.” He says, a light dusting of pink across his tanned cheekbones.

He’s got great cheekbones, really, he’s got great everything. Maybe it’s just the hangover talking, but you really want to kiss him. Well, you’ve wanted to kiss him since he sat next to you on the first day of class. And when he slid his notes over to you the month after when he saw you struggling to keep up with the professor’s supersonic lecturing speed.

“I mean, a hangover is a kind of sickness, I’m pretty sure.” You say, your own face burning, but you can’t tell if it from his touch or the hangover.

“Don’t they say to drink something for a hangover? A Bloody Mary or a mimosa? I heard the café off campus sells them until noon.” He suggests, nerves coloring his tone.

Is he trying to ask you out? No, he can’t be. He’s Miguel, the genius, shy and sweet, and definitely not interested in you, and your hectic, dramatic life with sisters you both love and hate depending on what week it is.

“Can’t drink in letters.” You tell him, fumbling for your water bottle and taking a long drink, your eyes fluttering closed as the cool water soothes your sore throat.

“Really?” He asks, and his eyes are on you when you open yours, lingering on your lips, then darting away.

“Yep, it’s like the number one rule for all sororities all across the U.S. movies always get it wrong, really pisses me off.” You grumble, putting your water bottle back in your bag and trying to muster the energy to focus on the assignment in front of you.

“Interesting.” Miguel says, taking his glasses off and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt.

Like an absolute pervert, your eyes shoot down to the exposed sliver of skin. Tanned and toned, you swallow hard as you rip your eyes away.

“Yep, Hollywood, they always try to make us look like drunk sluts. And look, I may be drunk occasionally, but I’m not a slut.”

Miguel’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “I would never call you that—never think you were one, ever.”

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I know, Miguel, you’re too sweet for that.” You can’t help but let your hand drag down to his bicep, his stupidly firm bicep. “My sweet boy.”

His glasses clatter onto the lab table and Miguel scrambles to pick them up, slipping them back on. “Did you get to finish your assignment yet?”

You screw your eyes closed, swearing under your breath. “That’s what I forgot.”

“It’s due tomorrow.” He reminds you.

You nod and press the back of your hand to your forehead, willing your headache to recede. “Yes, yes, I know, I just shit, I totally forgot, and I’ve been so busy, we have this major philanthropy event coming up, and I’ve been up till two am all week helping paint the banner and I really don’t get anything we’re doing in here.”

You pause, sniffling, your eyes welling with tears, as you bite the inside of your cheek trying to keep from crying in the back of the lab.

“I could help you?” Miguel offers tentatively, fidgeting with his pen, his eyes darting between you and the table.

“Really? Miguel, that would be amazing.” You say, unable to resist the urge to lean over and wrap your arms around him.

He smells good, like expensive cologne, and old books.

You take a moment longer than necessary to pull back, basking in his warmth, in the way his strong arms wrap loosely around you before he gains the courage and crushes you to his chest.

“It’s no problem, why don’t we meet in the library around four? It looks like you’re almost done with it, so we shouldn’t be there for too long.” His voice low, calm, and warm vibrates in his chest, and you relax into his hold before pulling back and nodding.

“That would be perfect, thank you.” You beam at him, headache receding, the knot in your stomach unraveling, there’s something about him that’s so comforting, makes you feel safe.

He nods and focuses in on the PowerPoint the professor is going over. He looks so handsome, warm brown eyes flickering over the typed words, his broad shoulders still half turned towards you, his full lips parted ever so slightly as he mumbles to himself.

You rest your chin in your hand and watch him out of the corner of your eye, unable to keep from daydreaming about what it might be like to be his.

Miguel is going places, you know it. And you? You’ve always thought it might be fun to be a trophy wife, maybe Miguel needed a trophy wife?

You can see it now, standing next to him in a gorgeous red dress, your hand around his bicep as he accepts some award for genetics. You can almost feel his lips against yours as he thanks you for your support and dips you old movie style.

“Y/N I’ll see you at four, yeah?” Miguel’s voice pulls you from your daydreams. Class is over, you’ve taken zero notes, and he definitely caught you zoning out.

You nod, and quickly gather your things. “Yeah, yeah four, I’ll meet you there!”

(Also ummm I was in a sorority my entire time at college, so I am actually the expert and Hollywood gets everything soooo wrong it makes me legit angry😭)

Miguel TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #nerd!miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #college!miguel #college!reader #college!au #sorority!reader #nerd!miguel O’Hara #nerd miguel

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libraryofloveletters · 10 months

Text

Want What I Can’t Have

pairing: mick schumacher x vettel!reader

summary: he only has eyes for one girl and it’s the one girl he wasn’t supposed to be looking at.

author’s note: this one has some funny comments if I do say so myself, also today’s seb’s birthday and this is vettel!reader so happy birthday to my husband seb <333

all photos are from instagram and/or pinterest :)

written in the photos series masterlist

mickschumacher

liked by youruser, lewishamilton, pierregasly and 516,493 others

mickschumacher: what a way to spend a thursday night!

view 1,304 comments

seb5: this is so !!!!!

youruser: bummed I wasn’t invited

↪️mickschumacher: next time

user5: nice to see everyone together for seb!!

youruser

liked by maxverstappen1, mickschumacher, lewishamilton and 190,345 others

youruser: it’s the greatest privilege of my life to be able to call you my brother and to share a last name; one that’s attached to greatness. 15 years and a legacy that will be talked about from now until the end of the time. you’re my hero forever and always, I love you sebby. ❤️

view 943 comments

user5: ‘sebby’ 😭😭😭😭

sebastianvetttel: love you.

comment liked by youruser

mickschumacher: miss you guys already❤️❤️

↪️youruser: I’ll see you in like a day??? 🤨

↪️user9: WHY ARE YOU SEEING MICK???

lewishamilton: a true champ. it’s been a pleasure to share the track with him and to have the vettel family around. hope we continue to see you around y/n! 🩷

↪️youruser: you know I will always be a 44 supporter 🩷 (number 5 is still my number 1)

↪️lewishamilton: I assumed as much

user16: the vettel siblings >>>>

mickschumacher

liked by youruser, pierregasly, lance_stroll and 510,493 others

mickschumacher: she’s pretty cool

comments have been disabled.

youruser

liked by mickschumacher, sebastianvettel, pierregasly and 187,493 others

youruser: summer dayz ☀️😎

location: australia

view 394 comments

sebastianvettel: do you know how to swim?

↪️youruser: despite your attempts to ‘drown’ me during my childhood, yes I do know how to swim 🙄

user55: when I grow up I wanna be you 😍

pierregasly: why do you need two glasses if you’re alone?

↪️youruser: who said I was alone?

↪️pierregasly: oh 👀 who’s with you?

↪️youruser: go bother your underage girlfriend please

↪️pierregasly: she’s 20.

↪️youruser: and you’re 27 sooooo ???? bye.

user8: ^SCREAMINGGGGGG

sebsisterstan: you’re so pretty!!! i love your outfit!

comment liked by youruser

mickschumacher: coolzzzzz 😎

↪️youruser: cringe.

—

youruser added an instagram story

mickschumacher

liked by sebastianvettel, lewishamilton, estebanocon and 442,404 others

mickschumacher: she finally said yes to a date 🥰

view 893 comments

youruser: don’t put my business on instagram, that’s embarrassing

user5: omg???? y/n vettel-schumacher coming soon?

comment liked by youruser and mickschumacher

sebastianvettel: excuse me what ????

↪️youruser: oh hi sebby 🥰

↪️mickschumacher: hi sebbyyyyy

↪️sebastianvettel: both of you better answer your phones right now.

sebworldchamp: HELLO WHAT?? OMG ??? THIS IS SO CUTE LSAFLJNASLIFHQ

user00: why did I see this coming 😭

pierregasly: i’d like this post but yn is mean to me

↪️mickschumacher: this is my post tho???

↪️youruser: get wreaked you french fucker

estebanocon: ^I’m French too 😅

↪️youruser: you’re estie bestie so you get a pass

comment liked by mickschumacher

#written in the photos social media series #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher x y/n #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #Spotify

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ladykailitha · 3 months

Text

The Harrington Pattern Part 3

Hello! I'm going to be posting this one straight through on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays until it's done. I've got three more chapters completed after this one. Though there maybe a small hiccup as I might finally be moving cross country. I will keep you posted.

Here we have Steve finishing up the last of the comments and he gets one visitor too many.

Part 1 Part 2

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Steve was sitting at the table with Mike. He had shown him how to make the tassels and handed him the leather strips to just let him go to town.

He was putting in the metal rings in the armholes of Mike’s tunic for the tassels to be tied to.

After awhile Mike looked up from his work. “What made you get into sewing?”

Steve looked up at him and just stared at him a moment. “I about to say the most rich boy sentence in existence and if you laugh at me, I won’t finish your tunic.”

Mike raised an eyebrow and then scoffed. “Whatever, man. You don’t have to tell me.”

"I got fascinated by it,” Steve explained, “when my mom took me to a tailor to get a suit made for me for my first piano recital when I was eight."

Mike’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“It was so interesting, dude,” Steve insisted. “I was more interested in it then the piano lessons.”

“Wait,” Mike said, “you play piano?” He screwed up his face confusion. “I didn’t know that.”

He shrugged. “I mean, I quit when I got to high school because it was at the same time as basketball and my dad wanted me focus on sports.”

Mike waved his hand at the tunic in Steve’s hand. “Piano wasn’t good enough for your dad, but sewing was?”

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. “There is no way in hell my parents know about this, dude.”

Mike reared back and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I sew by hand,” Steve explained, “because there is no way in hell my mom would let me use her sewing machine.”

Mike’s frown deepened. “You did all this in secret? What the hell?”

“What would your dad say if you took up sewing?” Steve muttered darkly.

Mike blushed and ducked his head. “Probably that it was girly.”

“And yet the tailor I went to was a man,” Steve pointed out. “So how does sewing make you girly but most tailors are men make sense?” Mike just shrugged because it didn’t. “Also while we on that bullshit, why is a tailor seen as an honorable profession when a seamstress has the connotation of being associated with sex? Like what the fuck?”

Mike’s ears burned as he deeply regretted bringing it up.

“Just finish those tassels, man,” Steve huffed going back to his own work.

Mike did as he was told and bent back over his tassels.

All week long people were coming in and out of Steve’s house so often that Steve was startled by the knock at the door.

He was annoyed. He was literally an inch away from finishing Will’s extension and the interruption was decidedly unwelcome.

To say he was surprised when Officer Callahan was standing there looking as much if not more annoyed than he was would be an understatement.

“Uh...” Steve muttered. “How can I help you, Officer?”

“Hey, Harrington,” Callahan said with a heavy sigh, “it seems your neighbors are complaining that you’ve been having people coming and going all hours of the day and night. They think it’s been pretty suspicious.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow and Callahan huffed out a laugh.

Steve did some heavy thinking to make sure he didn’t have weed out before he said, “Nothing shading going on, I promise, Officer. Just being making costumes for the Ren Fair coming up this weekend and all my friends keep stopping by for last minute fittings.”

Both of Callahan’s eyebrows went up. “What now?”

Steve waved him in. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Callahan looked around him, but followed Steve into the house with a half shrug.

Steve brought the police officer into the kitchen where he had been working with the aid of the natural light streaming through the big windows. On the table there was Will’s tunic with its inch of ribbon to go. There were bobbins of thread, spools of ribbon, and swaths of fabric literally covering almost every inch of the table.

“I’m just putting on the finishing touches on Will Byers’s costume,” Steve explained. “You remember Will, don’t you?” His smile was just this side of innocent.

Callahan coughed. Because of course he did. Everyone knew who Will Byers was.

“Right,” he said scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I’ll be sure to pass that along. But maybe tell your friends to come during the day?”

Steve smiled brightly. “Oh of course, Officer. This is the last one I’m working on, though. And Will will be stopping by this evening.”

“You sure this is the last one?” Callahan asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“Oh yes!” Steve said. “The first day of the Fair is on Thursday and we’re going all three days.”

Callahan nodded. “I’ll leave you be then.”

Steve showed him to the front door. Callahan stopped.

“Is this Fair thing any fun?” he asked nervously.

“I’d like to think so,” Steve said with a half shrug. “It’s like the State Fair, so it can get hot and dusty, but there are jousting and sword fights, little plays at night. Things like that.”

Callahan chewed on the bottom of his lip before he nodded curtly. “See ya, later, Harrington.”

“Bye, Officer!”

He slammed the door and went back to finishing the tunic.

Once he was done, he held it up to the light. You couldn’t even tell where the extra inches were. It looked seamless.

He yawned and stretched, feeling please with himself. He looked at his watch. He still had plenty of time before Mrs. Byers brought Will over for the final fitting.

So Steve wandered over to the sofa and laid down. He figured he could a few winks before then and let himself drift off to sleep.

Steve was woken by the sound of someone pounding on the door. He looked out the window, but it was still light out. He sat up and looked at his watch again to see that only an hour had passed.

He got up and before he could even reach the hallway whoever it was started knocking again.

“Hold your horses, man!” Steve yelled.

He threw open the door, annoyed for the second time today. But at least this time it was a far more pleasant a surprise.

“Eddie!” he greeted. “Were we hanging out today?” He didn’t think they had anything on with it being so close to the Ren Fair.

“Nope!” Eddie said with a grin. “A special delivery!”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Holy shit! They’re ready?”

Eddie pulled out a long thin box and handed it over. Inside were two brown elf ears.

“And they’ll match?”

Eddie tilted his hand back and forth. “As close as we could without the recipient being there.”

Steve hugged him. “Thanks, man. This is going to mean a lot to Lucas.”

Eddie cleared his throat and reluctantly stepped back. “I’ve got band practice, but I wanted to drop these off so Lucas can have them before we go to the Ren Fair.”

“I appreciate it,” Steve said, his cheeks dusted pink. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Yep!” Eddie said, skipping backwards and almost falling off the porch.

Steve jerked forward, but Eddie righted himself before he could fall.

“Bye.” Eddie turned around and practically ran back to his van.

Steve shook his head fondly. He went back inside, but he knew it was useless to try to nap some more. He was wide awake and maybe a little excited, too.

So he went to get make himself some dinner before Joyce and Will arrived.

For the third and final time that night there was a knock on Steve’s front door. At least this time he was ready for it.

He opened the door to reveal Joyce and Will. “Come on in. I just finished it up this afternoon.”

“It’s so sweet of you to do the final alterations,” Joyce said. “It really was a big help to Claudia and me, so we got together and made you brownies as a thank you.”

She shoved the plate in his hands and with her eyes dared him to refuse.

Steve would admit later that he thought about protesting until the smell of warm chocolate hit his nose.

“Oh wow,” he murmured. “They smell delightful.”

Joyce smiled. “Let’s see it then. El has been going on and on about the gold trim on her dress for days and I can’t wait to see Will’s.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Byers,” Steve said brightly. “Follow me.” He led the way into the kitchen. “Is Nancy and Jonathan going to come to the Fair?”

Joyce and Will shared a glance behind Steve’s back.

“No,” Will said bitterly. “I even told Jonathan that he didn’t have to dress up, but he doesn’t want to go.”

Steve hummed. “Maybe once he sees how much fun you had on Thursday he’ll want to join us for Friday or Saturday.”

Will’s eyes lit up and Joyce smiled fondly at Steve.

“Perhaps,” was all she said.

They reached the kitchen and Will gasped. His tunic was a simple warm brown color but the gold trim just brightened up the whole thing and gave it a rich feel to it.

“Oh Steve, it’s beautiful,” Joyce whispered, giving Steve’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Put it on, Will,” Steve instructed. “It’s going over a shirt and belted so we won’t need to check width, just length.”

Will nodded and pulled it over his head. It fell to the perfect place just over the kneecap so that when Will belted it, it would be above his knee.

“You can’t even tell inches were added,” Joyce said. “Do you like it, Will?”

“Yeah,” he replied with a huge grin. “It’s even better than I imagined. Thanks, Steve!”

He leapt on Steve to give him the biggest hug. Steve staggered back a step but caught the lankly teen and hugged him back just as fiercely.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Joyce playfully swatted her youngest son. “I can’t believe that even with me adding two inches to the hem after we measured still wasn’t enough to counteract your growth spurt!”

Will blushed. “Sorry, mom.”

She just grinned and kissed his cheek.

“Well it looks like we’re all ready to go,” Steve said with a smile. “I can’t wait for Thursday.”

Will smiled back. “Me either!”

****

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd

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jymwahuwu · 7 months

Note

(Ignore this if this isn’t your thing)

I think about sugar daddy Yan jing yuan- man got money I know it I know he also prob has more then 2 black cards and lives in a nice home. He be such a sweet sugar daddy but also manipulative and sneaky too honesty. Yan sugar daddy jing yuan pays for EVERYTHING and I mean everything- bills? Done, high education degree?, paid for all the years you take, food? Done, shopping?- just know you can buy whatever you want with daddy money but you also have to get him a nice and cute pair of lingerie for him to see on you UwU.

And it’s not even thag hard for him too- he has the money and the status I mean- if the great general makes dinner reservation I just know the owner will literally be the one to physically be the host, take your orders, cook the meal themselves with their best chief, and serve it with the best personality and smile. Honestly it be no suprised you get the best views or the entire place is slightly empty bc of his status

Shops will absolutely bend over back for him when he walks around, if he ask if there’s a specific peice of lingerie set that they say it was out of stock- suddnly it’s there-

Always he makes sure your given the best in life UwU

He does all this with a few conditions that you have to follow. Each day 8 kisses, always hold him when in public, sit on lap when he’s in his office reading documents, and most importantly take his cock every hour 7 days a week. Yan sugar daddy jing is essentially molding you to a pretty wife for him.

don’t even think about ending this with him because you may see him as a only cash and sugar daddy but to him- your practically his girlfriend soon to be bride to soon to wife. If you do try all that money he given you will just be gone all of a sudden and your left with practically nothing. You’ll have to come back to jing since he always provides you so well.

Once you crawl back he’ll go UwU ofc baby one thing. And that one thing is he gonna fuking you Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday week- every hour, every minute, every second night after night sevens days a week (totally not a song reference 🫢) because after all that it so your too fucked to ever think you could just end things with him like that

You be play and be his pretty little wife and he will absolutely spoil you beyond your dreams. (Ik those dinner dates he takes you have to be SO NICE and these are def just mt extremes dreams to be his wife)

Thank you for writing such length of thoughts, it was a pleasure to read, sugar daddy jing yuan is something I have never thought of before because I was not interested... but 🫣 But this one is good, I added some background stories 😚💖

CW: yandere, non-con/dub-con, manipulation, abuse of power, fem! reader

You need money, really, you need this. You need to pay your bills, maybe it's an accident, maybe it's medical bills for your important person/pet, maybe you're too exhausted to meet those credit requirements, or some other reason. You move into smaller apartments again and again, eat fast food, and sigh while watching space TV. You need to move to a planet with more opportunities, but how? As you swipe your phone screen, a dating social media ad appears in front of you.

You hesitated for a while, but you still signed up, feeling a little nervous and apprehensive. You simply filled in the information. This application should be very popular. There are users from some cosmic species you have never heard of. The photo only shows a blurry profile of you. Out of place among all the pretty, confident headshots. The introduction simply states your hobbies, you… just want to do things like kissing, cuddling, and dating. Sex is the last step. You don’t think much about it for the moment.

A few days later. You're still going about your life, only getting messages from weirdos saying things like, "I want to cum on your face," "Can you give me a clear picture of your thighs?", "It's mating season on our planet. you can come here”. You always delete and block them directly, which is a bit frustrating. And you get another new message, but this time it's a little special.

Anonymous: hi

Anonymous: want to see a picture of my little lion? 🥺 she is adorable.

You: …?

And then you do receive so many adorable photos of his pet lion that your heart melts. You open a series of topics with this user. His profile picture isn't a real person either, but a picture of a kitten showing her belly to invite pampering. You gradually learned more about him and you felt relaxed talking to him, but of course he didn't forget to discuss...intimate things with you.

Then, the user invites you to meet to discuss more details, and even the cost of traveling through space is prepared for you. That is an electronic certification of a VIP ticket. The stewards of those spaceships bow to you and are concerned about your needs, preparing exquisite meals, blankets and pillows for you. You've never been so far away from your own planet and treated so considerately.

The arrival place written on the ticket is Xianzhou Luofu...?

You quietly search for information about this space civilization, and shyly imagine what kind of person "he" would be. After you got off the spacecraft, you thought about finding public transportation, but someone was waiting for you there and took you to the General's Mansion.

You: Wait...did you take me to the wrong place...

The assistant smiled slightly and left, leaving you standing helpless in the garden of the General's Mansion. The one you've been chatting with for months (the one who was even sending you uwu and kitten love memes last night)...is - one of the seven Arbiter-Generals of the Xianzhou Alliance. General Jing Yuan?

But you knew it was him as soon as the burly, majestic man with long white hair opened his mouth. When he caught a glimpse of you, his eyes like the golden sun lit up, and he rushed directly in front of you. He put his right hand on your soft hip and took you off the ground. "Baby, I finally meet you…" You squirmed, feeling overwhelmed and embarrassed, "You-you put me down first..."

"Oh… sure, my bad." After being reminded, Jing Yuan carefully put you down so that your legs could stand balanced on the ground. “We can’t kiss while I’m holding you like this,” he said before kissing your lips deeply. Your heart felt like a lightning strike, and you were frightened by such a meeting.

Is this normal? Is it developing too fast…?

The words and topics you prepared have no effect at all. After a luxurious dinner and confession (?), Jing Yuan carried you in his arms, entered the room and started caressing and breeding. You wrap your hands around his neck and stare at his sculptured, delicate face, his eyes flashing with some unknown desire. Those long white strands of his hair fell on your chest and tickled. Your legs were stretched out and were sore from being pressed by his balls and cock. The white seed kept flowing out unbearably, but you were required to keep your legs clamped around his waist to better receive the seed. Your lips parted, tears kept flowing down your cheeks, moans and cries were faintly heard in your throat, and your lower body was filled with sticky and loud pounding. The previous agreement (only kisses, hugs and dates) was ignored.

You have been living in the General's Mansion since then and have no plans to return to your planet. Once you have such a plan, Jing Yuan will plead with you with puppy eyes to stay, even though he has no intention of allowing this. Then as you describe, the general pays for all your expenses, even before you ask for them. There are no credit points in your bank account (you don’t know why it became 0, and the account was even canceled later…). You can only use the two cards he gave you. Now, even though you are thirsty while shopping, you use his card to buy drinks instead of your own money. He pampers you and you can buy any beautiful clothes, shoes, whatever you want. Of course, you must also carefully select a set of underwear before you finish shopping, spread your legs on the bed and wait for him, otherwise Jing Yuan will not reimburse you for those expenses.

Kissing him at least 8 times a day and holding his hand are still required, but asking you to be by his side all the time is a bit too much, even though Jing Yuan wants that too. He is considerate and knows that you need some time to yourself, enjoy your hobbies and rest. If you want to listen to music, read a book, have a party, exercise, shop, watch a movie, just do it. As long as you don't take too long and can come back to him every night, Jing Yuan won't mind. Sitting on his lap while he reads papers is a perfect plus. You need to warm his cock, comfort him, or hide under his desk and service him for hours. Once Jing Yuan returns to the General's Mansion, it will be the beginning of a long night.

You've tried to change and leave him, but that ultimately failed. After all, you can't open a new bank account right now, and no bank in the galaxy would. There is no way to buy a return ticket...

If you do try to leave in a situation like this, you will only find that returning to him is the only way. Jing Yuan has to punish you a little and put you on the bed to start the sex marathon. When the general had to go to work, you were placed with an electric dildo the same size as him, bouncing and squirting until you learned your lesson and married him. You will be trained to be a pretty little wife, snuggling in his arms, forgetting that you just wanted to pay the bills.

Maybe you should ask him about the purpose of downloading this app in the first place. Jing Yuan is smart, but he won't lie about this. He wants you, wants to love you, and wants you to be his spouse for the rest of his life.

#yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #yandere hsr x reader #yandere jing yuan x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you

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ham1lton · 12 days

Text

summer came like cinnamon (so sweet)

pairing(s): logan sargeant x reader. oscar piastri x reader.

warnings: mentions of mental health, dieting, fractured friendships and constant mention of jim’s ice cream parlour. also different povs, it goes through the minds of all three of the main characters.

summary: after their rookie season, in a bid to repair their friendship, the two drivers decide to take their new paycheques and go explore the sun, sea and sands of greece. what they didn’t anticipate was to bump into you.

wordcount: 5.6k

author’s note: this is my first semi-interactive fic, please give it some love <3 any major issues in travelling and stuff like in terms of logistics? please ignore. also let me know who you’re planning on choosing. team oscar or team logan?

— wanna be updated on the next parts? join my taglist! —

— part one of the summer lovin’ series. —

[ i ain’t a kid no more / we’ll never be those kids again ]

logan didn’t know why he was so overwhelmed with anxiety, when he knocked on oscar’s door on that rainy thursday night.

this was his oscar, the oscar that had practically grown up with him. the one who knew how he liked his toast and that he was fond of a burger with all the extras. that he had a scar on his left ankle from when he was a kid and wrestled with his brother after watching too much wwe.

ever since he had signed to williams and oscar had been a mclaren driver, they had hardly talked in comparison to their pre-formula one days. when he had crashed out during a race, he half expected oscar to text him or come knocking on his hotel door.

he didn’t. logan pretended he wasn’t surprised.

fuck it. bite the bullet. he lifted his hand high and knocked on the door. three quick taps in succession.

“one moment!” oscar called from inside. logan would wait, even if that old lady from room 135 kept looking at him like he was an intruder. maybe he was. he hadn’t been in oscar’s room for a while.

oscar opened the door with messy hair and a shirt that had been clearly shoved on before he opened the door.

“logan? hi.” oscar swallowed. the awkwardness in the space between the two of them felt heavy. “you okay mate?”

“yeah! yeah.” logan fake laughed, rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans. “just wanted to come see you.”

“i’m here.” oscar grinned, with no teeth, at his own joke. “wanna come in?”

“sure. kinda awkward talking in the hallway anyways. that old lady is about five minutes from calling the cops on me.”

“oh that’s just brenda.” oscar said after leaning out and getting a glance at the woman, who waved at him. he waved back. “she’s harmless.”

logan followed oscar into his room. it was bigger than his and he didn’t know if feeling jealous was appropriate. he had felt many emotions when it came to oscar; happy, sad, angry, and others. he didn’t want jealousy to join the list.

“sorry, my room is a mess. i wasn’t expecting company.” oscar laughed with no heart behind it as he sat down on his unmade bed. “take a seat logan, you’re giving me anxiety just standing around.”

logan immediately sits down on the desk chair.

“so, what are your plans for the summer?”

“mine?” oscar thinks to himself. “probably just to go see my family and my friends back home.”

“i was thinking maybe we could, i don’t know.” logan bites his lip anxiously. “do something together?”

“like what?” oscar is curious now, his eyes focused.

“maybe go on that european holiday we always talked about? we have the money now and no parents to tell us no like last time.” logan speaks in a rush. “but obviously if you say no, dude that’s totally fine.”

logan looks at oscar, who’s actually considering it? he thinks to himself for a moment before turning to logan.

“how many days?”

“as long as you’d like.”

“where would we go?”

“anywhere you’d want.”

“make a decision, logan. i’ll say yes or no.”

“we always wanted to go to greece? how about there? maybe for three weeks?”

“we should go for a month. we can travel.”

wait. so that means? oscar’s face is still impassive. he doesn’t say yes or no, but he is still considering it. that’s a positive.

“that’s fine. i’m flexible.”

“i’ll plan it.” oscar nods.

“so is that a yes?”

“obviously.” oscar finally smiles, open and dazzling. logan grins too, allowing himself to bask in the approval. he was almost 67% sure that oscar would say no. he’d already done the maths, but it wasn’t his strongest subject anyways.

“i’ll text you the details.” oscar nods and logan gets up, running a hand through his hair. giddy with happiness that he’ll finally win his best friend back. this’ll be the trip that heals them. that heals him.

-❀-

oscar gets stressed when he’s not in charge. everything has to go through him. the plans, the schedule and especially the driving. he’s never liked being in the passenger seat. his hands get fidgety and he doesn’t know how to calm them down.

he’s lucky that logan is all too happy to sit in it, his eyes focused on making the perfect road trip playlist. for some reason, they’d decided to drive from london all the way down to munich.

they’d already driven down from london and through the eurotunnel and took a break sightseeing in france - which oscar had already scheduled for. they ate their weight in croissants. they ate steak and frites. logan had bought them matching ‘i ♥︎ paris’ t-shirts and oscar rolled his eyes but packed it neatly in his suitcase anyways.

they hadn’t talked about anything other than surface level topics. logan talking about his favourite sports teams, them both discussing the grid and plans for the upcoming season and the usual small talk about their family’s wellbeings.

they didn’t talk about how they ignored each other unless a camera necessitated a conversation. they didn’t talk about logan’s bad season. they stayed up till stupid hours watching badly dubbed french movies and ordering takeout.

they drove to germany, dropped off their rental car and then got a plane from munich to athens. it wasn’t very long at all but logan still curled up against the window and tried to sleep. they were both connected to the spotify account on logan’s phone - logan using his headphones and oscar with his airpods. their road trip playlist still playing.

oscar didn’t know why he didn’t take them out, even when the playlist inevitably repeated itself.

-❀-

they’d been in athens all of two days when they met you. logan had gone an insanely bright red when he’d forgotten his sunscreen had ran out. oscar laughed at first but then ran to the nearest pharmacy to grab emergency sunscreen and aloe vera for the both of them.

after slathering themselves, they’d decided to seek refuge in a small ice cream store. despite the hot weather, the store was almost completely empty besides the two of them and you. you were fiddling with your phone in the corner as you attempted to hook it up to the speakers.

“fuck’s sake!” you shout quietly, frustratingly trying to make it work. “i can’t do this shift without any music. my thoughts’ll drive me insane.”

“um?” oscar breaks the awkward silence. you jump and turn around. the first thing that they both notice is that you’re pretty. really pretty. even in the unflattering oversized neon green work t-shirt.

“sorry! sorry! i apologise. i didn’t think anyone was in the shop. please forgive me.” you look flustered as you move to quickly wash your hands and dry them. “what would you both like today?”

to be honest, logan hadn’t been thinking about the ice cream. oscar didn’t need to think, he was going to get his usual order.

“can i get two scoops of mint chocolate chip?”

“oh that’s disgusting. i forgot that you eat that.” logan shakes his head in shock.

“it’s good. you’re just a hater.” oscar rolls his eyes. “stick to your boring vanilla.”

“it’s a classic!” logan turns to you and asks for two scoops of vanilla and one scoop of mango. you smile and begin to start their orders.

“you guys aren’t from around here, are you?” you ask.

“nah. the accents give it away?” logan laughs as he slings an arm around oscar’s shoulder. oscar rolls his eyes again but makes no move to push him away.

“yeah. a little bit.” you pinch your fingers together as you say it. “i’m not really from here either.”

“no?” oscar replies this time, curious.

“international student. this was one of the few places that’d hire me with my insane schedule. i’m lucky i have the next month off, thankfully.”

“aren’t you going back home?”

“i could if i wasn’t scheduled to work here practically every day for the next month.” you finish logan’s order and move on to oscar’s. you shrug. “and i need the money. the job could be worse really, i just wish the speaker fucking worked and the air conditioning. luckily i stand close to the ice cream.”

“what do you study?”

“archaeology.”

“best place for that is probably here.”

“yes. i don’t know why but ever since i was a little girl i knew i wanted to come to greece and study here. this is the less glamorous side of it but i’m here doing what i love.”

“that’s all that matters right?” logan chimes in. you nod as you scan their orders into your till.

“that’ll be €7.62.” you say. “cash or card?”

“cash.” oscar says as he pulls out his wallet. he’s infinitely glad he’d prepared and went to the cash exchange in london before he’d left. logan doesn’t even bother to offer, he picks up his ice cream and starts to eat it.

oscar hands you the cash as logan moves to a booth right by the open door to take advantage of the breeze. you count back the change and place it right in his hand. his heart doubles a beat as your hands touch for a moment but the moment is broken as your phone suddenly decides that now is the time to work.

the speakers start blaring natasha bedingfield’s ‘pocketful of sunshine’. you curse, close the till with your hip and turn to fiddle with the playlist.

oscar thinks he’s a little in love.

-❀-

logan knows that oscar likes you, which is a problem because he likes you too.

this road trip was supposed to be about finding themselves, not finding you. yet, when they find themselves back in your ice cream store the next few days, it’s no coincidence.

“you’re back again! the american and australian.” on day four, you’re not alone this time. you have a colleague, a girl who’s slightly older than you. she smirks at the two of them like she knows a secret they don’t know. “i’m not the only international one here!”

the speakers seem to work normally today, playing elton john as you hum along with it. your colleague decides that it’s time to take her lunch break, slipping off her apron and leaving the three of you to it.

“same thing as every day? or are we changing it up?”

“what do you recommend?” logan asks earnestly. he’s not losing oscar to you, maybe if he charms you enough, you’ll pick him. he doubts you will.

“everything is good here but if you really want my opinion? the chocolate fudge is a real crowd pleaser.”

“i’ll take two scoops of that and oscar’ll just have mint chocolate.” logan pulls out his wallet, opens it to find a mix of euros in there. he takes a moment to pick at the right change when you shake your head at him.

“no, it’s fine. it’s on the house today. i’m in a good mood.”

“why?”

“a lot of reasons. you know what? i forgot that i didn’t even introduce myself. i’m y/n.”

“we know.” oscar is amused.

“how? are you psychic? i used to know a psychic once and i also watched that’s so raven. great show.”

“your name badge.” logan nods at your shirt as he eats a spoonful of ice cream. you were right, it’s amazing. not too sickly but just the right amount of chocolate.

“oh.” you bite your lip in embarrassment as oscar takes his ice cream.

“i’m oscar and the american is logan.” logan smiles and waves his free hand at you. “is the shop always this empty?”

“no. it’s really busy after school and at peak times. you just always come quite early. lucky. it’s hell in here when it’s busy.” you seem relieved for the topic change. “you both here on holiday?”

“yeah. a break from our jobs.”

“lucky. my best friend is back home and i wish she was with me. she’s planning on coming up at some point thankfully. i hate being here without all my friends.”

“i can be your friend.” logan says. then he immediately regrets it. what if you think that he’s a weirdo? but when your face lights up, he realises that regret was a fleeting feeling.

“i’d love that. let me take your number. one of the guys from my class is hosting a beach party tonight if you both wanna come.”

logan looks at oscar who shrugs as if to say ‘i don’t mind if you don’t’. logan turns back to you, who is the middle of unlocking your phone and grins.

“we’ll be there.”

he types his number in your phone and sends a message to himself to save yours.

“i’ll text you the details.”

the speaker interrupts the moment that you have as it starts to malfunction. you curse again and throw your hands up in annoyance.

“stupid fucking speaker! so stupid!”

-❀-

the party is already well underway, when oscar and logan arrive. logan didn’t bother with buttoning up his shirt. he wasn’t necessarily the most confident man in the world but he was comfortable with his nakedness in a way that oscar didn’t think he’d ever be. oscar was in a undershirt with a loose overshirt.

you finally make your way over to them, panting slightly. you’re wearing a plain white bikini with an open oversized orange and yellow patterned hawaiian shirt. your hair is free from the bun they’ve seen you in work with. you smile, easy and happy.

“my two favourite customers!” you sling an arm around the two of them, hugging them so close that they can smell your perfume. “come on, let me introduce you to the five other people i know.”

you lead them down to the bonfire, where three girls and two other guys are crowded around. they cheer when you arrive with the two of them.

“guys, this is oscar and logan.” they wave politely. “oscar and logan, this is anya, jerome, alex, sienna and jaya.”

the group all cheer and welcome the two guys. it’s clear that everyone is already buzzed. oscar has never really been a big drinker so he declines a beer when offered. logan shotguns it, the residue dripping down his face. you laugh and attempt to wipe it off his face. logan goes lax in your touch and oscar can’t watch anymore.

the speaker that someone played is playing shakira as the two of you giggle in your own little world. oscar turns to jerome? or was it alex? and starts a conversation. talking about some footy game that they were watching earlier. oscar is about as into football as the next guy, but he really needs to focus on something else besides the two of you.

oscar knew that logan had always harboured some sort of inferiority complex when it came to the two of them, but logan had something that oscar doesn’t think he’d ever have - being genuinely likeable.

oscar knew he’d have to win because no one would support him as a loser. logan is just likeable regardless of what position he’s in - an underdog if he loses and a force of nature when he wins.

likeable gets the girl.

-❀-

you decide to walk the two of them to the end of the beach. the night is inky black and the only light is the remnants of the bonfire you’d lit earlier. logan is buzzed, oscar is distant and you’re still vibrating from the fact that logan made the two of you run into the cold water with him in the middle of the night.

“tonight was fun! i’m glad you were both able to make it!” you lean in and hug them both goodbye. logan swears you’d lingered a little longer while hugging him. “i’ll see you both at jim’s ice cream?”

“what is that?” logan asks bluntly. oscar elbows him lightly, not hard enough to cause damage but just enough to wind him slightly.

“the ice cream parlour she works at dumbass.” he turns to you. “we’ll see you there”

“well, i do work there. so yeah.” you laugh. all twinkly and bright. then you’re waving and jogging back to your friends. oscar watches logan look at you and sighs.

“come on man, let’s get you back.”

-❀-

logan wakes up with a hangover the next morning. oscar is a good friend and runs to the continental free breakfast and sneaks him out some waffles, croissants and eggs. he walks to the pharmacy again, paying for some ibuprofen (at least he hopes that’s what it is) with his cash and runs to the corner store to grab some extra snacks.

logan’s eyes are wide with both joy and disbelief. joy that something is there for his splitting headache and disbelief that oscar would do that for him. oscar feels a little ball of guilt unravelling inside. how bad had he let their friendship become?

they spend the day inside for the most part. watching television together. then they go outside to the pool, logan immediately jumps in but oscar sits on the side. he pulls out his phone and scrolls through the texts that he’s been ignoring. the ones from some friends, his mum, and you?

it’s not a coincidence right? that you spent the whole evening with logan and text him the next day?

he holds the phone close to his chest. he doesn’t want logan seeing this. he doesn’t know why that is. he quickly texts you back. then logan shouts.

“hey oscar! come in! the water is gorgeous.”

oscar grins and slips into the water, keeping his shirt on.

-❀-

the two of them end up at the steak restaurant together that night. they’re both dressed as nicely as possible. oscar in a nice sweater and logan in a dress shirt. the maître d’ smiled knowingly at the two of them and led them to their table.

“he thinks we’re together.” oscar whispers to logan.

“are we not?”

“we are in the literal sense. i meant in the romantic, relationship sort of sense.” logan laughs and bats his eyelashes all coy.

“oh no! oscar are you breaking up with me?”

“obviously. i’m leaving you for my secretary.” oscar’s deadpan voice just makes logan laugh harder.

“i knew it, that skank! i’ll get him fired.” oscar laughs too, breaking out into an easy smile that comes easily when logan’s around.

the sounds of the restaurant move around the two of them as they peruse the menu for a long time. it’s been a while with no conversation when oscar bites the bullet and brings it up.

“hey.” logan looks up. “i’m sorry.”

“for the secretary? don’t be. i’m running away with the pool boy.” oscar shakes his head, smiling.

“no.” oscar says. “for what happened. letting our friendship fall to the sidelines. i didn’t mean it but it didn’t excuse it. i really do like being your friend logan. i wouldn’t jeopardise that.”

logan is silent. oscar wonders if he’s crossed some unspoken line. he bites the inside of his cheek and looks at the wall of the restaurant’s decor. it’s all dark in here. would it kill them to buy some light bulbs? he understands its for ‘ambiance’ and that shit but he’s worried that he won’t be able to find his steak in the darkness.

“i was gonna say i was sorry. i thought it was my fault. that you didn’t want to be friends with,” he cuts himself off, laughing awkwardly. “a loser.”

“no. that wasn’t it. you’re not a loser, not to me.”

“i am. that’s a fact. it’s okay. you’re very nice for that but, it’s just not true.” logan swallows thickly. “now, should i get potatoes or fries as my sides?”

oscar doesn’t comment on logan’s facial expression, that he looks like he’s holding it together by a thread. he knew emotional vulnerability took a lot out of him but it was harder on the person who admitted failure.

“potatoes.” logan grins and nods before calling over the waiter.

-❀-

the next time you saw the two guys was two days after the bonfire party. they came in laughing at a joke that had happened way before they had even walked in. you find yourself standing up as soon as they enter.

“hi! y/n!” logan’s smile is always wide and happy to see you. oscar’s smile is muted but it’s still sweet. “what would you recommend for me? i liked the chocolate fudge.”

“hmm,” you think, running your hand along the counter. “we have a new flavour, chocolate covered raspberry? it’s quite popular. i think you’d like it.”

“i trust your judgement, ice cream girl.”

you crack a smile at the nickname, the smile so big that it momentarily hurts your face for a moment. you turn to oscar.

“and what about you?”

“same as usual, two scoops of vanilla.”

you nod, getting to work on the ice creams. you even offer to pay for them but they argue, threatening to shove it all in the tip jar anyway. oscar pays and when your back is turned, logan shoves twice the amount into the tip jar.

“wanna sit with us in the booth today y/n?” logan asks, taking a spoonful of his ice cream. “it’s not like anyones here.”

oscar looks up at you with his wide eyes, not really eating his ice cream. he just swirls it, until it turns into a sort of thick soup. you shrug and slide into the booth across from the two of them. you don’t have anything else to do and if a customer does decide to walk in? well, you’ll just slide back behind the counter.

“so, what’s your plan for the future?” logan grins. “and i know it’s the worst possible question to ask any young person but i’m curious. what’s the goal? is there one? it’s okay if there isn’t.”

“dream is to become an archeologist and backup plan? i don’t know. work in an office or something? maybe teaching. i haven’t thought that far ahead just yet.” you bite your lip and look out the window for a second. the day is hot, and you’re stuck inside. “what about you two? what do you do?”

“we uh, we drive.” logan looks at oscar.

“oh like uber? cool.”

“yeah, isn’t it?” oscar smiles at you.

“i still haven’t gotten my licence just yet. taxis aren’t too expensive and public transport is decent. also everywhere i need to be is pretty much walkable.” you smile at them. “have you visited all the touristy places yet?”

“not everywhere but we’re here for a while. we’re going to travel to santorini, mykonos and corfu. i’ve already planned them out.” oscar swallows his bite of ice cream. “scheduled to the exact moment we get there and get back.”

“an exotic european vacation.” you grin, waggling your eyebrows. logan laughs despite the joke not being very funny. “i’m jealous.”

“you could come with us.” oscar blurts out, his cheeks pinkening. “you’re probably busy though right? don’t worry about it. it’s weird.”

“no, no. it’s not. it’s very sweet and tempting.” you look outside the window again. “i’m not free for the whole time, but, definitely i could join you for a week? jim won’t care.”

“jim’s a real person?” logan asks, eyes wide. you laugh.

“yeah! he’s british actually. came over here when he retired and bought this place. he was one of the few people that’d hire me. my mum’s british.” you nod. “it’s a pretty decent job. if you ignore these hideous uniforms.”

you pull on the neon jim’s ice cream parlour shirt, face crumpling in disgust.

“you look good.” logan says, shyly, as he tongues the last of his ice cream. “this is good too. the ice cream. i knew i trusted you for a reason.”

-❀-

santorini is exactly like the instagram photos. well, despite being slightly too hot, a little less vibrant and he’s here with you and logan. logan has kept his shirt on this time, a loose linen blue one with a pair of shorts and flip flops. you’re dressed in a white skirt, a cropped tank top with a massive handbag.

oscar wants to do something crazy, like reach out and hold your hand or put his arm around your shoulders. he doesn’t because he’s not insane but he thinks about it for a solid moment. thinks about the way you’d curl into him or the way your shampoo would smell. he shakes his head.

“you don’t like it?” the two of you turn to look at him. fantastic. now he looks weird. his eyes widen.

“no, no! i love it. it’s lovely.” he reaches into his pocket, shaking hands grabbing his phone as he takes a picture. “i was thinking about the best angle to take this picture for my mum.”

“i’ll take a photo of you against the backdrop? maybe the both of you. your mum might like that. logan said you two were childhood best friends right?”

oscar nods. at least you bought his story. he stands against the barrier and smiles, awkwardly. he’s sure that all the other tourists are looking at him and thinking ‘what a weirdo, his crush on her is so obvious. she wants his best friend clearly, why even try?’

after a moment, logan stands next to him. logan dissipates the awkwardness with a wave of his hand and the two of them fall into an easy grin. when logan leans in and tells a joke, oscar finds himself laughing loudly with the click of your camera as background noise.

he sends it to his mother later on, when he’s in his hotel room with logan snoring in the room across from him. she texts him back quickly.

-❀-

— from mum.

well, it looks like you’re having fun honey!

— to mum.

yeah, i am.

-❀-

it doesn’t even feel like a lie when he messages her back in the cooling heat.

-❀-

it’s three days into the trip and two weeks into knowing the guys that you realise that you have a crush. it’s only a small inkling but you know it’s serious because no matter how much you try to dissuade it, it keeps popping up.

when you’re eating, when you’re brushing your teeth and even when you’re picking your outfit with him in mind. does he like blue? is he more of a yellow guy? or is it pink that’ll catch his eye?

the three of you head to a restaurant that night. it’s a seafood place, the three of you laughing and joking about something you’d seen earlier. they look good. smell good too. they even argue over who’s going to pay for the meal and look at you like you’ve got three heads when you offer to pay.

“it’s fine y/n, you’re a student.” oscar says, smiling as logan gives up. he pays quickly, all cash with no fuss. “we can get it.”

“ubering must make you a lot of money.”

“yeah. something like that.” he smiles again. this time with no teeth as he gets the receipt.

-❀-

logan goes to bed early that night, citing something about his family being desperate to check up on him. it leaves just the two of you outside in the corfu evening air.

“want to go for a walk?” you ask, looking at him earnestly.

“yeah. sure.” he’s trying not to be too eager. not to scare you off. the two of you start walking down the street.

“i always like to go for a slow walk after a big dinner. i feel like it probably helps with digestion.” you speak quietly, as if not to disturb the silence of the street. he likes your voice and is willing to listen at any volume you decide.

“i think it does. i try not to eat too much.” oscar responds, shoving a jittery hand in his pocket. “i can’t gain any weight for my job.”

“yeah, logan said. that’s weird. what kind of uber driver has a weight limit?” he shrugs and smiles. “do you miss australia?”

“sometimes. i’m used to travelling though. i’ve done it for so long.” he looks at you. “what about you? do you miss your home?”

“eh, i wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. i wanted to remake myself. i was gonna do it all y’know? a name change and everything.” you look up at the stars for a moment. “i didn’t go through with it. even if i changed my name, i’d still be y/n really. inside.”

“i get that. i think.” oscar looks at the gorgeous landscape in front of him. he ignores all the people milling around the two of you. to him it’s just you, him and the view. “so, y/n-“

your phone interrupts him. a loud, obnoxious ringing noise. you mouth an apology at him when you look at the caller id.

“sorry, it’s my best friend. she wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t important. she’s more of a texter anyways. do you mind?” you point at your phone. he shakes his head with a smile. you disappear to take your call and he finds a bench to sit on. he leans back, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

what was he thinking? asking you out? thank god the world or fate or god or whoever is in charge, stopped him before he made the biggest mistake of his life. you liked logan and he didn’t blame you. he really, truly didn’t.

when you come back, you ask him what he was going to ask. he shrugs. it wasn’t important anyways, he says. he asks what happened with your friend and listens you chatter all the way back about your friend’s current work drama.

-❀-

the next morning, logan and you head down to breakfast together. it’s a continental breakfast that the hotel offer. it’s good, with a wide spread of toast, pancakes, omelettes, cereal, fruit and sausages. you load up your plate, happy to get food for free even though technically you paid for it.

logan’s plate is smaller. you think about what they said earlier about weight limits and feel a pang of sympathy. i mean, your job was not very well paid but at least it gave you freedom in your spare time to do and eat whatever you want.

“is oscar not coming?” you ask, forking a fluffy piece of omelette and hash browns in your mouth. it’s gorgeous and you’re hungry.

“nah. he’s not feeling too good. i’ll bring him some breakfast in a bit.” logan methodically goes through his breakfast. slow, small bites and chews it for as long as possible. “wanna go for a swim later? it’s hot as hell outside. i feel my skin melting off.”

“you are going a little red.” you tease. he smiles again, shyly. his face does go red when you lean forward and press your cold cup against his cheek. “a little better?”

“it’d be better if you’d go swimming with me.” he smiles.

“of course i will. can’t leave you by yourself. who knows what’ll happen.” he laughs this time. “now wanna try some of this omelette?”

he sits politely as you lean over and feed him a forkful of the spinach and cheese omelette. for a moment, the two of you look into each other's eyes as you feed him. he turns away as soon as it’s okay and chews the bite.

“good?”

“yeah. yeah. it’s good.” he smiles at you. “let me just get some more water for us, be back in a moment.”

“is it getting too hot for you?” you tease.

“a little.” he sheepishly grins again. “let me cool down.”

-❀-

it’s your last day with the two of the guys before they drop you back off at the bus stop to go back to athens. your heart is still pinching at the thought of leaving, but you decide your last day can’t be in vain. they’ll be going home soon so it’ll be the best time to admit what you already knew. what you had known for the whole time.

you’d been on the phone with your best friend who had helped you to write a pros and cons list.

— pros - you could be a girlfriend to a great guy. you would be happy. you would have a rich boyfriend (your bff added that). you could touch them in any way they’d let you. you could sleep together. you could also sleep together (bff again). you would have a great time. you would have fun. would it improve your life? potentially.

— cons - they could say no and you’d have to jump off a cliff. they could be dating each other and you’d be embarrassed that you didn’t figure it out. they could laugh at you. they could be disgusted. they could be nice about it and gently let you down. they’re not even from anywhere close to greece. it’d be a long distance relationship. could you even deal with that?

you shake your head and lift your hand up to his bedroom door. the wood is cold under your knuckles. the world still moves around you, tourists laughing in their rooms and people walking around. their voices murmuring.

as your hand hovered there, you thought for a moment. about how this could change everything. was it too soon? too risky? then you remembered, it’s now or never.

take the plunge and with that, you knock.

liked by anyaaaa, alexjohnson and 183 others.

yourusername: this summer is going well. made two new friends, spent half of my savings and made some new memories and isn’t that what life is all about?

anyaaaa: when are you coming back? miss u girl!!

-> yourusername: soon! i just need to figure something out first.

-> anyaaaa: you’ll figure it out. you always do. can’t wait till you come back <33

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exhuastedpigeon · 22 days

Text

kiss him once for me

705 spec / 935 words / also on ao3

Eddie was perfectly happy and accepting about Buck’s sexuality when Buck came out to him. In fact, he liked to think he was the ideal picture of a best friend when Buck had told him. Nothing changed between them after Buck told him, or more accurately, nothing bad changed. They’re actually closer than ever. Buck has been happier and seems more comfortable in his skin in the last three weeks than Eddie’s ever seen him.

So, nothing changes between them. Or at least, nothing changes until he sees Buck and Tommy kiss for the first time.

It wasn’t even a particularly steamy kiss. It was just a soft press of lips together. Eddie wasn’t sure why he had such a visceral reaction to such a chaste kiss - maybe it was the way Buck’s eyes had fluttered shut at the contact or maybe it was his soft smile after.

Or maybe it’s because of something Eddie isn’t ready to look too closely at. Not while he was sitting in Buck’s living room with Buck and Tommy sitting less than five feet away from him.

His first reaction when he sees it is to punch something, maybe a wall? Something that’ll really hurt. Almost as soon as the thought crosses his mind he realized how not normal that instinct was and he wants to punch himself for having it.

His second reaction is to run. They’re at Buck’s loft. He knows it would take him eight steps to get from the living room to the counter where he tossed his keys when he got here, leaving them in their usual spot, like they belonged there. It would only be six steps from there to the door. Twenty-one to the elevator or twenty-three to the stairs.

He can’t seem to fight the instinct to run for long. He gives it three minutes, until the next commercial break in the game they’re watching, before he pulls his phone out.

“Oh shit.”

“Is everything okay?” Buck’s voice is laced with concert and Eddie will feel guilty about that later, right now he just needs to go .

Eddie gets up from the armchair and forces his body to relax, turning his feet and legs to jello before looking at Buck and Tommy on Buck’s new couch, the one he picked out with Natalia and clearly doesn’t like. He seems pretty comfortable on it now though.

“Pepa isn’t feeling well, she asked if could grab Chris early,” Eddie lies easily. He knows it’s an easily believable lie because Tommy just nods in understanding, but Buck doesn’t look like he’s buying it.

“Bummer man,” Tommy says and he sounds like he means it. Like Eddie being here third wheeling isn’t putting a damper on their night at all. And Eddie knows he isn’t. He knows they want him here too, but he just - he needs to leave.

“I’ll -I’ll walk you out,” Buck says, moving to stand. As he shifts Tommy’s arm falls off of his shoulders. Something in Eddie’s chest purrs in satisfaction at their loss of contact. He grabs hold of the chains of whatever monster has suddenly burst into life on his chest, trying to reign in his feelings at least until he’s alone.

“Nah man, pretty sure I could find my way out of this place blind by this point,” Eddie smiles at them, at Buck, and tries to look natural.

This one must land a little better, because Buck smiles back, big and bright. Tommy probably smiles too, but Eddie only has eyes for Buck.

“Why don’t you bring Chris here, it’s boys night,” Buck says and Eddie knows in his bones that the invite isn’t just genuine, but that Buck really wants that. He wants Chris to join them. He wants their little family unit together.

“No, I think I’ll just leave you two to have some uh - alone time,” Eddie’s made it the eight steps to his keys by now and he gets the final six steps to the door. Almost home free.

Then there’s Buck next to him, giving Eddie a quick hug. Eddie has no idea how he missed Buck moving off of the couch.

“Text when you get home.”

“Yeah, always,” Eddie says with a nod. “See you on Thursday for basketball Tommy. Can’t let Garcia and Harper get an ego.”

“See you,” Tommy calls back and Eddie opens the door, stepping backward through it, like he can’t make his body turn away from Buck. Like he’s drawn to him like a moth is drawn to a flame.

“Bye Buck,” Eddie’s voice is too soft when he says it. He knows it as soon as he speaks because Buck’s eyes get all soft on him.

“Bye Eddie.”

He makes it the twenty-one steps to the elevator and then the fifty-six to the guest spot in Buck’s parking lot.

The monster in his chest purrs again with the knowledge that he was there first. That he’s the one who got the guest spot and he’s the one who made Buck laugh so hard that he snorted beer out of his nose before Tommy even made it over after his shift.

Eddie takes a breath, then another. It’s ten minutes before he feels ready to drive, his entire body made of jello.

He knows he’s not homophobic. He’s not, he never has been, so that’s not why he reacted that way. He’s not homophobic, but he’s worried he might be in love with his best friend.

Eddie doesn’t drive to Pepa’s. He’s on his way to Hen and Karen’s before he realizes where he’s going.

Read on ao3

#buddie #911 #911 spec #buddie fic #bucktommy #Eddie Diaz

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adeathlessgod · 8 months

Text

Talking’s Overrated

featuring : Eren Yeager x fem!reader

content : MDNI, smut, Eren is whipped, he’s also a little shit, mean dom!eren if you squint, car sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, squirting, multiple orgasms, anal play, creampie, hair pulling, full nelson, friends with benefits to lovers sorta, reader is sort of a brat idk, Eren loves hair pulling, ddlg vibes if you use a magnifying glass, a little dumbification, reader has her ears pierced, Eren spits in reader’s mouth, slight degradation, DEFTONES MENTION!!!

word count : 5.7k

synopsis : After Eren ends your little fling, he asks to talk it out with you one late night. You find out he believes talking is overrated.

notes : Hi guys!!! I’m Angel, and this is my first ever fic and it took me weeks to work on, so notes, reblogs and constructive criticism are all welcomed! Hope you enjoy my loves<3

- Come outside

Your stomach flips as you read the notification on your screen, hesitantly swiping it away. It’s late on a Thursday night, it’s quiet. Your room is shrouded in darkness, only illuminated by the blaring brightness of your phone screen. You continue to scroll through Instagram, giggling at Hitch’s close friends, when another message comes through.

- Let’s talk

Talking. You chew your cheek. When was the last time you two had spoken?

“Friend, huh? Is that what I am to you?” His hands caged your head against the bathroom wall. He leaned closer, dropping his head to meet your gaze, his breath minty and warm. “Is fucking each other what friends do?”

“It was a-“

“A mistake? Is that what you think of us?” Eren was dangerously close to you now, his lips ghosting across yours.

“I never said it was a mistake,” You chewed your lip nervously as you drew in a shaky breath, “Just a one time thing.”

“There’s no fucking difference, you either want this or you don’t. You know how I feel about this,” his breath fanned over your face, your eyes flutter closed, “About you,” he pauses.

“Don’t deny me, please, let me know I’m not alone in this,” he was almost pleading now, his voice soft and strangled.

You let your head fall back, gently knocking against the wall. “Eren, I-“, you looked at him, how the sharp contours of his jaw had been softened into slopes by the low, luminescent lighting. Your eyes trailed over him slowly, like he was a wonder of the world.

Striking, green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes. A pointed Roman nose, above his plump, rosy lips and the set of shiny white teeth behind them. His smooth, olive skin, akin to sculpted sandstone. He was everything you could have asked for, everything you needed, and that was entirely too much to ask of him.

You shook your head at him, dropping his gaze ashamedly. The air in the room staled.

Eren scoffed, and his hands fell from their place on the wall. “Fine, you want to fuck Jean, go for it,” he runs a hand down his face frustratedly, “thanks for letting me know where I stand, and that this meant absolutely nothing to you.”

“Eren, that’s not-“

“Shut the fuck up, okay? You don’t get to have a say in this, you don’t get to fuck with my feelings and then tell me it’s okay. You don’t get to-“, he blows out a short breath, recollecting his thoughts. He starts again, slower, calmer, quieter, “You don’t get to break my heart and tell me that’s not what you meant, okay?”

He waits for a response, and you wait for him to shout again. You have a moment of silence, despite the muffled Deftones bleeding through the walls. Eren turns to leave, but his hand hesitates over the doorknob. Opening his mouth to speak, he casts you one more angry - no, pained - glance, and swallows.

“Do you regret this?”

You don’t respond.

The door slams behind Eren. You don’t follow him.

The door slams behind you as you step into the midnight chill, dressed in only a hoodie and shorts. The night air bites at your legs and you flex your hands at your sides routinely. The world outside is serene and caliginous - illuminated only by the spindly street lamps stationed on the sidewalk like nutcracker soldiers. Your heart sputters at the sight of Eren’s car, parked crookedly in your driveway - you can’t even see through his tinted windows. The low hum of his engine rattles his car gently, like a small, mobile refrigerator.

When you get to the passenger side, you swing the door open, slide into the plush leather seat, and close the door, all without sparing Eren a second glance. He is sitting in the driver’s seat, legs spread wide apart, in a black hoodie and grey sweats. He shifts his hips upwards as he readjusts his sitting position, his eyes never leaving your shivering figure.

He rakes over your oversized hoodie, your bare legs, your pretty, pretty face. He lingers on your face for a second too long, then he grins when he sees you press your thighs together.

“You cold?”

“Yeah, a little,” Eren hums in response as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel. His rings glint in the muted glare of the moonlight.

“Want me to turn on the heating?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” You watch as he cranks the dial up to max, and the warm air almost instantaneously rushes out of the AC vents. You slump back into your seat, revelling in the warmth. A thin film of condensation falls onto the windows, mottling the midnight scenery outside - your very own Starry Night.

“So,” Eren begins cooly, “how have you been?”

His voice was oddly impartial and you knew better than to trust Eren’s nonchalance. You look at him side-long, attempting to uncover any unkind inflections. You’re met with a lazy smile and a glint in his eyes that stokes the warmth between your legs, warmer than any heater can make you.

“I’ve been good.” A small, charged beat passes. “You?”

“I’ve been good too,” he hums. He licks his lips cockily when he asks, “Have you missed me?”

You’re a delicate instrument, and Eren wants to know if he can still remember how to play you, how to tune you to his liking.

You surrender to his disarming smile.

You breathe in. “Yeah, I did.”

Eren huffs out a quiet laugh and lets his head fall against the window. “I’ve missed you too.”

You breathe out. “Really?”

He grins. “Of course, I have.” He slowly leans across the console, “What,” he murmurs softly, “You don’t believe me?”

You squirm in your seat, flustered by his unwavering gaze. His eyes are low, and swimming with mirth. He cradles your face in his hand and your eyes flutter shut when he drags his nose along your jaw.

Your breaths are shallower now. You’re supposed to be talking, talking about you, talking about your relationship, talking about anything but how much you yearned for each other the past weeks.

You tilt your head sideways, facing him, and tentatively press your forehead to his. He’s rendered you breathless within minutes. You are drowning in him - his sight, his scent, his touch - you can’t talk, let alone breathe, not when he’s taking up all the space in the car.

All notions of reconciliation are abandoned when he presses a fleeting kiss to the shell of your ear, and then whispers, “Do I have to prove it?”

You draw in a shuddering breath.

“Please.”

His lips press into yours, hot and wet, as you lace your hands into his hair. He tastes of peppermint and marijuana. His hand trails from your cheek to your throat, squeezing gently, coaxing a small moan from you. Skimming his thumb over your pulse, his tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it gently. Your hands tug at the hair interlocked between your fingers, and Eren releases a loud groan into your mouth.

“C’mere,” he mumbles against you. His hands slip under your thighs, and he gently manoeuvres you over the center console and into his lap. You shudder when you feel him beneath you, large and thick and impossibly hard. You roll your hips against the tent in his pants experimentally, and it pulls a moan from both of you.

He pulls away - his lips slick and swollen, still connected to yours by limp strings of saliva - to rasp, “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, you know that?”

There is nothing other than reverence in his eyes as he surveys you. Your chest is already heaving, you’re flushed from your neck to your ears, and your lips are a dark, kiss-bitten red. An angel. My angel, Eren thinks. You hum in response and dip your head to capture his lips again. His cock is already dribbling precum, staining his sweats a dark grey. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, before sinking your teeth into it. His dick twitches.

Eren pulls away, again, to mutter huskily, “You’re so mean, baby, what am I gonna do with you?” before sliding his lips along your jaw. His lips leave a blazing trail behind them, and his hands are just as hot.

His fingers slip under the hem of your hoodie, pressing small circles into your skin that make you writhe in his lap. His lips stretch into a smirk as he descends down the column of your throat, pausing every now and again to suck bruises into your skin. His hands tug at your hoodie, with a muttered, “Off.”

You scramble to take off your oversized sweater in the confines of Eren’s car, and in your flurry of movements, you elbow the horn behind you. You jolt at the sudden squawk, but Eren’s grip on your waist keeps you grounded. He chuckles lightheartedly.

“Easy, we don’t want your neighbours knowing we’re out here, right?” he teases you. Pouting, you discard your hoodie into the passenger seat and watch Eren’s jaw go slack at the sight of your bare chest.

“No bra?” Eren immediately takes your left nipple into his hot, wet mouth and your back arches, “You’re so good to me, baby.”

You keen as he rolls the other nipple in his fingers, content with how they pebbled due to the chill of the night. He releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and places sloppy, open-mouthed kisses in the valley between your breasts. His large, calloused hands fondle your breasts languidly, his cock twitching in his briefs. Moaning softly, you roll your hips against him, desperate for friction, and whimper out a needy, “Eren, please.”

He lazily grins up at you. He is so insufferable - “What do you need, baby?”

You attempt to roll your hips again, but Eren’s hands keep you stationary, “I need you.”

“Yeah? You want me to take these off for you?” He tugs at your skimpy shorts, and he chuckles when you nod enthusiastically, “Hips up, baby.” He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your thong, and he sweeps off your underwear and shorts, so you’re sitting bare in his lap. He wolf-whistles at the sight of you, pressing a few kisses to your collarbone.

Your tits, full, warm and round, your waist, melded to Eren’s touch, your thighs, plush and soft, either side of Eren’s lap, your pussy, glistening in the light, dripping onto his sweats - you’re so undeniably sexy, even more so in the moonlight painting you silver.

He runs his hands up and down your waist, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. His lips are still swollen from your kisses, and his eyes are glazed with adoration. If you squint, you can see the hearts dancing in his eyes. Your heart flutters. You’re Eren’s, his to hold, his to fuck, his to love. He doesn’t deserve you - he knows that much - but he is willing to ruin your friendship if it meant being able to see you like this again. His eyes widen when he sees you palm your breasts, spilling out of the gaps between your fingers. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and warmth courses between your legs.

“Stop it.”

Eren is snapped out of his reverie by your voice. He clears his throat briefly. “Stop what?”

You wiggle on his lap, juggling your tits, smiling coyly, “Staring.”

He grins at you, brazen, “Never.”

His breath fans against your chest, hot, and his tongue slides across your sternum, hotter. He pulls you in for another kiss, a slower, softer one this time, and lets his hands roam around you freely. One hand rests on the small of your back, the other sliding down the plane of your stomach to where you need him most.

Your hips buck to meet him halfway. “Please, Eren-“

His fingers finally come into contact with your core, and you let out a strained whimper at his fleeting touch. He ghosts over your clit, chuckling at your displeasure. Just as you are about to whine again, he starts applying pressure to your swollen nub - just enough to make your head spin - as he clicks his tongue.

“Patience, baby. No more whining, you know I’ll give it to you good.“ He dips a finger between your folds, running it along your slit, before plunging it into you.

You gasp quietly as he begins thrusting it in and out of you. His fingers are long and thick, adorned with thick silver rings, nestled against that gummy spot that makes your knees weak. The stretch is delicious, something your fingers could never achieve. You can hear the squelch squelch squelch echo around the car before he even adds another finger. You’re mildly aware that you’re dripping down his wrist, but your mind is too foggy with pleasure to feel an inkling of shame. You’ve never been this wet for anyone before, and your heart hammers wildly in your chest.

“You hear that baby?” Eren teases you, “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” You whimper and bury your head into the crook of his neck. He slides in another finger, stretching you open, open, open. His rings graze your clit and you hum eagerly. You resort to bouncing on his hand, your gut beginning to tighten. Eren’s fingers still as he watches you. His voice is lowered to a husky drawl - “Go on, I want to see your cum on my fingers. Use me, baby.”

You begin to rock your hips faster, encouraged by his coos, the flames in your gut beginning to spread. Your gyrations become erratic and uneven. You pant into his ear wantonly, your breasts bouncing with your every move.

Gritting his teeth, Eren throws his head back. Moan by moan, you’re sending him closer to the edge. The hold you have on him is debilitating, and he’ll finish soon - untouched - if you don’t stop whining into his ear like a bitch in heat.

“Look at me,” Eren commands suddenly, tugging your hair. “I want to see you cum for me.”

Placing your hands on his shoulders, holding his gaze, you grind your clit against the heel of his palm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your legs lock around his waist at this newfound degree of pleasure. Moans are tumbling out of you unrestrained now, your voice high, whiny and loud. You are on the brink of orgasm, painstakingly close, and as Eren tugs your hair again, you lose it.

Your vision blurs and your legs shake as the world stutters on its axis. You spasm and clench around Eren’s hand, dripping onto the seat below you. Pleasure washes over you in waves, each one less intense than the last. You fall into Eren’s chest, breathing heavily as you come down from your high.

Eren looks at the mess you’ve made, chews his lip - letting out a low fuuuuck - before asking if, “You’re okay?”

You hum in response, barely registering Eren’s question. He flips you swiftly, and your back is now flush with his chest. His hoodie is warm and scratchy against your skin. Eren tugs your hair again, lighter this time, and you look at up him, eyes wide and glazed over.

Eren sucks in a breath as he stares at you, basking in your post-orgasm glow. Your skin shimmers in the dim light filtered through his windscreen, casting your face half in shadow. Your eyes are low and your chest heaves with your sharp and fast inhales. He brings his hand up to your cheek, swiping his thumb under your eye, the other cupping your sex.

“I could cum just looking at you,” he murmurs.

You lean into his embrace, whispering, “I can cum just thinking about you.”

A hoarse groan spills from his throat, and a hard slap is landed to your clit. Your whole body lurches as you mewl loudly.

“Is that right?” he chuckled breathlessly, “Do you think about me when you touch this dirty little pussy of yours at night?” You nod avidly, and he rewards you with a few harsh circles to your clit.

“Show me,” he said, leaning forward to watch his fingers play with your pussy, “Show me how hard you cum when you think about me.” He hoists you up so he can shove his sweats halfway down his thighs - no underwear? God, he’s such a slut - and your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, bobbing between your legs.

It was long, and girthy, the head flushed to an angry red. Precum dribbled steadily from the tip, trickling down his shaft in translucent streams. A bulging vein runs down the underside of his cock, straight to where his balls sit, heavy and warm. Gripping his cock at the base, he smacks the bulbous head again your clit twice. Your legs spasm either side of him and he smirks before spitting, a fat glob of saliva landing onto your puffy clit.

He taps your clit again, gentler, encouraging, as he urges you, “Touch yourself, baby. I won’t ask again.” The shift in his tone is evident as his eyes darken, forest green now a deep viridian. You bite your bottoms lip as you slide a hand down your body, the other idly kneading your left breast.

Your fingers draw lazy circles around your entrance before dipping a finger between your folds. You sigh breathily, allowing your head to fall against his shoulder, and Eren begins pumping himself slowly. You slip a finger into yourself, before bringing it back up to your lips. Eren watches keenly as you suck your essence off your fingers, then dip them back between your legs. You purr as you thrust two fingers into yourself, massaging that gummy spot that makes you dizzy. You begin to go faster, synchronous to the pumps of Eren’s hands.

His grunts are low and heavy in your ears, goading you to, “Go faster, I want to see you cum all over your fingers like the slut you are.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, your fingers now hammering into your little hole, coaxing little spurts of arousal out of you with every pump. Eren uses your cum as a lubricant, slicking his shaft as he fists his cock aggressively. His dick nearly glitters in the moonlight, lathered in a milky sheen of your arousal. He snakes his vacant hand up your body, briefly squeezing your throat, your pulse hammering beneath his fingertips.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, and he takes the opportunity to shove his fingers into your mouth. He watches saliva pool in your mouth, before spitting in it. You hum delightedly, your face so vacant with pleasure it makes Eren curse. As Eren pulls his fingers out of your mouth, spit dribbles down your chin and into the concaves of your collarbone.

“Such a messy girl, aren’t you?” he coos. You blink slowly, and then nod blankly. “Bet you don’t even know what I said, huh? So cockdrunk already,” he tuts at you lovingly as he brings his free hand to your second entrance.

When he circles your puckered hole, you gasp quietly. He shushes you tenderly, and he feels you give way beneath his finger tips.

“Good girl, gonna let me have all of you, right?” you agree mindlessly, dazed in the pursuit of your orgasm. He chuckles at you, how dumb you are for him, before slipping a finger into you, knuckle deep. Your body contorts and you let out a sharp cry. Eren grips the base of his cock to prevent the orgasm threatening to crest at the sound of your cries.

Even with one finger down there, you feel so full, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You slam your free hand on the steamy window, plastering a hand-shaped spyhole onto it. Your fingers speed up and you begin to pant when you sense your core begin to twist.

“Eren- I’m so close, fuck,” Eren slides a second finger into your ass and you let out a loud, debauched, filthy moan. You lick your lips longingly, watching beads of precum drip over Eren’s hands as he smears it over his shaft.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eren grunts against your neck, “Gonna make me cum.”

Knowing Eren was here, with you, being driven to the edge by your wanton cries and unabashed pleasure, sends you toppling headfirst into your second orgasm of the night.

Your back arches wildly and you wail out Eren’s name as you shake and convulse. You twitch violently around Eren’s fingers, simultaneously gushing onto yours. Your wrist is dripping with your arousal, as is Eren’s entire cock. As you thrash on his lap, he slowly retracts his fingers from your ass.

He slides his lips along your jaw, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat beaded along your face, before tilting your head with a large hand and kissing you. You suck on his bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it softly, just how he likes it.

With a throaty moan, Eren follows you and hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out from his cock. They drape over your thighs, the steering wheel and your stomach like silvery garlands of pearls. He lets out a small grunt as the last spurts fall limply onto his hand.

You whine breathily as he rubs his cock through your folds. He gently rolls his hips upwards, and his balls hit your round ass with a small plap. He pulls away from your heated kiss, and you chase his lips desperately - you’re pathetic.

The head of his massive cock aligns with your belly button and Eren, gripping his shaft by the base, taps his tip against your navel, admiring the thin strings of precum that linger.

His voice drips with sadistic enthusiasm when he drawls, “I’m gonna be in your stomach, baby. Can you take it?”

“Eren, please, I need you.” You roll your hips against the hard length of his member.

He chuckles at your wanton desperation. “You want it, baby?” You nod fervently. “How bad?”

“So, so, so bad, please fuck me, Eren.” Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and your eyes lock onto his with blind adoration. He presses a quick kiss to your hairline, and then your forehead.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He presses his cock against your entrance, slowly, slowly, slowly pushing past that tight ring of muscle. You sigh dreamily as Eren nibbles on your earlobe, occasionally tugging at your piercings.

He pauses briefly when he bottoms out. You squirm in his arms before he scolds you, slapping your inner thigh harshly. The eerie silence of the world around you fades into your ears ringing when he slowly - agonisingly - begins thrusting. His cock drags along your walls perfectly with every precise roll of his hips. His groans echo around the car. The joint sounds of your ecstasy nearly drown out the lewd squelches between your legs.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Eren hammers your g-spot. You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel your release begin to crest. Eren’s breath is hot against your neck and his muttered praises cloud your brain.

One of your hands travels up to entangle itself in Eren’s hair. He turns and plants a wet kiss on your palm. His thrusts become more rapid and shallow as you clench around him. You feel the car rock in time with his thrusts and you sigh happily.

You want your neighbours to know you’re getting fucked senseless. You want the world to know how good you’re getting it right now. Though now, your world has you spread on his lap like a fuckdoll and is pounding you like an animal.

You hiccup as Eren sinks his teeth into your palm. “You okay, pretty girl? Been quiet for a while.” When you nod, he presses his wet lips to your cheek, plastering his smile on you. He slides a hand down to your clit and begins rubbing it in small, quick circles. “No worries, I’ll have you screamin’ my name in no time. Gonna turn you into my little rag-doll.”

Your back arches as his thrusts also pick up speed. Every thrust has your legs trembling and voice cracking.

“Eren- fuck, it’s so good,” you babble in your gut-wrenching pleasure.

“Yeah?” His smirk is hot against your neck. He whispers, “How good?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts impossibly faster. Your hands dig into his biceps and when you feel blood bead at the skin, he hisses in pleasure.

“So good, no one does it like you, Eren.”

He throws his head back with a hearty groan. God, you don’t know what you do to him. Every time he thinks you’ve lured him in deep enough, he finds himself diving into you again, until he’s drowning in your wet, warm depths.

Your eyes meet his again. Your lashes flutter and Eren presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead after brushing away the hair plastered to it.

“Oh, yeah? It’s that good?” You nod lazily, your body jolting with the force of his thrusts. He takes one of your tits in his palm and squeezes hard. He lowers his mouth to yours, and you wet your lips in anticipation. “You gotta cum all over me then.”

You do. Ecstasy dances down your spine as you cry out his name. You squeeze your eyes shut as your clamp down on Eren’s cock. White flashes behind your eyelids like fireworks. You moan his name again and again and again and he tells you he knows, he knows, he knows. Your arousal drips down his shaft, leaving a glistening trail past his balls and onto the padded leather beneath you both.

“Good girl,” he coos. He brings the fingers circling your clit up to your lips, and you dart your tongue out to taste yourself.

His pace never relents, not even when you’re sobbing wildly. The aftershocks of your previous orgasm fade, and you’re already teetering on the edge of another. You wring your hands in the sweat-sodden material of his hoodie. You sob, “I’m gonna cum again.”

“Already?” he tuts and laughs, his voice husky and low. He hums in approval before pinching your nipple tightly. The pain elicits a sweet, little cry from you. His voice is strangled when he asks, “Tell me what you need.”

“More, I need more, I need it harder,” you whine into his neck. You nuzzle into his collarbone, deeply inhaling his warm, vanilla cologne.

“You want harder? I’ll give you harder, you little slut,” he grunts as he hooks his arms under your knees, pinning them to your chest. The change in position angles his cock so deep into you, you can feel him in your throat. When you feel the head of his cock ram into your cervix, you shriek - half pain, half pleasure - and Eren swallows your cries with a wet and sloppy kiss, much like the mess between your legs.

Incoherent moans tumble from your mouth, your eyes find sanctuary in the back of your head and your wetness floods the seat below you. The sharp pain makes you gasp, makes your toes curl. The pads of Eren’s fingers are warm against your knees and his breath is searing against your neck. He continues to split you open on his cock, intent on ruining you on his lap.

He lifts his head to observe you, to admire your undoing. Your skin is sweaty and flushed, your lashes beaded with tears, your lips swollen and bitten. You’re a sight for sore eyes, a glimpse of heaven in his arms. Your eyes snap to his and you whimper in shame, mustering up the scraps of dignity you had remaining, shying away from the ferocity in his eyes.

Eren chuckles dryly at you. He calls your name. Once. Twice. You shake your head and bury it into your chest.

“Oh, no, no, no.” His hands come to rest on the back of your head, arms still hooked under your knees, and he roughly yanks your head back to look at him.

You gasp, “Eren-“

“Look at me.” Your eyes lock onto his. “Look at this.” He tilts your head down, maintaining his ruthless pace, “Look at you, baby, getting so wet for me.”

You laugh and sob, surveying the mess you’ve created. Your arousal is spread between your thighs - thick, slimy strings connecting your thighs to Eren’s. Your lips are stretched around his width, suctioning him into you with a lewd squelch. It’s so wet and sloppy and messy and it’s so, so perfect.

“Feels so- so, so good, baby, fuck,” you babble this out to Eren and he belts out his handsome, disarming laugh.

“Yeah? Bet it does.” You melt even further into his touch when he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

Watching yourself get split open by Eren sends you hurtling towards your release, so you breathe out a quiet, “Cumming.”

Eren chuckles, drops his lips to your ear, and murmurs, “Are you asking or telling me?”

You shake your head weakly. “Don’t make me beg.”

He chuckles quietly, deciding to take mercy on you. Eren sinks his teeth into your earlobe before he gives you a deep, hard thrust, and then commands you to, “Cum.”

Your legs go limp as the world stutters on its axis. The pleasure is mind-numbingly intense and white-hot bursts of relief wrack your body rhythmically. Your mouth gapes in a silent scream as Eren slams himself into your cervix again and again. Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and your head kills back onto his shoulder, too weak to watch yourself cum around him.

Your arousal, clear and copious, sprays everywhere in his car : his seat, the steering wheel, the windscreen, even your body. Eren moans at the sight of you squirting all over his car, you marking your territory. You shudder helplessly in his grasp, succumbing to the heat dousing your limbs. If not for Eren’s tight grip on you, you would have collapsed.

He keeps going, keeps thrusting, desperate to join you in the pleasure of orgasm. His thrusts become sloppier, but no less deep. You mewl with every pump of his hips against yours, overly sensitive and stimulated.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he pants, strained and shaky, in your ear.

You moan at the thought of his hot, thick cum filling you up. “Inside, Eren, please, please, please-“

He cuts you off with a pained groan, “Fuck, you know I can’t do that.”

“Please, Eren, please,” you plead with him, your eyes wide and glassy, “Don’t I deserve it?”

His eyes snap shut and he lets out a shaky, ragged breath. “Shit, you’re making this really hard for me.” His hips pummel you faster, shallower, irregular, as if he’s losing his restraint.

Fuck it, he’s come this far, and he can’t say no to you. “You want it, baby? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I need it Eren, please give it to me,” you whimper desperately.

“Fuck,” he whines as he thrusts into you a final time, unloading himself into you. Sighing happily, you press a kiss to his cheek as you feel the warm spurts of cum paint your insides. He only pulls out when he stops pulsing inside you, wincing slightly.

Eren slumps against your shoulder, his chest rattling with every breath. Your hands tangle into his thick, chestnut hair. He grunts in approval. Quick, fleeting kisses are pressed to your shoulders and you shudder. Your movement reminds you of the mess between your legs, and you suddenly feel filthy.

“Eren,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper.

Eren’s response is muffled by your neck. “Yes, baby?”

You sniffle. “I’m messy,” Eren jerks up, seemingly rejuvenated after remembering the importance of aftercare.

“Shit, sorry, I’ll clean you up now,” he reaches for your hoodie and starts wiping at your inner thighs. He grins up at you over your shoulder - “You really made a mess huh?”

You shuffle awkwardly in his lap. You had squirted on his skylight, a mess was an understatement.

The corners of his lips pull upwards into a smirk, “Don’t worry about it, ‘m getting my car detailed anyway.” Humming when he’s deemed you clean, he rotates you so you’re eye to eye. His eyes twinkle with undulating lust as he wipes away your tears. “You good?”

You nod meekly, nuzzling his calloused palm.

He pinches your thigh. “Don’t get all shy on me now, you were being real loud earlier.” He tosses the hoodie into the backseat before placing kisses to both of your breasts. His brows pinch at the slightly pensive expression plastered on your face.

He tugs your hair lightly. “Do you want me to get you a Plan B? We can-“

“We were supposed to be talking, Eren,” you wring his hoodie in your hands.

A cocky grin spread across Eren’s face. “Oh, she was definitely talking to me,” he moves to cup your sex, but you swat his hand away. His smile drops at the deflated look in your face.

Sighing, you ask, “Are we ever going to talk about this?”

He frowns, brushing your hair out of your face. “I thought we were gonna forget about it? One time thing, you know?”

You sigh softly and slip your hands under the hem of his hoodie. As you run your hands along the ridges of Eren’s abdomen, his cock bobs.

“We can’t keep using that as an excuse to-“

“Do you regret it?”

“Huh?” Your head snaps up to meet his gaze and his eyes are glinting mischievously.

Squeezing your face between his fingers, Eren pulls your face towards his. His tongue slides along your bottom lip before he reclines. “Do you regret this? Us?”

You swallow.

You don’t respond.

But this time, Eren knows better.

He captures you in a slow, sloppy kiss. His lips meld to yours as he murmurs, “I don’t think we have to talk about anything then.” He sucks your bottom lip slowly, letting it swell in his mouth, before smirking impishly as he rasps, “Talking’s overrated.”

#eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader smut #this is my baby #pls be nice #very new to this so idk what happens next #i need him #angel’s fics

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imaginespazzi · 2 months

Text

Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?

(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!

August 2021

where are you

i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you

dude

are you on your way?

you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering

PAIGE

i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that

but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?

this isn’t funny where are you?

i have to leave in 15 mins

are you actually not coming?

wtf????

this is actually bullshit

get over yourself bueckers

wow

fuck you

just landed

thought you might like to know

sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess

September 2021

dude enough okay

can you just call me back??

i just wanna talk

i know you're mad i get it but i miss you

November 2021

hi i’mma be in dc over christmas

nvm

idk why i’m trying again

maybe i should block you

this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck

December 2021

i thought i saw you today but idk

couldn’t have been you cause if it was

would you really not even say hi?

i’m done trying paige

merry christmas i guess

March 2022

i misz you

lyke a wot

love uuuuu pppppp

even if ur a bwtich

pkese pick up

ignore that

people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you

wait

i don’t need to tell you that

you already ignore it all anyways

August 2022

i heard about the acl

i’m sorry

idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk

nvm

***

September 2022

When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more.

Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.

“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed.

“What are you doing here?”

Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake.

“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”

“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”

Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend.

“And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”

“You talked to my dad?”

“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”

As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly.

“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly.

“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”

“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”

“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy.

“That’s not what-”

“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”

“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.

Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.

“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else. You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”

“You don’t-”

“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”

The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.

The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.

“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”

In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod.

“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it.

“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so, “I uh- I’m out of milk.”

Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest.

“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”

Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”

“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.

“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm.

Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”

She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”

“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.”

“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.

“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”

“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”

“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall.

“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”

“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free.

***

When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart.

“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.

“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”

“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”

“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”

It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”

To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it.

“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”

“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue.

“That’s not a thing.”

“Is too.”

“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”

“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.

***

Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet.

“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer.

“You wanna see my dorm?”

“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”

“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”

“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,” Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice.

“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air.

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack.

“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile.

They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.

“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things.

“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts.

It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin.

“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”

Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it.

“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force.

“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having.

“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”

“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”

“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself.

The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat.

It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy.

“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”

“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour.

“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”

Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”

“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other.

***

That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.

November 2020

“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.

She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus.

“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk.

“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes.

“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”

“Right.”

“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”

“They seem wonderful P.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.

“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”

“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.”

“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that.

“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”

Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”

“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together.

She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts.

“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard.

When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”

The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.

“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking.

Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”

“What?”

“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”

Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane.

“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously, “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”

Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”

“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.

“Paige-”

“Have you told UCLA yet?”

“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”

“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches.

In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid.

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost.

“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not-”

“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”

“That’s not fair,” Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”

“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”

“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”

They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be.

“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”

The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps.

“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on.

“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears.

When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back.

“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”

And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore.

***

September 2022

After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need.

On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something. It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi.

When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step.

“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile.

“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”

Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”

“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her.

Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.”

And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen.

“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her.

“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”

Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing “miss me already?”

Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that.

“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”

“Butt dial.”

“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?”

There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her.

“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away.

On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again.

“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”

“Paige-”

“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”

“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t wanna come pregame here?”

“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”

“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”

***

Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch.

What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people.

The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.

“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige.

“You having fun?”

“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch.

“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”

Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”

The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface.

Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together.

This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste.

***

It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths.

“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety.

It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”

“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back.

She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall.

“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”

Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that.

“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly.

“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable.

Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.

“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing.

“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”

“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”

“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”

Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”

“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”

It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed.

“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it.

“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.”

The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it.

In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear.

“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”

When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”

“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most.

It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck.

“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s.

The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up.

“Az-”

Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance.

“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”

Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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8siangemini · 10 months

Text

You Sly Cat Pt 4 (Miles Morales x Black Cat!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Summary: After finding the identity of the great Spider-Man you have been planning your great heist with your father. The night has finally come, the dance and the heist.

WARNINGS: Intense kissing, makeout, hickies

Author’s Note: Hiii pookies!! There is a plan to have either one or two more chapters to You Sly Cat butttt before the finale I hope y’all enjoy this chapter :)

That night you immediately ran home in disbelief and maybe even heartbreak but also shock. You went home with so many confusing emotions. In your head you kept on having the image of Miles and Spider-Man in your head side by side. Those times where you were on top of him, when he pressed against you from the back on your debut, it was all Miles. The image of plain Miles in all of those situations made you feel flustered.

But something about knowing Spider-Man’s identity and knowing that it was someone that you are becoming involved with gave you a thrill.

Throughout the whole week of the dance you were excited and over the moon for Friday. You would be going to the dance with the guy that you like and you would be pulling one of the most important heists in your family.

Today was Thursday and you had no school tomorrow due to the dance being tomorrow night. You were currently in your studio art class with Miles sitting next to you with your guys’ easels in front of you. After the teacher gave you instructions everyone went to work and began painting. It was sort of a free day so you were allowed to paint what you wished.

You knew what you were going to paint, who you were going to paint. You pushed out black and red paints and began to paint the person next to you. Just in a different alias.

As you began painting you see that in the corner of your eye you see Miles painting while keeping an eye on you. You look back at your painting with a smirk.

“May I help you Miles?” You ask as you look over at him with a smile.

“Nah I just can’t wait to see you tomorrow night.” He answers.

He smiles at you as a small blush comes to your face. He has been making you more flustered recently due to your discovery last Friday. You could not get the image of him, Miles, pinning you down and being so close to your neck like how he was just last Monday.

He leans closer to your easel to see an outline of black paint of a person in an acrobatic swinging pose. It was a rough outline but he knew who you were painting.

“Whatcu paintin’?” He asks.

Your hand continues to smooth the brush on the canvas as you fill in the figure with black paint.

“Brooklyn’s knight in shining armor.” You answer without taking your eyes off of the painting.

You knew what you were doing. You were going to press his buttons about him without him even knowing.

“O-oh,” Miles says as he goes back to his painting. “Spider-Man huh? Great guy!”

“Hmm I guess so.” You shrug off. Now you have Miles’ attention.

He looks at you with shock and confusion. In your head you knew you were being devious.

“He’s just… an amateur,” In the corner of your eye you see Miles looking at you in shock as his paintbrush in hand stays still against the canvas.

“An amateur?” Miles scoffs. “He’s been Spider-Man for like over a year now. What is he an amateur in?”

You knew how to press his buttons now.

“In acrobatics, like I was doing stuff like that when I was seven.” You scoff.

At the corner of your eye you see Miles looking at you, waiting for you to continue. He was fuming, fuming that the girl he likes made fun of him without realizing it. But in reality you did know. It may be messed up but the way you were playing aand teasing about his alias was fun to you.

“But,” Miles’ expression changes to hope. “I do have to say he is smooth with it.” You set your hands on your thighs with a smiles as you look at your painting.

“What do you mean?” Miles continues painting. “You say he’s an amatuer but then you say he’s smooth.”

“Even though he is an amatuer in his ability he makes it up with his style.” You begin to explain. “Let’s say he was a fighter with his same abilities but without his playful nature, he would be so boring. So I have to give that to him.”

Miles finally takes his eyes off of you and looks at his painting with a smirk he tried his hardest to hide, but couldn’t.

The rest of class went off in silence as you listened to music. The bell finally rang and you put away your supplies in the designated spots in the classroom. As you pack your bag you feel a large hand gently place itself on your upper arm.

You look up and smile seeing that it is Miles. He was so close to you it almost felt like he was towering over you.

“See you tomorrow chica linda. (pretty girl)” Miles smirked.

He planted a kiss on your cheek and you happily smiled as his nose slightly tickled your cheekbone. This sort of public affection, the small touches, the nicknames, you loved it. The way Miles made you feel like you were his and he was yours made you happy. But you would be happier if you two actually made it offical.

You pat his chest and fix his tie slightly until you bring your hand up to his chin and carressed it slightly. He began to blush profusely, this being the first time you are showing PDA.

“Better be ready handsome.” You say before planting a small kiss on his cheek.

You pull away and laugh as you see a small print of brown lip liner and lip gloss on his cheek. Before he could do anything you pulled away from him and walked out of the class.

——

Miles waited anxiously in front of your door with his parents behind him. He was appauled by your big grand house spanning about a whole block and beautiful folliage. He was slightly scared and intimidated by your home alone.

“Do I look fine?” He heard his father ask his mom behind him.

“Bigger question is do I look fine? She’s my date.” Miles said nervously.

“You look handsome mi hijo.” Rio says as she places a kiss on Miles’ cheek which made him feel slightly better.

But he was soon frightened by who he saw through the double doors that were opened by your doorman. Your father stood in the center of the clear marble floor with a pair of staircases going down both of his sides.

They all walked into the cold and clean home with a shining chandelier on the ceiling. Miles walked up to your father as he trembled slightly. Miles reached his hand out and your father shook his hand.

“Hello Mr. (L/n). I’m Miles Morales.” Miles stook to the script that his dad made him practice with him to meet your father.

“Ahh the lucky man.” Your father commented with a smile.

Your father then looked at Miles’ parents.

“This is my dad-“

“Officer Jefferson.” Your father interrupted. Jeff looked at your father in shock as they shook hands. He then looks at Rio and shakes her hand. “You must be Rio.”

Both of them were surprised that he knew of them.

“(Y/n) could not stop talking about you guys.” Your father said with a smile.

“Dad!” You say embarresly.

You finally looked down and meet eye with Miles. Miles wore a beautiful and clean all white suit with a simple black tie. He looked handsome as he looked up at you. Miles felt as if he was looking up at a goddess. The way you made the simple yet elegant black dress look so graceful with black Louboutins heels and long tight black velvet gloves with silver chrome nails that looked like claws.

You walked down the stairs as Miles looked at you in awe. He walked towards the bottom of the stairs almost like a robot and held his hand up for you. You reached for his hand and he helped you the rest of the way down the stairs.

You came to Miles’ side while your hand was still in his. You then lean into his ear.

“Hello don’t you look handsome.” You whisper.

You look at Miles with a smile and he looks at you up and down and smile too.

“Well look at you hermosa (beautiful).” He compliments and you begin to blush as you smile.

——

You and Miles walked into the museum and the main lobby was decorated with elegant crystal chandeliers and hanging jewels. Music was playing and a few students stood around talking to their friends before the dance actually started.

But it seemed that had all changed when you and Miles walked in. It was like time had stopped and everyone now had their eyes on you two. You and Miles walking in with you arms linked together.

“Everyone is staring.” Miles whispered to you as you guided him to try and find Roxie. “What if they think of stuff, what if they start talkin-“

“Miles,” You stop and you two meet eyes while still having arms linked together. “Let them stare.”

You smirk and Miles’ worry melted away.

——

You were overjoyed at how the night was going. You were dancing till your feet hurt and your face hurt by the amount of you smiling. And what made it better was that yourhand was in Miles’ the whole night.

The music died down from upbeat and turned into a slow song, a romantic song, Perfect by Ed Sheeran. Your heart began to race but then you felt a tug on your hand. Miles pulled you into his chest and placed his hands on your waist. Your hands made its way to his neck and you rubbed it slightly as you two swayed back and forth.

Your eyes stared into each other, getting lost in each others. You two were so close you could feel Miles’ heartbeat against your chest. All you could do was smile at Miles and his smile matched yours.

As the song began to end you finally got the light signal as you peeked out the window behind Miles’ shoulder. It was now or never. Just as the song ended you gave a quick kiss on Miles’ cheek.

“I need to go to the restroom real quick.” And before Miles could answer you went out of one of the exits.

You followed the route your father planned out for you and the whole heist was as easy as child’s play. You finally made it to the door of the Delvadian Spider. It was a large sliding door but there was a flat dial lock in the center. You crouched down to it and pressed your ear against it as you turned the dial.

Click. Click. Click.

You were in. The door slid into the wall and across the room stood the display. The Delvadian Spider.

The gold idol shined in the moonlight as it was displayed in the glass. A round oval shaped gold spider with rubies and sapphires on it. Your family’s next biggest heist. Behind it was a window that you had just carved out a circle with your clawed glove.

The setup and security was pathetic. As security knew that it was only teenagers coming into the museum at this time there was no security besides the cameras. Which you father has altered by this point as he sat in the car down the street waiting for the prize to come out of the window.

You touched your gloved hand to the glass and pressed your index nail firmly on the glass. You scratched a circle on the glass and and pushed the glass into the display. Your heart raced and pounded as you touched the idol. Just then the fangs of the spider clamped down on your hand and piecered your hand through the glove.

“Fucking a.” You muttered as you grasped the spider but yanked it out of the glass case suddenly.

You looked around nervously, hoping that a signal or alarm won’t go off. None did.

You all of a sudden felt like you could hear everyone in the building. Your face began to feel hot but somehow not like how it felt when you were sick. Your sense of smell also became more lively. Your head began to ring profusely too.

“(Y/n)?” You snap your head towards the door in fear but see none other the your date. Miles looked at you with confusion but also heartbreak.

“Shit.” You mutter underneath your breath.

“W-what are you doing?” He asks as he takes a few steps towards you.

As he tries to walk towards you you put your hand up while the other stayed on the Delvadian Spider. Miles stops in his tracks and puts his hands to his sides with his chest high. His eyes went from you to the relic and then back and forth. He was piecing it together and after a couple of seconds he finally understood. The hair, your mouth, your touch, it was all so familiar. Familiar from those nights where you two had interactions, fights, flirts. He was hurt and you knew it.

“You lied to me, Black Cat.” Miles spoke with his chest. Your eyes narrowed as a smirk came to your face.

“Now come on darling. I know that I am not the only one keeping secrets, Spider-Man.” You say with a wide smirk.

Black Cat was coming out.

Miles’ eyes widen as you two stand across the empty moonlit room, just you two. You walk up to him as your heels clicked against the marble floor with the relic in your hand. You came up to him and lifted your free hand up to his chin as you two were eye to eye with one another. With or without the masks he was Spider-Man and you were Black Cat. A smirk came to your face as you gloved nails caressed his chin gently.

“Miles, you were drawn to me as a civilian because I was seen as untouchable. Correct?”

He does not respond but the way his shoulders fell as ease gave you an answer. You looked down at his chest and your hand traveled down from his chin, to his neck, to rest at his chest.

“And Spider-Man, you were drawn to Black Cat because of her cunningness and confidence. Correct?”

Miles did not respond again but you did not need him to. You began circling around him slowly as your dress trailed behind you. Your hand stayed up near his neck and placed itself on the nape of it as you plant yourself in front of him again. You two were close, you were chest to chest close like how you were when you two danced. Your heartbeats beat against each other.

“Well Miles, with me you get both.” You look at his eyes and then his lips and he looks at your eyes and lips too. “Not many have noticed but both me and Black Cat are both untouchable in ways. I cannot be touched due to my status and Black Cat cannot be touched due to her reputation.” You begin to explain as Miles comes closer, if that was even possible. “We are both confident. Black Cat is confident in her abilities and decisions and I am confident in my being.”

Miles hands come up to your waist and pulls your waist closer to him until there is no space between you two.

“Then let me tell you about me and Spider-Man.” Miles whispers. “I am clumsy lucky mother fucker that somehow bagged the golden girl.” Miles says as he looks at you up and down. You let out a small laugh and Miles returns it. Miles then meets back to your eyes.

“And Spider-Man is the knight in shining armor of Brooklyn that has been entranced by Brooklyn’s top rising villain.” One of Miles’ fingers begins to trace up and down at your spin. Miles stares at you as you shiver underneath his touch. A smirk covers your face as you stare at Miles’ lips then his eyes.

“So tell me Miles,” Your lips are just a couple inches away. You two switch between from looking at each other’s eyes to each other’s lips. “Are you willing to dance with an angel and the devil?”

Miles tilts his head to the side slightly and you follow suit. Both of your guys’ eyes narrow as your lips get closer. A smirk comes to Miles’ face.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He whispers with a smirk against your lips.

“Then I promise I’ll bring you to heaven and hell.” You respond with a smirk.

Miles’ lips finally crash into yours. You smirked into the kiss and kissed back. It was slow and smooth until you opened your mouth and his tongue darts in. That is when everything became hot and fast. Your hands began to wonder around his neck and his chest and his hands gripped your hips and waist tightly and he pressed himself against you.

You head began to ring so profusely and your heartbeats began intense with Miles. Almost like you and Miles were syncing up to the same breath and heartbeat. Everything began to go so fast. Miles wrapped his arms completely around your waist and your arms wrapped around his neck as you fingers tug at his coils slightly. You both leaned into each other, still trying to fight for dominance.

Grunts and groans mixed into the kiss as you two turned your heads back and forth. One of Miles’ hands make it to the back of your neck and his lips slowly lowered down to your neck. Back to where they were last Monday but they finally connected to your neck with deep wet kisses. Miles’ tongue escapes his mouth and begins sucking and nipping at your neck. Your eyes slowly fall shut and your mouth opens as gasps escape your lips.

And you knew for a fact that Miles would be leaving this room with part of your burgundy lipstick smirred on his lips and you would be leaving with a hickey on your neck.

But what Miles forgot was that he was still Spider-Man and you were still Black Cat. And in the middle of the kiss Black Cat had thrown out the Delvadian Spider out of the open window for her father to find and run off with.

Taglist

@sakura-onesan @potato-studez-hungryformore @midnight-fairee @nightshxdex @nana-luvsyu @sukisprettyface @itszzmoon @gabiilyyy @kaisersloyalservant @horologiumwise @heyitsissyx @hana-1235 @capybaraisa @solecitoszn @silly-norman @bassdafox @brittney69 @tammyslove @laylasbunbunny @earth2auka @irizss @cosmiic-7 @ella34435

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #spider man across the spider verse #spider man #spiderman #miles morales #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miles morales x black cat! reader

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house-of-lovin · 11 months

Text

legally binded - drabble (1)

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. |

Drabble #1: The Week in Coachella

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: a little insight as to the ‘domestic bliss’ J was referring to 👀 this takes place during chapter 4, the week leading up to R’s peformance. the first of many drabbles (hopefully)

Word Count: 3.8k+

Monday:

“Turn it off… Jenna, turn it off!”

You whined, aimlessly swiping your hand on the covers in hopes it hits the other actress.

The alarm blaring rudely in the dark, quiet air interrupted the solitude of the early morning.

You hear her groans but it sounded muffled under the lump of covers and pillows. “You turn it off…”

“Jenna…” You groaned but she still refused to move from her seemingly comfortable position. With a huff, you throw the covers off your head, squinting in the unlit room. The sun hasn’t even risen yet, what the fuck?

Reaching over Jenna’s body, you grabbed your phone on her bedside table. You must have fallen asleep with it in your hand again and Jenna must have placed it there for you.

“It’s not even mine.” You muttered, reaching for her phone instead and snoozing the alarm. Then you flung yourself back into your side of the bed, sighing in satisfaction because the annoying alarm wasn’t blaring in your eardrums anymore.

“Was it my phone?” Jenna lifted the cover off her head but remained under. Her hair is a mess after a night of tossing and turning and yet she still looked… pretty. You’re not blind, she’s gorgeous but there’s something about her, being the first thing you wake up to that makes your heart palpitate uncomfortably.

Probably heartburn from last night’s dinner. Yeah. That’s it.

“Mhmm.” You hummed. It’s too early for words.

She groaned dropping the covers to hide again. “I have pick up at 5.”

“You’re working?” You questioned.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you.” You hear and feel the shuffles of Jenna climbing out of the covers. “Are you going to be okay being alone with my family today?”

Cracking a single eye open and even through the darkness in the room, you see her brows knitted worriedly. “I’ll be fine, Jenna. I’ve been here for two days now, I’m settled in.”

“Are you sure? You can come with me to set if you want. I think I’m only filming some promo videos of Dior.” She urged. When you hear the concern in her voice, you opened your eyes fully, sitting up.

“Jen, I’ll be okay. I promise. It’ll be nice to just chill today too ‘cause I’m not needed for soundcheck again until Thursday.” You reassured, blindly placing your hand on her bare thigh.

You feel her tense under your touch and you were about to pull away and apologize, not meaning to place your hand there but she placed her palm atop yours. “Okay… but if you need me to come back–”

“I won’t need to, but I will text you if anything happens, stop worrying.” You rolled your eyes, pulling your burning hand away. “Now go get ready before you’re late. I will be going to bed.”

“How can you go back to sleep so easily?” She questioned, climbing out of the covers.

“Mhmm… magic.” You slur, already on the verge of sleeping.

You miss Jenna watching you for a few, long seconds with a fond smile after you’ve fallen asleep. You also miss her panic once she realized what she was doing, promptly turning on her heel to walk into the bathroom.

***

It was around 8:30 when you woke up again and like last time, it wasn’t on your own accord.

“Dad says wake up.” You spring up from the bed, eyes still closed.

You weren’t even sure if you were still dreaming but you swore you heard a voice.

“Over here.” Blinking your eyes open, you see Aliyah leaning against the doorframe with a smug smile. “Nice hair, is this what Jenna’s been waking up to every morning?”

“I see you and her share the same need to make fun of me.” You grumbled, wiping your eyes as they adjusted to the sunlight peering into the room.

“Mhmm. That’s how the family shows we care, we tease.” The younger girl shrugged, “Now come on, there’s breakfast downstairs and then chores.”

“Chores?” You asked but she already left.

Fucking chores? What the hell did you sign up for?

Swiftly, you threw on a presentable sweatsuit and brushed your teeth before hopping down the steps. From the moment you opened the door, you could already smell savoury waft of the morning meal awaiting you in the kitchen.

When you round the corner, entering the dining room everyone was already there, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Natalie smiled when she saw you. “Sorry Aliyah woke you up like that,”

You see her send her daughter a warning glance but you just laughed, waving it off. “No, it’s alright. Worked like a charm.”

“Come sit and eat.” She ushered, and you noted her uniform.

“I assume you’re working today?”

“Yes, it’s just going to be you kids in the house today.”

With Coachella weekend coming up, you had forgotten you were currently staying in a house with people who worked regular, 9-5 jobs.

“Oh, alright.” You smiled gratefully when the matriarch placed a plate of food in front of you.

“Dad and I have to go, you guys be safe okay? Call if you need anything.” She called out to the rest of her kids.

“You guys are carpooling?” Mia asked.

“Yup, the car’s not starting again.” The man grumbled, rising from his seat.

You perk up at that comment. “I can take a look at it for you if you want?”

All heads turn to you.

“You know cars?” Jenna’s dad asked, skeptical. This is the first time you’ve talked directly to the man.

“Yes sir.” You clear your throat, sitting up straighter. There was something about the man, maybe it was his constant silence or just Dads in general that made you a bit tense and feel out of your depth. “Used to work on them with my best friend, just a hobby but I learned a thing or two.”

He raised a brow but didn’t say anything. Natalie spoke up for him. “You don’t have to do that Y/N, but we would appreciate it regardless.”

You nodded, sending them a small smile. Aware that the man still hasn’t given you an answer but hey, you’ll take what you can get.

“We gotta go.” The parents bid goodbye and when the door shut, an awkward silence hung in the hair.

You keep your head down and pretend your breakfast was the most interesting thing on Earth.

“So, you got plans today?” Mia asked.

Lifting your head, you pointed to yourself, “Me?”

“Who else?” She raised a brow, and suddenly you’re made aware that sarcasm runs in the family.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you drop your spoon. “I don’t have plans.”

“Perfect. We’re all doing something.” Mia grinned.

You looked at Aliyah and Markus sending them apprehensive looks. “I… don’t like the way you said that.”

“Relax, superstar… when was the last time you let loose?” Mia grinned leaning on her elbows.

You glanced at the three siblings warily, “Fine… but if Jenna asks, it wasn’t my idea.”

“We’ll deal with her.” Aliyah matched her sister’s grin.

***

“This was your idea of letting loose?” You heaved exasperatedly, leaning against the leather headrest of the driver’s seat.

The three siblings’ laugh resounds around you, agitating you further. Is this what it was like to have siblings? Maybe you’re not missing out on much.

“I thought you were an action star? Don’t you guys get paid to work out for Marvel?” Aliyah asked from the backseat.

“I’m out of commission.” You glared through the rearview mirror. “And I hate hiking… why did we pick that?”

You started the ignition, cranking the AC to full blast and sighing in relief as the cool air relieves your sticky-red skin.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed. But there isn’t much to do around here.” Markus piqued up from beside his sister. “So when we all get together, we like to go hiking. Jen can’t make it most of the time, but I guess you’re the next best thing.”

He joked prompting his sisters to laugh but you flushed under the suggestion. You chose not to comment, instead pulling out of the parking spot. Clearing your thickening throat, you asked, “Where to?”

When you get back to the house, you're instantly met with an unimpressed look from the actress.

“You guys hung out without me?” Jenna crossed her arms as she stood in the foyer of her home, watching her siblings plus you trickle into the house. It’s fair to say that the younger actress was quite confused when she came back to an empty house.

“Yup…” Mia responded, sipping on her drink as she walked passed the shorter actress.

One by one, she glared at each of her siblings as they walked passed her until only you remained. You smiled sheepishly, holding out a drink. “They said you always get this smoothie… don’t be mad?”

Jenna stared at the drink in your hands. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. “Thanks…”

You send a large, goofy smile, pleased with yourself, “No worries.”

***

Tuesday:

The jury’s still up for debate if you’re enjoying yourself.

See you thought you were. Sure sharing a single queen bed with Jenna is… less than ideal, the home-cooked dinners have been delicious, and her family has been nothing but hospitable. You should be having a good time, right? Except, right now you’re seriously debating changing your answer cause you’re stuck.

Tied down, would be a better description.

“Jenna, please. Help!” You managed to pull out a free arm from one of her cousin’s firm grip.

Why do these kids have such strong hands?

Jenna turned at the sound of your desperation, cutting her conversation with her sisters short then she laughed, taking her phone out to record.

“No, please.” You nearly cried out, flailing your free hand.

“Show us your superpowers, Spider-Woman!” Another child yelled, jumping in front of you.

“Ow..” Your footing stumbles with the added weight, trying to hold the kid up in your arms.

“I count… one, two, three… oh and there's a fourth one hiding behind your legs, how cute.” Jenna circles you, recording all the children clinging onto you for dear life.

“Jenna, please. I’m gonna drop this child…” You begged again, arms burning uncomfortably.

You’re one kid away from toppling over if she doesn’t help you. If you do, you’re taking her down with you.

“I thought you do action movies? Use that action star training…” Jenna teased just like her sister, in turn, you glared menacingly.

“If I do go down, I’m taking you with me…”

She rolled her eyes, put her phone away then walked over to grab the kid in your arms. “Come on, guys… let’s give her some space.” She shooed off.

They groaned, echoing ‘you’re no fun’ at Jenna, and you’d laugh at her offended face if you weren’t thankful that you feel 100 pounds lighter.

“You sure took your time,” You scoffed at her, watching as Jenna lets the toddler down on the ground after she got too fussy in her arms.

“Mmm… it was just too adorable.” She pulled out her phone to show you the multiple pictures of your panicked face, flailing hand and the small army of kids sticking to your side.

“Delete that…” You attempted to swipe her phone, but she stuck her arm out of reach, too quick for you.

“No!” She laughed, leaning back. You leaned forward, trying to swipe at the phone again but she pressed her hips against yours — pushing you back.

“Delete it!” You grabbed the dip in her waist with one hand; the phone now just at the tip of your fingers.

Jenna curled into a ball, clutching the phone to her chest making you wrap your arms around her body – practically embracing her.

“Seriously?” You laughed at the childish antics.

“Let me keep it!” She snickered, body shaking as she laughed and you couldn’t help but join in, forgetting about the embarrassing photos.

“Fine.” Rolling your eyes, you dropped your arms to your side, stepping back. “But if you post that, you’re dead.”

Jenna uncurled, standing straight with a lop-sided smile, “Who’s gonna stop me?”

You stare back challengingly but once you saw the up flick of her brow, you knew it was a done deal. With a sigh and a drop of a head, you muttered. “Whatever…”

Then you walked back to your seat beside her sisters.

Reaching down on the grass to grab your drink, you pretend not to hear Aliyah and Mia telling Jenna that you two are cute.

Pulling out your phone, you ignore everything going on around you. You feel Jenna take her seat beside you.

“Hey Y/N,” Aliyah spoke up, phone in hand.

You flick a brow up, “What’s up?”

“You know this song?” She tapped her phone, connecting it to the speaker and playing a song that sounded faintly familiar.

Furrowing your brows, you shake your head, glancing at Jenna who had a confused look as well. “No? Did I write it?”

“You don’t know what songs you wrote?” Jenna asked, turning to you.

“No? There’s too many and sometimes if it doesn’t fit me, I just take writing credit or I produce it for someone else.” You shrugged.

Aaliyah shook her head, gaining your attention. “No, listen.” She smirked.

When the singer started singing, you froze, the tips of your ears reddening.

“I don’t get it?” Jenna asked.

“This is Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter,” Aaliyah commented.

“Okay?” Jenna was lost. “Am I missing something?”

“Nope. I don’t think so— you wanna go for a walk?” You stood up swiftly, nearly giving Jenna whiplash as her eyes followed your movements.

You wiggle your fingers for her to take, but Jenna stayed put.

“Later —“ She dismissed you, turning to her sisters who wore smug smiles on their faces, “What’s so special about this song?”

“Ask her…” Aliyah nodded toward you, currently pretending like you couldn’t hear the conversation around you.

She raised her brow, noting your weird demeanour. “What’s so special about this song?”

“Nothing.” Jenna raised a brow. You sighed, sitting back down beside her with a slump, ignoring the three others piercing stares. “Except it’s about…. me, or so I’ve heard, I don’t know.”

Jenna’s brows raised in surprise, her cheeks reddening when the next line plays. “It feels so good I had to jump the octave?”

You flushed, covering your face in embarrassment. “God, this is my worst nightmare.”

Her sisters’ watched with satisfied smiles as you continued to be embarrassed, actively avoiding everyone’s eyes and Jenna, who was stunned in silence but honestly looked more bothered the longer the song played.

You’ve never actually heard the song in its entirety, too embarrassed when someone said it was about you. You only saw the other singer one, two, three maybe even four times — so you were shocked.

“How fast can you take your clothes off, pop quiz?” Jenna reiterated as the song ended.

“Please, stop!” You groaned into your palms.

If Jenna wasn’t so satisfied with your embarrassment already, she might even admit that she’s a bit… irritated, for reasons unknown.

“Okay, Aliyah enough.” Jenna glared when the song replayed by accident.

Her sisters tried to chuckle lowly, but Jenna glared until they took the hint and scurried away, leaving just you and her.

“Are they gone?” You peeked through the opening in your fingers.

“They're gone.” She chuckled, but the silence that followed was slightly awkward. “So… you and Sabrina? Didn’t know that.”

You cleared your throat, dropping your hands. “Yeah—uh. It wasn’t really anything.”

“Sounds like it was something…I mean she wrote a whole song about you.” Jenna questioned and for a second you wondered if she was jealous.

No, no way.

“That’s just fan theories and shit. I actually don’t know if it’s about me.” You felt the need to clear up. “It didn’t mean anything to me, at least.”

Jenna scanned you for a few seconds, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the intense gaze. “Mhmm. Cool.”

You blinked, unsure what that meant. But before you could say anything she’s standing, holding her hand out for you to take.

“Wanna go on that walk now?”

You nodded, slipping your fingers in between hers.

***

Wednesday:

“Have you seen Y/N?” Jenna peeked her head inside her brother’s room.

“Not recently…” Markus responded, not looking away from his computer screen. “I think I saw her an hour ago though.”

“Where?” She huffed, leaning against the door frame.

“Don’t remember…” He replied distractedly. Jenna sighed, knowing she wasn’t gonna get a straight answer from him.

Making her way down the stairs, she rounded the corner, entering the living room. “Has anybody seen Y/N?”

She was met with silence. “Hello?” Jenna spoke up agitated.

“She’s with Dad, relax,” Aliyah answered and the actress couldn't even hide her shock. “She’s checking the car or something.”

“They’re together? Alone?”

Her sister nodded, confused.

“Yes? Why?’

“No reason…” Jenna lied.

“Is she scared of Dad?” Aliyah asked, a smirk on her lips.

Jenna rolled her eyes, not answering. Turning on her heel, she walked swiftly to the garage. You never admitted it out loud but she could see how tense you are around her Dad. It amused her more than anything.

Upon opening the door, she’s expecting to be met with silence as you worked on the car. Instead, her Dad’s laughter filled the room.

“That’ll teach you to make a bet with her…” Her dad continued to joke.

Stepping closer, she can make out your muffled chuckles from under the car. “Yeah… that one was on me, honestly. Robbed me clean of a thousand dollars.”

“Oh hey, honey. What are you doing here?” Her dad asked, noticing her standing by the door with a dumbfounded look on her face.

“Is that Jenna?” You asked.

“Yeah…” He responded.

Jenna blinked out of her stupor, walking to the hood of the car where her Dad waited patiently as you lay underneath the vehicle. “What’s going on here?”

You slid out from under the engine, using an old skateboard as a mechanic creeper; some oil splotched on your cheek. “Your Dad said the car wasn’t starting, so I offered to have a look at it.”

Jenna watches on as her Dad extended a hand out to haul you up. Exchanging the wrench in your hand for a wet rag to wipe the dirt off. She flicked a brow up in surprise. “I didn’t know you knew cars like that…”

You match her raised brow, “what, you think my cars are just for show?”

She rolled her eyes, not answering while you grinned, taking it as a win. She allowed her gaze to drop, noting your engine oil-stained white shirt hugging your arms tight and dark washed-out denim jeans. Looking like a real mechanic.

“I think it was the transmission, try turning it on.” You said to her Dad.

He follows your instructions, pushing the key into the ignition and turning it. Sputtered sounds of the engine roughly kicked back until eventually, it settled into a low, even rumble. You send her Dad a gratified smile. “What’d I say?”

“Impressive…” He scratched his chin, “I went to three different mechanics and none of them could tell me what was wrong.”

“Those guys are useless. You call me anytime there’s something wrong with her.” You popped off the hood struts, putting it back in its place before dropping the car hood closed with a loud slam, tapping on the top contently.

“You actually fixed that old junk?” Jenna crossed her arms, a little impressed but she’d never say it out loud.

You spin, flicking an unamused brow. “You doubting my skills, Ortega?”

Jenna tried shrugging impassively, walking closer to observe the running car. “Every single one of my siblings learned how to drive in this car, including me. Dad refuses to get rid of it.”

You run a hand over the hood again. What the younger actress said must’ve added to your satisfaction. “Just makes it more special then…”

“See, she gets it.” Her Dad peeks his head out from the driver's seat.

“We’re not starting this…” Jenna spun in her heels, walking back into the house. She ignored her thudding chest.

***

Thursday:

“Hey, how was Soundcheck?” Jenna looked up from her book, watching as you trudge into her childhood bedroom in slow steps.

“S’okay…” You mumbled, lazily dropping your shoulder bag on the foot of the bed. With a heavy sigh, you sat down and let gravity do all the work as you fell onto your back. Sighing in relief when it connects with the soft mattress.

“What’s wrong?” Jenna crawled to the foot of the bed, rubbing your shoulder. She watched as your eyes fluttered closed in fatigue.

“Long day… too hot.” You muttered causing Jenna to chuckle.

“Well, we are in the desert.”

“Should have thought about that when I agreed to perform…” By now, Jenna’s fingers worked their way through your hair. Softly scratching your scalp.

“Speaking of performing…” Jenna tried not to pay attention to the way you practically purred under her touch. “Who are you going on with?”

You grinned adorably, like when a baby smiled in their sleep. “Nice try…”

She tugged on your roots a bit, “Tease…”

“You’re the one tugging on my hair…” You cracked an eye open, staring up at her. Jenna flushed, choosing to ignore your words.

“Why don’t you take a shower and we can finish watching Breaking Bad? Relax before your performance tomorrow?”

“That sounds perfect.” You scrambled up to grab some clothes from your suitcase before running to the adjoining bathroom.

Jenna shook her head in amusement, ignoring the butterflies thrashing in her stomach. She moved up the bed, getting your side ready, and propping up the pillows to your preferred angle. Then she grabbed the remote, exiting out of the trashy reality show that she wasn’t really paying attention to. Only choosing the program to pass the time as she waited for you to come… home. But only because she’s honourable and chooses to uphold her side of the agreement; not to watch Breaking Bad without the other.

20 minutes pass when the bathroom door creaked open and you stepped out, looking far more relaxed than when you first came in.

Sliding into your side, you wiggled around, trying to get comfortable. “You kept your promise and didn’t watch the next episode.”

“Surprised?” She raised a brow.

“Mmm… a little.” You shrug, shooting her a chaffing smile.

She elbowed your side, “idiot.”

“Okay, okay, just play the episode. I’ve been looking forward to watching it with you all day.” You covered a blanket over your lap, not realizing what you just said. Jenna stares at you, not speaking.

You turn, pulling a face before it contorts to an amused smile. You grab the remote out of her hands, not calling her out on her silence. “Come on, get down here.”

Still unspeaking, Jenna’s body moves automatically, sliding in close beside you; shoulders pressed together. The younger actress doesn’t have it in her to admit that she’s been waiting for you to come back because recently, she finds she can’t sleep without you.

Jenna chooses not to comment when she feels your head lean comfortably against hers.

—

(a little treat before ch 7🫢 )

***

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#legally binded #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #wednesday netflix

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