#and they’re not nearly as fun and dramatic as this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wintfleur · 5 months

Note

hi roro! love your works!! they’re so good like, I come back and read them over and over😭 can you do a fic where the reader is regularly in landos streams and the fans just adore them and it’s so cutie? thank you so much! if not just ignore this omg 😂

ꔫ baby we’re on camera

°. — pairings ( lando norris x fem! reader )

°. — summary ( lando loves teasing his girl on stream )

°. — details ( g; fluff. w; slightly suggestive at the end ig? wc; 2.6k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( omg I’m soso sorry about how long this took for me to get out, I absolutely loved the idea I just don’t know why it took me so long to write! I also read the part where the reader is regularly in the streams wrong, but I do hope you enjoy it! And thank you so much for the kind words! 🫶🏻 also thank you to my lovely bestie @chrisevansonly for helping me come up with some of the ridiculous usernames! )

main masterlist f1 masterlist

“Where is y/n” Lando reads aloud as he leans back in his chair, the neon yellow username catching his attention in his moving chat. A smile immediately appeared on his face at the mention of his girlfriend of a few years, a few people in the chat noticing and commenting on it. When he first started streaming, he always used to get shy whenever his chat would mention you, sometimes choosing to not comment on the messages.

Only because he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by over sharing. He loved talking about you, he could talk about you for hours, but he would respect your desire for privacy. But over the years of your relationship the two of you became more open about your relationship, and you often found yourself appearing on his stream; and his chat absolutely loved all the cute moments that would happen when you do.

“She went out with some of her girlfriends” he nodded as he softly drummed a beat on the armrests of his chair with his fingers. His mind took him back to the morning where he kissed you goodbye and watched you walk out of the apartment; you looked so pretty all dolled up to go out with your friends. Lando suddenly missed you very much the more he thought about you.

“Actually, she should be home any minute now” he mumbled, loud enough for the microphone to pick it up. He leans forward and picks up his phone, hoping to see a text from you saying that you're on your way home, but instead he just sees his wallpaper of you posing dramatically with a golf club, no text in sight. His lips twitch up to a smile at the sight of his silly wallpaper, he loved your silly side.

“Actually, I have no idea when she's going to be home” Lando chuckles as he sets his phone back down. He hoped that you came back soon, he had noticed it started to rain and he always got worried about you driving in the rain. You were fully capable; he was just always worrying about you.

“Did she go out with the other wags?” Lando read out loud a chat message, he had noticed a few other messages asking the same thing. He didn't understand why a lot of his fans were so obsessed with seeing you with the other wags. He answered with a smile “No no she went out with some childhood friends that came to visit; she was really excited to see them.”

“Guys I'm not going to call her; I don't want to interrupt her fun” Lando shakes his head with a small chuckle. Sometimes it felt like his chat was clingier than he was with you, and that's nearly impossible because he's one clingy boyfriend. Lando focuses on one of his monitors to change the music, his eyes were on his monitor, so he didn't see the chat explode with messages about you and he didn't see you open the door and peek your head in.

You had gotten home about 10 minutes ago and usually the first thing you would do is greet your boyfriend, but this time you had to change out of your damp clothes. The rain had definitely surprised you and your friends. You quietly opened the door, your fluffy sock covered feet softly padded against the floor. Lando glanced at his chat and saw everyone saying, ‘hi y/n!’. Lando quickly turns his head, and a big smile appears on his face at the sight of you “Baby, you're back!”

“Yeah, I got back not too long ago, had to change first” you explained to your boyfriend as you stepped closer to him, looking down at your outfit consisting of, fluffy socks, gray sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt. You tried not to glance at the camera too much, you were still a little nervous about being in front of the camera, so you kept the conversation going. You hand your boyfriend who was smiling at you, the brown bakery box filled with delicious pastries “I brought you something, i just knew i had to get you some when i tried them.”

“Thank you, baby, these look delicious” he gives you one more big smile before he takes a bite into one of the sugary donuts. He lets out a dramatic groan of satisfaction as he leans back in his chair, they were absolutely delicious. You roll your eyes and let out a small laugh, leaning slightly against his chair. You look away from the chat that was moving way too fast for you to read, and back down at lando who was absolutely devouring the pastry. “Just don’t eat all of them, i don't want jon to hate me.”

“Who cares if he does…because I love you” Lando smiles cheekily, tilting his head up to place a kiss on your cheek. You close your eyes and let out a surprised giggle, wiping off the excess sugar that got on your cheek from his lips. Lando gives you a wink when you open your eyes and goes back to reading his chat. His heart filled with warmth at all the messages saying how cute the two of you are, and how some said they wished they had a sweet girlfriend like you; those made him want to smirk, knowing that there was no one even close to being like you. You were perfect in his eyes.

landolotts you guys are so cute, y/n is so lucky…

ittybittypiastri where did she get that sweater? Link?

dannyricscowboyhat lando can pull??? How???

hornerishot omg moms back!

oconsunderatedbby can y/n/n stay? We've missed her! <3

quadrantstar we've missed you y/n!

“The chat wants you to stay, so do i” Lando looked up at you with a smile on his lips, his tone trailing off to a soft whisper. His eyes silently begging you to stay, he understands why you wouldn't, but he still was hopeful. You noticed the look in his eyes, and you couldn't say no to him, not with how he was looking up at you. “Okay, let me go get a chair.”

“You have one,” Lando smiles playfully, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you down to sit on his lap. Your eyes widened for a second at his boldness and Lando worried for a moment that he was too bold when he felt you stiffen in his lap, but the both of you relaxed as you leaned back against him and laced your fingers with his, that now rested on your thigh.

You decided not to look at the chat, knowing that their messages would make you feel more flustered. You clear your throat and tilt your head to the side to get a better look at lando, who was already smiling at you “So what were you and chat up to?”

“We were just chatting and trying to decide what game to play next” Lando said with a cheeky smile as he looked away from you to read the chat, a giggle leaving his lips at some of the messages. Most of them were funny and sweet, of course there was the occasional weird one, but Lando chose to hold his tongue, not wanting to go off on weird chatters while you were there. You already weren't the most comfortable in front of the camera, he didn't want to make you feel more uncomfortable by calling out the weird freaks in his chat.

“You should play Fortnite” you suggest with a big smile, you have enjoyed watching your boyfriend stream the game. The two of you having even more fun when you played it together off stream. Lando playfully rolls his eyes and tilts his head to the side, dramatically shaking his head “You only want me to play that because you like teasing me about how bad i am.”

“That I do” you quickly agreed with a laugh. Lando gasped dramatically and his hold on your waist tightened as he pulled you back closer to his chest, as he continued with his dramatics, little did chat know he was already booting up the said game “Are you hearing this chat?”

The chat was moving fast, as many of the chatters commented on how cute the two of you were, and how natural the banter was. A lot of the viewers agreed that he should play Fortnite, saying that ‘mom’ always has good ideas. Lando had also wanted to play the game, but now he wanted to play it more because you suggested it. He spoke quietly, his tone sending shivers down your spine as his eyes were focused on the screen. “I’ll play just for you baby.”

The couple spent the next hour playing Fortnite, well lando was playing and you were still perched in his lap and giving him some tips, you had younger siblings so of course you knew how to play the game. After Lando got frustrated about losing for the third time in a row, he was quick to suggest you have a go at the ‘stupid game’.

So, you sat straight on his lap, your eyes focused on the game, determined to place further in the game then he did. Lando had both of his arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched with a smile at how cute you looked with his headphones on your head and the cute look of focus you had on your face. He had to stop himself from leaning down and littering your neck in kisses, he could vividly imagine your reaction if he did. ‘Baby were on camera’ you would mutter shyly with that flustered smile on your lips, that he loved so much.

You weren't familiar with the new map that well, so you let lando pick a place for you to drop. When Lando started to tease you for your sneaking you were quick to defend your game play, sassily telling him that you're not playing for kills but playing to win. The chat loved the chemistry that the two of you had, Lando teasing you about how he's better and you with your witty responses.

“Lan'' you muttered in a warning tone when you feel him slip one of his hands under the front of your sweatshirt, his warm hand flattens on your stomach, you know his touch is anything but innocent. Lando has a toothy grin on his face, his fingers now tracing shapes on your skin as he spoke innocently “What? Is my touch distracting you?”

“You wish” you scoffed playfully, not wanting him and chat to know that his touch was in fact distracting you. Lando smiles triumphantly at your reaction, knowing that you were lying, and he was in fact distracting you but nonetheless he stops his movements. Lando rests his chin on your shoulder again and quietly watches you play. His eyes glancing at the chat ever so often, his heart filling with warmth at all the sweet chats about the two of you.

As the game goes on, Lando's quiet tone turns into a tone of excitement when he realizes that there are only three people left, including you. The chat spammed loll’s and laughing emojis as Lando excitedly tried to give you tips and you telling him to shut up because you couldn't hear yourself think. Lando pouts grumpily and leans back in his chair, now wanting your attention even more. You were too caught up in wanting to win the game to notice your pouting boyfriend.

And win is exactly what you did, you hid until the other two started fighting and that's when you jumped out of the bush you were hiding in and killed them both. As soon as the #1 victory royal showed up on the screen you turned your head to smile excitedly at lando. Lando laughs and places a sweet kiss on your cheek, his hands rubbing our side under your sweater “Good job baby” You giggled as you say thank you, also thanking the chat that was congratulating you for your win.

When you feel one of his fingers secretly dip into the band of your sweatpants, you take your hands off the keyboard and mouse and nonchalantly get up from his lap. Making your way over to the shelf that was by his desk and out of sight from the camera to ‘grab’ ChapStick. Lando’s frown from you getting up, turns into a smirk when he realizes why you did, having felt you clench your thighs together before you got up.

“All right, chat I'm gonna head off. Gotta go properly congratulate my girl for winning” Lando watched your figure as you got up from his lap and moved to the other side of his room out of the view of the camera with the bite of his lip, he glanced back at the camera with a smirk. His tone was suggestive, and a loud laugh leaves his lips when you turn around and throw the small plushie he had on one of his shelves that you had gotten him at his head. Lando catches the bear as you give him a look of shock and embarrassment “Lando! Chat he's joking, please ignore him”!

“Trust me, chat I'm not joking” Lando winks with a cheeky smile at the camera, very much enjoying how flustered you got and the way the chat started to go crazy. You groan in embarrassment and grab your phone off his desk “That's it, I'm leaving!” you wave your hand for the chat, not wanting to bend down to be in the frame of the camera, knowing that the chat would definitely be able to see how flustered you were “Bye chat!”

Lando watched you walk out of the room with a grin, you give him a playful glare before closing the door behind you. Lando had planned on streaming for longer, but he couldn't ignore that ache he felt in his heart when you left the room, he wanted to spend more time with you. He loved watching you become more comfortable in front of the camera, in front of his chat in the short amount of time you joined him. Lando picks up his head set that you had set down on the desk when you took them off, lando hums along to the song that was playing as he closes his tabs before leaning back in his chair and reading the chat “Alright chat, it's time for me to head off.”

Lando tried to keep up with his chat, the messages zooming by, most of them were about you. Talking about how they enjoyed your presence and begging Lando to convince you to come back on the stream soon. Lando smiles “I'll let her know chat” Lando hears the familiar sound of his phone going off with a notification. He was quick to pick up his phone, a mischievous grin spreading over his lips when he saw the notification.

y/n 💞: in bed…waiting for that proper congratulations ☺️

Lando quickly shuts off his phone as he feels a warm blush spread across his face and neck. He clears his throat and giggles nervously when the chat breaks out in a bunch of question marks with your name, obviously seeing how flustered he had become from seeing the notification. Lando nods and waves at the chat, eager to end and join you in your shared bed “See you guys soon.”

Lando ends the stream and quickly rushes to shut off his computer, he grabs his phone and quickly gets out of his chair and makes his way to the door. He stops in his tracks once he remembers something and rushes over to his desk to pick up the brown box of donuts. Lando opens the door, careful not to drop the delicious pastries and his phone, rushing down the hallway. Calling out for you.

“Baby wait for me!”

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I really missed writing for Lando, I have a lot of ideas and req’s for him that I want to write! I’ve just been kinda focused on my hockey AU! But I will try to find a better schedule so I could work on that and my f1 fics! I also have another idea for another lando streaming based fic, it’s going to be so cute! )

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @ophcelia @cixrosie )

#﹕─┈ roro’s works #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader

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prettyboyeddiemunson · 6 months

Text

what’s your favorite scary movie?

summary: porn star eddie is doing a halloween film with his costar, one that involves a certain mask.

pairing: porn star eddie x porn star reader

word count: 5.9k

warnings: being filmed, daddy kink, use of a realistic plastic knife (nothing weird with it, though), unprotected sex, creampies, choking, brief oral sex (m & f receiving), mentions of anal, breast play, anal fingering (f receiving), degradation, rough sex, kinda dubcon

a/n: im aware halloween is over, but its always Halloween in my mind! also, sorry if anything like this has been done. I just returned to tumblr, and haven’t read many fics here in like 8-9 months.

18+ ONLY. minors do not interact or follow, or you’re getting blocked.

————————————-

Ring! Ring!

The phone next to you was ringing its familiar ringtone, and you looked at it with an eye roll. Unknown number, typical. You were acting the part of someone who didn’t like spam calls, but you hated them just as much in real life, too. You turned your attention back to the TV, ready to forget all about it and delete any voice mail they may leave, when it began to ring again. The same number popped up, and you killed the call. They called again, and again, and after the fifth time, you’d finally had enough.

“What do you want?” you asked irritably.

“y/n,” a deep voice came over the phone. “How nice to catch you.”

“Who is this?” you asked.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said, and you could hear a grin in his voice. “I was lonely, and thought I would give you a call.”

“Very funny,” you said. “Tell me who you are.”

“What’s the fun of that?” he asked. “Isn’t mystery supposed to be more fun?”

“Is it?” you asked. “You’re probably just someone I know, trying to play some kind of weird joke.”

“Am i?” he asked. “I don’t think I know you at all.”

“Then how did you know my name and my number?” you asked. “Answer me that.”

“Maybe I have my own methods,” he said. “Ever think of that?”

“Ha ha,” you said with an eye roll. You hung up, but the same number called again and you picked up. “Yes?”

“That wasn’t very wise of you,” he said dangerously. “You didn’t even let me ask my questions.”

“They’re probably something really fucking gross,” you said. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Now, now,” he said, tsking. “What do you take me for?”

“A pervert,” you said.

“You’re right,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “But that isn’t why I’m calling you.”

“No?” you asked with a chuckle. “Coulda fooled me.”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” he asked, and you could almost hear the grin in his voice.

“What the fuck?” you asked, sitting up on the couch. “What kind of question is that?”

“Are you going to answer it?”

“No, now goodbye–”

“Hang up again, and you’ll regret it.”

The threatening tone of his voice gave you pause. “Who is this?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” he asked again.

“Whatever,” you said, and dared to hang up. It didn’t last long until he called again, and you rolled your eyes as you answered. “What?!”

“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” he said. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m not gonna entertain you,” you said. “You’re a fucking creep.”

“Just answer my question and I’ll leave you alone,” he said.

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “I really like Psycho, Halloween, Friday the 13th, The Exorcist.”

“I know you like Friday the 13th,” he said, and he laughed evilly on the other end. “I can see that you’re watching it right now.”

You froze, sitting bolt upright. “What did you just say?”

“Never mind that,” he said. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No..” you answered automatically, looking around the darkness of your windows for any signs of life. “How do you know what I’m watching…?”

“Just a guess,” he said.

You got up and turned on all the lights, looking around again to see if you could spot someone. “Look, I need to go–”

“Don’t hang up,” he nearly shouted.

“Look, this isn’t funny or cute anymore,” you said. “I’m really uncomfortable, so if you could please–”

“You look really sexy in your pretty lingerie,” he said. “I mean, I think that’s what it is. You’re wearing that pretty pink babydoll with a thong. You like to tease people, y/n? That isn’t very nice.”

“Fuck you, creep,” you said.

“You didn’t ask what my favorite scary movie is,” he said.

“I don’t care!” you cried. “Leave me alone!”

“It’s The Strangers,” he said, and you could swear his voice sounded different now. More echo, closer somehow. “You know, that movie where those people break into that house.”

“I’m–” you began, and your back collided with someone as you backed away.

You played the part of terrified really well, and you could see the cameraman giving you a thumbs up as you kept the facade. You turned around slowly, shouting in surprise when you came face to face with a man in a mask. He was in all black, and the rest of his mask was black as well, except for the face. It looked like a ghost, its mouth agape in some kind of eternal shock. In his hand was a knife, but you knew it wasn’t a real one. It was plastic that was made to look like the real deal, something the director found at a joke shop for a little bit of nothing. You shrieked and tried to run away, but he grabbed you and held you against his back as he stroked your hair in a near-loving gesture.

“Shh,” he said in your ear, trailing the knife down your arm. “It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Could have fooled me,” you said, feeling yourself already starting to get wet as you felt him hardening against your ass. “Why are you here, then?”

“I was hoping maybe I’d get lucky,” he purred, moving the knife between your breasts as you shivered. “You’re so much hotter up close.”

“And what do YOU look like under that thing?” you asked, your voice conveying the whole “stall him” vibe that the director wanted you to go for. “It’s not really fair that you see me and I can’t see you. If you’re really not gonna hurt me, then why won’t you show me?”

“I’ll show you,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “If you do one thing for me.”

“What?” you asked, turning your head so that you could look at him slightly.

“Show me those pretty, perfect tits,” he said in your ear, running the knife between them again. “Outside of that baby doll.”

“And what would you do for me in return?” you asked, turning around in his grip and looking into that mask. “Let me live?”

“Maybe,” he said, looking you up and down. “But first, I’ll just show you my face if you do. Let’s start there, yeah?”

You smirked at him, lowering the thin straps of the baby doll and biting your lip. “You’re probably some total asshole under there. I mean, who calls random women at nine on a Friday night, stalks them, then breaks into their house?”

“Keep going,” he said, his eyes on your breasts. “Show me.”

“You’re a real pervert, you know that?” you said.

“And look what you’re doing,” he said smugly. “Giving into me.”

“You came here to kill me,” you said. “I know that to be true, but it seems like you changed your mind. Why?”

“Because why would I waste such a good set of tits?” he asked. “And I know that pussy of yours is also perfect.”

You swallowed, but smirked as you pulled the baby doll down. You exposed your breasts to him, and heard him suck in a breath. That wasn’t scripted; it was his genuine reaction. You bit your lip again, smiling as you stood before him. He took the knife and dragged it over one erect nipple, causing you to shiver and moan slightly. That also wasn’t scripted or an act, and you knew that whatever happened from this point onward, it was going to be genuine. Well, aside from the basic acts they wanted you to perform on each other, but the reactions? It would be all you, and him.

“Like what you see?” you asked, shaking them a bit as he groaned.

“Fuck yes,” he said, his ringed hands coming up to grope them. You moaned a little, head tipping slightly as he massaged them in his hands. “I guess I need to hold up my end of the bargain, too, huh?”

“Mmm hmm,” you said, mewling as he gave your nipples a soft pinch. “Shit…”

He stepped back, and you whined at the loss of contact. He lifted the mask with one hand, revealing his face underneath. You acted as though you were surprised to see just how sexy he really was, and his pierced tongue came out between his lips with a devils-horn gesture at the top of his head. You smiled, moving closer to him and running your hands down his chest as he looked you up and down again. Soon, he was grabbing your head forcefully, and drawing your lips to his in a passionate, hard kiss. It turned sloppy, your hands wandering and his, too, finding purchase on your hips as he squeezed. Your tongue played with his piercing, and you could feel the presence of the cameraman in front of you both as you made out. One hand tangled in his hair, the other palming the big bulge that was forming in the front of his pants. His hands came up, grabbing your breasts hard as you moaned into his mouth. He tugged your lower lip between his teeth, moving away to start kissing down your neck.

“You feel so big,” you breathed, mewling as his teeth found your sweet spot. “Fuck…”

“You have no idea,” he said, pulling your body to his before grabbing your ass. “I want you so bad.”

“Come on,” you said, taking his hand and leading him into the living room. You pushed him down on the couch, straddling his lap before grinding against his dick. “You know what I want you to do?”

“What?” he panted.

“Want you to rip this thing off of me,” you said in his ear, tugging the lobe in your teeth.

“Oh?” he asked, grabbing the back of it and tearing it down the middle. “Like that?”

“Mmm hmm,” you hummed, kissing his neck as he moaned. “And I want you to put the mask back on.”

“Okay,” he said, smirking before his face disappeared beneath the Ghostface mask again.

“You know what else I want?” you asked, moaning as you continued to glide along his clothed erection.

“Hm?”

“I want that big, thick cock down my throat.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

You could hear the smirk in his voice, and it would have infuriated you under any other circumstances. Right then, though, you were too turned on to care. You moved from your spot on his lap to slide to your knees, keeping your eyes on him as you did so. You palmed the bulge in his pants again, feeling how hard he was and suppressing a moan. He watched you from beneath the mask, both of his arms stretched along the back of the couch as you pulled his pants down. His breathing picked up a bit as you put your mouth over his cock through his boxers, and soon, you were pulling those down, too. He was exposed to you now, all nine inches of his thick, pierced, flushed erection at your mercy. As per the script, you teased him a little, sucking on his piercing before swirling your tongue around his slit. He mewled, panting as you took the tip in your lips and sucked eagerly. His arms remained on the back of the couch, not moving yet as you started planting messy, noisy, open mouthed kisses all over the entire length of his cock. You moved farther down to take his big balls into your mouth as well, sucking on them with a moan as you jerked him off skillfully. He was panting a little more heavily now, and you traced his large vein with your tongue as you made your way back up his length.

“Don’t fucking tease me,” he growled.

“Sorry, uh…” you said. “I don’t know what to call you.”

“You can call me Daddy,” he said, reaching down with one hand to stroke your cheek. “And what shall I call you, huh?”

“Anything you want,” you said with a wink, spitting on his cock and jerking him off. “Such a big dick, fuck.”

“What did I say about teasing?” he asked, tilting your chin up with the knife.

“Sorry, Daddy,” you said, opening your mouth and taking his entire cock.

You gagged for a moment until you got your reflex under control, which was something you’d gotten good at in the business. You could feel him in your throat, stretching, his piercing at the back of it as you drug your head up, then back down. He was moaning above you under the mask, his head tipped back as he tangled a hand in your hair. You looked up at him, bobbing your head slowly as you gripped his base in one hand. You began to jerk him off in time with your movements, ignoring the camera man as he came around to get some close up shots. It felt as if he wasn’t even there, that’s how into it you were starting to get. You could feel your pussy throbbing, wetness settling in the thong you still wore as you sucked him off.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, tugging on your hair as you hollowed your cheeks. “You’re so fucking good at that. You’re a filthy little cock slut, aren’t you? I mean, who else just gets on her knees for a man she’s just met, especially one who broke into her house to hurt her?”

You responded by twisting your wrist, eyes still on him as you sucked him off messily. Drool cascaded from his dick and onto the floor below, and your throat was starting to hurt a bit from his piercing. But he was so hot, THIS was so hot, and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. His hips bucked upward with a loud moan, and you choked as more of his cock went down your throat again. He stroked your cheek tenderly, before yanking you off of his dick. Spit bridged your lips to the tip, and you looked up at him in surprise. Was this scripted? You couldn’t quite remember, but either way, it sent a fresh wave of arousal to your cunt.

“Rub my dick across your tits,” he said.

“Those are one of my biggest insecurities,” you replied, but did as he asked as he moaned filthily. “But you like them, huh?”

“Fuck yes,” he panted, watching as you sucked his tip again. “You’re so hot.”

“Thanks,” you said, and you continued to alternate between rubbing his dick over your breasts and sucking him off. After a little while, he forced you to stop by grabbing your jaw. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up,” he growled. “Did I say I was ready to cum yet?”

“No, Daddy,” you said, reaching out to jerk him off. “But I can’t stop worshipping this huge, perfect dick of yours.”

He grabbed your wrist and pinned it to the couch, causing you to whine. “Let me make you feel good.”

“You already did,” he said, grabbing your spit-soaked chin in one hand and forcing you to look up into his mask. “Now, it’s my turn.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to take him into your mouth again, but you were greeted by a light slap to your cheek. “What?”

“I said stop it,” he said, pushing you away as he got up off the couch. “Sit up here for me.”

You whined, but did as he said. You sat down on the couch, watching as he lifted the mask again. He kissed you hungrily, sloppily, one ringed hand squeezing your jaw before it found your throat. He choked you for a moment, and you moaned as his hands found your breasts. He massaged them skillfully, his rings cold against your heated skin, his fingers rubbing your nipples until they were hard buds. He pinched them, tugged on them, swiped his fingers across them, all while you moaned hotly in his mouth. He grabbed his plastic knife, running it over & between your breasts before dragging it over your waist and stomach.

“I’m going to show you just what I’m capable of,” he said, kissing down your neck after leaving a series of hickeys in his wake. He nipped at your collarbones, before he found your breasts. “You have the hottest body I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“All the other girls you broke in on weren’t as hot, huh?” you asked.

“Not even close,” he said, pulling one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking generously. “Such an amazing set of tits.”

“Fuck…” you whined, one hand in his hair as he tugged your nipple in his teeth. You knew the cameraman was probably getting a pretty good shot with that; Eddie was skilled, he knew what he was doing and how to work a woman’s body. You were reacting to him, wetness pooling in your thong, and you spread your legs for him as you grabbed one of his hands. “I want you to touch me. Please, I need it.”

“So needy, princess,” he said, giving your other nipple the same treatment as the last. He drug the knife down, running it over your cunt as he smirked. “I’ll bet you’re soaking wet for me, aren’t you? You’re such a depraved fucking slut, you know that? Putting out for me like this, soaking that pretty thong for me.”

“Touch me the right way and find out, asshole,” you challenged, and you could feel him grinning against your breast. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he said, smiling up at you as he started to kiss his way down your stomach. They weren’t gentle, tender kisses; they were needy, hard, bruising. You knew you’d have some marks there tomorrow. “Just that you think it’s so funny and cute to be calling me names right now, when I’ve got the upper hand.”

“Who says you’ve got the upper hand?” you asked, and he slapped your thigh hard as you yelped. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“Shut up,” he snarled, kneeling in front of you and spreading your legs as wide as they would go. He peeled off your thong, and the cameraman moved behind him to get a shot of your pussy. “Fuck, look at that. So fucking pretty and so goddamn wet.”

“I can’t help it,” you said, shivering as he ran the knife over your bare cunt. “Daddy…”

“I’m going to make you fucking scream, baby,” he said, and he immediately began to devour you.

You had never been eaten out like that before, either off camera or on. The way his pierced tongue moved through your cunt, so skillful and hungry, had you moaning loudly. You usually had to fake your moans, or at the very least, over exaggerate them. Not now; right now, every single noise that fell from your lips was genuine. He was devouring you, his tongue flicking your clit with every drag upward, his hands gripping your thighs tight enough to leave more bruises. You reached down to grab his hair, and he moaned as you pulled it roughly. His piercing dragged through your saturated folds, slowly and teasingly, before he pressed it tightly against your clit. More wetness soaked his face, and his fingers soon joined the mix. The cameraman was getting some great shots, and Eddie began to fuck you roughly on his fingers while his mouth did its magic.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” you gasped, rutting against his face as you clenched around his fingers. “I need more.”

“More?” he asked, his free hand dragging the knife over your thigh. “How much more? I’m giving you all I can, you greedy whore.”

“I want more,” you insisted, your eyes nearly rolling back as he started sucking on your clit. “Please…”

“Is this what you want?” he asked, gathering some of your wetness on the fingers of his free hand and pushing a finger inside of your ass. “Huh?”

“Yes,” you gasped, looking down into his big brown eyes as he started to eat your pussy again. “Fuck, please…”

He took his fingers out of your cunt, instead focusing on your ass. He shook his head back & forth rapidly, growling, his eyes still trained on your face. You kept looking down at him, playing with your breasts as his tongue swirled your clit. You tugged your nipples, and soon he was slapping your hand away with his free one to take over. He squeezed it, massaging it, pinching the nipple as hard as he could. You cried out, and you could feel the familiar sensation in your lower stomach that indicated an orgasm was imminent. He kept going, lapping at your pussy as if his life depended on it, shaking his head occasionally, using his piercing to his advantage. He began to fuck you on his tongue as he fingered your ass, moaning as more of your taste flooded his tongue.

“So fucking good,” he mumbled, moaning as he reached down to jerk himself off. “I’m going to fucking cum just from eating your pussy.”

“I’d rather you cum inside of me,” you said. “I wanna feel that big dick in my tight, wet pussy right now. Wanna feel you pumping me full of cum, and feel how good you are inside of me. Please.”

“You’d rather cum around my dick?” he asked, raising a brow at you.

“Mmm hmm,” you said. “But you gotta put the mask back on.”

“Tired of my face already?” he teased, pulling his finger out and putting the mask back on. “Alright, have it your way. How do you want me to fuck you?”

“From behind,” you said.

“Just like a disgusting fucking whore, huh?” he asked, slapping your ass as you stood up. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Then do it,” you said. “Stop talking about it and just do it already, asshole.”

He slapped your ass hard, leaving a large red handprint in his wake. You yelped but giggled, wiggling your ass toward him as he spanked it again. He held the knife to your throat, pulling you up by your head as his mouth found your ear. You could feel his giant cock throbbing against your ass, and knew he was close already. But if everything you heard about his reputation was true, you knew that didn’t mean anything. He could apparently hold off for quite awhile, even that close, and you were looking forward to having him inside of you. In fact, you needed it more than you ever needed anything. You were tired of doing films with men who had average or below average dicks; they didn’t do anything for you, and you always had to fake it. But with Eddie? You highly doubted you would have that problem.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll slit your fucking throat,” he said in your ear, pressing the hard plastic a little more firmly to your throat. “You’re in no position right now to be a fucking bitch.”

“I think I am,” you said, grinning smugly at him as you pushed back against his cock. “You’ve got me right where you want me, right? So, instead of making empty threats and being a douchebag, why don’t you just fuck me?”

He slapped your ass hard again, dragging the knife across your throat ever so gently. “You’re fucking lucky I think you’re so hot. Otherwise, I would be ending this right fucking now by cutting you wide open.”

“Fuck me already!” you said. “You’re–”

You were cut off by a loud moan as you felt him pushing inside of you. You cried out as his thick length stretched your pussy, and you could feel his piercing deep inside. He held onto your hips to anchor himself, bending you over the couch as he pushed himself deeper. You nearly screamed as you felt that piercing on your cervix, but it hurt so good. You reached down and squeezed his hand, and you could tell that he was trying hard not to break character to hold your hand. He had to know how it felt, and you could tell that he was holding back, even still. The director seemed not to notice, though; he just instructed his cameraman to get a shot of his cock buried deep inside of your pussy. He was almost fully inside, and it took you a minute to adjust to how it felt. Never had you been this full, never had anything felt so good, and you weren’t sure how long YOU would be able to last. He was moaning behind you, and you felt his dick twitch. That caused you to moan filthily, and you looked behind your shoulder into his masked face, a smirk on your own.

“What are you waiting for, Daddy?” you asked, biting your lip. “Fuck me.”

He started to thrust, keeping them slow and shallow at first. The cameraman looked up questioningly, and the director simply shrugged and instructed him to keep filming. You moaned, feeling that piercing against your cervix again with every movement inward. He kept hold of your hips, and soon, he was fucking you a little harder. You knew that he was making sure you were okay first, something that he seemingly didn’t do with any of his other costars. Maybe he found a soft spot for you, or maybe the rest of them were used to taking dicks his size. Either way, you thought the gesture of going off script was rather touching, and you looked back at him with a smile. You couldn’t tell if he was reciprocating, but the sharp thrust inside of you somehow told you that he was.

“You’re so fucking tight and wet,” he said, starting to absolutely DRILL you as you nearly screamed. “Listen to that, can you hear it?”

You could. As he fucked into you harder, you could hear just how wet you truly were for him. His fingers dug into your skin, his breath in your ear, and you just moaned as you clenched hard around him. That caused him to groan, and you smirked as you did it again. This brought another loud crack to your ass, and you yelped as the knife made another appearance at your throat.

“Stop doing that,” he growled. “You needy bitch.”

“Sorry,” you said, but did it again.

He stopped thrusting, putting the knife down to grab your throat with his hands. He choked you for a moment, chuckling darkly as you kept clenching around him. He began to move again but kept his grip, letting go only when you started clawing at his hands. He reached around to grope your breasts, rubbing the nipples as he absolutely pounded you against the couch. He was panting and groaning, the sounds filling the air as the cameraman got another shot of him fucking into you. You could feel your lower stomach tightening, but you weren’t ready for this to be over yet. Fuck, he felt so goddamn good; you never wanted it to end. You would have been content going on forever just like this, with him inside of you as you whined desperately. He knew you were getting desperate, too; he reached down, rubbing your clit in hard, fast circles as you cried out. You clenched again, his hands now on your shoulders as you braced against the couch. He drilled your needy, soaking cunt, each bump to your cervix causing you to moan even louder.

“Cum for me,” he said. “Show me just how much you fucking love what I’m doing to you. Show me what a greedy whore you are for my cock.”

You moaned, and were shocked to see that he was pulling out of you. The director was about to intervene, but Eddie was pushing you onto your back on the couch. He lifted your legs to his shoulders and pushed inside of you again, causing you to moan hotly as he filled you up again. The director stopped and instructed the cameraman to keep going, and you looked up into his masked face with a look of pleasure on yours. You arched under him, writhing, your hands finding his clothed back and digging your nails into the fabric. He pounded you hard, the new angle causing him to hit into your sweet spot. He didn’t use his entire cock this time; instead, he decided to get creative, and fucked directly into your G-spot. The feel of the piercing against it was so fucking good, and you tore at his dark shirt as he pounded against you.

“That’s it,” he cooed, the strokes of his cock remaining shallow and deep as your mouth fell slack. “Cum around my cock, princess.”

“Fuck,” you whined, your jaw still open as your head tipped back. “I’m gonna cum so hard, Daddy.”

“Cum for me,” he coaxed, his fingers rubbing hard circles on your clit again. “Do it for me. Show me how desperate you are to let some stranger fuck you like this.”

Tears began to leak out of your eyes. They weren’t bad; it was just so much, so overwhelming. You could tell that he was having doubts, so you sat up slightly to bury your face in his neck. He groaned, thrusting harder before pushing you back down. He pinned you to the couch, both of his large hands holding you down as he mercilessly pounded you. More tears leaked from your eyes, and he laughed wickedly under the mask.

“What’s wrong?” he taunted. “Is my dick too big for you, you disgusting slut? Can’t take it all?”

“No, i can,” you said, trying to get out of his grip.

“Then take it and cum for me,” he coaxed, fucking you as hard as he could. “Go ahead, show me you can do it.”

It didn’t take much more for you to cum. A few more strokes of his cock, a few more swipes with his fingers, and that was it. You screamed in pleasure, and none of that was exaggerated or fake, either. You squirted around him twice, and the director was staring in awe as the cameraman caught everything. You kept arching, moaning, bucking up against him as he continued to pound into you. He was panting above you under the mask, moaning as you felt him twitch inside of you. He was fighting hard to keep going, but you knew he was going to lose that fight very soon. You reached down and took his knife, holding it up with a smirk.

“You wanna hold this to my throat again?” you asked. “Maybe that would get you off.”

He took it and did just that, holding it on your throat as he pounded you. You moaned, clenching around him, bucking your hips up against his thrusts to aid him. He looked down at your breasts, then back to where the knife was held to your throat, and you felt him twitch twice. You knew it was coming and, sure enough, it did a moment later. He came hard inside of you, moaning through it, his head bowed as he allowed his orgasm to take him over. He continued to thrust until it was done, stopping and nearly collapsing on top of you before pulling out. But he wasn’t finished, and you already knew what was coming because of the script. He pulled you to a sitting position and opened your legs, eyeing your dripping cunt as he rubbed the knife between both of his hands.

“Look at that,” he said, running his fingers through your sensitive pussy before he knelt in front of you. “I made such a mess of you, didn’t I?”

“Mmm hmm,” you said, moaning as he lifted his mask. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I think you know,” he said, dragging the knife over your thigh again before he started eating you out once more. “I’m nowhere close to being fucking done with you, you fucking slut. If you think that I am, then you’d better think again.”

“So much for scary movies, huh?” you asked, moaning as he began to devour your pussy even more desperately.

“I think this is much better,” he said, eating you out more feverishly. “You know what we should try? You know, since you’re such a filthy girl.”

“What?” you asked, moaning as he fucked you on his tongue.

“Giving it to you up the ass,” he said. “I think that would be fun, don’t you agree?”

“And cut!” the director called.

You whined as Eddie broke away from you, standing up as he helped you. The director was coming onto the set to talk to the cameraman, both of them seemingly pleased with what they’d gotten. Eddie sat the mask and the knife down on the couch, grabbing a water as someone on set offered one. He handed it to you, and you accepted it with a big smile. You took a drink, and Eddie’s hand was on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. He pulled his pants back up and gestured for someone to bring over your clothes. You slipped them on once they did, and Eddie wrapped your jacket around your shoulders for you with a smile.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I mean, I didn’t hurt you or anything, did I? I tried to be as careful–”

“No, I’m okay,” you assured him. “Really. I just wasn’t used to someone that big.”

“A lot of the women aren’t,” he said with an apologetic grin. “I always ask them to let me go in slow and careful, but they never really let me. I guess they don’t want to shatter the illusion. It’s just…you were crying, and i was so scared that i was hurting you.”

“Well, I can promise you that I’m totally fine,” you said, taking another sip of the water. “Do you think we did well enough for them?”

“Oh, I think we did,” he said with a chuckle.

“Something tells me they’ll be asking us to do another one together very soon,” you said.

“In that case,” he said, smiling as he leaned closer to you and offered an arm. “How about I buy you dinner? I know I’ve worked up a hell of an appetite tonight.”

You grinned, taking his arm with a nod. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

____________

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oneforthemunny · 1 month

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surprise, surprise |eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie forgets your birthday. or maybe he doesn't.

my birthday is in a few days and i wanted to write a little birthday ficlet blurb :) no aus, just eddie.

contains: angst/fluff. birthday doom. kinda asshole eddie?? kinda asshole friends?? really fluffy sweet ending. language.

“So,” Heather leaned over, chin propped in her hands dramatically slumped over the counter. “What’re you doing this weekend?”

“Nothing,” You hummed, fingers flicking through the crinkled bills. “Why? You know something fun going on?”

“It’s your birthday.” Heather gawked playfully. “You’re not doing anything for your birthday?”

You rolled your eyes lightly, pushing the cash drawer closed. “No.” You shook your head, voice tight.

“Eddie isn’t taking you out?” Heather’s brows furrowed. “Or you’re not going home? Going out? Are you getting a cake?”

Your heart sank, a familiar burn rising in your chest. You didn’t speak about your birthday much, not much of an occasion for celebration to you, more of one that was dreadful. Another year closer to death, you’d grumble cynically. Still, when Eddie hadn’t even acknowledged it, when your friends had all blown you off for other plans, a new kind of ache formed in your chest. The sting of being forgotten, of being unimportant and discarded- on your birthday.

It left a bitter taste on your tongue, sardonic and painful when you spoke about your impending birthdate. “No,” You shook your head, chin ducked to your chest. You had never wanted a customer to come in so badly, save you from this painful conversation with your co-worker. “They’re all busy.”

“Oh.” Heather quipped, face falling at your tone.

“I mean, it’s my fault.” You added quickly- defensively. Why you were so defensive over the people who had discarded you so easily, you weren’t sure. “I should have planned something earlier, but… I dunno, I got busy and life got super hectic and it just slipped past me-”

“-No,” Heather shook her head, curls unmoving with the abundance of Aquanet she used, still. “That’s really shitty of them, all of them. It’s your birthday.”

You stayed silent, wiping the counter half heartedly, swallowing back the familiar burn in your throat that choked you. “I mean, if it was my girlfriend or my friend, I would be buggin’ about their birthday.” Heather shrugged.

“Yeah, me too.” You muttered. Bouts of memories pouring back into your mind. How you’d planned a party for Eddie, baked him some stupid cake from scratch that was in the Lord of the Rings. You’d gone to countless second hand stores trying to find the ancient recipe, and it took you a day to perfect. Now, he couldn’t even be bothered to take you out? Get you a cheap store bought cake?

“I’m sorry.” Heather muttered, a solemn, nearly guilty pout on her lips. “Well, you’re off tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I get off at three. What if we go out? We can go to the bar- oh, there’s this new band playing in Franklin. Tommy could drive us.” Heather, ever the bubbly optimist, grinned, eyes shining with pride. It was endearing, made your heart squeeze with an ache you weren’t quite sure how to describe.

“I’ll even get you a cupcake. A good one, from Nadia’s.” Heather added.

“You don’t have to do that.” You shook your head lightly. You and Heather were work friends, hung out on the rare occasion after work to bitch about work, about the other coworkers, the pain-in-the-ass customers of the day over glasses of Pinot. Selfishly, it felt nice to have someone excited for your birthday.

You hated that you wished it was Eddie, your own friends.

“What’s your flavor, hm? Chocolate?” Heather pressed, brushing you off cheerily.

“Don’t get me a cupcake. I’ll throw it up if we’re drinking. All the icing and liquor.” You snarled your nose playfully.

“Fine. I’m buying you a drink then.” Heather nodded. She paused, nails drumming on the counter too. “And, I mean, if you want Eddie to come too, of course he’s invited.” Her eyes cut to yours carefully. “I didn’t know if you wanted him to come.”

“I mean, I don’t know if he’d even be able to.” Your lips pursed, a cutting edge of annoyance in your tone. “He’s so busy.”

Heather cringed, shooting you an apologetic look. “Yeah, that… I’m sorry, that sucks.” She mumbled.

A stiff silence fell between the two of you over the whirr of the air conditioning blowing through the vents. “Since it’s so dead, why don’t you go early?” Heather suggested. “I can cover closing.”

“Heather, Mel will be pissed-”

“-Mel will be pissed if she has to pay both of us for standing around.” Heather gave you a pointed look. “And you came in before me. I got it.”

“Are you sure?” You hesitated. “I don’t care to stay in case there’s a rush-”

“-At seven?” Heather scoffed slightly. “Go. I’ve got it.”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you when I’m on my way, ‘kay?” Heather chirped.

“See you then.” You waved, cringing at the sing-songy Happy birthday! Heather shouted at you.

You pulled open your cubby, gathering your purse, your umbrella. You wrote your time on the clipboard, the phone taunting you on the hook next to it. Any other day, you’d call Eddie- call home or the shop, wherever he was, just to let him know you’d be home early. He’d always reply with a silly comment that had your cheeks rushing with heat, warmth swelling in your chest.

Tonight, you decided against it. He was too busy, anyway. Too busy at the shop, with his friends, at band practice. You tried not to dwell on it, let your mind spiral and spin down a damning dark hole of what ifs. It consumed you anyways, on your drive home, the radio playing on a static filled station that you didn’t bother to change. Background noise drowned out by your own hammering heart.

Eddie’s van was parked in the gravel of his driveway, leaving just enough space for you to slide in under the covering attached to the trailer. He always let you have that spot, closer to the door, protected from the elements- so considerate.

It was hard to fathom that it was the same boy who had forgotten your birthday, brushed it off like it was just another day.

Your throat tightened around the ever growing lump, hands tight from the white knuckled grip you had on the wheel when you turned the keys out of the ignition. The stairs squeaked under your weight, the screen door hissing with the familiar soft screech when you pulled it open.

“No- Henderson, what the fuck is the matter with you?” Eddie huffed, his voice trailing in from the living room.

You paused, hand catching the door as it fell, quieting it as it latched. The air was thick, warm with a sticky, sweet smell. Music playing in a low hum from Eddie’s beloved boom box he kept in the living room.

“You said to hang it!” Dustin’s shrill tone cut through the air.

“Yeah, hang it high- Jesus Christ, I shoulda just waited until Robin got off.” Eddie was hidden by the wall, but you could practically see him pinching his nose, hand running over his curly bangs. “Can you- Can you go see if we can ice the cake yet?”

“Yeah, what do I do?” Dustin questioned, a silence falling between the two of them. Your lips curled, swallowing a giggle. “What? I’m not a master chef or something. You act like I should know this. There wasn’t a cake making class-”

“-There was, you moron. Home Ec, which clearly, you failed.” Eddie huffed in annoyance. You froze at his heavy footsteps, voice carrying closer and closer.“Whatever, can you- just make it look nice in here? Put the rest of the streamers up and- shit!” Eddie flinched, jumping at the sight of you in the doorway. Wide eyed and still, like you’d been caught.

“Baby,” Eddie’s breath startled. “Hey, uh, what are you- you said you didn’t get- you’re home already?” His voice lifted, carried high in a squeak of surprise.

“Yeah, I got off early. I thought you were working late.” Your brows furrowed at the tear of plastic, leaning to look around the corner. “What are you doing-”

“-Don’t look in there.” Eddie snapped, his hand falling on the doorframe, arm blocking your vision. You jumped, glaring at him with annoyance. “I thought you closed tonight?”

“I thought you closed tonight.” You huffed, arms crossing over your chest. “Clearly that’s not true. What is this? Another campaign night?” You rolled your eyes, body burning with irritation, jaw wound tight with it.

“What? N-No, I-I thought you wouldn’t be home until later, and I’d have more time-” Eddie rambled, side stepping to block your view behind him.

“-Ed, I don’t care if that’s what it is.” Your shoulders deflated, a wave of painful exhaustion, disappointment falling over you. “I just wish you would’ve let me know before you invite all these people over to play your game, so I could-” A shimmering glimmer of multicolored sequins caught your eyes, shining in the yellowed light of the kitchen, iridescent hued droplets cast over the cabinets. There, draped over the chair in bright, glittering letters, a small sash that read Happy Birthday! in obnoxiously big letters.

You paused, eyes scanning towards the cake, cooling on the rack next to the mixing bowl of icing, the icing spatula still in it. Paper mache streamers taped to the ceiling, hung in swooping bouts mixed with the shiny streamers and balloons all the way to the living room. Eddie had brought out the folding table from the crawl space, even put a plastic tablecloth from the store over it to hide the yellowing stains that would never fade.

Dustin’s eyes met yours, wide and darting between you and Eddie, still holding the roll of streamers he’d yet to hang. “Uh, Happy Birthday?” Dustin shrugged.

Eddie huffed, shaking his head at him. “Fuck, I-I’m sorry, it was supposed to be a surprise.” Eddie’s foot bounced with anxious adrenaline. “I thought you didn’t get off until eight, and-and I had it all planned, sweetheart, I really did. Steve’s getting the pizza, and everyone’s coming over at seven thirty-ish, and I- I was even going to have them park at Wayne’s in the back so you wouldn’t see.”

Your chest felt deflated, void of any air, words, anything. Eddie chewed on his lip, hands twitching next to his jeans. “It was going to be this whole thing, fuck!” He huffed. “It was going to be a whole big thing, and…”

Eddie’s heart leapt when your eyes finally met his. His fingers still drummed against the rough material of his jeans, veins filled with icy excitement, fear, anticipation? He wasn’t sure.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, stepping to hover over you, voice dropping to a soft coo, hands sliding over your cheeks. “I’m- I wanted it to be a surprise.”

You swallowed thickly. Eddie’s touch was soft, but it left you with a tingling burn when his thumb delicately traced your cheek bone. “You- This is for me?” You squeaked.

Eddie’s lips curled in a half smile, brows creasing. “Well, yeah.” He said playfully. “Who else would it be for?”

Your brain was deafeningly silent, stunned at every new detail you’d discover. “You said you were busy.” Was all you could muster out, blinking up at Eddie. “You said you had to work late.”

“I might have fibbed a little.” Eddie tilted his head sillily. “Told a little lie so I could get this set up.” He nodded towards the living room, a balloon floating near the doorway.

“I just really wanted to surprise you.” Eddie’s shoulders fell. “I was trying to outdo you. Tryna out do what you did for mine. I called all your friends- even Alexandra,” You rolled your eyes at the mention, she was Eddie’s least favorite friend of yours.

“And I… I just wanted to surprise you.” Eddie blinked down at you. “Just wanted your day to be special.”

Your day, the phrase wrapped around you, swirled through your veins like a warm hug, squeezing your heart.

“I’m sorry, it… I didn’t think about work.” Eddie shook his head, running a hand over his forehead. “I didn’t even think about it, and I-”

“-Eddie,” Your voice caught in your throat.

Eddie tensed, cringing with expectant dread. He’d ruined it, blew it, the tears were coming and they were deserved. You’d done so well on his, surprised the hell out of him with the cake, decorated for his birthday campaign with lanterns and candles you’d thrifted. Gone all out for him, and he couldn’t even pull off a simple surprise party.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, head pressing to yours. His eyes cut around the room, making sure a certain Henderson pest was lurking.

“Sorry?” You repeated. “Eddie, I-I am surprised.” You choked out, looking around the room with gleaming eyes.

Eddie paused. “You are?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I thought you’d forgotten.” You admitted. “I thought everyone had forgotten.”

Eddie’s brows pinched in a confused scowl. “You thought I’d forget?” He muttered.

A watery laugh fell from your lips before you could stop it. “Yeah.” You admitted. “You were really convincing.”

Eddie’s chest boasted playfully. “Oscar worthy?”

“You’d sweep the competition.” You jested back, arms sliding over his forearms. His hands found home on the small of your waist, pulling you into him.

“I didn’t forget your birthday.” Eddie said softly. “Just… for the record.”

“I can see that.” You giggled. “Thank you. It’s-It’s really sweet.”

“Yeah? I’m glad you like it.” Eddie’s hands rubbed down your spine. “It would look better but… Robin and Nancy didn’t get off until later, and it’s just me and Henderson.”

“It looks great. Perfect.” Your cheek pressed to the soft cotton of his t-shirt. His nice shirt, Eddie always called it. Broke it out for special occasions.

“Not perfect. Fucked up the main part.” Eddie grumbled. “I can call everyone, let them know that they can park out front since there’s no surprise anymore.”

“No, don’t do that.” You shook your head lightly, chin propping against his chest to look up at him. “I’ll leave and come back, and you can still do it. I can pretend to be surprised.”

Eddie’s lips curled, pulling back to look down at you. “You’re gonna pretend?” He tilted his head.

“My turn to act.” You teased, brow lifting gently. “Give you some competition.” You poked his tummy playfully.

Eddie grinned, pulling you back into him, lips sliding over yours in a soft kiss you savored. Melting into each other, fusing into a gooey puddle- it was corny, a cliche. One you’d roll your eyes at if it was anyone else.

“Happy birthday.” Eddie muttered, lips brushing and tickling your own.

“Thank you.” You whispered back, hands finding the base of his neck, pushing him back into you. Eddie’s hand fell against the wooden door frame, steadying himself in a rapidly heating makeout.

“Uh,” Dustin’s voice interrupted the two of you, just as Eddie’s hands were sliding under your work blouse. “Yeah, I-I finished with the streamers.”

Eddie glared at him, jaw ticking in annoyance when you pulled away. “I’m just going to grab my makeup bag, and I’ll go.” You whispered, cheeks flooding with heat.

Eddie huffed, rolling his eyes at Dustin when you left. “What? What did I do?” Dustin threw his hands out.

“Such a fuckin’ cock block, Henderson.” Eddie muttered, stomping into the kitchen. “Put the plates and shit out, will ya?”

Your performance was Oscar worthy, Eddie decided later, when you stepped through the door of the now darkened trailer, gasping when the lights flickered on and everyone jumped out. You looked positively radiant, glowing with excitement at the small crowd of friends crammed into the doorway. Eddie kissed you, sloppier than he should have, especially in front of everyone, but he didn’t care. Overwhelmed with affection for you.

He couldn’t tell if you were still pretending when he brought out the cake, the room singing in a harmonious tone to you, candles lit and glowing in the dim light. Eddie didn’t miss the way your eyes sparkled, fingers pressed to your lips at the now iced cake. When your fingers curled under his chin, sharing a fork-full of cake with him, kissing him after so quickly it left his head spinning.

His birthday girl, it was your day. Eddie never thought he’d love a random day as much as he did. He had no idea how important that day would become when he’d first met you, how it would engrave itself in his mind forever.

He was glad it did. Looking at you, giggling with your friends on the couch, then again, the next night, singing with Heather at the crowded bar- Eddie’s chest heart swelled. Proud that he’d surprised you, hopeful that he’d get to for the rest of his life.

Next year, he’d do it right. Really pull off the party you deserved. He’d start saving now, planning too. He decided it that night, tucked between the sheets, your head still on his sweat soaked chest. He could still taste you on his tongue, lips numb from the time he’d spent between your legs. Lashes fluttering in sleep, curled into him, Eddie pulled you closer. He’d get it right next year, you deserved it.

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 7 months

Text

Hallow'seams

A Seams Halloween special oneshot

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: A spicy T

Summary: Joel proves to you that he can be adventurous if he wants to be.

Warnings: Joel wears a slutty Halloween costume, fluff, mentions of drinking, spicy thoughts but nothing explicit, no use of Y/N

Word count: 1.7k

Notes: I was so looking forward to writing this Seams Halloween special that I floated back in the summer. Unfortunately, life™ happened - I've had a very rough month and honestly I didn't think I had it in me to do any writing for the rest of this year, but then this happened! I woke up thinking about Joel wearing a Gladiator costume and couldn't put it down. It's not as long or intricate as my original idea, but I hope you enjoy this anyway. I've missed these two so much!

Thank you for sticking with me and giving me so much love, I really don't deserve you all 🧡 Happy Halloween!

Joel pushes open the door to the High Street Outfitters, one booted foot steps over the threshold -

And he stops and stares.

Pumpkins of all sizes, some more crudely carved than others, seem to occupy every conceivable surface. Black cat and broomstick decals adorn the worn wooden walls, while hand-pulled cotton cobweb the ceilings.

When his feet unstick and move into the empty shop, he nearly topples a huge cauldron of what looks like homemade candy. Steadying it with his hands, he mutters under his breath. 'What the f-'

He would never admit it, but he nearly jumps out of his skin when you emerge from the studio with a dramatic flutter of the curtain divider. 'Oh hey, you're here!'

Stepping towards you, he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a hello, and gestures. 'You really went all out, hmm?'

Your grin brims with pride, and he feels his lips stretch into an answering smile as you straighten up some of the costumes on a nearby rack.

'We found a Halloween shop nearby a few years back,' you explain. 'All their stock was still in boxes in the store room, so we took everything and ran with it. It's a lot of work every year, but the kids have so much fun with it, it's definitely worth it.'

Joel hums skeptically. 'Not just the kids have fun, from what I heard.'

You cross your arms and play coy. 'What have you heard?'

'That my brother hosts the rowdiest Halloween party in town for the adults every year, and tonight is their last hurrah before the baby comes.'

You chuckle. 'And I'm guessing you fought the costume and lost?'

'There’s no winnin’ when your sister-in-law plays the pregnancy card,' he grumbles with poorly concealed fondness.

You walk him towards the racks near the cashier. 'Here are the men's costumes. We run a pay what you want system for Halloween rentals, just pop your contribution into that pumpkin on the counter. You better hurry though, things start kicking off around seven tonight.'

Joel combs through the outfits half-heartedly, when a standalone clothes rack on the other side of the room, covered with a black sheet, catches his eye. 'And what's that?'

You hesitate, and stutter, 'Oh, um - you won’t like those.'

Arching an eyebrow, he stares down at you. 'Why is that, sweetheart?'

The endearing way you wring your hands and worry your bottom lip brings him right back to when he first met you. Your shyness has always provoked a reaction from him - an understanding at first, from the introvert in him. Then protectiveness, when he started spending time with you.

And now, knowing you the way he does, with you opening up to him over the past few months, he lets his mouth relax into a half-smirk, one hand curling around your waist to pull you into his side as he teases, 'Use your words, Pin.'

You huff, recognising the playfulness in his body language, but you still struggle to get the words out. 'They’re - um, damnit - they're adventurous.'

He sets his face in a mock stern expression. 'And what, I’m too borin' for them?'

Narrowing your eyes at him, which makes him grin, you deadpan, 'It's just - they're not your thing, ok? They're of the -' you pause, and gesture in air quotes. 'Occupational variety.'

Comprehension dawns on him, and he drawls, 'Ah, you mean slutty costumes.'

He can feel your skin heat at his words as you duck your head, and he teases, voice low and gruff by your ear. 'And will you be wearin' somethin' slutty for me tonight, sweetheart?'

Your breath hitches and your lips part, eyes glassy at the turn of the mood. 'Joel -'

He isn't a particularly spiritual man, but the longer he lives, the more he’s convinced that some people are put on earth for a reason.

And Lucy's raison d'etre is to cockblock him at every turn.

The door bursts open with a brash energy that is uniquely hers (with an uncanny resemblance to Ellie's), and your best friend doesn't skip a beat at the sight of the pair of you canoodling. 'Save the making out for later, Miller. We gotta go get ready Pin, c’mon!'

You hastily press a kiss to his whiskered cheek. 'Pick your costume and lock up behind you, ok? I'll see you in a bit.'

Lucy all buts hauls you out of the shop, throwing over her shoulder. 'See ya later, Miller! You better show up half naked!'

Curiosity getting the better of him, Joel pulls back the sheet from the clothes rack, and his eyebrows reach for his softly graying hairline. Leafing through the options, he pauses somewhere in the middle, and smiles to himself.

He’ll show you adventurous.

Maria and Tommy's Halloween party is easily the most anticipated event in the Jackson social calendar. Illicit incentives often swap hands for a RSVP, with those unfortunate enough to be assigned patrol duties on the night willing to pay handsomely for a swap in shifts.

While the kids are knocked out at home from eating their body weight in sugar, the Tipsy Bison is teeming with townsfolk. The normally dark interiors are decked out floor to ceiling in garish black and orange, as if people wouldn't get the memo.

Joel was apprehensive on his arrival, pausing for a moment outside the double doors of the establishment to steel himself. But as soon as he crosses the threshold into the warm and boisterous bar, so loud that his right ear rings, he realises that his worries are completely unwarranted.

No one even bats an eyelid as he wades through the throngs of partygoers, nodding politely at acquaintances who drunkenly shout his name and raise a pitcher in greeting.

It's pure madness - Halloween stopped existing for him twenty years ago. The last time he went to a Halloween party was their neighbour's barbeque. He still remembers the Gryffindor costume he bought Sarah, and how big she smiled swishing around in her robe, casting gibberish spells on her friends all night.

This, however, is a distinctly grownup affair.

When he put on his costume and stood in front of the mirror an hour ago, he could barely look at his own reflection. But now, compared to others in the room, turns out his choice is almost demure.

He only saw Gladiator once when it came out a couple of years before the outbreak, but he liked it, and when he saw the costume on the rack, he picked it out straight away.

The dark red cape sits on his shoulders and drapes across half of his torso - shirtless, of course - baring his right arm. He's a bit self-conscious about the skirt (he's sure there's a name for it but the packaging didn't shed light on this), which sits mid-thigh, fastened by a belt around his waist. He's even wearing the Roman sandals and leather bracelet, and a plastic sword hangs from his belt - the full monty.

The vain side in him thinks he can pull it off, but more importantly -

He wore it for you.

But you're nowhere to be seen, even after he grabs a beer from the counter, having circled the bar twice. Spotting a lone empty chair at a high table, he decides to perch (pulling down his skirt so his boxers don't show) while he has a drink and looks for you.

His keen eyes scan the room methodically. Sexy witches, slutty lumberjacks, misbehaving firemen, naughty nurses - together with the noise, everyone and everything seems to blur into one, and he almost gives up when something familiar crosses his line of sight.

Joel frowns.

Hold up. That toolbelt looks familiar. His eyes narrow as he squints at the worn faded leather.

It is his toolbelt. The toolbelt that disappeared from his garage workshop a couple of days ago that Ellie swears she knows nothing about. That little shit.

Then his gaze pulls back, like a camera zooming out, and he finds that the toolbelt is sitting on the soft swell of a pair of hips, over short denim cut-offs that he's sure he's seen before, and below a red flannel. His red flannel, knotted at the waist, that he knows you sleep in every night.

His chest rumbles with something primal, and he downs the rest of his beer in one big gulp before slamming the empty pint glass on the table and getting onto his feet.

You don’t see him coming, but you know without turning around the moment a pair of strong hands close over your hips in a possessive grip, pulling you towards the bathroom in the back of the bar.

He knocks a breathless laugh out of you when he pushes you up the closed door, the noise of the party muted by the thick timber as you grin up at him, preening at the way his dark gaze rakes over your costume.

A shiver runs down your spine as your own undoubtedly dilated eyes follow the solid outline of his right arm, which flexes as he rests his palm on the door behind you, then down his broad chest and the soft belly he’s so nonchalantly putting on display.

It’s absurd, you know - it’s just a tacky Halloween costume, but the seams of your eyes prickle as you muse how comfortable he is in his own skin.

'And what exactly are you dressed up as?' he asks, sliding his free hand under the toolbelt to squeeze your ass.

'A slutty contractor,' you answer boldly, dragging your index finger down his bare chest. 'Isn't it obvious?'

'And you thought stealin' my toolbelt for your little costume was a good idea?' he growls.

'Well, I didn't know you'd turn up as a gladiator of all things,' you tease, wrapping your fingers around the hilt of his plastic sword.

It should not make his pulse spike like this.

'Not only that, sweetheart. I'm a slutty gladiator, thank you very much,' he retorts, walking into you to slot his hips flush against yours.

You shoot him a loaded smirk that instantly has his boxers shrink by two sizes. Ripping his cape off his shoulders, you ask cheekily, ‘And what does my champion demand as punishment -'

Joel doesn't let you finish your sentence, swallowing the rest of it with a kiss so deep that it steals your voice and takes out your knees in one fell swoop.

Grinning at the way you're already bonelessly slumped against him, he winks, nose brushing yours. 'I can think of a few things, sweetheart.'

Note: Thank you for reading! I had so much fun dipping my toe back into the Seams universe, I hope you did too. This is me warming up with a view of returning to writing for the series proper, fingers crossed sometime soon! Comments/reblogs/asks are very much appreciated as always 🧡

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the adorably spooky dividers!

#fuckyeahseams #hallow'seams #seams halloween special #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller fluff

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earthyaries · 1 year

Text

Astrology Observations pt. 19

🕷️ Mutable moons need solitude / alone time. These people are introverts

🕷️ Capricorn ascendents w a Gemini 6H are great employees, but it’s nearly impossible for them to stay at one job for longer than a few years (or even less 👀)

🕷️ Everyone I know w a weak Mars placement or Mars in detriment have low spice tolerances & those who have a prominent Mars placement or an exalted Mars love spicy foods

🕷️ Fixed Mercuries run the music industry

🕷️ I swear Taurus placements are always late to everything lmao

🕷️ If you have Mercury square/conjunct/opposite Neptune in your chart, you need to be vocal & clear to others about what’s on your mind. Prone to misunderstanding- it’s in your best interest to get a second opinion, & be direct but civil when you feel wronged (bc there’s a high chance it’s not as bad as you’re thinking lol)

🕷️ Oppositely, ppl w their Mercury trine/sextile Neptune are so good at putting themselves in others’ shoes & seeing things from different perspectives. Excellent mediators !!

🕷️Capricorn placements: stop taking care of ppl financially just bc you care about them. Send a nice text or something 😭 (yea this is a self callout)

🕷️I could be biased but imo no one plays the victim like someone w Cancer or Libra placements

🕷️Libra & Cancer placements do be bhad tho. Literal ass & titties of the zodiac LMAO

🕷️Name me one fire sun woman that isn’t LGBTQ+ (impossible edition)

🕷️You’d think that ppl w 3H Mercuries would be good texters, but the ones I know either 1) forget to text back 2) stay on DND, or 3) prefer to call or FaceTime

🕷️ Aquarius Venus ppl are so fun to talk to, they’re all straight up clowns

🕷️ Someone w a 2H Chiron will literally go flat broke before they ask anyone for financial help. Their self esteem is strongly attached to their finances & material possessions so to be caught lacking in that area would be their worst nightmare

🕷️ As someone w Cardinal placements, Cardinal placements are so dramatic lmfao

🕷️ The Sagittarius Neptune generation (1970-1984) & all their escapist tendencies ☠️ whether it be drinking, dr*gs, traveling, gambling, working 24/7, or watching lots of TV..

🕷️ The Aquarius Neptune generation (1998-2011) & their internet activism :/ great in theory! But needs improvement. “Cancel culture” turned cyber-bullying, online desensitization, & “influencers” are some of the results from this generation. They might feel like an activist for posting on their story, but it will take more than that to create serious change

#astrology #astro observations #astrology observations

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starsexplodeatnight · 4 months

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Cod Guys x Reader!

~First time you’re intimate~

Minors do not engage! You are not fucking wanted here! Go be a kid while you still can! You’ll have 30 chasing at your heels before you know it.

I always start with Price:

3 months into your relationship

M’fucker puts on divorced dad rock. Because he’s not had a lot of time for romance in the past- er decade or so- shut up. He’s a bit… rusty? No, his moves are solid. He’s just a bit of a time capsule from when he was in his twenties and Mr smooth.

What do you mean ‘Hinders’ Lips of an Angel is ‘divorced dad rock’ what the hell’s that mean?

He’ll have planned this sweet, romantic, night for the both of you. He made dinner, look at him: he’s a provider. You try not to laugh but, it’s cute how he’s trying and in a way? He’s succeeding.

Just because you’re onto his tricks doesn’t mean they’re not working.

Then, he puts on his ‘mood music’ he used to put on in the past when he was romancing the ~ladies~ and oh- your lips purse in your best attempt at not giggling. He’s being so cute and you don’t want to pop his bubble.

He sees it though, as he hands you a glass of wine. “Somethin’ wrong bird?” His confidence is there, a little smirk. He wants to know what’s so funny. You shake your head, eyes cast to the side, as you take a sip of wine.

“Mmmmm- nothing, nothing.” He chuckles and sits down next to you, still acting so smooth. “Come on, out with it luv.” And he leans in close.

He’s so handsome…

Then ‘Let her cry’ by Hootie and the Blowfish comes on and you nearly shoot wine out your nose, turning away from him, choking as you try not to laugh.

He, surprised, helps you calm down, patting your back to help you as you cough. “What’s the matter with you? You makin’ fun of me luv?” He cooed, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You’re embarrassed with yourself. “Oh John… this is so sweet, very romantic.”

“But?” “You need to turn off the divorced dad rock sweet pea, I’m so sorry.” You say with an apologetic wince. “Divorce dad rock? I-“ He looks at his speakers, then back at you. “The bloody hell is that?”

“Nothing we need to discuss right now.” And you reach over, turning it off yourself. He shook his head, “s’long as you’re happy luv.” And he leans in, pressing his nose against yours as he gives you a sweet kiss. Simultaneously pushing you back to lay against the couch….

Next is Soap!:

This dork is smooth, it’s not fair.

Rough housing after you two come home from a cute dinner date, he’s got you by the waist from behind. He’s giving your neck those dramatic kisses, that are so fucking ticklish. You two are so giggly and stupid and you! And neither of you are even drunk… just… happy.

Both of you pause, his chest against your back as you both try and breathe. Get air back in your lungs…. His face tucks in your neck, both of you staring off into space. Both thinking about the same thing but both waiting for the other to say something first.

It’s been about 1 month of dating and you’d both hadn’t done anything yet, just getting to know each other before anything sexual happened. And it’s been *fun.*

He starts the kisses on your neck again, a lot less dramatic and much more sensual. His arms still locked ‘round your waist.

“S’this okay?” You melt a bit into his arms. “Yes.”

He groans, breathing in deeply and gave your ass a deep strong hump that completely jolts you forward. That made your face so fucking hot.

He puts on ‘your body is a wonderland’ by John Mayer and unlike Price? It works. He’s just- it works! It’s cheesy but, unlike Price who’s trying to have a deep, romantic, moment and chose wrong. Soap is giggly, playful and cheeky during sex.

He’s only ‘serious’ when he’s not in a good headspace, like after a long grueling mission… the rest of the time?it’s so giggly and stupid.

Gaz my darling!:

It’s a curated experience that makes you feel like a princess…. With an impending feeling of being the princess of a porn flick.

Because! As romantic, sweet and charming as he is: he’s still a cheeky fucking shit. Boyish charming and sexy aren’t supposed to mix! … right!?

When you two talk about taking the next step and having sex? He grins his pretty grin and bites his lip before kissing your cheek and darting off to ‘plan’

“Wear something pretty luv’” He called to tell you. The look on his face when you do show up dressed all pretty? You’d think you’d hung the stars in the sky…

Hands you flowers, said he got them from this sweet shop his Captain’s wife works at. They’re beautiful… so much thought and care…

That’s what happens the entire night. So much thought and care and effort has been put into this that it makes you teary eyed. He orders for you at the restaurant, orders something from the pastry case to take home and god-

You get back to your apartment and, it’s lit up with fairy lights. He doesn’t do the typical roses and candles, no. Fairy lights, diffuser with warm vanilla and champagne- yeah it’s time to be sweet on him. You’d think he was going to propose or something!!!

Partners give and take. He romanced the hell out of you and made you feel special? Your turn now. He’s going to take everything you give him, even if he’s trembling.

“Love you Kyle.” “Love you too lovie…”

Classical covers of pop songs in the back… it’s romantic and sweet not too giggly not too serious…

Ghost!:

As much as much as Mr Big and Bad wants to pound your ass into the mattress and crack the wall with your headboard? He… he has issues lovie.

He takes the longest to have sex. Why? His trauma. One second he’s horny as hell rabbiting his hips into your butt then the other he does NOT feel like being touched. He feels bad, feels like he’s cheating you out of something but… how can he apologize for something out of his control?

You two have a talk about it because Simon, as much as he hates talking? He doesn’t want to lose a sweetie like you so he grunts out a few words to explain himself. You piece it together and well, what kind of partner would you be if you didn’t have his best interests at heart.

You understand. This man has trudged through hell over broken glass with no shoes. You can handle yourself in private moments until he’s worked through his problems. As long as he promises to work on them. No more dragging his feet in hesitation.

He needs to work on himself, the thought of being able to take that step with you? That helps. He doesn’t tell his therapist that even when the therapist asks him why he’s suddenly taking this seriously and booking appointments properly instead of going to just the mandatory monthly.

He waits until you’re having fun one night, he can hear the ‘bzzz’ of the toy and he creeps in the room. Lays on the bed on his belly between your legs and takes it away from you. Sets it aside. “This okay?”

Oh, it’s more than okay.

The kids in your preschool ask you why you’re limping. Oh look! Uh- we’re finger painting today!

Another one for inappropriate music choice except he doesn’t change it. He tries to nail you to the beat of ‘in the end’ by Linkin Park… he takes you up on your challenge and says yeah? I can change your mind!

#call of duty #cod x reader #john price x reader #tf141 x reader #call of duty x reader #john mactavish x reader #john price #kyle garrick x reader #simon riley x reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick

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moonstruckme · 8 months

Note

In a week-

Hear me out: Rockstar Poly!marauders and Rockstar!reader???? Like, maybe no one knew the marauders was dating reader till they performed together for an event?????

Thanks for requesting lovely!

join the party

rockstar poly!marauders x rockstar!reader ♡ 1k words

The tabloids had started speculating when too many of your tour dates lined up. It’s only natural that you’d end up spending some time together, in the same occupation and occupying the same spheres, so you were seen with each of the boys at various eateries, at afterparties, on the street. The only problem for journalists was, they couldn’t figure out which band member you were dating.

They were clutching at straws. A picture of you grabbing Remus’ hand to pull him into a store, an interview wherein Sirius had complimented your new single, a zoomed-in video of James carrying four coffees back up to the hotel instead of three. The speculation was all over the place, scattered and nearly baseless.

Not after tonight. It had been Lily, the Marauders’ manager, who’d had the idea to take this story by the reins. She’d pointed out that fans were only getting more obsessed with the question of which of the boys you were dating, and with both of you releasing new albums soon, it was as good a time as any to capitalize on that interest. Plus, if you did the big reveal before any magazine could figure it out, it’d be your concert that went viral, not their publication. “More press,” she’d said enticingly, “means more people learning your names and listening to your music.”

You’d thought the boys would be the ones to have qualms. Remus wasn’t the type to enjoy making his private life public (it was more an unfortunate side-effect of his career than a draw) and James always talked about how keeping your relationship a secret made it feel less like they had to share you with everyone else, but in the end, they got on board with Lily’s scheme quickly. You all agreed that someone was going to figure you all out sooner or later, and if your romantic life was going to be broadcast, it may as well be on your own terms.

Still, that doesn’t mean you’re not nervous.

“Loosen up, angel,” James says, prodding at your foot with his as you lie on Remus’ chest, picking through his usually well-guarded stash of chocolate. “This is supposed to be fun, remember?”

“It’s not the show I’m worried about,” you say, rubbing your socked foot along his mindlessly. “I’m excited to play with you guys, I just wish we could do that without everyone making assumptions.”

Remus hums in agreement, but Sirius makes a derisive sound, turning to look at you from the mirror. His eyeliner is half done, making one eye seem big and dangerous and the other naked.

“You two are being so dramatic,” he says. “Of course they’re gonna assume, and they’ll be right. That’s the point.”

You sigh, tipping your head back onto Remus’ shoulder, and he runs his hand up and down your side commiseratively.

“It’s going to be a great show.” James tries again to lift your foul mood. You try to look less dismal in return. “You and Sirius’ voices go so well together, the crowd will love it.”

“It’s true.” Sirius smirks at you through the mirror. “And later, we’ll go to the afterparty—”

“Do we really have to?” Remus asks.

James looks sympathetic, reaching forward to rub his calf consolingly. “‘Fraid so, love. Lily says the only way to control the narrative is to talk to people after the show. We don’t have to stay the whole time, but we’ll practically be on the clock.”

“Anyway,” Sirius goes on. “We’ll go to the afterparty, and everyone will tell us how cute we are together, and everyone north of the equator will want to be us and fuck us at the same time.”

You can tell Remus has something to say about that, but before he can, Lily pops her head into the dressing room. “Guys, the opener is finishing up,” she says, eyes lingering on each of your faces assessingly. “Everyone ready?”

“Just a second…yeah,” Sirius says, finishing his perfectly messy eyeliner. “Ready.”

Lily nods before ducking back out, off to go coordinate light technicians or whatever she does in the rush before shows. James offers you and Remus a hand each, hauling you up. You lick your thumb, wiping a bit of chocolate from the side of Remus’ mouth, and he gives you a half-smile of thanks.

“We got this,” you whisper to him, and he takes your hand, squeezing lightly.

“I know we do, sweetheart.”

Sirius is the only one talking as you all make your way to the side of the stage, the crowd cheering loudly as the opening act wraps up their set.

“Hey.” A hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to find James attached to it. He’s looking at you with more than the usual pre-show nerves, something more like worry. “Are you really upset about this? We don’t have to go through with it, it’s not too late to tell Lily it’s off.”

Yes it is, but he’s a sweetheart for saying so. “No, I’m okay,” you promise, reaching up to squeeze his wrist reassuringly. The other band is exiting on the opposite side of the stage, the lights going out. You’re going to be going out there any minute. “I’m excited to perform with you guys, and…and I’m ready to be done with the sneaking around. I’m just nervous, I guess.”

James slides his hand up from your shoulder to cup your face, your hand still clasped loosely around his wrist. He smooths his thumb over your cheek fondly, eyes gone soft under the faint glaze of adrenaline. “Don’t be, sweetheart. You’re going to do great, and we’ll all be up there together.” He stoops lower so only you can hear him. “Just between us, you and Sirius sound great together, but you can hit notes he never could. They’re gonna love you out there.”

You grin, and Sirius turns around, eyeing the both of you. “I heard my name,” he says accusingly. “What’re we talking about?”

The lights come back on, and that’s your cue. “Nothing!” you chirp, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the stage. “Let’s go.”

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discokicks · 9 months

Text

BAD IDEAS (ON THE SAME PAGE) — JAMIE TARTT

a fic inspired by bad idea right by olivia rodrigo!

masterlist! song inspo! AO3!

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: football star jamie tartt is an asshole. he’s the one ex of yours that your friends always hated, one that you now all joke about, and one you haven’t spoken to in four years. however, after a chance encounter, the two of you reconnect, and he leaves you with his new number and a hundred questions about his reformed personality. but seeing him tonight would be a bad idea, right?

word count & rating: 11k (wowza), M! (18+! minors get away or i’ll narc on you to your guardians)

warnings: SMUUUUUUT, porn with plot, lots of suggestive language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, sprinkling of a handjob, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kids), angst, mentions of alcohol, probable secondhand embarrassment, exes reuniting (it needs a warning sometimes), jamie tartt was an asshole and is now just a prick (in the best way possible), reader is a physio, major fluff, and swearing. also reader is american (bc the author is too. sorry </3)

authors note: well. i wrote it. olivia wrote this song for teenage girls in their twenties (me) only and i immediately thought of this fic the second i heard it. i'm calling this an exercise in smut writing before i embark on my aces (my roy kent series for my new friends) eventual-smut-adventure, so this evolved into something i wasn’t expecting but i had so much fucking fun writing it. god, i love jamie tartt. also! this is my first smut fic at this type of level, so go easy on me. hope you all enjoy. love you all tons! -mags

There are two universal truths in life.

The first is that the coffee shop you frequent on your way to work will and will always have the best cold brew you’ve ever tasted. The second is that Jamie Tartt will and will always be a massive fucking prick, and you’ll never see him again for as long as you live.

These are two things you live by, and while they may seem rather mundane or petty in the grand scheme of things, they are the only truths you can count on these days. Especially when everything else is so up in the air.

However, the universe doesn’t seem to believe in these things as blindly as you do, and this becomes evident the moment that you step into the shop on a gloomy Wednesday morning. Because these two truths (well, they’re fucking bald-faced lies now aren’t they, huh?) are broken within approximately two minutes of each other with seven words.

It began when you greeted Natalia, the barista who was here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before your shift at the clinic with a wide smile. As soon as she saw your face, her expression turned apologetic, albeit a bit dazed.

“You’re gonna hate me,” she says, putting her hands on either side of the register. Your brows shot up at her words. “We just ran out of cold brew.”

Your face falls. “You’re kidding.”

“We were low on it this morning,” she starts to explain, “our stupid night-shifters didn’t prep enough last night. And it’s been selling like crazy today.”

“Seriously?” you nearly whine. “I might cry.”

“I’m sorry, Doc,” she apologizes, but she doesn’t sound too apologetic. Natalia’s eyes keep shifting to your left, the dazed look in her eye never faltering. Then, she says the fated seven words. “But he took the last of it.”

You turn your head in the direction she’s been looking, and your blood runs completely cold. You think you could drop dead and go to hell at this very moment, and it’d be a better existence than what awaits you in the next five minutes. And while this all may sound dramatic, you don’t care.

You don’t care because Jamie fucking Tartt is standing across from you, newly long hair peeking out from beneath his hood. He’s engrossed in whatever’s on his phone, fingers flying back and forth like he’s texting.

You think you could run. You’re pretty sure you could successfully make a break for it and leave Natalia high and dry without him seeing you. It’d be an easy exit, and you’d never have to see him again.

But then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks up. And the second he meets your gaze, his face falls in what you can imagine was a similar fashion to yours.

Fuck.

Luckily, Natalia is none the wiser. She barely notices your expression, and with Jamie by the pick-up area, she can’t see the way he’s looking at you. So, instead of questioning you, she straight-up giggles.

“I know,” she practically squeals. “I was totally going to save you the last of it, but he asked for it. And I mean, c’mon. It’s Jamie Tartt. I couldn’t possibly say no to him.”

You tragically know that feeling all too well. Knowing you probably would have had a snappier, more cutting response to that if you weren’t in the most debilitating phase of shock, you settle for a quiet, “It’s okay.” You nod at her, brushing it off in an attempt to be casual. “I can settle for an espresso today.”

Natalia nods, tapping it into her register. “Same size as usual?”

“Yeah,” you say, not completely sure what you’re agreeing to. You glance over again at Jamie and find that he’s still standing there, staring at you, and you immediately blink away. “That’s fine.”

The rest of the transaction feels as though it takes a millennium and three seconds all at once. You’re still caught off guard by the time Natalia gives you your receipt with a dazed look in your eye that now matches hers.

However, yours isn’t because you just saw your favorite Richmond player or your favorite reality show villain. It’s because you’ve just seen your ex-boyfriend and you’re about to walk over and stand next to him for a prolonged period of time.

Nothing about this scenario feels real. You hadn’t seen him in four years. Not since things ended as ugly as they had, with him leaving you sobbing outside of a club at three in the morning, letting you know that things were over between you two. And he hadn’t even given you a reason. It was just that he wasn’t ‘feeling’ it anymore.

You saw in a tabloid about three months later that he was now seeing Keeley Jones (yeah, having to compete with that did not sit well with you at all) and had drawn your assumptions from there. Whether or not he’d been seeing her behind your back or had broken up with you to be with her, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. You were in your anger stage of the break-up and only knew one thing.

Jamie Tartt was a massive fucking prick, and you’d sooner walk on a bed of nails before you saw him again.

But now here he was. And there were no nails to be found.

You avoid eye contact as you pass him to wait for your coffee. There’s a piece of you that wants to say hi and play it cool, just to put on a show for him about how unaffected you were by everything that had happened. The other piece of you hopes that not a word is said for your entire time here.

Unfortunately, neither of those happen.

Jamie slides over to be near you, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands are stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket, and you wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t.

Instead, you can feel the ‘play it cool’ part of you rise up to the surface. You could do this. You could feign indifference. Fuck him, you could be cool.

You glance over at him and see that he’s pressing his lips together, eyes shifting around the coffee shop. It’s crazy how familiar you still are with his tells to know he’s desperately looking for a way to say something.

You say it for him. “Hi,” you say simply. Cool and unaffected.

It’s as if the one word alone makes him flinch. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Hi—” He clears his throat after his greeting comes out cracked, and he stuffs his hands further in his pockets. “Hey.”

The awkwardness of this moment is killing you, and it’s taking everything in you to pretend like it's not. As you search for something else to say, you land on, “You took my cold brew.”

You can see his brows shoot up out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, fuck, did I?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I come in here every morning. Friends with the barista. Said she was going to save me the last of it, but…” You trail off and finally look at him. “She couldn’t say no to Jamie Tartt, apparently.”

You want to jump up and down about how well you’re doing right now. Maybe you are over him. Maybe you’ve finally moved past this shit, and seeing him once more is all you needed to solidify that. Maybe—

The second he chuckles softly with an apologetic smile, your confidence in those things shoots down. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Since when do you drink cold brew, anyway?” you ask, frustrated with the fact that he’s fucking laughing in front of you. “You were always a like, caramel macchiato or frappuccino asshole.”

The names make him laugh harder, shaking his head. “Don’t like those anymore,” he responds. “Sugar hurts me teeth. Tryin’ somethin’ new.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “My fucking coffee.”

That chuckle continues with a shrug. “I’m sorry.” he says again. Then he pauses. “But it’s not like your name was on it, or anythin’.”

Your face draws blank, and immediately, Jamie can tell he’s made a misstep. And it’s not that you’re angry about the joke, it’s just the… everything. Him. The situation. Everything you can remember that you wonder if he bothers to remember too.

Before you can walk away, you feel his hand on your arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats for a third time, turning you so that you’ll look at him. Your pissed-off expression meets his easy smile and it only fuels your anger more. “I was jokin’. I’m sorry I took your coffee. We can get ‘em to put your name on it if you want.”

“Whatever,” you mutter. It’s not the most mature thing you could have said, but frankly, you don’t care. You just want to get your consolation espresso and get the hell out of here. “What are you even doing over here anyway?”

You’re not sure why you ask it. You don’t know why you keep the conversation going. Jamie looks just as surprised as you are. “I moved over here a couple weeks ago,” he answers. “Got sick of the old place.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you reply. By the way that Jamie snorts, you know he recalls just how much you hated his apartment when you knew him. It screamed twenty-two-year-old AFC-money shithead and you would tease him about it constantly. “Was the empty beer bottle sculpture finally giving you mold poisoning?”

He chuckles again. “That came down shortly after we stopped talking.”

“Oh, so I was just lucky enough to see it in its final days?”

“Oi,” he says, pointing at you. “That thing was fuckin’ impressive and you know it.”

“Impressive in a dorm,” you shoot back. “Not a seven million pound flat.”

He bows his head in a guilty manner. “You remember that, huh?”

“Hard not to,” you answer. “You never stopped talking about it.”

He at least has the decency to wince at that one. “I know,” he says earnestly. It makes you look at him. He shrugs once more. “I wanted to impress ya.”

He did impress you. But not with things like that. He’d impress you when you watched him play, he’d impress you when he made you laugh, and he’d impress you on the rare occasion that he’d just be himself in front of you. Not some asshole footballer. Just him.

But you don’t say that. You say, “That wasn’t the way.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Got that now.” He rocks back on his heels again, like he’s not sure if he should say whatever he wants to. “I was a proper fucking dick to you, wasn’t I?”

That almost makes you fall over. Did he just say that? Did he actually just admit that? Out loud, here, for everyone to hear? Accountability? Unprompted? From Jamie Tartt?

You want to glance around to see if Rod Sterling’s going to emerge from the bathroom to narrate the next couple of minutes of your life, but are too shocked to do so.

Your surprise must show in your eyes, because Jamie laughs to himself. “Yeah. Wild, innit?” He shakes his head. “On a bit of an apology tour this year. Trying to build back some bridges, or whatever.”

The nod you give him is slow, still reeling from all of this. “Right,” you say lamely. “Building bridges.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you and for a brief moment, you think he may just mean it. The sincerity in his eyes is clear. “I was terrible to you. And I’m sorry.”

Whatever you were expecting when you stepped into this coffee shop on this rainy Wednesday, it certainly wasn’t this. And you certainly weren’t expecting your first time reuniting with him to go this way— with him apologizing to you. The actual words ‘I’m sorry’ just left his mouth.

You genuinely don’t know who this is. Because it’s certainly not the Jamie you knew.

You saw flashes of this guy. Quiet moments during your short-lived relationship, typically when it was just the two of you. It’s the type of guy you always knew he could be if he tried. The type of guy you pushed him to be.

(Your friends always taunted you about having the ever-horrendous I-can-fix-him gene, and they never quite let go of it. But it’s not like it wasn’t true.)

Those flashes are why you held out for as long as you did. If it were anyone else, any other asshole who treated you the way he did, you would have dropped them in a second. But he wasn’t like that. Not always, at least.

It was terrible to think like that. You’d been in a low spot when you’d met him and had taken even lower when he left you. You’d recovered tenfold from that and now knew your worth.

But as he stands in front of you, apologizing, genuinely apologizing, and looking at you like that, you start to question it.

No! the logical part of your brain practically screams. Don’t you fucking dare.

You’re keen to listen to that for the time being. It hardens you. And all you can do is nod at him again. “Well, uh—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You cough awkwardly. “Yeah. You were. Terrible to me. And, uh… thank you. For saying that.”

So much for playing it cool. You want to slam your head up against the wall but hold yourself back from doing so.

He nods at you, opening his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by one of the baristas calling your name. His cold brew’s sitting on the counter too, something the two of you clearly missed in the middle of your conversation.

When you reach for your drink, he grabs his too. He’s still staring at you, biting the inside of his cheek like he wants to say something. When you go to move around him, he stops you.

“Look, I just—” You look up at him expectantly, and his shoulders deflate. “I know you probably want nothin' to do with me. But, I just… I want to talk to you.”

Your espresso is hot in your hands. “Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

That’s when he says your name. Your actual name. Not the nickname that everyone calls you, not a pet name that he used to use, he says your name. And it makes you stop in your tracks.

It’s so stupid. It’s so fucking dumb that your fucking name can send you back to the day you first met him and were completely taken with him. You hate it. And you hate the way it makes your walls come crumbling down.

“Please,” he begs. “Can we… Can I at least give you my number? It’s a new one, but I-I think I’ve still got yours. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But just so you can… I don’t know? Think about it?”

You wouldn’t know if he still had your number. You blocked him ages ago. But you doubt it.

However, the more you think about it, the more you consider it. It’s the product of your resolve falling and well, everything else about him now. You think about it.

If you allowed him to give you his number, the ball would be in your court. You could do what you wanted with it. You could text him, you could tell him to fuck off, you could ignore him. It was up to you.

And you don’t know if that’s worse or better.

You decide on better. The second you sigh, Jamie knows he’s got you. A wide grin breaks out on his face as you hand him your phone. “I’ll think about it,” you mutter.

That’s good enough for him. He gives your phone back to you, new number inserted and new contact created. You’re glad he didn’t search for his old one. That one just says ASSHOLE in big capital letters with about a million gun emojis.

(That was done by your previous roommates in an effort to get you to move on from him. You thought it was a bit overdramatic. You were never one for emojis.)

He’s smiling when he holds his coffee out for you. You stare at him blankly, thinking he’s attempting to cheers you. Instead, he shakes his head and says, “Take it.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Trade with me,” he clarifies and your expression turns to one of shock. “C’mon. You said it’s yours anyway, right?” When you don’t move he rolls his eyes. “Offer’s only good for another second. Me arm’s getting tired.”

At that, you sigh rather dramatically and grumble to yourself, trying not to act pleased by the gesture. You hand him your coffee and he gives you his. “Thanks,” you say. It was kind of him.

His grin returns and he nods at you. “Alright,” he says. After a slightly awkward beat, he steps back from you. “It was good to see you, Doc. Really.” You’re taken back by how genuine his voice sounds and say nothing in return. “I’ll talk to you later?”

He says it as a question, hopeful and well-meaning. “Yeah,” you tell him noncommittally. “Maybe.”

That too, is good enough for him. Because he sends you one more smile, then walks out of the coffee shop with your espresso in hand.

You’re still reeling from the interaction when you glance down at his your cold brew and see Natalia’s handwriting. She’s made it just as you like it, down to the milk and everything.

But below it is a small drawing. It’s a tiny shark fin with a #9 written inside, with little lettering circling around it.

Doo-doo-do-doo-do-do-doo.

You’re fucked.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” is the question that your best friend and former roommate Leah screams at you over drinks at a busy rooftop bar. So busy, in fact, that barely anyone looks over at the two of you.

You’d made the mistake of telling Leah that not only had you run into Jamie on Wednesday, but you’d let him give you his number.

And you’d texted him after hours of deliberation.

It was something innocent, something you’d thought way too much about, but innocent still. You weren’t sure if you were ready to actually talk to him, but there was something about texting him that wasn’t so scary. Your guard was clearly still up, evident by how dry you were in your messages, and you were keeping your distance. You never texted back too quickly, didn’t ask many questions, and often left him on read.

(Yeah, you’d turned your read receipts on for him. What about it?)

Your first text was a simple enough question, something that you’d been genuinely wondering about since you saw him. It was open enough for a conversation but not too forward. how’d you know my coffee order?

His response came in minutes later. Is that yours? Good taste. It was shortly followed up with, That espresso you drink was fucking disgusting though.

And that was that. That was how you started texting your ex again. That’s how you reconnected yourself with Jamie Tartt. That’s how you knew it was over for you.

And that’s how you’re pretty sure you’re about to kill your best friend.

Leah’s eyes were wild, somehow angry yet still disbelieving yet intrigued. But the intrigue was very minimal. Very minimal. It was hidden well by how pissed off she was at you.

She had every right to be pissed at you. She was the one who always warned you about him. She’d straight-up nursed you back to health when you broke up. She was the one who had to hear about him 24 hours a day until you were finally over him.

Leah had had a year of peace. And now you were killing her for good.

“You’re kidding, right?” she follows up with. Her grip on your arm is tight. “Please tell me your kidding.”

“Leah…” Your voice is weak.

It tells her everything she needs to know. “Oh, my God! Oh, my. God.” She puts her face in her hands. “You’re insane. You’re fucking losing it and we need to have you checked out right now.”

“I’m completely sentient and in control of my own body.”

“Are you sure?”

You sip at your cocktail. “I reset a knee today. I’m pretty sure.”

“I think you might need to reconsider,” she says. “Because you just told me that not only are you talking to Jamie Tartt again, but you were the one who instigated it!”

You deserve this verbal beatdown and you know it. But all you can do is shrug. “Technically, he gave me his number. He’s the one who instigated it.”

“I’m gonna throw my fucking drink in your face,” Leah threatens, gripping her glass in warning.

You roll your eyes at her. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” you say, even though you know you’re probably lying. Leah knows this too. “We’ve just been texting a little. It’s nothing serious.”

“Yeah, sure,” she deadpans. “Right. And even if I did believe you, what happens if it does? What happens if you get back in your weird, scary Jamie phase and he kills you again? I can’t deal with that.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you assure her, and this time it’s more confident. Because you know you won’t. Not this time. Not if anything happens.

You’d met Jamie when you were twenty-two. You were in your first year of your Masters program, slightly lost as in your move to London to finish your journey to become a physical therapist. Or a physio, as they called it here. Whatever. You couldn’t keep up with the names.

You were shadowing a physio at the clinic you now worked at, assisting him as a part of your internship at one of the football tournaments the clinic worked at. It was a ton of big-wig footballers, some names you recognized, others you didn’t. But it didn’t matter. They were precious fucking cargo and you were so paranoid about screwing up that you barely registered who they were when you worked on them.

That was, until a twenty-two-year-old Jamie Tartt sprained his ankle and plopped himself down on your doctor’s bench. He looked at you, you assisted him, and you were wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t even notice he was flirting with you.

You didn’t realize until he asked you out. And the rest was history, for better or for worse.

You were surprised he went for you. You knew who Jamie was, what type of girls he liked to be seen with. They were singers and models and actresses. They weren’t you.

(Perhaps that’s one of the reasons you liked him so much. Because he chose you. You didn’t like to think about that phase of your life.)

But after six months of seeing him, he ended things out of nowhere. Right when you’d settled on the idea that despite it all, you might be in love with him. And that was that.

You hadn’t seen him since. Not until this week.

“Not gonna happen my ass,” Leah scoffs, bringing you back into the conversation at hand.

A sigh of frustration leaves your lips. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea;” you tell her. “I know it is. But, I don’t know. There was something different about him, Leah. He was just… like not someone I recognized.”

“Maybe because his hair is fucking long and stupid now.” She brings her glass to her lips. “His highlights look horrendous.”

“I actually like his hair like this,” you admit, earning yet another eye roll. “Listen. I’m not saying he’s changed. He probably hasn’t. But I…” You trail off with a shrug. “I don’t know. What if he has?”

Leah’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person she’s ever met in her life. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” she asks incredulously. “Babe, he was a prick to you. Like, category-five, prestige-level twat. Like, worst boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“I know,” you repeat. “And I said nothing’s going to happen. But if it does, and it goes south, I give you full permission to say I-told-you-so for the rest of my life, alright?”

Leah bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. “Whatever,” she says. After a moment, she glances over at you. “I’m just looking out for you, y’know. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I definitely don’t want him to be the reason for that hurt again.”

You grab her hand. “I know,” you say once more. “And I love you for it. But if I’m gonna be stupid, I’m fully aware of when I’m gonna do it. And it’s gonna be my own fault.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Leah nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Fine. Your fucking funeral.”

“I’ll let you give the eulogy and allow you to call me a dumb bitch for ten minutes straight.”

“Sold,” Leah says, pointing at you. That slight intrigue you previously saw in her eye returns. “Okay, now that I’ve yelled at you, you need to tell me everything.”

And so you do. You tell her how he took your coffee, how you nearly threw up the second you saw him, how you played it cool until you didn’t. How he apologized to you. Joked around with you. Apologized some more. And then he gave you his coffee.

You despise how excited you sound about it. Again, you’re trying to play it cool, but the people that know you the best can always see right through you. You’re excited about it. Excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to be excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to look down at your phone after you and Leah order another drink. Your heart stops when you see he’s texted you.

It’s a bad idea to open the message when Leah excuses herself to go to the bathroom. What are you up to tonight?

It’s past midnight on a Saturday and he’s texting you. It’s still preseason for him, so he might be drunk, he may not be. You’re three drinks deep and aren’t sure if you are.

It’s a bad idea to respond to him. getting drinks with a friend. You keep it dry.

It’s a bad idea to not look down at your phone until you finish the drinks you ordered. Because now, you’re definitely drunk and looking at it all with new eyes.

Would you want to hang out tonight? No pressure.

It’s a bad idea to consider it.

But it’s a worse idea to agree.

text me your new address. i can be there by 1:30.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re knocking on Jamie’s door, intertwining your fingers together when you realize you’re shaking.

The second you do it, you regret it. You’re no longer feeling the effects of your drinks. It wore off on the Uber ride over here. And everything seems like a terrible idea now.

God, what were you doing? He treated you like that and the second you see him again, you go running back? He was an asshole. He’d made you question everything about yourself, he’d made you cry, he’d made you experience every fucking emotion in the book and all it took is one text for you to be back on his doorstep?

Your roommate was right. This was a horrendous idea and you were an idiot.

However, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because Jamie Tartt’s opening his door and he’s got a stupid fucking smile on his face. And the second you see it, you know there’s no turning back.

“Hey,” he says as he opens the door. “You alright, love?”

You clench your jaw at the name, at his smile, about how casual he’s being, about everything. “Hey,” you say, avoiding his eyes to look around his flat.

It’s a complete 180 from what he had when he first joined Richmond and what he had when you knew him. It’s a bit less mojo-dojo-casa-house-looking and something more mature. While you can still tell that a twenty-something guy definitely lives here, it’s decorated well, it’s put together, and it’s clean. No beer bottle sculptures in sight. He’s even got a fucking candle burning on his counter. Who the fuck is this and what did he do with the guy you knew?

Jamie follows you as you enter, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “You find the place okay?”

His question snaps you out of your flat-induced haze. “Yeah,” you reply. You clear your throat. “This is nice.”

That same, stupid smile returns, but it looks a bit nervous. “Yeah. I told you it was a bit different, huh?” he chuckles. He walks toward his island, rounding it as he speaks. “Needed a fresh start or whatever. The old one was gettin’... old.” He watches you as you nod, continuing to look around. “You still in the same place with the same people?”

“Uh, no. Different place. No people,” you answer. You’ve stayed on your side of the counter, actively keeping your distance. “Willa moved to New York last year and Leah moved with her boyfriend. We live in the same building, though, which is nice.”

The small talk is fucking killing you. You’re not even sure if he cared to remember your previous roommates' names, so this all could be pointless. You can’t believe you’re here. You can’t believe you’re actually standing here, talking to him about the past.

But as you finish speaking, he nods like he’s listening. Maybe he is listening. Maybe he does remember.

“I’ll have to see that sometime,” he ends up saying, and the implication of it makes your head spin. He wants to see you again. Or he just learned small talk common courtesy. Whatever it is, it’s driving you insane. You have so many questions for him, so many things to say, and as he wipes his hands on his pants again and nods over to his kitchen, he asks, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got—”

“Why did you invite me here, Jamie?” The question comes spilling out of you, rushed as if it were waiting on the tip of your tongue and simply couldn’t stand to stay in any longer. Jamie stops in his tracks to blink at you. The look on his face encourages you to go on. “I mean, I know I texted you first. But why… why did you text me tonight? Why’d you—” You grimace, trying to find the right words. “Why’d you give me your number?”

He’s silent for a moment. Thinking. Evaluating. But his eyes haven’t left you. “Because I wanted you here,” he finally says. You cross your arms over your chest as he takes a step toward you. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you.”

You want to say that you’ve been driven crazy all week because you feel same, but decide against it. Instead, you look away from him and scoff. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you, and your heart stops with every step he takes. “I felt like I was goin’ insane. I didn’t…” For a flash of a second, he looks shy. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. And I didn’t think you’d actually text me. I mean, I hoped you would, but…”

He’s right in front of you, but you still refuse to look at him. Your gaze has shifted to the floor. “I shouldn’t have,” you mutter.

The asshole has the nerve to chuckle, but it’s nervous. Your stomach churns. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard him nervous. “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “I don’t deserve it.” He pauses and your throat starts to tighten. “I didn’t deserve you.”

That makes you look at him. Either he’s actually apologetic about everything, or he’s gotten really good at knowing everything you want to hear. “No. You didn’t.”

His fingers tentatively brush your arm and you allow him to take your hand. “I know,” he says. “I was a fucking prick. I get that now. I should never have… done that shit to ya.” You’re close enough to him now that if you moved an inch, his forehead would be up against yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. The action makes your throat tighten. “And I can’t fix it. But I…” He trails off again and looks you dead in the eye once he has the words. “I want to make it up to you.”

Your resolve is getting weaker and you hate yourself for it. You lean back against the counter, like that will put space between you two. “Jamie…”

“Please,” he whispers. His forehead finally meets yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. You don’t pull away. “Let me make it up to you.”

The last front you have standing weakly presents itself. “If you think,” you begin, breath shuddering as his hand meets your neck, “that one 2 AM hookup is going to make up for what you did, I—”

“I know it won’t,” he says, and it sounds like he does know. “But I want it to be a start.” The fingers on your neck are now tracing your jaw. And they tighten when he says, “Let me show you just how sorry I am, yeah? Let me make it fucking good for you.”

Jesus fucking Christ. That last front dissolves the second he says that, and your logic flips on itself. You came over here for a reason. You knew what this was. At least you got an overdue apology. Whether or not he meant it, is still up in the air, but if he’s promising things like that, then you might as well get something out of it.

You struggle to get a word out, so you nod against his hand. “O-Okay,” you finally stammer out. The way he’s looking at you gives you enough confidence to say, “Fine. Make it up to me.”

Jamie’s lips curl into a smirk and say, “As you wish,” before they’re on yours.

He’s softer than you remember. His lips aren’t chapped, he isn’t as aggressive with it, and he isn’t as rushed. Everything about him feels more mature and you struggle to understand how fast he could have changed in four years. But you’re not complaining. Not when he’s kissing you like this, with more practice and passion than you can ever recall.

His hand unlocks from yours to slide it up your sweatshirt, and it’s surprisingly warm against your back. Still, you shiver from the contact and you can feel him smirk once more against your lips.

The action alone prompts you to fork a hand in his hair and tug at it slightly, reveling in the soft sound that escapes him. Everything about him comes back to you at once, and you’ve never been happier to know that the same things still get him. If he wants to play it like that, you can keep up.

His hands drop to grab your thighs and lift you onto the counter, breaking the kiss momentarily. Your chest is heaving up and down, lips swollen and wet. Jamie appears to be in the same boat. “Fuck,” he whispers, sounding even more out of breath than you. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, nose rubbing against it as he makes his way down. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Meant to tell you that at the shop.”

You’re too caught up in it all to play it cool, especially as he works at that one spot on your neck. “You look— fuck, you look good too. The long hair suits you.”

You feel him grin against your neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathily. “Looked like a prick with the old cut.”

You feel his teeth dig into your skin at that one, and you hiss. “You liked that prick,” he reminds you.

You were in love with that prick, but you ignore that thought. “I liked a lot of things about him,” you respond. While it’s honest, the accidental double meaning of it isn’t lost on you.

It’s certainly not lost on Jamie. “Yeah?” he asks again. He lifts his head to look at you, hand creeping up your leg. “What’d you like?” You grip his arm as it rises beneath your sweatshirt once more. “C’mon love. Tell me what you want.”

You hate the way your breath hitches the second his fingers meet your back. You know what you want. You want to see what he’s learned since you last had him. What he’s like four years later. What’s changed, what’s stayed the same. But you’re too embarrassed and much too proud to ask.

Instead, you decide to say, much too shyly for your liking, “You know what I want.”

He hums in agreement, other hand creeping dangerously close to the inside of your thigh. “I do, don’t I?” he murmurs. “Bet I know everything ya want. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Oh my, God,” you say under your breath, frustration creeping into your voice. The asshole fucking laughs at you. “I want you to make good on your promise. This seems far from it.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Just making sure we’re still, y’know. On the same page.” He glances at you. “Right?”

You blink at him. You’re not sure you could have been clearer about what page you’re on. But that’s not what surprises you. What surprises you is the seriousness in his eyes. How he’s searching for assurance in yours. And you know that if, for whatever godly reason, you wanted to stop, he’d pull away immediately, despite how worked up he clearly is.

It's the bare fucking minimum, but it's more than you’re used to getting.

So, you nod. “Yeah,” you say. “Definitely on the same page.”

The grin he breaks out to is nothing short of breathtaking. “Good.”

“But—” you suddenly say, stopping him from leaning in once more. He freezes beneath your touch, brows furrowing. “This is… This is a one-time thing. You’re…” You trail off to find the word. “You’re apologizing to me. That’s all this is.”

His smile falters, dropping momentarily before returning with a bit less radiance. It’s his turn to nod. “Okay,” he says, fingers now toying with the edge of your sweatshirt. “Gotta make it count, then.”

And with that, Jamie presses his lips back to yours, grabbing you securely and pulling you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, grabbing the sides of his face, like that’ll stable you against him.

This time, it’s more desperate. It’s more tongues and teeth, more force and intention behind each movement. He’s setting the pace, but you’re keeping up tenfold. While it’d been four years, you’re not sure if he’d ever kissed you like this. He’s passionate instead of aggressive. While he knows what he wants, he’s definitely not just going to take it. He may be leading but he’s listening to you. And that stirs something inside you that you haven’t felt in a long time.

That much is clear, because you unconsciously let out a quiet sound against his lips. You can feel him smiling once more as he walks you slowly to wherever the hell his bedroom is. You’re caught up in him. And by the way he’s gripping you, you can tell he’s just as caught up in you.

So much so, that he completely loses track of where he’s going and accidentally slams you into his doorframe. You yelp, more because of shock than pain, and pull away to glare at him.

Jamie’s already apologizing. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Still gettin’ used to this place.”

“Well, figure out how to navigate better,” you respond, verging on a pout as you rub the back of your head.

“I’m sorry!” he repeats. He’s still got you against the doorframe. “It’s hard to see with your big head in me face. And I can’t kiss ya with, like, my eyes open. It’d be freaky.”

“I’ll give you a pass for that one,” you reply dryly. “Be weird instead of giving me a concussion.”

He’s walking you toward the bed when he mutters, “I’ll give you something, alright.”

Your back meets the mattress and you try to ignore the way he held his hand behind your head when he laid you down. You have under a second to adjust before he’s on top of you. The desperation returns and it almost takes your breath away.

He’s essentially straddling you, tugging at the waist of your leggings before he leaves one last kiss on your lips. He finally gets to pull your sweatshirt off, something he’d clearly been dying to rid you of since he first kissed you. You lift your arms up to help him, finding that you quickly start to do the same to him. You hear him chuckle as you attempt to get it up his back.

“I got it, love, hold on,” he says softly, tossing your hoodie to the side to take off his own. Your eyes immediately go to his chest and stomach and you refrain from reaching out to touch him. When you look up at him, you expect him to be smirking. However, he’s doing the exact opposite.

Jamie’s looking down at you like he can’t fucking believe you’re real. It’s jarring, seeing him like this, but you figure he’s in the same headspace as you and is still struggling to process that this is happening. It doesn’t matter, because before you can question it, he’s moving to press a kiss to your collarbone.

Your hand falls into his hair as he works his way down, mouthing the area of your chest. He pauses before he gets to the bra you’re wearing. His eyes flick up to yours. “Can I—”

You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, shifting to make it easier for him. He discards it to the floor with the rest. When he looks back at you, he releases a shaky breath and just stares.

He stares so intently that you begin to get self-conscious. “What?” you ask.

The question takes Jamie out of his trance. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I just— I… Fuck. I forgot how beautiful you were.”

That spreads a warmth through you, one that pulls at your core. As you feel your face heat, you realize you have nothing to say to that. Luckily, he’s already moving on.

Jamie’s different. Really different. And you don’t realize how different he is until you start looking at him like you are right now. You were trying to convince yourself when you told Leah that he’d changed, you’ll admit that. But right now, you think you may have been telling the truth.

He grabs the waist of your leggings once more, lifting your legs to pull them off. You can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips as he struggles to do so. He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Missed that.”

“What?” you ask again.

“Your laugh,” he replies. “Missed that more than you know.”

The sweet words hit you like a bullet. The vulnerability in his voice is what gets you. Goddammit, when did he get so fucking nice? It drives you insane. But it also makes you quietly admit, “I think I’ve got an idea.”

With your leggings now gone, Jamie’s smile turns fonder. Gentler. He presses a kiss to your leg but says nothing in response. He simply places your legs down, eyes flicking down. He lifts his hand to trace down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your panties. The feeling makes you flinch.

He hooks a finger in the band, and your hips buck up to encourage him. His other hand spreads across your hip in a poor effort to keep you still. “Easy,” he murmurs.

You huff out a breath. “You can—” Your breath hitches as two of his fingers push into your underwear. “Fuck, you can take them off.”

His lips quirk up. “Well, thank you for the permission,” he says. “But not yet. I wanna take it slow with ya.”

Your mouth parts. “Why?”

“Because it’s been years since I’ve seen you,” he answers, moving up to kiss you softly. He speaks against your lips as he says, “And I’ve apparently only got one shot to do this right. So I’m gonna make this last.”

You roll your eyes at his terribly disguised jab. “You’re a dick,” you mutter against him.

“And you’re—” He cuts himself off and a gasp escapes your lips as he cups your core and rubs his palm against it. “Fuck, love. You’re really fucking wet.” He’s positioned on you so that you can feel him getting harder against you thigh. “This all for me, yeah?”

His voice is cocky, while still sounding awestruck. The remaining dignity you have left makes you roll your eyes, albeit a bit embarrassed. “It’s for whoever doesn’t take their fucking time to give me what I want,” you bite.

Jamie draws back from you with a full smirk on his face. “That so?” he asks. The hand against you starts creeping up to the band of your panties. “And what is it that you want? You still haven’t told me.”

You scoff. “I told you.”

He pulls your underwear down your legs and the air around you suddenly makes you realize just how exposed you are. You told yourself you’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this again. But here you were.

His fingers brush against the inside of your thigh, and you shiver once more. “No,” he tells you gently. “You didn’t. You just said you wanted me to keep my promise. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.”

He’s moving closer and closer to the place you want him and you don’t know if you can take it anymore. You shift uncomfortably, as if that will cease the ache. But you know only one thing will.

So, you give him the answer he’s been waiting for this entire time. “You.” His gaze meets yours. “I want you, Jamie. Please.”

That breathtaking grin returns. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

And then he puts his mouth on you without warning.

You spasm at the contact, crying out as he uses both arms to hold you still. The second you calm down, one hand leaves your thigh and you feel him work two fingers into you. Fuck. He didn’t know that before.

And it’s not like he was ever bad in bed when you two were together. You’re not sure you would have stayed with him if that were the case. It’s just… he’s better now. He’s hitting everything nearly perfectly, not stumbling like he used to. He’s more confident. More assured. He knows what he’s doing.

And it’s fucking hot.

The sounds that fill his room are downright obscene. He’s gripping one side of you to keep you in place, splitting you open on his knuckles with the other. His mouth zeroes in on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a way that honestly has you close already.

“F-fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, Jamie. Don’t st— shit. Don’t stop. Please.”

Of course, the fucking shit he is, stops. He grins up at you, but continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You sound so fucking pretty begging like that,” he tells you. He’s just as out of breath as you are. He feels you clench around his fingers at the praise and it only eggs him on further. “Look so pretty too. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Jamie,” you whine again. He’s going too slow. Teasing. It’s not fucking fair. He’s supposed to be the one apologizing to you. “I need— Ngh. I need—”

“What do you need?” he asks. “Tell me.”

You think you’d kill him if you weren’t completely incapacitated. “More,” you manage to get out, wincing as he continues at his slow pace. You’re close. Embarrassingly close. “Just fucking more. Please. I’m—” You interrupt yourself with a moan as he shoves his fingers deeper into you.

“I know,” he nearly coos. “I’ve got you.”

And got you he does. Because not only does he pick up the pace, he stretches you with a third finger. The sting of it is momentary, and it subsides as soon as he bends down and swipes your clit with his tongue.

Your back arches. “Jesus fucking— Jamie. Oh, my God.”

He’s good. Of course, he’s fucking good. He’s Jamie Tartt. You’re not sure he’s ever been bad at anything physical in his life. Emotionally was another story. But that story didn’t matter right now. Not when he’s got you like this, and you’re teetering over the edge.

He pulls away from you, breath tickling your core as he speaks. “C’mon,” he chides. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you, love?” He takes your breathy silence as confirmation and nods to himself. “Yeah. You just need—”

He removes one finger and crooks the rest a certain way, deeper than before. Your heart may stop beating. He’s done something he did to you time and time again, something that he was actually really fucking good at, something he knew you liked years ago. When he looks up at you, he searches your eyes. And by the way they roll back, he knows he’s struck gold.

The smirk returns and he continues to work his fingers into you, smirk growing each time he hears you say his name. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s it. That’s still it.”

You could finish at any moment. The telltale heat is rising in your stomach, and you’re just waiting for the cord to snap. And then, as if your muscle memory takes over, you reach out for his arm.

But instead of letting you do it like before, he does something completely different. He intertwines his free hand with the back of yours and guides it to your stomach. And then he presses on your hand.

The pressure builds. You’re barely able to make any noise. And then—

“C’mon,” Jamie repeats. “Come for me, angel. I wanna see it.”

The cord snaps, and you do as you’re told. You come. Hard.

Jamie talks you through it, fingers still moving to coax your climax out of you. You’re sure you look pathetic, crying out and thrashing around in his bed, but you don’t care. You can barely fucking see right now.

It’s been a while for you. Or at least been a while since you’ve had anything that good. And it completely strips away any sort of attitude or frustration you had before.

When you finally come back down, you laugh softly, shaking your head and throwing your arm over your face. “Fuck,” you say through a chuckle.

You feel him shift, moving up the bed to hover over you once more. When he removes your arm from your eyes, you see that he’s smiling. “Nobody’s ever laughed after I’ve done that,” he tells you, a faux pout pulling at his lips. He bends down to press them to yours and you can taste yourself. “It better be a good fuckin’ sign.”

You laugh again, reaching up to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss. “Very good sign,” you assure him. It’s muffled against him, but you think he gets the point.

It’s then that you catch him by surprise and flip the two of you over, straddling him in a way that makes him release a breathy sound that you’d missed dearly. But, something feels off.

Your glance down at him, expecting to feel or see fabric once you reach his leg. But there’s not much. Only what feels like boxer shorts. It catches you off guard. When did he take off his—

It doesn’t matter. It’s easier for you now. Especially as your fingers move across his abdomen, biting back a grin at the way he shudders. He looks up at you from his pillow.

“What are you doing?” he asks leadingly.

You shrug innocently, fingers toying with the band hanging low on his hips. “Returning the favor,” you reply.

Jamie makes a noise of disapproval, placing a hand on your thigh like that’ll stop you. “I’m supposed to be the one making it up to you,” he states, but his voice gets less firm as you cup him through the fabric. “Fuck. Y-You don’t owe me anythin’. No favors.”

You shake your head, pulling at his boxers so that he springs free from inside. Your eyes travel back to his as you reach out and gently grab his cock, staring down at him with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure?”

He looks pained. You don’t know why. You’re offering a way to take him out of his misery. But still, he shakes his head and moves his arm from your leg to your back.

He takes his turn to flip you over next. He swears under his breath as he does so, shaking his head when you land on your back.

“I told you,” he says, taking his boxers all the way off now. “It’s about you. Not me.” He shakes his head again, but this time it’s a bit more frustrated. When he speaks, it’s mostly to himself. “Can’t believe I just fuckin’ said no to that.”

A snort escapes you. “You’re a changed man, Jamie Tartt,” you joke.

He shrugs before placing his arms on either side of you. His voice teeters on teasing and earnest. “I’ve been trying to tell ya that.”

You’re not sure if it’s him, or the situation, or the sex, but you think you believe him. It makes your chest heavy. But you can’t admit that. You won’t let yourself. So, you keep that feeling tucked away, way in the back of your mind for safekeeping. You know it’s better like that. For your emotional sake, at least.

You allow yourself to prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him instead of responding to that, bringing him in closer. You can feel the length of him press against your stomach, and his groan vibrates against your lips.

He pulls away, grinding into you. The heat of your body is making him go wild. “Can I—”

You know what he wants. And you want it too. “Please,” you say.

He nods, moving to angle himself against you. You glance down to watch him, heat flooding your face as he strokes himself before glancing up at you. You nod in return, giving him the confirmation he needs. Jamie grins.

He slides in you slowly. The stretch is mild but grows as he hovers over you once more. It’s easy to adjust, having been warmed up moments before. But for Jamie, it’s not as easy.

He bottoms out almost immediately, tensing over you. His head bows, chin falling to his chest. “Fuck,” he curses. It’s quiet but straight-up sinful. “God, fucking— you’re so—” You grip onto his bicep as he steadies himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just— i-it’s been a minute. And you’re f-fucking tight. Jesus.”

You don’t mind. He feels good like this, despite the fact he’s not moving. Your hand travels from his arm to his hair, tucking a piece of it behind his ear before settling on his jaw. “It’s alright,” you tell him. “We’ve got time.”

Jamie’s eyes snap open at that, but he’s not looking at you like you thought he would. You were expecting a cheeky sort of smile, a smirk, something in that realm. But he’s not. He’s looking at you like…

It’s something you can’t define. Something you’ve never seen before. It churns your stomach yet makes your heart race. Neither of you says a word.

He just dips down to kiss you again and slowly begins to move inside you. Your lips part in a gasp, and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Your back arches into him.

Before you know it, he's breaking from you and is breathing heavy against your neck. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re just— fuck. You…” He trails off, mouth hovering over your collarbone. “You drive me f-fucking mad. God, everything about you. Y-you don’t even know, do you?”

The pace picks up. He’s thrusting into you harder now and your nails dig into his back. You hear him hiss at the contact, but neither of you seem to care. “Fuck.” It’s all you can say. “Fuck, Jamie.”

He’s clearly not done talking. “How’d I-I fuck this up? Huh?” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. His mouth is on your chest now and the feeling runs through you like fire. “Fucking idiot. Didn’t know what I had. Can’t believe I let you go.”

You clench around him and it throws him off kilter. You watch his jaw clench, hand beside you gripping the pillow you’re on. “You w-were an idiot.” Your agreement is much less effective when it’s closed out by a high-pitched moan.

“I know. Fuck, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Deserved better.” He continues to slam into you. “I wanna gi—” A strangled sound erupts from his lips. “Give you better. You’re so—” When he shakes his head, he looks wrecked. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Something about that sends a shock to your system. It makes you cry out and you can feel it. Your legs tremble around him. You’re close again. You’re really fucking close.

He kisses you once more, deeper than before. It’s more frantic. Everything about him is more erratic. You can tell he’s getting there too. “Couldn’t stop,” he manages to get out, hot against your lips. “Couldn’t s-stop thinking about you. I missed you.”

You clench around him again, the admission inching you closer. “Shit,” you say. “Fuck, Jamie, keep going.”

And keep going he does. His hand moves down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into it and that sends you into a fucking tailspin. He swallows the sound you make.

“Missed you,” he says again, but it’s more helpless. Jamie fucking whimpers. “God, I f-fucking missed you, angel. Missed you so fucking much, I—”

You don’t hear the rest of what he says because you come the second he makes that sound. It’s white-hot. Blinding. Your legs twitch around him and you claw at him as he continues to rub your clit. You’re loud, but you don’t give a shit. It seems to spur him on.

He’s not far behind you. He spills into you with a groan, stomach flexing as he heaves over you, twitching inside of you. You’re still recovering from your own high as you open your eyes to watch him. You catch his expression for a moment before he’s collapsing into you.

You release a soft ‘oof’ at the sudden weight of him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and neither do you. You just breathe together. But after a moment you allow yourself to put a hand in his hair.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you tell him, but there’s not much bite in it.

You feel him chuckle. “Give me second,” he says. “Not as fuckin’ agile as I used to be. Took a lot out of me, alright?”

You roll your eyes but continue to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-six and like, the face of the AFC,” you tell him. “Richmond might have to shorten your contract if you’re dying after that.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Take that up with me Chairwoman then.”

You can’t help but laugh as you push him off of you, wincing as you feel him slip out. He lands with the same noise you did. “If she heard you complaining like that, she’d be on my side.”

Jamie grins at you, joining in on your laughter. He shifts toward you, grabbing your hand to play with your fingers. “You’re probably right. Shouldn’t be complainin’,” he says. He lifts your hand to his lips. “Not when you’re here.”

They’re sweet words. The casualty of them makes your heart swell. But that anxiety about him returns. One time thing, you tell yourself. Apology. One time. That’s all.

You pull your hand back softly and he glances over at you. There’s a hint of worry in his eyes, like that one movement set off alarm bells in his head. You give him an uneasy smile.

Before you can move to get up or say anything or do something, he’s talking. And you have to refrain from wincing.

“I know…” He looks away from you. Shy. “I know you said one time,” he says, as if he can read your fucking mind. “And that’s… That’s okay. I get that, yeah? But I—” Jamie wipes a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. “I meant what I said. I missed ya. Really.”

You missed him too. But your walls have been rising back up since he started talking again. “I don’t know what you want me to do with that,” you tell him, only partially lying.

You feel like an asshole when he winces. Maybe you were being an asshole. Maybe it was finally your turn to do so.

“Just…” He finally looks at you. “If you ever… don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.” He waves it off in an attempt to look casual. You know he’s anything but. “You’ve got my number. Or whatever.”

The timidness in his voice makes your resolve soften. Even if you don’t see him again, you suppose you can let him down easy. He’s been kind enough tonight to deserve that. You nod at him as you sit up. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll let you know.”

It’s only slightly awkward as you get out of his bed and search for your clothes. He asks if he can call you an Uber home and you reject it, letting him know that you’ve got one on the way.

You can feel his eyes on you as you dress, ignoring the way they burn into you. You can tell he’s searching for something to say, or something to talk to you about but doesn’t know what.

You’re half-dressed before he can shoot himself in the foot and say something stupid. “Hey,” he finally says. You glance over your shoulder at him after you slip your sweatshirt on. “I’m really glad you texted me.”

The nice streak you’re riding on continues and you offer a small but genuine smile in return. “Me too,” you admit, ignoring the way that his own soft smile pulls at your heartstrings.

Before you leave his room, you offer one more admission. You stop in the doorframe he hit you against, lips curling further upward. “It was really good to see you, Jamie.”

He props himself up on his elbow, smile growing. “Good,” he says, nodding. Then, like a prick, he winks at you. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You physically cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes and you hear him laugh to himself as you walkdown his hall. “Goodbye, asshole.”

He shouts a tired-sounding ‘bye!’ when you slip your shoes on, shaking your head as you look around his apartment once more. The candle on his counter is still burning, smelling of amber moss and palo santo.

You blow it out before you leave, knowing he’ll forget.

And as you do so, you feel yourself regress. Or grow. You’re not quite sure which one.

But it makes you curse under your breath and leave his flat immediately.

There is one more universal truth you forgot to mention.

And that’s that the second you think you’re over Jamie Tartt, he comes back into your life and flips everything on its head. And it’s the only truth that’s been confirmed to you all week.

Because the second you arrive home and see that you have a text waiting for you, your heart picks up. You hate the way you get excited to see it.

I had a really good time tonight.

And the second he comes back into your life, you’re reminded that you’re not over him. Not even in the slightest. And it’s fucking debilitating.

me too.

And you know your friends are going to kill you the second you follow up with.

i’m free friday if you want to grab a drink.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfiction #bad ideas #the one who's not a loser but THEE loser #discowrites

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luminoustarlight · 7 months

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"Slut!" | Modern!Anakin Skywalker

a miss americana and the heartbreak prince story

(modern!au / high school!au)

High school culture in this series is extremely dramatized and fictionalized. As mentioned in the series masterlist, the characters are 18 years old. Padmé is very out of character in this series as well. There are lots of nods to Taylor Swift lyrics in this, too. So it's really fun for swifties and star war babes.

Slut

noun

a woman who has many casual sexual partners.

The definition of “slut” more accurately describes Anakin rather than you. Afterall, he is the Heartbreak Prince of Lucas High School. But men never pay the price for sleeping around. They’re awarded a higher social status. Or in Anakin Skywalker’s case, you become the Senior every Freshman boy wants to be.

Anakin Skywalker used to be a player. Anakin Skywalker used to go through girls faster than the news could spread around school. He had no qualms with one night stands or taking a girl’s virginity because she asked him to. He was honored to be a girls’ first time.

He dated Padmé Amidala exclusively from January until June. When the new school year began, everyone wondered who would be the next one to get their heart broken by Anakin. Nobody could’ve guessed it would be Miss Americana.

The crowd at the Homecoming game nearly quieted when Anakin spun you around in the middle of the field. When he nuzzled his sweaty face into your neck, kissing your warm skin as if it was a greater reward than winning the football game. It took you by surprise, to say the least. You’ve only been seeing each other for about a month and had yet to interact or show affection at school. It was quite the announcement. And the message was loud and clear. Anakin had a new girl and she’s nothing like his ex.

Padmé had watched you and Anakin with a fire fueled by jealousy in her stomach. You had a stupid, naïve smile on your face as you walked off of the field with Anakin’s varsity jacket draped over your shoulders. That should be me. Maybe it’s all an act to make me jealous.

So that’s how the whispers began at the Homecoming dance. Padmé had rallied her cheerleading friends to start spreading rumors. By the time you walked through the gymnasium doors attached to Anakin’s arm, everyone had made up their mind about you. You’re nothing but a slut and a man-stealer.

It’s unnerving having so many eyes on you at once. It’s like they all have a radar when Anakin walks into a room. He’s just that magnetic of a man. And he’s used to it. But it makes you uncomfortable and Anakin can sense it.

“Are you alright?”

You swallow and plaster on an unconvincing smile. “‘M fine.”

“Hey,” Anakin says gently. He cups your elbows and rubs his thumbs over your arms. “We’re all dressed up, you look stunning and I’m having a particularly great hair day. They might as well look at us. I want you to enjoy yourself tonight. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Maroon 5’s Moves Like Jagger thrumming in your ears makes it difficult to think or to argue. Anakin is right. You didn’t spend $120 on an aquamarine dress for nothing. “Fine,” you concede. “But if I hear people talking about me, can we leave and go to Denny’s?”

“They’re going to talk about you, angel,” Anakin kisses you on the cheek. “It’s just how it is. But none of it means a thing. C’mon, let’s dance.”

You dance for about twenty minutes before needing to get something to drink. Of course it’s the same time Anakin meets up with his football friends, leaving you at the snack table with a target on your back. Serena and Molly, Padmé’s closest friends slither up next to you.

“Hey, Slut,” Serena jeers. That insult was bound to reach your ears sooner or later. It’s by no means true or accurate but they don’t care. They’re not about to bad mouth Anakin.

“So… you and Anakin, huh?” Molly begins. “He’s a bit out of your league, isn’t he?”

“Don’t worry, Mol. She’s just his rebound. He’s gonna get back with Padmé when he realizes what a loser she is. No offense,” Serena adds insincerely.

“That definitely felt like something you wanted me to take offense to,” you say. You scan the gym for Anakin, hoping he’ll see the situation you’re in and rescue you. But when you put it like that, you sound so pathetic. You can get out of this yourself. “And I’m not his rebound.”

“No?” Molly puts her hands on his hips. “That’s not what I heard…”

No, you tell yourself. Don’t indulge her. Whatever she has to say isn’t true.

Serena laughs at you. “You don’t honestly think Anakin actually likes you, do you? He’s just using you to make Padmé jealous. You’re all part of his plan to get her back.”

Even though you know Serena is lying, her words still manage to plant seeds of doubt in you. But they don’t know anything about you and Anakin. There is something special kindling between the two of you. Anakin cares about you. It’s in the way he drops off a Dirty Chai latte on your porch before going to school. It’s written in the notes he stealthily slips into your locker when he says he’s going to the bathroom in the middle of class. It’s the sweatshirts he lets you borrow and the sleepless movie nights eating buttery popcorn and stale Red Vines over the last two weekends.

“You’re wrong,” you say with a slight quiver in your lip. You hate how Serena has made you question everything with Anakin. If it’s all just for show then why does he kiss you when no one is watching? Why did he insist on keeping your new relationship private if not to nurture your budding romance without prying eyes?

He’s ashamed of you.

Then why did he ask you to the dance?

To humiliate you in front of the whole school.

This is just a game to him. Your embarrassment is the prize.

“Aw, I think we hurt Little Miss Americana’s feelings,” Molly feigns a sad face, dragging her finger down her cheek as if it’s a fallen tear. “I hate to make it worse but it looks like he and Padmé might be making up right now.”

Molly and Serena point in Anakin’s direction, where he is indeed speaking with Padmé. It’s the first time you’ve seen her all night and she looks breathtaking. Her chocolate hair is curled to perfection, bouncy locks cascading over her shoulders. A plunging neckline draws your eyes down her chest and seriously, she was allowed to wear this to a high school dance?

She’s throwing her head back dramatically, as if Anakin just told her the joke of the year. And then— dear God, you want to throw up— he’s hugging her. You count the seconds. 1…2…3… you can’t watch it anymore. You turn away from Serena and Juliette abruptly and make your way out of the gymnasium.

“So long, slut,” Serena waves.

The brisk October air assaults your skin and invades your lungs, but it’s welcomed compared to the betrayal you feel coursing through your veins. Is this the end of Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince? You’ve only had a month with him but you want a dozen more. You’ve barely had time to discover what your relationship could become.

Perfect pearls of salt begin falling down your cheeks. How could you have been so lovelorn? How could you have gotten it all wrong? You were too blinded by Anakin’s charm to see that it was always meant to be temporary.

“Y/N!” Anakin calls for you. He spots you sitting on the curb with your head in your hands.

A little piece of him crumbles. Someone has hurt you. Little does he know it was him who did.

He rushes over to you and lays his arm over your back as he sits down. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You let yourself relish in the feeling of having his protective arm around you. It might be the last time. “Go back inside.”

“No,” Anakin replies, tilting your face toward him with a finger beneath your chin. “You’ve been crying.”

“What an astute observation, Anakin.”

Okay, so apparently you’re going back to the days when you hated each other. Right. Great. Why?

“You’re… mad at me…?” Anakin thinks out loud.

“I’m-” you stand abruptly, making you dizzy as all of the blood rushes out of your head. You wait until you can see clearly before continuing to speak. “I’m confused, Anakin! I’m angry at myself for falling for you, I’m angry at myself for being so naïve in thinking this was as real for you as it was for me. I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid-”

Anakin stands as well. Clearly, something happened in the gymnasium. Someone said something to you. Or you saw something that wasn’t what it seemed. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Padmé.”

“Are over,” Anakin emphasizes.

“But…” you close your eyes, replaying the scene you saw before you. Padmé laughing, Anakin bringing her in for a hug… it was all so friendly.

“But you saw us hug?” Anakin asks calmly. You nod. “But you didn’t hear me?”

“No,” you reply shamefully.

“I told her that I don’t want to get back together with her. My relationship with her was the first real one I’ve had and it taught me a lot, but it is not what I want. It’s not what I need. She is not who I want or who I need.”

“Ani…”

Anakin shakes his head. “I’m not done. Look, I know we’re only 18 and I know we have our whole lives ahead of us but let’s not think about that. Think about right now,” Anakin grabs your hands. “This is real for me. You’re my favorite person to spend time with. I’m so fucking excited that everyone at this fucking school knows we’re together because now I can kiss you whenever I want. I can push you up against the lockers and make out with you until we get yelled at by Mr. Windu.”

That makes you giggle. You can totally hear Mr. Windu telling you to get off of each other before he gives you both detention.

“I don’t have to be so fucking sneaky with putting notes in your locker. You can wear my Varsity jacket at games. We can actually go out to a restaurant and go on a date. Don’t give up on us, baby. We’ve only just begun.”

It’s not a proclamation of love or anything, but it’s enough. Everyone wants Anakin Skywalker and that seems to be your crime. You stole him before anyone else had the chance.

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modelbus · 2 years

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you could do MCYTs x female reader jealously HCs like if someone started flirting with their partner! Thank you! <3

I am opinionated on this Also, I didn’t do a little blurb thing for Tommy because I have a full one shot on him being jealous! And this got long. Fast.

MCYTs included (all CC!): Dream, Wilbur, Tommy, Sapnap, George

Jealousy

Dream

He gets jealous SO easy. Someone he doesn’t know is just talking to you? He’s by your side the entire time unless he gets called away or you have a problem with it.

He’s nearly always by your side but you don’t complain because he’s like a human heater.

If someone is straight-up flirting with you, he slides into the conversation by kissing you and being like “oh, who is this?”

Dream is a cocky bastard and would 100% just smirk at whoever dared to flirt with you while wrapping an arm around your waist.

When the poor person who flirted with you asks if you two are dating, he answers “of course.” as if there was no way you weren’t.

I feel like he’d get jealous in the type of way that he just wants to spend time with you more than anything else. He’d get all grumpy and complain about everyone taking your attention.

But only of people that aren’t your friends. If they’re his and you don’t really know them and they’re stealing your attention? Fuck that, Dream will privately murder them.

He’s not shy about being jealous at all. If you poke fun or ask him, he’ll admit it. Hell, he’ll openly announce he’s jealous if it’ll get you to give him attention.

Voice tipping into a whine, "Spend time with me! I’m jealous!”

“I’m lonely! Please, spend time with me!” Your boyfriend announces, dramatically collapsing onto your bed.

“Hang on.” You tell the discord call, muting yourself. “Dream!”

“What?! I’m lonely!”

“Both George and Sapnap are in this house.”

He pouts at you. “But I want to spend time with the person I’m dating! Come on, we can go watch that new movie you’ve been wanting to see!”

It’s temping and he knows it. Your discord call wasn’t too important, and besides, you were almost done with it. With a sigh, you unmute yourself to give into Dream’s demands.

“I have to go, but it was nice talking with you guys!” After a minute of goodbyes, you disconnect and turn back to Dream. “Let’s go see that movie.”

He pumps his fist in the air, making you laugh. Dream might be a little attention-needy, but you absolutely loved him.

Wilbur

Wilbur wouldn’t say anything to whoever’s flirting with you, but he wouldn’t let you forget he’s there listening.

Lightly trailing his hands up your sides to lean down and whisper in your ear, “this is who you’re spending your time with, love?”

He’d tear apart whoever is flirting with you but only to you.

“-and then I told him there was no way in hell I’d be doing that!” The guy you’re talking to finishes, laughing at himself.

“Oh, he thinks himself a funny guy.” Wilbur whispers in your ear.

You almost jump, not having realized he had joined you two. Although, you couldn’t help but agree with him. The dude you were talking to—Noah, maybe?—wasn’t actually funny. At all.

Wilbur’s hands settle on your waist. “What do you say we leave?”

As if he needed to prove he was better than whoever tried flirting with you, he’d take you to a fancy dinner or something.

Oh, and he’d NEVER admit he’s jealous. Keep giving excuses and act fool is his new motto.

Honestly though, his jealously comes from a fear of how much he loves you and how much power you have over him.

He gets jealous over literally nothing, but doesn’t do anything until a situation escalates a little so he feels justified.

Of course if you ask him to back off or seriously bring it up, you will have a heart to heart.

Tommy

He’d be so embarrassed about being jealous. Would deny it to his dying breath istg

I have a weird feeling he doesn’t really get jealous easily though.

Tommy wouldn’t do much I feel like. Grab your hand, name drop that he’s your boyfriend if he’s feeling particularly jealous. Really he just inserts himself.

He has a special knack for making a conversation take a turn and exclude someone when he wants to, it’s kind of amazing.

He’s another person who wants your attention a lot of times (cough cough, all the time, cough cough)

Hugs from behind is his go-to move when you’re talking to someone else.

If he finds he has a problem with someone continuously flirting with you and you’re just oblivious, he’ll talk to you. Tommy’s a person who actually knows how to communicate about 80% of the time!

Sapnap

This man

If anyone had the balls to flirt with you, he’d straight up tell them he’s your boyfriend. Who gives a fuck if they were just staring at you? You’re his partner and they better know it.

For us southern Sapnap enjoyers:

Putting his hat on your head when you’re mid-conversation with someone.

He’s also the type to pull you out of a conversation by kissing you, hand you a drink, and walk off satisfied.

His hands are all over you. He genuinely cannot stop himself, even if it's just resting a hand on your knee. It's like he has to show everyone you're dating him.

"Sorry, repeat that?" You ask the podcast guys, laughing a little.

In your defense, it was a little hard to think with Sapnap's hand on your thigh. Every now and then he'd give you a smile, absolutely messing with you. You knew why, too.

Sapnap was jealous of the podcast guy asking you questions. Probably because podcast guy got to talk to you directly while Sapnap could only bounce off your answers, which he's been doing for the past hour.

"Yeah, of course-" The podcast guy repeats his question and Sapnap laughs quietly.

You shoot him a glare then turn back to the question. Idiot.

Depending on the mood he's in, if you tell him you know he's jealous he'll either flash you a smile or shake his head no and laugh at you.

He's a dirty look type of guy. Never directed at you, but definitely at whoever is flirting with you.

George

Quiet jealousy!!

George would give the person who's flirting with you a shit ton of looks. Judgy ones, cold ones, man is sending 500 signals at the person flirting with you all saying to go away.

The second he gets you alone he'll ask to leave and be super vague about it.

"I'm not feeling it." has been used before.

“Can we go?” George asks you, looking around the party. There’s a light flush across his cheeks.

“Is everything okay?”

Parties weren’t normally what you guys did, but a mutual friend had invited you both. It wasn’t like you had plans, so why not drop in for a few minutes? Say hi? That few minutes turned quickly into hours though.

“I… I dunno, I just want to spend time with you.”

You don’t even hesitate before nodding. “Of course. We should stop and get midnight donuts.”

George laughs, immediately looking more at ease. “Obviously”

He’d also be grasping at straws to find something to get your attention. Bringing you a drink, showing you a meme on Twitter, whatever he can think of.

If you ever bring it up to him, he’d play it off with a joke and deny everything.

Or he would until one night when he realizes “hey, talking is healthy!” and quietly admits what he’s feeling.

#dreamwastaken x you #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x you #dream x reader #wilbur x you #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit x reader #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #georgenotfound x you #georgenotfound x reader #mcyt #dsmp #mcyt imagine

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erodasfishtacos · 2 years

Text

Safe Space

prompt: follow up to demi piece for mlb!harry

warnings: insecurity, smut, minors dni 18+

Please please like, follow, comment, and reblog ❣️

If you want my work two weeks earlier, plus polls to vote for content, plus exclusive blurbs and tropes - please consider joining my patreon for $3 ❤️

Harry isn’t trying to be dramatic when he says that he is officially and utterly obsessed with everything about YN.

He felt like he was addicted to her, from just being in the same space as her, and then from craving her body so much it hurt.

For a long period of his life, he didn’t understand the hype about sex - sure it sounded fine and orgasms definitely felt good but why did people care so much?

After his first time with YN, he very quickly realized what it was about because fuck, it was beyond the physical feeling of pleasure - it was how connected emotionally he felt to her and the display of love that sex was.

The issue was, they’d been intimate twice now with yesterday being their first time having sex, and both times he came prematurely.

No matter how kind and understanding YN was, it didn’t take away the deep insecurity of not being masculine enough or being a flop in the sheets.

YN had to use her own hand to help her along because he was coming so fast when they had sex, he was so far gone he hadn’t even thought about dipping his own hand down to assist.

Harry had to leave YN in his bed in the morning because he had to go to weight training and then right after a grueling practice.

He had left a little handwritten note on top of her cellphone to find when she woke up.

Good morning, baby. I’m off to practice. I love you x

It was simple but sweet.

When Harry’s in the locker room with his teammates as they all hits the showers and start to change after practice, well it’s no surprise sex is brought up - literally nothing has changed since high school.

He still didn’t feel the need to join in on the disgusting conversation, the way they talked about women was truly abysmal and some of them were referring to their own girlfriends in such crude ways.

Harry had so much respect for YN, so much undying appreciation for her body even though he just is beginning to learn it.

He would never talk about the intricacies of her form with other people, why would he want them to know what is only for him?

He didn’t want others to know how puffy her nipples get after he’s given them attention, how she gets so wet that it makes her folds glisten - that’s purely for his eyes and imagination only.

“Yeah, Becca told me that Cameron only lasted for three minutes,” Joseph cackles as the other boys join in on the laughter, “Said he jizzed nearly as soon as he stuck it in.”

“No wonder she turned him down when he asked her to the Sigma Phi party,” Payton crows with a boisterous laugh, “He’s never gonna get another date while he’s in school.”

Harry hates the anxiety that strikes in his chest because it hits him that they’re making fun of what he’s most self-conscious about right now.

He was new to everything, having YN’s hands, mouth, cunt was so mind blowingly euphoric and like nothing he’d ever experienced before that he couldn’t control how fast his orgasms snuck up on him.

The first time her lips wrapped around him, he couldn’t even think a conducive thought, let alone stave off his release.

The first time they had sex, she had to finish herself off because he came so fast that he didn’t even have time to focus on her.

His throat is tight as he rushes to get his clothes on, he didn’t want to lose YN - she was his person.

They only downfall of finally finding the love of his life was the immense fear of losing it because he knew this was once in a lifetime.

He was this allstar, cocky athlete who everyone drooled and daydreamed over - only YN knew he didn’t truly live up to his potential in the bedroom.

It’s not that he thinks she’s shallow enough to drop him over that but his anxiety and lack of self confidence had negative talk swirling through his head.

Harry wanted to be the best for her and he’s worried that he’s just not enough - it was the worst feeling on this earth and he hated that he didn’t feel confident in his own skin.

He’s out of the locker room without another glance at his teammates, putting his airpods in so he can act like he doesn’t hear all his classmates who try to say hi to him as he walks across campus.

His night class drags on, his fingers are fidgeting against the desk, knee bouncing because anxiety is one of the nastiest emotions to have.

Miss you already ☹️

The text pops across his screen towards the end of class, he has to tamper down the dopey grin that appears on his face - she must have just gotten out of her weekly newspaper meeting.

I miss you more. 😖

You’re the sweetest. Do you love me?

Harry has to bite the corner of his lip to tamper down his smile because he’s in a relationship, he loves her so much.

So much, baby.

I think you should totally invite me over tonight and show me how much. Just so I know you’re not all talk. 😛

Harry’s heart plummets back into his stomach, for what seems like the hundredth time lately because now he’s nervous about having to have sex despite how much he wants to.

Of course, he wants her to come over and he would have invited her in a minute anyways but now that the promise is lingering in her words, he’s struck with nerves.

He doesn’t respond fast enough because another text is coming through as his thumbs hesitate over the screen.

If you’re not up to it, that’s fine too.

And Harry never wants her to feel like he doesn’t want her there. It’s the exact opposite. He wants her there all the fucking time.

Don’t be silly. Of course, you’re welcome over anytime, my love. Meet me at Holden Hall in fifteen, we can walk back to mine together.

Okay ❤️

He’s not twelve, he shouldn’t get butterflies in his stomach but the thought of seeing her makes him squirm with excitement.

Because he is in love.

The class can’t end quick enough because even though there are always a few classmates who want to bullshit with him after class - Harry is bypassing them with a small smile and wave instead to get out the door.

YN is waiting on a bench, eyes on her phone until she must notice class letting up because her gaze rises and she has a breathtaking smile when she notices him.

It quickly turns downward when Harry is stopped by a group of girls, they’re giggly and overly nice as they compliment him on his recent game and how good he looked in ESPN College Edition this week.

Harry would usually give them all a cocky smile, dimples on display, and his shoulders broad as he let them coo over him.

Now he’s a taken man, he doesn’t have to act like he’s into all these girls he’s not anymore, and it’s so refreshing when he gives them a short ‘thank you’ and squeezes out of their circle.

Their eyes follow with annoyance and envy as they’re dismissed so quickly for Harry to make his way over to YN, where she’s sat on the bench in one of his baseball hoodies and a pair of leggings.

The girls begin to whisper furiously amongst themselves when Harry bends down, gripping YN’s chin, and kissing her softly for a moment before helping her up and taking her backpack to swing over his other shoulder before intertwining their hands.

YN seems surprised as they walk away, her hand squeezing his tightly as she ignores the daggers being glared into her back.

“What’s the look for?” Harry asks when they’re finally away from everyone spilling out of the lecture hall, and on the walk back to his frat house.

“I was just surprised you kissed me in front of all them,” YN shrugs, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal to her, “Most guys wouldn’t have done that in front of another group of pretty girls.”

It’s Harry’s turn to frown at that, stopping in his tracks to give her a look, “Why wouldn’t I kiss you in front of all them? You’re my person. I only want to kiss you. I don’t care what any of them think. I only care what you think.”

YN’s let’s a smile creep on her face, leaning up to kiss him for a long moment before she’s giving him a big hug and nuzzling her face into his chest.

“I love you. You’re just…” YN trails off, like she can’t find the right words, “You’re so good to me. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Harry can’t believe that. It feels opposite, he doesn’t know what he did to deserve her.

“You deserve the best and I’m going to always give it to you. I’m going to show you off to everybody all the time,” Harry promises as they begin to walk again, this time his arm around her shoulders pulling him into his chest.

The sex dilemma floats out of the forefront of his mind only for a little, only until they’re in his room, and Harry announces he needs to shower.

He was still sweaty, dirty from practice because on these days he doesn’t have time to shower before class.

When he drops their belongs near the door, he’s kicking of his shoes and telling YN, “Alright, gotta get cleaned up before we cuddle. M’gross.”

He fully expects YN to make herself comfortable on his bed while he cleans up and what he doesn’t expect is to YN to follow him to the bathroom - luckily, he had his own and didn’t have to share with his disgusting frat mates.

“Wh-What’s up?” Harry stutters as his cheeks flush, he hadn’t had anytime to figure out how he was going to solve his stamina problem and showering with his drop dead gorgeous girlfriend wasn’t going to help.

YN’s face twists in confusion as he stands frozen near the sink, “Uh, I was going to join you? If you don’t want me to, I don’t have to. I just thought that-“

He could tell he had embarrassed her by the way she’s trying to overexplain her reasoning to following him in there but Harry also knows that normal couples shower together all the time and if he was fucking normal - he wouldn’t be so surprised.

He wants to shower with her, fuck, of course he does.

Harry wants to scream and pull his hair because in his lack of self-confidence and anxiety - he’s making her feel bad about herself.

“No, no,” Harry interrupts her, bringing her into his chest, and kissing the top of her head, “Forgive me, darling. This, just all this is new to me. I’ve never showered with anyone before. I’m still getting used to actually being in a relationship.”

YN seems a bit relieved at his explanation, kissing his collarbone and rubbing at his back, “Still, if you don’t feel comfortable with me joining you that’s okay. Not all couples shower together. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Harry’s chest pangs because he just keeping mucking everything up, “No, I always want you with me. Please don’t second guess yourself, baby. Want you to shower with me. Want you with me every second of the day.”

YN nods against his chest but doesn’t make any move, like she’s nervous to be the first one, and so Harry does so first - stepping back to strip his shirt over his head before he’s slipping YN’s hoodie up and over her head.

He leans over to turn on the faucet to get the water warmed up, she’s standing there in just her bralette and leggings - god damn, she’s pretty.

Harry’s heart rate is going a million miles a minute as he shrugs the bralette over her head, her gorgeous tits bouncing out to where they naturally lay - perky but real and soft.

“Baby,” Harry huffs out in awe as he thumbs over her nipples - hard and puffy, they are making his mouth water, can’t help but duck down and wrap his lips around one as she whines happily.

She’s reaching for the waistband of his athletic shorts and briefs, pulling them both down in one go, and it’s not shocking he’s already plumped up and hard for her.

It was still a new experience, being bare and vulnerable in front of someone else - showing the innermost personal parts but he wanted her to see him, it made him feel good when she whispered how nice his cock was.

After he’s got her leggings and panties off, he’s bringing them under the stream of the shower, and watching in rapt amazement as the droplets slide down her neck, over the peaks of her breasts, and bead off her now soft nipples.

“Turn around,” She orders quietly, turning his shoulders until he’s facing towards the back of the tub, her hands come up with lathered shampoo and begin to scrub through his matted locks - her nails scratching against his scalp feel so good that he moans weakly.

She takes such care of him, his heart is melting for her as she washes out the suds before snagging his loofa off the shelves and beginning to wash down his body to wipe away all the dirt and sweat of the day.

It feels so amazing to be taken care of like this, he’s never had this before, and now that he does - he wants to cry because he’s just emotional.

When she’s finished with him, he takes it upon himself to return the favor, not because he feels obligated but because he wants to take care of her just as much and prove his worth as a partner.

“Ouch,” YN hisses when Harry’s fingers get tangled in a knot in her hair and pull it quite harshly, YN’s face contorting in a brief moment of pain.

“Fuck, m’sorry,” Harry apologizes instantly, he was on edge and he just kept making everything worse - he just pulled his girlfriend’s hair, “M’sorry, baby. Are you alright?”

YN rolls her eyes at him, stepping closer and flopping against his wet chest, kissing his skin, and nodding, “I’m fine. You don’t have to apologize. Just be careful.”

Harry’s hands are shaking with nerves as he carefully weaves through her locks, taking his time with the knots before he’s moving onto soaping her body up - he would have to buy scents she liked as everything in his shower was more masculine scented like sandalwood and sage.

After gently running the loofa over her tits and belly, Harry dips downwards but she’s moving his hand away from her center and down her thighs.

“No scented products near the goods,” YN tells him as she wipes a stray hair off his forehead, “It will throw off my PH. I just use unscented soap for that.”

And once again, he feels like a fucking idiot and like he should have known that about female anatomy but he didn’t.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, inhaling through his mouth because he feels like such a twat today.

YN doesn’t notice, her eyes shut as she lets the water pound down on her skin, and humming happily as he washes down her legs, hand playing with his sodden curls.

They dry off and Harry grabs YN a tee shirt of his from a baseball camp because he loves seeing her in his stuff - it settled his possessive side.

YN uses his hairdryer to dry her hair until it’s nearly dry, just damp on the ends, and she crawls onto his bed, forgoing dressing in her shirt and underwear.

And Harry doesn’t know what to do because he wants to crawl over top of her, kiss her, and push inside where he knows she’s hot and ready for him but he also knows he was just in the shower for half and hour naked with her and he’ll come too soon.

“Er, what do you want to watch?” Harry asks instead, standing in his tight briefs near his desk with the remote - clicking through Netflix.

YN who’s got a confused look on her face doesn’t say anything at first, she’s literally splayed out on her boyfriends bed bare as the day she was born, and he hadn’t even acknowledged it.

“I was thinking about Bake-Off? We haven’t finished the season yet,” Harry swallowed nervously, eyes glued to the screen and not at her.

YN visibly deflates out of the corner of her eye, her shoulders slumping and she reaches for her top to shove quickly over her head before tugging on her underwear.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” YN responds without the enthusiasm she had a few minutes ago, Harry realizes for the second time that night he’s embarrassed her - he just turned down her blatant invitation.

Harry hates this.

YN is perfect, doing everything perfect, and he can’t get a fucking grip on himself.

He needs a second.

“I’m going to go make us some popcorn,” Harry excuses himself, tugging on a pair of shorts as he exits the room.

A few minutes later, with a bowl of popcorn and some water bottles, he enters his room again, frowning when he notices that YN had also tugged on a pair of his joggers.

“You cold? I can close the window,” Harry offers as he sets the food down and YN looks down at her hands, avoiding eye contact.

“No, m’fine,” She responds, her tone is unsure like he’s never really heard it, “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I figured I’d cover myself up.”

Harry shakes his head, angry at himself as he mutters, “Fuck.”

YN glances up at him with wide eyes as she watches him pace for a moment before he’s stepping over to her, kneeling down in front of the bed, and putting his hands on her thighs.

“It’s not you. You never make me uncomfortable, baby,” Harry reassures her, he feels tears start to prick his eyes as he hangs his head, “I just keep fucking this up.”

“You’re not fucking anything up, Harry,” YN replies softly, her hands coming to rub at his shoulders, “What do you mean?”

Harry sniffles pathetically, refusing to look up, “I wanted to jump your bones the second you were naked on my bed. I wanted you in the shower with me before you even offered but I’m making you feel like I’m not into you and I’m sorry.”

YN titters, thumbing over his warm ears, “I don’t think you’re not into me. I feel like I’m not reading you correctly and I feel bad.”

“No, no, baby,” Harry refutes, kissing her belly, “You’re reading me right. I want you. Every part of you. I just…I’m really doubting myself and I don’t feel like a good boyfriend.”

“But why?” YN presses, finally forcing his chin up until his watery eyes are meeting her concerned, honeyed one’s.

“You’re gonna laugh at me,” He mumbles but lets her press sweet kisses over his forehead and temples as he struggles.

“Never going to laugh about something serious, if you want us to have a healthy relationship we have to work through whatever is bothering you,” YN encourages, cupping his hands and moving her lips to kiss all over them as well.

“I was in the locker room today and they’re were fuckin’ around and making fun of some guy who…doesn’t last long. It made me anxious because I haven’t been and I don’t want you to get annoyed with me because I’m not good in bed,” Harry’s gone teary again, YN is quick to wipe them with her thumb and a knowing, calm smile decorates her face.

“Baby, that’s why you’ve been so skittish?” YN shakes her head with a small giggle, leaning down to kiss him once more.

“Said you weren’t gonna laugh at me,” Harry grumpily reminds her, nudging her cheek with his nose before pulling back.

“Didn’t realize you were worried about something absurd,” YN tries to tamper down her grin, “You’re worried that I’m not enjoying myself when we had sex?”

“You had to finish yourself off,” Harry points out as a weak reason to his defense.

YN raises an eyebrow, “Okay, at the end? But the reason I was even close enough to get myself off was because I was so turned on and you were making me feel so good.”

Harry didn’t think of it like that, he blinks at her like he wants her to keep talking, and so she does, gripping his hands firmly.

“The two times we’ve done it, they’ve literally been the best experiences I’ve ever had sexually,” YN rubs at the bridge of her nose, “I told you no guy has ever made me come before even when I was helping myself along.”

Harry takes in that information, a sense of pride swelling in his chest, and twitch in his thin shorts at the praise.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles, brushing his lips against her clothed shoulder, “M’sorry I’ve been being such a dickhead.”

“You just need to communicate. I understand this is all new to you. It’s new to me too. It’s the first time I’ve ever been in love with the person I’m having sex with,” YN admits as her body gravitates closer to him and her legs spread for him to wriggle in between.

“And I’m going to be the only one who gets you like this. Always gonna be in love with everything about you. You’re my person,” Harry reassured her, the nerves melting away because he feels so fucking safe with her.

The stage fright, the nasty quells of insecurity dissipate, and are fully replaced desire to please the gorgeous girl in front of him.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you needed to cover-up. I actually think we should probably do a no clothes policy in my room from here on out,” Harry rasps, his tone getting lower with the more arousal swirling in his tummy.

YN giggles kittenishly and it goes straight to his center, “Oh really? When did that become a rule?”

“Right about now,” Harry growls impatiently, tugging off her bottoms and panties in one rough yank before he’s lifting her thighs over his shoulders and making himself at home between them, “Fuck. How do you always taste so good, pet?”

“I-oh fuck, Harry,” YN whines loudly as her legs try to squeeze around his ears, he was so fucking dedicated when he went at it - licking, kissing, sucking every bit of her mound and what lay inside.

“Always want this,” Harry murmurs before lapping consistently at her slit while he thumbs at her clit - it was all coming naturally to him now.

“Yes, there. Yes,” YN encourage breathlessly when he finds the perfect rhythm that has her back arching of the mattress and legs restless against his shoulders.

The encouragement just spurs him on to thrust his tongue into her perfect, velvet core as his thumb doesn’t stop the motion.

Her hips speed up to ride down onto his tongue as she nears her orgasm, Harry reaches up to flip her shirt up to reach and knead at one of her tits, pinching at the nipple.

That small burst of pain tends to do the trip because she’s squeezing on his tongue, clit throbbing against his thumb as she tries to muffle her mewls as she comes down.

“In me, want you in me,” She orders brattily, pulling Harry up by his biceps and dragging him on top of her, she’s bossy as she grips him around the base and leads him straight to where she needs him.

“Fuck, fuck baby,” Harry moans as he’s overwhelmed with pure fucking euphoria, his hips starting to fuck in automatically as his noises echo off the walls.

“S’good, you make me so full,” YN whimpers as her lips brush against his on every odd thrust, “Love being full of you.”

“Darling,” Harry scolds between a groan, the dirty talk did not help his stamina and fuck, her mewling about how full she felt just made it worse because he’s giving a few more weak thrusts before he’s coming as well.

“Mm, thank you,” YN hums as she pulls him up for another kiss, a spark in her core when she tastes herself, “See, practice makes perfect. We’ll get there.”

“Next time m’taping your mouth shut, who knew you spewed filth like a sailor?” Harry teases as he pulls at her bottom lip, “Made me come on the spot.”

“I don’t mind being gagged,” YN says nonchalantly and holy shit, Harry is in big trouble with this girl.

He fucking loves his person, his safe place.

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hey-august · 1 month

Note

Hi hii

Do you also write angst?

If so...I'm genuinely curious on what's your take if Buggy's partner was severely injured and in the verge of death in his arms.

Don't mind me,,just craving a freshly baked Buggy angst 🤡

-soupsprout

Ahhhh, sorry this took a bit!

I love angst, but I've only ever written relationship-angst. Like poor communication skills or intense self-loathing.

This was a fun one to try! Fun and painful! I kinda hurt now! 🥲 I hope it hits the spot for you, @soupsprout

The ending is ambiguous and there isn't comfort because I like the pain, but I have an idea for an uplifting ending and one for a painful ending. LMK if you're interested in hearing about either 😉

Edit: Sad ending here

WC: ~900 Warnings: NSFW - grievous injury & blood, Buggy x GN!reader, established relationship, angst no comfort

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Injuries are inevitable during a fight, and this was a fucking ambush. The crew was bound to collect new wounds and scars when they started at a disadvantage. But when shit hits the fan, they’re relentless. This time, that was a bad fucking trait.

As the din diminished and the ship drifted into eerie post-battle quiet, Buggy found you sitting against a wall. The crewmates you fought alongside were also in various states of reprieve. Leaning on crates, crouching on the ground, some even laying down as they caught their breaths. But none of them were sitting in a growing puddle of blood. None of them looked as ashen as you did. The sticky red hand squeezing your leg told the story.

Ripping his bandana off his head, Buggy sprinted over to you and kneeled on the dirty ground. He peeled your hand back, exposing the gash. This was real bad. The placement was bad. The depth was bad. He could see the surge of blood come and go, following your heartbeats. Biting the hem of his bandana, Buggy tore it into strips and wound them just above the wound. Tight but not too tight - he remembered that much.

You winced as he tied a knot and tried to push his hands away. Adrenaline dulled the pain from the original wound, but all this extra shit was too much.

“Stop,” you whined, smearing blood from your hand to his wrist.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. Just a little more, okay?”

“Don’t, Buggy…it hurts enough, just leave it.”

“Fuck, no! Listen, we need to stop the bleeding. I have to…”

Buggy didn’t know how to tell you that he needed to pack the wound and it was not going to be pleasant. It had been years since he had to dress a wound like this. He didn’t have to do this for himself since eating the goddamn Devil Fruit and his crew had a doctor to tend to the others. Right, a doctor!

Dragging the closest crew member over by the collar of their shirt, Buggy started shouting, “YOU! Go get the doctor, get a medic, fuck - just go get someone! Get fucking Mohji!”

The pirate scrambled to their feet and yanked another mate up to join him in a search for help.

“Mohji?” you repeated with a soft laugh.

“He can help. He takes care of Richie, maybe he knows-”

“I’m not a lion, Buggy. It’s not the same.”

Your over-dramatic condescending tone could have fooled the pirate into believing you were okay if your voice didn’t shake. If you weren’t talking more with your eyes shut than open. If you hadn’t lost enough blood that it was seeping into the knees of his pants.

“I dunno, you’re as annoying as Richie.”

You smiled but didn’t respond.

Buggy glanced around the room, which was nearly empty. The only ones left were the ambushers who didn’t survive and anyone who couldn’t run through the ship. No one had come back with any fucking help, though.

“Hey, keep your eyes open,” Buggy said, squeezing your cheeks.

You did what he asked, but it took a few tries. Your eyes fluttered shut more than once before you succeeded in keeping them open.

“M’tired, Buggy,” you said in a low voice. A sad voice. A scared voice.

“You can sleep later. I’ll even let you sleep on my side of the bed, okay? Just stay awake for now. Captain’s orders!”

Another smile, softer than the last one. Even Buggy could hear the desperation cracking in his throat.

“I have to do one more thing to stop the bleeding, alright? It’ll hurt and then you’ll feel better. Take a deep breath for me, okay? You can do that?”

You nodded and inhaled. It was slow and stuttering as you tried to take in as much air as you could. Buggy waited until you were too focused on breathing before jamming a wad of torn fabric into the leaking wound. He winced as you let out a loud groan and your whole body stiffened in pain.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m all done. You did so good.”

Buggy rushed to comfort you, pressing kisses to your forehead and wiping away the tears falling from your eyes with the back of his hands. Blood didn’t make him nauseous, but the sight of his palms stained red with yours did. Nauseous and nervous.

Your eyes were closed again. He asked you to open them. He asked again. They cracked open just a little. Enough to make him feel better and feel worse.

“Hey, what do you call a lion at the South Pole?”

“What?” Your head tilted and your brows tightened. You were thinking.

Buggy watched your lips move slowly as you repeated his question.

You opened your eyes a little wider and looked at him with as much confusion as you could muster. You shook your head slightly.

“Oh, you don’t know?” he teased with a big grin. A fake smile to keep you distracted. “Keep thinking about it. If you just can’t figure it out, I’ll tell you when you get better. Alright?”

You mouthed an affirmative response, but didn’t make a sound.

“So it’s a deal? You’ll get better and then I’ll tell you the answer. You gotta get better, though, okay?”

Buggy grabbed your hands, hoping you couldn’t feel how he was shaking. He wished he couldn’t feel how cold you were.

You nodded and closed your eyes to think.

#buggy angst #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy

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hqbaby · 9 months

Text

twenty-one — bad

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.6k content. swearing, marijuana use, alcohol consumption, ANGST ANGST ANGST

When Atsumu drops you off at the airport that morning, he has no idea how the rest of the day is going to go. He has no idea that everything is going to go wrong.

“I’m gonna miss ya,” he tells you, pouting as he pulls you into a tight embrace. “Don’t forget about me.”

You roll your eyes, pecking his lips. “It’s literally three days, baby,” you remind him.

He grimaces. “Don’t even remind me,” he says. “Way too long without ya.”

“You’re such a drama queen.”

“Yer not dramatic enough.”

You chuckle, pulling him in again and placing a kiss on his jaw. “Have fun tonight.”

“I’ll try.” He sighs, finally letting you go. His eyes scan your figure, as if he’s checking to see that you have everything you need. He can’t help but worry about you. “Text me when ya get there.”

You pull the handle of your luggage and offer him one last smile. “I’ll text you the whole time.”

He watches you turn and walk through the gates, waving at him as you skip away. He knows you’ll be back soon, but he’s gotten a little used to your presence—he won’t deny that it’ll be weird to not have you around for a few days.

As he heads back to his car, Atsumu takes comfort in the fact that everything will be back to normal when you return… right?

It’s times like these that Atsumu remembers why the volleyball team doesn’t party together that much. Individually, they’re all a little explosive. Bokuto manages to rile everyone up, Sakusa gets spectacularly drunk and does stupid things, and Oikawa always ends up stripping in a room full of strangers.

When you put them all together? Chaos. Absolute chaos.

“We’re lockin’ the balcony!” Atsumu announces, dragging a giggling Hinata and a dour Hoshiumi back into the living room. He gives the boys a pointed look. “You two need to stop screamin’ at the neighbors!”

The orange-haired boy just grins. “But they were asking for it!”

Hoshiumi points at him, nodding in agreement. “They were, weren't they?” he says. “Assholes.”

Atsumu runs a hand over his face and groans. “Just… stop goin’ outside.”

They promise him they won't—rather unconvincingly, but he doesn’t have it in him to point that out—and they scurry away to join the rest of the party.

“Told ya a party was a bad idea,” Osamu says, coming up to him and placing a bottle of beer in his hands. “Drink up.”

Atsumu takes a swig. Unlike most people, he actually likes the taste of alcohol. The bitterness of it, the lingering aftertaste. He just doesn’t think it’s worth all the trouble of losing control of yourself and waking up with a headache. It’s why he stays away from it when he can.

He pats his brother on the back and walks over to the living room where Oikawa is performing a rousing rendition of WAP in blind karaoke. On the couch, Yaku heckles the setter while trying to keep Sakusa from collapsing. The coffee table has two empty bottles of tequila and another one that’s nearly polished off. Figures.

“How’s it goin’?” Atsumu asks, laughing as Oikawa death drops while belting the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

Yaku smiles at him through half-lidded eyes. “Atsumu!” he cheers in a weak voice. “Great party, man.”

“Ya think?”

The boy hums, catching Sakusa as he nods off again. “Great, great. Good idea for the team too. Haven’t hung out like this in ages.”

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Atsumu says. He scans the area and frowns. “Hey, have ya seen Suna?”

“Suna?” Yaku repeats, as if saying the name again will somehow jog his memory. “Oh! Right, Suna. Yeah. I think I remember him saying he was going up to the roof.”

The blond frowns. “The roof? By himself?”

“Dunno, man. Probably.” Yaku catches Sakusa again as the boy nearly slides off the couch. “You gonna go to him?”

Atsumu sips his drink and nods. “Yeah, I’ll check up on him.”

Oikawa finishes his song and starts demanding requests from everyone else, Bokuto comes barreling over and reciting a whole list of songs he wants to hear. The whole room swirls with alcohol and madness. Just another day with the team.

Atsumu heads out, ducking his way through the crowd of people, avoiding Ushijima and Kageyama—who are in deep conversation about something and really want everyone else to join in—and sneaking up the stairs to the rooftop.

He finds Suna lying down on the concrete, a blunt between his lips and a solo cup of Bokuto’s “Super Strong, Super Crazy, Super Wild Drink” in his hand.

“Can’t believe yer havin’ a party up here without us,” Atsumu says, sitting down beside him and plucking the blunt from his mouth. He takes a hit and tilts his head up to the sky. It’s empty, devoid of any stars. Typical Tokyo. “Whatcha doin’ up here?”

Suna shrugs. “Stole some of Aran’s stash. Didn’t want him to find out.”

“Smart thinking.”

“That is what I’m known for.”

The twin laughs, lowering his back to lie down beside his friend. “How have ya been?” he asks. “I barely see ya anymore.”

Suna makes a sound he can’t quite decipher. “Well, you’ve been busy.”

“I have?”

“Yeah. With Y/N.”

Atsumu’s eyes flit over to the side to find the brunette frowning, eyes narrowed. He guffaws. “Are ya jealous of her or somethin’?”

“Haha.”

“Come on, Sunarin. What’s up?” Atsumu prods. “I hear yer spendin’ time with that girl from the econ department. Things gettin’ serious?”

Suna stays silent. He doesn’t know if it’s the nasty concoction he’s been drinking or the weed or just the close proximity to Atsumu—Atsumu, your boyfriend—but he can feel himself growing overwhelmed, choking on the very air he breathes.

“Sunarin?” Atsumu asks, turning his head to face him. “Oh fuck. Are ya cryin’?”

“What? No!” His face twists as he looks away from his friend. “Shut up!”

“No, no, no, hey, it’s okay! Cryin’s okay!”

“No, it’s not!”

“But it is!” the blond insists. He nudges Suna with his shoulder. “Talk to me.”

Suna rubs at his face, the skin growing an angry shade of red at the roughness of his touch. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, if sayin’ that makes ya feel better, go ahead.”

That only makes Suna feel worse. “Fuck you, man. Seriously.”

“Okay.”

“I hate you.”

“Sure.”

“Fucking fuck you.”

“Let it out, man. Not gonna stand in yer way.”

They lie down for a while, neither of them saying a word. They pass the blunt between the two of them, chasing each hit with alcohol until they stop feeling like themselves. Atsumu talks first, Suna talks soon after, the conversation flows easily between the two of them—like it always does. Only a lone bird passing through the night sky serves as a weak reminder of where they are.

“It’s just so big, isn’t it?” Atsumu says, his eyes closing a little. “Y’know. Life.”

Suna snorts. “Yeah, life is big, man. Always has been.”

“No, but ya know, it’s so… big! And real. Feels so real.”

“I think I get that.”

Atsumu takes a hit and closes his eyes completely. He lets himself seep into the sensation of the ground beneath him. The chill night air.

“Y/N’s real,” he says eventually. “She’s so fuckin’ real.”

“She is,” Suna answers. Somehow, the sting of your name is gone. Somehow, he doesn’t feel like burning at the sound of it. “She’s so real... it’s like she burns so bright.”

“Yeah! So bright.”

“Everything about her is perfect.”

“Really is.”

“Like that face she makes when she puts on her eyeliner, all scrunched up when she looks in the mirror.”

Atsumu stills. “Right.”

Suna can’t stop. He doesn’t stop. “Or the way she stays in the shower for too long and complains when her fingers get all pruny. Or how she makes those little sounds when you’re right beside her ear—it’s just… everything she does can just drive someone insane.”

The sober part of Atsumu tells him that this conversation has taken a strange turn. That there’s something very wrong about the way his best friend is talking about you, his best friend who you’ve barely even spent time with. He tries to listen to that part of himself, keeping it in the forefront of his mind.

“Yeah…” he says, opening his eyes, on high alert. “Sure, man.”

Now, what you have to understand about what Suna says next is that he tried. He tried so hard. He tried for two whole months of you and Atsumu’s relationship. Fuck, he’s been trying for even longer—since he saw you and Atsumu at that party, the night he fucked you in the bathroom just to convince himself he still had you. He tried so hard. It ripped him apart, but he tried.

He tried and he tried, but something in him couldn’t let it go.

Something in him stopped trying.

“I love her.”

Atsumu bolts up, seeing red when he turns to look at Suna still lying down. “What the fuck are ya talkin’ about?”

Suna sits up too. “Atsumu, I love Y/N,” he says like he’s pleading. “You don’t understand. It all happened before you even met her. I love her. I love her so fucking much that it’s eating me alive.”

“Yer drunk.”

“Atsumu.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I love her.”

The blond gets up and storms off, slamming the door to the rooftop behind him.

“Fuck,” Suna whispers to himself. He places his head in his hands and lets out a frustrated groan. “Fuck!”

On the other side of the door, Atsumu punches the wall by the stairs. “What the fuck!” he yells, pulling his hand away to find splatters of blood on his knuckles. “What the actual fuck!”

He had no idea how this night was going to go. He figured it wouldn’t be too great. But he didn’t know it would be this bad.

Nobody could have known it was going to be this bad.

notes. i present… le shit storm!!!!! and the continued shit storm in the next chapters lmao

how are we all feeling???

#hqbaby.fyi #hqbaby #haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou fic #suna fic #miya atsumu fic #atsumu fic #haikyuu fic

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filmtv2022 · 7 months

Text

It's Our History

Pairing: Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley

Synopsis: After the death of your mother, you find your way to a quaint little bookstore in search of a book that had been left in the care of one Mr. A.Z. Fell and Anthony J. Crowley. But it isn't just about a book, it's about finally meeting the beautiful 'people' that had interwoven themselves in to the lives of your mother and grandmother all those years ago.

Warnings: Mentions of death

A/N. As always, I apologize for any mistakes.

Aziraphale sat perched behind his desk, glasses slung low on his nose as he scanned over the detailed manuscript in front of him. The pages were yellowed with age, and yet the intricate illuminations were still beautiful and brilliant. It had been hours since the angel had started his investigation of the newest addition to his vast collection. Pages of documentation were taken in fine handwriting noting every nick and tear. The list of books for Zirah to fix grew longer by the day, but with all of eternity on his hands, the earthly angel couldn’t care less. Crowley on the other hand was growing impatient. This morning he’d been promised a lovely meal at the Ritz… as soon as Aziraphale was finished. With the hand on the clock striking two, he’d had more than enough waiting for one day. The demon was nearly to the point of conducting some frivolous miracles to hurry the process along when the door to the shop opened. The wood creaked on its hinges begging for attention.

Lost in his work, Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice that someone new had come to visit, leaving Crowley unexpectedly in charge of dealing with this interaction. Already in a pissy mood, the demon spat a ‘greeting’, if you could even call it that, in your direction.

“Whatever you want it’ll have to wait, shop’s closed.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. The sign out front says open, so I thought…”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“Again, so sorry.” your eyes flicked to the blonde-haired man sitting across the room, “Didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll be going now.”

Looking back at the thin, dark man standing guard like a watchdog, you couldn’t help but notice how he inched closer to the desk when you glanced in their direction. It was as if he was preparing himself to pronounce, cautioning anyone against getting too close.

“Bye now.” Sarcasm and hostility dripped from him as he spoke.

“Uhh, bye then.” With a tiny wave, you turned away defeated, and started back toward the door, when a new voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Crowley, that is no way to talk to a customer. Please dear, do stay and have a look around.”

Turning back, your eyes caught on the equally beautiful man standing next to the person who you now understood to be Crowley. They were both just as you’d pictured, as if a day hadn’t passed since those photos had been taken. In awe and disbelief, your voice was quiet with the enormity of the pair, “I don’t want to be a bother, it’s just that I could really use your help.”

“Don’t be silly, you’re no bother at all. And please, forgive my friend, they're in quite the mood this morning.”

“It’s not morning anymore, Angel,” hissed Crowley grumpily.

“Don’t be dramatic dear.”

“They’re right you know? It’s past two.”

“Really? Why goodness,” slipping out his pocket watch, he studied the time briefly before returning it to its home, “Would you look at that? My how time flies when you’re having fun!”

The Crowley grumbled lowly under his breath in response, but his protestations went unnoticed (or rather ignored) by Aziraphale.

“Now, what is it that you are looking for? Oh, and forgive me, I’ve been quite rude myself. Dithering on and never introducing myself, I’m Aziraphale or Mr. Fell if you prefer.”

“Well, uh… it’s very nice to finally meet you, Mr. Fell. And I’m looking for a copy of Pride and Prejudice. Well, it’s not really Pride & Prejudice, it just looks like it.”

Ignoring the odd bit of your thought at the end, Aziraphale’s eyes lit up with unadulterated joy, “How fantastic! Tell me more about this edition you’re in search of. Is there a particular year or publishing house you’re looking for?”

“No, nothing like that,” a sadness crept in, pulling your mouth into a frown, and forcing your eyes to the ground, “It was my was my grandmother’s and then my mother’s.”

“And you think it ended up here?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You seem rather sure of it being here, may I inquire as to why?”

“She left me a note before she… it told me to come here, to talk to you. You and Mr. Crowley.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder, close enough that their knuckles brushed together, staring back at you, their minds turning a mile a minute. They scanned over your features taking note of every minute detail, but it was the look in your eyes that finally helped them understand. Their hearts raced with the sudden realization.

It was Crowley who spoke first, his voice barely more than a whisper, “You can’t be… if you’re here that means…”

“But she is here darling. And I can see it now, the resemblance, just look at her eyes.”

Standing there you found yourself mesmerized by the pair of them. You’d seen the pictures… heard the stories you’re entire life. The incredible tales of Mr. Fell and Anthony J. Crowley, and yet it seemed impossible that they were both standing before you now. Aziraphale took a few steps in your direction. Crossing the room in a few strong strides, he planted himself in front of you. His hand came up to cradle your cheek, tears pooled in your eyes as he tilted your face up to see you better.

“It’s so good to finally meet you. We’ve heard so much about you.”

Your palms came up to rest on his creamed-colored jacket, the material soft with wear beneath your touch. Your nose burned as you fought to hold back the tears that blurred your vision. You didn’t want to look away for even a second for fear they may disappear entirely, “Same goes for you, Mr. Fell. I’ve heard about you all my life. I didn’t think you were actually real, but my god am I glad you are.”

Azirphale’s strong arms, pulled you in allowing you to bury your face in his chest as the tears finally began to flow. Tenderly, he stroked your back and whispered words of comfort against your temple. Overwhelmed by emotion, you failed to hear the sound of footsteps coming in your direction. Crowley moved stealthily toward you and his Angel wanting nothing more than to comfort you both and seek that same in return. If you were here that could only mean one thing, the marvelous woman who was your mother was gone. He’d only just come to terms with the fact that both your gran and mother were mortal beings and that no matter how much he wished it away, there was an expiration date to their time on Earth. Logically, he knew it was going to happen, human life is fleeting at best, and yet he found himself growing angry that her time here was over.

Crowley’s wide palm found its way to your back in a weak attempt at grabbing your attention. He needed to see you, to look in your eyes again. Watching him silently ask for you, Aziraphale adjusted his hold on your body so that you could lift your head and look at his Demon. Relinquishing your hold on Mr. Fell, you turned just enough to look at Crowley who was staring down at you through the dark glass of his shades.

“You're lovely,” gingerly, he tucked errant strands of hair behind your ear. His fingertips brushed feather-light touches over your cheekbones. His touch was nearly imperceptible, but your breath hitched at the warmth that radiated from his skin.

Wet lines spilled from beneath his sunglasses, and the corners of his mouth turned down, “You look…” he choked out.

Reaching up, you wiped away the tears. Unwilling to let go, you found yourself toying with the bows of his glasses, “Can… can I see you…” Glancing back at Mr. Fell your breath shuddered, “Who you really are… the way they both got to see you?”

You searched their faces for any sign of an answer. You thought that reading the angel would be easier, but he remained straight-faced, the only emotion gracing his features was that of anticipation as if he too was waiting for an answer.

Crowley’s decision came without words, his hand ran the length of your arm before settling around your wrist and guiding it back to his glasses. Letting go once your hand was in place, his chest rose and fell rapidly waiting for you to move. You took your time, ghosting over the cool metal, giving yourself the space to find the courage.

“It’s all right dear, you have nothing to be afraid of.” Aziraphale’s voice was low and calm as he encouraged you to take the next step.

Shaking, you carefully removed the barrier between yourself and Crowley. His yellow eyes were on yours, never faltering, strong and terrified in equal measure. Lost in thought, you remained quiet, your fingers mapping over his features. Tracing the outline of his lips, the plane of his nose, the curve of his brow, the silky strands of hair that hung down over his forehead.

“The pictures didn’t do you justice. You’re beautiful, Crowley.” Totally in awe, you couldn’t tear your focus away from the demon in front of you. Hearing your words, his shoulders dropped, the tension starting to fall away.

Crowley looked over your shoulder at Aziraphale, the two sharing a moment. Behind you came a soft rustle and a gust of wind. Using his hands, which had found your waist, the demon turned you to face Aziraphale, and what you saw ripped the air from your lungs. The angel stood glowing, a halo of warm light surrounding him, but that wasn’t the true shock. That came from his wings. Zirah’s wings were all-consuming, their bright white feathers beckoned you closer.

Stepping toward him, your hands shot out, eager to feel and yet still hesitant. Looking up at Aziraphale, there was no need to speak as your question was obvious.

“It’s okay. You can touch them if you want.”

Slowly you found yourself outlining the shape of his feathers, paying attention to every detail. Unbeknownst to you, his head tipped back and his eyes shut tight. Feelin them soft like silk, and entirely intoxicating, you impulsively sought more. Burying your fingers in the depths of the layers, you were surprised to hear a strangled noise fall from Aziraphale’s lips.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” Startling back, you worried that you’d inflicted pain, but looking up at the being in front of you a mask of pure bliss graced his angelic features. His eyes popped open at the loss of your touch.

“No, quite the opposite my dear. And It's me who should be apologizing, I forgot myself there for a moment.”

Reaching for your hand, he guided you back to his wings, encouraging you to continue. And you did until, the same sound as before, a flutter and gust of wind, caught your attention from Crowley’s direction. Keeping your hold on the angel, you turned your head to look behind you. Again, your lungs shuddered at the sight. Onyx wings now protruded from the demon’s back blocking out the world around him. Though utterly opposite, they were no less beautiful. Crowley reached for you again, his hands instantly found the curve of your waist and drew you closer. Stumbling slightly, he caught you easily, holding you to him as if he couldn’t believe you were real. Raking over your sides, the demon came to hold your face to him, much like Aziraphale had. Yet, there was something different playing over his features.

“She’s gone then?”

Unable to speak you nodded your head in affirmation. Fresh tears ran in steady streams down your cheeks, blurring the sight of the stunning creature in front of you. Crowley pulled you tight, his fingers burying themselves in your hair as you tugged at his vest, twisting the fabric in your fists. Heavy sobs wracked your body leaving you with nothing to do but cling to him.

Leaning down he whispered to you the only thing he could think of, the only truth he could be certain of, “You’re safe here with us. I promise. You're not alone.”

Leaving you and his demon to have a private moment together, Aziraphale went to find the book. It took less than a minute as it was stored in a safe location away from the prying eyes of the public. Returning to you both, he tapped Crowley’s shoulder to get his attention. Feeling him pull away slightly, you followed in turn.

“Is that it?” you asked in disbelief.

“Yes, and you were right, it isn't really a book. It’s…” Aziraphale paused as if uncertain about how to proceed.

Seeing his Angel struggle, Crowley took the book from his hands and gave it to you before speaking, “It’s the story of us. Aziraphale, myself, and your family. It’s our history.”

“You see, we’re connected, and we have been for… a very long time.” Zirah found his voice again though it was shaky as he talked.

“But I don’t understand. Why us? We’re just humans, surely we can’t be that important.”

“Ah, but see that’s where you’re wrong. That is precisely why you’re important. Your grandmother and your mother… they treated us kindly when the rest of the world couldn’t see beyond our differences, and for that… we’ll forever be in their debt. And beyond their kindness, your names… they’re written into the Ineffable Plan of the Universe. Yours in particular.”

“What? What does that even mean?” shocked you searched for a better question, something that got to the heart of your confusion, but nothing surfaced.

“It means that you… we… have grand adventures ahead. If you’ll join us that is.” Aziraphale's sweet eyes watched you closely waiting for the panic and fear to set in.

“Hold on, Ineffable Plan? You mean like ‘God’s” plan?” Zirah nodded in affirmation, “Didn’t think he was big on free will…”

Your off-hand comment brought a chuckle from the demon as he spoke, “Oh, I like her.”

“Please, Crowley, be serious.”

“All right, Angel. They’re all yours.”

Aziraphale placed a hand on your back to lead you across the room toward the chairs near their desk. Guiding you to sit, he made his way to the other. Crowley perched on the arm of Zirah’s chair and waited for him to continue.

“Now, where do we begin?” Zirah’s eye flickered up to Crowley with a smile.

“I know… let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.” Crowley smirked at his Angel loving his reaction to what had become a running joke after averting the Apocalypse.

“Oh for the love of all that is good, do NOT start quoting The Sound of Music.”

Aziraphale and Crowley couldn’t help, but share a quiet laugh together. Nothing like a generational dislike for The Sound of Music to bring everyone together even in the most harrowing of times.

#aziraphale x reader x crowley #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader x aziraphale #Crowley x reader #good omens

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