#hello noon crowd | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 5 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 7 - Mall and/or Job

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,884 | rated: G

“Munson Residence, wha'd’ya want?” Eddie groans into the receiver.

Whoever this is better be someone super fucking important to have woken him up with their damn ringing. He’s surprised Wayne didn’t wake up too, but it’d be kinda hard to hear the phone over those snores.

“Eddie! Thank god,”

Oh. Steve! Very important, actually.

“Oh, hey Steve, what’s up?”

“Eddie, can you do me a huge favor?”

“Yeah, of course, what’s wrong?” he immediately spirals into what all could have gone wrong, what could be going wrong. Everything dark blue and cold, vine-y and the flashing of red lightning—

“Nothing, nothing–well, something.. Can you please run to my place later today and grab my lunch? I forgot it this morning and I know I’m not going to be able to run back and get it and get back in time to eat it before my break is over.”

“Your lunch?” “Yeah, I packed one this morning but left it on the counter. There’s a key under the mat and everything.” Eddie barks out a laugh, “Tryin’ to get robbed, big guy?”

“I don’t care about any of the shit in that house.” Steve scoffs. He shrugs even though Steve can’t see him. “Fair enough. Sure Stevie, I’ll bring your lunch; when do you want me there?” “Dude, you’re the best; My lunch break is right at noon, can you be here just before then?”

“Got it. Five to noon at Family Video.” he drawls out as if he’s writing the information down.

“Uh, actually…not Family Video..”

A short two hours later, Eddie finds himself among a throng of people inside Melvald’s. He has to fight his way forward at first, but the crowd thins out as he gets closer to the registers.

Damn, he’s not even that far into the store and he feels like he’s ran a mile.

“Ms. Byers!”

“Oh! Hello Eddie, what brings you here?” “Steve called and asked if I could drop off his lunch to him. Do you know where he is? I didn’t even know he was working here.”

Joyce just grins at him. It’s weirdly mischievous. “Only temporarily, he’s near the back of the store. Just head back there and I’m sure you’ll find him.”

“Uh..thanks. See ya later Ms. B.”

He wanders toward the back of the store through the aisles, but stops up short when a fake white picket fence blocks his path.

The whole back corner of the store has been covered in fake felt snow, a couple of those fake plastic trees like Steve’s (though these are a normal size), a candy-striped ‘North Pole’, and dozens of paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling between what seems like hundreds of string lights.

And there, sitting in the middle of it on a throne that looks suspiciously like the one he used to use during Hellfire, is Steve. Dressed in a Santa suit. With long white beard, big ol’ belt and buckle, shiny black boots..

“Psst!”

He’s got something stuffed into his Santa jacket to give him the right shape, and even some small half-moon glasses, but those sparkling eyes, the freckles, that one swoop of brown hair stubbornly sticking out from under the fuzzy brim of his hat, that’s all Steve.

“Eddie!”

Santa Steve is fully enraptured by whatever story the kid on his knee is telling him, their hands waving every which way but somehow missing smacking Santa right in the face. Steve just continues to nod along, then gives them a hearty “Ho Ho Ho!” when they try to squeeze their tiny arms around his fake belly.

“Eddie!!”

He glances over at the sound of his name, and sees Robin waving frantically at him from her spot at old school music stand-turned-podium. She’s got on some sort of outfit that honestly looks like it was supposed to be a jester costume, where’d she even get that from?

His feet start toward her, but his eyes fall back on Steve Claus, now posing for a picture with the kid who’s smiling so wide it looks like his face will split in half.

Managing to take his eyes off Steve for a moment, he sees Jonathan behind the camera, and that Argyle kid is crouched in front of Robin, talking to the next kid in line to see Santa. All three of them are wearing matching jester costumes.

Eddie steps up to her podium after Argyle and the new kid pass in front of him to see Steve, “Family Video not paying enough, Birdie?”

She rolls her eyes, “Well, the extra cash doesn’t hurt. Joyce asked us to help out.”

He nods at her, and finds his eyes drifting back to Santa Steve.

This kid is much more shy than the last one, tilting her head down and taking short glances up at Steve’s face.

Steve is saying something to her, a low comforting sound that Eddie can only make out the tone of. His one hand covers the entirety of her upper back, and his thumb is moving up and down to try and soothe her nerves. His head is ducked down to be more level with her, looking at her over those half-moon glasses.

Suddenly, the girl’s head snaps up and Steve leans back a bit. “Yeah?” he hears him say.

The girl grins, nodding her head like crazy, then she too is squeezing Steve into a hug. It’s so unfairly endearing, he can actually feel his heart swelling in his chest.

Robin speaks up then, “So..?”

“So?” he repeats dumbly.

“So wha’d’ya think, Munson?”

“Does he need a Mr. Claus?”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

“Uh, wait, I mean Mrs.–Do you have— is someone going to—”

Eddie chances a look over at her…she’s wearing a smug, shit-eating grin. She leans toward him conspiratorially and mumbles out “I wouldn’t mind a Mrs. Claus myself.”

She leans back, still looking smug, but there’s a note of panic in her eyes.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “So would he.” he mumbles out himself, jerking his chin towards Steve.

Robin only shrugs “You never know.”

“You never—what do you know, Buckley?” he asks, stepping closer and pointing an accusing finger into her still smug face.

“I know that there’s some mistletoe hanging above the breakroom door.”

He’s confused for just a moment, then understanding floods through him, “You little—”

A short whistle interrupts his incoming tirade, and Eddie can see Steve Claus moving out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry folks, it’s time for Santa’s Cookie break!” Robin calls out over the long line of people. “He’ll be back in 30 minutes though, don’t you worry!” the smile falls off her face as soon as she turns her back to them.

Eddie follows her, Jonathan, and Argyle toward the back rooms, “I’m gonna take a nap.” She says, “Tell Santa to grab me before he goes back.” She waves toward a door as she passes it and from the sprig of greenery hanging above it, this must be the breakroom.

Robin takes a right down a turn in the hall, and Jon and Argyle push out the back door of the building.

He expects more of the same when he opens the door to the breakroom, for Steve to huff and grouse about the kids or the parents or something, but when he does, Steve is grinning ear to ear as he combs through his (now removed) fake beard.

“Hey Santa Stevie.”

“Eds!”

“I’ve got your lunch.” he holds up the brown paper bag for Steve to see. Steve nods, and lays the beard out on an empty chair, taking off his hat and glasses too and setting them both on top before stepping forward to grab the bag. “And you have hat hair.” Eddie laughs.

Steve’s free hand jumps to his head and scruffs up the long hairs, making them stick up every which way instead of just being plastered down on his forehead.

“Better?”

“Sure, big guy.” Eddie pokes Steve’s fake belly.

Steve chuckles, then heads to a table in the corner where he dumps out his lunch bag.

“So what’d Past Steve pack for Future Steve?” Eddie asks, plopping down in a chair kitty-corner from Steve’s. “Bologna and mustard sandwich, Doritos, and half of a leftover Hellfire cookie.”

“And a Coke,” Eddie says, taking a can out of his jacket pocket, “I grabbed one for you from your fridge.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Steve smiles warmly at him. “You want some?”

“No way dude, you gotta get your energy back after dealing with all those kids, right?” Eddie says, waving him off.

“Eh, some of them are little assholes, but most of them are really well behaved.” he’s ripping his sandwich in half, “Gotta impress Santa, right?”

He offers him one half, and Eddie takes it.

“It’s really not a bad gig, though the beard is itchy as hell…”

Steve starts talking about some of the kids who have come by in the last couple days of them doing this, having started on that past Monday, the 1st.

There were the kids asking for baseball bats, Lincoln Logs, Malibu Barbie, Rockstar Barbie (“Barbie’s a rockstar now?”, “Barbie can be anything, I guess.”), all the usual things.

Then there were kids that asked for actual Santa stuff, “I don’t want my mom and dad to get a divorce.”, “I wish I had some friends.”, “I want my grandpa to get better.”

“Makes me wish I actually was Santa, y’know? Then maybe I could actually help them.”

Eddie’s heart is definitely getting way too fuckin’ big for his chest.

He puts his hand on Steve’s forearm where it’s resting on the table between them. “You are a good man, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s face flushes nearly as red as his suit. “Thanks, Eddie.” he glances above Eddie’s head then, “I better go wake up Robin, if she naps too long on top of the potatoes, she gets cranky.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, better get on that.”

Steve stands up and tugs on his hat, not bothering to put on the beard and glasses yet. The fuzzy white band smushes a lock of his hair onto his forehead.

“Hold on,” Eddie stands as well, reaching forward to tuck the hair under the bottom of Steve’s hat. “Now you’ll be ready to see your adoring public.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs, walking with him toward the door.

And of course, Eddie forgot all about the damn mistletoe until Steve’s arm stops him in the doorway.

‘Jesus H. Christ…’

He glances over at Steve, then up at the offending plant..

Eddie looks back down, out toward the rest of the store where they’d be clearly visible in the doorway.

“I guess you owe me one, huh big boy?” Eddie chuckles, ‘Stupid plant, stupid Robin, stupid Ed–’

His thoughts are cut off when Steve tugs him back into the breakroom, moves him against the wall, and leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. The opposite to the kiss he’d given Steve three weeks ago.

Steve leans back, a smirk on his lips and a pink flush on his face. “Now we’re even.” he winks, then turns out the door to wake up Robin.

i may have actually kicked my feet and giggled about this one lmao

also, rockstar barbie mentioned here is from the 1986 Barbie and The Rockers set

also, also, i'm getting rid of the 'pre' before the steddie up top, you all know what's happening and where this is going lol - it's steddie.

325 notes · View notes

thewintersoldierdisaster · 5 months

Text

a/n: hi hello i wasn’t expecting to write barzy long fic but those damn musician mat photos KILLED me. also yes, i started this fic literally the day after the photos were posted but here we are. it needed major editing and also i need to like sit on it for a bit before posting. ANYWAY it’s here and i’m happy with it? i hate the title but whatever, it is what it is. enjoy and let me know what you think!! 🫶🏻

word count: 4.3k

tw: semi-public fingering but doesn’t go all the way, public thigh grinding

summary: hanging out in a dive bar on long island, the last thing you expect to see is mat with a guitar over his shoulder, joining the cover band on stage

When you look up from responding to a text and Mat’s nowhere to be found, you’re not really that surprised. He does this a lot - gets distracted and wanders off. Occasionally, he’ll be cornered by a fan, smiling gamely for a selfie and chatting for a bit. Every once in a while he gets roped into a game of pool, chatting with the random men like he’s known them for years. Once in a bar in the city, and this one nearly killed you, he struck up a conversation with Aaron Tveit - your favorite Broadway star and secretly a man that you absolutely would use a hall pass on - without realizing that he was talking to someone more famous in certain New York circles than he is.

All this to say, Mat disappearing in the bar isn’t a totally unprecedented occurrence.

You set your phone back down on the high top table and lean a shoulder against the wall next to you, crossing your legs at the ankle and taking a sip of your High Noon. It’s warm-ish now, starting to taste more artificial, and you look over your shoulder at the bar, scrutinizing the crowd that’s gathered and waiting for the bartender to notice them. It’s not worth it to leave the table since it’ll be snatched up in a second, so you flip your phone over and use your index finger to tap out a quick message to Mat asking him to get you another drink when he gets back from wherever he wandered off to - at this point you’re assuming there’s a major line for the men’s room. The little blue bubble floats up and shows it was delivered. Satisfied, you lean back against the wall, scooping your hair off the back of your neck with your free hand and holding it in a lazy ponytail so your neck can cool off a bit.

Long Island is a humid, swampy mess, August slipping away into a moment in time, as Queen Taylor says. But September is doing her damnedest to remind everyone that she’s still a summer month too.

Not that you mind, having been born and raised on Long Island and intimately familiar with the weather extremes, but it’s particularly gross in the bar tonight. Sweaty bodies packed in for the 90s alt cover band that’s supposed to be playing tonight. They’ve played at the bar before and they’re pretty good you have to admit, but right now you’re just wishing for a little bit of a breeze.

Giving up on your hair, you twist it up into a messy knot, securing it with a thin black elastic that’s seen better days. Three loops around thick hair, and you know it’s going to snap before the night is over, but you can’t worry about that now. There’s immediate relief from pulling your hair off your neck and now you can focus on the fact that Mat’s actually been missing for more than a few minutes. You tap your phone screen, looking for a message, but there’s nothing from him, just a few messages in the girls’ group chat talking about Monday night’s poker event. Wrinkling your nose, you look around the bar again, trying to see if you can spot your boyfriend.

It’s too dark though, Mat’s hair and black tee would blend in with the crowds. After a few more minutes of looking, you give up, rolling your eyes and muttering to yourself, “he better not have found Aaron Tveit again,” before taking another sip of your High Noon. The spark of grapefruit flavour hits the back of your tongue and you pinch your lips together, swiping at your lower lip with the tip of your tongue. Drops of condensation roll down the can, making your hand wet and you wipe your palm on the fabric of your dress, already a little sticky with sweat.

Bored without Mat, you reply to the group chat and scroll through Instagram, double tapping on a photo Sofia posted of Olivia and commenting a string of heart eyes emojis. While you’re on your phone, the band takes the stage, a group of older men that have clearly been on the circuit for a while now. You start to swipe over to the phone app, ready to call Mat and find out where he went, when another man comes out onto the stage - this one much younger, much more handsome, and much more familiar to you.

“What?” The shocked gasp falls out of your mouth and either you’re louder than you thought or Mat just has radar to tell where you are at any given moment, because he looks over as he’s adjusting the guitar strap on his shoulder and winks at you, his mouth curling up in that familiar cocky smirk you know and love.

Mat’s been fooling around on the guitar for years now and he’s gotten half-way decent in that time, but you had no idea he was feeling confident enough to play in front of a packed bar. Or that he knew the band well enough to ask or be asked to join.

The lights over the stage dim and brighten simultaneously and the band gets into position, drumsticks clicking together to signify the start of the set. In your excitement and rush to grab your phone so you can record Mat, you nearly knock over your drink, catching it at the last second. Mat grins at you again and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, looking down at the guitar to position his fingers. You cover your mouth with your free hand to muffle the excited noises that start when the band begins to play - you want to make sure that the video you record has Mat’s playing, not your squeaks and cheers. He looks a little nervous at the start, focused intently on her fingers and the guitar strings, but as the song goes on, Mat gets more into it and relaxes.

The phone shakes in your hand a little from your excitement and the inevitability of you bouncing a bit on the balls of your feet as you get into the music too. Mat’s hair falls over his forehead and curls around his ears, long at his neck, and a flush of heat spreads through your stomach. He’s stupidly attractive up on stage, playing his guitar, and you’re ready to jump him. You lean up a little on your toes to get a better angle, the hem of your dress fluttering around your thighs. Mat looks up while he plays and spots you again. You move your hand from your mouth and grin brightly at him. He responds with another delighted smirk, shaking his hair out of his face.

Around you, the crowd is into the cover, singing along when they know the lyrics and dancing in that lazy way people dance in dive bars. You catch a few mentions of Mat’s name, eyes landing on a handful of younger girls that are staring openly at him and recording. You bite down on your lower lip to prevent the self-satisfied smirk from forming. There’s something extremely satisfying knowing that all these girls are thirsting over Mat, but you get to go home with him.

Mat shakes his hair back again and scrunches his nose up while he plays and the girl closest to you nearly yelps, “fuck, he’s so hot with that hair.”

Her friend chimes in with, “it’s giving Nathan Scott season four minus the depression.”

The first girl replies, “it’s going to be such a crime when he has to cut it for the season.” She’s not wrong - you always hate when Mat does the Lou-approved chop at the end of the summer.

You muffle a laugh behind your hand and focus on Mat’s playing. The song winds down and his grin is immediate and genuine. He shakes the hands of each of the guys and claps them on the back before wandering off the stage. You stop the recording and set your phone back down on the table, clapping and cheering along with the crowd. The band starts back up again and you bounce on the balls of your feet, waiting for Mat to find you.

He ducks through the crowds, still grinning, and appears in front of you suddenly. Before he can say a word, you throw yourself at him, locking your arms around his neck and slanting your lips over his. One of Mat’s arms wraps around your lower back, holding you flush against the front of his body. You grin against his mouth - he tastes like peach flavored High Noon, chapstick, and the salt of his sweat. Mat’s tongue swipes against your lower lip, encouraging you to open your mouth and you do, deepening the kiss and twisting your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed up by your lips. The kiss lingers and fades out as you pull back for air, but then Mat ducks forward and kisses you softly. Your forehead rests against his and you exhale a little giggle.

“Hi, babe,” he laughs, whole face crinkled up in delight when he pulls back, one arm still looped around your waist. You can feel his hand tremble against your waist, betraying nerves or leftover adrenaline from his stint on stage.

“Oh my god! You loser!” You laugh, pushing at his shoulder with the palm of your hand. Mat grabs your wrist with lightning quick reflexes and flexes his fingers around your wrist, tightening gently before he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss your pulse point. Your breath stutters in your chest, but you continue, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were going to play!”

Still holding your wrist, Mat steps closer and shakes his head. “I wasn’t planning on it. I went to the bathroom, sort of got talking with the band,” he shrugs, “it just happened.”

“It just happened!” you echo on a laugh. “Well you were amazing.”

“Thanks,” Mat ducks his head, ears going a little pink underneath his hair. He releases your wrist and scrapes his hand through his hair, the sweaty strands holding in place. Your back bumps against the wall and you realize Mat’s still crowding your body, one muscled thigh in between your legs. You hook an ankle around his, dragging his leg a little closer and the faint smile on his lips becomes more salacious, hungry. He leans his hand against the wall next to your head, caging you in. Your stomach flips and heat coils low, throbbing between your legs.

Your tongue darts out and licks your lower lip and Mat’s gaze traces the movement, eyes darkening in a familiar way. His palm is flat over the curve of your hip, but his fingers curl up a little, capturing the cotton fabric of your dress and tugging the fabric up a little. A flutter of a breeze hits your upper thigh.

“Maybe you should quit hockey,” you giggle a little, blinking lazily, “and play guitar full time.”

“Yeah?” Mat raises an eyebrow. “Don’t think amateur guitar playing is as lucrative as professional hockey.” His fingers twist in your dress more, making you glad that he has you backed against the wall and blocked with his body. He leans in, pressing his leg against your inner thigh, knocking it out an inch or so, widening your stance. Your entire body flushes with heat and it has nothing to do with the humid bar atmosphere.

Your head lolls back, hitting lightly against the wall, and you hum. “It’s really fucking hot though,” you murmur, tipping your head up so you can press a kiss to the edge of his chin. “All that fingering,” you giggle the innuendo, finding it cheesy even as you say it.

Mat huffs a laugh against your temple. His fingers loosen their grip in the fabric of your dress, letting the damp and sure to be wrinkled fabric fall back against your thigh. “I already have a fingering side-gig,” he informs you, his hand slipping underneath the hem of your dress. He presses the pads of his fingers up against the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp, jolting your hips forward. He strokes the fabric slowly, dropping kisses against your temple and down the side of your face. He works you over through the fabric, sticky arousal collecting between your legs. The lace surely can’t be doing much at this point and Mat’s fingers slide over your inner thighs. His calloused fingertips catch and snag on the lace, stuttering his work and making your clit throb.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna let you touch me after that line,” you laugh, choking off into a little gasp when Mat snaps the elastic of your panties against the crease of your thigh.

“You started it,” he reminds you, a cocky smirk gracing his lips. His forehead touches yours as his fingers continue their exploration, trailing up and dipping under the waistband of your panties. Your stomach clenches when he stops inches from where you really want him and you bump his nose with yours. “You’re not supposed to start things you can’t finish,” he warns, pressing closer to you, sliding his fingers lower. Your skin is hot, sweat beading at your hairline from the effort of keeping your legs from trembling.

You let out a harsh exhale. “Mat,” you mumble his name, grabbing at his wrist with both hands, trying to force his hand lower. He shakes his head against yours and doesn’t budge, your muscle strength no match for his. “We’re in public.” As if to punctuate your sentence, the drummer goes into a solo, the beat of the sticks on the drums pounding in time with your heart.

His fingers curl briefly and then they’re gone, leaving you cold and hot and frustrated. “Okay,” he says, shrugging. There’s an infuriating smirk on his face when you manage to look up. “I’ll behave.” He flips the hem of your dress down and smooths his palm over the fabric.

“I…what…Mat!” You stutter, the throbbing between your legs pounding in time with your heart. “You can’t just…” your voice trails off and you press your thighs together - or try to at least - Mat’s muscled leg is still in between yours and prevents you from giving yourself any relief.

Your absolute menace of a boyfriend holds his index finger - the one that had just been making a home in between your legs and is still wet with your arousal - up to his lips and shushes you. “Shh, I’m trying to listen to the music,” he smirks, sliding his other hand down the wall behind you and wrapping it around your shoulders, easily manhandling you so your back is leaning against his chest while he leans against the wall. You’re so stunned by the delayed pleasure that you don’t resist at all. Mat reaches around you and picks up your half-empty High Noon and knocks it back, holding the can lightly and sliding his arm from around your shoulders to wrap around your waist, forearm pressed against your stomach. His broad palm rests on your opposite hip, blunt nails scratching lightly and absently.

He hums along to the music in your ear and you sink back against his chest, still frustrated, muttering, “I can’t believe you shushed me.” Mat exhales a little laugh and kisses the side of your neck, scraping his teeth against your pulse point. Your head suddenly feels too heavy for your neck and you drop it back against his shoulder, giving Mat easier access to kiss your cheekbone. “Take me home,” you whine quietly, silently willing Mat’s hand to drift lower, but it remains stubbornly planted on the jut of your hip bone.

Mat’s nose bumps against your temple and you catch the scent of his cologne, mixed with the citrusy sweet alcoholic scent of the High Noon on his breath. He lazily rolls his hips forward, the hard bulge of his erection pressing against the curve of your ass. You grind back against him, whining low in the back of your throat. “Mat, please, I wanna go home,” you mumble, the vibration of the music rattling through your chest. Your hands wrap around Mat’s forearm, squeezing. “C’mon, take me to bed.”

“Babe,” Mat’s arm tightens around you, pulling you harder against his erection. You push your ass into him again, nearly grinding over the thigh that’s still in between your legs, desperate for relief. He holds you in place. “Thought we were in public?” His voice is slightly strangled, his breathing hitching when you press back harder, slipping a hand behind your back and in between your bodies. It takes a second, but you manage to wiggle your hand into place, pressing the heel of your palm, hard, against the fly of his jeans. Mat sucks in a sharp breath and he pinches your hip in warning, his head dipping down and his teeth sinking into the side of your neck in a matching warning nip. You hiss at the sting of his teeth, knowing there’s going to be a mark there in the morning when he sucks gently at the spot, tracing his tongue over the faint impressions of his teeth.

“We don’t have to be,” you murmur, brushing your knuckles against the ridge of his erection. “You have a very nice car that can get us home in twenty minutes.”

Mat’s breath is harsh in your ear, the empty can in his hand making a crunching noise when he crumples it in his fist. Your arm is starting to go a little numb, twisted behind your back and pressed in between your bodies, and you’re desperately hoping Mat gives up and gives in to what you want soon. His hand flexes over your hip and you grind down on his thigh again, hiccuping a breath at the drag of his jeans and your lacy panties over your swollen clit. Faintly, you wonder if you’re causing a scene, if people are watching you both, but Mat’s hands aren’t anywhere they shouldn’t be and your grind on his thigh could easily be mistaken for drunken dancing.

“Think you can wait twenty minutes, babe?” Mat jerks his hips into your ass, tossing the can back onto the table top and wrapping his other arm around your stomach so you’re caged against him. You wiggle your hand out from behind your back just before it’s completely lost feeling. “Moving pretty good on my thigh,” he bounces it lightly, sending shockwaves up your spine. “Think you could get off like this?”

Yes, is your immediate thought.

You have and can use Mat’s thick, muscled thigh to get yourself off. Most recently two nights ago, lazily grinding yourself over him on the couch while half-heartedly watching a movie. But tonight, with alcohol and lust fogging your brain and the image of Mat’s capable fingers working the guitar strings, you don’t want his thigh.

“Wan’ your fingers,” you turn your head and press the tip of your nose against the side of his neck, nuzzling him. He smells so fucking good. Mat chuckles, kissing your forehead. “You’re so good with your fingers.” Your hands cross your stomach, covering his hands, and you play with his fingers, lacing them with yours.

“You’re good at getting what you want,” Mat grins and you can feel the lift of his cheek against the side of your head. He squeezes you in a hug once, tightly, before loosening his grip. “You gotta walk in front of me to the car, babe. Hide the evidence of what you do to me, don’t wanna get in trouble.”

Your heart kicks up its tempo in your chest and you lift your head from Mat’s shoulder. “Home?” You ask brightly, wiggling and turning in Mat’s arms, your own coming up to loop around his neck.

“Yeah, home,” he laughs, smirking, cupping your cheek with one large hand and dragging your face up to his for a deep kiss. His hips roll mindlessly against yours and you lift higher on your toes to press flush against him, the throbbing between your legs building. When he breaks the kiss off, there’s a mischievous little gleam in his eyes and a slightly mean curl to his lips. “But you don’t get to touch. I’m gonna practice on you, okay, babe?” He taps his fingertips against your cheek, “just these. Gonna practice my finger placement.” Mat’s eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with lust, obscuring the usual hazel-green color.

Your head bobbles up and down in an agreeable nod. You’ll agree to almost anything just to get Mat’s fingers inside your throbbing cunt. You also know that he’s a total softie and as much as he tries to act stern and tough, once you get into bed with him it’s only a matter of time before he gives up the act and gives you whatever you want. Honestly, you’re both too horny for each other to really commit to the bit. Plus, you roll your hips up into Mat’s, based on the rock hard erection he’s sporting, you’re not even sure Mat’ll be able to keep to the promise of giving you only his fingers.

His hand slides back from your cheek and tangles in the messy bun knotted at the nape of your neck, gently pulling so your face tilts up. “Let’s get out of here,” he grins, kissing the corner of your mouth and turning you around swiftly, one hand resting on your lower back to push you in front of him and through the crowd. You reach back and tangle your fingers with his free hand, a zap of excitement running up your spine when Mat’s hand slides lower and grabs a handful of your ass.

You’re navigating the crowd with Mat hot on your heels, purposely stepping on the backs of your sandals and laughing when you whip your head around to glare at him. His hand flexes against your lower back, warm through the cotton, and he uses his hand in yours to pull you back slightly so your ass bumps against his groin. “Gotta move a little faster, babe,” he teases.

“You’re a fucking menace, Mathew,” you grumble, a laugh startling out of your chest when Mat finally urges you out the front door and crowds you up against the front of the bar. Heat pools low in your stomach and you lick your lower lip reflexively. Mat grins down at you and ruffles a hand through his hair. It’s messy, the little wings sticking out around his ears and neck, and all you want to do is tangle your fingers in it and pull while he eats you out. And you tell him so, watching with delight as his eyes glaze over a little and his mouth goes slack.

“Why the fuck are we still standing here then?” He asks, voice a little strangled.

A giggle slips past your lips. “You tell me, Van Halen.” Your hands slide up Mat’s arms and over his shoulders so your fingers can twist in his hair. Mat hisses when you tug gently. “Why aren’t we in the car or at home where you can get those talented fingers knuckle deep in me?”

Mat groans your name and drops his forehead to your shoulder, growling a little against your overheated skin. His hands slide to your waist, gripping tightly. You grin wickedly, even though he can’t see it, and tug his hair again. “If you get me home soon, I’ll show off my skills,” you murmur into his ear, tongue darting out to trace the shell of his ear.

“Fuck,” Mat grunts, grabbing your hand and nearly yanking your shoulder out of its socket with the force of pulling you down the street to his parked car. Your giggles echo around the quiet street, the humid air enveloping you and making your hair frizz around your temples. At the car, Mat pushes you up against the side, grasping your chin in one hand and kisses you, hard and bruising, his tongue dipping in your mouth. His other hand slides up your dress and he presses his thumb against your clit, the rasp of the lace on your clit providing extra simulation. Your knees go weak and you moan into his mouth, flattening your palms against the side of the car for stability. A rush of heat floods between your legs and the longer Mat’s lips are on yours, the wetter you get. At this point you’re not sure if it’s sweat or arousal that’s dripping down the inside of your thighs. He slides his tongue over your lower lip and rubs his fingers against your damp panties again, eliciting a strangled noise from the back of your throat.

When Mat breaks the kiss, pulling back from your face and breathing heavily, you blink up at him, completely dazed and lust drunk. He kisses the tip of your nose and squeezes the inside of your thigh and you giggle, unable to stop the words from slipping out of your mouth, “are you gonna play Wonderwall before or after I get my orgasms?”

A laugh barks out of Mat’s mouth and he pinches your ass cheek, making you squeal. “Just for that, it’s gonna be before,” he laughs again, reaching behind you to pull open the passenger door. You fold into the seat, making sure to flash Mat a little before yanking the door shut and grinning at him from behind the window.

“Who’s the menace now, babe?” Mat sticks his tongue out at you, laughing, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“Still you,” you tease back, wrinkling your nose at him, knowing he’s going to be so worked up the more you poke fun at him. “Now get in the car, I’m gonna put Wonderwall on so we can get straight to the fingering practice when we get home.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal fic #new york islanders

212 notes · View notes

hunn1e-bunn1e · 1 year

Text

Tdlosk Various - "Teruhashi's Rival!"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•

In which PK Academy receives yet another new transfer student mid school year, but this one seems to have the favor of gods on his side, much to the dismay of a certain piss aura'd blueberry girl. Or; in which another one of "God's favorite children" enrolls into PK Academy and gives the ever popular Teruhashi Kokomi a run for her money when his reputation seems to overtake her own.

🌟•♡•🌟•♡•🌟•♡•🌟•♡•🌟•♡•🌟•♡•🌟•♡•🌟

"Oh!"

"Who's that guy?"

"Oh my!!"

"Do you think he'll be in our class?"

"How handsome!!!!"

The exclamations of various students rang throughout the halls, drawing other students from their classes to satiate their curiosity. Girls and boys alike crowded the hallways to see what was so exciting, pushing against and squeezing between one another. But soon enough the crowd parted into two, splitting like the red sea and out of the way for an approaching figure.

A boy; a fellow student judging by his uniform; about sixteen to seventeen years of age. He was tall, maybe around 6'⁴ or 6'⁵, with an average build. His silky h/c hair bounced and swayed in time with his steps as he walked down the hall while his sharp e/c eyes scanned the faces of the staring students. The most notable thing about him however was his handsome face, and in the eyes of a certain psychic, a grand luminescent aura that radiated from him. This boy was, in all observations, an ikemen.

Among the crowd stood a narcissistic certain blue haired girl. Her perfect brows furrowed as she hadn't heard a single person acknowledge her presence since the handsome stranger showed up. No one had even spared her a glance nor even a simple hello, not to mention hadn't heard single 'oh wow!'. Teruhashi was in shock, how could this one boy pull everyone's attention away from her in just a matter of seconds!?

How could she be the perfect pretty girl if noone even noticed that she was among them. So to fix this atrocity, she decided to speak up. She shimmied her way out of the crowd and snuck over to the end of the hallway and around the corner. The bluenette then turned back around and rounded the corner again, making it look like she had just come upon the scene. Quietly clearing her throat, she rose her voice slightly so that she could be heard over the exited murmurs of her peers.

"Hello everyone, what's going on?"

Teruhashi's angelic voice cut through the commotion, causing all eyes to turn to her.

"Oh!"

"It's Teruhashi–san!

"Oh wow!"

"She's so pretty!"

"O‐Oh, hey Teruhashi-sama. Check out the new guy."

Meekly greeted the flustered Toritsuka, who had somehow torn his eyes from the handsome stranger. He seemed embarrassed of himself to even look at the blue haired girl, let alone to have spoken to her as he just did. For a boy like him, a girl like her was for from his reach and even farther from owing him even a simple glance. In the case of Toritsuka Reita, a boy like him simply couldn't help but long for attention from a girl like her... but that thought can be explored another time.

"New guy? So he's a new student? Nice to meet you I'm Teruhashi Kokomi."

The blueberry headed girl turned towards the h/c-ette and introduced herself, still behaving as if she had no clue of the situation. Their two auras of shimmering gold and sparkling silver clash as she does so. The handsome boy raises a brow at her in disbelief of her words, he chuckles in amusement as he takes her hand his.

"[Surname] [Name] nice to meet you Teruhashi‐san. If I may ask; why did you leave earlier and come back just now?"

The now named [Name] asks Teruhashi with an amused expression. His question caught the attention of the other students and they begin whispering.

"Eh? Teruhashi‐sama was already here?"

"She left and came back?"

"...she was probably trying to calm everyone down..."

"No way. She could've just done that here."

"She was probably just trying to get [Surname]-san to acknowledge her..."

"...I mean Teruhashi-san is an attention seaker..."

"Right?"

The bluenette hid her frustration at [Name]'s question behind a timid smile. Putting her hands together in front of her she began twiddling her thumbs and shifting in place; Putting on her best shy girl act. She began to make an excuse for herself and save her chipped reputation.

"A‐Ah! It's not like that, I was only trying to—!"

"I'm Hairo Kineshi! Nice to meet you [Surname]-san!"

"What's up man, I'm Nendou and this right here is my pal!"

'Saiki Kusuo'

"I am 'The Jet-Black Wings', protector of all mortals present and I shall defend you from the evil organization 'The Dark Reunion'! You may call me by my human Alias Kaidou Shun!"

"O-oh! Hey! I'm Toritsuka Reita! Wanna know your guardian spirit [Surname]-san?"

The five boys, counting one Saiki Kusuo since he was dragged in against his will, interrupt Teruhashi and practically ran her over to get to the h/c-ette. They crowd him, each introducing themselves and trying for his attention and the chance to befriend him, barring Saiki of course.

"Hey [Name], me and my pal were gonna go get ramen after school! Wanna come?"

Nendou asks the handsome boy, improperly calling him by his first name as he slings a heavy arm over his shoulder. Kaidou, trying to gain leverage, scolds the mohawked teen about his lack of manners, getting only a brain dead look from him.

"It's nice to meet you all! Say, is it possible for you to lead me to the lunch room? If you don’t mind, I'd like to sit with you as well. Oh and I'd love to go get ramen with you!"

The e/c eyed teen beams at the boys before him making all but one of the students in the hall have the same thought go through their head:

'Oh my!'

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•

🌟•♡•🌟•♡•🌟•♡•🌟•♡•🌟•♡•🌟•♡•🌟•♡•🌟

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

771 notes · View notes

doodle-pops · 2 months

Text

A Lot Like Love

Erestor x reader

Request: Hello! i would like story with Erestor as first love story please ? In rivendell and the summertime vibes - @sofyawiththelves

Words: 800

Warnings: none

Synopsis: The love story of how you captured Erestor’s heart on a warm summer’s day.

Love was never an emotion Erestor claimed to have experienced, but understood the raw passionate chokehold it placed on people. The countless novels of love at first and love conquering all played out vividly before his eyes between others. He knew what it looked like, but never felt, touched or tasted it. To imagine the colours of love whenever it struck him, should ever he be blessed to live in the moment, was serendipitous.

Erestor found himself on a stroll, meandering through the market stalls filled with merchants and local shopkeepers, searching. For what? He didn't truly know, until...

He found himself in an unprecedented state of nervousness, an unsettling sensation akin to a whirlwind of butterflies taking flight within the depths of his stomach. What made this feeling particularly absurd was the fact that it struck him in broad daylight, amidst a bustling crowd of people.

Who were you and where had you manifested from? Why had it taken him this long to notice your presence?

No matter how hard he attempted to dismiss it, he couldn’t banish this overpowering emotion. It was as though you were an unstoppable and immovable force who had infiltrated his being, someone who seemed acutely aware of the impact you had on those around you. Your enigmatic figure casually meandered through the area, seemingly oblivious to his own statue-like presence.

A sly smile graced your lips, stretching into unrestrained laughter. It was evident that you found amusement in his starstruck demeanour, the sparkle in your eyes betraying your true intentions. This façade was deliberate, he was convinced; you couldn’t possibly be so naive as to overlook the repercussions of your actions.

You strolled about with an effortless elegance, your hair adorned with flowers like a personal halo, and a natural radiance that outshone the sun itself. The summer sun could not maintain its glow when you existed. It was impossible to outshine your very existence. And so, he silently cursed the heavens for placing such an angelic being on this accursed earth, forced to mingle with a motley crew of ruffians. The question that consumed his thoughts was why you had chosen to be here, among those who failed to recognize and adore them as you truly deserved.

Your garments flowed gracefully with each step, mirroring the fluidity of your body’s movements as you hopped from one vendor stall to another. Laughter erupted as you pointed out items and engagingly interacted with the vendors. For all the years he had dwelled in this city, he had been under an enchantment, unable to perceive such unfathomable beauty, magnificence, and perfection. Or perhaps it was his own eyes that had been shrouded by a veil, obscuring his view of this incredible allure.

Such magnificence should be treasured and adored, and put into poetry to be read thousands of times over and over again with cravings to capture the essence of how ethereal you are.

He yearned to reach out and grasp the aura that surrounded you, the presence that enveloped your being and bestowed upon them such mirth. He wished to immerse himself in it, letting it warm his soul and dispel the lingering coldness that had haunted him for years. You were his reason to smile, his reason to exist, his reason to truly live after years of mere existence. He was willing to allow your sunshine to penetrate his life and bring about the change he so desperately needed—for you, for himself.

With the noon sun still high in the sky and the streets relatively deserted, he saw an opportunity. No one seemed to care about his identity at that moment as he strode purposefully through the vendor stalls, making his way towards the person who had ignited this newfound hope within him.

With your focus locked onto a small, exquisitely beautiful hairpin, he sucked in a deep breath and adjusted his hair. Now was the moment, just like in the romance stories he read where the man would approach the woman and swoon her with something unforgettable. This was his moment to repeat all his years of fantasising.

Calling out to you, he watched as you turned to meet his gaze; his eyes capturing a mix of anxiety, courage, and hope. In that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Everything fell into perfect alignment, he spoke softly, capturing your attention that was the start of forever. “May I be acquainted with such a magnificent beauty?”

Masterlist

Taglist: @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster

If you would like to be tagged, click the taglist link to join.

64 notes · View notes

icypenguin · 7 months

Text

★~ Lyney headcanons (college au)

hello peeps!!! ik you guys love lyney soo I’ve decided to make a modern au one heheheheheh, enjoyyyy!

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

- HES SUCH A TEASEEEEE well- it will definitely take time for you to be friends w him, he’ll be pretty annoying soo.. just gotta take ur time.

- he’s not a naughty one but well.. he surely makes troubles.

- in math or history, he will ask you if you want to skip class with him. if not, then he will pass notes to you to keep him entertained while you try to take notes all of the important things (that he will ask later).

- he will tease you with magic tricks (it will get a bit embarrassing as people started staring at you and him). HE EVEN CONFESSED TO YOU WITH IT!!!!!$!$>}${€{€9{

- okay well maybe when he’s feeling quite down he will share an earphone with you on the school rooftop. he’ll have his head on your shoulder as you rub his shoulder.

- ARCADE AFTER SCHOOLLLL YESYEYSYEYSYES. he looooves going to the arcade after school or anytime! he often wins a plushie for you. you have a collection of them at home.

- he’s such a nintendo boy, he looooves mario kart. “NOONE CAN BEAT ME IN MARIO KART LOOOSERRRR” that’s what he says…

~ small drabble ~

it was a crowded morning on the hallways. people were getting ready to start their day by picking up the things they need from their locker. you were enjoying it until a loud voice catches your ear. “y/nnnn! i missed you my very berry merry bestfriend!” lyney rubs your head. you got embarassed by this and the fact that he said that out loud! “l-lyney! what is it that you want!? you better not attract anyone’s attention…” you sigh while trying to keep the conversation quiet. “awww why doesn’t my bestfriend miss meee?” he whined, slumping his whole body to yours. by his action, you both fell onto the fooor and gather everyone’s attention. “ack! h-hey lyneyyy!” you tried to push his body off of yours but it didn’t budge. “lyneyy! get off of mee!” you both finally got off the floor and you quickly act like nothing happened.

while you were fixing your hair, lyney snatched your math homework “hehe catch me if you caan!”. he yelled while running away from you, catching everyone’s attention. “lyneyy!” you yelled back, making him look back at you. he speeded up, leaving you behind, and quickly hide in the janitor’s room. but before he could copy all of your answers, you busted in and snatched your homework back. “you little rascal!” he snickered as he slither a hand on your waist, not letting you go. you fell onto his chest and tried to get up but couldn’t. “l-lyney whatthe-” “shh princess, someone will find us and think of the wrong idea”.

~~~

wooow that’s kinda cringe and cheesy.. but whatever hehehe. i hope u guys liked this one as much as the others. thankyou for reading this fanfic! advices are accepted, thankyou!

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #lyney fluff #lyney x you #lyney headcanons

140 notes · View notes

prettyinpurplelights · 1 year

Text

This song is literally this whole series summed up give it a listen if you’d like x

It was your first full day off in a few weeks where you hadn’t a single thing to do and you were very glad there was no obligation to get out of bed before noon. Louis Vuitton had thrown you straight into the deep end, since they knew you were capable from your past experience with them during your internship. This meant countless meetings and store visits, as well as fittings and shoots. You were grateful that they immediately put you so far up the ladder in terms of responsibility, thankful for the fact you weren’t just the coffee runner, but it had been extremely tiring to say the least. You’d finally gotten the hang of it now, finding a way to balance everything so you weren’t running around like a headless chicken, and you wouldn’t have to leave your house seven days a week in order to get all your work done before the deadlines. However, the process of doing so had stretched you thin. Pairing that with the fact you and Mia had to unpack, decorate and go furniture shopping amongst other things had worn you out completely. Kylian and Elliot had been really helpful though, doing all the heavy lifting and assembling so you and Mia could focus on reducing the number of cardboard boxes crowding your apartment to zero. Sometime earlier in the week, you had crushed your last cardboard box under your feet, you and Mia throwing it into the recycling chute ceremonially as you could finally say that you were officially Parisians. It made your lie in today that much sweeter, knowing that you could stay in bed all day if you wanted to, since there was absolutely nothing waiting for you to do once you decided to get out of it.

So when your phone rang at 8am, you completely ignored it, burrowing further into the thick quilt as you brought it around your chin. It rang again a minute later and you still refused to acknowledge it, whoever it was would just have to wait until you felt like being sociable. You scooted over, nearer to your bedside table, to pick up the device and put it on do not disturb when it pinged, a text flashing at the top of the screen just before you could.

Y/N pick up the phone please!! Emergency! 😩🙏🏿

Are you dying? You typed out quickly, rolling your eyes.

No.

Is your apartment on fire?

No.

Did you lose your job?

What?? No.

Then leave me the fuck alone to sleep Kylian.

Please, I need your help. I’m gonna call again, please answer 🥺

Of course, if anyone had to be inconsiderate and spoil your perfect plan of being lazy today, it was going to be him. You picked up on the third ring, holding the phone to your ear as you moved to roll onto your back. You stared at the ceiling, trying to come up with ways of torturing Kylian for ruining your day and waking you up before noon.

“Hello, Y/N. Good morning. How are you?” You could hear the hesitancy in his voice as he spoke, nervous; you could tell because he was speaking so formally. It was kind of funny, and if you weren’t slightly pissed at him, you’d laugh because you knew he was scared about how you’d react to him waking you up. He knew you weren’t a morning person so he’d have to have a pretty good reason as to why he was calling this early. You don’t give an answer to his question, just to get under his skin a little more and also because you were halfway conscious, your brain still hadn’t fully woken up yet.

“You’re going to make me work for it huh?” He said after realising you weren’t going to say a word.

“Hmm.” You replied.

“Yeah you know what, lemme just cut to it, I’m really sorry to wake you up so early, I know it’s your off day. But I really need your help. Please.”

“And you couldn’t ask anyone else?”

“Achraf’s taken his boys to Disneyland, Elliot’s got some sort of training course today and Ethan’s a little shit who said no before I’d even asked.”

“And what makes you think I’m going to say yes to whatever you’re going to say next?”

“Because you love kids? And you love me?”

“Spit it out Ky.”

“Jirés is literally on his way right now to drop off Isayah and Lana, he asked me to watch them for the day last week and I completely forgot that it’s actually today. I need your help to entertain them, I don’t know what I’m going to do with them for a whole entire day.” He groaned; he sounded very stressed out and in that moment, you sort of felt bad for him.

“You’re so lucky your niece and nephew are two of the most adorable kids in the world.” You heard him release the breath you didn’t realise he was holding, letting out a huge sigh.

“I owe you Y/N.”

“Big fucking time.”

“I’ll be there within the hour.” You hung up, dropping the phone on the bed and you sighed loudly yourself. You dragged your body out of bed into the shower, the piping hot water helping you to wake up and feel a little less tired. You decided to wear your baby blue Juicy co-ord tracksuit, something you could move around freely in just in case Isayah and Lana were not the type of kids who liked to sit around doing nothing. You hadn’t seen them since they were born, which was quite a few years ago, so you’re not even sure they’d remember you. You were just finishing up your mug of tea when you heard a knock at the door.

“Hey!” You smiled, opening the door to see Kylian with Lana standing behind him, her arm wrapped around his thigh as she peeked shyly around his leg. Isayah stood by his side, Kylian hand resting on his shoulder.

“Come on guys,” he ushered them into your apartment, mouthing a thank you as you closed the door behind them. They had made their way to the sofa in your living room, perched on the edge, their little legs barely touching the floor. You squatted so you were eye level with them.

“You guys probably don’t remember me, my name is Y/N, I met you when you were tiny little babies.”

“She’s Elliot’s sister.” Kylian added and Isayah smiled at you, now he knew you were linked to two people he liked, you couldn’t be too bad of a person. But Lana still looked slightly scared of you, and you didn’t blame her, you were technically a complete stranger. You noticed she was carrying a small blue unicorn teddy, and an idea came to mind.

“Do you like unicorns Lana?” You asked gently and she nodded, the ghost of a smile flashing across her face.

“Me too! What’s your unicorn’s name?”

“Lola.” She spoke softly.

“That’s a lovely name. I have a unicorn too, his name is Twilight. Do you and Lola want to meet him?”

She nodded again, more eagerly this time and your heart swelled a little, glad she was warming up to you more now.

“I’ll go and get him.”

“Isayah, stay with your sister, I’ll be back.” You heard Kylian say before his steps grew louder as he entered the room with you.

“You still have Twilight?” He asked as he flopped back first onto your bed, grabbing the teddy from behind his head and throwing it to you.

You caught the toy, fond memories of your childhood coming back to you as you ran your hand over the soft black fur.

“He’s my best friend, I can never get rid of him.”

“Y/N he’s like a billion years old, you’ve had him since I’ve known you.” He laughed, shuffling further up the mattress so he was lying down completely now.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” You stretched your free arm towards him, shoving his leg. “And get your nasty shoes off my bed.”

He angled himself so his feet dangled off the bed instead, his arms bent at a right angle as he used his elbows to support his weight while he sat up slightly.

“Half his rhinestones are missing, his horn is more grey than it is white, you don’t think it’s time to get rid of him?”

You gasped dramatically, your hands coming to cover Twilight’s ears as you frowned at Kylian playfully.

“Don’t listen to him Twilight. Ky is just jealous because you’re my number one guy.”

“I’m not jealous of a stuffed unicorn, be fucking serious.” He rolled his eyes. “Twilight can’t do half the things I can do.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

You honestly hadn’t meant for the question to sound suggestive, at all but from the way Kylian was looking at you, chin slightly raised, his eyes almost as if they were closed so you could only see the dark of his pupils, and a smirk on his lips so small you were probably imagining it, you wondered if perhaps it had come out more suggestive than you had intended. You’d been spending a lot of time together recently since you’d moved to Paris, and in good fashion, as your heart liked to toy with you from time to time, your feelings for him had arisen again causing a problem for you. It had been so much easier when you were at opposite ends of the country, and barely talked and you had your own boyfriend to distract you and keep your mind off of Kylian and his stupid pouty lips and his mischievous eyes and ridiculously large thighs, his boyish smile with those goddamn dimples and goofy nature and the way he seemed to know what you were thinking before you did. To be honest, most of the time you spent with him, Mia and Elliot were there also, a buffer you were very grateful for, but even in those moments, there were times when it felt like it was just the two of you alone. Times when you’d feel the burn of Kylian’s gaze on the back of your neck, or his hand lingering a little too long when they accidentally brushed along your waist, his hugs a bit tighter than you’d remembered them to be in the 16 or so years you’ve known him. You didn’t want to think anything of it, for all you knew, he and Renée were still dating. They hadn’t been spotted for a while in public but that didn’t mean they weren’t still together, just low-key. Since he may have suggested they had gotten back together after your graduation, you hadn’t asked him anything further about it, she wasn’t a topic the both of you frequented, ever. You tended to steer clear of any relationship talk since he had Elliot for that and you, Mia. And frankly, you personally didn’t want to hear anything about it either. You were probably imagining the tension and misconstruing Kylian’s intentions, hence why you tried to avoid spending any time alone with him for too long, fearing one of these days, your heart will win over your head and you’ll do something the both of you would regret.

Again.

“Have you guys eaten?” You asked, desperate to change the conversation and hoping he didn’t notice.

“Nah,” He shrugged, standing up and walking over to you. “I was going to take them to McDonald’s for breakfast.”

“Kylian, you can’t take them to McDonald’s at 9 in the morning.”

“Why not?”

He rounded the bed, almost directly in front of you and you bolted for the door instead, mumbling something about showing Twilight to Lana. The room had gotten stuffier the closer he got to you, the walls were beginning to close in and you felt you had to escape, quickly. You’re starting to regret the day already, not knowing how much longer you can survive spending time alone with him. Entering the living room, you held out the toy in front of you, Lana eyes growing wide as she smiled.

“Twilight, meet Lana and Lola.” You handed the toy to the little girl and she seemed so pleased, you were glad you could make her that little bit more comfortable around you.

“Jirés said she’s been grumpy all week because she’s missing Melissa. Even seeing me this morning couldn’t get her to smile like that.” Kylian suddenly appeared next to you, his warm breath brushing your ear as he whispered. You jumped, squealing as you punched his arm mid-sentence, moving back from him.

“You know I hate being creeped up on.” You tried your best to ignore the heat rising up towards your cheeks, willing them to go back down. Maybe they could burn the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach instead.

“Sorry. Just can’t believe she’s happier seeing that toy more than she was seeing me.”

“Twilight 2, Kyky 0.” You smirked.

“Shut the fu-“ He stopped himself looking down at Lana and Isayah who were conversing amongst themselves, not paying him any attention at all. “Just shut up.”

“Hmmm, I was going to say we make pancakes for breakfast but since you want to be so rude, you can get none.”

You crouched down in front of the two young children again, grabbing their attention.

“What do you think guys, should we make some pancakes and give none to Kylian?” They laughed and nodded excitedly.

“Lana? Isayah? You’re going to leave me out like that?” Kylian clutched his chest, feigning hurt and he stumbled backwards, making his niece and nephew laugh even harder.

“Maybe you can have one.” Lana said.

“Just one?” Kylian wiggled his fingers in front of them, slowly sneaking up on them like the grinch. They knew what was coming, and jumped up on the sofa, cowering away from him in one of the corners. “Maybe if I tickle you, it’ll change your mind.” He added, before leaping on them. The sound of their sweet childish laughters filled the room as Kylian tickled them mercilessly.

“Uncle Kyky, wait!! Please.” They tried but he carried on, and you watched on fondly. He was a good uncle to them, he would talk to you about his niece and nephew often, you felt like you knew them personally too. You knew he was very protective over them, and loved them a lot, and it was nice to see how much they adored and trusted him also.

Kylian would make a great dad, you were thinking, an alternate perfect life playing out in your head where the both of you were completely honest with each other, and from that honesty, the birth of a relationship, one that progressed naturally and ended up with you and him and your kids, a dog, white picket fence, the works. You were totally lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realise the noise had stopped and the three of them were now looking at you.

“Uhh…what’s going on?” You asked, blinking away your silly pipe dreams, your wishful thoughts disappearing in an invisible cloud of wistful smoke.

“Well Lana mentioned not giving me any pancakes was actually your idea,” Kylian started, rising from the sofa. “So, I think we have to tickle you too.”

“Oh…” You backed up, towards the door, as Kylian and his niece and nephew neared you. “Guys…oh come on. Lana?? I thought we were friends!”

She giggled, shrugging her shoulders.

“Get her!” Isayah shouted before all three of them charged at you, giving you barely any time to escape to the kitchen. There must be something in the Mbappé family because they were all so fast, catching up to you in no time, Isayah and Lana tickling your sides while Kylian held your arms together so you couldn’t fight them off.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You half pleaded, although it didn’t sound very genuine because you couldn’t control your laughter.

“What do you think guys, should we stop?” Kylian looked down at them after a few minutes of their tickling assault, and they nodded.

“My arms are tired now anyways.” Isayah said.

“And I wanna play with Lola and Twilight, come Isayah.” Lana took his hand and dragged him out of the kitchen, leaving you and Kylian alone. He watched them turn the corner into your lounge before spinning his head around again to look you straight in the eye. There was a shift in the atmosphere, the playful vibe disappearing entirely, a more serious one replacing it as his eyes stayed fixed on yours. Holding eye contact is something that always made you nervous, you could only maintain it for a few seconds before you had to look away, and with someone like Kylian, the butterflies that fluttered into existence when his eyes bore into yours made it so much harder. Your eyes fell from his, and only then did you notice his hands were still wrapped around your wrists.

“Ky.”

“Hmm?” You could still feel his eyes on you and you wished you could free your hands to cover your face, it felt so hot, you wondered if he could feel the heat radiating from your cheeks, since his face was hardly a few centimetres from yours, his body practically leaning against yours.

“My hands.” He had them trapped either side of you in his tight grip and there was no way you were getting free unless he loosened them.

“Why do you run away whenever we’re alone together?” Your head snapped up, your eyes meeting again as your brain processed his question.

Shit, he noticed?

“You didn’t think I’d notice?” He asked, reading your thoughts as though you’d pasted them on your forehead in big bright neon letters. You needed him to get out of your head. Out of your heart, your thoughts, your very being.

“W…what?” It all felt too close and intimate, there was barely an inch of space between the two of you, so your words came out in small hushed tones, although you felt like you needed to shout, because there was no way he could possibly hear you over the thunderous beating of your heart.

“You bolted earlier, in your bedroom.” His hands were still around yours, his palm burning against the skin of your wrists, almost as though he was branding you. Funny that, because according to the imprint he’d made on your heart you’d been unable to rid yourself off for the last decade, you'd basically been branded his since you were 11.

“Ky, let go of me, please.”

He wasn’t actually hurting you, but this whole thing was making you uncomfortable, you didn’t want to admit anything to him, you wanted an out, a change of subject, fast.

“Answer my question Y/N.”

“We have to make breakfast-“

“You’re deflecting.”

“Kylian we had dinner a few weeks ago alone, I didn’t go anywhere.”

“You’ve been shying away from me since then.” He kept pressing, it didn’t seem like he was going to let you go anytime soon. You prayed for a distraction of some sort, something, someone to get you out of this.

“If I was avoiding you, I would’ve hung up on you this morning. We wouldn’t be here together right now.”

“Y/N if I wasn’t holding onto you right now, you’d have been out of that door.”

He was absolutely right, and you were surprised he’d noticed your behaviour around him recently, you thought you’d been quite subtle with it.

“Uncle Kyky?”

You had opened your mouth to feed him another obvious lie, when Isayah walked into the kitchen, and you closed your eyes, silently thanking the gods for answering your prayer. Kylian turned to face him, and you managed to free yourself from his grasp while he was distracted by Isayah, grateful to the little boy for his perfect timing.

“When are we gonna make the pancakes, we’re hungry.” He pouted.

“Go and get Lana, we’ll do it now.”

“Yes!” Isayah leapt up with his fist in the air before running out of the kitchen again, yelling Lana’s name.

You busied yourself with getting out a mixing bowl and a frying pan for the pancakes purposely; they were at the other end of the kitchen, far from Kylian so you could pretend you couldn’t feel his gaze practically burning holes in the back of your zip-up hoodie. You were surprised you didn’t spontaneously burst into flames. It was silent apart from the clatter of your pots and pans as you pulled out the frying pan and got to work preparing breakfast. You didn’t look at Kylian once as you told him where to find specific ingredients, ignored the fluttering in your stomach when his hand lingered on top of yours when he passed you the milk from the fridge. You focused on Isayah and Lana, helping them to mix everything and flip the pancakes, Kylian watching on affectionately, you completely unaware as you thought he was staying away for a completely different reason. He eventually joined in, and the atmosphere had gone back to the playful one as the four of you decorated your pancakes with fruit and syrup and tons of whipped cream. Surprisingly, the kids had managed to not mess themselves up too much, and had now ran back to the living room again to carry on playing, leaving you and Kylian to clear up alone, again.

“What did you have in mind to do with them today?” You asked, quick to start a conversation, focus the topic on the day instead, leaving no room for Kylian to bring up anything else.

“I’m not too sure, I was thinking the zoo?”

“Oh my gosh!” You leapt up, thinking of something to do and getting a little too excited about it, startling Kylian.

“Jesus Y/N, I almost dropped the mixing bowl.”

“Sorry! But I just got an idea, you remember that farm yemma used to take us to? The one where you get to ride on the horses!”

“And Elliot fell in that pile of horse shit!” He remembered, laughing as the memory replayed in his mind.

“That was hilarious, he was so mad we refused to walk with him the rest of the tour.” You laughed together for a while at the thought of 7 year old Elliot covered in manure. He was so angry that day because you and Kylian kept cracking jokes.

“What do you think? Isayah and Lana would love that right?” You asked once the both of you had calmed down. He cocked his head towards the door and smiled.

“Why don’t you go and find out?”

—————-

“This is so cool! Uncle Kyky I’m a cowboy!” Isayah shouted, grinning as he rode the horse around the large pen, his long fluffy curls blowing about his face as he waved his hands in the air. Kylian looked at him through the camera, taking a video to later send to Jirés (and keep for himself also).

“Yeehaw!” Kylian yelled, causing Isayah to break out into fits of giggles before he shouted it back. You had just returned from feeding and petting the chicks with Lana’s hand in yours. After hours touring the entire farm, Isayah had wanted to try the horse riding but for Lana, they were too big, and gave her quite the fright, so you offered to do something else with her which she would be more comfortable with, and you’d both had a great time with the chicks.

“He’s really enjoying that isn’t he?” You asked as you joined Kylian outside the pen, standing by his right side.

“Having the time of his life.” He smiled at you before looking down at Lana.

“Woaaah what are you wearing Lana?”

“You like it?” She took the lollipop out of her mouth to smile a toothless grin, showing off her yellow chick beanie you’d gotten her from the gift shop after she’d begged you to. You couldn’t say no to her, she was just too cute so you’d bought it for her, the both of you picking out a tractor for Isayah also.

“I love it, you look very pretty cherie.”

“We got you one too Uncle Kyky! Surprise!” Lana pulled her hand from behind her, revealing a beanie exactly like the one on her head, but in a bright shade of red instead.

“Oh! Nice!” You sniggered at Kylian’s very fake enthusiastic response under your breath, as he took the hat from his niece and pulled it over his head. You took your green one out of your pocket and wore it too.

“Y/N, these are hideous.” He whispered to you, low so Lana couldn’t hear you, his eyes still trained on Ishaya as he was nearing the end of his ride. The little girl had long let go of your hand, busy trying to climb the wooden fence of the pen so she could hang on with her two feet resting on the lower plank as she watched her brother.

“I know, but she was so excited about all of us matching.”

“So this is your fault.”

“Really? We’re doing this again?” You stepped back from him so you could look at him fully, raising your eyebrow. What you didn’t expect was for Kylian’s hand to find it way to the small of your back, pulling you towards him so his lips could hover near your ear.

“I don’t think tickling will cut it this time, I might have to find some other way to punish you.” You couldn’t help the way your knees buckled slightly at his words, he was like a hot grill, you were a mere cube of ice, put the ice anywhere near that grill and it was bound to melt, a perfectly normal and expected reaction.

“Ky come on.” You tried to reason with him, your head begging you to find the strength to fight your heart and body which wanted nothing more than to lean even more into his touch and flirt back.

“What?” He widened his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, feigning innocence while his hand had still not left the dip just above your butt, neither had he made any move to put some space between the two of you.

“You know what you’re doing, you can’t…I cant…you have a gir-“ The words that were struggling to leave your mouth were suddenly cut off by Isayah running towards the three of you, having finally finished his ride.

“Y/N! Did you see me??” You pulled yourself away from Kylian hurriedly, as though you’d been caught by your parents with his hand down the front of your jeans. You tugged the gate open so Isayah could come out of the pen; he was bouncing up and down excitedly.

“Of course little man, you were like a cowboy! Did you enjoy yourself?”

“It was so fun!”

“And look, Lana and I got you a tractor and a hat like ours so we can all match!” You smiled as Isayah pulled the green hat over his head.

“Can I go on the horse again?”

“Maybe next time, it’s getting late and we have a long drive back home eh?” Kylian said as he fell into step with you, Lana and Isayah, heading towards where you’d parked the car.

“Promise?” Isayah pouted.

“Promise.” Kylian held out his hand, and Ishaya took it, the both of them doing some sort of secret handshake before he lifted the little boy off the ground and put him on his shoulders.

“Isayah you’re riding Uncle Kyky now!” Lana laughed, and you pulled out your phone to capture the moment quickly, all of you with your matching hats and equally matching smiles. You picked Lana up, settling her on your hip so she was at a similar height to you all, allowing her to fit into the picture as you flipped into selfie mode and held your phone up and took the pictures.

“Send that to me later.”

“Hmmm mm.” You replied to Kylian, scrolling through the pictures you’d just snapped.

“Beautiful family!” You hadn’t even seen the older lady appear in front you, her hands clasped to the side of her face as she beamed at the four of you.

“Your husband no?” She pointed to Kylian before cupping her hand over her mouth to whisper to you, although it was definitely loud enough for him to hear too, likely deliberate on her part. “Very handsome.”

“Uh, thank you.” You laughed nervously, not sure how to react so you just let her believe it, hoping she’d be satisfied enough and be on her way.

“Here take, for the pretty girls.” She pulled two flowers out of the basket she was holding, placing one behind yours and Lana’s ear.

“What do you say Lana?” Kylian prompted, and the girl laid her head on your shoulder shyly, before saying thank you.

“Of course. Have a good evening.”

“Thank you, you too.” You replied before she went back on her way.

“Uncle Kyky are you and Y/N like mummy and daddy?” Isayah asked as Kylian was helping him to settle into his seat in the car.

“Hmm?”

“That lady, she said husband. People call daddy mummy’s husband sometimes too.” You had just strapped Lana into her car seat and were about to slip into the passenger seat yourself when you heard his question, your breath catching in your throat as you started to cough. Kylian’s eyes met yours in the mirror above the dashboard as you tried to control your coughing.

“Uh, no, Y/N and I are not like your parents. Now come on, let me buckle you in so we can hurry. Who wants McDonald’s on the way home?”

“ME! ME! ME!” Isayah and Lana sang in unison, his query long forgotten at the mention of a potential Happy Meal and you were grateful for the change of subject once again. As much as you’d enjoyed yourself today, especially with Kylian’s niece and nephew, you couldn’t wait for the day to finally be over, to be back home in your own bed and hopefully not think at all about the other things that transpired today. Kylian slid into the driver’s seat and you purposely avoided his eyes, choosing to look out of the window instead as he pulled out of the parking lot onto the winding country roads.

——-

“Y/N.” You felt a hand on your shoulder, rocking you gently, the voice accompanying it just as soft. “Y/N, wake up.”

“Hmmm.” You groaned as you stirred, rubbing your eyes. You didn’t even realise you’d fallen asleep, lifting your head from the car window, a dull ache in your neck due to your awkward position.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“No, it’s okay,” Kylian reassured you. “You seemed really tired, even Jirés didn’t want to wake you when he picked the kids up.”

“Oh they’re gone already?” You turned your head and sure enough, the back seats were completely empty. “I didn’t even get to say bye.” You pouted.

“They fell asleep too. There was no point in waking either of you, Jirés was already here waiting for them.”

“Here…” You finally took in your surroundings, registering the fact you weren’t even in your neighbourhood, let alone outside your apartment.

“We’re uh, we’re outside my apartment.” Kylian said, answering your silent question. “I kinda wanted to ask you something?”

You turned to face him. His eyebrows were scrunched and his nose was twitching, you could tell he was trying his best to not show he was nervous. You wondered what was on his mind.

“Uh…so the nominees for this year’s Ballon d’or get released soon, and I was wondering if you’d um, want to come up with me and um, I don’t know, stay with me until they’re out?”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look this terrified, considering he had been nominated for the award four times before already, climbing higher and higher on the list with each passing year. But maybe there was something different about this year, you didn’t know, you weren’t really a big football fan, you didn’t follow Kylian’s career closely. Of course you supported him unconditionally, and had been to a couple of his games, but the rules and everything about the game went straight over your head, relying mainly on Elliot and Google to give you updates. Now in this moment, he was seeking your support, and you didn’t want to let him down, despite not having a good feeling about the two of you being alone together with absolutely no one to provide a distraction should you need one.

“Come on,” You opened the car door, stepping out and shutting it as you walked around the vehicle to stand in front of the glass doors leading to the lobby. “Let's go up.”

He smiled at you, a warm and genuine smile, handing his keys to the valet as you both made your way up to his apartment. The ride in the elevator was silent, it wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t wasn’t awkward. You were glad to finally make it to his apartment.

“What time are the nominees released?” You asked kicking your shoes off at the door.

“8:30.”

You pulled your phone out and checked the time, settling on his sofa. You’d only been here once since you moved to Paris, very briefly with Mia and Elliot; the four of you tended to hang out at Elliot’s place most of the time.

“Okay so five minutes.”

“You want a glass of wine?” Kylian appeared at the entrance to the lounge, a dark green bottle in his hand.

“Red? You hate red wine.”

“I know, but you like it.”

“So you just have red wine lying around? For me?”

He shrugged as if it was a completely normal thing to do, have things in your house that you’re always in, but you don’t like for someone else who has only been here once.

“I also have those frozen kimchi gyozas you like if you’re hungry.”

“You said they taste like rubber.”

“They do, I much prefer them fresh. But you seem to like them so much.”

“Do you also have-“

“Milky bars and Oreo’s in the pantry even though both things are completely disgusting. And Ben & Jerry’s Vanilla Pecan Blondie in my freezer, though I still can’t understand why you want to mix nuts and ice-cream.”

You were at a loss of words, wondering why he had kept all these things in his apartment when you had only been there once.

“Kylian…” You started, but didn’t know how to finish your sentence. You weren’t sure what words should follow, what you should say to him, how to say it to him. He scratched the back of his neck, as he set the bottle on the coffee table in front of you, coming to sit down on the other end of the couch.

“It’s not that deep Y/N, don’t make a big deal of it.” He mumbled, and you suddenly felt a bit stupid for thinking it had a deeper meaning. Friends do stuff like this for each other all the time, clearly.

“Right. Yeah.” You tried not to sound too deflated, leaning across onto the table to grab your phone instead, to remind you of why you’re really in his apartment.

“It’s 8:30. Let’s just get through this huh?”

“Okay,” He nodded, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, completely ignoring the change in your tone of voice. You googled the Ballon D’or nominees for 2022, clicking on the first article that came up, posted a few seconds ago. You read through the list of names listed in alphabetical order slowly as you scrolled, getting closer to the section labelled “M” when you saw his name, and despite how you were feeling towards him at that moment in time, you couldn’t help the excited squeal that left your lips.

“Good squeal?” He opened one eye, peering at you.

“KY YOU MADE THE LIST!” You couldn’t help yourself again, you jumped into his arms, yours wrapping around his shoulders as you could feel his smile grow wider along your neck. He held you so tight, whispering “oh my god” as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

“This is your year Ky, I’m so proud of you.” You pulled away smiling at him, as his eyes bore into yours.

You could’ve been staring at each other for 10 minutes or 10 years, you hadn’t a clue, all you knew is one minute your eyes were fixed on each other and the next, Kylian’s lips were fixed on yours. It came so fast and hard, you hadn’t expected it at all, his mouth swallowing your gasp as his hands caged your face. Your head lost the battle this time, your heart and body rejoicing as you chose to lean into him instead of push him away, causing him to lie back on the sofa so your legs were straddling him, your body flush on top of his. His hands ran down your back and around your side to find the zip of your hoodie, pulling it down so you could free yourself from it. You leaned back, pulling both the hoodie and the tank top you were wearing over your head and onto the floor. Kylian got rid of his t-shirt too, his toned chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he watched you hover above him with eyes glazed over with lust and lips slightly swollen. His hands then gripped onto your bare waist, setting your body on fire as he sat up, one of his arms wrapping around your back. Your lips were back on each others in an instant, the kiss hot and heavy as he pushed his tongue into your mouth and you gladly welcomed him, the pads of your fingers gripping onto the skin behind his head. Your hips rotated involuntarily and you felt his grunt in the back of your throat as he bit your lip.

“Fuck…Y/N.”

You pulled your lips apart with a pop, leaning your forehead against his as you continued your movements, unable to get enough of him. He pushed down on your hips, so you could feel him more through your trousers, and you couldn’t help the loud moan that left you, the added pressure turning your insides to mush.

“You’re going to kill me.” He whispered through ragged breaths, his lips dancing along your neck. “I need you.”

You don’t know what switched but you suddenly remembered where you were, and who you were with, like someone had poured a barrel of water over you. You came to your senses, and you jumped from his embrace, knocking back into coffee table and almost falling over, but Kylian managed to catch you last minute, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Jesus Y/N are you trying to split your head open on my table?” He tried to pull you back towards him but you peeled his arms away, stepping back.

“Y/N? Did I do something wrong?” He reached out for you again and you shook your head, your arms coming to cover your chest.

“Kylian you have a girlfriend.”

“I have a what?”

“God, we shouldn’t have done that. I’m gonna go.” You bent to pick up your tank top but he grabbed onto the other end, so now it was taut between the two of you as he wasn’t letting go.

“Kylian stop it.”

“Y/N stop it.” He mimicked you, but there wasn’t a smirk or anything playful about his reply. He looked very serious.

“I’m not playing games Ky, you have a fucking girlfriend what’s not clicking?”

“We broke up.”

“And you’ll get back together tomorrow. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“No we won't, I haven't spoken to her in 2 weeks.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before. You’ve been broken up like 6 times. Or maybe the media lies.”

“You keep tabs on my relationships?” He smirked this time and you wanted to reach over and pull his lips right off his face, you had no idea how he managed to find the humour in this situation when it absolutely wasn’t funny in the slightest.

“I’m not doing this again with you Kylian. Give me back my top, please.” You ignored his comment, pissed that he somehow found this funny, when you infact felt kind of sick about it. You don’t regret kissing him, but you absolutely didn’t want to feel like you were getting in the way of something or being the other woman or just another rebound.

“Renee and I are done for good Y/N.” You were still rooted to your spot, unsure of whether to believe him or not. You’d been in this position before, one where you’d let yourself be vulnerable for him but he had your heart ripped out of your chest and left it in tatters right in front of you anyway.

“I’m not going to hurt you again, I promise.” He said again when he noticed you still hadn’t moved towards him, stepping closer to you. You didn’t move back from him or walk away either, so he took it as permission to close in around you, his hands taking yours as he brought it to his lips.

“I want you. I always have.” You still refused to look at him so he released one of your hands, holding your chin between his forefinger and thumb instead as he lifted your face so you had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“I can’t even begin to explain when but it’s always been you Y/N.” His voice was lower now but it felt like he was screaming it, it was so silent in the room. Apart from his hushed voice, all you could hear were your breaths and rapidly beating heart.

His eyes seemed genuine, they were soft, and searching yours, waiting for an answer.

“Ky…” You were scared, scared to give your heart again to someone who had already possessed it for so long and brought you so much pain without even realising it. Who knows what he could do now he knows he actually has it, right there in the palm of his hand.

“I know.” He responded, reading your thoughts like you’d projected them on the jumbotron. It made you wonder, how all of these years, you’d both gotten it so wrong, especially him, knowing you as well as he did.

“But I’m here now.” His hand skimmed your face, stopping on the left side where his thumb stroked gently along the angle of your cheekbone.

“We have so much to talk about.” You whispered.

“Do you want to talk right now?” You didn’t even know when but his face had gradually gravitated towards yours, so much so that his lips brushed against yours lightly with every word he spoke. So much had happened between the two of you over the course of your friendship, so many unspoken words and half finished sentences that you really needed to fucking finish, but right now in this moment, it felt like it didn’t matter, that bridge could be crossed tomorrow, you just wanted him, to finally have him.

Yours.

You shook your head.

“Kiss me Kylian.”

————

You awoke the next morning to the feeling of kisses being pressed into your neck, Kylian’s arms wrapped around your midriff tightly.

“Do you not know how to sleep past 8am?” You groaned, spinning in his arms so you were now facing him, your eyes fluttering open as he lifted his head, moving from your neck so you were both looking at each other.

“To be honest, this is probably the best sleep I’ve had in months. You should sleep over more often.”

“Maybe I’ll sleep on the couch next time.”

“It’s big enough for the both of us.”

“Who said you’d be joining me?” You teased, a small smile on your lips. He flung his leg over yours as he shifted to lie on top of you, his entire body weight resting against yours as he clung unto you.

“You’re never getting rid of me Y/N.” He said with his face buried in your neck as his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“Get off me you big baby, I can’t breathe.” You pushed against his bare shoulders with your hands and he lifted his body so he was leaning on his palms, which were either side of your head as his eyes met yours.

“Good morning.” He mumbled, his eyes flicking down towards your lips before he looked back up at you.

“Good morning.” You whispered back, barely able to get the words out as his lips fell onto yours, brief but very sweet. You felt like you could kiss him all day. You were about to chase his lips with yours when he pulled away but you were interrupted by the loud grumble of his stomach.

“Someone’s hungry.” You laughed, Kylian rolling off you as you sat up.

“Well someone wore me out last night. Didn’t know you were so insatiable Y/N.”

You blushed, bringing the quilt up to cover your cheeks as they heated up.

“Don’t be shy, that wasn’t a complaint.” He leaned over to kiss your cheek before standing up from the bed, walking over to his wardrobe.

“I’m going to go and get us some croissants and coffee from the bakery across from the street.” He added, pulling some clothes out of the closet and putting them on. Your head was resting against the cushioned headboard as you watched him, his back flexing when he pushed his arms through his jumper. He caught you watching in the mirror in front of him with your bottom lip between your teeth and he smirked.

“Like what you see?” You made eye contact through the mirror and there was a brief moment of silence before you tore your eyes away, unable to hold his for any longer as you felt a knot in your stomach starting to tie. You picked up the pillow behind your head instead, throwing it at him, the tension in the room lifting slightly, the both of you laughing as it bounced off the back of his head.

“Shut up.” You muttered as he walked back over to you.

“I’ll be very quick. Make yourself at home.”

“I’m gonna get dressed anyways, I have to leave soon, I gotta be at work in a couple of hours.” His lips instantly turned up into a pout, hating the thought of you leaving so soon. Your eyes zeroed in on his lips, the pinkness and puffiness of them looking incredibly inviting.

“You can’t call in sick?”

You were itching desperately to kiss him again.

“Hello? Y/N?” You didn’t even realise you’d zoned out until he was clicking his fingers in your face, a smile on his lips as you blinked and shook your head.

“Sorry, what did you say?” You asked.

“First my back and arms, now my lips, I'm starting to think you only see me as a piece of lean, sexy, brown skinned meat just for your pleasure.”

“You want me to bring up what you said to me last night, when my leg was over your shoulder and you were bal-?”

“Alright, alright, I get it. Touché. Let’s move on huh?” He interrupted, laughing as you nodded in agreement.

“Sounds like a great idea. So you were saying?”

“I was asking if you can call in sick for work today. I don’t want you to go.”

“If I could, I would believe me, but we have an important meeting today, we all have to be there.”

“Okay so I can come over after you finish then?”

“And have Mia’s nosy ass in our business? Absolutely not. The only reason she hasn’t blown up my phone is because she’s still not back from her research project in Normandy so she doesn’t even know I didn’t sleep at home last night. I want us to talk over everything, properly, figure out whatever,” You wave your hands in the small space between the both of you. “This is, before it even goes that far. I’ll come here straight after work instead, okay?”

He nodded, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips, giving you exactly what you’d been craving.

“But you’ll stay for breakfast this morning at least?”

“Sure,” you replied, kissing him again (you really couldn’t get enough of his lips, this could be a major problem) before he left the apartment. You fell back in the bed with a sigh, thinking about the events that had transpired the previous night. If anyone had told you that morning, that in 24 hours, you’d end up in Kylian’s bed, in an entirely non platonic way, you definitely would’ve pointed them in the direction of the nearest asylum because they’d have had to have been deluded out of their minds. But apparently, you hadn’t misread Kylian behaviour recently, the way he’d touch you, keep his gaze fixed on you, speak to you; he’d wanted you just as much as you’d always wanted him. And for the first time in forever since this stupid back and forth with him, you’d felt hopeful, there was nothing standing in the way of the two of you being together right now. You smiled to yourself, his scent on the quilt overcrowding your senses, before pulling yourself out of bed and walking into the lounge where the both of you had haphazardly removed and forgotten your clothing between rough kisses and heavy petting. It was a miracle you’d even made it to his bedroom…the third time round.

You were zipping up your hoodie when the doorbell rang.

Maybe his hands are full, you thought as you made your way to open the door, wondering why Kylian didn’t just punch in his code and let himself in.

“Hey, did you forget I was supposed to come over? You didn’t answer m-“ The voice stopped when they realised it wasn’t in fact Kylian who was behind the door as they looked up from their phone. “Y/N?”

Your breath was caught in your throat, your hand frozen on the door handle as your limbs turned to stone. Outwardly, you looked at the picture of calmness and serenity, however, you were anything but. Internally, you felt like a fish out of water, your mind was racing and panic was beginning to set in but you tried your best to keep your composure, plastering a smile on your face.

“Hi! Renee! Umm, hi!”

“Hi…” Her left eyebrow rose as she squinted slightly at you, and you would bet all the money in your bank account she was questioning what the hell you were doing at her ex boyfriend’s house at 9 in the morning, looking like you’d most definitely spent the night. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was sickenly sweet, but there was a spiteful undertone.

“I…uh…”

“She was running in the area, and just came over to say hi.” Kylian suddenly appeared behind Renee, answering her question for you. You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled out of you at his words, at how easy it was for him to lie, to brush everything aside and dismiss all that had happened last night, the promise of what was to come between the two of you completely out of the window.

“Awhh you got me a drink?” She cooed, pulling one of the paper cups out of the cardboard holder as you tried to tie the laces on your ice blue Air Jordan 1s as quickly as possible so you could get the fuck out of there.

“Babe, you know I don’t like oat, I only drink almond or hemp.” You guessed she’d picked up the cup meant for you. Or maybe it was for her and Kylian had made a mistake, this whole morning was looking like one big mistake anyways so that would make sense. You brushed past her and Kylian, muttering something about being late for work as you rushed towards the elevator. Kylian shoved the other coffee and the bag containing the pastries into Renee hand before running after you, reaching you as you stepped into the elevator, pressing the ground floor button repeatedly in the hopes it would close before he he managed to stop it, but his hand swept across the door at the last second. The metal door opened fully to him and you turned yourself away as he entered.

“Y/N-“

“Fuck Kylian, I asked you. I said more than once, you have a girlfriend and you stood there and you lied straight to my face.” You were trying so hard to keep it together, you’d cried one too many times over him, shed too many tears because of his inability to be honest with you, to be straight up and just let you know you’re not the one for him, instead of dangling you on this never ending string.

“I didn’t lie to you. I told you we broke up-“

“You said you hadn’t spoken to her in two weeks.”

“I haven’t-“

“Bullshit! Don’t stand there and lie to me again Kylian! She said you knew she was coming. Unless you’re both telekinetic, I’m sure that would require at least a text message.”

8th floor.

“I forgot, it completely slipped my mind in the moment, she was the last thing on my mind-“

“When I was in front you naked? Offering myself on a nice shiny platter.”

“Y/N-“

“What am I to you Kylian? Just the girl who’ll let you fuck when you miss her right? Twice on your couch and three times in your bed, what’s that, an orgasm for each time you’d broken up?” You’d finally reached your limit, wiping furiously at the tears that were slipping down your face, as you turned away from Kylian.

“Jesus Y/N, that’s what you think of me? Of us?”

You scoffed, looking at the numbers in the lift getting closer to zero as you descended, and there and then, you hated Kylian even more, just for living on the 16th floor because it took way too long for you to reach the ground floor.

“You’ve given me no reason to believe any different.”

“You think I just have random things for you lying around my apartment for the sake of it.”

“No big deal, remember?” You reminded him, your fingers bent in quotation marks as you repeated the words he’d said to you earlier yesterday.

2nd floor. Thank God, almost there.

“Of course it’s a big fucking deal.”

“Ground floor.” The voice announced over the speaker as the lift doors opened and you walked out quickly, hoping Kylian hadn’t seen your tear streaked face, taking a deep breath, not realising you’d held your breath practically the whole way down. He grabbed your arm, stopping your brisk walk so suddenly that you flew into him, your back hitting his chest and he held you there. You’re sure he could feel the rise and fall of your chest as you sobbed, trying to keep as silent as possible to not draw any attention to yourself. It was early, there wasn’t anyone in the lobby thankfully enough, besides the doorman and security who were too busy conversing between themselves at the other end of the lobby to notice you and Kylian.

“YOU’RE a big fucking deal to me Y/N, I care about you. Too much.” He continued, his arm around your waist, holding you close to him as you fought to free yourself from his tight grip. It was all too overwhelming, he was much too close to you, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t breathe.

“Too much?” You spun yourself in his arms, so you were now facing him and could see his eyes soften when he saw you’d definitely been crying. You pretended not to notice.

“You care too much Kylian? You couldn’t even tell your ex, if she’s even that, the real reason I was at your apartment at 9am in the morning.”

“So you wanted me to tell Renee we spent the night together?”

“Don’t you dare flip this on me.” You finally managed to pull his arms away from you, stepping back as you pushed your finger into your chest. “I never asked you to lie. You do that shit all on your own. You promised me Ky, you promised you wouldn’t hurt me this time.”

“Please just let me explain.”

“No.” You’d heard him out so many times, you’d let his sweet words reel you back in where he wanted you, let it cloud your better judgement. But today, you had to cut yourself loose.

“I gave you so many chances Kylian, so many, and you fucked each and every one up. Well now I’m done. We’re done.” Your voice broke as you finished your sentence.

“Y/N-“

“You don’t know me anymore Kylian. Forget my face, my name, my number.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I fucking do. I’m not wasting my time on you anymore. I never want to see you again.” You flick your head towards the ceiling. “Don’t let me keep you, your girl is waiting..,babe.”

“Y/N-“

You don’t stay to hear anything more he has to say, leaving him behind and walking out into the bustling Parisian streets and letting the busy atmosphere sweep you up, anything to keep you from focusing on and thinking about the man you’d known and loved your whole entire life you’d just left behind forever.

——

This ended up being just shy of 10k words I’ve never written that much before 🫣

One more part left ksnskdkdkd with how much I dislike the miscommunication trope I can’t believe I’ve written 5 diff one shots abt it (justified tho) ☝🏿 and this is the first time they haven’t made up by the end of the chapter so it’s definitely about to get much worse before it gets better, but it’ll all come to a head soon enough, and thank y’all for still sticking with me. Also here is some cute content of kylian with his niece and nephew bc it genuinely makes me so 🥺🥺. As always please leave your thoughts, honestly your comments and asks keeps me going 🫶🏿

LINK TO MAIN PART

Tag list (i hope this was everyone sorry if I missed you out 🥲)

@lululuvsfooty @nayeoniie @cherimbp @karotland @m4k444 @cixstar @lovefks @kyksgirl @marialikescherries @http-isabela @mrswhitethornbelikov

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe x reader #mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fic #kylian mbappe x you #mbappe fic #football fanfic #footballer x reader #kylian mbappe imagine #mbappe #mbappe fanfic #mbappe imagine #kylian imagines #kylian mbappé #mbappé #kylian x reader #kylian x you

323 notes · View notes

jamneuromain · 1 year

Text

You Had Me Before Hello

Ari Levinson x You / Reader

Warning: Smut, Fluff and Smut, Alternate Universe - College / University, Age Difference, Size Difference, Swearing, Public Sex, Beards (Facial Hair), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Dirty Talk, degradation if you squint, Pussy Spanking, Light Dom/sub tones, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Ari Levinson is being Meanie

Word count: 4k + Bonus~600

Summary: You are a new student on campus, and you meet a handsome librarian.

It is your first day as a freshman.

In a university. In a foreign country, no less.

You settled in your dormitory yesterday at noon, and you received notice this morning that you need a colored copy of your passport to register for your semester today.

You had your copies of your passport, yes, but all in black and white, instead of the colored version.

You had to rush to the Main Library, which, by the way, is twenty minutes away from your place of residence, and hopefully make it in time for your registration appointment with the student center.

Making sense of the signs in a foreign language is hard enough, you groan more when you actually step inside the main library.

People. Everywhere. A lot of them. Chatting or questioning or answering.

Some of them wearing bright color T-shirts, stating that they are volunteers or staff of the library, helping freshmen. As far as you can see, all of them are occupied with freshmen.

Plural.

Like, at least three or four students surrounding one staff or one volunteer.

You bite your lip and observe the first floor, not wanting to bother them.

Lucky enough for you, the library doesn’t require a student card (another card you need to collect when registering for your semester, God knows how many cards and papers have traveled to your hand within less than 24 hours) to get in. You slip through the crowd quietly, noticing the bold letters in a far corner of the first floor that say PRINTING, not in English, of course, but you know that word.

It is a little relief that the printing corner is less crowded. You huff out a breath, reading the instruction to printing that is taped to the wall.

You chew on your lip anxiously when you try to understand the instructions in the local language. To be fairly honest, you regret instantly not attending a university in your home country.

Where you can read and understand fucking printing instructions.

You don’t want a helping hand. You don’t need a helping hand. You are perfectly fine working out your shit in the last few years of your life. And you have to choose a foreign land to continue your studies.

Fucking brilliant.

You turn your head, sighing that you need someone to help you after all.

All of them seem so busy, either talking to another person that you really don’t want to interrupt, or managing their own business on their laptops and phones.

Except for one man.

He isn’t looking at his phone, his laptop, or any electronic devices. He holds his arm, with biceps big enough to strangle an ox. Or maybe three. At once. The man has a scruffy beard and slightly long hair like a lumberjack. He is also incredibly tall like a lumberjack, possibly 6ft8 or 6ft9. He wears a crappy purple T-shirt, meaning that he is also one of the staff.

You walk up to him carefully, mentally prepare yourself for an upcoming conversation, and inhale deeply to calm your nerves.

His freaking musky and woody cologne does NOT help.

In fact, it nearly melts your knees and have you trip on yourself right in front of him.

He is so frigging tall; you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes.

He must have noticed you, for he bends his knees a little, and faces you with a warm smile.

“Um … Hello? Hi? Do you speak English?”

You cover your mouth in realization, eyes wide in shock, after the words flow out of your throat and reach your ears. And your brain. You should have said that in the local language first. Not everyone in this country speaks English and you know that.

You know that!

Just why did you put your foot in your mouth?

Why???

Right, what’s this sentence in the local language again?

The corner of his lips perks up a little, eyes light up in amusement. He nods.

“Sure.”

He can’t help but add, “first semester, huh?”

He sounds so American. Which is a good thing. Which you don’t complain at all. For which you are extremely grateful.

You can understand him. The best damn thing that happens to you today. The best damn thing in the last 24 hours.

You blink. Your appointment with the student center is in 15 minutes. The student center is about a five-minute walk from here. And you really need to figure out how the printer works before the appointment is over. And you don’t understand what’s taped to the wall other than it’s the instruction manual. Of sorts. And you NEED your colored passport copy.

You bite your lip again when the air in your lungs runs out. You have to take a big breath. You just said everything at a speed that only tape-records it, plays it back, and put it on 0.5x speed can someone understand you.

“Please?” You rub your wrist, whispering and perhaps blushing. You don’t want to embarrass yourself by repeating, and you don’t expect him to understand what you just said. Your fingers snatching the edge of your passport so tight that your knuckles are white.

He chuckles, running his hand through his hair. His low timbre fills the air between you: “Sure, lemme help you with it.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” You squeak, following him to a printer.

“Now, it’s as simple as any printer.” He gestures towards the machine, his blue eyes sparkling, but it’s difficult to tell due to the height difference, “if you want to print something from the computer, just click ‘print’ and one of these will print stuff out.”

“Making a copy of my passport?” You pipe up hopefully.

He holds out a hand, taking your passport, “flip the lid open. Whatever you need a copy of, put it inside, close the lid.” He pauses his instruction, fingers hovering above the keypad of the printer, “your student card?”

You blush again, this time, you are certain you are embarrassed, “I haven’t got it yet. I have to complete the registration first and I need a copy of my passport to do that.”

He hums, muscles flexing to operate the machine, “don’t worry. I’ll swipe my card.”

You are suffocating.

His cologne. His massive body. He is invading your senses and your sole piece of mind.

What’s left of it that is not influenced by his smile.

“Just place your student card, here,” he instructs, showing you which button to push and press, “this one, copy.” His head snaps in your direction one more time, “how many copies you want?”

“One.” You check your email just to be sure, “one, thank you, one will do.”

It is only seconds before the machine rumbles to life and gives you the piece of paper you need.

Well, he gives you the paper you need and hands you your passport.

“Thank you!” You shuffle the paper and the passport in your pile of documents in your bag, “thank you so much for this. I would be lost without you.” You flash him a grin with your lower lip still tucked between your teeth.

The alarm goes off on your phone, reminding you there are only a couple of minutes before your appointment. You let out a soft “ooof”, meeting his eyes apologetically, “sorry, that’s my alarm. I need to get to the student center. Thank you for the printing! And helping me!”

“Nah, happy to help.” He waves his hand, and you gulp. His massive hands. Massive. “Have a great day!” He adds, holding his arms again just as you saw him for the first time.

You step back, flashing him another smile, and rush towards the door, heading out.

It is until you arrive on time for your appointment in the student center do you realize, you should have said “have a great day” too.

You should have.

You purse your lips, wishing you had, or your smile has conveyed the message.

You almost forget completely about him, until you meet him again, in the library.

You are searching for a paperback. It is on the reading list of one of your classes, and since it’s only a book with 100 pages, you don’t mind at all picking it up from the library and reading the book later.

The problem is, you can’t find the shelve where the book is, allegedly, according to the library system.

You circle the third floor twice. With bookshelves made of metal, easily a foot or two taller than you (!), you are wandering in an iron jungle, which is probably an understatement. Your stomach grumbles in protest. It’s half past twelve, and you need some food before your body goes on strike. You’ll need another twenty minutes to walk to your dorm to cook. On second thought, you’d buy a sandwich and a bag of chips on your way back.

You rub your forehead, looking around for a service desk.

Why doesn’t this damn place have a map or something. You mutter under your breath, the bag on your shoulder heavier by the minute. You would have left your laptop in your dorm, but you opted to take it for notes.

Not a wise choice.

With a service desk in sight, you cross your fingers, hoping the staff hasn’t decided to go to lunch – because that would be marking your fruitless search during the last half an hour an end.

A man is sitting behind the service desk. It raises the little flame of hope inside you.

You mentally brace yourself for speaking in a foreign language, “Hello? Hi? I was wondering if you could help me find a book?”

No grammar mistakes. Pronunciation clear. Voice audible. Good. You nailed it.

“Hello. Uh, sure. Which book?” He places the book in his hand down on the table, swirling his chair, pulling him close to the table. He looks up and flashes you a smile, waiting for your answer in anticipation.

His slightly long hair, his large biceps, and his scruffy beard. Something seems familiar with this man.

“Oh wait, you’re the girl who wants her passport copied.” Realization hits his face, and he switches to English. To make you more comfortable, obviously. His smile a shade more genuine, or is that possible? Surely your head didn’t make all this up? “I’m Ari, by the way.”

You suck up a breath. The man who helped you with the printing machine. Your memory clicks.

And the reason you hold your breathing is the strong musky cologne that could knock you off your feet right this second. Or on your knees? Both?

“Ri-Right,” you stutter the name of the book, lowering your eyes. His blue irises piercing, as if seeing right through your skin, and digging out your mind filled with excessive active neurons.

Did you tell him your name? You don’t remember.

He is not wearing a bright-colored T-shirt, but a blue shirt, somewhat formal. He rolled up the sleeves to his elbows as if his biceps weren’t protruding enough. And he loosened the button of his shirt, his chest peeking out.

You are going to faint.

Ari types something on the computer in front of him, and says: “It should be on the F9-303 shelf.”

You rip your mind from the gutter and bite your lip, “it should… the problem is, I can’t find the shelf.”

He “aww”s in sympathy, grabbing his card and his phone, “c’mon, I’ll take you there. It could be a bit tricky; you see, you have to go across the self-study lobby, and turn left…”

He stands up. His tall frame looming over you. He could literally stuff you inside his body if he wants to. And his jeans, his ass-hugging jeans. His long legs. His fucking thick thighs.

You follow him, your mind detached from your body, wondering to God knows where.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lip. Heart pounding frantically in your ribcage. You have never felt this way for a man. Any man. How you could only whimper in his presence, how your eyes can barely leave his image without your fierce control over your body, how you melt under his gaze.

Which is now.

You feel like you melt. On the floor, in a puddle.

“You alright?” He stops, eyeing you curiously.

“Yeah… yeah.” You sound more like convincing yourself instead of convincing him.

Ari doesn’t press more on the topic, gesturing one of the shelves to your right-hand side, “here it is. F9-303.” He holds his arm, leaning on another bookshelf, a smirk on his face.

You murmur a low “thank you”, fully aware that you two passed by a room full of students just a few feet from the shelves.

F9-303: 3707. The number of the book you are searching for. Something momentarily distracts your mind from the filthy thoughts. Your eyes started with the middle of the shelf.

F9-303. This match. Good news.

Bad news, this row is F9-303: 80 to F9-303: 945.

Higher up must be.

You sigh, nearly breaking your neck searching in the iron jungle of books before you finally find the damn book. F9-303: 3707.

The smell of old books and browning papers calms your nerves. You stand on your tip-toe to grab it.

It is a half-success.

You touched the cover of the book, however, failed to pull it out. Because you can’t reach the top of the book. And the heavy laptop is dragging you down.

You lay your bag against the bookshelf, and try again.

No luck.

It’s not like you can change your height or the length of your arm within 5 seconds.

Shit.

You could always ask him to help. Your head helpfully suggests.

Nope. NO. Nada. Never. Not again!

You press your head on the cold steel. Cursing your height and your arm’s length. And whoever is brilliant enough to design huge iron anti-human bookshelves.

But mostly yourself.

Mostly about how you will embarrass yourself again in front of him.

You pray to whatever deity above to carve a hole under your feet so the earth could swallow you. When you consider for a brief second jumping up to get the fucking book.

Jumping! Like a fucking monkey!

Although you haven’t jumped. The idea alone is just painful.

Your breath hitches when a warm body presses up against you. A long arm reaches easily above your head, taking the book in his large hand.

You turn your body around so quickly that your spine could have snapped.

You are faced with his chest. His masculine scent drips into your lungs, squeezing all the oxygen out of your cells.

“Your book.” His voice drugs your brain, making you feel funny, making you squirm. Ari lowers his head to gaze into your eyes. The beautiful blue eyes lust-blown, his body burning. Every ounce of your self-control fizzes into thin air like water vapor.

You should grab the book and thank him.

You should.

You really should.

Instead of fixing his gaze, and your heart pounding in your throat.

You bite your lip, when the book hits the ground with a soft thud, and he frees your lip with his. Taking hold of your waist and your neck. Crushing you with his muscles. His bulge digging into your soft belly. Your hands rest on his broad chest willingly, tugging the fabric with your nails.

You have never kissed a man with a beard before.

It is new.

It is itchy.

It is exciting.

“Fuck.” Ari mutters, ravishing your jawline and your neck, teeth nibbling your collarbone. His beard rubs your skin, sparks of fire blooming in your chest. He palms your breasts roughly, dipping one hand down. His hand sneaks inside your leggings, only a thin piece of panties blocking his way. He toys with your clit beneath the wet spot of your panties, his lips back on yours once more to muffle your gasps.

If it weren’t for him pinning your body to the shelves, you’d be weak on your knees right now. Your breasts tender, nipples peaking under his large hand. Your core drenched, aching for more.

He pulls up your sweater and his hand works its way to your skin, thumbing your pebbled nipples.

“No bra? Buttercup, you’re naughtier than I thought.” He tuts, fingers landing on your pussy, your panties out of the way somehow.

You try to muster an explanation, but you forget all about that and shiver as he captures your clit between his fingers, rolling and pinching it experimentally. Involuntary moans slip out of your lips. You try your best to bite back your noises, but his skilled fingers work your clit, triggering your body to act on itself.

“Ari -” You exhale trembly, legs on the verge of giving out. It’s a surprise you still remember his name when you are about to drown in orgasm, “close. Fuck. Please.”

Ari thrusts his fingers into your tight channel, the heel of his palm against your clit. You almost bite your tongue when he explores your pussy and pushes you steadily toward an orgasm.

You bite down on the back of your hand when the orgasm hits you hard. Your channel clenches around his fingers, your thighs shaking, as his palm still digging into your bundle of nerves.

You ride the tides of your aftershock through slow breathing. Ari pulls his fingers out to lick them, groaning by your ear, “sweetest cunt I’ve ever had, buttercup.”

He manhandles your body, your front pressing the shelves, and he rustles behind you. He unzips his pants, pulling your leggings and your panties down in one fluid motion, and his bulbous head taps your pussy. A gentle knocking, your mushy brain concludes, probably the only thing gentle you’re getting from him.

His hand holds your hips, sinking you on his cock.

He is fucking HUGE.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You forget how to breathe. How to scream. How to curse. His girth stretches you to the fullest, reaching spots that you didn’t even know were there. Your eyes brimming with tears, choking on air, hands grabbing back. His arms, his hair, his body, anything to hold you. Anything to brace you.

Ari presses you against the shelves, a string of profanities leaves his lips. He grasps your breast again, other hand on your hips, snapping himself into you.

“Tight fucking cunt. Milkin’ me.” His hand settles on your throat, grunting as he hits your cervix, “hate to crush your windpipe, buttercup, but you’d better keep the fuck down.”

Your nails rake his bare arms, mewling, protesting his roughness.

“Bet you fuckin’ lovin’ it. Fucked like a desperate little slut. Knowing anyone could come over right now is making you hornier, huh?”

As if on cue, your channel convulses with his words. It’s so wrong, to get off with his degradation. But you can’t help it. The hoarse in his voice, the low whispers, the strength he maneuvers you, you love it.

You moan and whimper, which basically is your entire vocabulary now, leaning onto him to get away from his annoying paw on your throat.

“Poor baby needs her attention.” He chuckles darkly, ramming into you, “that’s it – Fucking Christ, your pussy’s gripping me.”

You shake your head. You don’t want to grip him or milk him. You want him to whisper sweet things to your ear, showering you with praises, dolling you up like you’re the princess.

“No – No.” You rasp out, “not a slut.”

Yet your pussy says otherwise. Your abused pussy weeps when he roughly fucks you. Your pussy squelches when he thrusts in. A fire burning your abdomen, wrings your insides tighter and tighter.

Ari’s hand finds your clit again, slapping it mercilessly, “too late, buttercup. Look at the mess you made.”

White hot shocks take control of your body. His swats torture your clit, now puffy and throbbing, adds to your fire. Tip-toeing the borderline between pain and pleasure, accumulating at a speed that is too much to take.

You try to push his hands away, but his arm is too strong. He laughs at your resistance, spanking your clit some more, “c’mon buttercup, cream my fucking cock. Cum. I said, CUM.”

Your mind goes blank. The fire in your belly erupts. Your tight hole beating a pulse nearly damn same as your heart, but with him balls deep inside you, you are filled, and your pussy could only take his pounding without any defense. He nestles his entire length inside, and fucking you through your orgasm.

He stops his assault with your clit as soon as you cum, only rubbing it with smooth circles, prolonging your orgasm.

You slam your head back into the bookshelf when the intensity strikes you. Your screams become moans with his large hand on your mouth.

Before you realize it, he flips your body over, with his cock in your pussy, plowing into you again.

“Can’t.” You choke, breath ragged and uneven, “too much.”

Ari captures your lips with a bruising kiss, his facial hair less irritating. “One more, just one more, buttercup.”

You sniffle, tears sliding down your cheeks, “… ’m sensitive. Can’t. Please, Ari.”

He puts your jelly legs on his waist, setting a pace slamming his hips into you, “baby, be a good girl and just cum one more time.” He licks the tears from your face, peppering you with little pecks and kisses, “it’s not that hard, hm?”

It’s not.

The second orgasm teetering on the edge as he speaks.

“You’re so fucking hot cumming on my dick. C’mon buttercup, I wanna see that again.”

You swallow hard. Your pussy sore and sticky, your clit swollen, your hole clamming down his thick girth. You don’t think you could handle cumming again.

His dick swells up in your pussy – how’s that even possible. He tightens his jaw, massaging your lips with his, “please, pretty baby.” His voice so soft as if begging you. He kisses your sweaty forehead and your throat column, “Christ, your pussy feels good.”

“Ari -” You stammer your words, the upcoming coil winds up in your lower belly once more, "… cumming. I’m cumming."

He kisses you hungrily, his hips losing the pace he builds up as his neck flushes. Your orgasm ripples in your veins, bubbling your blood, leaving your body pliant.

With a final thrust, his dick pulses in your velvet walls, shooting out ropes fulling you to the brim.

It takes both of you a moment to come down from your high.

You pull your leggings and your panties from your ankle, while he offers you a tissue to clean yourself up.

“Would you like to go on a date later?” Ari blurts out.

You huff out a breath, tucking your shirt back under your sweater, “yeah, cause that’s … original.”

You manage the only word you could. It was a spur of your mind. In fact, you would love to go on a date with him. To get to know him. You don’t do casual sex. You never did. Apart from this time, apparently.

“I think the word you are looking for is conventional.” Ari chuckles, not minding your attitude at all. He picks up the long-forgotten book from the ground, handing it to you.

You shuffle it into your now-heavier bag, and chew on your lower lip.

Your lips are still suffering from a first-degree burn from his beard. Frankly, you want the burn on your lips again.

“What’d you say, buttercup?” He cradles your jaw in his palm, bending his knees just a little so that he could watch you without you having to crane your neck. He sounds almost begging, “lemme buy you dinner? A cup of coffee? Something?”

He pouts.

This grown-ass man. POUTS.

Like a kicked puppy soaking wet due to the rain.

“Pretty please?” He kisses your lips, gently, this time.

You snort a short laugh, “Don’t the college rules forbid teacher-student relationships?” You fix the straps of your bag on your shoulder, leaning into his touch.

“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head, long hair making you want to tuck them behind his ears, “not if you’re not in my class.”

“Well then,” you grin like a Cheshire cat, before he suffocates you with another kiss, “you owe me lunch, Ari.”

Bonus:

Three months into your relationship, everything works out smoothly.

You haven’t moved in with him. Not yet. But all things considered, you practically stay in his place six days out of a week, only returning to your dorm to fetch a couple of necessities.

So, here you are, lying on his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily under your palm and his fingers massaging your scalp after a stressful day full of lectures and seminars. You are also stressed because this is the second day of your period, and your hormones would not calm down, messing with your sleep and your mental health.

Messing with your mind, having you raise your head and pop out a question.

Not the kind of question that needs you to kneel before him and present him with a ring. God no.

The kind of question that would cause a war between you. The kind of question, if you did not hear the answer that makes you “awww”, you will be so mad at him.

“I was wondering,” you raise your head, looking him in the eyes. His blue eyes nothing short of warmth, engulfing you with a sense of security.

“When is it that you feel you fall in love with me, for the first time?”

You don’t know why you ask. Probably has something to do with the beginning of your relationship being mind-blowing sex in the library.

Your stomach starts a new wave of cramps, and you bite your lip. Due to the pain, but also the anxiety that you are not sure why he ends up with you. You are shy, inward, and occasionally cursing. Starting a relationship with sex is something you have never experienced before.

As far as you can tell, Ari is the exact opposite of you.

You just … don’t know.

Ari places a kiss on the top of your head, his thumb stroking your back absent-mindedly, providing you with more warmth.

Ari met you on your first day in this country.

Roughly 24 hours before you two actually talked to each other.

He was driving through the city to his apartment, to get ready for the semester. He was supposed to help out in the Main Library the next day.

He was running errands all day. Hitting brick walls each and every step of the way because the bureaucracy in the system was killing him.

Reaching a crossroad where there were no signal lights, Ari noticed a girl, you, with a heavy backpack, standing by the curb, stepping out a few times, only to return to your spot, waiting for a chance to cross the road. A couple of sedans drove by, but none of the drivers gave a shit about a pedestrian trying to cross the road.

He could see the tiredness on your face. The sun was getting low, and it was not safe for anyone to wander around the streets alone. He assumed you were one of those who just wanted to go home.

His car slows to a near stop. A few feet from you. He thought you would cross the road.

You bit your lip, smiled a bit, and waved your hand, signaling him to drive.

He chuckled to himself. He rolled down the window by a seam, and gestured for you to go ahead.

There were more cars behind him, and many were getting impatient, honking in protest.

You smiled. A genuine smile, even though you were tired.

You looked less tired, running in front of his car with the backpack swinging on your shoulders, waving after you had safely arrived on the other side of the road.

And he met you, formally, the next day. In the university he was working. His buttercup, you.

Ari rubs your lower belly. A few whines of discomfort escaped your lips.

“Well buttercup,” he moves himself to hover above your body, while you tuck a strand of loose brown hair behind his ear. He lowers his head to steal a kiss, “you had me before hello.”

Fluff no smut Drabble: Why "Buttercup"?

Smut implied drabble Distraction

#ari levinson smut #ari levinson #the red sea diving resort #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #you had me before hello #ari levinson fluff #ari levinson fanfiction #chris evans characters #ari levinson drabble

749 notes · View notes

the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 1 year

Text

Pub Crawl {1}

Chapter Summary; A handsome stranger catches your eye the night you visit your friend's pub. The crowd is sparse and one you don’t personally know aside from what your friend had told you. However, thanks to a certain Scotsman, you get introduced to not only the company but the handsome stranger amongst them.

Pairing: John Price x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 1/3

Word; 8.6k

Warnings; nothing but banter and a few cheeky comments, alcohol consumption (drink responsibly), implied age-gap, Price is a warning in himself

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: Hi, yes hello, I’m not dead just partly buried, hence why this probs won’t be a full return of me publishing but at least I’m on my way :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

For once, it isn't raining.

Autumn was heaven on earth for the fat drops desiring to escape the clouds and fall through the sky, sometimes, but almost exclusively not, hitting from the top and dribbling down an umbrella. But, rather than a movie-scene drizzle trickling down the protective slope, it was an attempt at protection, a white-knuckled grip clutched the cane, leaning at a 90° angle rather than upright, fighting against the wind and a pelting onslaught from the side.

Winter combined melted drops with frosted ones, covering the ground in a thin powdery blanket, which soon turned into a see-through and an unsuspecting gleaming, vicious mantle on the pavement. Only to fade altogether, giving way to puddles close to but not frozen in temperature.

Spring was a combination of all. As if nature threw a tantrum about nearing a time when it couldn't do as it pleased. Resisting the occasional peak from rays through the clouds and surge in temperatures by darkening the skies and opening them for a last vengeance. Only it wouldn't be the last, one final time prolonged to what felt like an eternity.

Summer was a reflection of a stabilised temper, acceptance that mayhap light and the warming embrace of the sun wasn't all too bad. Even so, the lightest drizzle could occur, airy and with a habit of infecting the air with an earthy but cleansed smell, any arid dust shoved to the ground. Simply an act of reminiscence.

This early evening, however, the warmth lingered without a cloud in the sky and even thought of rain. Summer in the sense that you didn't need to care for a jacket as a defence from a creeping chill the night would bring. Nor an umbrella for a sudden onslaught from above. A summer day during which you didn't have to put much more thought than not too hot into deciding what to wear, followed by an evening where you didn't have to change if you didn't please.

You'd decided not to, the dress you'd worn deserving to see the morning's first rays, the high noon brightest light and the dying one creeping closer as the clock ticked onwards. Worthy experiencing days when the only watery hazard is the one yourself poised with a cooling drink clutched to your chest.

Not even now, when you head down the street to your destination, do you regret your choice. Considering there's still enough heat lingering in the air to fend off goosebumps on your bare arms and shins peeking out from beneath your skirt and, depending on how the slit on the left side moves, parts of your thigh.

Your eyes find the sign, which, for you, stands out even in the dark, but for others, blends right in with the familiar sight brandishing most pubs. It's more of a subconscious act, as you know your way around this street as the back of your hand, not in need of aid which the sign represents for those navigating the city as if newly found. And for those visiting, it was.

You, however, knew the needed steps to slow down to reach the entrance and pull the door open without having to do an awkward shuffle to get out of its way or move closer when it gets a tad far from your reach. Hence, when your toe hits the memorised line between two slabs of grey stone, you don't push off with your back foot as firmly.

Your steps are already subdued by your slightly heeled espadrilles -that's probably shocked at not being worn in the warmth close to the equator where the unevenness comes from sand rather than the unruly stone sidewalk- yet they soften even further when you shorten your steps as you lessen your pace, until falling entirely silent as you swing open the dark tainted wooden door.

Despite the nonexisting bell above the opening signalling someone entered, the slight sound from the door, that's prevailed without mending for as long as you've frequented this place, is enough to alert the ones inside if the crowd is small enough. And such seems to be the case tonight.

It isn't hard counting them to four. You went to school, after all. However, instinctively, it's harder to know they're in the same company. Perhaps you could've guessed, seeing how your newly added presence draws all their eyes in tandem, a reaction dissimilar from curiosity compared to habit.

You know you don't fit into the pub's setting by looks.

Its yellow glow lights up the space, the same dim shine trickling through the liquor wall a step or two behind the bar. The modest scene of dark mahogany, verging on black, wood lines the walls and constructs the tables and bartop, the sense of an old-fashion place rejuvenated by not an all too different sleek black facade framing the exterior. A balance between origins and future further accentuated by the golden lettering on the outside, proudly showcasing the place's name in modern writing, with an old-fashioned touch on the inside by the brass drafting stations twinkling as if to entice you it wasn't fools' gold and the stationary menu screwn onto the wall in an easily read font.

No, you know you, in what can be described as a dress fit for nothing but the summer outside and seemingly bringing with you the reflection of some of the sun's rays with the spares pattern of pale yellow flowers on the white fabric, compared to them, dressed in, despite civilian, clothes etched with militaristic dark colours, don't fit in here.

Yet you do, your looks simply deceiving. Otherwise, you might have started once you noticed the group giving you their attention for a brief moment, not being able to connect it and them to soldiers frequenting a bar they'd taken a liking to.

No hint would've been enough to figure it out despite what you might want to credit your drilled intuition for. No, the fact that you didn't shrink at what you otherwise would've described as unwanted attention was all in favour of your friend. Instead of hastily looking away and the 'don't give them attention and they will lose interest' thought slipping into your mind, you looked back, putting faces to the someones you before only heard of.

Two of them stand by the billiard table at the far left end of the room, the pair having shared a quick glance the moment you entered and only spotted them through the corner of your eye before your gaze found them. Although noting the action, it was one you paid less mind to than the mask along hood covering most of one of their features and the short mohawk on the other's head.

Their, what could count as a second, glance in your direction wasn't as swift as the first, yet still not long-lasting. You about got time to meet the dark eyes peeking through the mask of the former, the whites of the man's eyes shining through whatever coal-like colouring covered the bit of skin closest to his eyes, much like the pallid bones of the skull sewn into the black fabric. Whereas his eyes felt like a heavy cold that retreated the moment his gaze flickered down, closely followed by his towering frame bending by the waist to align his next shoot, the shorter of them has a spark in his, enhanced by the playful tug of his lip.

Despite not physically hearing what he says when he turns to his friend -who'd attempted but not succeeded in downing a striped ball- firing what most probably was some insult after being lightly whacked with the pole stick, you could practically hear the Scottish accent following his arm irritably flying up in the air.

One of them, the Scottish lad, doesn't seem to know the meaning of the universally recognised English word no, your friends' voice echoes in your head, brazen flirt.

Your eyes naturally seek the two others seated by a table and, by the looks of it, partaking in a conversation that hadn't halted but definitely slowed when they noted your added presence to what previously could be considered their space.

The black man to the left appears to be in the close range age-wise as the previous one, despite the lack of youthful glint in contrast to poise. Despite desiring, you couldn't conclude anything concerning the years between him and the masked man, regarding how the latter was hard to get any hunch on non-despite the time you would've gotten to scrutinise him.

When your gaze drifts to the occupied seat at his side, you realise that the conversation partner to the, who you now can call considerably younger, guy is a definitely more aged man. In fact, the blue-eyed man tilting his head and fleetingly, almost so you think it's instinctual rather than conscious, squint with his eyes, causing the space between his brows to crease significantly, appeared to be the oldest of the party. Not old, simply exceeding the rest with a few years. The full beard covering his cheeks and upper lip, while styled thinner on his chin, helped set him apart age-wise.

You realise you've kept your gaze connected, not only on the company but with his, for far too long being a quick survey of those already inside. Shy of an amount forcing you to turn your head to keep it with the pace you're maintaining forwards. You avert your eyes, fearful of being thought of as staring an unrespectful amount at the soldiers simply trying to flee their hectic profession for a night. Nevertheless, the movement becomes seamless rather than hurried when your eyes naturally fall on the woman calling your name.

A smile you couldn't hide, if you so would've wanted, unfurled on your lips as you followed the woman moving quickly enough from behind the bar that her curly hair bounced with each step.

"Marissa", you breathe out together with a chuckle as she engulfs you in a tight hug.

"You came earlier", her voice sounds from a notch above your ear before she pulls away, flashing her white teeth with the beaming smile she sports.

"Mhm, decided to cut my free day short just for you", you wink up at her.

Marissa's eyebrows rose. "Alright, missy, what important things did I interrupt you from doing?"

"A stroll in the park, a wonderful dinner". You bat your lashes, earning a snort and slap on the arm from her as she steps away.

"Oh, pipe down", she laughs, waving a hand over her shoulder for you to follow as she treks back to the bar. "I'll make it up to you, drinks and something to compensate for that lost dinner of yours s'on me".

With a shake of your head, smile now just pulling lightly at the edge of your mouth, you follow her, taking a seat at the bar as she takes her assigned position behind it.

"Same poison as always?" You nod whilst putting the small handbag you brought atop the counter, not afraid it'll disappear, concerning the small crowd. "Coming right up", she playfully flashes you the same smile she does while in the character of her occupation.

You cross one leg over the other, the dress parting to reveal the leg hooked over your knee, though not enough for you to readjust it. Marissa moves with practised ease behind the bar, filling a bowl of crisps, rather than the more often used cup, and putting it in front of you before gathering the necessary ingredients to blend your drink. Thanking her with a swift smile, you plop one of the salty Walkers into your mouth.

"So, how's life treating you then?" The question was followed by a clink as she set down the glass she'd fetched on the metal counter at the height of her waist.

"You make it sound like we haven't met for years". The corner of your lips quirked as Marissa looked up at you, skilled enough to not keep a watchful eye on the drinking glass to know she didn't pour one out for the fallen.

"Could just as well be when you ain't here to steer the ship with me". Marissa eyed you, sincerity bleeding into her brown gaze, warming it differently than when jest had nested there. "No thoughts on coming back?"

You shrugged, reaching for another crisp that remained pinched between your fingers until you answered her. "Might not be back permanently, like the freedom, but you know you can always reach out if you need a night off".

She chuckled as she reached for the next bottle. "I know, but it's hard leaving my Pearl now that she's mine".

You remember when this bar only had been the workplace down the road for you and Marissa. When it was memories from the first time you'd met. Back when she noticed how your newbie nerves wrecked you while getting the introduction, decidedly taking pity and teaching you the pace and spirit of the place more frequented by aged, but still as enthusiastic, supporters than partygoing youths. Two crowds not entirely different, as you'd learned.

It had only turned into the Pearl, inspired by the blackened ship of Marissa's favourite pirate, when the kind, older man owning the place had felt it was in better hands of a new generation with a burning passion in favour of his time-honoured work. You'd been at her side, helping to construct her fantasy into reality and being there to help the public notice it. She'd offered you co-ownership, but you'd rejected it.

Some would question if you didn't regret such a choice, now when it was a well-visited place of any age alike, often packed to the brim with people, though tonight was one of few exceptions. Yet, you didn't. Knowing you would always support her but couldn't ensure your presence.

"I understand", you empathised, watching her reach for the last garnish for the drink before presenting it to you with the added chivalry of a grand gesture showcasing her work.

"For the missy", she smiled, waiting for you to taste it.

Raising the cold glass to your lips, you sipped the drink. The immediately recognisable taste spanned over your tastebuds, starting at the font with a subtle bite, then moulding into a hidden sweetness along the edges of your tongue until the slight burn of the liquor reached the back of your throat.

"Perfection, as always". The aftertaste of your favoured spirit rolled through your mouth on your exhale, coating the words you'd breathed in satisfaction.

"I only serve the best". Marissa chuckled at your confirming hum and pleased expression as you took a second sip. One that turned into a vigilant one by the cock of your eyebrow when she leaned forward, forearms resting against the same wooden countertop you put your glass down onto. "But to more intriguing things, how's dating going?"

You couldn't help the scoff that slipped out, though you wouldn't take it back either. "Don't know why I even let you convince me to try".

"I remember you mentioned some boy last we talked?" She attempted, but you only sent her a dead look.

"Yeah, sadly, he remained a boy". This time she narrowed her eyes.

"It can't have been that bad-"

"Oh, but it was", you interjected, spiralling into explaining just how bored out of your mind you'd been at the mind-numbing monologue he didn't realise he held until suddenly asking if you wanted to go to his or your place, to which you'd replied that you would go to yours, but didn't extend the invite to him.

"You're cruel!". Marissa slapped you on the arm, but you only gave her a one-shouldered shrug as you raised your glass to your lips. Attempting to wash away the godawful memory she'd made you relive.

"No, it's a crime that he even dared to consider it would go any further when I was drier than the conversation he had", you replied, hiding your smile behind the rim of your glass at her snort and head shake. "Enough about me. How's your lovey-dovey life going?" You asked her once you swallowed your sip, rolling your glass in the air to whirl around the liquid inside.

"You know I don't have time". Marissa rolled her eyes, blowing a strand of black hair from her face as she snatched a crisp from the steadily lowering pile in your bowl and chucked it in her mouth.

"Some good-looking people surely visit this place?"

"Yeah, with the worst pick-up lines known on God's green earth", you chuckled at her exasperated tone. "You know about it all too well. You find yourself rolling your eyes into the back of your skull before they even open their mouth". She threw her hand up in the air, fiery body language emerging at the topic anyone having worked behind a bar could relate to.

"Speaking about those individuals-". You stopped yourself from continuing as you quickly noted you didn't keep her attention, her eyes having flickered over your shoulder, zeroing in on something shielded from your position.

"Don't take my pardon for you on the non-smoking rule for granted, Price!" Your brows rose at her call-out, stopping the glass' motion before lowering it to the counter. Concerning the sparse crowd, there weren't many she could direct her sentence to, so with curiosity spiking at getting more information on the men you'd noted when entering, you twisted to look behind you at whom your friend redirected her attention.

The man with a beard, Price, held a cigar between his fingertips, its tail glowing red. You caught the end of a shuffle he did in his seat, a slight lean to the side with his upper body, probably to pocket a lighter.

"Appreciating every moment of the pardon, ma'am". His voice was a bizarre mixture of rough and smooth, nonetheless deep, vibrating like a low rumble in your ear as if meant for none but you, despite his response being loud enough to be caught by everyone.

After his words, you realised, it hadn't been a stern warning your friend called out. Not by how he followed his sentence by raising his cigar as a toast with a tug in the corner of his mouth and dip of his head, to which Marissa only chuckled, the disregarding wave of hers to both his sentence and action an indistinct motion in your peripheral.

Despite the conversation seemingly done and you not being involved in it from the beginning, Price's gaze shifts to you as he raises the rolled tobacco to his mouth. Your eyes involuntarily flicker to his lips as he purses them, following his move of inhaling a mouthful, before seeking out his gaze once more to cover where they'd fallen.

After a few seconds of holding his gaze, a veil of ivory whisps from his mouth. Though tinting the air in front of his face, it does little to hide the cock of his head as the cigar fall when he lets his hand rest against the table. The move is a silent, possibly humoured, question. An acknowledgement of your focus kept on him well past what's needed.

You don't start. Not physically, at least. But, a flare of something in your body widens your gaze a wee bit, your head turning before the conscious thought of executing the movement reaches your frontal lobe.

You meet Marissa's gaze, at least briefly, before it quickly flickers back to where your attention just returned from. Then, as she returns it to you with a neatly trimmed brow lifted, a suspecting look bleeds into her eyes.

"You were saying?" She doesn't need to explicitly point it out. Still, you catch the meaning behind her question aimed at your earlier attempt at talking with her, how she metaphysically points towards the person she indirectly introduced you to as Price.

"I was about to ask about the lot". You throw a minimal tip of your head in the general direction of the men you don't want to confess have kept a fair share of your attention. Your ear closest to them trying, but failing, to catch occasional bits of their conversation.

"Or perhaps a special someone in that lot?" She can't ward off the grin in her voice, thankfully a lowered one, and your immediate response is to huff and roll your eyes. Even so, you can't do much about the few extra beats your heart puts in than usual in the seconds following her question.

"In fact, yes. Who's the Scot you can't stop talking about despite his constant flirting?" You rebutted.

"Now ya can't stop talkin' 'bout me?" You hastily look to your side at the heavy Scottish accent, just about catching the heavy roll of your friend's eyes before facing the newly added presence of the man you'd singled out as the Scotsman earlier. An easy smile lightens his face as he leans his broad upper body on the bar by his elbow. Then, when he notices your focus on him, his head turns. "Don't think I've seen ya 'ere before, bonnie".

His eyes flicker over your features, mapping your attributes as if something would set off a memory hidden deep in his consciousness. Knowing he wouldn't find one, you give him a smile. "Neither have I seen you", you reply. His eyes find yours, eyebrows making a quick quirk before they fall, his smile turning into a broad beam, flashing white teeth.

"Ya seem close", he nods towards Marissa.

"Mhm, we've known each other for a few years". The dark-haired man leans closer, hand coming up to shield his mouth from your friend's view despite making it ineffective by speaking just as loudly as before.

"Then perhaps ya could give me a tip or two on 'ow I can whoo 'er?" You shield your amusement behind a swiftly raised knuckle when Marissa fixes her eyes on the man at your side.

"Oh, leave the girl alone, MacTavish", she began before continuing with a huff. "And her food". She swatted at his hand. Still, he managed to seize some of your crisps, sending you a glance as if to ask if he didn't overstep first after his action was completed. With a swift cock of your eyebrows and amused huff at his frisky antics, he must've understood no offence was taken.

"Ya know I've only got me eyes on ya, Riss". You can't help but chuckle at his cheeky wink following the unfamiliar nickname when he turns back to your friend.

"Did you come here for something or just to pester me?" You caught how her sentence lacked the exhaustion she wanted it to convey, causing your head to tip. Perhaps... not just a flirt like the rest, then.

"Lost the game, s’need to pay for the drinks", he shrugged. "The usuals, aside from John, stubbornly remainin' a teetotaler for some unknown reason", he huffed out the last part of the sentence without much bitterness.

"He drove here if you remember", Marissa returned.

"Big guys' turn, could've skipped it", the Scotsman declared with a shrug, she didn't argue further about their chosen way of arrival, but before she turned to prepare their order, her eyes drifted to meet yours. You immediately caught the glint that stopped her from getting to work.

"Well, perfect timing to get in my good book MacTavish", she began, motioning to you as she continued. "Missy here asked about you lot", your jaw set as you sent her a look, needing to wipe it off your face and swapping to flashing the Scot, who now turned to you with his brows raised, a bashful smile.

"Steamin' Jesus", he chuckled, picking out the hand that had rested in his pocket. "My bad, bonnie. John MacTavish, but call me Johnny". You shook his outstretched hand, reciprocating the greeting with your name. When he let go, he looked over to his side. The glee that had entered his blue gaze was nearly tangible once it shifted back to you.

"Come on, le' me introduce ya to the rest".

"Oh", your eyes widened. "T-That's not necessary, wouldn't want to disturb-"

"The lads won't mind", he said with a strict finality not entirely matching his cheery grin as he pushed off the countertop. You spared a look at Marissa, but rather than saving you, she turned and started preparing the drinks requested.

"Go on, I'll come out with the refreshments", she called over her shoulder, as if sensing your eyes digging into her back, forcing you to move out of your position on the high chair.

You wouldn't call it dragged, but it felt like you were dragged along by Johnny to get introduced to the men you'd noted upon arrival.

You had half a mind murmuring an excuse, slipping from his company as all their eyes turned to you. Despite it solely being the man in a skull-embroidered mask and hoodie physically turning, seeing how he'd be leaning against the back of a chair at their seemingly chosen group of tables, their attention-heavy gazes locking on you at their returning companion's side made you feel smaller than you already did whilst flanking Johnny.

"Lads", Johnny called out to the men as if their concentration hadn't slipped from anything previously occupying them to direct towards you before he stepped into the company's presence. You halted a step behind, not desiring to disturb their peace despite your curiosity towards them, along with the invitation from the man now gesturing to you. "Meet the lass!"

"A name, Johnny", the gruff voice, personified grit and gravel, huffed. You glanced at the one it stemmed from, meeting still dark but not black eyes, rather the intense chestnut ones of the towering man to both your and Johnny's left. He'd stopped leaning on the chair, now standing a head taller than the Scot at your side, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze met yours with the same unwithering stare before his eyes shifted to the man separating you. "Don't forget niceties". The comment sounded less like a reprimand and more like a mocking remark despite the even tone of his voice.

"Says the social genius ya are". The Scot was given no reaction from the towering man more than an eye-roll.

Ignoring the wordless response as though used to it, Johnny angled his body towards the two men sitting to your right, trading your name for theirs.

"Meet Kyle". The younger of the two nodded. The greeting tilt of his head was a considerate motion followed by a nearly hesitant wave to you, attempting and succeeding at calming you somewhat. The same kindness -at least a more generous portion of it in contrast to the accompanying awkwardness embedded in his actions- was mirrored in his brown eyes.

"John", Johnny continued with a wave to the one you now gathered wasn't simply Price, but the John the Scot mentioned earlier. Meeting his gaze, you noted his eyes were bluer up close, aquamarine, absorbing the dimmed lighting to glow in contrast. The crows-feet in the edges of his eyes paints him in a remarkably softer notion compared to what you initially would've depicted as a poised man. His moustache conceals most of the slight smile urging the earlier creases by his eyes, but somehow its warmth reaches you and lets you know the subtle greeting is there.

"And the grump 'ere is Ghost". You redirect your attention, somewhat reluctant, catching how Johnny claps the man who'd initially spoken on the shoulder. Something is mumbled beneath the large man's breath as he side-eyes the Scot. And, not far from what you'd expected, his sole greeting came in the form of meeting your gaze once he turned to you.

"Makes sense". As you said this with a shrug, Ghost cocked his head. The first reaction you'd managed to pull from him.

"Why?" Despite the gruffness he exuded from the short word and how it wrapped around the question verging on a command, it didn't feel intended to be one. Not from the slight roll of his shoulders after.

Despite staring at his undisclosed features, you can't help but smile.

"Well, Skull doesn't have the same ring to it. Now does it?" Johnny snorted to your right, and you caught the chuckles coming from Kyle and John.

"And the bonnie's got humour as well. You'll fit right in". Johnny put a hand on your shoulder, much gentler than when he'd offered a similar gesture to Ghost. You looked up at him with brows knitted together, only to be greeted by what you now had coined as his signature grin on his face as he motioned forward with his chin. "Sit down, lass". You were about to protest when Marissa rounded you as if materialising from nowhere, setting a tray of drinks on the table, five instead of the requested two for the drinkers.

"Took the liberty of assembling some virgin drinks for the drivers", she motioned to the two drinks standing closer together than the rest. "Botten up, guys", she invited them to take their corresponding beverage before turning to you. "And girl", she sent you a wink as your eyes fixated on a similar drink to the one you'd consumed earlier amongst their pints of beer and low-balled glasses filled with russet liquid.

"Ah, ya read me thoughts, Riss!" Johnny's eyes locked on the drink none of them was familiar with, the one designated for you.

"Know how your mind works, Johnny-boy", she chuckled, to which you could practically feel how the dark-haired man vibrated through the hand still resting atop your shoulder. "I'll be back, just gonna fetch something to munch on". She spun on her heel, and you couldn't excuse yourself with your drink resting amongst theirs. Still, you hesitated to move forwards, taking your drink and a seat amongst them as they reached for their chosen and given beverages.

"Sit down, love", your eyes snapped to John at the gentle baritone roll of his voice, the pet name somehow fitting his character rather than sounding like an attempt at coercing you, as it so often did.

He leaned back again, the same hand that previously held a cigar now gripping a crystalline glass of whatever liquid Marissa perchance knew was the closest to what he preferred. In the motion of settling back, his other hand grabbed the chair beside him, dragging it out enough to show it was an invitation to take the seat beside him. An inherent act of chivalry.

Your eyes flitted to the seat, lower lip curling inwards and teeth hooking gently into the soft flesh as you eye his arm slung over the back of the- your chair.

A tremble centred in your back, taking the form of a knot between your shoulder blades, made you worry whether Johnny felt you vibrating beneath his palm. But, before the sensation can travel to your chest and, like wines with a prickly surface to touch, intertwine with the muscles in your torso, nestling close to your vocal cords, your gaze travels back to those blues never having fallen from you.

You let go of your lip, an easy smile spreading in its stead. Somehow effortless when your attention is on the man lounging opposite you.

"Okay then". Something flickers in John's eyes, satisfaction perhaps, as he nods.

When you step forward -out of Johnny's touch, causing him to sit in the unoccupied chair beside him- you pick up your sole glass still resting on the tray Marissa had brought them. Although your eyes had fallen to the drink you reached for, in the upper corner of your eye, you notice John taking a sip of his beverage before straightening in his seat.

It's not far between you and your offered seat, a couple of steps and shuffles, but whilst making your way over, John drops his arm from the backrest. Don't want to invade your space, the action seems to say, and the accompanying smile -modest, merely a tug in his lips to reassure those closer than strangers yet not friends- directed at you from the man strengthens your guess of his gentlemanly manners.

Placing your glass on the table, you sit down, pulling the chair slightly closer to the table and consequently to John. It's unforced by the table's curved design and the angle at which you need to be positioned to face the rest of the company, but the proximity doesn't leave you as unaffected as its insignificance should. Not when you brush against the dark beige jacket, considerably thicker than the weather outside required, draped over his backrest. Nor when he shuffles his body to accommodate your presence at his side.

The white tight-fitted shirt stretched over his chest, the dark-washed jeans encasing his legs, none of them had made him any justice from afar. John Price was broad.

It dawns on you when you're as comfortable as you could be in what feels like the not-so-intended, but nevertheless, hot seat at the table. Whereas you sit inside both the physical space limiting the chair's surface area and the theoretical room designated around you were allowed to claim as yours, John did not.

He made it seem undersized. Exhibiting its design faults for someone his stature. His shoulders outstretched the backrest. His spine curved somewhat, escaping the seat's wooden back from digging into the awkward space just between his backbone and beneath his shoulder blades. Despite the armest bending from the backrest, a curve on either side a notch or so lower, seemingly at a proper level for him to lean on, the seat it encased wasn't big enough.

Although he attempted to perfect his pose by stretching out his legs as much as possible beneath the table and leaning towards his right, something you realised was in favour of you receiving that space designated in the air around your seat, his thighs spread wide, invading the edge of it anyways, much like the left side of his body.

He didn't appear uncomfortable, but it was enough to emphasise just how big the man beside you was in comparison. And yet, when you swept an eye over your table companions, Ghost dwarfed the chair even more ridiculously with his behemoth stature.

"So how come you know, Marissa?" Your eyes find Kyle as he leans forward, fingers lightly resting around a pale pint of beer. Wouldn't have guessed.

"As I mentioned to Johnny-". You nodded towards the Scot, who was nursing his drink yet quickly raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement at his name. "-I've known her for a few years, met through work".

"Work?" Kyle cocked his head.

"At the previous place occupying this spot, then helping her re-build it into this and helping around in the beginning". You waved a finger around the place before sipping your drink.

"Haud on, lass", you raised your brows, shifting to Johnny when he interjected. "Ya sayin' it's ya Riss has mentioned helped 'er build the place?" He mimicked your previous motion around the place but with a much more expressive gesture. And you hummed with an accompanying nod. Johnny whistled then, leaning back and crossing his wide arms over his chest, a lopsided grin etched onto his features. "Would never peg ya for a barmaid".

"Don't judge a book by its cover, Johnny", you flashed him a smile. And he only raised his eyebrows high with a cock of his head to the side, evidently agreeing.

"Bloody good cover". You hadn't expected Ghost's low comment to come as an addition to the conversation.

"How so?" You asked, more out of curiosity of inviting him into the conversation than the answer, which you already knew what it would include but not in what form it would come.

"You look like a fuckin' sunshine", he scoffed.

"Need someone to lighten up the gloom you pose as", you returned with a chuckle, starting to get a sense of the large and, in comparison to the average fellow, intimidating man and his sense of persona. And much like you'd thought, instead of taking offence at your comment that perhaps would've made other customers hold their breath in concern for you if they'd lingered about, he exhaled, the puff of air sounding less as irritation and more amusement.

"We got Johnny for that". You bit back the smile threatening to break out when the satisfied look the Scotsman sent you got wiped from his face when Ghost continued. "But you can take his place. Seem less turbulent".

"Away n' bile yer heid!" He exclaimed, the foreign words sounding like a jumbled mess in your ears, yet there was no need to understand the sentence thanks to its accompanying bite.

"English, Mactavish", Ghost deadpanned.

"Ya know what it means", he grunted.

"Bicker like an old married couple". You tilted your head towards Kyle as he mumbled this under his breath, sending you an entertained smile when he noted you heard him before Ghost's voice pulled your attention back to them.

"The lady doesn't".

When your eyes found his dark ones, you noted they sparked with something more hospitable. Though you got the impression it was more thanks to how Johnny's eyes snapped to you with slight unease.

"I've worked behind a bar. So I know swearing when I hear it", you shrugged.

"Aye, dae think ya have". The dark-haired man took a mouthful of his beverage, not following Ghost's push to explain his foul-mouthed exclaim. Instead, he steered the conversation in a new direction.

As he swallowed, his head cocked, eyes narrowing as his eyes dropped from yours and flitted over your build. He leant forward then, forearms resting on the table as a grin spread on his lips. "One of ya customers ever dared ya to outdrink them?"

You couldn't help the surprised laugh escaping you. "Many times".

"Ya ever won?"

"When off hours, yes".

"You takin' the shiet!" He raised a hand to point at you as his back straightened. "No fuckin' way you're anythin' but lightweight".

"Ain't lighter than you, Johnny", Ghost mocked.

"Says ya", the Scotsman rebutted. "Who outdrank you last time?".

"That is something I don't believe", you jutted in, and Ghost sent you a glance, something akin to humour flashing in them before he turned to Johnny.

"You were under the table".

"But I won".

"Barely conscious to notice", you chuckled at their back and forth. Thus earning the Scot's attention once more.

"If ya think ya are as smug as this one-", he jutted a thumb towards Ghost. "-then I dare ya to outdrink me, bonnie".

"Fuckin' hell", the gruff curse came from the man who shut his eyes beside Johnny. If the previous exchange wasn't enough, something about the reaction told you this dare of Johnny's wasn't rare.

"'M not haulin' you to the car this time", Kyle stated, nearly as much exasperation in his voice as Ghost's action. Not rare, indeed.

"Won't be needin' if ya join us", he attempted enticing Kyle, who curtly shook his head, showing he wanted to relish his beer rather than pick years of his life with Russian water by taking a long swig with an overly enjoying sound.

"You're a troublemaker", you accused the drink-happy Scotsman.

"'eard that one before", he grinned. "But, compared to the lads asking ya otherwise, I ain't beggin' to tail ya home after".

Up until now, John hadn't said anything. He'd sat silent this whole time, spinning his drink between his fingers, seemingly enjoying your chat with the others. Watching, observing you interact with them. You hadn't dared turn to him despite wanting to engage him in the conversation, not even a quick glance, fearing it would reveal the true intentions that not even you fully knew the cause of other than intrigue and how he'd caught your eye out of the men forming the group, to why you wanted to invite him. Yet, after Johnny's comment, it happened naturally.

He stopped his movement, still not speaking up. Yet, his body shifting brought as much of your attention as if he would've. Even the Scot's eyes sought the man beside you.

But it wasn't your gaze John met. Instead, he looked straight ahead, tilting his head at Johnny. Your eyes flickered between the two, yet none the wiser of the contents of their silent exchange. Finally, however, when the Scotsman threw his arms out, seemingly understanding whatever had transpired, you got the slightest insight.

"Ain't nothin' wron' with that", Johnny seemingly defended his previous comment. "Not makin' the lass uncomfortable, aye?" His teal eyes flickered to you in confirmation, to which you reassured him with a smile and shake of your head. Working behind a bar had earned you a fair share of worse remarks. "See, Captain?"

"Captain?" It was reactionary, eyebrows shooting up, thoughts spoken aloud and body turning towards him before John even could open his mouth to respond. You nearly cringed when he turned to you instead of answering Johnny. It wasn't because of the silence following your question. But whatever had swept over his face, or rather, remained there from when his attention was set on the Scot across the table.

It wasn't visible compared to when you'd faced him when you initially disturbed their company at the bar. Not a contort of features, more like a thin invisible sheet over John's face. Despite looking the same, something had changed. Something had entered his eyes, you registered as they first met your gaze before flickering over your face, not in alarm, but rather a sharp attentiveness. Your gaze flitted over his face, pausing at his eyebrows and lips, yet none of the otherwise telling features gave away anything, honed into the same guise as his gaze. The action is well-trained, at least from what little you can depict, showing the very much poised man you'd initially -and perhaps not as wrongly- coined him as.

You swallowed, lips rolling inwards. If not too telling, you would've screwed your eyes shut before turning to look over your shoulder, silently calling for Marissa to aid you as you regretted opening your maw. Instead, you offered a smile. Not as smoothly brought forth as previously, when he had offered you a soft one.

"I'm... I'm sorry, rude of me to interrupt", you excused yourself, hoping it would dissipate whatever had infiltrated the air after Johnny's comment or perhaps your reaction to it.

"No need". John's answer wasn't curt, but neither did it seem he intended to develop the turn the conversation could take.

You wouldn't want to pry if it wasn't something he or the others desired to discuss. But, neither did you long for the possibly awkward silence that would follow if John didn't reveal something about a reasonably crucial topic to discuss if wanting to get to know them. Trust Johnny to help you out, though.

"Aye, my bad, lass. Should've introduced ya to us as the protectors of the nation we are". You didn't doubt he had the skill of dissolving any situation verging on uneasy. Still, you realised his comment was only a half-joke attempting to mention the matter and brush past it without too much attention brought to it.

Concerning how, in fact, you knew more about the situation than what they could assume, you sheepishly glanced around the table before speaking up.

"M'not going to lie to you boys. I've gotten the gist". You motioned behind you to where you heard Marissa moving in and out of the back room and behind the bar. "And you army boys are not too hard singling out". Regardless of their leisure postures -or attempt at them- you'd still noted they all carried the same square military stance, broad-shouldered and straight-backed, as if a particular vigilance was always infused into their spines. That much your drilled intuition unravelled once you took a seat among them.

"So, you knew?" Your eyes sought John at his soft question. He'd cocked his head, whatever was present in his features from the previous interaction having melted away. You breathed out, the tensions in your neck dissolving somewhat, causing your shoulders to lower.

"Of the patrons frequenting my friend's bar once off duty? Yeah, you hear about those things", you answered with a sideways nod, voice lowering for some reason. The same soothing compassion brushed away whatever impassiveness momentarily had swept over his features, softening his eyes once more, causing an upwards tilt of his lips.

"Good that it's already settled then, so we don't have to keep it in the dark". Why? You had mind enough to not voice your thoughts this time, beating your curiosity.

"Though, some would've done a piss poor job at it", you commented, now speaking in a hushed tone, not intentionally suppressing your words aimed at a specific Scot as your eyes still sought him across the table.

John's eyes travelled to the same target as you even though a chuckle preceded the action, hinting that he already knew who your comment concerned. The sound is as pleasant as his following voice in your ears.

"Cheers to that". He raised his glass, seemingly untouched since he'd gotten it if the original coral but now diluted colour from the melting ice-sphere was anything to go by. Lifting your own glass, you tapped it against his.

"Ya conspirin' over there, Price?" Johnny's eyes flickered between the two of you. Attempting to hide the dead giveaway smile threatening to spread, you raised your glass and sipped your drink. But, seeing how John schooled his features, he let his glass remain elevated and overtook the conversation.

"Would never".

Johnny huffed. "Believe you do after the shiet we pull".

"You", Ghost corrected.

John clicked his tongue, amusement lacing the action. "Outing yourself, soldier? Then it would only be just". Something about acknowledging their profession, the following smirk conveying John's lips, the company's chuckles and further comments changed something in the air. It felt less restrictive, less tip-toeing around a subject and matter of acting than previously. They relaxed, you noticed, rolling their shoulders until they dropped a notch, rounding their backs, sinking deeper into their seats.

"Sorry to keep you waiting". Marissa's appearance in the open space by the table shifted your attention. She's gotten another tray in her hands, balancing several different bowls containing typical pub bites.

You follow her movement of unloading them onto the table, nursing your drink with a pleasant hum at the taste washing over your tastebuds. However, when you caught John finally raising the glass -that had hung in the air since clinking your glass to his in the mocking of a certain Scotsman- and the twitch in his upper lip, enhanced rather than concealed by his moustache, succeeded the motion, you turned to him again.

With a cocked brow, you nodded towards the drink he currently sent a look as he set it down on the table. You must've missed the action of dislike at his initial taste. "Not a fan?"

He hummed noncommittally at first, thrumming his finger beside the glass before he turned to you. "Bit too sweet compared to the real thing for my taste". His voice was lowered as attempting to hide it from Marissa.

"Spoken like a true alcoholic", you chuckled. Though no sound escaped him, you noted his shoulder jumps as he shook his head. Directing your gaze over the table once more, you notice Johnny helps by moving the small bowls further from the edge than where Marissa initially puts them. One of them he keeps closer to himself.

"Anything the gentleman fancies?" You turned to look at John, whose eyes travelled to meet yours a few seconds later. As he gave you his attention, you noted how the crease you'd seen fleetingly earlier in the evening had entered the space between his brows again. "Can't have you without a drink and something to nibble on, so what do you prefer?" You explained at his pause.

"I'm a classic. Chasews is a go-to". You nodded, not waiting for the rest of the company to snatch what they wanted before rising slightly from your seat and reaching over the table.

"Takin' what ya want, aye", Johnny cheekily commented as you grabbed the bowl of cashews he just moved inwards.

"Indeed". You flashed the dark-haired man a smile, eyes falling to the bowl of crisps, the same ones you'd had earlier, in front of him. Reaching forth, you dared to snatch one. "Payback for earlier", you held it up, and this time, he couldn't help but chuckle.

As you dragged the cup back with your free hand, your eyes caught Marissa's as she gathered the tray she'd left behind earlier. She cocked a brow, ever as observant, as you moved the small bowl before John in your motion of sitting back.

You broke away from her persistent gaze -attempting to convey whatever she was thinking, but you deliberately ignored- to give him a small smile on top of the snack you'd fetched before popping the crips into your mouth. He gave you one in return, seemingly about to say something from how he opened his mouth but was interrupted by Kyle.

"Who's in for a game of cards?" Your eyes found him, or more so, the deck of cards he'd pulled forth and was shuffling.

"Count me in", Johnny quickly replied as if pulling forth the cards worked similarly on him as a whistle did for a dog, whilst now sliding the bowls towards who you guessed favoured what the most. Aside from John, that was.

"Ghost?" Kyle directs at the large man, his reply a curt nod. "Price?"

You don't catch John's answer, instead zeroing in on the conversation at the other end of the table.

"Take a seat, Riss, stay for a round". The Scotsman blinks up at your friend. You watch her jut her hip out, the two trays now tucked beneath one arm and pressed into the side of her body.

"What would the customers say if they saw me not doing my job?"

"What other customers?" One set of brown and one set of blue eyes snap to you at your comment. His hopeful, hers attempting to shut you up. A flirt like the rest, your ass. "I don't see many others at the moment". You cocked your head, daring her to say no. Like she'd trapped you earlier, you'd done the same now.

"Fine", she sighed dramatically. "Let me just go and put these away", she motioned to the trays before making a swift exit to store them behind the bar again.

"Knew ya would come in handy, bonnie". Johnny grinned at you, to which you only gave him a wink.

That was when you felt someone lean into your space, instinctively turning towards the person you were met with John.

"Do you play?" He isn't inappropriately close, yet you could still imagine feeling the breath his question was carried on against your skin. The grin tugging in the corners of your mouth from your previous conversation threatened to soften enough that your lips would part.

Seeing how he'd straightened in his seat, a height you previously only presumed was above average, made itself more noticeable. By the close proximity, his arms nearly touching yours where both of your arms lie on each of your armrests, it felt like John leaned over you.

"What game?" You managed to get out.

"Poker".

You hum in acknowledgement. "I'll jump in after a few rounds". He nods, not pushing you to join immediately. As he leans back, posture still straighter than before, Kyle starts dealing out the cards.

226 notes · View notes

monzabee · 1 year

Text

eight words when i think about us – lh44 (+18)

masterlist

Summary: The one where Coachella has both you and Lewis high on each other.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: smut!, spanking, oral (m receiving), slight choking, unprotected sex (better wear that latex if you don’t want that i’m late text), slight manhandling?, minors dni!!

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! taking a small break from writing requests, this was VERY fun to write. i don’t listen to drake, but this song and lewis??? i had to do something with it, and the fits from coachella were just too good to ignore. i hope you guys enjoy reading this one! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It all starts with a look shared between the two of you, it always has. Not at all an innocent one in its nature, no, it’s a look shared between the two of you which is filled with fire and unresolved feelings. You knew it from the first time you saw his eyes that the situation, whatever it might be, would end in your heart being broken; unfortunately, you’ve never been good at exactly practicing what you preach. You don’t know how the two of you end up dancing next to each other in your crowded group, or how he positions himself right behind you which gives him a great opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist to pull you towards him. Although the two of you are in a EDM set, all your ears can focus on is the dirty words he huskily whispers in your ear over the loud music.

“Let me take you back to the hotel,” he murmurs into your ear, his voice is hoarse because of all the yelling he’s been doing in his attempt to sing along to the songs.

“No, Lewis,” you whine, hands quickly moving to rest on his on your hips. “We said the last time we’d stop for good.”

“We did so the time before that as well,” he is quick to remind you, “and the time before that, remember that one time in Barcelona? You loved doing it against the window, darling.”

You feel your breath hitch when he presses his lips to the column of your neck, his kiss is as familiar to you as the morning sun. Your voice comes out needier than you expect, “Lewis, please.” You seem to beg him, even though you remind yourself to be stronger and keep your ground when it comes to him. “We said we’d stop,” you remind him.

“Please, baby, I’ve missed you.” His lips continue their journey across your skin which is breaking your resolve with every passing moment. “Haven’t you missed me, Y/N?”

His whisper against your ear, combined with his voice and his breath on your skin makes you shiver against his hold, making him smirk as he nudges your jaw with his nose and presses kisses against your skin there. “I did, I missed you so much.” You confess, letting one of your hands stroke his jaw. “But we can’t–”

“If you want me to stop, then just tell me to stop.” He grumbles, his kisses becoming more aggressive as he lightly begins to suck and nip at your skin. His lips turn up in a smirk when you let out a silent moan, which he can tell by the movement of your throat rather than the sound because of the loud music in the premise.

“Lewis.” You let out his name in a breath, which causes him to let out an acknowledging hum, but he doesn’t stop the ministrations of his lips. “P-please.”

His voice is filled with mockery when he teases you after sucking a particular spot on the base of your neck. “Please, what, darling?”

There is a pout on your lips as you push him off of you slowly, turning towards him with a defiant look in your eyes. “What’s the point? You’ll just end up running away again, Lewis.”

“Don’t be like this,” Lewis warns, “You know why I had to leave, so stop acting like a brat.”

The challenging look in your eyes makes him stand his ground instead of reaching for you, which is what he normally would have done. “What will you do, spank me?” You snap, rolling your eyes when he says your name in a warning tone.

“You know it wouldn’t be a sufficient enough punishment, you would enjoy it too much.” The condescending tone of his words making you roll your eyes. “Where are you going?” He calls out to you when you start walking away from him, and thus the group.

“I’m going back to the hotel.” You answer him, shooting him a pointed look over your shoulder. “Alone.”

You don’t end up going back to the hotel, alone, after all. Lewis insists that you cannot take an Uber back on your own, no matter how much you remind him that you are more than capable of doing so. He doesn’t bother arguing with you, but instead waits for your Uber with you – and consequently shocking you when he gets into the car after making sure you’re inside safely. He doesn’t say a word the entire ride, even when you ask him why he’s coming with you. Instead, he keeps a firm hand on your thigh, which is exposed because of your skirt riding up. He’s even quiet when you are in the elevator, going up to your room, and you can’t help but sneak a look at his face; all serious without any hint of playfulness.

So that’s how you end up bent over the arm of the couch in your hotel room, the way Lewis letting his hand come down on your ass every once in a while making you let out whines which get louder as he continues. “Look at you, darling, you’re such a sight for sore eyes.” He caresses your reddened skin, his hands lingering around the waistband of your thong – which he takes off promptly and lets out a loud groan at the sight which beholds him. “Fuck, Y/N, this is really doing it for you, isn’t it? You like being spanked?”

Your voice comes off muffled because of the way hide your face in the pillow you’re hugging at his words. “You know I do.”

“Such a bad girl.” Lewis tsks, delivering a few more hits to your already sore skin. “I was going to eat your pretty pussy out the way I know you like, darling, but you just had to go and say things that weren’t even true.” He lets his hand massage your skin to relieve some of the stinging feeling lingering there.

“I’m sorry,” You mumble through your whines, trying to appear as genuine as possible, but both Lewis and you know that you only acted that way because you were trying to get a rise out of him – which clearly worked.

“Oh, baby, you’re sorry?” He coos, pressing kisses to your reddened skin while he keeps on speaking. “Why would you say something like that in the first place, hm?” He nip at your skin, sucking a certain spot, until he’s satisfied enough that it will leave a mark, before speaking again. “You didn’t want to make me mad on purpose by saying no, did you?”

You pause as you contemplate what to say, your throat suddenly feeling very dry, you gulp down a snappy answer. "I-I’m–” You stammer, moaning when he bites down on your skin. “I did. I wanted you to fuck me.”

Lewis smiles at your honesty, knowing he’s got you where he wanted. His hands roam around the skin of your back, and eventually, he lets one of his hands to slide down to the junction of your thighs to press his thumb against your opening. “You like it when I’m rough with you, darling? You like being fucked, when I’m not soft with you?”

You nod your head the best you can while your face is buried against the pillow you have underneath you, but you’re reminded to speak out loud when Lewis uses his free hand to deliver another, albeit lighter, slap on your bum. “I like it when you fuck me hard.”

“Is that so?” He muses, stopping his actions to take a look at his handiwork. He lets out a hum which shows that he is satisfied with it, then he straightens up, pulling you up with him and making you wince when he makes you lean against the arm of the couch and consequently making your bare skin come in contact with the fabric. “Maybe I shouldn’t fuck you at all tonight, you’ve been very rude to me.” You shake your head, hands scrambling with anxiety to take his shirt off as you look at him with a pout on your lips. He watches you with an amused smile while also assisting you in your goal. “What are you doing?” He asks when you start pulling him towards the couch to make him sit down.

“You took something off me, it’s only fair.” You shrug, sinking down on your knees between his parted legs. “Is it okay if I suck you off? To apologise?” You busy yourself with undoing his pants, and his confirmation puts a sweet smile on your face. “Thank you.”

He watches your hurried movements, lifting his hips up to help you get his trousers and underwear off, but he stops you by gently grabbing your chin and making you look at him. “Slow down, darling.” He smiles when you let out a frustrated whine, your lower lip pushing out to make you pout. “We have all night.” He leans forward to get you out of your top which leaves you with your bra and your skirt on, a look from Lewis has you scrambling to take the former article off. You watch him lean back against the couch, radiating nothing but power. Instead of saying anything you nod and move to wrap your fingers around his cock, but he stops you as he catches your wrist and spits on your palm without breaking his eye contact with you.

He lets out a hiss when you finally do wrap your hand around his cock and use your thumb to spread the precum which has accumulated on his tip. You let your hand move up and down a few times before taking the tip into your mouth and lightly sucking on it. You gradually take more of him as you open your mouth to accommodate his size, using your hands where your mouth is not able to reach. A sense of pride washes over you when you feel him getting under your touch and he shows his appreciation by sliding his fingers through your hair. You hear a low groan that comes between his lips when you start bobbing your head up and down, which makes you tighten your lips around him. You don’t cut off your eye contact with him for the sole purpose of making him lose control, Lewis always makes a point of telling you how much he loves having your eyes on him at all times – it is a side effect of his job, you think, always in front of the camera, always being watched by the world. But you on your knees on him with his cock between your lips, looking him with huge eyes? It doesn’t take too long for him to take over all the control you held; he starts moving your head on his cock by the fingers he has tangled in your hair. Not that you mind, you’re more than happy to let him move you however he likes.

He eventually takes himself out of your mouth, before you make him cum, making you whine because of the loss of contact as a result, but there is a grin playing on his lips as he pulls you to his lap, his hand quick to go under your skirt. You let out a gasp when you feel his finger sliding through your slit, he only laughs at your reaction. “Did sucking my dick made you wet, darling?”

You nod your head with urgency, needing him to do something about the sweet ache you feel between your thighs. “Yes, Lewis.” You try to move your hips closer to his fingers to get some kind of friction, but left unsatisfied when he pulls them away with the tilt of one of his eyebrows.

He sucks on his finger as you watch him with parted lips, which makes him smirks as he shrugs. “You got to have a taste, it’s only fair.” He taps your thigh twice as he instructs, “Hang on to me with one of your hands, and lift your skirt with the other.”

You look at him with widened eyes, rising on your knees when you feel him pinch the skin on your ass. “You’re not going to fuck me?”

He smiles wickedly at your whining tone, lining himself with your entrance as he replies to your question in a nonchalant manner. “No, love, you’re going to fuck me.” Your breath hitches at the emphasis which only makes him smirk wider as he uses his hand on your hip to lower you onto his cock.

Your lips part in a silent scream as you feel the burn of the stretch he provides as he draws you closer to his hips. “Oh my god, Lewis.”

“Are you okay?” He asks, worried eyes meeting yours as he stills his hands.

“Yes, just- Give me a second,” you swallow down a breath, using your hand on his shoulder as leverage to push yourself down on him on your own pace. You head is thrown back and your eyes are closed once your hips come to a halt. The stretch being full to the brim after months apart is delicious, you decide.

Lewis’ hand squeezes your hip as he lets a loud groan as he bows his head. “Tell me what’s wrong, darling.”

A loud moan comes from you once you feel Lewis taking one of your hardened nipples between his lips and starts to suck, his forehead is flushed against your clavicle and you let go of your skirt to push him against in chest. “It’s just- it’s been a while,” you breath out; your hips start moving once the overwhelming feeling slowly fades away and leaves its place to pleasure.

He lets go of your nipple, “Start off slow, we have all night,” he reminds you and moves on to your other nipple, sucking and tugging against the puckered skin.

You let out a noncommittal hum, choosing to focus on the movement of your hips at the moment instead of his instructions. You gradually lift your hips higher, and let them drop harder, causing his tip to be burrowed deeper and deeper inside you. “It feels so good,” you praise him, “so deep.”

“Yeah?” Lewis asks breathlessly. “Look at me, pretty girl.” You force yourself to roll your head sideways, the tilt of your head allowing you to look into his eyes as the movement of your hips become sharper as you get used to the feeling of him within you. You realise just how much his eyes have changed over the course of few minutes when you lock gazes with him, his are a darker shade of brown and filled with lust. Both of you let out a hiss when you start rolling your hips against his and the friction on your clit sends shivers down your spine. You almost roll your head back again, but Lewis is quick as he grips your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, forcing you to keep your eyes on him.

Your legs tighten around his on almost an instinct and you place your hands on his chest to keep holding your balance. “Lewis.” You voice comes out more as a moan, your hips getting faster as you try to chase the high. You unintentionally bit down on your lip, causing him to use his thumb to pry your lip free and slides his thumb in your mouth.

You groan around his digit as you close your lips around it and start sucking on it as you did with his cock a few moments ago. He watches you with pure fascination. “Good girl, Y/N, such a good girl for me.”

You ignore the burning feeling emanating from your inner thighs, pushing yourself to roll and move your hips up and down in a faster rhythm. You moan loudly as you feel a similar burn starting to form as your stomach coils. You incline your head to take a look at where the two of you are connected, watching him disappear between your folds, and Lewis follows your line of vision which causes him to moan as well. “So deep, Lewis, it feels so good,” you whimper, your hands automatically move to grasp the chains hanging around his bare chest when he makes you look back at him by gently grabbing you by your neck.

“Move faster,” he orders you, drawing you closer to himself as he simultaneously rises up to meet you in the middle and rests his forehead against yours.

You attempt to move even faster despite the burn in your thighs becoming more and more apparent. You nails rake down his chest as your breathing becomes erratic. “I-I can’t– Lewis!”

He causes you to scream out his name as he delivers a slap down on your ass as he announces, “You can.”

“Please,” you gasp, somehow it becomes tangled with a broken moan, “please, help me.”

“You want me to help, baby?” He asks in a strangled voice, the hand he has around your throat slightly tightening to add to all the sensations you are feeling at that moment. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

Although his voice is as sweet as it can be given the circumstances, he grasps both sides of your hips in a bruising grip as he lifts you off; just enough to keep his tip inside you still. You scream his name over and over again as he slams you down on his cock, and repeats the action until it leaves you as a sobbing mess. You try to keep your eyes open as tears of pleasure start falling out, not wanting to risk Lewis stopping because you’re not following his instructions. “I’m going to cum.” You manage to get out in a voice thick with pleasure.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, “I’ve got you; you can let go.” He keeps moving you on his cock before deciding to change your roles, holding you up while he fucks into you. You buck your hips down on his as best as you can, your vision blurring as your orgasm washes over you.

The moans and squeals leaving your lips only makes him move faster with conviction. While he guides you through your release, your body moulding against his as your legs start shaking, you feel his hips starting to stutter their movements. You cup his cheek as your breathy whisper hits his lips, “I want you to cum in me,” you shush him when he’s about object, “please, Lewis, just this once.” He lets out a groan mixed with a moan when he hears the desperation in your voice, his hands grip you tighter as he finally comes with a hiss leaving between his lips.

You let yourself fall against his chest, both of you heaving as you try to catch your breaths and come off your highs. Lewis’ arms wrap around your waist as he lets out a chuckle, “We’re definitely doing that again.”

The corners of your lips lift up in a grin against the side of his neck, your head nestled against his shoulder. “Does this mean I should be snappy with you more often?”

“I’ll answer that question after a bath, darling.” You see him smile from the corner of your eye. “And breakfast, possibly a round after breakfast.”

“Good,” you mumble sleepily, pressing a kiss against the column of his throat. “Stay, and please just get me out of this damn skirt.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff

2K notes · View notes

heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Note

I am not sucrose anon but I am equally cursed and also a barista and I would like a coffee shop AU where reader owns a popular cafe using coffee sweetened with Sucrose fluids a la Sweeney Todd

I'm gonna drain the bitch

[Warnings: (candy) body horror if you squint. Reader commits a health code violation. (Does it count if they're a person made of pure sugar?) Either way, they commit some sort of crime against humanity and minors dni]

You smile at the next customer approaches the counter. "Hi, what can I get for you today?"

"Hello, can I get a cherry surprise frappe?"

You eye the door to the back, a blur of pink ducking behind the glass. "Oh, I'm sorry, but we just ran out of the main ingredient for that. It's one of our most popular drinks. If you can wait a minute, I'll run to the back real quick to grab another bottle."

Excusing yourself from the customer and the growing crowd, you head to the back. Recollections of your life before the sudden popularity boost of your cafe flood your mind as passive conversation buzzes around you.

"This is the best coffee shop I've ever been to."

"I wake up an hour earlier to beat the morning rush, but now it looks like I'll have to get up an extra thirty minutes before."

Such praise was but a fever dream for you until three short months ago. It's understandable for business to take a while to pick off when you're starting from the ground up, but almost a year in and no sign of major progress would damper just about anyone's spirits. All your troubles and woes changed that fate-filled day - when the kind baker from across the street offered you their special ingredients.

"Sucrose? You busy?"

A breathy, shaken trial at laughter comes from one of the counters; legs twitching at the note of concern in your voice. Busy - what a silly question to ask. As a model baker and business owner, Sucrose prided themselves in having fresh stock every morning and enough to last the entire day. Slaving through the night and lacking a need for sleep left their hands free for the more important things to do during the day, such as the task you'd dumped on them since your merge.

"hehe.. r...right here, gumdrop, same as always. Was starting to get a little long without ya.. Need my assistance?" Sucrose props themselves up on the smooth metal surface, melting, sticky thighs glueing them to place. You hand on their bare chest guides them to a full upright position, thumb and index finger rolling over their hardened buds.

"Not really, besides the usual. We ran out right in the middle of a rush so I have to make this quick."

Sucrose swallows, pinkish saliva trailing down their lips as their eyes fog over. "Y-yes, muffin. I'm still a little stimulated from the last few rounds, but anything for you..."

That drink really was only meant for you. Seeing their favorite human in trouble, Sucrose wanted to help out in the best way their sickeningly sweet heart could muster. Human emotion was still a new thing for them. They were bursting with so much love for that cute barista across the street that it came out in ways indescribable with words. Being sweeter than the average individual, they saw no harm in pouring their love into something to make you feel better, so they made their best attempt at iced coffee with the knowledge they picked up watching you. The look you gave them when you came back for more made it impossible to say no.

"It's almost funny really. I thought we had filled up two bottles alone last night, but they were empty before noon." Dropping to your knees, you roll the baker's apron and skirt up to their stomach, erection peaked and sprouting upwards free from the restrain of the tangled frills. The shaft was that same bubblegum pink as most of their body, head teetering on rouge. Teasing your tongue across the leaking tip produces more of that cherry flavoring so many had come love, but relief for the already frazzled baker was cut brief as you remember you had forgotten something. Sucrose picked up on your mistake the second you fell to the floor - producing a bottle with a funnel before you could go far. Their eyes avoid yours as another weak fit of laughter hits them.

"That... is definitely odd, haha. As you can see I've been in here all day so I couldn't possibly have had a hand in-..ah!"

While you'd love to hear their excuses, you have customers to get back to. Glossing your lips up their shaft as they spoke, you cut Sucrose's speech short as you part them slipping the confectioner's cock into the warmth of your mouth. Sweet as the cupcakes they're famous for, the taste of cherry taffy washes your taste buds coating the walls of your mouth sweetness as you pump your tongue in tandem with each bob of your head. Sucrose was completely over the edge with your speed and all the "preparation" they'd done while watching you from the window. Could there be any turn on greater than seeing your beloved hard at work, and hands deep in product of your own making.

"Oh.. Sweetheart, give a fiend a warning next time...aha.."

Sucrose shoves their apron so far down their throat they would've choked if they had the needs. In the same vein they could feel their cock hitting the back of yours, all willpower bled into keeping their hands on the counter and their moans to a minimum. The fans would cut out most of the sound, but they didn't want to risk anything that could jeopardize their time with you. Sucrose's lust would be the end of your already limited time together as their hands reach down to tangle in your hair. You brace yourself for what's to come by grabbing onto their leg and angling your head in a better position for the brute pace they'd set.

"Y/n... love you.." Throwing their free leg over your shoulder and around your neck, Sucrose fucks your throat as sweet nothing ramble on from their empty head. The whole reason they had gotten caught was due to a similar lapse of control. They wanted to surprise you with another bottle of their syrup and wanted it to be as fresh as possible, commiting their misdeeds right in the bliss of your bedroom. When you found them out, you weren't mad, nor as disgusted as they'd imagined. Why would you be? You're their wonderful little gumdrop who's taught them so much about the human realm. So sweet and addictive, just like the sugary concoction brewing in their loins. You were their everything. Perfection.

"Gumdrop, you're always so good to me... I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you, but I'll give you everything."

Sap-like fluid creating a slug trail down your throat, you tap Sucrose's leg to let them know to let go before it's too late. They pay no heed to your warning as their hips edge off the counter and your nose rides against their crotch; melting digits keeping you in place as they hold you under the force of their high.

"Take it... It's all yours. You're the only one who should be able to have this, but I let you share because I love you so much.. Yours.."

Sucrose rambles on as your palate is overtake by their taste. It's like a mixture of syrup and coffee creamer. That heavy, honey consistency with a creamy cherry filled softness. The type of flavor that was good in small quantities or paired with something instead of being pumped straight into your stomach like what was happening to you. Introducing your teeth to their flesh finally got them to loosen their grip. The pain only prolonged their orgasm, but Sucrose knew by now what that meant. They take the bottle from you and attach it to themselves as you head for the sink. The heat of your mouth melted their skin more to the point you were good on sugar for the rest of the week...or until they were unable to perform on their own again.

"All done!"

Sucrose proudly displays the syrup bottle on the counter beside you. A full eight ounce jar filled to the brim. They kiss you as you come up from rinsing out your mouth, reach back to squeeze your ass as their tongue catches the spit still clinging to the corner of your mouth.

"Make sure to watch your supplies more closely, Gumdrop. See you soon."

Sucrose wonders back to their side of the kitchen to figure out how to pour out the syrup again without you noticed as you head back out to the front - plucking taffy from your hair. After finishing the customer's order and handing them their change, they lean over the counter to whisper something.

"Um, hey, not to be rude, but you have something pink on your.. back pocket. It kinda looks like a handprint."

#happy april fools #They say despite starting this two days prior #Sucrose my oc #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere smut #yandere teratophilia #yandere nightmare #i put too much effort into this

297 notes · View notes

velvethana · 2 months

Text

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ 🐚 Pearl. ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི ་ ༘࿐

-‘๑’- wc 6k ✦ fluff ➔ composed for choi beomgyu.

"Hello? Did you hear anything I just said?"

You opened your eyes, the sun blaring in your face. Turning slightly, you recognize the familiar voice and match it to the face in front of you. Chaewon sat, snapping her fingers in your face.

“Sorry," you said. "What were you saying?"

You were sat between Chaewon and Yunjin on the beach, spread out lazily lounging around on beach towels.

The guys were out messing around in the water.

The sun blaring in your eyes wasn’t worth the hassle of trying to catch a glimpse.

Despite how early it had been in the hang out, you already felt yourself beginning to feel sun-sick. The hangover from the night before certainly didn’t help either.

It was eighty-seven degrees already, and it was just the after noon so you were sure that it would get even hotter as the hangout progressed.

When the summer vacation had started with your friends, you were already counting the days until it ended.

It wasn’t that you weren’t a fan of it, you definitely weren’t against the parties and the guys but you had your studies back at home that you wanted to get back to.

Now that the summer was ending, though, you wished that time would come to a slow.

“I said, what are you going to wear to Heeseung’s party?" Chaewon repeated.

She'd lined your towels up close, so that was like the two of you were on one big towel. Despite you arguing that she would block your sun, she simply winked at you.

She rolled onto her stomach to be face-to-face with you, placing your chin in her hands.

"I don't know," you said, shielding your eyes from the sun once again.

She had tiny sweat beads on her nose and she hummed for a moment as if in deep thought.

She said, "I'm going to wear that new sundress I bought with Kura at the outlet from the boardwalk."

You closed your eyes again, swallowing the dry lump in your throat. Since you were wearing sunglasses, she couldn't tell if your eyes were open or not anyway.

“Which one?"

"You know, the cute one with the pink ribbon that ties around the neck. I showed it to you, like, two days ago." Chaewon let out an impatient little sigh as you gave her a sheepish smile.

"Oh, yeah," you said but you could tell that she knew you still didn’t remember.

“You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?” A familiar mischievous smirk grew on her face and you opened your eyes just to roll them.

“Is Kura coming to the party?” You asked, attempting to change the subject.

“Nope,” she said popping the ‘p’ sound. “Says she’s too busy for it.”

“Well, I don’t blame her. Last time she came she had to hold back Yuri’s hair… not a fun time.”

You hummed in response, recalling the night. Heeseung’s parties were mainly just an accumulation of all the random early 20 somethings visiting for the summer looking for free drinks, it wasn’t unusual for someone to have one too many.

“You know, Beomgyu is going to be there…” her voice trailed off into a whistle and you sent a glare her way, sitting up.

“I’m not thinking about him. Plus, Jake is the one who invited me. Wouldn’t it be rude if I hung out with another guy?”

Chaewon’s eyes trailed behind you, widening a bit before she shook her head and smiled at you again. “I’m sure Jake wouldn’t mind, he’s a dog anyways he wouldn’t care.”

“A dog? Nice, Chae.” You snickered, causing her to rapidly wave her hands in front of her in defense.

“I meant in a golden retriever way! If anything, he’d probably be happy for you.”

“Right…”

You started to say something else, something nice about the usual crowd you saw at the parties or even an excuse of being ‘too tired’ from the bonfire last night but suddenly felt ice-cold aluminum sticking to the back of your neck.

You let out a yelp as you quickly turned around, shooing away in whatever direction the cold can came from.

In turning, you came face-to-face with Yeonjun, crouched down next to you with a dripping Coke can in his hand, laughing his head off.

You glared at him, wiping off your neck. You were starting to get sick of him and his friends entirely considering how much they occupied your mind— and days in general.

“What the hell, Yeonjun?”

He was still laughing, which made you even more annoyed as you pushed yourself to stand up, shoving his shoulder.

“God, you're so immature."

"But you looked really hot," he protested. "I was trying to cool you off!”

Chaewon and Yunjin laughed at this, Yunjin turning fully to face the commotion.

“Nice one, Yeonjun. Very smooth.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and he flashed her a charming smile.

You didn't answer him, placing your hand on the back of your neck. Your jaw began to feel really tight, and you could feel all the other girls staring at you expectantly.

Yeonjun’s flirting was just a part of being his friend, after all. Everyone knew that it wasn’t necessarily targeted, though he did always say that you were his favorite to mess with so that could be debatable in your eyes.

And then Yeonjun’s smile slightly slipped away and he said, "Sorry. You want this Coke?"

You shook your head, and he shrugged before retreating back over to the water.

Yunjin shook her head, turning her attention back to the magazine she was flipping through. “Guys never learn…”

As she trailed off, you felt blood rush to your face out of embarrassment. Normally you would entertain his flirting, hell sometimes you were even the one to initiate it, but the past few days all you could focus on was him.

It was annoying, really. Yeonjun and you were always playful together but over this summer specifically, things seemed to change. Now all you wanted to do was talk to his friend but it seemed like he was ignoring you for some reason.

Still, your annoyance with his friend being taken out on him was less than fair and you knew it.

Being mean to Yeonjun was like being mean to a puppy. There was just no sense in it and you’d just feel bad afterwards. Too late, you tried to catch Yeonjun’s eye, but he didn't look back at you.

Chaewon sighed, “always tearing men apart. Aren’t you, Y/N?” She asked in a low voice.

You lay back down on your towel, this time face up hoping to hide the regret on your face.

You took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. The music from Kazuha’s phone was giving you a headache from the volume.

Chaewon leaned over and pushed up your sunglasses so she could see your eyes. She peered at you with concerned eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's just too hot out here." You wiped sweat off your forehead with the back of your arm.

"Don't be embarrassed. Yeonjun can't help being an idiot around you, he likes you."

"Yeonjun doesn't like me," you said, looking away from her.

It was obvious that you were trying to convince yourself.

Yeonjun did sort of like you, in the same way a boy likes his favorite toy. You were well aware of the fact that he liked you: you just wished he didn’t.

"Sure, he's totally into you. Just like Jongho, just like Shotaro. I still think you should give at least one of them a chance. It'll take your mind off of you-know-who."

You turned your head away from her and she said, "How about I do your makeup for the party tonight? I can use that cute pink glitter you liked last time!”

The idea of getting ready with Chaewon was comforting, even if you weren’t too keen on going anyways. “Sure.”

"What are you going to wear?"

You shrugged before noticing she had begun scrolling through her phone. Realizing that she hadn’t seen, you replied.

"I'm not sure."

Chaewon nodded, eyebrows knitted tightly together as if the decision was a crucial one.

"Well, you have to look cute because everybody's gonna be there," Chaewon said.

You had caught onto her emphasis of the word ‘everyone’ but decided not to comment on it.

"I'll come over early and we can get ready together." You nodded, closing your eyes once again with a deep sigh.

The bonfire casted a warm glow against the darkening sky, flickering flames dancing in the cool evening air.

You sat, Jisung’s arm draped around your shoulder as you downed another drink. Despite the close contact, everyone was well aware that the two of you weren’t together.

For the most part, everyone knew that you were single. You had made it very clear, despite your constant flirting that you weren’t looking for a relationship in the slightest— hell, usually when the summers would end you’d completely go ghost on everyone to return to your normal life.

What happens in Busan stays in Busan and all that nonsense.

Amidst the lively chatter and laughter, you had noticed a boy chatting with Yeonjun, silhouette illuminated by the fire's light as he fiddled with the a camera in his hands.

You’d seen him plenty of times before but never managed to talk to him by yourself, usually getting wrapped up in conversations with Yeonjun and his other friend, Kai.

Shrugging off Jisung’s shoulder you gave him a quick excuse, though he was too immersed in his conversation to even notice.

“Yeonjun! Who’s this?” You asked, stumbling a bit as you plopped yourself onto the log next to them.

Yeonjun’s eyes widened a bit at your suden appearance but he quickly eased into it, pulling his friend into him with a proud smile.

“Choi Beomgyu! Choi Beomgyu, this is Busan’s dear party girl, Y/N.”

“Beomgyu. Just Beomgyu.” The guy gave you a smile, though all you could focus on was his hair at the moment and how soft it looked.

“Not property of Busan, Yeonjun. I just come through sometimes…”

“Right. Y/N here is our summer storm.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, “summer storm?”

“Every summer, returning to break boys hearts.” Suddenly, the idea of boasting about your reputation filled you with embarrassment.

You shook your head, letting out a forced laugh. “He’s joking! Obviously.”

“In other news, I haven’t seen you around much. Are you new here?” Beomgyu nodded.

“I guess you could say that. I usually come with Yeonjun and the others, just not big on the whole party scene.”

Yeonjun let out a dramatic wail, “poor guy stays in the vacation house the entire time. I tell him it’s no way to spend the summer but he never listens!”

The idea of spending the summer inside their vacation home did sound painfully dreadful— not that it was a bad home or anything, you’d been over a few times to hangout with Yeonjun and Soobin but it was fairly small to fit all four of them— or five now, you suppose.

The idea that there had been another guy with them the entire time that you never met made you the slightest bit annoyed at Yeonjun for not introducing you, especially considering how cute he was.

“I get it, a fellow introvert.” You said as Yeonjun gave you a bewildered look. “Fellow? You’re the least introverted person I know.”

Upon noticing the glare you gave him, Yeonjun’s mouth quickly reverted to his normal pout before he let out a hum of realization.

When people called you a chameleon, you always thought it was a bit funny. Although it was true in some ways with how you would change and shape yourself to match those around you.

The nickname didn’t bother you, though the scaled animal itself was less than appealing to be compared to.

“Regardless,” you started. “I can respect it. Sometimes it's nice to escape the chaos, you know?”

Beomgyu nodded before a small, playful smirk grew on his face, looking up at you. “Summer storms bring chaos wherever they go though, don’t they?”

The heat that you felt rush to your face had you clearing your throat before letting out an embarrassed laugh, reminding yourself to punch Yeonjun for calling you that later.

“R-Right…”

It must have been obvious that Beomgyu had you flustered because Yeonjun snickered before excusing himself, rushing back to the bonfire, probably to gossip about whatever was going on with the two of you with their friends.

“It's quieter over here, at least.” He said, taking a drink from the cup he was holding.

You wanted to ask what he was drinking but it seemed to just be water.

“Well, what's your story then? What do you do when you're not dodging party invitations?”

Beomgyu shrugs, tilting his head slightly. You notice how his hair frames his face so perfectly and again, you find yourself fighting the urge to brush it out of his face.

“Mostly just listen to or make music. And you?” Your eyes widened a bit at the idea of him making music.

Throughout your years visiting, you’d surely met hundreds of guys who claimed to be musicians.

Some were surely better than others but you couldn’t help but roll your eyes after the third time. Claiming to be a musician just felt like the oldest trick in the book now.

Despite this, you found yourself interested in Beomgyu’s music specifically as you shuffled closer slightly. As if it would somehow serve to let you know more about him.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Hanging out with friends, smoothies and açaí bowls… hitting up every party within a ten-mile radius and waking up with the worst headache ever thanks to Soobin’s mystery concoctions.“

Beomgyu gave you a look as if to ask if you were crazy, “I wouldn’t put anything in my body that Soobin makes. That’s your first mistake.”

A genuine laugh slipped and you shook your head, leaning in as you held eye contact with him. Unlike you expected him to, he didn’t seem to shy away from you.

Most strangely, you found that you couldn’t read him at all.

It stayed like that for a while.

“Let’s take a picture together! To preserve this memory. To new friends, right?”

“Sure. To new friends.”

That moment it felt as though the hands of time stood stilll; Beomgyu and his camera smile— a flash of something real.

Your heart fluttered at the click of the camera’s shutter, and that was it.

The two of you talked until the evening, agreeing to meet again once the sun came up.

You knew that you would be hungover and dreaded the idea of getting up early but decided to deal with it to spend more time with him.

And so you met up once more, traveling down the beach’s trail as the moon came out for awhile; the trail lights glowing warmly creating a halo around him.

He’d offer to take a photo and you’d gladly pose for him, grateful that he wanted to remember you.

With each click of the camera, the clock would pause and resume its ticking with your heart on the dial.

Beomgyu had agreed to come out to more parties for the promise of seeing you and you found yourself searching for him at every function.

The two of you began to emerge during each other’s off hours simply to connect as often as you could, summer’s clock ticking away.

There were a few whispers about you and your new ‘boy toy’ but you couldn’t find it in you to entertain them like all the times before.

Something about him grabbed you, genuinely, for the first time in years. Anytime you thought that you had nailed him down he seemed to surprise you again.

Your ‘Mr. Mysterious’ quickly became ‘Mr. Perfect’ in your mind and as embarrassing as it was, you found yourself checking your phone often for his texts.

Despite your seemingly contrasting personalities, you felt a genuine connection spark, conversations somehow flowing effortlessly.

And that’s how you found yourself completely overthinking everyday leading up to the end of summer.

The idea of going from talking to and seeing Beomgyu everyday to not at all was sickening to you.

Something you never worried about before, the mere idea of him forgetting about you made you nauseous.

Though, you were far too prideful to ever truly admit that to someone, it was fairly obvious to everyone around you with how your behavior had changed.

Rejecting any and all advances toward you, instead opting to look for that familiar head of brown hair and finding yourself waiting for him.

Impatient as always, you’d stand with your arms crossed tapping your feet in annoyance at the curious glances thrown your way but the second he would show up, the biggest smile would make its’ way onto your face as the world melted away.

You wondered if he himself had noticed that change or if he thought that was just how you were.

Saving yourself and your time for him, precious nights spent partying without a care in the world had turned into nights focusing only on him. Or alternatively, your nights being ruined when he didn’t show.

The rest of the summer seemed to fly by quickly, regardless of how agonizingly slow it felt waiting for him to make a move.

There were times when you were sure it would be it, quiet moments in the car before he had dropped you off at home. Your breath hitched as he looks at you from behind his glasses, only for him to smile and give you a ‘get home safe.’

That was the last night you had seen him, a week and a day ago. You would be embarrassed of how long you had been keeping count if you weren’t upset by it.

In the end though, you guessed that was what you got for waiting around for some guy.

“Y/N, you’re spacing out again.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Kazuha laughed as she turned back to the mirror, applying her lip gloss.

“You know, even if Beomgyu doesn’t show up I’m sure Yeonjun will.”

“Beomgyu will show up!” Chaewon cheered, pausing for a moment while she applied your eyeliner.

She must have noticed that her voice came off much too certain as everyone in the room gave her a confused look.

She laughed nervously before continuing. “I-I mean… I asked Yeonjun and he said he was going, so…”

“Right.” Yunjin said, drawing it out as she straightened out her bangs.

“You said he hasn’t answered you in a while, right?” Eunchae asked from the doorway, shoveling spoonfuls of fruit loops into her mouth.

“Uh… yeah.” Your voice was quiet and it was obvious that you were embarrassed about it.

“Want me to send a pipe bomb to his house?” She asked, eyes cast down as she scooped up more cereal.

Chaewon paused to slowly turn to Eunchae who shrugged, causing you to laugh and relax the slightest bit.

“I don’t think blowing up Y/N’s boy of the week is good for the singles’ economy. Who knows, he might come back in the cycle.”

“I don’t care if he shows up, anyway.” Kazuha and Yunjin silently shared a knowingly glance.

Chaewon frowned, fixated on the glitter she was applying to your eyelid.

Eunchae smiled, dimples showing as she shook her head. “He totally got you, didn’t he?”

A part of you wanted to deny it, but the silence that fell over the room with soft music playing from the speakers was enough to tell you that there was no point anymore.

No matter how many times you’d argue, swinging like a pendulum between yes and no— you’d always reach the same conclusion.

You always wondered if the mind answered to the heart. The way it always conjured up things that weren’t there. The prizes he won for you at the boardwalk’s arcade and the way he held your hands in his as he tried to teach you to play some dumb shooting game.

You didn’t pay attention to the screen and he laughed with you focused on him being so close.

There was never a chance for you to try and change how you acted around him, he saw right through it.

Maybe that was the reason you found meaning behind everything he did when it came to you.

How he plagued your mind like a disease, invading your space like some irritating bug you couldn’t quite catch.

And you could never place what was so different about him compared to everyone else you had talked to. Something about being with him felt like being home, somehow.

So despite the growing irritation, you would wait until summer’s end.

Wanting the mirage knowing it will never be enough.

But your heart doesn’t have eyes and the mind cannot resist when it asks.

You sighed. “Maybe he did.”

The beach house party was already irritating to you once you arrived. The girls kept together as they all went to get drinks and you set off on your own.

And even though you swore it wasn’t to go find your pest of a guy friend that you may or may not have had a tiny crush on, it was obvious that no one believed you.

The party had been loud and crowded like all the ones before but now the mass amount of sweaty people just irked you and dancing seemed far less appealing.

Maybe you had finally gotten over the scene and preferred something much more down to earth and personal.

It made you sad in a way, but you chalked it up to the fact that things always change.

Only the golden sand stretching outside into the horizon provided comfort as you peered out to the waves through the pane of glass.

Torches outside lined the perimeter and flickering flames adding a warm glow to the gathering as a few stragglers hung outside.

The sliding glass doors blurred the boundaries between the inside and outside and you felt drawn to the deck, eventually giving up on searching for Beomgyu.

Considering he hadn’t been answering your messages anyways, you assumed he wouldn’t bother talking to you even if he was there.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called for you and before you could turn, a heavy arm found its way around your shoulder as the guy practically dropped into your lap.

“…Soobin?” You gave him a confused look. The two of you had talked tons of times but you wouldn’t consider you particularly close.

He also wasn’t one to play into your usual flirting so for him to, quite literally, throw himself at you was strange.

“Yeah, yeah!”

“Are you… okay?” There wasn’t much concern in your voice. After all, you’d seen Soobin drink a fair amount of times and he seemed to handle the morning after well enough so you figured he’d be fine.

“Yeah! Yeah, I was looking for you.”

“For me?” Now, there was a bit of concern in your voice. A small part of you nagged at you for being so selfish but you brushed it to the back of your mind.

“Yeahhh…”

“Why?”

He hummed, raising an eyebrow at you with puffed out cheeks. As cute as he was, you were already beginning to feel a little annoyed.

Curse you for being sober.

Gently, you reached out, pinching his cheeks where his dimples were. “Spit it out?”

“Oh! Yeahh, Beomgyu’s looking for you.” At this, your eyes seemed to light up and betray you as Soobin’s smile grew even wider, taking notice.

The deck was adorned with string lights and colorful lanterns that must have begun blurring together for Soobin as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

Knowing the feeling all too well, you let out a sigh. “Stay here, I’ll get you some water.”

Standing up, you gently pushed him off of you and he frowned.

“What about Beomgyu?” His voice called over to your retreating form.

You let out a huff as you waved a hand back towards him dismissively. “What about him!”

As you made your way back inside, lounge furniture was scattered throughout as guests were spread all over.

A makeshift bar was set up in one corner, stocked with an array of cocktails and chilled beverages. When you reached the table, grabbing a cup and sharply turning to make your way to the kitchen a body suddenly blocked you.

“Y/N!” Looking up, you sighed with relief.

“Jake, hi.”

“You’re not drinking?” He asked, motioning to the empty cup in your hand as he held his between his lips.

Ignoring the way he had asked as if he was genuinely shocked at the idea, you shook your head.

“Maybe later. Right now I’m getting water for a completely wasted Soobin.” Jake nodded, gently guiding you by your arm to move behind him as someone shoved the two of you.

He gave them a glare before returning to you with kind eyes. “Don’t let me stop you then. I just wanted to let you know that Beomgyu’s been looking for you.”

It was almost like the mention of his name alone gave you a headache with the way you audibly groaned.

“Thanks, Jake.” You said with a thin smile, pushing past him as he gave you a confused look.

Finally reaching the kitchen after a few minutes that felt like ages, you filled the cup with ice and water before returning to Soobin.

Stepping through the glass door once more, you saw the all too familiar back of a head.

“Beomgyu,” You started.

“Hey, Y—”

“Y/N!” Soobin cheered, pulling Beomgyu in close to him and pointing. “Y/N’s here! You were looking for her and now you’re here. Both— you’re both here. My favorite couples here!”

“Not a couple.” The two of you said in unison.

Even though you had said it as well, you couldn’t help but feel upset by how quick he responded. How hypocritical.

Soobin looked between the two of you before groaning, taking the cup out of your hands and downing it.

“AH— Ice water? Are you trying to kill me?”

You shrugged, sitting on the opposite side of Soobin from Beomgyu.

“I was hoping the cold would shock your nervous system back to normal and factory reset you or something.”

Soobin paused for a minute before nodding. “Very smart. I admire woman in stem.”

“Don’t you mean women?” Beomgyu asked, amused.

Soobin just shook his head.

“Why did you drink so much anyway?” You asked.

It wasn’t like Soobin was a prude when it came to drinking but more often than not, him and Kai were the sober ones of their friend group. At least, unless they were celebrating something.

“Wowww, I am so glad you asked.” Soobin motioned from you to Beomgyu, leaning back slightly.

“Take it away.” He said, only for Beomgyu to shoot him a look that you couldn’t exactly read.

Soobin deadpanned at the silence before letting out a huff, pushing himself up clumsily and stretching. “I am.. celebrating!” He raised his arms up for only a moment before they dropped to his sides.

“You,” he started pointing at Beomgyu. “Do the thing. I’m outta here.”

With that, he stumbled away to go find Kai. You furrowed your eyebrows at the fact that he had basically just thrown you to the wolves but decided to chalk it up to the fact that he was inebriated.

“So…” Beomgyu began to trail off and you huffed, arms wrapping around yourself for comfort.

If he had asked, you were just cold.

“You haven’t answered me in a week. That’s kind of a dick move— actually, no. Not kind of. It is a dick move. You’re a dick, Beomgyu.”

Beomgyu let out an exasperated sigh and you opened your mouth to berate him before he nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Expecting him to argue back, his lack of defense made your annoyed expression morph into one of confusion.

“…Huh.”

“I was a dick,” he started. “I should have answered you, there’s no reason for me to not have. I think I just needed some time to myself after getting burnt out from going out so often and I got caught up in my own world. I’m sorry.”

His response was clear and communicative and you found yourself feeling embarrassed for trying to start an argument. Because he wasn’t like any other guy you had talked to and you seemed to forget that.

“I’m sorry for being rude.” He shook his head and smiled.

“You just missed me, right? You have a reason to be hurt.”

The familiar feeling of your chest tightening made you clear your throat. “As if…”

Beomgyu laughed. “Alright. You missed my camera, then?” He asked, holding up the camera he had in his lap.

You hadn’t even noticed it throughout Soobin’s antics but now that it was in front of you, your eyes became fixated on it.

“Maybe just you.” You muttered, putting your hand over his and pushing the camera back to his lap gently.

“Knew it.”

“Don’t get cocky.” You said with a huff, finally meeting his eyes, not even realizing that he moved closer in Soobin’s absence.

“I couldn’t. Never with you. You keep me humble.”

With him sitting in front of you, eyes as warm as always you found him only confirming what you were afraid of.

You didn’t just love Beomgyu, you were in love with him.

“I think I hated being away from you more than anything. Like, ever.” Beomgyu paused for a moment before nodding.

“Me too.”

You shook your head, “well it didn’t seem like it.”

“I think missing you was easier for me because of all the pictures of you I have.“ Your breath almost caught in your throat at the comment, imagining him hanging up the photos he had taken on each of your outings in his room like precious memories.

“I forgot that just because I got to see you everyday, that didn’t mean you could see me. Sorry, Y/N.”

And it was true. Despite your bugging Beomgyu much preferred to be behind a camera than in front of it and you didn’t want to bother him so eventually you had stopped asking.

All you had was one shaky photo of Beomgyu next to your drunk self, both of you giving a thumbs up. An embarrassing photo that you would rather take to your grave than make your lockscreen for all to see.

“You better make it up to me. Summer’s already ending, you know…” your voice trailed off and he could sense the hurt behind your words as you pulled your knees closer to your chest.

Despite the loud music from inside and the few stray party goers outside with you both, the moment felt way too intimate for your liking.

“You’re right. We’ll just have to make the most of it, right?”

Another annoyed sigh came from you and you turned, cheek pressed against your knee as you glared up at him.

“So, you excited to get back home to your girlfriend?” Beomgyu raised an eyebrow at you.

“My… girlfriend? Y/N, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

You groaned, “then why haven’t you asked me?”

Your voice was barely above a whisper and you were sure that he didn’t even hear you. Before you could try and backtrack, he chuckled.

“God, you’re impatient aren’t you?” Straightening back up, you gawked at him.

“Me?! Impatient? I’ve been waiting, like, all summer!”

“I meant right now,” he said mindlessly combing through his camera’s gallery.

Eventually he stopped, turning it to you. On the small screen, fuzzy and dark was the photo of the two of you that first night you had met only illuminated by the fire nearby.

Before you could ask him why he was showing you that, he cut you off.

“I had to ask Yeonjun beforehand. Since I’m such a good friend.” His voice was teasing as you rolled your eyes.

“And before you deny him liking you, I already know that he did.” You reminded yourself to curse at yourself later for being so predictable.

“Anyway, he was cool about it so I just had to think over how I wanted to tell you how I felt.”

“How you felt?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I think the best ways for me to communicate are through music and pictures, so I wanted to do something with those.” He let out an irritated huff before gently handing you his camera, your eyes still fixated on the photo of you both.

Shuffling through his side bag, he pulled out a folder. It was a normal white folder but on it was small doodles of bears and other animals. It was cutesy, not what you were expecting, but cute.

“But, I don’t have access to any of my recording stuff here so I figured the pictures would have to do.”

You hesitated for a moment to open the folder before he nudged you. Gently, you opened it up and slid out the photos. They were physical prints of all the photos he had taken of you and the one you had taken together.

“I think that the best pictures are ones we take of the people we love.” He said, voice a bit quieter than before as if not to scare you.

The kindness in his words hit you and the weight held behind them made you almost want to cry as you were reminded all over again.

You loved Beomgyu.

And you almost wished that you never did because loving him was like being ten years old again, scaling a tree with your eyes bright and skyward as the sun shined down on you, wanting only to get higher and higher, without a thought of how you would get back down.

Because the comfort in knowing he would be there to catch you if you fell was worlds more painful than the idea of falling at all.

Falling into the realization that if you were to lose him and the summer, a whole universe would go along with him.

In changing yourself for every guy that you’d talked to, entering stages for some momentary fun only to leave in the morning and forget once summer ended, you picture all your other selves, standing in line like a row of dominoes; separate but part of the same disjointed whole.

None of them felt like you, not anymore. Not when he saw right through you like this.

Yet, how could you hold a single one accountable when all you wanted was to be loved?

The realization for Beomgyu had come much too soon for his liking. Almost as if he had fallen face first into love, simultaneously knocking the air out of him while helping him see things much clearer.

How much easier it got for him to imagine you as a young girl. To think about your worn-out heart, breaking for the things you couldn't hold on to such as childhood pets and toys. The wish that he had met you sooner, if only to love you for longer.

The moment that the realization had come, the flash had hit you as he stared at you through the view finder. Your prettiest smile through his lens, he could somehow taste the salt of the sea when you both were miles inland.

Whenever you were together, the ocean felt like a fractured memory of when you had first met.

Your reputation never mattered to him, everyone had something they were known for. Who you were in front of his camera: he believed in that version of you. He loved that version of you.

He loved you.

And in the moments where you would slip, showing some sign of sincerity with your soft spoken words and your gentle glances, he had always known.

How you threw yourself blindly at the world and its people, hoping that it would always open its arms up to you and find you a home.

You weren’t some disastrous storm wreaking havoc— he found a pearl a much more suitable comparison. Like the ones you would look for on every beach, the place you felt most at home.

A pearl. Soft and sensitive to the world around it, yet as beautiful as the ocean it made its’ home.

-‘๑’- return to music box. ➔ masterlist.

#ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི song selected ✦ now playing: pearl. ࣪˖#ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི song credits ✦ written for: choi beomgyu. ࣪˖#⭒ extras [🪞]#txt scenarios #txt x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #happy birthday beomgyu!

22 notes · View notes

bookworm-with-coffee · 10 months

Text

Dancing With Death ~ Pt. 2. . .

(John Mitchell x Reader)

(A/N); Hello and welcome back to Dancing With Death! I present to you the second instalment! Please note, it's my first time writing proper smut, so I'm really sorry if it sucks!! Otherwise, enjoy!! ❤❤

Plot; When a human is invited to live with the gang, things get rather complicated for one John Mitchell...

Pairings; John Mitchell x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; mature themes, violence, blood, coarse language, angst, smut (18+)

Part One

_________________________________________

Fate is rarely kind to those who tempt it. There is always a price to pay in the end.

The days drifted onwards, neither you or Mitchell caring to mention the almost-kiss you'd shared. Despite this, it was all you could think about. The way his gaze was so loving, his laugh, his confession in that hushed Irish accent. It gave you blissful goosebumps. But, those lips. So close, yet so far. You'd often imagined the feeling of him kissing you, the closest thing being that accidental brush. Tingles lingered where his lips had touched. It was so light and–

"(Y/n) (L/n), are you paying attention??", your teacher's voice rang out, shocking you from your thoughts.

"Pardon?", you sputtered. Your classmates giggled amongst themselves.

"Keep your attention in the here and now, Miss (L/n)", he reprimanded, before drawing his attention to the screen at the front of the room. It was going to be a very long morning for not just yourself.

Mitchell was working until noon at the hospital, bustling around in a hurry. Almost everywhere there was a spillage of some kind. It was unending for the poor vampire. And it was about to get worse.

A familiar head of blonde hair was weaving its way through the crowds, an exasperated sigh leaving the Irishman. "Ah, Mitchell", the older male greeted his acquaintance.

"Herrick", Mitchell returned, leaning on his mop.

"Don't look so unimpressed. I'll be needing word, if you don't mind?". With reluctance, Mitchell decided he'd entertain Herrick for a few moments, nodding silently. To anyone watching, Mitchell was a cleaner being questioned by a Police Officer. The head of the local department to be exact. Nothing out of the question there.

Their usual place to chat was the hospital canteen, Herrick ordering a coffee rather than the crappy hot chocolate that was made for him the last time. "What do you want? I work for a living", Mitchell ground out, staring the older man down from across their chosen table. Herrick was unintimidated by his counterpart, sipping his coffee without much care.

"I'm rather disappointed that you've forgotten", Herrick sighed. "Seth certainly hasn't".

"Seth is an arsehole", Mitchell shot back with a shrug.

"That's hardly news to the world, Mitchell. I'm talking about a very alarming incident. You know which one I'm referring to". The raven haired male narrowed his eyes for a moment before responding,

"What of it?".

"Your playing human, restricting your food habits is fine with me. But, taking it upon yourself to restrict others of our kind? That's just selfish", the blonde chided. "To make things worse, she now knows our secret".

"It's under control". Herrick's brows rose in intrigue.

"You must really trust this woman to be so sure of yourself", he mused. "Who is she to you, Mitchell? A colleague? A lover??". His eyes lit up with his next suggestion. "Your flatmate??".

"It's not your concern", Mitchell responded, irking Herrick into a laugh.

"Who's sick, sadistic idea was it then??", he asked, leaning across the table with a wolfish grin. "Gods, you must be suffering being so close to a human. Then again, you've always enjoyed being God's punching bag, haven't you?". The Irishman glowered, chewing the inside of his bottom lip. A violent delight flashed in Herrick's piercing blue gaze as it trailed over Mitchell's expression. "You've thought about it, haven't you? Plunging your fangs into her soft flesh, drinking the sweetness of her hot blood". Mitchell shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting away from Herrick's in shame. "Letting that divine warmth trickle down your chin, finally satisfying the beast inside".

"Get to the point already", Mitchell snapped.

"You know what I want from you and it's all completely voluntary".

"To join your little 'army'? You really think this revolution is going to work, don't you?", he scoffed.

"I know it's going to work. We're high in number now, Mitchell. It's only a matter of time", Herrick insisted. "We want you back. I certainly do".

"And what if I did join you, Herrick?", Mitchell challenged. "Hypothetically. What would become of my life then?".

"Your friends are hardly our focus, Mitchell. We're using our gift to help people", the blonde huffed. "If you join us, I'll leave them be".

"Just like that?", Mitchell retorted. "So unlike you".

"Your friends are of no concern to me. One is a floating spirit, the other can't hope to lay a paw on me unless the moon is full and the last? Well, we all know how fragile humans are". Herrick tugged at his shoulders, taking another sip of his coffee. "If you're that worried for her, I can guarantee that she won't be harmed".

Mitchell's gaze narrowed in silent contemplation, suddenly widening at the sound of your voice. "Mitchell?", you called to him from the doorway of the canteen, a sense of horror filling him. You couldn't be here, not now. Herrick's grin widened, his charm switching on. The blonde smelt your scent from where he sat, recognising it as the same sweet smell he'd detected on Seth.

The Irishman stood, his counterpart following suit. You could tell something wasn't right, but the both of you stayed silent when you strayed into the room to embrace your friend. Herrick eyed you keenly, your eyes then falling onto him expectantly. "Well, Mitchell. Aren't you going to introduce us?", he chuckled.

"(Y/n), meet William Herrick", Mitchell's voice remained unenthusiastic. "Herrick, meet (Y/n)". Eagerly, the blonde officer shook your hand, almost startling you with his cold. Those keen eyes reminded you of– He had to be a vampire.

"A pleasure", he assured you, an unreadable twinkle to his blue eyes. "I'm an old friend of Mitchell's".

"Nice to meet you", you forced a smile in your nervousness. Mitchell's hand remained protectively on the small of your back, suddenly taking his chance to remove you from this situation.

"If you'll excuse us, Herrick. We really must be going", the Irishman began to pull you along steadily yet with some hurry, allowing for Herrick to show himself out whenever he chose.

"Of course, of course", he nodded, smiling knowingly. "You will consider my proposal, won't you?". Mitchell froze, turning over his shoulder to acknowledge Herrick's words with a curt nod before leaving.

"Who was that?", you asked when you both had reached the end of the hallway.

"Someone I would have preferred you never to meet", Mitchell sighed, sparing a worried glance over his shoulder. "But, it's done".

"I see now, I shouldn't have come".

"Nonsense. You got me out of there", he nudged you gently, the both of you lapsing into a short fit of laughter. "Why did you come?".

"I just wanted to walk home with you. Class finished early today", you gnawed on your lower lip nervously. He nodded in understanding,

"I'm off work anyway now". Maybe it was better that you had come to find him? With Herrick around, goodness knows who else could be lurking.

The walk home was comfortable, despite your previous awkwardness with Mitchell. In sensing that your hands were cold, the vampire had offered you the surprisingly warm crevice of his strong arm and his fingerless mittens. The sun was more forgiving today, hiding behind the rain clouds that were slowly moving in from the south. Mitchell had been practising going into public without his sunglasses. It was working for him, the dull brightness no longer affecting his sight. You smiled to yourself. With every passing day, he considered himself more human than the last. Yet, you already considered him more a human being than anyone else you'd met.

You both stepped into the house, expecting an excited Annie to greet you both. But, the house was dim and uncharacteristically quiet. A note was left on the table, saying that she was out shopping with George for tea bags among other important things for the pantry. "I can't imagine the tea canisters ever being empty again", Mitchell chuckled, slipping his jacket from his shoulders. In noticing your quiet, his brows furrowed. "Is something the matter?? Did Herrick frighten you?".

"No", you replied dismissively, waving him off with a smile. "I'm thinking".

"About??". Your eyes closed in a form of dread, bracing for the worst at your answer, "About us, Mitchell". He swallowed nervously. "What are we, you and me?". His hazel hues darted from yours, forcing a smile.

"We're friends?", he feigned confusion.

"Are we??", you challenged, your brows raising. Your eyes traced him. "I haven't stopped thinking about it, you know? That kiss".

"It was an accident", he insisted gently, his voice wavering in unsurity.

"Were your words an accident too, Mitchell??". His lashes fluttered, blinking away in anxiousness. He parted his lips to speak, but there was only silence. You stepped closer to his taller frame, your warmer hand reaching out hesitantly. Testing the waters, your fingertips brushed over his hand. He reciprocated in tangling your fingers within his. "Look, I know what you said could've been spur of the moment, but—".

"It wasn't", his soft voice cut in, his form moving almost flush against yours. His eyes were suddenly drawn to your own. "I meant what I said". He heard the flutters of your heart, every fibre of him being drawn to you. Your spare hand rested upon his silent chest, pulling him gently to you. His head dipped, your lashes tickling his skin. "We shouldn't—", he reasoned as his last form of restraint, his lips finally meeting yours.

And so, your dance with death began...

Fireworks gave off beneath your skin, Mitchell's spare hand reaching to twine his fingers into your hair. His other hand released yours to steady your face, your hands gripping his flannelette shirt to bring him closer. You both stumbled into the wall nearest to you, Mitchell's lips working in concentrated passion with your own. Your lips parted, his kiss becoming devouring. His fingers gripped at your hair, only tugging gently enough for a sigh to pass through your lips.

In retreating from your lips, he traced his own down your throat in delicate touches whilst you caught your breath. The temptation for your blood was undoubtedly there, being completely drowned out by Mitchell's other desires. His lips marked your collarbone, his lashes brushing over your skin when his ministrations grew slower. You sensed his hesitation, knowing that he must be growing worried.

To soothe him, your fingers wound through his dark curls whilst he worked, your lips brushing over his forehead and his cheek before you leant in close. "It's alright, Mitchell. I trust you". Your whisper against the shell of his ear, combined with your nails raking over his scalp awoke something almost feral within him.

More sure of himself, Mitchell's lips moved fervently across the skin of your neck. His tongue darted out to strike at your flesh, his lips caressing a place there that had you gasping. Mitchell's forehead met yours, his strong arms having no trouble in hoisting your legs around his waist, your hands grasping at his hair and shoulders.

His nose brushed yours, your lips moulding together in tender open-mouthed kisses as he guided you both out of the living space and up the stairs. Your waist moved against his, a soft groan heaving from his throat. "Christ, don't move like that, (Y/n). We'll never make it to the bedroom if you do", he warned with a playful grin, offering your lips another quick kiss before his steps lead you both into your room. One of his legs kicked out, the door slamming behind you both.

Mitchell's feet stumbled to the edge of your bed, the both of you smiling against each other's lips when they met again sweetly. His arms suddenly became absent beneath you, a short cry leaving your lips when you crashed onto your mattress. A laugh slipped from you, Mitchell's expression mirroring your own. His fingers gripped his undershirt, lazily pulling it and his flannel shirt over his head at the same time. "You're certainly praticed at this", you jested, his brows wiggling suggestively.

"You haven't seen me with a bra", Mitchell replied with a short giggle, discarding his clothing. You stood from the bed, circling your arms around his broad frame.

Carefully, you'd noted his battle scars from his time at war, his hazel gaze glinting with a tenderness in watching you look over them. His lips parted when your mouth and fingertips graced over those old wounds affectionately. No one had ever cared for or noticed those marks before. "Thank you", he murmured against your forehead, a soft smile still present in his gratitude. His fingers moved to your back, silently asking for permission.

"Please", you responded, his face lighting up. The Irishman pressed a kiss along your jaw, before lifting your shirt over your head. You nodded, beckoning him to continue. His lips ignited goosebumps over your skin when they kissed slowly and sensually along your bare shoulders. With a twisting of his fingers, your bra clasp suddenly fell loose, the garment being completely discarded. Your brows rose. "You weren't kidding".

Another soft giggle slipped from Mitchell's lips, his hazel hues glittering with adoration when they met your own. "You're so, so beautiful", his hushed breath fanned over your skin. His cooler hands grazed over your bare back in loving caresses, moving his hand to cup one of your breasts. He only swiped his thumb over your bud, your form jolting forwards into his instinctively. His head ducked, laying feathersoft kisses on your lips, cascading down your throat again, his hands tracing soft patterns over the sensitive flesh of your stomach to the hem of your pants.

"Please, Mitchell", you begged softly, the Irishman wasting no time in pulling the button of your pants loose, allowing them to form a pile by your feet.

Mitchell guided you gently onto the mattress, his form coming to hover over your own. His large hand flattened over your stomach, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"Do you want me to—", he began, inching his fingers lower in suggestion.

"Yes". His soul warmed, the vampire relishing in how trusting and carefree you were within each other. He delighted in the gasp that tumbled from your lips when his digits slipped into your underwear, quickly becoming coated in your slick. Your nails clawed into the muscles of his arm when he moved them languidly between your folds and across that sensitive bundle of nerves. He bit down on his lip to fight his smile at feeling you writhing beneath him, letting him know wordlessly in your huffs and mutterings that he was hitting all the right places. His teeth nibbled against the shell of your ear pleasurably, hoping to get your folds slick enough in preparation for him. You fought your building high, begging Mitchell to stop. He obeyed, a soft laugh escaping him when your hands worked down the bare skin of his abdomen, to tug on the hem of his pants. The Irishman relented to your shared wants, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. Both his boxers and jeans were removed together, quickly becoming discarded with the other items of your clothing.

Mitchell's soft lips seized your own, your hands coming to cradle his face. He braced himself on your mattress, lining himself up carefully. Once sure, his hips snapped upwards, your mouth falling open against his. His eyes fell closed in a squint, his dark brows furrowing as a shaky moan passed through his throat. Your breaths steadied as you became adjusted to him, his hips slowly beginning to rock into your own experimentally. You hummed eagerly, snatching his lips into your own. "Mitchell", his name tumbled from your lips, your fingers lacing into those thick curls as his pace quickened.

His kisses were searing, but gentle. There was mixtures of your teeth and his, pulling at each other as Mitchell's movements became deeper. The thirst for your blood had him tensing and grimacing, his lower lip being drawn between his teeth in concentration. A metallic taste hit his tongue; his own blood from biting down so hard. You helped to keep him grounded, allowing his hands to run across your open palms before pinning them to the mattress.

The Irishman's brows remained furrowed, focused on giving and sharing in your pleasure. Your breathy whimpers, soft curses and ragged gasping were all music to his ears. He found joy in the fact there was a deeper connection than just lust or a means to feed, as sex had often been for him. It was instead loving, slow and caring towards each other's needs. Mitchell finally felt that he could love and be loved equally in return.

A sharp gasp suddenly slipped from your throat, Mitchell hitting a place that had you seeing stars. Your back arched into him, your waist snapping up to meet his rhythmic movements. Feeling a heat tightening in his lower abdomen, Mitchell didn't allow himself to lose any self control over the side of him that hungered for your blood. His hazel eyes flickered open, ablaze with desire and adoration. Your heated breaths mingled, Mitchell's lips lowering again to your own. Gods, you really were beautiful.

With your heart now racing, you felt every wave of stimulation building up within you. You felt your eyes lolling back, Mitchell's movements allowing him to continuously drag across that spot in you without mercy. "Oh, Mitchell", you sighed, your gaze barely able to focus on his face.

Mitchell smiled. You were so close now, he could feel it. Your breaths had quickened and you were practically squirming with every thrust. His hands pinned yours higher, holding them down with only one. His now spare hand travelled between the small space between your moving bodies, a small cry of pleasure shooting from you when his digits began rubbing circles over your small bud.

Mitchell's tongue traced the skin beneath your ear, fighting the painful urges to feed from you whilst he pressed hot open-mouthed kisses to your flesh. His ministrations in time with his thrusts were too much, suddenly hitting a boiling point within you.

Trembling beneath him, your throat suddenly tightened, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. Your eyes squeezed shut, your back arching again into him as all the gravity in the room seemed to change. Mitchell's name was a hushed mantra on your lips, the winding tightness snapping within Mitchell's abdomen not long after. His body felt alight with a sudden wave of euphoria as a few strained grunts left his lips. Your name tumbled from his lips amidst a string of other profanities, slowly coming down from his high and allowing you to ride out yours.

When his movements ceased, your bodies remained tangled for a few moments, completely reduced to putty within each other's embrace. Mitchell's eyes had closed, suddenly shooting open in concern. There was no blood, well— he wiped at his mouth, the crimson wetness of his own apparent on his fingers. Fang marks were etched into his skin where he'd bitten down harshly. Shocked at his own restraint, he looked down at your peaceful expression with a growing smile. He'd done it.

Your (e/c) orbs flickered open, a lazy smile meeting your eyes when you cradled his face. Unbothered by the blood, your lips captured his, stroking your fingers over his skin when he returned the kiss. When your lips parted, your fingertips traced over his small wounds in concern. "It's fine", he insisted softly, noting your worry. "Hardly hurt".

Removing himself from you, Mitchell happily took it upon himself to carefully clean you both up with a warm cloth. Neither of you redressed, slipping under your covers to relax in each other's arms.

Pulling Mitchell's dark curls from his face, his head shifted from its place upon your chest to gaze up at you. His wounds on his mouth had miraculously healed after he'd cleaned them, your brows rising in wonder. "Was it hard for you?", you asked with great hesitation. Knowing what you were referring to, the Irishman felt that he should be honest.

"It was", he murmured, conceding that his predatory side was quite painful to control. You took a breath, your lips parting. A silent debate on whether or not to ask.

"If I wasn't human, would that make things easier for you?". Catching on to what you meant, Mitchell's brows furrowed,

"Why would you ever want to give up what you are to become like me??".

"To lessen your pain, to be with you without risk of injury or loss". A kind, yet sad smile dawned on the Irishman's strong features, his hand reaching to sweep the fringe from your face.

"All are human", he whispered, his hand retreating from your face to curl his arm around you affectionately. "You don't want this life, (Y/n). And I won't give it to you".

"Why not??", you asked quietly. Hazel hues danced over your features, his fingers drawing imaginary patterns along the bare skin of your abdomen before grasping your hand. He placed it over his cheek, your thumb caressing over the stubble of his face. His head leant into your touch, his mouth pressing a kiss into your palm.

"I'd miss this warmth. Your skin is so beautifully warm to the touch. All that life; gone in an instant", he sighed, squeezing your hand. Mitchell moved his head to lay it where your heart thrummed beneath your skin. "I'd miss hearing this sound too. It's soothing".

You couldn't help the smile that came to your face, having no prior idea that he'd appreciated these things so much. Whilst you swept your hand over his hair in careful strokes, he continued, "(Y/n), this life took all of that and more from me. I'm just thankful that this life gave me you, but I won't let it take that from me too".

"I'm not going anywhere", you assured him, softly laying a comforting kiss to the top of his hair.

The haunting image of Lauren's hatred filled his mind. Mitchell couldn't handle it if ever you looked at him in that way, the way she had. The thought terrified him to no end, his eyes furiously blinking away the tears forming in his gaze. "This life changes you, (Y/n). I wouldn't wish it on anyone", he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the skin of your chest. "You're perfect as you are. And I love you".

Your embrace tightened around the Irishman, both your eyes and his coming to a restful close. "I love you too, Mitchell".

In the many days and weeks that followed, your relationship with the vampire flourished. George and Annie were overjoyed when the both of you made your status known. Mitchell was now sure of where he belonged in the world and what he'd do to protect those people closest to him.

Foolishly thinking that Herrick had growing morals and that he'd offer his family protection, Mitchell had made the decision to accept the proposal. The blonde's jaw almost hit the floor when Mitchell marched through the doors of his office at B. Edwards.

"They won't be harmed? I have your word??". Smiling broadly, Herrick replied,

"Of course".

"I'm in".

The vampires welcomed Mitchell back into their coven with open arms. It was blissful at first, to be part of his own kind again. The Irishman hated the stories told about his early days as a vampire, having no choice but to give in to his urges to survive back then. It was a time he'd rather forget.

Herrick respected that Mitchell still wished not to feed on humans, hoping that he would come around at some point. The blonde was recruiting more people, saving them from the cusp of death to live in his growing underground society. Mitchell gave him the edge and reputation he needed just by standing in the room. It was perfect.

Until you'd found out from Josie, another former lover of Mitchell's from the 60s, that Mitchell was getting himself into a lot of trouble. She'd met you only a week or two ago, over the moon that Mitchell was pursuing a strong relationship with yourself. Now she worried that it would all end in tatters if he went on any longer with Herrick and his goons.

You'd had no idea, alike to Annie and George, that Mitchell had joined Herrick. Feeling as if your trust had somewhat been betrayed in him not telling you, you had also grown confused. "He hates Herrick— why— what could make him join that man?", you sputtered. Josie's hand clasped your own.

"Mitchell does a lot for those he loves", she sighed wistfully. "He tried to get Herrick to convince me to join them, in their society. To stop my cancer. As honourable as it seemed, he knows as well as I that death is human".

Your mouth fell open slightly, the truth striking you almost painfully. This sounded so different from the Mitchell you knew. Your mind drifted back to his words to you in the afterglow of your first lovemaking. It seemed so long ago now. Josie squeezed your hand. "You need to stop him, (Y/n). Find him. Get him back. I'll tell George". You nodded, returning the gesture before breaking into a sprint down the street.

Every thought you had was honed on Mitchell. You had an inkling to his whereabouts, George having mentioned something about a 'B. Edwards' place to you once. You prayed that you'd get there in time, a sinking feeling beginning to pool in the pits of your stomach.

Your legs burned with fatigue and your lungs gasped for air in the cool winds of the day, your journey leading you through many streets. The funeral home was only a handful of blocks from your house, the sign with 'B. Edwards', like an eery archway over the gates when you'd spotted it. Fury and adrenaline coursed through your system, not caring or thinking when you passed through the glass doors of the establishment.

An elderly woman sat to your left upon entry, her pale eyes fixed on a magazine. The air was unusually cold and musty, every piece of furniture or decor an antique. Your entry sparked the male seated at the desk to rise to his feet. You instantly recognised his face. Seth. Your mind flashed to that night from months ago and it seemed his did as well when a sly grin grew onto his features. "Nice to see you again, Lovely—", he started.

"Where's Mitchell?". Your question had the growing fire in his eyes dimming into a scowl.

"She certainly gets her manners from Mitchell, don't you think?", Herrick laughed upon entering the room, responding to you before his counterpart could. Your eyes darted to the blonde male who offered you a charming smile. "Come now, we're all friends here".

"Just tell me where he is and I'll be on my way", you snapped.

" 'On your way'??", he repeated, wholeheartedly amused. "That just wouldn't be good hospitality, Darling". Your teeth clenched within your mouth, fighting the urge to scream in frustration. "Nanna has made us some lovely biscuits and tea! We'd be so delighted to have you!". The way he'd offered it was so lighthearted, anyone else would've thought him kind. You knew better.

Seth rounded the desk all too quickly, flanking your right to ensure you couldn't escape. The elderly lady, you came to realise, was the vampire Herrick had referred to. She eyed you keenly from where she sat, also making sure you couldn't run. Seth's hand was at the ready, hovering behind you to grip your arm should it be necessary.

With reluctance, you forced a smile, Herrick delighting in your decision to join them without struggle. You marched forwards at your own accord, slowly realising that every set of eyes in this establishment belonged to a vampire. The way they stared was so unlike Mitchell's glance. His was soft, kind. Every gaze here was fixed on you like a vulture. Some part of you wished you'd brought a weapon or a stake with you before rushing into this situation.

Herrick lead you with a kind hand on the small of your back to a room with biscuits and tea laid upon the table. "Have a seat there, Love", he gestured to a comfortable seat, the anxiety and regret rising into your throat. Still, Herrick's voice remained feathersoft, unintimidating. His touch had given you chills, his blue gaze seeming to see through you. Two security guards, also vampires, flanked Herrick. Seth quickly left your side to attend the front desk again once you were seated.

The blonde poured you a cup of tea, adding but a sugar or two before passing it across the dining table. "Pick yourself some biscuits, Love", he grinned. "Don't be shy, now". You didn't trust the tea or the biscuits, afraid they'd been drugged or laced with something malicious. Vampires were immune to poisons and drugs, after all.

"Where's Mitchell?", you repeated your question, more gentle than it had been with Seth. "I want to speak with him".

"Mitchell's just out for the moment. When he's back, I'll give him straight to you". His response was careful and you didn't trust his words in the slightest. "I'm sure he'd appreciate us taking care of you. After all, it's what he wanted?".

"Liar", you muttered, his brows raising.

"How you wound me, (Y/n)", he sighed with some disappointment. "I wasn't lying. How else do you think I managed to convince him to join us?". He took a sip of his tea, eyeing you from the lip of his cup. "Goodness knows why he protects you. You clearly hurt him more than your words could ever hurt me". Your brows creased.

"What are you talking about?". A soft laugh slipped from the blonde,

"What? Hasn't he told you?". Herrick took your silence as his answer, growing further amused with the situation. "He's in pain, Sweetheart. Every day. To be near a human is agonising enough for a few moments. Mitchell has to live with you, 24/7". His blue gaze trailed over your features. "It's a wonder he hasn't given in yet or turned you".

A thickness formed in your throat, the guilt swirling in your eyes. Mitchell had never mentioned such pain to you. Was it really that difficult for him??

"He told me he'd never give me this life", you shot back. "That this life changes you. And as far as I'm concerned, I'll take his advice in not wanting it". Herrick pursed his lips, a slow sigh exhaling from his nostrils. Softly, his head shook in some semblance of dejection.

"Now that is a pity", he sighed. "But to be expected". Your brows furrowed again in confusion. "Mitchell has truly got you wound around that thumb of his to blind you so easily from the gift that is immortality".

"Gift?", you scoffed. "It took everything from him!".

"Is that what he told you?", Herrick huffed in amusement, beginning to drum his fingers on the table. "The same man who would pass immortality out like pamphlets on the street? It's thanks to Mitchell that our recruitment is up, Sweetheart".

You blinked profusely, stiffening up in a sense of disbelief. Yet, there was no dishonesty in Herrick's keen blue gaze as it scanned over you the way Seth's had. It was unsettling.

"You poor girl", he mused, his grin becoming almost wolfish. "How misplaced your loyalty has been. It can have better uses. With any luck".

"What do you mean?". And that's when you noted the rhythm of Herrick's fingers. It almost sounded like a heartbeat, progressively growing quicker. Taunting you.

The guards that flanked the blonde's side slowly shifted, your arms gripping your chair and eyeing them in nervousness. "Listen", Herrick whispered, drumming his fingers louder. "That's your heartbeat, (Y/n). Savour that sound. It just may very well be the last time you hear it".

________________________________________

I hope you all enjoyed this second instalment with a part three coming soon!! As always, any and all feedback is welcome!! If you want to be a part of my taglist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in!! Thank you all for stopping by and supporting my works!! ❤❤

#being human #being human uk #john mitchell #john mitchell x reader #mitchell x reader #john mitchell smut #fanfiction #aidan turner #gif not mine #credit to creator

97 notes · View notes

footprintsinthesxnd · 2 months

Text

Chapter 3: You’re Breaking My Heart

Eugene Roe x Violet Elwood

Summary: Everything was going so well, until it wasn’t. Things with Violet had been going swimmingly but how much can a person heart really take?

Warnings: implied sex scene, mentions of hospitals

August 12th 1941

Eugene watched as the drinks wobbled precariously on the tray as he moved through the crowd of people and towards the table where Violet and Henry were waiting. They were deep in conversation when Eugene arrived and he managed to catch the end of it before they noticed him.

“Violet, you have to tell Eugene. You can’t keep something like this from him,” Henry asserted, raising an eyebrow when Violet sighed.

“I can’t tell him, and you can’t either. It’s not yours to tell,” Violet snapped, her face quickly morphing into a smile when she noticed him. “Eugene, you’re back.”

“What were you two whispering about?” Eugene asked, placing the drinks on the table and sliding into the booth beside her.

Violet stayed silent for a moment, glancing at Henry before replying, “I was just telling Henry about what surprise I have planned for your birthday.” She leaned over and pecked Eugene’s cheek but he caught her before she pulled away and brought her in for a proper kiss. Eugene had never believed in feeling butterflies from a kiss until he kissed Violet, now every kiss felt as special as their first.

“A surprise? My birthday isn’t until October, you're planning early,” Eugene laughed, but Violet simply nodded.

“It’s good to be prepared,” she nuzzled her head against Eugene’s neck, sighing contently as his arm came around her, pulling her close.

August 27th 1941

Rose greeted Eugene when he appeared at the front door, “Mornin’ Eugene, Violet will be down in a minute. You wanna come in?”

“Sure,” Eugene thanked her, following her down the familiar corridor and into the family kitchen. Violet’s mother was tidying the kitchen and quickly pulled off her apron, hurrying over to him.

“Eugene, hello,” she pulled him into a hug which he quickly returned. He always felt so welcome in the Elwood household, even Violet’s father seemed to like him.

Violet came slowly down the stairs, smiling sweetly at him. “Hello Gene,” she embraced him, kissing his cheek delicately.

“What are you two up to today then?” Her mother asked, packing some sandwiches into a bag and handing them to Violet.

“We're going out to Henry’s family’s boat for the day,” Violet spoke cheerfully, clearly very excited about the prospect of their boat trip.

“Sounds fun,” Violet’s mum gave her a quick kiss. “Well, be safe and have fun.” Eugene followed Violet along the hall when her mother hurried after them. “Violet, don’t forget these.” She handed her something which Violet quickly buried in her pocket, sending Eugene a small smile.

He began to ask what her mother had given her but Violet quickly linked her hand through his, pulling him through the front door. “Come on or we’ll miss the bus.”

It was a short bus ride to the edge of the city where the Johnsons moored their boat, and the pair arrived shortly before noon. The sun was hanging high in the sky, beating down on the pair as Eugene helped Violet climb onto the small boat. It was merely a rowing boat, nothing grand or special, and yet Violet was so excited to go in it. He couldn’t help but grin back at her and he took up the ores and began to row, her smile was infectious.

As they pushed away from the dock and Eugene began to row further out Violet pointed out things on the land, or the way the water rippled, or how bright the sun was. It was as if she was experiencing all these things for the first time and it reminded him of the day at the lake with Henry. She seemed to intrigued by everything, as if she had yet to experience much of what life had to offer.

When they were out far enough from land, Eugene balanced the ores so they were no longer in the water and they were left to float around in the clear water. Occasionally fish passed underneath the boat, their silver bellies glistening in the afternoon sunshine.

Violet opened up the package of sandwiches, offering Eugene one, which he accepted gratefully, enjoying the taste, if not the rough texture of the bread. She opened a small pot and took a round tablet from it, placing it on her tongue and washing it down with water from the canteen.

“You okay?” Gene asked, watching as her eyes grew wide and she mumbled something, shoving the pot back in her bag.

“I think I have a migraine coming on,” she smiled weakly at him, taking a bite from her sandwich and began chewing quickly.

Eugene nibbled at the edge of his sandwich thoughtfully, sometimes it seemed like he knew Violet better than anyone, other times it felt like he didn’t know her at all.

Violet soon changed the subject, pointing out a colourful fish that splashed at the edge of the boat, weaving between the reeds and disappearing behind a rock. Violet had a childlike manner when it came to pointing out animals that always made Eugene smile, whether it was pointing out a dog walking down the street or a cat sitting on a fence, she always noticed them.

After finishing his sandwich Eugene rowed them further across the lake, before turning the boat and started the paddle back to the shore. The sun grew low in the sky, and a cool breeze began to blow across the lake. Violet began to hum a soft tune and with the setting sun glowing on her Eugene couldn’t help but see the resemblance to an angel, an ethereal being. Eugene often wondered if she was closer to God in some way, through things she said. She was very perceptive and had a way of looking at life like no one he’d ever met before.

Back on the shore, Eugene helped Violet climb from the boat, ensuring it didn’t too as she stepped out and passed her the bag and tied the boat back to its moor. Violet sat on the bank watching him with a smile on her lips.

“What are you looking at?” He chuckled, moving closer to her and pressing his lips firmly to hers. She smiled into the kiss and Eugene knew that he could happily spend the rest of his life kissing her lips.

“Just looking at you,” she replied, a light brush spreading across her cheeks as Eugene began to kiss her once more.

“Oh really,” he mumbled against her lips, cupping her cheek gently and raising her chin so he had better access to her lips.

“I like it when you kiss me, Gene,” Violet mumbled, gripping the front of his shirt, and looking up at him with her large blue eyes. “I really like it when you kiss me.” She looked down in her lap before meeting his gaze once more, “I think I love you, Gene.”

“Well I really like kissin’ you too,” Eugene assured her, pushing her hair away from her face but she just shook her head, causing the blonde strands to fall back. “And I think I love you too.” He couldn’t believe the words left his mouth but he was glad they did. To finally admit how he truly felt for Violet felt like a huge weight lifted but Violet’s face said otherwise.

“No Eugene, I really like kissing you and I’d like to kiss you a whole lot more, and maybe even…” she trailed off and Eugene cocked his head, thinking over her words until he swallowed hard, realising just what she was implying.

“Are you sure?” He whispered, unable to raise his voice any louder. His throat felt tight like someone was crushing his trachea.

“I’m sure, I’m very sure,” she assured him, gripping his collar and pulling him down for another kiss, this one more passionate than any of the kisses they had shared before. Eugene gasped and Violet took the opportunity to push her tongue into his mouth, fighting against his own for dominance which she quickly won. Eugene moved to kneel and Violet pulled him down with her as she lay on the grass.

Before things could go too far Eugene pulled away. “We can’t… not here,” he took her hand in his own, pulling them both to their feet. “There’s an old lake house on the far side of the lake. No one uses it but it’s pretty nice over there. Henry and I spent lots of time there last summer.” He wasn’t sure why he was suggesting the old lake house, he didn’t like to think what his mother would think of him but Violet nodding adamantly at him encouraged him to make the decision.

“Okay.”

The moonlight streamed through the crack in the wooden boards, casting an eerie, white glow across Eugene’s face as he stirred under the thin covers. His arm felt numb but he was unable to move it due to a heavy weight on it. Turning his head, he was met with the sleeping face of Violet, looking so peaceful under the moonlight. He reached across, smoothing his index finger over her cheek.

He’d never imagined his first time with a girl to be in a boathouse, especially not Violet. He’d imagined a romantic evening but thinking back on their day together he couldn’t think of anything more perfect. Everything was perfect with Violet by his side.

Checking his watch, the time read 09:00 pm. Shit. Despite not wanting to disturb Violet they had to get home soon, her parents liked him up until this point and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardise that.

“Violet? Vi Sweetheart, we have to get going. Your parents will want you home,” he pushed her gently but she didn’t stir. “Violet?”

Eugene sat up straight, leaning over Violet and shaking her harshly, “Violet!” His voice grew more urgent as his heart began hammering in his chest. When he continued to shake her to no avail he knew his only option was to get help. He pulled his clothes on quickly, scooping Violet up into his arms and hurrying out of the lake house. He was thankful for the road that ran alongside the lake and hurried up onto the tarmac, flagging down a passing car.

“It’s going to be okay, Violet. I’m going to get you help.”

Eugene had never spent much time in hospitals but from just sitting in the waiting room, he had grown to hate the place. One of the nurses had contacted Violet’s parents who luckily had a phone due to their shop, and they had passed on the message to his parents. The two families sat in utter silence and it was crushing Eugene with more guilt than he already felt.

Violet’s mother had begun crying when she saw him and pulled him straight into a bone-crushing hug to which he broke into a heartbreaking sob. All the emotions of the day finally caught up with him and now it was all too much. She loved him and he loved her. They had consummated their love and now… well now he wasn’t sure what was happening and he didn’t seem to be getting any answers.

As the hours dragged on, different family members got up and walked around, his sisters choosing to get some fresh air outside with Violet's sisters. Eugene couldn’t move from his seat, paralysed by the confusion and growing pain he felt in his chest.

“Mr and Mrs Elwood?” An older doctor in a long white coat appeared, a clipboard tucked under one arm.

“Yes,” Violet’s parents stood quickly, hurrying towards the doctor. He ushered them forward and Eugene stood too.

“What’s wrong with her?” He demanded, tears slipping down his cheeks. Violet’s mother turned to him, nodding to Violet’s father. The couple moved closer to Eugene, beckoning him to take a seat again but he refused.

Violet’s mother took a deep breath, “Eugene there’s something that you need to know… about Violet. It’s going to be hard to understand. She didn’t want to hurt you, that’s why she didn’t tell you.”

Eugene gulped, ignoring the tears that continued to slip down his cheeks, “Tell me what?”

Tags: @blueberry-ovaries @mads-weasley @coco-bean-1218 @she-wolf09231982 @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @hesbuckcompton-baby @allthingsimagines @bucky32557038ww2 @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt @xxluckystrike @hogwartslegacypics @softguarnere

#heart to heart #band of brothers #eugene roe #Eugene roe x oc #Violet Elwood

28 notes · View notes

jomamaofficial · 1 year

Text

Death After Noon (Kaeya x GN!Reader Dark Angst Oneshot)

A/N: Day 3 of the holiday writing streak hehe. Hello my lovely toes, I am back with another angst fic. But this time, I’ve tried a new format out hehe: reverse comfort → angst no comfort </3. Also, if you didn’t see my last post, I AM WORKING ON A QUIRK MARRIAGE MULTIPLE CHAPTER FANFICTION WITH OUR GOLD MINE OF ANGST, SHOUTO TODOROKI. If you want some more information, filter through the richiethetoe’s updates tag :). As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. I would love to give back to our little community here. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts about the new format I experimented with hehe. CW's: Intimate acts (kissing, making out, SFW touching), Alcoholism. Masterlist Word Count: 1505. Summary: Kaeya Alberich, Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, the infamous heart breaker of Mondstadt. And your sole reason for pure and utter joy. Sharing moments he never shared with anyone but you, it makes you wonder how someone could say that they love you so much but then just decide that they don’t want anything to do with you anymore.

——————————————————————————————————

His smile was infectious. A simple chuckle– warm and deep.

It lifted all the burdens in your life.

It was cheesy. Cliché even. But you couldn’t help smiling at every shared moment with him.

The chaste, knowing glances– his eyes always finding yours in a crowded room. The subtle closeness– his fingers brushing past yours.

The tall, and dark, and handsome man became your Prince Charming in your Shakespearan tragedy. His smile could tug the heartstrings of the Holy Lyre, enticing Barbatos himself to descend down to Teyvat, mistaking it for the heavens above; his hair reflected the celestial twilight: a vast ocean for your fingers to tread through as he rest his beautiful face on your lap, his lunar eyes staring into the void of your heart, pushing and pulling until it soared in tides.

Kaeya Alberich was the rich poetry scribed in gold, filling the pages of your empty book in lavish ink– envied by many, obtained by one.

Late nights in the Angel’s Share were spent: skin against skin, his fingers sneaking over yours. Intertwined in a beautiful mess, with heated cheeks, and cool, deep tingles, which ran through your spine.

The two of you were Diluc’s worst nightmare. The older brother had his reservations towards both of your… public approaches to intimacy. But the brother held sympathy in his eyes; his stoic face would always fog up in questions when he saw your longing one.

Diluc was weary of his younger brother.

He sent sharp glares and hushed warnings to both of you. Yet instead of listening to him, Kaeya grabbed your hand and ran into the awaiting darkness. You stumbled as you traversed along the winding allies of Mondstadt, his greedy, impatient hands picking at the buttons on your shirt, guiding your bodies into an empty Inn.

Yet when he was finally in the solitude of your comfort, concealed from the prying eyes, his deep desire evaporated, in its place left deep adoration.

You basked in the rays of filtered silence, his hands soothing your waist and holding you tight against his flushed body. He nestled his head, heavy with thoughts, on your chest, tracing absent shapes on your skin whilst his touch got softer and softer the more you stroked his hair.

“What I wouldn’t do. To stay like this forever”, he spoke, voice so soft and incoherent, you almost mistook him for another.

“Going home was snatched from my fate, my angel. It was never an option”.

He pushed his head against the increasing gravity, his eyes heavy. He glued your gaze to his, and you peered at your reflection wavering in his crashing waves– his irises, cloudy and grey.

“So why does your embrace feel like home to me?” he asked, leaning forward ever so slightly, his breath uneven as he lingered at your lips before lifting his head, his misty blue eyes trapped behind his lashes.

You were just an inch apart from his lips, and you could smell an assault of booze and liquor. Yet this time, you didn’t want to get drunk off of it.

You wanted to savour it.

Your hand seeped warmth through his cold cheek, his face glowing, a gentle radiance.

So fragile, you shivered as you cradled him in your hand, jumping head first into the abyss of his eyes, trying to decipher the harbouring storm that formed underneath.

He seeked permission, his lips drawing closer.

And how could you refuse him, when he was sprawled in your lap, so exposed? So vulnerable?

“I love you so much, Kaeya”, you whispered, only for him to hear.

You were so inviting, so kind.

His confident demeanour shrivelled; he didn’t know how to act when you patiently waited for his lips to close the gap.

So he cautiously pressed a peck to your lips.

His sweet hesitance filled you with travelling butterflies that spread their wings, fluttering colour to your face, and comfort through your core.

And for the first time, Kaeya felt as though his guard was melting. The heavy armour finally peeled away.

Such a simple moment, but for him it was so unfamiliar.

His lips had touched many. But they were sloppy, sticky, and seductive.

But he had never kissed someone.

With love, tenderness, and care.

You were his first.

His first kiss.

Your thumb grazed past his cheek, your feather touches travelling to his jaw, shakily cupping it.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes…”

And this time you closed the gap. Your hands left his face and rubbed his back.

You felt as though he would shatter in your hold, like a shard of glass. Your breathing matched with the slow pace of his, as one of your hands travelled to his scalp, tenderly scratching it. Kaeya leaned into the touch, sighing as he pulled away from your lips, his eyes closed. Your fingers removed his worries, one by one, plucking at every strand and blowing them far, far away from him.

You were the reason his head was lighter.

You deserved so much more.

“You deserve so much better than me…” he babbled, only to be silenced by another kiss.

He pulled away to babble again.

“If you knew the real me, you would never come back”.

You pulled him in again. Your taste was sugar for his bitter words.

“Never let me go”, he pleaded.

And you detached your hands from his back and head to extend your pinky forward.

“Never”, you promised, curling your pinky around his. Such childish antics. Such sinless memories.

“I love you, Y/N”.

With a dry throat and a splitting headache, Kaeya woke up to the ray of sunlight that peeked through the blinds. His eyes blinked the fatigue away, his hand shielding them from the piercing radiance.

He examined the room he spent the night in. Unfamiliar as always.

“I’ve gotta’ stop drinking”, he muttered.

Kaeya let out a yawn, before leaning his hand on the side of the bed, fingers reaching for a shirt.

“How high is this thing?” he mumbled, leaning further down until they hit the wooden floor.

Brows knit in frustration, he craned his head on the side, scanning the empty floor. Apart from the legs of a chair, there was nothing.

Eyes squinting, he peered beyond the foot of the bed.

Nothing.

Just the chair standing solitude in front of the uncovered windows.

He couldn’t remember what he wore the day before either.

Fuck.

The sudden movements caught up to the throbbing ache drumming in his head. With a wince, he settled against the brick walls, closing his eyes to alleviate the pressure in his temple.

The absence of his rapid movements cast pure silence in the room. And the early morning was kind enough to hold the burden of his thoughts temporarily; it cast pure silence in his mind. So when a soft rustle tainted the abyssal stillness, he flinched, the hair on his arms erect and alert.

It was coming from beside him. On his left. Underneath a mast of thick, white linen.

With a few strands of hair poking from the top, he shifted his focus onto the constant rise and fall. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The air was still around him.

Kaeya stared at the sleeping figure; his lips were pressed together, his fingers tense as they clutched his matching duvet.

Thoughts were crossing his mind again. The silence, destroyed.

His hands reached towards the figure, reluctant. hesitant.

Kaeya exhaled, breathing shallow.

Using his thumb and index finger, he grabbed onto a crisp cover with the tips, drawing them back, inch by inch.

His heart beat faster as he slowly unveiled the duvet, Every piece of revealed skin matching together as a puzzle until he reached the chin.

Beside him lay delicate features, so innocent, lounging comfortably beside him. The light of dawn diffused a rosy hue on your cheeks. His glazed eyes began to thaw along with his hands.

His smiling eyes trailed down the curve of your neck that disappeared into a silk collar, hidden.

But then his smile dropped: eyes scrunched and lips parted.

A collar.

And suddenly, he narrowed on the reflection behind you: his black shirt hanging off of his chest, with maybe one or two buttons open. His hair, tame. His skin, clear: empty of any bites or bruises.

His gaze focused on the sliver of your exposed skin.

Clear: empty of any bites or bruises.

The forgotten headache was back, louder than before, seeking his attention as his vision disfigured. His chest tightened, his thoughts flooding the memories from last night.

What did he say to you.

A lonely flask sat on the bedside table. An overwhelming absence.

What a fool you truly were.

A fool because you dove head first, even though you knew this would happen.

How could someone say that they love you so much but then just decide that they don’t want anything to do with you anymore.

Kaeya Alberich could. He always did.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact angst #genshin impact #genshin angst #kaeya angst #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #angst no comfort #reverse comfort #kaeya alberich x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #genshin impact oneshots #kaeya oneshot #oneshot #genshin oneshots #angst oneshot

113 notes · View notes

miamochi-writes · 1 year

Text

Daycare Snacks Vash AU Part 12

A/n: Hi hello, this is the chapter you’ve all been waiting for. Enjoy!

You were facing Vash and didn’t realize how small the gap was between you two. His eyes locked onto yours, and neither of you dared to look away. You could feel your heart beating so fast, that you were scared he could hear it. Out of all the times you spent together, you thought ‘was this really happening?’ Just how did you get to this point?

~*~

The minute Vash asked you to join him at the music festival, it was a no brainer on what your answer was. The minute you spoke, Vash couldn’t contain his excitement as he handed you your ticket. He would message you the details later so you could start preparing for the event in a few days. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions that you forgot to give Vash’s gift at the event and decided to do it later. Right now you needed to prepare yourself being at the one music festival you’ve been longing to go to with your favorite person/crush.

After days of anticipation, they day finally arrived. Cora helped you pick your best concert outfit to wear and styled your hair. Your nerves were all over the place, especially when Vash went to pick you up at your apartment at noon. He looked amazing as always with his gray loose top with a maroon and black button up tied between his waist and black pants with sneakers. On the way to the venue, he played all the songs of the artists you would see today and hyped you up for the festivities. Vash made sure you had your ticket, a water bottle, and both of your favorite snacks to hold you over until the main event/closing band.

Once you arrived at the festival, and got inside, you were amazed with how many people were gathered around. There were about 7 stages in the area that artists and bands were already setting up. Of all the years you’ve lived in the city, you were finally getting to experience the one festival you’ve been wanting to go for ages.

“So how are we feeling?” Vash asked.

“Ecstatic! I still can’t believe we’re here! Thank you for inviting me Vash!” you told him with a smile plastered on your face.

“Well I’m glad you could join me Y/n. The last time I went was years ago back in college. So it’s nice to be back again,” he replied.

“That’s so cool you’ve gone to the previous ones! I wanted to go so bad, especially when some of my favorite bands were the headliners,” you added.

“Well it’s your lucky day! You can catch whoever you want. Just let me know who you want to see first,” Vash offered.

“For sure! Actually I think one of the bands you showed me is performing soon. Mind if we check them out?” you asked as Vash agreed. He grabbed your hand and led you to the stage they were performing at. There was already a small crowd at the front of the stage. You managed to join the crowd, but you had a hard time getting a good view of the band as they were tuning up. You tried to position yourself at different spots, but your view was still blocked by multiple taller people.

“Can you see okay?” Vash asked with a concerned look.

“Uh not really, but I mean it’s the best we’ll get right?” you spoke as you shook your head. The crowd was tightly knit together, plus more people were gathering behind the two of you. Before the band performed, a few people left the front. Vash rushed into the front while still grabbing your hand. He pulled you deeper in the crowd until you were slightly closer to the stage. Once he stopped, you saw that you had a much clearer view of the band upfront.

“Better?” Vash asked.

“Much better. Thanks Vash,” you replied as he flashed you a smile. Before you could do anything else, the band finally performed their first song. The crowd went wild with their cheers as the band started playing some of their popular songs. You and Vash would either jump, fist pump, or head bang at the faster pieces. Once the slow songs started playing, both of you swayed to the beat and got lost in the music. The whole moment felt surreal as you were having the time of your life. You looked up to see Vash looking down at you with his signature smile as you continued swaying. You mouthed, ‘Thank you’ to him as he mouthed ‘You’re welcome.’ Before you could look at the stage again, you noticed Vash’s hands were resting on your shoulders. You wondered if they had been resting there this whole time. But you kept quiet as you wanted to enjoy this very moment. A tinge of pink crept up on your cheeks as you swayed with the music once more.

Once the band finished with their encore, Vash led you to a resting spot so you could rehydrate and eat. The last thing he wanted was for you to pass out and miss out on the fun.

“So what did you think?” Vash asked.

“They sound so much better in person! Also that guitar solo was next level! Like did you hear the crowd?! But I’m really glad you were able to get us closer to the stage! I never have a clear view whenever I attend concerts,” you explained after drinking some water.

“I thought so too! Plus we got to hear their newest song live! Hopefully we get to have more good spots for the next couple of artists,” he chimed in after taking a few bites out of his snack. Once you were both done, you navigated your way to the next couple of stages. Vash would try to get you close to the stage as possible, position you in front of him, and made sure other people weren’t getting too close so you had enough space to rock out. Again, you noticed Vash would keep you close to him as you felt his breath on the back of your neck while his hands rested on your shoulders. Both of you would vibe to the music depending on the beat until the last song was played. Once the performance was over, Vash would lead you to the rest area to recharge and then repeat the whole process once more.

By the time the sun was setting, you both saw at least 10 artists. Each artist lived up to your expectations while Vash made sure you were comfortable throughout each performance. Eventually, you were getting tired and the crowds were becoming more packed and harder to move around. You told Vash you were ready to relax at this point. He then found a decent spot around an open area that still had a good view of the biggest stage where the headlining band will perform. Vash laid down a blanket for the both of you to rest on as he sat on the left side while you took the right. After so much standing, jumping, and running around, you were grateful to finally sit down and stretch.

“Still having fun so far Y/n?” Vash asked.

“Oh absolutely! I got to see so many artists I thought I’d never see. We got lucky on hearing some of their best hits. Plus, you managed to find the best spots with a good view! How about you? Are you enjoying yourself?” you told him.

“Good to hear! And yeah, I’m having a great time with you. I’m actually happy we got to go to this together and end the night in the best way possible,” Vash added as you smiled at him.

“I know I said this a thousand times already, but thank you Vash. Thank you for always inviting me to things like this. I know you could have picked someone else, but I’m glad you thought about me and asked me to do this with you,” you said.

“Hey, it’s my pleasure. Honestly, I’m happy to invite you to hangout or do stuff like this. We have a lot in common. So I should be thanking you for always saying yes whenever I ask you to do things with me,” Vash spoke as he put his hand over yours. You could feel yourself getting warmer and your cheeks burning. Before you could say or do anything else, you heard a guitar riff go off. You turned your head towards the stage as the band came out and started playing with the stage lights illuminating the area. The crowd went wild, including Vash who was cheering the loudest as the band played the first song.

You got excited as well once you recognized the song and started singing along to the lyrics. The music was loud enough that you figured no one could hear you sing your heart out, except for one blonde who stared at you in adoration. After 5 songs in and with the band hyping up the crowd, you looked at Vash to see his eyes locked on the stage. It warmed your heart to see him this excited. Once you looked back, you thought you saw something and had to do a double take. You took a quick glance and saw that his fingers were intertwined with yours. You honestly had no idea when this happened, but you could feel your face heating up once more with your heart racing. You looked away, hoping he didn’t catch you staring. Your mind was racing on what to do, but eventually settled to stay like this. A part of you hoped he felt the same way you did towards him, but for now you were okay with not ruining the moment.

The band started playing a song you instantly recognized. It was the same song Vash introduced you to that one night during the storm. Just thinking about it brought you so much happiness. You then felt your hand being squeezed. You turned to Vash as he was looking at you with this warm and inviting blue eyes of his. You could see a tinge of red on his cheeks, and just something about the way he looked made your heart flutter. He then motioned for you to get closer as you scooted towards him.

“I’m glad they’re playing this song live. It’s my favorite one to this day. Now anytime I hear it, I think of you,” Vash spoke into your ear as you felt his warm breath send goosebumps all over your body. You were at a slight loss for words as you felt yourself growing more flustered. After thinking long and hard, you finally managed to say this, “I always think about you when I hear this song too.” Once Vash heard you, his expression grew softer and his blush deepened. He then looked at the band once more. You didn’t know what went through your head. Maybe it was the adrenaline or the mood, but you found the courage to lean your head on his shoulder. You were beyond nervous, especially when you felt him tense slightly. Before you could move away, you felt him lean his head on yours. You couldn’t believe what was happening right now. The fact he didn’t push you off, but rather did the same was giving your heart a workout.

“Are you comfy?” Vash asked you.

“Yes,” you answered.

“Good, because I want to stay like this a little longer,” he replied as your eyes widened. You were practically red as a tomato. So many emotions were running wild, but the main one you felt was anticipation. Happy and anxious. But for now, you went along with things and hoped time moved a bit slower so you could enjoy every bit of this moment. As the song was coming to a close, you felt something wet on your hand. Then your knee felt it too. Vash sat up straight once more and then heard a rumble of thunder. The both of you looked each other and thought the same thing. Vash started packing up the blanket and grabbed your hand as he started heading back to his car. Soon, the band announced that they were wrapping up as thunder was heard loud and clear. Eventually, tiny rain droplets started falling from the clouds.

~*~

Thankfully you were both able to make it out of the rain and into Vash’s car. He then managed to drive you back to his apartment once the storm picked up and started pouring. None of you got too wet from the rain but you managed to dry off at his place. You were now sitting down on his couch with him while wearing one of his shirts so your top could dry off. Furthermore, you were wrapped up in one of his blankets that he offered you.

“Who knew it would rain today of all days,” Vash commented as you nodded.

“I know, but at least we got to enjoy most of today and still see the headliner perform,” you reassured him.

“Yeah that’s true. But I’m really glad they were able to play that song before it rained,” he smiled as you thought about that moment too. Everything was still fresh on your mind. You could feel his warmth and how you were both positioned. The more you thought about it the more you had to force yourself to calm down.

“Hey Y/n, I wanted to ask you something,” Vash asked as you snapped out of your thoughts and beckoned him to continue.

“What do you think of me? I want you to give me your honest answer,” Vash requested as you looked at him. He face was slightly red, but his eyes never looked away from you.

“Please, it’s something I’ve been wanting to know for awhile,” he added as you tried to gather your thoughts.

“Vash, I think so highly of you. You’re kind, funny, genuine, and probably the most benevolent person I know. I think you’re the sweetest person I’ve ever meet who goes out of their way for others. Whenever I’m with you, I can see that very clearly and I envy how confident you are. You make people feel safe and important. Overall, I think I’m lucky to have met you and spend time with you like this. I’m always happy whenever I think of you,” you answered as you felt your face blush. You didn’t want to be too direct with your feelings, but this was the closest you can tell him.

“You mean it?” Vash asked as you nodded, not wanting to repeat yourself. He then scooted closer to you as your eyes slightly widened.

“Y/n, there’s something I need to tell you,” he spoke as his prosthetic arm held your hand.

“Y/n, when I first met you I’ve always thought of you as someone who is outgoing and friendly. Once we started working more together, I realized how patient and kind you are to the kids, parents, and staff. Then I realized how much you care for others when you brought everyone together that day to cheer me up. I can never forget that day and how much work you put in it. Then once we hung out together outside of work, I had no idea how much we had in common. Each time we hung out, I got to know so much more about you. You shared so much of what makes you happy, your frustrations, your past, and your struggles. The more we hung out, the more I thought about you, and lately you’ve been on my mind for the longest time,” Vash explained as you were locked in on what he had to say as he stared at you.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is...I really like you Y/n,” Vash added as your eyes widened and felt yourself turn red. Did you hear that right? Did he say what you thought you heard?

“You like me?” you asked just to be sure. This time Vash’s human hand held your other hand as he looked you in the eye.

“Yes, I’ve liked you for the longest time Y/n,” Vash reiterated as your heart started racing. So that’s why he wanted to know your thoughts on him. You still couldn’t believe he said those words, but now it was your turn to say something to him as he was expecting an answer. You squeezed his hands and mustered up any courage inside you.

“I like you too Vash. I actually fell for you the more we hung out together. I just didn’t know how you felt until now,” you told him as you saw Vash’s eyes start to glimmer. He got closer to you and didn’t dare to break eye contact. He then brought his human hand towards your face and caressed your cheek. The minute he touched you, your heart was pounding through your chest.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked as you nodded. You were too afraid to stumble upon your words with how close he was. He then smiled fondly and kissed your lips gently. His lips were so soft, and the way he held you right now made you melt as you closed your eyes. All your anxious thoughts and nerves flew out the window and were replaced with the feeling of bliss. You kissed him back as your blush grew deeper. You didn’t realize how much you yearned for this as Vash’s prosthetic hand rested on your back and gently pushed you closer to him. His touch brought so much comfort and warmth to you that you smiled into the kiss. You then parted for air as you opened your eyes to see Vash giving you the softest smile with a pink blush on his cheeks.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long,” he said as your heart fluttered from that statement.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you too,” you said as you looked at his beauty mark. You then caressed his left cheek and brought him closer to you again. You kissed where his mark was and left a quick peck on his lips. Vash was now starting to resemble a tomato as you gave a shy smile.

“More, I want to kiss you more,” Vash begged as wrapped his arms around you and closed the distance once more. You let him kiss you again as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You were still inexperienced with kissing, but thankfully Cora gave you enough tips to make it work. You were able to keep up with Vash as the kiss progressed from being chaste to a much deeper kiss. Your right hand made its way to his hair as you ran your fingers through his soft locks. You then felt his arms around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Before you could do anything else, Vash parted for air as you were slightly out of breath. You kissed several more times with each one becoming slightly longer than the last. He then leaned towards you and rested his forehead on yours.

“So does this mean we’re officially going out?” he asked as you smiled.

“I dunno, maybe one more kiss and I’ll say,” you teased as he let out a chuckle. He then started planting butterfly kisses all over your face as you couldn’t help but giggle. His lips were so soft but full of adoration.

“How about now?” he asked as you had the biggest grin on your face.

“I said one kiss, but I’ll take that any day. Of course we’re going out you dork,” you laughed as he pulled you in for a tight hug.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that,” he spoke.

“Me too, it was so hard to keep calm around you whenever you got too close to me,” you admitted.

“Easy for you to say! Do you know just how cute you looked when you wore my hoodie and clothes for the first time? I was a blushing mess,” he added as you started turning red at the compliment.

“Don’t get me started when you got me that plushie,” you mentioned as you were both reminiscing your favorite moments together. Before you could continue, you both heard the loud thunder roar outside as you looked at the window.

“Looks like that storm isn’t letting up anytime soon,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, I would take you home but it looks to dangerous to drive. Plus there was a lot of traffic jam when we were leaving earlier,” Vash commented.

“Should we wait?” you asked.

“I mean we can, but in case the storm continues...how do you feel about spending the night here?” Vash asked.

A/n: finally got this part out! You had no idea how hard it was writing this chapter and the amount of breaks I needed when writing certain scenes. I hope you all enjoy it! :)

@marydragneell @daschstuff @bunnigrimm @keigoswifeyysblog @sharkalina666 @anoukli

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #vash x you #vash x y/n #vash au #trigun au #trigun fic #trigun x reader #vash the stampede x you #vash the stampede x y/n #vash au fic #miamochi writes

96 notes · View notes