#i just wanted to draw her tattoos *wink wink* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

headkiss · 1 year

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give you the moon

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: had you known getting your first tattoo would end up with you being in love with eddie munson, you might have gotten it a lot sooner.

word count: 17.8k

warnings: smut, probably inaccurate descriptions of tattooing processes (i tried my best!), strangers to friends to lovers, fluff

a/n: this one took forever but it’s finally done!!!! i’m sorry for the wait but hopefully u guys like it enough to forgive me :D

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You’ve always wanted a tattoo, and you figured now was as good a time as ever. Having just moved to Indianapolis, all by yourself, one change could lead to another.

New city, new apartment, new tattoo.

It may be irresponsible of you, but you settled for the first shop you found, the one closest to where you lived. A short walk away, harder to back out of. You knew you wouldn’t regret getting it, you just had to force yourself to sit through it, to commit.

The wind whips at your cheeks as you make your way to your consultation. You pull your sleeves over your hands and hope that it’ll be warm enough.

Once you’ve made it, the bell above the door rings to signify your entrance. A girl with brown curly hair sits at the front desk, a warm smile on her face. The place has dark floors, walls covered with different sketches that distract you for a moment.

“Hi! How can I help you?” The girl says, drawing your attention back to her. You walk the few steps up to the front desk.

“Hi, um, I’m here for a consultation,” you give her your name and the time of the appointment. “With Eddie.”

She shuffles about for a few seconds before finding what she was looking for, “yep, perfect. I’ll let him know you’re here. I’m Nancy, by the way.”

“Thanks, Nancy.”

She goes to the saloon type doors next to the desk, you watch them swing back and forth. You’re eventually drawn back to the art on the walls, eyes scanning the different styles and images. Your hands fidget with the ends of your sleeves.

A picture of the staff steals your attention next, Nancy standing next to a girl with shorter hair, their hands interlocked. Then, there’s a boy with brown hair and a kind smile. The one who really keeps you looking is the boy with long dark hair, his tattoos the most prominent.

A second later, that same boy is walking through the doors and calling your name.

“Oh, hi. That’s me,” you reply. Then wince at your awkwardness.

“Hi, I’m Eddie,” he gives you a close-mouthed smile, barely there. He’s even prettier in person than he is in that photo. “Follow me.”

He seems distant, sort of cold and you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Your nerves pick up even more.

He ushers you through the saloon doors, then through a room with three tattoo beds that’s filled with the buzzing of the machines and the other people from the picture and their clients. You end up in an office type room, certificates hang on the wall behind the desk.

Eddie takes a seat behind the desk that’s presumably his, papers scattered about and a cup overflowing with pens and pencils sitting atop of it. You stand by the door, shifting on your feet.

“You can have a seat,” he offers, gesturing to the chair facing him. He waits until you’re settled to continue. “So, is this your first tattoo?”

“Yes,” you feel nervous and you’re not sure if it’s the prospect of committing to the tattoo or if it’s the way Eddie’s gaze doesn’t move away from you.

“Well, I’m honored to be your first,” he winks, your heart stumbling at the innuendo. “So, what are we thinking?”

“The moon, on the back of my shoulder,” you pause, but he nods for you to keep going, to give more detail. “I wanted it to be a gibbous moon, almost full but not quite.”

“Alright. Got an idea for size?”

“Uh, kinda small. I think?” You huff, frustrated with your lack of an answer, “sorry I’m not so prepared.”

You stuff your hands under your thighs so that they’ll stop twisting in your lap. You cross your ankles and look down, slightly embarrassed at the way you’re acting in front of him. You were meant to grow in the city, to be better, but so far, not much has changed.

You don’t have friends, your job is slow, and you’re terrible with new people.

“‘S fine,” you think he’s being reassuring. “How’s this sound: we can try some circle stencils on for size now, then we’ll know for your appointment.”

“Okay. Thank you, Eddie.”

“‘Course. I’ll be right back.”

His exit gives you a couple of minutes to try and sort yourself out, to calm down. You want to be able to do this without the stumbles or hiccups that you’re so used to. You blow out a breath and wait for him to come back.

The way he carries himself confuses you, his almost detached nature making you overthink way too much. Although, he’s not being cruel or unkind, he’s just… you’re not sure if there’s a word to describe it.

He comes back with a couple of stencils, some sort of solution, a disposable razor, and paper towels.

“You’re gonna have to take your sweater off,” he says, setting everything down on the desk. When you don’t move to do so right away, he stares at you, waiting.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

You slip off your sweater, your tank top underneath riding up ever so slightly with the movement. You pull it back down and set your discarded sweater on the chair behind you.

“Which shoulder?” He asks, putting on a pair of medical gloves and grabbing the razor.

“Here,” you slip the straps of both your shirt and your bra off the shoulder you choose, turning in the seat to face away from him so he’s able to do what he needs to.

He brushes your hair towards the front of your shoulder, clearing the spot he needs. He cleans off the area, then shaves it to make sure the stencil will stick, all in silence. He’s quick to apply it, his hands gentle and his breath hitting your skin in a way that has you shifting.

“Don’t move,” he chides quietly.

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything more until he’s done, “okay. Have a look.”

There’s a mirror on one of the walls, and you walk over to get a good look at the size of the circle. You know it’s only the first one, but you think it’s perfect. It looks right and you’re excited to see it when it’s actually the design you want.

“I want this size,” you say, turning to face him.

“Are you sure? It’s only the first one.”

“I know, but it’s good. I like it.”

“I don’t want you changing your mind, okay?”

“I won’t! I’m sure, promise.”

He sighs, then wipes the stencil away and takes off the gloves with a snap. He takes his seat again as you put your sweater back on, goosebumps prickling your skin.

“When did you wanna book it for?” He asks.

“Whenever you’re free is fine, I’m not picky.” You don’t have anywhere else to be, really.

“You’re not the best at answering questions, huh?”

You think he’s trying to make a joke but all you manage to say is, “no, sorry.”

“You apologize a lot. You don’t have to,” he grabs something that looks like a planner then says, “I have a spot next week, if that works.”

Eddie tells you the specific day and time, and you tell him that it works. He hands you some papers to sign and read and bring back with you for next time. “Nancy will sort out payment and stuff at the desk. That’s it for today.”

“Okay. Thank you so much,” you make your way back to the front quickly, eager to go home and try and forget the entire interaction. He certainly wasn’t what you were expecting, and you didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. He was quiet, reserved, and hard to read, but he was good, you knew from the drawings in his office. He was also intriguing; a puzzle you wanted to solve.

You sort out everything with Nancy, who makes you feel a ton better about your consultation. “You look far too worried,” she says.

“I just don’t think he likes me very much.”

“No, trust me, that’s just Eddie. He’ll warm up to you, I’m sure.”

“I hope so. Anyway, thanks, Nancy.”

“See you,” she says as you walk out the door.

That night, you cuddle up and fall asleep thinking about Eddie and his demeanor, his warm hands on your skin.

He couldn’t get you out of his head, and that rarely happened to Eddie. He was used to meaningless things and he can’t remember the last time he felt anything for someone.

Not that he felt anything for you. You’d only met once.

Eddie spent the night after your consultation drawing way too many moons in his sketchbook, staining his hands with ink and pencil.

It’s two days later when you hear from Eddie again.

Your phone rings just as you’re about to shower before bed, the sun long gone though the city stays bright with lights. You hug your robe tighter around yourself and walk to where the phone hangs on the wall.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” an utterance of your name, a tone you recognize. “It’s Eddie… from Corroded Coffin Tattoos.”

“Of course! Hi, Eddie. Was there something wrong?”

“Oh, no. No,” he pauses, you hear him shuffling around on the other line. “I had a cancellation tomorrow and thought you might want the spot?”

You hate that the fact that he thought of you makes your stomach whirl. Of course, he could’ve called countless clients before you, but you like the idea that he dialed your number first better. You twist the phone cord in your fingers.

“That would be great. Thank you so much for thinking of me.”

If only you knew, he thinks. If only you knew how much he really did think of you—it was almost infuriating. How one person could have such an effect on him when he really doesn’t know them at all. He knows that you’re pretty, and you say ‘sorry’ far too much, and you smell really good, that’s all.

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay, see you-”

He hangs up before you can finish. You stare at the phone for a second after putting it back, wondering if that whole exchange truly happened, if you just dreamt up the whole thing. You pinch yourself until it hurts. You’re definitely awake.

You replay the conversation over and over, wondering why he hung up so abruptly, worrying about how you’re going to act tomorrow.

Eddie called you from his office, even though it was well past closing for the shop. He really needs to get himself together. He can’t be thinking so much about his client. About anyone, really. He can’t.

His head is resting in his arms when the door to his office opens. There’s only one person that never knocks and that’s Steve. He looks up and sees him leaning against the doorframe.

“Why are you still here, Steve?”

“Why are you still here?” He retorts.

“Got some stuff to do,” is all Eddie says.

“Your mood doesn’t have anything to do with the girl you just talked to on the phone, does it?”

Of all the people he could have been friends with, Steve was the most unlikely for Eddie, and yet here they are. Coworkers, and close friends. It’s almost annoying how quickly he can tell what exactly the issue is.

“I dunno. She won’t get out of my head,” Eddie shrugs, glancing down at the sketchbook he has opened on his desk, the one filled with drawings of your tattoo. “It’s annoying.”

“That’s a lot of moons, man,” Steve says as he walks closer.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying. Maybe this is a good thing. I haven’t seen you with a girlfriend, like, ever.”

“Who said anything about a girlfriend?”

No, if anything, Eddie’s eager to get your appointment over with, to get you out of his head for good.

“Yeah, okay. Can't wait to say ‘I told you so.’ You know it won’t hurt to open up a little, man.”

Steve means well, Eddie knows he does, but the thing is it does hurt him. Or, it used to. He was used to being judged, someone the town saw as a character rather than a human. The best thing he ever did was move away, but that doesn’t mean he left the hurt behind, too.

You show up about fifteen minutes early for the appointment. You gave yourself far too much time, you think, because now you just have to sit and wait and the anticipation is making you more nervous the longer it goes.

The front desk was being manned by a different person today, “hi! I’m Robin, how are you?”

She talks quickly and with enthusiasm, like every word is exciting and important. You like her already.

“Hi, I’m good, thanks. I have an appointment with Eddie,” she nods in confirmation, looking down at the schedule in front of her. “I’m a little early though so… no rush.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, gives us more time to sort out the paperwork and stuff. He’s just finishing up with someone else so it won’t be too long.” She smiles at you.

“Here, I have these from my consultation,” you hand her the pages Eddie had given you to sign. You chew at the inside of your cheek as she reads over them hoping you filled everything out correctly.

“That’s great! I’ll just go tell him you’re here,” she goes through the familiar saloon doors, the buzzing of tattoo guns and light conversations slipping through.

When she comes back she informs you that he’s only going to be a couple more minutes, and instead of telling you to go take a seat, she asks, “first tattoo?”

“Yeah, I’m nervous. Mostly excited,” you give her a small smile, one that makes hers widen.

“Don’t worry! I had to take like five breaks for my first one and now here I am.” It’s then that you finally notice the ink peeking from her long-sleeve shirt, at her wrists, and on one side of her neck. “Eddie’s great, and I’m sure you’ve got great pain tolerance—I can sense it.”

You laugh, she’s somehow managed to make you feel much better in the short time you’ve been talking to her. Eddie walks out, greeted by the sound of your laughter and he almost stops in his tracks. Almost.

“Robin, stop chatting up my clients,” he says.

“I’m just being friendly, Eddie! You should try it out,” she replies.

You can tell it’s in good nature, because he ruffles her hair as he passes and leaves it there. From what you’ve seen so far, the workers here are close; a tight-knit group of people and you admire that friendship, long for it.

“Follow me,” he says. It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you because of your distraction, but when you look up you find him staring at you, waiting.

“Okay,” you trail behind him as he leads you to the bed furthest from the doors, the one tucked away in the back of the room.

“You eat and drink water before coming? I don’t want you passing out on me.”

“Yeah. Yes, I’m good.”

He looks at you like he’s unsure, but moves along anyway. Eddie’s only worried because you’re his client and he has to, no other reason. He can’t be worrying because he thinks you’re pretty and sweet and far too kind. There’s absolutely no way.

“So, I did a couple sketches,” a couple is an understatement. “Have a look and let me know which one you wanna go with.”

You take a look at the five he’s laid out, all as you asked. Gibbous moons, both waxing and waning, some shaded more than others, some simple outlines. The one that catches your eye is a happy medium, fine lines with dotting for shading. It’s beautiful, exactly what you envisioned.

“This one. It’s really good.”

He tips his head down, “thanks. I’ll go get my stuff and we’ll get started.”

He’s not gone for very long, though it’s enough time for you to watch one of the artists at work, the boy with the brown hair. You watched the way he moved the needle, only looking away when Eddie came back and grabbed your attention.

“Gonna do the stencil like before, so you’ll need to move your shirt,” he says, looking down at his station and getting everything ready.

“Would it be easier if I just, uh, take it off?”

That makes his hands hover, paused in his task. He tries to shake it off; he’s seen a ton of people shirtless at the job and he’s never been affected by that, so why should he be now?

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Okay,” you decide it must be easier without your shirt—less things in the way—so you take it off and try not to worry about it.

Eddie applies the stencil just as he did a couple days ago. Gentle, precise hands that you’ll feel the ghost of for hours after your appointment, you’re sure. His head bent close as he pushes the edges down so you can feel him breathing, catch his scent for a moment.

When he’s done, he holds up a wide handheld mirror for you to get a look at it without having to walk all the way to the mirror on the opposite side of the room.

Again, you’re impressed by his drawing, and seeing it on your skin makes you realize that you’ll carry a part of Eddie forever after this. His linework, his trace.

“So,” he prompts you to speak as your thoughts have taken you away, “what do you think?”

“It’s great. Really.”

“You’re sure that’s where you want it?”

He double checks every single detail. That you’ve picked the one you want, that it’s the right size, that you really want to do this. He does so until you’re laying on your stomach on the bed, positioned so he can work comfortably at your side.

“Okay, I’m gonna do a small line, just so you see how it feels,” he warns you, and you tense in anticipation. “Relax.”

“Sorry. ‘M just nervous.”

“You’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

He manages to ease you with very few words.

The sound of the tattoo gun sounds louder when it’s so close, more daunting, but you’re eager to get started only to get rid of the anticipation. He draws a short line after giving you a quiet warning of, “here we go.”

It’s not nearly as bad as you’d expected. A scratch, a small sting, but it’s manageable.

“You okay?” He checks.

“Yeah, it’s not that bad.”

“Told you you’d be fine,” he says so softly you almost miss it.

Your head is turned to the side where he sits, and you can see him in your peripheral vision as he works. His legs clad in dark, ripped denim, the tattoos peeking through. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up to show his forearms. You shut your eyes and try to stop staring.

He works quietly, though you can sometimes hear him humming along to whatever song is playing. You don’t try to make conversation because you don’t want to be a distraction.

It doesn’t take too long before he gets to the shading, telling you, “some people find this part a bit more painful. So you know.”

“Okay, thanks.”

He’s right, it is more painful and you find it harder to keep yourself occupied by looking around. You find it harder to ignore the feeling of the needle.

Eddie notices. He doesn’t know how, but he notices. Maybe it’s the way your eyes are squeezed shut at certain points, the hand of the arm furthest from him bunched in a fist. He decides he wants to ease the process for you in any way he can.

“So, why the moon?” He asks.

“Huh?”

“Why’d you choose the moon?”

“Oh, sorry,” you don’t see him shake his head at your unnecessary apology. “I’ve always loved it, how it has a cycle. The way it looks in the sky. Just, everything. Looking at it was a way of reminding myself I’m alive, kind of. ‘Cause I can still see it. I guess I chose this one to remind myself that even if it’s not whole now, it will be eventually.”

He wants to pick at your brain more, because he thinks it must be a beautiful place to be able to describe things the way you just did. You talk like it means a lot to you and the fact that you shared it with him so openly when you’ve been so quiet isn’t lost on him.

“That’s really…wow.”

“Sorry. I kinda rambled there.”

“No, no. I’ve just never looked at it that way.”

He asks you more questions after that, trying his best to keep your mind off of the needle and on the conversation. He asks how long you’ve been in the city, then, why you moved, and you give him honest answers for all of it.

Not long at all. Because I needed to get out, to be somewhere nobody knows me.

That made him think of Hawkins, of every person there who called him a freak, who looked at him like one. He needed to get out, too.

“Alright, you’re all done, just gotta wrap it up for you,” he says, putting the gun down and wiping over your skin one more time. “Do you wanna have a look first?”

“Please,” you nod.

He likes the way the word sounds coming out of your mouth—he gives himself a mental slap for that.

You sit up and he holds the mirror just as he did before. You can't help but gasp when you see it, exactly what you pictured. He did such a good job that you resist the urge to hug him for it.

“Eddie, it’s beautiful.”

So are you, he thinks.

“I’m glad you like it,” is what he says.

“I love it. Seriously, thank you.”

“It’s my job. Let me wrap it and then you’re good to go.”

He does, carefully and with the same gentle hands that have become far too familiar by now. When he’s done, he takes off his gloves with a snap, and hands you a pamphlet and some cleaning products to use at home.

“Thanks again, Eddie. You’re really good,” you say, putting your shirt back on.

“No problem,” he flashes you a small smile, one you’ll hold onto. “Um, here’s the card for the shop. You know, in case you need anything. Just ask for me, okay?”

“I will, thank you,” you take the card from him, your fingers brush his as you do. The name of the shop is written on it in bold, sharp letters: Corroded Coffin Tattoos. Underneath it, the phone number.

You’re led back through the saloon doors and met with both Robin and Nancy by the desk. They’re talking with wide smiles and rosy cheeks, their hands tangled loosely.

“I don’t pay you two to flirt,” Eddie says, retreating back where the two of you just came from.

Robin slips away, presumably done with her shift at the desk now that Nancy’s back. She gave you a kind goodbye, and makes sure that you promise if you ever want another tattoo to go back there.

“How was it?” Nancy asks you.

“Good! I’m really happy with it.”

“That’s what we like to hear! Eddie’s great. He gave me my first tattoo, too. Robin was mad for ages and then made sure she gave me the next one,” she grins. “Anyway, let’s get you taken care of.”

You pay for the tattoo, and then, you’re off.

It’s times like now that you wish you had someone to talk to, because you’re having way too many thoughts about your tattoo artist that you might never see again and you need to know if you’re reading into things too much. You need to know if his hands linger longer than they need to on other clients, if you imagined the way his eyes stayed on you, too.

You settle for overthinking on your walk home instead.

You didn’t think you’d end up using the card Eddie gave you. Not unless you were calling to book another tattoo, but here you were, leaning on the wall by your phone and dialing the number.

It was just a quick question, really, but you were still nervous. You’d only gotten the tattoo yesterday and already you were calling.

You’d realized when reading the aftercare instructions he gave you, that you didn’t have any unscented, gentle lotion like it called for, and you wanted to know if he had any suggestions for what works best. You tried going to the pharmacy, but the options were overwhelming.

You ended up buying something anyway because of how long you spent there. A useless magazine that was the closest thing to you when you noticed how some of the employees were looking at you. Some girl reading way too many lotion labels.

Yeah, definitely embarrassing, and definitely something you won’t let yourself live down.

The phone doesn’t ring for long before someone picks up, “Corroded Coffin Tattoos, Nancy speaking.”

“Hi Nancy,” you tell her your name.

“Hey! How can I help you?”

“Um, Eddie told me to call and ask for him if I had any questions,” you explain. “I was wondering if he’s available for a minute?”

“He did?” She sounds surprised.

“Um. Yeah.”

“Huh. Usually he makes one of us deal with calls instead. I’ll put you on hold and let him know, okay?”

“‘Kay. Thanks, Nancy.”

Desperately, you try not to overthink what she said. That he doesn’t usually get his clients to talk to him for things as minor as this. Why would he want you to, then? You don’t know why every little thing he does sends your mind into a whirlwind of ‘why’s and ‘what does this mean’s.

It’s maybe two minutes—silence filled by your thoughts—before the phone is picked up again.

“Hello?”

You can tell that it’s Eddie.

“Hi. Sorry to bother you but I just had a quick question for you.”

Eddie knows it’s you; he’s not expecting a call from anyone else. Not that he was expecting yours, it’s just that you’re the only client he’s even told to ask for him. He tries to cover that up by saying, “who’s this?”

“Oh, guess I should’ve said. Sorry,” you remind him of your name, as if he could forget it.

“Don’t be sorry. What’s your question?”

He’s quick to get to the point, and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s eager to help, or if it’s that he’s eager to get the conversation over with. Nancy’s words replay in your head. Usually he makes one of us deal with calls instead.

“I noticed that for aftercare, it says to use gentle lotion,” he hums along, urging you to continue. “I wasn’t sure what exactly that meant and I even went to the pharmacy but I didn’t know which one was good-”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off. “I’ve got some here at the shop. Do you have time today to come pick it up?”

“Yeah! Yes, that’s great. Thanks so much, I promise I’ll get out of your hair after this.”

He doesn’t like the way that sits with him. He doesn’t want you out of his hair. He wants to see you again, he’s realized, and it’s almost too much for him to handle. The way he feels about you is brand new for him—never felt before. He wants to know everything about you.

“‘Course. See you soon, then.”

“Bye, Eddie.”

He hangs up.

You leave a bit after that. Not too soon, because you didn’t want to make it seem like you didn’t have other things to do, even though you didn’t. You’ve memorized the walk to the store at this point, and it doesn’t take you long to get there. You’re greeted by Nancy once again, only in person this time.

“Welcome back,” she says.

“Hi,” you smile at her, you hope it doesn’t look like a nervous grimace. “Um, Eddie told me to come here to pick something up.”

“Right, okay,” she stands, heading in the direction of his office, pausing to say, “he must really like you.”

Great. Some more material for you to analyze about Eddie and how he acts with you. It’s odd to have someone on your mind so constantly, to try and make sense of it. He has something about him that pulls you in, and you’re not sure how, or why, but you let yourself be pulled.

His hair is tied in a low bun when you see him, his bangs and stray strands of hair make it look messy, like he hasn’t had the time to redo it. And yet, he had the time to speak to you on the phone and now.

“Moon girl,” he says, lips turned up just enough to be noticeable.

“Eddie, hi,” your hands twist themselves into the sleeves of your knitted sweater. “Thank you for taking time for me, I know it was a dumb question.”

“It wasn’t. I’m glad you care enough to make sure you’re using the right things,” he says. He holds out the lotion, “speaking of.”

“Perfect. How much do I owe?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He probably shouldn’t make a habit of giving things away for free to girls he thinks are pretty and that confuse him way too much. For you, though, he’ll make an exception. It’s not like anybody else is driving him nuts like you are, anyway.

“No, you’ve done so much already. Please let me pay.”

“It’s fine, I promise that one bottle of lotion won’t hurt me.” But this possibly being the last time I see you might, he thinks.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” he confirms. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Bye, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Bye, moon girl.”

You look down at your feet as he walks away, letting your hair curtain your face. You really shouldn’t be feeling so giddy because of a fucking bottle of lotion and a new nickname, but you are.

“Holy shit,” Robin’s voice comes from the front desk. You hadn’t noticed, but she must’ve walked out at some point during your quick interaction with Eddie.

You curse yourself and try to hide the smile that threatens to spread across your face. “Hey, Robin.”

“Well hello,” she’s looking at you like she knows something you don’t, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t know how you did it but he’s never acted like that with any client. Like, ever.”

You don’t say anything, biting the inside of your lip to distract from the butterflies in your stomach.

“And, I’m so glad you’re here,” she changes the subject, thankfully. “Because Eddie mentioned you’re new to the city and god knows I could use friends who don’t work here and I wanted to know if you wanted to come for drinks sometime?”

Eddie spoke about you? Robin wants to be your friend? You can’t wrap your head around either of those things. It’s been so long since you’ve hung out with someone who wasn’t family. And even then, it was tiring, not fun.

You realize she’s still waiting for an answer when she clears her throat.

“Sorry, um. Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Yay!” She cheers. “What’s your number? I’ll call you next time there’s plans.”

You write it down on a scrap piece of paper for her, and she beams at you when she takes it.

“Eddie‘s gonna be thanking me for this one later,” she teases. “I think we’ll be great friends.”

You look at her smile, at her crooked tie that rests atop an oversized button up. You think she might be right about that.

As soon as you leave Robin and Nancy go to Eddie’s office. An intervention of sorts. They walk in without knocking (the door was open anyway) and stand in front of him with some look.

He’s pretty sure he knows why they’re both staring at him with knowing smiles, but he tries to ignore them and busy himself with some sketches.

Robin’s not having it, so she sits in the chair across from Eddie, kicking her feet up onto his desk.

“What do you want?” He sighs.

“Um, hello? Are we not gonna pretend that you weren’t flirting with her in your own, weird, Eddie way?” Robin starts.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Come on,” Nancy joins the conversation, on Robin’s side as always. “You’ve never told a client to ask for you, or given them free stuff.”

“Yeah! And, you were all ‘see you around, moon girl, hey let me stare at you and then not do anything about it,’” Robin lowers her voice, imitating him very inaccurately.

“I don’t know. She was nice, that’s all.”

“Nice enough to break your little rule of being mister nonchalant. I think you like her,” she’s right, but Eddie doesn’t even want to admit that to himself, let alone his friends.

He doesn’t say anything, shifting in his seat. He knows they both mean well, but he doesn’t know what to think and an ambush isn’t necessarily helping that. The pit in his stomach he’s had since he realized he might never see you again hasn't lessened, and the memory of your perfume or the feeling of your skin hasn’t faded.

So, maybe you did have an effect on him, but it doesn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter in the first place because he wouldn’t let it.

“Look, Eddie, we’re not trying to make you admit anything,” Nancy says, “we just noticed that you acted differently with her. Steve did, too, I’m sure. And it was a good different. You seemed less guarded, I guess.”

“What she said!” Robin adds.

“Yeah, thanks guys, but it’s nothing, okay?”

They share a look, one that Eddie doesn’t understand but he’s gotten used to their silent communications over time. He scratches at the back of his neck, nervous about what they’re thinking.

“Anyway, I got her number,” Robin says, holding the small paper you wrote on for Eddie to see.

He grabs it, staring at your handwriting and the small heart you added next to your name. He fights a smile at the sight of it, cute and lopsided and though he doesn’t know you well, it’s very you.

He clears his throat, handing the paper back. “I’ve got her number on file already.”

“It’s not for you! It’s for me and Nance. We’re gonna be friends,” she grins, proud.

“We’re probably gonna invite her next time we go out, and wanted you to know. Just in case you care,” Nancy says, explaining.

Just in case you care.

He does care, he thinks. He cares way too much for someone he’s met three times and knows very little about. He knows you’re pretty, you apologize a ton, you fidget with your hands when you’re nervous, and you like the moon.

He knows that he cares what you think about him, and that when you called the tattoo he gave you beautiful, it meant more to him than most compliments do. ‘Cause it was you who said it. It’s too much for him.

Maybe he’ll skip out on the next outing.

“That’s nice,” he settles for.

“She’s new to the city and she’s cool. Don’t you think, Eddie?” Robin asks.

He swipes her boot-clad feet from his desk in response.

“We just don’t want you to hold yourself back, that’s all. You never go on dates or anything, even though you’ve had many chances,” Nancy says, softer now that she sees Eddie’s mind is full.

“Thanks for caring, you guys, seriously. But I’m fine. I like being single.”

“So, just be friends with her, then,” Robin suggests.

Her and Nancy leave him alone after that, his mind a bigger mess than before and it’s completely surrounding you. He doesn’t understand how someone could make him rethink everything like he is.

I like being single, he’d said.

And yet, when he imagines going on a date with you, giving you flowers, complimenting your dress or your hair, he’s not sure how true that statement is.

Your days drag by. You work in a small café, and whenever you’re not there, you’re either wasting away hours in your apartment or taking aimless walks. It’s a never-ending cycle, a carousel spinning round and round.

The only eventful thing that happened to you (other than your new tattoo) was accidentally spilling coffee all over yourself at work and having to stick out the rest of your shift in wet clothes. Not necessarily something you want to remember.

You’re beginning to lose hope that Robin will ever use your number.

It shocks you when your phone finally rings. You try to convince yourself it’s telemarketers, a wrong number, anything not to get your hopes up. Lucky for you, it actually is Robin.

“Hello?” Is your automatic word when you pick up.

“Hi! Listen, I’m so sorry it took so long to call,” she doesn’t have to say it to know it’s her. Robin has a very distinct way of speaking; rushed and animated. “So, I actually lost the paper. Silly me! But, then I found it and I had to convince the others to want to go out. Anyway, you wanna come?”

“Hi, Robin. That’s okay,” you find yourself smiling. Your first real one in a while. “When?”

“Oh! I forgot to say. Tonight?”

“I can do that,” you try to sound excited, you hope she can tell.

“Perfect! Do you have a pen and paper? I’ll tell you the place.”

You reach for your notepad and pen and do your best not to drop the phone in the process. Somehow, you manage.

“Yep, ready.”

She rambles off an address, a meeting time, and then, “shit. Boss is coming, better act like I’m working. Bye!”

She hangs up, and you know who she means when she says ‘boss.’

You’ve been trying your best not to think of Eddie, but it’s easier said than done. You constantly think you see him in crowds that pass by. A head of long, curly hair here, a worn leather jacket there. It’s confusing and almost embarrassing.

This boy who you barely know, taking up so much space in your life.

You’re reminded that you’ll most likely be seeing him tonight, as long as you’re right in assuming that by ‘the others,’ Robin meant her coworkers. The thought makes you nervous, makes your stomach do things you aren’t used to.

Despite the time you had between the phone call and when you had to leave, you’re in a hurry to get ready. Picking your outfit was the hardest part, because you’d never been to the place before. You decided on a dress that was simple enough, a denim jacket that you’d probably end up taking off (you get warm when you drink), and your trusty Doc Martens.

Your makeup is a little messy, but you don’t have enough time to fix it so you act like the smudged eyeliner was purposefully done. Your hair was left down.

Walking through the doors of the bar, you’re a couple minutes late and a little out of breath from your rushing. You look around in search of a familiar face when waving catches your eye.

It’s Robin, who’s waving the most obviously, her arm swinging back and forth until Nancy pulls it down and says something to her. Probably telling her you’ve seen them and she can stop. It’s sweet.

You make your way through the crowd towards the booth they’d secured. The boy, who’s introduced to you as Steve, is sitting in the corner on one side, Robin and Nancy on the other. Eddie’s absence is noted, and you guess you must’ve looked confused because Robin spoke up and said, “he’s just in the bathroom.”

She beckons you to sit with her and Nancy, and you fall into conversation easily. Even Steve is easy to talk to and you’ve only just learned his name. Sometimes you worry you’re intruding in their group, an outsider. In a way, you are, because you don’t work with them nor have you been friends with any of them for a long time, but they have yet to make you feel that way.

It’s a far cry from the friends (or lack thereof) you had back home, in the best way possible.

When Eddie comes back, the first thing he sees is you. He’s shocked. Not because you’re there—he was well aware of you being invited—but because you look like you belong with his friends. You fit right in, and you aren’t even trying. Then, he notices your dress and he wishes he could ignore the feeling he gets.

He’s painfully aware of how pretty you are, and when you look over, as if feeling his eyes on you, you give him a small smile and wave. He walks over and slides into the booth next to Steve as casually as possible.

“You look nice,” he says. It’s the best he can come up with.

“Thank you.”

The two of you are too busy looking at each other and trying to figure out what to say when the others share some kind of look. Knowing.

Your nerves pickup when Eddie’s around and you scold yourself for it. You have no business feeling anything towards him, and yet, his very simple compliment will be the root of your daydreams for days to come.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you think you need one. “What’s everyone else want?”

“I’ll help you bring them,” Robin says.

You both stand, and everyone tells you what they want. You make your way to the bar and wait your turn. The feelings you have towards Eddie are confusing, and you’re not exactly sure what they even are. Intrigue, attraction, tension. Whatever it is, it’s unfamiliar.

Robin leans on the bar beside you, noticing you looking towards Eddie before even you do. When you pry your eyes away, she’s smirking at you.

“He likes you, you know?”

“Who, Eddie?” You ask even though you know that’s who she’s talking about. “No, he doesn’t. I actually think he dislikes me.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding. I’ve never seen him act like he does around you, and I’ve known him a really long time. Seriously.”

“He’s just being nice,” that’s all it is, you’re convincing her as well as yourself.

“Please. I know he’s hard to read and seems kind of closed-off, but he’s warmer towards you than most people. He barely even talks to clients, usually.”

Everything she’s saying, you can tell she thinks is true, but if you let yourself think it, too, you’d be absolutely fucked. Your mind would go wild with scenarios and imagining what could happen. You’re doing enough of that as is.

“I don’t know, Robin.”

“You’ll see, trust me.”

Unbeknownst to you, a very similar conversation is happening back at the table. Steve and Nancy are trying to knock some sense into Eddie, to get him to realize it’s okay to let someone else in. He denies it all just as you did, his head a mess.

He realizes that you’re not his client anymore, you’re here as a possible friend, and it scares him. There’s no guise to hide under with his urge to care for you.

When you and Robin return with the drinks, you’re the one who hands Eddie his, and when his fingers brush against yours, just barely, he feels them tingle even after the contact ends.

You loosen up a little bit as the night goes on, and you do end up taking your jacket off. The spaghetti straps of your dress leave your tattoo exposed, and Eddie can’t help but look at it. He’s always proud of his work, but seeing it on you is different for him. He likes that his mark is on you.

Nancy and Robin leave first, walking out leaned into each other. The rest of you follow shortly after, Steve slipping out after a quick goodbye. When you stand, you stumble slightly. Eddie catches you, a hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Let me walk you home,” he says, his hand trailing down your arm lightly before he pulls away completely.

“That’s okay, Eddie. Really.”

You put your jacket back on and struggle to find one of the sleeves, your arm reaching back awkwardly. Once again, Eddie’s quick to help you, pulling your jacket over and guiding your arm to the right spot. You thank him quietly.

“C’mon, it’s dark out.”

“You’re not gonna let me say no, are you?”

He shakes his head, that small smile you so rarely see making an appearance.

The walk is quiet for a bit, the chilled air of the night nipping at your skin, your arms pulling your jacket tight to your chest. He falls into step next to you easily, pace matching yours so he stays right next to you.

He can tell you’re cold, and he resists the urge to throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you closer to warm you up. It’d be weird, he thinks. You barely know him and he’s sure you’d much rather be walking with one of the girls right now than with him.

“Sorry for, like, intruding in your friend group.”

Though you haven’t felt like an outsider, you do feel bad about worming your way into their group that seemed to have stayed the same for so long. You feel bad for the change you caused, the shift.

“What? You’re not,” he says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, moon girl. I am.”

He knows he might not be the most welcoming person, but he doesn’t mind having you around, really. What he minds is the confusion that comes along with it, which isn’t your fault at all. That’s on him.

“Okay. Thanks for letting me come, then.”

“I think Robin would have smacked me if I didn’t. Besides, you’re nice to have around.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the few drinks or if it’s just a fluke, but the bit of honesty slips out of him with ease. Eddie’s not a trusting person, he’s been through too much for that, but he has never once felt like you were judging him.

The rest of the walk to your apartment is filled with light conversation and small, awkward silences. Having him next to you does make you feel safer, though. You never know what could happen.

He walks you all the way up to your door. You pull out your keys and fiddle with them, your hand shakes when you try to insert it into the lock. You miss a couple of times and feel the embarrassment scorch you. You don’t know if it’s the cold, or the drinks, or if it’s him making your hands unstable. Maybe it’s all of the above.

Yet again, Eddie helps you. He comes up behind you, his chest hovering over your back, close enough to feel the heat of his body, not close enough to touch.

“Here, sweetheart” he wraps his hand around yours and guides the key into the slot, the pet name slipping out without him noticing.

You do notice, though. He says it so softly, and you think it’s your favorite word that’s come out of his mouth so far. It has your heartbeat picking up, a steady thump in your chest.

“Thanks,” you breathe out.

You turn around, leaving the key in the door for now. He’s much closer than you were expecting and he doesn’t back away. Your back against your door, your nose almost touching his.

Then, something shifts, and he’s leaning in and kissing you.

It takes you a second to get over your initial shock, but you recover quickly, winding your arms around his neck and kissing him back. He makes a sound against your mouth when you do, pressing you further into the door. He has a thigh between yours, his hands holding your waist tightly.

He kisses you like he means it, and you forget about everything else. You forget that this Eddie is the same one who puzzles you so much, that not long ago you were convinced that you’d never see him again. And yet, he’s here, kissing you sick in your hallway.

He sucks at your bottom lip, pulling away and letting it snap back into place, opening his eyes to look at you for a second, then he dives back in. Soon enough, he’s licking along the seam of your lips to open you up, and his tongue has your knees weak.

When you whimper into his mouth, he tenses.

He’s snapped back into reality, realizing that he just made out with you against your door. He pulls away, pushing his fingers into his hair. There’s a sudden change, though this one feels much worse than the one where he kissed you.

There are too many things in his head. Thinking he shouldn’t be doing this or that you’ll hate him for it. You’re about to open your mouth and ask him what’s wrong when he speaks first.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he steps back until he’s against the wall opposite from you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Eddie-”

“No, shit. I’m sorry. Good night.”

He’s walking away before you can say anything else. You stand frozen for what could be minutes before finally letting yourself into your apartment. Closing and locking the door behind you, you lean your forehead against the wood and wonder what the fuck just happened.

You’re not sure what you did wrong to make him have to leave so suddenly, and you know it’ll torment you constantly. Replaying in the back of your mind. The worst part is, you were ready to invite him inside, to let him do whatever he wanted with you. He was gone before you could even get there.

Eddie feels awful for leaving the way he did, and he thinks about turning around and knocking on your door the whole way home. He never does, though. He’s sure you don’t want to see him.

You both have a fitful sleep that night. Blocks away, both tossing and turning in bed with that kiss plaguing your minds.

Robin and Nancy’s calls grow more frequent over the following couple of weeks, and in turn, so do your encounters with Eddie. You’ve become closer, would like to say you’ve become friends, even. Though, nothing like the kiss that the two of you choose to ignore happens again.

You chalked it up to his tipsiness, he tries to forget it altogether.

It’s not because it was bad, or unwanted. It’s quite the opposite, actually. Eddie’s so used to kissing meaning absolutely nothing, leading to more every single time. Your kiss, though, was completely different. It made him feel more than he knew he was capable of.

He’s surprised that you have yet to say something about it, especially considering the way that he left. It’s a two way street; he doesn’t bring it up at all, either.

He wants to. He wants to be able to explain himself to you, to tell you why he had to pull himself away so quickly. Only, he’s not sure how. He doesn’t know how to explain the way he finds himself drawn to you, the reason he kissed you, or the feeling that runs through him every time you lock eyes. If he can’t even make sense of it himself, how is he supposed to make sense of it to you?

He can’t even bring himself to tell anyone about it because he knows, as much as they try, it won’t help.

Tonight, you’re all piled on the couches in Steve’s apartment (it’s the nicest one) eating pizza straight from the box and chatting. It’s nice to be a part of a true friend group. You’ve never had anything like it before.

“Eddie, you left your guitar here, you know?” Steve says.

He plays guitar? Fuck.

“Shit, yeah. I did.”

“You know what that means,” Robin draws out the last word, shimmying her shoulders.

“No. Absolutely not,” Eddie shakes his head.

“Please! Serenade us, Eddie.”

They go back and forth for a bit and your gaze switches between the two of them like you’re watching a game of ping pong.

“I’d like to hear you play,” you pitch in.

Robin—of course—wears a smirk. She’s been trying to get the two of you together since she saw how you interacted, and she knows Eddie won’t say no to you. He couldn’t if he tried.

“Really?” Eddie asks softly.

“Yeah. I didn’t know you played,” you shift in your seat, “I’d love to hear it. If you want.”

He fiddles with his guitar pick necklace, which you catch. Maybe that should’ve been a dead giveaway that he’s a musician, but you’d never noticed it before, usually hidden by the collar of his shirt.

Eddie’s not usually a nervous person, but the prospect of you listening to him play has him feeling that way. He’s never worried so much about how someone looks at him, or what they might think. With you, he worries because he wants to impress you, he’s realized.

“Yeah, okay. Just for you, I’ll go grab it.”

Just for you. You turn your face away to try and hide how it affects you.

He asks Steve where he left it, and goes off to retrieve it. You watch him walk away until he disappears behind a corner. There’s something about him that pulls you in, something you wish you could figure out. You know you like him, it’s quite obvious, but it’s the kind that has thoughts of him crowding your mind and that has you overthinking every word.

“You guys are paining me, I hope you know,” Robin says.

“We’re just friends. Seriously.”

“Are you sure about that?” Steve adds on. Nancy tends to just observe when the topic of you and Eddie is brought up. She’s a rational person, and she’s trying to let it work itself out naturally. Though, she’s sure it will work out eventually. Hopefully sooner than later.

Eddie comes back before you can manage a reply, holding an acoustic guitar decorated with messy, white, painted-on lettering that says ‘this machine slays dragons.’

He sits down and tunes the guitar first, focused on his task. It gives you a chance to look at him closely, lets you get away with it because the others are watching him, too. Waiting for him to start to play. When he does, you’re transfixed.

Your eyes don’t stray from him at all throughout the song he plays. His fingers move with so much ease, his rings catching the light. It’s no surprise that he’s talented with his hands, just look at the art he creates on people’s bodies everyday. But, this is another layer to it, a piece of him that made you want to see more. Made you want to collect every jigsaw piece until you had the whole image.

You think you could listen to him play for hours on end and never get tired of his strumming. Yeah, you really do like him.

When he finishes, everyone gives him a round of applause, and he hopes his hair does enough to cover up the blush that blooms on his cheeks. He looks to you first, and you’re beaming, looking at him like he’s just done something groundbreaking.

“That was amazing, Eddie,” you say.

“It’s nothing special,” he replies.

“It is. You’re really talented,” you sound so sincere it squeezes his heart in a fist. “Double talented, actually.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

He lets it slip again, and you soak it up. Eddie tries to avoid the looks from his friends, especially after the pet name. Surely, they’re all wearing smug smiles and plotting ways to talk him into giving whatever the thing between the two of you is a go.

He sets the guitar aside, clearing his throat amidst the awkward silence. You look at your lap and frown at the run in your tights that you just noticed, avoiding being the first to say anything.

Every new detail you learn about Eddie only makes you like him more. You’re still not sure if he even considers you a friend, but you certainly consider him one. You would ask but decide to save yourself the stress of having to bring it up. The worst part is, the idea of him not liking you hurts more than you’d like to admit.

The silence is eventually broken, and the floodgates of conversation have opened back up. You and Eddie both let out a breath of relief, synchronized in secrecy.

When you get up to leave, Eddie suddenly has the urge to go, too, and he offers to take you home. Much like the time before, he doesn’t let you decline the offer. He’s just being nice, you think to yourself, he would do it for anyone.

This time, he drove, and he opens the passenger door for you when you reach his car. It smells like him inside, sandalwood, something sweet, the underlying smokiness of cigarettes that you don’t mind when it comes to him. He has a pair of dice hanging from his mirror, though they’re twenty-sided instead of your average six.

“You’ll have to give me directions back to yours,” he says, starting the car. “I remember the area, but…”

Yes, he remembers the area all too well. It’s where he lingered after he sprung a kiss on you and then walked away. It’s where he jerked himself around mentally trying to decide whether he should go back to you or just go home.

“Don’t worry, I can be your map.”

The drive is silent save for the music humming through the speakers and your occasional instructions on which turns to take. It isn’t awkward, you don’t think. It’s comfortable in the way that you don’t feel the need to fill it.

One of Eddie’s hands reaches out and lightly tugs on your skirt, “this looks really nice on you.”

He pulls it away after he says it and you wish he didn’t.

“Oh,” you look down at the fabric, something you’ve owned for years, worn when you can’t figure anything else out. It’s never been anything special, but now, you feel like it might be. “Thank you.”

Eddie feels inclined to compliment you all of the time, he’s learned, but he often lets them float in his head rather than say them to you.

He parks on the street by your apartment complex soon after, but you don’t get out right away. You unbuckle your seatbelt and place a hand on the door, but he stops you.

The sight of your building has him thinking about the night you kissed for what feels like the thousandth time. He wants to kiss you again and he clenches his fists to ground himself. If you’re any bit as torn up about it as him, he wants to know. He also wants to try and explain himself to you, even if he still isn’t sure how.

“Hey. About that night,” he doesn’t have to specify. You know exactly what he’s talking about. Your hand lets go of the door handle, settling in your lap. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“You are?”

You don’t want him to be sorry, or to feel bad about it. You only want to know what you did to scare him off the way you did. You also want him to kiss you again.

“Um, yeah. I shouldn’t have just sprung onto you like that.”

“Why did you?” Is what you say next.

“I dunno. You just looked so pretty, and I had the urge. The drinks gave me the strength to do it, I guess.”

He hadn’t been drunk, not one bit, but he doesn’t want to use the alternate explanation just yet. He doesn’t want to say ‘I kissed you because you confuse me more than anyone else. Because I’ve never felt so bent out of shape because of one person. Because you were looking at me like you wanted me to, and I can’t say no to you.’

He could, but he doesn’t want to.

“You think I’m pretty?”

He nods, almost ashamed about it.

“I think you’re pretty, too, Eddie,” his eyes lock onto yours, “and I’m not sorry you kissed me at all.”

“What?”

“I liked kissing you. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come inside before you left.”

You don’t know where your candidness is coming from, but you can’t stop yourself anymore. You’ve wondered and wondered what could’ve happened that night had he stayed, and by the way his gaze flicks down to your lips, you think you might find out.

The car suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker, when he asks, “does that offer still stand?”

You nod, he shuts off the car. You both get out, walking up to your place in a sort of haze. Neither of you know what will come from any of this, you’re going in blind and it’s as exciting as it is nerve-wracking.

Things slow down once you’re inside. It’s as if a fog has cleared and now, you’re both painfully aware of everything you’re doing, or saying. His eyes flit around your apartment in silence, looking at your bookshelf, noting the lack of personal photos.

You cut in before he can comment on your place, “can I get you anything? Water, or…”

When he responds, it’s not to your question. Instead, he asks you one: “how’s your tattoo healing?”

He’s been curious about how you’re feeling with it ever since he caught glimpses of it that night at the bar. You pause by your small kitchen island, looking him over before you can manage to reply.

“Oh. Good, I think,” you shrug a shoulder, “I don’t know enough about tattoos but it hasn’t bothered me much.”

“I can look at it, if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

You say it as if he would be going through lots of trouble to do so, when in reality he’s using it as an excuse to get his hands on you. Tattoos are familiar, not foreign the way his feelings for you are. It’s an excuse to ease himself into whatever this is.

“‘Course I am, let me see.”

“Okay. Light’s better in the bathroom.”

He follows you into your bathroom, and you wish you’d taken into account how small it is because you’re forced to be close to him and it’s making you nervous. The anticipation and unknown a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“Shirt off,” he says, his voice smooth.

You listen, because it’s hard not to when he sounds the way he does. You turn to face the mirror and peel your shirt away, tossing it to the ground when you do. You’re suddenly very aware that your bra isn’t the nicest you own, and your instinct is to cover it with your arms.

Eddie stops you, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror, his hands wrapping around your wrists gently, pulling them down. “Don’t you dare. You’re beautiful.”

He looks away after he says it, but you can tell he means it. It’s in the way he makes sure you’re looking at him when he speaks, the way he squeezes your wrists reassuringly before letting them go.

For a second, he forgot why you’re even in the position you are. He forgets that he’s meant to be looking at your tattoo until you say, “how is it?”

“Right, yeah,” he looks it over, and he’s satisfied to see that it looks exactly how it should at this stage. “Really good, actually. You’re doing a great job.”

The compliment warms your insides.

“Thank you.”

“Want me to clean it for you?”

“Sure, thanks.”

He does, disinfecting it first, after finding your products on your counter. He’s gentle as usual, his hands a welcome feeling. Then, he applies the layer of lotion slowly, almost like he’s trying to tease you. It’s working.

His hands trail down your arms when he’s done, his head dipping down to press a kiss on the top of your shoulder. The first one is soft, a barely-there push of his lips against your skin. The next is a bit firmer, his confidence growing with each one.

They trail over the curve of your shoulder, his hands still running their paths up and down your arms, raising goosebumps in their wake, his chunky rings cold. He kisses his way up your neck, your head lulling to the side to grant him more access and your eyes fluttering shut.

Everything he does is filing you up more and more and he’s barely even begun.

“Eddie,” you sigh when he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

He has no idea what’s come over him, but there’s no hiding the effect you have over him anymore. As soon as he got his hands on you, even just to clean your tattoo, he knew he’d be addicted.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, yes, it’s- feels nice.”

You would be overthinking if you weren’t so distracted by the feeling of his lips on your skin. And when he uses a hand to tilt your face towards his and kisses you, you’re not sure there’s a single thought left in your head.

There’s something about him that makes everything more intense. You feel like all of your senses are captured by him and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The smell of his cologne, the taste on his tongue, the feeling of his hands on you and his long hair tickling your skin. All of it.

Eddie pulls away to let the both of you breathe only when it’s absolutely necessary. He’s drunk on every kiss he gets from you and he doesn’t mind one bit. He wonders what you’re like in bed, what sounds you’d make for him, and he can’t stop himself from asking, “can I fuck you?”

The words are spoken between heavy breaths, puffed out against your lips.

“Yes. Please.”

Please, you say. As if you would even have to beg him. You have no idea what you’re doing to him and it only makes him want you more. He pushes his hips against your ass, letting you feel how hard he is and you whimper, you fucking whimper and he’s so gone.

He pushes you down to bed over the counter with a hand on the center of your back, and you obey easily. You’re practically squirming with want, the dampness in your panties growing with every move he makes.

Then, he flips your skirt up, his hands running over the tights that cover you before ripping them in the middle.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he says.

He keeps a hand on your back, though its drifted much lower, and the other sneaks its way between your legs, cupping you over your underwear before pressing his fingers against you. You can't help but moan at the feeling.

“Soaking already, sweetheart?” He taunts.

“Eddie, come on.”

“What is it?”

“You’re teasing me,” you huff out, your cheek pressed against your cool countertop.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

He hooks his fingers in the fabric covering you, pulling it aside and going right back to his teasing. His fingers run up and down your slit, dipping into where you’re wet only to pull away and circle your clit; just enough to give you a taste, to have you wanting more.

He’s winding you up and up and up and you think you might pass out if he doesn’t make you come soon.

“Eddie.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve got you.”

It’s then that he pushes one finger in, his rings that still sit around his fingers only add to the intensity. He works a second one in quickly, your cunt sucking him in and he can’t even imagine how good it’ll feel when he gets to fuck you for real.

He’s quick to learn what you like, what makes you pulse around his fingers or moan a little louder. You had no clue that things could ever feel this good and when his thumb finds your clit, you’re absolutely done for.

Your breaths come out hot, bits of condensation gathering on the counter, “fuck. Oh my god.”

“Feel good?” He asks even though he knows damn well it does—your reactions are telling enough. He picks up the pace, his fingers pressing against that spot that has your knees going weak. He wraps his unoccupied arm around your waist to hold you up.

“So, so good, Eddie. Gonna come.”

“Go on, all over my hand, sweetness. Then I’ll fill you right up, how’s that sound?”

Your response is caught in your throat, a whine bubbling out instead.

“Quicker you come, the quicker I’ll give it to you,” he tacks on.

The thought of him fucking you after this drives you nuts because if just his fingers feel this good, you can’t even imagine what his cock will be like. Your orgasm washes over you, eyes rolling back.

He works you through it, steadily slowing down and easing away to give you a break. He pulls his fingers away, chuckling at the noise you make when he does, and sucks them clean. Then, softly, he’s leaning down and kissing his way up your spine.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

“You okay?”

“More than okay. You’re really good.”

“‘M not done yet, babe.”

He stands back up, but he pulls you along with him so you're no longer resting on the counter. Hands on your hips spin you to face him, and as soon as you do he surges forward to kiss you. It’s quick, like he’s making sure it’s still okay to keep going.

His touch trails up to the band of your bra—which is askew, but still on. “Can I take this off?”

You nod, but he waits for a verbal confirmation before unclasping it and pulling it away from your chest. It joins your shirt on the ground.

You’re suddenly very aware that you’re half-naked and he isn’t. You tug on his shirt, eager to even the score, “you too.”

“Well, it’s only fair, isn’t it?”

He peels his shirt over his head, and you realize that you’ve yet to see his tattoos so closely. You reach out, tracing them lightly with your fingertips. First, the bats that adorn his forearm, working your way up to his shoulder, then down his chest. He lets you, happy to have your hands on him.

While you’re occupied with his tattoos, he looks you over, free to stare without worrying if you’ll notice. His eyes travel across your face, the slope of your nose, the shape of your lips. They go down your neck, a canvas he plans to leave his mark on, and down to your chest that’s now bare.

The sight is enough to remind him of how hard he is, straining against his jeans. He kisses you again, heavier this time, and lets his hands cup your tits, squeezing and thumbing over your nipples. You moan into the kiss and he can’t control himself any longer.

He lifts you up to sit on the counter, close enough to the edge that you’re forced to wrap your legs around him.

“You still want this?” He asks.

Your hands go to his jeans, popping the button open and lowering his zipper slowly, “yeah, Eddie. I want this. I want you.”

I want you. Eddie doesn’t know why the words make his heart go all fluttery, why they make him look at you like you’ve put the stars in the sky just for him. He kisses you all over again.

You fit your hand between his jeans and his boxers, and you gasp into the kiss when you feel just how big he is. He’s wide, and you know the stretch of him will be a kind of burn that hurts so good. You stroke him over his boxers first, but quickly grow impatient to see him.

You tuck your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them and his jeans down enough to free him. You pull back only to be able to look at him properly, leaning your forehead against Eddie’s bare shoulder, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth because he’s pretty everywhere.

He kisses the side of your head, tender in the midst of the heat of it all.

You think, despite his initial distance, Eddie’s one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. He shows it in the small things he does. Offering to take you home, the gentleness of his hands, his constant checking in on you to make sure this is what you wanted.

Yeah, you like him a whole lot.

Your hand wraps around his cock, jerking him slowly at first. A tease, he thinks. And then you pick up your pace just a bit and he thinks he might come before he even gets to be inside you and as much as he would love to see your hand covered in him, it’s not what he wants right now.

He’s never wanted anyone like he does you and he knows that information will have him overthinking later, but right now, it just makes him desperate to have you.

“Fuck,” he grabs a hold of your wrist, “as good as this feels, sweetheart, you gotta stop or I’ll come and this’ll be cut short. You don’t want that do you?”

He tips your chin up with his free hand, pecks your lips quickly before giving you the chance to respond.

“No. Want you to fuck me,” you say.

“Dirty girl.”

He reaches for a condom in one of your drawers when you tell him where to find them. When you bought them, you were almost embarrassed, because what were you expecting? Certainly not this.

He’s back on you before you really feel his absence, running his hands up your thighs, under your skirt, and tearing the hole he’d already made wider.

“You want me to stop, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Pushing your legs apart further to make room for him, he reaches down to paint himself up and down your slit, pushing himself in only when he’s teased the both of you sufficiently.

It’s a welcome stretch, one that’s better than anything you’ve ever felt in situations like this and you wonder why you didn’t move away sooner, if this is what it led to.

Eddie leans forward, resting his hands on the counter on either side of you, close enough that his arms brush against you. His face is close to yours but he doesn’t kiss you, no, he breathes the air you do, swallowing any sound you make.

His first couple of thrusts are tentative, slow, but when you wrap your arms around his neck and speak a quiet, ‘faster, please,’ he dives right in.

Somehow, he manages to know just what you need, and he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you still as he moves harder, quicker. Both of you are still half dressed, your clothes in disarray and his are pushed to his knees. You’re both so wrapped up in want and it shows.

“Fuck me,” you whine as he hits that spot inside you, like he’s done it a hundred times before.

“Thought that’s what I was doing, sweets.”

“Eddie.”

“I know, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He knows your orgasm is creeping up on you, he can feel it in the way you pulse around him, squeeze him tighter, bury your face in his neck so that your moans are pushed into his skin.

If he could, he thinks he’d get the sound of them permanently etched into his mind.

“Taking it so well. You wanna come, sweet girl?”

You nod against his skin, “yes. Yes, can I?”

He snakes a hand down to rub your clit, to push you over that edge and says, “let go. Give it to me.”

It’s like his words were what you were waiting for, the breaking point to let you finish. It’s enough to make your moans get caught in your throat and your eyes squeeze shut, seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you choke out.

“That’s it,” he works you through it, and only when he’s sure that you’re on the comedown does he let himself finish, too.

He pulls your head from his neck with a hand cupping the back of yours, kissing you to really seal the deal, coming with a grunt into your mouth.

When he’s spent, he rests his forehead against yours, running his hands up and down your back soothingly, “you okay?”

“Mmm. Amazing,” you reply, dazed with a fucked out smile on your face. “Why’re you good at everything?”

He chuckles, kissing your cheek before pulling out, “maybe I’m just good at them with you.”

Discarding the condom and pulling his boxers back up—removing his jeans completely—he then finds a small towel and wets it in the sink. Meanwhile, you take off the rest of your outfit, figuring he’s seen enough already. He cleans you up first, delicate hands and a soft apology when you wince from the sensitivity.

He picks you up when he’s done, your legs wrapped around his waist and your head dropped against his shoulder. It feels natural, he thinks, to take care of you the way he would a lover. You feel like you belong there, in his hold, and he knows that you’ve changed him in a way.

His reluctance to get into any kind of relationship seems to have flown out the window now.

The door across the hall is the first he tries, and he guessed correctly when he finds your bedroom on the other side of the door.

He lays you down on your bed, and you pull the blankets up over yourself, lazily. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to look at Eddie the same way, but it’s not a bad thing. It’s not because of the sex, though it was notably the best you’ve ever had and you’ll undoubtedly think about it constantly. It’s because you have feelings for him. Real, true, romantic feelings that run far too deep for you to ignore.

He goes to leave, but you catch his wrist, “you can stay.”

“What?”

“I want you to stay with me. If you want to,” you say.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

He doesn't even hesitate, and he tries not to think about what that means for this thing he knows is blooming between you, its petals unfurling slow and steady. He slips into bed beside you, welcoming you when you snuggle into his side.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Night, moon girl.”

You’re both fucked, literally and figuratively.

You wake up the most well-rested you’ve felt in a while. Flipping onto your back, you stretch out, and it’s only then that you feel the emptiness on the other side of the bed.

For a moment, you’d almost forgotten Eddie had been there in the first place. Then, you remembered you were, in fact, naked. The slight ache between your legs was enough to have last night coming back to you in a rush.

You wonder if maybe Eddie had to leave for work, but you don’t find a note or any indication of his departure. Instead, you hear the clanking of pans and plates coming from the kitchen.

You throw on a fresh pair of underwear and one of your oversized sleep shirts that sits at the top of your thighs. You’re still groggy, mind slower with sleep, but you’re awake enough to hear Eddie humming when you open your bedroom door and step out into the hall.

There he is, standing by your stove, cooking breakfast. You rub your eyes to make sure you’re not dreaming. Or seeing things.

He moves around like he’s been using your kitchen for ages, and his presence warms the space that you’ve had such a hard time getting used to. You recognize the song he’s humming to be the one he played on the guitar. The corners of your mouth lift up.

“Eddie?” You call quietly, careful not to startle him while his back is turned to you.

“Oh,” he faces you, frying pan in his hand, “morning, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

“I’m making us breakfast, I hope that’s okay.”

Is he kidding? It’s the most okay thing anyone’s done for you in a long time and you don’t know whether you want to cry or kiss him. He’s unlike anyone you’ve known, and you can’t believe how different he is now compared to when you first met.

His guard was up, short responses and little emotion. It’s a stark contrast to now, to the way he stands clad only in his boxers and his shirt from the night before, flipping a pancake like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You don’t know how he could even keep the saccharine boy hidden, it seems to ooze out of him now.

“It’s- Eddie, this is really sweet.”

The tips of his ears go pink.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to cook for you, or why the sincerity in your appreciation makes him blush. All he knows is that he thought it would be nice to make you smile, and that there’s something in his chest that seems to expand when you do.

“I hope you like pancakes,” he says.

That morning is the moment you realize you’re falling in love with Eddie Munson.

It’s been weeks since that night, that morning. Somehow, rather than put distance between the two of you, you and Eddie have grown closer. You think he’s one of the best friends you’ve ever had, even though you haven’t known him very long.

You’re not falling in love with him anymore. No, you’re deep in it now.

Of course, Robin was able to draw it out of you, and after all of her assuring you that there’s absolutely no way Eddie doesn’t feel the same, you still can't let yourself believe her. You’ll bever come back from it if you find out he doesn’t when you’ve built up your expectations.

So, you keep them low. He’s your friend, that’s all it’ll ever be and you know it. Or, at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself every time you catch yourself getting a little too lost in him.

You’re meant to be meeting the gang at the tattoo shop and then head somewhere for drinks all together. Because you’re not only close with Eddie now, you’ve found yourself friends that are real and true. Sometimes you find yourself wondering what your life would’ve been like had you been in high school alongside them. You think it would have been much, much better, but you have them now and that’s what matters.

You knock on the door when you get there, the shop already closed and locked up. You’re quickly greeted with Robin’s grinning face on the other side of the glass. She lets you in and wraps you in a brief hug.

“I think you should start working here just so I don’t have to miss you at all in between plans,” she says, stepping back and locking the door again.

“We both know I don’t have the skills for that, but I missed you, too, Robin.”

“Not as much as you missed me, I hope,” is how Eddie chooses to announce his presence.

“Hi, Eddie.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Robin scoffs at him, “can you not steal my thunder for once, please.”

“I’m not allowed to say hi to my friend?”

He looks at you when he says friend, like he’s sharing a secret. Only, you have no idea what it might be.

“Whatever. I have to go get Nance since she went home to change,” she gathers her stuff from the desk. Then, she points to you and says, “I better get a very detailed life update later.”

“You know you will,” you say.

“‘Kay, see you soon!”

She leaves after that, and Eddie’s gaze is already fixed on you when you turn towards him.

“C’mere,” he nods towards the doors that lead to the back room, where the station he tattooed you at is all set up.

“What’s this?”

“I want you to give me a tattoo.”

Your eyes widen, “sorry?”

“I’m serious. Doesn’t have to be big, it can be a dot if you want,” he gently nudges your chin with his finger, closing your mouth where it was dropped in surprise. “I wanna teach you.”

Your friendship isn’t the only thing that’s grown since that night. Eddie’s become more touchy with you, too. An arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your thigh or the nape of your neck. Though this touch is small, it doesn’t fail to leave a lasting effect where it was placed, a warmth, like a drop of sunlight. It almost distracts you from what he’s asking.

“Eddie, I can’t. I’ll mess it up.”

“Babe, I’ve got loads of tattoos. Trust me, it’ll be fine,” he moves his hand to your shoulder, gives it a squeeze. “Plus, you’ve got a great teacher.”

It takes a bit longer for him to convince you, but he succeeds in the end. It’s hard to say no to someone you’re in love with, especially if that someone has really good puppy dog eyes.

Before you really even process it, he’s on the tattoo bed, a pant leg rolled up, shaving a small patch for you to use as your canvas. He does all of the prepping necessary, and even goes as far as to put the gloves on for you.

He explains it all slowly, repeats whatever you ask him to, and promises to guide you through it all. You’re incredibly nervous—who wouldn’t be?

“Relax. You’re gonna be a natural, I know it.”

“How do you know that?”

“You’ve got good hands, sweetheart,” he drops one of his eyelids in a wink.

The flirting is something else that’s become more frequent. You think he’s flirting, that is. He doesn’t act the same way with the rest of the group and you know that, but you also need to not get your hopes up. Still, the butterflies come alive.

You draw your stencil, settling on a very simple rendition of the sun. A small circle with short lines as its rays. It’s fitting for him, you think. As much as he seems like midnight on the outside, that boy is dripping in sunshine.

It also goes with the one he gave you, but that’s just a bonus.

Once it’s applied and you’re sat on the stool, in position to begin, he explains it all over again. He knows you’re nervous, but he isn’t at all. He’s excited to have you do this, to wear a piece of you on his skin.

His hand wraps around yours on the tattoo gun for the first line, guiding you so that you can get the feel of it. He lets you take over after that, assuring you that there’s nothing you could mess up enough to have him dislike it, as long as you’re the one doing it.

As he watches you work, your tongue poking out between your lips in focus, he feels his chest swell. He’s never liked anyone the way he does you, and he’s never let someone untrained tattoo him, that’s for sure. There’s something in him that seems to brighten when you’re around, and he doesn’t know how to put it into words.

He wishes he could pluck the moon out of the sky and hold it in his hand, only to be able to give it to you. Since he can’t do that, he hopes his heart will do good enough. He loves you, that he knows, he just can’t bring himself to say the words out loud.

He’s warmed up to you quicker than ever, so much so that the people around him have noticed. That means something and he knows it.

“I think I’m done,” you say after a bit.

“Yeah? Let’s see this work of art then.”

He sits up, bends closer to his leg to get a look at your handiwork. He’s silent at first and it makes you nervous.

“What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” he says.

You know it’s far from perfect. The lines aren’t even, nor are they all straight. But he says it like he means it, believes it, so you let yourself smile at that.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m super sure.”

He wouldn’t have ever picked out the sun for himself, but knowing that you would has his walls crumbling even more—if that’s even possible with you.

He does the cleaning and the wrapping, and you’re happy to observe. Just as he’s finishing up, Robin and Nancy walk in, Steve not far behind.

“I leave you guys for not even an hour, and now you have a tattoo?” Robin says, though she doesn’t even sound surprised.

Eddie thinks his feelings swell and grow every single time he sees you, and he thinks they might just boil over and pour out of him before he even gets to figure out what to say. That won’t do. You deserve more than that.

You deserve to be taken on a date, to be appreciated and taken care of properly, and that’s what he needs to do. The only problem is, he has no idea how to go about it all.

There’s only one person he can think of who will know exactly what to do. The expert in dating; Steve. Eddie calls him into his office.

“What’s up, boss?” Steve says, leaning against the doorway the way he always does.

“Close the door, would you?”

“Shit. Am I in trouble? I may have spilled some ink the other day but you can barely even see it, swears.”

Eddie shakes his head, making note to take a look around his station later. He’s used to Steve’s clumsiness, though, it’s part of the reason he wanted dark floors in the shop.

“No. That’s not- I need your help.”

“Oh. Okay, hit me.”

“I want to ask her out. I just don’t really know, um, where to take her or whatever.”

Eddie doesn’t even have to say your name for Steve to know who he’s talking about. He’s painfully aware that he’s been quite obvious with his affections, especially ever since the night you had sex. He’s always itching to have his hands on you in some way, stealing you away from other conversations, all of it.

That night was like a wake up call for him, a bucket of cold water dumped over his head. He knew there was something about you before that, but it became concrete.

He’d never felt so connected to someone, nor had he been so eager to take care of them afterwards. Hell, he’s never even slept in the same bed as his hookups. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s slept over at all. Then, there was you, asking him to stay and he couldn’t say no to you. He didn’t want to, either.

“You know her better than I do, man. But, flowers, you gotta do. They love that. Do you know her favorites?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“That’s fine. Get a good mix. Other than that, you should just be honest, that’s what Robin always tells me,” he shrugs. “Why don’t you just call her now?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Come on! She’s gonna say yes. She gives you those lovey-dovey eyes all the time.”

“Okay, that’s enough. Out.”

“Not even a thank you?”

“Thanks, Steve. Bye.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he leaves Eddie’s office, shutting the door behind him again. He, along with Nancy and Robin, knows that you and Eddie will end up together, it’s obvious to everyone except you two, they only want to help it along.

Eddie really hopes that their pestering will be worth it in the end. That you’ll feel the same.

He stares at the phone sitting on his desk for what feels like ages before he musters up the courage to actually call you. He had your file open on his desk, your number written out on one of the forms. He finally picks up the phone and dials it.

Luckily, you weren’t at work. You’d been thinking of Eddie more and more each day it seemed. How he looked at you, the secret smiles that he saved just for you, the way he touched you, the way he felt-

The phone ringing cuts off your train of thought. You walk over and pick it up, prepared for it to be Robin or Nancy since they’re the only ones that ever call you besides your boss. The voice on the other line is neither of them.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart. It’s Eddie.”

As close as you’ve gotten, for some reason, no phone numbers have been exchanged. You wish they had been, because hearing his voice crackle through the phone is a much nicer sound than most.

“Eddie, hi. How’d you get my number?”

He twists one of his rings around with his thumb. He’s glad you can’t actually see him, because you’d surely be able to tell that he’s nervous.

“It’s on file in the shop. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I like talking to you,” you say, soft and sincere. “What’s up?”

“I, uh,” he shakes his head, trying to figure out exactly what to say. “Are you busy tonight?”

“No, I’m not. Do you guys want to do something?”

“Not exactly,” he says.

Your heart beats quicker in your chest, because you think he’s about to ask you out, maybe. If not that, then at least ask you to do something with just him, which is close enough for you to consider it a win. You smile like an idiot.

He clears his throat and continues, “I wanted to know if you’d want to go out… with me.”

It’s happening, you think. Something is shifting as you speak, the feelings you’ve tried to suppress for so long are itching to come out.

“Like a date?” You ask. Just to be sure.

“Yeah, moon girl. Like a date.”

“I’d really, really like that, Eddie.”

He thinks you can probably hear the smile in his voice when he says, “yeah? Me too.”

He tells you he’ll pick you up, to wear whatever you like, not to worry about being over or underdressed, ‘you’ll look pretty either way, trust me,’ he’d said.

When you hang up, you’re trying not to jump around and squeal like a thirteen year old. It’s difficult to contain your excitement, your nerves, your hope. It feels as if a door is opening. A door to more nights like that night, more mornings with shared breakfast, more kissing, more than friends. More, more, more.

Meanwhile, Eddie’s wondering how he’ll get through the rest of the work day when his head is filled with the promise of seeing you.

After much debating on what to wear, no thanks to Eddie’s sweet yet vague instructions, the buzzer sounds in your apartment. You make your way over, one shoe on, the other in your hand. You press the button and speak.

“Hello?”

“Hey, moon girl.”

“Eddie,” he only said three words and you’re already smiling. “Come on up.”

You rush to get your other shoe on, luckily finishing up just as he knocks on your door. There’s a moment where you’re almost expecting someone else to be on the other side, to have been dreaming the whole date up. Luckily, it’s real.

Eddie stands in the hall, pretty as ever. His hair is in its usual mess of waves and curls, his classic leather jacket and denim vest duo are on, and in his hand, a bouquet of flowers.

He notices you looking at them and holds them out, “these are for you.”

“This is really nice, Eddie. Thank you.”

You take them from him, holding them up to your nose to smell them (and also to hide how wide your grin is). He stands by the door, a ball of nerves, and watches you put them into a big cup, because you never had a reason to buy a vase until now. He decides next time, he’ll deliver the flowers in a vase just so you have one.

He holds your hand on the way down, opens the car door for you and makes sure your legs are tucked inside before closing it, he tells you in at least three different ways how beautiful you look during the car ride alone, and he drives with a hand resting on your thigh, your fingers toying with his rings.

He’s an absolute dream.

He takes you to a small restaurant, fancy enough for a date—though you think being with Eddie, no matter where, would be enough for you—but casual enough that you aren’t too worried about the people around you being judgemental. You sit in a booth and instead of across, Eddie sits beside you. He keeps a hand on your thigh during your meal, too.

In his car once more, you’re sitting in the parking lot with music playing through the speakers. Eddie hasn’t made a move to start driving you yet, and you haven’t even thought about going home. You haven’t ever been on an official date before, but if you had, you’d say with absolute certainty that this is the best one.

You sit sideways in the passenger seat so you can look at him, and Eddie’s head is turned toward you, his cheek against the headrest.

“Have you had a girlfriend before?” You ask.

You don’t know why the thought comes out of your mouth. You’d been thinking it, though. Robin’s always hinting at how different he is with you, at the fact that Eddie’s never brought a girl he’s liked around his friends. You’re curious.

“No, I haven’t. Why do you seem surprised?”

“It’s just, you’re really good at this.”

“At what, sweetheart?”

“Like, going on a date. And… other stuff, too.”

He shifts in his seat, resting an elbow on the center console and leaning closer to you. Much, much closer. Your noses are almost touching and you can see the way his eyelashes frame his eyes.

He nudges his nose against yours, “what stuff?”

You know he’s teasing you, trying to make you give him more detail because it’ll make you go all shy or embarrassed. To him, it’s cute, and he’s been trying not to kiss you all night. He was going to wait until he dropped you off like a proper gentleman, but he figures making it through dinner is good enough.

“Eddie,” you draw his name out, almost whining.

“Tell me. Come on, please? You can’t just bring it up and not share.”

The hand of his that isn’t resting between you comes up to push your hair over your shoulder, then slides around to hold the back of your neck loosely.

“God, okay. Um, you’re a good kisser. Like, really good,” he leans in and pecks you for that, pulling away just enough to let you keep talking, your lips still brushing against his. “And, I love your hands.”

“My hands?”

“They’re very talented. You know, ‘cause you’re an artist, and all.”

He huffs and shakes his head. Enough of the teasing, he leans in and kisses you deeper this time. Your hands move and grip the sides of his jacket, holding him close to you.

You kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and it’s enough to have you panting and warm all over. His hand squeezes your neck gently before he pulls away, his lips slick with spit, swollen and darker from your kiss. You’re sure yours don’t look much different.

Eddie drops his forehead against yours, takes both of your hands in his, “do you want to go home?”

You shake your head.

“Can I show you my place, then?”

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

He’s not saying it to get you in his bed, though there’s no doubt that would be a bonus, but he doesn’t want this date to end. There’s also a part of him that wants to see you in his apartment, let you into more of his life.

He’s only ever been to yours, and he doesn’t have the whole group over at his, so you’ve never seen it. He thinks, if he’s really going to give this a shot, he might as well let another wall crumble down for you.

The drive there is fairly quick, and yet again, his hand finds your thigh. This time, though, he lets his fingers hold on, rather than just rest in your lap. You like it a lot.

Eddie’s apartment isn’t what you expect. You thought it’d be decorated like the shop: dark colors, black and white art, hints of red. His place is much warmer, much homier. It suits him perfectly.

He has a huge record collection, a whole wall of his living room dedicated to the shelves and the player itself. He also has a shelf for his books. Some more worn than others, letting you know which are his favorites of the bunch.

You trail your fingers along the spines, admiring his collection. He lets you, standing not too far away, enjoying how you look in his space.

His bathroom is much like yours, small and plain, but it’s tidy save for some products of his strewn about the counter. His bedroom is so obviously his that it makes you smile. From the rings and other jewelry sitting atop his dresser, to his dark gray bedding, to the guitars that are displayed proudly, to the desk pushed into a corner with pages upon pages spread about.

You gravitate towards that desk without a second thought.

There’s something so intimate about seeing his art station in his home, much different to his office at the shop. Here, he can let it be a mess, and can draw whatever he pleases.

“Is it okay if I look at these?” You ask.

“‘Course,” he says. He walks up behind you, lets his hands hold your sides loosely and rests his chin on your shoulder. You revel in the warmth of his chest against your back.

You pick up some of the loose pages, looking at the different pieces. Skulls and flowers and landscapes and so much more. He can do it all, you think. You can see so much detail, the strokes of his pencil, and it’s clear how much talent he has.

“These are all beautiful, Eddie.”

He turns his head to peck your cheek, “thank you, sweetheart.”

You reach for a worn sketchbook next, the cover peeling at the edges and the pages nearly full. It flips open to where it seems to have been used the most, the spine broken. What you see makes you gasp quietly, but Eddie’s close enough to hear it.

Covering the pages are drawings of the moon. Over and over again he drew them. Some are big, taking up an entire page, and some are scrawled into corners and empty spaces, like he couldn’t stop adding them. All of these drawings for your tattoo, and he’d only shown you a few.

“It’s weird, right?” Eddie says, hiding his face in your neck.

If he’s honest, he forgot that sketchbook was even there. He couldn’t forget about the drawings you found—you’d taken up so much of his thoughts after meeting that he couldn’t stop drawing the fucking moon for you. There are so many and he’s embarrassed by it, because he really was screwed after the first day even when he refused to see it.

“No, it’s- these are all for me?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking ‘bout you, so I drew these,” he speaks into your skin. “I was trying to avoid my feelings for you, but clearly, that didn’t work. You wouldn’t get out of my head and I had no idea why.”

You turn in his hold, leaving the sketchbook open on his desk. You look at him, the way his cheeks are pink at your finding of his drawings, the way his eyes flick between yours.

“I love them. Every single one,” I love you. “I thought about you a lot, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. So much. You made me nervous at first,” you admit, your hands fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

“I’m not used to, um, opening up to people and all. I’ve never even been in a relationship,” his hands come up and grab yours, like he needs the comfort. “You make me want to try, though.”

You have to say it. There’s no way you can’t, not when he’s looking at you with those eyes filled with something.

“I love you, Eddie,” his eyes widen, he freezes. “You don’t have to say it back or anything, I just really needed to tell you. You’re the first sense of comfort I’ve found since I moved, and I don’t think I would have felt at home without you and I love you.”

No matter how scared he is to be with you, because he wants to be someone worth being with and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he can’t ignore the fact that he loves you right back. And he hasn’t said those words to many people in his life.

It’s big for him, so big that he’s stumbling over his words but he tries anyway.

“Oh my god,” he kisses your knuckles, “I love you, sweetheart. My moon girl, fuck, I love you, too. I’ve never done this before, but there’s nobody else I’d want. Nobody.”

You feel so many things at once. Relief and happiness and a thousand fireworks in your gut and in your heart. You grab his face with your hands and drag him down to kiss you.

It’s broken by your smiles, your teeth bumping into each other but neither of you care one bit. He holds your wrists gently, returns your kiss with ease. He’s delicate with his touch, so, so perfect with his lips on yours.

He only pulls away to ask, “will you be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

You nod vehemently, “been yours since you kissed me the first time. Probably even before that.”

You’re not worried about the ‘told you so’s you’re sure to get from your friends, or what happens next because you know whatever it is, Eddie’s gonna be there.

“Think you had me the minute you started talking ‘bout the moon.” He just didn’t know it yet.

༄

if you enjoyed, please leave a reblog or let me know what you thought! it helps loads more than you think <3

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ferrstappen · 1 year

Text

aren't we supposed to surprise you? l Charles Leclerc blurb

pairing: dad!Charles Leclerc x female reader.

you can find more of my version of dad Charles' here <3

summary: you somehow manage to overshadow Charles and Jo's gift.

Charles was an anxious man. Even more so since Josephine was born two years ago.

Yes, people laughed at him but he didn't care, he was going to sprint towards his daughter every time she took a wrong step and fell down, or his system would shut down whenever her lower lip trembled. Charles could communicate with his daughter through her eyes, they told him everything he needed to know in the meantime before she learned how to properly express herself.

They were an unstoppable duo, everybody knew that, but Charles was aware the reason both him and Jo could feel at ease and safe was you, and maybe he didn't remind you enough of that.

His mother and younger brother accompanied him to the various shops around Monaco, Pascale having to fight Charles to let her carry the stroll on the street, Arthur shaking his head at Charles' antics, playfully pitying his niece.

"I am going to make sure to take her to the worst tattoo parlors and pubs when she's older and then I'm showing you the images so you can die of a heart attack," Arthur teased his brother, earning a glare from Charles while being chastised by his mother, but the youngest Leclerc saw a smile on his mom's face.

Arthur winked at his niece and she giggled. Lorenzo had no chance of ever being the favorite uncle.

They entered different shops, not wanting to go for the typical jewelry and overly expensive designer clothing and accessories. No, Charles wanted to give you something you'd truly appreciate, something for you to relax and show yourself some love and distraction. Now it was turn for Arthur to carry Josephine while teasing his brother for being a simp.

A couple of books he thought you'd enjoy, different colored bath bombs, luxurious soaps and candles were some of the goods you were going to receive for Mother's Day.

Dad and baby Leclerc arrived got home greeted by the smell of coffee and some kind of pastry. It smelled like Charles' dream life; his life.

You smiled at Charles and gave him a quick peck on the lips before taking Josephine from his arms, your daughter babbling about papa and maman.

It was past midnight, Josephine sound asleep on her room after both you and Charles read her a short book in Italian, trying to accustom her to the language, all while you marveled at how Charles did the different voices and intonations.

Now it was just you and him in bed, his naked chest against your own skin, while his familiar hand found its place on your thigh, drawing shapeless figures, enjoying the peace of having you with him.

"I have to tell you something," You made sure to not make eye contact with Charles, hiding your face against his neck.

Charles chuckled with your reaction, "What is it and why are you hiding, bebé?" He tried to get you to face him.

"I know this wasn't planned or anything," you began talking but know Charles felt tears on his chest, it got him worried and helped you sit on the bed while assuring you whatever it was, you'd be able to find a solution.

"Babe, I'm two months pregnant," you announced and Charles placed his hand on his mouth in astonishment.

"No, in Bahrein?" Charles blurted out and a smile appeared on your face, of course that would be his first reaction as his brain processed the news.

You didn't know what you were expecting, maybe it was a problem because Josephine was still too young, maybe Charles didn't want another baby, you never really discussed it after Jo was born, but even in the dark his glossy green eyes were shining as his hand found its known place on your neck, his thumb softly caressing your cheek before lovingly kissing you.

those one of a kind kisses, the ones that were special and held so many emotions. neither of you could hide the smile appearing, only smiling at each other, Charles still caressing your cheek.

but suddenly he dropped his hand to your thigh, an unreadable expression on his face.

"But it's mother day and you're surprising me? No, I have this whole thing planned!" Charles protested and this made your eyes tear up, now it was your time to find his lips.

God, maybe it was time for a boy to mimic his dad.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #dad!charles leclerc #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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neonovember · 29 days

Note

OH MY GOD CARMYS GF (READER) GETTING HER FIRST TATTOO AND HIM COMFORTING HER AND HELPING HER TAKE CARE OF IT DURING THE HEALING PROCESS OR WHATEVA‼️💳💥💳💥 IDK I WAS JUST SITTING HERE AND THOUGHT OF IT IF YOU DOJT WANNA WRITE IT THATS OKAY

could even make the tattoo be his name or his initial or somethin 🤯🤯🤭😏

love you and your writing 😚

thanks for keeping us fed 😌

carmen berzatto x reader

okay so yes, maybe hozier has jolted me out of my writers block. i'm just a women after all.

Inked Devotion

this request was fun! i really didn't know what to make the tattoo so i left it a blank slate for whatever you wanna imagine, hope that's okay!

word count: 1.7k

things; tattoos, mentions of braces, carmen's unyielding devotion to you

Your eyes dart across the tall walls lined with inked models and men in dark beards nervously. You can't shake the tension that seems to imprint itself under your skin, your knees jittering with a rapid tap against the linoleum floors.

When you had brought up wanting to get a tattoo, a half joking mutter under your breath as you traced the many littered on Carmen’s body you hadn’t anticipated to actually go through with it.

And yet here you were, shaking like a leaf despite the diffuser jutting out whisper of eucalyptus that was meant to be calming. Whilst Monica, a woman you'd meant a handful of times ran through the list of after care necessities you should be listening to.

You can’t though, you don’t hear a thing as you stare unseeingly through the dark auburn tresses of her short hair, wrapped up in the thoughts that have begun to eat away at the already dwindling confidence you had when you first walked in.

“Hey, you still with me darlin’' Monica's Brooklyn drawl draws you back to her, and you duck your head sheepishly as you nod furiously. Like a goddamn high schooler getting caught looking out the window instead of listening to Hemingway.

Monica smiles toward you, humouring warmth filling her pale skin that, surprising to you, were incredibly stark of tattoos. In fact, if it weren’t for the posters taped to the walls, the black and white tiled floor, and the ominous tattoo bench in the corner you would have thought you walked it not the wrong place. It was stereotypical of you, and you had been a loud advocate for not judging a book by its cover, but goddamn, what tattoo parlour had potted plants and candles that smell like cinnamon?

“Sorry, uh, what did you say?”

“It’ll be alright, the pain really does depend on each person but Larry here will catch you if you faint on my tattoo bed” Monica winks with a smile, and you shift your gaze to the man stationed unmoving near some marked drawers, the mass of muscle hidden beneath dark jeans and a shirt bursting out of him.

It wasn’t the pain you were worried about, you had period cramps that sounded worse than that, it was more so the prospect of having your virgin skin imprinted with something forever. You had never done something like this, teenage recklessness had passed you by without a blink, and you had little to show for it but carved words on your old dresser from a knife and a dark eyeshadow phase that lasted less than a month.

It was a little pathetic, getting your first tattoo eons after any respectable age, and your trepidation seems blatantly clear as Monica shakes her head with a smile.

“Many people get their firsts well into adulthood, did I tell you about my last appointment? A 52 year old woman wanting a goddamn tramp stamp.”

You can't help but let a giggle out, the unsureness leaving you at Monica’s words

“You still want this right?’ Monica replies, and you shift your gaze to Carmen, who was already watching you fondly, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he pushes his golden strands back and gives you a nod

“It’s all up yo you gorgeous, if your having second thoughts there is a really good Thai place i wanted to che-”

“No, no I want this” You cut him off, and he chuckles softly, “Besides we already designed the stencil and everything” Carmen nods at that, placing his large palm onto your own, squeezing it with reassurance.

“Damn right we did, thinkin it's my best work yet” Monica chirps from the other side of the bed between you.

“Alright, just sit on that bed down there, get settles while I grab some things”

You nod, walking stiffly towards the leather bed, tissue paper crinkly under your weight as you shift into a comfortable position. Your eyes follow Monica like a laser, watching as she santises her hands and slides on powdered sterile gloves.

It reminds you of days spent in Dentists chairs, visions of rubbery fingers tightening wires into your teeth flashes behind the darkness of your lids. Funny, you had worried about your lack of experimental youth, and yet here you are now feeling like a kid again.

The thought makes you smile, and you open your eyes to feel the heated gaze of Carmen looming over you. Face distorting in horror when Monica’s tool makes a clatter, eyes widening comically in that way that always makes you laugh.

“Alright Doll, I’m just gonna need you to sit up for me whilst I get the skin prepped. Alcohols gonna feel a little cold to the touch, kay?” Monica says.

All you can do is nod as she rips open the matte packet, pressing it into your open skin shaved clean per her request a few prior. Who knew how much prep a tattoo would need, you were sure it was on par with even one of Carm’s dishes.

Unfortunately for you the only numbing cream useful for tattoos had something that would have made you break out in hives, so it was cold turkey for you. Monica had transformed the design into a stencil, and as she was transferring it into your skin it seemed to come to life all at once.

You had spent hours going over designs, and whilst you were extremely happy with what you both came up with, it was like when the lines and shapes had traced your skin, you finally saw it. And the moment you did you couldn't stop the wave of emotion that rushed through you, filling your eyes.

“Hey, baby, hey what is it” Carmen rushed urgently, crouching down when he noticed the way you sniffled.

“Awe doll, you don’t like the design? I’ll change it in a flash, this is just the stencil it aint permanent at all” Monica quickly stopped, looking up at you with concern

“No no, I’m fine” You squeezed Carmen “It’s so, it's beautiful Monica” You rushed out, trying to ease the lines of concern that appeared on her face. Monica bloomed at your reply, fondness heating her cheeks as she traced your skin comfortingly.

“Thank you” You whispered to her as she shushed you.

“At least we got the crying bit over and done with, it might hurt less now” She winked, before reaching for her tattoo gun.

“Ah shit” You grunted, shooting daggers Carmen's way when he snorted out loud.

Returning to your skin, Monica pressed the pointed tip of the gun to your skin, the first sink of ink burrowed into your skin causing you to clench your jaw.

Monica looked up to watch your expression with a smile,

“See, ain't too bad” Carmen replied before you gripped him white knuckled, making him wince regrettably.

It took some time, you won’t lie to yourself that is fucking hurt. But soon enough the sharp stab had resided to a dull ache, and you instead had become all too focused on the movement of Monica's hand swaying through the strokes of the design.

You were in awe, she breathed her being into it, and as the design took inches and inches of your skin you understood why she was booked out for months. With one last intricate curl, and a wipe of cleansing soap across the inked skin it was finished. Revealed to both you and Carmen's eyes in all its glory, and you both just stared.

“God, now I wish my first was as good as that instead of wonky stick and poke” Carmen said after a pregnant silence had passed.

“It..wow, yeah. Yep, I want to be buried with this” You said softly, giddiness erupting in your body as you shook your hand grasped in Carmens.

“I’m glad doll, I mean this is meant to be professional but goddamn does your skin just take it. Fuckin’ gorgeous” Monica replied, leaning back as she places the gun on the table near.

“Hey, I'll report you to HR” Carmen bitterly replies, moving you closer to his side as you laugh.

“It’s my business, I am HR” Muttering under her breath as she rolls her eyes. Wrapping your skin in adhesive sheets, Monica repeats the after care instructions, thankfully and this time you listen.

Carmen had already grabbed your things, motioning for you to start heading out after you both furiously thanked Monica for everything. You crinkled with joy as she hugged you, breathing in the smell of old spice and medical grade rubbing alcohol that followed her.

Her studded rings glistened in the afternoon sun as she waved you both goodbye, as you couldn't help but skip in your stride across the sidewalk. Finger tracing the raised blotted skin, whilst your other hand hung onto Carmen as he twirled you around.

“My gorgeous ink stained sweetheart” Carmen called to you, and you were brought back to his chest gently like a tide again.

“Thank you too, you know” You said into Carmen's cotton shirt. It was the one you got him after your first date, it had been a deep cobalt then. You regretted it just as you gave it to him, fearing you were being too forward. And then he wore it until it faded into a light blue.

“Wouldn't even have this forever on me if you hadn't been the one to bring it up again” You replied softly, fingers tracing his jaw.

“Would have spent a year learning how to tattoo myself if you wanted me too. Monica just seemed quicker” Carmen mumbled before you softly hit his chest with a smile.

“Hey, it’s true. Your skin deserves to be remembered, I could trace it till my fingers atrophied and I’d still have the memory of you under my skin memorised” Carmen divulged, eyelids drooping as he leaned down into your embrace.

You shake your head, heart panging so deeply it hurt till you pressed your lips to his. Tasting the outpour of Carmen that he let loose into you everyday.

And Carmen had stayed true to his words weeks later when it had healed, tracing it till his fingers weren't enough. Till he had to wrap his mouth around it and taste it with his tongue.

He swears even your inked skin tasted sweet.

tags <3 @parmforcarm @hansfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @nolita-fairytale

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retrocesosdestacion · 8 months

Text

SOCIALIZING PROBLEMS. | mapi león

mapi león x reader

genre: not fluff at all, accidental confession, teenager love.

warnings: a bit of headcanon, reader being a stupid curious, mapi confessing unintentionally, also mapi being an assertive/passive person.

notes: i had this prompt when i was cooking an egg. dios im really sorry for making u guys wait too long, also i feel like this is the worst writing I've ever done in my life.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You are secretly Mapi's love and you have negative impressions about her.

But that ended when Maria accidentally left her sketchbook on the bench at the locker room.

“ If I had a flower for every time I thought of you... I could walk through my garden forever. ”

Tennyson.

❝ Damn. Mapi, you should become an artist. ❞ From the other side of the locker room, you could hear Pina's lips praising the spanish's drawings once again.

It was already the fifth time that day that someone had praised the scribbles in that notebook. And you too, but only in your head. You didn't even have the courage to go there and see the drawings.

Two years ago you were transferred to Barcelona. Everything was normal, you made friends, adapted to the Spain style, adapted to new rules.

But you didn't adapt to Maria León. You didn't have the slightest ability to go up to her and have a chat lasting more than two minutes.

Normally you just greet her, that's when you don't even look at her face. Anyone who saw the two of you together would pinky swear that hated each other.

This was all because in your little mind, Mapi had the greatest disinterest in you. After all, you came to this conclusion when you noticed that the defender always ran away from the conversation when you arrives.

However, over time, you accepted this treatment from the spanish woman, even if you were curious to understand the player. You even told this whole situation to Ona, your best friend.

But it was always the same dilemma: “Relax, she’s shy. “ or “ Mapi has difficulty meeting new people. “

Yet that never made sense, after all, Mapi is anything but bashful.

It became a huge snowball since you never bothered to go talk to her. Therefore, currently your relationship with Mapi is completely lacking affection.

And it was just with you.

Claudia, for example, was one of the lucky ones. She was glued to the blonde's side, attentively observing each page of the spanish woman's small notebook with the greatest freedom and comfort.

At that moment, the defender had both feet on the bench, so she could rest the notebook on her knees. Mapi slowly leafed through the drawings for her friend once again.

❝ Yo ya te dije, who knows in a few years. ❞ (I already told you.) León reply to the other spanish woman's compliment with a very hopeful tone, as part of her dream was to be a tattoo artist.

As always, you just looked at the two girls talking, as you sat, untying your boots.

❝ If you look for longer, you will have bad luck. ❞ Ona mocked your indeterminate stare. ❝ If you’re so interested, go there. ❞ She states while taking off her training uniform.

❝ Madness. She doesn't like me and you want me to suddenly get there? ❞ You threw those words into the air so quickly that Ona took a while to formulate something.

❝ Why do you think she hates you? ❞ Your friend countered.

❝ I've told you thousands of times, Ona. She looks at me dirty, ignores me, she doesn't even want to talk to me even though I'm her training partner! ❞ You justify while gesturing nervously.

❝ Stop being fucking neurotic. ❞ The spanish woman rolled her eyes, finishing putting on her post-workout clothes. ❝ Ve allí, siéntate a su lado y descubrirás por qué te trata así. ❞ (Go there, sit next to her and you will find out why she treats you like that.) Ona stated.

You only knew the basics of spanish, deciphering what the defender had said would take a while. ❝ Huh, what? Find out what? ❞

Ona didn't respond, just giving you a stupid smile and a wink.

Slowly, the oldest left your side and walked towards Mapi and Claudia. The moment she got there, Batlle poked Pina's shoulder and approached, murmuring something in her ear.

❝ What the fuck are you doing?! ❞ You whispered to yourself, automatically standing up; scared and surprised.

Suddenly, you felt the greatest penetration of looking in your direction: Claudia Pina looked at you as if she knew all your secrets, giving you chills.

She smiled a huge and mischievous smile, raised her arm and waved it, calling you over.

Before you went, the only thing you observed was Mapi's embarrassed and awkward manner, grumbling at the two spanish women for calling you.

You thought for seconds before taking the step to go there. A whirlwind of thoughts ran through your mind, like a river heading straight for the waterfall.

What if you are a nuisance to her? What if she leaves the moment you get there?

You were very worried about the relationship with someone you don't even are intimate with.

You worry about the image you give to a person that don't even want to be your friend.

Thus, your heart began to run a marathon from the moment you started your very slow steps towards Mapi León.

Maybe you were afraid of hurting her, but at the same time yourself. As if your feelings were bubbling for the defender and you didn't want to ruin everything.

In your peripheral vision, the only notable details were María closing her notebook as quickly as a middle school student after the last bell, Claudia and Ona smiling goofily and pointing at the defender.

❝ What was it? ❞ Those were your first words when you reached the other side of the locker room, completely looking away from Mapi and just focusing on the other two.

❝ You're the only one on the team who hasn't seen Mapi's drawings, right? ❞ Claudia gave the first word, pushing León's shoulder with her elbow.

You didn't even bother to answer correctly, just opening a painful smile.

❝ Yes, I think so. ❞

After you responded, Mapi frowned, rolling her eyes. This only made you more certain that León actually hated you.

❝ But there's no need to show it. I mean, I'm not interested. ❞ They were the stupidest words that came out of your mouth.

The shine in Mapi's eyes slowly faded with each word that left your lips, the spanish woman's fingers ran to the back of her neck, uncomfortable. At this point, you should be sure that you almost hurt the girl.

❝ Don't be like that. Come on Mapi, show it. ❞ Ona finally said something in the midst of the discomfort of that conversation, lightly patting the other spanish woman on the head.

❝ I'll show you later, I need to pack my things. ❞ Maria came up with the most false excuse possible, since her things were almost one hundred percent ready. León's fingers rested on the slap, giving Ona a dirty look.

Your eyes fell on Claudia and Ona, indignant at all of this.

But you didn't know why. It wasn't as if the lack of communication between two companions would cause such great discomfort.

There was something more, you could feel it. Such something else that even Ona hides from you.

❝ Dios mío, esto es horrible. You two look like children who don't know how to talk to each other. ❞ (Oh my god, this is horrible.) Claudia gave her opinion amidst the silence.

❝ Son como dos chicas enojadas. ❞ (They're like two stupid girls. ) Batlle added.

Mapi stood up delicately, pulling the bag that was previously on the floor to the bench and opening it. ❝ Could you two shut up and get out of here, wouldn't you? ❞

The spontaneous rudeness really took you by surprise, mainly because the defender was staring at the other two, but not at you.

Pina raised her hands in defense, expressing a mere comical sadness on her face. ❝ Right. ❞

The same thing for Ona, who reached for the strap of her sports bag and put it on her left shoulder. ❝ Come on, Claudia. And don't be stupid with [reader]. ❞

❝ Que se jodan ustedes dos. ❞ (Fuck you two.) Mapi grumbled as she mock-rifled through her clothes.

Ona grabbed Claudia's arm and pulled her tightly to her feet, slowly dispersing herself from you and Mapi over time, killing the last few minutes. ❝ See you later, [reader]. ❞

Your eyes screamed for help to leave together, following the two girls until they left the main door.

Okay, now you were alone with the girl you were most afraid of.

Gradually, some people and groups would leave within minutes. Silence now, which had previously been scattered conversations, was prevailing, and that was delicious on the one hand.

After all, you loved being alone at times like this. But not with Maria.

You continued standing until Mapi offered you the bench next to her, and you did so. When you laid eyes on the spanish woman, you noticed her fingers pressing against her own temples, circling fingerprints there.

❝ I'm sorry about them. They are two idiots. ❞ León murmured as she took her fingers back to the bag, closing the zipper.

❝ Alright, no problem. I'm used to it. ❞ You responded with a typical defensive tone, unaccustomed to this type of conversation with her.

Your fingers tapped upper thigh, nervous and anxious, waiting for some miracle.

Momentarily, the spanish woman's brown globes rested on you, followed by a big sigh.

❝ I'm sorry if I'm stupid with you. And it's also bad if I didn't show you the drawings, it's just that— ❞ The defender was interrupted when Patri shouted her name.

❝ Hey, Mapi! ❞ The spanish woman appeared through the door of the main hallway. ❝ Can you check for me if my boots are dropped on the field? ❞

Maria looked at you with a roll of her optics, also accompanied by a tiny and shy smile. ❝ I'll be right back. ❞

The spanish woman slowly went to the gate that connected the changing room and the field, leaving you there freely in the area.

A dead silence remained there, there was no one else but the two of you inside that locker room, and now, only you.

Your body was still warm from training, but it could be for countless reasons, maybe because of your sudden meeting with Mapi, because of the fear of everything that happens in other conversations, happening now.

Eyes slowly took in every detail of the locker room: the ceiling, the floor, all the other stalls and even your bag on the other side.

But your orbs left for your side, where Mapi's unopened bag accidentally was. And of course, the damn sketchbook.

No, no. This is terrible, a lack of privacy. Your desire to leaf through that notebook was greater, but you should be aware.

It was only a matter of time before Mapi came back and finally opened that notebook, there was no point in leafing through it before then.

But despite everything, you were a very, very curious person.

❝ Damn. ❞ You muttered to yourself, intertwining your fingers so that you unconsciously wouldn't reach for the notebook.

But, well... Your eyes darted from side to side, making sure Maria wasn't there.

Your hand rested on the notebook, at the same time your heart accelerated so quickly as a result of your comportment. You should go back.

Slowly, you opened it enough so you could peek at the drawings. Incredibly, they were drawings of outlooks and Mapi's cats.

Despite everything, it wasn't that bad. ❝ Damn. ❞ You mumbled.

Suddenly, a folded sheet of paper fell from the middle of the pages of the notebook, falling to the floor. Your face produced a confused expression until the moment you reached the sheet.

At the same time that you were almost putting the sheet back from where it had fallen, you unfolded it.

Your heartbeat increased from the moment you caught sight of your name written there, along with a drawing of yourself and several doodles in the surrounding area.

Initials together, stick drawings of the two of you together that you were sure Claudia and Ona had scribbled, your name was written in every color there was.

There, maybe you realized why Mapi never showed you the notebook. Why Mapi hated being by your side when she was with the girls.

You could feel your face burn, turning red little by little, until it was like a pepper.

Immediately, you threw your hands up to your face, along with the sheet. You breathed once, twice and three times until you understood the situation.

❝ Shit. ❞ You mumbled to yourself with a muffled tone, still with your face hidden in your hands.

Your body slowly slid down the cabin wall, rethinking all the impressions you always had of Mapi.

You folded the sheet back and hid it in the notebook again.

Suddenly, Maria's figure slowly appeared in the locker room, mainly due to the sound of her footsteps.

Your torso rose, you became so desperate that you completely forgot to let go of the notebook in your hand.

Mapi slowly stopped walking and stopped in the middle of the locker room the moment her eyes fell on your hand with the notebook.

Slowly, her lips opened ready to say something. However, the spanish's internal desperation probably prevented this.

❝ I didn't see anything, I swear. ❞ Was the only thing you could say before throwing the notebook back onto the bench and waving your hands in defense.

Maria completely changed her route, walking quickly towards you. The moment she reached you, the player grabbed your hands and squeezed.

❝ Puedo explicarlo, en serio. ❞ (I can explain it, seriously.) Mapi stuttered between words and even forgot to say them in english.

The spanish woman's face didn't even bother to hide her embarrassment. You could feel the player's fingers trembling and of course, the strong desire to cry.

❝ I thought it was cute. ❞ In the midst of all the tension, these were your stupid words. Giving a short smile, which perhaps calmed León.

❝ What? ❞ Mapi asked, raising one of her eyebrows.

❝ The drawing. ❞

❝ But you said you didn't see anything. ❞ Maybe you didn't expect her to be so naive.

❝ I'm not going to lie, I saw everything. ❞ You answer with a defensive intonation, after all, you had no idea what would happen from now on. ❝ Even those scribbles on the sid— ❞

❝ That was the girls idea. ❞ Mapi justified it so quickly, was probably true.

It was at that moment that you realized that María León was not angry or disgusted with you. Mapi was actually in love with you and was ashamed to admit it.

This all explained the insults and scandals she made whenever the girls played with her. You were the concern of all the jokes.

❝ Right. First breathe. ❞ You advised the spanish girl to calm down, after all, she was shaking more than anything.

❝ Let me explain, please. I don't want you to get it wrong. ❞ Mapi begged to hold an explaination.

❝ Go ahead. ❞

❝ I'm not some kind of stalker, okay? I only drew you because, well… Because I like you and I thought you were pretty. ❞ The defender gets confused in her own words.

You were sure that wasn't what she wanted, Mapi didn't want to confess like that stupid way.

❝ But I completely understand if you think I'm crazy like that... ❞ Mapi slowly closed her eyes, trying to throw all the despair inside. ❝ Dios mío, ¿qué carajo estoy diciendo? ❞ (Oh my god, what the fuck am I saying?)

❝ Hey, it's okay... I guess. ❞ You tried to calm down from the moment you felt León's fingers slowly slip from your hands.

Your mind enfolded the sight of Mapi in front of you, it was the only thing you could pay attention to.

Heart felling affliction, a feeling full of pity for the whole situation that Maria went through made you think a lot.

While you had the wrong impression of her, Mapi couldn't control own feelings.

❝ I don't know what to say about all this. ❞ You produced a sentence where you could try to be understandable with it. ❝ I thought you hated me. ❞

❝ What? Why?! ❞ León was really shocked.

❝ Huh… You always sounded or looked ignorant to me. But it wasn't bad, I had the wrong impression. ❞ Your lips moved automatically, everything you kept about her these two years finally escaped.

Mapi gave a short smile, perhaps your words sounded funny. ❝ Yo nunca debí contarles a Ona y Claudia sobre ti. ❞ (I should never have told Ona and Claudia about you.) The spanish woman muttered to herself, but you still understood.

❝ And now knowing that you like me was such a turning point. ❞ You explained yourself without letting go of Mapi's hands for a second. ❝ By the way, about that… ❞

❝ No need to explain yourself, I'll understand if you don't reply— ❞

❝ No. I want it. I mean, I think you won my heart after seeing your drawings. ❞ Your typical comedic tone caused few laughs between the two of you.

❝ And also, it really hurt me to get the impression that you hated me. I've been making you a fool all this time. ❞ You continued.

Mapi León paid attention to every word that left your lips. There, you noticed how the player stopped shaking and stuttering, finally taking comfort.

❝ No. I understand, I would have that impression too if I saw all of this. ❞

❝ But I hope we can go back and start over from scratch. ❞ You looked for the solution.

Despite everything, Mapi was very understandable with words, she just needed time to express herself.

Suddenly, León's brown orbs looked to the side, perhaps worried about something. ❝ I think we better go, I need to tell Patri about the boots. ❞

Mapi let go of your hands, and for a moment you didn't like that feeling. The spanish woman's fingerprints grabbed the famous intriguing notebook, putting it back in her bag.

Initially she carried the bag on her shoulder, waiting for you to do the same. Your feet lifted and strained toward your own bag, but immediately returned to Mapi's side.

❝ If you want to start from scratch, come with me. I'll stop at a coffee shop before heading home. ❞ León opened a genuine smile, extending her right hand towards you.

You got the signal, and you did it. Your long fingerprints met Mapi's, intertwining them.

❝ Yes, please. ❞

Maybe you should leave everything in the hands of time and, gingerly, the two of you would transform disagreements into affection.

Gradually, your relationship with Mapi stopped being lack of love and became the fruit of devotion. Walking alongside her was the best opportunity for that.

❝ ¡Quiero un frappuccino, por favor! ❞ (I'd like a frappuccino, please!) You used the spanish words that you knew, asking with a great enthusiasm. After all, from now you would use that dialect a lot more.

Really more.

#woso #barça femeni #mapi león #fc barça #spain wnt #mapi leon imagine #mapi leon #mapi león x reader #mapi leon x reader #maría león #fcb femení x reader #barcelona femeni x reader

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zombholic · 6 months

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TATTOOS & ETC. — abby anderson

summary — y/n visits las vegas for vacation before college starts, she gets her first big tattoo piece there only to meet the owner of the shop.

description — tattoo artist!abby, poc fem!reader, obviously older abby, modern au, cant write smut so dont expect it, and ofc its gonna be a long story.

— 🗝️　 ◦ ✺ 　 💿　 ⟢ —

“So I booked a tattoo appointment for tomorrow, the artist had someone cancel and she filled me in.” You smiled talking to your friend who came along with you on your vacation before university.

“Wait it’s that wrap around tattoo you wanted on your thigh right?” She asked as she took a sip of her alcoholic drink.

“Yes, dude you know how long I’ve been wanting that for!” The piece was gonna break your bank account but your girl math said it was basically free since it would be on for the rest of your life.

The morning of the appointment you decided to wear baggy sweats and a black wife pleaser, couldn’t risk anything rubbing against your new collection to your body.

You walked inside hearing the little bell chime as the door opened, you walked up to the small desk to meet a young girl with tattoos scattered along her arms and neck.

“Hey, appointment or walk in?” She smiled cheerfully looking up from her computer and at you.

“Appointment with Jasmine, I’m y/n” You leaned forward on the desk returning a small smile, she had you follow her to the back and had you sit on the chair telling you that Jasmine will meet you in a minute.

“Hey Y/n! How you feeling?” A short masculine woman sat in her rolling chair sliding over to you with toothiest smile, a small gem glued on her canine that blinged with the light.

“Feeling a little nervous but i’ve been wanting this tattoo for a year now, kinda stalked your page and I love the way you draw floral pieces.” You complimented her work, she was truly talented.

She had asked you to remove your sweats, now in your boy shorts and laying on your side after she applied the stencil. The buzzing of the gun started making you nervous but you being you kept your cool, the needle now digging into your plush thighs had you clenching your jaw.

You went on your phone trying to distract yourself from the painful spots she was doing, you heard the bell from the front door jingle followed by a couple of greetings before a tall, muscular woman who was covered in art walk into the back where you were.

“Hey Jazz.” She greeted your artist, her voice made you want to squeeze your legs together.

“Hey Abby, what’re you doing here? isn’t it your day off?” Jasmine paused for a moment to talk to Abby before focusing back on you. She asked you to lay on your back and spread your legs so she could finish the inner thigh part.

“This part will hurt so just tell me if you need anything ok?” The artist reassured you, nodding your head she came back down with the needle.

“Fuck, oh my god.” You bit down on your fist, squeezing your eyes shut, your chest heaving.

“I’m the owner dumbass, I have paperwork shit to do.” She chuckled, her blue eyes now on you and your tattoo.

“That’s a gorgeous piece.” Abby complimented, her giant arms crossing her chest as she now focused on your thigh.

“Yeah and it hurts like a motherfucker.” You giggled looking up at her.

Abby swore her heart started beating out her chest when she saw you look at her, she was definitely calling you the gorgeous piece she just couldn’t keep her eyes off you.

“Here hold my arm, I know how badly that part hurts.” You took her arm, digging your short nails into her forearm god for some reason she was turned on by you being in pain.

When the inner thigh part was finished you released your hand from Abby, quickly apologizing for hurting her.

“You’re fine sweetheart, didn’t even feel it.” A chuckle escaped her lips, winking at you before walking off to where you could assume was her office.

“Annnd you’re all done girl!” Your artist wrapped your thigh, looking in the body mirror you couldn’t stop cheesing.

“You are literally so fucking talented what?” Your comment made her blush.

“Gonna leave without letting me see?” Abby’s voice came from behind, you looked up at the mirror to see the blonde walk up behind you.

“She can have my whole bank account” You turned around to show her the beautiful piece wrapped around your thigh.

“Here, lemme walk you to the front.” Abby smiled as you had slid back into your sweats and walked over to the desk.

Abby leaned forward while on the computer, you would honestly thank her if she punched you in the face right now.

“Want a picture sweetheart?” She joked, a cocky grin plastering her face as she looked at you.

“I think I want your number more.” You impressed her with your boldness, majority of people being so deathly afraid of her.

“Yes ma’am.” She licked her lips, taking your phone and adding her contact.

“I’ll text you the details for our date on Friday.” Abby laughed but she wasn’t joking, this was her asking you out and you happily accepted.

— 🗝️　 ◦ ✺ 　 💿　 ⟢ —

authors note — guys was this good … and do yall want another part EHEHEHEHE also like thank you @atomicami for basically inventing tattoo artist!abby 😩🫶🏼

#lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #abby anderson #the last of us ii #the last of us #tlou #abby anderson imagine #tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou abby #abby the last of us #abby x you #abby x reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson x y/n #tattoo artist!abby

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smuttyaf · 1 month

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The Ultimatum

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩.

wc; 14.2k | fifth part to the business

i can’t express how much i appreciate the love i’ve been getting from the series! so because of that, i decided to combine two parts together for this post (teehee) that means extra manipulative!h & extra smut. i hope you all enjoy!

tw: gaslighting, coercion, degradation, tad bit of edging, and bdsm. don’t read if it makes you uncomfy!!

Is it conceited for you to embrace the stares that wander over your appearance?

Men fit in muted suits and twinkling time pieces, letting their adventurous eyes drink in every stride of you entering the lively scenery. Cleavage bouncing with each step held by the floral stitched dress gracing your body in all the right places; slit down one side to reveal your smooth legs and expensive heels.

The warmth of Harry’s hand nestled along your waist has greedy eyes stab jealous daggers with each passing movement in the room. You can’t help the smirk that tugs along your lips. Even if all these men's eyes are set on you, Harry is the one who loves your look the most just as much as you love all his strategic ways.

The familiar scent of his cologne relaxes every nerve from being around his magnetic presence. He moves through the room with grace, head bowing every few moments acknowledging acquaintances and colleagues. Every stretch of skin over Harry drips class and elegance, from his styled curls to Saint Laurent suit, all you can do is admire him.

He clears his throat to draw your attention to him, peeling your chair open with eyes twinkling as you take your seat and let him position you better along the table.

Your gaze surveys the group of men before you, stern faces with loose smirks, it has knots tightening in your stomach. Harry's body rumbles next to you, turning your focus to him with a timid smile, your shy expression has his eye dropping into a wink, hands clasping together looking towards the men.

“Finally! He shows up!”

The circle breaks into laughter, you join in faintly at the sound. There’s a dealer set in the middle of the table continuing to shuffle the deck while distant chatter still fills your ears. Shoulders relax against the cushions of the stool, fingers curving over your pouch as your tongue runs along your bottom lip.

“C’mon, you know this city and it’s shit traffic,” Harry counters, fixing his cuff links while his feet rustle against the chair legs.

“If that’s what you want to call it.” Sneaky grin shining from the man parallel to you who stares at Harry.

The undertone of his comment sends blood to course furiously, cheeks beginning to warm as you sit up straighter in your chair, eyes trailing to the poker chips littering the table in different colours. It distracts the sound of Harry kissing his teeth with his hands drumming against the cushions of the decorative spread.

“Enough, are we playing or what?” He avoids, eyebrows peering up at the ginger employee shuffling the deck of cards.

“I’ll go for another round, how bout’ you Gio?” Bald man with tattoos all over his scalp looks towards the man at the end of the table.

He shrugs in return, his hand raising up for a waitress to trail towards the group. A bouncy brunette appears as Gio looks around the table.

“Marcallan for the men… and you darling, what would you like?” Nervous smile spreads on your lips from being addressed. Finger reaching behind your ear to tuck hair away, sight flicking between Harry and his friend.

“Anything from the Château line, please.” Smiling at him and the waitress, Gio runs his tongue over his teeth as he nods his head.

“And that wine for the lady, thank you dear.” Hand going into his breast pocket, pulling bills out and gracing it to her.

Your eyes turn back towards Harry, he nods his head towards Gio, appreciation caught in their gaze before they’re looking towards cards flying across the table for their own deck.

“I’m feeling lucky tonight,” Harry cracks, arms slinging along the spread with a charming smile looking over his group of friends.

“I wouldn’t speak so soon,” Slim man with long nose twirls his empty glass of ice cubes, cheery grin spread along his features.

“Yeah, so far Johnny is leading this,” Deep voice of the pudgy man next to Harry laughs. It barks in grunting breaths with his face going red. Your view on your boyfriend whose expression reads disdain.

The snicker next to you breaks your attention. Short black hair gelled with hazel eyes dancing in the light, his smirk is sinister being satisfied with his winning streak. Gaze catches with yours, looking over your features with his tongue peeking out and running across his lip. The exchange stirs your sight to Harry, nails curling into the leather of your bag swallowing heavily.

You didn’t know what to expect when Harry invited you to this fundraiser for the evening, but this definitely wasn’t it.

Italian accents and expensive apparel hold your vision when you look around the table. Whether silver and gold shine off their bodies, every peek of their appearance radiates money. All men are groomed and styled with sophistication that adds to the ambiance of the room.

Voluminous jewels hang off the chandelier, waiters walk around holding trays of food or flutes of champagne, guests roaming amongst the floor carrying the flow of the party. The scene is one of glitz and glamor; sparkling liquor, upbeat band, and everyone dressed to the nines.

It’s a beautiful sight of the finer things in life, women flashing their magnificent accessories while men flaunt their luxurious suits and polished dress shoes. A breathless sigh slips past your lips with spine flexing recognizing people from local television.

Despite working at Jasper’s and always encountering famous men, you never got used to them being in your presence. Even if it was dancing for them, the fact you either grew up watching them on the big screen or just reading about them in the weekly news, it still surprises you how you’re able to surround yourself with popular figures.

“Gonna introduce us to your friend here?” Voice beside yourself questions. It rings your ears as your focus remains on the green table.

“Right? Styles, where are your manners?” Teasing tone adding into the space. The attention being on you stirs your heart to pick up in pace, shaky fingers and fluttering lashes look back up at the group.

“This is Y/N, my girlfriend,” Harry's hand finds itself on your naked thigh, sight looking over your timid frame as he smoothes it down the expanse while all the men study your appearance. “So don’t stare too long.”

The night unfolds with drinks flowing and locker room chatter, nasty jokes with suggestive winks leave the poker table a roaring mess. Amused hands clapping at men winning more money or spilling humor. Your once darting eyes and racing heart calms down, acknowledging every word spoken and laughing at every dirty pun. It’s relieving how funny and easy-going the group of his friends are, they carry you into conversations and even get you to join the game.

With the alcohol running through your system it has the hours spent at the party go by in a breeze. Harry’s touch nestles itself by your side, view checking on you enjoying yourself. His reassuring touch and attentive demeanor increases the affection between you, it has you smiling at him genuinely throughout the party appreciating him.

But beside those nurturing moments, you learn in the hours spent over colourful chips and liquor more about the men Harry involves himself with. What you grasp from their innuendos are gruesome jokes about beating someone to the bone or how pleasing it is to see their oppositions dead. Your heart swells with sadness, not only that they find it funny but that Harry was laughing along. It wasn’t amusing to you as it was to him.

That would be the moment you drown out the truth and toss back the rest of your wine, and by the time the glass touches the coaster Harry orders another, pleased you’re compliant with the conversation. Deflecting gaze and clenching heart wanders amongst the mingling people and jazz band. It’s in your tispy state you notice luring eyes of women set on Harry, drinking him in with all his glory that it sends a surge of jealousy through you. Fingers tighten around his as your sight focuses back on him, glossy eyes and straight teeth shine with ignorance about the brutal truth of the relationship.

By the time you’re on your fourth glass, the group settles into calm crackles of past memories; whether it’s about stumbling upon a glory hole or reminiscing about life back in Italy, it subsides your slow pacing heart from the previous conversation.

“So I’m tired right, I got blood gushing from my head and I just busted my ass four blocks to get to Harry’s. I barge into his place, he’s there with Kenzo and Charlie watching sports, you know how this man is always watching sports right!” You giggle in amusement invested with the story.

“And I tell him; I need your help, I can’t tell you what it is, you can never ask me about it later, and we’re gonna hurt some people, and Harry, completely unfazed as ever goes, whose car are we taking?” The group erupts in laughter, as the man you learn to be Mateo, recounts his story.

Harry laughs with nails scratching against your skin, the view of him soothes yourself with warmth adoring him. Curls in waves combine with his amused laughter, skin folding by his eyes completely entertained with the story. The rowdy laughter carries on until there’s someone patting on his shoulder, salt and pepper roots with thick beard catching your sight.

“Styles! Nice to see you!”

Your jaw immediately tenses, nose wrinkles and cheeks blossom under the lights. Teeth clench down on each other as your heart begins to burn, this certainly wasn’t someone you expected to see tonight. Christian Bale in front of you and shaking Harry’s hand as if…

“Christian!” Harry cheers, going to greet him. At the same time his grip tightens around your knee your fingers trail towards your mouth, teeth nibbling on your nail with nerves raking through.

It’s in your movement that your familiar client catches your eyes, flash of surprise crossing his features before a pleased smile spreads.

“Where are you going? Stay for a game,” Harry chimes, hand gesturing to the poker table. The fact he’s even proposing that causes your fingers to curl into his anxiously.

The gesture is noticeable to him with gaze surveying your nervous appearance, before looking back to Christian who shakes his head.

“No, no, I was just on my way out.” Nodding towards the exit doors. Decline of the offer has Harry bow his head in acknowledgment, straightening up in his chair. “It was nice to see you before our meeting.”

“Likewise, get home safe.” Harry concludes the conversation with a genuine smile.

You’re extremely grateful that he passes up on the offer as he leaves towards the exit. Shallow breaths course through, searching eyes watch with teeth tearing away from acrylic, you draw your hand down and share a passive smile.

If you could wipe the sweat that trickles down your temple as if an sitcom, you would. Your heart never stops its thundering beats, discovering your boyfriend and regular client being friends? Colleagues? Whatever it is, it doesn’t sever the ache that grows in your chest.

“I think we should call it a night too,” Harry wonders, head twisting to look at you with a charming smile. “How does that sound?”

With the amount of liquor in your system and having witness that scene before you, the need to feel your blankets and its comforting material is one you pleasantly desire. The ends of your lips twist upwards as you nod.

So, a few minutes after Harry orders the valet for his Porsche you both bid the group farewells. Each man stands shaking Harry’s hand while they bring you in for a hug, respectable actions that leave you fond of the gesture.

The drive back to his penthouse is small talk about how the night went and if you enjoyed yourself. In the quiet space, your sight is caught on the moving buildings passing by in blurs, mind stuck on Mr. Bale while your voice conceals the uneasiness coursing through.

Christian has been your client for two years now, you see him every other week if he’s not on vacation or filming. Despite him being your regular, there is a cordial connection between you both; times he will confess to you problems in his life after too many drinks, or respecting your decision to not push the boundaries of your work position. Even though there’s a non-disclosure agreement binding the both of you, should you tell Harry your relationship with him?

The thoughts brewing are ones that have your back ruffling against the leather seats. How many of your other clients are connected to Harry? You’re so dizzy from the alcohol in your system, you can’t recall if you glazed over any at the party. But it doesn’t even matter in the end, you’re in distress regardless, the possibility of your clients having connections with him but don’t know who you belong to as they watch you dance. A shiver of guilt courses through.

By the time you get home, Harry and you undress and slip between the arms of each other, and by the time he’s completely wrapped up in you, you forget the man that races your mind. In the morning, Harry is already out the door leaving you to wander around his penthouse all afternoon before heading to your own home, caring for Cleo until it’s time to get ready for work.

Your week goes back to what it regularly is; upkeep of your appearance, different decorative robe, and withering under Harry’s touch. It completely slips your mind about your encounter with Christian, going about your life smiling at the postman from another bouquet or spending your time lodging around Harry’s living room until he gets home.

It’s another one of those days, legs crossed over each other with a magazine in your lap. Eyes drifting over the newest pieces in the Fendi collection while The Real Housewives drags along in the background. The chime of the elevator rings in the space notifying you of Harry’s arrival.

His dress shoes echo heavily amongst the polish floor as they cross the room, the severe sound of his paste has your head trialing up from the glossy booklet.

“Hi baby,” Cheerful voice greeting him, your eyes watch him make his way towards the bar.

Harry decides to ignore you with lips flat and jaw tensing. It’s when seeing the sight of him that you swallow heavily, and when glasses smash against the counter top it makes sweat begin to crease in your palms.

“Is everything okay?” Are your next words, nails curling into the shiny paper as you continue to watch him. He walks across the room, same hash footsteps that halt with his body sitting next to you.

Teeth bite down into your bottom lip as you continue to roam over Harry’s features, it reeks pure anger. Your heart pounding in your chest with toes curling in on themselves trying to control the stress overtaking you.

Maybe it’s another bad day at work? Maybe Johnny pissed him off like he always does? Maybe his anger isn’t directed towards you? So, with that glimmer of thought, your hand stretches out to place the magazine on his lap. Nervous smile peeking through as you look towards him.

“Isn’t this coat beautiful, I wonder if they have it in store?” You suggest, gaze catching between his forest eyes and the brown fur coat embroidered with the Fendi logo.

Harry looks towards the magazine, sight roaming over the image before his hand is closing the book and slapping it onto the center table. The ringing of the glass rattles every vein pulsing through. His actions focus your attention with tears beginning to swell.

He stares at the flowers adorning the surface, hand raising the glass to his lips as he swallows back whisky. The tension in the room is thick and uncomfortable, the expression written over his face is one you’ve never witnessed before. It’s why your nails curl into your pantyhose already leaving faint tears.

Harry clears his throat when pulling the drink away from his lips, tongue peeking out to wet flesh just as his eyes lock with you. Connection holding an eerie exchange that has your mouth run dry.

“You know when you joined me for the party Sunday night, I wondered what made you so flustered when Christrian introduced himself.” The mention of your client has your throat squeeze, tears now stinging your vision.

“Still, I thought nothing of it. He has his fame with his movies, his starlight, whatever… you see I thought that was the reason but no, no, no, that wasn’t why you got flustered, now is it?” Your chest now rises quickly with each breath.

Harry’s mad, screw that, mad is not even the word; he’s vexed, furious, absolutely outraged with eyes wide and each word coming out in an angry spew. The sight is haunting compared to the one you’re so use to.

“Since you don’t know, Christian and I are invested in the same stock, sometimes we have meetings going over bullshit graphs and other stupidness to fund. And when I thought that our usual meetings would go how they normally do, I was surprised when he brought you up.” Your skin is practically radiating more heat than the sun at the moment, you’re caught and sit in front of him in complete shock. “Asking me how I could’ve possibly been able to spend a night with you, how he’s been trying to… well, I don’t even want to say.”

“Harry I’m so sorry—”

“—Oh! So now you’re sorry, not when he smiled in my face and shook my hand?”

You’re the reason why he’s enraged and looking at you with such shame. A storm of tears pounds behind your eyes with nails now ruining your stockings, it was taking everything in you not to cry in front of him.

“Harry, I can’t say anything, I’m under contract.”

Those words have a bitter laugh floating in the air, condescending and threatening that your gaze falls towards the leather cushions. The ice cubes in his glass rattle against each other straining the atmosphere.

“Choose right now, your job or me.” Eyes go wide as they look back up at him. Your mouth wobbles as you swallow nervously.

“What?” Brows push together as your fingers unclench themselves around your knees.

“Right now, choose.” Heart pounds against your chest with thunder, tears begging to fall over your waterline as you look at him in surprise at the ultimatum.

All Harry does is stare back with his intense gaze and clenching hand. The emotions coursing through nearly make you faint, this was all too much, especially right now.

“B —Baby, Harry, I think we should just talk about this,”

“—That’s your answer.” Cutting you off with eyebrows high in question. Once again, your expression wavers with confusion and sadness. Mind still trying to process the events happening.

Your stuttering face has Harry pulling away from your presence with another amused laugh, hand slamming his glass down on the table before he’s leaning forward. The clattering objects make your body shake and tears begin to trickle from your eyes, fingers leave your legs to wipe away the sadness roaming down your cheeks.

You watch Harry begin to loosen his tie, knees raising him off the couch as he moves across the room again. His motions have you immediately following after, heels clicking behind his rushed steps trying to catch up to him.

“Get all your shit and get out!” Harry sneers, stomping up the stairs with yourself following behind in anxious beats.

His words have your heart tearing in half, cry leaving your lips as you try to ignore the water blurring your version and trailing down your skin.

“What? No!” Grabbing at Harry’s hand once reaching the landing, the gesture has his fingers jerk away from yours and continue his venture towards the bedroom.

Marching down the hall until swinging the door open, immediately going to your side of the dresser and beginning to toss your shirts and blouses across the floor, some trailing onto the bed as he empties your things.

“Stop! What are you doing!” You sob, bending to pick up the clothing and trying to shove them back in its place.

“You want to stay at Jasper’s! Fine, go ahead! But I won’t be with you anymore!” His voice booms over you, stinging words cutting deep that has another wave of tears shredding.

“I never said that!” You weep, hands trying to collect his who continues to throw your things. Actions so rushed and furious that he’s not even paying attention to your crying frame.

“It’s clear!” Harry tugs another drawer open tossing all your garments across the room.

“Well I’m not going!” Fingers catching onto the fabric in his hands that leave you both fighting over the piece.

“I don’t want you here! Get out!” Harry's voice roars over the sob that leaves your distraught frame.

You never heard Harry this way, and you’ve never seen him this angry either, and the fact he’s throwing you away as if nothing is leaving you completely broken. Every moment with him has been special since you met, and now the fucked up reveal of your secrets is shattering all that you once were. It’s stomping on your heart and playing in the smashed pieces.

You’re sure the eyeliner and mascara you put on this morning is running all over your cheeks, still your chest heaves heavy breaths as your hands trail up his arms to try and halt his movements. This is not what you want, this is the last thing you expected to happen, and it’s more devastating that it’s unfolding like this.

“H —Harry, please, just stop, you can’t mean this.” Soft voice wavering as you tug on his blazer, nails digging into his skin roughly to get attention.

And it does, his sight cold and jaw clenching from the view of your appearance. The draw down your frame looks as if he’s ashamed, like he doesn’t even want to look at you right now. It’s the sight that makes you want to apologize over and over again.

“How is she in bed? Is she as sweet as I imagine?”

Crack lips part, lashes fluttering with brows drawing together; all your features resemble pure shock at the reiteration of Christian’s words. Now you stand in this room that once held such love and affection be swallowed by heartbreak. Chanel, Prada, Armani, gifts that Harry presented for your own space in his life; they now grace the floor as if a memory long forgotten.

“She always told me she never does those things, kinda’ offended she didn’t reveal to me her added profession.”

Olive eyes shine with distaste looking at your withering appearance. Jaw tensing and fingers still clenching around your shirt. Another shaky breath courses through, examining eyes and twitching mouth not knowing what to say.

“You don’t know how badly I wanted to beat the livin’ shit out of him. The way he describes you, talks about you. I had to bite my tongue hearing everything.” Nails relax against his arms with your lips pressing tightly together. “I’m disgusted.”

His words aim to bruise, leaving sadness to blossom in the hollows of your heart. Everything is falling apart right in front of your eyes and all you can do is let tears continue to run. Why didn’t you tell him? Why didn’t you say something?

“So choose, Jasper’s or me.”

“You.”

Nodding up at him, the ends of your mouth tug into a timid smile with your hands drawing down to cradle his fingers. His nostrils flare still angry, still completely furious.

The answer doesn’t ease the tension in the room, instead it heightens your decision, the one you should’ve said before fumbling over your words. Shining rays of light pass through the window, brightness gracing over the clothes flung across the space amidst the battlefield of sadness and rage.

“I —I choose you, I’ll leave Jasper’s, I —I’m sorry.” Fingers encasing around his as you step deeper into his presence. Harry retreats into the dresser, chest flexing with grip contracting around the shirt in hand.

Cold eyes don’t break sight over your sniffling appearance. Intimidation radiates from his towering posture that cradles your worried frame. Even fully clothed, Harry eyes undress every vulnerable twitch that courses through, lashes batting up at him heartbroken and needy, always so needy.

“You quit tomorrow.” He demands, hands dropping the garment and gripping the underside of your arm. “You’ll move out of your apartment, stay with me and be my good little doll. Is that clear?” Now it’s your turn for your body to tense. Tear stained cheeks and paint smeared eyes bow under Harry’s gaze.

“Now I don’t want this happening again. I shouldn’t have to do this to show you what you really want.”

His grip over your arm has you stumbling backwards towards the bed, knees cushioning your seated position as Harry’s other hand goes towards your neck, holding your gaze as he looks over you.

The room captures two lovers; one manipulative with his calculating actions, while the other is victim to the love prayed over with affection and money. His behavior is overseen by your emotions so easily embraced by him. It’s why you stare at him in virtue despite everything that has transpired in your life already, the one that’s now completely devoted to Harry.

“I hate to make you cry… but you look so pretty.”

Thumb spreads over your skin as his head cranes down, lips gazing over each other as his eyes continue to examine your hesitant frame. He loves the way your breath quivers as he moves closer, body shifting against his grip as he looms over your frame in complete awe of you.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. You know I’ll take care of you, I always do… and with Jasper’s, that place holds you back, you know that, don’t you?” Fingers shaking your head playfully with his sight still never trailing off your bitten lip and doe eyes. “You’ll love it here, keep my bed nice and warm. Won’t you, darling?”

“Yes.”

Though agreeing with everything Harry says, the feeling of your heart trying to repair itself cracks even more at the obligations being set in place. Restrictions now apply over your life to be with him. It’s scary, and alarming, and you should really catch your breath and think over everything he’s saying but you don’t, not with his hand cradling your skin and eyes drawing you in.

“No more dancing, no more clients, just me.”

Nodding your head again with deep breath releasing, your fingers curl around the material of your velvet dress. Heart paces with sorrow realizing you won’t be wrapped up in your long tulle robe, receive generous tips, or have your girl talk surrounded by vanity lights.

“If I find out about another one I’ll kill them. Swear to god I will.” Chest quivers as his words float along your face. Intense stare watching the way you swallow heavily and bow your head at him.

“I’m sorry.” Soft voice slipping past your lips as the storm behind your eyes calms down. Fingers that once ruffled against your dress rise up and close around his wrist, lashes batting up at him with a shaky smile.

“Only you, it’s only ever been you.”

Harry tightens his grip around your jaw. Sight still surveying your anxious frame, his other hand runs down your face before tucking hair away. The ends of his lips tug up at the same time he’s shaking your head playfully, again.

Just like always, his demeanor radiates satisfaction at your attention. Heart growing fond of you surrendering yourself, complying to every requirement. Harry falls more in love with the way he can control you, how you’re now his entirely. He’s happy knowing that he’ll come home to your pretty self waiting for him and ready for anything he proposes, all because you’re just that dedicated to please him.

It’s why his head lowers, lips connecting against your bitten ones. The grip over your jaw sliding down your neck, rubbing the skin roughly as tongues link together to dance. Ignorance of the heated scene passing over both of your minds while his hand tightens.

The bourbon on his tongue adds to the intoxicating sensation that runs through you whenever you taste him. It’s the type that you want passing through your own veins just loving it that much, loving him that much. Harry cares about you, isn’t it obvious? He wants what’s best for you, that’s why he’s making you leave Jasper’s and have you live with him to spend the rest of your days.

His hand curls around your neck, mouths parting as his sight goes back to examining your face. There’s still pink roaming across the hollows of your eyes, cheeks a mess of black liner, and daze still twinkling up at him.

“Show me how sorry you are.”

Darting sight looks between his smirk and preying self, knees pushing off the bed to fall to the floor with connection never breaking. His hands follow every motion of your head as it nods at him, your fingers going to his belt and immediately beginning to undo it.

Thick bulge pressed tightly against his zipper revealing how turned on he got at the heated exchange. Your hand releases him from his boxers while your other tugs the rest of his slacks down, mouth not waiting to accept him graciously. Shallow taste of salt on your tongue as it twirls around his head, eyes blinking up as you apologize in his favorite way.

Lips bubble with spit as you roam down his length, clear fluid coating him in the rush of your descent, the urgent need to display how sorry you are shows.

Your mouth parts lowering yourself around him, tongue laying flat along the underside craving out every pulsing vein beneath erect skin. The warmth of you wrapping around his cock has a relieving sigh pass through him.

“Be my perfect girl.” Fingers massaging your scalp as you continue to swallow him down. “Show me how sorry you are.”

Harry watches every bob of your head, plump lips sucking him and feeling your throat relax and accept him effortlessly. Connection shimmers with obedience as you prove to him how guilty you feel for thinking you wouldn’t choose him over anything.

Acknowledging his comments your mouth descends down his cock even further, neck contracting around his length as your nose tickles his pelvis, moan stifles against him at the way he stretches your throat. The effect of him between your lips already has your pussy throbbing, wetness beginning to coat your folds falling into his every tactic.

The hand placed on his thigh moves towards his dick, enclosing around it and gliding with every bob of your head, added pleasure being received happily as his fingers curl into your locks.

“Just like that,” Harry coos, hips thrusting into your motions as you continue swallowing him down.

Shivers of delight course through happy you’re pleasing him. It’s reassuring hearing his groan over your movements. Knees shuffling across the floor, strands of hair shifting with every dip and saliva causing his cock to glisten in the light.

It’s beautiful how it shines, mini air bubbles roaming along the nerves pulsating along your tongue. It was a sight to see, a sight you adore. It’s why your body tries to contain yourself from the sparks igniting. You’re happy to apologize to him, happy to show him that he’s the only one for you.

The expressions of pleasure slipping from Harry uplifts your spirit, you’re back on his good side, and you want to remain there. The look of disgust that once crossed his face is one you never want to see again, especially his words. You’re supposed to be his good doll, not one to lie or deceive him. That’s why you’re on your best behavior, doing anything to prove yourself.

“I’ll do anything to show you that you’re the only one I want.” Fingers tightening around his length that has him groaning from the look over your face, eyes caught on your forgiving frame that he can’t help but smirk. Palms now hold your face up in his favorite place. “You always treat me so good, I’m sorry baby.”

Hand continues to roam down his cock in twists, easily sliding with spit as your gaze doesn’t break. Needy eyes and pouty lips, it’s Harry's favorite image of you; and with your makeup all streaked down your cheeks, he wants this moment to be photographed so he can save it in his wallet to show how devoted you are to pleasing him.

His grip over you halts your movements, fingers roughly carrying your face towards him as your knees flex with gasp falling from your lips, his actions have your hands contract and draw away.

“Show me.”

The words guide your movements to reach behind your back. Nails catching on your zipper to draw it down your frame. Fitted dress falling down your body as your heels are next, toes slipping out of your pumps and touching the heated wood, and with each movement of you shredding off your panties and stockings, Harry is there watching your every move while he strokes himself.

The soft skin of your curves sit on display for him to admire. Swelling breasts so perfect and round, thighs so deliciously smooth and begging to be in his hold. God, Harry is in love with you. Every vulnerable inch of yourself is exposed for his greedy eyes. It’s why he begins undressing himself; dress shoes kicking off, slacks joining the mess on the floor, and every button of his dress shirt revealing inked skin under your gaze.

“Turn around.”

Following his command, you do. Eyes staring at all your clothes thrown over the space, nails drawing down your thighs eagerly as you hear ruffling behind you.

“Get on the bed, face down.”

Legs bend, knees ruffling against the sheets while your spine curves in. The side of your face is comforted by your slick blouse as your hands reach out in front of you, fingers curling around loose garments with your pussy set on display.

Harry’s steps shift amongst the floor, palm sliding to your lower back shoving you deeper into the bed as the head of his cock drags down your creamy folds.

“Look so pretty like this baby.” Dick pushing past your lips and spreading you wide. Your mouth hangs open, a satisfied moan trailing into the air of Harry stretching you out with all his length. “I love when you tell me you’re sorry.”

Whimpers spill, head rotating in pleasure as your hips jerk with each pound of his. Harry draws out slowly before thrusting back in roughly, each strike filling your pussy just the way you like. It never mattered what position you found yourselves in, he was always reaching parts of you that had your toes curling, and the fact that he’s pounding away not even allowing you to adjust sends a greedy sensation through you.

Harry is using your pussy just the way you like; fucking you however he pleases like the doll you are to him. It’s exhilarating, it’s mind numbing, leaving you light headed and addicted to every strike opening you wide.

“That’s right… take my dick.” Deafening slap roaming against your ass. It has your teeth biting into the silk and push against his thrusts with adrenaline coursing through.

“Baby,” Nails curling tightly into your shirts, while his grip over your hips controls you to accept every hungry pound.

Harry surveys your jolting frame, flexing back and shoulders craning as your arms roam higher up the sheets. Fingers drag and curl around the piles of mess lying across the sheets, plump lips hanging open in adoration at his urgent thrusts.

You look so beautiful like this, are his immediate thoughts floating in his mind; the way you grant him pleasure within the depths of your body that he loves to sink into, so beautiful.

Every delicious sound of your voice crying out in a whimper or moan just drives his hips even more, hands slipping up your neck and shoving your head into the blouse, hungry growl leaving him as your eyes squeeze shut with your pussy quivering around him. God does he love you so much, don’t you see that? Don’t you feel it? With every rock of his hips don’t you feel the electric pulse of him, how he’s so hungry craving more of your sweetness.

It’s the smirk that carries across his lips with knowledge that you know, you have to. Because with every coat of your nectar sliding down and accepting his cock he can feel your walls tighten and release; skin folding between your brows, knuckles going white from your grip over the sheets, pussy accepting every assault that you admire so much. Yes, he’s sure you know.

“Tell me you’re sorry.” He demands, chest parallel to your shoulders as he mounts you into the bed.

Harry’s hips have your body bouncing into the springs, face squishing and wheezing sighs of air passing through the thin material of your top. He’s so intoxicating the way he fucks you into the bed and shows you were you belong.

“I’m sorry!” Moaning while your fingers drag down the bed in agony at the ticks of your climax crawling through your foot.

“I’m so, so, sorry,” Voice going hoarse as your thighs quiver, eyes fluttering open to see lace and silk engulf your vision.

“Mhm, don’t you want to be my good girl?” Thrusts never halting as he continues to pound away at your cervix.

“Yes, god, yes!” Head straining against his hold as your stomach clenches with nerves.

Harry continues going, erratic thrusts of his cock in your drenched pussy, the sound of his hips plummeting your backside meets with every groan and whimper trailing in the air. The sounds drawing from the room float all the way into the hallway, each other's appetite being fulfilled in the messy foundation of your relationship.

“That’s my perfect girl,” Harry hums, lips pressing into your bobbing head as you completely unravel around him.

Hypnotic pulses sting down your spine as your head twists in his hold, teeth bite into the sheets as your pussy quivers all around him. Chest heaves as your mind goes completely blank, every thought and emotion is wrapped in him, loving everything he does.

“Oh my god, Harry,” Whining while you go sore around him as he continues his torment.

“That’s it baby… I feel you.” He breathes into your ear, hand releasing around your neck, the hold of you around his cock adds to him moaning into your sweating skin. “So good for me, just the way I like.”

Hips slowly dive back in, motions changing from their rough propelling paste to affectionate loving strokes. So exhilarating and passionate as he feels your body go limp around him.

It’s in the way your mouth parts, salvia stringing between your plump lips that Harry groans heavily against you. The mess of your hair mattes against his, the smell of your shampoo filling his nose as your back ruffles against his chest. Ticking sensations coursing through still leaving you feeling drowsy with your climax consuming you.

The dazed expression crossing your face is a captivating site, one that has Harry spilling into you, long moan brushing over your face as he relaxes into your body. Two hearts in the same room trying to regulate their breathing as they come down from the adrenaline that once pierced you into the sheets.

You feel Harry go slack, cock slipping out as he rolls off your body. You still breathe in shaky breaths, waist falling into the mattress as your thighs ruffle against the garments with limbs twitching from the waves of your release still coursing through.

As your mind continues to wander itself through fog you don't realize Harry sitting up in bed and putting himself back together, feet shuffling across the floor as he walks around the bed frame.

The noise catches your attention first before the sight of him entering the bathroom, and even despite him just fucking you brutally into the sheets he still looks upset.

“Clean up this mess and get ready for dinner, reservation is for seven.” Is all he says, the bathroom door slamming shut ending further conversation, only meaning that your apology isn’t accepted.

For thirty minutes you sit across from each other and let silence eat you up. Nails picking the skin around your cuticles, teeth biting into flesh while Harry on the other hand is extremely relaxed. Poised, professional, and avoiding your presence as if you’re not even there.

It’s over dinner that you realize, no matter how many times you try to shine your pearly white teeth or strike up a conversation, if Harry is in a bad mood that means you suffer in the projection of his feelings.

You can’t even be surprised by his anger, it’s really what you expect. You lied for days just for him to find out from Christian himself, and to make it even worse, he talked about you in a way that even made your skin crawl.

Harry avoided you for the rest of the night; no eye contact, no kisses, and no cuddling once in bed. It sinks your soul knowing you’re the reason behind the way he’s treating you at the moment, but it’s only right you endure this. It’s your fault.

That’s why you aren’t surprised when you wake up to the text from him reminding you of what’s needed today. The one thing you never thought would happen so soon. No more decorative feathers, no more giggling and suggestive talks, no more tips and dancing, no more Jasper. Three years gone, the memories you have are ones you hold dear; it’s why it pains you right now.

Looking at yourself in the goblet mirror adoring the dresser, that was previously pulled apart in a furious rage, tears prick your eyes recalling all the fond moments. Girls helping out with makeup, advice on which robe to wear, gossiping about clients, god, you’ll miss it all. But, it’s better this way. It’s better to have Harry take care of you, it’s nice really. You don’t have to worry about other men touching you, or whispering what they would like to do if given the chance. Sure, the money was nice and all but, Harry gives you anything you ask for, so maybe it isn’t that bad. Maybe, it’ll be okay.

“Miss, the car is ready for you.” Knock at the door awakening you from your thoughts. You inhale sharply, fingers running through your hair nervously as you nod at yourself.

“Okay, I’ll be right down!” You call, back turning and grabbing your coat.

The drive to Jasper’s is quiet, the streets outside the truck don’t puncture the memories that you reminisce about. Working your ass off at such a young age from waitressing to odd jobs, Jasper’s was a breath of fresh air despite the downside of dancing and late nights, you began to live a life of luxury, the life you always dreamed about. You did it by yourself, on your own and you’re proud about that. You could’ve given up at any moment but instead you pulled through, and now look, you found someone who’s going to take care of you.

Despite the tension between you and Harry at the moment, it’s obvious he wants to keep you by his side, should you really object to that? You spend the majority of your time with him, he always takes you out to dinner, buys whatever you want, and shows you love whenever needed (disregarding the current circumstance) so it really isn’t like his suggestions aren’t true. You’ll be better off with Harry, you know deep down this slippery slope that it will get better, and once you move in it’ll be easier just to please him. It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.

Once Harry's team helps you out of the truck and to your familiar destination the surge of anxiety scorches through. Heart beating erratically, fingers fidgeting in your coat, eyes move in every direction as you tug your way to his office. It pains you to be in this situation, and you would do everything to not stand here right now facing the same door that welcomed you with open arms but now it’s too late.

Your palm curls around the golden knob and an uneasy smile tugs at your lips, seeing Jasper’s low eyes and ruffled hair. It only brings back so many memories, ones that you’ll remember forever.

“Y/N! My sweetheart!” Jasper stands, walking around the desk and opening up his arms.

You immediately go towards him. Hands wrapping around his back and ingesting the smell of coffee and cigarettes. Weirdly it calmed you down, settling the uneasiness through you as you lay against his chest.

The first time you ever met Jasper there was always a loving connection between you both, as if father and daughter. Southern accent and tired look never giving off irritation or displeasure whenever around. Always treating everyone with such kindness and respect, he never changed since you first met him, and that’s what you like most about him. Jasper is Jasper.

“My dear girl, it feels like forever since I last saw you,” Pulling away he smiles, crooked teeth and chapped lips shining as you bow your head in acknowledgment.

“I know, I know, I’ve been really busy lately.” You confide, eyes darting between him and the birds that roam outside the window.

Jasper sighs looking over your frame before stepping back. His hand gestures to the chairs seated in front of the desk. You immediately oblige, legs crossing over each other with hands curling together in your lap. Now you wish you could nestle in his chest just like a few seconds ago, burrow yourself into the coffee smell and forget the reason why you’re in this office.

“Yes, I see, you've been taking your vacation days quite often.” The words only elect an anxious draw of breath. Now your palms begin to grow with sweat, and you swear your ears start to ring from your mind racing.

“Yes, sir. I just thought… I —I… um,” Stuttering not knowing what to say or where to direct your attention. Your heart is going crazy in your chest, pounding so hard against its cage that you might pass out. “I found someone.”

You basically whisper those words but Jasper, he hears and he smiles. It’s one that knows the secret without having to hear the reveal. You’re sure it is written all over your face, and with the grin that tugs across his lips, you calm down just a bit.

“Is it Styles?” You blink with mouth parted and pain quaking throughout your bones.

“Y/N…” He sighs, hand brushing through his messy hair as he leans back in his chair. “I looked through your client log, I’ve seen Styles was your regular for about two months or so until he stopped returning; in that same time you begin using your vacation days. It quirked my interest so I decided to go through the security cameras during that time frame and…”

Your whole entire body goes hot, ears burning, and stomach turning, quite frankly you want to throw up. You’re stupid to forget about the hidden cameras in the room. God, of course this happens to you. Of course your boss saw you in every imaginable way within the two months Harry spent still coming here. You want to curl into a ball and forget this even happened.

“Dear…” Jasper breathes again, concerned look written all over his face despite your raging appearance. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Those are in there to protect everyone, and we’re humans, it’s natural, so don’t think too much about it, alright?”

You nod your head timidly as your leg begins to bob, you drop your head and try your best to not let tears run down your cheeks. You already went through a crying fit yesterday and you’re not going through another one again.

“You already know my thoughts on you Y/N. You’ve been my star since you walked into this place. I just want you to be safe.” Chin tilting your version to look back up at the concerned boss who was like a father to you. This couldn’t get any worse. Having to leave everything you know behind, this absolutely sucks.

“I know Styles… I know the life he lives isn’t the best and it’s definitely not the happiest. I just want you to fully understand what you’re getting yourself into.” Jasper leans forward, hand reaching out for yours which you don’t hesitate to give. You don’t hold back anymore, letting the tears trickle down slowly as you breathe in, throat straining from this moment, the one you still can’t believe is happening.

“I’ll be fine, Jasper. I know I will.” You nod with reassurance, free hand swiping away the tears that still spill. His fingers curl around yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles trying to sooth you but, when that isn’t enough he steps around the desk, body engulfing your shaking frame as you try to regain some composure.

“Grace and I are always here, you know that darling. You don’t gotta worry.” Hand patting your hair as you nod into his stomach, nose sniffing through the space.

“I know…” You sigh. Peeling away from his presence, a small smile on your lips as you look up at him. “This isn’t a goodbye, I promise.”

Jasper nods his head softly, tired expression still lingering as he looks over your frame while he continues to run his hands over your locks. The action soothes you. The storm brewing inside calms itself, the current subsiding and the tears that once roam down your cheeks halt. Your heart quiets down, chest relaxing with head drawing away from him as you wipe away any streaks.

You stand to wrap around him once again, breathing in his usual scent just hoping the clock can turn back time and things can go back to how they once were. Jasper rocks you, letting all the pulsing veins in your body rest and ease your shaking body to a halt.

“I’ll miss you.” You breathe into his chest before looking up at him. The smile you adore shines brightly as he pats your lower back.

“This is home darling, you’ll always know where to find me if needed, alright?” Jasper reassures. Nodding up at him once more, you pull away and offer a genuine grin.

Departing from his touch there’s a sense of loneliness spreading through. Giving up your work and home to live with Harry, in hindsight, there’s nothing wrong with having him take care of you, if anything you should be happy that he’s willing to do that. It shows the love he has for you but, why in this moment does it feel like you’re giving up your life; not on your terms but his.

When closing the chestnut door the walk down the familiar hallway is bittersweet. Intricate designs plastered on every inch of the walls, gold fixtures shining against the dim light before you reach the elevator and ring it back to the main floor.

Every chime is one you cherish no matter how stupid it may seem, the sound is sentimental and will forever be ingrained in your memory from the many nights your tall heels would stand in the moving machine. Your eyes dance around the revolving mirrors and lit up numbers, your fingers tracing over the covers and drinking them in as it will be the last time you’ll probably press them again.

The ding of the elevator thrusts you out of your thoughts and through the doors, it’s to your surprise once leaving that ginger hair and beaming smile greet you. The sweet aroma of her perfume wafts your senses as she pulls you into a hug, fur and strands of hair prickle against your skin as you lean into her touch.

“Hey babe! You’re working with me today?” Grace asks while pulling away, happiness written all over her features.

“Uh… no actually, just had to speak to Jasper,” You say, concealing the truth with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Don’t blame him, I barely see you anymore,” She jabs, hand gently shoving you which leaves you shaking your head in response.

“I’m busy, what can I say?” You shrug raising your hands up playfully to surrender.

“Yeah, busy being under Harry any chance you get,” It’s her turn to roll her eyes and nudge you with her hip. “But, hey! Angelo actually got me a booth tonight at his club, why don’t you and Harry come!” Grace suggests. Hazel eyes and white teeth shine with excitement at her offer.

You’ve never been with him in that sort of setting before, and honestly you don’t know how he’ll be either. But, you both are also not on great terms, so maybe a night out with some drinks and dancing will do you both some good.

“Uh, yeah, that actually sounds fun. I’ll ask him.” You beam with fakeness. “I actually should get going now, the car is waiting for me.”

“Okay! Hope to see you tonight!” Grace grins, pulling you into another hug before going to her destination.

Nodding your head timidly, you watch her orange hair bounce down the hall until her body disappears. A shaky breath escapes as you turn towards the entrance, hands fitting into your pockets as you push the doors open. The brisk air sweeps through as you tug your way towards the truck. Sincere smile spreads as Elio helps you into the vehicle before getting behind the wheel.

“Should I inform Mr. Styles that everything went as expected?” He calls from the front. Your hand tears away from their place and swipes away the lingering strands of hair combing over your face.

“Yes, it went well.” You sigh, eyes looking out the window as the car begins to move. The French pillars trail out of your version, leaving your heart splitting down the middle at the conclusion of your life.

“Actually Elio, can you do me a favor and ask Harry something for me?”

Surprise is an understatement with the fact you're walking through the club with music thumping your ear drums. Harry’s hand is secured tightly amongst your hips while the floor shakes from the erratic beat coursing through. With all the bodies shuffling through the room, you’re happy Harry’s team is pushing people through the mess directing you where to go.

You didn’t think he would agree to coming out tonight, but when he did you couldn’t have been anything but ecstatic. You threw on your tightest dress and curled your hair just the way he likes, also opting to wear the perfume he complimented on how irresistible you smell. Tonight you were going to win him back the way you know how.

“Yay! I’m so happy you came!” Grace screams over the song while pulling you into a hug.

“Oh my god!” Lucy joins, wrapping around you both. The feeling of another body being engulfed in the circle only means it’s Clarissa. The grin on your face spreads wider at the moment, head knocking around until they all pull apart.

“Hot lil’ thing aren’t you,” Clarissa remarks once pulling away. Her hand collects yours to twirl you around and display your appearance, the action only leaves you laughing as you smile at your friends.

“Thank you, thank you,” Rolling your eyes playfully as she releases her hold. The fitted black garment hugs your curves deliciously while your heels accentuate the length of your legs.

“But… everyone meet Harry,” You say, sight darting to him as you let your arm wrap around his waist, head leaning onto his chest as he smiles stiffly at your group of friends.

“Hello!” He nods to each, colourful strobes shine over everyone in the reserved area as all your friends introduce themselves.

“This bottle of Don Julio isn’t gonna finish itself!” Grace screams, picking the lengthy bottle off the table and raising in the air. It makes you giggle before turning to Harry with eyebrows raised.

“Let’s have fun tonight, yeah?” You say, hand running up his stomach before turning towards Grace who's already pouring shots for everyone.

After that, the night is in full swing; neon lights flashing over sweaty bodies, alcohol either being passed around in short glasses or poured into mouths messily, confetti shoots in the air every few moments as music blasts through the speakers.

The atmosphere in the booth is an energetic thrill, everyone getting along by singing and dancing, laughter and cheers filling the air as liquor takes over everyones system and leaves them in a good mood.

It’s in the flashing message board bringing another bottle that you realize how intoxicated you really are. The lights blinking at you seem to shift slowly, the music sounding through the space drowns out in a blur of noise as you stumble your way towards Harry, half empty Patron in your hand as you step in front of him.

“Open please!” You giggle up at him, fingers swinging the drink in hand while wiggling eyebrows.

“I’m good love,” Harry smiles down at you, his fingers finding their place on your hip as you pout at him.

“No! Tell him he needs to loosen up,” Turning your attention to Angelo who laughs at the exchange, shaking his head.

“Oh, come on,” You huff, rolling your eyes yet slipping deeper into Harry’s warmth. If he doesn’t want to take anymore shots then you surely will, you raise the clear bottle to your mouth, lips parting and happily willing to accept the liquor till you feel his hands tear it away from your hold.

“Trust me darling, you don’t need anymore,” Harry points out and passes the bottle to Angelo.

It only has you pouting, you wanted to have fun and you wanted Harry to loosen up some more, but you’ll accept his decision with another eye roll and trailing back over to your friends who are even more drunk than you.

“Bottoms up!” Lucy screams as she pours Clase Azul into your mouth, the amount so much you have to clasp your hand around her wrist to tear the bottle away.

“Ew,” You laugh, after swallowing the sickening amount, leaving Clarissa to chuckle at your reaction. Eyeing Grace across the section, you gesture for you to come towards you.

Happily complying she joins between the three as lights flash across your glistening bodies. The white and blue bottle gets exchanged between your friends, all taking shots before placing it on the table. As the neon strobes continue to flash and confetti fills the air, the DJ yells into the mic something inaudible until the song he puts on has the crowd cheering.

“Ah! Catch me slidin’ in a Benz, I ain’t looking for no man,” Clarissa screams her body turning towards you as her hips begin to sway. You can’t help the laugh that leaves as Lucy turns and grins at you.

“Ain’t recruiting no new friends! Louie bag filled with bands!” Grace is next as she dances behind the blonde, her head swinging seductively as she moves to the beat.

The energy is so ecstatic between the group that you find yourself joining in. Hips swiveling into Clarissa’s as your hands find themselves venturing toward her neck, fingers carding through her hair as you match the rhythm of her. The comfort of her palms trails down your sides, teasingly tugging the bottom of your dress up as you grind against each other.

“Get it, Sexy! Get it, Sexy!” Lucy cheers along with the song, her body leaning over and tapping your thigh as you and Clarissa manage to grind yourself lower towards the floor.

Laughter leaves both of your mouths as you continue circling your hips against each other, your head knocks back against her shoulder as you let the alcohol consume every motion while the song continues to thunder in your ears.

From your dazed out state to blurry vision, the rough grip over your hand tangled in Clarissa’s hair rips itself away as you stumble over your feet, nearly falling, as you’re being pulled out the booth and down the stairs. The movements are so fast you barely even catch yourself tripping down the flight and across the floor.

“Ow, stop,” You whine, feeling the pain in your wrist increase as the sight of Harry’s curly hair tug you through the mountain of bodies.

The crowds of people brush past you in a rough breeze, elbows and drinks hitting your moving body as you continue to be pulled away from the rambunctious scene.

“Harry you’re hurting me!” Yelling over the music as you try to twist around in his hold, still that doesn’t halt his motions as he continues pushing through the crowd.

It’s when cold air hits your skin and fills your nose do you breathe in a sigh of relief. Your hand jerks out of his grip as you look at him completely furious. “What the fuck are you doing!”

Yet, Harry ignores you, his body struts down the sidewalk past people throwing up or walking around slouched over their friends. And, instead of watching him continue to move further down the path you immediately follow, heels clicking against the cement as chatter and car horns fill the street.

“Hello! Can you talk to me please,” Drunkenly calling out for him as you trail behind like a dog, his footsteps rushed and harsh as the familiar black truck comes into view.

“Get in. Now.” Every word is a bite of aggression but in your drunken state you barely pay any mind as he holds the door open and watches your sluggish body climb into the vehicle.

“What’s your problem?” You mumble, back fitting into the leather seat as you watch Harry peel his phone out of his pocket, still ignoring you.

His voice rings through the space only leaving you to direct your attention to look outside the parked vehicle, vision shifting in slow twists that has you groaning. Hand rises to your forehead in frustration that it feels as if the car is spinning even though it’s parked.

The jostle of the truck shifts as the door slams close, your head peels up to see Elio in his familiar place as the car roars awake. The vehicle immediately peeling off, leaving the street lights from outside to flutter in.

“Why are we leaving?” You’re back to slurring over your words as you turn towards Harry, confusion evident in your expression while he looks cold as ever.

“The hell was that?” He hisses, eyes burning holes in your appearance but you can’t even tell from the alcohol shifting your vision, which leaves you giggling at his response.

“What was what?” Laughing faintly as your hands pull down the end of your dress.

“You’re a mess.” Harry scoffs, head shaking as he turns to look out the window.

Even drunk those words struck a cord within you, brows pushing together as you sit up in your chair and cock your head to the side.

“No, I’m not, don’t say that!” Your voice raising as your jaw tenses, the alcohol in your system fueling anger as you look at him distraught.

“Don’t say that? Look at you! Dancing and touching your friends like that, are you serious?!” Harry’s voice is booming over yours but in your state you don’t even care, you let your tone rise higher. The both of you look at each other livid.

“I’m having fun Harry, I’m at the club,” You respond, hands tearing away from your dress and crossing over themselves amongst your chest.

“It shows you have no class! No morals!” He snaps, nose flaring and hand slamming against the window of the truck.

“No class? No morals? Do I need to remind you where we met! Fuck you! You’re so insecure!” You’re shouting, chest rising heavily as your face screws up.

The laugh that leaves Harry is menacing, with his head shaking in disbelief, a cheery smile tugging across his lips. “Insecure?”

“Yes, insecure and jealous! What’s so wrong with me dancing with my friends!” You wouldn’t be surprised if your voices were heard outside of the car, and you actually feel bad for Elio having to hear the exchange of words. “Fuck! You’re making me so mad!”

“How do you think I feel?”

“You’re the one who started this!”

As the usual sight of Harry’s building fixes your version you’re immediately sitting up and tugging your dress down. The truck comes to a halt; you don’t wait for Elio to help you out as you peel your door open and begin making your way towards the entrance. Your ears burn with anger as your nose scrunches up, heels smacking against tiles as you press the elevator button erratically.

“Stop acting like a child,” Harry hisses once meeting your body, his key pressing into the sensor to allow access to the elevator for his penthouse.

“Fuck you,” You utter, eyes still staring ahead as your step into the machine.

Harry waves off Elio, his body retreating next to yours as you both stand in complete silence. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as your head shakes in pure frustration.

The chime of the elevator dings and your body immediately rushes through the open space of the living room, hair swishing against your neck as you practically speed walk through the room.

“Get over here!” Harry demands, voice rough and loud but you don’t listen, you keep your pace and venture up the stairs.

“Leave me alone!” You call back, his heavy footsteps sounding behind you as you walk down the hall.

“You’re not going out with your friends again!” He shouts following your body as you enter the bedroom.

“Like I’m going to listen to you,” You scoff heading towards the closet until Harry is gripping your waist roughly and turning you towards him.

“You’re running thin with me. Watch your fuckin’ mouth.” Each word a whispered hiss as he looks at you darkly. His hair framing his forehead as his lips press together, jaw tensing and hold growing tighter.

“I can’t stand you. You’re so controlling.” Your only response, as your eyes watch his dilate before his touch is turning you around roughly and pushing you into the mattress abruptly.

“Controlling? I’ll show you controlling.”

Your moving arms are caught in his hold as he tugs them behind your back. His other hand reaches down and pulls your dress over your hips to reveal your backside. Body moving against his hold as your head turns around seeing him in your peripheral vision.

“Harry,” You mutter, his palm roaming over your backside before it’s landing a smack amongst your skin.

He only grunts in response, hands smoothing over your ass before placing another slap. The harsh feeling over your backside has you biting into the sheets with pain and pleasure coursing through, the anger that once filled your body subsides as you fight yourself from moaning against his touch.

“You’ve been such a bad girl lately? What’s gotten into you?” Harry states, another harsh smack reddening your skin as the grip holding your hands together tightens.

Teeth graze the material of the sheets, eyes rolling at the adrenaline coursing through at each slap as your head relaxes into the mattress. Your chest breathes in deeply, fingers curling in on each other as your thighs shake against the bed frame.

“What’s your colour?” Harry demands, another furious strike coursing through your body. Your eyes squeeze shut as you whimper into the sheets.

Instead of answering you just bury your head deeper into the bed, mouth releasing the duvet as you bite back moans dying to trail out.

“Don’t hold out on me baby,” Harry chuckles, so deep and sinister that your spine crawls at the sound. “I know you like this.”

Teasing voice so sexy that your toes clench against each other amongst the pad of your heels, breasts caving deeper into the blanket while your hips jerk up at the deafening sound cracking against your cheeks.

“Fuck,” You cry, teeth biting into your bottom lip as a rush of thrill courses through and has your pussy throbbing.

“What’s your colour?” He asks again, his hand sliding between your cheeks and feeling between your legs to touch your heat.

The feeling of him taunting you by rubbing over your clothes or bruising your skin red is an addicting one, it has you rustling against the sheets praying for more even though you should be fighting these feelings.

“G —Green,” You breathe into the sheets so quietly that it only beckons another rough slap to welcome itself across your skin.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you love, speak up louder, what did you say?” Luring tone in his voice only has you groaning at his tantalizing ways.

Another smack meets your cheeks so harshly that your spine shoots up and heels chime against the floor. You’re sure your skin is bruised in different colour hues from the amount of strikes that he applies across your skin; and with the alcohol in your system still pumping through your veins, you can’t help the lengthy moan that slips out.

“Green,” You squeak, head shifting amongst the sheets as the feeling of the grip over your hands relaxes. His palm smooths over your backside once again before diving between and feeling over your covered folds.

“Tell me baby, why do you like making me upset?” Harry asks, fingertips dragging down your pussy with aggression that has you shuddering.

“I don’t,” You sigh, thighs quivering against the bed frame as you fall deeper into his touch.

“That’s what you think? Two days in a row you’ve been giving me problems. I don’t like that.” Fingers slipping between your panties to feel your pussy nearly soaking from the exchange of his actions.

“Harry,” You moan, eyes fluttering when you feel the pads of him grace your clit.

“Huh? What was that?” Hand tearing away from between your legs and roaming back up your scorching skin.

“S —Sir, I’m sorry sir,” Body shivering from his touch roaming up and down your exposed flesh.

“Still not good enough.” Harry’s voice deep and gruff as his hands fit under your tight dress, feeling over your heated skin before he’s tugging it over your head. “Come on darling, I know you can do better than that.”

“I —I’m sorry, Mr. Styles.” Words still slurring from the alcohol in your system to his mesmerizing aura.

“That’s my girl. Now, be a good doll and turn around for me.” The sound of your dress falling to the floor is heard as you turn around under his hold, eyes connecting on his dazzling ones that shine with the moonlight pouring through the window.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Harry’s body looming over you as his hands dance up your sides, sliding amongst your clammy skin and feeling over your erect nipples. The touch is so slow and daring that you can’t help but whimper. “I hate when you upset me.”

His fingers grip your round flesh while his eyes skim over every curve and dip; your body flexes along with the shadows in the dark room, fingers feeling against the sheets below as you don’t dare break contact, not with the way he’s looking as if he wants to devour you.

“That’s why right now, you’re my toy. My little toy that’s been so nasty and filthy lately.” Hands drawing back down your sides, sinking past your hips and towards your pussy once again. “So dirty dancing like that on your friends.”

Your teeth bite into your bottom lip, thighs spreading wider accepting his touch while your head buries itself deeper into the mattress. His words only fuel the slick coursing through your pussy.

“You want to be a slut… so, I’ll treat you like one.” Fingers now slip into you only causing a moan to trail out. His lengthy digits thrust into you roughly that have your eyes open wider as he stares longingly at your reaction, smirk tugging at the ends of his lips.

“Play with you however I like… use you just the way I want.” Digits driving out just to plunge back in, the ends of his fingers curling deeply into your pussy that your mouth hangs open in surprise. Harry just started penetrating you and already your stomach was tickling with static.

“Teach you how to be my good little doll, hmm?” Harry continues, brow raising in question as his smile is still sinister from the expression crossing over your face.

As one hand is pleasing your throbbing pussy, the other lands one backhanded slap across your cheek completely surprising you but not enough that it doesn’t stop you from moaning softly and runting your hips against his motions.

“You’re pussy is mine to play with, do you understand?”

Your head bows urgently as you suck in a deep breath, lashes fluttering up at him as his tongue peeks out of his mouth to smooth across his bottom lip.

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

Pearly white teeth shine at your doe expression continuing the rough thrusts of his fingers. Sweet nectar coating him with each curl that leaves you keening high in your throat.

“It’s mine to use and abuse,” Harry states, suited body covering over you as he examines every twitch in your face consumed with pleasure. “Your pussy belongs to me.”

Every comment is tingling your spine and has your lashes batting up at him so in love. Each word is degrading and brutal, words that should have you distraught but they don’t, they have another moan leaving your mouth as you accept the his urgent stroke of his fingers.

“Fuck, yes, Mr. Styles.” Your own hands curling into the sheets, thighs beginning to shake and head lolling back.

Harry surveys every inch of your skin that twitches and squirms from his hold over you. He admires watching your stomach quiver, and the way your pussy pulses in his palm has the erection in his pants press painfully against the zipper.

“Mhmm… I like how things are turning around now.” He smiles, digits leaving you to rub your slick all along your folds, spreading you wide as your thighs contract around him.

A whimper falls from your bitten lips as the warmth of Harry leaves. His hands go to undress himself, and as every piece of expensive clothing trails off and reveals the inked skin that you love so much, you can’t help but reach out and touch the tattoos roaming amongst his love handles.

“Gonna start being my good girl?” Harry demands, his body adjusting around your frame as he begins to tap himself along your folds.

The feeling has you shuddering, blinking up at him between your legs as you raise up on your elbows to get a better look. His cock rubbing against your clit, muscles tightening while he still stares as if wanting to ruin you.

“My personal fuck toy.” Letting himself slip between your walls and stretch you out heavenly. The sensation of him filling you up reveals a pleasant sigh as your thighs spread wider around his hips.

“Yes, Mr. Styles… you fuck me so good,” You whine, fingers trailing down his pelvis as he lets his hips glide in with ease.

Harry hums in acknowledgment, his hands finding themselves around your upper thighs, driving into your pussy tenderly letting you feel him expand your walls and sink right against your cervix before drawing back and repeating.

“Mhm, who makes you feel like this darling,” Head craning down as your vision shifts from between your legs to his face coming into view.

“You, only you.” With the quick response your other hand curls into the sheets as your body jerks against the mattress.

“That’s right… you and that dirty mouth of yours,” Breath fanning over your face as his grip along your skin tighten enough to leave bruises, the feeling has you gasping at the pain. “Gonna show me some respect.”

The pace of his thrusts increase leaving his hips to smack against yours. It causes your mouth to hang open and nails drag against his skin at the rapid speed now driving into you. The intense feeling of his cock spreading you wide has your mind a clutter of thoughts.

How can he stretch you out so heavenly yet look at you purely amused by his actions over you? How can he effortlessly pleasure every crevice of your pussy that craves him? How can he fuck the shit out of you yet still have you craving for more? He’s so addicting, so captivating, so intriguing, you’re in awe; you’re in love.

“I’m not one of those little boys you’re used to playing with. You will learn respect.” Eager hips diving into yours that your head falls into the sheets, eyes locking with the chandelier that shifts with every pound of his hips.

“Y —Yes, sir.” Knuckles going white as your spine curves towards his flexing stomach.

“Shut up,” Harry bellows, his hands leaving your thighs; one covering your mouth while the other wraps around your throat.

His harsh words don’t even bruise your feelings, it only has you moaning into his palm with tears beginning to prick your eyes. The blissful pleasure he was making you feel wasn’t even something you can explain.

“You’re such a fucking slut,” His hand releasing your throat to smack you, leaving your vision to trail away from the diamonds that float above and towards his face. Bottom lip between his teeth as his brows push together.

“And I’ll use you just like the one you are.”

Sweat trickles down every expanse of your limbs, bed sheets sticking and the frame of the bed smacking against the window. The tattering sound of it repeatedly hitting it fills the room as your legs hang in the air, shiny heels glistening in the moonlight as you continue to moan against his hand.

Harry could do anything and you would see no wrong, maybe it’s manipulative, maybe it’s controlling but it feels too good that you can’t resist; and why would you want to anyway, he’s the only one to ever make you feel things you never felt before. Like for example right now, the way your thighs begin to shake and spikes of pain course along your calves, only he can do that.

“You’re mine to use, mine to ruin.” His palm releasing from your mouth to land another slap across your cheek, it has you whimpering in response. “Understand me?”

Your lashes flutter as chest heaves drastically, mouth parting and pelvis quivering as you feel your climax barreling in.

“Y —Yes s —sir,” Stuttering as you look at Harry with complete devotion while he basks in it. “Sir.” You whisper, head bobbing with each rough assault to your pussy.

“What? You’re gonna come?” Harry grins, hands meeting your throat and squeezing tightly as he fucks you into the mattress.

“Please, sir, please, can I?” Voice hoarse as your lungs strain for air.

It’s the greedy smirk and shaking head that has your stomach clenching crazily, waist retreating against his furious ones as your fingers tug against the sheet.

“P —Please, Mr. Styles can—”

“—Shut up!”

Grip grows tighter as he continues to pound away. Every rock of his hips pierce your plush walls, and with each jerk of your body up the bed does it remind you that you’re nothing but his toy at the moment, nothing but his doll that he’ll use to his liking.

That’s why tears now flow down your temples, legs shaking against his hips as he toys with your body however he likes while you restrain yourself from releasing all over him.

“Want to be my good girl, then take it.” Face inches away as he watches the tears continue to stream down.

And you do, you suck in your abdomen as your quivering thighs try to close around his waist and accept every fatal attack. Teeth biting into your bottom lip as your throat wheezes for air.

“Play with you however I please,” He grunts, eyes searching your face that begs for oxygen that turns him on even more.

Harry’s hips continue to plunge inside your pussy and bruise your cervix; and with your tight walls twitching around him pleading for release it has his head sliding to the nape of your neck.

You feel him spill his seed into you, a beautiful moan slipping past his lips and along the sweaty skin of your neck as his grip relaxes.

Just the feeling of his come seeping into you has you moaning out, fingers tugging away from the sheets and drawing down his back as his hips don’t stop their torturing movements.

“Please sir, can I come, please,” Whimper tugging through your ruined throat as your lower half now begins to shake from the fight you put up.

“Yes, darling.” The one word you’ve been dying to hear has your stomach relax as you let go and release yourself all over his cock.

Creamy wave of arousal expelling over the thickness of him as his movements never slow. Wet kisses pepper themselves along your neck, his hands by your head feeling over your messy head of hair, while your body continues to twitch and contract around him.

Your grip around him relaxes, hips flexing against his own until he begins to pace himself, slowly rocking into your pussy that makes your chest settle.

“What’s your colour?” Harry asks, head rising and looking over your face. Dizzy expression overcoming your features that has him tugging his hand away from your locks and run over the heated skin.

“Green, sir,” Blinking up at him while swallowing heavily. The answer has Harry nodding, tongue peeking out of his mouth before he’s leaning back on his knees.

Thrusts come to a halt, his cock slipping out that has your mixtures spilling from your folds to drip along the sheets. It’s in the warm atmosphere that you both manage to catch your breaths, chest shallowly welcoming the air as sticky fingers roam up and down the expanse of sweaty skin.

“You’re so good to me baby,” Harry comments, his hands trailing up your leg to begin undoing the strap of your heels. When hearing them smack to the ground do you sigh in relief of having your feet free of the curved platform.

“Mhmm…” You mindlessly hum as you watch in complete awe of him undoing the next one.

“Always perfect for me.” His head running against your calf as he presses light kisses into the skin there. Your favorite words swelling your heart that it makes you get up on your elbows and gesture for him.

“Are we okay now?” You ask, letting your hands run across the skin of his chest.

“Yes baby… just no more surprises, I don’t know what I’ll do next time. Okay?”

“Okay.”

265 notes · View notes

taintedcigs · 8 months

Note

eddie w tattoo artist reader..... trying SO hard to seem like he's not dying from pain while she tattoos his chest, bc he's trying to impress her. she's the coolest girl he's ever seen and the fact that her art is on him forever makes him so giddy and happy, almost as happy as getting her number

call me if you need a groupie — e.m.

yes yes yes yes yes. a thousand times yes to this. thank u for this request omg i looooove lovesick cutie eddie soooooo much. this was meant to be a blurb but now its a 2.8k+ fic oops. idk if there were exclusive shirts ok i tried to do my research but this is the best i could get and idk how tattoo processes are so take everything i wrote w a grain of salt !! not proofread as always so ignore any mistakes and also idk why but i looved writing for this dynamic and if anyone would be interested i could write a pt.2 for some smut !! (maybe sub!eddie or switch!eddie? 👀)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!tattoo artist!reader (wc: 2.8k+)

warnings: MINORS DNI w any of my works!!. just pure fluff!! maybe the teeniest tiniest angst, eddie is kinda insecure <3, eddie is a lovesick cutie honey pie !! and swearing? oh also tattooing ofc (needles n stuff)

He doesn't mean to flinch, he doesn't mean to show you how stressed he is, but you can sense it.

Each time the needle presses against his skin, he hisses, mouth biting onto his lips, harsh enough to draw blood.

But Eddie doesn’t care, you—the hottest and coolest girl—that has ever graced the hellhole that was Hawkins was tattooing him, and Eddie couldn’t afford to look like a coward.

So with everything in him, he shut his lips, biting on them, becoming accustomed to the metallic taste because it didn’t matter, not when you looked so fucking pretty when cooing him and your free hand squeezed his biceps for reassurance.

He didn’t know what to admire first, the way your lips quirked sweetly when you answered his dumb questions, the way you looked so focused with your lip between your teeth, trying to tattoo him, or the fact that you were wearing an Anthrax shirt, and not just any regular Anthrax shirt that you could find at those regular shops, it was an exclusive shirt that was only sold at the concerts, and he had to gulp physically at that.

You were a tattoo artist… and a metal fan? How perfect could you get?

Before his questions were answered, the needle pricked at his skin again, he cursed out, and instead of screaming in his mind, he whimpered out loud this time.

Your head perked up quickly and Eddie was now cursing himself, for being a fucking idiot, for looking like a coward in front of you.

“I can slow down if you want to,” You said with a smile, a sweet smile that adorned your perfectly red lips, they looked so fucking kissable.

“N–no!” He stuttered, but you gave him a huff. “C’mon Eds, you’re doing good… better than anyone I’ve ever tattooed has, we can slow down a bit.” You reassured.

His eyes lit up like a child, Eds? His new acquired nickname rolled off your tongue so sweetly, your words dripped in honey. And Eddie decided he would do anything to hear you call him that again.

Not only did you call him Eds, but you also said he was better than the others, and the childish grin on Eddie’s lips was quick to grow again, his entire body relaxing as he almost melted into you.

“You think so?” He asked, tone giddy and all sweet, causing a pretty giggle to escape your lips.

“I know so!” You hummed. “Tattooed a guy yesterday. He was tall. Like really fucking tall, and he had this long beard and tattoos everywhere!” You exaggerated, watching Eddie’s eyes widen. “He cried like a baby the second that needle prickled his skin!”

“And look at you, taking everything I’m giving you like a champ,” You winked.

If only you knew the affect you had on him, Eddie’s entire face grew red at that, he would, without hesitation take anything you gave him.

He tried, so fucking hard not to think about it, but now his mind was filled with the images of you, sitting on his faze, your pretty cunt glistening as he lapped away at your juices.

He imagined those pretty manicured fingers discarding his hair, ruffling while those pretty little lips were hung open, chanting his name. Your whines and whimpers would fill the room as he begged for you to cum in his mouth. He wouldn’t stop until you smothered him.

Until all he could taste was you.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, because the blood was quick to rush to his cock, and he didn’t want to have his bulge hardening against his tight pants anymore than he needed to, you were inches away from him and he wanted to seem cool–so fucking badly.

“Really?” He asked, and you nodded swiftly. “So brave for me.” You coo, lips lightly brushing against his cheek, as you plant a little kiss.

And Eddie was sure this was heaven now, he blinked quickly to make sure he wasn't dreaming, the light kiss you left on his cheeks lingered, and he could feel it burn.

His cheeks were purely crimson red now, he couldn't fucking help it. He ached for you, ached to have you close to him, ached to feel your touch, and everything you did was enough to drive him crazy, make him feel out of his fucking mind.

He was putty in your hands and you had no fucking idea.

His mouth stood agape, a dumbfounded look overtaking his features for too fucking long until the soft buzz of the machine brought him back again, the needle quick to puncture the skin's surface again, causing Eddie to squeeze his eyes shut as he tried his best not to fucking scream.

Be cool, be cool, be fucking cool Edward Munson.

He repeated it like a mantra in his head, and he was glad you were focusing on tattooing the cute sketch you made for him, and not his actual face that probably looked straight out of a horror movie.

“So—uh... c—cool shirt,” Eddie muttered, voice so low that he was surprised when you hummed back at him.

“Oh, yeah,” You muttered.

“You listen to Anthrax?” You asked with a beaming smile, gaze still focused on Eddie's arm.

Eddie huffed painfully but realized quickly that the nervousness of talking to you was overpowering the pain of the tattoo gun drilling into his skin.

“Are you kidding? Anthrax, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath... Megadeth! You name it I probably listen to it,” He hummed, and your eyes glimmered, causing Eddie's breath to hitch and his wavering nervousness to appear again. “Metal is my jam, baby!” He exclaimed, not too loud to disturb your tattooing process but loud enough to cause a giggle out of you.

Metal is my jam? Baby? Who the fuck says that?

Eddie was afraid to look into your eyes now, afraid to see the gaze everyone gives him.

Like he's an outsider like he's a freak.

But when he hears that pretty giggle of yours again, comfort takes over him, nervousness dissipating quickly when he sees the gentle look you give him.

Almost as if to let him know that you also love those bands. Almost as if to let him know that he wasn't an outsider because you were just like him.

“Dio?” You asked with a curious gaze, face beaming up when Eddie nodded furiously.

“Fuckin' love Dio,” He muttered, barely realizing the needle on his skin now, all thanks to you.

“Uhh—how did you even get that shirt?” Eddie asked, almost shyly, admiring the way you were neatly tattooing him.

“I wanted to go to that concert so badly but the tickets were sold out so quickly.” He added.

“Oh! I was Belladonna's groupie,” You muttered mindlessly, the pain as you prickled the needle was an afterthought to Eddie now, almost forgetting how to breathe, he coughed, quite loudly, causing you to look up at him and see the bewildered look on his face.

You stopped the machine when you chuckled lightly, "Oh, Eds!"

There it was, that nickname again, god you were dizzying his mind.

“I was just joking,” You smiled at him, and he wanted to melt, right then and there. "Needed to go a little bit deeper so I thought I'd distract you," You shrugged, and Eddie returned the smile.

He liked the feeling of having someone care about him, he liked talking to you, and he sure as hell enjoyed being with someone so similar to him—someone so fucking cool.

“Though I did go to that concert in 1987.” You could feel Eddie’s curious gaze on you

“My friend knew their manager,” You murmured again.

"Really?!? How was it?" He asked, face beaming again.

“So fucking cool.” You gushed as you started talking about their set list, how the first punch you ever threw was at that concert, and you enthusiastically animated Donais' guitar riff, earning a hearty chuckle from Eddie. He loved every bit of your story, listening attentively as your exaggerations enticed him more and more.

The longer you tattooed him, the more comfortable Eddie got, pain was no longer his main concern when all he wanted to do was make you laugh, hear that sweet giggle escaping from your lips, admire the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him so sugary.

Minutes stretched into hours as you focused on his tattoo, each pass of the needle causing a smile on your face as the sketch you made became more intricate and alluring on his bare skin.

“All done!” You exclaimed with a smile when you finally finished tattooing him, a sigh of relief escaping your lips when the buzz of the machine was finally replaced with silence.

You couldn't help but trace every part of his face now, you wanted to see if he liked it, anxiety bubbling up in your stomach as you couldn't read Eddie's expressions.

“Oh my god,” Was all that left Eddie's lips, and your lips almost started to tremble.

Jesus fucking Christ, how bad did you fuck up?

“Oh my fucking god,” He repeated again, this time his head tilted upward to your direction, almost snapping as you looked at him with scared eyes.

But your gaze eased the second you saw the admiration in Eddie's gaze. “This is a fucking masterpiece!” He beamed, causing a smile on your lips, so fucking big and pretty that he wished he could have that tattooed instead.

“It's fucking perfect,” He muttered again, shaking his head in disbelief when he looked at the tattoo on his forearm.

“I mean when I saw that sketch, I knew you were good to , but holy shit,” He praised again, causing heat to grow in your cheeks, he had no idea how much it meant to you, to have someone appreciating your art, to have people walk around in the sketches you did, indelible on their skin. It felt so fucking good.

“It's...perfect.”

“Really?”

“Of fucking course,” He gushed. “You're so fuckin' talented it's crazy,” He muttered, fingertips gentle as they avoided glazing through the tattoo, but around it.

You were so fucking perfect it was killing him, and he couldn't help the giddy feeling inside of him knowing that your art would be etched into his skin, forever.

You couldn't shake off the thoughts in your head, swirling when Eddie uttered those compliments to you.

Your cheeks grew hot so quickly that you felt the need to turn around, trying to think of something to say to him so that you wouldn't look like a fucking idiot.

Eddie turned around to face you, the smile that brought out his dimples apparent in his face as he watched you scrabble something on a business card.

“Thank you,” You muttered when you turned around, hands almost shaking as you extended your arm to give Eddie the card.

He scrambled it into his back pocket, not caring when you were this close to him, but you frowned at that. “No, thank you, for this masterpiece” He winked, pointing toward his forearm.

He didn't even know where he got the confidence to even be able to wink at you, and his coolness wore off the second he exited the shop, a silent shrieking scream exited his mouth as he freaked out.

Your sketch. On his arm.

You. Tattoo artist. Metal fan.

You, kissing him on the cheek, talking to him for hours, laughing at his idiotic jokes.

You.

Eddie was sure he lost his mind, hands shaking as he reached for the card in his back pocket.

The card was black and the title on it was dripping with blood. He whined.

How much cooler were you going to get?

He gulped when he looked back, seeing you toward the clear glass door, and he knew.

He knew that if he didn't do it now, he could never do it, this was his only fucking chance, and he couldn't be a coward, not now, not when you were this close to him.

Eddie entered back into the shop in a frenzy, causing your head to pop up swiftly as you looked at him dumbfounded.

God, you were so gorgeous he could feel his heart skip a beat.

“C—can I ask you something?” He cleared his throat to not appear nervous, and you nodded, furiously.

“Look, I know this is weird and all... but... uhm, I really feel like we connected,” He muttered, fingers tapping against the glass counter that you were standing behind in.

“And I thought maybe... uhhh... I could like—get your number or somethin'?” He uttered anxiously, tilting his head slightly to the side, and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips.

And even though why you laughed was reasonable, it was the worst fucking thing you could have done to Eddie.

Especially when your laugh seemed so mocking, almost different than the ones you gave him earlier before. Jogging deep into this memory of the countless times when Eddie tried to pluck up the courage to ask girls in his class out, only to be laughed in his face, or to have them insult him.

But this was more than that, it pained him.

It pained him to think that you thought of him like the others did. Like you saw him as an outsider, too.

His bubble of confidence that was already wavering was even quicker to fizzle out, he could feel that familiar lump in his throat, shoulders slumping as his gaze was quick to show his emotions.

He was hurt. And he was sure this hurt much more than a thousand needles breaking the barriers of his skin, “Uhhh,” He gave you a bitter chuckle. “Just.... never mind” He added, defeatedly turning back around to exit the shop once again as he ignored you calling out for him.

“Wait!” You yelled out after him, but Eddie started walking faster.

“Shit shit shit!” You cursed yourself for your little joke.

“Eds, please!” You called out again, this time effective enough to make Eddie stop in his tracks.

Eds. Oh you knew how to get him hooked, how to get him right where you wanted him.

And he hated himself for being this weak for you, someone he met, just recently.

“What?” He answered coldly, glaring at you with bitterness that made you want to hide out, that gentle soul in him disappearing in mere seconds.

And you sighed, hating that he could ever see you as someone that would make fun of him.

“Flip the card,” Your gaze on him was intense, cheeks growing hot again knowing that you were going to see his reaction to your stupid note.

“I don't have time for your bullshit” He spat, almost on his feet to leave.

You sighed. “Eds, just... will you just please flip the card?” You asked, all prettily that Eddie couldn't help but oblige, but be gentle with you again because he couldn't resist it. He couldn't resist you.

He huffed as he plucked the card out of the back pocket of his jeans, turning it over in one swift motion.

'CALL ME IF U NEED A GROUPIE' and your digits were attached right below it.

His gaze softened immediately, head drooping further as he huffed at himself.

He felt stupid, so fucking stupid.

Why did he ever think you would treat him like the others?

His chest expanded with hope when he looked back up at you, a soft smile graced his lips.

“Oh,” He muttered, not able to help the childish grin that was now stuck to his lips.

“Shut up,” You giggled, nudging him slightly.

“You owe me,” You narrowed your eyes sarcastically, causing his brows to quip.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” He asked, a newfound confidence washing him over when you were so easy to talk to.

“A date,” You beamed, scrunching your nose.

“Okay.” The words left his lips quickly, too quickly that it had you feeling giddy inside.

“How about tomorrow?” He didn't even know how he managed to get those words out without stuttering.

“Uhm—sure.” You were the one stuttering now, cheeks burning up as you could barely look at him. His grin was sickly inviting.

“I'll pick you up at 8?” You nodded so quickly that you were sure your head was about to fall off.

“See you tomorrow,” His voice was sultry as he winked again, making you almost melt, looking cool on the surface when all he wanted to do was go home, freak the fuck out, tell Wayne all about the cool girl who tattooed him, and not be able to sleep until your date tomorrow.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x tattoo artist!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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prettyboyeddiemunson · 2 years

Note

okay wait how would porn⭐️eddie be with an innocent gf ?

HE WOULD LIIIIIIVE TO CORRUPT HER, THATS WHAT HE WOULD FUCKING DO. reader is 18+!

can you just imagine? he would take her to parties, and probably help her get drunk for the first time (safely, of course; he would never let her out of his sight). he would take her with him to get a tattoo and maybe a piercing, so that she can see how it’s done. for one of the final steps, he would ask if she knows exactly what he does for a living. when she says she doesn’t, he gives her a few of his movies “to watch alone in your room” with his trademark wink & smirk.

so, she would watch the films and be flustered the whole time. but she would also touch herself to them when she realizes how aroused she is, and wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye the next day as a result. she would just avert her gaze, stuttering a little bit when he asks what’s wrong (even though he knows damn well what’s fucking wrong), and he would finally get it out of her. when she tells him what she did, he only grins, pulls her in for a kiss, and says: “do you want to reenact one of those movies with me?”

she’s a little nervous, because those movies were so hardcore and rough. but what were in those videos? well, to name a few things: size kink, degradation, light bdsm, oral sex (including extreme throat fucking), spanking, and really rough sex. but those few things were her favorites, and she trusted eddie. he was her boyfriend, after all, the man who always looked out for her at every turn. the one who promised to quit his job for her. the man who always bent over backwards to make sure she was cared for and safe. she knew he would take care of her here as well, and if things became too intense, he would lay off or stop.

so, her first time isn’t quite as traditional as most other girls’. eddie refused to start until she came up with her own safe word & signal, and then it was off to the races. he recreated all of her favorites, minus the blowjob because she was still way too nervous for that. the sex itself is slow at first, because he’s so goddamn massive and he wants her to adjust to the feeling of his dick before jumping right into some hardcore shit. the whole time she’s a flustered, pleasurable mess, her head swimming in such ecstasy that she never imagined was possible. who would have ever thought that the innocent girl could be so into such filthy, rough shit? she never believed it could happen, that’s for damn sure.

“damn, baby,” he breathes in her ear at one point, fucking her into the mattress as her nails tear at his skin. “your tight little pussy is swallowing all of me right up. how does it feel? hm? to have such a huge cock in that beautiful, wet, virgin cunt of yours?”

she can’t even form a response. all she can do is moan, one hand in his hair as she tugs, feeling his long, thick cock stretching her walls deliciously with every thrust. she pulls him down for a messy kiss, their mixed saliva trailing down her lower lip, his tongue piercing swirling around her mouth as he mewls into it. when he draws away, he looks between their bodies, grunting as he fucks impossibly deeper inside of her. her eyes roll back as he thrusts perfectly against her sweet spot, every sensation in her body amplified by a million as she fists his hair tightly.

“wish i could see myself fucking into you,” he says, rotating his hips for a moment before absolutely pounding into her. “gonna fill you up really nicely in a minute, though. i can’t wait to see my cum leaking out of that pretty cunt, and then clean it up right after.”

he throws her legs over his shoulders, pushing deep inside of her and holding himself there as she groans in pleasure. he licks her ankle as he starts drilling her again, his long hair sticking to his sweaty face as his breathing picks up. he reaches down to rub hard circles on her clit, smirking as she begins to arch and whine, her pussy clenching around his aching length as she does so.

“feel good?” he pants, and she nods. “good girl; that’s what I want to hear. i want you to fucking soak my dick, baby. i want you to make as big of a mess as i’m about to make of your sweet little pussy. show me that i can make you feel better than your own fingers, or pillow, or whatever you used last night. can you do that for me?”

she nods, nearly crying because of how amazing it felt. and when she cums a moment later, it’s the best goddamn thing she’s ever experienced in her life. he cums so much inside of her that it’s leaking everywhere, and seeing it happen? oh dear god, it got him off so fucking hard. he delivers on his promise to clean her up after, too, going down on her for the third time that night and sucking his own cum out of her. he swirls his tongue around her pussy, their messes mixing together, and it’s the most disgusting, yet hottest, thing she’s ever seen.

but you also best believe that he’s gonna do such thorough aftercare with her. he is going to make sure she’s okay and take care of her; after all that roughness, especially for her first time, he’s going to make her feel even more secure than ever.

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

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eilishsluv · 1 month

Note

Fem reader, we are a tattooist and Billie lets us tattoo her! :)))

i love this idea so fucking much omg

spine

billie eilish x fem reader

summary: tattooing billies spine:)

warnings: none really

notes: this is mainly based on the req, but it is alittle off, sorry<3 its also alittle rough, i havent written in awhile.

you were billies go to tattoo artist, you were gentle, likable & made sure all your clients were comfy during the process. so automatically billie loved you, and your work was to die for.

you & her were messaging back and forth for awhile cause billie had an idea for a new tattoo. you sorta knew what she wanted & that she wanted it done on her spine. the day she had planned for it to be done rolled around, safe to say you had alittle crush on billie so you were ecstatic.

"heya y/n" billie spoke.

you turned around to see her walking through the door of your small tattoo parlour. a soft smile played on her lips.

"hi bils" you replied mirroring her smile.

she walked closer & sat in the chair next to you. you were finishing drawing up her tattoo, getting ready to print the stencil.

"you nervous? spine tats hurt alot from what i hear" you questioned.

being in the tattoo industry for afew years you knew they hurt, hell you were fulled with tats aswell. but you never really gave a spine one any thought, you've had people in tears from them before.

"yes & no. its a needle going into my skins like thousands of times but its worth it" billie smiled.

printing off the stencil, letting billie undress behind you. you could feel your cheeks heating up from the thought, you had done this so many times but it was different with billie.

you carefully turned around incase she hadn't laid down on the tattoo chair, but thankfully she did and she was texting someone on her phone.

"just putting the stencil on, no needle yet" you reassured.

you found reassurance was a big thing with tattoos, even with people who had hundreds they still enjoy hearing you tell them its only the stencil.

peeling off the stencil, you took a photo to show billie the placing. with her approval you sat down & picked up the tattoo machine.

{ little time skip }

"still going okay bils? you need a break?" you asked.

"nah its allgood, keep doing your thing" she replied.

during the next few hours small talk was made, sitting in silence while tattooing was something you didnt like, but if the client would rather not talk you were fine with it.

"aaand done!" you were proud of your work, the feeling of accomplishment after every tattoo is something you never got sick of.

you got up from your place, a quick stretch then pulled out your phone to snap a pic.

"show me alreadyyyy" billie nagged.

you took the photo, quickly showing billie the art.

"holy shit y/n, thats fucking sick!"

blush crept its way onto your cheeks, a large smile displayed at her compliment.

"thankyou bils" you smiled.

you wrapped her tattoo, going over the aftercare while doing so. turning around to give her some privacy again to dress, you grabbed the pay machine.

small talk was again made while she dressed and you worked out the cost.

"alright, that'll be $975 today bil" you spoke turning around.

"no problem" she replied.

she ended up tippinh an extra 150, she had done that everytime she came to you. it always made you smile.

"gotta pay a pretty lady extra" billie winked.

you giggled as she collected her things, walking out the door you said your goodbyes. every time you see her your crush grows more & more.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #eilishsluv

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thezombieprostitute · 2 months

Text

Lloyd Hanson - Soulmate AU

A/N: I swear, I tried to ignore him but that only made things worse. @alicedopey didn't help!

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Reader is kidnapped. Smut. Sub/Dom dynamics vs Dub Con?

The bag is removed from your head and you're finally able to get a look at your surroundings. It's a dark room with one light above the table. It looks like one of those police interrogation rooms in TV shows. The duct tape is ripped from your mouth and you hiss from the pain. You test the bonds around your wrists, tied behind your back, but they're too secure to wiggle out of.

The chair across from you is abruptly pulled back and you're face to face with a tall, broad, blue eyed man with a porn mustache. He's smiling at you. You say nothing, letting your confusion show on your face. He rolls up his shirt sleeve and you see his soulmate tattoo. It's an exact match for yours.

"You couldn't have just bought me a coffee," you ask, trying to keep from snapping.

"Sweetheart," he coos, "you're my soulmate. I have to get you used to what the rest of your life is going to be."

You raise an eyebrow at that, "I'm going to constantly be kidnapped and talk with over-the-top idiots?"

He laughs at your comeback, "not quite. But I do have a lot of enemies and I gotta make sure my soulmate doesn't panic, cry and rat me out if they get picked up." He leans forward and rests his arms on the table. "And I gotta say, you are a champ!"

"I'm good at getting kidnapped," you deadpan. "What a wonderful compliment."

"Not easily scared, sassy and sarcastic," he croons. "You really are my soulmate." He winks and you roll your eyes.

"How did you find me," you ask. "I rarely, if ever, let my soulmate tattoo show."

"Someone used a rare photo of your mark to draw me in," he admits. "Imagine my surprise when it was someone trying to kill me."

"And from there you were able to find me," you nod. "Any chance of untying me, now that you know I'm not trying to kill you?"

"I dunno," he leers, "I'm kinda getting hard at the thought of you being so helpless to stop me."

"I swear to whatever deity will listen, I can and will bite you. Literally and metaphorically."

"Metaphorically?"

"The reason you like me being tied up is because your limp dick needs to feel like it's actually capable of leaving some kind of imprint."

"Ouch!" He moves his hand over his heart, "you weren't kidding, Sunshine. That really hurt!" He leaned forward even more, grinning like a Cheshire cat, "do it again."

"The only reason you don't shave your mustache is because you enjoy getting looks from people because you're a needy man-baby who needs the attention."

"Ooooh, that feels so good," he leans back, chuckling. He makes a motion and someone comes up behind you and undoes your bindings.

"Thank you," you nod, rubbing your wrists.

"Ah, I was wondering where the niceness was." You raise your eyebrow again, silently asking him what he meant. "You work with people a lot and always get such glowing customer service reviews. That means you can at least pretend to be nice. But when I dig further, I find that you're a good neighbor who helps the old lady carry in her groceries. Helps the kiddies with their homework. All that wholesome stuff."

"I have social skills," you retort. "Kinda required for the job."

"You don't have a job anymore." You don't try to hide your surprise at that statement. His tone goes stern for the first time, "I can't have my soulmate wasting her time on other people. All of that goodness you do for others? You're gonna do it for me and only me from now on. I get to be the only outlet for your kindness and you're gonna pamper me every time I'm home."

“No I'm not.”

“Excuse you? I don’t see that you have much of a choice here Sweetie.”

“Not my fault you lack the imagination to see my options.”

“Your options are to either tend to my every want and need or wallow in a basement on starvation rations.” You smile at him and enjoy the momentary drop in his confidence. “You will give me everything I want. In return, I’ll give you everything money can buy.” You throw your head back and laugh at that. He’s squirming a little, wondering what the hell is going on.

“You can have my submission when you earn it,” you coo. “And you don’t earn it by buying it.” You lean forward, putting yourself in his personal space.

“What the hell is going on?”

You roll up your sleeve to show Lloyd the matching soulmate tattoo and put your arm next to his. At the first touch of your hand, you both feel the electricity that confirms the two halves have met. You reach out and gently rub his cheek with your hand and he leans into it, gently moaning before he catches himself.

“You see, even though I don’t know your name, I can see right through you. Your reactions to my snipes and my politeness were quite telling. You do crave attention but you’ve only ever been good at getting negative attention. A soulmate could give you that positive attention you long for. Why else would you actually come looking for me? You could keep up that attention seeking behaviour without involving me but you put yourself at risk for the chance at meeting someone who might be kind to you. Who might like you, if only because they have to.”

“My name is Lloyd,” he grumbles.

“Thank you, Lloyd. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you definitely started on the wrong foot.”

He goes silent but he doesn’t stop your hand rubbing his cheek. He wants to be angry at you. He wants to follow through on his display of force. But he can’t do that. He makes another hand motion and a door opens. He stands up, comes around the table and lifts you up out of your chair.

“I don’t appreciate not being in control, Sweetheart,” he growls at you. “I may want all of your affection but I will not hesitate to use force if you try to take control from me ever again.”

“As I said, you can have my submission when you’ve earned it.”

“And how do I do that? You turned down my offer of everything money can buy.”

“Treat me like a queen or goddess, not a pet.”

Lloyd takes a deep breath and starts walking towards the door, taking you with him. You manage to keep pace as he leads you through several hallways, up some stairs and finally emerging into, what you can easily assume to be, a mansion. He doesn’t stop to let you take too close of a look. He leads up the wide staircase, to a set of double doors. He pushes them open and you see a giant, canopy bed. You also see things that, while you can’t name them, you're pretty sure they’re meant for BDSM activities.

He pulls you towards him, wrapping you in his arms, and forces your face up to look at him. “You’re not the only one who can read people, Sweetheart,” he purrs. “You enjoy being a bratty, submissive slut. You want someone who can properly dominate you, satisfy that craving your cunt aches for.”

He walks you to the bed as he keeps talking, “you always tried to hide your tattoo because it was your one rebellion against a world that makes you feel helpless. You are kind to your neighbors because you’re too stubborn to let your customer service job kill your soul.”

He pushes you onto all fours on the bed and smacks your ass. “And your unusual calm at being kidnapped? You expect the world to fuck you over.” He smacks your ass again and you bite back a moan. “You expect things to be out of your control so you don’t sweat it when you’re proven right.” He smacks your ass a few more times and you can’t stop the moan that escapes you. As soon as he hears it he chuckles. “You don’t want to be treated like a pet? Fine.” He spanks you again. “But I won’t treat you like a goddess or a queen.” Another slap. “I’m gonna treat you like the dirty slut you’ve always wanted to be.” Another slap. “And I’ll make sure you never feel you have to be more than just the cock hungry whore you really are.”

The spanking continues, hard, fast and painful, until your arms give out. Lloyd reaches his arms around you and pulls you up so that your back is flush against his muscular chest. One hand holds you up by your neck. His other hand reaches under your clothes and smirks at how wet you are. He gathers up some of the slick and starts rubbing circles over your clit. You start whining and gasping at the sensations but you don’t dare move your hips. You’re certain he’ll stop if you do anything he doesn’t tell you to and you don’t want this to stop.

He whispers in your ear, “so long as you never try to wrestle control from me again, I’ll treat how you really want to be treated.” His fingers move faster and you whimper from how close you are. “Not like a queen or a goddess, no. Not a pet, either.” You’re focused on not moving, trying to make sure that his fingers continue to work their magic. “I’ll treat you like my dirty little slut who will do anything so long as I let her cum.”

His grip on your neck tightens and he whispers, “cum for me.” Your orgasm hits you harder than you ever thought possible. He keeps his fingers moving as he whispers “such a good slut.” As the ecstasy ebbs your legs start shaking and he lays you down on your back.

Lloyd licks his fingers and moans appreciatively. He pulls off your pants and underwear, whistling appreciatively at the mess you’ve made of your panties. You try to lift yourself on your elbows but he pushes you back down. “You move when I tell you to, Sweetheart,” he orders, his tone making you whimper. He winks at you, “now let me show you the real reason I keep this mustache.”

#lloyd hansen x reader #soulmate au #tw kidnapping #dark!lloyd hansen

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tayrae515imagines · 11 months

Text

Only Bought This Dress So You Could Take It Off.

Requested: Nope! I just love Jake Seresin.

Warnings: Language. Mentions of death. Losing a parent. Brief mentions of smut. Non-consensual touching (on the face for about two seconds.) Poorly grieving with death. Probably grammar, spelling or punctuation errors. Just go with it.

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Fem!Kazansky!Reader (Call Sign: Frosty)

Type: Angst with a happy ending

Summary: Inspired heavily on Dress by Taylor Swift.

Y/N’s relationship with the one and only Jake Seresin has always been difficult to say the least. The two banter back and forth, constantly flirting or taunting each other. They have never been more than friendenemies at best until one day they weren’t and Y/N finds herself yearning for the one man who drives her absolutely crazy.

Authors Note: So I have seen Top Gun Maverick about twelve+ times since it came out about a year ago now. I just love it so much. It has easily become one of my favorite movies. From the storyline to the characters and overall movie aesthetic. I have spent the past few weeks reading nothing but Jake fics and felt like writing one myself.

I have not written anything in a very very veryyyy long time. So this honestly could be bad. But, with that being said, I am so happy with the direction this went in and it feels good to have written again. Please let me know your thoughts. :) I do also want to point out I have somewhat changed the timeline of the movie to fit my story. Thank you so much for reading!

Our secret moments in your crowded room

They got no idea about me and you

There is an indentation in the shape of you

Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo

“You know, sometimes it physically pains me to hold back my sarcastic remarks around you.”

“Don’t hold back on my account darlin’.” That sickeningly sweet, southern draw floats by Y/N’s ear, making the girl roll her eyes.

The voice belongs to none other than Jake “Hangman” Seresin. The one person who seems to always get under Y/N’s skin despite her normally unbothered demeanor.

Frosty was the callsign Y/N had been gifted. Partly due to her cold and calm demeanor and another part due to her infamous father Tom “Iceman” Kazansky. Y/N had grown up admiring her father, wanting nothing more than to be like him one day. From a very young age the girl knew she was meant to be a pilot.

There was no denying that Y/N was given chances others weren’t but that didn’t mean the girl didn’t work just as hard as others, if not harder. Which is how she ended up back at Top Gun among the best of the best. One of which just happened to be the only man who managed to drive her mad.

“Bagman..I mean this in the most unloving way. Fuck off.”

“You wound me Frost.” The man put a hand over his heart in mock heartbreak. The girl rolled her eyes again as Jake leaned closer. “But if I’m going to fuck anything, it’s you.”

Y/N could feel the smirk on Jake’s face without even facing him. The girl was used to being flirted with, Navy men could be pigs at times. Normaly, it didn’t phase her in the slightest but for some reason, when it came to Jake Fucking Seresin, she just couldn’t help the flutter she felt in her heart.

“In your dreams Seresin.” She managed to get out, desperately trying to hide the blush rising on her cheeks.

“Trust me darlin, it is.” He winked and walked out of the room. Leaving Y/N to let out the breath she didn’t even realize she had been holding. The only thing the girl knew for sure, is no one has ever made her heart race like he did.

All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah)

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from all this (ah, ha, ha, ha)

The day was hot and that was putting it mildly. When you pair the sweltering California heat with the suffocating flight suit and heavy helmet, the weather felt like hell.

All Y/N wanted to do was get to the locker room and take a shower. The girl wanted it so bad she could imagine the shocking feel of ice cold water against her sweat covered skin. That thought alone brought a smile to her face. After a long day of stressful training, she just wanted to relax. Unfortunately for her, someone had other plans.

“We all know you are only in this program because your daddy pulled some strings. You can pretend otherwise but I know the truth.” The deep voice floats down the hall behind Y/N, causing the girl to turn around with a raised brow.

“Do you think you are the first person to have said that to me?” The girl crossed her arms, glaring at the man standing in front of her. She recognized him from around base. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he did here but in her defense, she had been too busy with training and class to meet many people other than her teammates.

“Probably not but it doesn’t make it less true. You don’t deserve to be here.”

“Listen fucker. I have had a rough day. I am hot, I am hungry, and I am tired. I do not need to stand here and justify myself to some dip shit who decided to share his opinion with the class. Just walk away.”

The man smirked and stepped closer to Y/N, forcing her back towards the cold beige wall as she moved to step away from him. His grimy hands reached out and stroked the girl's cheek. “I think you just need to be taught a lesson, maybe put that dirty mouth to work on something else.”

“You son of a bit-”

“Is everything alright here?” That familiar voice rings out, causing Y/N to turn her head towards the tall figure walking in her direction.

“Yeah man, me and my girl were just chatting.” The shorter man, Y/N had mentally nicknamed douchebag said.

“Funny. Doesn’t look like Frost is in the mood to chat with you.” Jake walked closer, physically moving douchebags hand away from the girl. “I also heard everything you said..if you’re going to talk shit, maybe make sure you don’t have an audience. I doubt you would want admiral Simpson or captain Mitchell to find out how you treat one of your coworkers. Sounds like grounds for dismissal to me.”

At Jake's words, douchebag pales, taking another step back. “Look I’m sorry I-”

“If I ever hear you talking about my friend again, I will personally make sure you never talk again. Frost is a better pilot than most of us, hell she is a better pilot than me. Now if you ever touch her again, I will leave you so unrecognizable, your mother won’t be able to identify the body. Get the hell out of here before I show you I’m serious.” Jake growled out the words and the other man ran off. Letting out a breath, Jake turned towards the girl and calmed down. “You alright Frosty?”

“I could have handled that prick.”

Jake smirked at the girl and tilted his head. “You know, a thank you would suffice.”

Y/N sighed and looked up at Jake. “Thank you Hangman.”

“Anything for you darlin. Only I am allowed to taunt you.” He trailed his green eyes down her face, taking in every feature until he stopped at her soft lips.

“My knight in shining armor.” The girl meant to be sarcastic but the words came out in no more than a soft breath, her own gaze going to Jake’s lips. “You said I’m a better pilot than you.”

“Did I?” Jake said softly, brushing some hair out of the girl's face as the two drifted towards each other, lips almost touching until a bang of a door had them jumping away from each other.

“There you are Frosty, I’ve been looking for you all day. Let's go get lunch.” Rooster made his way over, throwing an arm around his best friend, oblivious that he just ruined the moment. “Hangman.” He nodded at the blonde and led the girl out, talking her ear off about god knows what.

Y/N couldn’t focus on a thing Rooster said as she glanced back at the man she left alone in the hall. Her eyes connected with his green ones, the look in them so intense and full of longing, she had to look away.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

“Hangman, hottie checking you out at 12 o’clock.” Coyote said, interrupting Y/N’s thoughts as the girl stared at the cold beer in her hand. The dagger squad had decided to utilize their day off with a trip to The Hard Deck. The group hadn’t been there long before practically all of the women (and some men) in the bar started giving suggestive looks to the team. Y/N really couldn’t blame them. Everyone on her team was unnaturally attractive.

“Oh trust me Coyote. I saw her. And I think the lady looks thirsty, maybe I should fix that.” Jake smirked and walked over to his admirer.

Y/N tried desperately not to stare at them but she just couldn't look away. The brunette's hand, resting on Jake's arm as she gave him a flirty smile. Y/N didn’t need to see Jake's face to know he was eating this up.

Y/N couldn’t understand why she felt a pang in her chest at seeing him flirting with someone else. It’s not much of a secret that Jake is a flirt. And it’s not like she had any sort of relationship with Jake other than friendenemies, if you can even call it that.

“Frost there is a cutie staring at you too.” Phoenix spoke up, grabbing Y/N’s attention away from Jake. The girl followed the direction Phoenix was looking in and sure enough, a tall dark haired man shot her a wink. “Go get him to buy you a drink.” Phoenix smirked and helped the girl up.

Sucking in a breath, Y/N put on her best confident smile and walked towards the man.

“Hello gorgeous. Sorry for staring, I just couldn’t look away from you.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Y/N said softly.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure, I’d like that.” Y/N gave the man a genuine smile and sat down at the bar next to him.

The conversation was pleasant enough. The man who Y/N learned was named Greg, made her laugh. But the same gnawing feeling ached within her..he was kind, funny, handsome even. But he was no Jake.

“Would you like to dance Y/N?” Greg smiles brightly, holding his hand out while his blue eyes sparkled under the bar lights.

“Sure.” Y/N finished off her beer and walked towards the jukebox with Greg, his hands resting on her hips while she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m a horrible dancer so this swaying is the most you’re getting out of me.” The girl laughed softly.

“I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me as long as I can hold you this close.” Greg smiled and pulled her closer to him, his eyes drifting down to her lips.

Y/N could tell Greg wanted to kiss her and maybe a part of her wanted him to. But, every urge the girl felt to make a move with Greg, she felt a more intense one to run towards Jake.

It was a stupid ache that she couldn’t shake and the most infuriating thing about it was she didn’t understand why. Most of the conversations Y/N and Jake had were them taunting each other. When did taunting turn into more for her and does Jake feel the same? She doubted it by the way he had flocked to the first pretty girl to bat her eyes at him. That thought alone made her move towards Greg and pull back from her Jake filled thoughts.

“You can kiss me Greg.” The girl said softly, looking at his lips. Greg didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned in slowly, trying to savor the moment and right as their lips were about to touch, that familiar honeyed voice Y/N has grown to crave, rang out next to her.

“Frosty.”

Y/N pulled back slowly, turning towards Jake. “I’m a little busy here Hangman.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Jake said flatly, not sparing a glance at Greg. “I was just wondering if your little dance partner knew about your extremely high risk job and the ramifications of dating a pilot. Especially a pilot like you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Y/N gritted her teeth and looked up at him.

Greg looked between you both and moved his hands off your hips. “Look, you’re great Y/N. Really great, but I don't want to get involved in the middle of this.” He motioned between the two pilots. “It was nice to meet you, thank you for a fun night.” He kissed her cheek and walked off.

“What the hell was that?!” Y/N turned to Jake, anger burning in her eyes.

“I was just trying to stop you from making a mistake, Frosty. You can do better than that guy.”

“You don’t know a thing about him. God, that’s not even an opinion for you to have! You just wanted to be an ass per usual and ruin my night. Well great fucking job Hangman, you succeeded so you can run back to your new lady friend and leave me the hell alone!” The girl stormed out the bar doors, anger coursing through her so strongly, she was shaking.

Unbeknownst to her, Jake followed her right out those doors. He wasn’t about to let her leave when she was so angry.

“Y/N.”

“Please Jake just go inside and leave me alone.” Y/N turned away from him, wiping the tears off her cheeks that were now freely flowing from her eyes.

Everything was just too much. Too much disappointment, too much heartbreak, and too much yearning for something she couldn’t have.

“Y/N.” Jake gently put his hand on her shoulder, turning the girl to face him. “I’m sorry I ruined your night darlin. That was not my intention.”

“No? Then what was your intention Jake because I do not understand.” Y/N wiped the last of her tears away and looked up into Jake’s green eyes. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“I was jealous.”

“Jealous? Jake, what are you talking about? You are the one who went to flirt with that gorgeous girl!”

“No, I didn’t. I bought her a drink, told her I appreciate her interest but it would never work out with us because I am crazy about someone else! I told her I knew another wonderful man she would like and introduced her to Bob! They are still in there talking if you don’t believe me. I wanted to talk to you! I wanted to flirt with you! And I wanted to dance with you but when I found you, some other guy was trying to kiss you and it drove me crazy!”

All the breath left Y/N when she saw the sincerity in Jake’s eyes. Jake gently cupped the girls cheek, wiping away any stray tears. “I only want you darlin, and it drives me absolutely mad. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. All I can do is think about you and it has been that way since I met you.”

“Since you met me?” The girl gave him an amused smile.

“Oh yeah.” Jake flashed her his toothy grin. “Apparently you telling me to fuck off really got me hooked on you.”

Y/N laughed and moved closer to Jake. “Well apparently your asshole ways worked on me too. I didn’t want him, I just wanted a distraction from you.”

“I’m going to kiss you now Darlin.”

“Please do Jake.”

Jake wasted no time. He pulled the girl flush against him and connected their mouths. His lips warm against hers, breathing each other in with the intensity of the kiss. At that moment, there was no such thing as enough. The couple couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t kiss hard enough. Couldn’t get enough of each other.

Soon Jake had Y/N pressed against his truck, her dress riding dangerously high up on her thigh. Jake pulled back from the kiss just enough to whisper against the girl's now puffy lips. “I love this fucking dress on you. It’s been killing me all night.”

“Good.” Y/N whispered back. “I bought it for you.”

Jake groaned and played with the hemmed edge of her red sundress. “Let me take it off.”

“Fuck, yes please.” The girl groaned and moved a hand into his hair.

Jake opened the back door to his truck and set the girl inside gently before hovering over her. He pushed the skirt up to her hips, exposing a pair of lace panties. Jake groaned when he noticed the wet spot, darkening the blue lace. “Fuck darlin, did I make you this wet?”

“Yes Jake, only you.” Y/N moaned as the man ran his finger over her clothed slit.

Jake looked down at the girl, a smirk plastered on his face. “All mine pretty girl. You’re all mine.”

“Yours.” Y/N breathed, looking into his love filled green eyes. “I’m all yours.”

Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified

I'm spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we're both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about

The temperature outside was getting increasingly warmer and Y/N’s father, Iceman decided to have the dagger squad over for a pool party. The older man wanted to meet her team and more importantly, the man who had stolen his daughter's heart.

Y/N never openly told her parents about her new boyfriend but they knew her well. Especially her father. He saw the way the girl's eyes lit up whenever she talked about a certain pilot and he couldn’t help but want to know more.

The devastating reality was that he didn’t have much time left. But, with what he did have, he wanted to make sure his daughter was putting her faith in the right people. Iceman was no stranger to the egos aviators could have and his little girl had worked her ass off to get where she was. She had proven herself to be more than just her last name. He had to make sure that this Hangman had no intention of hurting her. The other part of him was just genuinely curious. He had never seen her act this way about a boyfriend before.

For a short time when Y/N was growing up, Iceman thought maybe her childhood friend Bradley Bradshaw could be the one. He changed his mind when he saw that the two were better in a platonic way. Sometimes even referring to each other as brother and sister.

“Dad, can I get you another drink?” Y/N walked outside to where Iceman was sitting with Rooster.

“No, I’m alright sweetheart.” He smiled softly at his daughter.

“If you’re offering, I’ll take another beer.” Rooster spoke up.

“I don’t remember offering you one Roos but fine. Because I’m in a good mood.” She teased and walked back to the kitchen to grab herself and Rooster a drink.

Iceman turned to Rooster after he made sure Y/N had left. “Tell me about this Hangman I keep hearing about.”

“Hangman? Why do you want to know about him?” Rooster finished off the rest of his current beer and looked at Iceman “Wait..Hangman is Frosty’s mystery man?”

“It seems that way. I can tell by the way she talks about him.”

“I should have seen that coming with the way those two teased each other.” Rooster leaned back in his chair and sighed. “If you asked me a few months ago I would tell you he was the worst. But he has changed. Especially around her. I thought it was just because they had been flying together more. Obviously that's not it.” Rooster pushed the aviators up his nose. “He has an ego, but, he’s kinda like young Mav from the stories you’ve told me. He likes to push limits and always be the best but he is reliable at the end of the day, if they really are together, he’d do anything for her. I know he would. You know I love Frosty and if I thought he’d hurt her, well I’d be trying to drown him in the pool when he gets here.”

“I might have just let you.” Iceman smiled slightly, sipping his iced tea.

“Frosty can handle herself and I trust Hangman with her. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Glad to hear what?” Y/N walked over, claiming one of the empty chairs at the table while she handed Rooster his beer.

“Nothing sweetheart.” Ice smiled and looked towards the kitchen. “Does your mother need any help?”

“Nope, Phoenix and Bob have taken over the kitchen with her. Mom also said and I quote. “If your father tries to get up and help me instead of relaxing, I will wack him on the head.” I think it’s safe to assume she wants you to stay sitting today.”

Iceman laughed softly and nodded. “I love that woman.”

“I know you do, dad.” Y/N smiled and put her hand over his, occasionally glancing towards the front door, waiting for that familiar blonde to show up.

“Looking for someone?” Rooster smirked and nudged Y/N’s arm.

“No..why are you both being weird?”

“No reason.” Rooster smirked again and sipped his beer, sharing a glance with the older man.

“Okay you are being very cryptic today Roos. It’s weird. Knock it off..” Y/N trailed off when she heard the sweet sound of that southern draw she loved so much. “Hangman is here.” She stood quickly and walked to greet him. She thought she was being sneaky with her emotions, but her father did not miss the sparkle of absolute love in her eyes.

All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah)

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from all this (ah, ha, ha, ha)

“You’re here.” Y/N smiled, walking into the living room where Jake stood with her mother.

“Course I am Frost. I’d never say no to a party and I’m very eager to meet your parents.” He smiled at Y/N and turned to her mother “I brought these for you mam, as a thank you for having me in your home.” He held up the small bouquet of flowers he had meticulously picked out before coming over.

“Oh that is so sweet! Thank you Jake. Please make yourself at home and let me know if you need anything.” She started walking towards the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase but turned back to her daughter before reaching the room. ‘I like him’ she mouthed, causing Y/N to blush and turn back to the man in front of her.

“So you are on a first name basis with my mom already. Impressive.”

“What can I say? Ladies find me charming. And Sarah is a peach.” He flashed her a grin and brushed his hand against hers. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too Jake. Thank you for coming..I mean it.”

“Honey you know I wouldn’t miss this, it’s important to you.” He took her hand and kissed it gently. “I will admit, I am slightly nervous to meet your father.”

“Oh yeah? That’s adorable.” She smirked up at him.

“I am adorable, it’s a known fact.” Jake smirked and pinched her hip with his free hand. “So are you going to show me your childhood bedroom? I am excited to see it..do you have boy band posters?”

“Shut up Jake.” She laughed softly. “Rooster is outback with my dad. I think Coyote made his way out there too. I’ll grab you a beer and we can go out there?”

“Sounds perfect pretty girl.” He kissed her cheek gently and walked outback with her after stopping to get him a beverage.

“Dad this is Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman. He’s a part of my squad and…my boyfriend.” She cleared her throat and looked around at everyone who had joined them outside.

“Boyfriend? Since when?!” Phoenix whispered to Bob who shrugged behind them.

“Since our night at The Hard Deck Phoenix. You didn’t notice?” He whispered back.

“But that was almost a month ago…” She mumbled.

“It’s an honor to meet you sir.” Jake ignored his friends surprise and held his hand out with a smile.

“You as well son. I have heard some incredible things about you.” Iceman took his hand and shook it, motioning to an empty chair with his other hand.

“Are you bragging about me darlin?” Jake grinned and looked at Y/N, taking a seat at the table.

“Absolutely not, your ego does not need to get any bigger.” Y/N playfully scoffed and took her own seat by him.

“It’s cute that you’re impressed by me. I’m impressed by you too.” He grinned and took her hand, kissing it softly.

Iceman watched the way Jake held her hand so tenderly and looked at Y/N with the same love sick expression the girl had shown for him earlier. It was clear to her father from that moment he truly had nothing to worry about. Jake Seresin was in love with his daughter and she was in love with him.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

The bright sun had faded into warm hues of orange and pink, reflecting off the crisp blue pool water as Y/N leaned against Jake. The man’s hand played with her fingers as he held her close, absolutely at peace.

“Jake?”

“Yes baby?”

“Are you happy?” The girl turned in his arms gently, looking into his gorgeous green eyes.

“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m happy. I have you.” He brought a hand up and cupped her cheek gently. “Why are you asking?”

“I don’t know. This all just feels too good to be true. Today was great and I’m slightly convinced this is a dream. It could be all the alcohol though.”

Jake let out a soft chuckle and pinched the girl's hip, causing her to pout at him. “Not a dream darlin. This is real.” He leaned his head down and kissed her once. “This is all I have wanted for years. Even when we were stationed apart. I craved you. I knew even then that I wanted you to be mine. I plan on putting a ring on this finger someday Y/N. That is how crazy I am about you.” He took her hand again and kissed her ring finger.

“You’re going to make me cry.” Y/N laughed softly and leaned her head on his.

Jake chuckled and kissed the girl’s hand once more. “One day. I promise.”

“One day.” Y/N smiled widely and kissed both of Jake’s cheeks. “I should go see if my mom needs help with the dishes.” Y/N slowly moved out of Jake's arms. “Do you want anything else to drink?”

“I’m alright darlin.” He smiled and kissed her hand before letting her go, unaware of Iceman making his way over.

“I’ve never seen her this happy before.” Iceman said and took a seat next to Jake. “Thank you for making her smile like that. It makes me feel better knowing she will have you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for loving her. I couldn’t help it even if I wanted to. She is the most wonderful woman I have ever met.”

Iceman smiled and patted Jake’s arm. “She is wonderful. But you still chose to be there for her every day. It means a lot to me and my wife. You are exactly the type of man I was hoping she would end up with.” Iceman sighed softly. “I don’t have much time left son. I know my family will be devastated which breaks my heart more than I can express, but when it comes to Y/N, I am worried. She shuts down. She pushes people away when she needs them most, she has done it since she was a child. I’m not sure if it makes her feel protected or if she thinks she needs to heal alone but I don't want that for her. Do not let her push you away. She needs you, and son, I can tell you need her too. Promise me?”

Jake turned to Iceman and swallowed down his emotion, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I promise sir.”

“Thank you. You’re a good man Jake Seresin.” Iceman smiled and patted his shoulder again.

“I-I know this is a bit premature but I fully intend on marrying your daughter one day sir. Maybe I am a bit old fashioned but I think it is respectable to get your permission first.”

“You have it son.” Iceman smiled warmly and stood slowly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, all this talk about love has me missing my wife.” The older man made his way inside to find his wife as Jake watched, hoping one day this would be him and Y/N.

Flashback when you met me

Your buzzcut and my hair bleached

Even in my worst times

You could see the best of me

Flashback to my mistakes

My rebounds, my earthquakes

Even in my worst lies

You saw the truth in me

And I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My one and only, my lifeline

I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My hands shake, I can't explain this ah, ha, ha, ha

Y/N has barely spoken a word since she got the news. Now, standing next to her mother and siblings, staring at her fathers casket, she feels like she may never speak again. The air around them holds solemn tension as people mourn. Tears fall but it’s nothing but quiet for the man being laid to rest.

As the flag is being folded and the trumpets are playing, Y/N absentmindedly pinches her arm, desperately trying to wake up from this nightmare. She had just talked to her father last night, they made plans. The reality of him being gone just seemed too unreal for Y/N to fathom.

It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was remotely fair and it drove Y/N crazy. Her father was one of the most caring and wonderful people she had ever had the luck of knowing. He didn’t deserve this.

Tears fell down her cheeks and Y/N let them flow freely. The girl felt numb and something as simple as wiping them away felt impossible. She felt heavy, wondering if the crowd around her could tell she was dying inside.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” The words broke through the surface of her numbness, bringing the girl back to the present as she looked up to Maverick standing in front of her.

“Sorry..I’m sorry.” She said softly and wiped her tears quickly.

“Don’t apologize. You just lost your father..I know how that feels and if you need anything, you know you can talk to me.” Maverick rubbed the girl's arm gently.

“Thank you Uncle Mav. I’m going to be okay..they need me to be.” She breathed out, looking towards her crying mother.

“Y/N, you do not need to be strong for anyone right now.”

“I’m fine Mav.” She snapped and sighed in regret. “I’m sorry..”

“It’s okay sweetheart.” Mav hugged her softly, only letting go when he noticed Jake and Bradley approaching. The tallest of the pair pulled Y/N into his arms tightly, whispering comforting things into her hairline while the girl stayed stiff, drifting back into the heavy waters.

Jake noticed almost immediately and patted Bradley’s shoulder. “Can you give us a minute Rooster?”

Bradley nodded slowly and let the girl go. “I’m going to check on your mom but if you need me, just yell.” He kissed her head and led Mav over to the girl's family.

Jake cupped the girl's face gently, wiping away some stray tears. “Hi baby”

Y/N looked up at Jake, bottom lip wobbling as she felt overwhelming tears coming. “Will you take me home? Please?”

“Of course baby. Whatever you need.”

“I can’t have what I need.” The girl whispered out, her gaze floating towards the casket once again.

Days passed in a blur and Y/N was merely surviving.

She stuck to her routine. Eat, when she could stomach it. Sleep, when she could turn her mind off. Work, when she wasn’t grounded, which was all the time lately. People were worried about her. From Admiral Simpson, to Maverick, to the dagger squad, they did not want the girl in the air.

The person who was most worried, of course, was Jake. He could see her pulling away, closing herself off and trying to heal on her own just like Iceman had warned him would happen.

He had been staying at the girl's place for over a week just to keep an eye on her. Jake didn’t push her at first. He gave her some time to digest everything while he watched from the distance, making sure she didn’t drift too far into herself. But he saw her getting pulled under the surface of those internal waves. He could see her drowning. And enough was enough.

“Frosty, darlin, I made your favorite for dinner.” Jake called out while walking towards the living room where the girl was seated on the couch.

“I’m not hungry Jake.”

“You haven’t eaten anything all day Y/N. Just come take a few bites. I won’t be offended if you don’t finish it all. I do have to warn you though, I am an excellent cook.” He sat on the couch by her and put a hand on her knee gently.

“I said I’m not hungry!” Y/N snapped and stood quickly, his hand falling from her knee.

“Y/N..I’m just trying to help.”

“Well I don’t need your help Jake. I am a grown woman and I can take care of myself. Just go home. Please!”

“No.” Jake said quickly and stood.

“No? This is my apartment!”

“I’m well aware Y/N but I am not leaving you like this. I am not letting you push me away because you think that is easier. I promised your father I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“You w-what?” Y/N looked up at Jake, tears building up in her sore eyes.

“He made me promise because he knew you well. I told him I would not let you self-destruct and I am keeping that promise.”

“Well you’re off the hook now, he’s dead so he’ll never know! “

“God damnit Y/N.” Jake stepped closer to her and took both her hands in his. “Even if I didn’t make that promise I would still be here taking care of you.”

“Why?”

“Why? Why am I here for you? Because I love you Y/N! I want to be here for you. I want to hold you and take care of you. I want to bring you back to yourself because this is not you. You are mourning and that is understandable but you are barely living right now. You haven’t called your mom back in days. Your mother who you used to talk to every damn day. Fuck, Y/n, you have Cyclone worried that is how messed up you are right now. So please, if you can’t do this for yourself, do it for everyone who loves you including your dad because I know he is watching over you. Let me help you heal.”

“I miss him.” Y/N broke down in sobs, gripping the man's shirt for support.

“I know sweetheart. I know.” He pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Y/N.” He kissed her head gently.

“I love you so much Jake.” She clung to him as he let her sob. Body shaking, gut wrenching sobs. But Jake never let go.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

Three months later and Y/N was feeling like her old self again. She had reconnected with her teammates, spent time with her family, and was even flying again. The pain of losing her father had not left completely. The absence of him was still very much felt, but the pain wasn’t crippling anymore. She had a life to live and she knew Iceman would want her to make the most of it.

Tonight in particular was special. The dagger squad was currently occupying most of The Hard Deck, celebrating a successful mission. Music was loud, drinks were flowing, and the company was comforting.

Y/N felt at home among her found family. She sang along with Rooster when he played Great Balls of Fire, like he always does. She danced with Bob, beat Javy at pool with Phoenix, and was smiling so much, her face hurt.

After all of the sorrow and heartbreak, this was what she needed. By the end of the night, the girl was feeling lighter than she had in months. Jake noticed it too. He could see the sparkle in her eyes, the light in her smile. It pulled on his heart, just making him fall more hopelessly in love with her.

“You’re staring at me honey. It’s getting weird now.” Y/N approached Jake and handed him a fresh beer.

“I can’t help myself darlin. You’re stunning.” He put a hand on her lower back and pulled her to him.

“My, my Hangman. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were smitten.”

“Baby I am hopeless when it comes to you. Head over heels, willing to do some embarrassing stuff to prove my love to you kind of hopeless.”

The girl tipped her head back and laughed softly, the sound music to Jake’s ears. “What kind of embarrassing stuff?”

“We’ll have to find out another day.” Jake kissed her nose.

Y/N laughed again, leaning into him. “I love you Jake.”

“I love you too Y/N.” He kissed her once and leaned his head on hers, pulling the girl ever closer than before.

Y/N looked up at him, eyes bright and smile wide. “You still want to marry me?”

“One day” Jake smiled down at the girl, wrapping his arms around her.

“One day.” Y/N smiled up at him, completely oblivious to the diamond ring burning a hole in Jake’s pocket.

There is an indentation in the shape of you

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

You made your mark on me, golden tattoo

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

#jake seresin x kazansky!reader #jake seresin x pilot!reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader smut #jake #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x reader fluff #hangman x reader angst #jake seresin x reader fluff #jake seresin x reader angst #jake seresin x female!reader #top gun 2 #top gun maverick #iceman top gun

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