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#just anothe boys love sketch
ran-orimoto · 2 months
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In December someone asked me for more Fatinamon, my Fairymon rookie Fakemon, and I can’t find the ask any more. I want to 🌊cide. I plan to draw more for Fatinamon this year and I’m currently working on a stupid piece that will feature her too in a certain sense, but for now, whoever you are, I hope you can accept messy recycled sketches for some months ago I have never shared here.
It’s a bit of Fairyblitz ofc⚡️🍃, but Fairyblitz in their rookie forms because I love drawing my lil wind and thunder bugs. And it’s also a bit of my Junzumi fankids lmaoooo, because each of them has got their special relationship with their Digiparents (🤣?), ehm, or better, their parents’ Digimon. Fairymon loves perching on Kou’s head to give him pep talks about how to treat girls properly (because he is a disaster at that and she is the feminist icon of the household for sure along with Izumi), and Kou isn’t pleased ofc. Instead, when it comes to Ran, since she loves butterflies and likes being considered as a butterflies expert (she wishes)….It’s…Love at first sight with Fairymon’s rookie form. Now it’s Fairymon’s turn not to be pleased but there are times Ran and her can bond over music, because in my hc Fairymon eventually becomes (*returns) blind after a while and hearing, melodies, the whistles of the winds become the colours painting her dark life.
Bonus: Kou asking Blitzmon to help him with his maths homework because Kou might not have a Doraemon, but now has got a man of science at home. LOL. Hate myself 🤣.
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strigital · 8 months
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Game's still downloading so here are two more custom chars that will join the ranks of tadpole havers in Keena's party:
Pearl
Your local perpetually exhausted healer who is as likely to fix your broken rib as she is to break a few more if you act disrespectful.
(yes just like the one in DOS2)
Silver Dragonborn
Guild Artisan (used to dabble in magical artificery before descovering her faith)
Cleric, Domain of Life / Sorcerer, Draconic Bloodline
Neutral Good
Lathanderite
Rayne Caladrius
More commonly known as Dirge due to Amnesiac MC Disease, this sad boy is out for blood, hugs and directions to the nearest therapist!
Half-elf not anymore, he an aasimar now!
Vampire Spawn
The Dark Urge
Paladin, Oath of Vengeance (Oathbreaker) / Wizard, School of Necromancy
Chaotic Neutral
Former Talosite, currently is a severe crisis of faith (though lately he finds a bit of comfort in the teachings of Lathander what with all that "new beginnings" philosophy (thanks Pearl!))
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freenarnian · 10 months
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,
#shoot I am not winning at this 'don't make WIP a love triangle' challenge#just sketched out another conversation between main girl character and the austen hero character (NOT to be confused with the love interest)#and ladies they ARE so good together in some ways heeeeelp#readers are gonna ship them I'M gonna ship them at this point#I just can't bring myself to make him terrible even if he's Not The One for her#she's very tired and he's very attentive and she expresses something that's been weighing on her heart#in the way one sometimes divulges something to a stranger that one couldn't say to a friend or loved one#because there's less risk in it that way#she can let the bitter cup slosh over and even welcomes the burn of it if he reacts negatively because then she can go on feeling awful#about it and herself#BUT INSTEAD#he listens... considers... learns something from it and is like 'I understand'#and she's all: oh??#and then he's like 'talking with you is good let's do it again soon'#and she's like: .....uhoh#ANYWAY I maintain that they are fundamentally wrong for each other because they both require types of love the other isn't equipped to offer#but I brought this secondary hero into the picture to represent something that Could have been and boy...#I am succeeding at That#(to expand on that Could it's a very important worldview thing for me because... girl character has made Bad Choices but even so...#things Could have turned out well for her and her realizing that is very important#for combating the cynicism that got her into trouble in the first place!)#(she sold out before the eucatastrophe!! but there is! still hope! eucatastrophe round two!)#this has been incoherent writing rambles with narnie
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Waiting for them to be back
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sweettoofkee · 3 days
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wip percy and orthax from my travel sketchbook!
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Pareidolia: *is a literal mannequin monster* *does not need to sleep or eat* *can skitter through vents and across walls and ceilings like a fucking spider*
Reaver: <3
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socksandbuttons · 2 years
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im sensing...... smugness but also he’s gonna have a similar fashion taste as dream (but shinier??????)
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tracle0 · 1 year
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The hand fucks
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transselkie · 2 months
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Guess who started watching Jujutsu Kaisen 🩵
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genderqueer-karma · 7 months
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just remembered the fact that images are compressed for no fucking reason on mobile. fuck this site.
#yo it's d :)#i was just chilling and then suddenly got super dysphoric and Remembered#anyway i'm currently looping 27 by fob#very fun#i forgot how much this song fucjs#like my body IS an orphanage and we DO take everyone in#believe it or not i do actually experience dysphoria sometimes.#i don't think its a requirement for being trans but i personally do feel it sometimes#granted i could also being experiencing (atm) the epic highs and lows of premenstrual syndrome#but whatever back to 27#she is my everything and i love her so dearly i definitely think that she deserves the world#kissing her with tongue#yk who i bet has the worst pms . manfred von karma.#like hes already mean but add some cramps and an hormonal imbalance and i think you're in for an even worse time than normal#why am i talking about his period. hes not real. hes also postmenopausal. god bless him#so i think he wouldve HAD (past tense) the worst pms#after he got that shit sorted out he was still terrible (and i love him)#okay i'm done now#i did another mana sketch also and i listened to many songs for the first time#one of which was boys dont cry by the cure#very much a new gender that ive adopted into my ever growing repertoire#WHY is that word spelled like that#what the fuck#back to 27. i really love the low hum of what i think is the bass during the bridge#its so..... i yelled idk.#this is becoming stream of consciousness now#are you enjoying the peek into my brain#but yeah 27 is really good and i think its so interesting given its popcultural reference point (the 27 club)#but also the time period it was written in#2008 was a very interesting time for many people and pete wentz is no exception
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boydepartment · 5 months
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three strikes - nishimura riki x fem! reader
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a/n: HIIIIII this was a request from my 🧈 anon :3 i hope you love it my dear
warnings- jealousy! nothing insane tho, mostly fluff 😋 i added a small inside joke that riki would call ricky from zb1 “discount ricky” all jokes tho (pls don’t kill me)
wc- honestly over 750
MASTERLIST
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“here.” you looked over to riki setting your drink down on the table, you looked up at him and smiled as he sat down across from you at the cafe table.
“did you-“
“ask for extra peppermint? yes. even though it’s gross..” riki mumbled, you giggled and sipped your hot coco. it was freezing cold at least to you and so the coco helped a lot.
“when is your project partner arriving?” riki mumbled, sipping his coffee.
you shrugged, “any minute.” setting your coco down riki watched you, he wasn’t necessarily happy over this whole project partner thing. riki knew your project partner, and safe to say he was just irritated by his presence. he didn’t know why, but he was just irked.
so when the OTHER ricky walked in, he just waved and watched as the other boy sat next to you.
“hey y/n!” he smiled, you grinned back at him.
“hey! it’s cold outside are you sure you’re bundled up enough?” you asked, grabbing your books. riki just decided to go on his phone to pass time.
“yeah! it’s crazy how quickly the weather changed huh? are you warm enough?”
you and ricky made small talk which didn’t bother your best friend. that was until one sentence.
“your hands are freezing y/n!”
riki’s eyes shot up to see the discount ricky’s hands on yours. if stares could kill a man, discount ricky would be six feet under.
“oh! yeah that’s why riki, well, my riki got me hot coco.” you let go of his hand and turned to your hot beverage.
nishimura riki would be lying if he said some pride didn’t bubble up inside him, which didn’t go unnoticed by the boy sitting next to you.
riki didn’t take notice and he went back on his phone, he just wanted your project to be over so he could walk back to the car with you and just be away from people. by people he meant discount ricky. this was strike one for his patience.
“i think we should work more on the details of the piece of art itself. like things that normal people look past in monet’s art. there’s a story everywhere.” you suggested, this art project was pretty big for your grade. and you were just relieved that your project partner agreed to do monet.
“that’s such a good idea y/n.” ricky smiled.
oh please riki thought to himself, at that point discount ricky should just get on his hands and knees and beg for your attention. that’d be way less embarrassing than kissing your ass at every little- wait what the hell
to riki’s horror, discount ricky, was readjusting your beanie so your hair didn’t get in your face. this pissed him off, strike two of his patience gone. riki was the one who spent HOURS trying to crochet you that beanie last year and now he’s going to have to make you another one because discount ricky’s grimy hands touched it! riki felt his eye twitch, he ended up making eye contact with the boy next to you. a smirk ghosting his features.
riki wanted to kick his shin under the table or maybe throw his hot coffee-
“i think we should also choose one of monet’s less known works aswe- oh ouch…” you mumbled rubbing your hands, whenever you wrote or sketched too long your hands would hurt. riki always took notice of this so he looked up proper hand massages- safe to say he could be certified- WHAT THE SHIT?
discount ricky grabbed your hands and started massaging them.
strike three
“can you get your hands off her?!” riki finally snapped, “god at this point it’s revolting! i’m right in front of both of you!”
your eyes widened as you watched you best friend actually lose his temper, yeah you’d seen him bicker but this was different.
“what are you two dating?” ricky asked, if you were in a tv show you’d see the angry lightening bolt hit both of them. this was not good, you quickly packed your bags and grabbed your best friend. apologizing to your project partner.
“what’s his fucking problem?!” riki stomped through the fresh snow to your car.
“what’s his problem?! what’s your problem? what the hell was that?! are you okay?!” you had a million questions. and they were flying out.
“i- what- how is this my fault!? he had his grimy discount ricky hands all over you! only i’m allowed to do that as your best friend!”
it was really hard to take him seriously as you finally got to the car laughing. you leaned against the hood trying to catch your breath.
“y/n this isn’t funny!” he stood right next to you.
you finally caught your breath, “i’m sorry where did the nickname discount ricky come from?”
“well obviously i’m the better one way more deserving of, um hello, touching your hair, massaging your hands because im youtube certified, AND THE COLD HANDS THING?! he was flirting with you shamelessly in front of me!” riki swung his arms around like a crazy person trying to explain that the end was near.
your hat fell slightly as you laughed again which riki fixed gently before speaking again, “then he’d smirk at me like he knew he was getting on my nerves! like that discount version of ME KNEW HE WAS MAKING ME ANGRY!”
“should i take my hat off and give you sanitizer? since you touched my discount ricky infected beanie?” you asked, unlocking the car and throwing your backpack in the back. you turned around and bumped into riki.
“actually yeah take off that hat. i will sanitize it and crochet you a new one.” riki grabbed the hat off your head and gave you his own beanie.
“should i sanitize my hands too?” you asked giggling, going to open your door but slipping on black ice.
riki immediately caught you, “um guess who couldn’t catch you- discount ricky. i’m clearly better for you so.”
you started laughing again, hitting his chest playfully, “you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend.”
“is that a bad thing?” riki asked quickly, suddenly unsure of himself.
you shook your head no, “it’s cute.”
riki smiled down at you; it was obvious he was at least a little smug.
“you know what he didn’t contaminate?” you asked, still giggling, your eyes flickered from riki’s eyes to his lips. immediately he got the hint and took his chance.
discount ricky is out and nishimura riki hit a home run
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daisynik7 · 3 months
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Double the Fun
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Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader x Reiner Braun
Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Word Count: ~3.9k
cw: next-door neighbors Eren and Reiner, modern day au, all characters are mid-twenties, explicit language, p*rn no plot, smut – threesome, vaginal sex, anal sex, anal play, spit play, nipple play, cunnilingus, face-riding, blowjob, hand job (M/M), double-penetration, multiple orgasms from the reader, sex toy use (anal plug), cream pies (in both holes), Reiner is a bit of a perv and sniffs panties (just like how he sniffed Historia’s letter in the finale LOL), pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweetie), slight degradation (use of slut, cock slut, whore, and cock sleeve to address the reader), slight breeding kink, sex without a condom (assuming reader is on some form of birth control)
Summary: You’ve been having a bit of a dry spell recently with how busy you’ve been at work. When you finally manage to snag a date with one of your online dating matches, you’re unfortunately stood up, leaving you in a worse mood than before. Lucky for you, your two hot neighbors are more than willing to cheer you up.  
Author’s Notes: Phew! This one is a doozy! Please make sure you read the content warnings before reading. This is filthy and shameless; I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I LOVE Eren and Reiner together, idk, they just always scratch this everlasting itch I have. I’m still getting used to writing threesomes, so I hope this is okay! Also, this is my first foray into butt stuff and I may have awoken something inside me, LOL. MDNI divider by the loveliest @/cafekitsune. Thank you for reading! 
Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @slvt-for-smut @antique-remains @aiyaaayei
part 4 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series
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“Are you sure you don’t want me to sit, like, two tables away? What if this guy is sketch?” 
You can spot the obvious concern in Pieck’s voice through the speaker of your phone, which is currently face-up on top of your vanity as you get ready. You finish the last steps of your makeup, inspecting yourself in the mirror, satisfied. “Don’t worry, I’ve got pepper spray in my purse in case he tries anything funny,” you assure your best friend. It’s been a while since you last went on a proper date. Pieck’s always been a worry-wart about you meeting strangers from your online dating apps, constantly reminding you to stay vigilant. Tonight is no different. 
“You should at least let your hot neighbors know that you’re going out, so they can keep an eye out for you,” she suggests, throwing that in casually. Ever since you moved in a few months ago, she’s been rooting for you to hook up with either of the two men next door, Eren Jaeger and Reiner Braun. She’s met them plenty of times in passing and would much rather you date one of them instead of the countless of mysterious men on your current roster. 
There’s no denying that they’re attractive. Eren with his long, dark hair, striking eyes, and toned physique. Reiner with his sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and well-groomed goatee. They also happen to be incredibly friendly towards you, always greeting you in the hallway with a genuine smile, asking how your day went or what you’ll be up to. They’ve invited you for dinner on several occasions, which has always been pleasant, sometimes leaning towards the flirtatious side. You’re sure they’re just nice guys, cordial neighbors looking out for one another. There’s nothing more to it than that, even if a small part of you wants there to be. 
You step back from your reflection, checking yourself out once one more. “I’ll be fine, Pieck.”
“What if I can’t reach you? There should be at least one other person who’s aware of your whereabouts, right?” This is what binging too many true crime documentaries does. Still, you’re grateful for your friend’s concern, knowing it’s all out of love. You can tell she’s actually distressed about this, so you end up agreeing, mostly to appease her. She wishes you well before hanging up as you slip into heels by the door. 
You tug at the hem of your skimpy black dress, hand motionless on the doorknob. It’s your first date in over a month. Work has been so busy that you haven’t had time for romance or sex. The variety of sex toys tucked away in your drawer has been your only solace these past few weeks. To say you’re ready for some real action is an understatement. You’re also incredibly nervous, afraid you’ve lost your groove. That’s why you’ve taken extra measures to fully prepare yourself for anything tonight. 
With a deep breathe, you step out into the hallway, following Pieck’s advice. You knock on your neighbor’s door and Eren is the first to answer. His expression brightens when he realizes it’s you. “Hi,” he greets you, flashing that charming smile of his. He scans you up and down, taking in your appearance. “Wow.”
“Is that a good wow or a bad wow?” you grin, twirling for him. 
He swallows hard, checking you out once more. “Definitely a good wow.”
It’s that extra boost of confidence you need for this date, so you’re appreciative of him. “Thank you, Eren. You’re always so sweet.” 
He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking. “So, hot date tonight?”
You decide to be honest with him. “Yeah. It’s been a minute, so I’m a little nervous.”
“Don’t be. Any guy would be lucky to date you.” His eyes twinkle at you kindly.
You imagine Pieck screaming at you from twenty miles away, begging you to date Eren instead of going out with this random swipe right. Eren is simply a sweet guy paying his neighbor a compliment. There’s nothing more to it than that. Before you get the chance to thank him, Reiner’s deeper voice calls out from inside the apartment. “Who is it?”
Without taking his eyes off you, Eren answers with your name. Soon, the blonde joins him, jaw dropping when he notices you. “Fuck.”
Eren elbows him in the chest, to which Reiner mutters a strained apology. “Sorry. You just look amazing.”
The flattery is almost too much, cheeks warm with embarrassment, stomach fluttering. “Thank you.” Reiner is usually the more forward of the two, blurting out whatever is on his mind, though you’re not complaining. 
Grinning, Reiner asks, “So, who’s the lucky guy?”
“Someone I met online. My friend said I should let my wonderful neighbors know my whereabouts tonight, in case I end up missing,” you explain casually. 
“How morbid,” Eren chuckles. “We’ll keep an eye out for you later so that your friend doesn’t have to worry.”
“I would appreciate that.”
Reiner raises a brow at you. “Unless you’re planning on sleeping with him. We probably won’t see you if it does go well.” He hunches forward when Eren lands another blow to his chest, shutting his roommate up. 
You giggle, agreeing with him. “No, you’re totally right. I’m going to stay optimistic and say that if I don’t come home tonight, that’s a good thing.”
“We’ll hope for the best, then,” Eren replies, beaming. 
You turn to leave, waving farewell to them. Reiner yells out, “Have fun tonight! But not too much fun!”
~~~
You return to your apartment complex less than two hours later, heels clicking loudly on the tiled steps, feet heavy with disappointment. After taking a twenty-minute taxi ride to the restaurant you agreed to meet him at, you proceeded to wait an entire hour only to realize that you’ve been stood up. No text, no reply, no call. You’ve been made a fool, completely humiliated, the night and the rest of your weekend absolutely ruined by this asshole’s no-show.  
It takes you a while to dig through your purse for your keys, patience already worn thin. Frustrated, you groan out loud, staring up at the ceiling. “Why me?”
In the worst timing ever, the door to your left swings open. Eren pops his head out, saying your name curiously.
Reluctantly, you turn to face him. “Hey.”  
He comes out, dressed casually in sweats, hair wrapped in a messy bun with the few stray strands draping the back of his neck. “That was quick.”
With an unconvincing smile, trying to hide the shame that currently consumes you, you admit, “I got stood up.”
His demeanor changes instantly. The concern on his face is endearing, and when he drifts towards you, he reaches out, then drops his arm, unsure how best to console you without crossing any lines. “No way.”
You nod, sighing. “It’s true.”
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He steps closer to you, hesitantly placing his hand on your shoulder, testing the waters. 
You smile at him, enjoying this simple touch of comfort. “It’s fine. It is what it is.”
The two of you linger like this, Eren gazing into your eyes, holding you. His palm is hot on the fabric of your dress, and for a split second, you wonder how pleasant it’d be on your bare skin. And maybe it’s your wishful thinking or your desperation for human contact after being rejected tonight, but you can feel the heat of a spark between you now. Before you let your fantasies drive you to do something unprecedented, you search your bag again, finally retrieving your keys. He lets you go, watching you shove them into the keyhole, unlocking the door. “Are you okay?”
In all honestly, you’re not, but there’s nothing him or anyone else can do about it, right? “I’ll be okay. Sucks that I got all dressed up for this, though. What a waste.”
He doesn’t respond right away, choosing his words carefully. “Well,” he starts, the faintest blush tinged on his cheeks. “It doesn’t have to be.” 
You stare at him, heart beating faster, making sure you’re understanding him correctly. “Really?”
He clears his throat, licking his lips. “Yeah. Maybe we can get some use out of it.”
“We?”
As if on cue, Reiner emerges from inside their apartment, having heard everything. “Fuck that shitty asshole. You’ll have way more fun with us.” He stands next to his roommate, grinning at you.
This time, you do listen to Pieck’s voice in your head, yelling at you to go for it. To let these two alluring neighbors of yours take care of you the way you deserve. Already feeling better, you give them a coy smile, opening the door to let them in. “Okay, then. Come on in.”
~~~
It’s the first time they’ve ever been inside your apartment, though you save the formal tour for later. As soon as the three of you are inside, door shut, shoes off, they’re both kissing you fiercely. Eren faces you, slipping his tongue into your mouth, hot and heavy. He caresses your sides, squeezing the curves of your body through your dress. Reiner is behind you, grip just below Eren’s, firm on your hips. His lips brush delicately on the nape of your neck, groin pressed to your backside, the bulge protruding from his pants growing harder and harder between your ass cheeks. You moan into the kiss, pussy throbbing in your lingerie, eager to be touched by either man, by both of them. Why did you even bother trying to hook up with strangers online when the perfect matches were beside you all along?
Reiner chuckles, breath hot on your ear, voice low and rugged. “You’re really horny, aren’t you? All dolled up and ready to be fucked, huh?” There he goes again, blunt and straightforward and so fucking sexy, exactly what you need tonight. 
And here is Eren, soft and gentle, committed to kissing you, whispering sweet nothings any chance he gets. “You’re beautiful. Such a gorgeous girl. So pretty for us.” Also exactly what you need. 
You lead them into your bedroom, Eren flipping on the light switch, keeping his lips on you while Reiner strips out of his clothes, starting with his pants. Eren does the same, hoisting his shirt off, revealing his impressive figure. You attempt to slip out of your dress, but Reiner stops you. “Keep it on,” he rasps, down to his underwear now, boner more obvious, poking out from his briefs.  
Eren pinches your butt, snapping the tight fabric to your skin. “We’re not letting this go to waste, remember?”
You nod mindlessly, brain hazy with lust, too eager to be fucked. “Fuck me,” you beg, spit smeared all over your lips. 
They both laugh softly, walking you towards the bed. “So impatient, so needy,” Eren coos, positioning himself in front of you, toying with the hem of the skirt.
Reiner sits up against the headboard, propping you up on his lap, your back pressed to his muscular chest. “What’s the rush, baby?” he teases, licking a stripe behind your ear. “We’re going to take care of you. Right, Eren?”
Eren bites his lip as he works your dress up past your thighs until it’s bunched up at your hips, exposing your soaked thong on your wet cunt. “Oh fuck yeah,” he huffs, salivating. “Gonna make you feel so good. Make you come so fucking much.”
You spread your legs wider for him, a pathetic whine escaping your throat, more and more desperate by the second. He hooks his finger on the crotch of your panties, smirking at the string of arousal that stretches between the fabric and you. “So fucking wet, holy shit.” 
He tugs it all the way off your legs, tossing it over to Reiner, who brings it up to his nose, taking a big whiff. “Such a slut for wearing these on a first date. Our naughty girl.” He lets your lingerie fall from his grasp onto the floor, sliding to the plush of your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart. 
Eren dives in, spreading his wide tongue flat on your clit, moving it side-to-side, stimulating you into your first orgasm. Your knees twitch from the sensation, the pleasure rippling through you like waves of ecstasy. You turn your head towards Reiner’s, opening your mouth, pleading him for a kiss. He obliges, sticking his tongue inside you, slurping up your saliva, hungry for it. “You’re so fucking nasty,” he growls, reaching for the drawer beside the bed. “Bet you have toys hiding in here. Why don’t we have some more fun and play with them?” You whimper wantonly, keen on the idea of Reiner using whatever he wants on you to make you come again. 
He finds exactly what he’s looking for: your precious anal plug, tapered on one end, heart-shaped gem on the other. When he pulls it out, he barks out a laugh, almost like he can’t believe his luck. “You really are a whore,” he whispers in your ear, sinister and wicked, about to have too much fun with this. “Did you prep yourself to be fucked in the ass? Be honest.” Even Eren pauses, peering up at you, curious. 
“Yes,” you mewl, squirming with arousal, body tingling all over.
Eren’s chuckle reverberates against your clit, releasing you from his mouth to lap at your wet slit. “Good girl,” he muffles, collecting your cum on his tongue. “So perfect for us.”
The dynamic between them spurs you on, Eren playing the good guy, Reiner playing bad. Both of them work together with a common goal in mind: to cheer up their pretty neighbor from what would have been a bummer of a night. But already, you’re thankful that you were stood up; you’re certain now that this is the much better alternative. 
“Eren, switch spots with me,” Reiner demands. “And you,” he says, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “On your stomach.”
You both obey him without protest. Eren leans against the headboard with a dazed look in his eyes, licking his shiny, cum-coated lips. He smiles as you gaze up at him, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, stroking him. You open wide, tapping the tip of his dick on your tongue before sinking down on him until you’re too the hilt, swallowing him into the back of your throat. He cups yours cheeks, caressing you gently. “So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth. My gorgeous girl.” You accept the praise shamelessly, relishing the distinct taste of him.
From behind, Reiner worships you, squeezing your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to ogle at your fluttering hole. Without warning, he hocks a frothy wad of spit directly onto it, teasing his thumb on the rim. “Fuck, baby,” he utters as you moan on Eren’s cock. “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?”
You nod, taking Eren deeper, your nose pressed to his groin, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth, bracing yourself. The plug is slick with lube as Reiner pushes it in carefully until the heart-shaped jewel is flush to your hole. He swears under his breath, marveling at the sight before him, cock pulsating in his fist. You stay like this for a while, adjusting to the toy inside you. It really did help that you prepared for this earlier. 
“So sexy,” Eren murmurs from above you, staring on your backside. “You take it so good, sweetheart.”
“Like an obedient slut,” Reiner adds, using his thumb to push the plug the slightest bit deeper. He lifts your hips to position himself below you so that you’re straddling his face. “Can you come again, baby?”
“Of course she can. She’s our good girl,” Eren purrs, petting your head softly as you continue to blow him. 
Reiner eats you out sloppily, different from Eren, who’s intentional with his every move. It sends you into another frenzy, pushing you closer and closer over the edge, especially when he begins playing with the plug, pumping it in and out of you slowly. You’re overstimulated with Eren’s hot cock throbbing in your mouth, clit swollen on Reiner’s tongue, and asshole puckered around the smooth glass of the plug. You reach your climax easily, gushing all over Reiner’s face, riding out your orgasm until you’ve completely soaked him in your juices. He drinks it all up, messy and greedy for every drop of you he can scour. He really is as insatiable as you imagined he’d be. 
You release Eren to catch your breath, to which he tips your chin up to face him. “You’re incredible,” he says, the familiar twinkle in his eyes making your heart race. You paw at his chest, crawling up to meet him for a kiss. 
Reiner quickly joins the two of you, not wanting to be left out, rubbing his hard cock between your ass cheeks. You kiss the both of them at the same time, all of your saliva mingling together into a hot, wet mess that you’re currently intoxicated by. After a moment, Eren pulls back. “Does our pretty girl want to get fucked now?”
“Show us how big of a cock slut you are,” Reiner grunts, circling the jeweled end of the plug, teasing your hole. 
Eren helps remove the dress off you completely, hoisting it off your body. He stretches his arm towards the drawer. “Are the condoms in here too?”
You shake your head briskly, bringing his attention back to you. “I want it raw. Want you to fill me up.” 
They both moan, clearly fond of your request, kissing you feverishly. Eren nudges your breast into his mouth, latching onto your nipple. Reiner sucks the skin all along your neck, leaving his love marks, growling, “You want us to breed you, huh? Want all this cum inside these tight little holes of yours. Oh fuck.” His voice is rough and husky, gradually losing his composure. 
Eren’s remains tender, his breath soft on your bosom. “We’re going to breed you so good, sweetheart.” He shimmies down the bed, lying flat on his back, peering up at you with adoration. You straddle him, rubbing yourself on his shaft, needy for friction on your aching clit.
Reiner’s embraces you from behind, groping your chest, focusing on his roommate’s dick and your wet cunt gliding along it. He reaches between you and Eren, fisting his friend’s cock with fast strokes. “Look how hard he is for you. He’s going to fuck you so good. Make you cream all over the sheets.” Your pussy is sopping with arousal from the dirty talk alone, but watching Reiner touch Eren has you dizzy. 
“Fuck, Reiner,” Eren moans, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “That’s so fucking hot.” He lets his roommate jerk him off while you continue to grind yourself on him. Soon, he replaces Reiner’s fist with his own, cockhead glistening with precum. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”
Reiner moves to your swollen bud, tapping it with his thick fingers. “Oh yeah, she’s fucking ready. Come on, cock sleeve. Put it in.”
Without wasting another second, you line yourself up with him. Eren slides in smoothly, his entire length in you, pussy stretched around him perfectly. You whimper from the fullness, his cock to the hilt and the plug nestled in your backside. Reiner places his hand on your posterior, urging you to lean down so that your chest-to-chest with Eren, who kisses you passionately, remaining still inside you. “Eren,” you whimper his name, drooling into his mouth. He smiles against you, delighted at how fucked out you are for him.
Reiner adjusts his stance, hovering over you by planting one foot on the bed to prop his knee up, giving him enough leverage. He focuses on the plug, tugging it out just barely only to push it back in, repeating this several times, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Finally, he removes it completely, staring wide-eyed at your gaping hole, oh-so-inviting for his fat cock. “Look at that,” he croons, circling your rim with his finger, sensitive to his touch.
You want so badly to be stuffed full by both of them. In a trembling voice, you whine, “Please, Reiner.”
Laughing, he delivers a harsh smack to your ass, skin immediately stinging from it. He dribbles more of his spit onto you, teasing the tip of his dick on the rim. “Not yet, slut.” You can’t see him, too immersed in kissing Eren right now, but you can practically hear the wicked grin on his face, watching you squirm below him as he torments you.
Eren intervenes, annoyed with his friend’s behavior. “Come on, Reiner. Give her what she wants. She deserves it.” He nuzzles his nose to yours. “She’s been a very, very good girl.”
Eventually, Reiner relents. “You’re right. She’s a good girl. And good girls deserve to get fucked in both holes.” 
You shiver at his perverse words, bracing yourself. At last, he guides himself inside you, filling you to the brim. It’s better than any fantasy you could dream of, the sensation so intense, tears begin welling in your eyes.
They start thrusting simultaneously, Eren pummeling your cunt from below, Reiner pounding your ass from behind. It’s messy and raunchy, their hands slippery all over your body from lube, slick, and sweat. The air surrounding you is laden with lust and desire. The collective moans from all three of you echo off the walls of your small bedroom, along with the squeaks of your mattress creaking under the weight of your vigorous lovemaking. 
Reiner is rendered speechless now, totally concentrated on pumping his cock in and out of your fluttering hole, the only sound from his mouth being his ragged breaths. Eren slips one hand between you, his digits pressed to your puffy clit as he fucks up into your pussy. The other fondles your tit, thumb flicking your nipple until it’s perky. He continues to praise you, constantly musing about what a good girl you are, how perfect you are for them. 
At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come. You’re in a perpetual state of ecstasy, surrounded by the two hottest men in your life who are voracious for your orgasms. The sour memory from earlier has completely faded and all you can think about is the sweet bliss you’re currently indulging in. 
Eren is the first to come, no longer able to endure it. His even thrusts turn erratic. “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming inside you sweetheart, oh fuck.”
You kiss him languidly, drinking up his moans as he floods your cunt with his load. Soon, Reiner swears loudly, announcing his own climax. “Fuck, gonna breed this slutty hole.” His cock swells, spurting his warm seed inside you.
You relax on top of Eren, who’s equally as spent as you. Reiner pulls out slowly, fixated on his own cum dripping out of you. “Fuck. Let’s see the other one, baby.” You lift off Eren, who almost seems reluctant to let you go. Both of them watch with hazy expressions as his creamy load spills out of you and onto his lap. 
The room is musty with the scent of sex, the sheets messy and stained beneath you. Despite that, you’re on cloud nine, soaring high from having the nastiest ménage á trois with your next-door neighbors.
Maybe you should try getting stood up more often. 
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bonny-kookoo · 6 months
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Jungkook
(Oh My) Bunny-Baby 🔞
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In which Jungkook had long lost hope to find someone sweet as you.
Tags/Warnings: Bunny Hybrid!Jungkook, Bunny Hybrid!Reader, strangers to lovers, major fluff, romance, Flirting, they're in love, also very horny towards the end oops, car sex, sloppy handjob, lots of... fluids, squirting aka champagne confetti wink wink, multiple orgasms, some aftercare?, idk it's something
Length: oneshot, I'll count later
There is no taglist for this fic.
-> You can request drabbles if you want.
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"Come on in- just, be a little quiet, I've got my new coworker over." Jimin chuckles, making Jungkook look at him scandalized- since Jimin, technically, has a girlfriend.
"Ah no, not like that." He waves off, walking in after they both taken off their shoes. "A waterpipe broke in her bedroom, so now she's crashing on my couch for the time being." He explains, putting a finger to his lips as they enter the living room area, where Jungkook spots your body underneath a blanket, clearly asleep.
What peaks his attention though, are the very obvious bunny ears on your head, only partially covered by your hair.
Bunny hybrids aren't common at all, nowadays, due to them ending up mixing with humans more often than not- so much so, that until now, Jungkook has never met another 'pure' bunny hybrid of the opposite sex before, ever. "Just sit down there- she sleeps like a rock, so don't worry too much about waking her." Jimin laughs, easily sitting down in a seat across from where you sleep, while Jungkook carefully takes the spot next to where your head is resting. From here, he's got an even better view of you- and you're just.. so cute.
Though he feels himself short-circuiting the moment you move, nose scrunching up a bit as you move your leg, blanket now slipping a little to reveal the softest looking bunny tail he's ever seen. That, combined with your ear twitching while you dream, makes him wonder about things he never really thought of before. He absentmindedly reaches to touch his own ear, trying to see if they're just as soft as yours look. Are they? He's not sure. He's so close to you he could just see for himself, especially when you move a little more, head leaning against his thigh, ears laying over it- but he knows how much he hates having his ears touched constantly, so he doesn't.
That would just be rude.
"Do you know a cheap place where she can stay? Sine my partner is a wolf hybrid, you know.." Jimin wonders, sighing. "Here, that's the sketches by the way." He offers, giving a few papers to Jungkook who takes them. "Oh! Or, since you're both the same species, maybe she could stay with you? You still have the pull-out couch right?"
"Yeah!" Jungkook answers, while you seem to finally wake up, slowly sitting upright, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.
"Great!" Jimin misunderstands the rabbit boy's answer. "Hey, bunny? Jungkookie over here has an empty couch you can stay on." He tells you, who's ears slowly stand up, before you look over at the shoulder of the other bunny hybrid- head slowly lifting to look at the wide open eyes of the buck next to you. "He's easy to be around, don't worry." Jimin jokes.
"Oh?" You wonder, noticing Jungkook's black ears turned towards you as well, giving you all information you need for the moment. "Tha's nice of you." You slur sleepily, yawning before you stretch. "Thank you." You smile, and Jungkook is officially without any brain activity at all for the moment.
Especially when you lean your head to the side a bit, ears flopping over, still clearly drowsy from sleep.
"Uh.. yeah!" Jungkook snaps out of it, ripping his eyes away from you, though he hears you giggle a little to yourself, causing his tail to wiggle without his control of it. He honestly didn't mean to agree to something like this- hell, his apartment isn't even remotely tidied up, there's probably dishes in the sink and his laundry all over the place- but in some odd way, he also can't pass up the opportunity of a lifetime, basically; because you're so pretty, and-
wait, he doesn't even know if you have a boyfriend. Do you? And if you do, why is he not helping you out in a time like this? He knows he would've offered you to stay at his home right away if something was up. That's just common sense.
"I'll go get my stuff.." You mumble, slowly getting up to stretch one last time- bunny tail wiggling around as you groan, giving Jungkook pretty much whiplash from the sight alone, before you walk away into the bathroom, probably to shower and wake up properly.
"She's cute, huh?" Jimin teases, catching Jungkook staring after you. "Doesn't have a boyfriend from what I know. And she's a bunny too." He wiggles his eyebrows, while Jungkook shakes his head.
"So?" He huffs. "Doesn't mean we're like.. destined or something. I'm just gonna help her out- and after that, we'll go back to being strangers anyways." He simply says, shrugging it off. After all, he's tried relationships before- and they all somehow always failed because of him in some way, making him believe that at this point, he just isn't fit for simple relationships.
He can't help his instincts, and neither can he help his.. needs either.
So when he takes the sketches home to work on, and helps carry your bag for you- he doesn't get his hopes up for something changing, because down the line, maybe that'll protect him from the inevitable heartbreak when you leave just like he fears you will.
Just like everyone else did before.
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Inside his apartment, you're clearly finally properly awake now, curiously following him as he shows you around, before he leaves you in his small living room to fetch some sheets and blankets for you to put on the couch.
It's clear that he lives alone, apartment a bit.. lifeless almost, not much screaming home at you from what you can see. Apart from a sweater thrown over a chair at the open kitchenette, and a few dishes in the sink, it looks like any ordinary single-guy household.
Interesting. Especially the fact that his home only smells of himself and no one else. Doesn't he have a partner?
That wouldn't make sense. He's basically the perfect buck.
"It's a bit.. uh, I know this will look like it's broken but it's not-" He defends, rubbing the back of his neck after he put the blankets and sheets on one side of the couch, leaning down to pull on the lower edge of the front of the couch. "-it's just.. urgh- old!" He grits, using a good amount of strength to pull out the part that snaps back up into place, ultimately turning the small couch into a bed with good amount of space on it.
You can't help but stare wide eyed however, not at the furniture- but rather the clear display of strength of his, arms showing off their muscles even while covered mostly by his plain white t-shirt. You can't help it- after all, it's instincts.
Snapping out of it when you notice him looking at you in question, you shake those thoughts off for the moment, hands behind your back while you sway on your legs a little. "Uh.. I didn't listen, sorry. What did you say?" You ask, caught a bit in your staring contest between you and his thighs having multiplied twice their size from the way he's sitting on his heels on the floor.
"I asked if you.. if that blanket is enough, or if you want a thicker one?" He offers. "I have a spare one with feather filling if you'd like.." He wonders, and you nod instantly.
You like thick blankets and bedding a lot- it makes for great nesting material, and gives you a sense of comfort while asleep.
He smiles in a friendly manner, before he fetches said blanket, taking a bit longer to put a cover over it, before he brings it to the couch you're already on all fours on, tucking the sheets into the corners properly, and he can't help but watch you a little. He himself doesn't really nest, and since he's never met a female bunny hybrid before, he's never actually seen one making a nest, except for in movies and TV shows. So, seeing you so naturally do it, makes him wonder.
How much of what he heard and seen about female bunny hybrids is actually true- and how much is just romanticized fiction?
After all, he as a male bunny hybrid is often watered down to nothing but a good lover in bed- but once those people get into an actual relationship, and realize that it's not just fun and games but a need of his that he'd have fulfilled every day of the week if possible, he quickly becomes too much to handle.
And so, most of the time, everything always falls apart because he's too needy. Too demanding. Too high maintenance. Too tough to.. satiate.
"Here." He carefully offers the bedding to you, and you smile, happily taking it with a 'thank you' from your side. He's a bit awkward now- unsure if you'd like him to stay or not. "Do you… should I leave?" He asks, unsure.
"No?" You answer, shaking your head. "This is your home after all. Why should you leave?" You giggle, unaware of Jungkook's inner troubles with the whole situation. He sits down on the edge of the bed so he stays out of the way, while you position some pillows and the other blanket how you want, eventually settling on the thick feather-filled quilt, hugging it it as you look at him arms and legs wrapped around the thick fluffy bedding.
"I.. uhm, I've never actually met a doe before, so I'm not sure how to really act." He admits, and you nod, lips parted in an 'o'-shape as you realize his dilemma.
"That's fine." You simply say. "We're kinda rare after all, I only ever really met another buck like.. a few years back? And he was an asshole, so you're already doing a lot better than him!" You joke, though he can spot some truth behind your words, worrying him what might've happened in the past. "So, Jiminie gave you sketches, right?" You ask, and he nods, happy over the finally flowing conversation. "What's that about?" You ask.
"I'm a tattoo artist." He says, pulling up the sleeve of his white shirt way over his shoulder, showing off his inked arm, making you lean closer to gain a better look, ears fully turned towards him now in interest. "I designed all of them myself, for example." He offers, chuckling when you tilt your head to look at something in a different angle.
"Oh, they're so cool!" You praise, before leaning back again. "I wanna have a tattoo too, but, I don't know.. people told me I shouldn't, cause it wouldn't suit me.." You mumble, leaning back into the comfort of the bedding.
"I mean, it depends what you'd want?" He shrugs. "I could for sure come up with something more delicate maybe?" He wonders, mind already trying to imagine some art underneath your skin right now.
"Heh, you wanna mark me up?" You flirt boldly, catching him off guard at your innuendo. "I'm just kidding. You're cute!" You compliment, before you curl up in your little nest once more. "...though.." you mumble, looking at him dangerously from underneath your lashes.
...though?" He asks, breathes out almost carefully.
"Though I wouldn't mind you cuddling me, to be honest." You giggle into the quilt, cheeks tinted softly. "You look like you give great cuddles." You say, and he laughs a bit bashfully to himself.
"I mean- maybe?" He shrugs, unsure. He's not really.. cuddled much before, every touch of his always having been taken as either an invitation or demand even when it wasn't either- so at some point in his life, he just stopped even thinking about it. What would make you different from them?
And what does he really have to lose, down the line?
You're Jimin's coworker. If you and Jungkook don't work out, there's no awkwardness really, to be fair. You'd just part ways, and that would be it, and since you're both clearly adults, nothing speaks against it.
"Shouldn't we.. maybe get to know each other more?" He wonders carefully, testing the waters. And your next words make him wonder if you could really truly be a new start for him.
"Why? It's only cuddling." You huff. "It's not like I wanna go to phase two just because you touch me." You joke.
And while he does smile at it, it's not a joke to him.
It's much more than that.
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"Heeh, whatcha cooking?" You ask, dipping underneath his arm to catch a glimpse at the pot he's stirring, making him instinctively reach out to pull you back so you don't look inside and hurt yourself.
"Ramen- but it's spicy, so you might not like it." He chuckles, remembering how you told him last night at a movie you watched together that you don't tolerate spicy things very well. Most buny hybrids dont- but he grew up with it, so maybe that's why he can stomach it very well.
The movie you watched yesterday had only been background noise to be honest, because you were rather occupied getting to know each other better, just like Jungkook had suggested. He now knows that you moved here after a bad relationship break up lead to you wanting a new fresh start somewhere else, while you learned that Jungkook used to work at an internet Cafe for a while until he could finally land a spot at Min Yoongis tattoo studio.
You've warmed up to each other quite quickly- and not just over shared life experiences and problems you'd laugh over together.
"But I'm hungry." You tell him, looking upwards at his face that's watching you as well. "Can I use your kitchen to make myself something?" You wonder, and he smiles, laughing.
"I can cook one extra. I have a mild chicken one in here- would you like that?" He asks, and you nod, reaching for it- though he's holding it too far away. "I said I'm making it." He jokingly scolds. "You go wait, it'll take maybe twenty minutes or so." He explains, though you just turn around and...
Hug him?
"Heeh, you're so warm!" You giggle, unable to really resist at least trying to hug him once- when a hand sets itself onto your back, holding you close while he continues cooking. He just smells so nice, and he is so nice in general that you just involuntarily get attached already.
You're a bunny hybrid after all. You crave affection, need attention.. and much more than that, but this part, you've learned to control. It throws people off how clingy and needy you are, it's something you learned the hard way- and you're hoping that you won't screw it up with Jungkook.
Cause you really like him already. Might go as far as to say you've got a terrible crush.
"Am I bothering you?" You ask meekly but he shakes his head, a surprised expression on his face.
"No, I'd tell you if you did." He answers, and at that, your eyes sparkle in wonder, head resting against his chest. Words like that mean the world to you- because thar means you won't just unknowingly make him uncomfortable until he gets rid of you. He'll tell you first, so you can change.
"Thank you." You simply say-
And he wonders what you must've experienced in the past to be so grateful of simple communication like that.
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"So, you're staying with Jungkook now?" Namjoon, a bear hybrid across from you asks- and you nod.
"Hmhm, he's really nice." You compliment, and Jungkook feels his cheeks start to get hotter at your praise. He's got a terrible problem and it's only four days in of you both knowing each other-
Because his body is clearly reacting to your scent being all over his apartment and all over him.
He can't help it, it's quite frankly embarrassing how often he has to shower and try and relieve himself somewhat quietly so you won't notice- ache in his body now worse than ever before, with you as a doe so close around him all the time. You're clearly in your prime, and so is he- bodies communicating that desire constantly without either of your control.
And unbeknownst to him, you're very aware of his dilemma. He's not exactly as quiet as he thinks he is.
In that department, you pride yourself in being a lot more secretive- he probably hasn't even noticed that you got yourself off right in your nest in the living room, because you, compared to him, can be quiet.
Well, but he knows. Because while you might not make much sound, your scent left on your bedding speaks louder than you could ever scream. And it's torture.
"So, you both?" Jimin raises his brows suggestively, making Jungkook shakes his head bashfully. "Heh, why not? You're already so cute together!" He whines, always so passionate about his best friend finally finding that special someone.
Namjoon sighs and scolds the younger friend, before he looks at you. "I'm sorry, he can be a bit too bold sometimes." He says, and you just wave it off.
"No its fine, I understand." You say, before going back to eating.
You're awfully quiet the rest of the night, seemingly rather low on energy. It's something Jungkook notices with slight worry, fearing you might be coming down with something- unaware that it's both your social batteries running low, and also the fact that, naturally, bunny hybrids tend to kind of shrink in on themselves if they're without affection for too long.
And for you, it's been a long time since someone cared for you in a more intimate way.
But he doesn't connect the dots yet, rather offers to go home with you a bit earlier, to get you into bed so you can rest properly.
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You're surprisingly visiting often and regularly, even after returning to your now renovated home.
You seek him out actively, ask often for his opinion on things or if he wants to hang out- and he's thriving, energy at an all time high. It's something that everyone at the tattoo shop notices too, constantly picking on the rabbit hybrid- but he couldn't care less.
Because last night, you told him you liked him. Like, liked him a lot. You got a crush on him.
And it makes him all giddy with excitement, causes him to whistle as he cleans up his workspace to finally go home and welcome you back to his apartment for some takeout and cuddles- because that's something that you do often as well.
It's like the only quality sleep he has these days is only when he sleeps together with you. And not even in a sexual sense whatsoever.
You gently turn him whenever he falls into a bad position during his sleep that makes him snore- instead of telling him that he's annoying and disrupting your rest. You cling onto him, you're nuzzling into his neck, you scent him- and he loves every second of it, soaks up your affectionate attention like a sponge.
You're just so cute, and perfect for him- he can't help but fall for you. And knowing that you did too- just makes it all feel like a fairytale come true.
Though, in his car, things don't go quite as.. tame as he expected it to.
Not that he complains.
You're on his lap in the driver's seat as he'd parked his car at an empty parking lot out of sight of the main road, clinging to him, kissing him just as eagerly as he does you. It's desperate, open mouths stealing each other's breath away, his teasing bites to your lip making you whimper. "Please-" you softly cry, looking at him with pleading eyes. "-I'm starving.!" You complain, and he laughs.
The moment you're both in the backseat of his car, he wastes no time- using the sweater and shirt he pulls off his upper body in one go to throw them against the door so your head is supported, before he leans down to kiss you again. He can't get enough, not of you, and not of this moment-
Because down the line, he's equally as touch-starved as you are.
There's no time nor need for words as his hands push beneath your clothes, exploring what he finds beneath with eager palms, skin warm to the touch. You're squirming in place, needy for more than he gives right now- and he decides that patience can go fuck itself, because he needs you.
The moment he unveils your lower body to his eyes is the moment he just knows he can't control himself, hand instantly reaching between your legs to play with you, get you ready. "How have you been like this, huh?" He chuckles, jokes, as you squirm and roll your hips into his hand. "Poor baby, suffering in silence when I'm right here." He breathes out, sensitive core so desperate you don't need much to come undone for the first time.
While you catch your breath, he uses that time to search for a condom in his car- finding one in his wallet, thankfully, before he covers his length that you're already reaching for.
"Next time." He reassures your disappointed face as you realize he's not gonna let you return the favor. "Right now I need you." He instead explains, before he guides the head of his cock through your folds, collecting your wetness before he finally pushes inside.
Your head is finally empty, no thoughts rushing any longer, the only thing on your mind the feeling of him filling you up.
You don't care if you're needy, or clingy, or too demanding- right now you want all he has to offer, as your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer.
And closer he gets, leaning down to capture your lips once more before his hips start to move.
The sounds you make must be nothing shy of pornographic, but you don't spare any mind to it- instead letting your eyes roll back as he picks up his pace, testing your limits to see what you need, and what you can take. And much to his personal pleasure, it seems like you're a perfect fit-
Not just in any other way already.
Your tail must be soaked in your slick at this point, ring of foamy white decorating the base of his length as he keeps up his rhythm, skin smacking against skin loudly in the small space of the car. Any bystander outside probably knows exactly what's going on-
And he couldn't care less.
An almost growling sound escapes him when he feels you clench in your upcoming orgasm, thighs trembling against his body as you cry out, white hot pleasure making you blind and deaf for a second, while his hips stutter, one final push all it takes for him to snap-
As he pulls out your soaked cunt, pulling the condom off to instead close your legs and bring himself to his finish that way, white strings of cum covering your naked front, even up to your shirt that he's pushed way up high to reveal your bouncing chest to his eyes.
He's breathing heavily together with you, as he notices the scene he finds himself in.
The windows of the car are all fogged up, and it's stuffy inside, smell of sex filling the entirety of the space, leather of the seats squeaking slightly as he adjusts his position. Your most recent experience of pleasure covers his thighs and seats, but he doesn't mind, he can only laugh to himself absolutely starstruck.
He's never experience something like this before.
He's never had any sexual encounter where he felt this satisfied after, no lingering appetite left for the moment, as he helps you out of your shirt to use it to wipe your body somewhat clean- his cum having stained the fabric already anyways.
The second he notices you shivering he helps you into a sitting position after cleaning you between your legs too- or at least drying your skin, before he wipes the seats. "I uh.." you mumble, staring at the mess you've made. "...that's new." You say, and he laughs, looking at you with eyes full of stars.
"I know." He answers, making you beam back with an equally love-filled gaze, shy laughter breaking the awkward aftermath of your first time.
And that's when he knew-
You're it for him.
For now and forever.
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"Jungkoooook~?" You sing, hanging somewhat upside down off his bed- when he walks into the bedroom, freshly showered.
"Whaaaaat~?" He parrots back in a similar tone, walking to the closet to get a shirt and pants.
"Do you love me?" You wonder, and he laughs, slipping the shirt over his head.
"Of course." He instantly answers without thinking.
"Do you really love me?" You ask, and he turns around now, looking at you with suspicion.
"...You're gonna ask me to drive you to that one specific place where they sell those giant milkshakes again, aren't you?" He accuses, and you giggle.
"I mean, do you reeeaaally love me?" You jokingly ask, and at that he squats down in front of you to kiss your upside-down lips with a smile.
"Of course I do." He answers. "So much so that I'll drive you there, even though you're gonna have a stomachache from all the food again."
"That was once!" You call out as he puts on his sweatpants having now sat up. "Or maybe twice.. okay if we count last Tuesday maybe three times but that-"
"Doesn't count, I know." He finishes his sentence for you, closing the closet before he leans his hands on the bed, lips catching yours to shut you up for a second.
But as he leans back to look at you, there's a new desire in your eyes.
"You know.. now that I think of it.." you mumble quietly, hands toying with the strings of his sweats. "I'm hungry for something else.." you bat your lashes at him, and he smirks at that, leaning his head to the side while he watches your lips.
"I wonder what that might be." He grins, licking his lips as you lean onto your back, his body now crawling over you.
"Guess you better find out." You tell him, hands already pulling down the hem of his pants slowly.
"Guess I have to." He shrugs, letting you undress him, trip to the far away diner long forgotten.
Because who needs to eat out when you've got the best dinner at home?
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headkiss · 1 year
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give you the moon
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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
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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kadwrites · 8 months
Text
something old, something new | T.S
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previous part | next part
or check out the series masterlist
summary ; how long can you keep that secret?
warnings ; arranged marriage!trope, SLOW burn, soft!tommy , fem!reader, idk what im doing,
a/n ; i would love to know what you guys think of this part<3 thank you guys for all the support i really really appreciate it <33
-
"ya should've stabbed 'im when ya had the chance to." madeline mumbles, putting rose in the crib that was dragged next to the dining table
"what the hell has gotten into 'im?...." fiona looks at celest and celest shrugs , looking back at you
"god i feel like i'm going to explode" you take a gulp of the wine in your glass "i can't lie to tommy"
"then don't, just tell him" celest swirls the wine in her glass
"i 'ave a feeling tommy might just.." fiona runs her thumb across her neck, clicking her tongue
"i mean he's not that violent," you add , your finger moving across the rim of the glass "he's sweet...sometimes.... i think"
"is she ... drunk?" madeline grabs the wine bottle, pouring some in the glass in her hand
"i'm sure he doesn't just go around killing people" you look at the three women around you, "what do ya think jeremy wants to do?"
"i mean he said he wants ya back , didn't he?" celest sips her wine
"i mean yeah , technically i guess..."
"not technically" madeline is points at you "he said he wouldn't let ya marry tommy"
"it's just so odd" your hand rubs at the back of your neck "this is so out of the blue, we ended years ago. it's not like we were in contact too or anything"
"ya attract crazy men" fiona says with a raised brow
"i don't need this." you cover your face with your hand, before taking another gulp from your glass
"come on," celest gets up, taking the wine glass out of your hand "ya need sleep."
you have your arms raised on each side. , wearing a thin white robe. standing with your back straight and head held high, the seamstress starts measuring from the tip of your fingers to your shoulders.
"how is he treating ya?"
"hm?" you snap out of whatever trance you were in, eyes glancing in her direction
"thomas shelby, how is he treating ya?"
"yes , yes he is." you speak almost too quickly "why wouldn't he?" you try to not move,
she looks at you through her spectacles, raising a brow
you raise a brow too "i thought ya knew his family very well?"
"i do, that's why i'm asking" she says with a sigh , moving to the other side to get the measurements and your eyes follow her
the room is spacious, with every kind of fabric and thread you could possibly think of. it's quiet, the light shining in through the windows. the fabric and the design of your wedding dress on a paper on the table. a sketch of it, and it looked perfect.
"he's treating me well" you repeat
"do ya know about grace?"
your eyes drift away, you lick your lips nervously. you never had this conversation with anyone, it was a topic everyone tiptoed away from. except for her, apparently
"i know of 'er, yes."
"he loved that girl, he did." she nodded, rolling the measuring tape, getting your bust measurements.
"yeah, i've heard." you cleared your throat
"ya should've seen how he looked at 'er" she chuckled, "but , the way he looks at you ..." she looks at you again, before moving to make another measurement.
your head snaps this time, looking at her before she reprimands you to stay still "me?"
"mhm."
"i don't think so" you murmur then chuckle
"i wouldn't be so sure" she said with a knowing look , she rolls the measuring tape around your waist "i've known 'im since he was a boy."
"i mean, i'm sure ya do." you smile at her politely "but i do doubt that."
"ya can doubt it all ya like, it won't make it less true" she mumbles ,
a soft knock at the door catches your attention. she frowns, pulling her spectacles down and walking to the door, she opens it slightly
"morning mrs baker."
tommy's voice makes your eyes widen slightly, and your heart flutter.
"tommy." she says with a laugh "ya 'ave no business here, boy."
"my bride is here" he nods at you "so , i do actually 'ave business here"
she opens the door, letting him in. the smile and look on her face is stern, but maternal.
"the girl tells you're treating her well" she mumbles, going back to standing at your side
"she did?" he asks with a small smile before standing against a wall, his back pressed against it with his hands in his pockets, his gaze stuck on you.
she nods, putting her spectacles back on as she writes down the measurements on a piece of paper
"ya were trying to turn 'er on me, sylvia?" he speaks again
she shoots him a glare before looking back at you "ya see what you're marrying?"
you chuckle, tying the robe tighter around you. "yeah, i see it."
sylvia walks out of the room, to the front of the store for a customer that came in, leaving you and tommy in the back.
"why didn't ya bring your mother with ya?" he asks you, getting off the wall but not taking one step further.
"she can be...... overly enthusiastic at times. so i didn't tell 'er i was coming here" you say with a chuckle, turning to look at him
"that's smart" he hums , looking you over.
"she will lose 'er mind but i think it'll be worth it , i think."
he hums again, this time walking to stand in front of you.
"didn't ya 'ave a meeting today? i'm surprised ya even had the time to come here" you tilt your head as you speak
"want to get rid of me, do ya?"
"of course i don't."
"so ya want me around?" he leans closer, and you feel your breath stop. his voice is soft and low, his eyes glance at your lips before going back to your eyes
"i...." you stutter , your eyes scan his face "i do" you speak softly
"i do too."
"yeah?" you whisper back.
the air is so heavy, you feel his breath fan over your lips. your noses brush against each other.
"are ya scared of me?"
"no" you shake your head softly
he leans in closer and his lips press against yours, your eyes flutter shut and you feel as if time stopped moving, the floor under you disappeared.
after a few moments, he pulls back but not far back , his nose brushes against your cheek and his lips press against your ear
"what are ya hiding from me?"
-
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astraystayyh · 1 year
Text
Conversations with Hyunjin
or what i imagine dating Hyunjin would be like (kind of went overboard because i love this man).
warnings: reader feels insecure when hyunjin looks at them for too long. a little suggestive in the end. hyunjin is dramatic but we love him 🫶
if you enjoy please reblog or leave a comment,, means the world to me <3
Minho's version.
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"Look a bit to the left... Perfect", Hyunjin gently grips your jaw, his paint-stained fingers slightly moving your head to the side. You were in Hyunjin's little art studio, and he was halfway through sketching a portrait of you.
He didn't explain why he suddenly wanted to draw one, but his multiple kisses on your face the night before were enough to convince you.
But now that you were sitting on this chair and he's been looking at you for the past half an hour, you can't help but feel self-conscious. He was intently staring at you- you wondered if he started to notice all the imperfections on your face.
Hyunjin's brush strokes falter when he realizes that you are fidgeting with your fingers. He tries to hold your gaze, but you avoid it each time, a tight smile drawn on your lips. You scratch your throat, once, twice, and he steps away from the canvas.
"Angel," he smiles when he's right before you. He doesn't have to look down to grab your hands- they find each other instinctively.  "What's wrong?".
"Nothing," you attempt to smile, but your voice is strangled, and Hyunjin feels his heart drop in his chest.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?". His voice is quiet, a stark contrast to his excited demeanor when he just started painting you.
"No! No, baby. Never", you reassure, squeezing his hand tightly. "It's just... I feel like the more you stare at me, the more you'll notice my imperfections".
"What imperfections?" he questions seriously, his head tilted to the side as if the thought of you having a flaw was inconceivable.
"I don't know... I just don't like it when people stare at me a lot, I guess".
"My love, you are the most beautiful person I've ever seen," Hyunjin leans down, leveling his eyes with yours. He needed you to know how serious he was.
"You are only saying this because you love me," you smile, and he shakes his head no vehemently. "The first time I saw you, I squeezed Jisung's arm so bad I almost broke it."
You've lost count of how many times you've heard this story. Each time you hang out with the boys, Han has to remind Hyunjin that he was starstruck when he saw you. But it still made you feel warm inside- like a blanket tightly wrapped around you.
"You looked so beautiful, and you also had this alluring aura surrounding you. I wanted to talk to you as soon as I laid my eyes on you", he pecks your nose, and you scrunch it up in response.
"And I'm glad I did because not only you're the prettiest human alive," he leans away, his hands gesturing up and down in reverence, "but your soul is the most beautiful thing about you."
"Now," he gently flicks your forehead, and you laugh, "no more talk about imperfections."
"Yes, sir!" you giggle, and he smiles softly at you. "You know what? Let's leave the portrait for another day. Come sit with me while I draw?"
"You know I can't say no to that."
And so for the next hour, Hyunjin paints your favorite flowers with you curled up in his lap. You don't talk much as he draws, but his minty breath tickles your neck from time to time and you haven't felt this content in a while. 
°°°°°°°°°°
"Babyyy, what's wrong?" you lean into Hyunjin's side, who was seemingly ignoring you. You've just returned from running some errands to find Hyunjin sulking on the bed.
"Nothing," he huffs, turning his head away from you.
"Then why aren't you kissing me?" you whine, and he steals a glance at you.
"Because you didn't kiss me first."
"What are you talking about?" you chuckle, making him sulk even more.
"In the morning, you didn't kiss me," he grumbles, and you internally melt at his antics. Sometimes Hyunjin made you feel as if he needed your kisses to breathe.
"I did, you were asleep, but I kissed your cheek."
"Well, I didn't feel it."
"Yeah, because you were asleep, dummy," you giggle, and he finally looks at you, his tongue poking slightly against his cheek. He knows he's been ridiculous but it was too late to back out now.
"Well, then you should've woken me up!"
"I will next time", you smile at him, and he brightens up, "You promise?"
"Pinky promise". You lace your pinky with his, and you both kiss your thumbs, stamping them together.
"Now come here" You open your arms wide, and he sinks into them. His mouth falls perfectly on top of your collarbone, and he grazes it gently with his teeth, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.
"Baby?", he calls out a while later.
"Mhm?"
"On second thought, don't wake me up. I probably need the sleep", he says sheepishly, and you giggle, "I know."
°°°°°°°°°°
"Hey, love," Hyunjin leans in to kiss your forehead, snapping you out of your haze.
"Hey," you turn your eyes back to the TV, hugging your knees tighter to your chest. You weren't really watching the movie you put on; you just needed something to take your mind off the weight on your chest.
"Bad day?" he asks, his tone soft, and you nod silently.
Hyunjin kisses your head again, and for a second, the world around you stills and you feel okay. But his lips quickly leave you, and you're left aching for his hold.
"Wait here," he tells you, and you hum in reply; you couldn't move even if you wanted to.
Ten minutes later, Hyunjin comes back to the living room. He pulls you up and leads you to the bathroom. There, you find some candles lit up and rose petals thrown on the ground.
"Let me take care of you," he says as he starts to undress you. You appreciated how he kept his voice barely above a whisper; the bathroom was fit for hushed conversations only.
When you are both bare in front of one another, he pulls you into the bath he filled- your back flush against his chest, and you sigh contently.
Hyunjin pours some gel wash into his hands, then rubs it on your skin, skillfully massaging your tense body. He's so gentle with you- his touch is featherlight, and his mouth leaves a sweet trail of kisses on your back. You feel as if you are floating in space, somewhere where no one can hurt you.
You notice that he used his body wash, not yours; and soon his scent surrounds you until all you could smell is him.
You know that this way, you'll carry Hyunjin with you throughout the night, and onto the following morning when he is no longer there with you.
His scent on your skin will remind you of how he took care of you, how he loved you, how he held you so close to him until you both became one.
°°°°°°°°°°°
"You don't have to stick your nose in the painting to see it", you giggle, and Hyunjin leans away, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.
"I'm trying to see the details. Leave me alone", he pokes his tongue out at you, and you retaliate with the same childish gesture, which in turn makes the both of you chuckle.
You lean your cheek against Hyunjin's arm, and you both contemplate the painting in comfortable silence. "I really wanna be poetic, but this just looks like a child's drawing," you finally say, and he laughs loudly, head tipped back- you can't help but stare in awe at how much joy suits him.
"That's what I thought too!" he high-fives you excitedly before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the next painting.
It's one of a Renaissance couple kissing, their hands cradling each other's cheeks closely- as if they can't possibly get enough of each other.
"Now this is beautiful", you sigh, and he pokes your side gently. "Let's recreate it."
"You just want an excuse to kiss me", you wiggle your brows at him, and he holds your jaw, beckoning you closer to him.
"And what about it?" he smiles bashfully before crashing his soft lips on yours.
Hyunjin might be biased, but he thinks that if someone were to capture this moment, it would look much better than the painting behind you two.
°°°°°°°°°
"This bag is so heavy," Hyunjin whines, and you stare at him pointedly, "I told you not to buy all that stuff."
"But they were dumpling-themed toys for dogs! I had to get them for Kkami."
"That dog doesn't even like you," you tease, and Hyunjin screeches loudly, stopping in his tracks. "How dare you!"
As you two continue your bickering, an old couple passes you hand in hand. They are seemingly arguing, but as you near them, you can tell they are just joking- just like you two. The fond way they gazed at each other with was a clear testimony of their love.
You and Hyunjin both turn to look at each other; mouths slightly hang agape. "I just got chills," he whispers, and you nod in agreement, "I think we just saw our future selves."
"I can't believe you'll annoy me even when I'm seventy", he jokes, and you lightly punch his side. But in true Hyunjin fashion, he yelps loudly as if you had hurt him.
"Will you still be this dramatic when we are older?"
"This is the only correct way of living", he declares solemnly, and you laugh heartily. The truth is, you wouldn't have it any other way.
Hyunjin throws his arm over your shoulders, bringing you closer to his side. He presses a quick kiss to your head, and you wrap your arm around his middle, resuming your walk.
"I was always afraid of growing up, but it doesn't seem as daunting with you. Because I know I'll have you with me in the end", he says and you beam at his words.
"I can't wait to meet every version of ourselves."
"I know I'll love you in each."
"Yeah? Even if I annoy you every day?" you smile cheekily, and he pinches your cheek affectionately.
"Even then. You are my last love, yn".
°°°°°°°°°°
"Don't come in!", Hyunjin shouts as soon as you open the door. His arms are open wide like a shield blocking you from stepping forward. 
"And why is that...?", you chuckle, slightly pushing him away to pass. He doesn't budge, and you frown.
"Please just go, go, go," he grabs your shoulders, spinning you around until you are facing the door again.
"Hyunjin, what are you hiding?" you ask, amused as you free yourself from his grip. He looks everywhere but at you, and doubt starts to seep inside you. 
"Are you... are you with someone?"
"NO! God, no, how could you think that?"
"Well, you are acting suspicious, I don't know!" You throw your hands up in the air defensively, and he sighs.
"Fine, come see."
Hyunjin walks first into the kitchen, and you gasp softly. To say it's a mess would be an understatement. There are pots everywhere, flour on the ground, and some clearly not-edible cookies on the table.
"This is embarrassing" He hides his face between his hands, and you giggle, gently removing them.
"Did you try to bake for me?" you coo, leaning your face into his until your noses brush together.
"Yeah, I know you've been working hard, and I wanted to surprise you. But clearly, I shouldn't have."
You feel your heart clench at the defeated look on his face, so to cheer him up, you grab a cookie from the tray. Its brown color throws you off, but you still take a big bite. You try your hardest not to scrunch your nose because he definitely used salt and not sugar, and oh- that's an eggshell you are chewing right now.
"This is yummy," you force out, and he rolls his eyes at your blatant lies.
"Please spit it out. I don't want you to die from food poisoning."
You oblige eagerly, thankful for the opening, and Hyunjin leans against the counter, gazing sadly at the cookies. 
"You are the best boyfriend in the world. You know that?"
He timidly shakes his head no, and you smile softly at him, "You are. Now let's clean this and order pizza. I'm starving."
"You are not mad?"
"Why would I be?"
"The kitchen is a mess."
"Well, it's our mess to clean up., And you doing this for me made me so so happy." You stand on your tiptoes and grab the back of his neck, pulling him downward for a kiss. When he leans away, you smile cheekily at him, and he rolls his eyes at you, "Come on, just say it."
"Leave the cookies to Felix."
"Noted."
°°°°°°°°°°°
"Guess who?" you whisper in Hyunjin's ears as you cover his eyes with your hands.
"An intruder who is oddly romantic?", Hyunjin jokes, and you flick the back of his head playfully, "I hate you."
Hyunjin turns around to grab your arm and drags you across the couch. "You love meee", he singsongs as he makes you stand between his legs.
"Yeah, I do" you giggle as he looks up at you, a huge smile on his face.
He looks so pretty from this angle, you think, his eyes wide and sincere poring into yours. You liked how Hyunjin never hid any of his emotions from you; and right now, you could clearly see the adoration he felt for you painted on his face.
You swipe your thumb affectionately across his cheek, and he leans into your touch, totally unguarded. "So... your birthday is in a month," you grin at him, "but since you'll be busy, I figured I'll give you your gift early on."
"You are my gift," his reply is instant. You once thought phrases like those were cheesy but you quickly realized that Hyunjin means them. He says them so easily because it's the truth for him.
"I think you'll really like this present," you smile excitedly as you pull out an envelope from your back pocket.
"Open it," you urge him, and he does as you say. He takes out two plane tickets and looks up at you, confused.
"What are those?"
"We are going to Paris!"
"We are?"
"Yes! In a week. I've prepared everything! I made all the reservations and a list of all the places we could visit. And I got us an exclusive tour of the exhibition you've been dying to see", you explain happily. You've been planning for this trip for a month now, you wanted it to be perfect for him.
Hyunjin's eyes well up with tears and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying. You knew how badly he wanted to go to Paris, and you went to all of these lengths to make him happy.
"Yn... I..." he stammers, and you hold his hands, gently squeezing them into yours. "It's okay, Jinnie. I know."
"No, I need to say it... I..." he pulls you onto his lap and you place your legs on either side of his body. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, and you pat his back gently, giving him a few moments to gather his thoughts.
"The reason why I wanted to draw your portrait is because I wanted you to see yourself how I see you. I wanted to capture you in a way only I can because I'm so in love with you," he pauses and you kiss his temple, overcome by emotion.
"I hoped that decades from now, someone would find those portraits and they will see how perfect you are. This way, you'll live again through my paintings and my love for you."
"Jinnie...." you whisper, at loss for words. Now it was your turn to tear up.
"Can I finish your portrait in Paris?", he clears his throat and you giggle through your tears, "Please."
"We also should get a portrait done of the two of us on the streets. And we'll hang it in the living room."
"Isn't that a bit pretentious?"
"It's our home. Who's picture are we going to frame? Han?"
"I mean he is our biggest supporter...", you trail off and he laughs at your words, "He really is. But I'm your number one fan."
"Prove it", you smirk and he flips you around until you are laying on the couch and he's caging you with his arms- the necklace he bought with your initial on it dangling over you.
"Oh I will."
------------------
(if you want to know how Hyunjin celebrated op's birthday, you can read When I fell in love heheheh)
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