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#sorry guys but maybe things work good as one movie
bowtiedboi · 2 days
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Voicenotes From Your Boyfriend
Author note: story involves cucking, cheating, hypnosis, dubcon etc. This was a request from one of you naughty pervs.
"Hey babe, urgh, I just had to get away from Marcus - you know my new housemate? Yeah, he was not my first choice. Or the second. Or the fifth. Let's put it that way. But then the guy my other housemate James and I wanted pulled out at the last minute, we had to fill the room, blah blah, you know the rest. But this guy, seriously, it's like he's from another planet. I've never met anyone like him - he's a weirdo. He's getting on my fucking nerves and it's been like a week. He walks around like he owns the place like he's the fucking president of the country club. He's always in some suit. What the hell is he doing in a house share with two other guys? Wouldn't his rich daddy have put him up in some estate with a butler or something? Haha. Anyway babe, I'll tell you all about him at dinner tonight. I fancy pizza. See you later."
*****
"Hey babe, thanks for listening to me ranting last night. Missing you already. I think you were right about me talking to Marcus. We had a chat and I think I can be civil to him now. I've got the biggest room of the three, I can just chill out in my own space. It's fine. He's still an arse, but I can live with it I guess. I know we've only been going out a little while but I'm this close to just staying at yours every night - hopefully your housemates won't care! And I know you can't stand my insomnia and me lying awake all night. I can't help it when I'm lying next to you babe. Just want to feel you! I don't know, maybe I'm wrong. When we chatted, I did what you suggested and tried to show interest in what he was into. He played this relaxation track for me he'd been working on and it really worked! I started to....drift.... drift.... off. But I don't think he noticed? I, uh, anyway, sorry babe, movie tonight? Superheroes or Oscar bait? Your choice."
*****
"Hey babe, sorry, can we do another night? I know you wanted to go out and party but I just don't feel all that well. I don't know what it is, maybe a bug or something. I keep feeling dizzy, I can't focus on anything. Marcus thinks I should get some rest. Don't worry, I'll be a good boy and try. He's given me and James more of these relaxation audios to listen to - he calls them 'lessons'. It was actually really nice of him. I mentioned to him I had trouble sleeping, and he said he had just the thing. And I've got to say, he might be preppy and stuck-up, but these audios are really working - it really sets me... drifting.... off. Although they do give me this tingling sensation through my whole body. Isn't that a thing, though? Asmr or something? Guess that's normal. They're really addictive too. It's like once you've heard one, even if you can't remember what was in it, you have to listen to the next. Marcus hasn't given me the next lesson yet, but I'm sure I can get on my knees and beg for it if I have to. Ooh, speak of the devil, Marcus is home. Sorry babe, next time I promise."
*****
"Hey, sorry, I've just realised we were going to get lunch! I completely spaced. I was out golfing with Marcus. Me, golfing, I know those aren't two words you'd normally put in the same sentence. I know I said before it's boring and elitist but I had a really good day. I did suggest we bring James too but Marcus wanted him to stay home and clean the house from top to bottom. Marcus also mentioned that he wanted to have a little one on one bonding time. So to prep for golf, Marcus took me out for a little shopping trip beforehand. We even went to the barbers together. Do you know you have to wear a collared shirt or polo on a golf course? I didn't have anything I could wear so Marcus got me all outfitted the way he wanted for our trip. He also bought me some other clothes like these button downs and bowties and ties I can wear at all times - he's so generous. I guess he's right that I should have a new style. It was all a lot more.... preppy than I'm used to. You know me, I'm a tshirt and jeans kinda guy. Guess not anymore - when I got back I just threw a lot of my old wardrobe away. Just got a big bin sack and did it! But Marcus said if I'm going to be a good boy for him I should look a bit more presentable. And yeah, if we're making these golf days a weekly thing, that's probably a good idea. I didn't play this week though - still a newbie! Sir needed someone to hold his clubs while we went around the course. Maybe if I'm a good boy and dress properly for him I can play."
*****
"Hey, I feel a bit bad that we argued. It just felt like you weren't very nice about my new look when we met last night. Yes, I know my hair is a lot shorter and traditional. It's old school! It took a lot of effort to get that parting the same way the barber did and to get those lines in the hair straight. I know the pomade is a bit much but I like it. It was weird you said that I seemed different? I don’t think I am. Now, James is so different. I'm nothing like him. He’s quit his job so he can be Marcus’ full time assistant! And yeah, OK, I wore a suit and tie. So what? It was a restaurant! To be honest, I think you could stand to be a bit smarter. If Mast-, I mean Marcus, saw you he'd say the same thing. He said I should never go anywhere without a necktie or bowtie. He said I look a lot better for him as a preppy, proper boy. He's done a lot for me so it's only right I repay him by looking nice for him. Why don't we go shopping soon? You can help me buy some new suits for me to wear for Sir and maybe you'll get some inspiration?"
*****
"Can't talk now, sorry! James and I are prepping a big dinner for Marcus and his friends. We've been working so hard in the kitchen - five courses for six is a lot! Marcus had the bright idea we should look like waiters when we serve the meal, so we've been wearing black bowties and waistcoats all day. I'm sweating! By the time we've served the meal, drinks for guests and everyone's gone home I'm going to be shattered. I probably won't even need the relaxation lesson tonight. Except I probably will stick it on still - Sir says they're good for making sure I stay a good boy and to get all the sleep I need. See you... soon, I guess? We should meet when I'm less busy."
*****
"Sorry - uhh - fuck - uhh yes - sorry I missed our date again. (Sir, can I please just send this he keeps calling?) I've been really busy. My Master, I mean Marcus, has been keeping his boys super busy. He needs a lot of care and attention. He needs service almost 24/7. (Sir, please, slow, it's so big!) He's a really important person so he deserves to have proper, preppy boys to look after him. I'm just a dumb pretty boy, a formally dressed tamed whore and Master gives me what I need. He deserves anything he wants. He's done so much for James and I. You get that right? (Sir, oh god Sir, thank you Sir, stretch your boy's hole it feels so good) I just want to be a good boy for him. I've moved out of the big bedroom just so Master, I mean Marcus, I mean Master can have it. (Fuck yes, fuck yes, please cum in me Sir) It's only right someone so strong and strict and masterful as him has the master bedroom while us boys can take the smaller rooms and he can call on us whenever he wants. It just makes sense. We have to please him. Whatever it takes. Whatever he wants. I hope that makes sense to you. (SIR! Oh god, that's the spot, thank you thank you thank you.) Bye!"
*****
"Hey, I know you said you didn't want to hear from me again. I get that, I do. But I really think you should listen to this audio. It was the first one I listened to and it really helped me calm down, drift off, and be a good boy. Maybe you can join James and I in serving Master one day? All you'd need to do is become a proper, preppy, servant boy like us and you'd fit right in. You could even move in and we could turn the closet into a small bedroom. I know he has a spare chastity cage in his drawer - that could be yours? We could all serve Master together. Wouldn't that be amazing? Almost like servant brothers - all wearing a uniform to serve Sir! Give it a listen, ok? Promise?"
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zzleeper · 3 days
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PRIORITIES : chapter one
Red Hood x Black Mask's assistant!Reader
tiny bit of a slow burn btw
authors note: this is based on the under the red hood movie since i havent read the comics yet. first time ever posting fic on tumblr too!! also go check out my beta @lowtaperfeyd RN.
wc: 1121
.
“He calls himself the Red–the Red Hood,” The goon talking to Black Mask rasps. When they first wheeled him into the office, he didn’t seem so hot, and that's not counting the practically full-body cast he was in. But now, watching him recount the way his ass was brutally whooped, it’s a whole new low.
Black Mask sighs in unison with you. You should probably stop spending so much time with this man, or the next thing you’re going to pick up from him is his anger issues, “So you’re saying,” Black Mask begins, and you can feel his oncoming temper tantrum in your bones, “That this fucking nobody is the reason sales have dropped fucking ASTRONOMICALLY SINCE MONDAY!”
“Well, sir,” You interrupt calmly, tapping away at your tablet, “He is the reason drug sales have stopped, but it’s really because he recruited many dealers to work under him, especially those who were working under you first.”
Black Mask stands up from his desk, and you can see each of the men standing in his office tense at the same time, “HE NEEDS TO BE FUCKING GONE!” He yells, punctuating his words by striding over and smacking a punch into the face of the nearest goon. The man groans and staggers out of the office, most likely to take himself to the hospital.
“Yes, I understand that, sir, but he can most likely beat all of our men,” You explain, evening Black Mask with a steady gaze, “Probably all at the same time.”
Black Mask huffs and waves away the man reporting to him, and he’s wheeled out of the room.
“Put a hit on him,” Black Mask instructs you, waving you off as well, and he dumps himself back in his desk chair to brood.
You smooth out your pants and nod before turning and walking back to your office. Communicating with the underbelly of Gotham was hard enough, but finding a good enough assassin to beat Red Hood? That might be your biggest challenge yet. You resign yourself to several days of conversation with bigheaded crime lords.
.
You sigh as you take the stairs up to your apartment, keys rattling as you dig them out of your pocket. Today had been a long day, and you’re looking forward to flopping into bed as soon as possible. You fiddle with your keys and the lock for a moment until the door swings open with a creak. Dropping your briefcase at the door, you then fold your coat over the couch. Burgers actually sound pretty good tonight.
There’s a creak behind you.
You calmly make your way over to the kitchen, rolling open one of the drawers and–
“Your gun’s gone,” A voice says behind you and you whip around, glaring at the direction the voice had come from.
“What do you want?” You snap, bracing yourself for a fight you will probably lose. You’re an assistant of the most dangerous crime lord in Gotham, you have people to win fights for you. The voice sounds masculine, too, which means, most likely, a stronger opponent.
There’s a slight huff, and a man steps out from the shadows, his face is still obscured, but looking at his body you are so going to lose, “I want your help,” He says. What the fuck does that mean? 
Who is this guy? You’re not easily recognizable as the Black Mask’s assistant, so this person must have done some research. He’s obviously here about the Black Mask, because there’s not much else important about you other than your job, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think there’s much I can help you with.” 
“You’re very calm, aren’t you?” There’s humor in his voice when he speaks, “I don’t know what else I expected from Black Mask’s secretary, to be honest.” You narrow your eyes at the comment. You’ve relaxed slightly, leaning your hip against the counter. Maybe if you could find a way to get to your front door before he could get to you, you would be able to get out.
“The point being?” You cut to the chase, exhaling sharply out of your nose. This will most likely end up with you being tortured if this is a man trying to get information about the Black Mask. You’ll fold easily, your loyalty to the crime lord is stretched thin.
This is the Red Hood, you realize with a start. Who else would want to take down Black Mask like this other than a man trying to challenge his rule? Putting up a fight would be useless. Looking at the men he’s killed, he’s obviously very skilled, and he carries guns with him as well. At least he won’t beat you to death, since most of his other kills are from gunshot wounds. He’s typically efficient with who he kills. Your death will be clean and simple.
Red Hood rests his hands on his hips, unaware of your sudden revelation,  “I want information. I won’t torture it out of you unless I have to,” It’s a threat, and he says it like one, his voice predatory. It scares you in a way you’ve never been before.
“I’ll come work for you,” You say rather quickly, offering the best deal that might get you out of this alive. “I have more data about the Black Mask than anyone else. You can take him down from the inside; he won’t know what hit him,” Despite how desperate the words sound, your voice is even, and you look him up and down before crossing your arms.
There’s a slight pause.
“You don’t even know who I am,” Red Hood states skeptically. You can feel his gaze sharpen even behind the mask you know he’s wearing. 
“I’m not dumb,” You snap, leaning forward slightly, “You’re the Red Hood.”
There’s another pause.
“Well, that was fast. You’re smarter than I thought, (Y/N) (L/N).”
There’s no way to hide the slight flinch at his use of your real name. It feels grounding in a way your adrenaline isn’t, “Maybe you just underestimated me, Red Hood.”
He hums noncommittally, “Nice place you got here,” He says, suggesting a conversation. His demeanor has changed completely since you agreed–more like demanded–to work for him. You just stare at him, unimpressed, “I see you don’t talk much,” He sighs, pulling a flip phone out of one of his pockets and tossing it to you, “I’ll call you on this when I need to talk to you. Be ready. And remember, you tell anyone about this, you're dead and they are too."
He leaves as fast as he appeared, striding through your front door like he owns the fucking place, leaving your heart pounding against your ribcage as the door slams behind him.
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begaycommittreason · 5 months
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honestly i forgot that dick originally wanted to adopt jason as well just imagine how chaotic that would’ve been like
——————
jay: uh what’s for dinner
dick: well we have cereal and…
dick:
dick: hey don’t kids like the whole breakfast for dinner thing?
jay: i miss alfred
——————
dick: and for a bed i’d like to introduce you to this lovely thing called a futon!!
jay: …better than a cardboard box i guess
——————
jay: can i fight crime yet
dick: you’re a child
jay: you’re a slightly larger child
dick: …fair point, no extreme violence and minimum 4 flips per patrol
——————
dick: when a mommy and daddy love each other very much—
jay: i am not doing this with you dickface i know what sex is
dick: wait no little wing i have a powerpoint presentation. it’s color coded and everything!
jay: i wish i’d stayed on the street
——————
dick: okay that’s enough, you know what, get on top of the fridge
jay, hissing: this house is a fucking nightmare
——————
jay: hey some friends at school wanted to watch a movie, is it okay if they come here—
dick: yes, yes! oh my god finally i’m so proud you’re making friends jaybird, i’m gonna be the coolest host dad ever i’ll make pizza and
jay, already on the phone: yeah he said no, sorry guys, can we do it at tommy’s?
——————
dick teaching jason trapeze and circus stuff 😭
——————
jay: god the circus is so lame
dick: exCUSE ME i’m disowning you, get out
jay: WHAT
——————
dick, who forgot to pick up jay from school: oh god i’m so sorry, i’ll never do it again
jay, who’s thrilled to be allowed in the library after hours every time, but never one to pass on a guilt trip: wow dick i never thought you of all people would abandon me
——————
dick: listen my support group says-
jay: you joined a support group for single moms dickface, that doesn’t count
dick: it does too, they all think i’m very brave for doing this alone
jay: for fucks sake-
——————
dick, coming home late from a date and seeing the lights on: uhh hello?
jay, sitting on a stool: and just where have you been all night young man?
dick: IM 26
——————
jason, pointing at the wayne family photos: so who do we like, and who do i hate on principle
dick:
dick: okay so this is complicated
jason: there’s only like three living people??
dick: right. so—
——————
dick, who pulled an all-nighter working on a case: good morning!
jay, who was reading jane austen and didn’t notice the sun came up: right…morning
dick:
jay:
dick: you didn’t sleep did you
jay: well clearly neither did you
dick: fair enough, coffee?
——————
jay: so this guy was shovin’ me around and-
dick: i’ll kill him
jay: …no.
dick: but-
jay: his mom’s the librarian and i can’t afford to fall out of sharon’s good graces
——————
dick: look it’s not my fault i’m so charismatic
jay: i’m not asking for a lot here
dick: you’re asking me to suppress my nature
jay: i’m asking you to stop flirting with all my teachers at parent teacher conferences
dick: c’mon it’s not that big of a deal
jay: …miss shields gave me her phone number to pass along the other day. so did mr. burnes, it’s getting outta hand dick
dick: oh i see, this is serious
dick: she’s really cute, maybe i should-
jay: STOP IT
——————
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abbyshands · 2 months
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Good nigth darling,you're okay?can we have more nerdy!abby pleaase i beg you 🙏🙏🙏(srry for my inglish)
teach me
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└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘
a/n; hello, my love! i’m good, and i hope you are too! of course EEK i was going to write more for her anyway, i love a nerdy girl. also this is cut off asf I’M SORRY i’m tired, maybe i’ll do a part 2 if y’all ask <3
synopsis; you’ve never been good at science, let alone college biology. when your professor all but forced you to get a tutor, who should you end up with but your nerdy girlfriend, who has a very unique way of getting you to study?
pairing; dom!abby anderson x sub!fem!reader
warnings; abby uses baby/princess, use of a strap-on, cockwarming + edging (kinda), abby refers to the strap as her dick and it’s referred to as her dick/cock, choking, spanking, degradation (ish. abby’s tone is just mean), anddd i prob missed smt so lmk <3
wc; 2.2k
p.s.; ALSO this is was ib an ellie fic i saw bro idk where tf it is 😭 searching for it tho. i js remember it was nerdy ellie. it was so good BUT LIKE WHERE IS ITTT idk i’ll link it here if i find it
└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘
you’ve always sucked at science. biology, chemistry, whatever the hell it was, it had never been your cup of tea.
your professor had not so kindly recommended you get a tutor. otherwise, your grades would decline (more than they already were, that is). you didn't want a tutor, let alone for it to be someone you didn't know. you were already feeling awkward enough having to have someone tutor you at all—you couldn't imagine if it was by an unfamiliar.
that's where abby came in.
abby anderson was your girlfriend, and she was a nerd. like, cliche movie nerd. if you couldn't find her in her dorm, with you, or in class, she was at the library, doing homework until she couldn't anymore. she was a coffee addict with how late she was up each evening, study sessions, unnecessarily reviewing, and, again, homework.
let's just say, abby anderson would do crazy things for an a.
you didn't necessarily want to have abby as your tutor. for some reason, it was embarrassing to you. you had already felt that way when you told her you needed one at all. it would be 10x worse if she would be the one doing it.
not only that, the focus.
how the fuck were you going to focus when you have abby fucking anderson in front of you? when your mind races with memories of her fucking you from behind, or kissing down your neck, or making you the wettest you've ever been, just by being alive?
you weren't.
but abby was persistent. you had originally said no when she first asked to tutor you, but when the guy who was supposed to tutor you didn't even show for your first session, it was no longer a request.
it was a demand.
you were sitting beside abby in her dorm, working on an assignment for your biology class that was due the following day. you had taken up to ten breaks by now, and it had only been an hour and a half or so.
abby pushed her glasses up on her face as she looked over at you, eyebrow raised. you had been dozing off, elbow on the desk and chin on your palm as your eyes began to fall shut.
"hey," abby snapped her large hand in front of your face, making your eyes open again just as quickly as it had happened. "are you listening to me?"
no.
"yeah. yeah, sorry, i just, um—dna and rna. that's what we're learning now, right?" you ask confusedly, doing your best to make it seem like you know what you’re talking about.
but the look on abby's face tells you all you need to know.
"mhm, like, ten minutes ago," abby hums a bit annoyedly, and you can't help but let out a sigh. it's bad enough you have to be here at all, but letting abby down, or worse, pissing her off, was the last thing you wanted to do. “you're never going to learn if you don't put any effort in," she sighs.
“c’mon, abs,” you whined as you set your pencil aside, putting your head down on the desk, eyes on abby. the blonde set her own pen down with a small shake of the head, expression unreadable. “i can’t do this anymore,” you said dramatically. abby rolled her eyes.
“what’s wrong now?” abby asked, but it’s not like she really wanted to know the answer. you knew how seriously abby took her own schoolwork, which may be the reason she was annoyed that you didn’t. but you just weren’t like that.
“none of this makes sense. i can’t remember a thing we go over. god, i hate biology,” you complained once more, looking away from abby.
abby sighed as she put a hand on your shoulder. as much as she wanted to be annoyed, she loved you, and she knew full well that even if you were smart, biology was your worst class.
“what can i do to help, baby? flashcards, d’you want me to quiz you? what do you need?” abby asked as she moved her hand to your back, rubbing it. you shrugged.
“i dunno. i don’t think any of that stuff is going to help me, abby. my memory’s—not that good,” you lamely huffed, but it was true. your memory was best when it came down to the things you cared for. college biology was not one of them.
“hm,” abby hummed. it took a beat, a small pause. but then, abby’s perked eyebrows told you that she had just gotten an idea, and so did the way her plump lips curled into a grin.
“i think i know what’ll do the trick.”
└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘
that’s how you ended up on abby’s lap, her cock buried deep inside of you as she gripped you by the bottom. abby’s way of bettering your sour memory came in the form of one of the most agonizing experiences you had ever had.
“how does dna differ from rna?” abby asks you casually, as if she isn’t filling you to the brim. you feel your face getting hot, bottom lip bitten down on as you look at her nervously.
“u- uhm. d- dna has a d- double helix model, fuck,” you whine. you must be at least a little correct, because abby bucks her hips up into you, causing the silicone dildo to move inside of you. “rna’s single, a- and involved in a different process than dna.”
“attagirl,” abby praised. it’s then that she grabbed you by the ass, hard, and forced you to ride up to the top of her dick, just before she’s slamming you back down. for only a few seconds, you gain some pleasure by moving your body like that, or abby doing it for you, that is.
but then, she’s robbing it away from you, just like that.
“a- abby, please, c’mon,” you whimper. this had been going on for a third of an hour or so. abby would ask you a question from the deck of index cards she had made for you, and you would answer. simple, right?
wrong.
because here's the thing: she wouldn’t move unless you answered her, and it had to be correct. and if not?
smack.
abby's large hand comes down on your ass as if to shut you up. really, it doesn't. you let out a moan as she then grabs your ass again, not giving a care to how sore you may be.
because she's already slapped you way too many times to count.
“don't act like this isn't for your own good," she says firmly, reprimanding you. "you got that one wrong last time. and we’re not going to stop until you’ve got that whole fucking deck memorized, you got that?” she asks, signaling to the forgotten pile of index cards on the desk behind you. you whine, body too achy for abby to deny her.
“f- fine," you whine, because who the hell would you be to say no?
“good girl," abby praises as she rubs her hands over your bottom, caressing you in a loving manner, a wide difference to the way she was addressing you mere seconds before. "now, can you tell me what a neuron is?”
doing your best to not focus on the feeling inside you, you nod, and easily answer. “a- a neuron—" you huff. "is a specialized cell.”
abby moves her hands to your hips and pushed you up, so that you're around halfway down on her cock. you let out a small shudder, but it must mean you're correct. “and what’s it do?” abby then asks.
to some degree.
but you know this one. after all, it was one of the last cards you looked at in the deck. so, you respond, “transmit.”
abby moves you up more, and this time, she brings one of her hands up to cup your tit. she plays with your nipple if only for a second, causing you to let out a low moan. but just when you think she's going to keep going, of course, she doesn't.
“transmit what?” she asks firmly as her fingers caress your rib cage, and it's all you can do not to roll your eyes.
“nerve impulses," you say a bit too fast, eager to have her hands back on you. your neediness helped you on that one. "i- it’s the basic unit of the nervous system," you add, for good measure.
"that's right, princess," abby smirked, course she did. she had always had way too much fun when she was driving you crazy during sex. this was no different.
but you're pleased to find yourself rewarded, because abby allows you to ride her again. you move up and down a little quickly, scared that your girlfriend will rob you of the feeling before it's even begun. abby begins to rub your clit as she gazes at you fucking yourself on her dick, way too needy for her touch.
"eager girl," abby cooed, rubbing her index on your clit in quick circles. "so needy for my cock, aren't you?"
"yes," you huff out fast, eyes closing shut at the feeling under you.
"too bad."
abby shoves you all the way back down her dick, so that you're all the way back down at the base. it pleasures you for only a second, before the feeling vanishes, just like that.
"abby, f- fuck," you groan annoyedly, body begging for a release you know abby won't give you unless you do what she tells you to do.
and she doesn't like your words.
abby grabs you by the neck, forcing you to look at her as you roll your eyes in the brattiest manner she's ever seen from you. "look at me. look at me when i'm talking to you," and she uses that tone you know she only uses when she's not playing games, barking your full name out at the end like the word pains her tongue.
once she's got your eyes on her, she speaks once more. "if you really want this dick, and i know you do, you're gonna take what i give you like the good girl you are. that clear?"
you keep your eyes on her, scared of what will happen if you don't, face hot as you answer. "y- yes, ma'am."
"primary use of the kidneys?" abby asks, not even giving you praise for obeying her. but you're not at all surprised by that: if there was one thing about abby, she did not like your bratty side.
this time, unlike what abby's asked you before, you can't remember the answer to this. like, at all. you fumble with it for a second, digging through your head for what it could be. but you don't get a response.
"i- i don't know," you dumbly stutter, genuinely unsure of what to say. abby isn't having it, obviously, because one mlre spank is coming down onto your ass before you know it.
"f- fuck!" you whine brokenly, head rocking back, and bottom sore from each hit abby's given you. she doesn't seem to care.
"yes, you do," she all but growls at you, and you think of your real class all too quickly, like she's your professor. "we went over this. so fucking tell me," she says, and it only makes your abdomen churn more.
and fill with butterflies.
“s- something to do with b- blood pressure, right? c- controlling it? please say yes," you were begging more to yourself than to abby, not even sure where that answer came from.
“mhm, and what else?" she coos, doing what she's done a million times before: moving you halfway up her cock.
"i- i don't know, abs. can't remember," you mutter, and really, how could you by now?
it looks like abby is feeling a little generous this time, because she helps you along. "what’s it do to your body, princess? begins with an 'r',” she asked.
even when your brain begins to fog up with all of the questions in your head, and what's happening besides that, it seems to click for you when abby says the letter 'r.' “r- regulates it? th- the fluid balance?”
“mhm," abby says with a small nod of approval, even kissing your chest this time as a reward.
"there’s my smart girl.”
and it goes on like that forever, question, answer, question, answer. sometimes, you got abby's cock easily. most times, you weren't so lucky.
your eyes are drooping, body aching and face hot as you stutter out the answer to the final card in the deck. once you do, you let out a deep, long exhale, which makes abby chuckle.
"see, pretty girl? wasn't that bad, was it?" abby coos, putting her hand up to cup your cheek. obviously, you want to say no. but after all of this, it was too risky to be bratty to abby. so you shake your head.
and you hadn’t even finished yet.
"n- no, it was—fine," you lie, and abby knows you are. but she doesn't ask about it, knowing full well how much she's done to you already.
"look on the good side.”
“you'll remember better now, won't you?"
└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘
reblogs are very much welcomed <3
———
2K notes · View notes
mrsrdlw · 1 month
Text
My valentine
Summary: You and your best friend found a way to get away from all the valentine’s day by doing your own program. But, being alone for a long time only meant you two were horny and needy for affection.
wc: 3.3k (i got a little excited writing it, sorry)
warnings: friends to lovers; smut!!! +18 please (you’re responsible for yourself babe, but i warned you); fluff; masturbation (m!reciving); inexperienced!femreader. Tell if something is missing.
authors note: I know i’m a little late with valentines thing but i couldn’t help myself. I really liked the result and i hope you do too. It’s a new thing writing smutty things but i hope it’s not terrible. <3
*update*- i just posted a part two!
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**********
It was valentine’s day and you felt like you were the loneliest person in the world. Everyone was with their partners when you were all by yourself. Of course you were being dramatic but you were tired of having to pretend that it was okay to be single because you don’t needed a boy to make you happy. But you wanted to.
The same thing happened to your best friend. Eddie was all by himself. He was never the guy the girls would die for. They were too scared to see how pretty he was. But he also had been feeling kind of alone. He would walk in the market and see all the decorations he hated so much. Not only in school, everywhere, people would be all over each other. He always hated valentine’s day but he never knew that was because of his jealousy and would always blame in the capitalism and its ways to persuade people.
As you both would be alone, to distract you from thinking about couples making out, you created your own thing. You would go at each other’s house to watch movies together, eat junk food and talk about stuff. For two years you’ve been doing this and this year was your time being a host. At this time, you got lucky your parents weren’t home for the week. In the first year, you brought Eddie home and your mom kept asking non stop questions about him and how did you finally realized you were made for each other.
“You’re late.” You opened the door for him, taking the boxes off his hands.
“I’m sorry my lady, is my butler work not good enough for you?” He said in a english accent mocking you. “There was a lot of people ordering pizzas too. They copied our idea.”
“Fine. I just took the cookies out of the oven.” You pointed to the baking sheet “What movies did you pick?”
“Well, let’s see.There is the movie you asked for with the cats”
“Did you take the right one? Or just some movie about a cat?”
“Is the Disney one, right? The Aristocats? I got this one, nightmare on elm street and fast times at ridgemont high.” Eddie only took this last one because Steve said ’there’s some very interesting scenes about a girl, if you know what i mean’. Of course Eddie knew the girl’s titties would show up, he’d never watched it because he thought it would be a shitty movie. “If i want to see boobs i’ll just watch porn or i’ll buy a magazine” he would say. But he really thought about it and that would be the only way to make you watch something like that with him.
Once he asked if girls watched porn and you just ignored the question. He wanted to see your reaction and he knew you would never watch something like that, let alone with a guy. It would be the closest thing to porn you’d watch.
Also it was a secret to no one that he had a little massive crush on you. Maybe it was a secret only for you. Eddie don’t even know when did it started. One day you were just a girl who he was friends with but suddenly you were much more then that. You were hot, interesting, cute, smart and he couldn’t help but be enamored with you. But he never did anything to change that, to afraid of making you run away from him. To him, in that situation, your relationship as friends was more important. He wouldn’t stand to lose you. So he buried his feelings deep down and pretended it that never happened.
“Eddie it’s not Halloween. We’re not watching that, you know i can’t sleep afterwards.”
“Alright, no horror movies” He discarded the movie
“So is gonna be aristocats and this other movie. Is this even good? I never saw it.” Of course you saw it. Since Dustin told you guys his girlfriend was a hotter version of Phoebe Cates you had to. You scolded him after.
“It was on the recommendation board so we’ll have to trust in that”
********
Eddie had never seen the Disney movie before. It was for kids but you always loved it since you were a little kid. And if you loved, he’d watch it for you (he would not admit but he loved it too). There you were in the second movie. You had seen it two years ago so you were focused on the movie. But with that, you forgot about the boobs
“Oh…” Your cheeks got red. Seeing that by yourself was ok. But right by Eddie’s side, you got embarrassed and tried not to look at the tv in front of you. In the meantime, he was looking at you to see your reaction.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know that would happen” He said trying to sound like he was surprised
“Don’t worry, i see this every day.”
Eddie didn’t payed attention in the movie anymore. Were you talking about porn?
When the movie ended you went to bed and Eddie came with you. Being friends for a long time made you so accustomed to be around each other that now you would insist that he would sleep with you in your bed and not on the couch.
He would not sleep if he kept the question to himself. He had to ask.
“Good night Eds. Thanks for today. It was really nice!”
“Sure sweetheart, i had a good time too!”
And the place got quiet. It was now or never.
“Hey… can i ask you something?”
You just hummed
“Well… Earlier, when we were watching the movie you said that you would see it everyday when we saw the girl’s titties. With that do you… you know, d’ya mean you see boobs everyday in like, porn?”
“What? Why would you say that?” You said looking at his face even though the room was dark
“I don’t know why it just came in my head like, come on!”
“Eddie… i’m a girl. I see them everyday because i have them. Just like every woman. Go sleep, will ya.”
Eddie don’t know if that make it better or worse. Not that he didn’t know you had boobs. Of course you had. But now, you had boobs, you’d watch them and everything came to Eddie as a movie. Or as a dream in witch it really did. Right by your side, in your bed, in your house. Eddie had a wet dream about you. I wasn’t the first time. But it was in you house, close to you. Till then, he was sleeping and his mind was working on making him hard by the images of you touching your boobs while you were fucked by him.
You had woken up first, not realizing his morning wood, you went to the bathroom, then to the kitchen to take a glass of water and came back. But now he’d moved and, in his sweatpants, his “situation” was pretty obvious.
That scared the shit out of you. What would you do? Should you go back to sleep? Or try to pretend you never saw it. You weren’t a boy, but that seemed to be very uncomfortable. Suddenly you got hot. Seeing his dick poking out in his pants, his bare torso shown by his shirt that was lifted up. His wild hair that framed his face. Of course you knew you had feelings for Eddie, but you never did anything to let him know. It was a secret only for you and you only. You couldn’t do anything about your best friend. Even if he had a boner and got you all worked up.
He started to move around and to wake up when he saw you sitting on the bed and looking at the ceiling. Before saying anything he felt it. “Holy fuck!” that’s what he thought. He started to panic. Did you saw it. Would he be fast enough to run to the bathroom and try to work on it. “No, you shithead, you can’t jerk in her bathroom”
You realize his movements and looked at him. You knew that he knew you knew. Now the blanket were covering him.
“Mornin” He said casually and you nodded you head, trying not to lend your eyes on his cock to see if you could still see his bulge. “You saw it, right?”
“Saw what? I-I just woke up!” You said a little to fast “I mean, i barely opened my eyes and- yeah, i saw it.” you stopped when you saw his expressions getting amused. If you already saw it, there wasn’t a reason to be concerned anymore.
“Don’t worry, that happens sometimes” he said as if he didn’t have any dreams. It was just normal
“What? Out of nowhere?”
“Yeah, sort of…” He said remembering you in his dream and resisting the urge to touch his cock
“Can’t you like, turn it off or something”
He laughed at you face. You were getting more and more uncomfortable and in the same time, a bit horny. “It’s not like the tv we watched last night. You can’t turn it off.”
“But…” You saw his face. He was looking at you “I don’t get it”
“Well, i don’t know how to explain it” He tried to sound confident about it “It’s like when your nipples get hard when you women get cold. It not a thing you control” That part was true. He couldn’t control his dick or his mind so he wouldn’t find you attractive.
“But it seems to be painful” You said looking at him getting up.
“It is a little. I’ll go to the bathroom to try to ‘turn it off’” He said giggling
“Wait Eddie!” He turned to you and now you could see how big he was. Even with his pants, it was visible. “You don’t have to do it by yourself. Can i do something? Like, can i help you?”
Eddie froze in place. He would go take a cold shower and have thoughts about random things that wasn’t you. He was not going to masturbate in there. Was he still dreaming?
“Sorry! Oh i’m so so sorry. I don’t know what i was thinking about” You regret when you saw how his face got to serious.
“No no no. Don’t be sorry. I’m just surprised, that’s all.” He sat again looking at you cover your face “I mean, we’re friends. Last time i checked, friends don’t usually give a handy to other friends.”
“I’m so fucking stupid and embarrassingly alone that i let this stupid date get in my mind. I don’t know…”
“Were you willing to do it? For real?” He was really curious to know if you would jerk him off. That had to mean something, right?
“I’m sorry, it’s fucking crazy!” Hugging your knees, you looked at him and forced your arms to open
“Come on, don’t be so harsh. Were you?”
You nodded to scared of his reactions to your horny attitudes
“I thought you were virgin and said you were inexperienced in everything”
“It can’t be that hard” You whispered and looked at his eyes. Those pleading eyes that were begging to go back in time but were just reassuring Eddie that the shower would not ‘turn it off’ anymore.
“What if i said i wanted you to do it, huh? Would that be to weird?”
Now it was your turn to be shocked. Now he was asking you to do it. Was it to weird? Maybe a little, but only because you never did it before and because it was your best friend.
“I don’t know Eddie… I think you just as crazy as me” He laughed at that
“I might be a little. But it’s a good thing” You were feeling more comfortable now. It was your Eddie again and not some guy you had a crush on. “I know what you’re thinking. But, don’t you think i never wondered how would it be to kiss you? You are the most amazing friend i could have and with that comes this feeling too. But i don’t want to lose you. You’re to important for me”
“You too. Honestly i’d be lost without you. But i also wonder how would it be, you know…”
You kept looking at him and he did the same. You were making sure that it was the right thing to do. The he closed the gap between you two. Bodies bonding and connecting to each other. Your lips were so soft. Eddie was sure he was in his dream now. His hands that before was holding your face, now went to your back, caressing your waist. And your hands ran from his shoulders to his hair, tugging some locks of it and making him groan.
Things heated up and he pulled you to his lap. His bulge was now touching your crotch. With his hands on your waist, he took advantage of that and encouraged you to move back and forth making you feel so good. The friction was perfect. His lips were perfect. The way he was kissing you like he waited his whole life for it. Separating to breathe, you leaned on him, your foreheads touching, but your movements continued slightly.
“For a very inexperienced girl, you’re a hell of a kisser. Damn, are you sure you’re telling the truth?” He said panting with his eyes closed and his lips curled to a smile. You smiled back
“Yeah, i assure you. Don’t make me feel like i’m too good though. I’m gonna get too cocky.”
“Tell that to him” He pressed you down on him and, once again, you felt his hard dick. ‘How can it be so hard?’ you thought
“Can i take of your pants?” you asked a little scared
“Sure thing, sweetheart” He was smiley. He helped you to take it off and wow. You were a little shocked. It was big. You thought about it for a second and you honestly thought he was not average.
“Can i say something too?” He nodded while he pulled you back to him. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now but i just wanted to tell you so you don’t have any expectations. I don’t even know if you have any-” You were talking super fast, Eddie had to shut you up with a kiss. “Sorry. I was saying that, i think i still need some time, you know, if you want to have actual sex.”
“It’s alright. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to here”
“But i really wanted to do this. To help you here.” You said running your hand from his chest to his lower belly and his cock twitched. You wasn’t expecting that to happen “Is this normal” He nodded and giggled
“Are you sure you want to do it? You know, i’m not proud to say it, but have jerked off before. Plenty of times actually. If you’re not comfortable doing it, it’s not a problem for me to do it by myself.” It was melting your heart in the way he was talking to you. Caring about you.
“Yes i am! I’m just… insecure about it. I don’t know how to-.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll show you how, alright?” It was you time to nod you head. “A’right then. First thing, we need it to be wet, so you’ll have to spit on you hand.”
You hesitated but gathered a good amount of saliva on your mouth and spited on your hand.
“That’s right. Very good. Now you can wrap your hand around it” You just didn’t know where to. Was he talking about the tip or the base. You went for the tip.
Groaning low, he cleared his throat “Good girl. Now you can just make some circles around the tip and then go down.” You did what you were told to and that seemed to work. Your foreheads, that were glued to this time, separated a little before he came back. Both of you looking at your hand moving around his red tip leaking pre cum.
“Is that normal?”
“It means it’s fucking good” Even his voice changed. It was getting rougher and lower.
“Can you guide me a little. I’m scared i’ll squeeze you too hard” you said and his hand wrapped around yours.
“Don’t be afraid. It’s better when is tight. I’ll let you know if it’s to much” He let you do it by yourself when you got the right rhythm and grip.
Your hand were moving tightly up and down. You didn’t know if it was there before, you didn’t notice because you were to focus, but his hands were squeezing your tights hard. You could feel your panties getting soaked. How come you were excited by jerking him off.
More of the liquid you saw before came out and you ran your thumb over it. He let out a moan that rambled inside you body.
“Can you, please, go a little faster than that” And that’s what you did. The moan you heard was the first of many others that came along. You had gathered, again, more saliva and thought that it would be nice to be even wetter than it was. So you separated a little from him, looking at his confused eyes trying to read you. You separated enough to bend down and to spit on it again, looking at his eyes roll back, throwing his head back. You came back to your position, proud that you did something good without him telling you.
Your movements got faster than before and he, restless panting, kissed you. You wanted to make him cum hard. So you separated the kiss, kept up the speed, flashing him your boobs. That was the final push for Eddie.
The way he grabbed you and moan at your ear was insanely hot. You watched ropes of cum come of his dick. Your hand were now with white and sticky cum.
“Holy fucking shit!” He panted for the last time and let go of his grip on you. “Are you really sure you’re inexperienced?”
“I might’ve heard some advice about it from some friends” You said getting out of his lap, but he stopped you
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve been up here for a while, i don’t want to hurt your legs. Besides, my hand is a little dirty.” He laughed a little
“Let’s clean up and come back here then.”
That’s what you did. When you came back, he pulled you to his chest and you started to talk.
“You know, i got hard because i had a wet dream about you. Probably because of the movie. But you were in a bikini like hers and, well… you know the rest.”
“Really? What a perv.” You laughed together. You couldn’t be more happy to let this felling out of your chest. You didn’t know for how long you could keep that from him.
“What i mean is that, i really hope you don’t think that i’m doing this just because i was hard and you were there to help. I like you, not in a friend way and, if you let me, i would like to make you my girlfriend one day, if you want. For real. Take you out to dates, stay together doing whatever the shit we’ll want, give you things that i know you will love. This kinda shit.”
“If you want to, i would love to be your girlfriend. And all of the things you mentioned. Well… you know, you already do all of that. The sex is new though.”
He laughed and kissed you passionately
“Great. Now, you’ll get see how much fun we’re gonna have” You spent the rest of your valentine’s day like this. Laughing and kissing each other.
942 notes · View notes
007reid · 4 months
Note
So, still in the au of “secrets: Spencer Reid”..
I wanna see the teams reactions to reader and how cute Spencer is with her and how protective she is of him. Maybe Spence gets a little drunk and reader has an arm locked around him with a possessive scowl on their face. Pleeaasee??
you ask and you shall receive! i’m glad you enjoyed secrets, anon<3 sorry this is so late :(
secrets p. 2. spencer reid
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spencer reid x fem!reader
part 1 | part 2 ♡ this can be read as a stand-alone though!
summary: everyone expected spencer’s plus one to be his grandma or a close friend visiting. to see him show up with you hanging off his arm, clad in a black dress and rubbing your blood red lips together, you become the talk of the night.
warnings: fluff fluff just straight fluff!! spencer introducing his gf to the fam, teasing, drinking, flirting , nothing out of da norm. r is tough and possessive and spencer is basically her girlfriend.
a/n: someone take pinterest away from me because i’m getting too good at scouring for mgg stills and staring at them for hours. tell me you didn’t stare at that picture too.
spencer texted morgan that night, telling him that he’s bringing a plus one. morgan responded with a curt “yea bring ur ma on over why not.”
it appears that morgan did not take spencer that seriously. so he texted garcia, and she responded with “which member of the family havent we met? ❤️” spencer was just midst of falling on to his knees.
the day rolls around and spencer dreads it, plots a plan to make you watch a star wars movie marathon so that you’d fall asleep by the time of the event. he’s not a social recluse, by any means (okay so sometimes he is) but he prefers an evening staying in over going out. and it’s sunday evening, too, and he just wants an early night and to kiss you lazily until he’s sleepy. he doesn’t want to start the car, doesn’t want to get dressed up and get tidy for the bar. doesn’t wanna go anywhere.
the marathon plan backfired on him. just as you’re halfway through the third movie, you start pushing the throw blanket off your bodies, nudging spencer’s arms off of you. spencer whines, and he tries to make himself look extra pathetic (which didn’t take much, considering how he’s already desperate to get out of meeting the team) so that you’d pity him.
you don’t fall for his act one bit, which is extremely humbling to spencer. his puppy eyes used to work on you, but he suppose you’ve grown an immunity to them. “lazy boy,” you chides. he hides his face in the crook of your neck and you laugh. “come on, we’ll be late.”
“fashionably late,” spencer quips. you laugh again, detangling your bodies and press a kiss on his cheek before leaving the living room. spencer sits on the couch for a while and contemplates.
he does end up dragging his ass off the couch and freshen himself up. you have decided to use the guest bathroom for some reason, and he gets ready by himself, shaving before throwing on a simple burgundy sweater with all kind of patterns on it and some black pants, smoothing his hair out a bit and tucking them neatly behind his ears.
he rubs at his chin, looking at himself in the mirror. he looks like a middle school civics teacher, but he couldn’t careless.
he grabs his phone and slides it in his back pocket, going to the closed guest bathroom door. he knocks softly, leaning in close to not miss your voice.
“yn?”
“almost there,” you respond through the door.
“can i come in?”
“uhh,” spencer frowns. it’s unusual you’re doing this. you guys have shared an apartment for five months now, and he’s basically learned to lived around your life, to always have you wherever. getting ready apart is definitely unusual, and you’re being hesitant about letting him in, even.
maybe you’re still mad about the lila thing. he should apologize the moment he gets the chance.
“sure honey,” you say finally. spencer cautiously opens the door, and you’re sitting on the bed, pulling up your black pantyhose. he melts and perks up simultaneously at the sight of you.
you’re wearing a shiny, black silk dress that goes halfway down your thighs, the material pooling on the white sheets as you adjusts the pantyhose, reaching for your matching black leather mary janes. spencer looks down at himself, feeling timidly underdressed. you look up and smile at him so easily as if you're not the most beautiful woman in the world.
spencer feels his throat clog up. he clears it but when he speaks his voice is still blurry. "hi."
"hi," you buckle up your mary janes, gold necklace hovering above your knee. spencer stands awkwardly at the door, too entranced to move. you look up when he doesn't answer immediately, and breathe out a laugh when you see the dumb, starstruck look on his face. "gonna stand there all night baby?"
"mhm," spencer says absentmindedly. he finally bounces off the door frame and carefully sits himself on the bed next to you, cautious with every move. he immediately gets a faceful of the scent of your perfume and you look like an angel, smell like one too. "new dress?"
"mhm, thrifted it the other night," you respond. you stand up from the bed and do a small twirl, the thin fabric forming the shape of a flower, flying. you remind him of a black cherry blossom, if those even existed. "you like it? found it for four dollars. can you believe that? deal of a lifetime. if i had gotten to the thrift later someone would've snatched it right up."
to be honest, spencer isn't listening to a single word you're saying. he stares at you, and your silver hoops and crinkling eyes and the silver necklace he gifted you for your birthday five months ago and gets dizzy with the thought of how lucky he is.
"crazy deal," he says. then blurts. "you look beautiful."
you smile playfully. "you're just saying that," you laugh, smoothing out your hair in the mirror installed in the wardrobe. spencer stares at your reflection. "looking dapper yourself, doctor."
"do you think i should change?" he asks. because right now, it looks like you're both dressing up for different events. him to a school-based textbook debate conference and you to a high class art museum. neither events are the actual event you are both going to.
"you look handsome, spence," you reassure him. "that sweater. it suits you."
"it doesn't suit the bar," spencer grumbles quietly, still upset that he has to show up. he's not a bar man. more of a picnic or joinery kind of guy.
"you weren't born to suit whenever you're going," you say and then grab his hand. "we're gonna be late."
***
spencer gets even more grumbly when you both enters the bar, but you know in his heart he's extremely happy. he practically lights up when he sees his team crowding at a booth, dragging you along by the arm. he says hi to everyone, immediately comfortable just from the presence of his team except his excitement isn't mutual. the team isn't looking at him, but at you.
goggling like an eagle, some might say. you elbow spencer in the ribs. spencer looks at you questioningly, as if he doesn't know what to do.
"introduce me," you urge, feeling more awkward by the second. a man staring at you with his jaw on the table, beer frozen halfway to his lips you assume is morgan has a terrified look on his face. everyone does, actually.
"oh yeah. sorry," spencer says, ears turning slightly red but his beam is still bright. "everyone, this is yn. she's my girlfriend!"
"sweet mary jesus," morgan finally says. he breaks the ice, and the entire booth corrupts in excitement.
"reid, what are you doing? sit the lady down," jj scowl, scooting over and making space, squishing emily against her. spencer lets you slide in first, next to jj and he sits down after you, hand gentle at your waist. "why didn't you tell us?"
"well i tried to--"
"i really thought we had nothing to hide from each other. you know you could've trusted me with it!" garcia quips, her thick neon red earrings moving back and forth.
"i didn't do anything deliberate to hide it!" spencer defends himself snarkily.
"i couldn't deduce you had a girlfriend. i just thought someone who made you really happy started crashing at your place," hotch says, thoughtfully.
"let the girl talk," rossi rolls his eyes. spencer definitely captures their personalities well when he tells you stories about the bau, you recognize everyone just from a sentence. the table quiets and you can feel the warmness of eyes all on you.
"hi everyone," you could feel your cheeks getting warm from the attention. you wanted to make an impression, but it's hard. you go for the standard, "i've heard a lot about everybody."
"we would've loved to hear about you," garcia chirps. "but spencer is a very private soul. how long have you been together?"
the evening dissolves into small talk and teasing, and out of everyone in the bau, perhaps the one who's most shocked and proud of spencer is morgan. he sits back, arm tossed around garcia, admiring spencer like a pleased older brother seeing his baby brother ask for his car keys to take his new girlfriend out on a date. hotch has the same expression on his face, one of a proud dad.
he knew that something had been keeping spencer extra upbeat than usual, the lack of eye bags and how he's always energized and better put together. hotch couldn't place a figure on what it was, but now he realizes it was you. spencer almost glows, basking in the shower of your presence and hotch knows that under the table you and spencer are probably doing something cringy like rubbing circle-eights into each other's knees or holding hands under the table. the same thing he did when he was hopelessly in honeymoon love.
the entire table are happy for the both of you, but there's probably isn't anyone in the club more happy than spencer. he is lovesick and you're so beautiful, he can't help it. he feels more comfortable than he ever had been in a club, and that encourage him to knock more drinks down, have a little more fun.
"i'll grab the next round," you say, noticing that the beers in everyone's hands are getting lukewarm. you press a hand against spencer's thigh as you get up. spencer looks up at you, eyes wide and sweet. "i'll be right back."
as soon as you absorb into the crowd, the entire table startles in cheers and whistles. spencer glows red, partly from the alcohol. mostly from the attention. "my man!" morgan praises, knocking a punch into spencer's shoulder.
"ow!"
"she's beautiful," jj says approvingly. "she knows how to dress."
"i'm sayin'!" despite how much he denies it, derek is a horrible lightweight. he slurs. "how the hell did you bag her? tell us your secrets."
spencer blushes like a newly courted bride, going magenta all over.
"okay stop bullying the kid," emily says, but she's grinning wide.
"he definitely likes it," garcia giggles, pressed flat against morgan.
when you return, beers in your hand, the entire booth are giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls and your boyfriend is rambling, on and on. "sorry i took a while," you say, and within a flash everyone's grabbed beers for themselves, knocking the caps over. it's reached that point of the night when everyone's breath smells of beer, and the music is extra loud and everyone's extra dizzy. spencer latches onto you immediately the moment you sit down, staring at you with fucking moons in his eyes.
"i was just talking about you," he says, pupils wide. you know your boy is beyond drunk.
"yeah?" spencer nods. "what about?"
spencer hiccups and forgets the question. "wanna dance?"
a small smile creep on your face. it's unusual for spencer to ask, usually he doesn't even want to witness the act of people dancing together at all. "you sure?" you lock an arm around him. no one pays attention to the two of you, lost in their own conservations. spencer nods again.
"can we dance? let's go," he makes to move, pouting his lips but you slither your arms all over him, trapping him into you. "y/nnn," he whines.
"stay put for a bit for me okay?” you murmur, trying to distract him from the dancefloor.
it’s not like you oppose to dancing. hell, you love dancing, but ever since you stood up to grab the table drinks, you notice unwanted eyes across the bar glued on your boy, women with sharp eyebrows and pointy chins and short dresses, and you can never help the awful feeling that coils in your stomach.
jealousy is an irritating feeling to feel, and it’s telling you to dig your teeth into his neck and mark him all over for everyone to see and look away. but you won’t do that, because you have a slightest drops of decency you have saved up, and the least you can do is pamper spencer with kisses and grab onto his hand so tight he’d think of you instead of the inviting dancefloor.
spencer falls for it immediately, returning your kisses and whining pathetically against your lips, the alcohol making his head spin. spencer ‘s never been a fan of pda but he couldn’t careless now, hanging on you like a cat, dancefloor forgotten. you smile against his lips.
victory.
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elllisaaa · 6 months
Text
how ateez would confess to you
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-> words count : 3.7k words
-> genre : ateez members crushing on you
-> warnings : just a lot of sweetness
-> sorry if I made any spelling or grammar mistakes, english is not my first language
-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !
-> masterlist | ateez masterlist
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KIM HONGJOONG - JEALOUS
he’s the type to be bold. but like REALLY bold. 
like he’s not embarrassed at all to check you out when you ask him if your outfit looks good and say “it looks more than good, don’t worry.” with that damn smirk screaming in my pillow.
he’s also very protective - always has his hand on the small of your back when you’re walking in a crowded place, and always gives you his jacket or sweater if you’re cold or feeling uncomfortable. 
he has an eye on you wherever you two are going to be sure that you’re safe. 
asks you to send him a message so he is sure that you’re home whenever you go out of work, or hang out late without him, or when he can’t walk you home. 
that being said, it’s also a fact that this man is possessive.
have you seen him whenever an atiny mentions liking another group, or going to other concerts than theirs ?
he would be the same with you.
but since you’re not yet a couple, he tries to hide it as well as he can.
but jealousy would be his breaking point. 
seeing you laugh and joke with some trainee of the agency he didn’t even know the name of really made his blood boil. 
his death stare was burning holes in the back of the head of the poor boy you were talking with. 
he would approach both of you, and as if the trainee wasn’t already intimidated by hongjoong presence, he was looking at him like he killed someone lmao.
the trainee was almost shaking when hongjoong dragged you away from him under a ridiculous excuse. 
“- Joong ! Where are we going ?”
He didn’t answer, jaw clenched and his grip on your wrist almost painful as he brought you to his studio. Hongjoong closed the door behind the two of you, just to have the time to think about the way he was going to explain himself. He always succeeded in controlling himself and mostly his jealousy, but today, he didn’t exactly know why, it was too hard seeing you with someone else, laughing like you should be with only him. 
“- Hongjoong ? What’s gotten into you ?”
He took a deep breath. Maybe it was finally the moment to say the truth. It would take a weight out of his shoulder, and he could have an answer to all his questions. Hongjoong turned towards you, a smirk on his lips.
“- You want me to be honest ?”
You simply nobbed, looking at him expectantly, and even if he acted confident, his heart was beating fast. 
“- I didn’t like seeing you laugh with another guy. Well, I didn’t like it every other time it happened. But I think today was just too much to bear for me. Because I love you. I want you to be mine, only mine. I want to be the one who makes you laugh like that, and I want you to be the one who makes me laugh. What do you say ?”
The blush creeping on your cheeks as you listened to his words, and watched his grin widened was really noticeable. But your smile was even more telling to him.
“- I say yes.”
“from now on and forever, I won’t let you go. you’re mine.”
PARK SEONGHWA - SAFE
he is literally the sweetest person ever. 
the type to text you throughout the day to ask if you have eaten and if your answer is no, expect him to be at your door in 5 minutes, drank or took a break. 
so, so caring and always there whenever you need him.
mention that you had a bad day or are a little down ? expect a movie night, your favorite snacks and a lot of cuddles from hwa. 
speaking of that, he sometimes always acts as if he was your boyfriend. 
not that it’s bothering you, on the contrary, but he still claims to everyone that you two are just best friends. 
and that’s confusing because he’s out there holding your hands, putting his arm on your shoulder, cuddling with you. 
to be honest, seonghwa has been trying to make things ambiguous between the two of you lately, in hopes that you would take the hint that he likes you.
like that one time he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and you thought that he was about to kiss you.  
so tonight, while he was laying on top of you on your couch, focused on the show playing on the TV, you decided it was time to clarify this situation.
“- Hwa ?”
The man turned his head towards you at the mention of his surname, big doe eyes watching you and waiting for what you wanted to say. You hoped that he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating. 
“- Can I ask you a question ?
- Yeah, of course.”
Seonghwa’s smile almost made your hands shake, and you came back to playing with his hair to try and hide it.
“- What are we ?”
It was as if the whole world had stopped spinning for Seonghwa. Was it finally happening ? Was this your way of asking him to be more than friends ? He silently prayed for it, closing his eyes for a second to gather his thoughts, and also to escape your piercing gaze that was making him even more nervous than he already was. 
“- I’m willing to be whatever you want us to be angel.
- And what do you think of… You being mine, and me being yours ?”
Seonghwa giggled quietly, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide the red tint on his cheeks. His arms, that circled your waist, tightened their grip, not planning on letting you go anytime soon. 
“that’ll be perfect. that’s what i wanted us to be all along.”
JEONG YUNHO - SLEEPY
100% golden retriever energy, you can’t say otherwise i’ll fight.
i don’t know, he just gives this puppy boyfriend vibes, all fluffy and clingy and sweet, he’s just so cute honestly.  
the type to always want to hang out, because his love language his quality time.
will make it a ritual to eat with you at least 2 times a week, weekend hangouts where you either simply go shopping or sometimes he plans activities, and movie nights too. 
so smiley around you his cheeks hurts when he goes home after spending the day with you. 
he gets especially giggly every time you do something a little silly, like when you trip while trying to show him something.
always makes sure you’re alright afterwards though.
to put it in a nutshell, he’s just very cute.
but he finds you even more cute, particularly when you’re all sleepy. 
because then you snuggle up to him, seeking his warmth, and you often fall asleep on him, unaware of how much you make his heart flutter. 
during your usual movie night, you felt tired and rested on his shoulder.
As Yunho heard your breathing become more regular, he assumed that you were asleep. He was always so glad that you felt safe enough around him to be this vulnerable. And mostly, he got to admire your beautiful face without risking you to catch him. He didn’t know why but tonight, he felt on the verge of telling you. And after all, you were asleep, you couldn’t hear him. He already said it to you a few times like that, what could go wrong ?
“- You’re breathtaking Y/N, really… I love you.”
As Yunho was ready to cover you with a blanket to keep you even more warm, your voice stopped him in his tracks.
“- Can you say it again ? I’m not sure I understood.”
His panicked eyes turned to your fully awake ones, looking at him with a mischievous glint. The poor boy gulped loudly, not knowing if he was going to be in trouble or if you were just messing with him, as you always did. 
“- I-I love you, I really do. I just… It was easier telling you when you couldn’t reject me.”
A shy chuckle escaped him as he averted your gaze, missing the smile eating your whole face at his confession. 
“- Look at me, big baby.”
And when he eventually did, you finally answered his silent interrogation.
“- I love you too, so much.”
Yunho engulfed you in the biggest hug, already taking advantage of your new relationship.
“I can’t wait to spend every day and every night by your side.”
KANG YEOSANG - PERFECT
he’s not very talkative, in the sense that he’s not always making remarks about what you tell him.
but don’t worry, he got it all written in his head. 
it could be the most useless detail about a story that happened to you years ago, and he still will remember it.
because you’re too precious to him to forget anything about you he’s so boyfriend material.
the type to take notice of what you like to eat.
say that you love a certain type of food one time, and you’ll get it every now and then. 
he remembers your coffee order from day one.
also a really good listener and give the best advice. 
that being said, he’s the type to notice if you looked at something with envy in a shop, or said that you wanted this or that.
and bets that he’ll confess with a little gift that he bought for you.
maybe that’ll be a waste of money if you say no, but he doesn’t care, you’re worth it.
so he’ll buy this necklace you’ve been talking about for weeks, and come to you one day, almost out of the blue to offer it to you.
“- You shouldn’t have, really. That’s too much.
- It’s never too much when it comes to you.”
You were blushing like crazy, as much as from his words and how his fingers brushed against your skin as Yeosang attached the necklace for you. His eyes reflected nothing but love and adoration when he looked at you. 
“- You’re beautiful, it suits you perfectly.
- Thank you so much Sangie ! But what is this for ? It’s not my birthday or anything special…”
Yeosang lowered his head for several seconds before mustering the courage to let the words finally spill from his mouth. They were coming out so naturally that it seemed like you were truly made for one another.
“- I wanted to give you this just because you loved it, but also to remind you how much I love you. And I don’t mean it in a friendly way. I like you. And I hope, if you return my feelings, that this necklace is gonna remind you of that everyday.”
Your smile was enough of an answer for him, but you took a step forward, putting your hand on Yeosang’s cheek and making his heart beat faster. 
“- I’ll wear it everyday from now on. I must find something for you to wear and remember how much I love you too.”
“let’s get matching ones then, that’ll make us soulmates.”
CHOI SAN - FORCED
now this boy is the most obvious when it comes to crushes.
like all the members could tell that he was down bad for you since the first day.
but you didn’t seem to notice.
however, it was indeed very clear since he looked at you as if you put all the stars in the sky. 
really, i don’t understand how you didn’t notice.
beside the fact that he’s literally a simp for you, he’s also been your best friend for several years now, and he knows you like the back of his hand except your undying love for him.
he had always been by your side : when you were sad or happy, when you had your first crush and even when you got drunk for the first time. 
the members having obviously noticed how san was struggling to tell you how he felt, they tried to help him multiple times.
to be honest, this was not really efficient but at least they tried. 
the latest attempt was at this little party they planned at the dorms, and of course you were invited.
at one point, everyone gathered to play truth or dare, and of course, it was a trick to get you two to confess to each other not very slick, yeah.
“- So San, truth or dare ?
- Truth, I have nothing to hide.”
His confident smile made you chuckle, knowing all his embarrassing secrets and also knowing how much he, in fact, had to hide. 
“- Well, then tell us who your crush is.”
The smirk on Yunho’s face made a deep contrast with the defeated one on San face. You felt your own smile flatter as you tried not to look at your best friend. You knew this day would come. Of course San wouldn’t stay with you until your old days. Of course he would find a better partner. You were only his best friend, not his lover. 
“- I… Uh-
- I thought you had nothing to hide, Sannie.”
The group laughed collectively at Wooyoung's remark, except you and San. You were almost ready to stand up and leave when your best friend turned to you.
“- Y/N… I really love you.”
Your eyes widened as San ran away immediately. Around you, the members were all whistling and making weird noises. But you didn’t hear them. You only heard San’s words again and again. Quickly after, you followed him to the kitchen. He had to know how much you loved him too. When you found him, he had his head pressed on the fridge, eyes closed and probably overthinking everything he had ever said and done.
“- San…”
He turned to you quickly, worry filling up his gaze.
“- Listen Y/N, I’m really sorry ! I shouldn't have said that in front of everyone, I should’ve kept it for a moment just between us, or never tell you at all in fact. I apologize for making you feel uncomfortable and I’m- 
- San, stop.”
You took a step toward him, your smile eating your face. 
“- We’ve known each other for years, you’ll never make me uncomfortable. Stop thinking too much, okay ? ‘Cause I love you too, since I don’t even remember when because you’re the most important person in my life.”
No answer came except his lips on yours, and his hand on your waist, pulling you against his body.
“i’ve always known that one day we’ll be together, and that one day i’ll marry you. but let’s keep that for later.”
SONG MINGI - DRUNK
the boy is a stuttering and nervous mess around you.
blushing everytime you smile at him, but denying it if you ever mention it before blushing even more, he’s so cute.
besides the fact he’s so impressed by your charisma and presence, he’s very funny around you.
the type to make the dumbest jokes and put himself in ridiculous situations if that makes you laugh.
because your smile and laugh are the most beautiful things he had ever seen and heard.
it’s so funny to see a big guy like him being so amazed by just one person, you find that really endearing. 
but that also means that he’s not brave at all. 
like, if he ever tried to just muster up the courage to tell you that he has the biggest crush on you, he would chicken out as soon as he saw you.
and I think that to be able to confess, he would have to take a little liquid courage yes, that means getting drunk.
one night, the boys were celebrating the release of their new comeback with some drinks and mingi asked you to come with them.
and of course, he’ll end up drinking too much, hoping that he would either stop thinking about you or finally telling you how he felt. 
“- Y/N !”
Mingi’s scream made you jolt in place and turn around quickly, smiling when you saw him trying to walk straight in your direction, with his rosy cheeks and glossy eyes. He was cute, really cute. But you didn’t expect him to literally throw himself in your arms. You caught him as best as you could, shivering as his breath tickled your neck.
“- Are you alright Mingi ?”
He nodded his head, trying to steady himself and standing straight on his feet again. You looked up at him, preparing yourself to decode his slurred words. 
“- Yeah… Yes, I’m alright but I wanted to say something to you… I really, really like you… I mean, like you, not like a friend, I want you to be my lover… Because I love you.”
A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, and Mingi’s heart skipped a beat. His brain was all mushy just from seeing your gaze focused on him and only him, and alcohol wasn’t helping at all in controlling the blush on his cheeks.
“- I like you too Mingi, and I would like to be your lover too. But we’ll talk about this when you’re sober, okay ?”
________________________________________
“- I really said that ?”
You chuckled lightly, caressing his cheeks softly, diving in his mesmerizing, hypnotizing eyes.
“- Yeah, you did. But to be honest, it was very cute. You’re very cute anyway. So, would you like to be my lover Mingi ?”
The boy in question pecked your lips, smiling too.
“that’s not even a question princess. i’ll be by your side as long as you’ll let me stay.”
JUNG WOOYOUNG - IMPULSIVE
i see him as someone very spontaneous.
if he passes by a restaurant he likes, no matter what hour it is or what he has to do, he’ll stop and eat. 
if he likes someone, he’s gonna tell them. 
that’s what you love about him, and that’s also probably how you met.
he was certainly doing something stupid, as always, and ran into you, making you fall on the floor. 
and boom ! you were best friends forever.
he didn’t stop doing ridiculous things, on the contrary since he noticed that you’re in the same mood as him and that it’s making you laugh, he’ll be doing it even more. 
but the thing is that wooyoung wants way more than being friends since the first day.
but now that he’s got you in his life, he’s a little (very) afraid of losing you. 
so he’s gonna try and hide his feelings as best as he can. 
but when he passed by this flower shop, and saw your favourite ones standing outside, he couldn’t help thinking of you.
and that’s how he ended up at your door, with the flowers, trying to calm himself down.
“- Woo ? What are you doing here ?
- I.. Uh… These are for you !”
He handed you the flowers, feeling a blush creeping on his cheeks as you took them hesitatingly. Wooyoung never felt so nervous in his life. Even before his first concert, even before his first fanmeeting. Even with all the stressful events he had experienced being an idol, he never got so anxious. 
“- Thank you, I guess ? What are these for ? It’s not my birthday, nor anything special I think.”
You chuckled at your own words, leaving Wooyoung asking himself why he did that.
“- Don’t get me wrong ! I like them, they’re beautiful and I’m surprised you even remembered what my favourite flowers were ! But why ? I don’t understand…”
He thought about letting out all the words he kept for himself for weeks, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. So instead, he leaned in to kiss you. It was not even a peck : he kissed you passionately, like it was the last thing he got to do before dying. You let the flowers fall to the floor, dropping them without any regrets when you tug at Wooyoung’s hair, deepening your kiss. And his smile when you backed out for air told you everything you needed to know. 
“i’ll buy you flowers everyday if it means i get to kiss you like this.”
CHOI JONGHO - TEXT
first thing first, this man’s smile could kill you and me, he’s so cute that’s got to be illegal.
the type to value your friendship so much, to the point he prefers to just be your friend than ever risking your relationship if he’s not 100% certain that your feelings are mutual.
his crush developed slowly, falling for you little by little and growing fond of you much more as time passed.
the members noticed how much he liked you when they saw that jongho lets you sleep on his shoulder whenever you are tired.
or when he willingly hugs you every time you need it.
he doesn’t like physical contact but with you, it’s natural and he sincerely appreciates it.
so careful when it comes to his feelings, because he doesn’t want to lose you or upset you.
that’s why i think he would confess through very, very long messages he’ll send late at night.
probably threw his phone away as soon as he did it, not wanting to see your response. 
but that’s also why he did it : to let you choose if you wanted to respond or just ignore what he just told you. 
so when you called the next day, he panicked.
“- Hi Jongho ! 
- H-Hi Y/N.”
At least, your tone seemed as cheerful as usually, and not upset or disappointed.
“- I must admit I was really surprised when I saw your texts when I woke up this morning. I was not expecting that at all.
- And… Is it in a bad or a good way ?”
Jongho didn’t want to pressure you, but he needed to know how you felt, needed to know if he should smile or bury himself six feet under. 
“- In a good way, don’t worry.”
You clearly heard his sigh of relief, which made you both chuckle at the other end of the phone. And both of you had the biggest smile on your faces.
“- I’ll need at least two hours to even come close to a good answer and I don’t have the time right now. So just listen to that : I like you too, so much you can’t imagine. But if you’re willing to listen to my boring ramble for hours…”
“i love listening to you, I’ll never get tired of it..”
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-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.
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2K notes · View notes
misshoneyimhome · 3 months
Note
If you’re willing to write for jack Hughes, maybe something like he & the reader are friends & he finds out that she’s never “finished” (like she’s not a virgin, but she just never finished while having sex), and so he wants to help her out?
Maybe you can add like him liking her before this already, but it doesn’t matter :)
Alrighty bb! I'm so sorry it took so long for me to write this, but it's my first time writing about Jack Hughes, so it took a bit longer than usual 😉 Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it 🤍 Happy New Year to all Jack H. lovers out there 🥂
[So, apparently, I find it a bit difficult to write about slow sex 🙈]
Warnings; smut 18+; fingering; protected sex (p in v);
Word count; 3.2K
[bestfriend!Jack x reader]
・✶ 。゚
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What's your name? (what's your name?) Who's your daddy? (who's your daddy?) Is he rich, is he rich like me? Has he taken any time To show, to show you what you need to live?
Time of the season - Zombie
**
"Have you decided on a movie?" Jack called from the kitchen while wrapping up the popcorn.
"Yeah, all set here," you hollered back. "Just waiting on the snacks."
"Okay, I'm here now," Jack hurried over with a chuckle as you were already settled on the sofa, patiently waiting for him.
It was a typical evening spent with your good friend Jack Hughes, a bit of a tradition whenever he returned from a road trip with the New Jersey Devils.
This pattern started off a few months back when Jack had first texted you on his way home, feeling a bit down after some games resulting in losses on the road. And realising how much it affected him, you spent the next day brainstorming ways to cheer him up.
That's when the idea of a movie night came about. The goal was to find a classic, light-hearted comedy that could take Jack's mind off things. And it seemed to do the trick.
And ever since that night, after every road trip, you and Jack would meet up (no matter wins or loses), watch a movie, and then spend the night chatting about pretty much anything and everything.
If he wanted to talk about the trip, you'd talk about that. Or if he needed a diversion from hockey, then that's exactly what you'd provide.
That's just how your friendship worked - calm, laid-back, and straightforward.
With Jack, you felt like there wasn't much you couldn't discuss. Well, perhaps there were a few personal matters you'd never broached with your close friend. However, it never seemed to be an issue. 
Though, on this particular evening, during the movie, your phone lit up with a text from your girlfriend, sparking a somewhat sensitive topic to your conversation.
"I swear! This guy is the one 😱 five orgasms tonight babe - I think I’m in love!!"
A smile crept onto your face as you read the message.
It was from one of your best friends, out on a date with a new Tinder match, which was somewhat a weekly ritual for her, yet this time it seemed she'd finally met someone who could meet her rather demanding needs.
"What's so funny?" Jack asked, noticing your smile and focused attention on your phone.
"Oh, it's nothing," you casually responded.
"Come on, tell me - it's clearly something amusing," your friend prodded, as his curiosity piqued.
"It's just Mel, she's on another date," you said, flashing a soft smile as you showed Jack the message, causing his eyes to widen a bit.
"Wow, sounds like she's having quite a night," Jack chuckled lightly.
"Yeah, I suppose," you shrugged, darting your eyes between the movie playing on the TV and your phone, trying to evade Jack's gaze and the topic a bit. However, Jack seemed intent on delving further into the matter.
"Well, I mean, five orgasms in one go, that's quite something," he chuckled lightly. "Depends on the person, of course."
But you found yourself biting your lip, feeling a bit out of your depth with the subject.
"I, um... I guess..." you mumbled nervously. "I mean, I... I wouldn't really know," you softly admitted, staring at your phone in your hand.
"What?" Jack chuckled. "What do you mean you wouldn't know?"
His expression shifted to one a bit puzzled as you quietly revealed your personal secret.
"Well... I haven't exactly ‘finished’... ever."
A brief silence fell between you, the only sound being the TV's credits playing in the background.
"You haven't... had an orgasm? Ever?" Jack asked, genuinely surprised by your sudden confession.
"Well... I mean, kind of - at least I think I have, by myself... but I've just never reached that... climax point with someone else," you slowly exhaled as your eyes met Jack's, giving him a nervous glance.
"Are you serious, y/n?" The hockey player stared at you, utterly baffled, prompting you to gently nod in confirmation.
Jack couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart. How could that be the case?
"It's not as if I haven't had good sex before, Jack," you attempted to explain, trying to ease the tension that had softly developed. "I just haven't... you know, reached that point..."
"But yeah, that’s like the best part! I just don’t get it... Hasn't any guy ever taken his time to make sure you had the complete experience? To give you that satisfaction?" 
Your confession seemed to strike a chord with your friend, and though you weren't entirely certain why, it did provide a slight sense of reassurance.
For a while, you'd felt as though something might be wrong with you. Maybe you just couldn't reach climax during sex with someone else. However, Jack's reaction made you reconsider that notion. In a positive light.
"I suppose not..." you spoke gently, locking eyes with him. "There hasn't always been the time, you know... And every time, it seemed they were just aiming to please themselves."
But Jack wasn't willing to accept that. It didn't seem fair to you that you hadn't experienced the true pleasure of sex, if your partners hadn't taken the time to ensure your pleasure was as important as theirs.
And he could feel his mind racing as he pondered how to address this newfound information.
If Jack had to be completely honest, you weren’t just a good friend to him. You held a special place in his heart that went beyond mere friendship, even though there had never been anything romantic or sexual between you.
Truth be told, he had a little crush on you. 
Over time, he found you to be someone remarkable. You showed genuine care and support for him, whether it was on the side-line of games or a shoulder to lean on outside the hockey world. And you never asked for anything in return.
You didn’t boast to everyone about your friendship with an NHL hockey player or flaunt your closeness to his family. And your lack of interest in his fame and money was one of the many reasons why he admired you so much.
So, sitting there beside you, realising that you had been missing out on something so wonderful, made him consider whether perhaps he could be the one to introduce you to the pleasures of a fulfilling sexual experience.
However, he hesitated to voice his thoughts, unsure of how you might react. Yet, before he could gather his courage, you interrupted his train of thought.
"Are you okay, Jackie?"
"Yeah, I'm just thinking..."
"About?"
"Nothing... well, not exactly nothing..."
"You can tell me?"
Running his fingers through his hair, Jack took a moment to choose his words carefully, hoping not to alarm you. Then, he tenderly brushed the smooth skin on your cheek as his gaze fixated on your lips.
"I want to show..." he breathed softly, licking his lips almost seductively. "I want to show you just how amazing it can be..."
You were slightly taken aback. Did your best friend just propose that the two of you should have sex?
Yet, Jack's deep eyes revealed no falsehood. He seemed almost dead serious as his gaze met yours again, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.
Jack was without a doubt attractive. And maybe even more than just attractive. Truth be told, you understood precisely why so many girls were constantly swooning over him. He had an incredible charm. His laughter and smile could light up any room, and his hockey-built physique only added to his appeal.
But you'd never considered that he might be attracted to you. You were simply a long-time family friend he could turn to for comfort.
However, in that very moment, it seemed you might have a chance at being something a bit more.
"What?" you asked in disbelief. "I mean, what?"
And Jack gently nodded, his fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
"Y/n, it pains me to think you've never experienced just how good sex can be, so yeah, I'd love to be the one to show you..."
In truth, there wasn't much to contemplate. Though he was your best friend, you didn’t want to overthink why he was expressing a desire to have sex with you. Perhaps it was simply because he felt bad that no one had ever made you feel that way. Nonetheless, it wasn't something you'd turn down.
So, with a gentle nod and a soft smile, you gave him your consent.
However, as he tenderly guided you to his bedroom and began to place delicate kisses on your neck while slowly undressing you, Jack felt the need for more reassurance. He wanted to be absolutely certain that you were completely comfortable with taking this step in your friendship.
"You're sure you want this?"
"Yes, Jack," you whispered softly, your palms delicately finding their way to his chest. 
And with a soft nod, his large hands then smoothly slid under the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and revealing your bra to your best friend for the first time. It was an intimate moment, the closest Jack had ever been to you, his soft lips touching yours, while witnessing you in this vulnerable state. It felt incredible.
The atmosphere was serene and gentle as Jack dimmed the lights in his spacious bedroom, aiming to create the most relaxed setting for you. He even put on some soothing tunes in the background, something that always helped him unwind before a tense match.
An as you were left in just your underwear, Jack gently guided you to lie down on the bed. Though he knew you weren't entirely inexperienced nor a virgin, he wanted to ensure that both of you took the time necessary. Moreover, he had to manage his own excitement. This was about your needs, so he needed to ensure he wouldn’t reach climax too quickly.
Your eyes held a profound gaze as he slowly undressed himself to his boxers and joined you on the bed, his larger body hovering over yours before tenderly placing a soft kiss on your lips.
Your fingers instinctively found his semi-long locks, pulling him a bit closer, eager to deepen the kiss. But Jack pulled back slightly, reminding himself to maintain focus and take things slowly.
"Easy there... we have plenty of time," he whispered softly, redirecting his attention to your neck instead. He kissed, sucked, and nibbled gently on your sensitive skin, allowing you to relax into the comfortable sensations.
A wave of pleasure swept over you as Jack took his time to ease your nerves, allowing you to immerse yourself in the delightful feelings. Soft sighs mingled with light moans escaped your lips as his hand massaged your breast, teasing your nipple through the thin fabric before travelling down to your lacy panties. With gentle strokes, he caressed your warmth, while withdrawing his lips from your skin to observe your exquisite face, reflecting hints of pleasure under his touch.
Locking eyes with him, as his touch grew more intense, you desired more than just gentle caresses.
"Jack..." you breathed out. "Touch me, more."
And your wish was his command. 
His fingers slid under your bottoms, gliding through your folds before carefully finding your clit. Being mindful of his rough hockey fingers, he was careful as he circled your sensitive bud, causing more moans to escape your lips.
It was a sight to behold for Jack. Watching your eyes shut tightly, your expressions contorting in pleasure, as he increased his touch, he found it incredibly hot. 
"Is it good, baby?" Jack whispered softly; his voice tinged with seduction.
"Yes... Yes, Jack, it's so good," you managed to voice, overwhelmed by the pleasure his fingers were providing, surpassing anything you'd experienced alone.
Under his touch, it felt incredibly wonderful. Jack's fingers worked their magic, and while most guys might have grown impatient by now, he was still taking the time needed to bring you to that peak of pleasure. He was focused on leading you to that blissful climax, feeling a rush of desire as he watched you succumb to the overwhelming sensation.
Then as he felt your body both relaxed and tense with pleasure, Jack adjusted his position slightly. Although there was a fleeting disappointment as his fingers withdrew from your sensitive spot, it didn't last long, as he swiftly removed your panties and positioned himself on his knees between your legs. Then, his left thumb found your sensitive nub again, igniting that pleasurable sensation once more. You had to let your head sink back into the pillow, feeling an unfamiliar but incredible sensation building in your lower abdomen - a feeling beyond description.
Your hands gripped the pillow tightly on each side of your head, eyes closed, as gasps and moans escaped you.
And while observing your reaction, Jack sensed you were approaching that unfamiliar peak you longed for, so with his right hand, he gently found your entrance, teasingly poking with a finger.
"Still feeling good?"
"Yes," you panted. "Yes, Jack... Please," you almost felt embarrassed by your plea, but you were completely under his spell.
And the pleasure only intensified as Jack carefully inserted two digits into your tight core, stretching your walls, guiding you towards an unparalleled level of ecstasy.
"Jack... Fuck," you moaned louder as he withdrew his fingers only to push them back in, establishing a gentle rhythm alongside his circling thumb, delivering multiple waves of stimulation.
"Yeah, that's good, baby, just relax," he encouraged softly.
It was more than good - it was overwhelming. You had never experienced the sensation in your abdomen evolve into something so intense. It seemed to expand, flooding every vein with pleasure as the promise of an orgasm slowly took hold, clouding your mind.
And Jack felt your body's reaction to his touch, the walls of your core contracting around his fingers as you neared your long-awaited climax. So, adjusting his angle, he gently curled his fingers upwards, seeking that particularly sensitive spot. And as you let out a loud moan and arched your back, he knew he'd found it.
So, he persisted, hitting that spot repeatedly.
Your mind, body, and soul felt as though they were being torn apart in a rush of ecstasy, as Jack increased his speed, overstimulating you, and causing your juices to coat his fingers.
"Shit! Jack, I think I'm gonna..." you gasped, the sensations almost overwhelming you.
"That's it, baby, come for me! Let go and show me how good I'm making you feel."
And so, you did.
With a loud, deep moan originating from the depths of your abdomen, you surrendered yourself entirely, slipping into a euphoric state as the orgasm surged through your body, rendering your mind hazy and grey.
"Fuck," you cried out as Jack's movements gradually slowed down, and you had to take a few moments to regain control of your breath, slowly coming down from the intense high, as he withdrew his fingers.
Jack couldn't help but smile, thoroughly enjoying the sight beneath him. It almost felt to scoring an overtime goal as he observed how profoundly he could pleasure you, while you opened your eyes, locking gazes with him.
"Was it good?" he asked, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, although he already knew the answer.
"Well, can't really say no to that, can I?" you chuckled lightly, summoning the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows. "It was fucking amazing, Jack... thank you."
"No need to thank me... I just wanted to make sure you had the best experience," he replied, flashing you a charming smile that could easily sweep any girl off her feet.
"Well, I must admit, you really did," you returned his smile. "But what about you?"
Your eyes couldn't help but drift to the bulge that had unmistakably formed in his boxers, feeling an urge to reciprocate the pleasure somehow.
However, Jack simply let out a soft chuckle before leaning in, hovering over you, and planting a gentle kiss on your lips.
"We don't have to do anything about that right now..."
"Why not?" you looked at him, slightly perplexed. "Jack, I want you to feel good too."
"Are you sure ab—"
"Yes, Jack..." you interrupted, leaning towards him once more, this time deepening the kiss, conveying how much you desired him.
Pulling back slightly, he nodded. "Okay... just give me a moment."
With that, Jack rose from his position, undressing until he stood completely naked, unveiling his eagerly throbbing member. You couldn't help but gasp at the sight. It was long, hard, and slightly curved at the tip, yet perfect in its own right. It complemented Jack's physique, and you felt an intense sudden need to feel it inside you.
And fortunately, there wasn't much of a wait. 
Jack swiftly opened the condom packet from his bedside table, put it on, and smoothly went for the missionary position. He then positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance, before carefully pushing in.
Your hand quickly found its way to his hair again as he kissed you passionately, steadily rocking his hips back and forth, causing pleasurable sensations as he slid in and out of you. 
Whether it was Jack's perfectly shaped and fitted member or the intense orgasm from his earlier touch, you couldn't tell, but before long, you felt that new familiar sensation building up once more. 
And Jack found himself unable to hold back much longer. 
While it had been thrilling for him to witness your pleasure, he was now eager for his own release. 
And as you both sank into the mattress again, his hips meeting yours in a rhythmic pace, he felt himself nearing his climax. 
Your tightening walls spurred him on, and as he lost control, increasing his speed and force, your harmonising moans and heavy breaths filled the room. He was just about to reach the peak as you moaned loudly.
"Fuck Jack, I'm about to come again," you exclaimed.
His rhythm hit you just right, and you couldn't ignore the trembling in your legs as the high took over, succumbing to your second orgasm of the night.
"Yes, come with me…"
And after a few more thrusts, Jack reached his climax, releasing into the latex as both of you let out deep moans, riding the waves of pleasure.
"Shit..." you gasped, a tear trickling down your cheek, overwhelmed by the intense sensation.
"Yeah..." Jack agreed, breathing into the crook of your neck, as he carefully withdrew and settled beside you, pulling you close for a sweaty cuddle, his arm wrapping under your neck, and he turned his head to meet your gaze. 
"Are you alright?"
You couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle. 
"Yes, Jack, I'm more than alright... that was incredible," you smiled at the hockey player.
"You have no idea how happy that makes me... y/n, you deserved to experience that pleasure," he took your hand and tenderly kissed it.
"Thank you, Jack, you really made me feel amazing..."
With wide smiles on both your faces, Jack then headed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. And returning with a damp cloth for you to freshen up, he then followed by tucking you in for a cuddle. This was important to him, a crucial part of the whole experience, especially because you were his best friend, and he wanted you to know this wasn't just a casual fuck.
He showed genuine care, and you felt more than content and satisfied in his embrace.
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gh0stsp1d3r · 10 months
Note
Hi! So I know you did a jealous gf with Hobie Brown and I loved that one! I was wondering if you could maybe do the opposite like Hobie is jealous of Miles or something! I feel like it could be interesting! If not feel free to ignore!! Thank you for taking the time to read this!!:)
LOVE THIS AHHH. But you wanna know what I also love that fits this… THE DAMN CUREEE 🙏🏽🙏🏽
I’m not jealous.
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“G’morning.” He mumbled, looking at you as you woke up.
“Good morning.” You stretched, and looked back at him.
You both stayed silent for a good 10 minutes, just staring at each other.
“So, what we doin’ today?”
“Well, I’m gonna go hangout with miles for a little bit after work.“
“Miles?”
“Yeah… he’s like a little brother to me. He’s sweet.”
“Sweet?”
You rolled your eyes.
“Quit being jealous, we gotta get to HQ before Miguel murders us.”
“I’m not jealous.” He said, and picked up his suit from the desk.
“Mhm.” You said as you changed, he didn’t look and respected your privacy as you did so, even if you didn’t mind.
“Alright. Let’s go, so that I can get out of this damn shit quicker.” You said.
He laughed “If it’s so uncomfortable, why not make a new one?”
“Because the fans here like this suit.” You shrugged and pointed to it.
(Make one up in your head or search them up on Pinterest for ideas on what some would look like)
“I think it’s amazing. But if it’s uncomfortable I mean-“
“I’ll be fine.” You shrugged it off.
“Alright. Suit yourself.” He shrugged, and opened a portal to HQ.
“Sorry we’re late.” You said to Miguel, when you saw that the others were already lined up.
He looked at Hobie. He liked you a bit more than Hobie luckily.
“I’m gonna go ahead and blame you.” He pointed to Hobie as you guys stood in line.
“Anyways, as I was saying, you guys are probably some of the best people I have, so I want all of you to team up, in groups of 5.”
He had to make it 5 because their was 25 people, so there’s be 5 groups.
Pavitr, Gwen, And miles all went up to you both.
“Hey guys.” Pavitr said, as he did a handshake he had with Hobie.
“Hi.”
After saying hi to everyone, you all got the mission and headed there.
“So, this should be pretty easy.”
“Miguel doesn’t just hand out easy missions. I’m sure it’s not as easy as it sounds.”
——————————————————————-
The mission was not easy, but after it, instead of going to your home and fixing up, you hung out with Miles. He invited Hobie, Gwen and Pavitr to come as well, but Gwen was busy.
Hobies irritation grew every time you talked to him.
Luckily, Pavitr was with him. Pavitr sensed his annoyance and touched his shoulder.
“What’s up?” He asked after a while.
“What do you mean?”
“Well you just keep staring at them.”
Hobie groaned, you and Miles were in the living room for a moment, getting some popcorn.
“I jus’… I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like she doesn’t love me, Y’Know?”
Pavitr laughed at that. “Uh, I’m sure she does. Have you heard the way she talks about you?”
“What do you mean?” His face scrunched up.
“She talks about you all the time. Always asking the same thing you’re asking right now. If you like her. She adores you.”
“Nah, you’re lying.” He pushed pavitr. But pavitr shook his head.
“Nope. She always is asking about you and Gwen.” He laughed.
“I guess… I never really thought of that.” He said, looking at you in the living room.
“Her eyes light up every time she sees you, believe me man, she loves you just as much as you love her, if not more.”
You went on the floor and sat next to hobie, you two shared a popcorn bowl while Miles and Pavitr shared.
You rested your head on Hobie’s shoulder as the movie started playing. He looked at you, just looking.
“What? Something on my face?” You asked when you noticed him staring.
“Nah. I love you.” He said, it was random so you were a bit confused.
“I love you more.” You both leaned in and kissed, when Miles and Pavitr started throwing popcorn at you both.
“Very cute, but keep it pg!” You rolled you eyes and you both laughed.
Hobie didn’t worry about Miles after that.
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httpsghostie · 8 months
Text
Under one Roof pt 1
pt 2
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OK finally IT'S HERE
smh I'm down bad for roommate ghost I am sobbing
my hand is literally burning I wrote this aT COLLEGE
and YES my love language is food pls dont come for me
Summary: you never knew you needed a military roommate until you've got one.
Word Count: 1k (sorry it's short
Warnings: roommate!ghost x female!reader, slightly suggestive (if you squint), mentions of trauma, fluff/comfort, no use of y/n
masterlist
Ghost was an old friend of a friend of yours, and he happened to be needing a place to stay for a while, that ended up being a few more months, and now it's currently been a year since he moved in. He doesn't plan on leaving, you know it, you know that despite the independent man that he is, he likes having someone to come home to.
He was cold at first, so cold. And for many nights you cursed yourself for letting that rock of a heart get into your sweet home. He wouldn't talk much when he was there, you'd almost forget he was around if it wasn't for random coughs or sneezes.
That man smoked like a chimney in the first days he's spent around, he was anxious and that wasn't very cute, he was always smelling like cigarettes, but thankfully he didn't smoke inside.
He appreciated your effort on cooking for the two of you, but you couldn't help it. How could he survive when he wasn't eating properly? Yes, frozen pizza is cool… until it's the third day in a row that you're eating frozen and instant food and you can barely stand.
He also had a fucked up sleeping schedule that you just went along with it, you once got scared when you walked in the kitchen and found him just laying on the wall, eyes closed and snoring slightly. That day you scolded him to go back to his room and made him lay down on the bed.
"You're gonna lay down on this bed and you're gonna have some nice hours of sleep, alright? I'm gonna leave the door open, if I see you awake I'm punching you." You sounded like a mother, almost, and he was so tired he couldn't fight back.
And the days went by, he'd go away, he'd come back as tired as he left. But at least he was slowly opening up to be a really cool guy. You two started to bond, and the more he talked, the more you wanted to spend time with him.
Oh and don't even get started on dad jokes, he's cracking them up whenever he's helping with house chores, or when you two are eating peacefully.
He became a friend, a very good friend, one that wouldn't mind you venting out to, plus he was a good listener. He'd just sit there listening to whatever haze your brain was going through, and slowly he learned that he shouldn't be giving you reasonable ways to solve your problems, he should just tell you it would be ok.
And you found yourself slowly falling for him. Of course destiny had to put you together. Only if it wasn't for the way he handled things around the house.
"Oh, the living room lamp broke? Let me fix it."
"Those boxes are heavy, hand them to me."
"Go find a movie for us to watch, I'll do the dishes. Find a good one, though."
"Goddamnit, I told you not to be climbing on that fucking balcony, you're not a cat, you're gonna hurt yourself one day." Said as he picked you up when you were trying to reach the top of the cabinet. "Just ask me, I can reach it without putting myself in danger."
Or maybe if it wasn't for the fact that he'd purposefully get out of the shower with that pretty little towel wrapped around his body, that made you clench your fists. The way he was still a bit wet, a few drops running down his abs. He was surprisingly cool with his scars around you, maybe because you didn't make a big deal out of it.
That's because it wasn't. You expected that when Gaz, your friend, told you that the friend he was sending to you was his 'work buddy'. And he phrased it exactly like that. 
"Don't mind him, he's big and scary, but he'll be a good roommate, I promise, he's my work buddy." You chuckled when you read the text.
And yet Ghost didn't mind the stare of admiration coming from your burning gaze across the living room, when you thought the most ungodly things a brain has seen.
He started to become more and more warm, he found safe with you, like you could actually be his home. One night, he found a deep conection with you when you were casually drinking together, sat by the coffee table, playing video games. 
She should know the truth about me.
He thought. And that was the night he dropped his heavy armor. He told you the bare surface of his past, even though most of it had been blocked from his memory, like a dark spot he couldn't remember, and would die without trying to take a peak at it.
You cried, and he couldn't understand why you were crying until you said it wasn't his fault.
"It's not your fault, you didn't deserve any of this." You sobbed, hugging him close.
He broke down. Like he needed someone to reassure him that he wasn't the villain from his past. He realized what you meant to him, and he swore to God he would try his best to come home to you when he had to work.
Some days were strange after that, like he regretted telling you about his story. He had that feeling in his gut that you weren't looking at him the same way, like you were pity. He didn't want your pity, he hated that look on your face.
But that changed.
He had come home one day, texting you while he was at the airport waiting for a ride. You ran to get groceries and make him a good meal, but the only thing that came to your mind was the old recipe of lasagna you kept from your grannie.
That old lady, always saving your life.
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leclsrc · 8 months
Text
more than anyone ✴︎ cl16
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genre: childhood friends to enemies to lovers (a mouthful), smut, humor, Fluffff!!!!, angst
word count: 13.7k  
You moved out of Monaco at fourteen with an unrepaired friendship hanging by a thread. Ten years and a whole lifetime later, you’re forced to work with him confront it all over again.
auds here… hi hi hi!!!! HAPPY 4k to us guys!!!!! i am so insanely thankful for all of u and i will make this a longer note when i wake up tomorrow because i have so much to say but have this for now. i hope u like it,i love love love u guys forever also i changed the banner because i wanted to
nsfw warnings under the cut!
18+ because... penetrative sex, semi public sex, praise central, size kink (pretty tame smut in auds world)
You know it’s bad when your assistant-and-friend-aka-friendsistant (her vernacular) Rachel walks in with a free coffee without a quip about how dependent you are on this exact order of coffee (she’s a millennial, so caffeine and lack thereof are in her arsenal of Funny Jokes). You fear you didn’t correctly anticipate just how bad it was going to be when she stays instead of leaving to work on your schedule, combing a few fingers through her fringe and sitting herself on your couch stiffly. Maybe you’re intuitive, maybe you spend too much time with Rachel and you can spot the way she scratches at her eye, maybe both—but it’s bad.
You don’t take a sip from the Starbucks that sits idly on the coaster, opting to watch the latte sweat instead. You do stare, though, at Rachel’s stagnant posture, scrutinizing her every movement. She takes a few deep breaths and drops the bomb.
“David sent me to tell you he has good news. But there is, um. Bad news.” Dread writhes through you at the mention of your manager with bad news, and you clear your throat to compose yourself.
“What’s going on?”
She purses her lips. “He’s on his way over here. Just…” She cocks her head sharply to the glass door of your home office, expression antsy. “Sorry. Wait for him. I can’t tell you anything yet.”
You take a swig from the pity coffee. “Am I getting blacklisted?”
“God, you dumbass, no—” She makes an incredulous noise, but before she can open her mouth to elaborate, your manager walks in with an excited expression on his face, pocketing his Juul to take a seat by your table. His smile is the radiant one of a man over forty with a comical amount of Botox.
“Rachel told me you had”—you stifle the adjective—“news.”
“That I do, yes.” He hums, tracing the edge of your table. “Did you enjoy Paris Fashion Week?”
Beside the brash Frenchmen, God-awful timezone differences and consequent calls at half past three, hungover show attendances, posing for pictures until your ankles blistered, and a temporary diet of black coffee, cigarettes, and stale croissants—sure, it was fun. It was your job to attend anyway, your obligation to shake hands with important people and be photographed in designer clothing and benefit from the PR, but how often could people call work fun? 
“Sure.” You take another gulp off your coffee. “It was… fun.”
“Well, since your movie’s doing well,” David pauses and hums, “how do you feel about another few weeks of fun?” 
“Like Paris Fashion Week—weeks… this month?” You frown, eyebrows knitting together. Is this a new Vogue thing? You’re not sure how many updates they give the schedule, but you wouldn’t mind too much if you could travel again for a little bit. “So soon after spring? Did Anna want this?”
“Iiiit’s, er, Vogue’s new project. Capsule shows in Europe, coastal and summery. She wanted an exclusive guest list. She asked for you by name,” David says smugly. “Well, she called my office, granted. But to ask for you—”
“Are you fucking serious?” You stand up, and if you hadn’t had some fix of coffee you would’ve gotten dizzy. “David, tell me you’re serious.” Time seems to have suspended itself as you await his answer—which, if affirmative, would be a pretty big deal to you. 
“Yeah, I am.” He plays off a grin. “She loved your movie with Greta, and would love to send you to Europe to do PR on a few shows and pair up with some guests on a couple features. Exclusive stuff.”
You sit back down, mouth slack. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe it.” Your eyes dart to Rachel, who’s caught between a smile and an awkward purse of her lips. “Fuck! This is huge, David.”
“Yeah—okay, yeah, it is.” David shifts in his seat and crosses, then uncrosses, his legs, then his arms. He stutters for a second. “Good and bad news, remember?”
You blink a few times. You’d nearly totally forgotten the fact that this good news—and it is overwhelmingly good—comes with a bout of bad news, so bad apparently that it’s noteworthy enough to state alongside this massive deal. But it’s. Fine. It’s whatever. Worst case scenario, you’re going to need to fucking swim to Europe sans oxygen canister.
“So… the shows? Events, and shit?” He watches, waiting for you to signal that you follow. When you nod, he continues, averting his gaze to the face of his Patek. “They’re all in Monaco.”
Wrong.
“Monaco.” You repeat, deadpanning your delivery. It’s not out of the ordinary, the glitz and coast of the city being a perfect venue for high fashion. But Monaco is different for you, vastly different, and you tend to avoid the place to the best of your abilities. “Monaco. Are—you’re sure?”
“Mmm,” he hums in affirmation. “I know, I know you’re not exactly privy to Monaco because, bleh, childhood shit, whatever. But this—like you said, this is huge! And I don’t think we should jeopardize that.” He pulls a piece of paper from the folders tucked in his arm and waves it around.
“Well—yeah, I suppose. I’ll deal with it.”
“Yeah.” He sucks his teeth, eyes gliding over the scenery of L.A. that your window offers. “Okay, that’s it, so. Byeandhaveagoodlunch.” He slams the paper onto your desk, jostling you a little, but as he makes his exeunt, Rachel raises her arm to stop him.
“Is that it, David?” She asks, an edge to her voice.
You pick up the paper as they make hushed, stifled conversation, and find that it’s a call sheet of sorts, listing all the collaborators traveling to Monaco and what or who they’re in charge of, or paired up with, there. Models, athletes, celebrities, influencers—all making TikToks, or appearances, or brand deals, or interviews, or YouTube videos, the whole shebang.
“Yeah,” says David dismissively—nervously? “That’s it.”
You search for your name. “Okay. Um, hey.” Rachel turns to you, trying to catch your eye, which is busy scanning the sheet. “Did, um—did David mention you’re paired up with Charles Leclerc for a feature? Because you are. Paired up with Charles Leclerc for a feature, I mean.”
David sucks his teeth. “Thank you very much for graciously reminding me of that, Rachel.” 
Still half-distracted and growing increasingly worried with the exchange happening in front of you, you make haste in your search—eventually, you find your name, printed in plain letters beside one you’ve wished to never read over ever again.
“Wait, my Charles?” You pause and look up, suppressing a yell as your eyes widen, and you blunder over a pathetic self-correction. “I mean—no, sorry—Charles, as in Charles Leclerc? I can’t work with him, you know this!” 
“Wh—well, Vogue apparently wanted a really good Monaco-born pair and they seriously lucked out on you two. Also,” Rachel says, adamantly defending herself, “you’re always saying you can work ‘with anyone’!” She raises two comically vigorous air quotes to further her (moot) point.
“I didn’t ev—I never say that,” you lie straight through your teeth, mouth dry. You definitely do. You can place all the exact moments. “I would’ve known if I did. Rach—David—I cannot, absolutely cannot work with Leclerc. He’s my… we…” You shut your eyes and sneak two fingers upward to massage your temple, slowly caving into defeat.
David makes an oh well face and shrugs passively. “Fine. Then it’s either Anna Wintour’s special job that will help the Academy campaign or not meeting the ex-bo—”
“—friend.” You look up to cut him off, eyes narrowed. “Ex-friend.”
“Alright, kid. Suuuure.” David leans against the back wall of your office as Rachel comes to comfort you, her eyes already sympathetic and droopy. It shouldn’t be so bad, right? She asks sweetly, nudging the latte closer to your catatonic figure. You have seen him since, anyway.
With a despondent gaze, you just remain silent, refusing to state the negative aloud, opting to stare at the latte. At your disagreeable silence, Rachel continues, tone anxious: You have seen him since. Right?
You moved out of Monaco at fourteen, right after the school year finished and your father had gotten the opportunity to transfer out. The whole thing would’ve—should’ve, even—been a sentimental affair, full of tears and dramatic caresses of your bedroom wall, whispering thank yous to the city air in French and Italian, but it wasn’t. Months prior, you’d been preparing yourself for this kind of goodbye; but when it came to it, you merely kissed your extended family goodbye and slept en route to the airport, silk sleeping mask pulled taut over your shut eyelids. The only thing you left in the city was a letter written only to Gi and Cha about how much you’d miss them, with your email address scribbled at the bottom for an added touch, in case they felt like sending you longer messages.
“Do you two at least get along?” David asks, noting how genuinely aghast you appear.
“It’s not that simple.” You tap a nail against your desk a few times. “But I think it’ll be fine. I hope, at least. We used to be… good friends? As teenagers.”
You feel like an alien hearing yourself talk about it, talk about him and the whole circumstance a decade later. Your friendship with Charles was the only thing that mattered to your adolescent self, all lemonade stands and long car rides and stealthy conversations about your futures (racing and acting, respectively). It was happiness, in what you consider to be its truest form, it was lovely and real. And it ended abruptly, no goodbyes, no nothing.
“So it’s a no.”
“I’m just saying it’s impossible for me to work with him, and in Monaco no less?!” Your eyes are wild with frustration and anxiety at the prospect of your past whipping you in the face, full-fledged. “I don’t even talk about the guy or the city, how can I spend time with him there?”
“Are you seriously going to junk this amazing fucking opportunity just because of some petty childhood fight?” David’s tone is comparable to that of a dad’s, scolding and horrified, almost. “Look. If you don’t take this, career-wise, it doesn’t mean much. You get paid a shit ton, you’ll survive—you’ll do well. But emotions-wise? Maturity-wise? Be the bigger person and do it—I mean it.”
You stare back at him because you know he’s right. “Maybe it won’t be a big, long feature?” Rachel offers as some advice, some comfort. “If you reject it, his team will know, and so will he.”
And yes, you were fourteen, and yes it was petty and unexplainable even for fourteen—but there was a catalyst to all of this, a reason why the move became easy and forgetting childhood memories became second nature. A reason why you’re selective with who you make contact with from home. A reason why Giada and Charlotte are selective with topics they choose to bring up with you.
So, fuck it, really. That’s how you end up in Monaco, booked for the next three weeks, sharing a studio and public appearances and a 24-hour shoot with the last person you’d ever want to be in a room with. Ten years later—the person still is, and no doubt will always be, Charles Leclerc.
“MAMAN!” Charles’ voice was loud, loud, and so incredibly loud. You followed not far behind, legs running at full speed to try and leap onto his lanky figure and wrap an arm around his head to quiet him. It’d been futile: he ended up at the dining table facing his family with a victorious smile on his pink face. He breathed heavy, waiting for everyone to turn their attention to him.
“Charles,” you chimed in warningly, breathing even harder with the effort you had exerted to chase him from the sidewalk to here. “Don’t.”
“Guess who got the lead spot in the recital.” He slowly turned to point at to your angry face, and then bent, rifling through his already messy, grubby knapsack for something that he raised with glee: a headress that read…
“But-ter-cup.” Hervé sounded amused when he looked at your fuming expression. “You?”
“Yes, Papa! Maybe, just maybe,” he sing-songed, using the term wrong yet again, “she got the titular role!” He walked over to you and placed the headress square on your head, beaming. 
“There is no titular role in a school recital,” you seethed, burning with embarrassment. Your stellar academic record had apparently granted you incentive to be centre stage during the routine year-end recital, where years were lumped into twos or threes (in your and Charles’ cases, Years 8 and 9) and the student body would dance or sing a variety of teacher-selected music.
In your case, it was Build Me Up, Buttercup, complete with choreography you’d be practicing over the next month and a half. Charles laughed at your pouting expression, didn’t stop laughing even when you’d both sat down and twirled through forkfuls of spaghetti, didn’t stop chuckling even when Lorenzo got the turn to speak and he started talking about how Bringing Up Baby was his movie of the month.
You allowed him to laugh—even laughed yourself at some point—because all day, you’d been absently wondering how you’d break the news about your moving away to him.
Charles is not okay. He’d gotten off a red-eye from a short vacation stint, and now he’s back in Monaco, sleepy and a bit jetlagged, being briefed on brand deals and press junkets he has to accomplish by three p.m. today. “On the dot, sharp,” said his assistant, like the two didn’t just mean the same fucking thing. He’s patient, though, smiling through the exhaustion, through the dressing room, the tape around his waist and legs to measure clothes for this fashion… thing.
“A meeting for Ferrari, two TikToks, a vlog for your personal YouTube channel, three stories by noon… oh, and in the next few weeks, you’re going to film a Vogue-sponsored 24 Hours With… with—”
“D’accord, thank you,” he cuts in, already exhausted from the spiel alone. He’s a professional; no matter what people believed or what gossip rags liked to say about him, he maintains a well-kept reputation of being polite and kind to people he works with. Maybe it’s the jetlag, maybe it’s the lack of sleep, maybe it’s the heat outside, but today he just wants to close his eyes and sleep for days.
But the assistant follows, clipboard and Excel sheet and all, still spouting all his media obligations lest he forget (and mark his words, he definitely will). “Sorry,” he says. He’s new, probably assigned as a part of the Vogue team, lanky and tall and nervous looking. “I’m new. I’m Greg.”
Briefly, Charles is left alone to stare at his tired reflection while the assistants reconvene and connect. There’s several of them, each assigned or already committed to a different celebrity. Charles should know more details, but there’s only so much reading of a call sheet he can do before he’s conked out on Ambien; he trusts he’ll be around people much more famous than he is, probably American or English, actors and athletes alike. He’ll figure it out.
Yeah, she’s almost ready. Is Charles here? One of the assistants says, a bright-eyed American. They need to be introduced before 11. Her voice is quiet, quick and hushed, and Charles has to focus to hear what she’s saying. Greg chips in with something he can’t decipher; in response, the American whispers, Yeah, I’ll get her to sign it for you. Bring Charles out in five.
In five, he is indeed being brought out to the lobby of this hotel; the outdoor area is decked out with models, cocktail tables, Vogue signage and a carpet for pictures. It’s even busier inside, wait staff and event coordinators conversing in angry, aggressive French—table settings, mineral water, extra forks are needed. Greg keeps a steady pace transporting Charles through the indoor throng, and at 10:59, Charles is outside, by the pool.
“Um, right, yeah. Okay, uh—wait here. Your partner—not really partner, but like, mate? Fuck, definitely not. Um, partner. She’s on her way heeere…” He checks his phone. “Okay. You caught her name, right?” Charles nods to fend him off. “Okay. So, wait here.”
There are cameras taking pictures of him when Greg departs, some microphones waved his way; in the distance he spots fans waving crazily, sporting Ferrari merch. Charles is doing what he’s told (waiting, maybe posing a bit) when an even bigger crowd appears, surrounding one person; with their arrival, ameras click even faster, and an uproar follows. Greg waves him over, pointing at the person frantically, so Charles smiles, extends a hand, and when the crowd parts—
There you are, in all your glory. Pink dress, hair clipped into a bun, a tanline on your exposed skin, lithe hand coming up to shake his. Your eyes are flat but the lack of expression doesn’t inoculate them from beauty; they remain sparkling and pretty all the same. Cameras snap the interaction, seemingly innocent, seemingly the first.
He fights, he really does, to keep his hands shaking yours. He forces himself not to hug you, press a kiss to your cheek even if that might look friendly, caress a hand across your cheekbone, brush the tendrils of hair out of your eyes. It’s a valiant effort.
A valiant effort that pays off because, as soon as you’re ushered into a room by yourselves, your smile turns into a scoff; your hands are kept to yourself, slipping a pair of sunglasses on, and; underneath them, your eyes begin to roll. “I need a drink,” you huff, not even looking at him. 
You’re on two couches opposite each other, in what he assumes to be a foyer to a hotel room that’s much bigger than the one he was in earlier. A-list fame and that. The girl he’d seen earlier scurries off, mumbling something about a martini. Greg, beside him, goes: “Do you need a drink, too?” But he shakes his head.
“Are you voluntarily working for this guy, Greg?” You refer to his assistant by name, offering a sarastic, honeyed smile. You adjust the strap of your dress and he blinks his gaze away.
“Oh, no. I mean—yeah. Kind of. I was assigned to him.”
“It’s okay, I don’t expect you to do it of your own will,” you joke, crossing your legs.
Charles laughs dryly. “Who asked?”
“So he speaks…” You ping off his retort without missing a beat, a sardonic smile playing at your lips. 
“In the two minutes we’ve been around each other, you’ve insulted me and my assistant. I’d prefer silence, your highness.”
“Aww, did my joke and asking Greg a question piss you off?” You suck your teeth. “You must be fun at parties.”
“Do you two, um. I don’t want to, like, overstep, but do you know each other?” Charles notices that Greg’s forearm is signed by you and realizes he has no allies here, with an inward grimace. “Or if you don’t, like, are you two just… not in good moods or something?”
The girl comes in then, saying here’s the martini and catering you a sweaty glass with a smile. You offer up the empty space beside you, patting the white leather for her to sit down on. Your eyes meet his again briefly, catty and a bit challenging, before you turn back to the girl. “Sit.”
Maybe Charles spends too much time with Max, because he’s starting to become more and more inclined to getting the last word in lately. “Bossing people around, eh? Fame really does change you.” He offers a smile of his own.
“She’s my assistant, Rachel,” you say sweetly, but your smile is gritty. “We need to check my schedule.”
He wants to slap himself. “Too busy to open your calendar?” Nevermind, he’s a god.
Your sarcastic smile drops. “And what’s on yours? P6 this week, P7 next, DNF after?”
Fuck. The tension is so thick at this point, it’s almost steaming hot. Both the assistants stare at you, waiting for Charles to wedge something in, but he bites himself back. Thankfully, right as the silence just begins to settle like oil on water, the door swings open and one of the coordinators steps in, noisily rattling off the week’s plans and proclaiming you’re both free for the remainder of the day before things pick back up—Schiaparelli show at noon, both of you, front row—tomorrow.
The four of you filter out of the room, and you make a quip about your autograph on Greg’s arm, which grants your assistant some face time with Charles. She turns to him, combing a hand through her hair and furrowing her thick eyebrows. “Hey, I’m Rachel, by the way.”
“Charles.”
“I know,” she says sheepishly. “Listen. I know you two have history, she—we—she’s, um, told me about it before. I don’t know the whole story, and I’m not… like, I’m not saying I do, so I respect it, whatever it is. But I hope you can find it in you to work with her properly. It’s a huge gig for you both. So—yeah, uh. Great job, and good luck.”
She smiles with a nod before exiting the room, leaving Charles alone and stirring with thoughts and memories woken from wild unrest.
“Alors,” Charles had said, not turning from his position in front of your vanity mirror. He’d been picking at his face, stopping only when you tsked at him not to. “What is the problem?” His eyes flicked over to you, your lying figure on the bed exhaling little puffs of frustrated air to the ceiling. “Are you missing the recital?”
“Quoi? Non.” You gnawed at your lip, accepting your defeat. You couldn’t lie for much longer, not when you’d been keeping this under wraps for two months. “Listen. Charles.” He nodded, clearly preoccupied with something. “Charles.”
“Hmm?”
“Can you ple—look at me.” Your voice hardened.
He’d noticed it then, the curt cutoff of your voice, the absent look in your eyes. He knows you even through a mirror, even in the low light of your room. “Desolé. This pimple won’t go away.”
“Charles,” you said, groaning but allowing yourself to laugh. “Listen.”
“Okay.” He turned to face you, a spot on his chin red from how long he’d been scratching at it.
You shrugged then, suddenly scared to deal with the realness of it all. You didn’t understand why you felt so torn. “It’s something to do with me,” you said.
“Yeah.”
“I’m moving.” You rubbed at your nose, the cold draft coming in through the window causing you to sniffle. “Out of Monaco.”
A beat. “What?”
You closed your fingers around your necklace, scratching absently at the divots of the pendant. One, two, three little dips in the gold locket, tiny but comforting. “Yeah. In a few months, like, after school. It’s Papa—his job. It’s a whole thing.”
“Europe?” You shook your head. America.
“What… well, what does that mean, then?” His expression didn’t waver but if anything did, it was his eyes—desperate, seeking more answers, wanting them with a guttural, belly-deep desire. You’re his best friend, so if he has to let you go in this life, he at least needs to know everything about the move. 
“We’ll keep in touch,” you reassured, kicking your leg to further your point. “You were bound to get busy with karting anyway, so it’s like. Ça revient au même.”
“It isn’t the same,” he said, his voice thin and cracking. 
“You’ll be fine.”
“You have a very misguided idea of who I am.”
“Shut up. Come off it,” you laughed, sitting up straighter. “We’ll call everyday, and I’ll meet all the famous people who’ll get me a real acting job, and I’ll come for the holidays or summer or something. Things won’t change. Not that much, at least.”
“Maybe, just maybe.” He pauses. “Will you be here for my birthday, at least?” He’d made a big deal all year of his turning sixteen on the sixteenth.
“Charles,” you sighed. 
“No, yeah. I get it.” He looked down, rubbing his thumbs together, like he’s just been hit across the face. He will tell you one day it felt infinitely more painful than that. But at the time he shook his head and looked up at you, reached his pinky to yours, a thin slip of paper around the finger that matched your interlocked one, and didn’t say anything else.
Just: “We’ll be okay.”
You could pin a lot of adjectives on Monaco: picturesque, without a doubt; warm, glamorous, but you’d sooner die than pin the word home over it. The city is sprawling even with the little surface area it possesses, and only few things seem familiar. Your lodging is a hotel in Monte-Carlo, a penthouse suite that requires you to travel very little. It feels like a vacation.
And you embody the role of a vacationer very well—the first five, six days of your stay in Monaco went great, mainly appearances that lasted a few hours at most and several junkets to promote Vogue and your latest film, before you were free to do whatever you wished. You’d gone the touristy route already: shopping more times than you could count, trying your immense luck at the casinos, and eating at Michelin-starred restaurants; eventually all the fun blurred into each other and you found solace in naps instead.
Your troubles are not far behind, however, and they finally come after you on Day 7. The event coordinators had informed Rachel, who in turn informed you, that the first of next week’s agenda would be a photographed tour of the Musée Océanographique de Monaco, a grand seaside building right at the edge of the water. Today is, apparently, a day for you to “fraternize with” Charles, which meant you would once again need to put a façade over your less-than-kind appearance toward him.
Those are the concluding words of David’s very firm text, encouraging (read: coercing) you to settle things with Charles into some approximation of civility. You resolve things by calling him to skip over the awkwardness that comes with texting. It takes you all of twenty minutes and twice your body weight in courage to press the green telephone button.
“B’jour,” he goes, his voice quick. French people (he will hate that you called him French, even if it was just in your head; you relish in this) always talk rapidly. After some silence, he clears his throat: “Hello?”
Butterflies—some form of them, whatever—flutter in your stomach. “It’s me.”
He drops formalities and adopts a disinterested voice. “Huh. What do you want?” The butterflies have rotted to death.
“I need to talk to you.”
“To insult me again?” He sounds a little amused even over the phone, a breath of laughter landing in your ear. “Bah, I get it. We are enemies. You have no interest in reconnecting, et cetera. C’est tout ce que tu as à dire? I gotta go.”
Your face warms at his accusatory tone. “Wow, leave it to a guy to be charming, huh?”
“Why should I be charming with you?”
“At least be polite,” you taunt, but your voice lacks its usual edge. On the other line, Charles lets his own defiant tone ebb downward.
At least be polite. It’s the least he can owe you after ten years of forgetting. It wasn’t as if you two had a mutual agreement then, in 2013 when you moved away, to stop becoming friends. For months before you moved out, he completely stopped talking to you, like he’d forgotten you two were even connected, were even friends. What little words you two shared became petty and abrasive, and suddenly Monaco lost its color. The closeness you had with him, which for so long you’d convinced yourself was once-in-a-lifetime, was ripped from you, robbed from you—by him, no less, which hurt all the more. You’d given up on finding out why at some point. You waited for him to reach out. Maybe, you told yourself, just maybe, it would take a few months, a year.
Ten years of radio silence. He owes you that: politeness.
“It doesn’t matter,” you say to nobody in particular, in an effort to segue into the topic of your choosing. “Look, we’re supposed to be friends. In… on camera, at least. It’s disastrous if we look like we, you know, hate each other. We need to be professional.”
“For the cameras,” he says back, solemn.
“Yeah.” You wind a finger through your hair. “Just… for the sake of civility.”
You hear his little hums of consideration. “D’accord,” he says after a few minutes. “Truce, then.”
“Sure.” You smile a little. “I have to go.”
You were halfway through your mess of clothes when your mum peeked through your door, her hair held back by a headband. “Call you yet, poppet?” 
“Non,” you said, decimating your voice to a monotonous murmur. You looked up from the dress you’d been folding and offer a half-hearted, sardonic smile. “Je t’ai dit qu’il ne le ferait pas.” You were right: he wouldn’t call. What difference did a month make, anyway? This time, though, the usual victory of being right settled into an ugly disappointment in the pit of your stomach.
You wanted so badly to be wrong. To clamber to the telephone, to your Skype, to your cellphone, any of the three, and see his name flashed across the helm or his voice in your ear. Maybe he was dialing your number now, to ask if you wanted to grab dinner after the year-end recital, or to update you on karting, or to tell you Pascale wanted lunch.
She could tell, as all mothers can, that you’d been upset. The knit in your brows that didn’t go away, the bottom lip being chewed, the tight clutch of your fingers over the already-folded dress. She sighed. “I’m sorry, baby.” 
“It’s fine.” Your voice came out sharper than you intended and you have to roll it back, recede it, to sound more relaxed, more at ease. “It’s… fine. I’m fine.” She knew better than to pry, closing the door softly to continue packing up the living room.
You heaved a dry sigh to express the nausea that came with his absence. It began a month ago, two days after you first told him about it and poked at the zit on his chin. He’d buried his head in your shoulder until tears seeped into the cotton sleeve of your shirt, and you let him. You felt guilty, after all, for keeping it a secret for so long. You would leave in September, you told him. We have time.
Two days later he walked you home as always, on the “dangerous” side of the street, lanky legs skipping to the tree in front of your house. You pointed at the beginnings of clementines on its dewy branches, smiling, inviting him in, but he remained leaning against the trunk, playing with his mop of hair that covered his forehead.
“Bah, trop dramatique,” you said, poking fun. Lorenzo had showed you both some art house films he studied in class, and with the bout of French cinema, you and Charles had grown obsessed with making fun of overdramatic stills that often included the classic leaning-against-a-surface. “Come on, Mum made bouillabasse, I smell it.”
“We need to talk,” he eked out awkwardly. “I have something important to tell you.”
You dropped your knapsack, leather scratching against the concrete of the steps to the front door as you walked over to him. “Ouais?”
“I…” His lips moved, wobbled, but nothing left, so he shut them and his eyes, like he was considering something. His breathing slowed into one rhythm you find yourself unconsciously matching, just two kids looking at each other in the dusky breeze of Monaco, the orange sun casting shadows over the clementine tree. You closed your hand over his, a tight clamp over his knobby wrist with certainty. “I…”
“Say it.”
“I want to.” His eyes were shut. Exhale. Inhale, open. “I… I’m going… going home.”
You breathed out apprehensively and relaxed. “Oh.” You blinked. “That’s it?”
“Ye—ouais. Yeah. I gotta.” Already he was climbing to the gate, waving a half-hearted goodbye. “Save some for me, oui? Bye.”
“Charles,” you warned after him, voice tinged with concern. “That’s it, promise?” Your hand flexed around air.
“Cross my heart!” The last thing he ever said with any bit of something genuine.
You reunite with Charles at a meeting; under the guise of your truce, he makes the barely-necessary small talk. The rest of the staff file out of the restaurant in due time, but you both stay. You ask about Lorenzo and Arthur, leaving out questions you’d rather not listen to him answer, and he tells you they’re both alright. That his mum asks about you sometimes. That makes you smile. He asks if you’re still dating the guy you’d most recently been partnered with in Us Weekly.
“God, no. We never even dated, the… um, tabloids always make shit up.” You purse your lips. “Anyway. Is Lorenzo still in film?” You ask, turning your head a little. You don’t think you’ll ever forget his affinity for cinema.
“Not professionally, but I still sit through hours-long… you know, reviews, and stuff.” He laughs when he sees you laugh, eyes half-closed and meeting the ceiling.
“He introduced me to some of my favorite movies, especially when I got into acting and I was kind of… like, I wanted some inspiration, acting-wise. But not my actual favorite movie.”
“Which is?” He segues into a more personal topic. “Is it still Bambi?”
“Oh, it was, for the longest time!” You almost squeal with excitement. “Not anymore, though. It’s been dethroned, ha ha. I think it’s… I’d say it’s maybe Casablanca now.”
“How American.”
“Shut up.” Your face warms. “It’s so romantic. When he says—when he goes, um. We’ll always have Paris. And then, God—when Ilsa goes, I said I would never leave you—and Rick goes, And you never will… isn’t it so classic? Romance movies nowadays are—I, I, I… I get scripts sent to me that are just so bad, and they’re either too idealistic or too pessimistic, or too indie or too commercial, and.” You sigh. “It’s like nobody gets love right anymore.”
“Us Weekly disagrees,” he says weakly, after a period of silence.
“Stop,” you laugh warningly. “And don’t act like you’re not being paired up with different girls, too.”
For a minute you sit with the realization that you’ve both been keeping tabs on each other all these years, even just a little bit. It’s a bit jarring, it’s a bit warm, it’s a lot confusing. You make a move to ask for the bill but Charles is quicker, opens his mouth to implore your presence.
“Come see me tonight.” He says it like he didn’t mean to, like it escaped him on a whim, a blurted out confession born out of your memories and conversation. His voice is dreamy, faraway. “Earth to…?”
“Wh—sorry. Fuck.” You clear your throat and deduce your next words. “Where?”
“I’ll text you. A club, near your hotel.”
“Yeah… yeah, sure.” You hum an affirming noise. 
Your name is on the list, though you’re sure it doesn’t matter whether or not it was. No ID is needed, and paps catch a bouncer being dispatched to guide you through the nightclub toward the elevated area with significantly less people. It’s low-lit, smoky, vaguely blue and purple, smelling of flows of alcohol and fresh ice. An Azealia Banks song is playing, pounding through your head.
Tabloids don’t care about nightclubs. They care if you come out drunk or with a smidge of snow under your nose, neither of which have happened to you; entering is fair game, a fun affair, especially in a district like Monte-Carlo. You don’t have any explaining to do, not even to questions like are you clubbing with your professional Vogue collaborator, Charles Leclerc?
The collaborator in question is the first to greet you, getting up and approaching you with a smile so obviously tense. The picture in front of him is like if he’d conjured up a forlorn fantasy of his to life—your hair fell loosely over black lace, a hand pinched around the hem of your dress. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“So.” He realizes he’s in charge of the socializing, and turns to properly introduce you. “Um, guys, this is my—friend—you already know”—he fusses over your name, which everyone in the world knows, anyway—“and these are my friends. Pierre, Alex, George, Lando, Daniel… you know Joris.” He points to each guy's face as he goes, eliciting a beam every time he gestures.
You wave with a polite smile before you station yourself beside the only one you know: Joris, with whom Charles shares a longtime friendship. He greets you first, with a side hug. “Long time.”
“Yeah, it’s been.” You watch him turn toward the low table, and back around with two shots, offering them to you with haste.
You thank the Lord that he makes quick, dextrous work of it, and before long you’ve downed a glass or three of some strawberry four seasons thing, socializing with the different people around the table. One of them, Lando, talks about your latest film for five whole minutes (“I rated it five stars on Letterboxd. I left a review, if you wanna see”) before he leans close and asks: “Are you his girlfriend?” His is obviously referencing Charles, and you pull back from the proximity to shake your head.
“No,” you holler to emphasize it. “We used to know each other. I grew up here.”
“Oh shit! Native!” He whoops, offering you another glass. This must be your fifth, maybe, fifth G&T or Cosmo or something or other of the night. You take it, drinking as you walk, planning to collect your bag to take with you to the bathroom—another hand takes yours, though, dragging you down the steps. Halfway through, you realize it’s Charles.
“How’s the drink?” He asks, brows straight.
“That’s all you wanted to ask?” You raise your voice above the bass. “Someone needs to teach you fucking… proper small talk.” A laugh involuntarily bubbles past your lips, eyes crinkling. 
He laughs, too, despite himself. “Non, I was—I was just asking. We should—I brought you over here to—so we could…” He realizes he’s been talking too fast without getting to the point and pauses, resetting himself with a pinched sigh. “Dance.”
Your heart pulses. Dance? You hear yourself ask. For wh…Why?
“For the sake of the truce.” His voice is light. “We should try being closer.”
“We were close once,” you say, loose. “Did you forget?”
He’s looking right at you, and you’re warm all over. “How could I?”
It feels too real. Not the words—yes the words—but the alcohol, the alcohol is what you’re referring to, and all those shots and drinks suddenly seem not as harmless as they’d seemed earlier. You scan the periphery for the WC sign and try your best not to look deranged on your way there, offering the same pretty smile to recognizing passersby. Behind you, Charles calls out; but you wave him off, heaving dryly.
The restroom is clean because the nightclub is outrageously expensive; you push yourself into the available stall that’s in your direct path and crumple above it. You heave. Heave some more. Nothing comes. The nausea rises and recedes, so you decide to wait it out.
The bathroom door hauls open, bringing with it a few seconds of noise before it swings heavily onto the frame again, sealing the sterile silence. The momentary return of the bass from the dance floor sends your head spinning all over again and you freeze, willing yourself not to wind up hurling your guts into the toilet. It’s a futile effort, though, because you’re feeling nauseated beyond your limit again, and you need water and maybe a salve or something.
“This stall is open,” somebody says, a chipper American voice that grows in volume as it nears you. A gasp follows, and then: “Oh, my God. Are you okay?”
You turn, your face flushed and lips parted. “I’m so sorry. I just—I’ve been nauseous all night.”
“I have water,” she answers, reaching her arm outward, as if seeking it. “Carmen, the water!” A bottle of Evian is thrust into her hand by another girl (Carmen, you presume), and she doesn’t hesitate to bend next to you to feed it into your mouth. She stares for a second, then goes: “On the off chance I’m lucky, and you’re the famous actress, by the way, I just want to say I’m a huge fan of your work.”
Eyes wide, you lock eyes with her and pull away from the water. “Oh, God. Yeah, that’s me. I’m so sorry—this is so humiliating.”
“It’s not—it’s normal,” she assures, nodding. “We’ve all… y’know, puked into a club toilet before.” From the stall doorframe, Carmen nods. “What’d you drink?”
“Fruity stuff,” you recall, eyebrows knitting at the memory. “And shots.”
They both grimace at the same time, knowing the exact feeling, the exact taste, it seems. “Are you heartbroken or something?” Carmen asks; Lily shoots her a look that can only really mean don’t ask the world-famous actress if she’s heartbroken. But you laugh it off, shaking your head.
“No. There’s a guy, though, and he’s… we’re… it’s a lot. I think I thought alcohol would absorb all of it, but… clearly, it did not.” Your lips simmer into a straight line and you’re quiet for a few moments before remembering you’re on a dingy club floor being supported by two nice girls who are strangers. “Anyway! Sorry. I’m clearly, um, delirious.” You get up on semi-wobbly feet, swallowing the nausea as you go. 
You walk to the sink, and behind your back, the girl and Carmen share a telepathic exchange (should we ask her to elaborate? Yes! Should we really? Fuck, no.) You rinse your mouth out, washing your hands and focusing on your reflection—your tired eyes, your smudged lip gloss, your fussed-up hair. You turn after rinsing, offering a small smile. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” says the first girl, offering her hand and a tube of lip gloss. “I’m Lily, by the way. And just so you know—I’m so sure that guy has nothing on you.” Carmen, beside her, nods in solidarity, and your heart blooms.
Your smile grows as your hand shakes hers, accepting the lip gloss. “You’re too kind. Thank y—” 
“Lil? Baby, are you puking?” Comes a disembodied male voice from the door, ajar ever so slightly. Lily visibly cringes and walks over to the door, pulling it open further. On the other side—the detective of sorts—happens to be Alex, who you’d been introduced to a few hours ago. At the sight of you, his eyes widen with recognition. 
“We’re fine. Leave us alone,” replies Lily in a conspiratorial whisper. “Carmen and I have a new friend.” She doesn’t even need to drop your name; your face alone is enough to make people recognize who you are.
Alex, however, refuses to admit defeat. “Try harder next time.” He pumps his eyebrows. “We were introduced earlier.” He looks up and waves to demonstrate his truth; when you smile back, Lily’s jaw drops as she turns to her boyfriend again, aghast.
“What the hell? How?” A pause. “No offense. It’s like. Two levels of fame, right there.”
He makes a pinched face. “She’s Charles’… friend? I don’t—coworker? Something, something. They were both vague about it. Actually, George and I were talking about it, and we both think something is up. With them.”
“Wait—you might be right.” Her eyes are hyperfocused, and her voice drops to a whisper for a second. “Let’s talk about it at the hotel.”
You and Carmen watch their hushed exchange, and eventually Alex leaves you three alone again with a loud goodbye, which allows Lily to rejoin your conversation. “Sorry,” she says with a smile. “That was my boyfriend, Alex. I didn’t know you two were introduced! He told me you knew Charles?”
“Oh.” Your shoulders relax. “Yeah, um. We knew each other as kids, but I moved away and we kind of—we drifted apart, so. I’m here on a business trip, and he’s just welcoming me.” You try to reduce the decade-long mess into a sentence.
“So you’re friends?”
“Yeah.” You feel like vomiting all over again. 
The sky’s a searing blue at noon, silver clouds lining the horizon. Charles has to press a finger to the high point of his cheek to test if he’s sunburned from the heat, and the cameras catch it; he doesn’t doubt the fans will spin that into something cute later. You’re somewhere else on the property, this big, massive thing of a museum that’s crashed into by the waves.
He remembers Andrea first telling him about this whole arrangement. He and the team had deliberately left out any mention of you, like they could predict the immediate veto. He wonders if you knew, or if you, too, had been surprised when seeing him, a ghost of your past looking into your eyes. He wonders if you, too, are now in this endless emotional turmoil. Inside there’s a photoshoot ongoing, with you but also with some models in varying aquatic-related poses to convey the intent of the building; he’s done his share of pictures already, just needs to sit down with you for an interview. 
“And a B-roll of you guys, um, like, walking, like—around?” Greg’s voice invades his head again, the nervous man beside him running through a to-do list like this is boot camp.
You’d left him hanging at the club—he couldn’t blame you though. A truce hardly called for the bringing forth of memories you two are now supposed to have buried beneath you. Memories he buried first. But alcohol had loosened him, and maybe you had, too, your eyes in the vaguely bluish light and your smile.
He wishes to apologize. He makes up some excuse and finds you nursing an Evian by a faraway corner, against a screen of stingrays. Your eyes widen when you see him, in recognition. He waves and then, with a thumb, gestures to the catering outside.
You end up by the water eating one of the caterer’s churros, a recommendation he deems “very special.” (“Have you worked with these caterers before?” “No.”) It’s also his excuse to cheat on his diet and eat a churro or three—chocolate dip included, always. You rave over the taste, smile, enjoy the view. Charles realizes this looks deceivingly like a date, and at the same time realizes he would not stop to correct someone if they assumed so.
“Our truce seems to be working.” You say in-between chews, voice flat but eyes bright.
“It seems so. I owe that to my personality.”
You really laugh at that. “I didn’t know you had one. It’s very fit for someone as unapproachable as I am.”
“Who said that?”
“No, noth—nobody.” You comb a lock of hair behind your ear. “Aw, putain. I’m ruining my lipstick. Pat’s going to kill me. I look awful.” There are no reflective surfaces around you to affirm your statement, but you sound so sure of yourself.
He smiles. He enjoys the illusion, the mask that you two seem to wear, albeit involuntarily. The chocolate syrup he squeezes on your little paper box of churros. The muttered back merci when he’s finished. Your flushed face, eyes darting from the delicacy to the ocean, eyelashes fluttering, lips smiling, curving into a laugh at some random realization. Briefly he imagines what he might tell somebody if they stopped to ask if you were dating.
Some old woman, French accent and short in stature. You two are so cute. Si mignon! And she would ask how you two met. Charles would tell her the story. But that is imagination. He blinks out of it and focuses on the beauty in front of him, so very real.
“No. You are very pretty, you know.” He says then, and it’s taken him all his nerves and then some just to wrangle it out of his mouth and past his lips. Anticipatory, he watches you, waits for your response.
You comb the hair out of your face messily, licking over the cinnamon sugar on your lips; then you smile up at him, turning your head in question. “Sorry,” you laugh, and his heart’s frozen because it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. “What did you say?”
The wind roars in his ears, so Charles barely hears himself when he says, stuttering, “What? Nothing, I said nothing.”
You make a face—confused, suspicious—but all your allegations quell once you bite into another churro, stepping yourself a path along the area. Having blocked off the building, production staff and models are all that populate your surroundings, big headphones and even bigger cameras, rolling around racks of monochrome and Hermés, Birkins to match Loro Pianas. It’s easy to get lost in a crowd—in a city—where everyone looks the same, and knows the other’s name. Perhaps that’s also why, even at fourteen, you were excited to leave, he thinks.
“The coast was always my favorite part about the city.”
He notices. The way your eyes have softened, become more fond than when you’re in the centre of it all, in the bustle. Here it’s busy, but less busy; the distinction, perhaps, matters. Your gaze is not one of distaste, of disdain. It’s nostalgic, homesick, yearning. He supposes he describes this gaze so well because it’s the way he catches himself looking at you over the week. 
“I wanted to…” He trails off. “I wanted to talk to you because, ah. I’m sorry. It was foolish of me to put you on the spot last night. I should’ve been more… yeah. I’m sorry. I hope you’re okay.”
You stare at the sea and nod quietly. Instead of responding, you launch a story: “I always…” You’re clearly lost in a different sphere of thought, and you have to fall quiet while finding the right words to say. “I remember, um. In Year 3, we—I came here with my mum. And I was super mad, because I got, like, three mistakes on my Maths paper?” You laugh and he does, too, but more because your storytelling is so effortlessly enthralling and funny and he needs to shut himself up.
“Anyway.” You pace around again, and he follows. “So, I’m mad, and she’s trying to cheer me up, buys me glace and everything, but no. So I go sit myself on a random bench. It must’ve been around here, I think.” You look around and point at an empty area. “There. But it’s—they must’ve ripped it out. Whatever. So yeah, I’m sitting there, and moping, and all of a sudden All You Need is Love by The Beatles comes blaring into the entire area.”
Charles’ eyebrows knit confusedly. “What, the bench area?”
“No—the whole pier, I guess? Like, it was loud, I almost jumped. And then this guy comes in holding this huge—this, um, board? Sign? Poster? And he’s got half the pier in on his whole thing, and I’m totally… it was just… yeah.” You smile. It’s the biggest smile he’s seen on you since you got here and the fact that he’s even around to see it gets him all warm.
“So what happened?”
“It was a flash mob. You know those—yeah, they’re usually insufferable, but that one was a little calmer. Nobody was, you know, dancing and yelling. It was just a bunch of people cheering and all, and the guy was actually proposing to his girlfriend. It was so cute.” You sigh a little, a brief exhale of air, and it turns into a smile. “I’d love that.”
He raises his eyebrows and, despite himself, laughs. “Vraiment?” 
You turn to him, ready to defend yourself, mid-laugh. “Heeey. Everyone says they find big, romantic gestures cheesy, but I think deep down, if you trust the person enough, you’ll like it. Maybe not a proposal, though—can you imagine the pressure?” You pause. “But I don’t know. There’s something so nice about just knowing that person loves you so much they think it’s worth it to share it to everyone around you. So even if it’s cheesy, I wouldn’t mind much. You?”
“It’s cheesy for me,” he disagrees, shrugging. “But I see your point.” Truth be told, he didn’t see you as a romantic type—but all he’s ever seen you do lately is work, and even back in childhood, all you ever did was study. He likes learning these little facts, ones you wouldn’t share in interviews—likes knowing you feel comfortable enough to share with him. “Dancing is a bit overboard.”
“Oh, definitely.” You throw your head back to laugh, eyes half-shut and crinkled and reflecting the sun. Would you look the same if he was dancing to The Beatles, proclaiming all the words he hasn’t had the courage to say?
Next question is who your first love was—we’re rolling in three…
“First love?” You laughed a little, facing the camera to continue your Screen Test interview with W. The questions had been candid and lovely, but they were about your career, which you answered with familiar ease. First love is different—uncharted, private territory. But you’d realized all this too late, and the director called go, and you let words spill out of you like a bag popped open.
“I want to be funny and witty and say acting, but that would be a lie. Um, my first love was a childhood friend. We lived near each other, our parents were friends, and I… I really did, I liked him a lot. But these—there were so many factors at tension with each other, like me moving away in 2013—that’s, what, six years ago now? And us being young and not really knowing how to communicate. When you’re a teenager, you’re kind of just like, oh, no worries, um, that’ll sort itself out, and then you grow up and look back and realize, these things never do. But I miss him a, a, a… a lot, and I think of him always.” Your smile didn’t reach your eyes when you looked at the camera again. “We learn a lot from childhood loves.”
Cut. Lovely. Just lovely.
“Thank you, Lynn,” you said with a small smile. A pause as silence creeps up onto the room, and then, quieter: “Could we omit that? I—sorry. I could answer anything else. First kiss, or something? I’m sorry, I just. Sorry.” For the first time in five years, you realize, you’ve conjured his memory again.
“Okay. What else do you remember?”
“I… do you remember the recital song?”
“Of course I do! The dance is… that’s a different story.” You’d been at Charles’ hotel room earlier to go over some video shoot regulations for a 24 Hours With video you’re doing in a few days. You stayed because—that’s beyond you at this point, and you’d rather not delve into the rationality of it all. You’re content with thinking about how nice this conversation is, a trip down memory lane.
“The dance, mon dieu, the dance.” He smothers a hand over his face, smiles fondly. “You were at the center!”
“Stop. Stop,” you protest, letting laughter settle into quiet. “It’s crazy, you know? How we… like, we share a life. Not—but like, we had a whole childhood together.” 
“And nobody knows.” It’s not something you keep a secret on purpose—it’s just that neither of you feel like name-dropping the other. Some stories have surfaced, but none of you have fully commented. Somehow, that’s a good thing for you.
“Do people ask?”
“People ask, yes.” His accent is a reminder of your past—you’d once had the same thick wraparound, the loose reign over English you’ve now grown to master. Now your accent is a lot thinner, to the point where it’s barely perceptible, and if it is, your coworkers and fans call it cute, chic, use it as a jumping off point to ask where you grew up. But in this hotel room, legs folded underneath you and glass of wine in hand, you have no coworkers or fans, it feels like; no one to perceive you but Charles. Charles and his accent, nostalgic and so very his, which you wouldn’t describe as anything but home.
“What do you tell them, then?” Quickly, you add: “The truth, or…?”
“That we knew each other as kids,” he says, smiling absently. “That is the truth, no?”
You cover a smile with the rim of your wine glass, nodding. There’s no revisionist history in that statement, but it hides a lot of the truth, the nitty gritty of it. You know it, he knows it, you both know it. “What would you want me to say?” His voice is soft and thin and imploring, so different from the boisterous voice he uses in public, from the slurred voice you heard in the club. This sounds real. This sounds like a conversation you would’ve had years ago in your childhood bedroom before everything went—
“Nothing, that’s fine.” You cut your own reverie off, clearing your throat. You even laugh, to alleviate the tension, but he sees right through you so many years later. “Unless you’re privy to telling people how we didn’t talk for months before I left.”
He blinks, smothers a palm over his face again, and sighs, eyes meeting yours. “I’m sorry. I don’t—I… I’ve wanted to bring it up.”
“I’m not mad.” It’s a half-lie. “Okay, no—I am, a bit. It just—it would’ve been nice to hear it two weeks ago.”
“I know.” He doesn’t even need to say it, but him saying it sends a low thrum of reassurance in you. Charles has found, in the two weeks of being in your company, that he accomplishes a sense of self—a sense of quiet, a sense of privacy—when he’s alone with you. Perhaps it’s your natural ability to bring out the best in people, to talk and loosen tongues and make everyone around you feel safe. Or, and this is on a likely front, maybe he misses being one of those people. 
He pretends he’s back to last week after another club rendezvous left you tipsier than the first time, dropping you off at your hotel room with two hands taut at your shoulders, one pinching a keycard. You’d been muttering something under your breath, stumbling as you went—you weren’t tripping too much, really; he didn’t need to hold you, but he told himself he had to—and leaning against the doorframe of your room, staring at him blankly. When he met your eyes, you said: maybe, just maybe. Just those three words. If he tries to remember right, you’d been smiling, but he was sufficiently tipsy, too, so he could just as well be wrong.
He does remember a few things right. The eyeliner smudged across your lower eye, lipstick smacked to a point where it looked like you wore none, beads of salt by your lip, your hand wrapped around your necklace. 
The silence is anything but awkward; still, he resolves to break it. “When you were drunk last week.” He looks up. “You said—you kept saying, maybe, just maybe.”
A laugh escapes you, stilted and a bit nervous. “Oh. That was—yeah, okay.”
“What’s it mean?”
“You seriously don’t remember?” You’re laughing for real now, your hair bobbing with it, eyebrows furrowed to emphasize your confusion. “Oh, my God. Charles, it’s all you ever said in Year… what, 7? I don’t… anyway. But when we were maybe twelve, I…”
Momentarily, you’re stunned by the memories of him—you’d forgotten they were even there. You press a few fingers to your lips and clear your throat. “Sorry. Yeah, I, um—I think you heard it in a movie or read it somewhere, and for ages it was your favorite saying. Maybe, just maybe.”
“I don’t underst—”
“—You were always just saying it,” you cut in, laughing, your voices layering as you discuss the origin of his former favorite term. “No, you really—”
“I don’t—I do not ever remember say—”
“—Well,” you say,  “I remember.” He stays silent for a few seconds, the intensity of your stare and the little smile on your face and everything beating down on him. For a split second he thinks of opening his mouth and getting on his knees and telling you everything, all the apologies, all the things unsaid in the months and years you became strangers. He seriously does. The pressure is almost physical, beyond overwhelming.
“I have to go.” You swallow the lump in your throat, disentangle your legs and clamber off the couch, setting the empty glass on his coffee table. “Good?”
“Yeah,” he says, blinking. “Yeah. Take care. Should I drive you?”
“God, no.” You laugh breathily. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 
He closes the door after you leave, stares at it, as if that will conjure you back to him. It occurs to him, jolts him almost, that he’d almost let slip a quiet utterance of love you as you slipped out. His stomach boils. With thankfulness over not having said it, he wonders—or with regret?
“Best friends now, are you?” Lily, Carmen, and Rachel look up to the sound of your voice, their serious faces breaking out into smiles. If you could chart the time you spent here, there are definitely people you’ve spent the most time with—these three are at the top of the list. You hang your coat and drop your Chanel bag on the entryway seat, already picking up on the British noises of Love Island UK from the telly.
“Wait, so she’s hooking up with him?” Lily asks, confused; her train of thought is cut off by your flopping onto the bed. “Hiiii. Where’ve you been?”
Muffled by the bedspread: Charles’ place.
Silence. The television switches off and you hear the precarious preparation of three girls readying themselves for a debrief-or-sobfest of a lifetime, a noise you’ve heard and partaken in countless times over your life. You suddenly feel too watched, too spectated; you break the quiet by looking up, displaying your tear-streaked face.
“Talk to us,” Rachel encourages, her voice raspy with unuse (Love Island will keep one occupied and quiet for hours on end). Three of them are touching you in some way or other, reassuring grips on your hair or shoulders. “Did you two fight?”
And, oh Christ, fight? It’s not like you’re dating. You aren’t even halfway to that (not that you want to be, but that’s a discussion for another time). The idea of a fight with him is so terribly juvenile, so horribly reminiscent of secondary school and Monaco and being together and being friends. You can’t fight with a guy who’s not your boyfriend. You can’t fight with a guy you’re not close to, for Chrissake. You squeeze your tears out of your eyes and breathe hiccups out.
“Do you want gelato?” No, no.
“Love Island?” In a minute.
The truth is, you want both, but you really just want to sort everything out with Charles. It was no use—hating each other was futile, but pretending everything was fine in some pathetic attempt at a “truce” seemed even worse. You just want to talk everything out, even if it excavates feelings you’d once been able to suppress.
“What kind of crush doesn’t disappear after ten years?” You ask through tears. It’s almost funny, but the question comes straight from the heart. “I’ve dated guys, lived across the world, started a whole new life pretending he never—pretending we were—fuck. Pretending he didn’t exist. It was—I’m not lying, it was easy, pretending. But one glimpse—I see him one time and suddenly it feels like all of it was in vain. It’s the same crush I had before, coming back, like it’s never going to leave me alone.”
“Maybe it’s not a crush,” says Lily, slowly.
“So what is it then?” You ask, hopelessly. What is this—this revival of memories? This little feeling, this sense that no matter where he is or what he’s doing, you’ll be just as in tune when you reunite even if it takes a decade? A decade spurred by months of being given the cold shoulder? What kind of magic is that?
She doesn’t answer, because you already know.
“Hey Vogue—I’m here with Charles Leclerc, and we’re here to take you along with us on all our little adventures here in Monaco.” Your smile is rehearsed, the perfectly-orchestrated blend of fun and serious, and when the cameraman calls cut, it falls into a more natural resting face. It’s the one Charles turns to and observes for any signs of a grudge.
The day is busy, which is precisely why it was chosen as the film day: three shows in the morning, press junkets for your movie and Charles’ season in the afternoon, and then a gala in the evening, hosted and attended by Anna Wintour herself.
The day’s business is only trumped by its tension, which reaches its crescendo in the janitor’s closet of the fourth floor of your hotel. It’d begun with a fight over the color palette, then a fight over last conversation you shared, then a fight over him fucking up the color palette, and then kissing against the door. Ironically enough, this floor houses a fair number of honeymoon suites.
It’s ironic beause hardly anything about this is or should be romantic—it’s a temporary fix, a pause from the turmoil, his hand squeezing your thigh. He’s gentle but you feel his possessiveness, lingering longer, higher and higher up until he’s playing with the high hem of your skirt. You knot your fingers in his hair, smell the shampoo and hairspray and cologne in the wispy curls there.
He kisses your jaw, then downward, until he’s licking, nipping at your throat. Charles.
“Yeah?” His voice is rough against your pulse point.
“Make it—we gotta—quicker.” Your hands tremble, heart hammering loud and bold in your chest. His voice is sure, gravelly, quiet, and you have to focus on something—so you centre on his hands, up your thighs and slipping under the lace of your skirt, bunching the fabric up around your hips. His hands, big and calloused, fingers resting on your hipbones, on your ass.
He’s hard against your thigh, straining against his jeans. You could cry. “I want more.”
“I know, baby. I know.” The pet name, so new but so natural, sends you into a dopamine rush.
You squirm when he doesn’t let up on his touches, over every inch of your body, groping you. He wants to take his time—he hates that he can’t—and counts on the possibility of a next time. You pull him in for a spit-slick kiss, needy and whimpering, sloppy and tongues knotted. It feels good—fuck, it feels like this was all you were ever made for, his touch. 
You buck your hips into the air desperately. “We really—fuck. We don’t have time.” Cameras, a shoot, a video; reminders ring in your head like alarm bells. He nods, goes I know, and you pick up the strain in his voice as he tugs his jeans down just enough to rub his clothed cock under your entrance, hard and drooling through the fabric.
You moan softly. “Please, I can take it,” you breathe. You’ve never been this wet, this worked up, this teased. You need to feel him, be full of him; he presses you flush against the door with a hand at the small of your back to keep it from aching too much, and drops forward as he pushes into you. Your noses brush and he goes deeper, air thick and muffled with little moans and whimpers.
His mouth is against your jaw, thrusting slowly to get you used to the size of him. The angle gets you dizzy, draws a burst of wetness out and gets you clenching around him. You’re flushed and sweaty, moaning. Feels s’good. So good, Charles, so, so good. He fucks harder, the door rattling, dirty talk cooed from his lips to your ear: Yeah? Feels real good? You’re so good for me, baby, come on.
Your needy voice, needier movements, are driving him crazy, getting him to fuck you harder, licking over his lips as he watches you fall apart on his dick. Relax, he slurs. You squeeze around him and moan, wretched and raw. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re so big. You’re getting his dick wetter and wetter with every thrust, shiny and drooling with cum.
Yeah? He says it so well, the best kind of reassurance. Come on, we don’t have time, baby. Let me feel you cum.
I know— you whine. I’m cumming—it feels too good—
You cum first, thighs shaky around him and lip curling into your teeth. You lean forward, mouth to his shoulder, and bite at the cotton. Fuck, he grunts, and releases then, a groan spilled into your hair. You watch, laughing breathlessly, and feel the world click into something different. 
You two will do anything, apparently, but talk this all through.
The gala is big and extravagant and you’re seated not with Charles this time, but with a roster of celebrities straight out of an LAX red-eye. Anna is at the table adjacent, andy you were able to talk to her about the experience, though not without leaving out bits with Charles in them.
You’re beside Florence and she’s talking about something, about a new movie she’s working on, and you chip in with jokes and laughs but your smile doesn’t really reach your eyes. You’re still caught in a web of fragile confusion. “I need to excuse myself for a moment,” you say after a while, after you’ve done nothing but smile and push broccoli puree around on your plate.
Consolation comes with isolation, at least tonight, at least right now. You find an empty balcony on the third floor, stare into the black sea. You try and try to remember what life was like three weeks ago, but it’s irrevocable now, the change that’s come since then. You tap the glass of your beer bottle against the marble banister, solid and probably expensive—a match for the rest of the hotel, you realize. It’s starkingly clean and smooth, and white, the kind of things you’d only say about a marble banister when you’re trying to avoid an adult introspection.
Behind you: “Are you okay?” 
In response, you say, “We shouldn’t have had sex.”
Charles settles himself into a spot near you, not totally beside but not too far—he, too, holds onto a bottle of beer. There are fancier drinks around, but somehow the dry taste of ale is all that brings you comfort right now. Your gears turn and, without prompt or question, you spill yourself forth.
“It was hard, when you didn’t… when we didn’t talk, and you didn’t ever tell me why, so I didn’t know anything. I keep remembering it, even now, what—ten years later, ha ha, even after… I don’t know, after the fact. We’re supposed to have moved on from shit that happened to us when we were fifteen but I’m finding it to be the hardest thing in the world. It was so… like, I had no trouble saying goodbye to anything else but you. And I’m famous now, my life is a whole thing, a—this whole party, and I’m supposed to… fuck.” You shut your eyes, and you can feel, through the thick fog of embarrassment and delirium, the tears that stain your cheeks. “It’s like. You know when you’re a teenager and you see all of it in movies and TV, this, like, moment where you’re staring at someone from across a room, and you’re smiling and talking to other people and you’re happy because you know in a few hours, you’ll be with that person anyway? At home, rearranging furniture, feeding the dog, eating leftovers? That… I always thought you’d be that person for me. Maybe because you were the only—you know—the only love I ever knew, and now, what. Four? Boyfriends and ten years later, you might expect me to feel differently—hell I expect myself to feel differently, but, unfortunately for you and me, I don’t. Sorry. I’m not—I’m not drunk, or anything.”
He stares at you, his expression soft and unreadable. It feels like it’s just the two of you in the world today, twenty-somethings, ten years later, unearthing all you left buried. “I…” he says, before pausing. “I’m sorry for leaving.”
You nod in response. 
“I always thought you would forgive me.” His face is sullen and handsome and your heart seizes. “I wanted to be your person.”
“How could I forgive you without an apology?” Your voice comes out fragile. “I leave in three days. You’ve fu—you’ve… you’ve kissed me, had sex with me, flirted with me. You’ve done everything but that.”
“I did apologize. I don’t think it was enough, but—”
“But you didn’t,” you reply, a jagged response. “You never said anything.”
“I wrote you.” His eyebrows knit. “I wrote you.” 
“You wrote me.” You repeat, deadpan. Your head spins with it. “What, a letter?”
“An e-mail. Before your first film came out—2014? A year after you… yeah.” He’s quiet and timid and nervous. “I forced Gi to tell me your address.”
“I didn’t… I wasn’t using that e-mail anymore. I haven’t in years.” You pinch your nose and let the silence settle like fine dust onto the room, an unspoken bomb that explodes over the both of you, raining regret and unsaid words. “I have to go.” You push yourself off the banister, turning already to the doors of the balcony. He stops you before you can step any further, a hand closed over your wrist, rough and warm.
“If you find the message,” he says, “will you read it?”
“I don’t plan to,” you lie. “Goodnight.”
From: Charles Perceval Leclerc <[email protected]>
Date: 14 October 2014
To: You
Subject: Urgent!
hey buttercup, I asked Giada for this email address. my bday in 2 days. Will you be home for Xmas this year btw? ill show you some new places that open ed + we can bike around. mum misses u a lot too. parfois je souhaite que tu ne partes pas… not sometimes but always. i think i need to edit this a little let me try ag
From: Charles Perceval Leclerc <[email protected]>
Date: 14 October 2014
To: You
Subject: Buttercup
j’appellerais mais je ne pense pas que tu veuilles répondre. it’s been more than a year since you moved out, in two days i’ll be celebrating my second birthday w/o you. i’ve been karting a lot, things are looking up, just like we always said they would :) just want to say i miss you a lot, and i hope you’re doing good. i would say i hate radio silence but i know it’s my fault all this happened in the first place. i’m sorry i stopped talking to you last year when you were moving away. i was being childish, but the truth is it was the only way i could handle it - by pretending we werent friends at all… i don’t want to make you pity me or anything (ne pense pas que je suis) but yeah you’re my best friend and you always will be. i’m sorry for being a knot head.
i was always scared to tell you but it’s been there since forever: i love you. i should’ve enjoyed your months here instead of leaving you in the air. i know i ignored you but it’s the 1 thing i regret. should’ve done a lot more, i know.. but i didn’t. we have a lot of promises i broke because i was being selfish. i kept the paper ring to remind me. remember that? we had a “playground wedding” when we were 5/6?
tu ne me dois rien - i just want you to give me a chance to make you happy, even if it’s just in the way we’ve always been (as friends). if you write me back i’ll try and fly there. mum is always asking me if we’ve talked yet. if not, that’s ok. i love you all the same and i will love you as you reach your dreams. this will never change. 
charles
p.s: est-ce que je te manque?
p.p.s: call me if you can and wish me a happy birthday?
“Rachel, I would sooner die than wait another two hours for the tarmac to clear again.” You try to up the firmness in your voice but it fails, only serving to make you sound less angry and more agitated. When all you get in response is a muffled I’m coming! you grumble and hang up the phone. Your plane was delayed all of three times, and the instant it arrives and is scheduled to take off on time, your friendsistant is nowhere to be found.
Lily and Carmen had thrown you a goodbye party the night prior, with sprinklers and music and cocktails, and promised to be on the next flight to L.A. Vogue and David had emailed you for a job done spectacularly, and to watch out for the videos and interviews’ release dates. Twitter is raving about your movie. Everything should be good, and yet, it’s not.
You check your inbox. IM COMJNG LILTIERALLY IM RUNNING THRU AJRPPRT!!!!!! You scoff again, hoping the plane doesn’t somehow take off for the fourth time, and take a seat on the VIP waiting area sofa again, shaking your now-empty chai latte. The room, sectioned off from economy and business, is fairly full.
A woman paces over to you, a bright grin on her face. “Hi. I’m a huge fan.”
“Thank you,” you smile, despite your tiredness.
“This is so embarrassing—but do you happen to have the time?”
“Sure”—you tap your phone open—“half past four.”
“Great,” she says. “Thanks, Buttercup.”
You’re opening your mouth to say you’re welcome, but it catches like cotton in your throat. You watch her depart like nothing happened, a strange feeling settling in your chest. You have barely any time to answer it, because a flight attendant is tapping you on the shoulder, addressing you by name, thankfully. She maintains a tone of professionalism all throughout her announcement that the aircraft under your name will have to evacuate the runway in ten minutes or less.
“I know, I know—I’m just, um. I’m waiting for somebody. She should be near now, though.”
“Tremendous. Merci, Buttercup.”
“Wh—” You stutter, blinking and watching her leave. “What?”
She doesn’t turn, walking to the kiosk to exchange information with her coworkers. You look around the airport, for a camera hidden somewhere maybe. Perhaps you’ve been unknowingly listed in some Impractical Jokers skit.
Rach hurry you text instead, leaning back and hoping you’re in some grandiose delusion. Your phone dings. Omw promise! It reads. Then: Look up buttercup
Your head snaps upward faster than you can register what you’ve just read, matching the opening notes of a song you’ve grown all too familiar with in your lifetime. The opening beat to Build Me Up, Buttercup flows like honey through the room’s intercom and floods it with life.
Mouth agape, you watch as the staff and guests perform the routine you’d learned at fourteen, complete with hops and turns you were too embarrassed to do even then. They’re smiling and whooping themselves and each other as they go, finishing the entire first verse before turning collectively to the entrance of the room. There, in all his glory: Charles, wearing an entirely too-small headdress that reads Buttercup, worn dusty from years of being stored away.
He’s dancing, too, closer to you. You refuse to budge for the express purpose that he dance some more, which he complies with, though not without an eyeroll and an exasperated sigh. Your heart beats with something irregular and warm. You’d told him about this before. He’d listened.
The music settles for a little and the dancers do, too, so he takes the time to raise his sign. Will you forgive me? It reads. No pressure. Except kind of. You laugh, throwing your head back at the gesture, at this entire affair that must have taken some amount of effort to prepare. As the lyric comes on, so does his sign: I need you… more than anyone, darling.
He drops the sign when you approach him, arms crossed over your torso. He removed the headdress and places it gingerly on yours. “I believe that belongs to you.”
And, hyperaware of all the eyes and yet the complete lack of cameras—you’re grateful for it—you finally, finally, finally pull him in for a kiss. You’ve kissed before, done your worst, but still means volumes to the both of you.
In-between kisses and cheers (from voices belonging to Lorenzo, Rachel, Lily—so many familiar ones), he says it again: “I’m sorry. I’ll make it all up to you.”
“You better,” you tease into his lips, smiling. “I know. I love you.” Ten years later—your person still is, and no doubt will always be, Charles Leclerc.
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stevenose · 4 months
Text
adidas (18+)
a continuation of this blurb from july.
contains: steve x reader; shy reader; no gender descriptors for reader, word ‘hole’ is used; car sex! my fave; oral (steve receiving); heavy petting; make outs
hope u likey 🫶🏻
=====
“steve?”
he jumps when you talk to him. like he wasn’t expecting it. his face flushes a bit, matches the maroon of his shirt. “uh-huh?”
you’ve been working yourself up for this for a week. well, actually, for the last three months. since he’d parked his car in that abandoned lot and sent you home a changed person. “eddie can’t take me home tonight.”
because the plan of steve starting to pick you go and take you home fell flat on its face. robin didn’t want to ride with anyone else, which was fair. and you both weren’t exactly keen on everyone knowing. what you both wanted eventually fizzled out, and instead manifested itself in longing looks and some occasional, “accidental” touching.
the bastard still hasn’t given you your underwear back.
steve blinks once. twice. his adam’s apple bobs. he runs a hand through his hair, flustered much more than you’ve ever seen him. “good thing i know where you live, huh?”
it really has been the most aggravatingly long three months of your life. nothing has been the same and yet nothing has changed. steve still treats you like always - a friend on the very outskirts of his circle. you still stare down at his adidas when he’s a little too close to you, talking to you and someone else about work or a new movie. and eddie has been at every. single. hangout. picks you up and takes you home and you never once tell him (or robin, for that matter) to fuck off so you can get laid again.
but tonight, eddie has a gig, and no one passed the motion to reschedule.
“when?” steve asks, moving closer. “jesus, never thought you’d ask.”
your breath shakes when you inhale, looking up from the neck of his shirt to stare at his big brown eyes. you wonder what the look he gives you means. “couple minutes? up to you.”
“do you - want to?” he asks as his head tilts.
“yeah,” you whisper. your face turns hot. “want proof?”
there’s no one else in this corner of nancy’s kitchen. steve nods, almost imperceptibly so, and you gently take his wrist before guiding it towards the core of you. he takes a sharp inhale and looks around, his hair bobbing. you don’t know if you want to laugh or scream. he looks back at you and licks his lips. “now? we go now?”
“rob,” you’re saying two minutes later, “i’ve got a hell of a headache - steve’s gonna take me home. can you get a ride from nance?”
maybe you’re paranoid, but the smile she gives you is a little irritating. you’re relieved when she doesn’t argue. “hope you feel better.”
it’s quiet and tense when steve gets the passenger side door for you. you slip into the soft leather of the seat and open your mouth to say thank you, but steve’s lips are suddenly on yours. it shocks your brain - in fact, you feel a little sick, want and need rushing through you.
you shouldn’t be kissing a guy like him. and he shouldn’t be kissing you, you think. but his soft hands cup your heated cheeks, pink tongue caressing your bottom lip. he pulls away quickly, swipes his thumb across your cheekbone and nods with a little smile.
“sorry,” he whispers, eyes wandering your face. “had to.”
“that - that’s okay.”
steve jogs to his side of the door and slides in quickly. turns the key so fast the engine stalls for a second before purring to life. he giggles and reaches towards you, letting his hand fall on your thigh. again. it’s burning your skin.
you have to roll down the window.
you’re both silent. overthinking, certainly. steve bites his cheek while you stare out the window, and for a minute you think this will go nowhere. but then he speaks, his thumb rubbing circles on your leg.
“i missed you. y’know how hard it was watching you? i didn’t - i, uh, i didn’t know if you’d want to do this again. do you want to?” he asks again.
“please?”
he grins. “well, when you ask so sweet… you like the car? i can take you to a proper place, if you want.”
the car sort of invigorates you. it’s a little dirty and perverted. you aren’t either of those things - it makes you feel like a whole new person. “i kind of liked the view last time….”
steve snorts. “you’re funny.”
“so’re you.”
“hmm. how about you take a compliment without giving one back?”
it makes your skin crawl and you don’t really think before you say, “what else should i take?”
steve groans. it’s music to your ears. you’ve dreamed of it, tried to remember it at night - hell, during the afternoon, the early morning when the thought of him won’t let you sleep. you’re addicted. you’d say the sluttiest things imaginable if it kept getting that reaction.
you knew exactly what you wanted to do for him. got your lips all soft and red with cherry lip salve. you know how much he loves cherries. you’ve watched, hungry, while he bit off the flesh of one from a stem, covered in whipped cream. watched him add it to his coca cola. smelled it on his skin.
yes, indeed. you’re tasting him tonight.
his car veers off to the usual spot. at least, you’d like to call it that. the usual spot. you want to utter it to him when those tight levis break your imagination. when his big hands distract you as they slide into a bowling ball.
you’re desperate for courage when he parks, though steve feeds it to you. “can i kiss you?” and a second later, his soft lips are back on yours. he’s so good at it it makes you dizzy.
“such a pretty thing,” he whispers. “is that cherry?”
you nod, hands grabbing his shirt. as if he’d stop you from floating into space. you can’t even open your eyes. the sight of him might kill you.
“did you know i love cherries?”
“i know a lot about you.”
steve’s big hand slides up your thigh, playing with the sensitive skin on the inside. “oh, yeah?” his lips press against yours but he still talks. “like what?”
your face is so hot it’s embarrassing. you’re not even aware that you’re grinding against the seat below you. so goddamn needy for him. you speak between kisses. “like - you - suck - at - pool.”
“that - a - deal - breaker - for - you?”
you giggle. you can’t help it. “least you - can kiss.”
steve surges towards you, his chest pressed i’m against yours. you’re on fire. you might suffocate. it’s delightful. you want to feel this claustrophobic because of him all the time. your hands tangle in his hair and you pull him towards you while his fingers finally find you needy between the thighs again.
“you been thinkin’ of me like i’ve been thinkin’ of you?” he asks, pulling away. his lips are tinted red now, too. he looks a little pathetic when he asks it, excited, eager, but ready for rejection.
“of course i have,” you breathe. “every night, every morning.”
“what a romantic,” steve teases. he applies a little bit more pressure to your sensitivity. “y’know how much i’ve been thinkin’ about you? jerked myself sore after every hangout. but i’m starting to forget the taste of you.”
you’re so wildly out of your depth here. he talks about this like it’s second nature. “that’s too bad.” you’re perpetually out of breath. “i….”
steve raises his brows and inclines his head towards you, a teasing smile tugging his lips. “you….?”
you’re dizzy. “i don’t even know what you taste like.”
“huh?” he genuinely did not hear you. you’re mumbling, scared to say the wrong thing. it really riles him up, though.
you don’t want to repeat yourself, so you instead reach across the console to rub his erection with your hand. he gasps and bites his lip while his puppy dog eyes squeeze shut. “oh!”
“can i taste?” you whisper.
steve’s eyes snap open and he looks truly surprised. “oh,” he says, less slutty. “i - uh - i - are you -?”
you nod. “want to feel you in my mouth.”
it sounds so lame when it comes out but steve groans, head falling back against the window. “don’t say shit like that,” he moans, rutting up against your palm.
okay, now you’re on fire in a very different way. “like what?” you don’t really have to make yourself sound innocent. “like, i wanna feel how heavy your cock is on my tongue?”
“oh my god,” he groans. “baby - jesus christ. christ. shit. where have you been?”
“waiting,” you answer. “will you help me?”
steve gets his pants down his hips in record time. he blushes heavily, waiting for your reaction. which - your face is probably blank to him, because conceptualizing the size of him is a difficult task. he’s thick, long, the tip gently slapping against his tummy. your pipe dream of getting him in your throat is out the window. for now, you’ll have to start small.
which, he is not.
“is it okay?” steve asks.
“what?” your head snaps up to see his disheveled face and messy hair. “its - yeah. i - i might not be able to -“
“of course!” he says quickly, shaking his head. “you don’t have to do anything - kissin’ you’s more than enough - and - and you know i love tasting y-“
you lean forward and it shuts him up. he shifts so he’s facing you, so he’s closer. your hand reaches out experimentally to feel him. steve sighs when your fingers wrap around the velvet length. he’s so much warmer and harder than you ever imagined.
“and you’ve never…?” he asks hoarsely.
you look up at him through your lashes and he almost combusts. “no.”
steve shivers. his hands gently scrape through your hair, pushing it out of your pretty face. “go slow, okay? you want to stop, we stop.”
it’s almost annoying. “steve, be quiet.”
“i’m not known for th-aaaaaaaah!”
his head falls back against the window again just from you licking the tip of his cock. the salt of his precum makes your mouth water. his nails scratch gingerly at your scalp in the same way your fingers try to find purchase in his shirt when he kisses you.
you feel powerful. really, truly.
he’s saying nonsense above you when you really start your work, taking him further and further into your mouth. he’s so heavy on your tongue. tastes clean and inoffensive. you adore the way his shaft tenses up when you run your tongue over a vein or focus on the head.
“you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he slurs, watching you with hooded eyes. “so good at that, honey, y’sure y’never did this?”
you pop off of him and use your hand to leisurely jerk him off. it’s much different from his ferocity when he ate you out. “why? you jealous?”
steve’s chest heaves and he tries to find words. “sometimes when eddie’d take you home i - i’d get - thinking about him touching you -“
“please don’t mention him right now,” you beg, though you’d be lying if the idea of him getting pissed over you and someone else didn’t do it for you.
he changes the subject quickly. “touch yourself.”
you pause. “i - might be hard -“
“ugh, right,” he moans. “wish - wish you - had more room. could finger that - that pretty little hole while you suck me off.”
you moan now, and lean back forward to suck him off again. you’re messy with it, letting yourself drool on him to account for what you couldn’t take. you wish he’d make you take it, his fingers bullying into you while his hips buck up. you want it so bad it has you drooling harder, your core aching. it hurts.
“miss it,” he continues, voice strained. “miss how t-tight y’were on my tongue, shit! oh, honey, we - we - should s-sixty-nine, that’d be so hot.”
you moan and, against your better judgement, take him a little deeper. you gag when he hits the back of your throat but the mini freak-out steve has when you do is so worth it. he gasps and thrashes, a long, guttural groan filling the car. “yes, fuck! fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck i’m close so close-“
and you don’t really know what to do with your hand, so it reaches down to fondle his balls, which feels dirty and makes your heart beat fast and hard. steve’s pulling you off of him so quickly you get whiplash, and then he’s cumming in thick spurts, gasping and arching and whining. you reach for him to help him finish, his big hand finding yours and helping you jerk him off. his mouth open in an “o”, his eyes staring at you with adoration, brows furrowed.
your pristine hand is covered in his cum. it’s pretty, pearlescent in the moonlight. you want to taste it but you’re not sure if that would make things awkward. your fever has vanished and you’re thinking a bit more clearly now. anxiety creeps in - but steve’s lips quickly quell it, soothing you as they move against yours.
“sorry,” he whispers. he’s very giggly. “got y’messy.”
“you’re prone to doing that.”
he laughs louder. “cute and funny?”
“and good at head?”
“that’s not a requirement.”
“an added bonus, certainly?”
steve pulls you towards him again. “you want my dirty underwear this time?”
you feel lightheaded when you say yes.
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spidybaby · 1 month
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Valentine's Day through the years
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A little late valentine's day gift from me to you 😋❤️
February 2020
"Can you open the door? Is Aurora." You sister asks, brush in one hand and hairspray on the other.
She was throwing a valentine's day party and you were helping her with opening the door since she said "only friends" are allowed.
"Isn't it a little early for her to be here?" You ask confused. Getting up from your bed. "like two hours early."
"just open the door." she yells from her bathroom.
You walked downstairs, mad that you weren't allowed to be at the party but you were opening everybody's knock.
"Hola guapa." Aurora says, hugging you. "Pablo had the cupcakes, help him please."
Behind her it was Pablo, he was carrying two cupcake plates, they look amazing you had to admit.
You grab one of the plates, walking to the garden and leaving it on the very pink and red table.
"Y/n, Pablo's staying, maybe you guys can watch a movie or something." Aurora says, she was putting some decorations on the garden. "and don't worry I'll take care of the door."
You turn to Pablo, he has this mad face. You and him are civil but he never cross words with you.
"we can see something in my room." You offer, he nods. You both walk to your room. He sits on the chair you have there. "You can sit on the bed."
He does that, sitting next to you. You open netflix and pass him the remote, you let him pick whatever he likes.
"I like comedies and I like action movies. But you can pick any movie you want." You smile at him.
You can't deny your little crush on him. Aurora and your sister are like glue, always together, meaning whenever they have the chance they force you to go out with them.
The thing here is, Pablo was shy, he was very introverted and he didn't even answer you with more than a yes or no.
"Do you want some pop corn and soda?" You get up from bed and walk to your door. "I know you're a footballer but a cheat day won't hurt"
The little smile he gives you is making your stomach go crazy. He nods excited. "do you have that red soda?"
"si, do you want a cupcake? I can steal two."
"por favor." he smiles big, you love the way he was smiling.
You hurry downstairs, grabbing a package of popcorn and throwing them in the microwave.
"Aurora, I think the bathroom is not working, is that going to be a problem?"
"What? No, that can't be I just went." she leaves what she's doing. "let me check, maybe it's not."
When she left the table you grab two of the pink cupcakes. Hurrying to the kitchen to hide them.
"False alarm, is working." she says happy. "sorry I left you with my brother, mom asked me to bring him and we'll you guys are the same age. Just ask him about football or something."
"Yeah, no problem."
When the popcorn is ready you grab everything in a little tray and carefully take it to your room.
"I have that red soda and the cupcake."
His eyes light up, it was like seeing a child excited for candy even when mom said no.
"I picked a comedy, since you say you like them."
Your smile grow, you leave the tray on your bed, taking a sit next to him you both watch the comedy.
After three movies, two comedies and one action. The night was coming to an end, sadly, you think to yourself.
The music from the party recently gone as your sister's friends say goodbye to her.
You turn the TV off, moving the empty popcorn bowl. The two cupcakes seating on top of the tray.
You remembered what Aurora told you. "cómo van los partidos?" (how are the matches?)
He scuff, he knows you don't know anything about football. "good, I scored a goal in my last one." he smiles proud.
You nod, not sure what else to ask. "that's good, so you're a forward?"
"No, I'm a midfielder."
"Oh, okay." You say low. "and do you like being a midfielder?"
He laughs, you smile a little at that, at least one of you is having fun with the talk. "I do, I love playing. When I play I feel so good."
"You play really good, the other day Aurora showed us a video."
He blush at the confession. He loves when people ask about football but with you he feels more shy than usual.
"I have a game in a few days, maybe you can come." he asks, very low voice. Grabbing the cupcake and biting it to make the things less awkward.
"Pablo." You laugh, the frosting from the cupcake on his nose. "come here."
You grab a napkin, cleaning carefully his nose. His eyes are on you the whole time, he love the way your eyes shine, maybe too much to ever say it.
"Done." You smile, getting up from bed and throwing the napkin on the little trashcan in your room.
Aurora knocks on the door, announcing that their mom was waiting for them and to pick his things.
"Thank you for the movie and for the food, I really enjoy it."
Your smile grow, he loved that. "Thank you for not leaving me alone, it would have been so much worse without you here."
Aurora screaming at Pablo to go interrupt your chat. He waves goodbye and walk out of your room.
"Pablo." You call, hand on the door and only half body out of the door. "Hope you score a goal for this match, so I can say I have a good memory of my first match."
The last thing you see is his smile, closing the door and trying to remain calm. You feel like in one of those romantic movies.
February 2021
"That was amazing. You did it amazing, Pablo. " You jump in his arms, excited about the victory.
"Did you see that assist?" He asks happily, arms hugging you tightly. "Thank you for coming."
Pablo and you became closer after the last 14th of February. You two became what your sisters are.
Aurora and your sister keep telling you that Pablo likes you as more than a friend. You prefer to let him tell you that and don't make yourself the fool.
"Of course I was coming. My boy is in the first team. I can't lose this."
My boy
Pablo loves it when you call him that. You're very special. The way you take care of him, motivate him to be better. In less than a year, you became his number one supporter.
"I think I'm allowed to eat something I shouldn't just tonight. Want to do that with me?" He grabs your hand and walks with you back to Pedri.
"Hola, long time no see," Pedri jokes with you. He knows about Pablo's crush on you and takes every opportunity to make it notice. "Did you enjoy the game?"
"I did, I'm happy you guys got assists today." You high-five Pedri. Pablo can't help the big smile he has.
To all the people around you it was obvious the connection you two have. They just need to look at Pablo's eyed when he's talking about you or talking to you.
"The eyes never lie." That's what his mother says.
Pedri drop the two of you to a restaurant. Asking Pablo to be careful and to enjoy the night.
You walk in front of him, that's when he notices that you're wearing the shirt he gave you. The one he used to play for the first time with the first team.
That number 30 and his name sitting on your back are doing things to him.
"Hello, how many in your party?" The host asks you.
"Two, please."
"You're so lucky. We have a table ready for you."
She guides you to the table. You love the decorations of the place, it was all so cute yet not exorbitant and tacky.
"We have a special Valentine's Day menu for all our couples. I'll leave it here and I'll leave two normal menus in case you want something else."
You can't help but blush at her words. You two aren't a couple, not because you don't want to, but you like the way that sounds.
"So, since you're my valentine's today," Pablo jokes, the smile he has is a teasing one. "Two valentine's day meals?"
"You didn't ask me to be your valentine" you pout, making him laugh.
"Y/n, pretty girl, will you be my valentine?"
He grabs a rose from the little bouquet that's making decoration in the wall next to him. He offers the rose to you with a big smile.
"I'll have to think about it, Mister Gavi." You take the rose, smelling it.
"What about now?" He steals another two roses, giving them to your now small bouquet. "Will you be now?"
"Yes." You grab his hand and intertwine your fingers with him. "That means you're buying me dessert."
He laughs, not letting your hand go. He nods at you, noticing how you're looking at your hands. He brings your hand closer to his mouth, giving it a kiss.
"I'll get you anything you want."
The little interaction was interrupted by the waitress. You both order the valentine's day meal.
Dinner was good. You both laughed with stories from the dressing room. He was spilling all the things that happened today.
"There's a park like a block away. Would you like to walk for a little while before I drop you home?"
"That would be nice. Maybe my pants will fit me again." You both laugh at that.
Once you're out of the restaurant and near the park, your hands find his again. You smile at the thought of him wanting more than just friendship.
After all, Aurora and your sister were sure of it. But what if it wasn't like that? What if he's just a very affectionate friend?
Friends held hands? Yes, they do.
Friends support each other? Yes.
Friends take each other out to eat on valentine's day? ... maybe?
The park has these rose tunnels. They were beautiful and very romantic. The way the little light was enough and gave this romantic vibe to the people walking in.
"What's on your mind? Pretty girl." He stops, noticing how you're lost in your thoughts.
Do you want to ruin the night with the question that's burning your brain? Do you want to ruin the friendship by letting your mind run crazy?
You look at him, worried frown on his face. "Tell me, maybe I can help you?" The way his hands are now on your waist, bringing you closer to him.
You're not sure if you should tell him. You're not ready for his answer. You don't want to end the day crying in your room.
"I'm just thinking." You whisper.
"About?"
"Us." You confess.
His grip is stronger, not hurting you, but enough for you to notice the sudden change.
"What about us?" He whispers. He's scared, scared of you telling him that you only like him as a friend. Scared of losing you.
"Pablo, I like you." You say. Lips quivering.
He's internally screaming, making the best work of his life by keeping that famous frown.
You wait for him to say something, eyes glued to each other. As the seconds pass, you feel your heart breaking. He doesn't like you that way.
But how wrong you're, his mind is working a thousand miles per hour. Not sure how to tell you that he likes you too without sounding too crazy.
Your hands move from his shoulders to his hands, moving them away from you. You want to go home and cry yourself to sleep.
That action makes him go back to reality. He notices your tearful eyes. "Wait, no."
"No, it's okay. I can take a cab home. Don't worry."
You decided to leave, not wanting for him to see you cry. But the grip on your arm stops you. "Wait, Y/n."
"No, Pablo. It's okay, I just want to go home." You remove his hand from your arm, walking away from him.
"Can you let me say what I have to say?" He grabs your arm again. He needs to say it.
"You don't have to say anything, I know."
"No, you don't, shit you don't." His hands go back to your waist. "You don't know because I've been a stupid kid who doesn't know any better, I like you too, maybe too much for me to feel comfortable saying it."
You want to say something, but he keeps rambling.
"And you have no idea, joder. The way you look at me with those beautiful shiny eyes and the way you smile or laugh even at my bad jokes." He laughs, making you laugh. "The way my name looks on your back is making me think things I shouldn't but things I only think about you. And the way you know my sister and she loves you and my mom. Gosh, my mom. "
"What about your mom?" You ask confused.
"She told me to confess because a girl like you won't come twice in a lifetime." He hugs you, bringing you closer to him. You lock your arms behind his neck. "I like you more than you think. I was just too scare to say it before."
"I'm head over heels with everything you just said, but can you please shut up and kiss me?" You smile, making him chuckle.
His hand goes to the back of your neck, bringing you closer. The kiss is everything you ever dreamed of. All those nights dreaming about it now coming true.
He smiles into the kiss. Happy that the girl he always had a crush on, the sister of his sister's best friend, the one Aurora always tried to bring closer because they were the same age.
"Se mi novia." (Be my girlfriend) He let's out, not thinking much about it. "I can't let another day pass without making you my girlfriend." You nod, kissing him again.
"Te prometo que voy a hacer algo mejor que esto, pero hoy quiero volver a casa y que todos sepan que eres mía." (I promise that I'm doing something better than this, but tonight I just want to go back home and let all my family know you're mine.)
You press your forehead to his, enjoying the moment. He was yours, and you were his. That's all you need to know.
February 2022
"Pablo, stop it." You say, morning voice making Pablo chuckle. He continue with the kisses on your neck and back. "Amor, five minutes more."
"You asked me for five minutes like twenty minutes ago."
You open your eyes, room kinda dark thanks to the curtains. The big mirror he has reflecting you with his arms around you.
"Feliz aniversario, preciosa mía." (happy anniversary) he kiss your earlobe. "if you weren't such a sleepy head I would have given you a good morning gift but now I'm thinking of breakfasts." he tease you. Making you blush at the thought of your last night actions.
You turn to face him, smirk on his face. "Feliz aniversario, ojitos lindos." You kiss his lips, your hands caressing his chest. "I'm hungry too."
He laughs, kissing you again. He push you lightly, getting on top of you while he deepens the kiss.
He loves the way you whimper every time he touch you. Every sound, every little jump your body gives. You are his.
"Pablo, I have class in an hour." You remind him. His head buried between you neck. "and I am hungry, amor."
You both get up from bed, quickly running to the bathroom to do your routine and to force Pablo to do the one you taught him to keep his skin clean.
"Oye, I forgot my bag in the truck of my car, can you please help me and bring it? I'll make us some pancakes."
"Yes sir." You laugh, walking to the garage to open the truck. "Oh my god." You find five designer bags. All of them with red bows. "Pablo!"
He smiles when he heards you calling his name. He knows you've been stressing about classes, having barely any sleep.
He also knows you don't like when he spoils you, you're shy about it, telling him that you're more than spoiled with him letting you live with him and not allowing you to pay any bill or anything.
"Amor, what is all this?" You walk inside with the five bags. He smirk, serving the first pancake on the plate.
"A little something for my reina."
"Pablo, I can't. Amor this is too much." You check the first bag. It's a beautiful Hermes blanket you save on Pinterest. "Amor, this cost more than my tuition."
"Not at all." he laughs, the way you look at the blanket with such eyes. The shiny eyes he loves. "Keep looking."
"Dios mio, how?"
He smirks, he had to get your friends help to pick some things like colors or sizes. Like the bag you have in your hands, he knew you wanted it, but you never decided in a color of your preference.
Your eyes land on the red and gold bag. Cartier. You told him once a few months back that you wanted to match with him on something.
You gifted him a bracelet, he wears it everywhere he goes, is his favorite piece of jewelry.
But you wanted something else to match him. You remember that you wanted a P inicial.
His hands on your waist make you go back to reality, it was two necklaces, one with your initial and one with his and a little six.
"We can match now." he whispers in your ear, kissing your neck. "want me to put it in you?"
You nod, happy that he remembered something so small. You feel the tears in your eyes and he lock the necklace in place.
"Pablo." You turn to him, hugging his torso and crying in his chest. "te amo, you're so special."
He caress your back, kissing your head. "You're my baby, my reina, and I'm always going to give you everything you want."
"But I can't give you the same. And that make me feel bad for you, you're so special and I want to spoil you too."
"shhhh. You're special too, you spoil me a lot. You take care of me, you cook for me, you help me when I'm sick, when I'm tired, you're my biggest fan."
You nod, knowing that even when what you give him is not much. For him it was more than enough.
"Now give me a kiss and let's eat, you have to go to class." he dry your tears and kiss your cheeks and then your lips.
"I don't want to go." You whine. Hugging him again.
"Preciosa, see it this way, our kids will need help with the homework, and the one who will help them is you." he jokes. "that's your motivations".
You laugh, he always knew the right thing to say to make you feel better.
February 2023
"Can you serve me some more juice?" he smiles, kissing your shoulder. "pretty please."
"Pablo, venga hombre que tu te puedes levantar. Deja a la niña comer." (c'mon son. You can get up, let her eat in peace) his dad say. Smacking him in the back of the head.
You laugh at that, but you grab his cup and get up to serve him more juice. You know how crazy he gets for orange juice.
"Listo, now eat." You pass him the juice after taking a sip of it.
"Hey. That's mine." he frowns. Joking with you. "Thank you, preciosa."
You were eating with his parents, they were visiting from Sevilla and wanted to spend time with you two.
Aurora and her boyfriend are with you two. You love spending time with them. Going on double dates with them.
"You want to know what's funny?" Aurora giggles. "your sister and I always talked about going on double dates and now that's she's in Paris. You're the one I'm going on double dates with."
You giggle with her. Your sister moved to Paris to study design. She and Aurora always video chat and text but now that you're with Pablo, Aurora and you were closer. Thing that makes your sister extra happy. Knowing that you're taking care of each other.
"We're going on a hiking adventure today, if you guys want to join we will leave after lunch."
You thank him, explaining that Gavi and you were going on a little museum visit.
Gavi's plan was to take you to a museum, you love art. So to him it was a good idea to have a more calm anniversary and to do something you love and enjoy.
"Y/n, cariño. Can you help me later with the cooking, you're the only one that can get the sauce to its point." Belén asks you, you nod excited. "Thank you, mija."
You love cooking with Belen, she always gave you advice and you improved your cooking with her recepies.
After lunch you all chat for a little, you love his family and the love you as their own. If you ask Belen or Pablo's father, they would tell you that they can see you two going for the long ride.
Belén often asks Pablo about the future. If he ever sees you two in his plans. Pablo would say yes without hesitation. You're the most important person in his life. He knows that.
If someone asks you, you would say the same, you can picture yourself with a family. You can picture yourself walking down the aisle to him.
But you two are young. Too young to think about marriage and a family. You want to live a lot of things with him. Not rush into adulthood.
"Let's go, preciosa." he extends his hand out to you, you take it, thumb caressing his skin.
The drive was calm, he was singing this new song he has on replay. You love when he drives, it suits him so much the driver look.
He like the idea of going to a museum date, he's interested in things people don't know about, this being one of them.
"Look, this one is call El Beso" he says. Teasing tone as he elbow your arm.
"Wow, you know how to read names, babe. Good job." You joke. Making him pout.
Your hands intertwine as you walk around. There was this specific painting that Pablo liked. He was reading about it.
"I want a copy of this at home."
"Yes, it's very pretty."
"Pretty like you." he kiss your cheek. Hugging you while he finish reading about the painting.
You love how easy it is to enjoy things with him, how easy is to love him, to talk with him.
"Te amo, Pablito." You kiss his cheek. Hugging him tight.
"I know. I love you so much too." he kiss your lips. Smiling into the kiss.
February 2024
"Careful big boy." You say, helping him walk upstairs of your home. "Let's slow down, you're running."
He was tired. Tired of always needing help, tired of always looking like a kid who needs to be taken care of, tired of not being able to be the old him.
"Joder, I can't do this anymore." he fall in the bed. He feel like crying. "just leave without me."
You sit next to him. Caressing his hair and letting him cry, you help him with his shoes, taking off his Jordan's.
You grab the glass of water you always have next to you in bed. Bringing it to him, "Amor, drink this."
He does as you told him. Drinking the whole glass, you sit behind him, careful with his legs.
"Come here, amor." You push him down to you. His back stick to your chest. Your hands on his hair, nails caressing his scalp. "I'm not going anywhere, not without you." He sobs again, he's not in his best days and you know it. "shhh, I'm here. You're okay."
You treat him like a baby, you're aware of that, but you don't mind it. He was your baby, your Pablito, he was yours and you love taking care of him.
"Today my friend Jessica made cookies." You began telling him about your day to distract him. "and they're so good, I saved you one."
His sobs are more calm now. His breathing still very accelerated and that worries you.
"Also, today on this class, remember the one you convince me to take?" You kiss his hair. Hands caressing his arms up and down. He nods at your question. "Well they asked us today to describe something about our partner or someone we love, like when we knew we loved them."
He's calming down, paying attention to your words. You know how to calm him down, how to take his mind out of his worried state.
"And I talked about that nigh in the park. When you asked me to be your girlfriend." You giggle, remembering how happy you were that night. "I can't forget the words you told me. How your mom told you to confess your feeling for me, because a girl like me happens once in a lifetime."
"That's true." he whispers.
"I knew I loved you because you were so honest with me, you were so straight with your words. How you told me you will give me anything I want. And you do."
"Even when you told me that I spoil you too much." he chuckle.
"And I want you to know how in love I am with you, Pablo. You're my love." You kiss his earlobe, then his head. "do you know that?"
"I know, and I love you so much too. I'm in love with you too."
"So don't ever think just because of your ACL or any other injury I'll leave you behind. Pablo I'm with you for the long ride." You hug him, his hands find yours and intertwine them. "Now, what if we both stay home and I prepare some nice dinner or better, we can order McDonald's."
You see his reflection, he's smiling like crazy, even with red eyes and tearful cheeks he looks like an angel.
"Te amo. You're the love of my life."
"And you're the love of my life." You kiss his head again. "and I know that in every life time we will be together."
"Even as worms?" he tease you.
"Even as worms, mi amor."
You enjoy a night at home with him, telling stories and watching movies that you both later comment.
That's what you enjoy the most, how every moment is a special moment, even the smallest ones.
"Oye, kiddo." You call.
He lift his eyes from his ice-cream. Attention all on you.
"Te amo." You get closer to kiss him. "and I always will."
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osachiyo · 5 months
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"he is a feral and spiteful creature− I want this little demon out of my house right now!" satoru fumed, pointing accusedly at your cat sitting on his spot of the sofa.
"satoru, he's just a kitty cat! I'm sure he didn't mean to bite you!" you facepalmed, patting your cat on the head as he purred.
your boyfriend grumbled angrily before sitting back down, resuming the movie. after a few moments, his hand wandered to wrap around your midriff to bring you closer but suddenly a sharp sting shot through his hand. "ow−! what the hell?" claws. your little demon had scratched his hand, there was no blood though, fortunately. satoru grit his teeth, cradling his hand as you scold your cat lightly, "bad boy! what did I tell you about scratching people?" your cat only mewled, pawing at your chest as if to defend himself. sighing, you turned to your lover, kissing him on the cheek, "sorry 'bout that, love. he's...just a little aggressive."
"a little?"
"okay, maybe a biit more than a little but− he's normally very friendly with people! I have no idea why he's so hostile towards you..."
"guess the cat can't stand greatness, eh? yeah, lil' buddy's jealous?" satoru smirked at the grumpy feline, who was giving him the "as if" look.
"I don't think anyone can stand your greatness, 'toru," you rolled your eyes, resting your head on his shoulder as he pulls you close, the cat crawling up to your lap, his rightful seat.
"even you?" he hummed, long fingers drumming on your shoulder as he nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. god, you smelled so fucking good he could just− "oh, we ran out of popcorn!" you pouted, getting up from the comfort of your boyfriend's arms, your cat staring curiously as you pause the movie, "I'll go make some real quick, baby. try not to get bitten~" you laughed, walking over to the kitchen.
satoru scoffed, squinting his eyes at the little devil beside him, "better not try shit, buddy." the little devil in question only yawned, bored and sleepy. "tired, eh? good, good− fall asleep like a good boy so I don't gotta deal with your annoying ass.." he whispered at the feline, who only blinked, tilting it's head in curiosity. "okay, fine.. maybe you're a little cute− but that does not change my mind about you being a literal hell spawn," he groaned, looking away for a second − before grumbling and reluctantly picking the kitty up, gently placing him on his thigh.
"hey, why aren't you biting or scratching my face off right now?" satoru raised a brow, staring at the cat like he was going to answer him somehow. the feline only licked his paws, nuzzling his face into your boyfriend's lap− even your hell spawn of a cat couldn't deny that his lap was comfortable as hell. "what the hell? does this thing have a bipolar disorder−!"
"oh."
everything suddenly clicked, he only scratched satoru when you were around. as much as he hated to admit it, you were the problem.
you came back shortly after with the popcorn, shocked upon seeing your cat comfortably napping on your lover's lap, "did I... miss something?"
"nothing, baby. just sit on the other couch, not this one."
"aaaand why is that...?"
satoru gave a pointed look to the little guy sleeping on his lap, "this dude turns into a rabid dog when you're close."
"it's a cat, satoru. you can't call it a rabid dog−"
"eh, same thing."
great, now you wanted to scratch his face off.
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©sachiyoh — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡
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psychwxrdd · 2 months
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cat and mouse
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🎀 note: not me thinking about rafe dressed as michael myers for a future blurb...
you end things with rafe due to his obsessive and controlling behaviour.
dark! rafe, obsessive! rafe, stalker! rafe, dark rafe x reader, jj x reader, possessive/toxic relationship.
It all started when you showed up at Sarah's house, your very first week in Outer Banks. You moved to figure 8 with your family and she was the first person you talked to, asking you to hang out with her and her friends any of these days and get to know the place. When Rafe first saw you, he immediately approached you, told you he was Sarah's brother and that he would be more than happy to show you around.
You thought he was just being genuinely nice, and you liked him. But as the weeks go by, you realized he had other intentions, as you started seeing him everywhere... Gifts and flowers showing up at your house, whenever you were walking by yourself he would always be there to give you a ride. Or when you were at a store staring at a skirt you really liked and next day, your mother said "a friend brought you something". The same skirt you wanted so bad, with a small note besides it.
"I saw how you stared at this skirt. And i can't stop thinking about how gorgeous it you would look on you... Go on a date with me and use it :)"
You didn't even had to think, you knew it was Rafe. It was pretty obvious. But even as you felt something a bit off about him, he was a handsome, charming guy. It could be just a crush, nothing else, so why not? Life was boring lately.
And how bad you wish things stayed boring, now looking back.
You two started dating after about a month, mostly because he pressured you into it. You thought things were surely going too fast, but he insisted that he wanted to have you as his official girlfriend and that he didn't wanted anyone thinking they would have a chance with you. So you said yes.
Things only got worse since. Rafe clearly liked you more than you liked him, and everyone could notice that... But he did not mind at all. As long as you were his, however it was, he wouldn't care about anything else. He slowly took all the control over your life without you noticing.
Whenever you wanted to leave in the morning to work, he would ask you to stay with him for a bit more.
"You know i can't be late, babe" you said with a soft smile as he pouted.
"You don't need that lame job, sweetheart. Why you even work? You're a kook. And i take care of you" As he kisses your neck and you chuckle. "Please, i hate being without you, just a few more minutes..."
And you couldn't say no, not at all. He was sweet, but something about him was so intimidating and scary, you couldn't exactly put your finger on what was it. But you knew that saying no to Rafe wasn't a good idea.
Then a few weeks later, you were eventually fired.
Rafe didn't wanted you to go out with your friends anymore, not his sisters, even worse if it was one of the pogues.
"You think i don't know that Maybank guy has some desperated puppy crush on you?" He asked, tapping his hands on his head.
"Rafe, he is a friend! They are all my friends!" You were exhausted of this conversation, almost screaming at him.
"You see...I don't want you being friends with them anymore. So..." He smiled, but nothing about that smile was happy or calmed you in the slightest. It was a weird smile. "You won't hang out with them anymore, you're better than that. And you're my girl. Right? My girl won't disobey me, huh?"
Or when you guys were watching a movie, a drama maybe, and you would make a silly comment like "If we broke up one day i'm moving to Italy", completely innocent, and his mood would be ruined.
"That won't fucking happen. Ever."
"I was just kidding." You spoke softly. "Don't take it seriously babe"
"Yeah...You know better than that. I'm sorry. Can't even stand the mere thought of losing you."
Why did you knew better than that?
Or when he started complaining about how much the condoms were uncomfortable, and how he wanted to feel you entirely. You wasn't ready for that, as much as you were horny, you weren't ok with the idea of end up pregnant. That was your answer, no.
But Rafe was a master at gaslighting. He wouldn't stop trying to convince you untill you made your mind, and when you didn't, he simply started taking off while you were too fucked out to notice.
Everyone was worried, even Ward realized how sick was this love his son had towards you. It was like he needed you to breath, in the worst way possible.
You broke up with him after almost a year together, and he obviously didn't took it well. He cried, punched walls, screamed, broke things, acted like a total psycho and you left scared for your life, trully. For your luck, Sarah and Rose were around and they helped you, cause Rafe wouldn't let you even get out of his room for sure.
2 weeks passed since that day and needless to say, Rafe made your life a hell. Blowing your phone with infinite texts and calls, showing up at your house, calling you through your parents phone, absolutely acting like a fucking freak. You started hanging out with your friends again, and that helped you a lot to go through it, it was nice to have people to trust, especially with all that was happening.
You were at The Cut with JJ, it was night and you two stared at the sea while laughing about some stupid thing he said. You decided to check your phone to see the time, and realized there was a text from an unknown number.
the fuck you're doing at the cut?
who is with you rn?
i'm serious y/n
don't fuck with me
answer me or i'll look for you myself
You frozed while reading that. Why he couldn't just leave you alone? Why the fuck he still had your location on his phone?
You cursed yourself for ever giving it to him at first. If you only knew who you were dealing with.
please babe i need to see you
i'm going crazy
i'm doing coke again
i need you right fucking now or i'll blow my brains out
i'm serious
you think i'm not serious?
i'll fucking film then
rafe PLEASE stop
lets talk ok
but please stop
i'll pick you up
"JJ... You need to leave now, Rafe wants to talk to me and i don't even wanna think about what he would do if he saw you with me"
The blonde stared at you in disbelief.
"Are you fucking him again?"
"NO! But he wants to talk, and if thats what it takes for him to leave me alone, then i'll do it!" You said, almost yelling. "And i don't want you to be involved"
"You're my friend Y/n for fuck's sake, you think i'll let you be alone with that psychopath?"
"JJ-"
"No Y/n, you don't deserve this shit!"
Your eyes were full of tears at this point, and you felt your body weak. It was like you were sick with so much sadness and anxiety. JJ was quick to hug you tightly, and thats when you allowed yourself to cry.
"You got this, we got this, right?" He caressed you hair "I'm here sweet thing."
You heard the sound of a familiar truck, and your heart stopped beating for a second. Your ex boyfriend stepped out from his side, clearly out of his mind.
"Rafe, let's talk!"
"YOU BITCH! I KNEW IT, I FUCKING KNEW IT!" He shouted, his face looking red and if stares could kill you would surely be dead by now.
"Chill out dude" JJ said way too calm, and that gave you more panic. He should never play with Rafe, he should never speak to him in that tone.
The last thing you remember from that night was Rafe punching JJ's face so bad he passed out on the floor. And you couldn't do nothing, as the much taller and stronger guy carried you on his shoulders and threw you on his truck. It was all too overwhelming, too fast, painfull, you were dissociating.
"Had to take back whats mine, love" He said in a stern tone, while focused on the road "I thought you knew better, huh? Now the fucker might be dead and it's your fault. But i don't care, i love you too much princess. I hated that dirty pogue...Always thinking he could have a piece of you" Rafe inhaled sharply, his jaw giving you a glimpse of how much rage he felt. "Hear this, i'll tell you just once: The only way you ever will get rid of me is when you die, honey. And if you ever consider trying to leave me again, i'll kill you and i'll kill myself right after. You got that?"
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userlando · 2 years
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✧・゚ 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢'𝐦 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮) 
billy hargrove x fem!reader [12.1k] summary ⤍ jason can’t seem to keep his grimy hands off of you at tina’s yearly halloween rager, and billy really does not like that. warnings ⤍ 18+ (minors dni), petname use, sexual assault (jason touches reader without her consent), explicit language, mentions of alcohol and smoking, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected piv sex, light choking, hair pulling. a/n ⤍ this idea came to me thanks to this gif and could not leave me until i wrote it down. obviously billy isn’t the racist douchebag he canonically is, so keep that in mind. please let me know what you think <3
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The soles of your shoes stuck to the hardwood floor as you weaved between the crowd of sweaty, drunken teenagers. Your eyes were searching for Nancy, Robin or even Steve but you were beginning to lose hope, seeing as you had lost them about twenty minutes ago and not caught a glimpse of them since then.
You grumbled under your breath, recalling your pact to stay together in case things got out of hand. Which, it was bound to happen seeing as it was a rager hosted by none other than Tina herself; On Halloween night nonetheless. Her parties always ended up with the cops getting called because some genius decided that jumping from the second floor into her pool was a good idea. Or maybe some poor sucker had wandered drunkenly over to the next house over and vomited all over the lawn belonging to an old couple.
It felt like half the school was here, and you were beginning to regret coming in the first place. It wasn’t that you hated parties, they were almost always fun and eventful. But, you would’ve been perfectly happy with a horror movie night and so was Robin at first. She was the one who’d suggested it earlier this week at Family Video all up until she’d heard that Vickie was making an appearance and suddenly Fright Night and Day of the Dead were far from her mind and all she could focus on was your costumes.
Your own costume was starting to itch, the humid air in the house making it stick to your skin but you shook the discomfort off in order to find the kitchen. The costume you were wearing was a slight replica of Madonna’s Like a Virgin dress, it had so much tulle and lace but it was gorgeous and made your chest look way more defined than usual.
Nancy had done most of the work in assembling it to look even remotely close to the original, and Robin had laughed at the absurd amount of tulle but you looked good and that was all that mattered.
A senior you didn’t even recognise took a step back into you, disturbing your wandering mind and you pushed at him with a frown when he drunkenly stumbled into you. Of course it just happened to be the stickiest, bloodiest boy who smeared half your arm with whatever he’d slathered himself in.
“Oops, sorry.” He gave you a grin that was far from sorry, and promptly turned his back to you.
You had a half a mind to kick him in retaliation before thinking twice, turning around and making your way to the kitchen instead. The crowd was already rowdy and insufferable, but it went up in volume as people gathered by the front door. Someone popular had clearly shown up. You took it as an opportunity to sneak off into the kitchen, a major sigh of relief escaping you when you caught sight of Steve’s mop of styled hair.
“There you are!” He exclaimed as he saw you, reaching an arm out and pulling you in by the shoulders when you got close enough.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you guys.” You sounded accusing even to your own ears, but you couldn’t help it.
“I kn - What the fuck happened to you?” He took a step back and held you at arms length, inspecting the artificial blood smeared on your arms in mild shock and concern.
You squinted your eyes when you inspected his own, glassy ones. The boy was clearly inebriated and it made you grin. Drunk Steve was fun.
“Just some asshole that bumped into me.” You looked around for paper towels and quickly gave up when you couldn’t find any amongst the mess in the kitchen. “It’s fake Steve, you don’t have to look so queasy.”
Steve shoved gently at your shoulder.
“M’not.” He grumbled, even though his face said otherwise. “You having a good time?”
“It’s fine,” you said, choosing not to be a debby downer and tell it as it is. “Where did you go off to?”
Steve downed the last of his drink, bobbing his head with a grimace and you watched in amusement when his hair moved with him. He gestured vaguely with a hand behind him where the backyard was.
“Was talkin’ to Casey,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t been pining over her for the past two weeks.
“Oh?” Your eyebrows raised, intrigued.
Steve rolled his eyes, “She was a dud.”
“Well, that’s disappointing.” You muttered loudly enough for him to hear, to which he nodded with an expression on his face that said whatever.
You watched him refill his drink, pausing when a girl you didn’t recognise walked up to him. She seemed drunk, if her glassy eyes were anything to go by, but she was pretty and definitely Steve’s type. He seemed to recognise her, straightening up his posture and striking her with that deadly charming grin. You watched them for a moment before losing interest, deciding that the bathroom was where you needed to be so you could clean yourself up a bit.
Your arm had been rubbed raw but you’d finally gotten rid of most of it when people started pounding on the door. Someone distinctively yelled about taking a piss, voice getting lost in the pulsing music coming from downstairs and you quickly unlocked the door.
The jock on the other side gave a sigh of irritation - or was it relief? You couldn’t tell - before he shoved you aside with minimal care to make his way into the bathroom. You followed him with your eyes, turning around to quickly escape when you realised he was halfway to unzipping and shoving his pants down.
The party had gotten even more obnoxious and louder as you descended the stairs. You watched on in mild amusement as a couple stumbled up the stairs, giggling and groping each other.
“Hey,” the voice was loud enough to make you stop before you’d taken the last five steps down, coming face to face with the last person you’d hoped to see. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Jason.” Your voice was dry as you gave him a tight smile from where he stood at the bottom of the staircase, blocking your escape.
The jock in question grinned, seemingly unfazed by your lack of enthusiasm as he took a step up, bringing him closer closer - and taller than - you.
“I’ve looked around for you,” he said. “figured you’d be here when I saw Harrington around.”
You didn’t even want to question what he meant by that, arms crossing over your chest when his gaze lingered uncomfortably.
“I was just leaving, so…” you trailed off with a polite smile, taking a step to the side closest to the wall.
You realised your mistake the second you made your move, because Jason sidestepped with you and successfully trapped you between the banister and himself.
“Leaving me by myself, babe?” He pouted his lips in what he thought was probably endearing, but it was starting to make your skin crawl.
How this guy was one of the most popular people in school, you didn’t know. He had spent the last two months asking you out when he had the chance and there were only so many polite ways you could say “fuck no” before you were starting to lose your patience.
Your eyes flitted over his shoulder, hoping to catch anyone’s eyes long enough to signal them for help. No one was looking, too into their own worlds to notice how Jason was trapping you like an animal that’d found its prey.
“You’re hardly alone, Jason.” You tried laughing it off, but the sound died in your throat when you felt something grazing your thigh.
Your eyes shot down to see his fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress, the tulle fabric concealing most of his movement but you felt dread shoot up your spine all the same. You didn’t expect your hand to automatically shove his imposing hand away, and judging by Jason’s face, neither did he. His mouth opened but your heart was pounding too loudly in your ears and the music was starting to hurt your head. It didn’t help that his face was right next to yours, breath smelling of booze and cigarettes. It had your stomach rolling dangerously. Maybe there would be some satisfaction to chucking up all over Jason Carver’s front, but you weren’t in the mood to be the talk of the school for the next two weeks.
“I need to go.” It was said with more stuttering than you would’ve liked but the whole place was starting to feel very claustrophobic. You didn’t know whether the walls were closing in for real or if you were just imagining it.
Before he had the chance to speak, you side stepped and made your way down the stairs as quickly as you could, your eyes locked on him in case he would try to do anything else to you behind your back.
“Hey, where are you going?” He didn’t sound too happy.
Your breath quickened when you saw him turn around and in your haste to escape, you managed to run right into something. Someone. Your hands came up to grip onto leather, shaky gasp evading your lips as an arm snuck around your waist to keep you from falling straight on your ass.
It took you a second to realise that you were face to face with a very naked, very sweaty and chiselled chest. Your eyes trailed up carefully, taking in the thick neck and stubbly chin surrounding a beautifully pink mouth. A mouth that was stretching into a smirk you were familiar with - It looked funny, the way he managed to keep the lit cigarette from falling from his mouth as he bared his teeth in that animalistic way.
There was no denying the slight surprise in Billy Hargrove’s face as his eyebrows raised on his forehead.
“Hello to you too.” The boy’s voice was teasing, voice smooth as if he’d been slathering honey all over it and you would’ve taken a moment to secretly appreciate it any other day. A day where you weren’t on the verge of a suffocating panic attack.
You didn’t have time to speak before Jason’s grating voice cut through the booming music.
“C’mon, don’t be so uptight. I’ll loosen you up.”
Billy’s eyes cut to the boy over your shoulder as he rounded the corner, eyes squinting and you could almost see the gears turning in his head as he assessed the situation he had - quite literally - ran into. You watched as his gaze flickered back to yours and it didn’t take much of a genius to understand what was happening. Your frown, the shaking lips and pleading eyes were enough of a giveaway. His arm that was still wrapped around you gently pushed you to the side before he took a good look at the jock in front of him.
If your knees weren’t shaking as badly as your hands and your thoughts were running a mile a minute, you would’ve laughed at the difference in both boys. They were the same height almost, but the way Billy carried himself made him look infinitely more scarier than Jason.
“You never give up, do you, blondie?” Billy spoke, voice muffled from the cigarette still shoved between his lips, but scary all the same.
Jason pulled his shoulders back in defence.
“The fuck’s that supposed to mean, freak?”
People were starting to look your way, way more interested in the impending fight happening in front of them. Some people were looking at you, and it made you want to shrink. You hated the attention and had half a mind to turn around and run.
“You know exactly what it means,” Billy grabbed his cigarette that had turned into a bud from his mouth, puffing out the smoke in the blond’s face.
It looked like they were gearing up for a fight. In your desperation to stop it from happening, you found yourself grabbing Billy’s arm with a small tug. It was soft, but enough for the blue eyed boy to glance back at you.
“Please, just leave it.”
Your relationship with Billy was complicated; You weren’t exactly friends but you didn’t hate each other either. Ever since he transferred schools, he’d been in your radar one way or the other. You’d catch him behind the school with a doobie, walking in the halls where he’d throw a flirty and quite frankly, cheesy pickup line that had you rolling your eyes. Sometimes you’d let him copy your answers from a test if you were in a good mood, and he’d let you swim an extra hours after closing time by the pools. It became almost impossible to steer clear of him once Max was thrown into your odd group of friends, and you’d run into him so often that Billy started teasing you about stalking him.
It was a ridiculous accusation, of course. But it amused Billy to no end either way.
During all your interactions and random bump ins, he’d never seen you look so uncomfortable and scared as right now. Your hands were clutching his leather jacket, and although he had every intention of beating Jason fucking Carver into a pulp, it wouldn’t make that scared expression on your face disappear.
So, he gave you a small nod that he hoped looked reassuring before facing Jason who looked pissed. Whatever the latter boy had seen pass between your brief eye contact, was enough to grind his gears. It was evident in the way his jaw clenched and mouth pursed.
You watched as Billy leaned close to his ear to say something. It almost looked like Jason was about to push him off before his face turned sickeningly pale. They had a slight staring contest before the jock turned on his heel and walked off. Billy watched him until he’d disappeared completely, before turning around to face you.
“You okay?” He asked, and there was no mistaking the tension in his voice.
The boy was pissed. But he seemed to hold it together pretty well for the sake of not causing a scene.
“Can we get out of here?” You asked.
Nausea was making your stomach roll, and you weren’t in the mood to stick around for any longer than necessary.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Billy’s Chevrolet Camaro smelled exactly like he did. It was weird, but he always managed to smell like cheap cologne, smoke - whether it’s from a joint or a cigarette - and musk. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell, but you found your mind wandering to places they shouldn’t be.
If you had a nickel for every time you’d found yourself in Billy Hargrove’s car, you’d have exactly one nickel. It had been late in the winter when your piece of shit pick-up truck had broken down in the middle of nowhere and Billy had just so happened to drive past. Looking back on it, that had been the start of your odd friendship.
A Metallica song was blearing when the boy next to you turned the key to the ignition, and he was quick to reach forward to turn the music down with an annoyed grunt before peeling out of the curb and onto the road. You sat in silence, hands in your lap as you glanced out the window before tilting your head to his direction.
The silence wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but you were still feeling a little shaken up and exposed in your dress; All you were yearning for, was the burning stream of your shower.
Billy didn’t seem like he was in the mood to talk, his eyes looked faraway and that was your only indication that his mind was straying. You watched as his eyebrows jumped, like he’d come across an unpleasant thought, and he seemed to grow more agitated when he sighed heavily and rolled down a window in harsh jerks.
The smell of the cigarette he lit up between his teeth made you feel a little queasy, but you didn’t utter a word. It was clear that he needed some kind of stress relief and you figured that you’d let him have that after saving you from Jason the creep. Besides, you were used to Eddie’s chain smoking and Steve sneaking in a cigarette here and there.
“You okay?” His question caught you off guard, and you realised that you’d been staring a little too hard at his side profile.
You averted your eyes with a light sigh, taking in the dark road and the passing, yellowing trees blurring as Billy drove you home.
“Yeah.” You replied. “Are you?”
His response came in the form of a shrug.
You wrung your hands as you considered your next question. It had been nagging you ever since you left the party and seeing as the meek conversation was dying down, you figured now was a good time to come out with it.
“Hey, can I ask you a question?” You tilted your legs to point at Billy as you turned to face him in your seat.
You watched as his hair by the neck ruffled as the wind blew through the windscreen. It was hard not to stare at him, the slope of his nose, his sharp jawline and his pink, plushy lips. The boy was gorgeous.
It was like he’d read your mind, because he tilted his head to look at you, lips pulled into his little signature smirk and you didn’t even pretend to act as if you weren’t looking at him.
“You just did.” He said and you gave him a dry look until he relented. “Fine, what?”
“So, back at the party…” you trailed off until he hummed in acknowledgement. “What did you whisper to him? Jason, I mean.”
Billy’s eyes were on the road ahead and you could only see his side profile, but there was no mistaking the clench in his jaw and his hands tightening around the steering wheel. You briefly wondered if you should’ve left it alone, but you were too curious to let it go.
“I’m just asking because he seemed to back off pretty quickly after that,” you continued when the air grew thick with silence. “Dude practically created a Jason shaped hole in the door with how fast he ran off.”
That earned you a slight twitch of his lips and you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been staring so intently at his face.
“Nothing you should concern yourself with, dimples.”
You grimaced, and you weren’t sure if it was because of his vague answer or the nickname he’d one day just randomly decided to call you a year ago. It used to make you roll your eyes and fake gag, but now there was a small flutter in your stomach and you weren’t sure what to make of it.
“Why not? The guy had his hands up my dress, I think I have the right to know.” There was a slight shake to your otherwise determined voice.
Billy must’ve caught it because he gave you a quick glance, gaze shooting down to your exposed thighs before he looked away. He cleared his throat and flicked the indicator to make a turn into your street.
“Maybe you should invest in pepper spray.” He said.
It didn’t take a genius to see how he was clearly avoiding answering you.
“Billy.” You said in your best no-bullshit voice.
The boy in question hung his head for a few moments, the ringlets of his bangs following the movement. He blew out a breath that sounded a lot of frustration and sucked his teeth.
“Fuck, fine.” His eyebrows pulled together before he relaxed his face and finally answered. “The douchebag got caught with his hands up Paisley Newman’s skirt behind the bleachers while she was telling him to stop.”
You sat back in your seat, mouth slack. Billy flicked his barely touched cigarette out the window.
“Paisley the cheerleader?”
Billy grunted but gave no further information. You knew Jason was an asshole, he’d be insistent and hardly take no for an answer but you didn’t imagine he’d dare lay hands on someone without their consent. You grimaced. Well, at least that’s what you thought before tonight.
Paisley Newman was also one of the nicer cheerleaders in the squad and that’s where most of her popularity derived from. She loved what she did, which was why it came as a shock to most students in school when she’d one day quit out of nowhere. It hadn’t made sense back then, but it all became a little clearer now.
Jason must’ve been her final straw. The cheerleaders shared the auditorium with the jocks. Seeing someone who’d sexually assaulted you every day must’ve been awful.
You were so deep in your thoughts that you hadn’t realised that Billy had parked in your driveway, ignition shut off. It was quiet without the loud rumbling of the motor, and suddenly you realised that you didn’t want to be alone.
You briefly considered walking back to Nancy before remembering that she’d stay at Jonathan’s tonight. Steve was still at the party and Robin lived too far away to walk or bike.
“Do you wanna stay?” Your mouth asked before your mind could catch up, meeting Billy’s disbelieving eyes as he turned to squint at you in the darkness of his car.
He clearly wasn’t expecting that, and neither were you.
“What?”
You’d assumed he would say yes and suddenly repeating the question felt ten times more embarrassing and terrifying all at the same time.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t -“ you cut yourself off when Billy’s eyebrows climbed higher in amusement.
“You askin’ me to spend the night, sweetheart?” His voice had a teasing lilt to it.
You hated how it made your stomach clench up.
“No.” You glared at him, but his smirk stayed as he regarded you silently. “Just for a movie or something. I kinda don’t wanna be alone.”
Billy’s hands fell from the steering wheel as he craned his neck to peek out the windshield. The neighbourhood was quiet, void of trick-or-treating children considering it was way past their bedtime. His eyes flitted to your house, taking in the dark windows and looming stature.
“My parents are out of town.” You replied before he could ask.
He looked at you before nodding once, reaching to pull the key out of the lock cylinder. You hurried to scramble out of the car, shivering when the cold air hit you full force. The slams of the car doors echoed and you didn’t wait for him to reach your side of the car before you started walking up to your front door.
The scuffle of Billy’s shoes let you know that he was following you, and you hurried to unlock the door and step inside.
It was silent between the two of you, and you tried not to let the awkwardness show on your face as the both of you kicked your shoes off.
“Do you want anything to drink?” You asked when you passed the kitchen.
“You don’t need to get me drunk to fuck me, dimples.”
You rolled your eyes in hopes that he wouldn’t see your flustered expression, walking into the kitchen to retrieve two bottles of water before you started ascending the stairs.
The both of you entered your room, silence thick between you as you set the water bottles down on your bedside table before reaching over to click the bedside lamp on.
It was clear to the boy that you were nervous. He could see it in your restless movements and your shifty eyes. It wasn’t unusual of him to fluster you but you’d always come back with a biting response that had his stomach clench up with want. He’d had plenty of girls who acted the way you did, puttering around your room to have something to do, anything to avoid looking at him. He would usually put his charm on and literally seduce their pants off, but this was you. He felt a little lost on what to do or how to act.
Billy took to looking around the room in silence, taking in your sage wallpaper and the photos and posters pinned to it. He eyed your vanity cluttered with makeup and other crap, before he settled on your bed. The room looked exactly like he’d imagined it.
“So.” He sucked his teeth, and you tried not to think of how attractive he looked.
“I’m just gonna have a quick shower, need to get the smell of booze off of me. And the fake blood.” You grimaced at your arm. “Do you mind waiting?”
He smirked then, the prospect of seeing you showered and void of any cosmetic crap on your face secretly thrilled him. He couldn’t say that he minded your Madonna costume though. You looked like an angel wrapped up in sin.
“Go ahead, sweetheart.”
You rolled your eyes at the name, but there was a slight tug to your lips and Billy counted that as a win. He watched you turn around to grab a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before pausing at a drawer. His interest piqued when you cautiously glanced over your shoulder, blushing when you caught him staring. You sighed and opened a smaller drawer before plucking out a pair of panties that you hid behind the shirt in your hands.
Billy grinned. Blue cotton. Of course.
“Make yourself comfortable.” you said to break the silence and then paused when you saw him raising his eyebrows.
You narrowed your eyes in thought before turning around to your drawers. If only to evade his piercing eyes.
You knew rifling through your drawers was futile; There was nothing there that was fitting enough for Billy to wear, and standing with your back to him made you a little nervous. You could feel him observing you as he sat perched on your bed, so you made a noise in your throat and moved on to the next drawer.
It was almost like universe was on your side for the first time tonight, because staring right back at you were Steve’s shorts he’d forgotten on one of your many group sleepovers. You picked it up and sent a small apology to your friend as you turned around. Steve would cry if he knew who was wearing his clothes.
At some point, somehow, Billy had shed his jacket and was sitting in his jeans, bare torso on display. You’d seen it a hundred times before; gym class, at the local pool, outside Max’s house as he tinkered with his Camaro when you picked her up. The boy loved going topless any chance he got. But the sight still made you falter.
“Here,” you threw the shorts over to him, watching him catch it in silence. “Those are Steve’s, but you can borrow them for tonight.”
Billy’s lips stretched into a slow smile and the sight almost made your knees knock together.
“Have a thing with, Harrington?” He waved the material in his hands.
You couldn’t resist your grimace, arms folding against your chest.
“What? That’s gross. Steve’s just a friend.”
Billy grunted.
“Can’t blame a guy for askin’,” his voice was low. “Wouldn’t wanna step on his toes.”
That made you let out a surprised laugh; it sounded too loud in the quiet room but you couldn’t help it.
“Oh please, you’d walk all over Steve if you could.”
Billy narrowed his eyes, but he couldn’t take much offence when you were finally looking like you’d loosened up a bit. The tension was still in your shoulders, but your face was smiling.
“Are you gonna shower?” He asked in annoyance.
You smiled.
“I’m going.” You turned around and started to walk towards the joined bathroom.
Billy let his eyes slide down your legs, taking in the smooth expanse of them as they moved. Fuck. He’d fantasised so much about having them wrapped around him. It was sick how much they affected him but how could they not? You loved your shorts in the spring and your flowy skirts in the summer.
He didn’t realise that you’d turned around, his eyes shooting up with a guilty expression on his face to find you staring at him with raised eyebrows. You didn’t look particularly mad, just smug. Your heart was doing somersaults, though.
“Try not to do anything stupid until I get back.” You said, voice slow like honey and Billy smiled in amusement when you glanced pointedly at your underwear drawer.
He hadn’t planned to snoop. He hadn’t, really. But you’d put the thought in his head and now it was hard to think of anything else. You left him to battle with his own mind, closing the door behind you to grab a quick shower and scrub the night off your skin.
When you’d stepped out and dried yourself enough to struggle into your clean clothes, your stomach was twisting into knots. The thought of Billy Hargrove sitting in your room on the other side of the door was odd. You never thought he’d be even close to your house, but you somehow - behind your jitters - felt safe. He could be an asshole, a player, whatever Hawkins residents had labelled him. But he had been nothing but gentle and protective over you tonight, when it mattered the most. No one had batted an eye when douchebag Carver had cornered you, but Billy had been two seconds away from beating the crap out of Jason and that counted for something.
Billy was lying on your bed when you stepped into your bedroom, in Steve’s shorts and a bare chest with his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling with a contemplative tilt of his lips. He sat up slowly when he heard the door open and the both of you locked eyes.
“You hungry?” You asked, draping your wet towel over your desk chair.
Billy’s eyes never left yours as you walked around in the room, and he shook his head lightly. He wasn’t even sure what you had just asked him, too busy staring at your wet hair dripping down your cotton shirt and your bare face on display. It was clear that you were a little nervous, or maybe just feeling out of place so Billy averted his eyes and swung his legs up on your bed to sit with his back to the headboard.
“So what are we watching?”
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go ahead and watch those horror flicks that Robin had picked up from work. You were beginning to regret this horror movie. It was interesting, but it had you feeling on edge as you sat with your legs hidden under the covers and hands covering your eyes, only thirty minutes in.
“For someone who was so insistent on watching this shit, you sure hide your face a lot.” Billy’s voice broke the tense silence.
You let your hands fall to your lap, a glare making its way to your face when you looked at him. He looked amused, arm behind his head and half sunken in your bed. The epitome of comfortable. The difference between your straight and tense back versus his placid form was laughable.
“It’s scary, okay?” you couldn’t help but giggle at the situation though. “This is all Robin’s fault.”
Billy huffed out a laugh, glancing at the screen.
“She’s got a weird taste in movies.” he muttered.
You tried to imagine him saying that to Robin’s face, and it made you grin when you turned back to watch the movie. Almost immediately, as if to taunt you, there was a jump scare that had you gasping and your hands shoot up in front of your face.
“Shit!” You swore quietly, separating your fingers slightly to peek through at the television screen.
The blood, gore and screams made you wince and your stomach roll. Maybe you should’ve gone with a milder movie that didn’t require you to watch it through your fingers or behind a throw pillow.
Billy was having the time of his life though. He had spent the past hour watching your face for reactions, the bend in your eyebrows and the sparkle in your eye as the light from the screen reflected in your eyes. It was dark, but he was mesmerised by your facial expressions and gasps. He didn’t know if you were aware of your little hums you made every time there was something particularly interesting happening in the movie. If you’d turned around right now and asked him to name one thing happening in the movie, he’d give you absolutely no correct answer.
He grew bored quickly though, abandoning the movie completely in lieu of watching you instead. His eyes started wandering from your face, taking in the curve of your chest and he almost squirmed when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra. Your t-shirt was a size too big, but you’d hooked an arm right beneath your breasts and he could see your nipples poking through the thin material.
Your jumping almost made him jump, and he couldn’t help but grin at your silent curse words that were tumbling out of your mouth in distress. He didn’t even think twice about it before reaching an arm out, breaking the barrier between you two.
You glanced down at his hand he’d clasped around your arm, eyebrows rising in question when you met his eyes in the darkness. He tugged and you tried to ignore the similar tug in the pit of your stomach when he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth.
“C’mere,” he grunted and you followed him without question.
You situated yourself in the middle of your bed, breath stuttering when he draped an arm around you to pull you into his naked chest. He was warm, way warmer than you expected, and you tried to calm your racing heart when you made yourself comfortable in his arms.
“Good?” He whispered, a slight rasp in his voice.
You hummed your assent, tucking a hand under your head where it rested on his pec.
It was hard to concentrate on the movie beyond that point, the gentle pulse of his heart under your hand was distracting you to the point where you started squirming. It didn’t take long for the boy under you to notice, grunting when you accidentally elbowed him in the side.
“Sorry.” You whispered, embarrassed.
He didn’t say anything, but his fingers found your chin to lift it up so you could look at each other. You hadn’t really let yourself think of how fucking intense his eyes were before, but it was hard to keep that thought away when they were boring into yours and clearly memorising every bump and scar on your face. You squirmed, shyly this time, and Billy tightened his grip on your chin; Thumb digging into your skin.
”What?” His voice carried over the sound of the movie.
A movie you’d once been immersed in but now acted as background noise. You frowned at the teasing smile pulling at the corners of his lips, trying your best not to let your gaze drop to the movement. You didn’t know if it was his sweltering skin, or your temperature rising above average, but you were starting to feel warm.
You didn’t know why you did what you did next or where your courage came from, but you found yourself pushing yourself up to peck his lower lip. It looked inviting, and the small graze of your lips against his was soft. His eyebrows rose comically, as if he hadn’t expected you to do that.
“Sorr-“ the apology died on your tongue, sharp gasp taking its place when he leaned down to kiss you, lips more insistent than previously.
You lost yourself in his taste, the slow slide of his tongue as he smoothly pushed you down on your back so he could crowd your space. He tasted of cigarettes and minty chewing gum you always saw him smacking on, an intoxicating mixture that had you opening your mouth wider so he could kiss you deeper. You felt it in your toes, thighs struggling to close but his body was in the way and he clearly liked the way your thighs felt around his hips.
“Fuck, dimples.” He groaned against your mouth, sliding his lips across to your jaw to suck at the sensitive skin there.
You felt your eyes roll at the sensation, raising your hips up so you could grind your centre against his. He responded with a growl, one hand sliding into your hair to grip it tightly.
“Why do you call me that?” You asked, curiosity finally getting the best of you at the worst of times.
Billy loved on your lower lip, teeth sharp and tongue wet as he mumbled out an absent what? in response. He was relentless in his exploring, sucking a filthy path from your lips, jaw down to your throat.
“Always calling me- oh,” your breath hitched when he found your sweet spot right underneath your ear. “Callin’ me dimples. I don’t even have them.”
That had him pulling away, and the downright dirty smile on his face made your stomach twist. He looked sinful, and you found yourself yearning for more.
“Sure you do.” he grinned, planting his arm on one side of you to keep his weight up as to not drop on you.
You gave him a confused stare, hand coming up to play at his messy locks at the nape of his neck.
“Two weeks after I moved here,” he began, his free hand grazing your tummy where your t-shirt had ridden up. “you were standing by the lockers, and you had this fucking top on you. Looked like an angel.”
He trailed off with a smile, his eyes glazing over a bit when he followed the path of his wandering hand, recalling the memory; Reliving it.
“It rode up your back several times in class and I could tell it annoyed the shit out of you,” he suddenly glanced up, locking eyes. He smirked, pulling his hand away from under your shirt to touch your forehead, right between your eyebrows. “could tell because you get this wrinkle right here when something’s bothering you.”
You groaned in mock embarrassment, but it was disguised wonder because you hadn’t realised just how observant Billy was. It was like you were seeing him in a different light.
His hand returned to its former place, resting on the side of your torso as he narrowed his eyes in thought.
“You dropped your notebook in the hallway that day and you bent down, shirt riding up…” he murmured, trailing off to instead slide his hand around your torso and sinking his fingers into your tailbone. “You have two dimples on your back here, baby. Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my fucking life.”
Your chest caved in time with your deep breaths, eyes staring up at him in silence because what the hell were you supposed to say to that? You were turned on beyond belief, and you were sure your eyes were begging him to touch you, fuck you, anything to get rid of this aching need. You would’ve been embarrassed of looking so needy in front of Billy Hargrove, but the moment was so intimate and the amount of detail the boy was paying attention to you made you flush all over. You needed him.
“Had me so hard, I had to sit in my car like a fucking creep and jerk myself off.” He grinned at the memory, looking at you with more heat than you could handle.
The thought of it, although hot, made you giggle. There was something very powerful knowing that you had that effect on him. The known player at school, who’d essentially flirt and fuck anyone with tits and a heartbeat, crumbling just because of back dimples. There was a part of you that was scared of being another notch in his bedpost, but looking at him now, you couldn’t bring yourself to care one bit.
You pulled at his hair slightly to have him lean down, lips seeking out his desperately and he went willingly with a deep groan in his throat. It was clear that he was losing control, arm pulling you flush against his body as he ground himself against you. The feel of his hardness against your pussy made you whimper, teeth biting into his lip a little too harshly. He didn’t mind though, if his moan was anything to go by.
“Fuck me, Billy.” You whispered, feeling your cheeks warm up at the sheer desperation in your voice.
He cursed under his breath, caging your body between his knees as he kissed down your throat; Hands grabbing everything he could reach, like he didn’t know where to start.
You watched him as you caught your breath, the way he pushed your t-shirt up with his ringed hands to kiss your exposed stomach. You had to remind yourself to keep breathing when he snuck his hands under your shirt to grab at your tits. The gasp you let out had him moaning in response as he laved at the skin beneath your bellybutton.
“Smell so good, baby.” He rasped, pressing his nose against your skin and you giggled when he opened his mouth to bite at your flesh. “Gonna fuck you so good.”
One hand let go of your breast to pull at your shorts, your panties following along with them, making a home on your floor and your breath stuttered when the cold air hit your very slick center. Billy tutted loudly, disapprovingly and shoved your thighs apart.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” He glared up at you, heat in his eyes as he shuffled down the bed to lick and bite at your thighs.
“Billy, please.” You whispered.
Your hands sought out his tousled hair, fingers digging into his temple when his mouth finally, finally found your core. You yelled out when he went directly for your clit, mouth sucking on it just to get a reaction out of you. His eyes sparkled as he glanced up at you, looking ten different shades of sinful when he widened his tongue theatrically and dragged it from your hole to your clit.
The shudder that went through you seemed to please Billy and he tilted his head to feast on you as you moaned out loud into your room. It was downright filthy, the way he ate your pussy out like a man depraved. The sounds made you turn your head in slight embarrassment, cheek burying into your pillow and eyes clenching shut when he added his fingers into the mix.
They were thick, and he couldn’t get them all the way in thanks to his rings adorning the base of them. But he made up for it easily by crooking and scissoring them as his tongue laved on your bud.
Billy was losing his mind, the shuddering sounds you were making had his hips grinding into your mattress. You looked beautiful with his name on your tongue, voice whiny that quickly turned garbled when he upped the speed of his lapping tongue.
He knew you were on the verge of coming, thighs closing in on his head and hips lifting off the mattress to chase his aching mouth. His jaw was locking, tongue exhausted, chin fucking drenched in your slick but he was determined to make you come before he buried his dick inside of you.
Billy Hargrove wasn’t a relationship kind of guy, he ran at the first sight of attachment from his partners. He loved having sex though, the chase of it all thrilled him to no end and nothing satisfied him more than making a girl come. But that’s where it usually ended for him, he’d get his orgasm and be on his way.
He’d never been so enraptured before, so fucking turned on that he was humping a mattress like he was just entering puberty. The sounds you were making would’ve made him a little worried of your neighbours hearing, but they were like music to his ears so he couldn’t bring himself to care. And his eyes didn’t stray from your face as your back bowed and you screamed into the void, pussy clenching around his fingers and body spasming.
“Yeah, baby. Come for me, fucking squeeze my fingers.” His words were garbled, but your frantic nodding indicated that you’d heard him.
He couldn’t get enough of your taste, tongue digging into the space between his fingers buried inside of you. He was careful to not touch your clit as you came down from your high, but he couldn’t resist a nudge or two with his tongue. Only to watch you squirm and hear your breathing hitch.
You laid there for a long time, chest heaving and eyes locked on your roof unseeing. It felt like you came your brains out, thoughts scattered all over the room and you had no desire to put them all together again.
Billy kisses up your body and you smile when you lock eyes, his own lips pulling into a smug smirk. His chin is glistening with your slick and you weakly reach one hand up to wipe at it, as if to get rid of the evidence.
“You make the prettiest sounds when you come,” Billy says, turning his head into your touch.
You narrow your eyes at him, albeit a little tiredly. Your limbs still feel like jelly and you’re not sure how you’re supposed to function. But you feel like giving back, especially when Billy was so generous and the poking of his hardness against your thigh makes you feel hot all over again.
With a bite of your lip, you reach a hand down and pull him out of his shorts with a soft tug. He’s hard and warm in your hand, heavy and thick in a way that has you writhing beneath him. There are these small noises coming from Billy’s mouth as you collect his precum on your hand, forming a circle around his head and stroking down to the base.
You gaze up at Billy and find that his eyes have fluttered shut at your touch as he thrusts into your grip. His arms that are holding him up tremble, and a hiss escapes him.
“We don’t have to go further if you don’t want to.” He says, breathless. He opens his eyes to look at you, and he almost looks like a deity where he’s hovering over you.
The light from the television behind him was illuminating his form, creating a halo and making him look like an angel. You tilt your head.
“You saying you don’t want this?” You tightened your grip lightly around his cock and he hissed, eyebrows furrowing beneath the strands of his unruly bangs.
He lets his weight drop on you, face seeking out the juncture between your neck and shoulder to kiss at the skin. You let go of him to grab at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as he sucks bruises in your neck. You vaguely wondered how you were supposed to cover the hickeys up, but that concern is out the window when you feel the thickness of his cock brushing against your still slick and sensitive pussy.
“Condom,” you whisper, breathless. “In the drawer.”
He makes quick work of leaning over to yank the drawer open, searching blindly for a foil packet before ripping it open with his teeth. You slide your hand down to touch your clit, only to take the edge off while he rolls the condom on and returns to his previous position of hovering over you.
You reach to guide him into you, gasping quietly as you felt the thickness of his head breach your hole. It stretched, stung for a moment but you forced yourself to relax and focus on his low murmuring against your ear.
It took a few seconds to realise that he was whispering small encouragements, a string of “So tight baby, you’re doing so good for me. Feels amazing, fuck.”. It made you momentarily squeeze him, drawing a shudder from him.
“Yeah?” His breath was warm against your cheek as he nosed the skin there. You turned your head for a kiss, mewling pathetically as he bottomed out slowly against you.
His arms, that were caging you in, trembled and you watched him drop his head as if to collect himself.
“You good?” He asks, voice strained.
“Yeah please, please just fuck me, Billy.”
He doesn’t need any more affirmation than that, sliding out slowly before thrusting back in. It has your eyes shutting tightly and your mouth drop open in an obscene moan. He bites and nips at your jawline, setting a pace of steady, thrusting hips.
The slide of him inside you sets your nerve endings alight, goosebumps raising your skin as he gets up on his knees; Wobbly, eagerly. He eyes you up as he slows his thrusts and your body heats up at the look he gives you.
It’s dark, the movie is still playing in the background and providing little to no light to the room but you’re grateful for it right now as his gaze eats you up. He frowns then, halting his movements and you open your mouth to question him when he grabs your t-shirt and signals for you to raise yourself so it slipped off.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he sounds breathless, hands grabbing your tits in handfuls and thumbs swiping over your perked nipples in a practiced movement. “been waiting to see these for a long time.”
You whimper when he starts fucking you with more force, driving into you in a spot that has your head spinning. “Billy—“
“I know, baby, I know.”
The moan you let out is obscene and the boy falters at the sound of it, hunching over you and pressing his nose against your cheek. He’s groaning in your ear, and you start clenching around his thick cock as you feel your orgasm approach; Slowly, toes tingling and your blood roaring in your ears.
“Mm touch me…” you sound pleading to your own ears, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
Especially when Billy doubles down, fucks you harder into the mattress and brings a shaking hand down between the two of you to work on your clit. It doesn’t take much, a few rubs and filthy words panted into your ear and you’re flying off the edge with a scream. You didn’t think you could make a sound as loud as that, but you can’t stop it as you buck your hips and arch your back. Billy’s groans sound like music in your ears when you dig your nails into the small of his back.
It feels like you’ve blacked out, vision spotty and body jerked higher up on the bed as he fucks into you with animalistic grunts. He pulses inside of you, comes with a force that has him trembling in your arms and you hold him close to you in hopes of bringing him some comfort and to calm him down enough to stop the aftershocks.
There’s a distant scream from somewhere and your heart jumps before you register that the movie is still playing in the background. Billy laughs breathlessly at the sudden tension in your body, shifting in your hold to relieve some of the weight off of you. He still doesn’t remove his face from the nook of your neck, and you feel his face change shape as he smiles.
There’s a joke to be made about you getting your brains fucked while the poor girl in the movie is getting hers carved out, but you’re too lazy to voice it out loud.
What you do end up doing is sliding your fingers into Billy’s sweat damp hair, pressing your face to his temple and closing your eyes as your breathing regulates again. He smells like smoke and booze, but there’s a hint of cologne and Billy in there that’s weirdly comforting.
Your legs are starting to hurt so you unclench them from around Billy’s body and lower them gently onto the mattress. A hiss escapes you both as he gently pulls himself out, but he doesn’t move to get rid of the condom or even clean up and it has you giggling as you tilt his head up with the help of your fingers in his hair.
He looks fucked out, lips swollen and eyes dazed and it’s so obscene that you tense your thighs around his form.
“Don’t,” he sounds breathless. “I need a minute to recharge.”
You laugh at that, head thrown back on the pillow and Billy grins lazily at the sound. He slides a hand up from your stomach, over your tits before it makes a home around your bared throat in a gentle grip. It’s a random gesture, but it makes your stomach swoop.
“We’re not going again, I’m too tired.” You whisper, eyes tracking him as he shuffles up a little so you’re face to face.
He doesn’t let go of your throat as he kisses you, licking your bottom lip with a soft groan. It tastes a lot like a promise, but you’re careful to get your hopes up. Because even after all this, you’re still not sure of his intentions. If he decided to up and leave you, you would’ve been okay with it. Your ego would’ve been bruised, heart a little sore and you’d probably not show your face for a few weeks, but you were prepared for either outcome.
“D’you wanna stay the night?” You ask, voice small in the space between your lips. Billy locks eyes with you and you struggle not to go cross eyed as you lean your head back to see him more clearly.
It makes him smile, “Thought you’d never ask.”
Your fingers reach up to his lips, touching the side of his smirk and the prickle of his moustache. “I like this.” You tap his lips, seeing his brow twitch in confusion.
“Like what?”
“Your smile. It’s nice.” You say.
Billy smiles in response and it makes your heart flutter dangerously. You ignore the feeling, feeling a small rise of panic at the unusual intimacy between the two of you. There’s a meagre shift in the air as you come to the realisation that there might be something more going on between you than the usual bickering and playful glares.
There’s not much said as you decide to clean up and recuperate, shutting off the television and pulling your clothes on after your respective trips to the bathroom.
The silence is a little stifling as you lay in the dark next to each other, no other sound than your breathing. That’s why it makes you startle with a gasp when he reaches a hand out and pulls you into him.
“I can hear you thinking from over here.” He murmurs.
You can’t see his face in the dark, but he sounds amused. “I’m just… confused.” You cringe at the vulnerability, as if the boy under you would laugh at your confession.
Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t. He just grunts as he runs his fingers down your arm, watching your flesh goose pimple.
“Don’t be.” He said, as if it was that simple.
You wondered if it really was as simple as that. But you were curious by nature and you didn’t want to be another girl on his list of people he’d fucked. “It’s hard not to be. We just went from exchanging three words a week to… orgasms.”
Billy’s laughed rumbled in his rib cage and you allowed yourself to smile at the sound.
“I’m just wondering whether I’ll be seeing you with a new girl next week.” Your voice sounds meek, and you regret saying it as soon as the words were out your mouth.
Billy’s wandering fingers stop moving and you stare into the darkness of your room. You listen to his breathing. It’s unnerving, but it’s clear that he’s contemplating his response.
“You won’t.” He settles on at last, voice laced with finality.
“Okay.”
Billy pinches your chin with his fingers and lifts your head up. It’s hard to see him fully, but you can make out the lines of his face thanks to the brightly lit street from outside your window.
He searches your eyes for a moment before leaning in to kiss you. It’s not much in terms of words, but it reassures you enough for tonight.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
The sound of a car door slamming from down the street roused you awake. You blinked your eyes open, wincing at the brightness of the room and turning your head to face the other way from the window. The sight of Billy’s sleeping face almost made you jump, heart speeding up as last night came back to you.
It was then that you felt it. Your lips felt dry, cracked from sleep combined with the over excessive kissing last night. And— God, the soreness between your legs was something you hadn’t felt in ages. You felt strangely relaxed though, limbs languid and comfortable.
Billy was sleeping soundly on his stomach, little puffs of air escaping him as he breathed. It was the most relaxed you’d ever seen him, no wrinkle or tension on his face. He looked gorgeous in the morning light, lips pouted naturally and eyebrows slack. You couldn’t keep yourself from bringing a hand up to brush a lock of blond hair from his forehead, careful not to disturb his sleep.
It was a struggle to escape from the bed without making too much noise, but you managed to find your clothes and an additional sweater to pull on top of your shirt because fuck it was cold.
You caught a glimpse of the time - 9:52am - and winced, thinking that you could’ve stayed in bed for a little longer since it was a Saturday after all. You made a trip to the bathroom, freshened up moderately without being too loud and went on a hunt for a spare toothbrush that Billy could use when he decided to wake up.
It was cold in the house and there would usually be some kind of noise in the downstairs area at this time of the morning. Your mom would always play her radio too loud while she puttered around the kitchen and your dad would often talk an octave too loudly.
You walk into the kitchen, preparing coffee and seeking out bread to make cheese toast. The roiling in your stomach doesn’t settle as you think of Billy, about last night and of how it had taken a turn you didn’t expect. Was this only a one time thing? Did he even want breakfast? What if he didn’t like coffee and preferred tea?
A noise from behind you has you whirling around, and you spot Billy walking slowly into the kitchen; Eyes taking in the surroundings before they land on you. You watch his lips stretch into an easy smile and sigh a little in relief because what were you so worried about?
He was still in Steve’s shorts, hair unruly and in need of a shower. He still looked a little sleepy, eyes puffy and bleary eyed in a way that almost made your stomach clench with how adorable he looked. There was something about Billy in the morning that made him look more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him before.
“Smells good.” his voice is raspy from sleep, and he stretches a hand out to scratch at his stomach with a yawn. “Shit, it’s too early.”
“You could’ve stayed in bed.” You said, plating the two sandwiches and reaching for a mug to pour the hot coffee into it.
Billy grunted and you didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t give you time to think on it too hard, your mind going blank when he pressed his front to your back, hands sliding beneath your hoodie and shirt and chin hooking over your shoulder.
“Billy!” You squealed at the touch of his cold hands on your skin, skin rising in goosebumps when he chuckled against your ear.
“Sorry, baby. It’s just so fucking cold.” He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and you wriggled a little in his grasp when his hair tickled you.
“It’s okay,” you picked up his mug and did your best to turn around without spilling it all over the both of you. “I made you coffee. There’s creamer and sugar if you want that. I don’t know how you like your coffee…”
You trailed off awkwardly when you looked up and find him looking right back at you. His amused smile grew bigger and he grabbed the mug, taking a sip of it.
“Your rambling’s cute,” he murmured against the rim of the mug before taking another sip. You narrowed your eyes at him, tracking his movement as he reached around you to set his coffee down on the counter. “I like it black, as it is, by the way.”
He slid his arms around your waist to pull you into his embrace and you let him, humming happily when he slid one hand over the side of your neck.
There was a question in his eyes, you realised, and you nodded your consent before he went in for a kiss, allowing you to taste the mint of the toothpaste and coffee on his tongue. It was a lot chaster than you anticipated, but it had your breath stuttering all the same.
“Good morning.” He murmured against your lips.
“Hi.” You whispered back.
Billy let his fingers slide into your hair, the other hand pulling you in even closer by the waist. He searched your face, blue eyes surrounded by dark eyelashes that most certainly had all the boys and girls envious of them. “You feeling okay?”
The question caught you off guard for a moment before you realised what he was asking. He was concerned. It hadn’t registered your mind that he was searching your face for any clues of discomfort, and that warmed your heart as you put both of your hands flat against his pecs.
“I’m great,” you smiled before you paused. “Are you?”
“Always am.”
The both of you didn’t separate too far from each other, opting to stand close by as you nibbled on your cheese toasties. Billy wasn’t much of a chatter in the mornings, but you had a pleasant conversation as you finished up your breakfast.
You had your back turned to him as you placed the dishes in the sink, making a mental note of washing them later on, when Billy grabbed your hand and tugged when you turned your head.
“C’mere, let me love a little on you.” He said right before he leaned forward to kiss you.
You let yourself get immersed in the taste of mint and Billy, making small noises at the back of your throat when his tongue slid against yours. It wasn’t rough nor particularly passionate, just gentle and slow. The peaceful quiet of the morning was disturbed by a loud rumbling of a car engine outside, and you pulled back from Billy’s hold to look over your shoulder. You peered out of the window looking out onto your driveway and felt your stomach drop at the familiar car pulling in.
Billy could clearly sense your sudden tension, hands gripping your waist lightly, “What? What’s wrong?”
You didn’t respond, watching the doors open and the familiar mop of hair belonging to none other than Nancy come into view. Judging by the distant rambling, Robin was with her.
“Ah,” Billy laughed, prompting you to turn to him. “I’ll go get dressed and leave the mob to you.”
It wasn’t really a secret that Nancy disliked Billy, she’d always found him distrusting and full of himself and you couldn’t blame her. Robin and the rest of your friend group shared the same sentiment and you could only imagine what they’d say if they found out where you’d disappeared last night.
You gave the boy a slight smile, leaning into his kiss when he pulled you into it. It left you in a small daze when he drew back, making his departure from the kitchen and up the stairs. You jumped when the doorbell rang, smoothing your hair down subconsciously as you went to answer the door.
“Where the hell did you go?” Was what you were greeted with, Nancy’s voice shrill and tinged with worry.
“Nance, she’s fine. Don’t be so dramatic.” The other girl said, hand reaching for her shoulder before she drew it back at Nancy’s glare.
“Please, like you weren’t the one coming up with theories about how she was laying in a ditch somewhere.” Nancy gestured wildly with her hands, and you couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping you.
Robin winced as if she was recalling the memory, “Yeah, I’m never drinking tequila again.”
Your mouth dropped open at that, and you almost stomped your foot like a child at her reveal.
“You drank tequila? I missed it!” You said, a little sad because tequila-Robin was the funniest. You couldn’t count on two hands how many times you’d had one too many shots with her and ended up the next morning covered in mysterious bruises or cryptic clues about the night before.
“I mean, you did disappear,” Robin paused with a scrunch of her nose. “Speaking of, whose car is that?”
You felt heat spread over your cheeks as she gestured to the Camaro parked on the driveway, right next to where Nancy had parked her vehicle. They both looked at you, one with her eyebrows raised and the signature stubborn tilt of her mouth and the other with a curious wide eyed look.
Your mouth opened and closed, at a loss of how you were going to tell them the events of the night and morning without making either of them faint or go into hysterical mode.
“Well… it’s a funny story.” You laughed nervously, but you didn’t have time to say more as you realised that you’d completely lost their attention and they were now looking behind you.
Robin made a noise you couldn’t decipher and your mouth opened to question their behaviour when the unmistakable sounds of footsteps thundered down the stairs. God, even his footsteps sounded nonchalant.
“Ladies,” Billy’s voice sounded in the suddenly quiet space, and you turned your head only slightly before he appeared at your side in yesterdays clothes. Like magic. “Dimples.”
You looked at him, poking your tongue into your cheek to keep yourself from smiling at the absolute shiteating grin on his face. He knew what he was doing. Asshole.
“Um— I’ll follow you to your car,” you flicked your gaze to your friends. “you guys can wait inside, I’ll be right back.”
You pushed at Billy to get moving in front of you, and he complied with a smile. The girls waited until you were a little further from them before they started whispering aggressively, reluctantly retreating inside. You watched them over your shoulder with an amused smile, knowing they’d probably press their faces against the window to spy on you.
Billy huffed out a laugh, as if he’d heard your thoughts, and stuck his keys into the door to unlock his car. He left it unopened, opting to look at you instead.
“You’re an asshole.” You said, but your smile was too wide for it to have any real heat behind it.
Billy laughed, and that confirmed everything you needed to know. He wanted to show off to your friends and leave their mouths gaping open. Now you’d have to go in there and probably feed them every detail. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were already calling Eddie and Steve over. You just hoped the latter two were too hungover to answer their phones because you really couldn’t handle both Steve and Nancy at the same time.
“You can’t tell me you didn’t get a kick out of that,” Billy reached out to wrap an arm around your waist, he pulled you into his embrace and you went willingly. You watched his eyes, how they looked breathtakingly bright and blue in the morning sunlight, and the stubble on his face looked enticing. “Wheeler is losing her shit right now.”
“What?” You asked breathily, a little lost in his long lashes and stunning smirk.
He nodded inconspicuously toward the direction of where the window would be, and you made to turn your head but Billy’s tutting stopped you.
“Don’t look,” he murmured, voice dropping low. “Give me a kiss.”
Such a simple sentence. A command. And yet, your toes were curling and your chest was heaving a little deeper as you struggled to breathe. Billy was intoxicating, and you realised you weren’t sure if you were quite ready to let him go.
You stood up on your toes to reach his lips, hands sliding into his hair to grip it firmly as you pressed your lips together. The kiss turned deeper than you expected, his mouth opening yours wider to taste your tongue. A little whimper escaped your lips when he turned his head, nose digging into your cheek and hands sliding over your waist and around to your tailbone.
“Fuck,” Billy cursed as you pulled apart, resting his forehead on yours to catch his breath. “The things you do to me, sweetheart.”
It was cheesy, playful and it made you smile all the same. You pushed at his chest where he’d grabbed one of your hands to press against his naked chest and he stumbled with a teasing laugh.
“You goin’ soft on me already, Hargrove?” There was an unexpected softness to your voice that made Billy smile genuinely.
His smile still jarred you. Whereas before you’d see teasing smirks and dirty bites of his pink lips, you were now seeing a whole new smile. It reached his eyes, made them look brighter surrounded by endearing crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“Never soft when you’re around, baby.” He said and you glared at him.
“Gross,” you said, as if he hadn’t buried himself inside your guts just hours ago. “now get going so the girls don’t explode.”
Billy rolled his eyes, casting a glance behind you to - presumably - stare at Robin and Nancy. He pinched your chin and pulled you into a quick kiss to your mouth before he turned to open the door.
“See you tonight then?” He asked, prompting a confused stare from you.
“Tonight?” your stomach flipped and it felt a lot like hope.
Billy produced a cigarette from the pocket of his leather jacket, sticking it between his teeth and patting the remaining pockets for a lighter. You’re nearly bouncing on your socked feet when he finally looks up at you, smiles around his cigarette at your wide eyes.
“There’s a new diner I wanna take you to,” he says. “we could get some food, maybe catch a movie.”
There was a moment where you thought he’d want to come over just for a quick fuck, but hearing him talk so casually about a date has your mind reeling. Surely it must mean that he wants something more than just sex, right?
You’re nervous to ask, but you have to know just for the sake of your own sanity. “You asking me on a date, Billy?”
He has never heard anything as sweet as your voice saying his name, and it should make him nervous over how fast his heart is beating. But he really can’t bring himself to care.
“That depends.” He answers cryptically.
You raise a brow, “On what?”
“On if you say yes.”
You’re not sure if you’re imagining the slight nervousness in his voice, but it endears you and excites you anyway. It’s with that in mind that you decide to make him sweat a little, giving him a crooked smile and turning around to make your way to your front door.
“Is that a yes, then?” You hear him call and you cast him a look over your shoulder without halting your pace.
“Pick me up at seven.” You reply, getting a quick glance of his smile before he turns and disappears into his car.
You force yourself to keep walking, not looking back once as you open your front door and step inside. Your heart is beating fast and you take a moment to catch your breath when the door’s closed. It doesn’t take long for Robin’s shrill voice to break the silence and you jump.
“Billy Hargrove?!”
Well, shit.
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