#( I love and hate how secretive he is and how well he plays it. its a fucking miracle he isn't out to make an empire )

[saetoru]

AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet. 

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice. 

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions. 

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not. 

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access. 

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard. 

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch. 

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval. 

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it. 

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant. 

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit. 

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst. 

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare. 

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?” 

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him. 

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore. 

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you. 

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody. 

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again. 

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place. 

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this. 

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel. 

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father. 

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know. 

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him. 

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you. 

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress. 

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him. 

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth. 

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t. 

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru. 

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips. 

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you. 

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it. 

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate. 

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words. 

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans. 

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock. 

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his. 

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek. 

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

#🎃 — kinkteeber !! #teepods.writings #fics. #thirstee! #geto x reader #geto smut #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

[rafeandonlyrafe]

pink princess

words: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ only!!, smut, p in v sex, female receiving oral, girly!reader, violence, blood, rafe beats someone up, kelce is the bad guy in this D:

“i just don't get it rafe.” kelce shakes his head.

“what?” rafe mumbles, barely paying attention to his friend. even topper seems barely interested, both too focused on the football game playing on the television.

“how you could date a girl like y/n.” 

your name has rafe snapping to attention, turning to glare at kelce. “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” rafe has only been your boyfriend for a couple months now, but he wouldn't question beating the shit out of his friend if he insulted you.

“don't get me wrong, the girl is nice and all. i like her she's just so… girly.” kelce says like it's an insult. “she only ever wears pink, she's all sweet and innocent. she's just not your type, that's all. im surprised.”

you let out a little sound, all of the boys attention snapping to you, kelces eyes widening when he realizes you have entered the living room.

“baby.” rafe coos softly. “come here.”

you cross over to rafe, rounding the couch to plop on his lap, keeping your head down to avoid looking at kelce.

“don't listen to him, princess.” rafe says softly, his voice so sweet, in contrast to the scared look on kelces face. “you're exactly my type.”

“shit rafe, i-i-didn’t mean-i didn't know she was-”

“get the fuck out.” rafe says, voice still soft as he pets his hand over your back, hating the pout that graces your sparkly gloss painted lips.

“rafe-” kelce tries to argue.

“no. get the fuck out. you're lucky im not beating your ass into the ground for upsetting my girl. now get the fuck out.”

kelce scrambles, rushing out of tanneyhill as the game continues on the tv, topper rightly deciding to remain silent.

“baby, talk to me.” rafe says softly, seeing tears still brimming in your eyes.

“im fine.” your voice is hoarse when the words finally escape your mouth.

“darling.” rafe sighs, tugging your bodies closer together, letting your head bury in his shoulder, not caring if you leave makeup stains on his shirt.

rafe knows the best thing to do is just let you breath, not wanting to work you up more with his words as his hand strokes over your back, hoping it's bringing you some sort of comfort.

“i had no idea he felt that way.” you finally pick your head up. you weren't close to very many girls, so when you and rafe started dating, you tried to quickly assimilate into his friend group and consider his few friends yours as well.

“he's just being a dick. don't worry, alright bunny? you're absolutely my type, and i love how girly you are, mkay?” rafe waits for you to nod and agree with him before he pulls you into a kiss, topper keeping his eyes trained on the tv while you make out.

--

“you ready to go princess?” rafe calls up the stairs, tapping his foot against the wood floor, waiting for you to finish getting ready to attend the gala he promised his dad he would be at.

“coming now!” you say before rushing down the stairs, but still being careful not to trip in your heels.

“you look gorgeous, honey.” rafe admires your outfit. its a new dress, or at least one that he hasn’t seen before. rafe takes your hand in his as you finish your descent, frowning when he realizes the glittery polish that was on your fingers has been scrubbed off, replaced with a creamy white that matches your dress, the only pink thing on your body being your lipstick.

“is that what you are wearing?” rafe questions.

“why, is something wrong with it?” you frown as you look down at your body.

“no-no.” rafe shakes his head. “not at all baby its just… very formal.” he figures the wording is better than blatantly asking why you’re not covered in pink and sparkles.

“well, it’s a formal event.” you roll your eyes, heading towards the door, not wanting to give ward a bad impression, and you know you’re already running late.

“yeah, right.” rafe nods, but his mind whirls in secret, wondering if there could be more to your change in appearance than that.

--

“you're going golfing with top today right?” you ask, rubbing your fingers through rafes hair, massaging his head. 

rafe knows you said something, but he's too relaxed to actually make out your words, struggling to blink his eyes open before humming, “what?”

you giggle at his blissed out expression, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “you're going golfing with topper later today right?”

“mhm.” rafe nods, letting out a soft moan when your long acrylics gently scratch over his scalp.

“maybe you can take me. ya know, i could learn how to golf. probably start with just putting.” you shrug.

“baby-” rafe has to take your hands and move them away, knowing he won't be able to focus on the conversation. “why do you want to learn how to golf? you hate sports.”

“that's not true!” you complain. “i like um… gymnastics and figure skating.”

rafe rolls his eyes “you like them for the sparkly outfits and music.”

you pout, moving yourself from straddling rafes lap to next to him on the couch. “aren't i allowed to be interested in the things you're interested in?”

“yes, of course.” rafe sighs, moving to kneel between your knees on the floor, taking your face in his hands, not letting you look away. “and if you really want to come, id love to have you. but if you are asking because you're trying to be less girly, then baby-” rafe leans in to press a kiss to your pouty lips- “i don't want you to change. i love you for who you are.”

“promise you don't mind?” your fingers play with the collar on his shirt, distracting yourself.

“promise.” rafe nods.

“okay, thank god.” you let out a giggle. “golf is so boring.”

--

you have your laptop and phone opened up, intensely scrolling as you switch between them, brow furrowed as you do your research.

“y/n-” 

you slam shut the laptop and turn the screen off on your phone as rafe walks into the room.

“what are you doing?” rafe questions. 

“nothing.” you smile at rafe. “just some online shopping.” you hope it's believable, but you can tell by rafes hesitation that he doesn't fully trust your explanation.

“okay…” rafe slowly approaches the bed, and you quickly move your laptop and phone to the bedside table as rafe crawls up next to you.

you distract him from asking more questions as you press your lips against his, pushing him to lay back on the bed as you grind down.

“ah, fuck.” rafe moans when you pull away, pulling your shirt off over your head to reveal that you aren't wearing anything underneath.

rafes hands cup your tits, massaging them in his large palms before suddenly flipping so you're the one laying down against the bed, completely forgetting about your suspicious behavior when he entered the room.

what rafe doesn't know, as he lowers down your body and flicks your nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, is that you weren't online shopping, rather scowering through social media, trying to find all of rafes ex girlfriends or anyone he interacted with, all while you compared the girls to yourself.

you wish kelces words didn't still echo in your head, especially after rafes insistence they weren't true.

--

“gonna take a shower.” you tell rafe, setting your bags down in the foyer, knowing you'll get around to them later.

“you sure not a bath? i can run one for you.” rafe offers, following you up the stairs.

“nah, that's fine.” you shrug, frowning slightly when you see your display of lush bath bombs. you're trying to be less high maintenance, more easy going. 

“come on, what if i wanna soak with you in the bath?” rafe pouts. “please baby.”

you can't help but giggle at his doe eyes blinking at you. “okay, sure.”

“good.” rafe hums before placing a hand on your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss before he heads towards the bath, turning the hot tap on. you watch as he looks at your bath bombs before selecting a light blue bath bomb with star embeds.

rafe sets the bath bomb down on the edge of the large tub before turning to you. “what should we do while we wait for the bath to fill?” you question, tugging your ponytail out to let your hair fall.

“mmm, i know exactly what i want to do.” rafe says.

in only a few moments he has your shorts down, perched on the edge of the bathtub while his head is buried in between your legs, tongue licking greedy stripes over your cunt.

--

“missed you.” you whine, burying your face into rafes chest as he rocks gently, holding you tight to him.

“missed you too, princess.” rafe is relieved to finally have you back in his arms. hes been away for an entire week, and you came to the airport to get him despite rafe insisting that he was fine to get himself home. you just couldn't wait any longer.

you whine when rafe pulls away slightly, making him laugh and tug you back into him.

“clingy baby.” rafe coos, but the words make your cheeks hot as you pull away. 

“hey, hey.” rafe grabs your hand, tugging you back against his chest. “i didn't mean it like that.”

“okay.” you whisper with a nod, tears brimming in your eyes. with rafe being gone, you spiraled even further, going as far as to befriend a couple of his exes to compare yourself even more to them. you also attended a party that kelce was at, and while he didn't speak at all to you, you could occasionally feel his eyes on you, disapproval in his gaze.

“love you so much bunny.” rafe says, rubbing his large hands over your shoulders. “let's get home so i can show you how much i missed you, yeah?”

you perk up as you nod, making sure your hand is clasp together with rafes as you head out of the airport and towards the parking lot, your keys hanging from your finger that isn't intertwined with rafes.

“here, baby.” rafe opens the passenger side door for you, but you frown and don't move towards it.

“you just got off a flight, rafe. i can drive.” 

“nope.” rafe snatches the keys out of your grasp. “you're my girl, and as long as im here you have no need to drive yourself. now get in, my passenger princess.”

--

“ready for the party?” you ask rafe, adjusting your skirt as rafe walks down the stairs.

“of course.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips before looking down at your outfit.

“baby… is this really what you want to wear?” rafe asks. he likes any clothes you put on, but the black skirt paired with a plain white cropped tee, not even accented by any jewelry just isn't you.

“i just…” you swallow. “i just know kelce is gonna be there. wanna show him that i don't need to be wearing sparkly pink every second.”

rafe can't speak, the anger quickly rising when he realizes that months later you still haven't let go of kelces words, still worrying that you arent the right person for rafe.

“go put on a sparkly dress.” rafe simply says, not able to keep his voice soft, despite addressing you. you hustle upstairs, changing into the outfit you really wanted to wear, adding some jewelry and colourpop super shock shadow to your lid.

you bounce down the stairs, feeling much more yourself now.

“theres my pretty girl.” rafe says, his words sweet but his face still angry as he places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you out towards his truck.

he speeds to the party as you sit there silently, playing with your rings, worried about what is going to happen when you get to the party, especially knowing kelce is gonna be there.

“rafey, don’t do anythi-” you tell him as he helps you down after parking, but you can’t even finish your sentence.

rafe eyes kelce standing on the front lawn, a red solo cup in his hand. he hasn’t spotted rafe yet, but you know as soon as he does the smile is going to drop from his face.

rafe begins to stalk towards him while you trail behind, grimacing when rafe throws a punch, landing right on kelces cheek.

“fuck you!” rafe shouts, shoving him back before kelce can even realize what is happening.

“yo, man, stop!” some guy you recognize but don’t know his name yells, but doesn’t try to get in the middle as rafe punches kelce again.

you can’t help the smile on your face, watching your man defend you throughout anything, even if it involves turning one of his close friends into a bloody pulp.

“y/n… it’s gone on long enough, stop him.” topper comes up behind you, making you jump.

you turn to look at him before back at kelce, eyes glazed over as rafe shouts at him again. you rush to rafes side, grabbing at his fist. “okay, okay.” you tell him softly. “he gets it.”

rafe steps away as kelce falls to the ground, his chest heaving as his lip and nose drip blood. “let this be a lesson.” rafe turns to the crowd that has grown. “no one shit talk me or my girlfriend or this is what happens to you.” rafe points at kelce, not giving another word before stalking away, literally grabbing you and picking you up to carry you back towards his truck. you stay quiet as rafe sets you in the passenger seat.

“are your knuckles hurt?” you ask, petting your hand gently over his wrist as rafe shifts the car into gear, rushing away from the party.

“i’ll be fine, baby.” rafe says, glancing at his reddened fingers. “just need to get you home.”

“oh.” you nod, knowing that while rafe got some of his anger out on kelce, he’s certainly going to get the rest of his pent up energy out on you. 

it takes minutes from the time you get home for rafe to have your back flat on the bed, his large cock thrusting into you. 

you moan out, hands gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving scratches against his tanned skin. 

“you’re. my. fucking. girl.” rafe says, accentuating each word by pounding his cock inside of you.

you let out a moan, kelces mean words thoroughly beat out of your head as you nod. “im yours.”

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[stormhearty]

Paring: former Azriel x Reader

Triggers: mentions of cheating, mentions of death, cursing, a lot of bold and italicize

Word Count: 3K+

Summary: The High Lords called a meeting to discuss the Death-God’s resurrection. However, with the death of their Seer, tensions run high between Day and Night Court, Helion outraged by the loss of your life. Truths are revealed and lies are exposed. And what happens when the High Lords realize that they have all been too late?

Note: I thank you all for all the love you have given to my one shot!! I had never thought it would have been so well received by fans and writers! I am very amused by everyone's reactions and thoughts on the one shot — everyone is wanting blood and redemption for our poor reader. And she will! This chapter is a segway/filler chapter — but still important. It's still angsty, don't worry. This one shot will probably become a 3 part series. I know in that voting poll I had done asked if you guys wanted a 5k chapter, rather than a 2- 2k chapters, but I wanted to leave you guys with one more chapter to look forward to! Please look forward to it!

Part One | Part Three | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

“You had abandoned my emissary, disregarded her sight and had her take her own life in your Court… And for what? Your mate’s sister’s powers?!” Helion was fuming, amber eyes staring the High Lord of Night down, “And that her mate — - “a growl escaped his lips, as he glanced at the Spymaster next to Rhysand, “Had cheated on her for said sister?!”

The High Lord of Day’s voice echoed throughout the throne room, shaking its very walls at the allegation of what had happen within the wards of the Night Court. Helion’s fingers gripped the edge of the large round table, his claws causing the wood to splint underneath his fingertips.

“And now… you are telling me that her body disappeared?” his voice deathly low, “That your Spymaster’s shadows had whisked her body away to — God-knows-where… That, that child, never had never had a proper burial?!”

Rhysand couldn’t utter a single word against the claims placed against him and his Court — he couldn’t when everything that Helion had roared was true.

“… Show me…” Helion hissed, focusing at his old friend, “Show us what had happened that day…”

Rhysand gulped, staring at Helion before glancing around the table towards the High Lords of Pyrthian. All of them staring him down before all felt the claws of Rhysand's power creeping in their minds, images of that day of your death playing in their minds — all of them watching the confrontation between the Inner Circle and you — on how you were cornered and betrayed, leading up to your very death.

He hated it. Rhysand not only relived that that multiple times during his dreams — where he had failed you. He now had to relieve it while he was awake. Hearing your pleads and cries for him to listen to your visions, and seeing your body dying on that marble floor — to watch it be taken away by tendrils of shadow.

Once the memory came to pass, sobs echoed throughout the room. Helion being the loudest as he ran a hand down his face, his form shaking in his seat. Rhysand glanced towards his Inner Circle, watching his family relive that moment as well; eyes focusing on Azriel, who gripped the arms of his chair as his face wrinkled in anguish at the memory.

It had been a month ever since your death, a month since the sliver of shadows that once served the Spymaster had taken your body away — unknown to even Azriel on where they had brought your body to. And a month ever since more and more whispers of Koschei’s resurrection echoed throughout the Courts. The Death-God’s power vibrating throughout all of Pyrthian — it was difficult to not miss.

The High Lords gathered in Day Court to strategize on the impending danger of the Death-God. However, it was no secret on what had happened in the wards of Night Court. The loss of your light present throughout all of Pyrthian — every High Lord felt it.

Especially Helion.

He wanted nothing more to hurt and maim every member of the Inner Circle; but that wasn’t the purpose of this meeting — though he wanted it to be.

Helion reigned in his emotions, trying to calm the rage that boiled in his blood. Trying to clam the sadness he felt for the loss of you. He straightened up in his chair, letting out a shaky breath, looking back at the Night Court High Lord.

“… I regret that I ever had sent (Y/N) to your Court, Rhysand,” his tone small and disappointed, “Her powers were wasted on you and your Court. A Seer taking their life, being betrayed by the people she called her family,” His head shaking, a laugh, one so loud and so sarcastic escaping his chest that it echoed in throne room, startling the other High Lords, making Rhysand flinch in his seat. “What a damn found family you made. Betraying one’s mate, betraying a person who had served you for five-hundred fucking years over a female who barely has control over her own powers.”

Amber eyes darted to Elain, as he watched her flinch back, hiding behind the eldest Archeron sister, “What prophecy have you seen now?” the sarcasm very evident in his tone, “Have you seen what (Y/N) has seen? Have you seen the resurrection of Kosechi, as well? Your powers are nothing compared to (Y/N)’s.”

“How dare you talk to someone in my Court like — -” Rhysand started.

“You have no right to challenge me in my own Court, Rhysand!” Helion bellowed, hands slamming on the table, standing up as he glared at his once-called friend, “Do you realize what you have done?! Do you realize why there hasn’t been a Seer in millennials? Why (Y/N) has been the only recorded Seer in the history of Pyrthian? Because Seers have been hunted — by Fae, humans and Gods alike. They are so sought after, for their power, for the knowledge, for their sight. Seers have the power to uncover what is hidden, lurking in the darkness. They are the very light that unveils the darkness. They have been hunted to be exterminated for that very power…”

It had been the very reason why Helion had taken you in when you were a child, guarded carefully in the Day Court. To ensure the prosper of your power, the prosper of your light.

Amber eyes darted around the table, eyes staring at the High Lords that had situated themselves in this very room, listening to his tale before they stared back at Rhysand, “You, being the powerfullest High Lord if all of Pyrthian should have known that. And now, her body, one filled with Unknown-God-and Cauldron bound powers is missing…”

A huff escaped his lips in exasperation as he sat down back into his seat, “Her body should be buried here, in my Court, where she rightfully belongs to. But, no. And none of us could properly pray respects for the loss of her light…”

It was no secret that Helion had a soft spot for you. You were like his child, raising you since you were small, watching you grow and become a bright light within the Day Court. He knew how your light felt, how he basked in it as if it was the sun that radiated overhead.

And so when he had woken up that night in cold sweat, feeling the vanishing of your light — he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

“… — Helion…” Feyre tentatively called out to him, “You said her body is Cauldron bound? What do you mean by that?”

The Day High Lord glanced at the High Lady, staring her down before he nodded his head once. Leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand, “That’s what both myself and (Y/N) believe. (Y/N) is one the strongest Seers I have met in my life, those few Seers that I have encountered, ones that have wanted to remain hidden, are no match to (Y/N)’s powers. Your little Cauldon-Made Seer is no match for her either,” he sneered at the middle Archeron sister.

"There has been little records of Seers in Prythian, we all know that. Not even my libraries had enough information about them and their powers. But, despite that, (Y/N) was able to hone into her powers with little instructions… You know that she doesn’t just see the future, she was able to see what was happening now. She was able to focus on parts of Pyrthian and tell me what is and what will happen.

“But during the war with Hybern, much like when Nesta felt the Cauldron, (Y/N) felt it too. We didn’t know why, but we realized she and the Cauldron were somewhat connected. Whether it be the Cauldron was reason why she has her visions or if the Cauldron was the source of her power, they were bound. A natural connection between the two of them. And when the Cauldron broke, (Y/N) had told me she felt the Cauldron’s power sought refuge with her, as if the Cauldron sought her light.

“After the war, she had asked for my opinion — she felt the remnants of the Cauldron’s power tingling through her. She told me she saw more visions, visions of the far off future that she had no idea when would happen, and that her powers were starting to become out of her control. She was starting to lose herself in her powers, lose her mind to it… I didn’t know how to help her…”

The Inner Circle remembered, weeks after the end of the war, (Y/N) had asked if she could return to Day Court for a few weeks. Rhysand had let her, thinking it was not important. Azriel, too, didn’t question on her reason why she wanted to leave.

It was when they started to not care. When they started to focus their attention to Elain — the Seer that had defeated the King of Hybern.

Helion let out a broken laugh, staring at the Inner Circle, “I’m sure you never knew, did you? On how broken she started to be after the war. You never knew how her sleep was plagued with visions, that she couldn’t even close her eyes without images flashing behind them. Of how she sobbed in bed, wondering if she was in a dream or reality. She couldn’t differentiate anymore… And you…” eyes focusing on Azriel, “You never felt her pain because you put up a wall between your mating bond. Did you know, Azriel…”

The Day High Lord’s tone was seething, remembering those day.

“Did you know, how she cried for you? She begged down the bond for you to come and help. Wanting your protection, wanting to help sooth the pain she had felt? Wanting you just to be there? But all she could feel was the wall you placed, ignoring her… abandoning her when she needed all of you the most…

“I sent her back, hoping that all of you would help. I sent her back with sleeping tonics, hoping to help her with her sleep. Hoping that her family and mate would help her through her toughest time. Hoping that you all would see her. But I can see that never happened. That no matter how much she begged for you all to listen to her visions, to see her in pain, you ignored,” his voice was laced with anger, disappointment.

No one said a word. The air in the room tense and dense at the revelation that Helion lamented. No one knew of what you had gone through.

Azriel felt his his heart burn in his chest, as if his siphons were burning his skin — he felt the remnants of the broken mating bond in his chest, aching more at Helion’s words.

He didn’t know, he didn’t see, he didn’t feel the pain you were going through. He had ignored the tug of the bond when he had that wall up. He had been too infatuated with the middle Archeron sister, wanting her to feel belonged in their Court — all the while alienating the person who had been with him through thick and thin.

And, yet, he couldn’t do the same for you.

Bright blue eyes closed as Feyre silently mourned and apologized to the Heavens, to the night sky where you might have been.

But she realized on the implications of what had Helion had told them — that you might have been the Cauldron-bound object that Koschei needed to escape that lake.

She looked up at Rhysand, and he to her as they communicated down the bond. Both of them realizing what could happen.

The gesture wasn’t missed by Helion as he watched them, waiting for them to explain what they might have discovered. However, when they did not say anything, a growl escaped his chest.

“What is it?”

Feyre and Rhysand looked at the Day High Lord, hesitance shown in their features, “… It’s about what (Y/N) had told us. You all saw it in that memory…”

Helion thought, playing the memory back as he watched remembered your face, the anguish of your features shining through his head, listening to your words — your vision of what might pass.

“… That Koschei needed something from the Cauldron to be released from the lake,” Lucien pointed out from his spot next to Helion, the russete eye looking at Elain before back to Feyre.

“What if…” Tarquin mumbled, “…Koschei found (Y/N)’s body? If you and (Y/N) knew of the connection to the Cauldron, that the Cauldron sought her power. He could use her body to be freed from that lake.”

Helion looked at the Summer High Lord, amber eyes wide at the realization, “… If that were to come to pass, we would be doomed. (Y/N)’s body is probably soaked in Cauldron powers. It would be so easy for Koschei to be freed, and no one would ever notice. It is not impossible, but since (Y/N)’s body has disappeared, it is possible for her to have fallen into his clutches.”

Kallias, in the mist of the conversation, was watching, observing, the only remaining Seer in the room. He leaned forward, bright blue hues staring the Made-Fae, as he rested both arms on the table, “Have you had any visions?”

Heads turned towards the High Lord of Winter at his question. It did not phase him, as he continued, ”I heard from your High Lady that you rarely said anything about your visions, since the Cauldron broke. So do tell us, what have you seen about the Death-God?” If she had her powers still, a Seer would be still useful in this situation.

Elain visibly swallowed, as all attention was on her once more. Brown eyes frantically glanced around the table, over to her sisters and then to Azriel who both looked at her expectedly.

A heartbeat later, and the Middle Archeron sister knew that she couldn't lie.

She shook her head, “I have not seen anything… since the Cauldron broke…” her words nothing but a whisper in the wind.

It was as if a pin dropped on marble floors, the silence in the room was penetrating.

A laugh broke the silence. Eris’ shook his in disbelief on the drama they were hearing, “So you’re telling us, you have been lying about having your powers. And that (Y/N), who has actually seen those visions had taken her life?” he glared at the middle Archeron sister, “For what? Because you needed a position in the Night Court? So that you can gain the Spymaster’s affection? To bed him?”

Elain shook her head again, brown eyes desperate as she tried to catch eye with her family, with Nesta, who just looked away, brows furrowed with anguish, “… I just wanted to be useful…” she whispered in fear, slumping down in her chair, “My powers… were the only thing that made me feel like I belonged… But I didn’t have them, and… I just, didn’t want to lose my family.”

“And yet, you were willing to let (Y/N) lose her family, her mate… and her life. Just to keep your own,” Thesan expressed, "That selfishness will be the downfall of Pyrthian."

Elain flinched at the truth thrown onto her face, eyes down-casting, silence taking over her form.

Before anyone could reprimand Elain for her actions, the grand doors slammed open, a dark mist blowing throughout the room. Frightened and confused screams echoed through the room.

Helion stood up, using his power of light to dissipate the darkness that tried to cover the room. Amber eyes glowed as he watched as a cloaked figure float into the room.

Eyes watched the cloaked figure as it settled its form onto the floor, bare pale feet touching the marble.

“… I would think… that if the Pyrthian High Lords would gather… they would invite a God to their meeting. But I guess, manners do not exist in this world…” the voice was grating and brittle.

The hood swept, as if eyes inside were looking at all the High Lords that were now standing up, all attention to him.

A eerie chuckle escaped the hooded figure, spiny fingers grasping the edge before slipping it down. White hair and black eyes were revealed, pale, sickly skin glowed underneath the darkness that had surrounded him.

The figure bowed, a mocking gesture to the High Lords.

“It seems, that you are unaware of who you are being greeted by…” a boney finger raised up and pointed towards Nesta, the eldest sister stiffening, “Though I’m quite sure you do, dearest sister…” he grinned at her.

Nesta gulped and looked at the uninvited guest. She knew who would greet her like that — only the Death Caver has echoed the same words, “You’re Koschei… aren’t you…”

Koschei grinned wider, head tilting to the side as he stepped forward, laughing as the High Lords ready themselves for a battle with the Death-God.

“Oh don’t be so tense, my High Lords…” he mockingly commented, sweeping a hand, “Please sit… Do not stop your meeting for dear little old me. Though it is such an honor for you to do so.”

He rounded the table, eyes making contact with each of the High Lord, black eyes sweeping over their forms before he stopped before Rhysand.

Violet hues and black sockets stared at each other.

“Though I do have to thank you, High Lord of the Night… You have gifted me the precious gift of life. Though, it was through the loss of one of your own… You might have known her. Cared for her… Loved her…” Koschei looked at Azriel whose hazel eyes burned at the Death-God.

He let out a low laugh.

Tarquin’s assumption was right — the Death-God had used your body to free himself from the lake, right underneath their noses. No one felt it, no one knew. And it had been too late to do anything about it; months too late to prevent the resurrection, months too late to find your missing body, months too late of not listening to you.

Koschei looked behind him, far past the grand windows, the familiar cry of the bird of fire and ash echoing through the lands of Day Court, heading towards them — Vassa had come to stop the sorcerer-lord from his destruction.

However, before she landed on the balcony, an arrow, made of shadow and darkness struck her, causing the great bird to plummet to the land beneath her.

Lucien gasped and ran towards the balcony, peering down to see if the mortal queen had survived the fall; but there was no sign of the cursed queen anywhere below.

“What a dramatic entry by Vassa, as always…” Koschei said with a sigh, before another chuckle escaped his lips, dark eyes boring into the empty spot beside him, “Don’t you think… (Y/N)?”

All heads snapped towards the Deathless God, your name slipping from his lips, as they watched a swirl of darkness materialized a familiar figure. Azriel watched, hazel eyes wide as he took in your form, whisps of shadows that had whirled around you — his shadows, one that had abandoned him ever since your death.

“…(Y/N)…” Azriel whispered in disbelief, his voice shaking.

There you stood, next to the Death-God, very much alive.

Very much like a Death-God yourself.

And it echoed in your outfit — tendrils of shadow made up your dress, covering you from head to toe, fluttering near your feet as if a gown swayed by the wind. In your hands, a bow and arrow made of those shadows — the very bow that had struck Vassa down from her flight.

That was where Azriel’s shadows had gone to — leaving him, following you to your death, and making you someone completely different.

Someone that was going to be the downfall of Pyrthian itself.

Tagging: @cleverzonkwombatsludge, @setayeshmohseni, @kindasleepycryptid, @f4iry-bell, @woodland-mist, @kalulakunundrum, @topaz125, @thelov3lybookworm, @hnyclover, @harrystylesfan2686, @anuttellaa, @ithan-holstroms-girl, @judig92, @venuseuripedis, @fairywriter-oracle, @thehighlordishere, @acourtofbatboydreams, @willowpains, @historygreekqueen, @dr4g0ngirl, @ayme301, @kemillyfreitas, @crazylokonugget, @abysshaven, @michaelharrypotter, @naturakaashi, @kittenbi, @namelesssav, @guiltyreader, @awkardnerd, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @quackitysdrugdealer, @thesunloveschips, @brieflyclassymortal, @justdreamstars, @isa1b2h3, @himesuedi, @fxckmiup, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @t0uch-starved-h0e, @mybestfriendmademe

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #acotar angst #acotar x reader #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #( .one shot : pushed to the edge ) #acotar fanfic #azriel angst #helion acotar #eris vanserra #rhysand #feyre archeron

[strawbeerossi]

Only Friends

Pairing: Gender Neutral!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You and Spencer are best friends who act like anything but.

Content/Warnings: Oblivious mutual pining, kissing, lap sitting, teasing friends, cute little love confession at the end.

Word Count: 1.3K

Anon Request: hiii oki req (if u want pls take ur time) i think this is prob OOC butttttt spence + reader being in love and they don’t even realize it but they still kiss/ cuddle when they hang out and stuff and just say “we’re really close is all” “best friends kiss!” and stuff..

Navigation || Criminal Minds Masterlist || Request

🏷️ @kr-1-sta @iluvreid @nervousmoongiver @multifandom-on-the-side @ferrjulie

Affection in friendships aren’t always the same. Some friends hugged, some friends rarely talked yet maintained a healthy friendship, some friends even showed the smallest bit of intimacy due to their comfortability.

You and Spencer were just a tad different. You two would cuddle, share brief pecks on the lips, as well as sometimes shower together whenever you were in a rush on a case and got a brief break.

It wasn’t anything inherently romantic or sexual, just something that came easy. The team was highly convinced you both had a secret relationship. Which was fair enough, however no matter how many explanations, they never seemed to be enough.

Tonight the team was having a small watch party for a new show at Penelope’s apartment. She’d been so desperate for the team to have something like a show they watched together, or special games to play together. Nobody could really say no.

You had arrived with a handful of snacks just an hour prior, helping one of your favorite coworkers set up her apartment for the night ahead. As expected, it turned from you helping to the bubbly blonde interrogating you over the aspect of a potential relationship.

“We aren’t dating, Pen.” Your head shook as you were filling a bowl with pretzels, taking it to the table in order to place it in the available space surrounded by other snacks. “I saw you guys kiss before you left the office yesterday! What kind of friends kiss each other on the lips?? If this is normal, we need to make Derek aware because I am missing out.” Penelope huffed out of frustration. “Mark my words, I will get to the bottom of this. When I find out that you are secretly dating, I will bring all of the hurt!” The blonde held up her fist while narrowing her eyes in your direction.

By the grace of all things holy, it wasn’t long until the team had slowly begun to show up. There were no more interrogations, not yet anyway. As everyone was piling up on the couch, there was very limited room for you as you walked out of the kitchen. “Fuck.” You groaned, arms crossed. “I am not sitting on the floor!”

“You can sit with me.” Spencer spoke up from his spot at the far end of the couch, his shoulders shrugging as his hand patted his thighs to offer you the spot in his lap. “Come on! This is a family friendly show! None of that.” Emily groaned, which had you rolling your eyes as you were heading over to sit yourself on your best friend’s lap.

“It’s not a big deal.” You protested her dramatics while your body was leaning into Spencer’s chest, your body snuggling closer to his as the show began at its scheduled time. However instead of enjoying the programme, you were too busy ignoring all the curious stares from your friends. “Come on!” You huffed while pushing yourself to sit up. “What is the big deal? You’re all staring like we are animals in a zoo.” In all honesty, you were annoyed with the way people stared. You were friends, doing platonic things.

“Look. Kid, I hate to say it but you two are definitely a little too close for what friends should be. What kind of friends do you know that kiss each other? And yes, I know, they are pecks. I’m just saying.” Derek put his hands up as he broke the silence.

“It’s not a crime to have a crush on one another or to date one another.” JJ added soon after while letting her shoulders shrug. “We aren’t dating though.” Spencer confirmed everything you’ve been preaching while looking at the group in confusion. “Spencer, you haven’t eaten any snacks tonight because all of our hands have been in the bowl. It makes no sense to me that you’d kiss her considering the mouth has like a bajillion germs.” Penelope added.

“Well, the mouth has over a billion different germs and we don’t know the exact amount.” He corrected as he looked up at you for help. “I assumed we were normal?” He spoke up while you nodded in agreement. “I thought we were, too.” You huffed while leaning against his chest.

“It’s not even the hugging, kissing, and lap sitting. You guys just look so head over heels from an outside perspective. I mean, you hang out together all the time, you always room together, plus you guys go out on dates. You may not look at it that way but come on. You are both profilers. How do you not pick up on how you feel about one another?” Emily asked while frowning softly.

The more they were talking and giving actual points, the more you were thinking over the course of your friendship with Spencer. You’d always been close, even after your first initial meeting when you joined the team. You could remember how shocked the team was because the typically quiet and socially awkward genius was the first one to welcome you. You’d managed to become close friends over the course of two weeks. The first time Spencer even hugged you was after a case where he’d been put in harm's way. He came to you for comfort. You.

The first time you started your pecks on the lips, it was due to a complete accident when you tried to kiss his cheek but his head turned to face you. It just seemed.. Right. No matter how flustered you both were or how you felt butterflies in your belly, you just dismissed it. You being lost in thought was concerning enough for Spencer. “Hey. Do you wanna step outside?” His voice pulled you out of your thoughts, your head nodding. “Yeah, please head out with me.”

He helped you to your feet before his hand was gently holding yours, leading you out of the room.

“How much do you wanna bet that they are gonna actually kiss out there?” Aaron spoke up after being silent a majority of the night, the team turning to the unit chief who normally wouldn’t have inserted himself. “I’ll take those odds,” Derek smirked while getting his wallet.

Out in the hallway, you had your arms crossed as you looked away from Spencer. “I know that we are best friends and I promise you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. I just really want you to tell me one thing,” You spoke while turning your head back to face him. “Did you ever, at any point, have feelings for me? Be honest.”

The words had Spencer’s face bright red, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’ve always thought you were amazing.” He spoke while offering a shy smile. “I just didn’t want things to get weird. I like our friendship and the relationship that we have isn’t something that could be ruined. Dating friends can get messy and.. I don’t wanna live a life without you in it. I can’t even fathom a reality where you aren’t here.” He responded.

“So you did?”

“Y-yeah. I just didn’t want-”

Your hands were gripping his upper arms while you were gently shaking him. “Why didn’t you say anything?!” You asked while staring at him with wide eyes. “I’ve always been fond of you!” You added, his surprised look making you laugh softly. “God. How are we profilers?”

“You know, I’m not so sure. I think we are rusty.” Spencer responded, a little chuckle leaving his lips. “So.. Is there a chance? You know.. Us?” He asked softly while you nodded. “I do think there’s a good chance.” You responded while Spencer sighed in relief. “So it won’t be weird if I do this.”

“Do what?”

His hands were gently cupping your cheeks, taking every opportunity to press his lips against yours, much different than you were both used to but it carried the same feeling as all the little pecks have all this time. It was right. Like you were meant to be together.

“I’m pretty sure they are running bets. Do we tell them we kissed or pretend like nothing happened?”

“I want Derek to lose his money in that scenario, so let’s not tell them yet.” Spencer chuckled.

#spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid scenario #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff

[radiosteve]

I Knew You

Summary: You and Steve Harrington have hated each other ever since sixth grade, which made living next door to him all the more miserable. It hadn't always been like that though, shared smiles and loving gestures in secret before popularity went to his head. But now, Steve somehow keeps finding ways to squeeze himself back into your life, making you question if the boy you once knew, the one you might have loved, still lived somewhere within him.

Note: Its been a bit since I last posted, but I had this idea and really wanted to write it. I'm currently drowning with work and school stuff for my masters so my next fic might take a hot minute and will definitely be shorter. This takes place in the fall after season 4 and both Eddie and Max survived with minimal injuries. It’s also partially inspired by Cardigan by Taylor Swift, hence the lyrics as chapter titles. This ended up being way longer than I intended for it to be, but I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, no use of y/n (reader is referred to as Baby), smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), enemies to lovers, language, mentions of blood/injuries, some cannon divergence, fluff, angst, slowburn.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 30.5k (I got carried away)

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time

The last salt of the summer air lazed its way through the breeze, picking up the fresh fallen leaves with it. There wasn’t enough foliage on the ground to worry about raking them just yet, but it still brought a chill down your spine at the thought of autumn’s rapid approach. You were sitting on the window bench in your room with a book in your hands and your back against the wall as the breeze floated through the open window, making the curtains dance despite being drawn back. It was a moment of quiet, something you desperately needed.

You were lost in words on the page before you, taking them in sentence after sentence, until the loud slam of a door interrupted your trance. The sound of the door was followed by singing, loud and obnoxious singing. More specifically, Steve Harrington’s loud and obnoxious singing. He had just strolled into his room, playing air guitar along to whatever metal song he was bellowing. A metal song that you presumed Eddie had played so many times on the tape player in his van that it somehow ingrained itself into Steve’s pop-hits brain. 

You sighed, shaking your head to try and brush off the noise as if this was a daily occurrence. Well, it almost was, in some form or another. You lived next door to Steve Harrington for as long as you could remember. Your bedroom windows faced each other too, allowing each of you to gain small, often unwelcome, glimpses into the other’s life. Just about every girl in school had come up to you at least once to tell you how lucky you were to have such an easy way to see Steve Harrington. Then they’d always proceed to ask if they could join you for a sleepover at your house, no doubt just to get a chance to spy on the boy in his natural habitat. 

Your eyes flitted back down to the page, stuck on the same sentence ever since your ears were met with the unwelcome disturbance that was Steve Harrington’s singing. He’d moved on from singing to vocalizing the song’s guitar solo, which was somehow even more annoying. Steve’s arms moved wildly up and down his fake guitar as he banged his head up and down. If you weren’t so annoyed you’d honestly be impressed by the amount of endurance Steve’s performance surely required. But you were annoyed. Annoyed enough to finally speak up. 

“Do you constantly have to make so much noise or do you just like to hear the sound of your own voice?” your remark rang out through the open window, trickling through the air to reach Steve’s room. You didn’t look up from your book, doing your best to look unbothered. Steve stopped singing and thrashing about. His heavy breaths evened out slightly before he responded, slowly approaching the window sill.

“Do you constantly have a stick up your ass or do you just like to pretend that you do?” your eyes widened at that, putting your book to the side as you turned to face the window, to face Steve. He had a smirk on his lips, one that you were more than familiar with by now. It was the smirk he flashed each time he said something that he knew would piss you off. Quite frankly, it was the expression you were most familiar with seeing Steve wear at this point in your life. 

“If there’s a stick up my ass then it's only because you put it there,” it was a lame comeback. You knew it. Steve knew it. But they can’t all be winners. You winced as the words fell from your lips, waiting for Steve’s retaliation, which was sure to be unsavory.

“I don’t recall ever doing that. But Baby, if you bend over I’d be more than happy to oblige,” Steve's smirk grew wider. Whether it was the stupid nickname or the sexual nature of his response that caused the flash of his pearly teeth, you didn’t know. However, you did know that you hated it, all of it. You hated that you constantly walked right into his dumb little comebacks. You hated that he seemingly had an endless supply of them just for you. You hated the day that the stupid nickname was ever aimed in your direction and you hated that Steve Harrington was the one to do it. 

It was late September 1978. Summer was still putting up a fight, albeit a weak one, to keep its warmth in the air. It had rained the night before, washing away the fresh fallen leaves to get stuck in the gutters along the roof or in the storm drains beside the narrow streets. School had only started back up a few weeks ago, and somehow, Steve found himself climbing the popularity ranks. It was a big deal for a sixth grader who’d only just begun his journey at Hawkins Middle to be so admired so fast, but Steve was already starting to see people worship the ground he walked on. He liked the idea of it, that he could waltz through the door of some place and up and run it so soon. His dad always said that the Harringtons were winners, and Steve knew he would be nothing if he disappointed his dad. 

Steve was walking to school that morning, Tommy and Carol to his left as a group full of his classmates followed closely behind. It was as if Steve had his very own entourage. They were a few blocks from the school when he saw it, a bike abandoned on the grass next to the sidewalk. There was a backpack beside it too, laying face down as if it had been thrown off in haste. It didn’t take long for Steve to realize why the bike before him looked so familiar. It was the same one he had seen you on almost every day that summer. The bike you rode to the library, to Lover’s Lake, to the movie theater, to the quarry. As long as it was a place with a good story waiting to be watched or read, or a quiet environment to immerse yourself in a good book, someone was sure to find you there with that bike. 

Steve panicked for a moment, preparing himself to run to the police station and report that you had been kidnapped. But then he looked up. You were hunched over the sidewalk a few yards up, picking at something on the surface of the cement. Steve’s legs moved, the others following, and stopped once again, this time only a few feet from where you sat on the sidewalk. Steve’s brows furrowed as he looked down, finally getting a good look at what you were doing. 

You sat there, slowly and gently peeling the dried worms from the sidewalk. Then you parted the grass next to the sidewalk, putting the worm down to get it as close to the soil as possible. Steve watched you curiously as you moved on to the next worm. It was then that the breeze picked up a bit, shifting away the hair that covered your face. Steve saw it, the tear tracks running down your cheeks as you struggled with the worms that Steve was sure were already dead. A few chuckles sounded from the group behind Steve, and suddenly he remembered that it was not just you and him on that sidewalk.

You too had suddenly become aware of your audience then, head snapping up to see the group in front of you. Your eyes landed on Steve. His expression was etched with empathy, an emotion Steve still held onto no matter how much Tommy tried to strip it from him in his sudden rise to king status. At that moment you didn’t care about the others or the tears that still leaked down your soft cheeks. You cared about the poor worms that stuck to the sidewalk. Your gaze landed on Steve, appealing to the boy who lived beside you for so many years.

“The rain,” you sniffled and Steve’s heart ached at the sound. He’d seen you cry before, as he was sure you had seen him cry too, through the cracks in the curtains obscuring bedroom windows. Each time Steve had to stop himself from marching over to your house and wrapping you in a comforting hug. It was an urge that he still had to repress, even here and now. “The rain cools down the sidewalk and the worms like to come out onto it. But it- it’s not raining anymore. It's too hot for them now. They- they’re burning alive,” fresh tears fell, replacing the old ones. They ran races against each other, fighting to be the first to drip off of your chin and onto the cement below. Steve’s mouth opened, but he was cut off by the boy beside him.

“Whatever, worm girl. Just move out of the way so we can get to school,” Tommy’s words rang through the air, the entourage laughing at you from behind him. Steve could picture it now, you’d spend the rest of middle and high school deemed as the worm girl. You’d hide in all of your classes, eat lunch by yourself in the library, and ignore the taunts that echoed throughout the hallway. Worm girl, worm girl, worm girl. You’d leave Hawkins the day after graduation, a car full of boxes, your life packed up and tucked away in each, and you’d never return. You’d start a new life in a new city that only knows you by your real name, not some playground-esque tease that stupid Tommy Hagan awarded you in 6th grade. You’d be happy there, build a place you could call home, find your one true love, and Steve would never see you again. 

Steve had to stop this now. He had to bury the name worm girl in the ground before it could ever fully emerge. And there was only one way that Steve’s prepubescent brain could think how. Your eyes flickered from Tommy before landing back on Steve, willing him to say something, to defend you. Maybe that was too much to ask.

“Damn, that was lame. Worm girl, really? Are we five?” Steve pulled his gaze from yours. He couldn’t bear to see the look of hope that blossomed in your eyes. Not with what he was about to say next. “I mean, if anything, we should call her Baby since she’s crying like one,” small giggles sounded off behind Steve before being overtaken by full-blown giggles and laughs. And there it was. Steve’s master plan had come to fruition. Replace a bad nickname with a not-as-bad nickname. It wasn’t a great plan, he knew that, especially when he saw the scrunch of your brows and the quiver of your bottom lip, but it was the best that Steve’s 11-year-old thoughts could conjure on such short notice. And Baby really wasn’t that bad. It's a term of endearment for Christ's sake. Or at least that’s what Steve would tell himself.

Tommy laughed from beside Steve, throwing an arm over Carol and guiding her to walk around you. The others followed, hurling a few taunting calls of ‘Baby’ at you as they walked by. You looked back down at the ground, refocusing yourself on the task at hand, ignoring the cracks running along the foundations of your heart. Maybe Steve wasn’t the same boy you had grown up with. Maybe his middle school fame had gone to his head more than you thought it would. More than you hoped it would.

You had just freed another dried worm from its place on the sidewalk when you saw it. A pair of Nikes in front of you. Steve Harrington’s pair of Nikes. He hadn’t gone with the others. It was like he was rooted to the spot. You placed the worm into the depths of the grass, tilting your head to look up at the boy towering over you.

“Screw you, Steve,” you spoke harshly, doing your best to let venom lace your words despite the shake in your voice. Steve didn’t say anything back. He just crouched down in front of you, gently picking up the last worm from the sidewalk. He copied what you had done, parting the grass to place the worm close to the damp earth below. Steve stood up then, walking back to the group that had now passed you, heading towards the school. They hadn’t even noticed he was gone. 

Steve rejoined them, sticking to the back of the group to not draw attention to his momentary absence. He looked back at you then, finding you with your head turned over your shoulder, already gazing at him with confusion plastered across your face. He shot you a soft smile, one that he had typically reserved just for you. It only lasted a moment, but for that moment you were more perplexed than before.

In that smile was Steve. The Steve. The one that had plaid wallpaper in his room and hand-drawn pictures of cars taped to the walls (some that you had drawn for him). He was the boy who had a slew of green army men sitting on his window sill, the same ones that he had given you. They sat pointing towards the street out front, and never ever at you. They protected both of your rooms. The soldiers protected them from monsters, wizards, ghosts, and disappointed parents. At that moment, Steve was the boy next door who left messages taped to his window for you to see. The boy who stayed a few paces behind your bike after school to make sure you got home safely. He was the boy who promised to love you always before placing a peck on your lips when you were both five. He was the boy you knew, not the one who humiliated you in front of his friends. 

But the moment ended. The smile dropped from Steve’s face as quickly as it had appeared. He turned his head back around, putting more and more distance between the two of you. You watched him for a moment longer until you finally managed to tear your gaze from his retreating figure. You moved then, leaning over the grass to see the worm that Steve had placed there, worried that he left it too high up. Most of the worms were dead long before you got there, you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from trying to help them. All the worms in the grass were lifeless and unmoving despite your efforts. All except one. It was the worm Steve had placed there.

You jumped into action then, using your fingers to dig a hole in the dirt. As quickly as you could, you placed the worm into the hole, covering it with the fresh soil. Its tail poked out just a bit and you watched with bated breath as it slowly retracted, moving deeper into the ground below. You glanced up at the sidewalk again, expecting to still see Steve in the distance, but he was gone. Over the hill and out of your eye line, just like the worm. 

“Don’t call me that,” you bit through gritted teeth and Steve just laughed. His stupid, obnoxious, loud laugh. The one that warned you that danger was near anytime you heard it in the hallway in high school. 

“Would you prefer I call you something else?” Steve pondered dramatically, bringing a finger to his lip and glancing up as if he were trying to remember something. “Maybe worm-” Steve began, a look of anger more prominent on your face now.

“Fuck you, Steve,” you cut him off before he could finish his taunt. He was about to say something else, no doubt another snarky comment that you could definitely afford to miss. It was about to spring from his lips when Steve was met with the sound of your window slamming shut. You locked it too, pulling the curtains closed and retreating to your bed, no longer in the mood to read. Steve stared at the purple curtains now blocking his view of you. Oh, how he hated that specific shade, knowing that they were the only thing keeping him from gazing at you. 

Steve closed his window too, locking it the same as you had. But he kept his curtains open, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of you later. The hand-drawn cars that once lined his walls were replaced by movie posters, ones he had gotten for free from work. He still had the army men littered along the window sill though. Most of them had been knocked over on their sides and Steve never bothered to pick them back up. They pointed at your room now, though Steve never intended for them to do so, unlike you who had purposefully aimed your soldiers at Steve’s window no more than a few days after Wormageddon.

Steve sat back on his bed, laying down and placing his arms under his head. He’d made you mad. Gotten you all riled up, just as he had planned from the second you opened your mouth. So why did he not feel better right now? Why did his stomach hurt and his heart refused to rest? This battle was over. The war waged on but this was still a victory worth noting in the imaginary books. He hadn’t gotten the final word but he still won nonetheless. Isn’t that what he was supposed to do? He was a Harrington after all, and Harringtons were winners. Right? 

But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss

The sun crept along the horizon, unwilling to give in to the moon just yet. Orange and pink illuminated your room through the open curtains. You sat at your vanity, applying a final layer of gloss to your lips before smacking them together. Unbeknownst to you, Steve had been watching you through the window. He admired the effort you took while getting ready, although he knew you didn’t need it. Steve would never admit it, he’d repressed it for far too long, but he thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. 

You turned towards your closet, digging through it to find a pair of shoes that matched your outfit. Steve couldn’t help the clawing desire to know what you were getting ready for. There weren’t any parties that he knew of that night. Maybe you were hanging out with Nancy and Robin. He couldn’t imagine why you’d need to get dressed up for that though. Steve wished your window was open. He would lean on his window sill, asking about your plans for the evening. He’d say it in that snarky Steve Harrington way. The way he knew would elicit an eye roll in response. But maybe you’d give in and tell him. Maybe you’d invite him to go with you. Or maybe Steve was letting fantasy mix with reality.

A car horn sounded from outside, pulling Steve from his thoughts with a jump. He didn’t realize he was still standing at his window staring at you. At least he hadn’t until you rushed to your window, trying to get a glimpse of the vehicle out front. Your eyes locked with Steve’s then and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush. You brushed it off, refocusing on why you had come to the window in the first place. Parked on the street in front of your house sat a van. A beat-up, rusty, falling apart at the seams, van. Steve’s gaze followed yours, also noticing the van below. A van he was more than familiar with at this point. 

You bent over, pulling on your shoes as quickly as you could before rushing out of your room and down the stairs. Steve jumped into action then, doing the same from within his own house. He burst out the front door just in time to see you grabbing for the handle of the van’s passenger side door. Steve peered through the windshield getting a glance of the unruly curls that rested on Eddie Munson’s head. You hopped into the van and Eddie looked up, seeing Steve cut through his yard and head towards the van. You fastened your seatbelt and looked up, also catching sight of the boy rapidly approaching you.

“Eddie, please drive. Like right now,” you turned to the boy next to you. Your voice came out shaky and desperate. Definitely not the commanding tone you’d hoped for.

“Sorry, princess. Gotta see what the hair is so adamantly chasing us for,” Eddie shrugged and you groaned, throwing your head back. Unfortunately that only made Eddie laugh at you.

“If you leave right now, I’ll do anything you ask for the rest of the night,” you pleaded, clasping your hands together to beg.

“As tempting as that sounds, it’s a bit too late,” Eddie points to the window behind you. You turn, seeing Steve standing next to your window, hand raised in a wave. Eddie leaned over, arm reaching across your lap to crank the window down, because he knew damn well that you wouldn’t do it. Not when Steve was standing on the other side at least.

“You’re like a goddamn jumpscare. I hope you know that Harrington,” you spoke, folding your arms over your chest as Eddie retreated back to his side of the van. He could identify the hint of jealousy on Steve’s face all too well. It was the same look Steve wore anytime a guy got too close to you or made you smile a bit wider than normal. Eddie was well aware of Steve’s complicated feelings for you, even though Steve sure as hell wasn’t.

“Whatcha up to? I thought you were staying home tonight?” Steve asked Eddie, resting his hands against the van’s door. He was close to you, too close. You leaned back in your seat, putting more space between the two of you.

“Well, now I’m not,” Eddie shot Steve a cheeky smile and Steve just blinked in response. “Ok fine,” Eddie gave in, unraveling under Steve’s stare. He hated lying to Steve, especially now that they’d gotten closer. “We’re going to see some band play at The Hideout. We’ve had these plans for weeks. I lied about staying home,” Eddie rushed out and your mouth dropped in shock.

“One look into Harrington’s sparkly eyes and you're spilling your guts? Pathetic,” you groaned from your seat. Eddie rolled his eyes, focusing them back onto Steve.

“You think my eyes are sparkly?” Steve quipped, a smirk growing on his lips. You heard Eddie laugh beside you and you couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face.

“Get over yourself, Steve,” you moved your hand over the window crank, threatening to roll up the window, but Steve stopped you.

“Wait! I wanna come with,” he spoke quickly, eyes darting back and forth between you and Eddie. You couldn’t help the laugh that formed in your throat. “What’s so funny?” Steve glared at you then.

“Well, for one, you hate metal music,” you began and Steve scoffed.

“So do you,” Steve tried to retaliate, but the smirk on your lips told him he was fighting a losing battle.

“Sure, I’m not the biggest metal fan, but I like it enough and I love the energy of the crowd. Plus Eddie and I have been doing this for years. It doesn’t even matter, you’re not coming with us so you might as well give up now,” you spoke, lifting your hand in a sarcastic wave goodbye.

“Good thing it’s not up to you then. It’s Eddie’s van. He gets to decide,” your head snapped in Eddie’s direction then. You glared at him and focused as hard as you could. When you were younger, you and Eddie were convinced that you’d be able to communicate with each other telepathically if you tried hard enough. It never worked of course, but it never hurt to try. Eddie understood you better than anyone. He became your number-one confidant since the day you met. Surely he could pick up on your brain waves begging him to bar Steve from your plans.

Eddie headed towards the band room at Hawkins Middle with his guitar case swinging in his hand. He was early, intending to warm up on his own before the rest of Corroded Coffin got there for band practice. Eddie flicked on the lights, expecting the room to be empty. But it wasn’t. You were there, in the corner of the room, tucked between some music stands. You’d been curled into a ball and looked up when the fluorescent lights came on, illuminating your hidden figure. There were tears streaked across your face after a particularly brutal day of taunts from Tommy and Steve. Eddie set his guitar down and moved towards you slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a quiet voice, hesitantly approaching. You remained silent, rising from your spot on the ground and wiping away your tears with your sweater sleeve. “I’m Eddie,” he spoke again, extending his hand for you to shake when he got close enough. You told him your name but didn’t meet his hand with yours, not yet.

“But everyone calls me Baby,” your voice was hoarse from crying but Eddie heard you loud and clear. He was an eighth grader but even he’d heard about the poor sixth grader that the popular kids had been calling Baby. It had moved beyond just them though. All of your classmates, teachers, and neighbors had adopted the name for you. 

“Well, I won’t call you that, not if you’re not comfortable with it,” Eddie reassured you. He had been victimized plenty by the popular kids. He understood what it felt like, which is why he was shocked when you shook your head. His hand fell back to his side.

“No, it’s ok. I’ve been telling people to call me Baby to help reclaim it, I guess. It took Marissa the librarian forever but she’s finally gotten used to it. My parents still slip up, but that’s to be expected,” you shrugged. What you didn’t tell Eddie was that it still hurt when the name spilled from Steve’s lips. You weren’t sure why it did. But the more you were called Baby by everyone else, the more desensitized you hoped to become to it.

“Reclaim the name?” Eddie asked, eyebrows furrowed. You nodded, suddenly unsure what the boy in front of you thought. “That’s pretty metal,” a smile stretched his lips and his hand shot back up between you, beckoning for yours to join it. “It’s nice to meet you, Baby.”

“You too, Eddie,” you mirrored his smile, finally placing your small hand in his. Eddie’s calloused fingers enclosed around the back of your palm and two became one. You were inseparable. Inseparable in everything except for the reoccurring nightmare scenario that kept popping up in your life. You’d been dragged in early on, being one of the last people to see Barb before she went missing. You’d caught a glimpse of her through your window, sitting on the diving board above Steve’s pool, when suddenly she was gone. You joined Jonathan and Nancy in their quest to find her and kill the thing that took her. It sucked to keep Eddie out of that part of your life, but it was for his own good. Or at least it was until this past spring when Chrissy Cunningham became Vecna’s first victim right before the poor boy’s eyes. Then you told him everything. Your two worlds fully merged, and you and Eddie became totally and fully inseparable.

Your glare bore into Eddie’s and you thought you had gotten through to him. You were wrong.

“Alright Harrington, hop in. Quickly though, I don’t want to miss the opening act,” Eddie conceded, turning to face his gaze towards the road ahead. He could feel you burning holes into him with your eyes. You rolled the window up as Steve opened the van's back door. 

“We’re so working on the telepathy thing again. Evidently, you’re in desperate need of a refresher,” you grumbled and Eddie chuckled at how mad you were at the addition of Steve to your plans. Steve closed the van door, lounging in one of the bean bags Eddie kept in the back. After what felt like the longest ride of being tossed around the back of Eddie’s van, Steve was never more thankful to see The Hideout come into view. The three of you filed out of the van as the sound of metal music filtered through the bar’s closed doors. Much to Eddie’s dismay the opener had already started their set. It smelled like cheap beer and cigarette smoke, causing Steve to wrinkle his nose.

“Go get us some drinks from the bar. Baby and I will get us a spot up near the front,” Eddie handed Steve a few dollar bills, enough to cover both your drink and his own. You and Steve might hate each other, but you’d been around each other in enough alcohol-fueled group settings to know each other’s drink orders. Steve beelined towards the bar, yelling over the music to order your Dirty Shirley with extra cherries, Eddie’s Rum and Coke, and his own Long Island iced tea.

He spotted you and Eddie pushing through the crowd. You were in front of Eddie, his forearm thrown across the front of your shoulders to keep you close. The two of you stopped not far from the stage. You leaned up to say something in Eddie’s ear, your back flush with his chest, and Steve felt a rush of jealousy run through him. Eddie had told him countless times that the two of you were just friends. That the kisses he’d once shared with you while high were just meaningless, drug-fueled, pecks on the lips. That was a lie of course, but Eddie definitely wasn’t going to tell Steve about the way you moaned against his lips until the two of you sobered up enough to feel embarrassed and swore to never speak of it again. Sometimes Steve needed to be lied to about certain things, mainly so Eddie wasn’t on the receiving end of Steve’s right hook.

The bartender placed the drinks in front of Steve in exchange for the wad of cash slapped on the counter. Steve grabbed all three glasses and began his trek through the tightly packed crowd. He’d gotten really good at holding a bunch of stuff in his hands at once during his brief stint at Scoops. Steve made it up to you and Eddie, passing the drinks to each of you. The three of you watched the opening band’s set, dancing as much as you could with drinks in your hands and a packed crowd.

By the time the opener’s set was over you had sipped enough of your drink to expose one of the cherries in your glass. Steve couldn’t help the way his mouth gaped as he watched you fish the cherry out with your finger, popping the morsel in your mouth and pulling it from the stem with your teeth. Eddie eyed the boy next to him, amused not only by Steve’s aroused reaction to such a simple thing but also by your complete obliviousness to said reaction. Despite the lack of music coming from the stage as you waited for the headlining band to come on, Eddie still had to shout over the buzz of the crowd.

“Show Stevie the thing,” Eddie gestured towards the cherry stem between your fingers. You shook your head in protest, but Eddie gave you his best puppy dog eyes and you were instantly beat. You rolled your eyes, placed the cherry stem on your tongue, and closed your lips. Eddie brought his arm up, glancing back and forth between you and his watch. Steve was baffled by the coordinated performance that the two of you were putting on in front of him. After a few seconds, your mouth popped back open. You plucked the cherry stem from between your teeth and held it up for Steve to see.

“Seven seconds! That might be your personal best,” Eddie exclaimed while Steve looked closely at the stem. It was tied in a knot. He took it from between your fingers and was about to ask how you did it when the band came on stage. Steve’s hand trailed down to his side, tucking the tied cherry stem into his pocket. He wasn’t sure why, but throwing it away felt wrong for some reason.

The band was really good, especially the lead singer. He was only a few years older than you and he had gorgeous, blonde hair that flowed down to his shoulders. Steve had scoffed when the singer winked at you during their set, but you couldn’t hear the sound over the music. The three of you had a surprisingly good time together, although it's pretty hard to fight with such loud music blaring throughout the room. Eddie and Steve were tasked with finding a table after the band left the stage and you got stuck with grabbing everyone new drinks. 

“That was actually really fun. How often do you guys do this?” Steve asked, his pants getting stuck to cheap faux leather as he slid into a booth opposite Eddie. 

“Once every month or so. It depends on which bands are playing,” Steve was listening to Eddie or at least he was at first. His eyes had been scanning the bar, trying to find you. When he finally did, his expression hardened. You leaned with your elbow against the bar, waiting for the bartender to come back with the drinks, but you weren’t alone. The lead singer of the headlining band was beside you. He was smiling at you, and even worse for Steve, you were smiling back. Eddie noticed the change in Steve’s demeanor, the jealousy that now filled the hazel of his eyes. He tracked Steve’s gaze across the crowded bar, landing on you. 

Eddie was impressed. He’d seen you bag your fair share of hot guys after a show at The Hideout, but never had you managed to get with the lead singer of the headlining band. Steve, on the other hand, was not impressed. He was livid. It didn’t help that the lead singer had just placed his hands on your hips, pulling you flush against him as he leaned in close to whisper something in your ear. Steve quickly slid out of the booth, stomping his way through the crowd of people, heading towards you. Eddie winced, knowing he should chase after the boy, but slightly curious to see what would happen if he didn’t. Steve pushed through the bodies surrounding him, stopping just in front of where you stood against the bar.

“What's taking you so long with the drinks?” He called out and your head shot up at the sound of his voice. The smile that had grown on your lips quickly faded at the sight of Steve. The singer, Corey, looked up from where he had just started to kiss your neck. He didn’t move his hands from your hips despite Steve’s pointed glances. 

“Hey man, you’re kind of interrupting something right now. If you want a drink then ask the bartender or whatever,” Corey moved to face you again, but Steve wasn’t done.

“Hey man,” Steve mocked Corey’s words. “You need to take your hands off of her right now,” your brow furrowed in anger while Corey filled with confusion.

“Sorry dude, didn’t realize she was your girl,” Corey assumed based on Steve’s comment and began to move his hands, but you stopped him.

“I’m not, I swear. I barely even know that guy,” Steve scoffed at that and you shot him a glare. Corey’s eyes flitted back and forth between you and Steve. He looked more confused than ever, almost painfully so. 

“I’m way too high for this. You have her, man. It's not worth the fight,” Corey held up his hands in defense. Eddie had just worked his way through the sea of people in time to see Corey back away from you, scan the crowd, and head towards some pretty redhead across the room. Steve looked triumphant as he turned his gaze back to you. Eddie thought you looked like you were about to go ballistic. He’d never seen you that mad before in his entire life. You looked even angrier now than you had when Eddie purposefully put gum in your hair and it got stuck so badly that you had to give yourself bangs to get rid of it. Eddie was about two seconds from sprinting out of the building to save himself from being a witness to what was sure to be Steve’s murder when the bartender, Dave, called out from behind you.

“Here’s that Long Island for you, Baby,” you spun around, revealing the Rum and Coke and Dirty Shirley that sat on the counter behind you. You thanked Dave, giving him a good tip, before turning back to Steve. Because even in your fury, you could still be nice to the waitstaff. You picked up the Long Island, marched towards Steve, and slammed the drink directly into his chest. 

“Since you wanted it so fucking bad,” you pushed past him, not caring about the way the liquid sloshed over the lip of the glass, coating your hand and Steve’s shirt. You moved towards the exit, slamming the door open into the moonlit darkness outside. Steve took a second to process what just happened. He placed the remainder of his drink back on the counter before following in your path. Eddie groaned, grabbing his now abandoned drink from the bar and downing it. He grabbed your drink from beside his, knowing you’d need it when this was over, and followed Steve. You had made it to Eddie’s van and tugged on the door handle, cursing the long-haired boy for actually locking it for once.

“What the hell was that?” Steve called out from across the parking lot with his arms held wide. He was stalking towards you at a furious pace. You were so pissed that you didn’t even notice your feet dragging you forward to meet him in the middle.

“Where the fuck do you get off?” you asked in response instead of answering his question. Steve stopped when the tips of his shoes touched yours, scrunched faces mere inches from each other. “First you invite yourself along to Eddie and I’s thing and then you ruin my chances with the very hot lead singer of the band. You did that for what, huh? Shits and giggles? I don’t give a shit who you are Harrington, that’s too fucking far,” you yelled, rage boiling beneath your hot skin. 

“He wasn’t that hot,” Steve scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes widened. Eddie, who had just made it out to the parking lot, was surprised there wasn’t steam shooting out of your ears at this point.

“Is that the only thing you fucking heard from what I just said?” you brought your hands to your forehead in exasperation. “You’re such an asshole! I thought it would end when we graduated. Like you’d grow up a bit after graduation day. Hell, Robin said you’d matured, changed, and left the King Steve shtick behind. Eddie is one of your best friends now, the boy you taunted for years. So what is it about me, huh? Why are you suddenly too golden-hearted to bully everyone else but you never stopped fucking with me?” you had gotten close to Steve, not that you noticed through your tunneled vision of anger. Your heavy breaths fanned across Steve’s lips as you awaited his response.

“I-” Steve opened his mouth to respond and then quickly shut it. He didn’t know. Well maybe he did know, somewhere deep down, but it wasn’t something he could say to you now. Not in The Hideout’s parking lot where a crowd had started growing around you. Steve stepped back, creating the space between you that you desperately lacked at the moment.

“That’s what I thought,” you stepped back too, turning to walk towards Eddie. You quickly stopped, facing Steve once more. “Do me a favor, find some other girl to lurk around for a while. It's bad enough that you live next door. I really don’t need you following me wherever I go like some fucking creep,” you spun on your heels again, grabbing the drink from Eddie’s outstretched hand and throwing it back like it was fruit juice. 

Eddie unlocked the van and you slid inside, slamming the door behind you. Eddie’s eyes met Steve’s with a grimace. Eddie looked at you in the van and then back to Steve. Steve got the message; Eddie couldn’t take you both home together. Maybe Steve was the one with telepathy instead. Eddie’s remorseful eyes searched Steve from across the lot. Steve conceded, gesturing for Eddie to take you. He was the one that fucked up anyway. If anything he deserved to be the one that had to call a cab. Eddie shot Steve a tight-lipped smile before hopping into his van and driving off. Steve watched the van’s taillights as Eddie rolled through a stop sign, speeding off into the night.

The light in your room was off when the cab finally dropped Steve off at home. He wasn’t surprised, expecting that you’d be at Eddie's trailer, erasing the night from your thoughts with a shared joint. Steve trudged up the stairs, opening and closing his door softly behind him so he didn’t wake his parents. They’d be gone for another business trip in the morning, leaving one less thing for him to worry about tomorrow. Steve’s window was still open from earlier, allowing the cool night air to seep in. He laid back on his bed, thoughts racing in the silence. And that’s when he heard it. A soft sob, then a sniffle. A deep breath, then another sob.

Steve sat up, his gaze aimed in the direction of the sound. His eyes landed on you, sitting on the floor of your darkened room with your back against your bed. Your window was cracked open, the way you normally kept it at night, allowing the birds to wake you with their songs in the morning. Steve stood, moving towards the window. You couldn’t see him from this angle, not that you would have been able to regardless with the tears clouding your vision. Steve frowned. An ache in his chest, the same one he’d felt whenever he heard you cry, flourished within him. He wanted to comfort you. To wrap an arm around you and let cry into his chest. To tell you it would be okay and ask who’s ass he needed to kick. But he couldn’t. You weren’t friends. You hated him. And it’s not like he could kick his own ass. 

He didn’t realize, didn’t even feel it, but a tear slipped down his cheek, matching the flood that crowded yours. Steve lifted his hands to rest on the window, leaning against it as his brows furrowed over the broken look on your face. He pushed down, shutting the window softly, locking it, and closing the curtains. He couldn’t listen to you cry anymore. He remembered what you said, and he didn’t want to linger. The tear rolled off Steve’s chin, drowning a little unsuspecting green soldier on the window sill below. Steve moved away from the window and laid back on his bed. He felt around his pants pocket and fished out the knotted cherry stem. Steve’s eyes roamed over it for too long before he set it aside on his nightstand and closed his eyes. He couldn't sleep that night, no matter how hard tried. In the quiet dark of his room, Steve swore he could still hear your muffled cries.    

Drunk under a street light

Black and white flickered from the TV screen, illuminating the dark room that you lounged in. You were lazing on the couch, mindlessly picking at the bowl of popcorn in your lap. The movie playing across the room did nothing to pull your unfocused stare from the coffee table in front of you. It wasn’t until you received a light kick to the thigh that you could finally shifted your eyes away.

“Okay, ouch,” you glared at Robin who was lying across the couch beside you, feet practically draped across your lap. She sat up, digging her hand into the bowl of popcorn. Her perfume scent lingered in the air around you even after she pulled back. It was sweet and light like she had just finished baking a batch of sugar cookies.

“You’ve been begging me to watch Casablanca with you for months and you’re not even paying attention to it now that I actually am,” she lifted her hand towards the screen before bringing her handful of popcorn to her lips. It's true. You had been dying to get someone to watch Casablanca with you for ages. Eddie watched it once and then refused to do it again after he ended up crying at the ending. Rick Blaine’s selfless act of giving up his one true love to give her a better life brought tears to the cold-hearted boy’s eyes. He made you promise not to tell anyone, especially Dustin. 

“Sorry Rob, I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” you apologized, trying your best to pay attention to the movie again. You’d been zoned out for the entire first half of the movie, not that it mattered. You knew exactly what was happening on screen, given that you’d seen the movie a million times. It got to a point where Steve started keeping a copy under the counter at Family Video so there was always one available when you came in.

“Are you thinking about Steve?” Robin asked, her voice overpowering Ingrid Bergman’s as Ilsa confessed why she left Rick alone in Paris. Your head snapped towards the girl beside you and you could see the faint smirk growing on her lips.

“Why would I be thinking about Steve?” you answered her question with your own. The smirk fell from her lips then and she rolled her eyes. Robin sat up, pressing pause on the remote.

“Because he was totally jealous and caused some huge blowout fight between the two of you. And when I say huge I mean huge. It’s been over a week and you still won’t even acknowledge that he exists,” Robin explained, turning to face you better. You sighed and faced her too. You tried to avoid talking about Steve with Robin. Ever since they became friends it seemed too weird to talk shit about him in front of her.

“First of all, Steve definitely wasn’t jealous. He’s just a menace that loves to torment me,” Robin snorted a laugh but didn’t interrupt, allowing you to continue. “Second, Steve and I aren’t friends so me not talking to him for a week really isn’t that big of a deal,” Robin shrugged at that, seeing your point. “And third, how the hell do you know about all of this?” a guilty look spread across Robin’s face and you quickly realized the answer to your question. “Eddie’s got a big mouth,” Robin nodded in agreement at your words. 

“I would’ve figured it out regardless. Steve’s been moping around for days. He’s really beating himself up over the whole thing,” you chuckled and Robin shot you a confused glare.

“What? I find it hard to believe that Steve Harrington even remotely cares about anything that has to do with me. Well unless it has to do with making my life a living hell,” you leaned back again, digging your hand into the popcorn bowl once more. Robin just stared at you, obviously baffled by something. 

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe somewhere in Steve’s caveman brain all this ‘torment’ is actually his way of expressing that he likes you?” Robin asked and repositioned the blanket that covered her lap. You stopped mid-chew, considering Robin’s words. You swallowed hard, sitting up and placing the popcorn bowl down on the couch between you.

“So what, Steve pulls my pigtails on the playground and it’s all okay just because he likes me? That’s such a toxic ideology, Rob. Not only that, but the suggestion that Steve actually likes me is insane. I mean have you heard the worm story?” you felt defensive, as if you were being attacked even though you weren't. You couldn’t understand why your heart wouldn’t stop racing at the thought of Steve liking you.

“Of course, I’ve heard the goddamn worm story,” Robin threw her hands in the air, nearly knocking over the popcorn in the process. “And I didn’t say that it was a healthy way of expressing his feelings. It just might be the only way he knows how. It’s not like his parents are great role models in teaching him about love and stuff,” a quiet fell over the room while your head raced at Robin’s words. You’d been so wrapped up in your feud with Steve that you hadn’t taken the time to consider his life outside of you. 

You knew Steve’s parents were pretty absent based on the lack of cars in the driveway. And it was well known across town that Mr. Harrington was an asshole, no need to grow up next door to figure that out. Steve adored his dad when he was younger, and talked about how he wanted to be just like him. But you had heard the fights that seeped through the open windows in the years that followed. The disappointment that filled Mr. Harrington’s face when he entered Steve’s bedroom and saw the movie posters lining the walls. You wondered then what Steve’s parents thought of his decision to forgo college. Whether they argued with his choice, fought with him to take a chance to change his future, or if they just accepted it, not expecting much else from their disappointing son.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Robin studied your face as you spoke. You looked lost, like you were questioning your past with Steve. After a moment the hint of a smile graced your lips and Robin furrowed her brow. “Still doesn’t mean he likes me,” you quirked as Robin sat up, grabbing another handful of popcorn. 

“Oh whatever,” she launched her fistful of popcorn at you, hitting your face with the popped kernels before they fell to your lap. You retaliated, throwing popcorn back at her. The popcorn fight quickly ended when Robin picked up the bowl, dumping the rest of its contents over your head. The two of you fell into a fit of laughter while you tried, and failed, to pick the popcorn kernels from your hair. Eventually, you gave up, resting your head on Robin’s shoulder, the crunch of the popcorn sounding off as you did. Her shoulder was bony, uncomfortably stabbing your cheek with each delicate press against it, but you didn’t mind. Neither of you was very touchy-feely with each other, though you were never sure why, so it was nice to have a rare moment of intimacy. It granted you a deeper understanding of one another and a peak into the mysterious ways that each of your brains worked.

“Go to a party with me tonight?” Robin asked softly, not quite ready to leave the comfortable quiet just yet. You kept your head still on her shoulder and closed your eyes, inhaling sharply.

“Since when do you actively attend parties?” you questioned and Robin’s shoulder shook beneath you as she let out a gentle laugh. It was a comforting sound, like waves at the beach or rain on the pavement. That’s what Robin was to you. A comfort. Sure, Eddie was your best friend and you’d known him longer, but Robin understood you in a way that he didn’t. She controlled your chaos and balanced it with ease and truth. Robin matched your energy, knew what was best for you, and made you feel heard.

“Since Vickie asked me to go,” Robin winced out the words, anticipating your shift away from her side. Just as Robin thought, you lifted your head, turning to face her.

“So you’re not inviting me to go to a party, you’re inviting me to Third Wheel all night?” you raised your brow, eyes pouring into the girl beside you. Robin winced, shrinking into her spot on the couch. “Alright, I’ll go. Got nothing better to do anyway,” Robin cheered triumphantly at your concession, standing to go to your room and start getting ready together. You stopped her, gesturing to the popcorn that littered the couch and floor. She groaned, reluctantly helping you clean up the mess she made.

You’d walked to the party, arriving after everything was already in full swing. The sticky air reeked of weed and cheap booze as you pushed your way through the front door. It was sweltering inside the house. Sweaty bodies pressed themselves closely together on the dance floor, sipping on whatever deadly concoction resided in the punch bowl. Robin made a beeline for Vickie as soon as she walked through the door. There were familiar faces, people you knew from high school and whatnot, but no one you particularly fancied talking to. That is until you saw a mop of brown curls approaching with a black lunch box in his hands.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” you called out over the boombox that was blaring music throughout the room. Eddie wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to walk along with him. He guided you to the kitchen, stopping in front of a countertop littered with booze. You weighed your drink options, eventually pouring some vodka and Sprite into a solo cup, disappointed at the lack of cherry grenadine. You held up a bottle of rum pointed in Eddie’s direction, but he shook his head.

“Strictly business tonight sweetheart,” Eddie patted the lunchbox in his hands. You nodded in understanding, bringing your cup to your lips. “Where’s Buckley?” he asked, suddenly noticing the missing girl that he was sure dragged you here. You didn’t even have to speak, just pointing your finger to where Robin danced with Vickie across the room. Her hair was already a mess and her cheeks were flushed bright pink. You were about to say something else, keep your conversation with Eddie going, when he received a tap on his shoulder. It was some jock looking to make a deal. Eddie gave your hand a quick squeeze in place of goodbye and led the guy to the back of the house.

So there you were, standing alone in a crowded kitchen, regretting your decision to come in the first place. If only Nancy or Jonathan were there to keep you company, too bad they were both off at their respective colleges. Hell, you might even take Steve’s companionship at this point, because the longer you leaned against this countertop, the more boxed in you felt. What you didn’t know was that Steve was there. He thought it would be a good way to get his mind off your fight, but as he stood in the corner of this too-hot house, sipping a lukewarm beer, and listening to his old basketball teammate drone on and on about how they should’ve won the championship game their senior year, Steve realized he was wrong.

It especially didn’t help when his eyes scanned the room and somehow landed on you. You were alone, searching the room, presumably for a familiar face, when he spotted you. Luckily for Steve, you remained oblivious to his watchful gaze, giving him some time to study you since he felt like he hadn’t been able to in ages. He considered going over to you, to keep you company, but before he could even take a step, someone else approached you first. Your face dropped to a scowl at the sight of the freckled boy who now stood in front of you.

“What’s wrong Baby? Not happy to see me?” Tommy asked, a devilish grin hiding his lips. Steve was rooted to the spot, unable to move. He wanted to march over to you, drag you away from the douchebag before you, but he couldn’t will his legs to trudge across the congested room. He was never good at standing up for you, especially not to Tommy. 

“Is anyone ever happy to see you?” you asked, crossing your arms and keeping a close grip on your cup. Tommy looked you up and down, hungry eyes boring into your skin. Suddenly you wished you brought a sweater to cover your bare shoulders. Steve still watched you from afar, his stomach turning at the desire that lingered in Tommy’s expression.

“There are plenty of girls around here that love when I show up,” Tommy grinned, leaning in closer. He reminded you of a shark with his teeth bared, waiting for a lowly seal to stumble into his pathway. “I could show you why if you come upstairs with me,” his lips came dangerously close to your ear, muffling the music that rattled the room. 

“I’ll pass,” you grimaced at his offer. Tommy’s grin faltered and you brought your cup to your lips with a shrug, trying not to look too smug at your denial of his advances. That must have been what set Tommy over the edge. He reached up, slapping the cup from your hand, ignoring the liquid that splashed over you both. His face leaned in close as his arms caged you against the counter. 

“Fuck you,” he spat, his face close to yours. “You’re just some weirdo bitch anyway,” you were scared at that point, terrified even, but you remained calm. Showing your fear would be the worst thing to do. Steve’s heart raced in his chest as he watched Tommy corner you. He took a step forward, moving in your direction.

“A weirdo bitch that won’t fuck you,” you fired back at Tommy and his face turned red with fury. Maybe poking the bear wasn’t a good idea. Suddenly someone knocked Tommy to the side, freeing you from him. You looked up, seeing a flash of red hair and someone in a striped shirt. Vickie and Robin. 

“Woah man, we were spinning around and kinda lost control. Didn’t even see you there,” Robin leaned down to where Tommy now sat on the floor. She shot you a wink when he wasn’t looking. Vickie offered him a hand, but he brushed her off, standing on his own. He looked around, catching the glances of some of the partygoers, and stomped off, too embarrassed to continue trying to pursue you. Steve had made it about halfway through the crowded living room when Robin and Vickie took down Tommy in some sort of weird spin attack. He stood there now, watching as they checked over you. “You alright?” Robin asked you while Vickie inspected you for any bruises or blemishes from Tommy.

“Yeah, I’m all good. Think I’m just gonna go actually,” you looked down at your shirt, taking inventory of how damp it was from your spilled drink. 

“We’ll go with you,” Vickie spoke up, taking hold of your arm as if she would guide you out. You shook your head, sliding her hand down to yours and giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. 

“No, you guys stay and have fun. I’m gonna try and hitch a ride. I’ve gotta know someone around here that’s planning on leaving soon,” you had no intentions of actually getting a ride from someone. But you knew Robin would never let you go if she knew you were going to walk home alone and you just needed to get out of there. You would ask Eddie, but you knew he needed the money he’d make from selling tonight so you didn’t want to bother him. 

“Okay,” Robin nodded, granting you permission to leave. You gave her and Vickie a two-finger salute and made your way to the door. “No rides home from anyone on the basketball team. Past, present, or future. I swear all of those guys are creeps,” Robin called after you, turning a few heads as she did. You chuckled, continuing on to the door.

Steve still stood in the living room, watching the three of you closely. His eyes followed you as you trekked through the crowd to the door. Once you finally made it outside, his gaze shifted back to Robin only to find that she was already looking at him. She motioned with her head to the door, encouraging him to follow after you. So he did. Steve threw away his half-drunk beer and burst through the door. You were already halfway down the block when he got in his car and pulled up next to you. 

It was cold outside, especially for early September, a chill lacing the breeze with each gust. It definitely didn’t help that your shirt was still soaked through. You saw the headlights of a car approaching behind you, brushing it off as you shivered and pulled your arms close. It took you a moment to realize that the car hadn’t passed you yet. You turned your head, suddenly facing a maroon BMW with its windows rolled down. A groan escaped your lips, but you still bent down to peer through the window. Steve’s car came to a stop, a smile gracing his lips at the sight of your exasperated face.

“You stalking me now, Harrington?” Steve let out a chuckle and a gust of wind picked up, making you shiver again. 

“You wish. Come on, get in and I’ll drive us home,” he studied your face, searching for a sign that you’d agree. He couldn’t find one, your body unmoving from your spot on the sidewalk. 

“I’m perfectly capable of walking. Plus Robin said no rides from anyone on the basketball team,” you shot him a sly smirk and stood up straight, continuing your walk through the neighborhood. You’d expected Steve to drive off then, leaving you to walk in peace. But he didn’t, his car followed alongside you. “What are you doing?” you asked, stopping again to see Steve through the passenger window.

“If you won’t let me drive you home, then I’ll just drive next to you,” Steve shrugged, looking up at you.

“What if I cut through someone’s backyard?” you asked and Steve shrugged again, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Then some people are gonna be really pissed to see tire tracks on their lawn,” he replied and you almost wanted to laugh at his persistence, entertained by Steve’s unwillingness to let you be alone. His smile faltered then. “You and I both know the kind of shit that lurks around Hawkins at night,” any amusement from before had slipped away. None of you mentioned the Upside Down much now, not after finally defeating Vecna. It was final, the battle that ended the war, destroying the Upside Down for good. You couldn’t help the lingering fear that you’d missed something, that one day it would all return. And here, on the sidewalk after some lame party, you realized that Steve shared that fear too. 

“Ok,” you said simply, shocking Steve as you pulled on the passenger door handle and slid into the seat next to him. He waited until you buckled up before rolling up the windows and driving off. It was quiet in the car, the lingering tension of all the unspoken words swirling in the air. Steve heard the sound of your teeth chattering and your hands brushing the goosebumps on your arms. He quickly reached into the back, grabbed an old sweatshirt that sat there, and handed it to you. Normally you would’ve rejected it, your pride too inflated to accept help from Steve in any form. But it was cold, your shirt was wet, and your conversation from earlier with Robin still lingered in the forefront of your mind. 

Steve didn’t expect you to take his sweatshirt so easily, replacing his hand on the wheel when he felt the weight of it lift from his palm. You pulled his sweatshirt on, reveling in the warmth it provided. It smelled like hairspray and lavender, a hint of boy mixed with the two. It smelled like Steve. Silence settled over the two of you again and Steve couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” the words burst from within him, head turning to look at you for a moment. You looked calm and objective like Steve hadn’t even spoken in the first place. “The whole thing at The Hideout was so stupid. I don’t even know why I did that,” you looked at him then, expression still neutral. “I guess I just feel like I need to protect you and I took it too far,” your brow scrunched at that, finally giving Steve an insight into your thoughts.

“Protect me? You and Tommy tormented me for years,” anger rose in your throat. You hadn’t meant to get mad, still considering what Robin said, but Steve’s twisted claim brought it out of you in the way that only he could.

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry about that too. I just- I just wanted to fit in, to be cool. But I realize now that none of that shit ever mattered. I mean, how important was popularity when the one person that I actually cared about couldn’t stand me?” Steve spoke and the tension in your face dropped. The one person Steve cared about? Was he talking about you? You took a deep breath, thinking over your words when the car came to a stop in front of your driveway.

“Steve,” you spoke softly, almost a whisper, like the breeze rattling through the trees. “I can’t just forget about all of it because you’ve abruptly changed. I can’t just decide to be your friend all of a sudden. You hurt me, for a long time. Hell, you still do,” Steve winced, wanting to turn back time to when you were five, when nothing bad had happened to you yet and things were much simpler. 

“I know,” Steve’s head sunk, his chest aching with each passing second.

“I just,” you stopped, jumbled thoughts bouncing around your head. “I just think it’s easier when we keep ourselves apart. It doesn’t hurt as much that way,” the streetlights above reflected the swelling tears in your eyes as they threatened to spill. You hadn’t meant to cry, and you surely didn’t want to. Steve understood your sentiments. Being around you only reminded him of how it could’ve been if he hadn’t tried so hard to fit in. If he hadn’t screwed it all up.

“But maybe we could try. Try to be friends,” the words surprised Steve as they left his lips. They came out far bolder than he felt capable of being at the moment. “Group settings, public places. Baby steps, you know?” Steve tried to stop the hope building in his chest, too worried about the damage it would do if you said no. But you didn’t. 

“Maybe,” you said in a whisper, a tear finally tracking down your cheek. A soft smile slipped over Steve’s lips, the same one he wore around you as a kid. The same smile you saw before he traipsed over the hill, leaving you on the sidewalk with the worms. Your lips twitched upwards for a second before you pulled the door handle and exited the car. 

The feeling of hope now took full form, blossoming in Steve’s chest, filling every crack and crevice between his ribs. He watched you walk up to your front door, still wearing his sweatshirt, slipping inside your house with a small wave in Steve’s direction. Steve put the car back in gear, pulling into his driveway next door. He shut the car off and leaned back in his seat, still unable to wipe the smile from his face. Maybe. He could work with maybe.

You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding

Eddie’s van was a mess. Your legs brushed against fast food wrappers while cigarette butts covered the floor, crunching under your sneakers. It smelled like weed and sweat with a hint of the black ice air freshener that you forced him to buy a while ago. It was early afternoon, the sun still high in the sky as Eddie made a right turn out of your neighborhood.

“Why are we doing this again?” you asked, shifting to look at Eddie. He had his hair pulled up into a messy bun that you insisted on doing for him. It was a rare and rather unwelcome hairstyle for the metalhead, but it was well warranted for the occasion. 

“Because Buckley wants to learn how to play basketball and Harrington asked for my help,” Eddie shrugged, approaching a stop sign and making a left. You rolled your eyes, letting out a huff of air from your chest.

“But you hate basketball,” you groaned, wondering why Robin would even want to learn how to play in the first place. 

“Yes, but they’re my friends and they asked for my help, so my help they shall receive,” normally you would have laughed at Eddie’s goofiness, but the thought of being around Steve loomed over your head. You still hadn’t seen each other since the party, just glimpses through bedroom windows. It was hard to say where either of you stood with each other. Becoming friends seemed like an impossible feat on your part, too stuck in the past to care about the potential future.

“Okay, so why am I included in this? Steve didn’t ask for my help,” you pulled your feet from the trash-covered floor, finally sick enough of how the garbage touched your ankles. Your feet rested on the seat and you hugged your knees close to your chest. Your head sat atop them, watching Eddie closely with narrow eyes, trying to figure out if this was some scheme to get you near Steve.

“Each team needs two players, Baby. Kind of hard to play a two v. two with only three people,” you let out another groan and Eddie smirked in response, knowing you couldn’t refute him anymore. He made a sharp right turn, pulling up to the outdoor basketball courts that sat behind the high school. Eddie turned off the engine and tapped your knee. It was his way of telling you to get out of the car and lock your door behind you. The two of you began your walk over and could just barely make out three figures through the holes in the chain link fence that surrounded the basketball courts.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear athletic shorts before. I might pass out at the sight of your legs,” you said to Eddie as the two of you walked through the gate, entering the basketball court. You barely had time to accentuate your comment with a smirk before Eddie leaned in close.

“Reel it in, Baby. Best not to flirt with me in front of Harrington. Wouldn’t want to risk him getting jealous again,” your face grew hot at Eddie’s comment, the thought of a jealous Steve stirring something deep in the pit of your stomach, something like desire. Eddie donned a stupid smile as you approached Robin, Steve, and Lucas in the middle of the court.

“What’s up with you?” Steve asked, noticing your flustered appearance. Your eyes darted back over to Eddie, who continued to wear the same shit-eating grin as before.

“Nothing, just ready to play some basketball,” you deflected and Steve nodded, covering the basic rules of the game. Lucas was acting as the referee for the match, making it feel much more intense than it should have. That’s probably why you took it so seriously, covering Robin as if your life depended on it. Steve won the tip-off, sending the ball back to Robin. She caught it and began to dribble towards the basket. She looked like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time as she made her way up the court, nearly smacking the ball away from herself in the process. You used it to your advantage, managing to grab the ball from her, dribbling up the opposite side of the court, and scoring a basket from the three-point line. Steve retaliated after that, shooting his own shot and tying the score. It continued like that for a bit, Eddie and Robin eventually gave up on trying to cover the both of you, which was how you ended up in front of Steve, desperately attempting to block his shot.

“Worried you’re gonna miss?” you taunted as Steve dribbled in front of you, your back to the basket. A cocky smirk overtook his lips then, bringing the ball up to shoot. It would’ve gone in too, if you hadn’t smacked it out of the air, stealing it for yourself. You sprinted down the court towards the other basket with Steve hot on your trail. He managed to get in front of you and you turned your back towards him, protecting the ball in the meantime before you could get a clear shot. “Come on, Harrington. I thought you were the team captain back in high school. Figured you’d be better than this,” you knew it was dangerous, teasing him in such a flirty way, but it was all in good fun, right?

“Oh, I’ll show you, Baby,” Steve practically whispered into your ear, his chest pressing against your back. If you weren’t so focused on beating Steve you would’ve felt the goosebumps that littered your spine. Steve’s arms came up to circle you, so you moved, pivoting to take your shot and knocking Steve out of the way in the process. He lost his balance as the ball left your fingertips. You felt Steve’s hands find your torso as you watched the ball tip into the basket, dragging you down with him as he fell. Your shirt had ridden up when you made your shot, causing Steve’s fingers to brush against your bare skin. It felt like you were falling in slow motion until you finally landed hard on top of Steve, your back flush to his chest. 

Pain shot up your sides as Steve’s fingernails scraped against the semi-healed scars that resided there. You got up quickly, not taking the time to register your pain, lifting your shirt again to see that the wounds had broken open on both sides. It took Steve a second to get up after hitting the ground so hard. The others rushed toward the two of you, but your eyes landed on Steve, his gaze already honed in on the fresh blood pooling on your skin. His hands came down to his own torso, feeling the scarred flesh that matched yours. 

After everything was said and done, the dust settled and Vecna gone for good, there was only the matter of medical care to worry about. Eddie was mostly unscathed, with a few bat bites here and there, but nothing some disinfectant and band-aids couldn’t fix. Lucas was sure to have a swollen eye, cuts, and bruises after fighting Jason. Max was delivered to the hospital where the doctors said she would make a full recovery but might need a pair of glasses. Which just left you and Steve. You had jumped in right after him at Lover’s Lake, fighting your way through the water as he was tugged deeper below. When you popped out of the gate mere seconds after him, the bats swarmed you too. It wasn’t until Nancy appeared, oar in hand, that you managed to escape the feeling of the bat’s teeth sinking into your skin. 

The bats had gotten you good, doing just as much damage to you as they had to Steve. When the fight was over and everyone was safely right-side-up, you refused to get medical care, worried that you’d be poked and prodded while Owens’ doctors tried to study your wounds. Steve refused too, unwilling to be treated unless you were first, not that you knew that.

Robin and Eddie insisted on staying with the two of you to make sure nothing bad happened in the middle of the night. But you said no, pointing out that Eddie needed to stay hidden until his name was cleared. Not to mention that you just wanted to be alone after the strenuousness of the previous few days. You assured Robin and Eddie that your parents would take care of you if anything happened, same with Steve. They reluctantly agreed, dropping you and Steve off in front of your house, leaving the two of you to go your separate ways.

You were about to trudge up the lawn and enter your house, thinking about finally being able to sleep, when you caught sight of Steve’s empty driveway. You hadn’t even thought about the fact that his parents were out of town, and he hadn’t mentioned it to Eddie or Robin either. Steve had already started walking towards his house when you called his name.

“You didn’t say that your parents weren’t home,” you jogged up to him, wincing at the pain that shot up your side. Steve shrugged, also looking desperate for a decent night of sleep. Steve turned around again, continuing towards his house, leaving you on his lawn. You started following him until he saw you from the corner of his eye and stopped again.

“What are you doing?” the words sounded twisted as they fell from his lips, the same venom you expected from the boy who bullied you for years. Your face grew hot with anger, suddenly wondering if you should just turn back around and retreat to your house.

“You can’t be alone tonight, not when you’re in such bad shape,” you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to come across firmly in an attempt to discourage Steve from arguing with you. He simply raised a brow in question. 

“I think I’ll be fine,” he moved to turn on his heel again, to scale his front steps and enter the cold empty house before him. But your arm shot out, landing on his arm and stopping him in his tracks. Steve froze, mind racing at the feel of your skin against his. He couldn’t remember the last time you touched him, given that you usually kept your distance whenever he was near.

“Steve, I can’t leave you alone in good conscience. If you bleed out and die, that’s on me,” you spoke the words quietly, almost sounding embarrassed to have to say them at all. Steve studied you, eyes roaming over your face. The walls you kept up around him seemingly fell in that moment as he caught sight of the worry hidden deep in your gaze. He nodded then, giving in and leading you to his front door, trying not to look visibly upset when your hand no longer held him.

The house was just as you remembered from when you were a kid. Clean and organized, everything in its designated place. It always frightened you back then, a house so pristine that it didn’t look like anyone could possibly live there. You followed Steve as he ascended the staircase, both of you winded and clutching your wounds when you got to the top. Steve showered in the bathroom attached to his room, offering you a towel and clean clothes before sending you off to the guest bathroom.

The hot water pulsed down on you, blood and grime swirling around the drain at your feet. The water seared your skin with each drop, but you didn’t mind, hoping the sweltering heat would rid you of the horrors you’d witnessed within the past few days. The sight of Eddie being tackled to the ground by a swarm of bats. The sound of Steve’s screams as his flesh was torn open. Your own wails of pain as the bats did the same to you a few feet away. Max’s broken limbs and unfocused eyes as Lucas held her in his arms on the way to the hospital.

You turned the shower off, unwilling to let your thoughts run rampant anymore. You were careful when drying off, avoiding your wounds to keep blood from soiling Mrs. Harrington’s stark white towels. She’d be sure to have a fit at the sight of a stain. You dressed quickly, pulling Steve’s old shirt and baggy sweatpants on. There wasn’t a first aid kit in the guest bathroom, so you headed back to Steve’s room, holding your shirt away from your body to avoid getting blood on it. You knocked gently on Steve’s bedroom door and it only took a moment for him to open it for you. 

His hair was wet, a towel draped over his bare shoulders. He was shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips as water dripped down his hairy chest. Your eyes lingered there for a moment before trailing to the bandages wrapped around his torso. Steve’s eyes followed yours, landing on the gauze tied tightly to his skin.

“I seem to get the shit beat out of me anytime something like this happens,” he used his towel to gently pat his hair dry. “I’ve gotten pretty good at patching myself up,” Steve shrugged, hanging the towel on the back of his bathroom door. 

“Can you do mine?” you asked quietly, lifting your shirt to reveal your wounds. Steve’s gaze flickered down to them, blood from each gash threatening to spill down your sides. His breath caught in his chest at the sight of your exposed skin. It was dumb, just your stomach on display, but it took Steve a second to contain himself. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, memories of your bare skin seen on the few occasions that you forgot to close your curtains before changing. Steve always looked away, but the flashes of your skin were seared into his brain. He nodded in response to your question, going into the bathroom with you trailing behind him. He told you to sit on the counter, pulling out the first aid kit from the cabinet next to your dangling legs. Steve wiped each wound with an antiseptic wipe, cleaning the area and sopping up the thin blood that surrounded it. His hands were gentle and soft like he was afraid to touch you, to break you.

“Hold this,” Steve placed a gauze pad on one of the wounds, his fingers guiding your hand to rest over it, holding it in place. He ignored the tingle in his fingers as his skin brushed yours, moving on to place another pad over the other blemish. Your hand came up automatically, holding it in place without Steve having to tell you again. He unraveled the rest of the gauze, slowly wrapping it around your waist, softly brushing your hands away when he no longer needed you to hold the pads in place. Steve circled it around you a few times, finally securing the gauze tightly in place with a swift knot.

“Thank you, Steve,” you whispered, his face close to yours. Steve hummed in response, letting his eyes drift to your lips for a moment too long before pulling himself away and packing up the first aid kit. He returned it to the cabinet, his shoulder brushing your leg in the process, sending chills down his spine. 

Steve stood then, opening the linen closet by the door, searching for a blanket to give you in case the guest room got too cold. You were tired, to the point of exhaustion really, longing to lay your head against a soft pillow. But fear came creeping in, the demons in your closet, or the demogorgons rather, holding your mind hostage. The fears controlled you then, in combination with the exhaustion, speaking words from your lips that you otherwise wouldn’t have even considered muttering.

“Can I sleep in here? With you?” when you were first dropped off all you could think about was finally being alone, but as you sat there now, Steve's clothes covering your skin, you realized that wasn’t what you wanted at all. Steve froze, and his quest to find a blanket quickly halted. He looked up at you, taking in the heavy bags under your eyes, the weight of the past few days slumping your shoulders forward. He knew under normal circumstances that you never would have asked, and probably couldn’t have even stood being in the same room as him for more than two minutes, but these weren’t normal circumstances. And he would take what he could get.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll sleep on the floor. You can take the bed,” Steve turned to the linen closet once more, searching for a blanket for himself this time. He heard you slide off the counter, thinking you’d brush past him and get into his bed, but you didn’t. You stopped next to him, pulling Steve’s focus to you.

“You can’t sleep on the floor. What if you bleed out? I’d never know if you were down there. At least not until the morning,” Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, ceasing your seemingly endless babble. Your eyes were wide and bloodshot, staring back at Steve with a worried brow.

“Okay,” he agreed, trying to calm himself, the jitters of being so close to you creeping in. “We’ll both sleep in my bed,” his hands fell to his sides and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Steve left the bathroom, turning out the light as he did. You slid into Steve’s bed, the sheets pulled up around you as Steve switched off his lamp. The bed dipped beside you from Steve’s weight. You went to roll over, trying to face him, but you were met with pain, gasping and clutching your side with a hiss. Steve shot up, trying to help you but only injuring himself with his sharp movement in the process. You couldn’t help but laugh as you both settled down onto your backs.

“Aren’t we a pair,” you mumbled and Steve chuckled beside you. The room was dark, filled with the scent of a burned-out candle, Steve's lavender-scented shampoo, dirty laundry, and something else inherently Steve. Your eyes watched the ceiling, lying in silence next to the boy you supposedly hated. He rustled around beside you, trying to get comfortable. In a normal situation, you would’ve snapped at him for moving the bed so much, but right now you found it amusing. After another minute of restless movement, he let out a groan.

“I normally sleep on my stomach, but this shit makes it impossible,” annoyance laced his tone as he referred to the bat bites lining the front of his stomach. Your head turned in his direction, silently taking in his side profile, his sharp nose, and long eyelashes. He almost looked normal if you ignored the angry ring of red flesh lining his neck. 

“I’m a side sleeper,” you spoke softly, Steve’s head turning towards your voice. For some reason, he liked hearing more about you, even if it was just something as silly as how you normally slept. “I’m in the same boat as you, Harrington,” the wounds on your sides making it impossible to lay that way. Steve could just make out the shadows of your face in the dim light. The curve of your lips, the arch of your brow, the tip of your nose. He thought you looked beautiful. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop the bats from getting you,” your lip quivered then, tears welling in your eyes as you lived up to your crybaby nickname. You weren’t sure where the burst of emotion came from, chalking it up to the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon you. Steve lifted his head, his hand coming up to brush away your tears.

“Are you kidding? You jumped in right after me. If you hadn’t been there I would’ve been dead in less than a minute. You distracted some of them. I would’ve been bat food if not for you. If anyone’s sorry it should be me,” you shook your head and Steve’s hand came down to rest on your cheek, thumb rubbing circles against it gently as he spoke. Why were you letting him hold you like this? Why did it feel so comforting? You sniffled, trying to stop your tears from falling. “Baby, you saved me. I need you to know that,” you nodded at his reassurance, too choked up still to use your words. Your eyes were heavy by then, the lack of sleep weighing in on you even more. 

“I'm glad I went through that gate then,” you mumbled, words barely audible through your sleep-slurred speech. With the last of your energy, you moved, rolling onto your stomach, the wounds on your sides untouched by the mattress. Steve followed your lead, moving onto his side, and facing you. His arm draped across you, careful to avoid your wounds, and a soft sigh left your lips as your eyes slowly closed. Your breath evened out soon after, slowed inhales and exhales taking over. Steve’s fingers found the bulge of the cotton pads on your side, tracing across them gently, a comforting gesture that you’d never know about. He wished he had superpowers, the ability to heal you with just a touch. But he didn’t, so he’d do this instead, easing your pain with a soft touch while you slept.

When you woke in the morning you had the overwhelming urge to pee. You slid gently from Steve’s embrace, somehow managing to get even closer to him during the night. You tiptoed to the bathroom, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy. The large mirror covering the wall taunted you when you finished, urging you to take a peek beneath the gauze. You caved, hands gently pushing the gauze to the side. The bleeding had stopped and the gashes already started looking better. It was curious how well they had cleared up overnight, but you just shrugged, used to the strangeness of the supernatural by now. You climbed back into bed with Steve after putting the bandages back into place. You wanted another minute of peace, a moment, maybe the last of its kind, when you and Steve didn’t hurt each other. When Steve Harrington was still the boy you knew, not the one you’d grown to loathe.

“Shit Steve, seriously?” You winced as the blood began to trickle down your skin. “It’s a basketball game, not tackle football,” you lost your balance for a moment, Lucas’ arms shooting up to steady you. Steve stood speechless, incapable of fathoming how his hands did so much harm to you. The skin had never quite healed right, you suppose, more fragile than most other places on your body. “Eddie, can you take me home,” you asked, trying to keep your shirt from getting wet with blood, knowing your shorts were a lost cause with scarlet droplets already pooling at the waistband. Eddie nodded quickly, rushing to your side as if he had to carry you to the van.

“I can take you. I mean, I live next door. I’ll clean you up,” Steve suddenly was able to find words, knocked out of his stupor. He moved towards you then, but you raised your hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“I asked Eddie,” you spoke with a glare, already walking toward the court’s exit. Eddie shot Steve a sympathetic look before following behind you. Robin lifted her hand to comfortingly pat Steve’s back while his mouth fell slightly agape. You got into the van with a wince and Eddie closed the door for you. Robin, Steve, and Lucas were filing off the court then. Steve’s head was down while he unlocked his car. Eddie turned the keys in the ignition, started the van, and began to pull out of the lot.

It was an accident, you knew that, so why did it frustrate you so much? The same hands that once held yours as children now were the ones to lacerate your skin. Maybe it was the ache you buried deep inside, the one you’d never been able to alleviate, the pain Steve perpetuated for years. The one you hadn’t been able to forgive him for no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you wanted to. He left you, tossed you aside like you were some old sweater discarded beneath his bed, like you were nothing. It seemed never-ending like you’d never escape his harmful grasp. You wanted to be five again when the world seemed so much kinder and you loved Steve Harrington. Maybe the latter was still true, maybe that’s why he scarred you more than the others ever had.

As Eddie drove towards the exit, your gaze drifted up, landing on Steve. Robin and Lucas had already gotten into Steve’s car, but he stood outside of it, arms resting on the crook between the car’s roof and the door. His eyes followed you through the van window as Eddie sped away. A strange look overtook Steve’s face, one you couldn’t quite read. It was the look of a boy that never wanted to hurt you, but somehow constantly did.

I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs

           The sun hid behind the clouds, peaks of light streaming through the cracks in the sky. Tires rolled against the pavement, making their way across town. The radio was low in the car, some Fleetwood Mac song lulling softly through the air. Your car was old, covered in dents and scratches, with windows that only opened halfway and an engine that grumbled with each press to the gas pedal. Even though your parents offered to help you buy a new one, a more reliable form of transportation, you refused. This car held too many memories in its stained cloth seats. Your first kiss in the backseat, jam sessions with Eddie, driving Will, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas to the science fair where they finally got first place again. You couldn’t let it go, not yet, not while it still had some life in it. You knew how much it sucked to be abandoned. 

           The tires screeched and squealed as you turned into the Family Video parking lot. You pulled into a space near the front of the store, dim headlights shutting off when you pulled the keys from the ignition. Robin had told you she was working today, but as you looked around you were unable to find her bike in its normal place on the bike rack. You did however spot a maroon BMW parked near the back of the lot. That lying bitch. A sigh fell from your lips, eyes closing at the thought of seeing Steve. It had been two days since the basketball incident and you had been sure to keep your distance. Steve’s sorry eyes peeked through bedroom windows and only made you feel guilty for getting mad at him in the first place. But you couldn’t stall this any longer, the movies were due today and you’d be pissed if you got another late fee. So you grabbed the tapes from the passenger seat, holding them close to your chest as you closed your car door and walked through the entrance to Family Video.

           Steve stood hunched over the counter, the same way he normally did when the store was empty like it was now. His eyes were glued to the magazine that rested on the counter before him. It was a Cosmopolitan. He was ashamed to admit that he was searching its pages for tips on how to get back in your good graces. So far he was coming up short, but he still skimmed through it anyway. The bell rang above the door, signaling to Steve that a customer had entered. 

           “Welcome to Family Video. My name’s Steve. Let me know if you need help with anything,” the words spilled from Steve’s lips automatically, his gaze still glued to the magazine. It took Steve a moment to register the silence he received in response, brushing it off as another inconsiderate customer. At least that’s what he thought until a stack of tapes slammed down on the counter beside him. Steve looked up then, seeing you standing across from him with raised eyebrows. Your eyes trailed down to Steve’s magazine, and his gaze followed yours. In less than a second, Steve had slid the magazine off the counter, quickly tossing behind him. You simply blinked, an amused smile blossoming on your lips as the magazine crashed to the floor. 

           “I want to return some tapes,” you couldn’t help the smirk that remained as you spoke, pushing the stack of video tapes in front of the boy. Steve nodded, picking up the first tape and scanning it back into the system. “What were you reading there, Harrington?” he could hear your smile through your amused tone, refusing to meet your eyes as he continued to scan your tapes. 

           “Sports Illustrated,” Steve lied, ignoring the way your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore, clutching your sides as giggles poured from your throat. Your laughter was contagious, causing a few chuckles to spring out of Steve too. 

           “Whatever you say, Harrington,” you composed yourself, finally ceasing your giggles, but the smile remained taut on your lips. Steve handed over your receipt for the returned tapes, expecting you to leave after clutching it in your hands, but you didn’t. Your feet drifted over to the movie-lined aisles and Steve couldn’t help but follow, tripping over his discarded magazine in the process. 

Eventually, you stopped in front of a shelf, Steve watched the way you studied your options. When one finally caught your attention you leaned up, standing on your tippy toes to grab it. Your shirt rode up in the process, revealing the large bandages that covered the wounds on your sides. Steve’s heart dropped, the memories of the basketball game, the whole reason he had been reading that stupid magazine in the first place, flooded his mind. Just as your fingers brushed the front of the tape, seconds from getting ahold of it, Steve’s hand lifted it instead, offering it to you.

“Thanks,” you said sincerely, only then noticing the kicked puppy look on Steve’s face. You opened your mouth to speak again, but Steve beat you to it.

“I’m so sorry about the other day. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got carried away,” Steve’s gaze drifted to the ground, missing the pity that swelled in your eyes. “I’m sorry this shit keeps happening. It’s just that when I’m with you I can’t seem to function like a normal person,” he lifted his head then, catching a glimpse of emotion in your expression. Regret? Or is it that underlying anger you saved just for him?

“It’s fine, Steve,” you assured him, but the boy wasn’t comforted. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but you didn’t let him. “Dude, I’m sick of hearing you apologize. It's fine. If anything I should apologize for being such a bitch about it. It was an accident, let’s move on,” Steve eyed you, unsure whether you were messing with him or not. But you were serious, hoping that the old Steve still lived within the boy in front of you, and that one day you could make amends. Maybe this was the first step, and if that meant forgiving him for something he accidentally did, then so be it. “Check me out?” you asked, holding the tape up for Steve to see. He nodded, going back behind the counter. He reached down, grabbing a copy of Casablanca from under the counter and placing it next to the movie you had just picked out, but you shook your head.

“You don’t want it?” Steve asked, suddenly wondering if you had been kidnapped and replaced by a clone. That was the only logical explanation for your behavioral change towards both him and your favorite movie. 

“Kinda bored of complicated romances at the moment. Maybe another day,” Steve slid the movie back under the counter, keeping it there in case you changed your mind. “I heard this one was good though,” you gesture to the copy of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that you had picked out. 

“Yeah, Robin said that she thinks I’d like it. Haven’t had a chance to watch it yet though,” Steve scanned the tape, fixing his gaze on the computer, where he typed in the code for his employee discount. He did it every time you came in during his shift, thinking he was sly and that you’d never noticed, but you caught on a while ago. It came to light after a rousing argument with Robin about how she had been overcharging you. 

You pulled a few crumpled bills from your purse, handing them over to Steve. He waited, knowing you were now going to dig around your purse until you found some coins, never willing to pay with anything other than exact change. After a few seconds, you pulled the coins out, two quarters, a dime, and three pennies. You placed them gently in Steve’s extended hand. His palm tingled with the brush of your fingers, quickly sorting the coins to alleviate the sensation. He handed you the bag with your tape when he finished putting your change away. With a small smile, you turned, heading back towards the door you entered through. Just as you were about to place your hand on the large handle and push it open, you stopped. Steve, who had been watching as you walked away, felt that dreaded sense of hope again, the one he felt so often when you were near.

“What time do you get done here?” Steve’s eyebrows raised, taken aback by your question. His mouth opened, fumbling for words as he checked his watch.

“Thirty-two minutes. Why?” you chuckled at his sudden nervousness. Maybe he really had come a long way from his days as King Steve. King Steve never would’ve struggled like this when talking to a girl.

“Do you want to watch this with me?” you held up the bag that housed the Ferris Bueller VHS, extending an olive branch. Steve’s response was immediate like he didn’t even need to think about it.

“Yes,” it was a simple answer, but you just nodded in return, a shy smile creasing the corners of your mouth. “We can watch it at my place. My TV is bigger,” Steve smirked, regaining his charming and flirty tone, the one you’d gotten so familiar with as a result of all the teasing. You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, smile still cresting your lips, and pushed your way through the exit.

“Whatever you say, Harrington,” you called out behind you, repeating the same words from earlier. Steve laughed, watching your retreating figure, the sway of your hips, and the swell of your ass. He looked at his watch again, still displaying the same time as when he had checked just moments before. Steve groaned into his hands. This was going to be the longest thirty-two minutes of his life. 

You were enveloped in a book, sitting on your window bench when a light tap sounded off next to you. Thinking it was just the old house creaking or something, you ignored it, eyes scanning the next page. That’s when it happened again, and again, and again. You pulled back your curtains and flung open the window only to narrowly avoid getting smacked in the face by a pebble.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve swore, his cheeks turning red with guilt and embarrassment. He was standing below your window, pebbles spilling out of his hand. A week or two ago, hell maybe even a few days ago, you would’ve gone off on him, screaming about nearly hurting you and potentially damaging your window. But now, you just smiled, taking in the sight of the boy next door. Only Steve Harrington could make a romantic gesture nearly turn into a trip to the hospital. “I tried to leave you a message, but your curtains were closed,” you glanced over to his window, spotting the piece of loose leaf taped to it with the words ‘come over?’ scrawled in black ink.

“Give me two seconds,” you pulled your head back inside, closing the window behind you. As you did, a few of the army men on your window sill fell on their sides, no longer facing the window across the gap between two houses. Snagging the video tape from your desk, you ran down the steps, stopping in front of the mirror hung up in the hallway. Why did you suddenly care how your hair looked around Steve? Brushing off the thought, you continued, opening the front door to be met by the boy next door. 

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded, following as he turned towards his house. You walked closely behind him, catching a whiff of hairspray, lavender, and cologne. Steve led you to the rec room in the basement, which housed the largest television in the Harrington residence. You handed him the tape and he slid it into the VCR before settling on the couch, a good two feet from where you sat. Neither of you mentioned the distance, just watching the movie and laughing at Ferris’ goofy antics.

As the movie progressed a chill ran through you, goosebumps prickling your skin. The Harrington’s seemingly liked to keep their basement ice cold. Steve noticed and pulled down the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. He laid it on his lap, extending the end of it towards you. You accepted his silent invitation, closing the gap and sitting close with the blanket wrapped around the two of you. The rest of the movie was spent that way, thighs brushing against one another when either of you moved.

When the credits finally ended, with Ferris Bueller in his bathrobe disappearing from the screen one last time, you felt at ease. You hadn’t expected to feel so comfortable with Steve, but it was almost a relief that you managed to get through a whole movie without wanting to kill him.

“That was so good. Robin was totally right, I loved it. I'm basically Ferris Bueller so it makes sense I guess,” Steve shrugged and you couldn’t hold back the laugh that bloomed from your lips at his comment. Steve turned to look at you, a brow arched in confusion at your humor. “What?” he asked bluntly, a hint of amusement on his face.

“You would think that you’re Ferris,” you spoke, looking smug. Steve's lips stretched into a daring grin, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Okay, if I’m not Ferris then who am I?” Steve leaned in close and you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder.

“It’s so obvious that you’re Cameron. Sure, the people that don’t know you that well might think you’re Ferris, but I know you Steve Harrington, and you’re Cameron fully and completely,” your grin widened with Steve’s look of exasperation. His hand flew to his chest in mock offense.

“What the hell makes me Cameron?” his words still had the air of joviality behind them despite his faux wounded front. The corner of your lips faltered then, suddenly reluctant to divulge more about your characterization of the boy before you. You didn’t want to tell him what he already knew, that he and Cameron shared a strained relationship with their fathers, both all too afraid of disappointing the men who raised them. That up until recently both boys took all the shit that their fathers gave them, too freighted to stand up to them. You didn’t want to say any of it, which was fine because Steve already knew. From the second Cameron appeared on the screen, the voice in the back of Steve’s head pointed out each similarity that they shared. Silence settled over the two of you, smiles fading in the quiet room.

“If it makes you feel better,” you began, voice small and fingers fidgeting on your lap. Steve wanted to reach over and grab them, encase your fingers with his, but he restrained himself. “Cameron was my favorite character in the movie,” you nodded towards the TV screen that now reflected a blank blue shadow over the pair of you. Steve observed your bashful demeanor, thinking about how cute you looked when you got all shy. 

“You would definitely be Jeanie,” Steve asserted, breaking through the uncomfortable quiet. Your jaw dropped at the comparison and the smile returned to Steve’s lips at your reaction.

“Ferris’s bitchy sister?” Steve nodded and you shoved him again. He righted himself, continuing to make his point.

“I mean, come on, it’s so obvious,” Steve repeated your words from earlier and you shook your head. “You’re both a little crazy in a hot way. Not to mention you both go for bad boys,” you glared at Steve, but he could tell you weren’t actually mad.

“I’m not into bad boys, asshole,” you defended and Steve’s smirk grew, his rebuttal already concocted in his head.

“Oh really? So it wasn’t you that hooked up with Billy Hargrove at Tina’s Halloween party two years ago?” your jaw dropped again, and Steve’s snickering filled the air. He reached over, pressing your chin up to close your mouth. You brushed his hand off of you in confusion.

“How the hell do you know about that?” you asked, confusion and curiosity coursing through your thoughts. “Did Eddie tell you? I swear to god I’m never telling him anything ever again,” you crossed your arms, waiting for Steve to talk.

“Hargrove used to brag about it to me and try to rub it in my face,” Steve informed you and your face wrinkled, filled with questions. “I guess he thought that it would make me mad since you and I used to be friends or whatever,” Steve shrugged, no longer smiling. He watched you, unsure how you would react to his explanation. 

“Did it?” you questioned, and Steve shrugged again. He didn’t want to tell you that it did, that it took every fiber of his being to restrain himself from punching the blond boy’s stupid face.

“A little,” Steve lied and another silence fell over the room, but it wasn’t as tense this time. Steve waited a moment before speaking again, watching the way you avoided his gaze. “Why’d you even hook up with him? I thought you hated him,” Steve’s voice was quiet, unwilling to break through the low noise barrier that settled between you.

“You stole my copy of Pride and Prejudice,” you let out a sigh, gaze shifting to your hands that rested in your lap again. Steve’s brow furrowed, confused about the correlation between his question and your response. “It was the copy my grandma gave me when I was 11. I had notes in the margins on just about every page. You took it from my bag in homeroom the day before the party and refused to give it back,” Steve knew what you were talking about. He couldn’t remember why he took it, but he knew that he still had it, tucked away in his closet, in a spot that only he could find.

“But what does that have to do with Billy?” Steve still didn’t understand. Your hands ran over your face as you let out a sigh.

“You hated him and he hated you. I figured the enemy of my enemy was my friend, which wasn’t true by the way. I was super pissed about the book and a little tipsy. I needed to blow off some steam, so one thing led to another and we hooked up in his car after the party,” you were ashamed of it, regret filling you the second it was over. “I didn’t know that he was such a douchebag when it happened. If I had known how badly he treated Max and Lucas then I never would’ve done it,” you explained, still unable to meet Steve’s gaze, embarrassed by your past. Steve’s hand extended, tilting your chin with his finger, allowing your eyes to finally meet his.

“I shouldn't have taken your book, Baby,” Steve whispered and you gave him a soft smile in return. The nickname rang through the air and reverberated off the walls. Hearing it didn’t bother you for some reason. For the first time in years, the word didn’t sting as it fell from Steve’s lips. Maybe the tide finally turned, the war nearly over. It gave you a sense of courage, making you brave enough to let your next question out in the open.

“When Billy bragged about it, what did he say?” Steve was taken aback, wondering why you would want to know. Billy’s words were far from nice, if anything they were disrespectful and an invasion of privacy. But the way you looked at Steve now told him that you genuinely wanted to know, needed to know.

“It was really depraved stuff, like how your body felt against him,” Steve started and you nodded, motioning with your hands for him to continue. “He said you would start to breathe heavily when he kissed your neck. That you did this thing with your tongue when you kissed that felt insanely good. He said you moaned his name like it was made just for you to say it. That your thighs shook when you…” Steve trailed off, face flushed and unwilling to finish his sentence. He had started speaking slower with each sentence, despite the racing of his heart. The tension floated thick in the air, crowding the room and making it way too hot for the blanket draped over your lap. Steve wasn’t sure when his hand had dropped to your lap, brushing between your legs from over the blanket.

Your eyes were glued to Steve’s, unaware of the distance that disappeared between you with each passing second. His breath mingled with yours, tingling against your skin. Your tongue darted out, bringing moisture to your dry lips. The heat between your thighs ached to be relieved, wishing Steve’s hand would travel higher up your thigh as his jeans tightened at the sight of your gaze alone. The blue from the TV screen that coated the room disappeared as your eyes fluttered shut. Both sets of lips were centimeters from meeting in the middle when the VCR popped out the tape, landing with a loud smack on the ground. Steve had leaned on the remote while moving closer toward you, accidentally pressing the eject button. He knew he needed to fix the VCR, worried about its tendency to spit out tapes rather than the slow half push it was supposed to do, but he’d put it off, too tired after a long day of work. You broke apart at the sound, creating more distance as you moved the blanket from your legs and scrambled back, Steve’s hand falling into the now empty space. Neither of you could look up at the other.

“I wish we stayed friends when we were in middle school,” Steve said after a long span of silence. He never wanted to be your enemy, never wanted to drive you into the arms of an undeserving man. Your eyes met then, his were glassy, which was something you hadn’t expected. 

“Yeah, me too,” your voice was small but sure, words speaking nothing but the truth. You didn’t remind him why you weren’t, something you would’ve done a week ago. Instead, you sat in agreement, pondering how different your life would be.

“I wonder what would've changed,” he spoke. It was soft, almost a whisper, and you longed to be close to him again. To feel his words fan across your lips instead of the empty space beside you. “If I would’ve been friends with Tommy, if I would’ve dated Nancy, if we’d be off at a college somewhere instead of this shithole town,” Steve was louder now, melancholy mixed with underlying anger. Even if you were finally able to be friends now, Steve couldn’t help but think about the time he missed out on with you and all the other lingering what-ifs. 

“We could still get out one day. Leave the teen angst and trauma behind,” you sounded normal again, reassuring to Steve’s overactive thoughts. “Maybe we could go together,” Steve’s heart leaped out of his chest at your words, but he reeled it back in. It was still new, being able to talk without words slicing into the other’s skin. You looked at him with anticipatory eyes, awaiting his response.

“Just give me the signal Baby and we can be out of here before sunrise,” Steve extended his hand, this was a deal to shake on, a long-term agreement that one day you’d run away together. You grinned, accepting his outstretched hand, wondering about where you’d go. Considering if you were in love with Steve Harrington, if you always had been. Dying to know if he was in love with you too.

A friend to all is a friend to none 

           Autumn had officially begun, a chill in the air that persuaded the orange leaves to tumble from the trees. It was your favorite time of year, though you couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that swelled in your heart at the thought of leaving the warm summer sun behind. Eddie insisted that you come to visit him at work, his desperation ringing out through the static of the phone. After a few minutes of groveling, you caved and agreed to go, which is how you ended up banished to the backseat of Steve’s car on the way to the record store on main street. Robin had called shotgun, but you didn’t mind, having the entire backseat to yourself and stretching out your legs. Steve’s car smelled like pine trees and leather, hairspray and cologne, as it rolled along the pavement. 

Steve pulled up to a parking spot in front of the record store, placing his hand on the passenger seat headrest as he threw the car in reverse. He turned his head towards the car’s rear, watching carefully as he backed into a spot, shooting you a wink before he faced the front again. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread over your cheeks, feeling like a bumbling schoolgirl with a crush. Ever since your movie night, your almost kiss, things had been different with Steve. Sure, there was still some teasing and the typical dirty innuendos, but it didn’t sting the way it used to. It didn’t evolve into slammed windows and drawn curtains, loud arguments and bruised egos. Something new coursed through your veins, your heart beating just to hear the sound of his voice. It was scary, the rush of feelings that you’d seemingly repressed for years, hidden under what you thought was hate. 

“You coming or what?” Robin leaned back into Steve’s car to face you. The thoughts of Steve had distracted you and you only now noticed that they had already exited the car. You followed suit, unbuckling and sliding across the seat to get out on Steve’s side. He greeted you with an arm slung around your shoulder, purposely messing up your hair in the process. You swatted at him, smoothing your hair back down as you walked through the store’s entrance together. Music wafted down from the speakers that littered the ceiling and you instantly knew that Eddie had picked out whatever metal song was playing. As if he could hear the mention of his name in your thoughts, Eddie appeared in front of you, grabbing ahold of your wrist and dragging you towards the front counter. Meanwhile, Robin and Steve headed towards the back, searching for some Abba vinyl that Steve had been wanting for ages. The absence of Steve’s arm around your shoulder left you with a chill, the tingle brought on by his touch subsiding, but you brushed it aside following the long-haired boy. 

You went behind the counter with Eddie, hopping up to sit in the space between the cash register and the pile of records stacked to the left. It was a familiar spot for you, somewhere you’d sat a million times, much to Eddie’s manager’s dismay. In this spot, you’d talk about dates that you went on, someone from high school who got knocked up or married, a new song Eddie was working on, and your hatred for Steve Harrington. But this time was different. Eddie remained silent as you perched before him, crossing his arms over his chest and peering at you with knowing eyes. He came to stand in front of you, his stomach brushing against your knees. You glared at him in response, already knowing the words that were about to crest his lips.

“You and Harrington have been awfully close lately,” a smirk danced across his face, arms uncrossing, hands landing to rest on your knees. You narrowed your eyes, placing your hands behind you, and leaning back on them.

“We’re sort of friends now, I guess,” you shrugged and Eddie leaned in even closer, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead as if he was testing your temperature. You smacked his hand away, earning a yelp in response. The grin reappeared on Eddie’s lips as he shook his hand to alleviate the pain caused by your slap. 

“Friends, huh?” you nodded as his question, eyeing Eddie for his next move. Someone entered the store, the chime of the bell over the door alerting the both of you. But the two of you didn’t flinch, didn’t even spare the new customer a glance, too enveloped in your weird standoff staring contest. Instead, Eddie called out his standard greeting, welcoming the person to Rad Records, as his eyes roamed over you, searching for an unspecified answer. “Just friends, nothing more?” Eddie finally continued, needing more evidence to make his case, to find the answer to his unasked question. And you gave it to him, eyes darting away from his and legs beginning to bounce. Eddie’s jaw dropped, a gasp seeping from the open space between his lips.

“Shut the fuck up, Edward,” you rushed out, clamping your hand over his slack jaw. Eddie’s wide eyes trailed from you to Steve and back. His lips moved behind your hand, trying to speak, but you shushed him, refusing to let go until he calmed down. You cringed at the swipe of his tongue against your palm, but still held on tight. After a few seconds, Eddie stopped and you took it as a sign to set him free. Your hand retracted, falling limply onto your lap, where you wiped his saliva onto your jeans.

“Holy shit. You like him. You actually, consciously, like him,” Eddie whisper-yelled at you and it took a considerable amount of effort to not spontaneously combust at his words. It’s one thing to finally admit it to yourself, it’s another to hear it spoken out loud. Still, you felt like there was a ritual you had to play along with, like you had to deny the accusation.

“I so do not,” you spoke stubbornly, but Eddie could hear the give in your voice, knowing the truth.

“You totally do. The fact that it’s taken you this long to realize is insane,” Robin spoke up from behind you, startling you with her sudden appearance. You looked beside her, expecting to see Steve, but he wasn’t there. You didn’t know whether to be sad or relieved by his absence from the conversation.

“Where is Steve anyway?” you shifted on the counter, making space for Robin to rest her elbows next to you. Robin nodded towards the back of the store. Steve’s figure was obscured by the towering displays that littered the room.

“Some guy that he knew from the basketball team came in and started talking to him. Steve called him Jumpy or something. I dipped out as soon as I could, so Steve’s stuck back there now,” you cringed at the name that fell from Robin’s lips. Jumpy was the dumbass nickname of Allen Peterson, some douchebag that was friends with Tommy.

“Ugh, he and Tommy once broke into the girl’s locker room during gym and stole my clothes. I had to walk around in my gym uniform for the rest of the day. It was humiliating,” a frown bloomed on your lips, one that was echoed by Eddie and Robin. 

“I remember that. They somehow never got caught,” Eddie’s eyes trailed to the back of the store, still unable to spot Steve. “You want me to kick him out?” Eddie’s eyebrows raised in question, almost begging for the chance to kick someone out of the store. But you shook your head, tapping his shoulder so he’d move out of the way. He did, stepping to the side, allowing you to slide down from the glass counter.

“I want to see if he remembers me. Maybe mess with him a bit,” Eddie and Robin waved you off as you walked towards the back, the top of Steve’s perfectly styled hair coming into view as you got closer. You approached from behind Steve, not able to get a good view of his face. You were still hidden, questioning whether you should continue with your plan or not. Wondering if Allen would do something to upset you, tease you, and make you feel small. But Steve was there, and how could he hurt you when the boy you loved was standing by your side? Just as you were about to take a step out, you heard something, Allen’s voice. 

“Dude, I can’t believe you’ve been hanging out with such losers,” Allen’s words elicited a soft scoff from your lips. He peaked in high school but here he was calling you a loser? You wished you could see Steve’s face, to know what was running through his mind, the witty comeback that was sure to leave his lips any second now. But it didn’t. All you heard was the smooth sound of his laugh dancing through the store.

“Come on, man. They’re not that bad,” you brushed off Steve’s weak, delayed defense. At least he stood up for you in some regard, that’s what matters.

“Nah man, that Baby chick is nuts. I remember how weird she was in high school, always crying over something. Sometimes I just wanted to bend her over and give her something to cry about, you know?” Allen mimed thrusting his hips as his words hung in the air. It made you feel dirty and violated, like he had already touched you in the way he said that he wanted to. The boy viewed you as an object, nothing more than something to be used to satisfy his needs. Your eyes bore into the back of Steve’s head, willing him to speak up on your behalf. To defend you, to protect you, to punch this asshole in the face. But Steve was never good at defending you and all he did was laugh again. That irritatingly coy laugh, the one that set off alarm bells whenever you heard it. The laugh that belonged to the reigning king, not the boy you loved.

“Oh yeah, totally. One good screw would straighten her right out,” at that moment you could’ve sworn that the entire town could hear your heart as it shattered. You weren’t really sure when you revealed yourself from your hiding spot behind the bookshelf, but your eyes locked with Allen’s, and his stupid smirk dropped. Steve tracked his gaze, spinning on his heels to see you, tears welling in the corners of your eyes, forehead creased, and red-hot anger coursing through you. You turned, moving as fast as you could towards the exit at the front of the store. Steve chased behind you, his hand catching your arm right after you passed through the door. Eddie and Robin looked alarmed at the sight of you both stopped before the store’s glass front.

“Let go of me,” you spoke hotly, cursing the strength of Steve’s grip. Steve’s eyes roamed over you, catching the flicker of hurt that flashed across your face before you restored it to its angry glare. 

“I didn’t mean it. It’s just-” Steve began, but you quickly cut him off, still trying to wrangle your arm from his grasp.

“I don’t give a shit what you meant, Harrington. I thought you changed. I forgave you for all the shit you put me through. Guess I wrong to think you were capable of being a decent person,” Steve’s eyes watered at your words, hating himself for making you doubt him and how he feels for you.

“I have changed. I don’t know why I said that shit,” Steve pleaded, he wanted you to understand, to give him five minutes to explain himself. But Steve knew this was it, you’d already made your decision, it wouldn’t matter even if he got down on his knees and begged. He’d broken your trust, said shit he didn’t mean, and now he’d lost you again, the same way he did years before, the way he never wanted to again. Steve let go of your arm, giving you the freedom you asked for when you first left the record store with him in tow. Your arm felt numb, empty, without Steve’s hand there, and you cursed your stupid heart for not wanting him to let go.

“I guess old habits die hard, Harrington. Stay the fuck out of my life,” your words spat from deep within you, fire coating each syllable. Steve watched as you turned, making your way down the sidewalk and turning into an alleyway between two stores. Eddie and Robin burst through the record store’s entrance, ignoring the autumn chill that they were greeted with as they did. Steve wiped his eyes, glad to have tears clouding his vision because he was not sure he could stand to see his best friend's face as he recounted the past few minutes to her. Eddie looked to Steve, silently asking where you went, and Steve lifted his hand pointing in your direction. Eddie took off, turning the corner to the alley to find you slumped on the ground, knees to your chest and head in your hands. He approached you slowly, pulling you into him when he finally got close enough. Sobs racked your body, chest heaving against Eddie’s as he held you in a tight hug, knees resting on the cement below. 

“I hate him, Eds. I fucking hate him,” Eddie nodded in understanding, stroking your hair and pulling it from where it stuck to your tear-stained cheeks. “I should’ve known he’d break my heart again. I should’ve known not to let myself fall in love with him,” your tears soaked Eddie’s shirt and he froze, stuck on the words that fell from your lips. Love. Sure, he’d known you liked Steve, but love was different. Love meant more hurt. It held more weight. It meant that you set aside the past and moved on. It meant you finally gave in to the feelings that gnawed at your heart and your brain each night. It meant that Steve really fucked up.

Chasing shadows in the grocery line

           Steve’s car finally peeled away and flew down main street, signaling to Eddie that the coast was clear. He walked you back to the now barren record store, save for his co-worker Terry, who was in the back unpacking a new shipment. Eddie asked Terry to cover for him and when Terry saw your tear-stained cheeks and red puffy eyes, he agreed, no questions asked. So Eddie put you in the passenger seat of his van and sped off down the road. You didn’t ask where he was going when he passed the street that led to your house, already knowing where he was taking you. 

           Eddie’s van stopped abruptly in front of his trailer. Wayne’s car was gone, signaling that he’d already left for work, leaving the trailer empty. It was getting dark, gloomy clouds blocking the sun as the moon rose in the sky opposite it. The porch lights flickered on, illuminating the shadows of your face through the cracked windshield. You caught sight of Lucas’ bike through the back window. It was lying on its side outside of Max’s trailer, thrown in haste. Normally it would’ve made you laugh, elicit a joke about young lovebirds to fall from your lips, but right now you couldn’t even will the corners of your lips to curl into a faint smile. 

Eddie opened your car door, gently lifting you by your waist and placing you on the ground. You followed him inside, trailing behind him like a lost, heartbroken puppy with nowhere else to go. He led you to his room, indicating for you to sit on his bed, so you did. Eddie placed a soft kiss on your forehead, the kind a mother gives her child, and lifted your arms. He disrobed you of your heavy knit sweater, your way of protecting yourself from the autumn winds that pierced the air, and replaced it with one of his Black Sabbath shirts. You unclipped your bra through the shirt, pulling it out of your sleeve before tossing it to the floor. The action always amazed Eddie, drawing a laugh from his lips, but this time he remained quiet, too concerned over you to pay attention to much else. Next, Eddie unlaced your shoes, pulling them from your feet. You shimmied from your pants after, throwing them across the room, uncaring where they landed. 

With a shaky breath, you laid down, facing the wall, your back turned to Eddie. Eddie pulled off his leather jacket, shucked off his jeans, and moved towards the bed. The mattress dipped beside you, Eddie’s body now close to yours. He pulled the bed sheets up to cover you both before draping his arm across your torso. You relaxed into him a bit, fingers and legs intertwining with one another. It was a familiar position, one you and Eddie had shared a million times, but his comforting touch wasn’t working quite the same as it normally did. Not when your heart hurt this much.

Eddie wanted to ask what happened, pester you with questions, and uncover the truth, but he refrained, knowing you’d speak up when the time was right. His heart ached at the feel of your body shaking against his, small sobs springing from deep within your chest no matter how much you wanted them to stop. Eddie only held you tighter, his arms practically crushing your ribs as his own tears began to well in his eyes. You stayed like that for a while, long after the sun fully sank beneath the horizon, leaving the room in complete consuming darkness. The wind caused sapling branches to scrape against the window, becoming the only sound to fill the lingering silence. You stopped crying after a while, wishing you could sleep the pain away, but remaining unsuccessful in your attempts. 

Finally, you gave up, shifting to face Eddie, your forehead pressed to his. Breath intermingling, comforting you, letting you know that, yes, your heart may be broken, but you were still alive. Eddie studied you, unsure whether he should be the first to speak or not, but you quickly quelled that thought when you opened your mouth.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave Hawkins?” your question threw Eddie off, his brows scrunching in confusion. It’s not what he expected you to say. 

“Not unless the band takes off, and certainly not without Wayne,” Eddie had thought about it before, considered moving to a big city where the lights never dimmed and the gigs would never end. But as much as Hawkins may have hated him, he could never hate it in return. He’d get sick of the city noise and never be able to sleep, craving to hear the chirp of crickets and cicadas instead. So when you asked, he was sure of his answer. But he didn’t echo your question back to you, already knowing that your answer would be a resounding yes. It would be tough for you to leave everyone behind, but you longed for something different, somewhere new to help escape the past and finally look forward to the future. Eddie was lost in thought, still wondering why you asked that when you spoke again.

“He’s exactly who I thought he was,” it was a whisper, one that could easily be lost, left hanging in the air with no one around to hear it echo off the peeling walls. But Eddie heard it, he absorbed your words from the silent room, wanting to know more, so you continued. “I thought he was different now, but it turns out he’s still the same, too wrapped up in caring about what others think,” fresh tears sprang in your eyes, a sob tightening your throat as you spoke. “I’m tired of fighting against his undying need to be liked. I’m tired of losing against it every goddamn time. I’m done,” there was a finality to your tone, one that caused Eddie to lift his head from his pillow, a questioning look on his face.

“Sweetheart, do you want me to talk to him? Figure out what’s running through his head?” Eddie offered, but he knew the gesture would be wasted on you. Once you set your mind to it, it was done. But he wanted you to hear Steve out. He wanted you to find a way to reconcile your differences. For all the pain and confusion that Steve Harrington brought, he also filled you with joy and light. You’d been happier throughout the past few weeks than Eddie had ever seen you, illuminating rooms simply by entering them. Eddie didn’t want that to disappear, to be forever obscured by a compilation of closed curtains and avoidant gazes. But he was met with a furious shake of your head.

“No, Eds. I mean it. No more Steve,” Eddie nodded despite the voice in his head yelling at him to speak up and try to change your mind. It was no use. He rolled onto his back, one arm resting under his head, the other still laid across you. You shifted too, laying with your chest pressed to Eddie’s stomach, head resting just below his. “I wish it was you that I loved. It’d be much simpler that way,” you’re not sure why you said it, maybe the cloud that formed in your head from the day’s events expanded, spilling all of your hazy thoughts through your lips. It was a sad wish, an empty hurt with truth behind it. But Eddie understood, his own thoughts reflecting yours, the telepathy finally working in a way. He wanted to take away your pain in any way he could, but not like this. Not when your heart was beaten black and blue, longing for a simple ceasefire to mend your open wounds. Not when that same heart belonged to another, an echoed call through the woods waiting for the birds in the treetops to sing back with an affirmative answer. Eddie loved you, but not in the way the both of you currently wished for. An irrefutable loyalty that would consciously be limited to platonic fellowship, no romance lingering from either party in the way you held each other close.

“I’m sorry, Baby,” Eddie’s whisper slid through the strands of your hair, a soft kiss placed overtop of it. You’d grown quiet by then, breath evening out as you were finally granted your wish for sleep. Falling deep into a slumber where you were still five and Steve Harrington tucked flowers behind your ears as he whispered to you about love.

Days had passed, an endless stream of the same heartache and emptiness that blended each rise and fall of the sun together, making it difficult to distinguish one from the next. Robin called you probably a million times, but you refused to come to the phone. Your parents opted to unplug the phone from the wall for a few days, growing tired of the incessant ringing. You knew she just wanted to talk about Steve, but that was something you couldn’t quite handle yet. You’d only plugged the phone back in to call out of work, letting them know you had a nasty stomach bug, not caring if they believed you or not. The curtains in your room remained closed with the little army men on the window sill replaced in their defensive stance. To you, this was war. 

On the fifth day of refusing to depart from beneath your bed sheets, your mom entered your room, messing with the knick-knacks that covered your dresser as she did. A custom D20 from Dustin, a kazoo Eddie gave you for your birthday one year joking about how you could be Corroded Coffin’s lead kazoo player, a mixtape Robin lent you ages ago, a new pack of colored pencils you’d been meaning to give to Will, and a flower that had been dried and pressed into a glittery bookmark, all littered your dresser’s surface. Your mom grabbed the bookmark, admiring the way the lavender flower retained its shape despite being flattened so many years ago. It was the same lavender that grew from the ground beneath your bedroom window, decorating the grass between the Harrington’s house and your own. You watched closely as she eyed the bookmark, curiosity flooding your thoughts. 

“I remember making this with you,” she spoke softly, a gentle cadence meant to comfort you, and it sort of did. “You came running inside with the flower and insisted that we save it. You said it was too important to let die,” she sat on the edge of your bed, bookmark still glinting in the soft glow of the lamplight. You propped yourself up on your elbows, wondering where she was going with all of this. She handed you the bookmark then, and you took it, confused, examining it as if you’d never seen it before. 

“I don’t remember that,” your voice was hoarse from crying. It didn’t help that you hadn’t properly spoken out loud in days, too congested with the bustling thoughts running laps around your mind.

“You were five. And if I remember correctly a certain boy had been the one to pick the flower for you,” you understood then, she was talking about Steve. Part of you felt betrayed, like your mother was providing aid for the enemy, but the other part of you wanted to know more, why she wanted to talk about this, especially now. “We always assumed the two of you would be friends, lovers even,” she wagged her eyebrows at you and the corners of your lips ticked up at the gesture. “So it was strange to see the distance that grew between you, the pain you caused each other. I’d always hoped you’d resolve your differences, and fall back into the same ease you had as kids, but I know it’s more complicated than that,” her hand reached up, brushing softly against your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you were crying until her fingers swiped over the fallen tears. “I love you, my Baby,” her words were a whisper, gentle lips pressed to your forehead. She patted your leg through your comforter, standing up as she did. On her way to the door, she stopped, turning back to look at you. “Maybe some fresh air might help. A trip to the store?” she suggested and for some reason you nodded, actually thinking that it would be nice to leave your bed for a bit. She smiled, making her way out of your room to grab the grocery list for you. As she rounded the corner, one foot out the door, she couldn’t help but notice the tight grip you kept on the bookmark in your hand. The flower within it that was always in bloom. Something that could never die.

You opted to go to the store alone, wanting to drive with the windows down and the music up, drowning out the overcrowded space in your head. It was nice to leave the house, to be in an open space with autumn in the air. The crisp leaves crunched under your tires as you pulled into the grocery parking lot. You were so concerned about making sure that you had the list your mom gave you that you completely missed the maroon BMW parked on the opposite end of the lot. Once you had the list, you grabbed a cart, its wheels squeaking loudly as you made your way down aisles, grabbing item after item off the shelves.

There was only one thing left on your list, a bag of tortilla chips, which was your dad’s favorite snack food for some odd reason. You almost chuckled to yourself seeing how his scratchy handwriting interrupted your mom’s pristine list. With a squeal of protest from the shopping cart’s wheels, you turned the corner, eyes roaming over the chip options in front of you. You finally found what you were looking for and stood up on your tiptoes, the top shelf being just a bit too high for you to reach. A warmth washed over you as someone leaned into your space, large hands retrieving the bag and offering it to you. Your breath stopped for a moment and you found yourself unable to move.

“I’m just gonna put these in here then,” Steve spoke softly, placing the chip bag into your cart when you froze. He looked tired, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His hair was flat, almost greasy looking, lacking his usual abundance of hairspray and product. Steve watched you, the way you shrunk at the sight of him and he felt as though his heart had been torn from his chest. He never wanted to hurt you, to make you feel less than what you were. And to Steve, you were everything. Steve opened his mouth to speak, an apology sputtering from his lips, but the sight snapped you out of your stupor, suddenly springing to action.

“I told you to stop apologizing to me,” your voice was firm and cold, nothing like the ease it held back at Family Video the last time he tried to right his wrongs. 

“Just let me explain, please,” he pleaded, eyes soft, a glimmer of familiarity in them. For a moment you almost let him, finding yourself more than willing to listen to the boy speak. You were reminded of the comfort you found in the sound of his voice recently, the swell it brought to your chest. But that vanished when you remembered the way he laughed when talking to Allen, his vile words leaving your glass heart shattered across the record store’s stained carpet. It felt like a slap to the face, a cut on your cheek, a crack in your rib. You meant what you said, you were done with him. The boy before you showed no growth. He was still the same boy who called you names, taunted you in the halls, stole your favorite book, and scared off the boys you liked. 

“No,” it was stony and resolute, an end to the conversation. You pushed your cart away, leaving Steve behind, your shadow cascading over him as you did. You made your way to the register and Steve followed close behind. He got in line behind you, but he stayed quiet, unsure what to say. He only had two things in his basket, which made his checkout go by quickly. By the time he got out to the parking lot, you were still there, placing the hefty grocery bags into your trunk.

“Let me make it up to you,” Steve startled you, appearing at your side out of nowhere. “I swear I've changed, I promise. I care about you, so much,” you slammed your trunk closed, wheeling your cart back to where it belonged. Steve followed you, but you stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge his pleas. He stood in front of your car door then, blocking it so you couldn’t get in. “I don’t want to lose you again. Let me show you I care. Let me prove it,” he looked like he was on the verge of tears. Part of you wanted to reach out and hold his face in your hands. The other part wanted to hurt him more, make him feel what you felt. The latter won. 

“You can’t prove shit to me, Harrington. I don’t believe it, any of it. You’re still the same stupid boy you were when we were 11, and I fucking hate you for it,” you spat and Steve’s face hardened. You wanted him to yell back at you, to prove that he felt something for you, something worth fighting for. But he didn’t. He simply stepped aside, a new slump in his posture as he let you go. His gaze followed the battered silhouette of your car as it drove off, a wisp of fallen leaves and Steve’s shredded heart trailing behind it.

When you got home you stormed inside, leaving the groceries in the car for your parents to unload. You fell back into your bed, resuming the same position you held before you went to the grocery store. It took some time, anger encapsulating your every fiber, but eventually, you fell asleep, putting the situation with Steve aside as you escaped to the peace of your dreams. 

You awoke the next morning, groggy and sore. Rolling onto your back, you caught a glimpse of something from the corner of your eye, something that was out of place. Your body groaned as you arose, hesitant steps towards your desk, hands slowly lifting the object. It was a book, but not just any book. It was Pride and Prejudice, the copy that your grandmother gave you years ago, the one that was taken from you. You flipped through the pages, fingers tracing the words you’d penciled in on the margins. Stuck between its pages was a bookmark, your bookmark, with lavender and specks of glitter decorating it. 

You sat back on your bed, wondering why the book was returned so suddenly and out of the blue. Your mom was the one to put it in your room, marking its pages with the bookmark, but Steve had been the one to take it years ago. Why did he keep it? Why give it back now? Was this the end? A bookend in your tumultuous relationship with the boy next door? A post-it note fell from between the book’s pages and you leaned down to grab it. Written in Steve’s messy scrawl was one word. 

“Please.”

And you’d come back to me

           The note was metaphorically stuck in your head, lingering like a bad dream that you couldn’t wake from. It didn’t help that it was physically stuck to your nightstand, its fluorescent green shade haunting you with each passing glance. But you just couldn’t will yourself to throw it away. It was a life preserver tossed to you after falling overboard, a worm on a hook meant to reel you in, a last attempt to fix what had been broken, to reconcile with Steve. You meant it when you said you were done, but the ache inside you longed to be quelled. And there was only one person that could do that. The least you could do was hear him out. Find closure, nothing more, or so you told yourself. 

A few days had passed since your encounter at the grocery store and you finally felt brave enough to face Steve again. You knew he was home given that his car had scarcely left the driveway in the past few days. Your legs felt wobbly, knees knocking as you marched in the dark through your lawn, crossing over onto the Harrington’s property. It was late, but you knew he’d still be awake, just as plagued with his thoughts as you were. You jabbed the doorbell with your finger, waiting nervously for the door to open, to see the boy that plagued your thoughts. But it didn’t. So you rang it again, and again, and again. Repeatedly pressing the button until the door finally cracked open.

“I don’t want whatever you’re selling, man,” Steve began but stopped when he saw you, straightening his slumped shoulders. He looked worse than he had at the grocery store like he hadn’t slept in days. He let the door hang open as he gaped at you, unable to form words. You took advantage of the open space, slipping inside his house before he could stop you. Steve shut the door, turning to see what you were doing, but you’d already made your way upstairs to his room. 

His room was pretty much the same as it had been the last time you were there, back when the world almost ended. Clothes strewn across the floor, trophies lining small shelves, movie posters galore. You noticed a new poster though, one for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Steve finally caught up to you, his perpetual gloominess temporarily taken over by confusion as to why you were suddenly here in his house. You sat on the edge of his bed and he followed suit, worry filling his entire being. Was this the end? Did you come to say goodbye? Steve’s heart beat rapidly in his chest, panic rising in his throat when you finally spoke.

“You said you wanted to explain, so explain,” your voice was soft and quiet, a tone completely unlike the one you used when you were mad. Steve was baffled, wanting to know what made you decide to hear him out, but he knew better than to waste what very well could be his last chance with you.

“I didn’t mean what I said in the record store. I didn’t mean any of it. I wanted to beat the shit out of Allen when he said that stuff,” Steve’s hands shook as he spoke, watching your face for any sign of emotion. He wanted to know what you were thinking, wished he could read your mind. But he couldn’t, so he continued. “It’s like every time I’m around someone from high school, I get pushed aside and someone else takes control of what I say. Someone that reminds me a lot of my father,” angry tears welled in Steve’s eyes. He hated that after all these years his dad still had such an impact on him and the way he acted.

“Steve,” you spoke up, still emotionless in your tone. But Steve stopped you, wanting to continue, practically begging you with his glassy eyes to let him. So you did.

“I know it's not an excuse, and it's so so shitty of me. But he’s just there in the back of my head reminding me that Harrington’s are winners,” a tear dripped down his cheek and it took a great deal of restraint from you to not reach out and brush it away. “I hate that I let him win. I hate that I ever betrayed your trust, that I was so mean to you in school, that I let you out of my life. I hate that I let Allen get away with what he said, that I agreed with him instead, because I don’t. I think you’re beyond perfect the way you are. I don’t want to change anything about you,” Steve stopped for a moment unsure if you’d let him continue. Little did he know that your breath had caught in your chest and extinguished any words that might have spilled from your lips.

“I never ever want to hurt you again,” Steve continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise, I won’t. I want to be better, I want to be the boy you trusted when we were kids. I care about you so unbelievably much. I never stopped, not once. Please let me prove it,” he’d moved closer to you and you let him, trying your best to keep your feelings hidden from your expression. You were close to breaking, to giving in, to letting yourself be unequivocally in love with Steve Harrington. But you still had to put up a fight, to prove it was the right choice, not just a never-ending loop of pain.

“I’ve given you so many chances, Steve. How do I know this one would be any different?” you couldn’t look at him, knowing you’d lose all your resolve if you did. So your eyes fell to your lap instead. Steve watched your avoidant gaze, wanting more than anything for you to face him.

“Because I love you,” it was firm and unwavering, a declaration spilled from Steve’s cracked lips. It snapped your attention to him immediately, granting Steve his previous wish. “I always have, even when we were kids. I got confused when popularity came into play, but it was still there, in the back of my mind. I didn’t know what it was then, but I do now, and I’ll do anything for you, anything to keep you with me,” Steve grew shy, still unable to tell how you feel. “I want you in any way that you’ll have me. Anything is fine with me as long as I have you back in my life. I just can’t lose you,” Steve finished, leaving his words in the air for you to respond. You took your time to collect your own thoughts, to steady the thump of your heart in your chest.

“Steve,” it was soft, gentle, longing, matching the tone Steve hoped to hear. “I don’t want to lose you either,” the words halted Steve’s heart in his chest. He hoped this was it, that you loved him the way he loved you. “I want to trust you again, but you have to earn it. We can't just keep hurting each other,” you asserted and Steve nodded wildly. You wanted to laugh at the way his hair flopped around on his head as he did it, but you refrained, simply letting a smile crest your lips instead. Steve’s lips matched yours, curling at the edges, and soon you found yourselves incapable of holding back the soft chuckles that rose in your throat.

Steve’s eyes never left you, admiring the smile he’d so dearly missed seeing. He only ever wanted for you to be happy, only wanted you to know you’re loved. And from here on out, he’d make sure that you were. You leaned forward resting your forehead against Steve’s, one last ditch attempt at your silly determination to communicate telepathically. It never worked with Eddie, so why not try it with Steve, the boy you loved since you were five. It would ease the tension, tell Steve what your lips were too scared to say.

“What am I thinking?” you asked, hands coming up to hold Steve’s shoulders in place. His hands wrapped around you, resting on your waist, feeling your scarred skin through the thin material of your shirt. Steve scoured his mind, focusing on you, the soft reflection of light in your eyes, the way your lips were dry and cracked, the curve of your cheekbones. You were more than beautiful to him, you were angelic, bewitching, radiant. You were everything he ever wanted and needed.

“That you like me too?” Steve put on his smug charm, trying to cover up his nervousness. It made you want to laugh, to kiss him, to tell him the truth.

“So close, Stevie. I was thinking more along the lines of love, but if that’s what you’re getting then, sure, we can go with that,” you shrugged jovially, a smile stretched across your cheeks as Steve’s jaw went slack. His eyes watched you for any sign of doubt, of mockery, but he couldn’t find any. He knew it then, you loved him too. Steve found your gaze, eyes whispering to him in their own secret language. Kiss me, they said, and who was he to deny them of their wish? Steve pulled you in, grip tightening on your waist as he did. Your chest was suddenly flush with his, your body now resting in his lap, lips only a breath away from meeting. It was a last chance to bow out, to give it up for good, but you didn’t want to. You tilted your chin, finally closing the gap and brushing your lips against Steve’s. The kiss was encompassed by every flower he’d ever picked for you, every peek behind closed curtains, every taunt and tease and fight, every innuendo, every unseen longing gaze, every utterance of the name Baby, all wrapped together. It felt like winning a game of hide-and-seek that had been called off after an hour of unsuccessful searching, a ring of smoke clinging to the air and lingering high only to be dissipated by the summer breeze, a ceasefire on the battlefield for a war that had gone on too long. It felt like Steve, and you couldn’t get enough of it. His lips danced with yours, never wanting to feel anything but the crush of you against him. But eventually, you ran out of air, pulling back enough to breathe, still keeping your forehead pressed to his.

“I think I knew you loved me because I always loved you too,” Steve’s words were breathy, softened with the heave of his chest. Your smile flashed through your heavy breaths and hot cheeks. Steve Harrington loved you, and you loved him too. It would take some getting used to, but you liked the sound of it. You couldn’t hold back any longer, leaning back in to reattach your lips to his. 

A moan mixed in with the kiss, grumbling up from Steve’s throat. His hands shifted down past your waist, landing on your ass with a light squeeze. You laughed at the gesture, keeping your lips pressed against his, and Steve’s heart melted at the sound. But he didn’t have long to linger on the feeling, because your hips rolled against his crotch, catching him off guard. Steve’s mouth opened a bit at the feeling, eliciting a groan from deep within him. You took advantage of the opportunity and slid your tongue against Steve’s. You did the move that you always did, a roll of your tongue against his, and Steve’s fingers dug deeper into your skin.

“Fuck, is that the tongue thing that Hargrove was talking about?” Steve asked, pulling away for just a second before attaching his lips to the column of your neck. 

“I don’t want to talk about Billy right now, okay?” you gasped as Steve’s teeth bit into the sensitive spot on your neck. You felt heat flush straight to your core and a whimper slipped from your lips. Steve was mesmerized, enthralled with the sweet sounds you made and the way your breaths picked up.

“Noted,” Steve spoke against your neck, sending vibrations down your spine. He worked his way back up to your lips, hand trailing under your shirt. You flinched when his hand brushed your scar, his cool fingers causing goosebumps to prickle your skin. You always had to lie to your hookups about where the scars came from, but you didn’t need to with Steve. He knew you. He had matching wounds. Steve pulled away, worried about the way you shuddered when he came into contact with the healed skin. But you just lifted your arms above your head, signaling for Steve to remove your shirt. The soft fabric slid from your skin, leaving your chest exposed. You’d foregone a bra that morning, and given the entranced look on Steve’s face at the sight of your bare breasts, you were really glad that you did. His hands gravitated towards your chest, cupping it gently. Steve’s thumbs came to rest on your nipples, brushing back and forth over them, evoking a delicious moan from your lips.

His mouth found yours again, and you couldn’t help the way your hips began to grind against his, craving friction to satisfy the heat pooling between your legs. You removed Steve’s shirt then, and instead of resuming his previous position, Steve tilted his head down, attaching his lips to one of your nipples. You couldn’t help the pleasure that coursed through your veins, grinding harder against Steve’s lap. He was hard beneath his sweatpants, and his length caught against your clit with each movement, only further riling you up. Soft moans fell from both of your lips in harmony until Steve’s mouth departed from your chest, shifting to lay you down with his body hovering over you. His lips were swollen and red, wet with his saliva as he gazed down at you. He looked at you with a hunger that he’d suppressed for far too long as his hands trailed down your stomach, slowly pulling down the sweatpants that rested on your hips. You lifted your bum, making it easier for Steve to take them off. Once your pants were discarded on the floor, Steve’s face shifted down, hovering over your clothed cunt. 

“You don’t have to,” you spoke quietly, suddenly seeming shy and so drastically different from the girl who just rolled her tongue into Steve’s mouth.

“Trust me, Baby, I want to. I want to so fucking bad, have for a long time,” Steve’s eyes found yours, but he didn’t move from his spot between your thighs. His breath fanned over your skin, only adding more heat between your legs. He placed small kisses on your inner thighs and your back arched at the sensation. Steve truly had waited a long time to do this, thought about it late at night while his hand fisted his cock, so he was going to savor every second. His fingers dragged over your panties, drawing little stars over the material. You threw your head back, unable to contain yourself as a result of Steve’s teasing.

“Please Stevie, need you so bad,” you begged, breath coming out ragged and labored. Steve smirked up at you, finally hooking his fingers into the cotton material and yanking them off. He lowered himself further, breath now fanning over your exposed heat. Steve wasted no time, licking into your cunt, flexing his tongue with each flick back and forth through your wet folds. You gasped as he held down your thighs, holding them tightly around his head. His tongue was persistent, like a starved man eating for the first time in days. Steve’s hips rutted against the mattress, so turned on by the noises you made, the way you tasted, how you felt against his tongue. It got to a point where you could hardly keep still, squirming wildly beneath Steve’s steel grip, and he knew you were close.

His mouth came up to your clit, sucking it with enough force to make you whine out his name. He could come at just the sounds you made, but he held back, keeping his focus on your core and the shake that slowly began in your thighs. The coil that had been building in the pit of your stomach snapped, a wave of pleasure flooding through you. Steve lapped at your folds, capturing the last of your arousal on his tongue as you came down from your high, chest heaving and thighs quaking.

“Fuck, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, shifting up to place a kiss to your lips. You tasted yourself on him, a whimper escaping you in response. Without breaking the kiss, your hands came down, fumbling to rid Steve of his sweatpants, but he stopped you. 

“I wanna return the favor, Stevie. Wanna make you feel good too,” you spoke between kisses and Steve pulled away, hastily shaking his head. 

“You do that now and it’ll be all over. I’d rather come inside you, Baby,” Steve's eyes asked you for permission, wanting more than anything to be buried inside you. You understood what he meant and nodded eagerly, the idea reigniting the heat between your thighs. Steve got up quickly, pulling his pants from his legs. You repositioned yourself, now on your hands and knees, facing away from Steve. He kneeled on the bed behind you, one hand smoothing over the curve of your ass, gently finding its resting place on your waist. His lips placed a quick kiss to your spine as he took his length in his hand. He pumped himself a few times before lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing in with a wrecked moan. Your walls stretched around him, squeezing his length as he bottomed out. You couldn’t help the faint pants that fell from your lips at the feel of being so full. 

“Fuck, Steve, so big,” you whined, arms weakly holding you in place. He chuckled behind you, trying to keep from blowing his load right then and there. You were so tight, your walls surrounding him perfectly. He slowly started to move, pulling his hips out gently and pushing himself back in. Steve was practically growling at the sensation of your walls clasped so close around him. As you both adjusted, Steve sped up, his hips bouncing quickly off the curve of your ass. It was hot and wet, hard and deep, the sound of skin slapping together filled the room. 

“Taking me so good, Baby. Wanna hear those pretty sounds. Making ‘em just for me, right?” Steve’s breath was labored, trying hard to hold on as his fingers dug into your hips. You complied with Steve’s request, letting your stifled whimpers echo throughout the room. Steve pulled you up then, your back pressed to his front as your ass bounced off his thighs. He thrusted up into you and his hands came up to fondle your breasts. “Tell me you’re close, Baby. I can’t hold on much longer,” he muttered in your ear, ending his statement with another shaky groan. You nodded, the back of your head moving against his shoulder as you did. He quickened his pace then, using every last ounce of reserve that he had to pound into you, bodies pressing together. Your face scrunched in pleasure and Steve’s followed, both of you toeing the edge of blinding pleasure. 

“Fuck, Stevie. Love you so much,” you moaned through ragged breaths, hand coming behind his head in an attempt to pull his lips to yours. The words you spoke and the crash of your lips against his had Steve coming undone. His hot streams of cum coated the inside of your walls, triggering your own high, cries of Steve’s name muffled by the taste of his swollen lips. You sunk back down onto his lap as he finally ceased his movements, resting on the back of his heels, still buried deep within you. His eyes met your soft gaze and he couldn’t help the uptick of his lips. You loved him and that’s all that mattered to him now.

The two of you cleaned yourselves up, slowly redressing to various degrees. Steve pulled on the boxers that were lost in his sweatpants while you draped your oversized shirt back over your frame. You gave up on trying to find your panties, accepting that they were now lost in the mess of Steve’s cluttered bedroom floor. You fell back into bed with Steve, rolling on your side to face him, the bed sheets draped over you. Steve’s legs brushed against yours, slowly intertwining until one of your legs rested between both of his. You caught sight of a cherry stem resting on his nightstand, one that had been tied in a knot, and held back your teasing remarks about him keeping it. Steve studied you, wanting to memorize this moment, each feature of your face. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up to the sight of your soft, pleasant smile as you watched over him in the same way he did to you. Eventually, Steve’s lids grew heavy, fluttering closed as he drifted off to sleep, you not far behind.

When you woke in the morning, you were still tangled together, radiating heat off one another to fill the otherwise cold morning air. You nestled your head into Steve’s bare chest, a soft groan slipping from him as he awoke. Neither of you wanted to get up, face the morning, and separate after a night together. The only reason you eventually did get up was because Steve had to go to work and you were sure your parents would notice your absence soon.

You went downstairs before him, waiting for him to find his car keys in the mess of his room. You shared a kiss on his doorstep, fingers tangling in Steve’s hair as he pulled your hips flush with his. A whine escaped you as he pulled away, leaning down to pluck a daisy from his mom’s well-manicured front garden. Steve tucked the daisy behind your ear, placing one last kiss to your lips before walking over to his car. He opened his car door, stopping for another glimpse of you before he left. You smiled at him, waving him off and watching as he backed out of the driveway. He blew you a kiss before putting the car in drive and pulling away. You held the kiss close to your heart, the heart that now belonged to him, and headed back across his lawn to your own house.

The smell of coffee wafted through the air as you shut the front door behind you. Your parents sat at the kitchen table, a newspaper between them and a cup of coffee each. You drifted into the kitchen, ignoring their questioning looks, and plugged the phone back into the wall. Your parents shared a silent look, a look of relief that the storm was over, that normalcy would soon resume. 

You went upstairs then, entering your bedroom and pulling back the curtains that encompassed your window. You planned to leave a note for Steve stuck to the glass, the same way you used to when you were kids, one for him to find when he got back home from work. But when your eyes drifted to the window across from yours, you were met with confusion.

In place of the army of green men that once sat on the window sill was a pencil with a half sheet of white paper attached to it. A white flag. Steve surrendered, and the war was over. You smiled at the gesture before crafting your own flag to mirror the one across from you. It would be a truce then, breaking even and giving up the fight. The ache in your chest was quelled and replaced by an unfathomable warmth. There were no winners or losers anymore. There was just you and Steve, two lovers that took way too long to figure it out. 

You would call Eddie and Robin later to explain the previous night’s events, but for now, you sat back on your bed, Pride and Prejudice clasped in your hands. You opened the cover, eyes landing on the bookmark between its pages, mind drifting off to the boy that picked you flowers and told you he loved you so long ago. Maybe you knew him all along. Maybe he wasn’t so different after all.

You put me on and said I was your favorite

The summer sun beat down on Steve’s tanned skin, sweat dripping from his brow, making a trail down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, wishing to escape Hawkins’ summer heat. With a deep breath, Steve leaned down to grab the box at his feet, hoisting it up to hand to you. You stood in the back of a U-Haul, organizing the boxes that were handed to you. Your very sweaty boyfriend flashed you a smile before turning to go back into his house and grab more boxes.

“You guys couldn’t have picked a hotter day to move,” Eddie appeared in front of you, unruly curls stuck to his forehead and neck. You’d offered him a hair tie earlier, but he declined, now stuck suffering in the humid air. His arms were strained with the weight of the box he was carrying, clearly struggling more than Steve had been.

“Sorry, Eds. We can’t control the weather,” you took the box that he had brought out, placing it somewhere behind you in the truck. You brushed away the sweat that had formed above your lip and watched as Eddie shook his head.

“I can’t believe you guys are actually leaving,” a sad smile stretched his lips as he spoke. He knew that it would happen eventually, that you would leave behind this horror story of a town and start anew. You’d suffered more Upside Down related trauma than he had, and he knew the fears that still crept into your mind from time to time. It was a good change, even if it meant leaving the people you loved behind.

“Me too, honestly,” you looked up then, head snapping towards the sound of voices arguing in the distance. Steve and Dustin were on Steve’s front porch loudly talking back and forth about how to move Steve’s dresser from his room. Robin stood next to them, rolling her eyes and dragging Max towards your house to grab the last of your book collection. “I’m glad it's with him though,” you nodded your head towards Steve, who was still deep in his discussion with Dustin, wild hand gestures and all. Steve caught you gazing at him from the corner of his eye, shooting you a look that said ‘this kid is crazy’ before disappearing into the house, Dustin hot on his trail. 

“Yeah, yeah, you guys are in love or whatever. We get it,” Mike appeared at Eddie’s side, his slim arms struggling to carry his box. You raised a brow at him, lifting the box from his arms with ease and he faced you with an unamused glare. 

“I think it's sweet,” Will approached behind him, also unloading a box into your arms. He smiled at you sweetly, and suddenly it hit you how much you were going to miss all of them. The bickering and the fights, the tight hugs and reassurances that they would call to let you know they got home safe. The late nights spent overanalyzing every detail of some cheesy movie that you’d forget the plot of by the morning. And in the background of it all was Steve. His forlorn gaze as Nancy walked you down her driveway to your car. His open curtains waiting for your lights to flicker on when you got back from work. His grand gestures as he put himself in harm's way, trying to protect you. You pretended to hate each other, but now you know that you never really did. 

The afternoon dragged on, the heat weighing heavy on everyone as boxes and furniture were piled into the truck. Eventually, you all finished and everything you owned was packed away. Steve grabbed a quick shower, rinsing the sweat from his body to make the long car ride more comfortable. You hugged your parents goodbye, urging them to come visit once everything was unpacked. The others still lingered, waiting to watch as you and Steve drove away. Tears filled their eyes and streamed down sweaty cheeks as you hugged each of the younger kids, promising to return for Thanksgiving. 

Steve began his round of goodbyes, mainly opting for a secret handshake or a ruffling of hair. Robin squeezed you so tightly that you thought she might crack one of your ribs. She sniffled as she pulled away, moving on to give Steve the same crushing embrace. Eddie stood before you, his head tilted towards the ground. You brushed his hair back from his face, catching sight of his tear-stained cheeks. He pulled you close, arms encompassing your frame. 

“You’ll call every week?” he spoke into your hair, burying his face in it to hide his swell of tears. You nodded against him, your own muffled cries slipping from your lips. He pulled back then, and Steve was right behind you.

Steve placed his hand on your back, guiding you to the front seat of the U-Haul. He said his goodbye to Eddie before joining you. Steve’s car was hooked up to the back of the truck and your parents planned to bring yours up with them when they came to visit.

You stood on the ledge of the truck admiring the sea of your friends that stood before you. They watched you with tearful eyes as you shot them one last watery smile and slid into your seat. Your gaze was pulled towards the side of your house, your bedroom window that sat across from Steve’s. It was funny to think how close he always was, even when he felt miles away. Steve’s hand brushed yours then, the tingle of skin pulling you from your thoughts.

“Ready to go, Baby?” Steve asked, reaching down to put the truck in gear. His hair was still wet, smelling of his lavender-scented shampoo. You ran your hands through it, brushing the loose strands to the side. Steve caught your hand, placing a small kiss on your palm before you could pull away. 

Sixth grade Steve was right, you were leaving with your things packed into boxes and a new city calling your name. But not because you were the worm girl that was running away. It wasn’t because this town had terrorized and taunted you to the point of no return. You were leaving because you wanted to, not because you felt forced out. And sixth grade Steve was wrong about you finding the love of your life once you left too, because you’d already found him, and for that Steve couldn’t be happier.

“With you?” you questioned, eyebrows raised, hand still encompassed by Steve’s. He nodded, showing you that smile that he reserved just for you. The same one he gave you as you sat on the sidewalk with dried worms newly relocated to the surrounding grass. You mirrored his look, gazing into his hazel eyes with all the love and adoration you had acquired for him over the years. “Always.”

#steve harrington #joe keery #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfics #stranger things fic #stranger things fics #stranger things slowburn #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington slowburn #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fics #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrinton fanfics #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x femreader #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington enemies to lovers #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x fem! reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #joe keery fic #joe keery fanfiction #joe keery fanfic

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 1

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: I just got this request and I absolutely LOVE it. I have no idea how many parts it will be because it's really parking my imagination. Please feel free to leave a comment! Hearing your guy's feedback is what motivates me to write!

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring. 

Warnings (so far): SA

Word count: 2765

(all photos are from pinterest)

It was like being born, even though I was the ripe age of 435. Well, ripe in the years of fae. It felt like being born, in the sense that I can’t really remember what came before that passing shade of violet. The way his eyes bore into me, and in that moment I knew he felt the tug too. 

Mates. 

I reeled for days, the peonies of spring my only console, my brother had always been so absent minded and utterly consumed with being High Lord. How could the cauldron be so cruel? To mate me to the High Lord of the Night. I spent the next week thinking it had to be a mistake, that my bored mind was playing tricks on me. Yet when the council met the week following, his eyes found me immediately, and I think in that moment I saw him for the very first time. 

I didn’t dare approach him, far too shy and afraid to approach the Lord of Night. Not just  because of what he was, but because of what my brother would say. By basic necessity Tamilin was a good brother, he doted upon me, kept me safe, gave me free roam of the palace. But there was a darkness about him I couldn’t place. It started when he disappeared with our father one night only to come back with two sets of Illyrian wings. I knew whatever happened was wrong, but as a woman in the spring court, I knew better than to open my mouth. Needless to say, Tamlin became High Lord of Spring shortly after, and from the wings mounted on our family walls I knew we had but one enemy, the night court. 

It wasn’t until the third council meeting (the third I was allowed to attend, after I begged my brother to let me go) that the High Lord of Night finally sought me out. 

My brother was busying himself with the politics of Day and Summer, talking the heads off of Helion and Tarquin. I kept to the shadows naturally, avoiding any untoward advances from other High Lords. I tried to stay hidden in my pocket of introvertedness, but then I felt him, and my skin buzzed, like it needed to be touched, to be held.

“You felt it too right?” he purred into the shell of my ear causing the buzzing of my skin to become electric.  

“I did,” I admit pathetically. 

“And you feel it now too,” he whispers as I finally turn to face him. The violet of his eyes pierce my soul and I’m left speechless and unable to move from their gaze. He’s otherworldly, he’s everything, and he’s also completely forbidden. 

“Do you?” I ask, hoping that whatever answer he gives can validate the fire in my bones. 

“I do,” he muses like he loves the game. “Your brother killed my family. He is my sworn enemy and I should hate you.” he breathes. I can feel his resolve slipping along with mine, for every statement he makes I can make an opposing one, “but all I want to do is kiss you right now.” he finishes. 

Fire runs through my veins as a sharp breath passes my lips. I feel my brother's presence and I evade myself from the High Lord of Night’s cage. My brother whisks me off to the Spring Court once more, but not before I glance back one last time to see that shade of violet I had already learned to look for in a crowd. 

That was a week ago. 

I stand in the foyer of the castle with my brother and Lucien as we prepare to join the council once again this week. 

“You look ravishing as always,” Lucien muses, eyes wandering me like they’re hungry. 

“It’s not often my brother lets me out of the house, I have to make a good impression somehow,” I say backhandedly. All I get in return is a sideways glance from Tamiln as we are taken to court. Today the meeting  resides in Tarquins’s court. It changes once a week to allow all High Lord’s to have the upper hand. The sea salted mist hits my face and the warm rays of the sun tan my skin as we walk into the council. 

When we arrive he’s already there. He stands out amongst the rest, not just because he’s dressed in black, but because he’s the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen. The definition of a forbidden fruit. As if to tempt me, Tamilin unknowingly  sits directly across from the High Lord of Night making it so I can’t lift my head without meeting the violet of his eyes. If you had asked me to recall the events the council discussed, I couldn’t, the only word left on my tongue was Night. Talk of tithes and power checks drifted over my head. The only thing to rouse me from my trance was the scraping of wooden chairs across marble floors, signaling that the council meeting had adjourned and that the more foundational political talks of High Lords would begin. 

I took it as my queue to step out onto one of the many terraces of the Summer Court. The room where the council was held was stifling. I thought that the breeze of the ocean might cool my skin, but no matter where I went that deafening heat followed.  

“I was hoping I would see you again,” purred a voice from behind me. 

I turned to find that piercing violet once more. “Of course why wouldn’t I be at the council meetings?” I ask, trying to act like I won’t be replaying this conversation in my mind when I return to bed tonight. 

“You’ve only been to four council meetings now, and your brother has a habit of keeping you locked up in the Spring Court.” he trails, drawing closer to the railing of which I’m leaning upon. 

“Well I intend to be at all of them from here on out,” I state.

“Any particular reason why?” he asks with a playful tone in his voice and I know what he’s insinuating. 

“Because I wish to be a part of the governing of my court, even though I am just a woman,” I say, evading his innuendo. 

“That’s a shame if you were part of my court you wouldn’t have such phrases like ‘just a woman’” he states almost as if he’s upset with the phrase. 

“I highly doubt that, women aren’t equals in any court,” I scoff. 

“What about Kallias and Viviane?” he asks. 

“What about them?” 

“Kallias sees Viviane as his equal, she is his mate and his High Lady,” he explains, stepping even closer to me, close enough that my skin starts to buzz again. 

“Viviane is special, everyone knows that,” I justify. 

“And you’re not?” he muses and my skin goes from buzzing to electrifying in three words. I feel his fingertips grazing my hand as if asking for permission. 

“My Lord we can’t do this,” I breathe out. 

“Call me Rhysand,” he says, stepping even closer. 

I step to the side, avoiding his advances, “My Lord, I won’t do this, I can’t do this.” I affirm. 

I see him bristle from my reluctance to call him by his name, “You’ll give into the idea of us. When you’re lying in that cold bed high up in the spring court thinking of all the ways I could warm it for you. When you’ve spent the week with nothing but this conversation on your mind,” he leans down to whisper in my ear. “This time next week you will beg for me to touch you, and I’ll happily oblige, mate.”

I’m so taken aback by his words that I can’t even form a quick witted response, I simply slid away and tried my best not to look back at him as I felt his gaze pierce my back. I nearly slam into Viviane and Kallias. 

“Y/n are you alright?” Viviane asks. 

“Yes, just feeling the heat of the summer court,” I lie, fanning my face. 

“Then you should come home with us today, it’s been so long since we had a girls night. I wish for your company." She smiles while taking my hand. 

“Shall we go home sister?” Tamilin appears, Lucien in tow. 

“Actually I think I’ll spend the night in the winter court with Viviane, she’s right,” I look at her and smile. “We haven’t had a girls night in quite a long time.”  

“Very well, I won’t get in the way of your sinful gossiping,” Tamilin smiles and leads Lucien away with him. 

If the summer court is sea salt and sun, then the winter court is pine and fresh fallen snow. Though they are opposites in every way, they are stunning in their own right, like all courts are. I’ve been here many times before to sit and talk with Viviane, she’s one of the only other ladies of nobility my age and a fierce friend. It’s not uncommon for me to spend a couple days here in the winter court, with Viviane and Kallias. 

I sit among a bed of furs near a warm fire adjacent to Viviane as Kallias pours both me and his mate a glass of red wine. 

“Thank you dear,” she smiles, kissing him on the cheek before he leaves us to gossip. 

“You and Kallias really are a perfect match,” I beam and Vivianane knows me well enough to know that there's a sadness there. 

“You’ll find it too someday, your mate. I know you will,” she assures me. “Now tell me, what of Lucien?” 

I roll my eyes taking a sip of my wine, “He’s still insufferable. The other day he backed me into a wall and if one of my ladies maids hadn’t walked in I swore he would’ve had his way with me.” 

She lets out an airy laugh, “I still can’t believe Tamiln allows him to play with you like that. He’s so fiercely protective of you with everyone else.” she says, taking a sip of her own wine. 

“Lucien is his best friend, he wouldn’t deny him anything, even his little sister.” I point out. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she smirks. The night is filled with goblets of wine and laughter as we continue to talk about the high lords of Prythian. We even go as far as to talk about her and Kallais’ sex lives, to which Kallias promptly came in laughing taking his wife to bed. 

I trudge down the hall to the bedroom the High Lord and Lady had set aside just for me a few years ago. I fall into the plush mattress, the world slightly spinning around me. The second I am left alone with my thoughts I recall the feeling of Rhysand’s breath on my neck and I shiver. 

The room spins and I feel my skin grow hot with need, my heart beats faster and my  head is drunk with that shade of violet. My hand subconsciously drifts down my body. 

You’re drunk? A voice cuts through my head. 

I sit up right and look around the room. The only thing I find is the flickering of the fireplace against the walls. 

The same voice chuckles and speaks again, No I am not in the room with you my mate.

“How are you doing this?” I ask in my head.

The daemati gift, and of course, I am your mate. The High Lord croons. 

“Get out of my head” I grumble. 

But you called for me, I can feel your… excitement.

“Then you're mistaken,” I hiss.

We both know that’s not true darling. 

“Goodnight,” I groan, rolling over to go to bed.

Goodnight, darling

The following days are long. Despite my better wishes there is a part of me that yearns to see the High Lord of Night again. I waltz through the spring court, picking flowers for the dinner table and evading Lucien’s advances. At night I find myself obsessively reading the romance novels I keep beside my bed. On one night in particular a certain scene in my book makes my toes curl and my thighs clench. My fingers skim the pages and the roughness of them is almost heightened. 

My my my, what a dirty book. That voice croons into my mind.

“Get out of my head,” I gripe. 

I can’t help myself when I feel your body react as it does. He purrs. 

“How on earth can you ‘feel’ my body?” I roll my eyes.

Like this. 

A tug reverberates through my body. Like there’s a string in the pit of my stomach that he just pulled. The sensation causes me to lose a breath as further arousal goes to my legs. He lets out a dark chuckle. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” I order him

But you loved it so much, He purrs and I can practically feel him smirking in my head. 

“You’re an insufferable bastard High Lord,” I growl at his persistence. 

Call me Rhysand. 

“I see no reason to drop informalities, my lord.” I quip back. 

My name will fall from your lips one day, and when it does I’ll be sure to swallow it with my own. Until then, I’ll leave you with this. Goodnight darling. 

I feel another tug at the bond reverberating through me and I nearly let out a moan at the feeling. I snuggle into my sheets that suddenly feel as if they are constricting around my body. I toss and turn and try to push all thoughts from my mind, but I can’t stop the idea of the High Lord's lips on mine. His night black hair in my hands, the way his moans might fall from those lips.

The next morning I take my breakfast in one of the lounge areas, still reeling from last night. My thoughts still wander to the image of his face, and how his eyes light me on fire. The door opens and a head of auburn hair pokes in. 

“Forgive me, I didn’t know you were in here,” Lucien says like he has regret, yet he sits down across from me. 

“No worries, I'm almost finished eating,” I reply, placing my tea down and getting ready to get up.. 

“And I secretly hoped to spend some time with you,” he sighs, sinking into the couch. 

“Perhaps later, I wanted to read in the garden,” I stand and make my way towards the door. 

“Perhaps now,” he growls. I feel a cold hand grasp my arm hauling me into the wall. 

“Lucien,” I hiss as my back is pressed into the wall, his frame looming over mine. 

“You are such a tease,” he smirks before kissing my neck hungrilly. His hands roam my body pulling me impossibly close. 

“I’ve never once given you any inclination that I wanted you,” I gripe at him. 

“That’s what makes you so desirable my dear,” he practically moans into my neck. 

I gather my strength and push him off of me, “I’ll remind you that I am Tamlin’s little sister and while he favors you his favor only goes so far. One word from me and he’ll send you back to the Autumn Court.” I growl at him, and it seems to be enough as he backs away and leaves me to reel from what just happened in silence. 

I sit down on the couch and take deep breaths to ground myself. 

What’s going on? Are you alright? That voice like glorious night cuts through my mind and I almost feel thankful for how it brings me back to reality. 

“Yes I’m fine,” I say back. 

What happened? I felt your fear through the bond.

“It’s nothing, just Lucien.” I dismiss him. 

Did he touch you? 

I almost swore I heard anger laced in his voice. “Well I am his favorite plaything,” I roll my eyes.

And Tamlin allows him to touch you like this? 

“As long as my virtue isn’t completely compromised so that I am still of value when he inevitably marries me off, yes. He doesn’t care.” I divulge, and quite stupidly I realize. 

As if I needed another reason to hate him.

“He is still my brother, my Lord,” I remind him, though I secretly feel the same. 

Don’t you mean, Rhysand?

“No I don’t, my Lord,” I say, drawing out the last words. 

I’ll see you tomorrow my darling, I relish the idea of seeing you in the golden light of the day court. 

#rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #acotar #rhys acotar

[lady-ashfade]

Lord Of The Tides

Yan!One-Eyed!Lucerys Velaryon x Niece!Reader

╰･ﾟ✧☽ the best girl @madame-fear requested this from me and I love the way her mind works. She’s my wife- so I hope I make her happy with this one.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 3k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: targ’cest, lucerys being a bit different because he’s older, he also losses a eye, yandere behavior, slight dark themes, and slight mature themes (sexual), but no smut, and if there is a mistake about him having two eyes—Shh.

“were you scared?” the spoon in your hand scratched the bottom of the cup in your hand, and the sound of your heels clinking on the floor boards below were soft but could be heard around the room. even if it was only the two of you, the room was full in your eyes. “greatly. I was young and naive but I loved my brother, but I was too slow to reach towards the knife. Aemond had me beat in length, and that’s how,” his fingers moved upward to the black patch on his eye. He didn’t look ashamed of it like he did all thoses years ago before you were born, his body grew and so did his mind.

“I remember the story sounding much more…action packed as a child. Don’t get me wrong, uncle, you are the bravest man I ever met,” his chest filled with pride as the words fell from your dusted pink lips, “but I do recall you saying you road in on a dragon?” The sly smile on your cheeks was the only thing he recognized about you now. It’s been a few years since he had seen you, or took notice really. he was trying to fulfill his duty to study on how to be the next “lord of the tides” and he took it seriously.

glancing upon you now for the first time in years, he could see the beautiful woman you’ve became. perfect body that filled out your dress perfectly while showing just the right amount of skin but enough to leave any eyes yarning for more. you had matured more then well. In this moment he couldn’t pull his eye away from you, he was desperate to look at you for as long as he could. you were magnificent. “Would that enthrall you?” his teasing tone and brow arch made you flush in embarrassment.

“Would make the story a lot better, uncle.” you raise the cup to your lips and took a quiet sip while holding eye contact with him. the few seconds of silence had your stomach tingling and blood pumping faster. there was no secret from a young age you had a crush on your kind uncle. He had given you attention and made you laugh while teaching you stories and knowledge. It was just a silly crush that had you staying up late at night thinking of his smile years later.

“I suppose your right.” he broke eye contact to chuckle and lean forward to grab a soft pastry from the table. “Tell me, what has it been like while I was away? Has my brother learned anything about being future king?” His tone was off. Almost sounding as if he was belittling your father, or making fun of him. You stood up straight and place the glass down on its plate.

“My father has been doing a great job. Our queen is training him well, or do you doubt your own mother?” his body stopped in time for a second with half his lips wrapped around the sugared sweet to stare at you. he couldn’t believe how fast you acted to defend your father and tried to make a fool out of himself. the look behind your eyes and the smile tugging at your lips he could tell you meant no true harm. only to play a little game.

“You have changed,” he tone shifted as his eye made sure to run its way up and down your body, making you squirm in your chair. “No longer a girl but a lady.” you hated how easy it was to feel drawn into him again. it was different now then it was back then, you had aches and desire only the dead of night could see and he was making it so hard to control them. “I was pleased when I got your letter even if I had little time to prepare for it. But there is one question on my mind: why?” the truth wasn’t something you could tell him in that moment. So you settled for something easy, and nothing like the full picture.

“I missed you. Castle life is wonderful, but you always showed me the fun of things.”

each day that went by he was drawn in closer by you, from your smell, to your smile, to the sound of your laugh that he caused. he tried to deny himself from the thought of you but you were already hammered into his mind once he saw you getting off your dragon merely days ago. It’s been a long while since he saw beauty like you, your intelligence mind and wit, or your able to be naive in hopes of a better world. the strength to hold himself back when you were just a few inches away from him was great. he wanted to hold you, to touch your soft kiss…to whisper into your ear—

“I don’t understand,” the sound of you voice awakened him from his day dreaming. you had not noticed his staring from being turned away from him. “This game is incredibly stupid.” the mallet in your hands swung a bit as you exhaled frustratingly. the colored balls scattered around the ground, non of them close to being where his were.

“I think you wanted me to fail,” you pouted you lips at the tall man. “It’s not my fault your losing my dear,” the nickname made your body clinch, “if you had listened to me-” the words shouting from your mouth interrupted him.

“I have been listening to you. But you’re somehow cheating.” it made him unbelievably amused to watch you huff and pout at losing a game you forced him to teach you. if he could, he’d steal that pout away from your lips and make you whine about something else. “Are you accusing me of something?” He leaned his arms on the mallet but leaning on his leg to stare at you with scrunched brows. you took a moment to find something to say but only muffled and gagged words came from your lips before you eventually gave up.  “No uncle, forgive me for my temperament.” You looked down at the yellow ball and glared down at it.

“It’s just utterly frustrating to loss when you’re already so far ahead of me,” you glanced back up and pointed to his, “I don’t like losing.” that was something you gained from both your parents if he was honest. jace never liked to lose a game or training, and your mother had a shorter temper he could only imagine how you’d act when you get heated. “Then we should keep playing until your good.” he turned back to hit the blue ball at his feet and cheers when he gets it through the metal bars. gods, he was going to kill you with his handsome smile.

It was heart wrenching to see his smile fade and his body tense days later, with his hand resting on the stone railing. it was a perfect day, the time you spent with him was still unmatched by the way he made you feel. the sun shining orange across the sky and bouncing off the both of you, making the other even more breathtaking to each other.

“What?” his voice rasped and dropped darker then you have heard it before. all ounce of happiness left his body and started to over flow with growing anger. “For how long?” the raise volume to his voice make you look down in guilt for some reason. he was mad at you for not telling him…but for reasons you did not know of. “Two months. Before I came he was set to stay in kindslanding to find our ground with one another,” you played with you finger tips. he took a deep breathe to stop himself from shouting at you any further. his sweet girl knew nothing of the pain it caused him to hear those words. to find out she was in fact not his.

“He’s sweet, and kind. A perfect match for the realm,” you look up at the orange sunset and feel the aching in your heart grow, “we are to be wed in three months.” grabbing the long glass of wine from beside you and bringing it up to your lips to take a big sip. you needed to drown out the doubts and fears you had somehow. lucerys fist tightened at the thought of another having you be their bride, to get to kiss you and share your bed every night. he was lord of the tides, he had the best fleet and army at sea, he could protect you, love you like you deserve- but this man got it just on a whim?

you are more precious to be sold for some on going alliance with a household- you deserved a prince.

“But,” you start again with hesitation and force yourself away from his eyes, “he is not the one I long for. Yes, he would be a good and faithful husband but my heart does not long for him.” the title belonged to the man you stood beside, the man who made your soul burn blighter. he stepped forward and your breath hitched and couldn’t keep your eyes away from him. the eyepatch on his face never made you fear him, not even once did the stories make you feel any less for him.

“Who does it long for?” He fell hushed as he stood even closer to you now, your bodies almost touching and you could almost feel the heat coming from him. you wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, to belong to him- to marry him. but it was not to be so, your duty as the princess is to care for the kingdom the best you can and that is for your betrothal to the lord you barley knew to work. and not to the man you loved.

clearing your throat you step back away from him and force a smile your face. you clearly were imagining things and he was not pursuing your fantasies, or his own. “A chat for another time perhaps, it’s getting quite late wouldn’t you say? I need a good nights sleep for my travels tomorrow.” he had forgotten all about you leaving. time slips away with you here. how could he bring himself to part ways now after everything you brought him?

“Then I shall fair you goodnight,” before you could pull away his body moves forwards and his lips pressed against the hairline of your forehead. it was a few seconds long but the feeling made you overwhelmed in shock, you froze up. pulling away from you he took notice of your reaction and how tense you became, “slept well, my dear” he walked away with a curled smile towards his cheeks and leaving you standing there alone.

that night you toasted and turned in your sheets thinking of how his lips felt on your skin and your brain started to wander. how would it feel for him to kiss down your shoulder, or you lips and down your chest in his chambers at night. he had no wife to warm his bed, surely he must be lonely? but a man like him was definitely no stranger to the feeling of a lovers touch and you knew that for sure. the thoughts you had that night made you feel embarrassed to see him the next morning when you woke from the vivid dream you had.

you fixed your glove over your hands and made sure everything you need is tied on tight to your dragon. she squirms beneath your touch and if she could purr like a cat you know she would. lurcerys appreciates you carefully as your attention was not on him, he liked to see your face in shock because he found it adorable. “Leaving without a goodbye?” to his pleasure he was right. when you turned around at his voice spooked like a horse.

“I wasn’t sure you’d have time, it’s early.” you shifted awkwardly and covered yourself. he hummed along and walked closer and then inches by you. he stops before the scales of your dragon and slowly guides his palm over repeatedly along her body, makes her happy like it was you. even she enjoyed his company, much like her rider. “I’m sorry, I did not know how to say goodbye.” admitting the truth was harder once it was out for some reason. you didn’t want to look like a girl despite in love.

“This isn’t a goodbye, we will see each other again.” he gave one last pat and turned to face you again. he stood with his hands clasped together, his black outfit with golden accents shining in the morning sun, his dark brown hair reflecting just like the gold.

“I’m sure of it.”

Lucerys Velaryon was many things. a prince, a lord, a brave soldier trained, and powerful man with connections everywhere. he could pay his way through the slums and have anything he wanted done at the snap of his fingers. he never wished to see you in tears or upset, really, but that’s the way things happened. to even think of letting you suffer a marriage to— anyone but him was a taste worse then the gods could give. and it was tragic how the lord just ended up dead a few days later from being poisoned by one of his own cooks. he died in his mothers arms and his heart felt sorrow for her and only her.

you came running into his arms after you heard the news since he was the only one you could go to. of course you would, he planned it just right. so he kept you in a tight embrace as you cried into his chest while stoking your hair and whispering everything was going to be fine and you were too distraught to say anything. “just breathe sweet girl,” he whispered into your ear. you grabbed ahold of him and tried to calm your breathing but the hiccups messed you up. he hated seeing you like this but was overjoyed at the same time. he was with you, you were his now.

“I’m scared,” you sobbed as more tears rolled down your already damp cheeks, “he was kind- the next man might not be the same. I don’t want to be a miserable wife,” naive little you to think he’d ever let that happen.

“look at me,” he commanded but not harshly. his hands cupped the skin of your jaw and cheek to guide your face up to him. even now you looked as stunning as ever. “I’d never let you be miserable, you are too special,” his thumb traced shapes into your skin. he looked into your puffy eyes and drank them in, you looked so innocent and in need of his protection. and he loved that. “I shall confess I find myself thinking of you since you first arrived in driftmark as a new woman.” he watched your eyes widen in anticipation and surprise.

“my heart longs for you and only you. the minute you come the place lit up and worked smoothly with you around. driftmart needs a lady, I need someone by my side that is wise and has a soft approach.” your brain fogs up as he leans down near your face like he was going to kiss you but stops just before your noses touch. “I’d fill your rooms up with anything you ever ask for, show you love like you’ve never dreamed, or protect you from any harm that comes your way. you know I’m a better choice than the boys competing for your hand.” you hear the slight venom in his voice towards the mentions of other lords.

“my father, what would he say?” you whisper and he could feel your breath making him hold himself back. “I’m in need of a wife, he’s daughter is a reasonable gift. He knows I’d never mistreat you,” the other hand grabs ahold your waist and moves his hands up and down your dress making you shiver. “come on, sweet girl. say yes.” a simple nod of your head was enough of a answer for him to finally capture your lips like he had been waiting for. you felt so warm pressed up against him it made him feral inside.

the warmth inside became like a explosion when he kissed you, the way he’s holding onto you so tight and against him, his short breaths and gasp for air, the hunger makes you sore and aching for everything he had. he wanted to give you it all, but he couldn’t. not until he put a ring on your finger and that pained him. the hormones in his body were at its peak now.

slightly tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth he pulled away slowly with a husky growl. he held your hips in place to stop you from trying to get more. he listens to you pant while doing the same thing himself. you smiled up at him, “I’ve always wanted you to be mine,” you say blinking your eyes up at him teasingly, “I don’t think I can ever belong to another.”

his chest rumbles in soft laughter. “About my brother— I’ll make him see we belong together, he raised you well so he knows just how much I need you.” he was so good a flattering. you roll your eyes playfully at him, “you have honeyed words, my betrothed.” you needed no acceptance from your father. you’d run back to dragon stone and wed Lusercys there. you couldn’t be pulled away from him after this.

“Because you get the cutest look on your face, you haven’t been as secretive about your feelings towards me. Should we talk about the time you practically bursted into flames when you knocked yourself onto me?”

“You stoop so low, my lord.”

#Lucerys Velaryon #Lucerys Velaryon x reader #yandere lucerys velaryon #yandere Lucerys Velaryon x reader #Lucerys Velaryon x fem!reader #house of the dragon #yandere hotd x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon

[levilxvr]

levi nsfw alphabet🤭

a/n: this post is way longer than i expected lol

female reader btw

A - Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

aftercare is extremely important to levi. It’s a way of assuring you that you’re loved, as well as ensuring you’re ok and not hurt.

Will spend time to make you a cup of his favourite tea, take a warm, damp cloth to wipe both of you up and then lay back down beside you to cuddle<3

B - Body part (their favorite body part of theirs/ their partner’s)

levi loves your hands. Partly because its the easiest part of you to access especially when you’re with other people. He can hold them, caress them, play with them and kiss them- overall he just loves your hands a lot.

When you’re alone with him though, he loves your waist. He’ll run his hands along your sides and soak in the feeling of your curves under his palms, especially when hes spooning you.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

if you’re comfortable with it he loves cumming inside you,. there’s something about the way your pussy looks as his cum is dripping out that turns him on even more

If you’d rather he do it outside, he’ll probably shoot his load on your stomach or clit

D - Dirty secret

ok hear me out the first thing that comes to my mind when i look at levi is panty sniffer. Like you cant tell me he doesn’t love doing that😭

Especially when he’s helping you do the laundry- of course he’ll never admit it but sometimes he just, you know..like if it’s there he’ll take the opportunity. Kinda just stands there with the rest of the laundry pile in his other hand, letting his thoughts wander as he breaths in your scent.

E - Experience (how experienced are they?)

when he first met you this man had zero experience when it comes to sex. I mean, he’s busy with the scouts and all his other duties and probably never had time to think about how its actually done yk

The first time you and him got down to business he was kinda shy since he wasn’t really confident, but it all worked out in the end- he knows how it goes but just wasn’t sure how to make you feel good too. Over the years, his performance improved a lot and now he’s a complete freak in the sheets :) (i can confirm)

F - Favorite position

missionary is the way to go

he loves being able to see your face while he’s making love to you and can easily communicate with you while doing it. He also finds it the most comfortable for both of you (which is important)

he likes cowgirl too when he’s feeling more subby

G - Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

i’d say he’s more serious while having sex, but not in a bad way- its more of like, soft and romantic to him and he tends to be more sappy and all when you’re doing it. But he does giggle occasionally when he’s pillow talking with you after, cuz he’s happy to be with you and feels okay to show his vulnerable side <3

H- Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

levi takes grooming very seriously and always makes sure he’s nice and clean. Sometimes he’ll let it grow out a little more but he always ensures that at the very least it’s neatly trimmed and not all over the place. I feel like he wouldn’t shave it all off completely though because he hates the prickly feeling after that

Has a nice happy trail too (yummy)

I - Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

very romantic and soft. when it comes to sex, levi likes to keep it intimate and special. it’s a time for him to express his love for you and show you how much he treasures you, so he’ll be whispering praises, kissing you gently and telling you what he loves about you while doing it.

J - Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

normally he doesn’t masturbate unless you’re away from him for more than a week

usually he can control himself pretty well but once he reaches his limit, thats it. His hands are in his pants while he imagines it’s your pussy around his cock, jerking himself off to the thought of you. (Be prepared cuz when you reunite with him he’s getting down to it straight away)

it doesn’t satisfy him as much though, and he finds himself cumming lesser than when he’s with you

K - Kink (one or more of their kinks)

praise kink! he’ll never admit it but when you whisper in his ear, telling him how good he’s doing or how amazing he’s making you feel, it drives him insane. He just loves hearing words of reassurance from you <3

breeding kink as well. Especially post war, when you finally settle down with him and tell him you’re ready to start a family. lord he’s cumming inside you every night- and if any of it leaks out of your pussy he’s fucking it right back in. Also enjoys watching it ooze out though, bc then he knows he did a good job stuffing you full with his cum.

L - Location (favorite places to do the do)

bedroom for maximum comfort. its his favourite place to do it but if he’s working overtime in the office and you pay him a visit, be prepared cuz he’s probably gonna end up fucking you on the desk.

He likes to do it in the shower too for easy clean up

M - Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

levi seeing you wearing his clothes is a huge turn on. like especially when you’re in one of his oversized shirts wearing nothing underneath but a pair of panties- it’s like heaven right in front of him

french kisses also get him horny, actually. He can’t help it but every time you’re kissing and it turns really heated and passionate he feels himself hardening in his pants.

N - No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he doesn’t like impact play. Be it spanking, hitting, going too rough to the point where it hurts, he’s not a fan of it.

other than that he’s honestly pretty open to trying new things if you want (but of course, he has limits)

O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

overall levi prefers giving, but wouldn’t mind if you want to suck him off too. He just loves eating you out though, you taste so good every single time and enjoys it when your hands are tugging his hair while he licks you up.

He’s really good with his mouth like man just knows exactly where to suck to make you cum in minutes.

When he’s receiving he likes to sit back with a hand behind his head, enjoying the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock, occasionally bucking his hips to gently fuck your mouth.

P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

it goes both ways tbh. generally if you’re just having sex for fun because one of yall are horny he can be pretty rough and fast. He loves hearing you scream his name as he pounds you against the bed or table, and you both get the best orgasms when he does it rough.

on certain days he tends to be softer and gentler with you, though. for instance when you return from an expedition or when the mood is just more romantic and intimate. Sometimes he likes to take his time pleasuring you, demonstrating how much he adores you as he carefully slides in and out. He can be really slow and sensual- just depends on the mood.

Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

given his job, quickies tend to be quite a frequent occurrence in your relationship. Of course, levi prefers to do the whole thing nice and slow as much as possible, but sometimes he just can control himself and you end up indulging in a short session. Usually it happens in his office or the barracks.

R - Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

experiment wise i feel like this man is really traditional and would prefer to just you know go with the flow. He isn’t really into trying out new things unless you really want to

levi loves taking risks though. Not anything that dangerous but sometimes he likes fucking you with his fingers under the table in a meeting, or doing it in semi public areas where other cadets could catch yall. it’s the thrill of it that turns him on even more.

also loves to test his pullout game smh. of course, you trust him and his reflexes but once you were both drunk and he nearly came inside you with no contraceptives on accident lmaoo

S - Stamina

lord.

he can basically last like 8-10 rounds at a time if you’re able to hold up that long. He’s got really good stamina. But if you’re really fucked out after a few rounds he’s totally okay with it :)

T - Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he doesnt really like them tbh, i can see him not really understanding the point of em- like why use toys when his cock and fingers exist? So no he doesn’t own any but would be quite intrigued if you have any and show him how to use them (hes a visual learner)

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

teases you A LOT. 

Will talk dirty beside you while you’re in a public setting with your friends around, caress your thigh, kiss your earlobe etc. and then walk away like nothing happened

in bed- before he even enters you there’s a moment where he just has to rub his cockhead against your clit for a little while, occasionally brushing against your folds as well until you’re begging him to just put it in.

V - Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Hm i imagine he’s pretty quiet tbh

levi looks like the kind that doesn’t wanna be too loud cuz he’s a little shy, but occasionally he lets out a few groans and breathy noises as he’s fucking you. He doesn’t talk a lot during sex as well so usually it’s just little curses between soft moans

Gets louder when he’s close and starts panting with every thrust he makes. That’s how you can tell he’s gonna cum soon, and eventually when he does, he goes silent for a second because it feels so good he can’t even vocalise it.

W - Wild card (a random headcanon)

levi’s a little insecure about his size sometimes. You always reassure him that’s it’s perfect- cuz honestly it’s a decent length but sometimes he’s just worried he doesn’t please you well enough. It definitely does though, and you make sure to prove it to him whenever you do the deed.

X - X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

realistically i’d say hes a solid 5.5 inches, cut, slight curve up at a nice angle, base colour #C4A484, tip is #FFB6C1 but turns darker when aroused. Also got a nice little vein running down the right side🤗

He’s more on the girthy side as well when he gets hard

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

it wasn’t high before he met you, on a scale of one to ten probably like 2 tbh

once he met you and actually had sex for the first time though..it sort of awoke something in him and now he can’t go more than a few days without releasing. His sex drive gets especially high on days when you get to go out for fancy dinners with the rest of the cadets. Seeing you in those tight fitting dresses always turns him on so much.

Z - Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

will never let himself fall asleep before you do. No matter how sleepy he is, aftercare always comes first and he makes sure you’re both cleaned up and comfortable before he gives in to sleep

Usually you guys pillow talk for a while before he begins to get sleepy but if you had a particularly rough session he can fall asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

the end <3

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader smut #levi ackerman smut #levi smut #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman headcanons #levi thoughts #levi x fem!reader

[nxuvillette]

thoughts on best friends brother!hanma? how he’d act with the sneaking around to avoid your best friend? 🥺

❥- note : hi nonnie <3 this made me go kinda crazy because i love something secretive with shuji :> !! i hope you enjoyed this tehe.

content warnings : nsfw [17+], fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, reader is best friends with hanma’s sister, mentions of hookups, brief car sex mention, teasing, secret relationship, use of pet names (babydoll , doll), praising, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, multiple orgasms.

hanma never imagined that he’d end up messing around with his little sister’s best friend.

you and hanma had met after your best friend took you over to her house. she mentioned him many times before, but you weren’t expecting him to be so fucking hot. hanma was six foot four with these delicious tattoos on his hands that made him seem intimidating from the naked eye. he was charming, too. he had this sultry tone in his voice that would make it difficult for you to even look at him and his honey eyes.

there would be lingering glances between you two, and there were even a few instances where you would both end up alone with each other. there was always something in the air whenever you two were in the same room. thankfully, your best friend never noticed. you would hate for her to get the wrong idea about your friendship. 

hanma eventually caved into his desires for you and messaged you one night. despite it being almost two in the morning, you decided to go and see him. you both ended up hooking up in the backseat of his car. it was some of the best sex you had ever had. it was like hanma knew your body already. he touched, fucked, licked, all of the right places that made you melt in his fingers. it was clear that this wouldn’t be a one time thing, judging by hanma’s behavior towards you after your first initial hookup.

it was difficult to hide your secret from your best friend. that was her older brother. it would mean lots of betrayal if she were to discover what was going on. 

but, you just couldn’t stop.

whenever she was working, hanma would have you come over and you would both fuck for hours. he would put you in all kinds of positions and leave your cunt stuffed with his cum. it was just the way he liked it. 

sometimes, he’d play a dangerous game and touch you whenever she was in the room. he’d brush his fingertips along your waist or get a little too close to your ass whenever he was walking by. he’d just smirk and give you that look that said it all. he loved to see how much he could work you up until you were a needy slut for him in bed the next time you met up.

it was risky, but that’s why he loved it so damn much. 

it was later in the night. your best friend had gone to some frat party that was about an hour away, and you were lying in hanma’s sheets with your legs on his shoulders. his cock was drilling into your pussy, creating sloppy noises with every rut of his hips. your cunt was always crying for him. he loved to see how wet it could get. 

“like that, babydoll? fuck.. look at you.. taking me so fucking well..” his thumb tugged at your bottom lip, revealing some of your teeth. 

you whined when hanma’s cock reached your g-spot. the tip was relentlessly pressing against that button, making your vision become hazy. you were so lost in bliss. any stress you had could be taken away by him. “yes, h-hanma! i love it so much!” you cried, your eyes becoming glassy from the tears that formed at your lash line.

he changed his angle so he was now reaching further into your hole. hanma caught your lips and began to kiss you slowly. god, his kisses were just too fucking good. your fingernails then threaded through the strands of his dual colored hair, bringing him closer to you. you were already on your third orgasm, and your body was reaching its limit. hanma didn’t show any signs of halting, though. he needed you so badly. he hated that he couldn’t see you as often as he wanted.

the kiss was broken between you as hanma pressed his forehead against yours. his golden eyes that were like the sun stared into your own. “can’t get enough of you, doll.” he mumbled against your puffy lips. “i’m gonna fuck you till you’re pregnant.. with my baby..” 

the thought alone made your pussy squeeze his cock, which hanma gladly took note of. you were a bit surprised to hear such a proposal, but nonetheless did it turn you on. “yes.. please!” you put your arms around his neck, leaving sloppy kisses on his lips.

he smirked, then began fucking you at a brutal pace. his balls smacked against your clit from how quick his thrusts were. hanma could only think about fucking his cum into you. he wouldn’t care if his sister was pissed. he wanted you.

sin wrapped around your throat. hanma clenched his teeth as he finally released into you. thick ropes of cum filled your womb. he practically emptied his balls inside of you, and he fucking loved it. he loved how great it felt. no other guy would ever dare to do such a thing to you, so he felt proud of himself for doing so. you deserved it all from him. 

he leaned forward to kiss you passionately. you felt so full. there was a mess, but neither of you cared at all. “what do you say.. round four?” he chuckled.

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ official work ! #✧˖*°࿐ new message: nonnie ! #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers smut #hanma shuji x reader #hanma shuji x you #hanma shuji smut #hanma x reader #hanma x you #hanma smut

[galedekarios]

gale & his mother, morena dekarios

i thought it'd be nice to have a place to compile everything i could find about gale's mother, morena dekarios.

the first time you as the player get a vague mention about gale's parents is after saving mirkon, when gale brings up a story about his parents denying him a kitten when he was still a child:

Gale: One time my parents denied me akitten, so I summoned myself a tressym.

if you play a gale origin playthrough, you get a mention of her much earlier from tara, after she joins the camp.

this is a camp dialogue with its variants from act i:

Tara the Tressym: Well, if it isn't my favourite fellow himself. Player: How are things back in Waterdeep? Tara the Tressym: More or less the same - though news of some mad faction calling themselves 'Absolutists' is starting to trickle in. Tara the Tressym: I told your mother not to worry. That if they were anything to worry about, Baldur's Gate would handle things quick-sharp. Keep them from spreading their tendrils north. She still wants to know when she'll see you again, sir. I avoid giving any answers. But she misses you. Player: I miss her too. Tara the Tressym: I'll tell her. With my Cat Flap of Displacement, I can afford the occasional visit. I'd bring you along, if I could. Perhaps some day. - Player: I can't risk putting her in danger. Tara the Tressym: I know that, but she doesn't. She'd keel over if she knew just how you'd tried to manipulate the Weave. Or maybe she'd just say something like, 'My Gale always was one to make the impossible possible.' Oh, but she adores you. - Player: No more guilt trips, Tara. Please. Tara the Tressym: But then whatever will we talk about? Anyhow - I'm keeping my senses pricked for any sign of another item that might be of use to you. Hopefully something will turn up soon.

it's clear from the dialogue that gale's mother worries about him and loves him - adores him, really.

it also becomes clear that she doesn't know what happened to gale and that he nor tara has not told her.

another mention from act i, again from tara:

Tara the Tressym: Please tell me you've at least made inroads when it comes to finding someone to settle down with. Myself and Mrs Dekarios are starting to think you intend to die alone. Player: You've been visiting my mother? Tara the Tressym: Naturally. After you abandoned her, there was only me left to keep her company. She's very good company, though. Ah, the stories we've traded over toast and tea. You're a highly entertaining source of speculation. But speculation only goes so far! Tell me, Mr Dekarios - how have you been?

tara and morena are implied to have tea together regularly enough to trade stories about gale. tara is implied to be a sort of messenger between the two of them, likely after gale's isolation and subsequent abduction by the nautiloid, keeping morena informed, yet without revealing gale's secret and shame.

the devnotes also state that tara loves morena - high praise since other devnotes states that tara hates everyone except gale - and that she talks of her in an affectionate tone.

this is a dialogue in act ii after mystra has tasked gale to use the orb the moment he finds the heart of the absolute:

Tara the Tressym: Promise me, Gale. Promise me you'll find another way. Promise me you'll return home, when this is all over. Player: I can't make that promise, Tara. Tara the Tressym: You're going to kill me. And your mother. And then there'll be no one to mourn you when you've wasted yourself for no good reason at all.

i find it very interesting here in terms of other relationships that tara explicitly says that there will be no one to mourn gale except morena and her should he heed mystra's instructions and sacrifice himself. it speaks of the bond between tara, morena and gale - but also even more of gale's isolation and loneliness. we know from tara that she considers herself to be gale's only old friend and gale echoes as much. we also know that gale describes the dekarios family as the dekarios clan, that is "scattered" far and wide.

at the same time, the loud silence about gale's father becomes really apparent again. a while ago, i speculated about gale's father and i truly do still think that he abandoned morena and gale.

another snippet from an act ii convo, before gale reveals the details of elminster's letter to tara (or chosing to keep it to himself):

Tara the Tressym: I'm not one to pry. I'd rather make up all the juicy details myself over tea with your mother.

which again ties in with a similar line from act i, further cementing the fact that this is a regular thing between tara and morena.

still in act ii, tara says this if gale asks her if she'll still love him if he is a mindflayer:

Player: Will you love me when I'm a mind flayer? Tara the Tressym: Depends. Are mind flayers warm-blooded? If so, my prize napping spot on your lap won't be compromised. In which case, I suppose we could find an accord. And, of course, your mother would still think you a prince, no matter how many tentacles you had. And with a nautiloid, you may even manage to visit her more often.

again, gale's mother truly adores him. tara is utterly convinced she'd love him even if he'd turn into a mind flayer. at the same time, the dialogue again hammers home the fact that gale's been keeping his distance from his mother after he has acquired the orb.

the following lines are a compilation of some of tara's lines from act iii, all once again stating that she is a messenger between gale and morena, keeping morena informed about gale's well-being, while also looking after morena in gale's absence from waterdeep:

Tara the Tressym: You're almost at the end of this, Gale. You're nearly there. And not a moment too soon. Myself, I must away to Waterdeep. Your mother will be worried silly not to have heard from either of us - and now I can bring her the good news. When this is all over I'll be waiting for you, with a crackling fire and good book at the ready. Good luck, darling. - Tara the Tressym: I'm well past due to return to Waterdeep. I'm going to tell your mother that you'll be home soon. Don't make a liar of me, darling. - Tara the Tressym: I'll have to make up some good news for your dear mother, then. I'm going home, Gale. To look after Mrs Dekarios, and to remind you that there are people waiting for you in Waterdeep.

going back to companion gale, the next mention of gale's mother after saving mirkon, is from gale in an ambient with karlach:

Gale: I don't suppose you've any clue where we are in relation to Waterdeep? Karlach: From this distance between Elturel and Baldur's Gate, I'd say... a long way away.devnote Gale: Ah. That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky. No matter - what she doesn't know can't hurt her. Not at this distance, anyway.

it echoes the lines of dialogue that origin gale has, believing he endangers his mother with his condition and thus keeping his distance.

gale mentions his mother in an act iii dialogue after meeting tara on the rooftop of the open hand temple:

Gale: My tower in Waterdeep boasts an excellent kitchen and a wine cellar to rival Ondal himself. Not to mention a larder stocked with my homemade hundur sauce. Player: Hundur sauce? Gale: A Waterdhavian delicacy, spiced to leave exactly the right amount of heat lingering on the tongue, and served with that most sharp-toothed of aquarian residents, the quipper fish. I make it to my mother's recipe. It packs quite a wallop. As does she.

we know that gale's the designated camp cook from a conversation with wyll, and i think the conversation makes it fair to assume that gale's mother taught him how to cook.

still, maybe it's because i'm not a native english speaker and i might be missing some cultural context here, but the line "it packs quite a wallop. as does she." stuck out to me:

wallop. to hit something / someone hard.

this could mean that gale's seen her hit someone and packing quite a punch behind it. with what's been described of morena so far, i doubt it's because gale's ever been on the receiving end of that.

or perhaps it's less literal and more in relation to her seemingly larger than life personality that gale also hints at later, describing his mother as "intimitable" and "sometimes unavoidable". this description is from the following conversation that is currently sadly still bugged:

Player: So your last name is Dekarios? Gale: It is. Courtesy of my mother, the inimitable, dare I say it sometimes unavoidable, Morena Dekarios. It's been so long since I've used it. 'Gale Dekarios' cut a poor figure next to the wizard prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep'. Player: Gale Dekarios... I think I like him more. Gale: You like to many things about me I'd have sooner discarded... Your generosity is quite wonderful. Gale Dekarios likes you too. Very, very much. Though let's keep his exitence between ourselves for now. - Player: Doesn't your matter mind? Gale: Oh, she's happy if I'm happy. Morena couldn't care one jot what I call myself. Tara's the real stickler for using it. Has done since I summoned her. I'd prefer you not follow her exmaple, if that's all the same to you. 'Gale' is more than sufficient. - Player: You're right. Just 'Gale is better. Gale: I agree. And on the plus side, if I get myself into any truly cataclystic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

i love this banter so much and it makes me very sad that larian still hasn't fixed the issue of it not triggering. there's so much lore to explore here:

from gale dropping 'dekarios' in favour of 'of waterdeep', at first, to appear perhaps more grandiose, more suited to the ambitions he held when he was younger, to morena, apparently, not minding it, yet tara clinging to 'dekarios' (perhaps to keep gale's feet on solid ground as much as she could), to finally finding out that the reason that the gale we meet now is not using 'dekarios' still is because he doesn't wish to tarnish his family name should he indeed fall victim to the orb.

the last mention gale makes of his mother is during his act iii post final battle dialogue, in which he proposes to the player:

Gale: That being said, I wondered if you might consider accompanying me back to Waterdeep as a new member of the Dekarios clan? Player: Are you asking me to marry you? Gale: I suppose I am. Tara would be delighted. Not to mention my mother. But I'd be just as happy without such ceremony, so long as we're together.

this again mirrors what tara has been saying in her dialogue with an origin gale in act i: that morena and her were hoping he would find someone to find happiness with.

i think overall, even with only the very few bits and pieces we learn of morena, it's easy to tell that she truly loves and adores and cares her son, and that that love and care is clearly echoed back from gale to morena.

still, or perhaps more likely because of that love, gale keeps his secrets and his distance to morena because of the orb and the shame he feels he brought to his family.

it's all too easy to imagine that he wishes her to be proud of him and that he feels he has disappointed her and given her little reason to be proud of him in the same vein that he feels he has done with tara:

Gale: She'd [Tara] be most impressed by our efforts saving these tieflings. Proud, even. And I've given her little to be proud of recently.

anyhow, i hope i caught all mentions and that this was helpful to someone. 🖤

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #morena dekarios #tara the tressym #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #ch: morena dekarios #ch: tara the tressym #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

[neymarsangel]

Pit Lane - Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!reader

Charles Leclerc x verstappen!reader

Requested? Yes/No - hello 🫀Could I request one that reader is Max Verstappen sister and is dating Charles. She isn’t a driver but is always in the pits for them.She suffers from asthma and in one career she has a really bad attack thats ends with her fainting and in the hospital because she couldn’t breath. Maybe it could be because her inhaler is empty and she didn’t have the time to get more.Would love to see how her brother,  boyfriend, dad, friends (the drivers) reacts to the news

Thank youuu 🫂💕

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, mentions of accidents, Jos Verstappen if that counts…

Word Count: 6.2K

—

Max was as overprotective as they come so when it came to light that you were dating his childhood rival and rival on the track he wasn’t exactly pleased. You were having a family dinner at your Mum’s when she asked you to quickly grab her a fork, obliging you left the table and also your phone by your seat. You were sitting beside Max who saw your phone screen light up as you left. Glancing over he saw a certain someone had sent you a text. 

Char <3: Enjoy spending time with your family mon amour, I’ll call you when you’re home x

Max quickly snatched your phone from its spot just as you walked back into the dining room to catch him. His face was flooded with anger at the text he’d just read, something you picked up on the second you walked back into the room. Your brows furrowed as you spoke. 

“What?” His eyes met yours at the sudden sound of your voice. “Why do you have my phone?”

“Why is Leclerc texting you?” He asked in a bitter tone. 

“Sorry?” You tried playing dumb but Max could always see through your lies. 

“Don’t lie to me!” He spat, holding your phone up. “Why the fuck is he calling you ‘love’? Are you two -”

“Max now is not the time.” Your Mum cut him off, staring at the two of you. “y/n just sit down, come on let’s just eat. It’s rare I get the three of you here for dinner at the same time.” 

Victoria gave you a look, she knew. When you were younger Max went to stay with your Dad so he could pursue his Formula 1 career whereas Victoria stayed with your Mum. You were the odd one out. Max and you were always close, since the day you were born he’d always looked after you, he did the same with Victoria but he was just that little bit more protective of you but he had a reason to be. Being only seven you ended up staying with your Mum until you turned eighteen when you were finally reunited with Max for good. 

Max quickly learnt a few drivers had taken a liking to you, especially Charles and Pierre. You’d met Charles before when he and Max would kart together. As a kid Max hated Charles, always complaining that Charles kept trying to push him off the track but as the two grew older they learnt to put their bitterness aside. You knew deep down that Max and Charles still had that rivalry, especially as they were now competing to be World Champions. 

Moving in with Max meant going to every single one of his races, which also meant seeing Charles every single week. Normally he would always be accompanied by Pierre Gasly, a man who would flirt with anyone that took a breath whereas Charles was more subtle. It started out with small talk and then he’d show up to the post-race celebrations, get you away from Max so you could have a conversation that wasn’t just ‘hey, how are you?’. Conversations at the club turned into sneaking around with one another in hotels and the rest is history. 

Max was yet to know about you and Charles. The pair of you had kept your secret from him for eight months. It hurt to keep it away from him, he was your older brother and the one person in the family that you could actually tell everything to well, everything but this. You knew if Max found out he’d lose his shit and you knew he wasn’t the cleanest driver on the grid at times. Part of you worried that if he found out he’d pull off a stupid stunt on the track and land the two of them in the hospital so you kept it from him. 

“I’m not sitting here and eating fucking potatoes when my sister clearly has something going on with Charles Leclerc!” Max screamed, standing up and shooting you a glare. “What is going on between you and Leclerc?” 

“Max please just calm down -” Your Mum spoke. 

“Calm down? She’s been lying to my face!” He took a deep breath. “How long?” 

You didn’t want an argument but you knew it would come eventually. “Eight months -”

“Eight fucking months?” His words were bitter. “Eight fucking months and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“You’d lose your shit if you knew! You can be such an idiot on that track and I don’t want you pulling some pathetic stunt that gets both of you killed!” You spat back. 

“It’s not me you have to worry about crashing, that prat can’t even finish a race!” 

“Don’t you dare start insulting him, not when he’s only ever spoken good things about you in the media unlike some of those drivers on the grid!” 

“Yeah now I know why! He only done it to please you!” He ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe my own sister would go around with the man who’s considered my rival, you might as well be dating Lewis Hamilton!” 

“Max that’s enough!” Your Mum snapped. “Both of you!” 

“So is that where you’ve been going when you tell me you’re going to y/b/f’s house for the weekend? You’ve been with him? All those nights you stayed out late and asked me not to wait up, you were with him, weren’t you?” 

“Of course I was Max!” Tears and panic were filling your body at the sight of Max’s rage.

“Why him y/n?” His voice now turned to pain. “Anyone but a shitty driver on the grid.” He slumped back down in his chair as you spun on your heel and left the room, feeling yourself getting short of breath you pushed your mother's bedroom door open and sat on the edge of your bed, trying to calm your breathing but nothing would work. Reaching for your inhaler you were able to steady yourself, calming yourself to the point of not feeling short of breath. 

“He’s such a dickhead.” The voice of your sister caught your attention. She gave you a warm smile as she sat beside you, noticing your inhaler in your hand. “You need to take it easy, stress makes your breathing worse and you know that.”

“Rather hard when your brother starts screaming at you like that.” You leaned your head on her shoulder, closing your eyes as she wrapped her arm around you. 

“I know but you know Max, can’t control his emotions to save his life… thank god he was never born a woman, imagine if he had a period every month.” You smiled at her words, letting out a light laugh. “Don’t worry about him, Charles is a decent guy. Mum likes him and Dad has always said he’s a good driver which automatically means he respects him. It’s just Max you’ll have to work on.”

“And what do you think of him?” You looked up at her. 

She shrugged with a small smirk on her face. “You think you could set me up with Pierre now you and Charles are together?”

You laughed at her words before speaking. “I think Max would kill us.”

“Maybe so but I don’t think Mum would let him.” 

Victoria continued to calm you down, meanwhile, your Mum was giving Max a lecture, almost like he was a child. 

“Did you need to do that?” She set the food aside and gave Max a glare. 

“I don’t want her around him -”

“Max she’s twenty-one, not a child. She can make her own decisions.”

“I’ve seen how some of these drivers act, I don’t trust them.”

“Does Charles act like that?” 

Max pondered on the thought. “No…”

“Then why are you so uptight about all of this?” 

“Because he might be like that.”

“Then that’s her lesson to learn. I’ve met him far too many times and even I can tell you that he’s not like that. He clearly cares about her and he was raised to be a polite and smart lad. You know that.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Doesn’t give you the right to yell at her like that. She’s clearly happy with him, don’t you want that for her?”

“Of course I do.” Max gave her a sad expression. “But I want her to be safe.”

“Max,” Your Mum took his hand into hers, smiling at him as she spoke. “I know you care for her especially as she was always there for you at your races and when I and your father split it was hard on you both but you know deep down she isn’t going anywhere. He won’t take her away from this family, she’s still your baby sister.”

Max knew she was right but it was still hard for him. He missed being around his family and all he wanted was for all of you to be as close to one another as possible but that would never happen. People move on, Victoria already had and that pained him knowing everyone was slowly growing apart. With your parents split he never got to have what most children did, he never got to have dinner with the family every night, he never got to go on family days out or even just stay inside and watch a film with one another. It was something so small but something he so desperately longed for. 

When it was clear that Max wanted to be a racing driver he never got a day off. He always had to train and that meant leaving you, his Mum and Victoria. So when you made the decision to move in with him he was over the moon. His Mum visited more and you were by his side. He had his family back, maybe not how he wanted but it was enough for him but the thought of you moving away to be with Charles meant he wouldn’t see you, Victoria or his Mum as often. His head just swarmed itself with the memories of being left with his Dad at eleven, no Mum or sisters by his side.

Max didn’t sat anything else, he only nodded, knowing his Mum was right he got up and made his way towards her bedroom. Softly knocking on the door he waited for you or Victoria to give him the all-clear to enter. His heart ached at the sight of you clutching your inhaler, a clear sign he’d set your asthma off. 

“Can I speak to y/n?” He directed his question to Victoria. 

“If you don’t plan on screaming at her then I don’t see a problem with it.” 

“I’m not.” 

Victoria looked down at you, waiting for the nod of approval from you. A silent signal that you were happy to speak to Max. She lifted herself from the bed, glaring at her older brother before leaving the two of you to talk. 

Max shuffled into the room, a glum expression on his face as he sat beside you. “Did you need to use it?” He pointed to the inhaler. You only nodded, making a surge of guilt fly through him. “I’m sorry I just… I just don’t want this family to fall apart -”

“And you think Charles Leclerc is going to make us fall apart?” You arched your brows at him. 

“No, but it’ll play a part. You know all I ever want to do when I have free time is just relax with you, Mum and Victoria.”

“And Charles and I dating is going to suddenly stop that?”

He huffed in frustration as he tried to get his words out. “No, but it means I won’t see you as much anymore. It means it’ll be harder to get everyone round for dinner as you’ll always be out with him, Victoria is always travelling -”

“Max I’m not going to just get up and walk out of your life. Do you not think I feel the same way too? I never got to see you and Dad as much as I wanted to as a kid and now I see the pair of you pretty much every day. Yes if Charles and I move in together I won’t see you every day but I’ll still be at every single race. I’ll still be living in the same area as you. It’s not like he’s going to lock me away from ever seeing you again.”

“Are you happy with him?” Max suddenly looked down at you, changing the subject slightly. 

“I am, Max.”

“And do you love him?”

“I do.”

“Does he love you?”

“He says he does, every single day so I bloody hope it’s true.” Max broke a small smile at your words, following Victoria's actions he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side. 

“Then I’ll allow it. Can’t promise I won’t start a fight or let the two of you hold hands around me but I’ll allow it.”

“Oh glad I’ve got the permission of my brother.” You smirked at him before breaking into a smile. 

“Just wait till Dad finds out.”

“I plan to never tell him, he doesn’t need to know.” 

“Yeah, good luck.” Max laughed knowing that if he reacted like that then Jos would hit the roof. 

That all happened a few months ago. Jos did find out but thankfully Max was there to ease everything. He didn’t lose his shit as much as you had expected him to but that didn’t mean he liked the idea of his daughter dating a Formula 1 driver, especially one who drove for a rival team but Charles had managed to survive a dinner with your family which meant things were destined to last. 

—

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” Charles hummed as his hand smoothed down your hair. You were laying on his chest as the sun from the outside world made your hotel room glow like gold. Today was the day of the French Grand Prix, a race Charles was hopeful about. 

“Me too.” You replied, your hand tracing his chest before looking up at him. “How are you feeling about today?”

“Confident.” He replied, a small smile on his face. “I think I can win it today if I get a good start and we can actually get our strategy right then I can put some distance between us and Red Bull.” He looked down at you, his smile turning to a smirk. “Or you could tell Max to lay off me just this once.”

Laughing at his reply you let your head fall onto his chest before replying. “Not sure if that would work, he already isn’t your biggest fan.” 

Charles moved his hand and used it to move your face to look at him again. “So? His sister is.” He leant down and took your lips into his. He’d never get bored of the feeling of having you in his arms with your lips on his. He let his tongue slide across your bottom lip as he spare hand went to your waist, pulling you onto his lap so you were now straddling him as the kiss deepened. He tugged on your bottom lip, loving the way you softly moaned at the sensation.

You pulled away from the kiss slightly as you felt his hands begin to trail up your thighs. “You have a race to get to.”

“We’ve got some time-”

“Hardly any.” You muttered against his lips. 

“We've had less before and we made it work… besides…” He brushed your hair out of your face. “It’ll be my good luck charm.”

“I thought I was that.” 

“You are, I just might need a little extra luck looking at the state of our strategy.” Laughing against his lips you melted into his touch as he leant up and flipped the two of you over. He ducked his head down and began to kiss your neck. Your eyes glanced over to the clock beside the bed. 

He was right, you had time. 

—

You watched as Charles took his helmet into his hands, looking down and smiling at the photo of you and him tucked inside the padding before meeting your soft y/e/c eyes. “You always look so worried when I’m about to get into the car.” He pouted at your expression. He always hated seeing you like this. The thought of having your brother and boyfriend taking part in one of the most dangerous sports in the world which was responsible for so many deaths caused your anxiety to spiral. Something Charles unfortunately knew all too well.

“Just be safe please.” 

Charles walked towards you, setting his helmet aside he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “You know I will.” He pecked your lips. “I will always come back, I can promise you that.” His eyes scanned your face, he would never get bored of seeing how your eyes would look up at him with such love. 

“You better.”

“I will.” This time the kiss felt different, it always did before a race. It was always a silent promise that he would come back to you, no matter what happened out there. “I’ll meet you at the garage when the race is over.” 

You nodded, the two of you sharing one last kiss before he stepped away and put his helmet on. “Good luck Char.” You leant up to kiss the top of his helmet before you turned away to join your family at the Red Bull garage.

“y/n!” You turned back to the man dressed in red. Charles was jogging up to you, slipping his helmet off before pressing his lips onto yours once again. He cupped your jaw as he deepend the kiss, he smiled against your lips as he pulled back, missing the sweetness of your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled back as you kissed him again, swiping your tongue on his bottom lip, teasing him after the antics of the morning. Charles wanted more but he couldn’t. Not yet anyway. The pair of you pulled back eventually. Charles blew you one last kiss as you left him. “Please be careful!”

“I will mon amour!” He called back, his head turning to see you walk away. 

“You know,” A Spanish accent filled the air. “I can’t decide if you two make me want to be sick or if you two are just cute together,” Carlos smirked at Charles who was clearly smitten with the Verstappen girl. 

“You sound like her brother.” He replied, glancing over his shoulder one last time only to see that you’d already gone to find your brother. No matter how long or how much you loved Charles you made one promise to yourself and that was to watch the race from the Red Bull garage. Max was still your brother and the one person who’d be there if things ever fell apart. 

“Afternoon y/n.” Christain Horner welcomed you as you made your way through the groups of mechanics to find your family. 

“Hello, Christian.” You smiled back at the man. 

“Did you ask your boyfriend to have a shit start so we could get some pace on him?”

“Think you might struggle this time around, he seems pretty confident and Ferrari seem to have a set plan for this race.”

“Can always rely on you for insider information.” Max’s voice snatched your attention. He opened his arms for a hug, an action you quickly obliged with. “Wonder what he’d think if he found out you were telling us all their secrets!” He joked as the two of you shared a hug. 

“What can I say? I clearly have a favourite.” You went along with his words although Max knew as much as you loved him and always showed your brother endless support that you would much rather see Charles win a World Championship than him. 

“You should do, he’s your brother.” Jos quickly joined the conversation, pulling you away from your brother for a hug. 

“Hello to you too Dad.” You hugged him back before Max spoke again. 

“How’s he feeling? Confident?”

“As always.” You replied. “And you?”

“Easy win.” He winked before breaking into a small laugh. “It’ll be a challenge as always but if we get a good start, do our pitstops in a smart way then I can’t see why we can’t be on the podium.” 

“I can’t see why you can’t finish in P1 today.” Your Dad joined in, making you and Max share a quick look. 

As much as Jos cared for you and your sister he always seemed to have a different attitude towards Max. As you got older you began to understand he was living his dream through him. Jos wasn’t good enough for Formula 1 but Max was. He’d already won a Championship and was set to win many more in his career. The treatment your Dad gave to Max was beyond unfair but Max hadn’t known anything else. The pair of you would often talk about it but Max refused to ever admit that Jos was in the wrong, he just thought that was how a Dad was supposed to be. 

“You’ve got Charles for competition so maybe aim for P2.” You quickly spoke, trying to brush off the harsh words of your father. 

“Don’t think I can do it?” Max pretended to look offended. “My own sister turning against me for Charles Leclerc!” He placed his hand on his chest. “Maybe you should go watch the race with Ferarri.”

“Oh shut up.” You shoved him slightly as Max made his way to the car. “Be safe.”

“I’ll try.” He smiled as he grabbed his helmet, waving at you one last time as you and Jos joined Victoria to watch the race unfold. 

Charles had started well. You had to try your best not to celebrate in front of the Red Bull mechanics and your family but your joy didn’t last. In the eighteenth lap just after Red Bull had completed an incredible pit stop your heart sank. The camera suddenly cut to someone in the wall and then your boyfriend's name was mentioned. You saw his number proudly against the car, you didn’t need a commentator to confirm your fears. 

Charles didn’t move for a few seconds and in a fit of fear you threw your headphones off as you felt your heart race and your breathing increase which meant you missed his radio confirming that he was in fact okay. Your eyes fell onto the screen again and Charles was still not moving, the camera cut away, a sign that was never good in Formula 1. 

Victoria picked up on your distress immediately. Growing up alongside you she always knew when an asthma attack was on the rise. Stress and panic always grew when you watched races, you knew you should stay away from the sport when your nerves were on the rise but you couldn’t do that to Max and Charles. 

“y/n…” Victoria grabbed your forearm, pulling you away from the small crowd of people watching the race. “It's okay, he’s okay…”

“He didn’t move -”

“He’s probably in shock, he’ll be okay. It wasn’t a bad crash -”

“It doesn’t need to be.” Your voice was failing you as your chest started to ache. Victoria grabbed your bag from around your shoulder, sensing you needed your inhaler she pulled it out of your bag, handed it to you and directed your hand to mouth but when you pressed the silver button nothing happened. Hers and your eyes widened at the lack of sound indicating that the device had worked. “Shit… I forgot…” 

Before every single race, Charles always asked you to check your inhaler and make sure it wasn’t running low. He couldn’t even begin to think of what would happen if something went wrong when he wasn’t around. He knew how important it was, especially if either you or Max got hurt or into a collision. He also always kept a spare on him just in case you needed it and you had left it behind. The only problem was Charles was climbing out of his crashed car with no inhaler on him. 

Victoria knew she had to think fast or you would end up in serious trouble. She screamed for Jos who wasn’t paying much attention, too focused on the race until he saw his youngest daughter clutching her chest as she sunk to the floor. Forgetting that Max was now on his way to winning another race he called for help, alerting a steward of what was taking place. Within seconds the ambulance team was in the Red Bull garage attending to you. 

Meanwhile, Charles was on the side of the track, screaming in frustration at his mistake. With his head in his hands, he sobbed his heart out. Through teary eyes, he looked down at his helmet and saw the photo of the two of you. He knew you’d be waiting for him when he got back, waiting to take the pain away and that was all he needed right now. 

If only he knew. 

“Mr Leclerc you need to go to the medical tent.” One of the safety managers called over to him as he stormed back to the garages. Anger was still running through his veins at what had happened. 

“Fuck off I’m fine.” He took a deep breath as he walked into the garage. 

“You may feel fine but you need to be checked over, it’s an FIA rule, please -”

Charles scanned the garage yet couldn’t find you. Despite always watching the races in the Red Bull garage you would always leave the second anything happened to him on the track. You would always be waiting at the Ferarri garage for him or you’d meet him at the medical tent if the team had been told that he was sent there. “Where’s y/n?” He ignored the man's pleas. 

“She isn’t here.” A mechanic spoke. “Hasn’t turned up.” 

Charles scrunched his face up in confusion. “She isn’t in my room?”

“We would have seen or heard her.” Another mechanic spoke. She hasn’t come here. Maybe she’s still at Red Bull.”

“But she always comes here.” 

“Maybe she saw you get out and decided to stay and watch her brother win.” The mechanic turned his gaze to the television mounted on the wall. Charles followed his gaze to see Max Verstappen leading the race but it still didn’t make sense. You’d seen him crash a fair few times and saw him get out of the car safely yet you always came here, even if Max was winning. 

Charles didn’t say anything as he left the Ferrari garage and headed down to the Red Bull garage. Your relationship was public so he knew if cameras were following him closely it wouldn't spark rumours that he was attempting to sign with Red Bull to escape Ferrari. 

“Is y/n here?” He announced to no one in particular. A few mechanics and friends of Max and Checo looked around at one another, unsure whether they should tell Charles what had just happened. The brunette picked up on their uncertainty almost instantly. “What?”

Checo’s wife took her headphones off and gestured for Charles to follow her. He quickly followed the woman, his concern growing. Making sure the pair of them were away from prying ears she spoke. “She saw you crash and the panic got to her -”

“Has she just gone back to the hotel?” Charles quickly asked. 

“She had an asthma attack and her inhaler was out. She’d forgotten to change it and they had to call the ambulance team. We’ve been told she’s all okay, she’s at the medical tent -” Charles didn’t need to hear the rest. He quickly turned on his heel and sprinted out of the garage and towards the medical tent, not caring that he probably shouldn’t have been running considering he’d just crashed into a wall. 

—

“Is Charles okay?” You asked, propped up in bed whilst the medic team checked your heart rate. You were put on a ventilator, something you were used to after growing up with asthma. Victoria and Jos were by your side through the whole thing. Thankfully you started to breathe on your own after a while, the medics were running their last checks to make sure you didn’t need to be sent to a specialist. 

“He got out of the car just fine. He was walking around after.” Your Dad held your hand as he sat beside the bed, his eyes glancing back and forth between you and the race. 

“He’s okay y/n.” Victoria chimed in. 

“He should have joined you in here for his own checks but I’ve been told he’s refused a medical check-up.” The paramedic tending to you reassured you. “That means he must be fine.” 

You gave the woman a small smile, resting your head back and letting out a steady breath. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Verstappen.” She stepped back. “You’ll be fine but maybe this is a lesson to always carry an inhaler that works.” 

“Charles always has one on him just in case.”

“No good when he’s in a wall.” Your Dad replied. 

“Maybe we should start carrying a spare just in case,” Victoria spoke. 

“Or maybe I should remember to get mine replaced.” You chimed in. 

“That too but if Charles can carry one for you then I think we could too, just in case.”

Almost like he was summoned by the sound of his own name Charles darted into the room, still in his race suit his eyes fell on you. Suddenly all the anger and hurt from crashing out of the race disappeared and the only thing he could think of was you. “Ma belle fille…” Charles hurried himself over to you. Jos moved from your side allowing Charles to sit beside you. He took your hands into his, pressing small kisses into your skin. “What happened?”

“I fainted but I’m okay.” You ran your thumbs over the top of his hand. “It was just an asthma attack.”

“Love it’s not ‘just an asthma attack.” His eyes met yours. “It’s serious, you could have landed yourself in a lot of trouble, we were lucky you only landed yourself in here.”

“I know.” You looked down, slightly ashamed that you had caused all of this just because you forgot to get your inhaler replaced. 

“Hey,” Charles moved his hand to tilt your head back up to face him before he planted a short yet meaningful kiss on your lips. “I’m just glad you’re okay, you nearly made me faint when I got back to the garage and saw you weren’t there.” He smiled. 

“We’ll give you two some space.” Victoria pulled Jos out of the room. “I won’t tell Max what happened, I’ll let him bask in the glory first.” She winked before leaving the room with your Dad who looked displeased to leave you alone with Charles despite the two of you living together.

“Are you okay?” You turned the conversation back to him. 

“Hmm…” He hummed back. “It was all my fault, I’m never going to be a World Champion if I can’t keep the lead of a race without fucking it all up.” 

“One mistake doesn’t define your career Char.” Squeezing his hand you gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Thank you.” He returned the smile. “It just feels as if I’m not set to win a Championship.”

“Why? Because you crashed the odd time? The world knows it’s not your fault, fans blame the team and they’re right in doing so. They ruined so many of your and Carlos’ races, races the pair of you could have easily won and gained more points than Max. The season isn’t over yet and if things don’t go to plan this season then you always have next season.”

He got up and leaned over to kiss the top of your head before placing a small light kiss on your lips before returning to his seat. “Thank you. I don’t deserve you.” He kissed your hand again, looking up at you with his eyes full of love. “I don’t even want to go out there and talk to the press.” He huffed, leaning his head on the bed as he changed the subject.

“You don’t have to.” Your hands started to play with his hair. “You can just stay here.”

“Oh, I plan on it.” He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath as he melted into your touch, finally feeling calm. “Although I’ll have to speak to them eventually.”

“I’m sure you can weave around it besides, just tell them what you told me.”

“Not sure that’s going to work on everyone, most fans don’t think I deserve to even be considered as a title contender.”

“Since when did you care about what others think?” You raised your brows at the man. “Char, you drive Formula 1 cars for a living and they spend their money to see you drive those cars, you really care about what some low-life fan who can’t even drive a normal car thinks?”  

Charles raised his head from the bed and looked at you with a smile. “Such a way with words Verstappen.”

“I do try Leclerc.” You both leaned forward to one another when a sudden bang of a door opened.

Max was standing in the doorway alongside Daniel and Lando. When Daniel and Max were teammates you grew close to the Australian who would spend most of his time showing you his playlists on his phone and telling you the stories of his life. Daniel had been on adventures you only read about in books, you could listen to him all day. Lando and you grew close due to Max treating the boy like a younger brother. The two of you were also close in age which was an added bonus when it came to conversation. As Lando once said ‘sometimes these old men don’t understand us’. 

“Fucking hell y/n are you okay?” Max shoved Charles out of his chair, not caring that Charles could have been hurt as he’d been involved in a crash. “What happened? What did they give you?”

“I’m fine Max.” You smiled at your brother. “It was my fault, I had an asthma attack but my inhaler was empty. I fainted but I’m okay -”

“You don’t sound it,” Daniel spoke up, making his way to the bed, not caring that Charles was now sitting on the floor after being pushed by his old teammate. “Here.” Daniel handed you one of his hoodies, making sure you were comfortable as you lay in bed. 

“You know I have hoodies if you want them,” Charles announced from the floor, his face already fed up with Daniel's antics.

“I’ve got a few too,” Lando spoke, a smirk on his face. All three drivers received a glare from Max, a silent warning that if they continued he’d deal with them on the track. “But I’m sure you’re fine.” Lando quickly said, clearly scared of Max. 

“Thank you, Lando.” You tried to suppress your laughter as you spoke again. “And you too Daniel.” 

The Aussie helped you put the hoodie on, making sure you were warm and comfortable before laying back down. Whilst Daniel made sure you were comfortable Lando grabbed you a drink and left it on the side for when you were ready. 

“Thought you would have gotten her all this Leclerc,” Max suggested, knowing his words would annoy him. 

“I was too busy making out with her Verstappen.” Charles knew his words would annoy your brother. 

“What did you say?” Max stood up, his actions quickly causing Charles to scramble to his feet. 

“I’m just saying…” Charles smirked. “She tastes good -”

“That’s my sister you dickhead!” Max lunged at Charles but he missed, allowing Charles to sprint to Daniel, holding him and using him as a human shield but Max couldn’t care less. Lando used his brain and moved out of the way towards you, watching the whole scene unfold with a smile on his lips. 

“It was a joke!” Charles screamed, trying to defend himself as he made a run for the door. 

“Well…” Daniel looked over at you. “Least you don’t have to worry about your boyfriend being injured… from the car at least…”

#charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc lockscreens #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc #formula 1 #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfic

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 19 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Before Bradley leaves for the top secret mission, you manage to send him on a special mission of your own. You want a little taste of how Bradley might have operated in the past, and he's willing to indulge your role playing fantasy. He's prepared for the possibility that you might laugh in his face, but he's not prepared for the other roadblock.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, self doubt, fluff, smut, spanking, role playing, bad pickup lines

Length: 6600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You were practically giddy from nerves on Thursday night as you sat curled up on Bradley's lap on the couch while you talked on the phone with your mom. Your husband was running his fingers up and down your bare thigh and underneath his shirt that you were wearing, and your head was resting on his shoulder. 

"When are you thinking about coming out?" you asked, switching the call to speakerphone so Bradley could hear everything. You looked up at him and smirked; he loved your parents and they loved him, but he hated when they stayed at your house. Last time they visited, he lied to your mom and told her he had hotel points that were going to expire before booking them a room at a five star hotel on his credit card. That way you and he could still have loud sex wherever and whenever you wanted to. 

You kissed his cheek as your mom said, "Maybe the beginning of July? Just for a few days?"

"Oh, we could go to a Padres game like dad wanted to last time," you said, already thinking about getting tickets.

Bradley cleared his throat and said, "I think I have more hotel points. I could book you a room at that nice hotel again."

You had to clap your hand over your mouth before you started to laugh, and he just grinned at you. 

"Oh, that hotel was lovely," you mom crooned. "But don't go out of your way, Bradley. Only if you have points that will expire."

"I always have points that are about to expire," he said quietly before you elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow!"

"That actually sounds great, mom. How about you get back to me with exact dates next week sometime? Bradley will be away on a short deployment, but he should be back by the start of July."

"Sure. Let me check with your dad, and we can let you know. Love you both."

"Love you," Bradley said the same time you did, and then you ended the call.

"You're the worst," you told him as you tossed your phone aside and straddled his lap. He looked so satisfied with himself, all you could do was shake your head. "Your ego is huge now, too. You're going to become a nightmare for me."

"My ego isn't huge, Sweetheart," he whispered. "Maybe other things are, but not that."

You rolled your eyes and kissed him softly. "Don't even try to deny that you've been strutting around since you got home from work and told me that Cyclone said you were 'one of the best pilots to ever come out of Top Gun'."

Bradley shrugged and bent his elbows, tucking his hands behind his head. "He said it, not me."

You scooted a little closer, nudging his cock intentionally with your thigh. You could feel him twitching for you, already getting a reaction. "That's why they picked you for the mission. You're the best, Roo."

"We should talk about tomorrow night." His voice was deep with that biting rasp that made your skin feel hot. "Go over the details since you won't let me see you after work."

You bit your lip and braced your hands on his shoulders. You bought a tiny dress and some new heels for tomorrow night, and you didn't want him to see you in them before he met you at the bar. You didn't want him to know anything about that until he saw you. "Well..." you started, scooting a little closer still. "You're going to meet me at One Trick Pony in North Park at 8:30. Don't forget to leave your wedding ring at home."

"I told you, I don't like taking it off unless I have to," he murmured, and you nearly moaned at his words. But he didn't touch you at all; he kept his hands behind his head. 

Your body was practically vibrating at the possibilities for tomorrow night. You would be getting the full experience of what Bradley was like before he met you. Part of you had been dying to know how he would have tried to pick you up if he only wanted to sleep with you. But mostly you were thrilled that nearly two years ago, he wanted a whole lot more than that when you met him. 

"Well, if you want to fully role play as strangers, you'll have to leave it behind. Just for a few hours. I'm taking both of mine off tonight before bed so I don't forget in the morning."

"You're not wearing them to work?" he asked, looking a little upset. 

"It's just for one day. And you can't come home after work. You'll have to get ready in the locker room so I can get ready here."

His cheeks were a little pink now as he examined your face. "I already told you, this is just going to be embarrassing. There's no way I could have pulled you if we met at a bar, Baby Girl. I'd have taken one look at you, and I don't think I would have even tried it. If you and I hadn't been assigned to work together when we met, I would have absolutely never stood a chance."

You kissed the tip of his nose and whispered, "You have literally no appreciation for just how hot you are, Bradley. And that doesn't even begin to delve into all of the other wonderful things you have to offer."

Finally he brought his hands to your hips, but instead of removing your shirt like you were hoping, he scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom. "We should get some sleep so I can be well rested when you're laughing in my face tomorrow night."

When you pulled him down on top of you in bed, you said, "Or, we could stay up and have sex."

"No," he said, shaking his head as he stood next to the bed with his semi hard cock poking his shorts. "Not tonight. I want you good and needy tomorrow. I'm hoping that'll make things easier for me."

You whined his name and said, "There's no way I'm not leaving One Trick Pony with you, Roo. That's a given."

"I know, but I guess I kind of want to feel like I earned it." He was blushing again as he walked into the bathroom. "Like I impressed you or something."

You groaned and rolled over so you were face down on your pillow. He really had no idea.

------------------------------

You had Bradley all tied up in knots. He hadn't even seen you at lunch or anything, and now he was showering after a long day in the air. His body was sore. He was exhausted. He was leaving on Monday for South Korea before heading somewhere classified. And he had less than two hours until he was supposed to meet you at some civilian bar you told him you went to one time with Cam and Maria. 

In theory, tonight should be fun. Role playing with you? He fucking loved it. Getting to take you home from the bar and sleep with you? He lived for it. You were his wife, of course he was excited about that part. But his bad lines and terrible moves of yesteryear were something he hadn't thought about since... well since he met you. The best part about being with you was that he never had to pull that shit out to try to impress you. He was just himself around you, and you seemed to like that from the start. Sure he was nervous the first few times he talked to you, but that was because he was already infatuated with everything about you. Not because he was looking to fuck you in the backseat of his Bronco and then forget about you the next day.

He took an extra long shower, and luckily everyone else had cleared out by the time he finished up. He made sure his mustache looked good, and he shaved the rest of his face. He fixed up his hair so it looked tidy, and then he dressed in his black slacks that were a little snug in all the places you liked. And then he slipped on his black shirt with the tropical white and gold floral print. As he did up the buttons, he wondered why you wouldn't let him get ready at home. Maybe you bought a new dress. Now he was getting excited. Maybe it was short. He quickly packed everything up in his locker and headed out to the Bronco. 

After he killed some time by stopping for food, he realized it was nearly 8:00. North Park was trendy, so he wanted to have time to find parking and get to One Trick Pony on time. He found a spot a few blocks away, on a quiet residential street, and he checked himself in the mirror one last time before locking the doors and making his way to the bar. 

There were students and artists and musicians out, and he felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He was used to the Hard Deck, not a trendy civilian bar with dim lights and music that was recorded post 1978. 

He was too old for this. He'd just zip in here, let you laugh at him, and then take you home to bed where he'd teach you a lesson and beg you never to make him do this again. The bar was already kind of crowded, and when he checked the time on his phone, it was 8:28. Showtime. He just needed to figure out where you were. 

He did a lap around the room as he ran his thumb along his bare ring finger with a grimace. There were some girls looking at him. They looked like they could have been in college, and he wasn't sure if they were going to laugh at him or try to buy him a drink. He just nodded in their direction when they waved to him. He missed his ring. He missed his own bar. And he missed his wife in his arms. 

Where were you? Bradley didn't even see you anywhere as he started his second lap. Then the color red caught his eye. He saw the back of someone sitting on the last stool at the bar through the crowd of people that looked like it could be you. That looked like your hair. That was definitely your hand, and when you turned to look up at the man who was standing next to you, Bradley could see your beautiful profile.

He took off in your direction with a grin threatening his lips as he tried to keep himself calm. When he got closer, he stumbled. You were spinning sideways in your seat, still looking at the man standing there, and his eyes were looking straight down your dress. If that sexy little thing even qualified as a dress. 

"Shit," Bradley gasped, because you were wearing a tiny bit of wine red fabric that clung to your body and left almost nothing to the imagination. And you had on black heels that laced up your calves and tied in cute little bows that he wanted to run his lips all over. When your eyes skimmed the crowd in his direction, they paused on Bradley for the briefest beat, but you gave no indication that he was familiar to you, let alone that he was your fucking husband. 

No, you were every bit of the smoking hot stranger you wanted to be tonight, and Bradley's cock was already throbbing at the sight of your straw pressed to your bright red lips as you drank. And then it all clicked into place for him. That other guy bought you a drink. But of course he did. You and Bradley agreed not to break character, and Bradley was stupid enough to not even realize through his own nerves what that meant: that you'd appear one hundred percent single. It meant you'd have other guys all over you!

You were out of his league when he met you, and you definitely still were now. And this fucking wall street douche bag wannabe in a gray suit bought you what looked like a dirty Shirley Temple which kind of matched your dress. Bradley had no doubt in his mind what the douche bag was thinking. He had to be imagining your tits and how perfect they'd look with your dress on his floor later. But he was never going to have that distinct pleasure. Bradley would make sure of it. 

Be took a deep breath and closed the distance to your stool. You knew he was here now, so there was no sense in delaying this any further. He wanted your undivided attention, and he wanted it now. 

"What did you say your name was again, sexy?" gray suit asked you as he inched closer. 

You told him your first name, and Bradley's skin crawled. 

"Fuck, that's so pretty," he replied. And then he had the nerve to repeat your name a few times as Bradley came to stop right near you before the douche bag added, "I just want to make sure I get your name right for later, doll. You know, for when you come home with me." Bradley gave him a bland look as jealousy rose to the surface. Yeah, that wasn't about to happen. 

You didn't look too impressed by this guy as you sipped your drink and glanced at Bradley out of the corner of your eye. And holy shit, you were even more exquisite up close. Every curve of your breasts and thighs was just right there for him and everyone else to see. Your makeup made your eyes look even more animated than usual, and your red lips were dying to be kissed by him. It had been almost two years since Bradley had done this shit, but he supposed he could do it one last time.

"Hi," Bradley rasped, and you turned to look at him with a soft smirk. The asshole in the gray suit just glared in his direction and sized him up with his tumbler in hand. But if there was one thing Bradley wasn't afraid of, it was a skinny blond guy in a designer suit with bad taste in whiskey. So he kept his eyes on you as he said, "You're gorgeous."

Your smirk grew into just the tiniest smile as you said, "Well, hello there. Are you going to tell me your name?" you asked. "Ethan here already told me his before he bought me a drink." You gestured to the other guy, to Ethan, and then uncrossed and recrossed your legs. On any other evening, Bradley's hands would be all over your body. He'd already be suggesting the two of you head home for the night. 

"My name's Bradley. And I'm fighting the urge to make you the happiest woman in this bar right now."

Your laugh was so genuine and surprised, Bradley cracked a smile too. He held out his right hand, and you shook it as you told him your name. He added on your last name hyphenated with Bradshaw in his mind, reminding himself that you were already his. Then he nodded toward the exit with one eyebrow raised. 

"Nice try, Bradley. But I'm not going anywhere with you," was your response as your hand slipped out of his with a grin. Then that straw returned to your lips as you finished your drink, your eyes skimming over Bradley's outfit like you'd never seen it before. In reality his clothes were all hanging up next to yours in the bedroom closet in the home that you shared. 

"Can I get you another one?" Bradley asked, letting his eyes settle on your empty glass. 

Ethan stepped a little closer to him and said, "Hey, man. I was buying her drinks first. Why don't you go find someone else?"

Bradley snorted and squared his shoulders. "That's not gonna happen, man. This one's the only one I want."

Your smile grew as you set your empty glass down for the bartender to take. "Can I get you another one?" she asked you, and both Bradley and Ethan said yes immediately. 

You looked a little overwhelmed as you adjusted your dress, and Ethan had the audacity to moan. Bradley's hands clenched into fists as the other man leaned in and brushed his fingers along your neck. Another man was touching Bradley's wife, and there was nothing he could do about it unless you broke character. He felt short of breath as he thought about all the ways he'd love to pound Ethan into the ground. Nobody else should have intimate knowledge of your soft skin right now.

Then the douche bag spoke, and Bradley's stance faltered at the obnoxious line he used. "Doll, if you look this good in your little red dress, I don't know if I'm going to be able to handle you out of it later. But I can't wait to give it a try," he crooned in what Bradley was sure he thought was a charming voice. 

"I can guarantee you can't handle her, Ethan," Bradley rasped as he watched you remove his hand from your body yet again. There were some nights you were so needy, Bradley could barely handle you himself, but he'd die before he saw someone else give it a shot. "And you're never gonna find out for sure." 

Bradley never fought over a girl in his life. In the past, he'd just find a different one and head in that direction instead. But right now, he was going to have to guarantee that he was better than Ethan. So he reached over and handed his credit card to the bartender when she dropped off two more drinks for you. "Here you go, gorgeous," he murmured just for you. "Make me jealous of that straw again."

Once again, Bradley got a genuine laugh out of you as he stood to his full height. You looked up at him with your straw resting on your lip and said, "Thank you, Bradley," before taking a sip. His cock twitched in his pants as Ethan stood there impatiently, jockeying for position with you. 

And then you stood up from your bar stool, still sipping your drink. Your heels were so high, your height hit a different spot on Bradley than he wasn't used to. And now you were kind of sandwiched between him and Ethan in the crowded space. When you looked up to your right through your long eyelashes, Bradley was there. But Ethan was on your left, and it appeared as though he was thinking about touching you again. 

Bradley glared at him as you paused sipping your drink and asked, "Are you really jealous of my straw, Bradley?" 

You wanted to hear more of his lines as you looked up at him, he could tell. He knew they were corny, but when he hesitated too long, he could feel your attention drifting to Ethan. So he told you, "I'm jealous of the straw and the glass and the whole damn drink, Sweetheart."

Your soft laughter made Ethan grab for the other fresh cocktail on the bar top in frustration. "Here's another one. The one I paid for," he reminded you. 

"Nah," Bradley said, never taking his eyes off you. "She seems like a one drink kind of girl." Your straw was marked up from your lipstick, and he took a deep breath before feeding you another line. "And that's a nice shade of lipstick you're wearing. I wonder what it would look like on me."

But the thing was, it didn't feel like a line when he said it to you. Yeah, it was ridiculous, but he really did want your lipstick all over him. And he really was jealous of your straw, because on a normal night, he'd have had his lips on yours by now. 

"You'd like to find out, wouldn't you?" you asked, clearly enjoying teasing him right now. "I think red might be your color."

"It's my favorite color," Bradley said softly. "Your lips and your little dress are just confirming that fact for me, Sweetheart."

You giggled and ducked your chin to the side. "I have a red car, too."

Bradley wanted to ask if you were wearing those red panties he was obsessed with, but he could tell that Ethan wasn't going to be deterred. "Did I mention that I'm an investment banker? And that I'd love to take you for a ride in my Ferrari?" Ethan asked, trying his best to nudge Bradley out of the way.

Bradley wanted to laugh; this poor guy had no idea that you drove an absolute relic and couldn't give a shit about his overpriced import. "Investment banking?" you asked him. "I have a degree in engineering. You must be very good at math."

Ethan shrugged with a smirk, because he finally had your attention now, and Bradley was the one getting antsy. Your body was still close to his, but he couldn't touch you yet. He hadn't earned that right yet. Ethan's hand was on your elbow as he told you, "There are very few things I'm not good at." Then he leaned in close to whisper something in your ear, but your eyes were on Bradley, daring him to win you in this match.

--------------------------

Ethan's breath was on your neck, and you were frozen in place, your dirty Shirley Temple gripped in your hand. Maybe this tiny dress was a bad idea after all. But Bradley had been doing so well, getting you laughing unexpectedly with his stupid lines. You knew he'd keep you safe right now, and if you lunged at him and told him you were done with this whole game and wanted to go home, he'd get you out of here immediately. But you wanted to finish this. You just hadn't planned on someone like Ethan being part of the scenario. 

Bradley's fists were clenched as he stood just inches from you and watched things unfold. The shade of pink rising high on his cheeks left you biting your lip as you firmly pushed Ethan a few inches away from you. He didn't have a mustache or pretty brown curls or eyes that you wanted to look at all night. He wasn't yours. You decided to help Bradley out as you asked him, "So, what do you do?"

Ethan looked annoyed as Bradley perked up again. "I'm a pilot," he said, his voice deep and dangerous. "For the Navy." Even if you didn't know that voice by heart, you'd be ready to throw your arms around his neck and beg him to keep talking. Your nipples were hard in your tight dress, and you could feel Ethan's gaze on your body. But Bradley was looking you right in the eye as he smiled softly.

Ethan scoffed. "The Navy? Don't you have your own bars full of tag chasers to hang out at?"

Bradley swallowed hard, the scars on his neck bobbing with his Adam's apple. "The chance of finding a woman like this in a Navy hangout would have to be one in a million. That's why I came here tonight. Because there's no chance of that ever happening again."

You practically moaned for your husband, standing there feeding you subtle lines about the early part of your relationship with him. You wanted him to touch you, but he wasn't yet. And you wanted to touch him, but you were waiting for him to take things to the next level when he was ready for it. You sipped your fresh drink, your head feeling a little lighter as you squeezed your thighs together in need. 

"One in a million?" you asked Bradley, your new straw already covered in your lipstick marks.

He nodded and ran the backs of his fingers along your cheek, and you wanted so badly to melt into him. "Yeah... you're one in a million."

"Listen, doll," Ethan interjected loudly. "Maybe you don't know what a tag chaser is, but there's no way this guy doesn't have them all over him on the regular. He looks the type."

Bradley's cheeks were red now as he looked down at the floor. Somehow Ethan managed to touch on one of the topics your husband was most sensitive about without even knowing it. "I wouldn't be surprised," you told Ethan. "He's built like a brick shithouse, and he's got a mustache." You ran one hand up Bradley's forearm and bicep to his paper plane tattoo. Then he met your eyes, and you added, "And his lines aren't crude."

It was obvious how Bradley was able to pick up women with such ease. He wasn't handsy or gross or over the top. If this was his tactic years ago, it probably worked every single time. You wanted to kiss him in the worst way right now. 

"I mean, I'd at least let you spend the weekend after I fuck you," Ethan said, returning to his drink in defeat as you held your straw out to Bradley. "Not so sure about him."

You rolled your eyes as that deep blush returned to Bradley's cheeks, but when you asked, "You wanna try my drink?" your husband nodded and bent a few inches. And then there was a smudge of your lipstick on his bottom lip that was making you giddy.

"Thought you were hot and smart," Ethan mumbled. "Tag chaser. Just a dumb bitch."

Then Bradley's hand was on your back, pulling you a little closer to him as he snapped. "She's way fucking smarter than you, asshole." You watched your husband take several deep breaths, and you were a little nervous he might go after Ethan. But then he turned to you with soft eyes. "You have a master's degree, Sweetheart? You seem like you probably do."

You nodded and bit your lip as you tried not to laugh at the question he already knew the answer to. "I do, actually."

"See? She's smart. Fuck off, Ethan," Bradley grunted, his eyes on your face as the other man finally wandered away. "Do you want another drink?" he asked, his hand still at a respectful spot on your back. You were about to give him a filthy kiss, and then you caught yourself. You were still role playing. This wasn't over just because Ethan walked off leaving you alone with your husband. 

You felt excited goosebumps on your arms. "No. I think I've had enough," you replied, easing yourself back onto the bar stool and crossing your legs so that you were seated sideways. 

Bradley leaned in close to your face with one hand braced on the bar top and one resting on your knee. "Then how am I supposed to show you my big move?" he asked, stroking your skin with his rough thumb. 

You bumped your nose with his as you asked, "What's your big move, Bradley?"

He was all smiles now as he said, "I always have good luck when I bump a pretty girl's bar stool and accidentally spill her drink all over her legs." 

You were laughing softly at his description of what happened to you at the Hard Deck that very first night. "I don't think that's even necessary now," you whispered. "You have my full attention."

"Well that's only fair since you've had my full attention since I arrived."

You felt wild, like your skin was electric. Every stroke of his familiar hand further up along your leg felt brand new in a way that you couldn't explain. This was your Roo right now, touching you so intentionally, but it also wasn't. You needed to find out what all of this would feel like. 

You brushed your lips against his, and your whole body clenched for him. He chased you for another kiss as soon as you started to pull away. And you let his hand slide up inside your short dress as he brought his other one up to stroke your cheek. 

"You're exquisite," he whispered between kisses, watching his own fingers trace your cheek as you melted inside. "One of a kind."

"Bradley," you whimpered, afraid you and he were both about to break character. "Do you use that one on all the girls?"

He ran his thumb down along your lips as he shook his head. "That's not a line. It's just the truth." 

You giggled and kissed his thumb before his hand trailed down to your neck. He didn't stop. He was stroking the tops of your breasts as you gasped, but his eyes remained on yours. He looked cocky and so sure of himself now. As he should, because he already knew exactly what you liked and how to make you lose your cool. "Bradley," you moaned. 

"God, I love the way that sounds," he murmured, and you wrapped your calf round his thigh. "You make my name sound so good."

You kissed him before running your lips along his mustache. "I bet you could keep me saying it." Your fingers were in his hair, and you were already wet for him. You knew you'd never react to a random guy at the bar like this, and something told you Bradley wasn't out there a few years ago telling women they were exquisite. But it didn't matter. None of it mattered as you made out with your husband at the bar and pretended you had just met him. 

He broke the kiss and let his forehead rest on yours. You were on the edge of the bar stool and precariously close to letting him find out you weren't wearing underwear as you moaned his name loud enough that you were afraid someone else might hear you over the music that was playing. 

"I know for a fact I can come up with at least a dozen ways to make you scream my name, and that's if I'm only using my mouth, Baby Girl." 

You gasped and rubbed your knee along his hard cock. "Baby Girl, huh? Is that what you call all the girls you hit on at the bar?" 

"Absolutely not," he growled, pressing himself against you for more pressure. "Only the one I want to call me Daddy."

Fuck. Okay. You were ready to go. When you looked at him, your new shade of lipstick was smudged across his mouth, and it really did look great. You knew for a fact it would look great on his cock, too. 

"I want you right now, Daddy," you whispered. 

"I'm all yours," he replied immediately, carefully taking your calf in his hand before letting his fingers slide up your leg as he helped you down from the stool. As you stood and recovered from your daze, you watched him collect his credit card from the bar and quickly sign the slip for the bartender. But his other hand remained on you the entire time. "You coming home with me? I promise to take exceptional care of you."

The way your pussy clenched as you moaned was absolutely ridiculous. 

"I'll take that as a yes," he murmured, bending to press his lips to your shoulder before he took your hand in his and led you toward the exit. You caught sight of Ethan as you passed him, and Bradley's hand dipped down to your butt. "You gonna say goodbye?" he asked with a smirk.

You waved and called out, "Bye, Ethan! I'm going home with Daddy here. He promised to take exceptional care of me." The other man looked annoyed as he turned away from you, still sipping his whiskey. "Let's go, Daddy," you told your husband, cupping his cock through his pants as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, leaving One Trick Pony behind. 

"This way," he grunted, turning left and lacing his fingers with yours.

"Bradley," you gasped, trying your best to keep up with his long strides in your outrageously high heels. "Daddy, wait!"

"No," he grunted, simply picking you up in his arms and continuing down the sidewalk. You were giggling and wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed his ear. His right arm was around your back, and your knees were bent over his left arm. He was rushing down the sidewalk like it was nothing. 

"I'm not wearing underwear," you whispered, keeping your legs smashed firmly together and praying nobody could see anything. But it was dark, and soon Bradley was turning down one of the quieter streets. 

"I know," he replied in that raspy voice. "That fucking dress looks like it was painted on you. Do you have any idea how little work I'll have to do on my backseat to get my cock inside your pussy and my mouth on your bare tits?"

"Bradley!" you nearly shouted, your mouth agape. "Do you say that to all the girls?"

He set you down next to the Bronco and wedged his thigh between your legs. You were absolutely panting as he unlocked the doors and said, "What do you think, Baby Girl? Nobody else looks like you or sounds like you or tastes like you. You're top tier."

"Oh my god," you whined as you rubbed yourself on his thigh. "I need you to fuck me immediately." Thank goodness it was so dark over here as he cupped your butt in both hands. Then Bradley hiked your dress up to your hips and opened the back door for you. 

"Get in the fucking Bronco."

---------------------------

The fly of his pants was open, his cock was rock hard and hanging out, and you were slipping down around him with that perfect pussy. Bradley had the bottom of your dress hiked up and the top of it pulled down, and you were riding him on the backseat. 

He had one big hand around the back of your neck, and the other was squeezing your tits as you whined, "Daddy."

Fuck, you had him so turned on, you and he were going at in on a residential street in the city at 10:00 pm on a Friday. He was always this feral for you, but you just had to go and add another layer to things. You just had to make him earn this privilege tonight. Because that's just how fucking hot you made him when he had to work for it. 

As you bounced up and down on his cock and whined for him, he realized that tonight had in many ways been a great example of how he used to be with women. But it was also nothing like he'd ever encountered. Sure, he'd used some of those lines and his hand on a knee with other women before, but most of what he did and said was uniquely his reaction to you. 

"Top fucking tier," he growled, leaning down to suck on your nipple as you rolled your hips against his. 

"This is so hot," you gasped, head back and tits practically shoved in his face. He was trying his best to ensure that nobody was nearby who could potentially see what you were doing, but it didn't even matter. You and he wouldn't have made it home in this condition. Not tonight. 

"Daddy," you whined a little louder now. You were bouncing on his cock hard and fast. Dirty. Raunchy. Like this was a one off. Like you and he were about to hit it and forget it. He shouldn't be this hard right now. He shouldn't be wrapping one hand around your neck and smacking your ass with the other. But he needed to hear you whimpering for him. "Oh my god!" you nearly shrieked.

Your eyes were wide as you tugged on his hair, and that dirty roll of your hips grew more languid as you made all those noises he loved as you came around his cock. "Jesus, Baby Girl," he gasped, pressing his lips to your tits and holding you tight as your orgasm left you a mess on his lap. 

"Roo," you moaned, your hips rocking slower and slower, and that was it. One word and he was coming, too. Now you were all smiles and soft giggles, kissing his entire face as he squeezed your hips and fucked up into you until he was spent and you were filled with his cum. 

If you broke character by calling him Roo, then he could too. He squeezed your leg and dug around in his pants pocket, his hips still rolling up against yours. You just felt too good as you kissed him. He took all three rings out of his pocket and broke the kiss. "Hey," he whispered. "Put these back on."

Bradley opened his palm and you looked at the collection of rings. You took both of yours with a smile and slid them on your finger while he did the same. "Did you take them to work with you today, Roo?" you asked him softly.

"Yeah," he grunted, still toying gently with your tits as you let your head rest on his shoulder. "Hated that you took them off last night."

You sighed. "You're so romantic. Tonight was so romantic."

He chuckled and shook his head, his cock still buried inside you. "You thought tonight was romantic? I had to outmaneuver that douche bag Ethan to get you. I had to work very hard for this."

"You did great, Daddy. But I must say, I'm not sure those lines really worked on other girls. You're just really, really hot."

"Hmm," he hummed against your forehead before kissing you. "Then it's a good thing you were already in love with me tonight. And it's a good thing I made you spill your beer on yourself that first time we hung out at the bar." He let his fingers trail down your legs to play with your high heels.

You pushed yourself off his shoulder and sat up as you murmured, "Like I said you're very romantic." Bradley watched you slide the tiny straps of your dress back up your arms as he gave both of your nipples one more kiss, eliciting more giggles from you. "Did you like my dress, Daddy?"

He grunted and lightly slapped your bare ass so you were biting your lip as you shimmied your dress up over your breasts. "Baby Girl, you look like Daddy's little slut in this thing. And that is not a complaint. It's a compliment. Yes, Daddy likes this dress. A lot."

Bradley should have been alarmed by the look in your eye and the way you were gently rolling your hips again, making him stir. "Please?" you asked softly. "Again? As Daddy's little slut this time?"

He stilled your hips with his hands and shook his head as you pouted. Jesus, he couldn't believe you were up for more role playing right now. "Hey. If you're gonna dress like a slut, then I'll fuck you like a slut. But I'm doing that at home in our bed. Because we're married. And I love you. And I need the drive home to recover." 

Then a bright smile spread across your face, and you reached for the box of tissues on the floor. "Don't get cum on the upholstery," you whispered, and then Bradley was treated to the sight of your bare ass and pussy as you climbed into the front seat and pulled your dress down over your rear end. You turned around and looked at him expectantly as he cleaned his cum off of his cock. "Hurry up and buckle me in so we can get home. I need my Daddy."

Bradley smiled. "On my way, Sweetheart."

-----------------------------

We are full steam ahead with these two role players. I hope you enjoyed this, because I was so happy to finally get to write it. Special mission and Bradley's birthday gift coming soon. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 20

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster fanfiction #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #always ever only you

[backofhismomsmercury]

spencer reid nsfw alphabet

( @backofhismomsmercury edition :3 )

18+ mdni. or don’t, what u view online is up 2 u.

this is like mostly softdom!spencer (what else is new)

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

tooth achingly sweet. like just so so so soo loving, he’d just lay with you and hold you and tell you how good you did/how proud he is, and how much he loves and appreciates you (im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure)

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

literally his brain lol, but also he likes his hair a lot, (even if he looks like he doesn’t brush it half the time lol) i think he likes having it played with/brushed/pulled (braided even..? he likes the feeling, finds it relaxing.)

he also likes his hands (he thinks they’re pretty?) i don’t think he knows why, but other people like them. which he doesn’t really understand because they’re always cold and not really soft because of how much he washes them. but he knows people like them, so he likes them. 

his fav on you is probs your legs/thighs. he likes having them wrapped around him, and he likes laying on them, he just thinks they’re pretty.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

his own? he thinks it’s messy, gross, doesn’t like when it gets everywhere and probably hates even touching it. doesn’t like feeling sticky or sitting with it, he cleans it up right away. definitely doesn’t like the idea of you swallowing it. (he’d probs still let you if you REALLY wanted to.)

but yours..? ohhh he loves it. (still thinks its kindaaa gross, just cuz it is what it is.) but he’d like having it on him, he’d like watching you cum too, esp. on his hands or thigh.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

LOVEEESSSS HAVING HIS HAIR PULLEDDDD. idk why i just feel this in my gut. not too rough though.. he’s sensitive :( but just a little bit. like while he’s going down on you or even just making out. doesn’t matter, just pull it. (now if we’re talking about sub!spencer OHHHH he loves it even more, he’ll deadass start crying, lol fucking loser.)

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s not reeaallllyyy experienced, but he fucks from time to time, he knows what he’s doing. he’s smart, he’s read up on this shit. 

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

the basics, and anything where he can see your face. i think he likes being underneath you. even if he’s acting more dominant, i think he still likes being in a more submissive position.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s somewhere in between, but probs more serious. i think he gets in his own head and wants to make sure he’s doing everything right

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

verrrryyyyy well trimmed, he hates germs and feeling gross. i think he’d actually take a lot of time trimming it and making it feel and look clean, mostly for his own peace of mind.

also, i’d love to be like “he’s grown!!! he doesn’t care if his partner has hair!!!” but ngl that's just not possible because he actually thinks it's gross. just shave and he’ll be fine.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

ohh this mf is sappy as FUCK. he’s such a romantic at heart, he’d take his time & go slow and it’d just be constant ‘i love you’s and praise.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i think in the early seasons, he doesn’t do it a lot. when he does he just feels kinda bad about it. he knows it's not wrong, it just makes him feel weird. maybe as time goes on he does it more, i don’t really know tbh.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

honestly i don’t think he’s really kinky. i think a lot of stuff would be hard for him to get into because he sees so much insane shit at work all the time (again, he’s sensitive) but like i said i think he lovvveeeess when you pull his stupid perfect hair. 

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

at home. his or yours, doesn’t matter. he wouldn’t do anything in public, i think he’s waaayyy too anxious for that. he’d be CONVINCED that someone would see you, and he’d be too nervous to even do a good job lol. i don't think he’d really care where at home, but he’d mostly like the bed or the couch, just somewhere where he can take his sweet time. i think he’d appreciate the shower from time to time though.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

literally anything you do. you. you. you!!! he just loves you!!!! he lovesss hearing your voice, especially when you’re talking about something you learned. i think spencer finds your intelligence so attractive because he was embarrassed about his own for a long time. (idk if that makes sense ??? but whatever)

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i think the list of shit he’s not into is a lottttttt longer than the list of shit he likes lol. idk he’s just not really kinky, but he definitely wouldn’t be into feet, piss/scat, anal, anything age related, the list goes on.. i think he’s just very normal and he’s okay with that. 

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

not to be too controversial.. cause i do think he loves giving, but i think he LOVVVEEESS receiving. he’s a man after all, he would love some good head. he’ll always return the favor though.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he’s too not rough and he never would be, he wouldn’t want to hurt you. i think his general pace is somewhere in between, not too slow, not too fast, but he’ll go faster if you ask him to.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he doesn’t like them. again, he likes to take his sweet time!!!

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

like i said, i don’t think he’s really kinky but i do think he’d be down to try some stuff. he just wouldn’t bring anything up, he’d wait for you to suggest whatever.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

i deadass think he passes out after once round. i mean come on, he doesn’t work out, he’s a fucking pipe cleaner (with eyes.) he’s just not going for more than maybe 2 rounds max. i think he can maybe last a while during one round, but he gets sleepy fast. (aww :3)

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i don’t think he cares for them. would probably be open though?

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

spencer doesn’t ever like to see you in and kind of discomfort, but he does like to tease quite a bit, and he knows you like it too. it never lasts too long though. (mostly because you beg and ask him so nicely, but also because it makes him feel kinda mean.)

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

oh he’s LOUDDD. especially sub!spencer. that mf whimpers and whines like there's no tomorrow. i think softdom!spencer is loud too, but he tries to be quieter cause he wants to hear you.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

would let you peg him. wouldn’t ask though. (i will not be writing this, don’t ask lol)

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

LONG AND SKINNY!!!! just like the rest of his body. 

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

it’s not too high, but it’s definitely not low. just thinking about you makes him dizzy, but he has pretty good self control.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

INSTANTLY. he’s a sleepy guy!!!!! spencer obviously doesn’t have a lot of physical energy to begin with so i think it’s quite exhausting for him. (but he loves it)

<3

thank you so much for reading!!! i had so much fun writing this!!!! :)

sorry i haven't been super active, i've been quite busy these last few weeks, but i'll be back with some new stuff soon i promise!! hope this can feed you guys until then.. lol :)))

#˚୨୧₊ ken's writing #˚୨୧₊ ken's reid #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

Smacking their ass

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna, Toji, Itadori, Megumi, X Fem!Reader

Genre: Humor

Format: Drabble

Warnings: Suggestive content, Mild NSFW content on Toji's part cuz he's daddy

Word Count: 0.8K

A/n: For a person who hates her ass to get slapped and loves to slap her man's ass, I'm a bit bold.

↳Sukuna

It wouldn't take him long to notice your small steps approaching him from behind. He can tell how hard you're trying to remain unnoticed from the way you hold your breath and avoid making the slightest noises, and it might have been efficient, really; if you hadn't chosen the wrong person to mess with.

"Don't even think about it"

His serious tune is enough to freeze you in the spot, your eyes twitching with surprises as you watch his figure from behind.

Not even bothering to turn around. Of course.

"I... I was..." "No need to make up excuses, brat. I already know about everything going on in that little head of yours"

He now turns around to show off that playful smirk of his, and you both know that he doesn't need to remind you that you can't play anything funny on the strongest creature in the world. You then gasp when you feel a harsh slap against your butt, which has enough force to make you jump in the spot.

"See? That's how it should be" He gives you one last chuckle before going back to whatever he was doing, leaving you all sulky and unsatisfied with how things turned out in the end.

↳Toji

Years of going to secret missions and slaying people earned him an amazing hearing ability, so he will sense your appearance the minute you step inside the room. You were never good at sneaking up to people, but that doesn't mean he can't pretend like he isn't aware of your presence. He's curious to know what you're planning on, after all.

So when you stand behind him and aim for his butt, you think that you've won; but just a second before your palm lands on his ass, your hands are suddenly seized by his,twisting them so your body falls into his embrace, your back facing his chest.

"What do you think you're doing?" His low pitched whisper against your ear is enough to send shivers down your spin.

"Misbehaving now are we? Well, I guess I don't have any choice but to teach you some manners"

When he slaps your ass for the hundredth time as youre bent over on his lap, you low key regret planning on doing something like this to him; but deep down, you knew it would turn out like this, and you would be lying if you say that your wetness Is caused by something else, not the amount of power he has over you.

↳Megumi

It's a casual date night, you on the couch watching TV as your boyfriend prepares dinner which he got its recipe from Itadori. The only difference is that tonight your favourite show got cancelled and the now the news is being broadcast instead. It's only natural for you to feel bored and peek in the kitchen to check on Megumi, right?

And when you do, you see that everything is clean, the dishes are all washed, a pleasant smell has filled the room, everything is so perfect; yet all that catches your attention is how nice his butt looks from behind as he's standing in front of the cooker.

Target locked, processing attack, three, two, one...

Slap!

"Nice ass man!"

He doesn't have to turn around so you can see his reaction. From how he suddenly froze and his whole body tensed up, you can tell that the poor man is stunned.

When you leave him behind cause apparently, "your job is done", he can clearly hear you burst out into laughter, and he cannot help but to think about how you're going to be the death of him.

↳Itadori

Watching Itadori doing literally anything is pleasant to the eye. The way his muscles protrude against the fabric of his hoodie when he bends to pick up things from the floor has you drooling over the sight. But the thing that's giving you the massivest brainstorm at the moment is, how come you've never noticed how much of a fine ass this man has?

You can't take your eyes off it because, it's right there? In front of you? With nobody touching it???

Maybe God is trying to give you some hints, which you'll gladly pick up.

So when he bends over, again, to reach out for the tray that used to contain sweets, suddenly something hits his ass, not so gently.

Of course the man is shocked; so when he turns around to see who's this trespasser that has violated his privacy, he's met with your huge ass smile and your brightened face.

"Quite a nice ass you got there, my Friend"

Itadori would've thanked you when he got through the whole situation eventually, but all he can think about now is how you called him "Friend" instead of "boyfriend"

Reblogs are appreciated! :)♡

#jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #itadori x y/n #itadori x reader #itadori x you #yuji itadori x reader #itadori yuji x reader #ashthemadwriter #toji smut

[bridenore]

HD Party Games fic recs

Here are a few drarry fic recs in which party games play an important part. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

Back to You by @aibidil & daisymondays [8k]

The eighth years make Harry and Malfoy go head to head and back to back in a question-and-answer drinking game. The worst that can happen is they end up drunk, right?

Boom Clap (The Sound of My Heart) by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [39k]

Post-war Hogwarts has been energized by its new teaching fellows program. Where once bitter enmity divided the wizarding community, Malfoy and Potter chummily patrol hallways together whilst Granger and Zabini seek lost parts of the castle at McGonagall’s behest and Chang supervises Quidditch when not lecturing in Charms. It’s a veritable wizarding utopia and life is predictable for the first time in years. Which is, of course, when everything blows apart as the result of a drunken dare and Malfoy’s life is ruined beyond his capacity to repair it. Ever. In a million years.

check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous by @lqtraintracks [7k]

Harry's had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

Erase the Shame by FleetofShippyShips [6k]

An Inter-House unity party is the last thing Draco wants to go to. It's not long into a game of Truth or Dare when he is reminded why. But maybe his dare is worth it after all.

Exceeds Eggspectations by Elle Gray (LGray) [61k]

Eighth year. Winter. Christmas has been and gone. Harry’s just been dumped and so has Malfoy. There’s a stupid fake baby assignment to be done, and what’s the harm in doing it together, really, when life is this shit already? This is not slow burn, this is a roman candle pointed at a pile of dry twigs that represent your heart.

Games Night by @agentmoppet​ [6k]

Harry has no idea why Hermione decided that an inter-house Games Night would be a good idea, but he’s here now, and he intends to beat Malfoy, no matter what game he chooses. But, who would have thought muggle games could be full of so much... tension?

How to Handle an Enemy by who_la_hoop [7k]

Everyone knows that it’s no fun playing truth or dare with a Slytherin. But add a little Veritaserum, a scheming duo of Slytherin girls and surprising things can be revealed. Particularly about the fine line between love and hate… Turnbout Is Fair Play by who_la_hoop [10k]   After a – cough – revealing game of truth or dare instigated by  his fellow Slytherins, Draco Malfoy finds himself in possession of a).  the interesting knowledge that a certain Gryffindor horror may not be as   immune to his personal charms as hitherto suspected and b). the   password to the Gryffindor Tower. But Draco makes a fundamental error   when he decides to make use of these facts.

Love, Harry by Zzzara [26k]

Harry Potter keeps a huge secret: that scary thing he can’t tell anyone about. Until a mysterious penfriend changes his life, because he keeps a secret, too.

Never Have I Ever Thought That You Might Want Me, Too by @drarrymyheart [8k]

“When it’s his turn, Ron gives Harry an ominous look. “Never have I ever wanted to kiss any of the boys in this room.” Harry freezes. Dean, Seamus, Hermione, Hannah, Pansy, and even Blaise are all immediately lifting their drinks. Malfoy moves to pick his up as well and Harry tracks the movement as if watching in slow-motion…The ridge of Malfoy’s bottle of cider pushes against his lower lip as he takes a sip. Harry nearly groans. Steeling himself, Harry drinks.” Harry and the crew take a ski trip. Harry can’t seem to keep his eyes and thoughts off a certain blonde.

One Night at the Leaky by birdsofshore [41k]

Harry should have known better than to accept a drunken dare. Especially when Malfoy was sitting right there, looking like that and wearing those bloody tight trousers. 

A Perfectly Valid Dare by kitty_fic [5k]

“It’s a perfectly valid dare,” Pansy says, and somehow she looks like she actually believes what she says. “I am not doing that,” Draco insists. He really has no idea when daring someone to wank in Harry Potter’s bed became a perfectly valid dare?

Right Hand Red by @lqtraintracks [73k] 

Harry felt Malfoy’s breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory. Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy. Malfoy felt inevitable.

Silk Scarves and Enchanted Handcuffs by TommyLane [28k]

It was only supposed to be for seven minutes and then the blindfold would come off and he'd be free from the dark cupboard and his mystery partner - only Harry was no longer sure he wanted it to end.

Starts With a Spin by Maxine [119k]

It started with the spin of a bottle, and now Harry and Draco have gotten themselves so far into their own game there's almost no way out again. Except to keep playing.

Truths, Dares, and Love Affairs by @ronbinary [17k]

NEWTs are approaching, Mind Healing is mandatory, and something is wrong with the castle. And then, there’s Potter.

When I Put My Eyes On You by Zzzara [31k]

When a hero defeats a villain, there’s supposed to be a happily-ever-after… but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there’s more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes.

where all the veins meet by eight_of_wands [146k]

It’s the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort’s soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now? His friends try to help, but the only thing that can hold his attention—one of the only things that ever has—is Draco Malfoy, out on parole and weirdly hanging around the British Museum. As they keep running into each other, Harry sees that Malfoy is different, and he wonders if he can be someone else, too. Featuring rumpled band shirts, poker games everyone hates, fumbling sex, and a Harry going a little mental over how wands even work.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

#my recs #drarry #drarry recs #theme rec

[onakomiyaki]

just a silly crush (not) pt. 1.5

pairing : daniel ricciardo x childhood friend-brabham!reader ; lewis hamilton x reader (implied, platonic relationship)

summary : lewis make sure that you and daniel finally talk after the bahrain incident. or he will take matters in his own way.

warning: unedited and rushed work (I GOT INSPIRED AFTER TWO CANS OF REDBULL RAAAAAAHHHH), harsh words, childhood trauma (kinda), slowburn.

a/n : this is an extra chapter where lewis playing cupid for you and daniel. you can definitely skipped this chapter since this chapter is originally added to the first chapter.

consider tonight's meeting (and reconciliation) a huge success, totally worth the money you spent on the party. one of perks of being the daughter of david brabham is that your can splurge on unimportant things; this party, for example, and your father won't even bat an eye.

and maybe the fact that you are one of high paid supermodel–plus an actress so you don't think about money that much.

other than this party, you really need to thank max for his genius plan. maybe a new watch or some new designer clothes for the dutch will do.

"(y/n)!"

you turned your body, eyes lit up at the view of the mighty lewis hamilton.

"what took you so long?" you asked, hugging the brit as he kiss your temple.

for some people lewis's gesture might be mistaken as love-like affection. but of course you know that it is not like that at all. lewis had always see you as his annoying little sister who he love dearly and you saw him as the big brother you never had. while you do have a younger brother, sam, things with you and lewis are just... different.

"if i say traffic, would you believe me?" he sheepishly said.

and to that you let out a dry–mocking–laugh. "really? traffic? here in monaco?" you said.

"alright alright. i might–i said might–met binotto." he stated, letting out a sigh.

"mattia binotto? that's-"

"ferrari's current principal, yes." he nod, hands snug inside his pockets.

"they want you huh? interesting." you said, fingers cradling your own jaw.

although you hate formula one, you being the daughter of david brabham of course would know a thing or two. including all the current principals of all 10 teams.

lewis let out a chuckle, shrugging his shoulder. "maybe."

you rolled your eyes at his attic, shaking your head at his secretiveness. he won't be able to keep any secret from you, you're too smart for that. and lewis is aware.

what is not so smart of you is your inability to figure out about daniel's hints and feeling for the past 10 plus years. maybe more, lewis believe.

he always notice how daniel's eyes always lights up when he saw your instagram posts, or your appearance at the latest fashion magazine. he even rambling non-stop at your first big screen debut in 2017, not only to his teammate max, but to almost all the driver on the grid. almost, because most of the drivers are just confused and was there to humor the aussie. sebastian vettel though–god bless that man–always there for him, sharing the same excitement even cheering him up.

he also remember how dejected he looks when your father visited one of the race in 2015, hoping that you would show up beside your father despite your hatred towards the sport. but instead, he saw sam, your younger brother, calmly walking beside your father.

so it is safe to say he knew it all too well. and he honestly feel sort of sympathy for both you and daniel.

"have you talk to him yet?" he asked, averting the conversation about his meeting with binotto.

"that, i have." you simply said, grabbing two glass of champagne passed by the waitress.

lewis gracefully accept the other glass and clinked his glass with yours. "and how it goes?"

you went silent, gnawing your bottom lip nervously. "it went... well." you said, voice unsure.

"oh?"

"he asked me to watch the race. in monza." you stated.

lewis nods, letting out an acknowledgement hum as he sip his champagne.

"you should come, (y/n). its been 10 years since his first race, and yet, you haven't attend any of them in person." he simply stated.

"well i did watch the race from my house in monaco." you muttered. lewis shaking his head to your reaction.

"its not fair for him, you know? you guys are best friend for almost 20 years now, you said it yourself."

yeah, bestfriend. he thought.

you went silence, eyes trailed down to the floor. the expensive marble beneath your louboutin heels seems more interesting than lewis now, and he notice.

"i just don't want you to live in regrets in the future, (y/n)" he said, patting your shoulder as he walk away from you–giving you some space to think about what he just said.

"i know lewis." you whisper to yourself.

daniel, who currently enjoying his alone time at the bar, was greeted with a familiar figure walking towards him. he fix his posture, sitting straighter as the figure sat beside him and he watch in silent. daniel is still wary of this man so he just wait for him to break the silence first.

"let me join you for awhile, mate." he said.

"lewis."

"honeybadger."

hearing his nickname make daniel chuckle. thanks to you who actually give him that nickname years ago, back when you and him still go karting together, it stuck with him. and honestly he don't mind. because it was given by you.

"no company?" lewis simply asked.

"well, i was dragged by the ferrari duo, little lando, and the lovebird but they are gone now." daniel explain, politely asking the bartender for another refill.

"the lovebird?"

"max and kelly."

"ah, yes... the new hot couple." lewis nods, flashing his charming smile at the younger driver.

"yeah, i don't want to be a thirdwheel or dancing with dj norris and his two minions so here i am." he said, returning the smile to his senior as he pointed at the dj podium where lando is already getting on. carlos and charles was dancing like a maniac with drinks on their hands.

lewis raised his eyebrows, genuinely shocked and impressed at the young brit secret talent as a dj. "never knew little lando is a party animal." he said.

"i might be the one who responsible for that–to be a party animal i mean." daniel chuckled, shaking his head.

"well, he learn from the best then." and with that both daniel and lewis share a laugh, clinking their glass together.

as daniel enjoy his 3rd? 4th? glass of whiskey that night, lewis give him a small pats on his back. and daniel, confused at the gesture, watch lewis with a small frown.

"you have the patience of a saint, daniel. i won't last that long if i were you," he said, finishing his drink. "i gave up after got rejected for a second date."

lewis's cryptic messages, plus the familiar tipsy feeling, make him confused even more.

"huh?"

"goodluck, mate. i am rooting for you." he said, flashing him a smile before walking away from him.

"what just happen..." daniel muttered as he finish his glass of whiskey and decided to join dj norris and the minions.

what a night...

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo #dr3 x reader #dr3 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic