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#this is how you start juicy gossips

ew-selfish-art · 7 months

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DP x DC AU: Letters and Paper goods are easy to store, and therefore, easy to hide. Danny has drama to monger though.

Tim Drake becomes a ward of Bruce Wayne at the same time the Drake Corporation is crumbling, and his father's health is declining. Dana, his father's physical therapist turned new wife, isn't optimistic these days, and Tim can read the writing on the wall.

Times have changed and Bruce and Dick are treating him with kid gloves. Jason Todd is alive again, been there suffered that. Young Just-Us has proven yet again to be his true family... But Bruce 'welcomes' him home the second the fake uncle is sniffed out.

So, Tim rationalizes, If Drake Corp is going down, then so shall the reason he spent his childhood abandoned. The many, many archeology digs his parents left him for over the years and their many, many stolen historical pieces. Tim is ready and able to get rid of them all.

He first returns the artifacts that have obvious origins to the people with whom they belong. Then it starts to get a little hazy as to where each item stolen is from. The paper goods are the hardest to place.

Years later, Tim has almost completely emptied his parent's old home of their stolen goods. By now, he runs a fortune 500 company and is working as Red Robin. Going through the last of the archives means going through the very last objects his parents ever preferred over his company, and he can't wait to be rid of them.

A glowing green envelope however... this one he feels compelled to keep. He hadn't known it back when he started this project- but somehow his Parents had found objects drenched in the essence of the Lazarus Pits. And it wasn't just one letter, it was dozens and dozens.

Tim Drake knew it would be risky to move them, but he needed to get these letters to an ex-league member to understand what the language of the dead was trying to proclaim.

_____

Danny hates a fetch quest but apparently Ghost Writer is having a bad day. It starts with Danny running by the guys library to have a chat when all of a sudden, the question of certain... ghost relations... came up. Danny is always more than thrilled to hear about how the various ancient-as-in-old ghosts interacted with the Ancients-as-in-yikes ghosts.

Ghost Writer finally admitted to the monarch in training that if he wanted to know so badly, that he could track down Clockworks old letters. They'd been scattered well before Ghost Writer could properly work on the ghost archives (read: was still alive), and it wasn't until he'd long worked on the library that such affairs were noted as missing.

The potential for gossip was just too good! A call home to Sam, Tuck and Jazz to let them know he was on an adventure, and then Danny flew off with little more than some hints by GW and an annoyed nod of cryptic agreement by CW.

Danny goes about wondering Gotham as himself, not yet seeing the need to be Phantom, when he runs into the very guy he was looking for.

"Hey- you don't happen to have a shit ton of letters written in the language of the dead do you?" Danny smiles as innocently as possible as he watches all seven stages of grief play out on the guy's face. Then something changes and Danny can tell that this guy is like, scary competent.

"I do, however, I was double crossed and a shit ton of assassins are on their way to try and take them."

"Uh... Bummer for them I guess? I'll just take them and go- I don't even really need to keep them if you want em back-"

"Assassins. They won't exactly leave empty handed."

"Huh. Well... Wanna come with? These are supposed to have some pretty juicy drama in them." Danny awkwardly places a hand on the back of his neck.

A knife being thrown in their direction was enough to get this guy to make a decision.

"Let's go spill some tea then."

Danny grins as he pulls the guy through a rapidly drawn portal, ignoring the wide eyes he makes. Turns out his name is Tim, and walking him through afterlife drama is the best- how does he know so many dead assassins??? One of these letters is about a guy who took Tim's spleen??

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dc crossover #dp crossover #danny phantom #long post #tim drake

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bwambiee · 8 months

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𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

this lil’ drabble is inspired by the lovely @zeijias ♡ her drabble of isagi being a perv while pretending to be a goody two-shoes just scratched my brain so right i had to add on to the agenda! pls check out her works they’ve got me blushin’ ૮꒰/ฅ//ฅ//꒱ა

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : 𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings ꒱ྀིა smut ⸝ drabble ⸝ fem! reader ⸝ isagi being a perv ⸝ mean isagi agenda ⸝ aged up chara’s (21+) ⸝ dirty talk ⸝ mentions of face-sitting

campus crush yoichi is just the sweetest boy in your psychology class, who you just found out is an exercise science major and he’s got the prettiest sapphire eyes you’ve ever seen. classmates turned best friends came easily to you two even if sometimes you both could see that the line is slightly blurred from how impeccably close you two are. after spending every waking moment together in freshman and sophomore year, it’s like muscle memory for you to run to him at even the smallest ounce of juicy gossip, tugging his sleeve as you look up into his eyes and nuzzle into his arm as you explain the drama of a recent friend, or how you complain over your classes whilst wearing his hoodie. but who could blame you? he was sweet and understanding, and felt like home. but it was clear that you two had something. and the both of you didn’t have the guts to act on it yet.

of course you only see what’s on the outside, goody two-shoes isagi who sometimes walks in late for psych, who always always opens the door for you, who covers your drink at parties when you need to use the bathroom and even bends down so his ear is at level with your face so he can hear you over the booming music, who always buys you your favorite drink or snack before your morning classes start because you stayed up a little later than normal and he knows you haven’t had breakfast yet. he was just so pure and flawless you could never guess that he was secretly eyeing you like the last piece of candy at a sweets shop. especially when you wear that miniskirt that can most definitely show what color panties you're wearing and the curve of your ass if you weren’t careful.

isagi freaking loses it when you stroll up to him all casually, your eyes looking up at him while you bat your eyelashes and flash him that sweet smile, your soft hands tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie as you lead him towards the library so you two can study for an upcoming test. yeah . . . ‘study’. what he’s really studying is how good your legs look when you cross them together, how good they’d look resting over his shoulders when he pounds into your pussy without mercy, growling into your ear about how fucking tight you are, or how good your shoulders and neck would look covered in marks he’d purposely leave on you so that the boy in your statistics class would get a hint that you weren’t meant to be shared with. nothing drives him wild as his thought run amok, dreaming of your plush thighs surrounding his head as he imagines you sitting on his face, pretty pussy dripping honey onto his tongue as you let out soft mewls and whines of his name when he sucks your clit just right, gripping onto your ass cheeks so he can move you back and forth on his tongue as you hold onto his headboard for dear life.

he inwardly groans as he imagines sinking into your pussy, sticking his whole cock into you in one hard thrust as he robs you of every single slither of oxygen when you gasp and do nothing but hold onto him tightly. he’d destroy you, the frustration of playing cat and mouse with you when really he just wants to play house and stop fucking around. the need for his true feelings comes out slightly when he sees you bite the top of your pencil, slightly groaning as you lean in close to him, not-so-subtly showing off how good your tits looked in the top and mention how the barista that had made your latte was cute and he grips his mechanical pencil tightly, digging it into his notebook when he stares at your lips, pursed in concentration, smiling about that stupid fucking barista.

damn tease.

his mind wanders again, thinking about how you’d claw his back as he imagines your tight, velvety walls gripping his cock as he makes you see stars.

“such a tight little pussy YN. All for me, yeah?” he’d pant against your ear. “you think you can keep up this innocent act around me, mhm? you don’t think i can see the little game you’re playing? you can mention another guy’s name in your mouth, but it’s my cock you come all over, and it’s my name you fuckin’ scream.” he growls, gripping onto your hips so he can bully that sweet spot in you and you would let out the most prettiest cry.

“n-no more—nnh!” you would moan. “it’s too much y-yoichi!” you’d whisper pleadingly, watery eyes hazy as your mind would be too fucked out to even form a coherent sentence. he’d do nothing but grin at you and just leans forward, folding you in half.

“t-too much y-yoichi!” he’d mock you with an insufferable smirk, one hand sneaking up to grip your tits and the other on your tummy so he can feel his dick move in and out of you lazily, pussy throbbing around him as his fingers slowly tease you clit in slow, deliberate movements, grunting since he can feel you squeezing him so fucking good.

“don’t be a quitter sweetheart.”

and fire would spread across your oversensitive body, writhing and spasming as isagi robs you of an orgasm that’s sure to send you over the moon.

well of course, you’d feel that euphoric feeling if you’d stop playing cat and mouse.

#ཐིཋྀ◞𝓿𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓪 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 #𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒆𝒆𝒌 ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi smut #isagi smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #isagi yoichi imagines #it’s been a while since i wrote ! i think i’m a lil’ rusty oops ૮꒰ つᯅ⊂ ꒱ა

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 2 months

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Mentions of being drunk.

Thinking about baby daddy!Miguel O’Hara who showed up at your work in the morning with your bagel and coffee like he did every time when you had Gabriella for the week. Knowing how you hadn’t eaten anything, waving off your concern about him going out of his way to bring it to you.

Baby daddy!Miguel who, despite knowing he will probably be late to work due to traffic this morning being abysmal, he still lingered around your work desk after dropping off your food. Not-so subtly hinting about talking about what happened during the weekend. Shooting him a glare to shush because you know how nosy your coworkers can be.

Baby daddy!Miguel who finally leaves for work, but not before you agree to discuss the unignorable conversation, later on of course, away from the ears of your coworkers and definitely not around the nosy girl that was your daughter.

—

Once the elevator doors closed behind him, you haven’t even gotten a chance to blink, let alone gather your bearings before your coworkers started up.

“Who was thaaaat?”

“Her ex-husband.”

“No, they never got married, remember? That’s her baby daddy.”

“Giiiirl, a man like him? One can dream.”

“I know right? Those muscles put my husband to shame, and he’s a firefighter. Why does a scientist need to be that jacked anyways.”

“Okay are you guys done ogling at my ex?” You finally spoke up, irrational so apparent that it made the other three girls quiet down almost immediately. You couldn’t help but feel your chest burning a bit as you took a bite of your bagel.

—

Baby mommy!Reader who finally got to clock out after a long day of work. One foot already out the door once the clock struck 5pm so she could go pick up Gabriella from after school soccer practice.

Baby mommy!Reader who listened to her daughter rambling about her day at school and practice, telling her all the juicy middle school gossip she learned on her first day while the two sat in the afternoon traffic.

Baby mommy!Reader who felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up when she turned the corner into her hallway and saw her ex sitting in front of her front door. Clearly not sober.

No, not Miguel, the other ex.

Baby mommy!Reader who hurriedly guided her daughter back towards where she came off the elevator, thankfully he didn’t see either of them turn the corner. Ignoring Gabi’s voice questioning why she turned away once she saw Henry, rather than walk up to him and greet him with a hug and a peck on the lips like Gabi had grown used to.

Baby mommy!Reader who assured her little girl that she’ll explain later. Before pulling out her phone, and opening up the messages app.

—

Miguel. -You

?? -Miguel

can you do me a favor? -You

What’s the favor? -Miguel

Henry is camping outside of my front door and me and Gabriella can’t go inside without facing him. He looks drunk. -You

I’ll be there in 20, stay in the lobby. -Miguel

—

Ten minutes later, Miguel came marching through the front door of the apartment building. Letting his scowl fade away so as to not let his daughter catch it. She didn’t need to know what he was about to do to Henry.

“Hey honey,” he scooped down to give Gabriella a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, before standing up straight to look at you. Pulling you into a hug as well so he can whisper his next words. “He didn’t touch either of you, did he?” You quickly shook your head no.

“Didn’t even see us.” You whispered back.

“Good.” He finally let his arm leave the small of your back, leaving the cold air to hit your back once more. “ Gabriella, you and mom are gonna go down to that nail salon down the street, and get some manicures and pedicures. We’ll explain everything when you get back.” He explained calmly, too calmly, as he reached for his wallet and pulled out a few twentys from it, handing it to you. You didn’t even get a chance to protest the action because he started to gently push you both back out of the complex building.

Now I can deal with this stupid rat once and for all.

—

Part 7<

Part 9<

Not proofread.

Word count: 700

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!

Taglist: : @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @reader-1290 @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @fruityfucker @pigeonmama @scaryplanetdestroyer @migueloharastruelove @krentkova19 @genny1019 @maiyart @stressed-cherry @scaleniusrm @ginnysculture @mishaglass @wusyanmee @bunnibitez @miguelzslvtz @dahehow @sinners-98-world @othersideoftheparadise @toyfortoji @yeshajane @yvesbi @hanjisgf @deljojeisbackagain @safixiovi @emmalandry @maxinemus3 @lauraolar14 @aaaaslaaaan @kenz-ee @esmedelacroix @whattheshock @syler-griffin @comeonatmebruh @xwonderlandresidentx @m4dyy @the-pan-liquid @lilbrababe99 @jxstanemo @badbitchhour @freehentai @sillysillygoofygoose @nj452896 @jadeloverxd @faretheeoscar @ce3stvu @scorpihoooe @blossomofbismuths @nxxav3rs3 @ilovespiderverseeee @ghost-lantern @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiiira @lavenderslemonade @rinnako @reirain @nommingonfood @miguelsfavwife

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stevebabey · 2 years

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nine facts, one lie

summary: It didn’t matter that your best friend Robin claims he’s changed, you do not like Steve Harrington. He used to be egotistical, a player, an asshole — and you’re not in any hurry to believe he’s changed his ways.

Never mind that he seems terribly kind now, compliments here and there, or even that he’ll pick you up from a date gone horribly wrong… [16.5k]

[one sided enemies to lovers — you hate steve and by god, does he want to change that] dedicated to my dearest kenny

Fact #1: You did not, under any circumstance, like Steve Harrington.

It doesn’t matter what Dustin says nor the smug roll of Robin’s eyes, you knew it yourself even if no one else believed it; you did not like Steve Harrington.

From everything you’ve ever heard about the guy, it was a surprise that he still had any friends — especially with the likes of your friends, a fact that makes you gag when Robin brings it up.

Robin, lovely best friend Robin, who completely betrayed you by associating herself willingly with Steve.

Since the beginning of high school, the two of you had been thick as thieves. Gossip was spilled between the two of you frequently, juicy enough to make even Carol Perkins’ head spin — you talked often enough that it got you split up during class time constantly, giggles too loud to be contained.

Being at the bottom of the social food-chain —or maybe worse, completely unseen to your peers— there was nothing like sharing snarky remarks between you and Robin about the dunderheads who ‘ruled’ the school through idiotic popularity.

Robin had a particular dislike for Tina Burgess ever since she’d started the rumour that girls in band were freaks in the sheets and would put out to anyone who would ask. You weren’t sure what had been worse: the obvious dig that Robin wasn’t getting any or the slimy guys who believed it and had the guts to ask.

You, however, distinctly despised the likes of King Steve.

It was impossible to pinpoint what about him grated you so much; maybe, it was how he seemed to have girls in and out of his bed like he was playing a game, trying to rack up as many points as possible. Or maybe, it was that even you, invisible and not even on his radar let alone on his list, could see the appeal.

Even better than easy on the eyes, Steve Harrington is one of those guys that makes you understand the word gorgeous.

It doesn’t help that he’s rich as well, with a huge house with a pool and even a swanky car to pick you up in. A complete daydream. Swept away into sheets softer than yours at home, you’d get to spend a night in the arms of the most popular guy in school and if you’re really lucky, he’ll still pretend to know your name the next day.

What had really stuck with you was gossip you’d happened to overhear, head stuck in your locker as you fished around for your books and papers. Tommy H and Steve were 3 lockers over, at Tommy’s locker, and sharing the details of Steve’s latest conquest.

So was she any good? Tommy had been asking. I always assumed nerdy chicks weren’t as good- they practically cream their pants considering no one’s ever kissed em’ before.

Steve had laughed along too. Yeah, man. She was all over me. Had to keep picturing someone hotter though, you know those geeks aren’t the prettie— Your stomach had curdled and you had slammed your locker door louder than needed, just to shut him up. You were sure they both saw you leave.

It drove you insane. And even though Steve likely knew nothing of your existence — didn’t matter you had once been chem partners, nor the fact you shared English class— he was probably as close to an evil nemesis you’d ever get.

Hence the utter betrayal of Robin’s friendship with him.

Originally, when she’d told you over the phone, gleeful and gossipy, that King Steve had just been hired at Scoops Ahoy, the two of you had snickered. It hadn’t been enough to watch him drift from his other asshole friends, something in you burned deliciously hearing he’d fallen from yet another pillar.

It had only gotten better. Robin recounted countless stories where he had flunked out with girls — you’d nearly lost it hearing about her whiteboard, tallying up his ‘hits & misses’ when trying to score a date. It finally seemed Steve Harrington was somehow more of a loser than you.

On the 4th of July, 1985, Starcourt Mall burnt down — and the strangest thing about it all was that Robin suddenly didn’t seem to mind Steve so much.

They were friends. You’d been a little miffed at her quick change of heart as she doused your gossipy mood in an instant, insisting that Steve wasn’t so bad once you got to know him.

Rather reluctantly, your teasing remarks about Steve were brought to a halt as Robin retaliated each time, urging you to give him another chance. And while you agreed to be civil, especially considering you had to see him every time you visited Robin at work. But what could you do? Old habits die hard.

Fact #2: Steve Harrington is trying to be a better person.

Okay, you didn’t know that one, but Steve certainly did.

It means even though Robin had dropped several warnings and a few premature apologies, Steve was prepared to be absolutely lovely when meeting her other best friend (the other being himself, of course). Robin still seemed tense about the two of your meeting — so far you’d specifically come to visit her at Family Video when you knew Steve wasn’t there.

But a few shifts had been swapped around and on her late night Thursday shift where you always came by to keep her company, Robin was readying herself for the collision of her two friends.

Despite all her convincing, she could tell you weren’t sold on the new Steve she claimed to love and you hadn’t come by when he was there, meaning all your experiences to do with Steve were rooted back in his days of assholery.

It didn’t matter to Steve; he loved Robin and he had lots of practice trying to gain the ‘wow, you’re not a douchebag anymore’ gold star. He had this in the bag.

The janky chime of the door buzzer announces the arrival of someone in the store and being the one at the counter while Robin tends to the shelves, Steve’s head pops up, ready to greet.

“Hello! Welcome to Family Video!”

It sounds far too rehearsed, recognizing the customer service voice you put on at your own job. You nearly smile at the cheery greeting, taken aback by Steve’s handsome grin and his floppy hair, messed from the force of his movement. Then you clock yourself and have to fight off an urge to scowl.

Eyes already searching over the aisles for Robin, you’re just wondering if she’ll come save you from this conversation when Steve seems to realise who you must be.

“Oh, you must be y/n.” His easy smile, hands leaning forward onto the counter that separates you, takes you aback.

In your peripheral, you can see Robin spot you and head in the direction — but she doesn’t come quick enough to stop Steve from bungling the whole conversation with his next sentence.

“Robin’s told me a lot about you. I’m Steve,” His tone is friendly and at your silence, he continues. “Steve Harrington.”

Oh my God. He doesn’t even remember you.

Over Steve’s shoulder, you can spy Robin burying her head in her hands and muttering something to herself. Any annoyance you had pushed down springs to the surface. You school your expression as neutral as possible, though you’re sure your brow crinkles in irritation.

“I know.”

Okay, that was meaner than you intended, especially as you recall Robin’s plea to be civil at the very least. You clear your throat, unsure if you can completely hide your distaste for him.

“We were chem partners, freshmen year.” You remind him, attempting a smile. It might be a grimace. “And I was in your English class your senior year.”

Steve seems to realise his mistake, his cheeks turning rosy and his eyes widening almost comically — fuck, way to go, Harrington. All of his pep talks, amping himself up to be so friendly to you and then he goes and ruins it by not remembering you.

It’s embarrassing. Hawkins is a small town and practically everyone knows everyone, with the exception of popular kids who didn’t think they needed to. He winces, frustrated that his past has come back to haunt him yet again.

“I’m sorry.” He says, more sincere than you’re expecting. Well, you’re not expecting an apology at all — the Steve you remembered would’ve laughed it off, claiming that he couldn’t forget a pretty face and trying to brush over the fact he forgot you at all.

“Seriously,” he reaffirms at the hint of surprise on your features. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to forget your face. I’m pretty sure you’re the only reason I passed that chem class.”

Robin seems to sense your internal battle, baffled by his apology but still irritated by the fact his memory didn’t deem you memorable enough. She also wants to jump on the spot and say ‘told you!’ because the surprise you’d shown means you hadn’t believed her.

A part of her feels bad, knowing the battering Steve’s taken to his head too many times has undoubtedly knocked a few memories loose; but it’s not that they could explain that to you.

“I’m just shelving — want to come sit?” She offers, taking the conversation away from you and Steve. “We watched Highlander today and I could sit and explain the whole plot to you?”

It’s the usual activities you and Robin did when you came to bug her on her shift. You loved listening to Robin talk as she possessed a unique ability to turn a 10-minute retelling into an hour-long debate. Each subplot in the film needed to be discussed, with bad analogies that came out of left field and made you laugh til your sides hurt. It wasn’t a bad Thursday night all around.

Just as you’re about to respond, Steve cuts in and speaks instead.

“Robs, you’ve only got two hours left. It’s a Thursday, you could take off if you wanted? I don’t mind.”

Robs. Somehow the nickname for your best friend coming from Steve is more jarring than the polite offer he’s extended. Steve’s eyes shift back over to you, offering another weak smile and you wonder if this is a continuation of his apology.

“Really?” Robin’s excitement is evident. Bunking off early means you two will sneak a movie and have time to grab some greasy food for an actual hangout. “I mean- are you sure?”

Steve nods sincerely then cracks a grin, shooting a sarcastic smile at Robin. “What think I can’t hold down the fort for a couple hours?”

Robin is already peeling off her Family Video vest, digging under the counter to pull out her school bag. “I don’t think it, Steve. I know it.”

He laughs, meandering his way back to where Robin has left the returns cart and, furiously, you have to admit he’s being awfully nice. Robin nearly trips coming around the counter, her hand grasping your arm tightly to keep herself upright and she beams at you.

“C’mon!” She says, pulling you out the door, the buzzer chiming again as you both leave the store. Once outside, she pauses and you can feel her stare burning into your temple. She doesn’t say it but you can feel the beginning of an i told you so building in her throat.

“Don’t say it.”

“Say what?” She plays clueless but her grin gives her away. She links an arm through yours.

“Don’t say anything.” You say with a scowl, the two of you beginning to stroll down the stairs out the front. The crispness of the night makes you tug her a little closer. “I still don’t like him.”

Fact #3: Steve Harrington still likes to flirt.

In the beginning, the compliments are because Steve really wants you to like him.

He sees more of you with the change of shifts and perhaps, he gleefully thinks, you aren’t completely avoiding him anymore. You’ll come to see Robin in store even if he’s working as well and inadvertently, conversations spring up between the two of you.

The first time he tries to slip in a compliment casually, he’s not entirely sure what reaction he gets. On this day you’re waiting for Robin to finish out back, packing up some of the schoolwork she’d done in the backroom, and to Steve’s delight, you’ve opted to wait up by the counter with him.

You’ve already exchanged an awkward couple hello’s and now silence falls between you. Steve clears his throat and tries to earn his not a douchebag star.

“Did you get a haircut?”

You blink. Without thought, you bring up your hand and run it over the silky strands — cut fresh from yesterday. Surprise sprouts in your chest at the fact he noticed.

“Yeah,” you nod, tucking it behind your ears. “I did.”

“It looks good.” He compliments, pairing it with a genuine smile. “It like,” he gestures with a hand, hoping his ears aren’t as red as they feel. “Frames your face better. You look nice.”

For a moment, you forget to mask your emotions and the simple act of a compliment from an attractive guy makes your lips twitch into a smile. Robin bundles out of the back room before you remember to say something snarky, like What and my hair looked bad before?

Instead, it hangs in the air and when you leave behind Robin, you really consider smiling over your shoulder at him.

But it ruminates; the compliment loops in your mind until your insecurity unstitches it and it warps into something else entirely. His motivation is the question on your mind.

In what world does Steve Harrington flirt with you?

It has to be a joke. He must be making fun of you because that’s exactly what Steve used to do and if he’s not, that means he has changed and you’re suddenly worthy of his attention.

You recall the locker-room talk, his jeering tone and everything about his compliment turns sour.

Somehow, Steve’s worried he’s managed to make it worse.

His compliments dropped here and there — commenting on film choice, saying he likes your sweaters, all it seems to earn him is scowls. Your scrunched nose and heated glare from your distaste either means he’s worse at flirting than he remembers or it’s a painful reminder that still you see him as King Steve.

He’s not — he knows he is not. King Steve wouldn’t have bothered looking at the film you’d picked out, his comment would’ve been on your body not on the clothes you choose, and he certainly wouldn’t have noticed something as trivial as a haircut.

And because Steve is nothing if not a whinger, he tells all this to Dustin when the kid comes in to visit.

“I mean, I know I was bad but,” Steve cut himself off with a scoff, following Dustin through the aisles. Dustin didn’t even look as though he was listening, eyes trained on the shelves intently. “I apologised for not remembering her, like, an actual genuine apology— and that was years ago! I don’t get why she doesn’t like me, man.”

Dustin, who had indeed been listening to the rant of his older friend, promptly stopped and plucked a film off the shelf with a quiet aha!

“Are you even listening to me, Henderson?”

“Yes, Steve.” Dustin spun, eyes narrowed as he stared up at Steve intensely enough to unnerve him. “From what I’ve heard, you were pretty damn bad so I’m not surprised some people hold a grudge!”

“Yeah, but—”

“And you didn’t remember her. Maybe you did something rude in high school and completely forgot about it?”

Steve waved his hands dismissively, shaking his head in disagreement. Without noticing, you had slipped in the store up front, usual conversation struck up with Robin. However, you’d been quickly distracted as you searched the store for Robin’s other half and were baffled to find him following around a child.

“Looking for Steve?” Robin jibed when she noticed your gaze wandering across the store, your attention going with it.

You ignored the jab, rolling your eyes with a light laugh. “He wishes. Is he talking to a kid?”

“Who Dustin? Don’t let him hear you call him that.” Robin warned with a roll of her own eyes, shuffling about some stock room records in her hands. “He’s like Steve’s best friend. He was, uh, in the mall fire with us last year.”

The mall fire. Robin doesn’t talk about it at all, a hollow expression taking over her features that freaks you out far too much to push it. Pushing past your surprise, you decide to focus on the other part of her sentence.

“They’re friends?”

As if to prove your point, the two of them head to the front of the store in the middle of a bicker — Steve lags behind a bit, hands waving dramatically as Dustin calls over his shoulder, tone righteous and just a tad smug.

You catch the end of Dustin’s sentence— “Not every girl has to swoon over you, Steve, you know that right? So what if she doesn’t—” cut off when Steve shoves his shoulder, having spotted you.

Dustin looks as though he experiences a ripple of emotions; annoyance, as he whips around, ready to cuss Steve out for the shove, which quickly turns to confusion at the wide-eyed look Steve is staring down at him with. By the time he’s facing you something has clicked as he looks at you with renewed interest.

“Dustin.” He introduces, stepping forward with one hand held out for you to shake. “Dustin Henderson.”

Unwittingly, you peer over his shoulder and connect eyes with Steve — who gives a shrug in response, an awkward smile on his face. Taking Dustin’s smaller hand in your own, you smile and introduce yourself, unable to keep the hint of confusion out of your words.

“I’m Steve’s best friend.” The curly-headed boy explains, gesturing over his shoulder and Steve’s smile gets a little more awkward. He feels a smidge nervous considering there’s no telling what will fall out of Henderson’s mouth next. Steve’s a little relieved when it’s a typical plea for a ride, spinning back round to him.

“Andddd as my best friend, he’ll be totally happy to drive me to the Byers’ right now. Robin can handle the store for 10 minutes without you, can’t ya Robin?”

He slides the tape he’s grabbed onto the counter as he says it, a silent ask to check it out. Likely under Steve’s account which Dustin says it’s for the employee discount — which makes Steve scoff, considering he pays for it anyways.

All eyes move to Robin who freezes at the sudden attention, papers paused mid-shuffle in her twitchy hands. She narrows her eyes at Dustin and you find yourself watching Steve as he has a silent exchange with the girl — another halfhearted shrug that means he’s happy to take him if she doesn’t mind.

Robin swipes the tape and types the details into the computer hastily, waving them both off. “Yeah, yeah. y/n can always get behind the counter, worst-case scenario.”

Dustin fist-pumps, taking the tape back from Robin as she hands it over. He heads to the door and calls out to you as he goes, “And you’d look better than Steve in the vest too!”

It makes you laugh when Steve scowls, sidling up to you to lean over the counter and snatch up his car keys. He pauses, eyes roaming your face and looking as though he wants to say something to you.

“Steve!” Dustin’s voice pierces the glass and you look to see him waiting on the top step, hands raised, expression unimpressed.

Steve sighs, muttering the word dickhead under his breath and then he’s out the door.

Fact #3: You may have misjudged Steve Harrington.

It’s been just over a week since seeing Dustin in the store with Steve and though you’d never admit it aloud, it has shifted the way you see Steve.

A minuscule shift, you huff to yourself, tiny and not enough to completely dissolve your built in dislike for the Harrington boy. But you find the thought worming into your brain frequently, tripping over it in surprise when you realise you’re thinking of him again.

It’s just… it didn’t make sense.

Just like the flirting, it didn’t compute in your brain unless you rationalized it back to some asshole motive.

But Dustin had introduced himself as Steve’s best-friend, which was sort of weird enough on its own but you figured it had to be some insane trauma bonding from the mall fire.

Even if they had been the same age, Dustin didn’t seem like the company you’d expect Steve to keep— but neither was Robin, you thought after a moment of contemplation.

Robin’s knowing grin outside Family Video a couple of weeks ago that screamed i told you so floats up in your memory; you might have to concede she was maybe, potentially, just a little bit right.

The thoughts weigh on your mind as you wait in the kitchen for Steve’s car to pull into your driveway. A couple months ago you would have outright refused to accept a ride from King Steve and you still weren’t sure if you thanked him for his generosity tonight, whether it would come out snarky or genuine.

But he did offer, unasked.

You and Robin wanted to see a rerun screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show that was showing a few towns over. Robin couldn’t drive and neither could you, which meant when she’d seen the poster, it had only been a fleeting moment of excitement before you realised you didn’t have any means of travel.

She must have been moping about it at work that day because it was sometime in the evening after she got off work that your phone rang and she nearly shrieked down the line that Steve would take you both.

So, here you were; waiting for Steve to pick you up.

God, even the sentence sounded odd in your head. A flash of amber headlights on the street grabs your attention and before you can delve into the flip of your stomach, you duck out of the house and slip into Steve’s car.

You take the front seat. Mainly because it would be too weird to get in the back, as though he was your chauffeur — though you suppose for tonight, he is. Steve smiles when you get in and you find it easy to mimic it. Gravel crunches as his tires pull away from the curb, gathering speed as he heads for Robin’s house.

Eyes out the window, you don’t see how he steals glances at you every couple of moments. The air feels tinged with awkwardness and Steve swallows, wondering if he’s allowed to break it. You’ve been a little warmer to him — I mean, hell, you just offered him a smile.

As he pulls the car up in front of Robin’s house, engine idling, he pushes out a breath and dredges up his courage.

Yes, in the beginning, the compliments were because he wanted you to not see him and scowl. Tonight, it’s because you look beautiful and he wants you to know it.

“You look—” Oh god, and now you’re looking at him, eyes a little wide before they narrow in suspicion. “—uh, pretty.”

“What?”

“I mean, you always look pretty!” He amends. “But, y’know, you look lovely tonight. Pretty.” Stop talking.

“P-Pretty lovely.” It falls off his tongue in haste, delivered so terribly he’s surprised he doesn’t cringe immediately after. God, it was like whatever flirting skills he had flew out the window with you.

“No, Harrington, I mean— why do you keep saying these things?”

Steve feels utterly lost, shown on his face as he blinks, once, twice, and doesn’t say anything. Your insecurity bubbles up, mixed with anger at the thought he might indeed be messing with you.

“I don’t know if this is funny to you, to- to like, joke that you like my clothes or- or to pretend to think that I’m pretty but it’s not. And I—”

“Woah, wait — who said I was joking?” Incredulity taints each word, his brows pulled high in surprise. Steve’s stomach twists, feeling his heart recoil at the complete seriousness in your words — you think he’s been making fun of you.

“Well, why else would you call me pretty?” You ask pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Because you are?” It’s faint, Steve’s voice suddenly a lot softer.

You’re not sure you can contain the ripple of emotions on your face, his words sticking you in the throat so you have to swallow thickly. It’s like a switch is flipped, each compliment of the last couple of weeks shifting into a new meaning in your mind.

It’s overwhelming and you find yourself searching Steve’s face desperately, drinking in his sincere expression, brows drawn together as he offers a weak smile. Fuck, you think and along with it, dozens of apologies fester and churn — god, you’d been so rude and—

“Um, backseat please!” A sharp knock at your window scares you, nearly jumping out of your skin and breaking your focus on Steve. When you turn, Robin’s standing on the sidewalk, bent at the waist to peer at you through the glass. You stare at her dumbly for a moment til she wiggles her eyebrows with a grin and it makes you crack a smile, finally reeling yourself in enough to move.

Unclipping your belt, you’re rather thankful to be shoved to the back of the car. Hidden in the dark, you shift to take the seat behind Steve. Your eyes spy a sliver of his neck, exposed skin about the collar of his jacket and it fixates you for a moment.

Because you are? Steve’s words follow you, plaguing you in the shadows of the backseat — you purposefully ignore how it makes your heart sing ever-so-slightly.

Fact #4: Bradley O’Connor is not to be trusted.

“Guess who came into my work today?”

It’s said all gleeful, your hands gripping the counter as you nearly launch yourself over it in your excitement. On the other side stands Robin, doodling in her notebook — or she had been, til your arrival had been announced by the door chime, her ‘Welcome to Family Video!’ cut off by your sudden commotion.

“Um,” Robin begins indignantly, brows raised high. “Half of Hawkins? You work at Bradley’s Best Buy y/n, like the whole town shops there.”

Her sarcasm bounces off you, undeterred in your good mood; it was like the sun was shining just for you today. You didn’t even mind Steve obviously listening in on you two, his hands frozen above the keyboard as he eavesdropped from his seat at the computer.

“Yeah, speaking of Bradley’s...” you grinned at Robin, hoping your hint was enough. It was, her expression shifting into something more enthusiastic.

“Bradley Bradley?”

You nod at her question, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt to contain your giddy grin. But it’s hard when your long-term high school crush Bradley O’Connor came through your till, flirted like there was no tomorrow, and insisted you jot your number on his receipt.

He didn’t even seem to care that you worked at a supermarket. You knew well that he and all his friends lived in the cushy tax bracket which meant the first job they ever worked would be after college. Kids like you and Robin, stuck working hours in dead-end jobs to help pay rent, were often easy pickings for teasing.

It just made you lean into your naive feelings more, swooning at the fact he didn’t care. You had been too elated in your feelings to notice the piles of his friends waiting outside the store; if you had, it might’ve made you more cautionary.

“Bradley O’Connor?” Steve butts in, swiveling in his chair to question you. The way Steve says his name, tinged in disbelief, makes you narrow your eyes.

“Is that so hard to believe?” You say defensively and chose to not acknowledge Robin’s deep sigh. Eyes widening, Steve splutters for a moment as he shakes his head.

“What? No, not like that! I just mean—him? Really?”

You can’t quite pick what’s hiding in his voice, eyes instead following Robin as she whirls around and delivers a glower that makes Steve reconsider his tone, swallowing.

“I mean—” He starts again, clearing his throat, cheeks a titch pink now. “I didn’t realise he was... your type.”

You stare at Steve, your expression skeptical as you try to pull apart whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. When you can’t figure it out in a moment, you ignore the comment and turn back to Robin and ignore it.

“Asked for my number.” You lean closer to Robin, wiggling your brows as you lead her along the excitement you’d felt earlier today. “Insisted on it actually.”

Robin’s brows manage to raise even higher, nearly disappearing into her hairline and you’d be a bit offended if her grin didn’t match your own.

“Oh. My. God.” She says, her pen punching down on the pages of her notebook to punctuate each word. “Oh my god.”

You don’t bother trying to hold back your grin, nodding along, some form of a squeal escaping you — it vaguely occurs to you should rein it in with Steve listening in, but you can’t find it in yourself to curb your feelings for his sake.

“Finally!” Robin manages to break her script of oh my god’s. “You’ve only liked him for—what? Two years?”

You flush automatically at the admission, your grin becoming a grimace as you shoot a glare at your best friend. She means well, but you’re not exactly lining up to let Steve Harrington in on all your secrets.

Your eyes flit over to where he sits, still watching the conversation. As if he can read your unease, he mimes turning a lock over his lips and tosses the key behind him blindly in an exaggerated motion. You’re in a good enough mood that it makes you laugh lightly, breaking back into a smile and comforted that at the very least, Steve won’t go ratting out your affections.

“Hey, as happy as I am for you, aren’t you supposed to be helping your Mom today?”

Like a bubble bursting, Robin reminds you that, alas, the world exists outside the perfect moment of exchanging digits over the cash register at work. Your eyes widen, a little horrified as you spin around and squint at the clock on the wall. Shit.

“Shit.” You verbalize the thought and you’re out the door before you remember to call out your goodbyes.

Steve watches you go, your purple wind-breaker flapping behind you wildly as you all but sprint around the corner and out of sight. It’s a bit too comical and he can’t help but chuckle. The sound draws Robin’s attention and all too suddenly, Steve feels as though he’s been caught doing something wrong as she whirls around to face him.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Steve wonders if he’ll have to remind her that despite the jokes they both make, he can’t actually read her mind.

She breaks the silence. “What was that?”

“What was what?” It’s genuine confusion, Steve’s head tilting to the right an inch.

“I didn’t realise he was your type.” Robin mocks, her voice high pitch and hands gesturing somehow sarcastically. “That! What was that?”

Steve frowns, defensiveness creeping up in his tone. “That was nothing!”

Okay, so, that sounded way less casual than he hoped. Steve clears his throat, spinning on his seat to face the computer again. It was nothing. Robin was being a vulture, picking at remains, picking at nothing — absolutely nothing.

“Nothing at all.” He mutters, beginning to type again and Robin snorts behind him, voice still doused in sarcasm.

“Mm, for my own sake, I’m gonna ignore the fact you’re clearly interested in her.”

Steve hits a wrong key in his surprise, an annoyed beep! coming from the computer. It sums up how he’s feeling. He turns his head back to Robin, brows furrowed as he shakes his head. “What? No, no way.”

“Yes, way.”

“Robin, no. Even if I did—not that I do but even if I— look, I’m not stupid enough to get a crush on someone who hates me.”

This puts out the fiery retorts for just a moment, Robin dimming as she recalls the bitterness you harbor for Steve. Well, harbored — she knows you back to front and she’s willing to bet money that if you stopped hating him for just a second, you’d probably like the guy.

“She doesn’t know you.” She lands on eventually, features softening as she recalls the bitterness on Steve’s face whenever some idiot from high school dragged up his past — usually, in an attempt to humiliate him.

“Look, I’m not interested in her.” Steve reiterates, though a little weak, waving his hands wildly as if it will help drive the point home. “Not gonna happen. Never gonna happen. “

The door rattles as it’s opened by a new customer. Robin and Steve both cease their conversation immediately, turning to greet automatically — and who should it be Bradley O’Connor, himself. He doesn’t spare a glance at the front counter, sauntering straight into the action movie aisle.

“In fact,” Steve begins, an idea formulating in his mind. He spins back to Robin with a grin. “I’ll happily help her get her next date.”

“Steve, don’t—“

Steve ignores her protest, sidling out from behind the counter and tracking Bradley down to where the rom-com section starts.

“Welcome to Family Video!” It’s a bit cheery and it makes the boy jump in surprise, surprised by the new voice. Steve continues. “Anything I can help you with today?”

Bradley chuckles stiffly, a little affronted at the enthusiasm Steve’s to help a customer. He clocks the double take he does, the glance down at Steve’s name badge giving away that Bradley’s well aware of who he is. Exhaling, Steve hopes he won’t bring it up.

It looks as though Bradley weighs something up in his head, taking another once over at Steve before he speaks. “Yeah, actually. You know what movies chicks dig?”

Steve can tell in the way Bradley says the word chicks that he’s an asshole. Not thinking of girls as people, more like scores: notches in his belt. It makes him tick, jaw clenching.

But he was like that once. Nancy Wheeler had found a genuine spot in him and coaxed it out. You — you could do the same.

So, Steve says, “Yeah, man. Anyone in particular? Usually depends on the girl, honestly.”

Bradley sniffs, one hand nudging under his nose as he skirts his gaze around the store. He lands on Robin, who thankfully, doesn’t look like she’s trying to eavesdrop at that exact moment.

“Do ya know y/l/n?” He jerks his chin in the direction of Robin. “Buckley’s friend?”

Steve nods, glad at the easy segue; now, all he had to do was talk you up. And Steve Harrington was nothing if not a flatterer. He halts a moment later with a frown, realising what a noncommittal date it was. You deserved better than that, Steve thought.

“y/n? You can’t just rent out a film for a girl like that. She’s a total catch, dude— you gotta do the whole nine yards, yanno? Cinema, popcorn, be a gentleman and all.”

He pairs his suggestion with a usual charming smile, crossing his arms across his broad chest. Bradley seems to pick up on the extra interest and his brows quirk up.

“You got like, a thing for her or something?”

His pink cheeks nearly give him away. Steve, to his credit, manages to not blunder his next response. It’s almost like Robin’s line of fire earlier prepped him for this moment.

“Nah,” he replies, coolly. “She’s just a friend.”

The next words are a little less casual, Steve straightening up as a surprising amount of protectiveness curls in his gut. “And as her friend, I’m just looking out for her.”

Bradley swallows, breaking eye-contact as if Steve could puzzle out his ill intentions if he looked long enough.

“So, be nice and take her out all proper.” Steve lets it sit in the air for a moment, then smiles, a polite way that’s well practiced in his line of work. “Can I get anything else for you?”

It might be the quickest customer Robin’s ever checked out, with Bradley managing to get the film rented and be out the door in under 2 minutes.

Thankfully, Robin is chuckling when he wanders back behind the counter. He had been harboring a thread of anxiety, worried he had really overstepped by thinking he knew best — it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it. On top of that, Steve really doesn’t want this to bite him in the ass, especially considering it was to help you.

“Don’t—” Robin starts, a smile curling her lips. “—let this go to your head, but that wasn’t nearly half bad.”

Steve tries not to feel smug, settling instead on pleasantly content. He was in your good books after this, for sure.

When you call the store from home, wire twisted in your fingers and talking loud enough in your excitement that Steve could hear it from beside Robin, she makes sure to mention the good word he put in for you.

Fact #5: If you call Steve Harrington from a pay-phone on a Friday night, he’ll pick up.

The bleak cold of the night air isn’t anything compared to the shame that’s building in your chest. You’re trying your best to ignore it, to not give in to your anxious doubts — what did Bradley say on the phone?

It was supposed to be a movie night at his place — that was what he’d suggested when he toyed with your feelings at work, a handsome smirk on his face. You’d tried not to sound disgruntled at the hurried change in plans, instead trying to lean into your excitement that tonight went from casual to a definite date.

Bradley O’Connor didn’t just invite anyone to the movies with him. And he’d said 7 on the phone, you huffed to yourself.

7 o’clock. The showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that was playing at Hawk cinema. Though, he did sound a bit distracted on the phone, his voice sounding distant.

You glance at the clock above the ticket booth. 7.13pm.

Heaving a sigh, you tuck your coat closer around yourself and wonder how long you should wait before it goes from sad to truly pathetic.

Five more minutes, you think, Give him five more minutes.

Because you hopelessly want his flirts, his coy smile, and charming winks to be real; you want to be swept up in a teenage daydream and have it all work out for you for once.

You swallow, picking at your fingers as you dredge up your hopes, convincing yourself he’s coming — because if he doesn’t...it means Steve and his confused tone were fucking right. That Bradley wasn’t the type to go for your type.

You shouldn’t have waited the five extra minutes.

Technically, you think bitterly, you were right. Bradley does show up.

You’re stepping out, wondering if you should brave the walk home in the dark — but a familiar group of raucous boys in Letterman jackets heading for the cinema freeze you in your tracks.

“Holy shit, she actually came.”

It’s not said kind, not in awed disbelief as you’d hoped. It’s cruel — jeering explodes in the group of boys, unkind laughs and snickers resounding off the bricks as they smack each other, all in on the joke. The realisation sinks into your stomach, staining it black.

Bradley looks smugly satisfied — a pompous conceited piece of shit that you should’ve known better than to believe.

You don’t even want to look at him, a hot sting of tears burning behind your eyes. You don’t want to give him a chance to taunt you. Your feet take you forward, barging through the group and smacking your shoulder against Bradley’s shoulder, hard. You hope it hurts.

“Tell Harrington thanks for the suggestion to take you to the movies!” He calls after you like he knows how it rubs salt into the wound. It does; it stings maybe more than the initial humiliation. “Guess he’s not an idiot all of the time!”

The boys laugh, a series of oohs that finally break your floodgate. Tears streak, hot and fast, and you brush them off before they reach your chin, sniffling. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The humiliation is coating you, sticky and clinging like a fog and you squeeze your eyes closed as you inhale quickly. You round the corner fast, feet not stopping til you’re at least four blocks from the cinema, further downtown.

You feel dumb. Scratch that, you feel like a fucking idiot.

A stray tear escapes without permission and the next thought is that you want to go home. Blurry eyes scanning the street, you clock the phone booth and head for it, fueled by the urgency of your thoughts: get home, then fall apart.

The glass is cold as you push the door open, creaking and weathered. You close the door and turn, staring at the phone. Who do you call?

Your mom is the first thought. She’d driven you in — though, you’d told her you’d get a lift home with Bradley since he had a car. You’re not up for the coddling you’ll get when she sees the state of you in the slightest. Besides, she’d mentioned heading to a friends for the evening.

Robin is the next thought. And you would, except she can’t drive so all she’d do is ply you with a combination of questions and furious insults directed at Bradley.

Your next thought...No.

You sigh, leaning your head against the glass, not caring about how grimy it might be, and smack your head against it a couple of times. No, no way were you about to call Steve Harrington for a lift.

Not when he fucking set you up. Not when he’d just taken the shred of trust you’d granted him and torn it up immediately. Especially not after crying because you believed a date like that with a guy like Bradley O’Connor was genuine.

You were not calling Steve.

The Harrington household number is easy to find in the paper phone book.

It’s under Steve’s father’s name, some prick with big money who’d likely report you to the police for harassment if he picked up the phone. You stare at it and then at the phone, a frown set on your brow as you weigh it up.

Steve didn’t work Friday night — you know, because it used to be a night to go visit Robin, back when you avoided Steve.

A stray thought floats up, bringing back the words of Robin on the phone as she had celebrated the news. It’s a bitter memory now, made entirely worse as you recall what she had said. Steve talked you up, her voice crackled down the wire, when O’Connor came in. Put in a good word for you.

A new emotion surges in your chest and you’re relieved to shrug off some humiliation for anger. God, you feel even more stupid for thinking Steve would’ve actually talked you up.

As you punch in the number, the keypad taking a bit of a beating, you huff and think at the very least, he can owe you a ride for ruining your evening.

“Harrington residence, this is Steve.”

“Harrington.” You spit it out with venom. On the other side of the phone, Steve recoils a bit, surprised at the tone.

“y/n? I thought you were—”

“I’m on Cavendish Boulevard, right by Tony’s. Come pick me up.” It’s fierce and clipped. You don’t really want to unleash your anger on the phone, lest he leaves you stranded and you have to ring around your mother’s friends just to find her. You just want to go home.

Steve makes a noise of confusion over the phone, a bit slow on the uptake. “But I thought tonight was—”

“Harrington.” you say again, a little softer, your emotions leaking into your voice involuntarily. Fuck, you sound pathetic but in the moment you can’t bring yourself to care. You plead, “Please.”

“I’m coming,” He says, voice indicating he’s caught on to why you might be calling. “Yeah, I’m coming, just sit tight.”

Fact #6: When Steve Harrington says he ‘knows a spot’, he doesn’t always mean Skull Rock.

You’re angry.

That much Steve can tell. Steve’s reminded too much of the last ride he gave you when you pop the door, sliding almost uncomfortably into the passenger seat and turning your clenched jaw towards the window.

Unrest torments Steve’s head, unsure if he’s gained enough trust to ask what went wrong this evening. On the other hand, you had called him. At the very least, you trusted him to come and get you.

The tires groan as he drives out of Tony’s parking lot, the hood of the car dipping to the gutter and rolling out onto the quiet roads.

“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” Steve drives slow so his eyes can flick over to you, watching the way you smooth your hands down your thighs, a self-soothing motion. It makes his chest twinge, a tad more worry than he’s probably warranted to considering you are barely friends. If that.

“Depends.” you finally turn to face him, a pinch in your eyebrows. “What did you say to Bradley?”

Steve detects the cynicism of your question in a heartbeat. Even though he knows he was all charm, Robin even affirmed it, he still rehashes the conversation, scrutinizing it for what he had said wrong.

You take his silence as admittance. Scoffing lightly, you focus back out the window, eyes boring into the streets. You’re in the middle of a mutter, something like I was so right about you when Steve manages to find his voice.

“I—” Shyness has crept up inside, Steve suddenly worried you’ll find his comments odd and not endearing. Worse, you’ll think he’s being in-genuine again. You’re just quiet, waiting. “I told him that he should take you to the cinema, instead of just renting a film. That you deserved a better— a proper date.”

He shoots a look in your direction, trying to see how you take in the words. Your shoulders have bunched up stiffly, your body turning further away but he can still see the furrow in your brow, angry emotions emitting out in every direction from you — you don’t believe him.

“I swear,” He continues, more desperate to prove himself. “I said something about— that you were a catch and- and you can ask Robin, I swear to—”

“Steve, stop.”

Horror churns through his gut when Steve realises you’re crying, soft tears dripping off your cheeks. As if you can sense he’s about to talk again, ready to rattle off his insistence, you speak before him.

“If I believe you,” you inhale shakily, pushing your palms into your eyes hard. You don’t want to cry in front of Steve. “If you’re telling the truth, then that means...”

Your teeth chew on your lip, hiding its quiver as you relive the humiliation of earlier all over again. “It means, I was actually stupid enough to believe him.”

Painfully, Steve can feel the embarrassment rolling off you in waves as you bury your face away. He swears under his breath. He’d detected asshole from Bradley two words in but this? This was not even in the ballpark of what he’d considered happening tonight. How fucking childish to ask someone out as a joke.

You seem to be slipping into a ramble, uncaring that you’re pouring your feelings out to Steve — Steve who you hate, or at least you did. Steve who you were ready to verbally pummel a minute ago. Steve who is looking at you so gingerly that you might consider he actually cares about you.

“He- all his friends were there.” You admit, words wobbling and tone revealing your utter mortification. “It was just a big fucking joke.”

For a minute, the car is silent; you stare at the road and watch it get swallowed beneath the car.

“I’m— I’m so fucking sorry.” Steve starts again, feeling like he’s managed to take one step forward and fifteen backward with you. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “I had no idea he would do that, I swear, I wouldn’t have—“

He cuts himself off, apparently out of words to say, or taking your silence as a cue to shut up. His apology sits in the silence and you know now, he means it. Bradley’s smugness compared to Steve’s sincerity leaves no contest; you’d been too in your own head to realise you’d muddled them up.

You’re faintly aware that Steve has been driving absently, guzzling up gas so you can have a moment suspended away from reality. But he seems to grip the wheel tighter, with more purpose, and instead of looping the block again, Steve picks a route.

You wipe under your eyes again, sniffling through your clogged throat. “Where are we going?”

Steve adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, throwing a glance at you.

“Where I go when I’m upset.”

A snarky retort rises in your mind on instinct, the hurt part that wants to lash out, make someone hurt like you’re hurting. You think about saying something like what does rich, popular Steve Harrington get upset about? when he says, “Helped me a lot after the, uh, the mall fire.”

You swallow the words on your tongue and guilt stains your throat.

It’s a short drive; Steve drives so comfortably that you question how many times he’s traced this route. Too plagued by horrid memories, forced into his car and driving until he’s tired enough to sleep without nightmares.

You can’t say you’re expecting the stretch of road that crawls out to Skull Rock. For a moment you regard him, wondering if he’s daft enough to try to get lucky right now. But the car veers off track, driving down a less traveled path.

He doesn’t stop til you’re surrounded by timber trunks — there’s not much room to open your door when Steve puts the car into park.

Normally, you make a witty comment — “You didn’t bring me out here to kill me, right? I can’t see how that would make me feel any better.” — but you bite your tongue. You feel too downbeat to be witty now.

Steve rounds the car and pops the trunk, leaning over it with one hand still gripping the top. He rummages for a moment, moving junk around til he pulls out a couple of items: a baseball bat, some bag that clinks noisily, and a few other items, stuffed quickly into the bag. He tucks the baseball bat under his arm.

“C’mon,” he murmurs and waves you to follow him, after shutting the trunk and locking the car. Again, you’re eerily aware that this route is well-familiar to Steve. You stumble to keep up, eyes on your feet so you don’t get a face full of dirt.

Eventually, the trees give way to a clearing littered with various junk, glittering broken glass all around making Steve tell you to watch where you step.

He makes his way towards a rotten tree trump in the centre of the clearing, poorly cut and barely a flat surface on it. Still, Steve digs around in the bag and fishes out an empty beer bottle. You think you can guess where he’s going with this.

Carefully, he manages to balance it on a slanted surface and as expected, he draws the bat out from under his arm and offers it to you.

The wood is warm from being pressed against his side and you curl your fingers around it, sapping it into your hands. He digs around in the bag for another moment, revealing a pair of safety glasses — damn, he’s really prepared.

Steve unfolds them and steps closer, offering them out to you — but you don’t remove your hands from the bat, instead jutting out your chin to indicate for him to put them on for you.

It makes him pause. Steve regards you for a moment, eyes unsure before he steps even closer.

It steals your breath, the intensity of his gaze as he pushes the glasses up your nose, his fingers tracing along the rims and down the arms of the glasses, tucking any stray hair behind your ears. It’s oddly intimate, watching him through the plastic, his expression focused, breath fanning over your face. He looks handsome — the shadows cutting his jawline nicely and you can smell his cologne when he’s this close.

When he steps back, you have to remind yourself to breathe — the scent of him still swirls in your chest.

Even though you know what he’s brought you here for — the bottle, the bat, the open junkyard already doused in broken litter — you still don’t make a move.

Steve gestures to the bottle. “Hit it. Hard as you can.”

It’s a soft instruction; you know if you wanted, you could turn around and he’d drive you all the way home, no questions asked. But then you’d spend the rest of your evening drowning your sorrows, wallowing in a pint of ice-cream and sniffling over the phone to Robin.

You turn to face the bottle, lifting the bat, and readying your grip.

Holy shit, she actually came.

The bat connects fast with the bottle, a loud crash pistoling off and filling the clearing — the brown glass dissolves into the night, pieces are thrown in every direction and you’re suddenly very grateful for the safety glasses.

You heave in a breath, surprised by how that felt. It’s thrilling. You whip around to look at Steve and choke on a laugh at what you see — he’s put on a ridiculous pair of sunglasses.

They’re not at all the usual stylish ones he’s worn to parties before. It’s likely didn’t want that pair damaged but still needed to protect his eyes. Instead, these pair look like women’s sunglasses, with big wide round frames. It’s a bizarre sight, Steve Harrington is women’s sunglasses, at night-time no less.

“Nice glasses.” The tease falls off your lips instinctively, a laugh contained in the words.

Back to poking fun at him — a definite sign you’re feeling better. He sighs, playing it up, popping his hip, and planting his hands on his sides.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, but he’s smiling. “Be thankful I gave you the cool ones. Normally, it’s just me up here anyways.”

It’s somewhat of a lie. He’d bought two pairs of the safety glasses, one for Robin as well, but she hadn’t liked the loud noises of broken glass when he brought her with him.

But Steve thought the stupid oversized glasses his mom had tried to dump — he was going to offer them to Robin but it had slipped his mind — would be a better choice. You wouldn’t be thinking about fucking O’Connor if he’s in women’s sunglasses.

It’s surprisingly effective; a giggle titters out of you again and you cover your mouth as if it’ll help hide the sound. You’re a bit bewildered at how easy it feels to laugh so soon.

Steve pushes the glasses up onto the top of his head, his hair sticking up at odd angles and he narrows his eyes at you. His smile gives him away. He bends and roots through the bag, finding another bottle for you to smash. The sunnies slip back down to cover his eyes as he sets up the next one.

It wobbles precariously on the stump but you don’t wait for it to settle, baseball bat swinging and shattering it in a second.

“Fuck!” You scream and the curse is swallowed up in the splintering sound of glass. Steve whoops, looking almost like a suburban mom, cheering from the sidelines. The scream helped — hell, swinging with all your might and channeling your rage into demolishing a bottle was definitely helping. You don’t feel upset, you feel enraged.

The stump isn’t empty for long, Steve dutifully scoops up another bottle and places it out for you. He pauses, sunglasses back in his hair, and points at the bottle as he fixes you with a determined look.

“This one’s O’Connor.”

You meet his eyes, his brows knitted together and an expression that says he wants you to destroy it because he’s angry with you — angry for you. He steps back.

When you hit it, an earsplitting crack thunders out. The bottle fractures, fragments careening off in every direction. A wild grin sweeps across your face, knowing that whatever comes at school next week— whether Bradley went back to ignoring your existence or used tonight as fuel for taunting — you could just picture how you felt as you shattered that bottle.

“That felt good.” You breathe out, turning back to Steve. Your teeth graze your bottom lip, sinking in to stop from grinning like a lunatic. A delirious laugh wrestles itself out of your chest and you let your head drop back, eyes turning up at the inky sky, laughs petering out.

Steve tries to ignore how the sound lights up his chest like a Christmas tree, some part of him burning with glee with the knowledge you’re feeling better because of something he did.

He watches your gaze rove across the sky, searching for something he doesn’t know. He’s not sure if he should dig out the next bottle or whether this was it — that now, he’d take you home now and he’d be back to just a brief hint of a smile from you if that.

Head dropping forward, you offer back the baseball bat and Steve’s heart sinks.

Reining in his dejection so it doesn’t show, Steve takes it from you and pulls a polite smile; at the very least, he’ll get some credit with Robin for cheering up her best friend.

As he moves to tuck it under his arm, he freezes at your own motions. You’re bending down, rummaging through the bag, and scoring a bottle — this time, a big champagne bottle, left on the bench from the last time his parents had been home. Four? No, five days ago.

You plant it on the stump, hands hovering around it as it quivers for a moment, only dropping them when the bottle finally settles. You step back, look at him and Steve finally understands what you’re doing.

Surprise sprouts in his chest, his lips parting. You’re giving him a turn?

“Well?”

He’s been gawking a bit, he realises and Steve remembers to close his mouth. He shifts the bat out from under his arm and then pulls the sunglasses off his head. He offers them to you, with a nod.

“Swap. I’ll miss the bottle completely with these on.”

“But that’ll make me laugh.” You point out, tone cheeky as you pass them over regardless.

Steve slides them on, a dramatic eye-roll as he steps up to swing. He’s usually only here when his anger is feeling uncontrollable, like hot lava boiling over and burning him from the inside out. He’s calmer tonight, with no emotions running rampant — well, maybe not any bad ones at least.

He scrounges his brain to think of what’s annoyed him this week; Keith, as always. The champagne bottle on the stump, the only bitter evidence his parents had been home in the last week. The agonizing wobble in your voice as you’d cried in the passenger seat of his car.

There’s a familiar burn in his muscles when he swings, another bottle sacrificed to anger and destined to a life scattered in the dirt. You whoop loudly, just as he had, and Steve can understand why you’d laughed at the sight of him in those sunglasses. They’re huge and you look nearly bug-like, shiny round domes of black staring back at him.

“Nice glasses.” He grins cheekily, a copy of your own words. He doesn’t need to see your eyes to know you’re rolling them at him.

The bat and safety glasses get passed between you two, equal turns until the bottles run out. Steve’s only sorry he didn’t bring more, drinking in the giddy and wild grin that overcomes your face when another bottle meets its fate.

When you pack it in and stumble back to his car, Steve revels in the closeness you seemed to have gained. No longer three steps behind, your shoulders brush his on the walk and when you stumble over a root, your hand shoots out and grips his arm, steadying yourself. You hold it for a moment longer than you should.

The skin of your hand still tingles as you slide into the passenger seat. The air of the car is more comfortable now, cozy even, as Steve cranks the heat and the trees pass you in a blur as you drive out. Bruce Springsteen’s Hungry Heart is warbling on the radio, the volume turned low and you can’t help but stare at him.

You were so wrong about him.

You were so astronomically wrong about him; it’s the only thing you can think of as you drive home, amber streetlights illuminating the streets of Hawkins. The clock on the dash reads 9.57pm — meaning you’ve been with Steve for nearly two hours. The fact nearly draws an awed sort of laugh, but you press it down til it’s only a smile, hidden as you turn back to the window.

He drops you off by 10.14pm, insisting on buying you a milkshake to complete the night.

Honest, I get one after every time I smash shit. It’s hard work you just did! He’d said as he ordered. One chocolate shake for you, one vanilla, for him. You gotta, like, replace electrolytes and all. The fact you don’t think he’s said it to make you laugh, makes you laugh even harder.

The milkshakes sustain the silence on the final drive home and you quickly understand immediately the importance of the shake. After all the frustration, the sugar is near soothing as the cold sweet dances on your tongue.

The engine idles as Steve brings the car to a halt by the curb outside your house. You eye it, astonished by your reluctance to end the evening and you wonder if Steve can tell.

You don’t know if you want him to notice it or not; reading into your hesitancy feels like a whole new can of worms. The porch light is on, waiting for you.

Home. What you’ve been yearning for since 7.15pm this evening — finally, the roller-coaster of emotions has wrung you out and tiredness seeps into your bones. But you can’t leave without a goodbye. Not without telling Steve what tonight meant to you.

“Thank you.”

You don’t mean to murmur it, but it’s nearly a whisper as you take your eyes off the house to turn to Steve in the driver’s seat.

Steve somehow manages to soften more at the quiet words, an easy smile pulling on his lips. He nods. It means of course like you don’t even have to thank him for it. The car purrs beneath you, filling the silence with a quiet rumble.

You want to say it again, louder because it’s not just a thank-you — it’s thank you, I’m sorry, I was wrong about you, can we start over? I hated you for the longest time but do you ever think you could like me?

The last thought punches a breath out of you and it sets you in motion. You couldn’t be having those thoughts; not with the tension in the air, his closeness so enticing now you’ve tasted it once. You couldn’t be having those thoughts at all.

You’re on the sidewalk, about to close the door before you remember to squeak out a ‘goodnight!’. The walk to your door is short enough that you shouldn’t feel the cold of the night — besides, you’re too warm inside, emotions churning wildly to notice anyways.

It doesn’t help when you reach the porch and peek over your shoulder, the maroon BMW still waiting by the curb, amber headlights shining, for you to make it inside okay.

Fact #7: You’re way too wasted right now.

You’d started with vodka and that had been, what? An hour ago.

An hour ago when O’Connor had made his entrance with his buddies, stupid cheers erupted from the crowd of high schoolers that were stupid enough to worship the likes of him.

Or maybe, you’re the stupid one for hoping you wouldn’t see him tonight.

But if the open invite to Melody Carter’s house for a late-night Saturday party meant the likes of you and Robin could come, of fucking course O’Connor would be there.

You had been only planning on one more drink, the one you’d been pouring when O’Connor showed face, but his smirk across the room had you finishing it instantly. It burned as you swallowed it down, your hands already moving to pour more liquor into your cup.

Two more shots down of — what was it? The label tells you it’s tequila — and you’re thoroughly drunk. Which, honestly, might not be a great move considering the number of people at this party. There are a lot of people here.

What had started as a party for only the senior year had quickly snowballed, kids older and younger showing up. Hell, you were pretty sure you’d seen Aaron Bright pass through the front door, a boy two years out of high school.

Did that mean Steve was coming?

Oh-kay, that had to be the tequila speaking.

But once the thought is in your head, it spins out, unstoppable, careening and building up your hopes before you remember to crush them. You weren’t hanging out to see Steve; quite the opposite in fact.

The bottle-smashing adventure you’d shared with him had been just over a week ago and maybe your thoughts had strayed to him a couple of times. A couple of times might be putting it lightly.

You just— you didn’t know how to act around him anymore.

Without the shield of ‘Steve Harrington is a douchebag’ to give a reason for your scowls, you had to admit he was utterly charming.

You couldn’t tell if it was the shift in your own perception or if Steve really was this nice, each sentence flirty or teasing — either way, it meant you were as good as reduced to blundering through any interaction with him.

So, naturally, you’d resorted to avoiding Family Video instead, which, hey, might not have been your best idea.

Robin had tracked you down after you didn’t show up to two of her evening shifts to hang. Gossip flowed as you divulged her in your Friday night, the prank O’Connor had pulled, and the subsequent tears that had followed. With a guilty smile, you let Robin get wrapped up in her anger and forgive your absences — too distracted to even ask how you’d gotten home.

Technically, you hadn’t lied. You had just... omitted certain facts.

Besides, you were feeling confused enough about Steve all on your own. You had no doubt that adding Robin, the mutual best friend between you two, and her opinion would make it all the messier.

Or maybe she’ll tell you what you don’t want to hear. Something in your head whispers, the tequila burning a little fouler in your stomach. That you can’t have him. That she knows him and he would never want you.

For good measure, you chase down one more shot.

And that’s how Steve finds you — wasted out in the back garden of a party.

Robin had invited him, halfheartedly during one of their shifts. Honestly, a high school party had very little appeal to him — most parties had no appeal after the events that had transpired in the last couple of years.

But Robin had been a bit adamant as she realised he didn’t have a date lined up like he usually did. He’d winced as she connected the dots, counting on her fingers that it had been nearly two months since he’d used his weekend for social plans. That is, excluding hanging with Robin.

The fact he stopped going on dates round bout the same time you stopped completely ignoring him was completely unrelated. But Steve was glad Robin didn’t notice the coincidence, so she couldn’t grill him about it.

In fact, she was surprisingly mute over his sudden agreement when Robin purposefully mentioned you’d be there. Her twinkling eyes said she knew more than she’d let on.

And at first, it seemed like a colossal mistake to come.

Steve didn’t like alcohol like he used to. The last few years had birthed something in him that hated not being in control of his body, especially when dark corners seem to hold something more sinister, or the lights flickered.

Or maybe it was the fact he hasn’t really been to a party since Halloween ‘84. Steve shoves the memory of that night down, away.

He lasts two minutes in the crowded main room before he’s shouldering out, hoping the garden will provide some relief. It brings lungfuls of fresh air, the natural blanket of the night and you.

You’re fairly certain you came out here to fight the spinning in your head, desperate for fresh air but now, sprawled out on the cool grass, you’re completely distracted by staring up at the sky. You’re not exactly sure what you’re looking for, gazing into the stars.

A head pops into your vision, Steve’s hair flopping over as he peers down at you. “y/n?”

“Steve!”

Whatever he was expecting, it was not the unbridled glee in your voice. You squirm happily, like a slug in the rain, and if your slurring hadn’t given you away, it’s evidence of how drunk you are. It doesn’t matter that something in his head says she’s drunk, he still finds himself smiling.

“That’s me.” He scans the garden for Robin, assuming the two of you would be together. Concern laces his next words. “Why ya out here on the grass, sweetheart?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Steve’s not sure what it is he’s said, but he’s never seen a reaction like this out of you before; your hands cover your face, giggles slipping loosely out as if you’re hiding a secret.

Sweetheart. You hide the flame in your face behind your hands. There’s nothing to be done for your giggles, loud and drunken, not stopping no matter how much you will yourself. The pet-name brands itself onto your heart, the heat of it racing under your skin.

Steve tries again. “Where’s Robin? I thought you two came together.”

“We did.” You remove your hands to reveal your wide-eyed expression as if just remembering the fact yourself. Man, that must have been ages ago. “She was talking to... to...”

“Vickie?” Steve supplies, with an amused smile.

“Yes!” You snap your fingers at him, expression showing a little bit of disbelief mixed with awe. It shows in your words. “How did you know that, Steve?”

Steve. Not Harrington. You’ve called him by his name twice and Steve’s a little embarrassed by how much he likes it. Likes the sound of his name in your mouth, on your lips.

He shakes his head like an etch-a-sketch to get rid of the thought, mind stuck on your lips too long. Stay focused, Steve chides himself. Extending out a hand, he offers it to you with the intent to have both of you track down Robin.

Though, if you’d last seen her with Vickie, there’s a chance Robin would bite his head off for interrupting the two of them. Vickie, apparently, had a hard time believing the fact Steve and Robin’s relationship was entirely platonic in nature. Tracking her down at a party might not help.

He’s pulled out of the tangent of thoughts when you slap your hand into his — and tug.

Steve topples, immediately grateful for his lack of alcohol because, with any less coordination, you’d be squished beneath him. A hand plants on either side of your head, catching himself just above you. You grin, alcohol on your breath and Steve isn’t completely sure whether he’s imagining the pink on your cheeks.

“Uh,” Steve says, before scrambling off you hastily. He wasn’t sure if he could be so close to you without his face growing warm; or worse, he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. Though spying your amused expression, as if you’d known the closeness would make him blush, maybe Steve didn’t need to be worried.

“S’just,” you say, words a bit mumbled. “s’lay down on the grass. Y’know, look at the stars.”

You point up at the sky in case Steve didn’t understand. The grass is still cool under your back and your head isn’t spinning so much but you don’t really feel like moving. Something in you knows that your limbs will feel like cinder-blocks and movement will send your head back into a tizzy.

Without thinking, your push your lips into a pout and aim it at him. Steve flops down without argument.

“You didn’t tell me why you ended out here,” says Steve, wanting to keep you talking. He’s not entirely confident you won’t just fall asleep if the two of you lapse into silence.

You swing your neck, head lolling to the side to look at Steve. Eyes narrowed, it’s like you’re trying to see if he’s genuinely asking. Whatever you find in your search must satisfy you, because you speak, rolling your head back to peer upwards.

“O’Connor’s here.” You say, bitterness in your tone. “Then my head started spinnin’.”

Steve watches as you tilt your head back towards him, pulling a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “S’now I’m here.”

You’re not sure what convinces you to do what you do next.

Perhaps, it’s because Steve’s expression is tilting too close to pity and you don’t want it; or that you feel lonely enough that you’ll take touch whenever you can, brave enough with the alcohol in your blood to ask.

Or maybe, you just want an excuse to touch him.

“Gimme your hand.” With a gesture of your own, you hold your hand up like you might be asking for a high-five. It wavers, fingers quivering if he looked close enough. After a moment of confusion, Steve humours you.

You feel the callouses first, rough skin scratching against yours as Steve gingerly holds his hand out, letting your press your own against it. It’s warm, warmer than your own and you wish you could twist your fingers until they slotted in with his.

Don’t says a voice in your head, drowned out in the drunkenness. Don’t do this to yourself. Maybe, it’s the voice of reason. It seems you’re very good at building yourself up just to get torn back down.

Hand pressed to hand, you can’t find it in yourself to care about that; you want to touch him, so you ask, and he gives it to you. The alcohol makes it black and white.

You hated him. You did, but now it’s all garbled and wonky and different — and you don’t hate him at all. Not anymore. Every complication you had worked up, all the knots tied in your brain seem to dissolve; hand to hand, it’s easy to admit what you’d been denying to yourself.

“I used to hate you, y’know.”

Steve’s not sure if this will ever get easier to hear. That people he’s grown close to carry reminders, unshakeable memories, of an old ego that still haunts him.

He doesn’t know what to say. He knows you know he’s sorry, that he’s different now. So, he weakly says. “Used to?”

“Yeah.” A smile finds your lips, tugging them up slightly. Steve thinks he could marvel forever at how your lashes kiss in the corner when you smile. It’s aching. “Used to.”

“S’kinda hard to hate you,” you sigh, eyes turning skyward. “I should. You didn’t even remember me a couple months s’ago,”

Steve focuses on your hand against his to deter the twinge in his heart. Your hand is smaller than his and when he curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours. A breath bursts past your lips, loud enough he hears it.

“M’sorry.” he whispers, though he’s said it time and time again.

He doesn’t care; he’ll say it a thousand it times if you’ll keep looking at him like that. Features soft, so different to the glare he’s all but memorised — instead, your eyebrows drawn together like the sight of both your hands, palm to palm, might be the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

Steve feels you push back against his fingers, a gentle pressure like you’re trying to hug him back.

“And now I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Even while drunk, you can’t look at him while you confess. If you look at him, then it’s real and logic will prevail and you’ll rein everything back in.

Looking at both of your hands, feeling the yearning spool in between your ribs — none of it matters. You like him so much that it feels woven into everything else; weaved into the noises of the party, the black of the night, the grass tickling the back of your legs.

You like him so much it makes you sick.

On second thought, that might be the alcohol.

Steve’s response, whatever it might be, vanishes when you rip your hand away and sit up suddenly — emptying to contents of your stomach into a lovely rosebush to your right. Disgusted with the sudden visual aid to what you had for dinner, you groan. The movement has sent your head spinning again, rotating out of the same orbit as Earth.

Steve’s palm soothes down your spine, rubbing warmth as he murmurs comfortingly.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he mutters, more to himself. “You’ll be feeling it in the mornin’.”

You groan again, eyes sliding shut and tumbling you into darkness.

Fact #8: You’re never drinking, ever again.

You’ll be feeling it in the morning. The last memory of last night curls up like smoke in your head and all you can think is Steve was fucking right.

The sheets feel scratchy as you release an agonised noise into your pillow, coiling in tighter. There’s a pounding in your head, bleeding out of your ears and eyes and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so terrible in your life.

Eyes screwed shut tight, you move slowly and draw your head up. Sneaking a look, relief fizzes in your chest as the recognition of your sheets — you made it home, you’re in bed. Never mind that you can’t quite remember how you got here. A shuffle of your legs tells you, uncomfortably, you’re still in last night’s jeans.

What time is it? There’s sun coming through the gap in the curtains. Daytime. Some sleep-covered murmur escapes you, though even you can’t tell what it’s supposed to mean.

Plopping your head back down, you search your memories. It’s an effort to push past your headache to put together the puzzle of last night. Visions of arriving at the party, of drink number one, and dancing with Robin are clear but sometime after O’Connor shows up they begin to get hazy.

You remember the cool grass. The moon. Steve. God, that’s right, he was there — what you might have said to him is anyone’s guess. Another grainy and fogged memory of puking in the bushes. The rest of the night is locked behind a tequila fueled paywall in your brain

Burrowing back into your sheets, the hangover takes priority and you only hope to sleep it off.

—

The next time you wake, the pounding in your head has shifted to the door.

You can’t have been asleep for more than an hour according to your alarm clock, blinking midday numbers back at you as you drag your head up. Thankfully, a large portion of your hangover has been cured with sleep — otherwise, the unending knocks on your door might be the end of you.

You struggle to speak, aware of your sandpaper throat but whatever gurgle you produce is good enough for whoever is on the other side of the door. Robin, judging by the intensity of their knocks.

Lo and behold, Robin bowls into the room once she hears signs of life.

“What did you say to Steve?”

Oh.

That has you sitting up, wincing at the pain it brings and you nurse your head in your hands. “What?” you rasp out. “Nothing!”

That might be a lie. You wince again, searching through you scrambled memories for what she could be referring to and come up short. Robin can read your genuine confusion.

“Why?” The word comes out a bit shot. You clear your throat. “Did he say something to you?”

“Nothing specific,” Robin grimaces a bit. She’s never been the best at hiding her emotions. “He just— he asked if you’d talked to me. Said he was checking if you were still alive. Which, yanno, thank god you are! He said you barfed in Melody’s mom’s rose bush, which quite frankly is hilarious and—“

“Robin.” you moan, trying to cut off her ramble. “Why are you here?”

Robin seems to remember the original reason she was nearly breaking down your door, body jumping like she’s been zapped. “Right!”

She suddenly seems to reconsider herself, ducking her head and beginning a well practiced pace across your carpet. “I know you said you don’t like him, which I get, I know- he was the worst! But I dunno, you seemed to, like, I don’t know? Warm up to him? I guess, he just seemed real bummed on the phone when I said you hadn’t called me.”

A series of emotions jolt through your nerves, none as strong as the elation at hearing Steve had called to ask about you. You push it down with another groan and fling yourself backward, bouncing on the springs of your mattress.

Hands hiding your face, you mumble the next words as if you don’t quite want Robin to hear them.

“I don’t not like him.”

“And I can’t tell what that is supposed mean.” Her pacing hasn’t ceased. Her arms gesticulate wildly as she speaks. “You don’t not like him sorta, to me, just sounds like you like him!”

“Robin,” you whine, well aware of the way she can read you like words on a page. “What do you wanna hear? That you were right?”

Robin halts her pacing, leaning her knees onto the edge of your mattress. You peek at her through your fingers. She’s looking a little more wide-eyed. “Yes. Absolutely. If my two favourite people in the world could suddenly get along, maybe even be friends, I think I’d like to know.”

“We’re not—”

“But that is not why I’m here.” She’s gone serious, brows raised as her voice turns softer. You nearly think she’s taunting you, a hint of a smile hidden in her expression.

“I’m here to discuss the distinct possibility that you have managed to skip the part where we become a cool trio of friends and have traveled into more than friends territory.”

Damn her. She’s too good, unspooling your secret right after you’ve only just managed to admit it aloud (not that you could remember that thought). Dragging your hands down your face, you groan again — there’s no point in hiding it from Robin, especially when she seems to have you all figured out.

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘wow Robin, you’re incredibly smart and totally right’.” She jibes, looking far too smug.

Perplexingly, she doesn’t appear to care that you confirmed Steve had you feeling gooey inside and weak at the knees. You dredge yourself to a sitting position, blankets pooling at your waist, and regard her with as much sarcasm as you can.

“Wow, Robin,” you drawl tiredly, still a bit catty from your lack of sleep. “You’re so totally right.”

“Don’t forget the incredibly smart part.”

You wallop her thigh with your sleeve, halfhearted and not at all mean. She grins. For a moment, you’re monumentally relieved to be sharing this with her — you’re best friends, talking about a boy you like, back to feeling thick as thieves with her.

“You gotta talk to him though, you know that right?”

A sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

—

By the time you’ve rinsed the last of your hangover down the shower drain, washed down with the suds of your strawberry shampoo, the sun is nearing the horizon.

Droplets cling to the ends of your hair, leaving a trail behind you on the carpet as you don fresh clothes. You try your best not to analyse each piece, shoving down any self-doubts and recalling Steve’s generous compliments littered through the past couple of months.

Tonight. It had to be tonight, you decided. Any longer and you’d lose the nerve, crawl back to avoidance because you’re not really sure you want to hear what you said to him in the garden.

You can only imagine it’s some confusing amalgamation of your complicated feelings — mixed with the amount of alcohol you had drunk? It was a stab in the dark trying to guess what you had said.

The plan you have is half-baked at best. The walk to Loch Nora isn’t far — but if your plan goes south, you’ll have plenty of time to wallow and clear your tears on the walk home. Thankfully, It’s still too early for dinner. You can smell the beginnings of it bubbling on the stove as you creep down the stairs.

As soundlessly as you can, you slip out the front door. Warm air greets you. The sunbeams trickle across the sky, dipping lower behind the horizon and painting soft blemishes of pink and orange across the sky.

The other perk of the walk is that you’ll have ample time to decide what you’ll say to Steve; you can deliberate each word, orchestrated so that it can be played down if need be. Minimal cringe and hurt feelings.

You’re running a few options over in your head when the rumble of a car cruising down your road draws your eyes. With a startle, you realise it’s a familiar maroon colour — a car you’d been in just over a week ago.

You watch as Steve parks, evidently so entrapped in his own thoughts to notice you on the doorstep. He’s messing with his hair anxiously, eyes on the ground and when you look closer, his mouth is moving, an indication he’s talking out loud to himself.

He makes it halfway up the driveway before you stumble out to meet him.

“Steve?” You call out and his head shoots up, a little alarmed to see you. His steps falter, the pair of you met in the middle of your drive.

“Y/n. Hi.” For someone who had come to your house, he seems a bit affronted to be seeing you. Acutely, you realise that he’s nervous. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the road. “Were you— is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to intrude—”

“No!” You squeak. “No, I was just... coming to see you, actually.”

“Oh.” Steve blinks. He ducks his head for a moment, clearing his throat but you still spot the pink on his cheeks. “How’s your head? You’d had, uh, a lot to drink last night.”

There’s only a mild rush of embarrassment to your system, a sheepish grin playing at your lips. “Right. Last night- I’m sorry you had to, er, see that. Or rather, thank you for taking care of me.”

Steve smiles back. One hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous motion. You don’t mean to zero in on his large bicep, tan skin on display with his short sleeves but it’s impossible not to — Jesus Christ, it’s like he’s doing it on purpose.

You smile timidly, willing your cheeks to cool.

“Yeah, about that.” He starts, eyes shifting about nervously. He can’t pick a spot to focus, too nervous to look you in the eyes.

Steve’s been throwing around your words ever since you uttered them to him in the garden. And now I can’t stop thinking about you. Tone so sweet, so sincere, your brows drawn together like it hurt you to admit how much Steve had been on your mind.

His stomach had nearly turned itself inside out at your reveal, nerves flaming and relief coursing at the realisation that it was mutual. You’d been on Steve’s mind since even before you’d given him your softest smiles after bottle smashing, sugary grins over your milkshake, a genuineness you’d never shared with him before — and after? God, it had driven him mad.

But then you’d scampered out of the car like a spooked animal. Stopped coming by Family Video and cursedly, seemed to slip back into an old pattern of ignoring him.

Then, the garden.

God, if you hadn’t been drunk, and maybe if Steve wasn’t so surprised by the sweetness you showed him, he might’ve kissed you.

Holding your palm against his, you might as well have been grabbing his hopes and hoisting them out of the depths — that perhaps, your avoidance stemmed from something different this time round.

Steve takes in your shy expression, bottom lip trapped in your teeth, and prays it’s all for the same reason he’s nervous and not instead, because you’re trying to awkwardly figure out how to tell him it was all the alcohol talking.

“What you said…” He’s trying to be nice to his feelings, on the defence in case he’s so terribly wrong about this. About you. “Did— did you mean that?”

The face you pull doesn’t instill him with confidence, his stomach plummeting at your hesitance. Fuck. He’d overshot, as usual, clinging too tightly to the threads of affection you’d shown him.

“I…” You’re unsure where to begin. God, what did you say?

Steve thinks he can garner what reaction that is; it’s the exact opposite of what his heart had managed to convince him. You went back to avoiding him on purpose. He cuts you off hoping to save himself some awkward rejection, shaking his head and taking a step back.

“Don’t worry. It was— you were drunk,” Embarrassment starts flooding in, a hot uncomfortable flush up his neck that makes Steve want to sink into the ground. “I shouldn’t have— it was weird of me to ask.”

He’s rambling too fast to get a word in. You take a step forward as he takes another step back, worried that he’ll leave before you can even get a word in. Never mind that all plans for orchestrating the perfect thing to say are out the window — you have to say something.

“I don’t know what I said!” You blurt, desperate to halt his retreat. It works; Steve stops, taken aback by your words. Oh God, what now? You debate where to start.

“Seriously, I— Robin came over and was talking about how you’d called and— I-I remember some of last night but it’s a bit—”

“You don’t...” Steve interrupts, giving a confused shake of his head. The wind ruffles his hair, strands dancing over his forehead. “Remember any of it?”

Why does it feel like you’ve disappointed him? Despite your initial wish to not relive whatever you’d said in the garden, you’re suddenly dying to remember. Even now, you can feel yourself combing the hazy memories, hoping there’s a stone you’ve yet to turn. It’s fruitless.

“I remember embarrassing myself by puking in the bushes.” You grimace as you say it, heat rising in your face. You can feel your nerves fraying, heart pounding but none of it in a good way. “Look, Steve, does it matter what I said? I-“

“It does.” He says, voice suddenly lower. It rasps, more serious than before. “It matters if you meant it. Do you?”

He takes another step forward, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. The same comforting musky scent as when he pushed the safety glasses up your nose and tucked your hair behind your ears in the woods together, touch gentle and eyes kind.

“You said,” He breathes, his honey eyes hopeful. “You couldn’t stop thinking about me.”

Oh.

It seems to be a habit of yours; rewinding through your actions towards Steve in the past, heavy with regret. He’d still been sweet, checking on you out in the garden even though you’d left him in the dark for a week. After managing to make you forget the worst date ever.

Then you’d upchucked your feelings, so drunk you couldn’t remember it, and then your dinner too. You were a mess; Steve Harrington made you a lovely absolute mess. Fuck, you’d likely ruined whatever chance at something with him.

But then again, here he was.

Still showing up, enough hope to dredge together the courage to drive over and ask you what it meant.

“I meant it.” You say, softly. You feel captured in his gaze, pulled into his orbit with no choice about it. He’s like the sun, gravity pulling you closer the longer you stand this close to him. Your heart feels like it’s made of jelly, each thump echoing out into your limbs. “I— fuck, you made it so hard to hate you. I used—”

“—Used to hate me.” Steve recites the words before you can say them, amusement in his voice. Some of his nervousness has leaked out, shoulders less tight. You can nearly see a glint of his Harrington charm in the curl of his lips. “Yeah, you said that last night too.”

It’s said to poke fun, teasing you for last night’s loose tongue. You groan, head tilting back. “God, anything else I said last night that I should know about?”

Steve steps closer. It makes your breath hitch, your head straightening up and bringing your faces closer still. You’re not sure where this is going, not sure what he’s thinking, if he can hear the thunder of your heart — he hasn’t even said anything that implies the feelings are mutual.

You vaguely wonder how he knew that your words held more weight than they appeared. He’d been paying more attention than you’d expected; knowing that I can’t stop thinking about you meant more than what was on the surface.

This time, you know him well enough to know that his teasing is not mocking. That the Steve in front of you is not at all like the one you’d remembered from the school hallways, the one who’d thrown around shitty comments, had notches in his belt, and didn’t care who got hurt as a result.

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he says, “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

The world doesn’t stop spinning, but for a moment, it certainly feels that way. Blood rushes in your ears, blooms under your cheeks, and the words sink in. The wind sounds like the sweetest music, the colour spread across the sky is a shade that could only be called love and a boy is telling you he likes you too.

It faintly occurs that the silly teenage daydream you pictured with Bradley — you’re instead getting with a boy you swore you hated not two months ago.

It makes you like him even more.

He’s earned it, your trust, your affection — your kiss.

Wordlessly, you surge forward at the same time Steve does. You clash, gifting each other an awkward headbutt instead of some swooning kiss. Pain splinters momentarily across your forehead, gone after a moment.

You can’t help it, a laugh bursting from your lips. You’re so nervous. It doesn’t deter you, peering up at him with adoring eyes. Somehow, you still manage a tease. “Were you trying to kiss me, Harrington?”

His hands cup your face, fingers tucked under your jaw, and thumbs stroking your cheeks. His own smile barely contained, elation shining in his eyes.

“I will if you stop calling me that.”

He kisses you before you even get a chance to agree.

There’s bliss hidden in his lips, you think happily. Steve kisses soft, plush lips that mold to yours like its second nature, two pieces of the universe aligning.

You can feel the heat of his mouth, the scratch of his thumbs upon your face and you sigh, content, into the kiss because no one has ever kissed you like this.

He kisses you and suddenly, there is no war-torn battle in your mind. Your hands have twisted into the fabric on his shirt, tugging him closer. It’s unbearable. You want him, completely, embarrassingly, and undeniably. You’ll take anything he’ll give you — you want him to give you everything.

When the kiss breaks, it’s only for a moment; Steve presses another, short and gentle, then another, and another, like he can’t handle not stealing another taste of your lips.

“Steve,” you rasp, chuckling a bit. Your eyes are still closed, like you’re worried it’ll all be some dream if you dare to open them. His nose nudges yours, crushing closer to you, unwilling to relent the closeness he’s finally been granted.

“Let me take you out.” He whispers and it’s enough to open your eyes, lashes crinkling as you beam up at him. Steve drops a kiss on your cheek, thumbs stroking with a tender care that makes you shiver. “Please.”

As if you could say no. You give a minuscule nod but your delight is given away in your smile, eyes bright as you admire each detail of his face fondly. “Yeah, alright.”

It makes him laugh, amusement dancing across his features, and God, he looks so handsome you have to kiss him again.

You do, hands escaping the confines of his shirt and twisting around his neck. Steve hums happily, something you’ll come to learn he does whenever you kiss him first. It makes you gleeful, a shot of pure euphoria tipping down your spine. You shiver, wonderfully.

“Just promise me,” you say when you pull back, breathing a titch ragged. You grin. “Not a movie date.”

Steve grins, one hand leaving your face to curl around your waist. It’s warm, heat radiating into your skin.

“Still no faith in me, sweetheart?” He chides, fingers dancing along the skin of your waist, giving away his joy. The pet name makes your knees weak, a flash of a forgotten memory in the garden breaking through.

“Something tells me you’ll convince me.”

Fact #9: The first fact is a lie.

His next kiss feels like a promise; that he’ll do the work to convince you, just like he’d done the last few months. That he’d be more than happy to. You drink in affection from a boy who’s so sweet on you with a happy sigh.

He tastes like sunlight.

Fact #10: You might just be falling in love with Steve Harrington.

taggin sum mutuals below!

@hawkinsindiana @spideystevie @harringtonbf @writtenbybelle @hoesbloated @familyvideostevie @lurkymurker @sattlersquarry @steddiesandwich @circesstars @upsidedownwithsteve @raggedyoldwitch @sunshinehollandd @ohschmidts @appocalipse

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ddejavvu · 9 months

Note

What about Hotch sneaking wife!reader and Jack into his hotel room during an away case and getting caught? He just wants to sleep by his love cause he can’t sleep without her since they got married 🥹

Aaron doesn't think much about forgoing an alarm when he falls asleep by your side. Their case is over, they've done all they need to, and they're just waiting on a delay at the airport that's preventing planes from taking off. There's no reason he needs to be out of bed early, and there's definitely no reason he needs to wake you and Jack up at an ungodly hour with an alarm. He's lucky enough to have gotten scheduled for a case alongside one of Jack's soccer tournaments, and for once in his life all of the pieces fall into place perfectly. He'd snuck you into his hotel room, he'd tucked Jack in on the couch, and he'd crawled right into your arms. He's going to take the opportunity given to him by the suddenly-gracious universe, bury his face in your shoulder, and sleep, no alarm necessary.

However, Aaron Hotchner should know by now, that the universe is never gracious. Not to him.

"Hotch?" JJ's voice is muffled by the door, incessant knocks beginning when there's no answer, "Hotch, the storm cleared, and planes are starting to take off again. We're schedule for an hour from now. Are you up?"

"Aaron," You hiss, suddenly filled with a panic you're not sure how to deal with, "Aaron, your- wake up!"

"Daddy?" Jack, evidently roused from the racket, rubs blearily at his left eye, "Daddy, is that Auntie JJ?"

"Is- Is that Jack? Hotch, open up." JJ tries the handle, but of course, it doesn't budge. Jack, ever the helper, takes his dad's groggy, half-awake silence and your own petrified one, as permission to help his aunt out, and almost trips on his blanket as he rushes for the door.

"Jack-" You whisper, trying to shout quietly. When he doesn't hear you, you try louder, even though it'll give you away, "Jack, no!"

"Auntie JJ!" Jack gushes, swinging the door wide open to greet her. The slim blonde is given a full, unobscured view of Aaron's bare chest pressed against your clothed one. He's awake, but barely so, and he's pushed himself off of where he'd been laying over your chest. But you're also trying to sit up, and it just pushes you together again.

JJ's eyes are wide and dancing with amusement, something you know she's going to channel directly into a gossip session with Penelope later. You suppose you understand, you'd want to share the juicy details too, but it's mortifying as she sees you now in bed with her boss.

"Well, good morning," She smirks, ruffling Jack's hair when he hugs her leg, "Uh, sir, I was just coming to let you know that we're scheduled for a flight soon, but if you're otherwise occupied, I can just tell the others you'll meet us back in Quantico?"

"Do not tell anyone anything." Aaron orders, apparently not needing much time in the morning to get his grumpiness going. He narrows his eyes at JJ, "What time do we leave?"

"10:30." None of his sternness can wipe the grin off of her face.

"We'll be gone by 10." You assure Aaron in a soft voice, too embarrassed to let JJ hear you speak.

"Perfect." She gushes, and you're even more mortified that she picked up on your soft murmurs anyways, "Well, sir, sounds like that's all set. But if you want, I can take Jack, and you two can have some alone time? I'm sure the team wouldn't mind, we can ask him all about-"

"No." Aaron snaps, but Jack's already latched onto her leg, sitting atop her foot, "Absolutely not. Jack, come back inside, please."

"Soccer." She clarifies with a knowing smirk, already backing away from the door with the little boy stuck to her, "We'll ask him all about soccer."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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aeshiiteiru · 1 year

Note

soo could you write about dazai, chuuya and tecchou's red green and beige flags?

…My Flags?

— Their green, red and beige flags ft. O.Dazai, N. Chuuya, S. Tetchou

— Warnings & Notes

sfw | Mix

|| thx for the request, made me have an unwanted reality check lmao

|| kinda angsty but also fluffy and funny, those are based on my own thoughts and opinions!

m.list | writing rules

— Dazai

The green flags

He tries his best to be a good boyfriend. Of course it takes time and effort, but he really tries to give his all for you and you notice it (most of the time). He just tries his best for you (even though he has his moments)

He showers you with compliments. He wants you to know what he feels for you every step of the way. Some compliments are actually just so ridiculous it’s funny

“Mh, ‘bella! You’re so beautiful I would definitely steal your photos, make a fake account, and impress other people online!”

“That’s, uh….creepy but cute, thank you love…”

Conversation with him are never boring! He will find thousands of stupid topics just to talk to you about them! He wants to hear you laugh and see you smile as you state your opinions on all these weird things. (He probably doesn’t want to do his work smh)

The red flags

He tends to gaslight you…a lot. Mostly about that you’re just paranoid that he gaslights you. He doesn’t do it on purpose most of the time, it’s just how he is.

Unfortunately he still flirts with other women. He isn’t cheating, but the sweet words and looks still happen sometimes. He does it unintentionally, but it’s there, it happens. He says he tries to get rid of these habits, but you’re doubtful.

Dazai runs away from his problems. Always. Whenever there is a conflict between you two he tries to brush it off and act like everything is okey. That is until he notices you’re genuinely upset with him, then he just leaves. He leaves and returns after a few hours or days of no contact and acts like nothing happened again.

The beige flags

When he notices that he accidentally made you cry, he will jump on top of you to aggressively suck the tears off your face like some human vacuum in order to make you laugh and feel better. It’s ridiculous but it works.

Whenever you ask him what he wants to eat he always, always replies with “you” or “nothing”. No in-between, no specifics. It was funny at first, but at some point you just started to sigh and shake your head at it.

He keeps his undies that have holes in them so that he can surprise you by walking out the bathroom and tearing them off his body only leaving the waist band. He calls it the “grand reveal”. Always whenever you least expect it. Makes you question many things.

— Chuuya

The green flags

He notices the little things. You have a sparkle in your eyes whenever you see a flower you like? Expect a bouquet of these flowers on the table the next day. You pick out a vegetable from your food because you don’t like it? He noticed, and he made sure that that vegetable never appears in your house ever again.

Yeah so he is always trying to impress you with things. He often makes a fool out of himself because of it, but it brings a smile to your face so you let him do his thing.

Chuuya loves to gossip about people with you. You know the second he says “you won’t believe what happened.” Means you’re in for the hottest, spiciest tea spill in history. His gossip is always so juicy it leaves you gasping with every sentence. You love how he trusts only you with it.

The red flags

The way he expresses his anger makes you feel unsafe sometimes. You never know when he will accidentally harm you during one of his anger outbursts. It’s very worrisome to you and actually him too.

He is an alcoholic already a separate red flag, so stuff happens when he is wasted (which is often). Chuuya often tells you hurtful things during that time. It’s things he would never, ever allow to leave his mouth while sober, but we all know drunk Chuuya is not your Chuuya anymore.

Always needs to know where you are and what you’re doing. He is very, very controlling. Is it because he is worried? Possessive? Obsessive?? No one knows. But he is, and it’s suffocating sometimes. You basically have no privacy. (It’s probably because he has trust issues that you’ll leave him at some point just like others ekhem Dazai )

“So, where are you going? Who will you be with?”

“….to a bar, with just some friends..?”

“Is that so? What friends? Actually, I’ll have some of my men go with you to be sure you’ll be fine.”

“……”

The beige flags

Whenever he spills the hot tea of the day in the mafia, you’re no longer “love, dear, doll or baby” etc. No, no, that’s when you become “dawg” or “bro” and you deal with it. He is not aware of it and you never tell him. You are dawg. That’s final.

Whenever he misplaces his belongings, the first thing he does is ask you “what did you do with my (insert item)?” It doesn’t matter what it is, his phone, his hat whatever, he thinks you took it.

When you guys go to bed he scoots closer and closer over the course of the night in order to cuddle you, except he always scoots a little too much and you always end up falling off the bed, and then when you try to get him to move back a little he will complain that it’s late and you should be sleeping instead of waking him up. (He is only half awake the whole time, forgive him for being a bitch)

— Tetchou

The green flags

He respects your boundaries. When you say no, it means no, and he understands.

He never flinches when you order something no sane person would eat. That's because he also does that. (It should be a red flag that his taste in food is horrendous, but he will never judge you sooo forgiven)

He always listens to you. He might not understand a thing you're talking about, or might not get why that thing is so exciting but he will listen, and agree with everything you say to show you he is interested and is paying attention.

The red flags

Puts his job above you. You always come second. He loves you, but if the job required him to break up with you, he would without a second thought. I’m sorry, justice above all.

He is lacking in emotional intelligence. He doesn't really know how to comfort you or empathize with you which leaves you to mostly deal with the emotional distress yourself.

Sleeps with his socks on during summer. Thats all, that’s the reddest flag.

The beige flags

Whenever he's hungry and you're not he will starve himself, because he refuses to eat when you're not eating. It makes him feel bad and you don’t get why.

Whenever you ask him a question he will answer without elaboration. —

"How was work?"

"Good. As usually."

— A man of few words, but you need him to spill the details, right now.

He can't use emojis. He thinks “🙄” is someone looking up, not an eye-roll. It makes texting more difficult than it should…

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd tetchou #tetchou x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #tetchou suehiro #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd fluff #bsd flags #bsd angst #bsd crack

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thepersonnamedsam · 1 year

Text

baby me - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: charles had a bad race in spain and wants to be babied afterwards

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst, xavi (bc he seems to be a trigger warning himself) and some google translated french

note: i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it

masterlist / taglist

You watched FP1 and FP2 in your hotel room. The steam of your freshly hot shower was still lingering as you watched the cars drive in circles. It had went okay for Charles, not the best but also not the worst.

You watched FP3 from the Ferrari Motorhome. It went okay, with Charles at P7 Carlos at P4. Usually you would’ve watched the race from the stands with Isa, but something happened between her and Carlos some time before Spain. Charles had promised you all the gossip after the race. But with a qualifying like this? You’d doubt he’d tell you all the juicy details.

It was qualifying who hurt the most. It started to rain and nobody really got a good lap in before driver by driver retired from the race, so did Charles. Just, he was P19. Your heart hurt, clenched for your boyfriend. You knew he would be disappointed in himself.

You waited in the garage, Xavi was standing next to you and talked something about strategy to you. But you didn’t listen, you just waited for him to come back. When he did, he crumbled in your arms. You didn’t know if sweat droplets or tears hit your shoulders. Anyway you comforted the Ferrari driver as best as you could.

As he was taken to the car by his engineers, you gave him a good luck kiss and held on to his Forza Ferrari bracelet.

You didn’t really pay attention, well you did, but your focus wasn’t always on the TV i front of you. Every time they didn’t focus on Charles, your eyes drifted around the garage and you found something else that interested you more. As you watched the TV once more, you saw Charles was P7! He was in the points! He did it, he went from P19 to P7. He had done it again, he is sich’s brilliant driver. But then you heard Xavi talking to him. He told him to box. You heard your boyfriend complain about the tire change over the coms, but they changed them anyway.

That’s when it happened, he dropped out of the points again. Fucking Xavi. In the end, Charles finished the race with P11, which was a good progression, but still disappointing, at least for your boyfriend.

You waited for him. Waited until he finished his media duties. Waited for him to pack up and change back into his normal clothes. You waited for him to fall into your arms.

„Bébé, I want to go home. Please.“ You never heard this much sadness in his voice. It broke your heart. He was your everything and seeing him like this was the worst.

„Aww chéri, of course, I’ll take you home“, you whispered to him. His head laid on your shoulders. A déjà vu hit you, as you felt your freshly dried shoulder getting wet again. But this time you knew it wasn’t his sweat. You sighed, your arms stretched around his upper body.

„C’mon, ma lune my moon, let’s go to the hotel“, you told him and took him by his hand. Out of the paddock and in front of the car, you waited for him to get in the drivers seat.

„I don’t wanna drive anymore“, he said and threw the keys to you. You giggled a bit and changed sides with him. He almost never lets you drive, well usually you didn’t like to drive, but when you would like to drive, he mostly doesn’t let you. So, you take it with honour.

The ride was short and you were soon in the elevator up to your room. Charles looked tired, he was always tired after a race, but he seemed different tired. Like ‚tired of the world’ tired. He just seemed so, how could you best describe it? He just seemed so down. Like nothing could disappoint him anymore. As MJ from Spider-Man said: „If you expect disappointment you’ll never actually disappointed.“ You thought that this was exactly how Charles views his life at the moment.

His body seemed skunked down and his eyes deep in his socket. You saw the dark circles under his eyes, the gray hairs that are starting to grow and all the stress pimples on his face. You could’ve cried at his sight.

As the doors closed on the elevator, he leaned his body on yours. Your nails were scratching his back, up and down. You hummed lightly, doing the thing your mother used to do, when you were in a bad mood. You tried to soothe him. Did it work? You had no idea.

The ping of the elevator brought you back to reality and you took Charles by his hand and led him to your room.

„Peux-tu me chérir? Can you baby me?“, he asked you, as you closed the door. You took your shoes and jacket off. You did the same to Charles, his hoodie slipped right off his body and the jeans were long gone. Nothing was sexual about this, not even in the slightest. You gave Charles a big smooch and told him to wait for you.

The bathroom was big and bright, that’s why you tried to find some candles or something like candles - something that would dim the place a bit. The only thing you found were the lamps on your nightstands.

You ran a bath, put some bubbles in and ordered Charles to join you in the bathtub. You always took some face masks with you. Charles closed his eyes as you put it on his face. „My pretty baby“, you cooed. He was truly magnificent. „Let’s take a relaxing bath, yeah?“

You climbed into the tub first, you let him rest his back on your chest. Again, there was nothing sexual about this. He soon changed the position and laid his head on your chest. Your hands around his back, you scratched his skin with your nails. They left thin red marks on it. His arms were stretched around your shoulders and he squeezed them to his body.

You reached to the shampoo on the side and you squirted some on your hand. You rubbed them together and massaged his head. He sighed. His body visibly relaxed, slouched against yours. The mood lifted and you could feel his heart starting to beat slower. You were glad that he started to relax.

You removed his face mask, massaging the rest of the serum into his skin. „Mon joli bébé my beautiful baby“, you murmured, „you deserve the world, chéri.“ He breathed heavily, almost on the verge of crying again, but he held himself back.

„Mon soleil my sun, let it out, it’s okay“, you reassured him and the dam broke. His sobs broke your heart, it clenched for him. You’d do anything- you’d give anything for his happiness.

„Baby, c’mon, I’m gonna wash your hair real quick and we’ll get out and go to bed m, sound good?“, you asked him and he just nodded. You washed his hair and dried him when he stepped out of the tub - just like a baby.

His body still slummed agains yours, he leaned all his weight on you and you were happy to carry it for him. You rubbed his shoulders, humming a soothing tune again.

„Allez petit garçon c’mon little boy, let’s go to bed“, you ordered him to bed. The white and soft cushions seemed so inviting. The satin covers soft against your newly washed skin. You both sighed as you sunk into the bed. The heaviness of the day only seemed to kick in now. Your shoulders stiff and heavy but it was okay - it was okay because of him. You did it all for him.

You both snuggled into the bed, his head laid on your chest, again, and your hands in his hair - scratching and tugging. „I love you, je t‘aime tellement I love you so much“, you told him.

„I love you more, mon amour my love. And I am so grateful for you. Thank you.“

°°°

taglist: @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @topguncultleader , @ironmaiden1313

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc #spain gp 2023 #baby

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chrollohearttags · 6 months

Text

commissions corner: lesson learned

you always had a tendency to express yourself through fashion but your husband happens to not agree with one of your outfit choices (or your attitude) and decides, you need to be punished!

content warning + themes: cowboy!reiner, mean dom!rei (🤤 bc hello) black fem reader, calls reader slut, rough sex, bondage, clothes ripping, tit fucking, cumshot, spanking, backshots, fingering, spit play, creampie, dumbification, throat fucking, squirting, hair pulling, daddy is used.

word count: 6.5K

this is a commission for @naodreaming! Thank you so much for entrusting this fic to me. I appreciate your patience and do hope that it was worth the wait! Please enjoy 🫶🏾

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marriage: a beautiful conception of two people’s undying love. A bond binding two souls together in bliss for all of eternity. Some choose to solidify their unions with a mere court house appearance and the legal confirmation of a certificate. Others want to go all out with a ceremony, reception dinners, honeymoons..the works. But no matter how you choose to join together with your sweetheart, there is one thing all couples can agree on and that’s the fact that no relationship is perfect! As much as we’d like to think that it’s all sunshine and rainbows, it’s all about compromise, learning and getting out of your own ways. That much became apparent when one day, your husband of five years approached you about a matter that had been weighing heavily on his mind..and other things as well..

“Seriously, Rei? I don’t understand the big deal. It’s just a fucking skirt, who cares?”

“First of all, watch your mouth. I won’t say it again. Second, I care. No woman of mine is gonna be struttin ‘round here, dressed like that. What’s gotten into ya’ anyways, (Y/N)? This isn’t like you.”

This conversation was one that was ultimately inevitable but important nonetheless. What started out as a simple disagreement had escalated into something rather serious. The two of you had never fought or even raised your voices at each other since you’d been together. But now? You were ready to rip his fucking head off! How dare this man treat you like his child rather than his equal? You were livid!

“Because, Reiner! I’m a grown ass woman so don’t tell me what I can and can’t wear–” he truly couldn’t believe what he was hearing..how had his sweetheart of a woman become so aggressive? And over an outfit of all things?! But little did he know, this had been long overdue and the cause of such a breaking point? Well he’d be surprised to know..

flashback - two weeks ago

“(Y/N), come onnn..hurry up!”

“Just a minute. I’m trying to find something.”

It was a sentence they had heard uttered many times before. Honestly, it had become the norm when the four of you linked up for a girls night. You and your three best friends would go out once every couple weeks to play catch up in one another’s lives, divulge in juicy family and workplace gossip and just overall, decompress from kids, husbands and all other stress inducers that came with being an adult. As for you, you were the luckiest among the quartet. No children at the moment, running a successful cooking blog and spending your rancher hubby’s money at your leisure. Your only true occupation was to look pretty and be happy. Honestly, it was all that your sweet Reiner could ever hope for as he spent hours in the hot sun, rustling cattle, baling hay and keeping the one hundred plus acres of farmland in order. He’d work himself to the bone just to see a smile on that gorgeous face. To say he was twisted around your pretty little manicured fingers would be a gross understatement. Some would even call him whipped!..but how could he possibly help himself when you were the literal embodiment of a goddess? That curvaceous figure, deep, decadent skin and gorgeous eyes that could pry anything from him. He was smitten. Perhaps a bit too much sometimes..it was never in a toxic or obsessive manner but you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your husband didn’t have a bit of a jealous side to him. You had to admit, it was cute at times..seeing him get all flustered because some guy stared too hard or tried to hit on you and you’d politely turn them down, reminding them that you were taken and happily so. You’d remind him constantly that he was the only man you’d ever love. In fact, you were equally as infatuated. Practically unable to pull yourself away from him after he’s come home from working all day, drenched in sweat and scars from hauling heavy equipment. Admiring all of his newly acquired muscles..even adding to the collection of markings at the end of the night. But the one thing Reiner despised more than anything was sharing what was his. He loved when you showed off your body..dressing in frilly lingerie or tiny outfits but only when he’d be the sole spectator of said ensembles.

however, you had other plans for the night!

finally stepping from the shadows, heels clicking against the laminate flooring of your two story cabin style home, you’d present yourself to the group. “Okay, ladies. What do we think?” To your dismay though, it wouldn’t be praise or approval you’d be receiving from the other three standing in your living room at the moment. But rather snickers and waves of dismissal. Standing dumbfounded with your purse in hand, (Y/N) questioned what the trio so tickled.

“Girl, we’re going to the lounge for drinks and to dance. Not for praise and worship.”

“Right. Girl, put them damn kitten heels and granny skirts back in that closet.”

Taking one more look over your outfit, you’d try to see what was so wrong with your choice of attire but had no idea. A simple black dress with red bottom slingbacks and a clutch..a sleek and classic look for a grown and sexy night out. But perhaps, this was far too grown. Almost grown enough to be collecting social security! It was outdated and a little old fashioned. Especially when they were all dressed in skin tight bodycon dresses and heels higher than heaven. It would completely throw off the vibe. But they knew the real reason for such a look and needless to say, they didn’t like it. Out of respect for your husband, you tended to dress more modestly when going out with the ladies. It wasn’t a matter of control or fear that made you do so..but one night when you came home with your ass hanging out and tits bouncing around in a revealing top, Reiner couldn’t take his eyes or hands off of you. You looked amazing but after he finished peeling those thin layers off of you and devouring you right there on the couch, you could tell that there was a sense of sadness that had washed over him. He didn’t outwardly say it and he was even a little bashful when admitting it but you got it out of him and what he had to say truly broke your heart:

“Ahh..I don’t know, sugar. It’s just..ya’ look so beautiful and I know how happy it makes ya’ to wear those out with your girls but it makes me a little uncomfortable, ya know? I don’t ever wanna tell ya’ what to do. I trust you and I’m not worried about some other guy but..if ya’ could just tone it back a little..”

he was so sweet about it, you couldn’t help but to comply! It crushed you to think that you’d ever upset your beloved husband. Especially when he was so good to you. And trust, when it was for his viewing pleasure only, you’d have him sweating bullets but for now? You could make that sacrifice. Little did you know, you’d become the laughing stock amongst your group because of it. Ushering her way over to you, one of the friends would drape an arm around your shoulder and breathe a sigh.

“Sis, you know I ain’t trying to cause problems with you and your man but don’t you think this is a bit much? I mean, honestly. I think it’s cute that you’re trying to be the good little wife and all but be for real..this is not your style. You and I both know that.”

before you could even utter a word, another would interject and second the notion. They didn’t want to be those friends who planted bugs in your ear and caused turmoil in your home but they felt as though Reiner may have been asking too much of you. Considering that it was that skin tight attire that bagged in the first place! Hell, when you first met him, you were straddling a mechanic bull in booty shorts and a crop top. A belly button dangling from your pudgy stomach and that ass sitting so heavy, he fucked on the first night. So they didn’t understand the need for reservation now. And the more they spoke..neither did you.

“Yeah, boo. I ain’t wanna say nothing but this whole First Lady thing you got goin on is not it. Girl, you used to have your foot on these bitches’ necks when we went out. Everybody was looking at you and now? You're dressing like Olivia Pope with a hennessy bottle. It’s crazy.”

you knew they meant well but truthfully, they were overreacting..or so you thought! In a moment of haste and you trying to explain the choice of outfit, they would spin you around to the full length mirror and allow you to observe for yourself. “C’mon y'all. You’re making a big deal out of nothing–” but as you saw firsthand, they were not. And this whole frumpy look was a total buzzkill. Feeling up the fabric, you couldn’t believe it..right now, it felt as if you were staring at an entirely different woman. It was a much needed intervention for you and you decided right then and there, that although you loved your husband more than life itself, this had to end. You didn’t carefully curate your closet and have women all around the city jealous of your wardrobe to be dressed like someone’s auntie. Enough was enough!

“You know what? I’ll be right back. Screw this..” and with those affirmations, you turned on your two inch heels and promptly changed.

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fast forward, and now..you were in the midst of a heated argument for your liberation to wear what you pleased. After one of your friends posted a video to their instagram story of you shaking your ass and them smacking it whilst out for a night on the town. But the worst part was when the skirt lifted and you flashed the camera with your barely clothed cunt. The story was spotted by one of their husbands who promptly told Reiner and needless to say, things got a little out of control. He wasn’t hellishly irate but he damn sure wasn’t happy! Confronting you with the footage, he asked a simple question:

“What the fuck is this, (y/n)? Why is yer’ damn ass all over your friend’s Instagram?” Which couldn’t exactly be taken seriously upon first asking with that thick country accent but as you saw he wasn’t joking, you promptly straightened him. “Babe, I don’t know what you’re talking about, seriously. What video did you see?” and once he showed you the clip, it was from up there! You were just as astounded as he was..you didn’t even know that your friends had even filmed you in such a state. But that's besides the point..

“..you promised, (y/n). Now I look like a damn fool because you had to go around dressing like that.” His words stung like sharp daggers because you’d never heard or seen him so irate. But honestly? You didn’t give a damn about his hurt feelings. Not when you were the one looking foolish, all for his sake! “Yes Rei, I did! But I didn’t sign up to be in the club dressed like somebody’s grandma at Sunday Service. I wore the exact same clothes when you met me so what’s the big deal all of a sudden?” Truth be told, he sounded jealous and insecure but as he paced the bedroom floor, shirtless and donning gray sweats, he’d offer up another explanation. One far more annoying than your own conclusion. Either way, you didn’t care and wasn’t going to change shit! You were a grown woman and you also had a father so you didn’t need his ass trying to be your parent. He was being incredibly unreasonable right now. But you’d soon find out just how serious he was about his request…

“I’m not gonna argue with you anymore, (y/n). This conversation is done. Tell her to delete that and I better not catch you in that again.”

because he was no longer asking but rather telling you what his expectation was. However, you couldn’t be vexed to listen and was determined or whatever you pleased. Smacking your lips, you’d snatch the skirt up from the bed and strut past him without so much as a second thought. “Got me fucked up..I’ll be back later—“ but alas, you’d come to find out that your husband was not interested in your disrespectful attitude. With a hand cradled to the back of your neck, Reiner would tug you towards him and halt you immediately in your tracks. It caught you completely off guard; mainly because he had never grabbed or even touched you in such a way. There wasn’t a lot of force behind it but it was very assertive. Something not typical for your doting, sweet husband. “What is your problem?!” He didn’t even waste time trying to answer or explain shit to you and rather..tossed you to the bed. His behavior had you so off kilt, not even you could form the correct words to express. All you could do was turn around and stare at him in complete surprise. However, he’d have plenty to say..enough for the both of you!

“My problem? Oh sweetheart…you haven’t seen problems yet..” muttering through gritted teeth with a faint smirk on his lips. Not once in the entirety of your relationship had your man ever looked so irate. There seemed to be a dormant fire lit within his eyes and your last outburst had served as the unfortunate catalyst for that impending blaze. He was angry..no, he was fucking pissed! Here he was trying to reason with you and you all but spat in his face when he asked for basic respect. Whatever or whoever had caused you to act this way had landed you in a world of trouble that you had no chance of getting out of right now! Returning that grasp back to your throat, he’d snatch your head from the mattress and grimace in your ear.. “don’t even think about moving from this fucking bed. You don’t speak, breathe or even move without my permission. Got it?” And something told you it was in your best interest to comply. “Nod.” Only allowing the command for a split moment before slamming your head back down. “Good girl.” It was something about the abrupt dominance and control that had driven you into a submissive headspace at will. That and the fact that he looked as if he were ready to go on a rampage. You knew your husband and you knew that he wouldn’t so much as hurt a fly but you had truly tested his patience and he was done with the mild mannered gestures. If you didn’t want to listen, then he’d make you in his own way…starting by restricting your limbs. Ensuring that you couldn’t do anything without his explicit permission.

“Just in case you want to get any bright ideas, darling..” reaching over across you, Reiner retrieved the leather strap he had used to fasten his Wranglers earlier in the afternoon. He’d used the belt as a makeshift collar to keep you in place. Stringing it around your neck as somewhat of a leash and binding your hands with a pair of your panties behind your back. With your face buried in the mattress, you’d find yourself ringling around instinctively; more so to feign off the urges arising between your legs. You’d never admit it but it certainly turned you on to be handled like this. Even so, your husband could give a damn less about your enjoyment. He was determined to prove a point and drill into that thick skull of yours. Chewing at your lower lip, (y/n) would be met with the harsh slap of his rough, calloused hands; making direct contact with your bubbly cheeks. “Didn't I tell ya’ no moving unless I say so?” That deep southern drawl ringing out into your ear as he stood behind you. That burly, muscular frame half nude and well on its way to being completely in the buff. He had plans prior, however..to get you stripped first.

“Damnit, pound cake…just what am I going to do with you?…” rhetorically posing the question, and knowing damn well better than to hear a response in return, because you’d surely regret it if he did! So sitting obediently…reaching the blatant epiphany that you had bitten off far more than you could chew. He was no mood in to talk or fight so he’d opt for the next best thing and that was fucking you until every bit of frustration had left his body!

“I think I know where to start..”

the sound of his voice sent shivers creeping up your spine because it wasn’t becoming of your husband and rather a man who was ready to eat you alive. Suddenly, you’d feel the sharp tug of that belt and your head raise from the mattress. In a moment’s notice, the two of you had switched positions and you found yourself near the floor and Reiner was seated in your place. “On your knees..hurry up.” The gruffly sound of his voice sharp and stern, a clear indication that he wasn’t playing anymore. You’d be met with the snap of his fingers and a sharp pull yet again when you didn’t move fast enough for his liking. But it was effective because you were now seated before him like an obedient pet. Awaiting his every word and order. There was a certain air of dominance about him..an energy that exuded confidence and set his dominion over you. That beard formed and shaped perfectly around his face, his voice deep..grovely from being tired and earlier years of smoking cigarettes. You’d never seen your precious Reiner look so roguish…but you loved it! Bringing a hand up to your face, he’d slowly circulate near your chin with a thumb brushing across your lips. Parting them, admiring the beautiful shape..the plumpness and darkish hue surrounding the pouty pink center. He could sit here all night and gaze at them. But alas, he felt they served a much better purpose at the moment. Shoving that thumb between them, he’d glide it into your mouth, allowing you to suckle. A mere preview of what was to come moments later. Those doe eyes fixated on him, nearly breaking his resolve right there but he was determined not to falter but instead, teach you a much needed lesson. “Mmm…nice and slow. Suck on my fingers.” Swiftly adding an additional one to the fray, allowing the second and third digits to become sucked in by your jaws. In essence, he was stretching them out. Preparing the orifice for his use..for his much deserved pleasure.

whilst he did so, he’d use the opposite hand that was still brandishing your leash to work the elastic of his waistband down until that erection was free from its confines. A tiny dampened spot had formed on the outside from what you assumed to be precum. Truthfully, it didn’t take much for him to become aroused in your presence. Hell, even with fury in his eyes, he was still madly infatuated with you. But he had to be steadfast if he was going to make his point. Prying those jaws open with his index and middle digits, Reiner pulled them apart whilst bucking his hips forward and promptly shoving himself inside. The swollen tip of his cock resting idly on your tongue before he began to push further. The faint ‘pop’ when he reached past your first row of teeth. Eventually, his grasp would tighten on that belt and your head would begin to snatch back and forth… faint gurgling arising once he sped up. It seemed as if he was in an entirely different zone right now..one you had undoubtedly put him into..

“Hey, look up…”

the stern command followed by a yank on that leash..which in turn led to your eyes being stretched beyond their limits to ensure that your full attention was devoted to him.

“There we go, sugar…now stay still and let me use that pretty little throat..” by this time, Reiner was steadfast in using you for his full, unadulterated pleasure. Pounding into that oral cavity with brute force until you started to emit strings of saliva..he’d send them rolling down your chin as he thrusted upwards into your mouth. “Fuuuck…that slutty little mouth of yours is good for something..” taking the opportunity to not only jab at you but establish your place for the time being. But alas, it seemed that not even he could withstand the pressure of your jaws coiled around him and withdrew with haste. Taking the sides of your face into his calloused palms, he’d examine the aftermath of his work with a proud smile. Spit smeared all around your face and a glare that signaled you being in a daze..such a pretty sight. By then, the remnants of your sloppy face fucking had trickled down to your breasts and needless to say, he was rather aroused by the sight. So much so, his cock would twitch on instinct. However, his work was far from finished..

“On your feet..I’m not done with you..”

on one hand, you wanted to test your luck right now and defy, talk out of turn for one final plea of forgiveness. On the other, you wanted to obey his every command. Follow through and be good because truth be told, you loved this side of him. This passionate aggression that stemmed only from a place of pure infatuation and love for you. He was sending a message: you were his and no one else’s. They could stare and admire all they wanted but at the end of the day, he was the only one that deserved to see you in such a light. It was a nasty habit of his..jealousy and insecurity but not to an extensive degree. Either way, you rose to your feet with a grin on your lips that truly couldn’t have been helped. Upon standing up, he’d take a moment to glance over your body..the vulnerable and submissive state you were in pleased him far more than he was letting on. In hindsight, he could’ve just allowed you to go out with your girls sporting the skimpy fit, because nine times out of ten, you would’ve came back intoxicated and ready to fuck him silly anyways but this done just fine!..

“Damnit, baby..you have no idea what you do to me..making me act all crazy…”

muttering through deep grunts, sucking his teeth as those erect nipples peaked through the fishnet top you were sporting underneath your shirt for the planned ensemble. Instead he was met with the flimsy material and your big, voluminous breasts. He’d pinch one nipple and suck at the other like a man starved. He was ravenous..wanting to take claim of each orifice on your body. But for now, those tits were his only fixation. After groping you to his leisure, he’d tear open that thin shirt and send them bouncing out. He was so unhinged at the moment, he couldn’t decide what and where he wanted to take you next. Suddenly, he’d shove three fingers between your lips, thrusting them back and forth until he cast out more gurgling noises and trails of spit, which promptly glided down to your chest. “Oh my gosh…” muttering through your pacified state..Reiner couldn’t help but to release another primal grunt. Becoming so turned on by your current appearance. “That’s my pretty little slut…choke on those fucking fingers.”

sharply snatching your head back, you’d come up gasping and glaring at him with somewhat of a smile. By now, that erect member was twitching; spouting precum from the tip..you were afraid he’d burst any minute! “You like that, huh? You like when I treat you like this, don’t you?” Grasping your chin in one hand and tugging at the belt with the other. He’d give you two solid taps across the cheek whilst choking you. The way your tongue splayed out and your face beamed with excitement..the answer to his question was blatantly obvious…

“Y-yes!” “Yes, what?..” questioning once more in that stern tone. “Yes, daddy..I love it.” Which seemed to satisfy his ego well enough. Even so, he wasn’t finished by a long shot. He couldn’t stop until the lesson was good and instilled in that cute little head of yours..that you didn’t run a damn thing around here! “Good girl..that’s what I wanna hear..” rewarding you shortly thereafter with a kiss. The only moment of compassion he’d displayed since starting. Taking hold of your breasts again, he’d place those big hands on either side before scooting closer and maneuvering his cock in between them. “Oh fuck..look at that, baby..yes..” whispering almost to himself, enamored with how those round, perky breasts just cradled him so nicely. That supple flesh squished around his shaft and massaged the skin. Almost as if they were made for him. He’d buck his hips up, groaning and whimpering the further he went..he could tell by the glint in your eyes that you were enjoying this equally as much. His obedient little slut..allowing him to take you as he saw fit. He was glad that you hadn’t complied and gave him such grief because it made this all the more fun..not to be mistaken, he’d never want to harm his sweet, precious wife but something told him that you liked this side of his personality. The only that was willing to get so out of character behind you, he’d surprise both you and himself. Speeding up those sharp strokes, Reiner bucked his hips, commanding you to drool the entire time. Your brain had practically gone blank, only following his commands from here forth. “Shit!..’m gonna come, baby. Hold still—“ what followed was a loud grunt and spouting of his warm seed all across your face and tits, making for a beautiful sight. He’d take a moment to examine his handy work; even pinching your nipples once more..

“Look at you..so pretty covered in my cum..” sticking his thumb between your lips yet again; causing an innocuous stare as those doe eyes fixated on him. Without another word, he’d snatch you up and pull you by the arm the rest of the way until that cute little torso was splayed over his lap. His knees resting in your tummy until he gets you adjusted… “Rei…please..” Your shrill cries served as nothing more than menial noise, going in one ear and right out of the next. He didn’t care how loud you whimpered, moaned or cried. It was of none of his concern..so as long as you continued doing as he asked. “We’ve talked about this, darling..don’t open that mouth again until I tell you—“ the sentence ended with a sharp smack to your ass, which made you yelp. “You lost that privilege when you decided to embarrass me for your little friends. You’re not in control. Do I make myself clear?” His voice was so deep and menacing, almost as if he were another person at the moment. Squirming around; antsy at the sensation of him treating you like a mere object. Responding with a nod..he’d smirk and take hold of your leash again, reeling up his opposite hand to spank you.

“Good, now count.” The first hit came down colliding with your asscheeks, causing you to jolt but the number came out. “O-one.” The next followed, getting even harder than the previous one. You were trying to stay still but the stinging sensations were making you inconsolable. Not because they were painful. But because they felt so fucking good! All of this felt euphoric..surreal even. Your precious, sweet Rei fucking you like a mere whore? It was more than you could imagine. Trying to conceal your smile, (y/n) resumed counting and had reached five when he paused momentarily. He wanted to take a second and examine your body. Truly admire those curves, those lines and flawless skin. He loved how perfectly that ass sat and how it jiggled as soon as his hand made contact. He loved that you barely even contained a gag reflex even when he was forcefully fucking your throat and the fact that you were a dripping mess from all of these antics! It was no wonder that he wanted you to himself. It seemed that his hardcore method of foreplay and revenge had gotten you so turned on..it was pooling around his leg.

“You like this, don’t you…your pussy’s ‘s wet, yer’ dripping down my fucking leg. At least try to pretend to have some shame, baby.”

cackling to himself as he gave you two hard smacks consecutively. From the look on your face, that much was blatantly obvious! You couldn’t fake it anymore and he certainly couldn’t pretend that he was still angry. He just needed you in the worst way right now.. “Don’t worry..lucky f’r you, I’m not good at holding back either. So let’s just cut the bullshit and get what we both want..”

for the first time since this entire ordeal, Reiner would gently caress you; handling you with far more care than he had prior. However, it wasn’t going to last for long because once he got you onto the bed, tearing open your tights, it was game. Your husband would swiftly saddle up behind you, grasping your ass and hips..kneading his fingers into the soft flesh as a means to saddle up behind you. Once he did, you’d outstretch your cuffed wrists, gripping at the sheets and subtly shake your ass..letting him know that this pussy was his for the taking! “But first, I need to hear ya’ beg..tell me how bad you need it, baby..” with a wide beam, lips curled up..Reiner took the opportunity to just sit and admire that soft ripple whilst you pleaded for him. As well as teasing himself against your slit. “Please..fuck me. Give me all that dick, baby..” and without haste, he’d grant your wish. “Well since you asked so nicely..” cackling softly before easing himself inside. The initial sensation caused an audible gasp to erupt from both of you. The feeling was insurmountable as it had also been a week since the two of you had engaged in any sexual activities and needless to say, the tension of this situation, along with the buildup was going to make this all the more satisfying. In that moment, Reiner’s head would fall forward as he mounted you with a foot placed into the mattress and yours would simultaneously become pulled backwards by your hair. “Oh fuck!…” crying out in pleasure when those thrusts inevitably began. Those puffy lips and tight flesh immediately took hold of him; gripping around his cock and emitting a sheath of cream. Smacking noises soon ensued and your mellifluous moans would join the noisy fray. Placing a thumb in between your bubbly cheeks, he’d reign you in and guide you back and forth as he saw fit. “C’mon, take it. Take it like a good little slut.” With all that you had, you’d manage to take hold of the sheets as a form of leverage and comfort. Gripping them and a nearby pillow to stifle your moans but you’d soon learn that his grace had sadly run out! “Did I tell ya’ you could bite that fuckin’ pillow? Let me hear you, darling. All that mouth ya’ had earlier.. ‘matter fact…say it.” His words spewing like venom from a snake’s mouth, he’d hiss into your ear whilst now reigning you in by the neck. “Tell me yer’ sorry. Right now.” And from the immense pressure of the brutal fucking; each one harder than the last and hitting your sensitive spot with precision, you had no choice but to cave.

“ ‘m sorry, daddy! So fucking sorry..oh my gosh!” Your legs were quaking, only mere seconds from collapsing to the bed as he drilled you into the mattress. He was akin to that of a rabid animal, mounting and claiming its prey..even huffing and grunting. It was apparent that the two of you were nearing your peaks and there was no slowing down. That fertile cunt gripping him and refusing to let go. That swollen dick stretching your insides..it was only a matter of time. “C’mon, baby…give me what I want. Do it..” and there was no question of what ‘it’ was: that inevitable rain of sticky, warm juices that came splattering down your thighs, the sheets and his shaft. “Sh-shit! Oh my gosh…” falling flat to the mattress, unable to support your weight, he’d promptly get you into a prone bone position and continue thrusting until he too reached that climatic threshold. Veins had begun protruding from his forehead and his grasp was slipping but he’d hold out long enough just to pump twice more..

“Ohhhh…fuck..”

repressing the words in a low growl before it ascended into a higher pitch as that second load came pouring out. A rope of steamy, white fluid flowed into your womb. Even earning your encouragement. “Come in me..just like that…” the ever so sultry command caused him to twitch as he finished out his orgasm. It was apparent that he was spent and very much over whatever grief you had caused him. Damn that photo, damn that skirt and damn your homegirls..this was the only place either of you wanted to be! Outside interferences or people no longer mattered. Reaching around to unlatch your throat and those wrists from their bondage, your normal, doting husband had flipped you over to examine you..ensuring that you were okay.

“C’mere. Lemme look at you..” caressing your face with loving strokes. That was the man you knew and loved. Always so attentive and empathetic. After coming down from both of your highs, you’d wind up entangled in a very passionate makeout session. “Are you okay, sugar? You know I’d never want to hurt ya..’” “Much better, baby..listen, I’m so sorry, Rei. I should’ve never worn that stupid outfit. I knew how much it hurt your feelings and I should’ve respected that.” But once again, he no longer cared. None of that mattered. All that he wanted was for you to know just how much he cared for you.. “..don’t worry ‘yerself about that. I love you and nothing could change the way I feel about you, sweetheart.” You were glad to know that all was forgiven but it was safe to say..

that your lesson was learned!

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tootiecakes234 · 6 months

Text

Satoru Gojo is the biggest gossip alive and you are always the first person he runs his mouth to.

Something juicy going down between the head of clans, he calls you in between mission to let you know.

One of his students has a crush and he finds out, he immediately finds you and breaks down exactly how he knows.

The higher ups are making big confidential plans, you know everything start to finish.

He has an argument with his family, he’s coming to you to spill and to be comforted.

*so glad you’re not a double agent😭

#imagine #gojo satoru imagine #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk drabble #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk gojo x reader

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rascal-xo · 1 year

Text

How They React to Gossip | 141 + Rudy + Alejandro |

Warnings: None

Tags: @whirly-birbs @fiveshelmet @madamemelancholysstuff

A/N: For those who requested something and didn’t get a response, i’ll be getting those works posted soon :)

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~ Ghost ~

- Definitely knows about it before anyone else but won’t ever bring it up. (Bro always sees and hears everything about everyone)

- Will act like he doesn’t care, but still is listening to every word

- Will suddenly go “Fucking hell.” and then realize he actually said it out loud when everyone pauses and turns to look at him.

- Will 100% be smirking under his mask when somethings funny but won’t laugh out loud. (Resting Ghost Face and all, gotta keep up the rep)

- Will give the most dangerous fucking side eye when someone says something horrendously out of pocket

- Will definitely zone out if he gets bored

~ Price ~

- Is just passing by the break room when he overhears something out of the ordinary and has to do a double take to walk back towards the group and make sure he heard it correctly

- Will either be the moral compass of the gossip session or will go full out with his own insults

- Stands there with his arms crossed and eyes squinted slightly listening to the words coming from his team.

- Will say something like “We’re soldiers, not desperate housewives.” But will later laugh to himself thinking about the wild accusations and drama.

- Definitely gossips with Laswell on the downlow

~ Gaz ~

- Enjoys every second of pure steaming gossip, especially if it’s coming from his Soap

- Will subtly pry for more information but when Soap teases him about it he’ll be like “Alright you can piss off, I don’t even wanna know now.”

- Won’t even hide the fact he wants to laugh, will be close to doubling over in hysterics if it gets to be that crazy

- *High pitched british shock*

~ SOAP ~

- Bro cant contain himself when it comes to juicy drama in the workplace

- He’s here for the tea, ALL the tea

- Is 10000% the one who started spreading the gossip in the first place.

- Will talk everyone’s ear off about who he saw with who the other day and what not

- Don’t get him started cause he won’t stop

- ends every gossip session lowkey leaving everyone stunned and wanting to hear more

~ Alejandro ~

- takes in any and all gossip in stride and fires off MANY witty remarks about it

- He enjoys poking fun at others jokingly. it’s apart of his charm (duh)

- Will be be doubling over in hysterical laughter, probably bringing Rudy or Soap down with him

- If the gossip is about Valeria, bro will NOT hold back. Shots upon shots will be fired do not get him started

~ Rudy ~

- Doesn’t add to the gossip, but enjoys every second of hearing his teammates losing their minds over juicy drama they’ve heard

- Will be laughing along with Alejandro but will say “Dios mío, It’s not funny, we shouldn’t be laughing!”

- Stands back with his eyes open wide in shock and red in the face from what he’s hearing

- The out of pocket things that come from Alejandro’s mouth about Valeria definitely keep this poor man up at night

** BONUS ** GRAVES

- is the gossip.

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coco-loco-nut · 25 days

Text

Book Club - Part 8

Pairing: Grid x Reader, mentioned Lance x Reader

Summary: Headcanon-ish, book club reacting to clips of reader, short but utterly adorable

requests open masterlist

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In honor of your fifth season and your birthday, the F1 social media team has gathered your best friends to comment on some moments across your five years in F1:

Moment One

When you joined your first team, a video resurfaced of you from your days in F3, you admitted that your Formula One crush is Nick Hülkenberg, "I mean, look at him when he was driving for Sauber!". Naturally, your team brought you in for a media video, made you watch it, and surprised you with THE Nico Hülkenberg standing behind you. Cue you crying, blushing, and hugging him. Kevin was there too, no one really knows why.

Nico and Kevin laugh, it's one of their favorite memories with you. Despite your mortification and admiration, they invited you to hang out with them in Haas. They genuinely wanted to get to know the newest member of the paddock, which started the best grid friendship. "I knew right away that we were going to be good friends," Kevin tells the interviewer. "My wife surprisingly found it hilarious, she loved Y/n from that moment, probably because she agreed with Y/n," Nico adds. "Not to brag, but we are her best friends,"

Moment Two

In your first year as a driver, you had the absolute pleasure of sitting in an interview with Lando, George, and Alex. It wasn't a press conference, so it was a lot more relaxed. As the three boys joked around and acted like, well, boys, your irritation was clear on your face.

"Oh! I remember that day, she went to find Nico and Kevin, who I was with at the moment and was complaining about how some of the younger drivers were too immature. We invited her to lunch with us and Valtteri," Fernando's face lights up at the clip. "I joked that we were like an old person book club, it ran from there," Valtteri says, smiling at the memory. "How many drivers are in the club now?" The interviewer asks. "We started with just the five of us, the number stands at 10 including Checo," Fernando says, having to think for a second. "I miss Checo, he really was the epitome of our club," Valtteri sighs.

Moment Three

One morning, you were walking into your motorhome, tired and not really paying attention, you slipped on a slick step, not quite having had the chance to dry after the overnight rainfall. You quickly got back up, acting like nothing happened.

"Ouch, poor Y/n, that must've hurt," Lewis grimaces, meanwhile George and Logan are laughing. "She hasn't gotten any better, still uncoordinated," Checo says, he returned just for this surprise. "Yeah, but she got right back up and acted like nothing happened, our unbothered queen," Daniel points out. "Guys, quit laughing at Y/n," Lewis looks at George and Logan disapprovingly. "Don't act like you didn't laugh when the video first came out," George replies, giving the older drivers a knowing look. "She's gonna murder us all," Logan's face loses its color, suddenly remembering the video is recording.

Moment Four

After a night out, you were dragged out of your bed by your wonderful boyfriend, you show up to the paddock with a wealth of juicy gossip. You quickly find Valtteri, Fernando, and Checo just past the gates. As the four of you speak, you spot a camera focused on you. The dirty look you sent it quickly became a meme.

"Haha, that was a great day for gossip, and I usually don't like it," Checo says. "Before you ask, no, we can't tell you what it was. Swore an oath never to share," Valtteri stares at the camera. "It was-" Fernando starts then pauses when the other two look at him. "haha, you thought I was going to spill the tea. I am not,"

Moment Five

Most of your career has been spend on bottom of the grid teams, so when you made your first podium, you couldn't help but to celebrate. Lance ran over to you as you pulled your helmet off. You pulled him into a kiss as the crowds cheered you on.

As soon as the video is shown, the group collectively gags and cringes. "We love them, but sometimes she forgets that we didn't sign up to watch them be all lovey," George tells the interviewer. "There is your proof that she loves someone more than me," Nico chuckles. "We were all so proud of her, we forced her to go to a celebratory dinner with us instead of Lance and Kimi," Logan provided some insight.

Moment Six

Your first win came with your return post injury. But the video that the drivers are shown doesn't just show that, it shows a part of one of your post-race interviews that was previously edited out. "Yeah, the car was good, I drove well too, but I genuinely think that if it weren't for my support system, I wouldn't be here. There were times when I thought about not resigning because I wasn't performing like I thought I should. My support system, they know who they are, reminded me why I drive and have reminded me of my passion. They provided so much guidance and wisdom, they introduced me to Kimi who is now, in every way that matters, my dad, I've taught them slang. More specifically for this race, they helped me recover from my injuries, especially after free practices and qualifying when I would be incredibly sore. Sorry that I'm yapping, I just love them all so much."

All of the guys are trying not to cry. "If it isn't clear by now, we all love her too," Lewis says, passing around tissues. "She really does glue us all together, doesn't she?" Kevin hums. "I've certainly enjoyed the past 4 years, it's hard to believe it's her fifth year here," Nico agrees. "She won before you did," Fernando teases him. "Seriously, we love her so much, not because she is the only woman, but because she is so easy to get along with. She is friends with everyone on the track, never spreads malicious gossip, and is just so down to earth," Daniel says, refocusing the group. "She immediately got Kimi, the Iceman, to like her, that says so much about her," Valtteri agrees.

Similarly to Nico and Kevin in the first clip shown, you are snuck in to watch the last bit. "Guys," you cry a little, pulling them into a group hug. "Happy birthday, hija," Fernando says, starting a euphony of similar comments. "I love you guys so much," you are fully crying. "We love you too, kiddo," Daniel wipes your tears, pulling you into a bear hug.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid #george russell #logan sargeant #nico hulkenberg #kevin magnussen #fernando alonso #lewis hamilton #valtteri bottas #checo perez

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sakumz · 2 months

Text

a/n : this has been on my mind for awhile now ever since I started mashle omg. oc yn kinda and maybe ooc rayne lol slight orter too

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[ a. rayne x fem reader ]

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you were a year older than rayne, orca's previous prefect. a divine visionary, the dark cane. your magic majorly consists of smoke. you can solidify the smoke. (reference to kurono from fire force omg I love his power but the character...☠️☠️)

rayne saw you multiple times around the school but never spoke, though he found you prettier than any other person he came across. he first saw you winning a candidate seat as a divine visionary when you were in your first year as max drags him along to watch back in their middle school years. you were an inspiration to the other students. despite being in the orca dorm, he did see you in the library with different students from either lang or adler. you were tutoring them.

when he first attended a meeting with the rest of the divine visionaries in his third year at easton, you happened to come in last, so the only seat available was one between orter and rayne. during that particular meeting when you spoke an option on how to deal with the world's problem, orter would shut you down. saying it was unrealistic and impossible to pull off.

rayne would peek from the corner of his eyes to see a pout form from your face. everyone could tell orter had some serious issues with you. your option wasn't unrealistic nor impossible to pull off but one that made complete sense. you were from the orca dorm afterall, the dorm of wisdom and willingness.

just when you had enough of orter in the room, you can't help but summon a small solidified smoke kunai knife, pointing the knife at his neck in a threatening manner. he wasn't faze by such a threat, he could transform his body into sand and dodge the attack. everyone in the room wasn't shock, seeing this happen before. rayne on the other hand, was slightly surprised you would do something like that to orter of all people.

" maybe this is why your younger brother isn't as close to you anymore, because you can't shut your mouth! " you shout as kaldo sniffles a laugh.

" who are you to talk? you don't even talk to your younger sister. last I heard she enrolled in easton and is in the adler dorm. nothing about spending time with her adoring big sister, " orter says in a matter of fact way. the other divine visionary did not want to interfere, hearing all the juicy sibling gossip spill from the two of you.

" ha! lucky for you, I did visit her two days ago. " you slam your hands on the table.

" what's the evidence that you did? " orter crosses his arms as he raise a brow.

" she did visit the adler dorm. " rayne starts, making everyone look at him as he clears his throat.

" I saw her exit the building. then I heard a loud sound from upstairs so I rush to the noise. a girl was happily screaming as finn and his other friends try to calm her down. apparently someone gifted her homemade cookies. she was just too happy receiving them. " rayne finishes as they stare back at you.

" seriously? that's all you did to make your sister happy. " orter playfully scoffed as you glare at the male.

" at least I try to spend time with her... unlike a certain glasses sandman. we're all so busy and I'm sure wirth would be over the moon to receive a letter filled with compliments from his dearest big brother. maybe that would bring you both closer. "

" really? " orter was sure to believe you. he was aware you and his brother has met multiple times back when you were still in easton, having heard your name spill out in the family's dinner get together though their father wasn't bothered by the name of a mere female on the table. orter was convinced his brother may have developed a crush on you.

" no. I'm sure he'll burn the paper afterwards, " you bluntly spoke. kaldo couldn't help but burst out laughing, the rest slowly following after except rayne.

the other time he's met you as a divine visionary was when you barged into orter's office room. rayne was still new and was being assisted by orter in settling and knowing more about the job as visionary.

" ryoh was supposed to join me in this mission and I'm not allowed to go by myself, said the light cane. he got sick as what his wife said on the call. I would've asked kaldo to come but he's busy tonight and this mission is said to last for at least two days. " orter was silent as you continued to ramble on.

" so please come along with me. I wouldn't want to bother sophina and the others. "

" take rayne with you. " orter replies as rayne awkwardly puts the paper stack orter told him to take on his table.

" okay, " you say as you look over at rayne, before motioning him to follow you.

closing the door a soft, " stay safe " can be heard from orter. despite how mean he can be towards you. you did make wirth comfortable in easton, students adored you so did the people in the outside world. you didn't care about titles or status. as long as you can care for your sister and make a living for yourself for survival. orter did bump into you several times when you were still a student in the streets he usually patrols in, you would give food and toys to the less fortunate children. going as far as to teach a thing or two if you have plenty of time on your hands. you did fell for orter at first sight. you'd crack jokes around wirth about marrying his brother but he'll brush off calling it a faraway dream as he can't imagine his brother with a wife. when you became a divine visionary, you pushed your feelings aside for the man. he was a meanie towards you.

rayne was quiet the whole ride to the place of the mission. he didn't know what to say. you had to break the silence as the carriage was going slowly to your destination.

" this mission... we're here to take back a lost relic. should be easy, "

" um.. what's your relationship with orter? " he can't help but finally ask the question.

" just co workers I guess... "

it was a relief to rayne. the mission ended smoothly, rayne was amaze by your battle skills. you summon a smoke screen as his partisan swords blend with the thick smoke, appearing right in front of the thieves.

you invited him to dinner as thanks but he kindly rejects, saying he'll have morning classes the next day so he'll have to be back in the dorms. you bid farewell but that didn't stop you from wanting to treat him to a good ol meal. so you pack him a bento lunch box.

you got an owl to deliver the bento with a note. he had no choice but to accept when the owl enters through his class's window and land on his table. students were curious but he simply brushes it off, saying its nothing. when it was lunch time. he was delighted to read the note. it was short and sweet. thanking him for the help and how you were happy he was willing to come. you hope he'll enjoy the lunch and he did. it had cute cut rabbit shaped vegetables. max didn't tease him but assume he had a secret girlfriend.

when he came to the divine visionary building, he was looking all over for you. he would like to thank and return the lunch box to you. when he entered your office, you and renatus were conversing. he notice you crying into a tissue as renatus awkwardly pushes the box of tissues towards you.

" what's wrong? " rayne asks as renatus smile awkwardly.

" I don't remember uhh, " renatus looks over to you as your sobbing self was replaced with a glaring you to him.

" what do I do with my dead cat? do I bury it in the cemetery you're always at? "

" so that's what's happening. well rayne, y/n's cat is pretty old and has passed due to old age. I guess you can bury the cat. I'll get it a tomb and stuff if you want. just let me know later, " he pats your head as he exits the office. leaving you alone with rayne.

" um, thanks for the bento. it was nice and I enjoyed the meal. " rayne starts as he places the empty clean box on your table.

" ah, no problem. thanks for looking out for the adler kids. " you replied as rayne remembers the conversation he had with your sister a week ago.

he had invited her and the mash gang to the lounge room to discuss about you. it would be very nerve-racking if it was just him and your sister and the possible rumours to spread if it was really just the two of them. they all squeeze on one couch as he awkwardly shifts in the couch he sat. was he that scary that they didn't want to sit next to him?

" um what's this about? " finn questions as mash noms on his beloved cream puff.

" what does your sister like? " rayne replies as lance starts shaking in his seat.

" my sister? my anna? " lance shakes as he slowly starts seething to the thought of rayne being with his sister.

" oh no, another pedo. " mash starts to shake next to lance.

" no way, " lemon whispers.

" dude, you're like so handsome and talented and you're after a young girl? " dot starts to bubble at the mouth at the conclusion he managed to make out. confusing bubbling in his mouth. finn was confused as well so was your younger sister. how did he meet Anna crown?

" no, not your sister idiot. y/n l/n. what does she like. I don't even know this Anna girl. " they all stop overreacting as the rest look over at the younger l/n.

" sorry my guy, she likes orter madl. " your sister responded monotony has gotten everyone going "huh" even rayne was confused.

" what? " he was certain there was nothing of that sort between you and orter.

" are you free tonight? let me take you to dinner. " rayne says as you throw away all the tissues.

" yeah sure, just give me ten minutes to finish cleaning up. " he sure waited.

settling down at your comfort restaurant, you and him got your orders and then food. you happily ate to your heart's content. rayne wanted to ask questions and call you his but the courage to do so was slowly biting his leg off. it was hard to talk about things he felt normal people would want to ask but can't be bothered to poke their noses in so they take their guesses as truth. he felt you kick his leg from under the table as he jolts at his seat from the sudden impact. snapping him out of his gaze.

" you're starring. "

" sorry. "

"what is it on your mind? you look like you're dying to ask, " you joked as he sent you a glare of his own.

" just thinking... are you and orter... together? " you drop your fork at the sudden question, he panics a little. maybe he shouldn't ask that question.

" no, we're not together. I'm a naive fool. it's one sided love? but it's okay! I'm not in love with him anymore. " rayne heaves out a sigh at the confession. he still has a chance and chance he will take.

" so, will you go out with me? I vow to protect you. I'll be your shield and sword. your everything. I've loved you since the first time we met. you are the beauty of what the world does not deserve to see, " he confessed as his ears starts to tint red and he looks shyly away from you.

" sure we can go out, I like you too! " and so your love story with rayne ames slowly starts to bloom.

#sakumz.pdf #mashle x reader #rayne x reader #rayne ames x reader #orter madl x reader #orter x reader

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estrellayluna · 20 days

Text

In Another Life pt. 2

Nanami Kento

synopsis : As Nanami catches a glimpse of you entering Saturo's vehicle, he sets the remaining time he has left of his break to track you down. Leaving Kuina high and dry.

(Visuals will be linked, click the underlined links!)

Kento knew his stare was burning into the back of Saturo's head. The palm of his hand almost crushing his phone as his eyes follows the car you were in drive out of his view. Nanami's mind going all over places as to why suddenly you knew of Saturo, his colleague that resides on the other side of the building. He could feel his body go full overdrive with heatwaves engulfing him whole.

Have you been seeing Saturo? For how long? Nanami can't recall you ever being introduced to him. Hell introduced to anyone other than his other colleagues back down a few floors before being promoted.

Checking the time, Namami's lunch break is just soon to start. Grabbing his keys and blazer, Nanami only has his mind on you.

Kuina felt like such weight was lifted from her shoulders the night Nanami called her stating that you finally knew of their affair. No more sneaking around their work place to steal quick kisses from each other. Or the quick brush of their hands as they walk past each other.

She knew it was just about time she had to take matters into her own hands when she realized Nanami was still having his doubts at times when he came over to her place some late nights. But would drown them away before he realizes how morally wrong it all was with the quick acts of seduction and words she knew he wanted to hear.

Kuina also knew that some at the office had caught wind to what was happening between them, sparking immediate gossip. Though she could care less. Her act to play innocent stood still until one bore of a day did a fellow colleague of hers, Nina, vaguely asked her about it. She was impressed at Kuina's boldness. As she detailed about the affair left Nina the thrill for more, every ounce of moral leaving her body for just some juicy intel. Sparking a vile bond between the two.

It was Nina's idea to be the one who "so called" exposes the both of them. Seeking more thrill from her already boring life. She couldn't care less at the fact she's contributing to destroying another woman's marriage. For if she was in Kuina's place she would have totally also gladly seek out the handsome man like Nanami was, married or not.

So as Nina found herself with nothing to do after finishing her own pile of work whilst there was a meeting consisting the majority of the staff to be locked away in a conference room, she found herself making her way to Nanami's office doors with vile intent.

It was just like any other time she had to drop things over for Nanami. Except this time she planned to snoop around for anything on his wife.

When Nina brought up her idea to Kuina, she was impressed by Nina's erratic effort. Like having done her dirty work for her.

Kuina had many failed attempts to get a glimpse of Nanami's phone when it was unlocked. Each time she would get close, the sound of Nanami's footsteps could be heard indicating his return from being out the room.

Kuina finally thought her schemes could be put to rest now having the thing she sought after the most after months. Nanami.

So she couldn't understand why just as she came back from picking up food for the both of them and eat lunch together as she had planned and he promised, did Nanami walk past her without glancing her way.

The ride to the clinic was short but helpful. If it weren’t for Gojo’s kindness in helping you out, you’d definitely be late to your appointment. And being late to things was something you obtained from Nanami.

While the ride was short, Gojo was thoughtful to remove his blazer and storing it the trunk of his car. To help minimize the aroma of his cologne and was also considerate to roll his windows down just for you.

“So if I may ask, is everything alright? You aren’t sick are you? I honestly didn’t expect you to say you needed to be dropped off at a clinics office” Gojo had ask you, you smile over at him taking glances at the man.

“Well I hope to find everything alright soon enough after my checkup,” you say while turning back to face the window watching as you get close to your said destination.

“You know (Y/N)… I know this may be sudden but,” Gojo turns his head to look at you, still looking out the window. He takes note of the way your hair flows with the wind and how your eyelashes flutter each time you blink. He was in total awe.

“I was wondering if by chance you’d like to grab lunch sometime?” Gojo’s voice wavers just for a second until he turns to look back at the road, awaiting your response in hope you’d consider his offer. The moment of silence causes his hope to falter though.

In any other instance that you were to be invited to lunch with a man who looked as handsome as Gojo does, you’d be in total giddiness.

But in your current state you pitied yourself. If what is portrayed in media is true, Gojo will probably see you as a waste of time once he knew you were with child with another man.

“Gojo…” the tone of your voice makes him mentally prepare for the rejection to come “I would love to but I can’t at the moment.” You hands play with the hem of your shirt trying to not look at him because of the embarrassment of your forced rejection.

“It’s alright (Y/N), I can understand why,” Gojo exclaims reassuring you that it’s fine. In which you were grateful for.

Come to think of it, though you had reluctantly declined his offer earlier to take you wherever you needed to go, and clearly ended up accepting.

I can already hear the lecture Nanami will give me for getting into a car of practically a stranger.

Well, would have gave you.

Seeing the clinic come into view you take one last glance at Gojo, knowing it’ll probably be the last time you’ll see the man.

As he pulls into the parking lot of the clinic, Gojo takes notice at the fact it was not a regular doctors clinic. Planned Parenthood in front of him.

Noticing the silence that consumed the car you knew Gojo had seen it. Before finally breaking the awkward silence, Gojo’s words fill the silence first.

“I hope we can see each other again (Y/N),” his voice is as soft as a feather “if you need anything please don’t hesitate to ask me.”

He wanted you asked right in that moment. For though he had just met you a sudden void that once was empty inside of him felt an urge to protect you.

You eyes slightly open in shock at the offer. You were preparing for Gojo to send you off with judgement being the last thing you saw on his face.

Instead you were met with the look of gentleness in his eyes casted down on you.

Nanami returned to his office building with a distressed expression. He was fifteen minutes past his break. Coming back into his office, he saw Kuina there waiting for him. An annoyed look by him did not go unnoticed to her.

“Where did you go Nanami, you had promised me we’d eat together today! Now your food is all cold.” Kuina pouted at him with her arms crossed.

She expected him to walk over to her and apologize. It’s the least he can do

Looking over at her with a look on his face that he could care less. Not wanting to be bothered he dismisses her voice while walking back behind his desk preparing to finish all the tasks at hand.

Kuina gave him a questioning look before dramatically walking her way out of his office.

For him, nine pm could not come faster enough.

He needed to go home to you.

After coming home from your checkup, you made it your priority to get your personal belongings in order. Nanami hasn’t bothered to come back to your shared home for quite sometime. And if he does, he does so knowing you aren’t home.

So hearing the front door practically slam open you’re startled from your train of thought in the process of packing your belongings trying to get a head start knowing in just days you’ll be hearing back from the owner of an apartment you looked into.

Nanami’s footsteps were storming in the direction of your once shared bedroom, the door opening to his tall frame coming into your view. Uncertain of his behavior and unsure of what was going on, standing up you’re facing him just feet away.

“How do you know Saturo Gojo? Why were your with him?” Nanami’s sudden outburst of questions leave you almost confused.

“Nanami what the hell-,” you start but he just slowly started to make his way towards you, causing you to back away.

You have never seen him act this way. You didn’t even once think he could.

“Were you seeing him while we were together?” The question almost makes your heartbreak as if it was possible for the second time. He was accusing you of infidelity.

“What? No!” You wanted to explain but you felt it was no use. The man you once loved looked as if he was no longer there.

“Nanami, what has gotten into you?” Tearing forming in your eyes, you hands cover you mouth holding in your cries.

“I saw you with him today (Y/N), you had no business in getting into another man’s car when you’re a married woman!”

“Married? Nanami you were the one who went behind my back in having an affair with your coworker!” As he gets closer you get a faint smell of alcohol.

“Nanami, are you drinking again?” The questions stayed unanswered as he finally made his way to you, trying to make your way out the door you felt his hands harshly grab yours. You were scared. You knew he would never harm. You knew he couldn’t.

But as his grasp only tightened your hands desperately try to fight him off, but to no avail.

“Nanami please, let go of me!” Tears are really falling from your eyes now.

Can this truly be the man who you once talked about raising a family together someday? The man who promised you to fulfilled your dream in becoming a loving mother with him by your side?

Hands still desperately trying to push him away you began to get restless.

“Nanami let go of me,” with a look of despair in your face looking up at him “…please. I’m pregnant.”

He swore he saw your mothers eyes in yours.

Please promise to take care of my daughter Kento

10:15 pm

Gojo’s eyes kept looking over to you, and then your wrists. They were slightly bruised from what he can tell. Holding yourself, your body language was frail and tired.

He answered your call at the third ring, your shaky and low toned voice were the only thing that he needed to hear for him to get up frantically from his bed and make his way to you. And he wasted absolutely no time.

Now that’s where you find yourself. Laying on the man you had just met that same day bed. And though you were beyond grateful Gojo was there for you in a heartbeat, you feel completely and utterly alone. With family scattered throughout the country, and a life growing inside of you. You couldn’t just pull insane amount of savings you had accumulated for yourself. All the next choices you were going to face all trickle down on how the it’ll affect the baby inside of you.

The baby.

Memories of when you and your mother flood your mind. The way she always mentioned she couldn’t wait for the day she has her first grandchild. How your baby will have her unconditional love.

For her baby to have a baby.

Though your heart ached your body was incapable of any more tears. Just sniffles consumes the tall ceilings of Saturo’s bedroom. Letting them faintly echo towards the living room where Gojo does not catch an ounce of rest checking in on your every twenty some minutes for his own peace of mind.

‘(y/n)….(y/n)’

Your eyes flutter open to be met with your mothers.

‘Mom?’ you find yourself in a bed of grass. The moonlight shining bright upon you, tall trees with wind calmly brush through leaves.

‘(Y/N), I’ve been waiting for you my love.’

A sudden wave of nostalgia fills you. ‘Is this real?’

The sound of your moms soft laughter fills your ears.

‘As real as I’m allowed to’

The angst in your voice causes it to crack as you dream about feeling your mothers touch again.

You can see your mothers face change as she senses your sadness.

‘(Y/N), what’s wrong my dear?’

‘I’m sorry, mommy I didn’t mean to disappoint you’

The events you experienced earlier flood back into your mind, it was everything that your mother feared and hoped you never found yourself in.

‘Oh sweetie you didn’t, you were everything I ever wanted you to be. I looked over you handle everything with grace’

Her hand went up to wipe away your tears. But the phantom feeling never came.

‘In another life,’ your mothers voice getting noticeably further ‘I’d be there ever step of the way with you. In this one, I’ll be looking over you’

Gojo’s hand hovers over his door handle, hearing your faint cries longing to comfort you.

Slow burn obviously don’t work around here

@kalopsia-flaneur @thisbitchisblindasf @joyouart @overthebox @sadmonke @nikki-is-a-nerd @bubblysunwoosworld @patpatspatz @emmaiscool22 @kawaiivillainess98 @suckerforv @nanamin-chan @younglingslayer2020 @utakamo

#nanami x y/n #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #gojo x reader #nanami angst #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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pupyuj · 9 months

Text

[cw: smut, stepcest, mommy kink, nipple play, thigh riding]

my dumb ass forgot i promised a few stepdaughter!wony thoughts so here's one! (this pic drives me insane)

imagine wony as your campus popular, kind of snobbish, and bimbo stepdaughter 🫣🫣 when her father first introduced you to her, ofc she was weirded out considering you were closer to her age than you were with her dad, but in time... wony came to like you. really like you iykwim 👀👀

wony is always the one who keeps you company whenever her dad was busy with work and you were on your day off! she talks to you, gossips about some kids in her university, tells you all of the juicy news that happens while she's in school, tells you things about her father, and most importantly, makes sure you're very, very happy! she is sweet at first: smiling brightly at you, super polite whenever you do the usual mom stuff for her (making her breakfast, cleaning her room when she's gone, etc), recommends you the best shows and movies to watch, and has significantly improved your fashion sense whenever she decides to drag you out of the house to go shopping!

but then.. eventually, she becomes too sweet 😳

wony backhugging you in the morning while you're busy preparing her and her father's breakfast... ofc her dad isn't up yet so she can do whatever she wants to you 🫣 pulling you close, nestling her face on the crook of your neck, lightly kissing your shoulder... and her hands slowly roaming your body... somehow, you don't realize she was literally grinding against your ass, and thinks that your stepdaughter is just so, so sweet to you :(( she quickly separates from you the moment she hears her father's footsteps on the stairs, settling down on one of the chairs in the dining table. she gets so jealous seeing her dad hold you and kiss you :(( wishing that she could do that instead of just making herself look like a pervert feeling you up 😤

hehe trust that wony makes the most of your time together on your days off!! cuddling up on the couch with you, wearing the sluttiest n thinnest lacy tank top and the shortest shorts that she owns!! resting her head on your chest while you're brushing her hair with your hand... even while you're focused on whatever was on the tv, wony talks to you just to make sure that you're seeing her 🫠

and the position was perfect bcs when you turned your head, your eyes almost automatically dropped down to wony's cleavage, and whenever wony moves slightly, you can see a bit of her soft breasts .. of course you snap out of it quickly, but wony doesn't miss it . her eyes shined with happiness as soon as she realized what you did . now that she knows that you aren't as clueless as she thought you were, she can make a move and good god were her moves severe 😭

like imagine baking something one day, wony taking a bit of the icing you made to taste it, making sure she sucks it off her finger in the sluttiest way possible, keeping eye contact w you and smiling in satisfaction when she noticed how you swallowed nervously as you stared 😵‍💫 "it's really good, mommy," it was the first time she has ever used that nickname on you and it was so obvious that it wasn't innocent at all, considering that her eyes were all dark and she licked her lips in an unnecessarily seductive way that drove you crazy... and then it's time to like, put the icing onto the cupcakes and wony acts like a dummy who doesn't know what she's doing sjdbfjcks 😭 you having to stand behind her, guiding her hands, and then of course, moaning softly with her when she presses her ass against your groin... what a naughty girl :((

that time, you completely denied everything you felt . n somehow convinced yourself that wonyoung was just being silly but lord.. you wanted to touch her so baddd 💔💔💔

but then wony decided to throw a party at the house and that was where everything really started 😳 her father was going to be gone for the week for a business trip, leaving you and her all alone so of course wony would invite some friends and schoolmates to party!

but like, maybe you were feeling under the weather in that particular day and decided that you wanted to stay in your room and rest :(((( the noises and the partying young adults didn't really bother you,,, you just tucked yourself in the bed and decided to read,, and then wony comes in with a glass of water and a mission!

"i hope we're not being too loud... i'll kick them out in a bit i promise," she said, giggling while she puts the glass of water down on the bedside table.

"it's alright, baby. i don't mind," you really don't know just how much you do to wonyoung's mind whenever you decide to call her anything but her name. then she's looking back and forth at you and the door,, then ultimately deciding that she was going to get off tonight 😋🤤

wony pulling the blanket off your legs, biting her lip at the sight of you wearing a gorgeous nightgown. "i know just the thing to cheer you up, mommy..." she's saying, getting rid of her jacket and settling herself on your lap 😵‍💫 you freezing on your seat while wonyoung throws your book away, she has her hands on your shoulders and her wet, clothed cunt against your thigh, grinding slowly 🫣🫣

"wonyoung, no.. your dad—"

"he'll never know." and then she's kissing you 😳 but like you can't believe she's actually doing this so you're just,, sitting there while wonyoung's grinding herself faster, holding you so close and tightly against her, moaning and whimpering in your ear.. 😵‍💫😵‍💫

"mommy, please... i need you.. just touch me," she's saying, grabbing your hands and putting them on her chest 🥺🥺 somehow, you got rid of any fear and doubt in your body as you pulled wonyoung's shirt off her body and started fondling her breasts in your hand. she shudders at the feeling of your cold hands brushing against her hard nipples, and she moves her hips faster, moaning louder and louder as she tried her very best to stimulate her clit through her panties 😵‍💫

pinching and pulling at one of wony's nipples while your other hand pulls off her panties,,, and immediately feeling her wet folds with your fingers,, "you gonna come on mommy's thigh?" you asked, pressing your thumb against her clit, making her whine.

wonyoung nods enthusiastically, "i will, i will... i wanna come... make me come, mommy." and then she pushes your head on her chest,,, you caught one of her nipples with your mouth, sucking on the hard bud and flicking it with your tongue,, you started moving your thigh, matching wonyoung's rhythm 😵‍💫 you continued on rubbing your thumb on her clit as she was riding you, driving her closer and closer to the edge,,,

kshdnsksdjhck wony cradling your head while she rides you faster,, she wants to prove to you just how good you make her feel </3 omgomg biting on her nipple softly and nearly making her scream, but luckily enough, she caught herself before any sound could escape her mouth ugh you were too good at this,,,

of course, wonyoung says all the shit that she knows will break your walls down and completely submit to your naughty feelings for her 😩

"d-dad's a nice guy... b-but he can't give you pleasure like this, can he, mommy?"

"next time... i want mommy's cock inside me.. i h-have a toy that's perfect for us.."

"don't think about anything, mommy... just me. only me...!"

all of this just completely drove you to insanity,,, and as soon as you pinched on wonyoung's other nipple with your free hand, she came all over your thigh,, you have totally pushed the weight of your actions behind your head and only focused on wanting to fuck the hell out of wonyoung,,, so who knows? maybe when she finally gets rid of the kids downstairs, the fun will finally start...

#ive x reader #ive smut #ive imagines #jang wonyoung imagines #jang wonyoung smut #jang wonyoung x reader #girl group x reader #girl group smut #girl group imagines #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung smut #wonyoung imagines

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