#( the love from a lover and the love from the father can never equate to one another. )

[pastel-rights]

And then I finally end it off with some doodles of them… they make me feel things.

#ringmaster doodles #sona art #( they’re very much the theme of. love in the face of the neverending march of time. ) #( being immortal and knowing you will outlive the man you love because someone else deemed he unworthy of eternal life. ) #( he may still have tens of thousands of years left. sure. but you know that those will go by and he’ll disappear in the blink of an eye. ) #( and you’ll sit there on his death bed. wondering why did things end up like this? ) #( wondering what you did wrong. and if you could have done something different. you’ll always ask yourself. ) #( if he lives a life of happiness and comfort or did he live a life as gruesome and miserable as the wars on earth? but you won’t know. ) #( and the more you think about it. the more you realize it. how nihilistic he was. and how he never seemed to smile even in the good times. #he always seemed to have a frown or a scowl on his face. he always seems bothered and unhappy. ) #( so you wonder if it was something you did. because you know you aren’t perfect. you’re hardly good. ) #( you wonder if he’s mad at you. maybe he was. but he doesn’t have the heart to stay mad. ) #( and that’s love in the face of adversity. knowing that no matter how bad it gets. he loves you as you love him. ) #( and you wonder why he never smiles. because he truly never does. and so you ask him. honest and true. ) #( and he tells you there isn’t anything worth smiling for. nothing in this whole world. ) #( but he smiles at you. it’s always small. and it’s always brief. ) #( but that smile. that smile means love. ) #( that hug. as flimsy as it may be. that hug means love. ) #( of course. he isn’t affectionate. if anything. he detests it. he hates physical contact of any kind. you’ve noticed. ) #( which is a shame. you love your hugs and your kisses and your hand holding. ) #( but even if he doesn’t like it. he lets you do it. because it makes you happy. ) #( and you learn that when you’re happy. he’s a little less miserable. ) #( of course. not all love is equal. and not all love is fair. ) #( the love from a lover and the love from the father can never equate to one another. ) #( no one will love you in the same way a father or mother loves you. in the same manner. no one will ever love you the way I do. ) #( because my love will remain with you. long after I disappear. ) #( and as bitter as the idea of my own existence coming to an end is. knowing I did all of this for. essentially nothing. ) #( that I’ve gone through all this pain and suffering and hardship just for it to all amount to nothing. for it to be fucking useless to try. #I get to die knowing that you’ll always love and be loved. and that’s enough for me… ) #( … maybe there is something worth smiling for after all. )

[eumivrse]

NEVERTHELESS : armin arlert

summary there’s no such thing as fate. being laced in a relationship with someone who you’re not meant to be with was the last thing you expected. nevertheless–

warning(s) oral, semi-public, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, 69, co-workers to lovers, slight angst, catcalling, armin and reader are both secretaries for eren

word count 9,069

author’s note the title and some of the phrases were inspired by the k-drama, nevertheless, even though i really fucking hated the drama itself LMFAO. also armin was based on mr. cha from business proposal cuz yum.

Routines, you love ‘em.

Nothing sounds better than your whole day already mapped out in your head to avoid any inconveniences. Wake up, get ready for the day, work your 9-5 office job, go home, get ready for bed, sleep, then repeat.

People tend to push this negative narrative on office jobs, but you pay no mind to it. You prefer it this way anyways– you’re earning enough money and you’re cruising through life smoothly.

You’re in your shared office right now with your partner secretary, timidly asking, “Arlert, can you go with me to pick up proposal documents for the meeting on Friday?”

Your job isn’t bad at all. Being employed right under the CEO as his secretary has its perks, but it’s hard to ignore his other secretary's distant behavior towards you. He frequently avoids you unless it’s for work, yet he confuses you whenever he sees you struggling and would be the first to help you.

Instead of saying anything, he just glanced up from his computer to acknowledge your existence, nodded, then went out the room ahead of you without a word.

See?

But just a month ago, when there was a dispute between you and one of the marketing managers, right when the other person stepped closer and had their hand balled into a fist ready to swing at you, he pulled you away to the office and offered you water and support, stammering and fumbling with his words as if he did something wrong. Oftentimes, he seems to want to say something to you and it leaves you skeptical. What, is there a piece of lettuce stuck in between your teeth? You don’t believe that you’re that ditzy, but you certainly feel that way when you’re around him.

And not only is he the CEO’s right hand man, he’s the Jaeger family’s adopted son, meaning he’s just as significant of a figure as your boss. The only reason he’s below him in terms of occupation is because he chose to– even though in technicality, he’s much more qualified than Jaeger. And though your position equates to his, he’s much more experienced than you are since he knows what pleases Jaeger — they’ve lived together for fuck’s sake.

You weren’t going to lie, you can admit that you’ve checked him out a few times. What can you say, he has an ass and a yummy bod, his uniform that included slacks and a button up doing him justice. Though he’s never piqued your interest — considering how you work with him. You and him are supposed to be a team, yet you feel so apart.

You had an inkling that maybe he had feelings for you but that’s just thinking of yourself too highly. He’s the same way with everyone else, introverted and antsy. That’s why he let his brother take the position as CEO.

Nevertheless, he’s never wronged you in any way, so you let go of speculations and separated your opinions from work.

Jaeger had some of his father’s business friends over in his office today. As per, he ordered you to brew his morning coffee as well as extra for his guests while Arlert treats them with hospitality. As you went into the dry room to place the drinks down on the glass coffee table, you already felt stiff as if you were being analyzed — specifically by the oldest man in the room — as you bent down to place his drink in front of him. It’s uncomfortable being observed like this; you were wearing a pencil skirt today, nothing scandalous, but nonetheless you felt uneasy.

The two other guests said their thank you and you were about to leave to give privacy, until the man that was checking you out, blurted, “Jaeger, you let things like that run around here?” He was obviously referring to you, pointing his chin at your direction.

Even though you wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as possible, you couldn’t. You’ve never been catcalled like this, and it’s twice as embarrassing that the first time had to happen in front of your boss and your co-worker. Your back is turned towards the rest of them, hand wrapped around the cold knob, frozen in place.

“Let’s be professional here, yeah?” Jaeger sighs as he grabs a stack of papers in front of him. Your hand quietly turned the knob and you exited out of the room, though you couldn’t help but just stand outside and try to recuperate from what you just heard.

Instead of dropping the topic, the man went on. “I’m just saying, if I were you, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

Jaeger answers, his patience running thin. “She’s my secretary. Nothing more and nothing less. I’m not quite sure what you’re trying to imply.”

“If she’s up for a part time job… you know I’m in need of a new assistant. You don’t really need two secretaries after all, I’m guessing. You’re a big boy.” Your stomach churned and your limbs felt weak, the next thing you know, you hear Arlert raise his voice.

“Get out.” Armin’s tone is filled with disgust and thus, you speed walk off the vicinity and into the room where your shared office with Armin is as you hear the voices in Jaeger’s room get more intense by the second.

You’ve never heard him raise his voice, much less on someone who seems important for the growth of the company. You perceive yourself as someone trivial to him, so why would he go the extra mile to protect you?

As you sit down, you see your faint reflection on the computer screen. You stare at yourself, cheeks flared up in heat due to how ashamed you are. Maybe if you’ve worn slacks instead of a skirt this wouldn’t have happened, maybe your boss didn’t have to be put into that position, maybe then—

“Are you okay?” A stern, yet gentle voice shatters the self-deprecating thoughts that’s straining your head. You turn your chair around and it’s Arlert behind you, arms crossed, head looking down to meet your eyes for what seems like the first time.  

You stammer as you look away, “Yes- yeah.” Drops of tears fell and dampened the carpet beneath you, losing the fight of trying to hold back tears. Cupping your face with your hands, you quietly snivel in front of your partner, him kneeling to see you eye-level, reaching into his pocket and handing you a handkerchief as his own way of comforting you.

As you take the checkered cloth from him, your eyes puffy, he continues, “I’m sorry you had to hear that. Eren said can take the rest of the day off.” And though you couldn’t face him in the eye, you take note of his left cheek: swollen and flushed red.

“Hey… did you get hurt?” You reach your hand out to caress his cheek, but hesitated knowing how he is.

There was no use of lying, even a kid can decipher the fact that he’s been struck across the face. “It’s okay, a little ice can fix it. Don’t worry about me and rest, alright?”

You know it was a lie— he wasn’t okay, but nevertheless—

“Okay.”

Weeks have passed since then and oddly enough, he’s been treating you differently. In other words, he’s been more polite, visiting your desk more often, and such. It’s even gotten to the point where you’ve exchanged flirtatious glances, staring at each other for a bit too long, but both of you always quickly turn away to avoid any more awkwardness.

In general, your perception of him has changed and if this couldn’t be cliche enough, you’ve caught a little crush on him. You didn’t take it seriously though, as you figured that this is probably just from your lack of romance and your heart is mistaking your co-worker as someone you could potentially have a romantic relationship with.

Your fellow colleagues have noticed his sincerity towards you as well. By you— meaning that he’s still the same stoic person towards everyone else.

Tonight is the annual office Christmas party and instead of renting a proper venue, the president decided why not hold it on the floor you work on instead. Parties aren’t your forte, but you don’t mind. After all, it’s part of the job and to get on people’s good side. Avoiding this will just cause others to look at you as someone who’s arrogant.

It’s part of your routine to loosen up once in a while, so you didn’t hold back on the drinks. It wasn’t to the point where you felt like the world was spinning, but you obviously weren’t your… usual self. Calm, collected, and professional.

“Are you going to be alright going home yourself?” Sasha’s arm was draped over you as you walked her to the front of the building to wait for her Uber.

“Of course! I’m no baby!” She laughs maniacally, leading to you wondering how she landed on an office job with this energetic personality of hers.

After she got in the black sedan, you went back inside, hopped in the elevator, and when you got to your designated floor, you peeked through the small open crack of your office room as you were about to head home yourself. Arlert was typing away on his laptop, a bottle of whiskey along with a small shot glass sitting atop the wooden surface of his table.

“You can come in, you know.” He sighs, glancing at you for a moment then back on the screen in front of him, glasses reflecting the white sheen from the laptop. You entered the room, struggling to walk properly as you plop on the green velvet couch in the middle of the spacious room. You weren’t wasted by any means, it was just your damn 3 inch stilettos getting in the way.

Too tired to physically bend down and take the uncomfortable shoes off you murmur, “Why weren’t you out there with everyone else?”

“I prefer it to be quiet.” He clicks away on his keyboard, foot tapping on the carpet, the faint music blaring through the walls. The room was dim, the only light coming from his laptop and the open blinds. “Care for a drink?” He takes out another glass from his drawer, pops off the decanter of the whiskey and you watch the liquid meld onto the shape of the round glass.

You honestly don't feel like consuming anymore alcohol since you need to drive home, but your mind is urging you to take the drink anyways as a chance to spend more time with him. After balancing yourself, you sauntered towards him, took the drink in hand, and hopped so you could sit on his desk.

Clearly being faded is giving you more self-confidence, you’d never do this if you’re sober. You had no underlying intentions, you just wanted to unravel a layer of you he’s never seen before since you’ve led yourself to believe that he just thinks of you as his weak hearted co-worker and that’s why he’s treating you nicely and with care. Closing his laptop and walking around to lean against the edge of the desk next to you, you clink your glasses together and drink away.

“Good job on your presentation today, even Eren couldn’t make Ackerman as agreeable as you did,” His compliment only made you giggle. Placing your drink back down, you answer with a lopsided grin, “Well, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

It was sudden when he felt your head against his shoulder, not paying attention to the finger that slid around the edge of his jawline and the tilt that startled him, your noses nearly bumping. “Are you going to give me a reward?” You murmur, the corner of your lip turning up into a smirk.

“What would you like?” He wasn’t retaliating at all which only egged you on to go further.

You leaned to press your lips on his, the realization of how insane you are for doing this finally hitting you, but it’s too late. The repercussions for being unprofessional in the workplace can be dire, so you try to pull away with the assumption that Arlert will reprimand you. Before you could even part, he just pulled you back in, deepening the intimate moment and whimpering against your mouth from mere desperation.

One of his hands was around the back of your neck without force, but to imply that he wishes to keep going. You laced your fingers on his blonde locks, drawing his face closer as you nibbled on his bottom lip. When his other hand nipped on your collar button, you became aware of the buzzing in your heart.

The hunger and yearn you’ve had for him.

But is this really ethical? A few minutes of pleasure can cost you your career.

When half your button-up came undone, bra peeking in the crevice it revealed, you pushed him as lightly as you could.

Immediately, he stopped touching you and distanced himself by a few inches. “I’m- I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” He apologizes.

“No- it’s not you… it’s just that- I’ve never… God, this is embarrassing.” Yes, you’re a virgin and indirectly admitting it to your co-worker who was in the process of taking it is making you cringe. A part of you thought that you should’ve just kept going without telling him, but another part of you is afraid, what if it hurts?

What if you start bleeding and he gets icked out over it?

It’s not as if you’ve never had a significant other, you’ve just never gotten past second base because of the reasons just mentioned.

You were fiddling with your hands, trying to avoid looking at him at all until he pushed your chin with his finger to meet his eyes. His complexion is disheveled, strands of hair out of place and a smear of your lipstick apparent on the corner of his cheek. He seemed a little drowsy himself, his eyes are drooping, but impressively, he’s able to keep a good posture.

“I don’t think it’s embarrassing, but it’s up to you whether or not you want to proceed.” His words were reassuring with no doubt; you felt comfortable with him being your first, it was just a matter of judgment.

“We can keep going…” you shyly mumble, fingers grasping on his tie and pulling him back in for a kiss. Your skin felt cold, goosebumps forming from the anxiety bubbling in your stomach mixed with the fact that it’s actually freezing in the room you’re in at the moment.

Arlert noticed this when he felt your body trembling and your breathing hitch, ailing the tension by pressing soft kisses down your neck, one hand now past your top, cupping your boob under the fabric of your bra. He allowed his hand to squeeze around the swell of your breast, thumb flicking on your nipple.

Gasping, you mewl, “Arlert—“ he hushed you by putting his thumb over your lips. “Drop the formalities. Forget about our positions at least for tonight, okay?” You nod your head yes, hands slipping from under his shirt to frantically removing his buttons from its respective holes to shed Armin off his top. Being distracted enough, you didn’t take note of his hand sliding under your skirt and onto your thigh, finger teasing the cloth covering your pussy.

Shuddering, you squeeze your thighs back together out of instinct, Armin just prying them back open. He went down on his knees, kneeling in front of you while keeping your legs apart, taking a moment to appreciate the fresh view upon him.

The idea that he’s going to be your first drives him insane, more so that he’s not sober. It gives him a sense of possessiveness, the fact that his junior secretary is still a pure virgin. Still, he wanted to make sure you’re getting the best of the best instead of you feeling forced to do something you aren’t up for.

After all, it’s the least he could do. You’ve contributed a lot to the company— his family, and you share a lot of the same qualities which makes you two a great team.

Your panties were definitely soaked and Armin proceeded by pulling them down and tossing it over the headrest of his chair behind you. It felt bizarre that one of the company’s biggest names is kneeling in front of you, half naked and in between your thighs. “Are you sure you want to do this?” You mutter.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? I’m fine, but I need to know if you’re good. As soon as you start to feel… unsettled, let me know and we’ll pretend this never happened.” His tone had a hint of tenderness, but still domineering. Your fingers are curled on the edge of the desk, Armin delicately trailing pecks to your inner thigh and rolling your skirt up to give him more allowance.

The tip of his tongue sent shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body as he licked your clit and down the slit of your cunt. You shivered, Armin gazing up and catching you biting your lip to prevent yourself from being too noisy. He chuckles, hands wrapping around the meat of your thighs, “Don’t be shy on me now, I thought you wanted a reward, sweet girl.” At this point, he’s lost all sense of logic, all he wants to see— to hear —now is just you, you, you.

With fingers laced and gripped tighter on his hair, you pushed his face further on you, his lips brushing and nibbling right where you wanted it. “A-Armin—“ You hesitated to cry out his name, yet it’s the only word you can think of.

On the other side of the wall, a dull mixture of music and mumbles of co-workers passing by the room are caught by the ears while Armin slides his tongue in between your folds, hole leaking with arousal.

While you fought to squeeze his head in between your thighs, he’d only push them out and moan, piling onto the sheer heat that you’re experiencing within your pussy. He puckers his lips, pushing two of his fingers in your plush walls. “So sweet…” He reveres, mesmerized to say the least.

Fuck, you were tight, Armin told himself.

He offered his free hand for you to clasp onto to assure that he isn’t hurting you. You grab ahold of it while his fingers stretched you apart, a slight squelch noise painting your cheeks with heat out of embarrassment.

You weren’t going to lie, it did hurt.

Did.

After a few pumps, Armin was able to slip his digits in and out with ease, curling them up when they’re knuckle deep, and it drove you over the edge. It’s different when someone else does it for you, it’s never felt like this when you were experimenting by yourself.

You were practically pulling on his hand, heavy squeezes letting him know that you’re close. With repeated mumbles of his name, you announced, “Armin, Armin, I’m so— hah, god, I think— I think I’m close…” Your whole body was stiff, head shifted back and eyes set on the ceiling as Armin added the tip of his tongue on your clit. He wasn’t rushing you to your orgasm at all, but he’s precise, he knew immediately when he hit your spot and repeatedly arched his fingers in that angle.

Coating his fingers with your slick, you cried in silence, still sober enough to realize that this isn’t your bedroom and there’s people constantly walking back and forth by this room. Armin used his thumb to swipe languid circles on your clit, soothing you of your orgasm, massaging your inner thigh with his other hand, mumbling, “You’re okay, you’re okay… you did so well, love.”

You kept shuddering even as he got up on his feet after being on his knees, tugging on your waist slightly, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in for a longing kiss, lips gentle and with a slight tinge of your arousal apparent on his taste. Craving for more, you sneak your hand in between his pants to get a feel of the rigid texture against his boxers.

You giggle, pulling away from him. “Mm- you’re hard.”

“I just saw a beautiful woman cum in front of me, who wouldn’t be?” He smiles drunkenly, taking a chunk of your cheek in between his fingers to pinch you.

You could only feel flustered at his comment, not knowing what to say after that — you aren’t particularly used to someone complimenting you in that manner.

In a world where this situation might seem immoral, to you and Armin at this exact moment, it just felt… right.

You give him the green light. “Please… continue.”

His eyes flickered with surprise. “Are you sure you’re ready? It- it doesn’t have to be right now, we can take a rain check-“ Shushing him with your finger, you chuckled for two reasons.

First reason, you decided to verbalize. “Why are you talking as if it’s as simple as a team dinner? You’re so cute, Arlert- I mean- Armin.”

Second reason? This whole thing is just a fling. The most that’ll come of it is just more sexual tension in the workplace and probably awkwardness, but what are the chances of that happening when your personalities won’t allow that to happen?

If this is going to be your way for your feelings to fade into a memory, then you’ll take it. You’ll go to work on Monday pretending like it was just a wet dream, and avoid eye contact with him until you clear your head of it.

But unfortunately for your little innocent head, feelings don’t work like that.

Your reassurance was enough said, he slips his hand into his wallet to search for a condom, which luckily he had one, unbuckles his belt, then pulls his pants down. The lump against the fabric of his boxers seemed as if it was begging for fresh air, you pulled his briefs down to his mid-thighs as he bent over to place kisses on your neck.

His cock was on the lengthier side, tip flushed pink and oozing with pre-cum. You wrap your hand around it with a light squeeze, gliding up and down lazily. He groaned your name right up in your ear, hands traveling all over your body, holding onto you like he’s been longing for this more than you have.

A stroke up, then down, roll your thumb on the tip, and repeat. “Holy shit, oh yeah. Oh god yeah…” Occasional grunts turned into chants of mewls and cries before you swallowed his pleas with your lips. It felt a little empowering to have this much control over your senior, so safe to say that you were eating this up.

He completely submerged himself under your touch, the vanilla scent of his hair vigorating the nerves of your nose. Armin felt weak in the knees the more you teased him by denying him of his release, one twitch oh his cock means your strokes would get twice as slow as prior. He gasps as you parted, “Oh fuck, oh fuck—! baby… please make me cum… please…”

Not like you were planning on teasing him any further, but he came almost straight away, warm cum spurting on your hand and the edge of the desk, in between your thighs. “Fuck… thank you, darling.” He sighs, unwrapping the condom from the packet and slipping it around his cock.

“God, Armin.” You whimpered when he slid his cock up and down your slit, tip bumping against your clit with each slip. Armin’s hand kept your thighs pried as he positioned himself to enter the crown of his cock past your hole.

You nearly screeched, lips parting, fingernails etching onto Armin’s shoulder blades. ”Shh, shh, it’s okay, baby. I’ll be as slow as you need to.” He captures you by the lips, comforting you as you engulf him whole. Whining into the kiss, his warm hand caressed your tear-stained cheek, thumb swiping away the tear that rolled down your face.

A few inches in and you weren’t moaning into his mouth because of the burning sensation, it became bearable— pleasurable. Armin was being as careful as he could, his chest nearly touching yours as he bottomed you out.

“Ready?”

“Yes…” And with that, he drags his girth out your hole, until it was only his tip stretching you. One slam of his hips and you were forced to choke in your moans, a hand keeping your thighs apart while the other hoists your skirt up your waist. If he could be honest, he wished you weren’t being modest with making noise. In his drunk point-of-view, who would even care that the CEO’s two secretaries are screwing in their office when everyone else is having their own fun outside?

You muttered curses while he drilled into you, his hips not too fast that it was painful, but not too sluggish that you were left bored. Armin pressed soft pecks on your jawline, hand sneaking up and fondling with your breast, nipple in between his fingers.

“Ah- mm— hah- Armin-“ You cry, his free palm wrapping around your ankle and bending it towards you, one knee against your chest. Armin’s face was warm, eyes nearly brimmed with tears to how good your pussy felt.

He groans, grabbing your chin to pull your eyes on him without faltering the speed of hips. “How does it feel having me take your virginity, hm?” He knew how you felt judging by the way your face is making that fucked out expression, drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth, but he wanted to hear it.

Quivering, you whisper as he lets go of your face, “I love it, I love it s’much.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” Greedy bastard, he totally heard it. Your slick frothed and pooled on the wooden luster of the desk, coating his cock while his balls pressed up against the base of your ass with each thrust.

Your ankle felt a bruising pain with his tight grip, your nails clawing on his back while you raised your voice, feeding into his covetous desires. “Armin—! Fuck, I love it. It’s- it’s so good, baby please.” You’re practically babbling nonsense, words slurred and barely coherent.

With each slam, the desk rumbled, pens and organized documents plummeting off the desk and scattering all over the carpet floor. Your hand went up to cup his face, thumb pressing on his lips and in his mouth. His tongue swirled around your finger, humming while you struggled to keep still.

“Hah- yes, yes… taking me so well,” Armin praises, forehead clashing against yours, hunching himself over to lick your lips open and slip his tongue in. You took a fist full of his hair to pull him closer, your body leaning back until you were laying on the table, legs pulled to rest against his shoulders. Each slam of his cock progressively turned rougher, his thighs slapping on the back of yours as he threw his head back, the evening glow gleaming through the curtains and on his Adam’s apple glossed with sweat.

It’s as if your walls were molded just for him, you were so good, pussy clamping onto his cock like a goddamn champ. Armin mumbles without his hips faltering, “Would it be okay if- if I change it up?”

“Yes— holy, fuck—“ You were folded in half, Armin pushing the back of your thighs. It was getting harder to breathe, but he put you in a position that allowed him to plunge his cock deeper, penetrating your g-spot. Your body is tense, teeth sinking on your bottom lip while Armin kept a tight push on your thighs, his eyes glued to how your creamy cunt stretches nicely for him. Using the tips of your finger to relieve the ache of your clit, you yelped, a stream of liquid spurting out of your hole.

“Fuck… you fucking squirted…” He groans, leaning back down to kiss you as he cums. He lets go of your exhausted legs, hands now cupping and massaging your boobs to help you come down from the intense stimulation. Your breathing stuttered when he pulled out to take his condom off, your lower half feeling numb and limp.

“Thank you, Armin,” You whisper.

“Of course, love.” He chuckles.

You’re aware that it has already begun, you started something you know you shouldn’t have, but nevertheless—

It’s the next morning, Saturday, meaning you’re off.

Eyes slowly snapping open, your brain immediately went into panic mode. You weren’t in your apartment and your body felt like it got hit by a truck. The room you’re in was unfamiliar, it was in the color pearl as opposed to your creme walls and the decor was off too– it’s not suited to your taste. Your eyes wandered to see picture frames on the white oak nightstand of Arlert, Mr. Jaeger, and their family.

Arlert… Mr. Jaeger… wait.

“Good morning.” A voice interrupted your train of thought. It was Arlert, carrying a tray with a bowl of warm soup and a glass of water. Hardly remembering how you ended up here, you just nodded as he sat on the edge of the bed, placing the tray on the nightstand and handing you the glass of water.

You held the cup with both your hands, and took a sip, clearing your throat, then asking, “Um… so how did I end up here? Don’t tell me I went batshit insane and-“

“We slept together.” He cuts you off, the water almost splashing out of the glass as you were taking your second sip.

Those words immediately struck you and you were able to recover some patches of yesterday’s events. Specifically the part where you threw yourself at him.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

This isn’t right, this wasn’t supposed to happen. He’s your co-worker, your work partner. Sure, you have feelings for him but that was supposed to be suppressed.

The silence felt too thick even for Arlert. “I figured you wouldn’t be able to come home by yourself after all that, so I took you to my place. I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

You weren’t angry nor disappointed at him. You felt stupid that you could barely remember the first time you had sex. Your memory is so fogged, you forgot everything past when you kissed him. Plus, he’s the president’s son. If word gets out, you’d be lucky if the company just lets you go quietly. No, rumors will start to spread about how you were just sleeping around to get to your current position. You’ve worked too hard to prove yourself competent, you’re not going to risk everything just for some temporary fun.

Eventually composing yourself, you take your belongings from the lounge chair next to you and slip your shoes on, as hard as they already are to walk on without the ache on your legs. “I’m sorry… uh- can we pretend this never happened?” Maybe you should’ve worded it more nicely.

In a perfect world, it would’ve been nice to entertain the idea of having a relationship with Arlert. He’s smart, handsome, and he’s quite caring once he lets you in his personal bubble.

Armin’s heart sunk, his mouth shaping from a smile to a blank stare. “What do you mean ‘pretend it never happened’?”

“You know… that it was null and void.” You purse your lips, leaving him with that cruel statement while you flee the room with your head hung low.

You couldn’t bear to look at him after saying those harsh words, he didn’t even bother to run after you.

But that’s that, you tell yourself as you hopped in the elevator. Maybe you’ll just take a few days off of work and hope for the best.

You’re aware that there’s no turning back no matter what you say. Nevertheless—

Needless to say that you couldn’t skip work after the weekend that felt like lasted forever. Jaeger will end up interrogating you, and you’d rather not make it obvious that you’re avoiding a certain someone.

Arlert didn’t show any signs of concern, he treated you the same way and gave you your desired space. You did the same, making sure no one will suspect anything, which went on for a few consecutive weeks.

He’d constantly try to approach you after work, but you’d always excuse yourself first and hurry down to your vehicle to get away as soon as possible. You’ve dug yourself a hole by saying you never want anything to do with him again, ashamed of yourself for not remembering what had happened that night.

Even so, fate is always somehow always against your wishes, thus Eren assigned you both to travel for the weekend since his terminally ill grandfather wished for a specific kind of bread only available at a bakery 4 hours away from town. You offered if you could just do the task yourself since it’s just bread, but Jaeger insisted on having Arlert by your side to secure your safety.

Neither of you could refuse, it is Arlert’s grandfather and it’s part of your job to aid him out of respect as he’s the former president.

You drove there right after work, in a separate car from Arlert. The drive was silent besides the mellow jazz from the aux. Your fingers were tight on the steering wheel, barely able to relax the whole way there as you’re about to spend the weekend alone with him.

It was around midnight when you got to the hotel, Jaeger offered to book a room since he has some connections with the owner. Arlert had already arrived, waiting for you in the front, glancing at his watch then up to see you walking to the front steps.

“Would you like dinner first before we check in?” He offers, hand rubbing the back of his head.

“Uh…” you were planning on making some excuse, but your stomach said otherwise.

You’re here for work after all, not for some cheesy romance bullshit.

You grin meekly. “Sure.”

Dinner was quiet, yet uncomfortable. You had it right in the hotel, the menu prices almost got your heart to flat line, but Arlert slipped a company credit card out of his pocket to assure you.

You barely spoke, the only conversation you really had was about the meeting today, nothing outside of work.

The sounds of silverware clanking on the ceramic plates and other people’s chattering filled your ears, soon interrupted when Arlert blurted out, “So um, Eren only booked a one bed-room on accident. I’ll stay on the sofa and you can take the bed.”

You kept silent, acknowledging him by nodding, but for some reason you felt unsatisfied that he’d rather sleep on the couch than share a bed with you, even though it’s clear that he’s respecting your wishes. It’s agitating — enough that you wanted to blurt what you’re feeling right here and now.

“Arlert-“

“It’s okay. ‘Just pretend nothing ever happened’, right? You don’t have to feel like you have to avoid me anymore.” He didn’t even make eye contact, blue eyes latched onto the slab of steak in front of him.

You’ve never felt so conflicted in your life. All the signals in your brain is telling you that it’s best that he’s drawing the line, but something in within you is saying to fuck all of that.

When you finished eating, you got your luggage from your car and went ahead of Arlert to go to the room first. It just happened to be 6 stories high, spacious with a huge king-sized bed, the window overlooking the unfamiliar city.

Placing your bag on the ground, the door behind you opened and it was him.

The quaint pair of glasses sitting gracefully on top of his nose bridge, complexion calm and collected, yet was filled with solitude.

You really couldn’t take having to tighten the lid of your feelings anymore.

It’s over. You know this, but nevertheless—

“Wow the view is nice huh?” He tried initiating small talk, sauntering towards the window. You followed behind, pulling his arm, then pushing him against the cold glass, hands on his wrists. He neither seemed startled nor irritated. Just that same stoic look on his face.

“I’m sorry, Armin… I just- ugh. I don’t remember anything.” You sigh.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

You didn’t have a tight grip on him, but he didn’t retaliate. You continue rambling. “I only remember a little bit of sleeping with you that night, but… but… aghhh! I know how frustrating this is for you, but god this has been killing me for the past week now. I just- I’ve been trying so hard to hide how I really feel about you, but now I just feel like I fucked everything up.”

He chuckles, his thumb rubbing against your cheekbone. “You’re adorable, you know?”

You exhale, “And also… what if everyone else thinks I’m some ladder climbing whore?”

“I won’t let them do that to you, I promise. You’re the smartest, most reliable woman I know, I’ll make sure that’s how everyone else perceives you.” His flattery is tugging on your heartstrings, a slight smile forming on your complexion.

“So did you actually mean what you said earlier about pretending like it never happened?” You frown.

“Let’s make that null and void.” You felt like you were able to breathe again when he finally kissed you, one arm wrapped around your waist to push you against his body and the other on the back of your head.

You stumble towards the bed backwards, unaware of whatever else is happening besides the pair of lips clashing onto yours, breathing heavily through your nose. He quickly pulls away to toss his glasses to the side while you work on tugging his tie off, then undoing the buttons of his linen top.

Armin expertly popped the buttons out of your top and you shimmy your way out of it, leaving the both of you topless. You tripped on the mattress, back landing on the plush surface, Armin pinning you down with both his arms.

“From now on,” He presses a soft kiss on your neck, “I’ll make sure you remember everything.”

While he nibbles on your earlobe, you tease, “I’ll be keeping my expectations up.” You wiggle your way towards the huge headboard, suddenly holding onto Armin’s biceps and swiveling them to make your way on top of him, legs folded on either side of his thighs.

“You sure you can handle it?” He chuckles, face lit with fervor. You unclamp the button of his trousers, sliding them down, leaving him with only his boxers on. A dark splotch of precum was apparent on his underwear, the fat of his boner melding through his boxers.

You palm his clothed cock, cupping and eliciting sharp gasps from him. “Arlert, I wanna suck you off,” Already crawling with one knee in between his legs, he grabbed onto your wrist and paused you.

“Hold on.” He shuffled himself until he was laying on his back, your expression painted with slight confusion. “If you insist, sit on my face while you suck my dick.” His grin showed pure malice, as if he’s been dreaming about your pussy suffocating him.

You’ve seen what he just described in porn you come across on your twitter timeline, except you don’t have the self-confidence to push your whole weight down on someone’s face.

“Um- are you sure? That sounds uncomfortable…” You ponder, hand now grasped beneath the sheets from anxiety. This whole thing is still so new to you, it’s so nerve wracking knowing that someone else is taking the effort to make you feel good.

Armin reassures, reaching his arm out to turn on the table side lamp next to him. “Does it look like I care about that? Come on, let me give you a good time, hm? If you don’t like it, we’ll stop.”

There’s no harm in trying. Armin has been so sweet and careful knowing that you don’t have a lot of experience, assuring that you’re receiving the best of the best.  And it’s not as if he’s not getting perks of his own. He’s still wondering how no one else has taken you up and given you what you deserved.

First off, you’re pretty. Often clad in a tight white button-up, see through enough to the point where he can see the color of your bra strap if he takes the effort to stare. He also knows the days you alternate between skirts and pants. Not on purpose of course, but he sees you everyday and he’s a meticulous person, it’s easy for him to notice patterns.

It’s perverted, he knows, but he can’t help it. That’s why he’s so nervous whenever you’re around that his hands get sweaty and he frequently has to twist his tie to cool down.

Plus, you’re the dopest person he knows. Ambitious, self-serving, never takes shit from anyone. You also didn’t kiss Eren’s ass to get to your position which isn’t necessarily common in the company where kissing up might as well be part of the job.

So it’s nice to see you under that veil, where you’re so frail and whiny all of a sudden because he’s too fucking big for your unstretched cunt. Where he got to take a picture in his brain of every second of that night– how you look like under your clothes, nipples prickled hard from the breeze of the AC while he fucked your brains out.

You stand on the mattress, carefully pulling your slacks down then curling your finger under your bra strap to slip it off one shoulder, then the other. Your breasts bounced out of its confinements and Armin observed as you knelt and swung your legs so that one would be on each side of his head.

Swallowing hard, you stared at his navy boxers, smeared with precum, the outline of his cock prominent under the fabric. Your thighs were trembling, the air was cold and you felt a pair of eyes piercing its gaze towards the wet splotch apparent on your panties.

Armin took the crotch part of your underwear and pulled it to the side, your pussy already puffy, folds glossed with slick. He grasps your waist and gently pulls you lower, closer to his face, and he sticks his tongue out until the tip bumped your clit.

Meanwhile, you’re shuffling to pull his boxers down, just enough for his cock to spring out, the head swollen and leaking with translucent, thick precum. You wrap your palm around the base, just above his balls, suddenly hissing at Armin teasing your clit. “Fuck, Armin… “ You laughed off the sting of his wet tongue, but you were getting a little frustrated.

And Armin can tell. “Baby, you know I can’t reach you if you don’t sit on my face properly right? Just relax, you have nothing to worry about.” He chuckles, practically lying through his teeth because he knows damn well of what he’s capable of.

Hesitantly, you placed more weight on top of his face as you slid your hand up his cock and rolled your tongue out where a ball of spit coated the head. Your back arched into a firm bow, a response of pain when he sank two of his fingers inside you. “It- it hurts.” A low hiss crept past your lips, just right on the head of his cock.

“Does that mean you want to stop?” Armin was being polite, but him drooling on your cunt shows nothing but pure spite.

Squirming, you whisper. “No… I need more. Stop teasing.” Your ass was aching from your position, mouth practically pressed against the length of his dick. He sighs, his breath fanning against the heat of your cunt. Your bossy attitude provoked a laugh out of him, he thought it was cute.

After chuckling, he jests, “Agh, I guess I can’t deny a pretty girl like you.” Those words wrapped your heart in a warm blanket, it felt so sweet and nourishing even if he meant it sexually.

That feeling didn’t last long however, he was back to licking your pussy, tongue making its work by slipping along the slit while his lips sucked your clit. You whimpered, your mouth around his cock sending vibrations straight to his balls.

You had never given head, but nonetheless you use this opportunity to try things you’ve seen in porn. Caving your cheeks in, you take slow steps in taking more of his cock in your mouth, saliva dripping all over his dick.

Armin noticed what you were trying to do and was ready to stop you in case you gag, but he could feel you getting closer to your orgasm as your legs shook around his head and the louder your moans got. So instead, he encourages you by sticking a third finger in your hole and fucked it in and out while groaning under you. Your throat constricted the more you took of him, up until the tip nearly punched the back of your throat.

Grinding on his face, you were practically seeing stars, more so when Armin curled his fingers inside you, tipping you over the edge. A stream of fluid projectiles past his head and onto the plush pillow. A sharp gasp was emitted from your throat when you pulled away, a twine of saliva connecting your lips and his tip, your hand continuing on jerking him off.

“Fuck, Armin, fuck, you make me so horny, hah…” At this point, you were just spitting out what you had in mind, words that you’d never typically say out loud.

But he took those words to heart.

He grins, voice slightly muted as you rock your hips on his face. “Oh yeah? Can you do that f’me again then?” The wet plump of his lips sucked on your tender clit, his fingers only picking up in pace. You tried your best to pump your hand as fast as you could, your tongue sticking out and teasing his leaking fat cock head.

The topic of sex was something you rather avoided. You enjoyed hearing about your friends’ sex lives but you always thought they were just sugarcoating for bragging points. Watching porn didn’t have that much of an effect either, sometimes you get so turned off when the man is too aggressive or when the woman is moaning too loud.

But with Armin? Your first time felt like a reenactment of a steamy smut scene in those romance novels. He holds onto you, reassures you, and makes sure that you don’t feel belittled because you’re lacking in experience. You always thought that the process of losing your virginity would be painful, but this is only your second time and you're already addicted.

Armin was panting, his body shifting underneath you. “Oh god, oh god, fuck—! Oh—“ He yelps, broken strings of cum spewing out and onto your lips, which you licked off. His cock twitched while your hand faltered in speed.  

You weren’t far from cumming yourself, Armin’s fingers were slipping in with ease, the combination of that and his tongue ejecting a mess out of you, a porn-worthy moan bouncing off the walls of the room. Your slick ran on your thighs, Armin still kitten licking your clit, evoking a weak giggle from you. “That’s it… Just like that…” He praises.

Rolling off him and onto the mattress you laid down in disbelief as you were coming down from your high. Armin sat up and plopped beside you, your heads on the foot of the bed. Strands of his blonde hair were stuck on his forehead, chin gleamed with arousal against the city lights from the window view. “Are you tired?” He asks, staring at the blank ceiling.

You turn your body sideways, facing him. “Not really. Are you?” He rolls to the side and positions you so he could hover above you. Hunching down, he goes in for a sweet kiss, the bubbling feeling in your stomach flaring up.

While remaining embraced, arms hooked around his neck to keep his face close, he pulled off, his thumb drawing circles on your cheekbone.

“I want it… I want you.” You mumble, desperation dragging in each syllable of your words. Despite your memory not cooperating, your body was yearning for more.

“Are you sure? I don’t have a condom with me.”

“Can’t you just… pull out?” You raise the question, eyebrows raising in curiosity of his answer.

“Is that really what you want though?” Armin is aware that asking too many questions can turn you away from wanting to continue on any more, but he can’t go on without the assurance that he isn’t forcing you to do something you don’t really want to do.

You nod timidly.

Armin lightens up the mood, chuckling, “Only the second time and you’re already asking for it raw? You’re so ambitious.”

“Only with you.” You laugh along with him, face flushed with heat.

Only with him, you can feel this comfortable with being naked and saying whatever was on your mind. Romance-wise, your relationship with him is still fresh, but the feelings already had a seed in your heart.

“I always liked you, you know.” Armin doesn’t know what the fuck he’s saying and why now, but for some reason he felt that this was the best time to do so.

“Yeah? How so?” You tease, arms still locked around his neck.

“I don’t know, it just happened. Maybe it’s because you’re so cool and you kinda intimidated me.” He confesses, his arms still caging you in between.

“What do you think of me now?” The room was eerily quiet, as if you two were the only ones living on the planet and nothing else mattered.

He ponders, “Still cool… not as intimidating… beautiful…” looking you in the eye, you snuck him in for a heated kiss before he could comprehend what was happening, tongue slipping in between his lips and clashing with his tongue.

Whimpering against your mouth, he was jerking himself off for lubrication, nudging his cock in between your folds quickly before parting from you shortly to pull your panties off completely, tossing it on the floor. He’s sliding in slowly, but it’s difficult when your cunt is sucking him in so good.

It was different this time; you’re taking a mental note of each second of this moment, the stretching burn as his cock dragged along your tight walls, his lips smashed against yours, his choppy breathing in between kisses…

As soon as he was fully inside of you, he placed your ankles against his shoulders and bent down, staring at your pleasured face. Mouth agape and eyes blank, he caressed your cheek with his finger while snapping his hips on yours. Your nails dug on his back, crescent shaped marks engraved on his skin.

“Armin… so deep…” You’re mewling, his cock sinking into your hole, leaving your legs numb as he folded you in half. He only hackled a chuckle; the more you moaned, the more he was encouraged to thrust faster and deeper.

The smack! of your wet cunt against Armin’s balls and the heavy breathing were the only noises in the muted room. Armin was utterly obsessed — obsessed with everything about you. Even the way your teeth ram into your bottom lip because his cock is fucking into you so deliciously is something he wants to replay in his mind over and over.

“You’re so pretty darling, squeezing onto me so well, hah-“ He wasn’t going to lie, he hadn’t planned on doing this tonight; otherwise, maybe he would’ve been more prepared. Armin really doesn’t mind staying in between your legs all night, but god is he fucking addicted on doing you raw. Your throat strained, whines becoming fuller while you spat out sweet nothings about how he’s making you feel so good.

Armin leaned back, observing your boobs bouncing in sync with his thrusts, your hands going up to knead and massage them. He held onto your legs, eyes traveling to your glistening cunt engulfing his dick, reveling in the feeling of his cock rutting into your most sensitive spot.

Reaching forward to squeeze your nipples in between his fingers to rouse you up, you whimpered quietly, “ ‘m so close…” Your eyes were shut, breathing jagged with each rock of his hips.

“God— yes, do it for me, schatzi.” His mother tongue slipped out the more his mind was hazed and could barely keep a lucid thought that wasn’t filthy. Your eyes squeezed shut, body tense when you came, legs twitching and lips muttering his name.

Armin was on the verge of cumming as well, letting go of your legs to pull out, pumping into his fist before forgetting to do so. He came on your tits, long strings of white, translucent cum on your lithe skin as he groaned under his breath. Slumber was running all over your veins, the temptation of sleep taunting you.

He hops off the bed and sits next to your head. “Baby, we should clean up. We have a long day tomorrow.” He pokes your cheek.

You were sore as you followed him to the ivory bathroom, and into the unnecessarily huge glass paned shower. Armin twisted the knob for warm water and he did the honors of washing your body, hands travelling all over you, cupping your breasts although it didn’t feel inherently sexual. He trailed kisses all over the back of your neck and your back as the water ran down your bodies.

Twisting your head, you laced your fingers with his own and you locked your lips against his before whispering, “I like you too.”

Giggles and kisses were shared prior to going back to bed, both of you were too infatuated to figure out that this is way out of your routines and character, considering that this is an HR violation and god forbid if other people find out.

Nevertheless…

There’s no turning back.

schatzi is an endearment term in german according to various sources. literally means treasure, but can be used as ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’.

#armin arlert #armin #armin smut #armin arlert smut #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin x reader smut #armin arlert x reader smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut

[dulcewrites]

I'm sorry I sent a question that I didn't finished to write 😭😭 anyway I was wondering if maybe you could write a one shot with Daemon Targeryen or with Aemond Targaryen. The reader has a bad nightmare which leads to a panic attack and her lover comforts her

Patience and Premonitions

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary: Since finding out you’re with child, you’ve been having the strangest nights

A/N: soooo I’ve been super obsessed with the idea of dragon dreamers. I wanted to play around with the reader possibly about to birth to one, and through that having dreams/nightmares herself. It was nice writing Aemond as an attentive husband/future father. Also THANK YOU guys for getting me to 1,000 🥺🥺. I don’t know how to celebrate but I want to. Maybe more request or even headcanons??? Let me know if you guys have ideas 🫶🏽

Fool me once pt2

For you always

They start the same.

The nightmares always start with a babe’s cry. You’re trying to help the babe but you can’t; you can’t reach them. Then comes the fire, and dragon’s cry. You don’t recognize the dragon, it’s greenish purple scales like nothing you have ever seen. The blazing heat overwhelming you. It’s sensory overload, from the crying to the fire. It only ends when you wake up, normally in a pile of your own sweat.

Easy sleep was not something you came by lately. During the beginning of your pregnancy all you did was sleep. Now as time to the deliver the babe looms closely, an uncomfortable ache takes your body. Add nerve shattering nightmares to the equation, and you have a recipe for never getting sleep.

You are short of breath when you finally wake. Chest tight and vision blurry as you sit up in the bed. Your chambers only being lit by the full moon that shines through the curtains and the few candles in corner of the room.

“Another bad one?”

You husband’s voice cuts through the room as you try to calm yourself down. A hand begins to rub your back soothingly.

“I need you to breathe my love… slowly,” Aemond sits up. You start to breathe in deeply through your nose, eyes fluttering shut.

The room becomes silent again as you try to regulate your breathing.

“I’m starting to think we need to talk to the maester about this,” his tone is soft but worry is laced throughout. You open your eyes, and shake your head.

“I do not think Maester Archibald had remedies for bad dreams.”

Despite his cool nature, Aemond is a worrier at heart. His need to have things in order only grew after you became pregnant. It is your first child together, and the first time you’ve ever carried a babe. His other hand goes to your belly, and he leans down to kiss your shoulder.

“You know your mother told me something interesting over breakfast today,” you start nuzzling your face against his. “She said she had vivid, sometimes scary, dreams when she carried Helaena.”

You leave out the heartbreaking part of when your stepmother told you she never told anyone because she did not think anyone would care. She went through her all pregnancies with a heavy heart, and now raises her children virtually alone. You are young, but not as young as Queen Alicent was when she had Aegon. And at least you have strong support system, and an attentive husband. The whole thing makes you resent King Viserys even more than you already did.

“It had me thinking. What if the babe is trying to tell me something… the way Helaena tries to tell us stuff,” you continue.

Aemond doesn’t reply right away, clearly in deep thought. Helaena’s prophecies are often fuzzy premonitions. Things that never fit perfectly till after they happen. Like the riddle she told you about blessings that can not be seen right away. Two moons later, you find out about your baby.

“Another dreamer in the family. Gods help us,” he whispers. You laugh as you move your hand to his on your stomach. Your hands interlock. “Dragon dreamers are a blessing. Special.”

“How much more special do you Targaryens need to get,” you nudge him playfully. “I already have to worry about you riding Vhagar, and now I have to worry about a dragon riding, prophecy having child.”

“You have blood of the dragon growing in you. You’re a Targaryen my dear wife.”

You hum softly as both of you look over at the warm incubator carrying your babe’s egg. Soft crackling emitting.

“I hope the egg hatches,” Aemond’s voice sounds distant.

Your child growing up without a dragon is a fear that permeates through Aemond. Though you were not around for it, you know how much not having one growing up affected him. How it still haunts him even now as the rider of the largest dragon in the world. The tension was always under the surface, but his claiming of Vhagar and the lost of his eye left a permanent division in the family. He still feels the affects of it to this day.

“If it does not, we will just have to remind them that everything happens in due time,” you squeeze his hand. “And lucky for them, they have the perfect father to guide them through it.”

His lips find yours, and he kisses you softly. You two exchanged whispered I love you’s before he sighs wistfully.

“Let’s get you and byka zaldrīzes to sleep.”

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #requests #my writing

[funnylittlelad]

Rules Made To Be Broken - Steve Harrington x gn!reader

Thank you for (over) 200 followers!!

Masterlist - AO3

Rule One >>

summary: As you and Steve grow closer, things seem to be going perfectly. That is until your police chief father steps in. The more you lie the deeper a hole you dig, but what else can you do? No matter what your dad says, you're not staying away from Steve Harrington.

wordcount: 12k

notes/tags: Hopper!reader, secret dating, sneaking around, fluff, friends to lovers, almost teenage car shenanigans, events of season three do not take place (canon divergent), Hopper is a bit of an overprotective helicopter parent, mentions of/talks about: abusive parents, tumultuous relationships, divorce, death, and family trauma., Steve's dad is his own warning, We Love Callahan In This House.

Prologue: Accidents Happen

It happens by accident. At least, that's what you tell yourself. You’d had the odd relationship here and there, but it’s never been serious. It's never been allowed to be serious. Your dad made sure of that. He scared anyone off before they got too comfortable. Usually, you're fine with that. It saves you a lot of trouble in the long run. You like that you don't have to commit. That's why Steve Harrington coming out of nowhere scares the living shit out of you.

Over the past year, you’d gotten closer to him. Not a lot, but enough for him to get a foothold. Then he started working at the ice cream shop next to your job at the mall arcade. You’d pop in every so often to say hi to Robin. She was one of the few friends your dad approved of. He never stopped you from being friends with people, but there would always be a telltale hmph. After a few weeks, you started visiting more, only it wasn't for Robin. It was for Steve Harrington and his little sailor shorts. 

“You’re gonna get me fired with all these free samples,” Steve pretends to complain with crossed arms.

You finish polishing off the most recent little spoon with a smile.

“You’re the one that keeps giving them to me, Mr. One-Per-Customer,” you tease.

“Don't you have snot to clean off of some video game?” he jabs, leaning forward on the counter.

“I got off and you seemed like you needed company,” you shrug.

“Well, I get off in fifteen. What d’you say to keeping me company through a movie?” Steve asks in a rare show of bashfulness, picking at an invisible spot on the counter. 

You grow a dazzling grin.

“I say that sounds fun.”

It was fun. Until Steve drove you home. Your driveway is lit only by the last reaches of sunlight, an orange fading to purple over the trees. On the front porch, leaning with his forearms against the railing, and a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth is your dad. He watches Steve’s car with narrowed eyes, taking a slow drag. The half-unbuttoned uniform tells you he just got off duty. 

“Should I say hi?” Steve asks unsure.

“No,” you sigh, “We’re about to fight.”

Steve looks at you startled.

“What?” 

“Jonathan isn't home, which means I was supposed to come back right after work to watch Will and El. Except Will and El don't need a babysitter, but I need a life. So, we’re about to fight,” you explain like it's a simple equation.

“Right, I forgot Hopper and Joyce shacked up,” Steve nods.

“Don't talk about my dad shacking up,” you scrunch your face in disgust.

“Sorry,” Steve laughs and stretches an arm over the back of your seat around the headrest, “When can I see you again?”

A spiced apple scent surrounds you, rolling off of him. A smell that's Steve’s and Steve’s alone.

“You see me almost every time you work,” you point out with a light blush.

“I know, but I mean like this,” he gestures between you with his free hand.

The smile that crawls onto your face is impossible to fight off. You glance back at your dad. He’s stamping out his cigarette in the ashtray on the railing. Then he pulls out the pack of Camels that's always in his breast pocket and takes out another. His eyes stay glued on Steve as he lights it, settling back into his position on the railing to make it clear he isn't going anywhere. 

“I’m free tomorrow after four,” you look back at Steve who is still watching you.

Your heart races under his scrutiny.

“Pick you up at four-thirty?” He raises his eyebrows hopefully.

“See you then.”

You slip out of Steve’s beemer with one last smile. Your back stays to your father as you gently wave at Steve while he pulls out. Once he’s driving away you sigh. There’s no more putting this off. You turn around slowly to find your dad standing upright with his arms crossed. The newest cigarette hangs from the side of his mouth.

“You’re late,” he states.

“And the house is still standing,” you gesture behind him.

“Why was Harrington bringing you home?” he questions, jerking his chin toward the now-empty space in the driveway.

“Because we’re friends and we hung out after work,” you shrug. 

“Friends, huh?”

“Yes, dad, friends. Y’know, those things I have every now and then until you scare them off,” you cross your own arms.

“That's all you are?” he checks suspiciously.

“Yes, that's all we are,” you confirm.

“Alright,” he nods in understanding, “You’re grounded.”

“What? You can't ground me! I’m nineteen years old!” You argue.

“My roof,” he shoots back.

“This is bullshit,” you scoff.

Your dad’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks around like there are people around to witness your audacity. 

“You were supposed to come home after work. What if something happened?” He reminds you sternly.

Your arms flail angrily in the air toward the house.

“Nothing happened! Will and El are fourteen; they don't need me to watch them!” 

“You’re grounded for a week,” he deadpans.

You let out a humorless laugh. Frustration bubbles in your chest until you can feel it pressing against your eyes. You hold the tears in. They’ll do you no good here.

“Dad, you have to accept that I’m not a child at some point,” you snap. 

“Good to know,” he drawls, “Check back at the end of the week and see where I’m at.”

“You're ridiculous,” you grumble as you storm past him, slamming the front door behind you.

Will and El sit wide-eyed on the couch totally not listening. You ignore them as you storm down the hall to the room you share with Jonathan, slamming that door too. With a groan, you flop face-first on your bed and let out a half scream into your pillow. There’s a soft knock on the door. 

“What,” you call out, face still in the pillow so your voice is muffled.

The door creaks, just like all the doors in this house.

“Are you okay?” El’s voice asks from the doorway. 

You sigh and turn your head to look at her. The grown-out hair looks good on her. The confidence it brings her looks even better. El has been your sister since the moment you met her, no question about it. Even if it hurts like hell to look at her sometimes.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry I wasn't home,” you answer softly.

“It is okay. Will has been helping me get ready for school,” she says. 

You smile and prop yourself up on your elbows.

“You excited to start?”

She shrugs with a small smile.

“Nervous,” she decides.

You nod.

“That's normal. Don’t worry. You’ll have Will with you and I’ll be here when you get home,” you promise.

She nods, shoulders relaxing.

“Is dad upset?”

“Yeah, he is,” you sigh.

“Joyce will fix it,” she assures you.

“You’re probably right,” you agree.

Joyce likely will fix it. She seems to be the only person who can really get through to your dad. It's something you're endlessly grateful for. You love your new family members. You really do. You just wish there was more room. You wish you had your own space. You wish there wasn't a battle every day for the shower before all the hot water is gone. You wish the food containers were always full and never put back empty, always causing a fight. 

“I miss the cabin too,” El admits quietly as if she read your mind. 

A small, sad smile crawls onto your lips.

“Dad and Joyce have been trying to find somewhere bigger. We won't be so cramped soon,” you tell her, mostly trying to convince yourself.

“Good,” she nods.

Later that night Joyce does indeed fix everything. At the very least, she got you ungrounded. She manages to make your dad realize that grounding you is not only a little extreme but a bit childish. He even begrudgingly agrees to Will and El being home without supervision more. Not a lot more, but more nonetheless. 

The next day Steve picks you up at four-thirty sharp. Your skin buzzes as you slide into his car. He’s smiling before you even get in. It's lovely, like a sunset over a meadow. Soft, light, and calming. You end up getting milkshakes and sitting on the hood of his car in the back parking lot of the diner. It's a nice evening, warm and breezy. Golden hour transforms Steve into something otherworldly. Every blond highlight becomes so much more, his skin looks like it's glowing, and his eyes are sweet glimmering butterscotch candies on you. 

“I hope I didn't get you in too much trouble last night,” he says with a smirk.

“You didn't. I'm pretty sure he likes you anyways. Y’know, after you helped save the world and his kid. He was mad at me, but I think he’s over it,” you answer. 

“It must’ve been hard having the police chief as your dad growing up,” Steve comments thoughtfully.

“It was,” you smile wryly, “It didn't get me invited to any parties, that's for sure.”

Steve cringes as red blooms across his cheeks. He sips on his milkshake, avoiding your amused eyes. The two of you weren't friends in school by a long shot. When he finds them again, his own are far more apologetic than they need to be.

“I’m sorry if I was a jerk to you at all.”

Your wry smile turns soft and genuine.

“You weren't, but you're right. My dad’s job definitely didn't make me popular. Everyone assumed I was a narc. Even the people on the track team with me.”

“Yeah,” Steve chuckles, “I remember that being said.”

“Can I ask you a dumb question without you laughing at how dumb it is?” You nudge his sneaker with your own.

He puts on a serious face and gives you a dutiful nod. 

“Ask away.”

“Is this a date?” 

Steve immediately starts to laugh. You hit him in the chest.

“You said you wouldn't laugh,” you whine.

“I said I wouldn't laugh at how dumb it is. I’m laughing at how cute it is,” he informs you with a smile.

You can feel the flames lick across your skin as his words heat you up. You take a sip of your own chocolate milkshake to cool down.

“So, what’s the verdict, Harrington?” You cut right to the chase.

Steve chuckles some more.

“I’m really seeing the Hopper genes,” he teases.

“Shut up.”

“No, no, really, I do. I can see them riiight,” Steve reaches across and brushes his cold thumb over your lips, “here.”

His hand cradles your jaw as his thumb continues brushing the cool soft skin of your lips. His fingers are so icy from holding his milkshake that you shiver. 

“You stare at my dad’s mouth a lot?” You breathe teasingly.

Both of you regard each other with hooded eyelids.

“He smokes a lot of cigarettes,” Steve shrugs, “It draws the eye.”

You’re in the middle of laughing when his lips capture yours. The kiss is sweet, tender, and chaste. Steve’s hand slides to tangle his thick fingers in your hair. He puts his milkshake down next to him to free his other hand. His newly liberated hand cups your jaw as he deepens the kiss. Your heart races in your stomach as you get a taste of Steve Harrington on the hood of his beemer. When you pull back you're both breathing heavier than before. Wide smiles spread across both of your flushed faces. 

“So, is it a date or not?” You jokingly ask with furrowed brows.

Steve laughs and you can't help but laugh along. It feels good to laugh with Steve. It feels right. Your laughs mingle like they were always meant to be heard together. When you finish your milkshakes Steve brings you home. Once again, your dad is on the porch smoking. No doubt he’s waiting to see if you abide by your promise to be home before dinner. 

“Is it just me or is he trying to melt me with his eyes?” Steve smiles and waves at your dad through the windshield as he asks.

Your dad gives him a nod of acknowledgment. You roll your eyes at your dad’s standoffishness. 

“Don't take it personally, he does it to everyone.”

“Noted.”

“I had a lot of fun with you today,” you smile.

Steve grins at you, so tempted to kiss you but conscious of your father’s eyes on him.

“Me too. Y’know- uh- Robin and I do these movie nights every week. Would you maybe wanna crash the next one? I know she wouldn't mind and I wouldn't mind spending more time with you,” Steve’s hand subtly moves to brush your thigh under the cover of the dashboard.

“You’re positive Robin won't mind me being there?” 

“Absolutely.”

You find yourself smiling and nodding before putting much more thought into it. All your little pleasure-seeking rat brain heard was more time with Steve.

“Then I’d love to.”

“Great, I’ll give you a call tomorrow with the details.”

“Lookin’ forward to it,” You say, wishing you could kiss him.

Then you slide out of the car. Steve doesn't pull out until you hit the two porch stairs. Your dad watches him leave before turning to you.

“You and Harrington normally hang out alone?” He asks. 

“What's the big deal?”

“Just didn't realize you two were that close.”

“Yeah, well, fighting otherworldly creatures of the night with someone tends to strengthen a friendship,” you drawl sarcastically.

“Isn't he friends with your friend with the tuba?”

“I know you know who Robin is and what instrument she plays,” you roll your eyes playfully, “and yes he is.”

“What about them, there something going on there?”

“No,” you snort, “definitely not. Why are you so interested in Steve’s dating life?”

“I’m your father. I’m just looking out for you. I've caught Harrington in the back of that beemer enough times to know what his dating life is like,” he explains gruffly and takes a drag of his cigarette.

The thought of your dad tapping on the steamed-up window of Steve’s car with the butt of his flashlight puts a bad taste in your mouth. It makes you miss the sweet taste of Steve. 

“You don't think it's possible for people to change?” you question, trying not to sound too defensive.

Your dad huffs a laugh and puts out his cigarette.

“Guys like him don't change, trust me,” he tells you.

Anger starts to prick at your skin. You can't fight him, though. It wouldn't change his mind anyways.

“Well, I’m going to his house for a movie night with Robin this week,” you inform him.

He seems to physically relax when he hears Robin will be with you. It fills you with a strange sense of dread. You thought your dad liked Steve. You didn't think he’d have an issue with Steve or his dating life. Anxiety starts to creep in. What if your dad chases Steve away? For once, you care if the person you're seeing is scared off.

“Look,” your dad rubs his jaw as he collects his thoughts, “Steve is a decent guy. I know he’s good looking and I’m sure there are rumors about- about- his virility-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” you cut him off sharply, “What’s the point you're even trying to make?”

“Just stay away from him like that. It's fine you're friends, but keep it there. You’ll only end up hurt,” he tells you.

Well, that certainly isn't what you expected. A dense ball of anger, sadness, hurt, and defensiveness sits in your gut. If you don't get away soon you’re sure you’ll blow one way or another.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll stay away from Steve,” you lie.

There's no chance in Hell.

Robin’s eyes are wide as saucers as you tell her about your dad’s Anti-Steve sentiments. You lay across her bed as she sways herself to and fro on her desk chair. Her room is as scattered and cluttered as her mind is, but that’s what you love about it. It’s like living in one of Robin’s thoughts. “He seriously told you to stay away from him?” She questions incredulously.

“Sure did. God, he’s so dramatic. I don't get why he's so against it. I mean, sure Steve has been known to… get around, but that was high school. He hasn't even been able to score a date in like a year,” you vent.

“What are you going to do?” Robin's eyebrows knit. 

She was admittedly ecstatic when Steve told her he wanted to ask you out. She was even more ecstatic when you told her you may have a tiny crush on Steve. You swore up and down it was the sailor shorts that did it, but you both know better. It's clear when you and Steve are around each other. You gravitate toward one another without thought, slowly growing closer and talking more until it's like you're the only two in existence. 

“I’m not going to stop seeing Steve,” you shake your head, “I mean we've only been on one date and he hasn't even asked me on a second one yet-”

“Nope, don't even go there,” Robin cuts you off.

“What? I’m just saying-”

“You’re about to convince yourself that Steve doesn't really like you. I’m not letting it happen.”

You pout dramatically at her. There's no time to try to argue or push back playfully. Steve honks from the driveway three times to signal his arrival. A grin spreads across your face as you shoot up and start heading down. Robin shakes her head as she breathes a laugh. 

Steve is standing with his arm propped on the top of the open driver-side door. He smiles wide at you as you emerge from the house. You stroll right up to him allowing the door to act as a physical barrier. Before you can say anything, Steve ducks down and plants a quick kiss on your lips. You’re suddenly boiling. He smiles sweetly when he pulls away.

“Hey, there,” he murmurs.

“Hey,” you murmur back.

“Okay, if this is how it's going to be all night, I change my mind,” Robin complains from behind you.

You poke your tongue out at her teasingly causing her to chuckle. Instinctively, you start going for the backseat because Robin is here. The moment you start in that direction you’re stopped.

“Ah-Ah-Ah- Since you and Steve are officially sucking face now it only seems right you take shotgun,” Robin puts her hands up to insist.

The smile that starts to spread on your face dies.

“Thanks, Rob, but I probably shouldn't. My dad is on duty today and if he sees that I’m suddenly the one sitting in the front…,” you trail off with a sigh.

“What's the big deal if he sees you sitting in the front?” Steve asks with furrowed brows.

You glance at Steve anxiously and then at Robin. Both of you look back at Steve.

“My dad may be against the idea of us dating and he might have told me to stay away from you in any romantic sense,” you tell him.

Steve frowns with searching eyes. He reminds you of a cartoon puppy.

“I thought he liked me,” he says.

“He does! He just…,” you start, but struggle.

“He thinks you're a whore,” Robin chimes in.

“Robin,” you hiss and shoot her a glare.

She mouths a sheepish sorry. You sigh and look at Steve’s hurt expression once more.

“He just doesn't want me to get hurt. It doesn't change anything. All this means is we have to keep it down low until we can change his mind,” you assure him.

He nods but doesn't look convinced. 

“Guess that means a sleepover tonight is off the table?” he checks half hopeful.

“My curfew is graciously at eleven,” you smile sadly.

“Curfew? You’re an adult,” Robin scoffs.

“An adult who doesn't have a key for the new house yet. My dad said if I’m not home by then the door will be locked.”

“What's the big deal if the door is locked if you have somewhere to stay?” Robin pushes.

“Look- I don't have an explanation for everything, okay? I know my dad is really strict and it’s kind of pathetic because I’m too old for it. It’s more complicated than it looks. If that's something you don't want to deal with o-or-” you start a slightly panicked ramble.

“Whoa- no one is saying that,” Steve reaches out and places warm hands on your upper arms.

The contact grounds you. You nod, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I upset you. My mouth gets ahead of my brain sometimes and I-” Robin starts an anxious apology.

“It’s okay, Rob. I know,” you offer a small smile.

You all clamber into Steve’s car after that. You place yourself in the middle of the backseat. Steve’s eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror every few minutes. Each time you felt the corners of your lips twitch and your cheeks warm. Something about Steve makes you feel like you're in middle school again trying to figure out how to act around the person you like-like. 

In the end, you're glad you chose the back. Around half way to Steve’s house, you see the truck. Your dad is camped out on a pull-off, normal for a cop scouting for speeding tickets. Not normal for the Hawkins Police Chief, though. You groan when you realize he planted himself where he knew Steve would likely drive by. His eyes scan the car as Steve drives by. Steve very pointedly drives the speed limit. You avoid his eyes entirely.

“You said your curfew is at eleven?” Steve double-checks, meeting your eyes once more in the mirror.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a nod.

“Got it,” he nods resolutely.

It's safe to say he’s determined to get you home on time after the look Hopper just gave him. Steve kind of wishes he didn't look over in the first place. The moment he noticed the chief’s truck he should have kept his eyes forward like he didn't see a thing. Likely the worst part about the whole thing is how blatant it was. Hopper wanted Steve to know that he was watching, to be careful, and tread lightly. It’s a message he heard loud and clear. Steve won’t give Hopper any more reasons not to like him.

They make it to Steve’s without incident. Hopper thankfully doesn't follow them, but Steve makes sure to abide by every traffic law anyways. He wouldn't doubt Hopper has eyes everywhere. Plus, he’s seen the man in action and he'd like to not be on the other end of that.

“Steve,” Robin groans when she sees the VHS on his coffee table, “Why did you have to pick that one?”

“What? I like that movie,” he defends, face beginning to glow.

Your own face catches fire when you read the cover. A couple of months ago you and Steve had a break at the same time. You spent the entire thirty minutes at a food court table talking about movies. At some point you let it slip that your favorite has recently become The NeverEnding Story. The very film that sits on the coffee table now. You send Steve a shy smile that he catches.

“Fine, it’s your week to pick,” Robin sighs with a dramatic eye roll. 

It doesn't surprise anyone but you when Steve takes your hand to lead you to the end of his plush couch. He sits and pulls you down with him so his arm is automatically over your shoulder. Robin shakes her head playfully with a smirk. She sits on the other end of the couch so she can stretch out like a cat. Her feet and yours barely miss each other as you curl into Steve.

A quarter of the way through Robin is knocked out cold. The way her arms flop over her face makes you chuckle. Steve breathes a laugh and shakes his head at her.

“She's unbelievable. She does this every week,” he tries to sound exasperated but fails.

“Sounds pretty believable if it happens every week,” you say.

“At least now that you’re going to be here I won't be left to finish the movies alone,” he comments somewhat absentmindedly.

Your eyes widen.

“Now that I’m going to be here?” You echo.

Steve’s bright brown eyes quickly move away. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

“Yeah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “Y’know, if- if you'd want to. We could make this a regular thing.”

Your face breaks into a large toothy grin. Steve’s face starts to mirror yours as he registers your reaction.

“That sounds like fun. As long as you’re sure my dad hasn't spooked you,” you joke half-heartedly.

“You kidding? After I took a bat to a Demogorgon right in front of you, you don't think I can handle your dad being a little protective?” Steve scoffs playfully.

“A little?” You question with a smirk.

“Okay, a lot protective,” He concedes with a dramatic little shake of his head.

You watch the front of his soft-looking hair bounce with the movement. It strikes you how pretty he is in the dull glow of the television. You find it a little unfair how pretty he is in every setting. As nerves settle in you look back to the television.

“Are you sure you don't mind?” You ask more seriously, “I know it’s a lot to deal with. I get it if you'd rather just stay friends.”

Steve brings his hand up. His finger crooks and finds the underneath of your chin. He uses it to guide your face to look at him. When your wide eyes meet his intense ones he doesn't stop guiding you. He meets you halfway, stealing a sweet gentle kiss. Butterflies flutter around your gut as his tender lips move against yours. It’s over far too soon, but he keeps his forehead on yours.

“I like you too much to just stay friends. I’m okay doing whatever it takes to be with you,” he states firmly like it's a fact.

Another smile crawls onto your face. 

“I’m really glad you said that because I like you too much to just stay friends too,” you tell him softly.

He grins as his hooded eyes look into yours. This close in the dark they look so deep, his pupil and irises still fully distinguishable but the color is clearly rich. Rich in a way that gets lost in the low lighting.

“When can I take you out again?” he asks quietly.

“We probably can't do anything romantic too publicly, but it wouldn't be too hard for me to sneak out at night,” you say innocently.

“Won't your dad kill you if he finds out?” Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

From this close, you only know that because you can feel him do it.

“Well- yeah, but I have the benefit of something you, unfortunately, don't, my dear Steve,” you tease.

“And what’s that?” 

“Siblings.”

“How does that help?” 

You chuckle.

“They’ll cover for me if I need it in a pinch,” you explain.

Steve’s smile returns.

“Is tomorrow too soon?” he asks, trying to make it sound enough like a joke to pass it off as one if need be.

He’s terrified of coming on too strong. It’s just that when Steve likes someone he does it with his whole chest. He loves emphatically and that's not for everyone. Although, no one is talking about love right now. Definitely not, that would be far too soon. Steve fancies himself a pretty intuitive guy, though. He can feel the potential there. A seed in need of watering and tending until it blooms into something beautiful.

“Tomorrow’s not soon enough,” you answer, “but it’ll have to do.”

You wake Robin up when the credits roll on the screen. She’s a little moody about it but gets over it quickly. It’s half past ten so Steve brings Robin home first. With her out of the car you move to the front. The entire way back to your house Steve’s hand rests on your thigh, heavy and warm. When the house comes into view it slinks away leaving your skin to miss it.

It doesn't surprise you in the slightest to see your dad on the porch smoking. You roll your eyes at the sight, not caring if he can see. The clock in Steve's car reads a quarter to eleven. Steve got you home with fifteen minutes to spare. 

“Is ten too late for tomorrow?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy.

What if he wasn't being serious about tomorrow? The insecurity gets you talking again.

“My dad has night duty, but he’ll think I’m in bed so there's no reason for him to leave the station,” you explain quickly.

Steve is nodding before you finish.

“Ten sounds perfect. Should I park down the street?”

“Yeah, near the end by the sign,” you confirm.

“It’s a date,” he grins.

Your face catches fire for the millionth time tonight. You're grateful it's too dark for your dad to tell from the porch. 

“Have a good night,” you tell him softly.

You resist the urge to kiss him. You resist the urge to even just hug him knowing you have an audience.

“Have a good night.”

When you slip from the beemer a sigh escapes your lips. You wish your dad wasn't so… Well, your dad. The thing is, you also know him. It’s hard and takes time, but you can change his mind. Maybe you can even recruit Joyce in the effort, speed up the process. You'll have to ask Jonathan and Will if they think she’d help or just tell your dad about you and Steve.

“You have a good night?” Your dad asks as he puts out his cigarette.

“Yeah, it was fun. Actually, they invited me to do it every week,” you answer happily.

He nods as you two head inside.

“And Harrington will be driving you every week?” He asks.

“Yes, unless you’re going to magically pull a car from somewhere,” you answer.

He shoots you a deadpan look.

“Alright. Don't forget, I have night duty tomorrow,” he reminds you.

“I know, dad. Don't worry, I plan on coming home right after work anyways. I don't have anything to do tomorrow,” you tell him.

You ignore the tiny seed of guilt that drops in your stomach. You don't like lying to your dad, but he doesn't leave you much choice. A sturdy hand finds the back of your head. He pulls your head forward and plants a slightly too-rough kiss on your forehead. It's gruff, prickly, and warm just like him. For a second you feel like a kid again, before everything went to shit. 

“Sleep tight,” he tells you.

“Sleep tight,” you smile tightly.

Jonathan is awake reading and listening to music on his walkman. The movement of you coming in draws his attention. He pulls down his headphones until they rest around his neck. Slow rock leaks from the speakers.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hey, I’m glad you're up. I actually have a pretty big favor to ask,” you say.

He regards you suspiciously. The two of you aren't close by any means. It took weeks to have a civil conversation when you're in the bedroom together. There was a territorial showdown that nearly tore the house apart.

“What is it?” He questions slowly.

“I’m going to sneak out tomorrow night after my dad goes to work. I just need you to leave the window cracked so I can get back in and to make sure no one knows I’m gone,” you say.

“Oh, is that all?” He scoffs, “No way. I’m not getting murdered when your dad finds out you snuck out.”

“He won't find out. Please, Jonathan, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important to me,” you all but beg.

His eyes narrow on you as you sit on your bed. 

“What are you sneaking out for?” 

“I’m seeing Steve.”

He snorts humorlessly.

“So, you want to die,” he says mostly to himself.

Realizing this isn't going your way, you set your jaw and straighten out your shoulders. You sigh and click your tongue.

“Y’know, it's a shame…,” you begin absently.

“What is?” He takes the bait.

“How long you're going to be grounded when I tell my dad and Joyce about the stash under your bed,” you shrug.

If looks could kill, you’d most definitely be dead. 

“How do you-”

“You’re really not as subtle as you think,” you laugh.

He exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Fine,” he snaps.

The headphones are back over his ears in a second.

“Thank you,” you sing.

That night you curl into bed buzzing with anticipation. Steve doesn't care if it's a little hard to be with you. He doesn't care if your dad is difficult and overprotective. He likes you enough to try anyway. You only hope you can change your dad’s mind about him before his patience runs out.  

Jonathan is bitter about you sneaking out, but you don't care. Everyone is home for dinner, making it a raucous affair of arms reaching over the table to fight for food even though there's more than enough to go around. You swear Jonathan starts fighting with you over the last drumstick just to get back at you for your blackmail.

“You’ve already had three,” he protests.

“So have you!” you shout back incredulously, gesturing wildly.

“Yeah, but I eat more.”

“Really? Why is that?” You challenge him cruelly.

He glares at you, seething from across the table.

“You’re such a-” he starts.

“Alright,” your dad loudly interrupts and snatches the drumstick off the plate, “Now it’s mine. Problem solved.”

Both of you grumble and sink back into your seats like a couple of children. Will and El, the actual children at the table, exchange amused looks as they fight off laughter. 

“How has work been?” Joyce asks you pleasantly.

She’s completely unphased by your dad’s tantrum in response to your own. You suppose she's probably used to the Hopper family antics at this point. 

“It’s been fine,” you shrug, “there's a supervisor position opening up. I was thinking of going for it.”

“That’s great!” Joyce beams. 

It makes you feel warm in your chest.

“Supervisor? Won't that put you full-time? What about college? I thought you were starting next semester,” your dad grills.

It’s a struggle not to roll your eyes, but you succeed. 

“Yeah, I’m thinking of extending my gap year,” you shrug like it isn't a big deal.

Joyce cringes a little but attempts to maintain her smile. Jonathan, Will, and El all look between you and your dad.

“Really? When did you decide that?” Your dad questions.

“Does it really matter? It’s what I want to do,” you defend.

“Is this because Steve isn't going to college?” He’s outright interrogating you at the dinner table now.

“Jim,” Joyce warns softly.

He looks at her with an incredulous smile.

“What?”

She tucks her chin in a tad and gives him a look. 

“For your information, no it's not because of Steve,” you snap, “I don't even know his plans for the fall. What’s your issue with him?”

“Nothing!”

“No, clearly there's something! You have such a weird thing about me and Steve. Why are you so afraid of me being friends or getting into a relationship with him?” You demand.

“Because I've seen what it looks like when a Harrington loves someone,” he shouts, “It’s usually black and blue!”

Anger rises hot and red to your cheeks. Your heart pounds in your chest. The air around the table is so tense it's hard to move.

“You’re unbelievable,” you shout back and shove away from the table.

“Where are you going?” he calls after you.

“To bed. Have a good night at work,” you slam your bedroom door shut behind you. 

“Jim,” Joyce sighs.

“What?” He asks defensively.

“Steve really isn't that bad,” Will comments gently, “He’s friends with Dustin.”

“I think Steve is a fine guy,” Hopper states, “But I've seen the kind of relationships he grew up around.”

“That doesn't mean Steve is anything like John,” Joyce reasons.

Hopper’s jaw flexes as he clenches.

“Yeah, well, I’m not willing to take the chance,” he answers gruffly.

Jonathan is the one that gets the conversation moving forward. They try to enjoy the rest of their dinner while Hopper seeths and you blast music from your bedroom. Thirty minutes later Jonathan comes in and shuts off your stereo.

“Hopper and mom went to work,” he informs you.

“Thanks,” you sigh.

You can feel Jonathan’s eyes on you as you collect your things.

“What?” you ask shortly, not stopping.

“Nothing,” he quickly snaps before relaxing a little, “Mom tried talking to him after.”

“Yeah?” You snort humorlessly, “What’d she say?”

“She was on your side. Told him you don't have to go to college if you don't want to.”

You reply with a simple hm.

“When will you be back?” he sighs.

“Around midnight.”

“Okay- just… be safe.”

You turn with everything you need in your pockets. Your eyebrows are nearly in your hairline as you take in Jonathan. He sits on his bed, hands in his lap. His hair has gotten long and shaggy in a way that makes you want to cut it.

“Careful, I might think you care about me,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes.

“You might be annoying, but you’re family,” he says.

A small smile creeps onto your lips. You give him a playful punch in the upper arm. He rubs it and makes a disgruntled face at you. 

“Love you too, bro.”

You nearly eat dirt on your way out of the window, but you make it unscathed. With a wide smile, you trot down the street where you see Steve’s beemer waiting beneath a streetlamp. The door is unlocked when you get there allowing you to slip in easily. Steve’s lips are on yours before you can say hi. His hand cups your face as he presses his lips urgently to yours.

You’re downright giggling when he pulls away. It's embarrassing.

“Hello to you too,” you murmur. 

“Hello,” he murmurs back with a sweet smile.

Steve takes off after that. His hand is on your thigh again. This time you find the courage to intertwine your hand with his. He flashes a smile at you when you do so. Hawkins has never felt so perfect. It's like a scene from a movie as you steal glances at Steve as often as you can. 

“Where are you taking me, Harrington?” You ask with teasing suspicion.

“I know this spot by Lovers Lake. Figured we could just hang out,” he shrugs, attempting to hide his insecurity.

“Not enough room for the two of us in that big house of yours?” you chuckle.

His eyes shift uncomfortably.

“My parents are home right now. I’m sorry if you thought-”

“No, no, Steve, it's fine. I was just teasing. As long as we get to spend time together, I don't care where we end up,” you promise.

His soft eyes fall on you as he stops at a sign. Before he could allow himself to fall in too deep too fast, he clears his throat.

“Speaking of parents,” he says and starts driving again, “How’d it go with yours?”

You groan and roll your eyes dramatically. 

“I told him I don't plan on going to college. You can imagine how that went,” you tell him.

Steve grimaces as he pulls off onto a dirt road. It’s bumpy, but Steve isn't driving for long. You end up parked on a little overlook of the lake. Moonlight ripples across the surface giving the water the appearance of a night sky below you. Steve’s seat belt is off so he can angle himself to look at you fully. You mirror him. Gentle music trickles from the radio too low for you to really make out what it is.

“I take it he wasn’t too happy with that then?” Steve raises his eyebrows in sympathetic curiosity.

“He doesn’t seem too happy with me in general lately,” you sigh and begin picking at your fingers in your lap.

His hand takes yours to stop the anxious movement. The action draws your gaze. Steve is half frowning, thumb rubbing circles into the skin of your hand.

“He’s just worried. I kinda get it, y’know? You’re his kid and he isn’t ready for you to grow up,” he reasons.

“It doesn’t matter if he’s ready,” you frown, “He was so annoying tonight. I actually left dinner and locked myself in my room.”

Steve leans over and gives your temple a quick comforting kiss.

“My mom asked me how school was today,” Steve huffs a laugh. 

You wrinkle your nose.

“How old does she think you are?” You ask.

“Seventeen apparently.”

“Is she always so detached?” 

There’s something sad in his puppy dog eyes when they find you. The corners of his lips twitch in a sardonic little gesture.

“Yeah, she’s pretty spaced most of the time,” he answers quietly.

“And here I am complaining that my dad pays too much attention,” you joke.

It earns you a soft chuckle from him.

“At least my mom doesn’t stake out side roads she knows I’ll be driving on,” he teases back.

You throw your head back as you laugh. Steve grins as he watches, drinking in every last detail. His eyes drag over the silhouette of your nose and jawline in the moonlight. You’re so soft, yet there’s a bite about you. It draws him in and leaves him always wanting more, more, more. It leaves him reaching out to brush the hair from your face. Then the hair is tucked away, but he continues to skirt the backs of his fingers over your cheek. He can feel the warmth rise to them. Your face moves into his touch as you turn to look at him.

“Steve?” You probe so quietly that you aren’t sure he hears you.

“Yeah?”

“My dad said something tonight and… I think it might take more than we thought to win him over,” you admit.

Steve’s brows furrow as his eyes searches yours.

“What did he say?”

You take an even breath.

“He’s afraid, because of y-your dad, that you’ll-”

“Stop,” Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head, “Don’t say it.”

You don’t. Instead, you lean over the center console and throw your arms around his shoulders. Steve immediately melts into your embrace, circling his own arms around you and burying his face in your neck.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He shakes his head the best he can in his current position. Then he’s pulling back, hands holding either side of your head. His eyes bore into you.

“I’m not like my dad. I wouldn't ever do what he does,” he promises.

There's no need to ask what it is Steve’s dad does. You've gathered enough context clues tonight to piece it together. Your hands come up to cover Steve’s.

“I know,” you tell him, “I trust you. You’re a good person, Steve Harrington.”

Steve can feel how lovesick his smile is. Your voice and words are a salve on wounds rubbed raw. You worry your lip between your teeth for a moment before continuing to speak.

“Does your dad ever do that to you?” You inquire softly.

“Not since I started fighting back,” he answers with a sad smile. 

“I’m so sorry,” you say because you don't know what else there is to say.

You hate that Steve has had to go through so much and always has it overlooked. You hate that your dad thinks Steve could be anything like this father. All he’s ever been is kind and gentle with you. 

“Let’s just forget about everything else tonight,” he suggests with a voice like silk, “There’s just us.”

It's a request you're more than willing to oblige. Especially when Steve’s lips find yours in a fury. It's more heated than anything the two of you have done until now, but it feels so fucking good. Steve’s hands are wide and thick as they tangle in your hair and hold the base of your neck. Your own hands explore Steve’s firm chest and shoulders over his shirt. The two of you together are the flame of a candle, flickering hot and quick. 

Steve moans when you nip at his lip, allowing you to become acquainted with his tongue. It’s all so much and not enough. Everything around you is all Steve. There's nothing but Steve. He leans over the console more, hands moving to find your sides and running down them until they meet the hem of your shirt. His hands skirt around the thin layer of skin exposed by your shirt riding up. A shiver of want runs through you. You nod as his mouth continues to devour yours. Steve’s hands leave trails of heat licking up your skin as they commit every inch to memory.

You’re ready to take it further. You want Steve in every way. You want him until he’s all there is. It doesn't matter if you’re in his car out by the lake. All that matters is it's you and Steve and Steve seems to want you just as much. You muster up the courage and start to palm where his pants have grown noticeably tighter.

Just as Steve is moaning into your mouth there’s a clink clink clink on the driver's side window. The two of you fly apart, snapping to see the source of the noise, and then looking back at each other completely panicked.

“C’mon, Steve, the windows aren't that steamed up. I know it's you,” a familiar voice drones.

You groan and drop your face in your hands. The voice itself brings relief, but not a lot. Steve rolls down the window and a flashlight clicks on, blinding both of you.

“Christ- Uncle Phil, can you quit it with that?” Steve complains and shoves the flashlight away.

The light clicks off revealing a curly head of brown hair and a pair of glasses you know all too well.

“Hey, Callahan,” you greet meekly with a small wave.

“No- no,” he groans, briefly throwing his head back with his hands covering his face, “Not Little Hopper! Steve, do you have a death wish?”

“Please, don't tell my dad,” you beg quickly.

Callahan’s eyes slide between the two of you. His tongue is firmly in his cheek as he takes in the sight of his nephew moments away from having sex with his boss’s kid. 

“You two are putting me in a real tough position here,” he sighs, shaking his head.

“We know. That’s why we would be super grateful if you didn’t tell Hopper anything,” Steve says.

Callahan levels Steve with a stare for a moment before his eyes move to you. Your heart is thumping at the speed of sound in your chest. It wouldn't be surprising if you dropped dead of a heart attack right now. This man who you’ve known for years, who has watched you at the station and played Uno with you, who has been like family in a lot of ways has your life in his hands. It’s unfair for everyone involved. 

“I’ve been fearing the day I find you in someone’s car like this,” he tells you with a wry smile, “If it had to happen, I’m happy it's with Steve. At least I know you’re safe.”

A timid smile tugs at your lips. 

“Does that mean you won't tell?” You ask quietly.

He lets out a deep heavy breath and shakes his head.

“I won't say anything,” he points sternly at you, “but it better not get back to your dad that I knew about this.”

You and Steve nod. Steve even gives his uncle a salute. 

“So, are you gonna…,” Steve trails off, gesturing with his eyes for his uncle to leave.

“Yeah, right,” Callahan snorts, “You two are going home and brainstorming ways to be more discreet. Separately, no sneaking each other into anyone’s houses.”

Steve rolls his eyes but agrees. He’s in no position to argue with his uncle right now. Callahan pulls out enough for Steve to get you guys out of there. He flashes his lights once as a goodbye. The silence of the car threatens to suffocate you. Steve stops the car the turn before your street. You can feel his eyes on you as you squeeze your hands together in your lap.

“You okay?” He asks softly.

“I’m okay. Are we?” You risk a glance.

The knit of his brow tells you he’s confused, maybe even a little worried.

“Of course we are. Why wouldn't we be?”

“I guess I was afraid that might have spooked you,” you shrug sheepishly. 

“It’ll take more than my Uncle Phil to spook me,” he smirks.

You chuckle and lean in to steal a quick kiss. He does it back like it's a competition he’s determined to win. You scrunch your nose and stick your tongue out at him. He returns the favor. The two of you break into giggles. Thoughts that bubbled to the surface this morning, and kept bubbling up every hour after that, make their grand reappearance. Does Steve want to take this to a more serious level like you do? Has he already decided to stop seeing other people like you have?

“I like you, like a lot,” you tell him with all the eloquence of a rock.

“I like you, like a lot, too,” he smiles.

“I have a crazy question that I just thought of right this moment,” you segue with an innocent smile.

“Oh, is that right? What's this totally not premeditated question?” He teases.

“What are we doing here exactly?” It comes out far timider than you’d like.

“What do you want to be doing here exactly?” he smirks knowing you're melting inside as he dances around an answer.

You give him an unimpressed frown that's fighting to be a smile.

“Personally, I think I'd like to call you my boyfriend,” you go for it and try not to hold your breath too much.

Steve’s smile becomes something dazzling. Mischief appears in the background of it, though.

“You think, huh? I dunno,” he sighs dramatically, “I only date people who are enthusiastic about dating me.”

You roll your eyes as the smile wins. 

“Oh, is that why you kept striking out at Scoops?” you tease.

He throws a pout your way.

“Maybe.”

“Well, Steve Harrington, I would be pretty enthused to call you my boyfriend,” you tell him with a sweet smile and even sweeter eyes.

“I’d be pretty enthused too,” he grins as he leans toward you.

He kisses you with almost as much passion as before. Pre-Callahan rudely interrupting. The two of you giggle into the kiss, causing you to pull apart but stay close.

“When will I see you again, boyfriend?” you hum.

“I have family stuff tomorrow after work, but my parents will be gone again Thursday. We could hang out at my place. Then movie night is Friday. It’s Rob’s turn to pick,” he answers.

“Five dollars says she picks Fast Times,” you smirk.

“Are you kidding?” he snorts, “I’m not taking a bet I know I’ll lose.”

You laugh, resting your forehead on his shoulder. When the giggles subside you bring your head up once more and find Steve’s impossibly warm gaze. He looks at you like you just invented laughter before his very eyes. It’s almost too much for you to handle. It makes you more afraid of losing this, of losing him, to your dad’s strictness.

“My dad will be home Thursday, but I don’t think Robin would mind covering for me for a few hours,” you say. 

“Should I get you from Rob’s?”

“That’ll probably be for the best.”

The two of you get stuck, trapped in a trance of gooey gazes and lovesick smiles. Anyone watching would gag at the sight. No one else matters to the two of you right now, though.

“You should get inside before Uncle Phil finds us again,” Steve sighs.

You nod.

Both of you surge forward to steal one last kiss. You don't think you’ll ever tire of the way Steve’s kisses make you feel. It’s like you’re static clinging to a freshly dried sweater, warm and buzzing with energy. Your foreheads stay together when you part. Your lips hover so close you could kiss again by accident.

“Goodnight, baby,” he murmurs 

The pet name brings heat to your cheeks as if there are hot coals beneath your skin. There’s a fluttering in your stomach that makes you shy.

“Goodnight,” you answer just as softly.

You steal the last peck before slipping from his beemer, winning the game for tonight. It's simple enough to get back inside. You round the side of the house to your window. It’s still cracked. You peek in first. Jonathan is listening to music on his walkman as he writes in his notebook. 

The window slides up easily. As you climb in, Jonathan shoots up pin-straight, breath noticeably heavier. Once it registers it's you he relaxes and slumps back down. He takes off his headphones.

“I thought you wouldn't be back until midnight,” he says, a hint of annoyance creeping in.

“Callahan caught us and sent us home,” you explain as you shut the window behind you.

“Callahan caught you? Why aren't you more freaked out by this?” He questions, furrowing his brows.

“Because I’ve known him like half my life and he’s Steve’s uncle. He promised not to tell,” you shrug. 

“He’s Steve’s uncle?” 

“Yeah, on his mom’s side. I saw them around the station a few times,” as you say it you suddenly wonder if they were at the station for another reason that went over your head until now. 

“How are you so lucky?” He scoffs and shakes his head.

“I dunno, nepotism?” 

Jonathan actually laughs. You ignore the skunky smell and take the win.

“So, when are you doing this again?” he jerks his chin up at you and crosses his arms.

“Thursday, but don't worry. Your services shouldn't be required then,” you answer jovially as you pick out pajamas to change into. 

“Wow, four whole days? How will you ever manage?” He drawls.

“Shut up. Steve’s parents are home. He has to do something with them.”

“Oh, that mayor thing probably.”

You pause and turn to look at Jonathan.

“Mayor thing?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “there’s some town award ceremony thing this week. Aren’t you going with your dad?”

“I am,” you nod slowly, “but why would Steve be there?”

Jonathan looks at you like you're stupid. Right now you're inclined to think maybe you are.

“Because his dad owns like half the town and wins at least two things a year,” he answers.

You inhale deeply and slowly, trying not to get too angry at yourself for forgetting. This stupid event that you always try to get out of, but couldn't this year. Your dad is winning something big apparently. That's not to say you're not proud of him, you are. This thing is just dreadfully boring. Steve being there makes things more interesting. More terrifying, sure, but more interesting nonetheless. 

“How do you even know all this, weirdo?” You question.

“The school newspaper,” he sneers, “We cover it in the first issue.”

 “Whatever, I’m going to get changed,” you grumble and leave the room.

The bathroom gives you the first moment alone to process everything tonight. When you catch your reflection in the mirror it's a little flushed, a little frazzled, but happy. Built-up energy comes out in the form of a little squeak and dance. Steve Harrington is your boyfriend. Steve Harrington is your boyfriend! Now, all you have to do is find a way to guarantee your dad won't kill him for it. 

You and your dad fuss uncomfortably with the fancy clothes you've been out in. Joyce worries about all the finer details around you, swatting away your hands when one of you goes to pull on your collar or loosen a button. You have to admit, the Hoppers clean up well. They just hate getting cleaned up. It’s like giving a cat a bath.

“Oh, look at the two of you,” Joyce gushes, “We need to get pictures!”

Both you and your dad start to protest, but it's to no avail. She's already calling for Jonathan and his camera. He wears a smug smirk at your clear irritation. You shoot him daggers in return. 

“At least try to smile,” he tells you and your dad.

You look at each other. You have to look upward to meet his eyes. One thing you didn't inherit from your dad is his height. A look of resigned agreement passes between you before you’re smiling at the camera. Jonathan takes a quick succession of photos and you're allowed to leave. 

It feels funny being all dressed up in the chief's truck. This is the first time you've felt out of place in it. 

“So,” your dad starts awkwardly, “About college…”

“Dad,” you sigh and rub your eyes with one hand, “Can we please not do this tonight?”

“I’m not- I’m just-” he pauses and takes a breath to calm down before trying again, “What I’m trying to say is, if this supervisor thing is what you wanna do… Then do it.”

You watch him drive with wide eyes. 

“Really?” 

He nods.

“Yeah, really.”

“What made you change your mind?” Your hazard to ask.

“Don't get me wrong,” he waves a hand around, “I still want you to go to school and get an education, but… I want you to be happy more.”

His words cause a bright light of hope to flicker on in your chest. A small smile sprouts on your face. With a steadying breath to muster up the courage you take the dive. 

“I’m really glad you said that beca-” You start.

“God damn it,” your dad’s frustration cuts you off, “Harrington is already here.”

Your eyes snap forward. Sure enough, ahead of you in a rounded driveway is a shiny sleek black car. The apex of the driveway meets the front of a local event hall that’s been decorated to the nines. No doubt thanks to all that Harrington money. There are valets waiting to take everyone’s cars. 

Out of the car comes a well-groomed polished man in a suit. His hair is a short chestnut coif and he has dangerously green eyes that feel perpetually sharp. From the other side appears a woman with an elegant red dress. Her own dark hair is up in a fashionably loose bun. They don't smile at each other. In fact, they barely regard each other at all. They immediately jump into talking to those around them. 

Then he climbs out of the back. Steve is in a sharp black suit of his own and his brown hair has been perfectly blown out. His smile is unnaturally tight. It takes a massive amount of restraint to not fling your door open and run to him.

“Can you just be civil for tonight?” You sigh.

“I’m civil,” your dad argues lightly.

“Is that so? Then you won't mind me hanging out with Steve tonight,” you say knowingly.

Your dad’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. A ball of disappointment drops in your stomach. Any hope has been extinguished. Clearly, him caring about your happiness the most doesn't extend to Steve.

“Probably best to stay away while his old man is around,” he advises cryptically. 

“Why? Steve isn't his dad,” you snap without meaning to.

“Maybe not, but he’s always worse when he’s around. Callahan caught him with someone last night, y’know. I told you, guys like him don't change,” he half lectures. 

You look out your window as your face catches fire. 

“Whatever, Steve is my friend and I don't want to argue about it tonight,” you state.

Your dad sighs but doesn't carry it any further. He doesn't want to argue about it tonight either apparently. Steve disappears into the venue leaving you to watch after him. After a short wait, you finally get to the top of the curve and climb out of the car.

“Hey, Chief,” the kid working valet greets.

The chief truck stays in front of the building, but off to the side. Just in case some world-ending call comes in. Half the town is here and the other half wants to be. It's a nice excuse to dress up, have a few drinks, and eat a free meal. You’re most excited to steal looks at Steve. 

When you enter it's a grand room with circular tables arranged around a stage at the front. The back of the room has an extravagant bar where most people are mingling right now. The decorations are simple yet tasteful. The mayor, a young man the town elected to save them from all the crazy shit Hawkins seems to attract, shakes hands with his constituents around the room.

Some councilman starts talking to your dad. You’re introduced briefly then you’re just stuck standing there. This is the part you hate about these things. Just waiting around as your dad falls in and out of conversations. Bored, your eyes scan the room searching before you know it. 

Sticky sweet eyes, molten light brown that you know has green hidden near the middle like caramel apples, catch you from near the bar. Steve’s entire being brightens when he realizes you’re there. He smiles and sends you a discreet little wave. He’s so pretty it makes your teeth ache. You return both the smile and wave, already calculating how you can sneak off to say hello.

“I’m going to get a drink,” you say.

Your dad nods as the councilman continues talking his ear off. Whatever they're talking about, your dad doesn't seem especially interested. With him distracted, you easily make your way to the bar. You take care to stick to the opposite end as the Harringtons, but Steve’s eyes have already found you. He excuses himself and waves through all of Hawkins’ finest residents. The bartender comes up to where you're leaning on the bar with your forearms.

“What can I get for you?” he asks.

“Just a sprite, thanks,” you smile.

“Make that two,” Steve’s voice comes from behind you.

A wide grin spreads across your face as you turn around. You’re met with an expression similar to your own. 

“Why, Mr. Harrington, funny running into you here,” you muse.

“Mm, I’m considering it lucky. You look amazing,” he tells you as his eyes trail up and down your form.

“You look exceptionally handsome yourself.”

“I didn't know you’d be here,” he comments, still drinking you in.

Your face warms under his eyes.

“Normally I wouldn't, but I didn't have anything to get me out of it this year. What table are you guys at? We’re over at four,” you point at a round table near the front.

“We’re at one,” he points to a few tables away.

“Good, I think my dad would burst a blood vessel if he had to sit near yours tonight,” you attempt to keep it light, but the weight is still present.

“He won't burst one when he sees you over here talking to me?” he teases, helping to carry the load.

“Eh, he’ll survive,” you wave him off. 

“Sprites,” the bartender announces as he places the two glasses on the bar top. 

You reach for your wallet, but Steve’s hand catches your wrist.

“Put it on the Harrington tab, thanks,” he says.

The bartender nods and walks off. Steve’s hand stays on your wrist.

“So, there’s a coat check over in the entrance hall…,” you trail off suggestively, glancing to the doorway to the entrance hall.

Steve’s eyes follow yours and a smirk grows on his lips. His lips you wish you could kiss right in the middle of this stupid event.

“Meet you in twenty-” he begins to plan.

“Steve, there you are,” a deep voice sighs.

Steve goes stiff, straightening until he’s ramrod straight. Your eyes widen as they move to the man over Steve’s shoulder. Steve turns around, clenching his Sprite a little tighter than before. 

“Sorry, sir, I came to grab a drink and ran into a friend,” he says, but his voice is different.

He’s different. His hands move less, barely at all. The inflection of his voice is more proper, professional almost. Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the back of his head. 

“Who is this friend?” His father asks, sounding tired.

“We work at the mall together,” Steve explains.

“Right, the mall,” his father states disdainfully.

“Steve is a really good worker,” you pipe in, attempting to back Steve up.

Both men’s eyes turn to you. Steve’s are soft and tender, but the gentleness of them is cut through by the sharpness of his father’s. His father sizes you up, but it's unlike anything you've experienced. You don't feel like he's looking at you, but all the price tags attached to the things you own and wear. It's as if his eyes are calculating your value. You feel like a burger from Benny’s compared to Steve’s fine dining at Enzo’s. 

“And who is it you belong to?” he questions with narrowed eyes.

“Oh- uh-” you stutter.

“John,” your dad’s curt voice saves you.

All eyes go to your dad. 

“Jim.”

He stands taller than John Harrington and thicker. His eyes are stony and his mouth is set. The two men hold each other’s gaze like dogs readying for the other to launch. Your dad’s eyes soften when they land on you behind the Harrington men. They create a wall between you. A wall you desperately want your dad to break through. This situation has gotten itchy and uncomfortable very fast.

“You okay?” he checks.

“Yeah, I just ran into Steve while getting my drink,” you answer with a small smile, holding up the drink in question.

Your dad nods, resetting his jaw. His eyes fall on Steve. Steve who, to his credit, is trying to convey as apologetic a look as he can get away with in front of his own father. He tries to communicate that he doesn't want you around John Harrington anymore than your dad does. You aren't sure it works.

“It’s good to see you, Chief,” Steve smiles tightly.

“Yeah, you too,” your dad replies unconvincingly.

“So, how've you been, Jim? How’s- uh- Diane, is it?” John inquires.

Now it’s your turn to go completely stiff. The mention of your mother sends your heart racing and your stomach plummeting. You look at your dad, panicked and worried. Steve catches the shift. Your dad has gone completely cold. He glares at John, jaw flexing as he restrains himself. There’s no way John doesn't know… right? It feels like everyone in Hawkins knows the tragedy of the Hoppers. A tragedy that split them up and sent half of them back home to Hawkins. 

“Fine,” your dad answers short and hot before looking at you, “Let’s go find our table.”

You don't argue. You don't even speak. You simply nod and shoot Steve a shy smile as you shuffle past him. John Harrington’s eyes are heavy on you, but you don't acknowledge them. Your dad casts a solid arm over your shoulder, sheltering you from the Harrington men. Then he’s ushering you away. The only noise comes from the people around you blissfully unaware of the tension stretching between the Hoppers and the Harringtons. Little cards on the table with your names on them aren't hard to find. The two of you take your seats.

“Dad,” you start quietly, “I’m really sorry.”

Your dad fixes you with a tired smile.

“Nothing to be sorry for. You were just saying hi to a friend, right?” He raises his eyebrows slightly.

You have to swallow the lump of guilt in your throat before responding.

“Right,” you nod, “His dad came over right when we got our drinks.”

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. The gesture skews some of his mustache hair.

“Look, if you’re going to be friends with Steve, fine,” he says evenly, “But I don't want you anywhere near John Harrington.”

“Okay,” you agree without hesitation.

Your dad smiles warmly at you. The trust he casts over you only makes your skin crawl. Are you the worst kid in the world? It’s starting to feel that way.

“I’m sorry he mentioned mom,” you attempt to assuage some of your guilt.

“Don't be,” he sighs, “He knew what he was doing.”

A beat of silence passes over you. Anxiously, you sip your drink.

“I… I haven't talked to her, y’know. Since she…,” you can't finish the thought.

“You should,” he tells you, “You should call her soon.”

You furrow your brows at him. That wasn't what you had been expecting from him.

“Why?” 

“Because she’s your mother. I’m sure she would like to hear from you.”

A short puff of air exits your nose as you cross your arms.

“She’s someone else’s mother too now. I’m sure she’s busy,” you answer bitterly.

Your dad sighs once more, running a hand down his face again. 

“You can't stay mad at her forever,” he reasons.

“But you can?” 

“That's different we’re- She’s your mother. It’s different.”

“She was my mother. You two aren't the only ones who lost someone. You aren't the only ones that get to be mad at each other for everything. I was there too, I experienced it too,” you snap quietly enough to only be heard by him.

His features soften at that. He nods solemnly. His heavy hand clamps comfortingly on your shoulder with a squeeze before retreating back to the table.

“Are you doing that movie night thing with Steve and your tuba friend?” he asks.

You chuckle and roll your eyes.

“Robin and I will be going to Steve’s on Friday, yes. His parents will be gone again by then. He wouldn't have us over otherwise,” you reply. 

“Good.”

“He was trying to keep me from him,” you tell him, picking at a spot on the white tablecloth.

“Good,” he echoes.

“Does that mean you’re going to stop being so crazy about me and him?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

His mouth flattens into a line.

“I’m okay with you being friends, but there are rules,” he lifts a finger to start listing, “One, no hanging out alone unless it's in public. Two, you don’t go there if his parents are home. Three, he only comes over when I’m home.”

“Anything else?” You half-joke.

He levels you with a serious look.

“Just… Be honest with me. I just want to know you're safe.”

If you didn't know any better you’d think the whole world is crashing around you. Fuck, you feel god awful. Your dad’s voice mixes with the ghost of Callahan’s in your head. At least I know you’re safe, Callahan had said when finding you with Steve. I just want to know you’re safe. You force a smile that you hope is convincing.

“Yeah, of course,” you say, “There aren't any secrets between us.”

He smiles, the corners of his mustache lifting up in the way they do when it's really genuine. He gives you a loving shoulder squeeze. You struggle to hold back your nausea. There aren't any secrets between us. Maybe at one time that was true, but certainly not anymore.

Rule One >>

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #hopper!reader #stranger things fic

[rocknrollbabe14]

No Place For The Likes of You (Enjolras x Reader)

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. SEXUAL THEMES HEAVILY DISCUSSED.

WARNINGS: Sexual themes, sexual language, one night stand, drinking, premarital sex, oral sex (female receiving), missionary (unprotected sex), slight bondage?, creampie?, ANGST, death? If I left anything out, let me know.

Also, let me know if this warrants a second part?

Thank you to @josephs-quinns for my amazing header ❤️

One day your mother had tasked you with taking some food to your father and the others who were fighting for more rights for the French. There had been an uprising and your father took part in it, much to your mother’s dismay. Your father reminded you this was not a woman’s place. A revolution of this caliber was not a woman’s place. Her place was in the home: cooking, cleaning and having children. You were young but had yet to find a man to sweep you off your feet. Your father, of course, would have to approve. You’d been asked by a few men to be courted, however, they were not up to your father’s high standards. He only wanted the best for you. 

Tensions had significantly risen since then, especially since Enjolras had taken his place as the unspoken, charismatic leader of the Friends of the ABC, the revolutionaries your father had joined. Enjolras appeared to be very standoffish when you first met him. Sometimes you thought back to your first meeting with him. He looked you up and down, perhaps curious as to why you were in the local pub bringing your father and his fellow republicans food. Some of the men were talking about their love interests or wives back home, Enjolras immediately reminding them they did not have time for romance, no time to be lovesick schoolboys before explaining to them this wasn’t the place for the likes of them if they were going to worry more about women than the revolution.

His solution for romance was to replace it with a revolution. He was ignited with passion, something that drew you to him. He was willing to fight for his country, even vowing to fight to the death if that meant freedom. It was noble of him, but you couldn’t help to fear your father may meet that fate. Some nights, you’d lay in bed and think about him. You didn’t know anything about him other than his passion for freedom. There was something about him that made your heart skip a beat. It was clear he wasn’t looking for a lover or something serious. 

You both had shared some passing glances, his eyes following you as you left the room. There was no way you’d ever be able to tell him how he made you feel—he’d never be receptive to it. His mind was clear on what he wanted and a woman didn’t quite fit into that equation. It was the night before the planned attack, the day they said would go down in history. A lot of the men were asleep, Enjolras telling them to rest and that they had a big day ahead of them. You had come to tell your father you loved him. You feared it would be the last night you would see him alive.

Enjolras was outside, drinking. He looked as if he had a lot on his mind. You were sure he did. The shine in his brown eyes made it seem like he knew what tomorrow was going to bring. 

“Going home so soon?”, Enjolras asked, his speech slightly slurred from the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

His question caught you off guard, causing you to jump slightly before turning to meet his glance.

“Um, well, my mom is probably wondering where I am. It’s late.”, you rubbed your arm nervously. 

“Your father is a hell of a man.”

He edged closer to you, putting his cup up in the air before taking another sip, giving you a chance to admire his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

You smiled easily. “Thank you, he’s always been very strong-willed.”

“I can see you take after him.”, Enjolras took another smaller sip from his wine.

A small smile spread across your lips, but all you could think about was the possibility your father wouldn’t return home. Your mother would be crushed, but she understood this was an important cause to your father. 

“Can I ask you something?”, Enjolras brought you out of your thoughts. 

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been with a man?”

His question took you aback. “I’m sorry?”

Enjolras inched closer to you, so close the aroma of alcohol tickled your nose. His brown eyes stared deeply into yours, seeing if you would falter the least little amount. You could almost feel his breath on you, it made your insides twist and turn. 

“Have you ever had a man ravish you? I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

You felt your cheeks growing hot. The air was cool, but your cheeks were warm. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Enjolras.” 

He smirked easily. “I’ve seen the way your eyes meet mine when you come to see your father. Like you want something…desire something.”, he hummed. 

“Perhaps I’m just curious about you.”, you match his tone. 

He smirked easily. “Why not let your curiosity get the best of you tonight?”

“Elaborate, Enjolras.”

He came closer to you, the sound of his inhale reaching your ear. “I may not be promised another day. Tomorrow may be my very last day, tomorrow I may die for freedom. Would you let me ravish you? Share this one last night together? Feeding both of our devilish desires?”

You had never been with a man before. His offer was bold, however, you admitted to yourself you had fantasized about him. You felt his free hand find your waist, fingertips touching the soft fabric of your dress. You felt his breath on your neck, an indication of just how close he was to you. But you also knew if you slept with him, you’d be committing an act of sin. You were supposed to wait until marriage. But how could you when the opportunity was right in front of you? Especially with a man who was the caliber of Enjolras.

“If my parents find out—”, your mouth was dry.

“They won’t find out, we can go up to my room. You just have to be quiet until we get there.”, he breathed.

You were quiet, pondering his offer. Enjolras was the epitome of what you wanted in a man, but you knew in the long run he wasn’t concerned with finding someone to settle down with. Not right now, not when there was a revolution. If he did live after tonight, what would become of you two? 

“What do you say, amour?”

He could tell there was some hesitation about his proposal. But you were ready to give in.

“I will, Enjolras.”, you breathed. 

A smile spread across his lips. He brought the cup of his wine up to your lips, the aroma instantly filling your nose. You had never drank. It wasn’t very becoming for a woman to drink alcohol. 

“Take a drink. It’ll help relax you......”

Your eyes looked to the side, just catching a glimpse of his arm. How Enjolras was causing you to come undone morally in just a matter of moments showed just how much of a hold, how much power he had over you.

“Okay.”, you breathed.

He tipped the cup, your mouth opened ever so slightly. You felt the liquid hit your tongue. It was sour but not the worst you had ever tasted. It tasted like grapes that had gone sour. You felt Enjolras watching you, seeing how much you could take. You were able to withstand more than you thought you would, Enjolras moving the cup away from your mouth. You swallowed your last drink, taking a deep breath. 

“It’ll hit you in a little bit. Impressive for someone who’s never drank before.”

You nodded feverishly, just wishing he’d take you already. But if you knew anything about Enjolras, he took his time to execute his plan. He finished off the wine, tossing the cup to side. You felt his other hand soon meet your waist. 

“You never answered my question earlier…..”

“Which one?”, you asked softly.

“Have you ever been with a man?”, he repeated.

“N-no, I’m a virgin—if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You mean I’m gonna be the first one to have you?”, he hummed. 

“Y-yes….”

He hummed again before his lips met your neck. “So nice and sweet that….you’re willing to give me….my dying wish…..”, he placed kisses down your neck, meeting your chest.

“You don’t know that you’re going to die….”

He stopped in his tracks. “I think I will, I quite literally have had a target on my back for months now.”

To be honest, you didn’t want to think about him dying. You didn’t want to think about anyone dying. No one needed to die. But you had heard Enjolras speak. According to him, someone must die. 

“You may come out of this.”, you said, trying to keep on the bright side of things. 

You heard his breathing hitch. There was mostly silence in the streets tonight, most everyone resting up for tomorrow. You heard the distant sound of music, an ominous hum. Enjolras didn’t speak for a few moments, going back to placing kisses on your neck, causing you to release soft sighs and borderline moans. You could feel him smirk against your skin. 

“Have you had women before?”, you choked out, voice hoarse.

Enjolras chuckled softly against your skin. “Do you really want to know?”

You nodded. “Mhmmm….”

“I have……..a few…….but none as pretty and innocent as you…..”

You felt a blush coming down your cheeks. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is……”, he groaned softly. “Are you ready to go upstairs?”

You nodded. 

You felt his lips leave your neck, causing you to whimper at the loss of contact. Another smirk spread across your lips as he realized how delicate and innocent you were. He grabbed your hand, leading you to the door of the pub. There was an apartment above the pub, you assumed this was where Enjolras had been staying for a few months now. He put his pointer finger over his lips, reminding you to stay quiet as he opened the door to the pub. All the men were asleep in different places. You all tip-toed past them, Enjolras leading you to the staircase. 

“Miss the third step, it creaks terribly.”, he whispered.

You nodded, making sure to miss and avoid the third step on the series of steps. You all reached the top, Enjolras opening the door to his apartment. You saw a bed, some of his clothes, books, maps, and his weapons. There was nothing super personable to him. For a man, it was fairly organized. It caught you off guard, surprised. He closed the door easily behind you, the room only illuminated by candlelight. The window was cracked slightly, a cool summer night. The day had been so warm, almost sweltering. 

“Where do you want me to start?”, he asked, softly. 

“However you wish.”

“This isn’t all about me.”, he began. “Contrary to popular belief.”

You reached for your hair, letting it down easily out of its tight constricted low bun. Enjolras watched as you shook your head easily, blowing it out. His brown eyes widened at the sight, a smile spreading across his lips. 

“I don’t know.”, you responded breathlessly. 

“I have an idea but we have to get you out of this dress.”, he breathed as used your shoulders to turn you around easily. 

You were wearing a thinner dress, thankfully. It was a dress specifically for summer. It was white with some lace, a sign of purity. Something you were about to tarnish. You stepped out of your shoes easily, leaving yourself in your stockings. Enjolras bent down and grabbed the bottom of your dress, beginning to lift it over your head. He laid it on the back of the chair that he used at his desk. You felt overly exposed in just your stockings and undergarments, your corset sucking in your waistline. 

“God, just look at you.”, he breathed.

You looked back at him, gaining just a glimpse of him as he came around the front of you. 

“Enjolras.”, you breathed.

“What? Simply stating the obvious. God.”, he breathed, beginning to palm the bulge in his pants.

You swallowed hard, your eyes immediately going to where his hands were. His brown eyes were fixed on you as he began to unbutton his pants, allowing them to fall to the floor. Your eyes widened as you saw the more prominent bulge of his rock, hard cock. You weren’t oblivious when it came to sex, but there were things you didn’t exactly know. You knew where children came from and how they were made. The act you were about to commit was how children came about. 

You opened your mouth, ready to speak when Enjolras spoke first.

“Finish undressing.”, he breathed. “Wanna….wanna watch you.”, he groaned as he undid his undergarments, allowing them to meet the same fate as his pants. 

Your eyes widened as you saw his cock spring free, hard, and erect just for you. It had to be for you, didn’t it? You gulped, bending down to slide your stockings off. 

“Um Enjolras….”, your voice breathed meekly.

“Yes?”

“I need help with my corset….”

He abandoned stroking himself for a moment, coming behind you, moving your hair to the side before he began undoing each string, feeling relief as you could breathe easier. 

“You know you don’t need this.”, he breathed.

“Why not? Men like little waists and bigger breasts, do they not? That’s what mother has always said.”

He sighed. “Most men….there’s nothing wrong with you as you are. You’re beautiful. Besides, do you want other men to look at you?”

Your face crinkled in confusion. You weren’t used to hearing compliments from men. Out in town, you were used to being asked for a quick lay or having men say indecorous things about you. Even though this was supposed to be strictly about sex, Enjolras managed to make you feel butterflies in your stomach with his compliments.

“Why would I not? I’ve yet to meet a man who gets my father’s approval or one who wants more than just sex.”

Enjolras was quiet again. “If it counts for anything, I would love to make you more than a one-night stand….if it wasn’t for this revolution.”

Your heart stopped in its tracks, your breathing instantly hitching. “You surely…surely don’t mean that.”

Enjolras reached the end of your corset, proving this was not his first time undoing one. Your corset fell to the floor before he reached down and picked it up, placing it with your dress. 

“I do….I just don’t feel as though your father would want you with a man who values a revolution and freedom for the French as much as I do.”, he breathed. 

You had watched your father and Enjolras interact, their rapport appeared to be superior to the other men. There was mutual respect between them. Your father respected Enjolras as a leader. He may have been younger, but your father thought he had bright ideas, intuitive for his age. Your father always complimented Enjolras when telling you and your mother about him.

“You’re passionate about it.”, you breathed easily.

“Very much so. People who have spilled their blood for France are living as beggars. Their children starving while a fat king sits on the throne, what’s there not to be passionate about?”, he breathed, you finally seeing the charismatic, caring side of him coming through. 

To be honest, it was very alluring when Enjolras talked about how passionate he was about the revolution. He was a very educated man, clear he had done his reading and research. There was a pause before he began to undo your bra, tossing it to the chair. The cool, summer night air drifted into the room, causing the curtain to move slightly, sending a chill down your spine, and causing your nipples to instantly grow hard. His hands wrapped around your waist, fingertips on your abdomen.

His fingertips drifted down to find the hem of your underwear, beginning to tug them down slightly. 

“Enjolras…..”

“Hmmm?”

You felt him slide your underwear down your legs, and you instinctively stepped out of them.

“Damn, you’re so—alluring.”, he breathed.

“You really think so?”

“I do, I really do……”

His hands moved from your waist, beginning to undo his button-up. You heard him toss his shirt and under shirt to the side. You felt him wrap his hands around your waist, one moving up to find your breast. You felt his cock becoming hard against you as he began playing with your nipple, taking it between his fingers. Your breathing hitched, trying to fight back the loud moan threatening to escape your lips.

“You can let it out.”, he whispered against your neck, placing another kiss on it.

You sighed, finally releasing the small hiccups of moans as he toyed with your nipples, pinching and flicking them between his fingers.

“Your moans are such a sweet sound in my ear.”, he breathed. 

He was met with another string of moans from you, his hard cock rubbing against the back of your thighs. He was very hard, causing you to moan softly. 

“Let’s move to the bed, amour.”

You fumbled trying to walk with weak legs to his bed. It was astounding the amount of power he already had over you. You easily climbed into the bed, feeling his eyes on you as he followed suit. He began kissing you—softly and slowly at first. His kisses were warm and sweet, everything you imagined them to be. There were soft smacks as you deepened the kiss, pulling him towards you. His beard was rough against your delicate skin. He was towering over you, running his hands through your soft hair. 

“Can I taste you?”, he breathed between kisses.

You abruptly interrupted the kisses. “Taste—taste me?”, you stammered.

“Yes….I’m sure you taste as sweet as you seem.”, he kissed you again, looking deep into your eyes. 

He inched his body down the bed, his fingers tracing your body as he reached your core. He looked up at you, again asking for your permission. You nodded easily, beginning to feel a little tingly presumably from the alcohol. His fingers ran up your thighs, tracing your entrance. A moan escaped your lips, your head falling back onto the pillow with a soft thud. Your inhibitions were slipping away and quickly at that. 

“Can I feel you?”

You nodded. “Mhmmm, please Enjolras…..”

He accepted your invitation, slipping two fingers inside you causing a gasp to elicit from your lips. You had never felt anything like this before—you had nothing to compare it to. His eyes were concentrated on you. Your back instantly began arching, allowing him to shove his fingers further inside of you. You gripped the sheets easily.

“Feel good, amour?”, he breathed, working his fingers in and out of your wet folds rhythmically. 

“So good, Enjolras.”, you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut. 

He spent a few more minutes, working his fingers in and out of you. He was making sure you were going to be prepared for him—for his length and width. You were so tight, having never been with a man before. Enjolras placed soft kisses on your thighs, causing soft moans and sighs to escape your lips. 

“Ready for me to taste you?”, he asked, suddenly. 

His own breathing was hitched at this point. You nodded feverishly, sighing once more. Enjolras was ready to hear your soft pleas.

“Please….”, you moaned softly. 

If it was anything like his fingers, you were in for a treat. Your soft ‘please’ was all it took for Enjolras to oblige your request. He parted your legs gently, laying down between your legs. His deep, brown eyes looked up at you a final time before you felt his rough, coarse beard between your legs. You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes again. His tongue traced your entrance, sending shock waves through your body. 

It lasted for a minute before his tongue entered your core, beginning to lick, suckle, and nibble you making you grip the sheets so hard your knuckles turned white. Enjolras seemed to notice, taking a moment to look up at you. Seeing how much you were enjoying it was only fueling him further. Unbeknownst to you, he had thought about you before. He saw the way you innocently walked in front of him, swaying your hips—whether it was intentional or not. There were a few nights he’d be alone in his room, frustrated and needing release. 

He knew exactly what to do. All he had to do was think of you. He would instantly unbuckle his pants, letting his cock spring free. He’d throw his head back and instantly fantasize about you—undressing you, admiring your beautiful body, tasting your sweet juices, taking you, and stripping you of your innocence. Taking your virginity while you moaned his name. He had thought about it a few times if he was being honest. 

But now, he was getting to experience it in reality. It was no longer his fantasy when he needed to come undone, to feel a little less stress. You moaned softly, the sweet sound continuing to fill his ears. His tongue encircled your clit, lapping at it easily. He noticed your grip tighten on the sheets. It was causing his cock to grow harder by the second, watching you come undone just by him tasting you. His cock was pressing hard against the bed, begging to be inside of you. 

His breathing almost immediately hitched when he thought about entering you for the first time. He could hardly wait. You felt the deep, aching feeling in the pit of your stomach growing. You didn’t know what an orgasm exactly entailed. You had heard it mentioned before, but what was the warning signs that it was near? Enjolras eyed you as he came up for a moment, his tongue abruptly leaving your heat. You were breathing hard, whimpering at the sudden loss of contact.

In the small amount of candlelight, you could see the glisten in his beard from how drenched you were.

“So—wet—just for me….”, Enjolras heaved, trying to catch his breath. 

“Wh—why did you stop?”, you asked, your chest heaving. 

Your brain felt overstimulated, trying to catch up with the events that had happened up to this point. Focus was out of the question except if it came to Enjolras. 

“Just to get a little breath, amour. Don’t worry, I can finish……but God, my dick is so hard for you, amour…..begging to enter you…..”

You swallowed hard as you watched him reach down for his hard, erect cock taking the length in his hands, beginning to stroke himself. Small moans fell from his lips, causing that hot, aching feeling to quickly return to your stomach. It was hard to say no to Enjolras when he was in the current state he was in. Your needs other than him inside of you were slipping away, your eyes pleading for him. 

“Please….”, you pleaded softly.

“Please what?”, Enjolras asked, stroking his cock, his eyes closing and head falling back just for a moment, just enough to drive your desire deeper. 

“Enter me…..”, you pleaded, desperation laced in your voice.

A smirk came across his lips, continuing to stroke himself. “But amour, I have no condoms……”

“Don’t—care…..”, you moaned softly. 

“If fate should serve us well, you won’t have to bare the burden of birthing my child.”, he leaned down, beginning to kiss you. Softly and slowly, just like before. 

The thought hit you like a ton of bricks. Your inhibitions may have been faltering, but there was no way you were prepared to bring a child into this world—especially without its father. It would be referred to as a bastard. No man would want you if you bared another man’s child. A dead one at that. It was very taboo for this time period. Your mother and father would be so ashamed. You could imagine what people in town would whisper about you. Enjolras continued to kiss you, quickly making those thoughts and fears melt away. Nothing else mattered at this moment—except for him.

“Ready to take me?”, he breathed, voice slightly raspy. 

All you could muster was a nod, consenting permission for him to ravish you.

He was towering over you, easily parting your thighs. Leaning down, he placed soft kisses on the inside of your thigh. Goosebumps began appearing all over your body as you felt his stubble against your soft, delicate skin. You let out a soft sigh, watching him come back up, positioning himself between your legs. You felt his cock brush your thighs, causing your eyes to widen. You immediately noticed how erect he was. 

“Just gonna get you used to my size first, okay?”

You nodded again, feeling sheepish for not being able to form a simple one-worded response. But Enjolras didn’t give you much time to ponder it before you felt the tip of his cock tracing your entrance. He watched for your reaction. You moaned softly, biting your lip. Your mind began to race, imagining how this would feel. You had no experience. Your heart felt like it was going to thump out of your chest. He continued to brush his tip against your entrance, seeming to intentionally tease you. It was as if he wanted you to beg for him to enter you. 

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to moan his name. He could tell you were holding back. 

“You’re holding back, amour.”, he breathed, adding pressure as he traced your entrance immediately causing your breathing to hitch. 

“Am—Am I?”, you choked out, desperate to moan his name.

He nodded before adding more pressure as he traced your entrance. “All you have to do is moan my name—just one time and I’ll enter you—”

“Enjolras….”, you moaned, cutting him off quickly. 

He smirked, hearing all he needed to before he traced your entrance one more time. It caught you off guard when he finally pushed his tip into you, causing you to gasp and grip the sheets. The sensation was so overwhelming and overstimulating to your body. You had never been with a man like this—you had never had sex with a man. 

“So tight—”, Enjolras groaned, attempting to slip into your pussy further. 

You swallowed hard, feeling him stretching out your tight, virgin pussy. Another moan fell off your lips, Enjolras taking the opportunity to push into you further. There was pleasure in the pain as your moan grew louder, sharper at the end as he was almost completely inside of you. 

“Just a little more.”, Enjolras encouraged, his hand brushing your cheek.

Your chest was heaving—your body trying to catch up with the thoughts racing through your brain. Enjolras noticed, brushing your hair out of your face. You were silently thankful it was a cool summer night. 

“Go ahead.”, your breath was raspy.

“Are you sure, amour?”, he asked.

He was almost completely inside of you but wasn’t moving. You could feel him pulsing inside of you.

You nodded quickly, lessening the grip on the bed sheets. You were slightly beginning to not feel like a fish out of water. You felt embarrassed knowing Enjolras was experienced when it came to sex. You were sure he had women who were better than you.

He steadied himself before pushing further inside, the feeling of him stretching you out turning into a burning sensation, however, it disappeared quickly. It was evident he had bottomed out. It was all over his face. All you could do was moan and pant as he went as far inside you as he could. 

“Shit—feels so good….”, he groaned as he began to slowly work his way in and out of you. 

You nodded, gripping the sheets easily. 

“Tell me how good it feels….”, his breath tickled your bare skin. 

“So—good Enjolras.”, you somehow managed to choke out. 

Another smile spread across his face. You could see the sweat beginning to form on his forehead. For once you were glad the night was cool, giving you all some relief from the steamy activities occurring in his room. He leaned down, beginning to kiss you as he thrust inside of you, tearing you apart at the seams. The burning had turned into pure bliss. The more he worked inside of you, the more the burning, aching feeling in the pit of your stomach grew. 

Your toes began to curl, and a long sigh fell from your lips. You were edging towards a release. Your legs were shaking, unintentionally as he thrust into you. With each thrust, Enjolras grunted, causing your insides to twist into a knot. Enjolras knew that look on your face—he had seen it before from other women but somehow, it was different with you. He wanted to continue to chase this desire he had. Would just one time be enough? It had to be. In the back of his mind, he knew tomorrow could very well be his last day.

His brown eyes fluttered shut as his thrusts grew longer and deeper, pulling you in. He was damned determined to make you orgasm. He wanted to feel you all over him—it was his dying wish, after all. 

“Enjo—Enjolras…”, you choked on your own words.

His brown eyes shot open, waiting for the rest of your words.

“Think I’m—going—to——”

“Going to what?”

“Have—an—oh! Oh—my God.”, your words were drowned out as a rush washed over your body. 

Your toes curled instantly, your hands gripping his shoulders. Your fingernails sinking into his shoulders caused him to moan. You could feel the blood rushing from your toes to your head, it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. You felt yourself contracting around him. Pure euphoria cascaded through your body. For once, all the intrusive, worrisome thoughts had dissipated. Through hazy, groggy eyes you looked up at Enjolras. 

“Oh—feels so good on my dick….can’t wait to make a mess all inside you, amour….”, he grunted, his thrust soon becoming sloppy. 

You nodded lazily, resting your head on his pillow. He gripped your thighs, raising your hips up so he could get better angles and leverage. Just seeing you spent, laying in front of him, and letting him sex you like this was driving him towards his release hard and fast. He could feel himself beginning to lose this uphill battle. His dick was so hard he couldn’t stand it, thankful you at least had released on him. 

“Please—make a mess of me Enjolras.”, you breathed.

He smirked, your words marking your fate. 

“Oh—amour, here it comes.”, he warned through a grunt as his hips stuttered, his grip on your hips tightening.

His cock began pulsing inside of you. Your purity was over. 

Your eyes closed as you felt his seed filling you full, his breathing labored as he tried to catch his breath. How could a man like Enjolras make you forget all your promises and morals in a matter of a few hours? You felt him pulse inside of you a few more times before he felt satisfied enough to pull out. You cried out, missing him inside of you and making you feel full. 

He ran a hand through your hair. “I have one last request, amour.”

“What—is—it, Enjolras?”, you ask in a pitiful, pathetic tone. 

“Can you stand up for me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Can you stand for me?”, he repeated more firmly. 

Enjolras knew this was going to be a lot to ask of you, especially since he had just made a complete mess of you. Part of you wondered how you were going to even lift yourself off the bed, much less stand. Enjolras felt his dick becoming hard again, just watching your innocent, pathetic attempt at obliging his request. You grunted softly, heaving yourself up from the bed, your head spinning in circles endlessly. Enjolras extended his hand, helping you sit up.

You felt some of his seed running out of you, but you were doing your best to ignore it. The only other thought your brain could register was the amount was a lot—more than you had expected. Your legs were weak, threatening to give out at any second. You took a deep breath, praying you could hold yourself up as long as he wanted you to. 

“Just turn around and lean on the bed, amour. Hands behind your back.”

His words puzzled you. 

“Hands behind my back?”

“Mhmmm.”, he hummed.

His hands were reaching for something. You felt his seed mixed with your own release seeping down your legs, causing you to feel slightly embarrassed. Your cheeks were growing hot, the words you wanted to say catching in your throat. 

“Look what a mess we made. What a naughty girl you’ve been. What would your father think?”

Your breathing caught again as his hands traced your hips and lower back, helping bend you on over the bed. You felt his fingers trace your wrists, the next sensation becoming the one to throw you off. You felt a soft, velvet fabric. The dots were finally connected in your brain. You felt him tie the soft fabric around your wrists—your mind thinking about his handkerchief immediately. His fingers left your wrists, leaving your hands bound together behind your back. 

“Now,”, Enjolras breathed against your neck. “I’m going to spank you—discipline you for how naughty you’ve been. And I want you to count each one, understand amour?”

You nodded, gritting your teeth in preparation for the first hit. 

“Good girl. Maybe you can redeem yourself.”, he rubbed the globe of your right backside.

He could admire them much easier with no dress in the way.

His hand left your backside, and you held your breath as you waited for what was to come. Your face was pressed into the bed. 

“Alright, let’s start counting. Ready, amour?”

You nodded breathlessly, your mouth going completely dry. 

“Perfect.”

Even though you had given him permission to start, you weren’t prepared for the sudden, abrupt impact of his hand against your skin. You yelped with the first spanking to your right backside, your throat sore and your face hot. 

“Un.”, you choked out in French. 

You closed your eyes, bracing for impact again. Enjolras sent another smack to your left backside, causing you to jolt.

“Deux.”

“A little louder, amour.”

That was all the advice he mustered up for you as a third strike came to your backside. 

“Trois.”

Your voice was hoarse, you were trying to find your voice. The vulnerability was coursing through you, no one else had seen this side of you. Maybe Enjolras had fed you sweet lies tonight, but nevertheless, he had a spell on you. He just had some power over you. There was beginning to be a numb stinging to your backside, making it less painful with each spanking. You felt his thick, bare hand caress over your backsides. During this, spankings four and five occurred.

Another smack. Pain melting away into pleasure by this point. 

“Six.”

“Maybe you’re not such a naughty girl, after all.”, he hummed, rubbing the tingling, burning spot on your backside.

A small laugh escaped your throat. Should you go over the list of things that made you a naughty girl? For one, you flirted with your dad’s leader. Two, you drank tonight. Women didn’t drink. It was unheard of. It was very unbecoming of you. Three, you had premarital sex with Enjolras. There could be grave consequences for your actions. But you were doing your best to not think about that right now.

The seventh smack to your backside was harsher, probably a result of your laughing, causing it to cease very quickly. 

“Se—pt.”, you choked, this number broken. 

More of your all’s mess cascading down your legs, them beginning to shake. Laying down sounded so good right now.

“H-how ma—many more?”, you moaned out. 

“Three, unless you’re naughty and laugh again….”, he breathed.

You nodded, closing your eyes. Another smack to your backside. He was now giving you longer intervals in between them, teasing you. 

“Huit.”

You tried to pull your arms in front of you, but the piece of fabric didn’t budge, stalling your arms in their current state. All you wanted to do was rest your arms in front of you, and become close to dozing off as he finished. 

“Not yet, amour.”

SMACK. This brought you out of your stupor rather quickly. 

“Neuf.”

Your response was softer. 

“One last one.”

Your legs were beginning to buckle, you feared they’d give out before he finished and send you crashing into the floor. 

You nodded. This was the last one. If you could just make it through this last one. 

SMACK. 

“Dix….”, you choked out, legs caving before Enjolras grabbed your shoulders easily.

His arms were strong enough to support your weight, while he took his free hand, unknotting his handkerchief making it look so easy. 

“So good, amour. You did so, good.”, he breathed, placing a kiss on your neck. 

He could see in your eyes that you were caught in a state of limbo—between euphoria and facing the reality of what you both had done. 

“Help me get my clothes?”, you asked softly. 

“You’re in no shape to go home.”

“My mother has to be worried about me.”

“She may be—but you can’t go home like this. I’ll help you in bed and just sleep for a bit, amour.”

You debated his offer, softly humming for a few moments. “Are you going to sleep?”

“Probably not, but I’ll wake you before your father and the other men wake up.”

The way your legs felt, you knew Enjolras was right. But what would you tell your mother? Those thoughts couldn’t be processed right now. 

“Okay.”, you said softly. 

He nodded, helping you up in bed, pulling the covers over you. You yawned easily, your glossy eyes looking up at him as he bent down and kissed your head. His brown eyes were watery—or were you seeing things?

“Sleep well, amour.”

He brushed his thick fingers over your forehead, moving the stray hair out of your face. You nodded softly, drifting off to sleep. Little did you know, Enjolras stayed up all night long, watching you sleep in complete silence. He studied his maps, all his plans only breaking every few minutes to look at you, making sure you were still resting. Part of him began to feel guilty thinking of all the results that could come from his actions. 

He had wanted a normal life—find a woman, settle down, and have a few kids. But the revolution changed those plans for him. He couldn’t sit by and let this go on any longer. What was the point in bringing children into this kind of world? That’s how he rationalized it. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t mourn the life he would never have the chance to have. He’d love to have it with you, but he knew that could never be. Your father would never agree to that. You were too good for the likes of him. 

The sun began to rise on the horizon, causing the blanket of darkness to lift. Enjolras blew out the candle before coming over to kiss your forehead, hoping to bring you out of your slumber easily. 

“Is it morning?”, you asked softly, stretching.

“It is amour. I’ll get your clothes.”

You nodded, sitting up. You rubbed your eyes quickly, hoping to get a good glance of Enjolras. This could be the last time you see him alive. The thought made you sick to your stomach. Enjolras took a deep breath as he helped you get dressed, taking his last opportunity to breathe in your beautiful body. He was not an emotional man, but he was feeling something he had never felt before. It felt like a dream that he finally was able to become one with you, but not under the circumstances he had.

“I’ll lead you outside.”, he took your hand easily.

You looked down at your hands before looking back up at him. He led you down the same set of stairs you all had come up last night. You’d give anything to get that night back, to get a chance to do it over again. But that was impossible. No one was out on the street as he opened the door to the pub, the warm morning summer breeze meeting you. 

You almost could feel tears beginning to pool in your eyes, cursing them back quickly. You had no right to cry over a man you had shared one night with. You all stared at each other, looking into each other’s eyes. His hand was still in yours, you both trying to find the right words to say. 

“See you later?”, you asked easily. 

“See you later, amour.”, he smiled bittersweetly.

Your hands finally broke apart, you nodding as he turned to back inside.

He turned to view you one more time, watching you walk away. That was the hardest part. It was different with you. The other women could leave, it didn’t bother him. He hadn’t given them a second look. There was something different with you, or was he just mourning what is and what will never be? He was choking back tears, quickly reminding himself he had to get it together. There was a revolution to start today. 

——————————————————————————————————————

Your mother asked you a million questions once you got home, doing your best to quietly sneak in. You had failed miserably. Giving her very generic answers, she finally gave up. She asked if you had been with a man to which you responded ‘no’. A mother’s intuition never seemed to be wrong. She proceeded to tell you how much she had worried about you, how little sleep she had gotten. You felt guilty about causing her to worry, but didn’t regret the night you had spent with Enjolras. 

As the day progressed, you tried to take your mind off things and help your mother with the chores around the house. She was nervous, afraid your father wasn’t going to make it back home. You were nervous, afraid Enjolras was going to die today. You tried to reassure her while trying to reassure yourself. You almost dropped dinner, feeling clumsy. All you could think about was your parting glance with Enjolras, thinking you may never see him again.

“Dear, are you alright?”, your mother asked you.

“Fine, mother. I’m sorry. Just worried about father.”, you responded.

Part of it wasn’t a lie. You had just left out Enjolras. 

She nodded, placing a hand on yours. “Me too, dear.”

As the day turned into night, you all had barely eaten any dinner. You were waiting for news—anything to let you know your dad or Enjolras was alive. Silence lay between you both as you sat by candlelight. This time last night, you were with him. You closed your eyes, fighting back the urge to cry. It was silly to feel like this over a man you had for one night, wasn’t it?

A defeated knock came to your door, jarring you and your mother out of any thoughts. You looked at one another before rising from your chairs, quietly asking the other who was going to answer the door. Quietly, you decided you would be the one to get the news firsthand. If it was your dad, you could ask him about Enjolras. Your hand began trembling as you placed it on the knob, turning it. Your eyes widened, seeing Enjolras standing there.

He had a somber expression on his face, covered in soot and dirt, his brown eyes were almost the only thing visible. His white shirt was filthy. Part of you wanted to cry from happiness, the other worried as to why he was here at your doorstep.

His name threatened to fall from your lips.

“L/N residence?”, he asked.

Your mother nodded behind you. 

“My name is Enjolras.”, he began, mouth dry. “I regret to inform you that your husband didn’t make it.”

All you remember hearing was the shrill cry from your mother before she collapsed in your arms. Tears pricked up in your eyes. All he could do was look at you, feeling defeated. He was supposed to die. Not the other men, especially not your father. He wanted so badly to take you in his arms and comfort you and tell you everything would be okay. He wanted to tell you about the last few moments of your father’s life. 

“Did he suffer?”, your mother asked through tears, clearly distraught.

“No, it was quick.”, Enjolras closed his eyes, preparing to hear your mother cry again. 

You eyed him easily through tear-stained eyes. Your pain was quickly turning to anger, you immediately began to blame him in your head.

“If you’d let me come in, I could tell you about the last few moments of his life.”

“No—,”, your tone started out harshly. “No, please just leave. Thank you, Enjolras but my mother and I need time to process this.”

Your tone ended softly. He was surprised by this change in you. He didn’t argue or with your reasoning, turning to leave. It killed him to not be able to comfort you, but he understood you needed time to process this. You were caught between a rock and hard place—thankful Enjolras was alive but distraught your father was dead. That was the last memory you had of Enjolras in weeks. 

The days had been darker since your father had passed. You had been sick in bed, with terrible stomach pain and aches. Racked with nausea and vomiting, your mother worried that you had come down with cholera. She sat on the edge of your bed, brushing through your hair. It was early morning and you had finished vomiting as she placed a cool cloth on your forehead. It had been seven weeks since you had seen or heard from Enjolras. 

“I can’t lose you.”, your mother sighed.

“Mother, I’m sure it’s just something I ate.”

“For four weeks now? I will send for the apothecary.”, she got up, leaving the room. 

You sighed, closing your eyes. That’s when the feeling hit you like a ton of bricks—you had slept with Enjolras seven weeks ago. Your mouth became dry, beginning to think about your symptoms. Your vomiting was always in the morning. Not to mention, you had missed your monthly. You felt exhausted all the time, breasts began to feel sore. All of it was adding up, beginning to make sense. 

Fate had not served you well, it appeared you were with child.

“The apothecary should be here this evening.”, your mom sat down on your bed, holding your hand. 

You nodded numbly. 

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagine #joseph x reader #enjolras x reader #enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras x y/n

[akariamai]

Romeo & Juliet [Part 1]

Pairing: Jacob Black x OC!Swan

Word Count: 1953

Part 2 Part 3

Sloan Swan detested the assigned reading she was given. It bothers her that the widely accepted portrayal of Shakespeare’s play Romeo and Juliet It was a narrative of blind lust for a stranger rather than an epic love story of two tragic lovers torn apart by their warring families.

“They loved each other.” Bella, her twin sister, argued as she drove them to school. In contrast to Sloan, Bella was enamored with the notion of love and disregarded the glaring red warning signs it left in its wake. Romeo’s lovely, meaningless words blinded her, just like they did so many others.

She criticized, “Romeo was literally ‘in love’ with Juliet’s cousin, Rosaline, and when she didn’t return his feeling, he went looking elsewhere. When he tells his friends about his ‘feelings’ for Juliet, they assume he’s talking about Rosaline.”

“That’s not true.” Her sister shakes her head in disbelief.

Sloan ruffles through her backpack, searching for the school’s copy of the play and flipping through the tagged pages.

“Page 32 to 33. Benvolio says to Romeo, ‘At this same ancient feast of Capulet’s, Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so loves,’ and later in the same page Romeo replies, ‘One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun, Ne’er saw her match since first the world begun.’ Romeo meets Juliet around page 53. Do I need to read more?”

Bella remained quiet as her perception of Romeo and Juliet was uprooted. The heartbreaking reality was silently placed in front of her, bursting a love she had equated her and Edwards to and a raging loathing emerged for her twin sister.

“And not to mention, Romeo only married Juliet to sleep with her. That’s not love.”

Bella gritted her teeth. “What do you know about love?”

“More than you, apparently.” She shot back. It was true she never had a boyfriend, but she was born with logic, and she’d be damned to ignore red flags when she saw them.

“Why do you hate love stories?”

“I don’t hate love stories.” Sloan clarified, “I hate toxic relationships disguised as love stories. There’s a difference.”

Juliet was a naive girl with rose petal shades shielding her from the truth. She was in love with the idea of love and fallen for the first boy to entice her. Her false sense of love drove her to follow him in death. Her end was tragic as she never once felt true love, only the lust of a boy impatient to bed her.

“I pity Juliet. Romeo used her and would’ve abandoned her when a new beauty caught his eye.” She sniffled out a yawn. “He plucked her from the sky and clipped her wings, locking her in a golden cage, and once he got bored of her song, he freed her but left her flightless. That would’ve been the ending of their story if they had lived.”

Bella remained silent, reeling in her fragmented view on Romeo and Juliet’s relationship, her hatred for her sister burning twice as much. The silhouette of the school could not appear fast enough as Bella hurriedly searched for a parking spot.

Her arms trembling as she parked her truck, unable to comprehend Sloan’s point of view on her favorite Shakespeare play, and needed some space to clear her mind. Sloan had zipped her backpack up; infuriating Bella. How can Sloan act as if she hadn’t disrupted her entire world. She slams her door shut as she frantically searches for Edward, her lifeline.

“Wherefore art thou, Bella? Sloan?” Mike calls out as he, Eric, Angela, and Jessica approach the two twins. “You finish the Shakespeare assignment?”

Jessica pitched in, “He means will you finish his assignment?”

“No, I don’t—okay I do.” He admits.

“I can help you with it — but first —” She pulls out her new camera, a birthday gift from her father that she was gifted earlier today. “I need a picture. My mom’s expecting a scrapbook full of memories.”

Angela holds out her own camera and says, “I take ‘em; I don’t pose for ‘em.”

“You do today.” Bella lightly pushed Angela towards the rest of the group as they arranged themselves.

“I can take the picture, Bella,” Sloan says while holding out a hand. “Go stand with your friends.” Bella reluctantly hands it over before awkwardly walking towards them as the group rearrange themselves for Bella to be in the center.

“You’ll photoshop my nose if it looks big, right?” The question was aimed at Bella.

“Don’t worry, I’m in the picture; no one will be looking at you guys.” Eric proclaimed confidently.

Jessica scoffs at his joke as the group decided on their final poses. Angela, incorporating her love for photography, points the camera at Sloan; Mike and Eric joust, and Bella stands in the center of their delightfully carefree selves stiffly. The clicks of the camera shutters as it freezes them in a moment in time and archives it forever.

Sloan lowers the camera before noticing their playful smiles dissipates except for Bella’s. The timid smile she faked grew into a real one as she had obviously spotted Edward, her boyfriend.

Although her friends did not mind the male, they did not appreciate how quickly she discarded them for him. When Bella and Edward started dating, they became placeholders for when he wasn’t around.

“Oh good. Cullen’s here.” Mike noticed the way Edward stared at Bella; it was not out of love but something more nefarious. At first, he chalked it up to jealously. His feelings for Bella were still ever-present, but he genuinely cared for her well-being. He believed, with all that he’s seen, that Edward did not love Bella the way she loves him. It was only a matter of time before he hurt her, and he prayed to be wrong for her sake.

Jessica’s response was even drier. “Yay.” Once upon a time, she had feelings for Edward, but the second he became unavailable, she pushed those feelings aside. Bella was her friend, even if she didn’t act like it most of the time, and she would never stand in the way of her friend’s happiness. However, she had noticed Bella’s co-dependency on Edward, following him around like a lost puppy craving his attention. It wasn’t healthy. Not one bit, but she had no right to say anything.

Sloan, too, did not like the relationship her sister had with Edward. Edward had stripped Bella away from her independent lifestyle. There was never a moment away from Edward. Bella would choose him over everyone, and the realization of this truth stung. She missed the days when the two of them would read together; although both were silent during this time, the conversations that happened afterwards were fun. Those days were gone, now filled with an empty chair and an untouched book, and Sloan having no one to talk to. She never thought she would become familiar with loneliness.

“Check ya, later.” Eric replied, sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere, and lead his friends away.

Bella hadn’t responded, nor did she notice; her attention solely remained on Edward, who approached her figure, his eyes never leaving hers. This was the moment when Sloan decided to leave, her absence going unnoticed by both her twin and the vampire. She preferred to be in her English class going over Romeo and Juliet than forced to watch her sister pine about her boyfriend.

From across the parking lot, someone shouted. “Sloan!” She turned her attention to the person, Jacob Black, her friend from the nearby reservation. His presence brought a smile onto her face as her worries vanished in an instant.

“Jake!” Her excitement could not be contained. It has been a while since the two of them hung out; both busy with school work and other responsibilities. “You grew.” She noticed. His muscles were more refined than the last time she saw him, he was now a head taller than her.

He laughed, “And you didn’t.” Now he can hold the television control over her head like she had done to him in their childhood. Sweet, sweet revenge.

She pouted, “Not my fault I’m bite-sized.” By no means was she short, not was she unusually tall. She was average, yet compared to the massive monster known as Jacob, it would appear so.

His glee was energizing, her thoughts on Edward and Bella fading into the foreground of her mind, acting as a life jacket keeping her from drowning in her thoughts and worries.

“Happy birthday.” He offers her a warm hug before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small hand-woven bracelet. “It’s not much, I know, but.” He drops it in the palm of her hand, eyeing the marvel embedded in her chestnut eyes. “I hope you like it.”

“I love it!” She exclaimed, “You didn’t have to get me anything.” It was a thoughtful gift—something she’ll treasure forever. She quickly slips it on and makes a silent vow to never take it off. She won’t, however, except when she bathes or swims. She does not want his hard work to be ruined by water.

“I’m glad you like it.” He looks around for the other birthday girl, seeing her in a quiet conversation with her boyfriend. “I’m going to give your sister her gift.”

Sloan nods. Class is going to start soon, and she needed to get to class. “Bye Jacob.”

“Bye.” He rushed towards her sister, yelling her name to get her attention, managing to break up the couple for a few moments.

~~~

Bella quietly dropped off her sister at home before rushing away to her boyfriend’s house. Apparently, his family were throwing her a small party for their family only—the Cullens and the birthday girl—and no one else. Leaving Sloan and her father to celebrate the twins birthday alone.

The two didn’t plan much but it was just right for them. Both Bella and Sloan weren’t the party type, they preferred the quiet hums of their home, a homemade dinner with their father, and a hushed evening filled with television and soft conversation.

Sloan spent the day prepping for their meal, spicy honey garlic chicken with garlic Parmesan fries. It was a favorite she and her father shared. Bella’s absence remained a constant in their conversations. They spent their evening watching her favorite movies: Legally Blonde, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Scream, and Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.

Charlie loved the days when he and his daughters would sit together and watch TV. Bella would hide under the covers whenever a horror sequence became too much, opting to stay under until the danger passed. Sloan would mindlessly make comments under her breath throughout the movie, only audible to the person sitting next to her. He enjoyed days like this, as they were a small snippet of the past, his daughters reminding him of their younger selves, and now they were all grown up.

Wrapped up in one of her blankets, she laid her head on her father’s shoulders, her eyes drooping. It was late, and Bella still hadn’t arrived. Their birthday was already over and not a single second of the three of them had celebrated as a family. It truly broke her heart.

She didn’t know when, but her father carried her to her bedroom and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before tucking her in. He was going to miss moments like this. His children are adults now, and soon they will be leaving the nest. He never prepared himself for this day, always believing he had more time with them, but he guessed every parent came to the same realization when the time finally arrived.

Masterlist

#twilight #the twilight saga #new moon #twilight saga #charlie swan #edward cullen #bella swan #original character #oc!swan #twilight eric #twilight jessica #twilight mike #romeo and juliet bashing #romeo and juliet #rosaline #romeo bashing #the cullens #twilight angela #edward bashing #jacob black #jacob black x oc #twilight charlie #twilight edward #twilight jacob #jacob black x reader #twilight fanfiction #twilight fandom

[ecargmura]

Buddy Daddies Episode 4 Review: This Family Has A Single Braincell

Thank you for enjoying my review of the first three episodes so far! I'm glad people are enjoying them! I'm happy to write them too!

This review can be found on my blog, which you can click here. If you don't want to read it there, proceed below.

There’s no action in this episode, but it does keep the zany comedy that the first two episodes had. I enjoyed it a lot, surprisingly! It did a good job of balancing the wholesome and comedic portions it presented throughout the episode.

This episode, Kazuki and Red are thinking about what to do with Miri. She’s a menace and only burdens them with their chores. Kazuki realizes that sending her to daycare might be the best for them as it can give her time away from home to socialize and get an education while Rei and Kazuki can focus on their chores and jobs. However, as two people with no idea how society works, they’re clueless on how governmental stuff works and eventually forges papers that can help Miri enroll in daycare. Is it that hard to enroll in daycares in Japan or is it for comedic purposes because Kazuki and Rei never experienced this before?

I really like how Miri is their top priority in this episode. Making her happy is what they’re trying to do. From forging documents to buying her all the clothes and toys she wants, they’re doing their best to be the best parents for her. They even made her a room! How sweet is that?

Ms. Anna from the daycare is a standout character in this episode. She’s sweet and wholeheartedly accepts Miri and her fathers; she does not question why Miri has two fathers, but does praise how lucky she is to have two fathers who love her, to which Miri becomes happy. The fact that she’s the one who tells Kazuki about Miri’s inability to make friends and how she suggested that they buy cheap, common items for Miri to help her fit in better. She’s so great. I hope she appears more later on. Her presence is wholesome.

Most of the comedy in this episode stems from Kazuki and Rei not knowing how to function properly in normal society and it shows so much. They’re clueless about government offices; they buy really expensive suits to show off on Miri’s first day; they buy so much clothes and toys for her without a care in finances. The episode reveals that Rei is wealthy, so the money is most likely from his pockets. I really like the segment of them going to the cheap store and buying everything they see without a care in the world; they all enjoyed their time too!

I’m surprised that no one really questioned Kazuki and Rei’s ‘relationship’ in this episode. Like, the papers Kazuki forged had him and Miri’s name on it, but their address is Rei’s. Do the people who saw them assume they’re lovers without verbally stating it? Do people think they’re roommates; no ordinary roommates would go to lengths to go to government facilities and daycares together. The fruity radar is off the hook! I wonder what sort of story the people around them think of them when observing them. Since the papers had Kazuki and Miri’s name on it, I assume people would think they’re relatives, but where does Rei fit into the equation? I know things will get questionably fruity in the future, especially with the moms and their hilarious group chat messages—another highlight of this episode; the moms are a MOOD.

One last thing I want to point out is Rei’s voice throughout this episode. From the first three episodes, Rei doesn’t really raise his voice or speak up a lot. However, this episode shows Uchiyama’s vocal range as he voices Rei’s excitement at the store. I really liked how he delivered his lines in this episode. The scenes where Rei tries to escape and Kazuki drags him back are HILARIOUS! Oh and Kazuki’s hilarious outbursts are another highlight. Toyonaga and Uchiyama are amazing voice actors; I want them in another anime together again!

I hope we get more of the action soon since this show is about two assassins. We haven’t had them do assassination jobs in two episodes. I hope the next episode gives us a return of the action. I really liked the action scenes in this anime; the first two episodes were so well-animated even from the perspective of a viewer like me.

#ecargmura #arumjournal #buddy daddies #review #anime #anime review #kazuki kurusu #rei suwa #miri unasaka #Anna Hanyu #winter 2023 anime

[dothwrites]

for those of you who don't like metallica then i'm sorry but the s13 'nothing else matters' opening is STILL the best opening.

spn really said "welcome alcal, now be NEKKID on your first full episode"

and the way that dean can't even SAY what happened to cas. he tries and he can't get the words out because it's still TOO close. and you never see the difference between sam and dean in how they relate to cas and grief more than in the widower arc. sam is kinda bummed, but dean can't find which way is up. he's completely spinning out, meanwhile sam is... kinda bummed.

which is how they relate to grief. dean puts on a good show, but in the end, sam is the one who can compartmentalize a lot better. sam can put things aside to get what he considers the mission done. dean can't. his emotions are too powerful.

jack, my sweet baby nougat boy. i loved ye from the second i saw you in a funny little jacket. this poor small town sheriff and her stoner son are SO ill-equipped to deal with this.

the impala being the dirtiest that we've ever seen it... dean being the most grief-stricken we've ever seen him... i've connected the two dots.

poor jack... he's only been alive for like four hours and already the angels are torturing him. it's hard to be the antichrist nephilim.

and i do love that they had sam bond with jack over their shared heritage of "everyone believes that i'm going to grow up to become the devil and i don't wanna". it's something that sam doesn't get to do a lot of.

and the second that jack said "castiel is my father" we all fell in love with him and trusted him implicitly. well. at least i did.

and then dean's "anything?" and the angel realizing IMMEDIATELY what dean means... that he's searching for any way possible to bring cas back and he's desperate to do it... i am FERAL for the widower arc.

dean's insistence to believe that jack is evil for as long as cas is dead is... something. and dean never quite reconciled those feelings that he had at the very beginning, where he equated jack with the loss and horror of knowing that cas was gone. to dean, jack and that grief are always kind of the same thing, and he can't get over it.

dean's prayer. DEAN'S PRAYER. "we've lost EVERYTHING." and then his complete self destructive breakdown once he realizes that no one's listening. he's LOST and he doesn't know how to make any of it right.

thanks to the blooper reel i can never watch this horrifically emotional scene of dean preparing cas' body (his LOVER'S body) for the pyre and becoming so overcome with grief that he has to pause... i cannot watch that without thinking of the ball tap. fuck you jensen and misha.

jensen's ability to look absolutely DEVASTATED without shedding a tear. unparalleled.

#doth watches spn

[passionforfiction]

Call It Love

This is not the typical cross-lovers story. Shim Woo Joo - in her quest to avenge her family from her late father's mistress (and later wife) who took away their home - she meets Han Dong Jin (the woman's son). And in her attempt at revenge, she falls in love.

Even if the story sounds like the typical storyline, the execution is different. Here she has a male-best friend who is just a friend. There is no best friend-in love with her in silence troupe. They are truly best friends and he falls in love with her older sister. It explores what happens when a parent leaves home to be with someone else from different perspectives. Hae Sung (the eldest daughter) is always dating the wrong men but never gives up on being with someone. Yet, when she finds out that the man she is seeing is actually married, she feels horrible about herself because she has sworn never to do that. She knows how painful that is. Woo Joo took on the weight of the house, not going to school and working. She is the strong one, the one who takes charge, the one that suffers in silence while her older sister can play and her younger brother too. She is the one with the consuming anger, the one that knows the face of her father's lover, the one who confronted him and watched him leave with the other woman. And she is the one who seeks revenge when the woman throws them out of their home. Ji Goo was too little when it happened. He only remembers his father as a loving man. He never saw him with another woman, and he lives a pretty much carefree life. Their mother is also an elegant woman, who doesn't lower herself in front of the mistress or her unfaithful husband. I liked that too. I can understand their pain, I could relate to Woo Joo in many ways.

I could also see Dong Jin and how his mother's actions also affected his life. How he carried the shame of her unethical behavior, how he has to deal with the consequences of her actions. These are young people that are living with the hurt and pain, and I liked watching their healing process. I liked how the story unfolded, leaving cliché out of the equation. It felt real and its bittersweetness, mixed with the sweetness of hope, balancing the mood of the story.

I truly loved the story and recommend it.

Poster from iMDb -https://www.imdb.com/title/tt26228312/

#call it love #korean series #Kim Young-Kwang #Lee Sung-Kyung #Sung Joon #Choi Jung-Woo #Kim Ye-Won #Ahn Hee-Yeon #Ma Hee-Ja #Jang Sung-Bum #Ahn Nae-Sang #Jun Suk-Ho

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

okay how about bella/edward/jasper literally only because of the bit in twilight where jasper supposedly enjoys being around them bc of their happy emotions or something?? like edward does hate jasper but like. is there any way a one night stand would work out?

Oh Jasper, you poor, desperate, soul. This is what you come to, I see.

Jasper gets quickly removed from the relationship and taken on vacation by Alice. Edward may no longer be quite so paranoid about Jasper literally eating Bella, but he is still the family interloper. Edward never cared for Jasper in the least and now Jasper's trying to drive a wedge between him and his wife because he's that pathetic? Not a chance, Edward catches on and removes Jasper from the equation before Jasper can get his foot in the door.

As for Bella, she's still not sure if Jasper hates her or not.

Come on Muffin, Try

Alright, alright, we might be able to squeeze a one night stand out of this. Maybe.

Edward's finding that without the scent, sex with Bella is... uh... a chore. This is bad because sex is the only thing tying their relationship together (though neither will admit this). Bella keeps wanting him to put out, sometimes multiple times a night, and Edward's... having a tough time with that.

Although he feels very deficient and impotent for not being up to the task of pleasing his wife, he needs a stud.

Now, he can't ask Carlisle as Carlisle is an honorable man married to Esme. Same with Emmett (and Rosalie would kill him). He would ask Jacob but Jacob says a hard no as he wants to stay pure for Renesmee (I can't believe I just wrote that sentence in a post holy god I want to vomit).

That leaves Jasper.

Jasper who spent years sleeping around with who even knows what while high on blood and murder. This also implies that he has some experience and is at least probably good at it (though not a bettter lover than Edward, of course not, Edward is a manly man who knows how to make love to a woman like a starfish.)

Alice, further, will understand and loan him out gladly for the sake of Edward as well as Bella her sister and best friend.

Jasper gets an intervention from Alice and Edward telling him that he's going to be pleasuring Bella whenever she wants. Jasper has no idea how to take this. He's also told Bella doesn't know yet. He really doesn't know how to take that one.

Well, somehow, because Bella's a codependent mess and can't leave Edward at this point, and because Jasper's the same with Alice, she ends up sleeping with Jasper.

This goes well and becomes somewhat regular...

Until Edward feels threatened.

See, now Bella and Jasper are talking. They have these inside jokes from the times they've made sweet love to each other/had weird pillow talk about being loaned out to someone else's spouse. They share intimate gestures, lock eyes, and grow genuinely fond of each other.

Worse, Jasper is now talking to Renesmee, his daughter is now treating him like a favored uncle (and perhaps even a father). Renesmee also seems to be growing increasingly distant from Edward himself because of all of this.

Bella... seems to be developing actual feelings for Jasper. Jasper is slowly coming to replace Edward himself.

RED ALERT.

Edward desperately tries to kick Jasper out to make sweet love to his wife again. But now Bella refuses, he can't just loan Bella out then take her back.

Because of this, long story short, Edward ends up sleeping with Jasper and Bella too.

He's straight up not having a good time.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #twilight shipping #jasper whitlock #edward cullen #bella swan #edward/bella #anti edward/bella #alice/jasper #anti alice/jasper #edward/bella/jasper #anti edward/bella/jasper #meta #headcanon #opinion #shipping

[lullabyes22-blog]

I've devoured your hc about Sevika and Silco's relationship and how they're not above keeping tabs on each other and agree heavily on that.

If Sevika were to have a lover who, remarkable as they are, observes her equations very objectively, sees the pitfalls and winds up not liking Silco very much. How would the relationship between Paramour and the Eye of Zaun be?

Right from citing the fact he expectedly wouldn't put Zaun above his adopted daughter or how Sevika can never be his chief advisor aside from giving small insights as his enforcer every now and then.

I am convinced there would be animosity between Sevika's lover who wants more for her (to the point of encouraging her to lead Zaun herself if these honchos turned fathers won't) and the Industrialist who doesn't want unprecedented plans cooking beyond his peripheral view.

I'd love to hear your idea on it!!!

Thank you! Glad you're enjoying the Sevilco headcanons<3

And oooh! This is a fascinating premise. I can honestly see it sparking the first seeds of territorial insecurity in Silco.

He takes it as a given that Sevika will handle the day-to-day of the mission. At the same time, he's aware that he takes her for granted. It's easier to focus on his genius problem-child than to hold the hand of a capable adult. But due to that, he also neglects to consider Sevika as someone with her own hang-ups and grievances.

Sevika getting a paramour who whispers insubordination in her ear isn't a threat he can tolerate.

He'll rationalize that it's for Zaun's benefit. In truth, there may be some jealousy at play. He knows Sevika holds him in esteem, because he's the few people with the drive and vision to drag the Undercity into freedom. He also knows he is frequently sidetracked by Jinx, and that Sevika sees this as a betrayal of their life's work - and a threat to their survival as a whole. Her anger is justified - but the disloyalty is not something he can abide by.

He may react by tightening his grip at first, and subtly attempting to edge the new paramour out of Sevika's life. She'll find herself busier, with more duties to perform - but also in closer proximity to Silco so he can keep an eye on her. If subtle sabotage fails to sever her latest connection, he may resort to ordering them murdered.

Naturally, Sevika isn't stupid. She'd figure out eventually that she's caught in the middle of a pissing contest. At which point she may issue an ultimatum - one that forces Silco to confront his treatment of her, and to re-evaluate what worth she holds as an asset (and possibly someone more?) in his daily life.

Hard choices will need to be made >)

#asks #arcane league of legends #arcane #arcane silco #arcane sevika #silco #sevika #silco x sevika #sevilco #arcane headcanons #arcane headcanon

[darktwistdchaos-blog]

SHAME

The word that screams in red capital letters: SHAME. I despise this feeling. I loath its creation. It is birthed through agony. My SHAME began with the man who gave life to me, I did not ask for it, and frequently felt SHAME for existing. My mother not knowing her reflection shattered mine, climbed mountains. I could barely make it up the hill. I was full of SHAME for my short comings. I feel an unbreakable bond with my kin, my sister, my blood. She, too, has caused me to question myself, my character, my actions, and my place. All equating back to SHAME. To be true to yourself you must be true about those around you. This is my truth. Unconditional love can crumble SHAME to oblivion, reduce is to atoms. But without love I feel only SHAME. I have a person, a lover, a forever, who I love unconditionally and I feel loved unconditionally by. I have bared my soul time and time again to be embraced in such a warm light. But in the midst of our light is such a darkness I have never known. I am afraid of this vortex of blackness that I can't see into or out of. It is all consuming and though I've seen it move towards others, it has never moved towards me until recently. Now I feel SHAME once more. I question myself as a woman. Can you imagine the conversations in my head? I'm overwhelmed with dread that once again, I am not enough. Now, I can fight through that SHAME for the one I love because he fills my cup without asking for a sip. I can humble myself, lower my gaze so that his falls on me with grace. But there is one person. This person has no character. No soul, no sense of self. No empathy or need for it. The longer I stay in close proximity to him, the more SHAME accumulates. I wait and wait and wait for the day we leave. I can't wrap my entire mind around his hatred for me. And I think that's the way it was intended. But I always ask the same question: why does his hate for me burns more intensely than his love for his brother? He wishes me dead, I suppose. And he makes me feel SHAME. Similar to the sixteen year old, behind a closed door, hoping to not be noticed. I don't want to compare him to my father but I do. It's painful but it's the truth. I wish this person never existed. I wish I could let go on the SHAME. I replay a lot in my head, over and over again. I think it'll just be playing until we run away. I fear for my lover, our peace, our joy and our children. Toxic is taught but I'm hopeful in the light we create.

This poem is the heaviest I've ever written. As Halsey ( @tiredandlonelymuse ) sang "you cut me open, sucked the poison from an aging wound". It feels like I let so much go. I just had to write. So fucking simple.

#art #female artists #artists on tumblr #poetry #female poets #original poem #poetrycommunity #poetsandwriters #young poets #writers and poets #shame on me #shame on you #shame on them #shame on him #deep thoughts #thinking #spilled thoughts #sad thoughts #The words just come I don't have to look hard #i know i'm not alone in this #unconditional love #unconscious #Fight your shame #the thoughts are bigger in my head #poems and poetry #original poems #poems on tumblr #spilled poem #spilled ink #spilled poetry

[leannan-sithe]

Hello there! I'm not really sure if you're the person to ask this to but you seem friendly and knowledgeable so I might as well try.

I have been considering godspousing Ra, Atum and Atum-Ra (for me they have very similar vibes and I like to see both of them as creator gods). I have done some meditation about this and it seems like they're receptive of the idea. I also work with Hathor who is often coupled with Atum-Ra. I've been dancing for Atum with her guidance as a way to connect, show appreciation and maybe.... stimulate?

My main concern though is at the beginning of my practice, I felt Ra heavily as a father figure. I often thought of myself as the daughter or Ra and equated myself (as a magical practice) to his daughters such as Ma'at and Hathor. I still really like to think of myself that way too and it's comforting to have that fatherly precense in Ra and Atum. Yet, I still am drawn to having a more sexual relationship with them.

I know some of those Goddesses that I mentioned to be Ra's daughters were also his wives. But is it okay for me to feel like both his daughter and his partner? It feels different because I am not a goddess, after all.

Also, do you have any resources for pagan godspouses in general? I'm worried that this kind of topic will have a lot of bs to sift through.

Thank you for your time!! I appreciate you :)

Anon, I'd love to give you some resources and more in-depth advice but I think it'd be best done via DM. If you can private message me, we can chat there!

I never expose people's tumblrs or handles unless they are directly harassing me or otherwise being a danger to the community. Anyone who DMs me just wanting to chat is guaranteed secrecy!

!!! Discussion of s*x, kink, and implications of incest below. !!!

In terms of these shifting feelings and roles, there's a lot to unpack and it'll come down to your own personal feelings.

It's totally normal for a devotee and their deity to shift roles over the years of their practice. You may start off incredibly formal and then get more casual, or vice versa. Changing what roles you both play is a normal part of maturing in your relationship. (I use relationship here as literal bond between two people, not implying romance or otherwise.)

Although it's spoken about in some questionable ways, it's an acceptable practice to hold simultaneous beliefs in a deity as your father/mother figure and also as a potential romantic / s*xual partner. It is, however, a scenario that is closer to kink than it is to "vanilla" practices, so please keep in mind that it may be triggering for others or that you may need to treat it like a kink in dialogue (i.e. get consent before discussing it openly, or otherwise use spoilers etc if that's available).

The ability for a deity to be both parent and lover in this kink scenario is determined by the individual's, uh, ick factor (triggered, or just made uncomfortable) by the idea of a specific taboo. Parent+lover is taboo for multiple reasons, namely that in human-to-human relationships it's generally a hallmark of abuse or other questionable power dynamics, and that it's also a genetic taboo due to the potential for offspring to be inbred.

Deities do not have DNA, nor did they actually raise you. There may be a power dynamic, because *gods* but it's not the same as living with a parent who is grooming or otherwise manipulating you. There is technically no taboo in place for dating or romancing a deity who you consider a parent because of the lack of DNA and lack of direct raising/parenting. It's all about your consent and comfort to this kink scenario.

I've mentioned this before -- and it's been brought up by some naysayers recently -- but I started writing a godspousing book which has stalled due to life circumstances. But at the moment, these resources are being gathered on a discord server where I answer Godspousing 101 questions directly from the community in as full of detail as I can.

Now, unfortunately this means it's not available to the public, but for now if you DM me and we talk, I can see about getting you access to the server. Here's some more info.

#godspouse #godspousing

[limetimo]

RAB fics I read (17-25 May)

Love Covers Over a Multitude of Sins by crazyparakiss  “Didn’t your father teach you to never question your brother, Regulus Black?” /  “In this filthy world, full of muddied blood, only a Black is good enough to birth a Black.” Blackcest, deeply touching in a fucked up way

vitriol spills forth from my lips (i wish it were acid instead) by Anonymous In which Sirius needs a therapist but bullying will have to do, and in which Regulus is the unfortunate collateral damage.

A Battle Undone by asterialunar James discovers the love of his life isn't dead after all. In which Regulus hid in the Room of Requirement for five years. Can they build a life together now?

Dead Men's Requests by Anonymous Regulus' ghost shoots out of Voldy's wand in GoF and he asks Harry to deliver some messages. Unexpectedly cute af

just lovers (like we were supposed to be) by zeppazariel James accidentally fake dates his way to bisexual awakening AND true love.

Upon the Horizon's Verge by tenrousei_kuroi Regulus/Sirius/Remus/James gangbang with a little bit of plot *thumbs up*

Snuggles With Snuffles by FeistyAster, just_a_whorecrux In his animagus form Sirius can hear Regulus having nightmares and starts spending nights with him to sooth them. One night things... escalate. Blackcest

Fault Line by doshu for thistlecat Sirius kind of accidentally groomed Regulus into equating sex with brotherly love,,, and even after Sirius ran away form home and realised that fucking one's brother isn't a-okay, Regulus didn't get the memo. In which the Black brothers are very different and very similar.

Just Cuddle In Close by Anonymous James/Regulus/Sirius

Like Stars They Burn by ZionSunrise Sirius finds about the Dark Mark, they have love-hate sex, Regulus dies.

Regulus's New Pet by Anonymous After Regulus is almost mauled by a werewolf under the Whomping Willow, he finds himself in an unexpected position of power over his brother's friend. And I mean, he's a Slytherin.

But no one told me I could go too far... by Anonymous Regulus and Pandora become besties, elope to Italy and hunt the Horcruxes ♥♥♥ SWEET.

Tell Me How To Be In This World by TabeaOrNotTabea Regulus did a Thing before he died but it was kinda obscure blood magic thing and Harry Potter, father of five, has a shock of his life when Sirius Remus James and Lily pop up in his front lawn. Dolohov, Bellatrix, Pettigrew (and Regulus) pop up in Diagon Alley.

Ghosts by vivi1138 Regulus finds himself a ghost. Being dead doesn't mean he can't get shit done.

In The Shadows of Flashing Lights by ifyouwvntto this is looking interseting af. James and his little, not very famous music band of four years (Sirius Remus Lily) are betrayed by their songwriter Peter Pettigrew. Pop star Regulus (who secretly anonymously writes songs for other artists) is done with being a puppet and is working on ripping himself away form his studio and family. They can help each other.

I am terribly sorry for dying by Anonymous for coincidences Regulus can't believe he has to deal with this bullshit. Dying was supposed to bring him peace, not bureaucracy battles! Also how dares Narcissa have a baby and have a Malfoy spawn usurp Regulus' rightful place of the family's youngest.

Marionette by Anonymous Regulus loves Barty. He loves him. He loves him. If he says it enough times it may even become true.

R.E.N.E.W.A.L. by Doreling for Kidansong oh this is a fun one, Hermione and Kreacher have a time dust accident at the battle of the ministry of magic and get yeeted to the 70s. They make friends with Regulus and Snape and Lily and start project RENEWAL.

Trials and Tribulations by lemon_drps Regulus is straight up not having a good time and his self-made drug is failing and he's also gay and engaged to a girl and very much a poor little meow meow bastard man

The Secrets of Regulus Black by Josiem Secrets. Regulus has many of them. A bit of a slow start but it's looking good!

Pranksters and Poets by blackpotterdanvers Marauders meet Dead Poet Society but we're promised a happy ending *checks the tags just for sure* Not Canon Compliant yeah we're good

don't leave me (i want you here with me) by Anonymous a mind fuck is what this is, Blackcest but not really

beneath the ocean waves by Anonymous Regulus' animagus for is an octopus and it saves his life in the cave. Very funny with an open ending!

Borrowing Against the Past by Anonymous for coincidences screaming. Regulus didn't go to the cave, has a bookshop in Hogsmeade and a wife and children and he helps Sirius when Sirius breaks out of the Azkaban and... I can't finish this summary without spoiling the mindfuck so go read it!

Diptych by pansysnarkinson Regulus and the Diary of Tom Riddle

Ancient Runes by Soupy_George Remus and Regulus become friends over, you guessed it, the Ancient Runes

Good Old-Fashioned Loverboy by TakeSwimingLessons At 16, Sirius Black run away to Potters. At 16, Regulus Black runs away to Uncle Alphard. Alternatively, the story of James Potter's bisexual awakening. I loooove Regulus fashion sense, give it to me!

Daylight by mrthisisnotme Remus is pining after Sirius, background Jegulus

Fated to Fall by ouzell soulmates AU! Jegulus

All The Lonely People by tinyscales accidental baby acquisition via Room Of Requirement turns Regulus' life upside down but he doesn't really care because his baby Harry is so so so worth everything.

rewrite my heart (let the future in) by secretpersona :D :D :D

Black Stag by euphoricmelodyy non magical AU, I want to HURT Regulus' ballet instructor with my bare hands babe you're 14 and your gums are bleeding please stop malnourishing yourself for some old bitch's approval :( You won't be a Romeo if you die :( On the bright side, the friendships are impeccable

Star Stepper by Ourania95 Regulus runs away from home to Muggle London, is patting himself on the back for getting a good mark in muggle homeless living which is both a reasonable thing to want and possible to achieve; meanwhile Orion is slowly losing his sanity trying to find him :D

clandestine meetings by VioletMoony Regulus has to befriend the Marauders to spy on them. He is very grumpy about it. He and James are at each other's neck, homoerotically

The Marauders and the Chamber of Secrets by SilverShadow1 marauders plus lily plus regulus reading the chamber of secrets

Auror Academy - the class of 1979 by Regulus_Potter AUROR REGULUS HELLO???

Regulus And Barty's Magical Adventure by Anonymous for Grey_Kenaz I, for one, think that patricide is very sexy of Barty. Regulus does not agree with me, but he tags along because that's what friends are for.

A Lovely Little Normal Life by mothmage not a Regulus fic but a BAMF Petunia fic you shouldn't overlook

#regulus black #fic rec

[hollywoodcannon]

///

@niccolahiromithomas​ asked: ☁️ + Nikolai

Send ☁️ + a name, and my muse will share their favorite memory of that person.

A snicker was just upon Brian’s lips as he considered the question asked of him. A tale that told of depraved lust and ardor, a favorite memory of Nikolai that involved fuzzy handcuffs and whipped cream, a sinister fib that would be regarded as fact if he were to say it as so. Nearly there and spoken aloud - if not to please the Loose Cannon’s selfish sense of humor - an idea shelved for a later date, a less pure victim of curiosity. Precious moments bounteous, choosing a favorite wasn’t an easy task. Nikolai had been the source for so many good ones. Sunshine for whatever darkness that had captured Brian; a protector and lover and faithful friend. A husband, too, a father who loved their daughters just as deeply as Brian did. He was an angel that did more than any other. Saved a transgressor and showed him what it meant to be loved, fairly and equally and with purpose, delivered onto the Loose Cannon a life that, he had thought, would never come to be. A favorite memory - with Nikolai, it was all of them. 

“Well, there was that time that Nikolai wore his lab coat, and we played mad scientist...” Brian trailed, deciding to entertain his devoted listener just a bit. “I’m kidding. But we sure have had some real fun, me and him. Believe it or not, nerdy guys actually know how to have a good time. They’re not always caught up in their math equations or science projects. They’re not just getting turned on by Marvel superheroes. My husband, he’s the main reason why I have any fun at all. Between him and our daughters, they’re the source to all of my happiest memories. And there isn’t much that doesn’t piss me off. They are my memories, my life. It’s because of my family that I’m happy at all. It’s the damn truth that, without them in my life, I wouldn’t be here talking to you now. Flyin’ Brian used to be a little too wild, if you can imagine that.”

“Since you’re making me pick, and really, this list is longer, a favorite memory of Nikolai would be when he first held Ena and Eva after they were born. Sure, lots of husbands say that about their spouse, but I damn well mean it. Seeing him there, holding our kids, it was like seeing Heaven. I had never seen anything so beautiful before in my whole life. It was like Nik was meant to be there. Everything that we had been through, all the hell that I had put him through, it led to that moment in the hospital. It was as if the three of them were in their own little world, too. The way he looked at Ena and Eva, the way they looked up at him with their pretty eyes, it brought me to tears. Fuck, I was already crying my eyes out, but that sight just made the floodgates crumble completely. It wasn’t just the girls’ birth that got to me.”

“That was my husband standing there.” He stated, proudly, wearing that badge of honor as fearlessly as he did Nikolai’s ring on his finger. “I know for young people now-a-days that doesn’t seem too out of the ordinary, but back then, there weren’t many couples like us. And I’m not just talking about ones with two dudes in it. Nik and I got married at a time when nobody wanted to recognize it. Not by law. Other same-sex couples, they didn’t get married like that. Least not the guys we met over the years. They didn’t believe in it, bizarrely enough. They thought Nik and I were crazy to even go for it. There was only one couple from our friend group who did the same. Had themselves a ‘commitment ceremony.’ My hubby and I, we had ourselves a wedding. Course, though, we still went as guests to theirs. Nik was one of the best men.”

“He was the hottest guy in the party. Anyway, us being married, even if there wasn’t an official paper attached to it, least at the time of our first wedding, meant the world to me. I always wanted to be married. My dream had come true. I didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone else thought. Our families, the friends that mattered, were so supportive of us. That’s all I could’ve ever asked for. They were like that when we told them that we were having the girls, too. I always wanted to be a dad. Nikolai always wanted to be one, too. If some of those sorry bastards who thought we were crazy for getting hitched ever heard the news, they would’ve gone into a spasm. I remember the advice one couple offered Nik and I when they found out. Straight to our faces, too, as we were holding the sonograms of our daughters, showing them off and just beaming. ‘Wasn’t you two getting “married” bad enough? Now you have to go and procreate like the rest of them?’ I was seconds away from turning a certain pair of fruit-loops into mush.”

“That was the last time we spoke to them two.” Brian explained, rolling his eyes. “Fucking stick-in-the-muds. They were always pissed off about something. Never wanted anybody else around them to be happy, even friends. It’s not my fault that the guy’s boyfriend was fucking the gardener. He should’ve dealt with his personal problems. I don’t know what to tell him. Sorry his man didn’t want to marry him, but hey, guess what, mine wanted to marry me. And we had a whole life planned together. That included our babies, of whom we were so excited to have. Nikolai spent so much time making sure that everything went as perfect as it could go. While I freaked out and tried to distract myself with furniture building, cribs and changing tables, that sort of thing, he took care of the finer details. I helped, but it was probably best that I used my hands and worked off some of that energy. I wouldn’t have done my husband or my kids any good if I was so wound up.”

“But that moment, when they were born and Nik held them, I couldn’t take my eyes away. I feared that, if I blinked, they would be gone, and I’d wake up alone. That it all would’ve been a dream. Within just a few years, I had a husband and two beautiful baby girls. All that I had ever wanted out of life. The sorts of blessings that I was so sure had slipped through my fingers. Maybe it’s an answer that tons of husbands would give too, but for me, I mean every word. I love Nikolai. I love Ena and Eva. There isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do for them. I’d live for them. I’d die for them. Having them together, having Nikolai be the center, cradling our kids in his arms with a smile on his face, it’s one of my favorite memories of him. I’ll hold it close to my heart forever.”

___

#( Niccolahiromithomas ) #Pipe Bombs Flyin' // Answered #Crazy Little Thing Called Love // Brian x Nikolai #Legacy Continued // Present / Current ERA #( He'll never understand how he got so lucky <3 )

[mrmikeyd-blog]

Love the one

It is strange how I suddenly am far older than I ever thought I would be.  The oldest queen I can remember from the days of my youth lived in one of the big Victorian houses on Wood Ave up from the park and was known as Wilma Wade.  He was wrinkled and had the most magnificent head of solid white hair and would pay $20 to anyone who would let him suck their dick.  He was probably the same age as I am now.  Next year I will be 70.

I really don’t know how to be a REALLY old queen.  In this life you are ancient at 40.  I came out way before Will and Grace.  All the “gay marriage” to me was just queens rooming together and swapping hair and make up tips.  I only had crushes on straight men and that was all I wanted for sex partners.  It is and was a “solitary” life but that was how I lived it.  I had a lot of men in my life but only one I truly loved.  And he was a boy.  Statutes of limitation have long expired but my one true love was 15 when I met him.  I was 27.

I met Ron of course at the park.  Cookie Monster had a job as a caretaker for a home for delinquent youth.  He cleaned the group home in Tuscumbia at night and would sneak Ron out and they would go “riding”  He brought him to the park to show him off.  I was sitting in the living room and up Cookie pulled with his latest “chicken”.  He was gorgeous.  Ron was part Cherokee Indian and had high cheek bones and jet black hair.  When Cookie introduced me I knew then he would regret it.  Over the years, it was me who both regretted it and thank him for the greatest favor anyone has ever done for me.  I had a Mustang GT at the time and it was what I called my “butchboy” catcher.  Ron noticed it immediately and asked if he could drive it, the rest is one long twisted love story.  

It is way too much to write all about a 37 year relationship...the mud, the blood and the beer.  We lived together sometime, lived apart more often.  He was never sure whether he was straight or gay and even got married twice and father a child but in the end we were closer than ever.  And we were not gay married.  He loved being loved.  And I loved him.  Sometime around 2000 Ron started getting sick.  I just knew it was AIDS but it wasn’t and he was found to have Hepatitis C.  He had been infected for years with no symptoms and it was far along.  He developed cirrhosis  of the liver then diabetes and started his slow decline.  Although he was living with his “wife” he would come to me when he was really down.  He needed to be pampered and I loved pampering him.  Sex had left the equation a long time earlier, he was more than that to me.  He was on the list for a liver replacement and when one became available, he had it done.  He was feeling better until one night he suddenly started having convulsions and was dead before they got him to the hospital.  Of course, I could not go to the funeral but I mourned in private and took comfort in knowing we were unique in our “relationship”  It was not gay marriage, it was not a “lover” or a “boyfriend” he was the one....the only one