#and when she DOES call back she snaps at me as I’m telling her how her insurance works bc I used the phrase ‘in genera’ ‘’not in general!!

[gretavanlace]

Feels Like Gold

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, language, dirty talk, breeding kink, Jake drives a car (the most dangerous situation of all), extremely mild degradation, etc

Okay, in honor of our collective jakedown, I rooted around in my unreleased work and then did a little revamping. This one is for you, @piratejakesgf thank you for your request ❤️ *loosely edited, fair warning

And kisses to @jake-kiszkas-smirk and her brilliant mind for titling this when I was at a loss 💋 xoxo

“Fuck, these are so uncomfortable!” you hiss with exasperation, tugging at the itchy nylon hell encasing your legs.

“Told you not to wear them.” Jake reminds you, flipping on his turn signal before switching lanes, though the freeway is dark and nearly deserted.

“You know how my family is.” you remind him right back, annoyed with his flippant attitude. “If I’d shown up to that wedding in a dress with bare legs I’d have been labeled the whore of the family tree. My branch weighed down with bad choices; exposed skin and a degenerate rockstar on my arm.”

“I mean, to their credit, I actually am a degenerate so they’re just calling ‘em like they see ‘em.” His eyes are locked on the road, but a tiny smirk tells you he’s pleased with his cleverness. “Plus, your aunt tried to fuck me, so you aren’t the only whore in the family.”

An abrupt laugh trills out of you. “Right. Which aunt?”

“Does it matter?” he shrugs. “She told me she slept with Joe Perry and it left her with a taste for guitarists…I told her Perry could suck my dick because I could stomp his riffs any day, but that only turned her on even more.”

“And then what happened?” you giggle, falling into his little pretend world.

“Well,” he sighs wearily, “Promise you won’t be angry with me?”

You’re solemn and stoic, as if this is very serious business, “Scouts honor.”

“Then, I excused myself and wound up fucking your uncle in the bathroom, instead.” he squints at an upcoming exit sign to be sure you’re headed in the right direction, and then settles back into a more relaxed state, wrist guiding the steering wheel casually.

“Was he any good?” you ask, mock sincerity laced through your tone.

“I’ve had better.” He shrugs.

“You’re so stupid.” you shake your head with a doting roll of your eyes, and reach under your dress to roll the torturous hose down and off.

He watches out of the corner of his eye, stealing glances as safely as he can while driving.

“Jesus, they were thigh highs all this time?” he sounds a little like he’s considering jerking the car over onto the shoulder of the highway to drag you into the backseat.

“All this time.” the garment in question lands in his lap.

“Lemme see.” he orders quietly before you have a chance to remove the second.

Up the hem of your dress travels until he can get a good look at the black lace resting at the top of your thigh. “Fuck, pretty girl.”

“You like that?” you tease in a silken voice.

He nods, tightening his grip on the wheel.

You push a little further with, “Are you hard?”

“I’m gonna kick you out of this car and make you walk home.” he lies, reaching out to snap the elastic lace against your skin. “Take this one off, too…it’s doing unspeakable things to me. Especially since you’re only wearing the one. You look sloppy - like I just rocked your shit in the back of a tour bus.”

“Jacob Thomas..” you gasp lightly, as though scandalized “Someone seems a little worked up.”

“I might be, if only I didn’t have such a firm grasp on the power of will, my darling.”

He’s being untruthful, but he does it so elegantly - in that soft, slightly British lilt of his, you decide to grant him a very gracious pass and drop the second into his lap.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Kiszka.” You wiggle your polished toes, enjoying the freedom. “My baby cousin, the one you let dance on your feet? She asked me if you were a pirate.”

This tugs an honest laugh out of his chest…a gorgeous sound that colors your cheeks pink. “You told her yes, I expect?”

You hum in confirmation, “I did. And I told her that you have a special sword with strings on it and it makes beautiful, dark music that people come from far away lands to hear. Just like the sirens in Peter Pan.”

His face visibly softens in the flickers of light shed by the street lamps whipping by. “You always did know how to paint a lovely picture, pretty girl.”

The low purr of the engine lulls your head against the window, but just as your eyes begin to grow heavy, he pulls you back to him with a quiet, “Hey,”

Turning your head against the seat, you study his profile, charting the map of your favorite face, “Yeah?”

”Whose baby was that you were holding? The tiny, tiny one,”

It seems such an odd thing for him to ponder, and you have to mentally sift through the reception a bit, you held a great many babies tonight…it seemed like every cousin and second cousin in attendance was weighed down by a diaper bag stuffed full of diapers and pacifiers.

”The one with the little headband bow-thingy.” He clarifies. “She was so small.”

“My cousin’s. He and his wife’s third in almost as many years. She’s only like a month old and smelled like heaven.” You draw in a breath and wish her silken tufts of hair were still pressed to your cheek, “Why?”

”I don’t know,” you know him well enough to know that’s a damn lie. “I just- I don’t know…do you ever think about it?”

Caught off guard, you opt for a little joke, “Does Jakey have baby fever?”

He smiles, and there is a touch of shyness that lives there, “Shut up. Do you think about it?”

“Do I think about having babies? Well, I-“

He interrupts quickly to set you straight, “Do you think about having babies with me?”

Oh.

Where is he heading with this? Will a bit of honesty scare him? Will it scare you?

Deciding to take the plunge, this is simply a conversation after all, and a subject that he broached to boot, you choose truth. “Yes, I’ve thought about babies with you. Although that whole twin thing is fucking terrifying.”

Again, you joke. Again, he doesn’t take the bait. “Identical twins aren’t hereditary. We’re just an accidental fuck up. When you think about it, what do you think?”

”A lot of things.”

Smoothly, he guides the car onto the off-ramp that leads to home. “Very informative, darling. A veritable treasure trove of information.”

He hasn’t tipped his hand and you aren’t about to let him off so easily. “”Do you think about it?”

”Honestly, not before. I mean, I think about how you’ll look in your wedding dress and if you’ll wear your hair swept up the way I like, and I suppose that’s sort of the same thing. Or headed in the same direction, anyway. But watching you hold that baby tonight…”

Your chest suddenly feels a little tight. You’re touched by his admission.

And how endearing that he wonders how you’ll wear your hair. You reach out and stroke the back of your hand along the cut of his jaw, “When the day comes, I’ll wear it up for you.”

~

Later, he’s draped across the bed watching you glide about the room in your bra and panties. Earrings unfastened and placed gently on your jewelry tray, necklace hung carefully, hair let loose and shaken out at long last.

Hands folded behind his head, he speaks up, breaking the spell you have unknowingly cast over him, “You said ‘a lot of things’. Elaborate.”

You turn, eyes drifting over the king lounging about upon the bed you share, in nothing but the dress pants he hasn’t yet bothered to shed. “What?”

He cocks his chin, summoning your attention further ”Babies. You said you think about a lot of things.”

He looks so fucking sinfully delicious…a sickeningly sweet cake sent from the bewitching trenches of hell to rot your teeth. “The normal things. Baby things.”

The heavy wooden frame creeks quietly as he pulls himself into a sitting position to study your expression, “Liar.”

”Oh, I’m sorry,” you dance around the accusation, “I just happen to be looking at a disgustingly attractive little shit waiting for me to climb into bed beside him. Forgive me for looking flustered.”

”Don’t be coy, darling,” he tsks, clicking his tongue against his perfect teeth. “I can see it written all over your pretty face. You’ve got a secret.”

He’s moving towards the edge of the bed now, drawing you in closer with his devilish stare. “Tell me.”

”I don’t have a secret.” Whose voice is that? Surely it’s much too quiet and meek to be your own.

”Tell the truth.” He hums, a knowing twinkle flashing in his gaze. “What do you think about?”

Your eyes refuse to meet his own as your stomach knots, warm and vibrating. “I guess…sometimes I - sometimes I think about the trying part of it all.”

He’s watching you closely, you can feel it like warm fingers dancing across your blushing skin. “So you think about fucking?”

He almost sounds disappointed. He had expected more judging by your hesitancy to share.

”Well,” your fingers are plucking at the comforter now, rooting out a loose thread to spin around your finger, “Yes, but it’s kind of more than that. I think about you… inside me.”

At last, you peek up at him. He looks curious, as if he can’t quite figure you out. “Why are you being such a little mouse about this?” His palms are cupping your face now, calluses soothing you like a song. “I’m inside you all the time, and I think about it all the time, too.”

Shaking your head gently, you find your footing…at least a smidge, “Not like that. I think about you inside me. The way you would have to be if we were trying.”

Your birth control rendered condoms unnecessary ages ago, yet he has always pulled out - ever cautious and responsible. Confusion is still painted across his features…until it isn’t.

“Oh,” a lascivious grin appears and you long to curl your tongue over his lips, “you fucking filthy little thing.”

In a blink, you’re dragged onto the bed and into his arms, tossed down with your back against the sheets. his body heated and flush against yours.

Mouth suckling and nipping at your throat, he rasps into your skin, “Is that what does it for you? Pretty girl wants my cum?”

Your body’s reaction is visceral, primal, and almost embarrassing. You’re arching away from the mattress, desperate to be even closer than you already are.

“Answer me.” He huffs, sinking a bite into your jaw.

”Yes…” your hands are in his hair, thighs around his waist, “I want it.”

”Say it.” He’s rocking against you now, hard and straining against your panties. “Say what it is that you want. What you think about.”

”I think about you fucking me,” once again, whose shaking voice is that? “I think about the way you sound when you finish, and the way your cock throbs and twitches in your hand, and how it might feel inside me.”

”Keep going.” He orders, soft and wavering in your ear.

”I think about how warm your cum would feel inside of me, and maybe I wouldn’t be able to keep it all in. Maybe it might tickle a little when it leaked out.”

”Fuck, baby…” his hands are everywhere, yanking your breasts from the cups of your bra, winding your panties down your thighs, fingers sinking into your soaking, clenching cunt with a groan that sounds pained.

He seeks out your favorite spot and tucks up into it, wrenching a wanton moan from your lungs “You want me to fill this little pussy up? Keep you dripping wet with me all day long? Fuck baby after baby into you?”

”Jake…” you’re clawing at his bare shoulders, fucking yourself hopelessly against his hand. “More.”

He slips a third finger inside you, “Is that why you get a little whiny when I pull out? My girl wants me to do it inside?”

”More,” you urge through gritted teeth, eyes locked in on his face and the lust so evident in the set of his features.

”You want four?”

”Please, Jake…” tears are threatening at your lash line, “more, more, more,”

“You’re having some trouble listening tonight, aren’t you?” he sounds diabolical, and turned on beyond belief. “I asked you a question.”

His thighs prise your legs open wider as he squeezes his pinky into your warmth to join the rest of his drenched fingers, “Do you want my cum inside you? You want me to give it to you? Keep it all safe and warm for me?”

With a mournful wail you’re reduced to a million little pieces beneath him. Rocking frantically into his touch…the heel of his hand grinding quick circles into your clit as his fingers fuck you through it. He’s covered in you, it rolls down his wrist and beads against his stomach like early morning dew, anointing him as you thrash and writhe like a beautiful, fluttering leaf in an autumn wind.

When the hazy fog clears, allowing your sight, it’s his face - stunning and beaming - you find, “Hey, pretty girl.”

Now that you’re coming down, your diffidence returns and you close your eyes in a pathetic attempt to hide.

He’s having none of it, “No, no, darling…you stay with me. Right here, baby. You look so pretty with my cock inside you, imagine how fucking beautiful you’re gonna be when I fuck you full.”

“Please, jake…” it’s pathetic really, and maybe you should care about that, but you don’t. “I need it, I need it so bad.”

“Yeah?” The gravel in his tone makes you shiver with frantic desire. “Pretty girl just wants to bounce on my cock all day? Just using me to get what she wants?”

Rather than answer, you elect to begin wrangling the button on his pants.

“Someone’s eager.” He teases softly, lifting up on one elbow, easing your struggle. “You want it that bad? Are you gonna let me cum wherever I want? Gonna let me put a baby inside you?”

“Fucking do it!” Frustrated and sparking with electric desperation, you give up and tug on his waistband feverishly until he takes over, popping the button with ease and kicking them off.

His cock is fisted in his hand now, with your eyes fiercely focused on it. Hard and beautiful and yours. “You want that inside you?” He whispers, watching you stare. “You want me to fuck you? You want me to fucking breed that pretty pussy? Make you a mama?”

You should be ashamed of yourself, you well and truly should be…but fuck if you don’t want more, “Keep talking while you fuck me,” you breathe, somewhere between imploring and begging, “Dirtier, come on…”

His cock slips inside. Just the cashmere tip teasing at you, “Dirtier?” He nudges in a little deeper, just enough to make you whine, “well what should I say, pretty girl? Should I tell you that you’re my beautiful little cum slut and if I’d known it sooner I’d have been stuffing you full all this time?” Deeper still he glides, “Or that I want to cum inside you and then fall asleep with my fingers buried in your cunt to keep it where it belongs?” He’s fucking you harder, faster…the pillowy head of his cock kissing your cervix in a divine dance between pleasure and pain. “Or should I tell you about how I think about licking it up? Kissing you with my cum on my tongue because I know you’d suck it off like the greedy little baby you are.”

“I-“ a pitiful whimper escapes you, but his fingers are suddenly grasping your chin, grounding you enough to collect your scattered thoughts. “I’m gonna cum, tell me where you’re going to cum. Tell me where you’re going to put it. Please, I want it,”

Hips rolling into a succulent grind against your swollen clit now, he begins “I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve got every last drop, pretty girl. It’s all yours, are you gonna take it for me like a good girl? Are you going to be a good little mama and take it all?”

His name is all you can manage as you shatter. It’s primeval and animalistic, sounds that would make you want to crumple in on yourself if anyone heard them besides your Jacob.

“You’re so fucking tight and wet..” his perfect cock is pounding you through it as he inches closer and closer, “are you ready for me to make a mess of this little beauty right here? Hmm? Ready for me to fuck this cunt all full and dirty? You want it?”

“Jake…” you trail off, eyes fighting to stay open and locked in on his face while you shake against him, twisting and clenching around his perfect cock, “you’re so fucking hard.”

He nods furiously, burying his face in the crook of your neck to lick your pounding pulse “That’s all you, baby. You make me that hard.”

Your hips begin rocking up to meet him even faster, hungry to please. “Good girl, you keep fucking that cock. Are you gonna take what you want? Gonna make me cum? Gonna help me fill this pretty little cunt?”

In response, your nails dig into his skin, raking your mark, claiming him. You’re almost there again, though you can’t imagine how. “I’m so fucking close,” you’re sighing and shaking the words into the room, offering confession.

“Again?” He’s mocking you so sweetly, teasing dirty words into your ear like lullabies, “Already? Is my pretty girl gonna cum on this cock? Squeeze and suck the cum right out of me to steal it away? You want it that badly?”

You let go, with a trembling breath of his name, and feel his body tense against the feverish grip of your orgasm.

”That’s it, baby,” his words are but a sigh skittering across your cheek, “That’s it. Feels so good. Feels like gold. My pretty, pretty girl…”

He fucks you faster even as you melt into a puddle within his arms. “Gonna cum for you,” he promises, “I’m gonna cum so hard for you. Who’s going to take it? Who’s gonna take every fucking drop?”

”I am,” have you even made a sound? You can’t be sure, you’re so lost.

”Yes, you are…” his forehead, slick with exertion and need, nods against your own. “You’re going to take it just like you take this cock. My good fucking girl…pretty pink baby doll just begging for me to wreck her.”

Without warning, he collapses into your arms, moaning and crying out, shuddering as he releases inside you. Warm and perfect, everything you’ve ever imagined and so much more.

His fingers sink into your muscles, clutching and pulling you closer still, “Baby…” he sounds raspy and pained, “Baby, baby, baby, fuck..fuck…”

And when at last, he calms, it is with his cheek pressed to your chest, clocking the wild metronome that is your heart with your hands sweeping through his hair.

Soon, you’ll both crawl out of bed, maybe into the shower…perhaps into the warmth of a bath, but for now it is simply you, and Jake, and this tranquil bliss.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #greta van fic #gvf fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiskza #fanfic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka imagine #jake greta van fleet #jacob kiszka #jake x reader

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

A Problem (Vs x Retro!Reader)

“Babes, we’ve got a problem,” Velvette said over the phone. She held me close as I cried, rubbing my back. She had no idea how to calm me down.

“What? What is it this time?” Valentino snapped, on the other end. He was at his studio, in a bad mood. “What useless bullshit do you have to bother me with today?”

“Calm your man-tits, Val, this isn’t about my models,” Vel said, rolling her eyes. “It’s about-”

“He left me!” I cried, cutting her off. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. “He- he actually-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Velvette said, softer as she tried to comfort me. “It’s about Retro.”

“Retro? Was that them just now?” Val asked, standing up. He made a gesture at Travis, putting him in charge. The actors continued to shoot the scene as Val stalked off.

“‘Fraid so,” Vel said with a sigh. “Vox, can you help us out here?”

“Vox? He’s on call?” Val asked. He looked at his phone and sure enough, all three were on call together. “Hey asshole! Your wife is fucking crying, get over there and do something about it!”

“…”

“I think he’s asleep,” Velvette said quietly. “He’s been overworking himself, you know, and if he were awake he wouldn’t have let anything happen to Retro. He’d have been here in an instant to help.”

Valentino made his way to Velvettes office, muttering curses the whole way. “Fuck, of course he’s out cold,” he said, shaking his head. “Right when we need him, too.”

“I know, it’s inconvenient,” she said with a sigh. I tugged on her sleeve and she pulled me closer, hugging me tight. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” she whispered into the phone, nervous.

Valentino finally walked into the room, looking annoyed. “Inconvenient doesn’t even begin to describe it,” he grumbled. His expression softened when he saw me. “Oh sweetheart,” he said softly, sitting down next to me and Velvette.

“V-Val?” I asked, looking up at him. I tried to wipe the tears from my face but they just kept coming. “What are you- don’t you have work?”

“Work can wait, mi amor,” he said, gently bringing me into his lap. Velvette looked relieved. Ironically, Valentino was better at handling emotion than she was. She had no idea how to comfort people, but he was actually sort of decent at it. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I-I,” I started crying again, burying my head against his chest. “I was just- and he- I tried- but- he… he left- he left me!”

“Oh,” he said softly. He had no idea what that meant. He looked towards Velvette, utterly confused. “Babydoll, what the fuck does that mean?” He whisper-hissed to her. She shrugged, looking just as lost. He gave her a look. “That is not useful,” he grumbled, pulling her into his lap with me.

“I think it was a nightmare?” She said tentatively, patting my head. Valentino was rubbing my back, with one arm around my waist, the other around Velvettes. “…or something? I mean, they know Vox is still with them. He’s not gone anywhere, and neither have you.”

“So who’s the ‘he’ in question?” Val asked, giving me a kiss on the top of my head. “There, there, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He paused for a moment, trying to think.

“I don’t know,” Vel said, taking my hand in hers. She rubbed her thumb along my knuckles gently. “I think we just need to be here for them right now. I think k we just need to comfort them.”

“But I’m horrible at comforting people!” Valentino groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. He had a pout on his face as he looked at Vel.

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that if I were you,” she said with a small laugh. She gestured to me. I was still leaning against Val, but I was relaxed now, my eyes closed. I’d fallen asleep. “They seem to think you’re plenty comforting.”

“Oh,” he said softly. He smiled, proud of himself, and drew me closer, so we were cuddling. “Well then, I guess I was wrong.” He looked at me softly, admiring how peaceful I looked. “I’m glad I could comfort you, mi amor.”

“Same,” Vel said with an awkward laugh. “You should’ve seen me! I was panicked, I had no idea what to do.”

“It turned out well enough, I think,” he said with a small laugh of his own. “Even if Vox wasn’t here to work his magic… I think we did good.”

“We’ll have to give him a talking to later,” Velvette said, grinning. “Tell him to take care of himself so we don’t have to do this alone.”

“Oh for sure, he knows Retro better than anyone,” Val said softly. “I feel like… like sometimes, we aren’t as good partners for them. Compared to him.”

“Yeah…” Vel said with a nod, looking away. “They seem to like us well enough, though. I think that counts for something. It has to, right?”

“Yeah,” Val said.

“Yeah.”

(Retro was just upset because their kill had gotten away. They were having a bad day and the fact that the person they were trying to murder escaped them was just the straw that broke the camels back lmao.)

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #reader insert #hazbin hotel fanfiction #valentino x reader x vox #vox x reader x valentino #vox x valentino x reader #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #vox fanfiction #vox x valentino #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #velvette x reader #velvette x vox #valentino x vox #valentino x vox x reader #valentino x reader #the vs #the vees #the vees x reader

[hwangyeddeongie]

hiii can i req a yeji fluff where she picks you up at the bar since you drank with your friends then you didn't recognize her, thinking she's a random girl flirting with you trying to take you home so you refuse telling her you have a girlfriend and how your girlfriend will kick her ass and such. and yeji and your friends are very amused and she's coaxing you reassuring you and everything until you recognize her, and you tell her how a girl flirted with you and such and she's just going with your flow finding you cute when drunk hwhwhw thank uuu

tbh I’ve had this thought before and now I have an excuse to write it cuz this is so frickin cute!! enjoy!

yeji x drunk!fem!reader

You don’t usually get drunk. You don’t drink very often, and you know your limits. However, you make exceptions on certain occasions, this one being your best friend’s birthday.

She had arranged an open bar at a club, and you and your closest friends were all invited. Yeji, knowing you were in good company, bid you off and told you to have a good time.

The moment you arrive at the club, a drink is immediately shoved into your hands. Not wanting to be rude, you drink it and go over to the dance floor with your friends. You sway to the time of the booming music and sing along to the songs you knew.

After some time, you get the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. You turn around and see a man looking at you from the bar. You shake it off and ignore it, thinking it’s nothing, until, a few moments later, he taps you on the shoulder.

You face him, immediately repulsed by the smouldering face he’s trying to pull off.

“Hey,” he says, leaning uncomfortably close to your ear. “You look beautiful tonight. What’s your name?”

You make a face and back up.

“I’m taken, sorry.”

That doesn’t deter him, however, and he soldiers on, making a show of looking around the club.

“I don’t see your man anywhere.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed.

“That’s because I have a girlfriend. Anything else?”

He at least has the decency to look embarrassed, and he leaves you alone after that.

A few songs (and drinks) later, you stumble off the dance floor, needing some fresh air. You ask the bartender for some water, and as he passes a glass to you, someone slides in beside you at the bar.

It’s a woman, dressed in a short (too short, you think, a little distastefully) black mini dress.

“Hi,” she greets you with a charming smile, and you nod awkwardly. “You’re stunning. Can I buy you a drink?”

“Thank you,” you say, wanting nothing else but to exit the conversation. “But I have a girlfriend.”

The woman shrugs, and leans closer. What was it with these people and their lack of respect for personal space?

“That’s alright. It’s just a drink.” She cocks her head. “She doesn’t have to know.”

You frown at her implication and stand up, taking your glass of water with you.

“No thanks. I’m not drinking anyway.”

You walk away, deflating as soon as you slide into the booth your friend is sitting in.

“Woah,” she says, laughing. “You don’t look too good. What’s up?”

“Why does everyone keep trying to hit on me?” You whine, making her laugh harder.

“You’re complaining about people trying to pick you up? You should be flattered, if anything.”

“I don’t like it if it’s not Yeji.” You grumble, burying your face in your hands, and your friend chuckles.

“You guys are so cute.” She snaps her fingers, as if in a eureka moment. “I know what will make you feel better.” She grins, and you get a bit nervous. “Shots!”

Your friend orders a round of shots, and calls everyone from your group to join.

You play rock paper scissors, and whoever loses has to take a shot. You’re terrifyingly awful at rock paper scissors, and, to no one’s surprise, you keep on losing.

You’re on your fourth shot when you begin to slur your words and struggle to sit up straight. Your friend calls for an end to the game and asks you if you’re okay.

“I miss Yeji,” you pout, your eyes watering as you thought of your girlfriend, probably alone at home. “I miss herrrr,”

“Okay, you’ve definitely had too much to drink.” Your friend plucks the shot glass from your hand and dials Yeji on her phone.

She’s at home, getting ready to go to bed, as she knows you’ll probably be back late. So she’s surprised to see your friend’s caller id light up her phone, and she picks up at once, worried something might have happened to you.

“Hello? Is everything okay? Is Y/N okay?” She asks, already pulling on her coat and shoes.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine,” your friend reassures her. “She’s just very drunk, and I think she wants you to come get her.”

“I’m on my way,” Yeji says, halfway out the door.

She starts up her car and drives to the address of the club you had sent her. Luckily, it’s not too far from your place, so she gets there really quickly.

Your friend had passed her an invitation, which she shows to the bouncer, who lets her in, though a little confused at her attire, a simple hoodie and sweatpants, topped off with a cap.

She speed walks through the crowd, sidestepping people as she makes her way to you. When she finally sees you, she breathes out a sigh of relief, and approaches you with a smile.

“Hey, baby!” She chirps as soon as she’s in earshot. “You ready to go home—”

“Don’t call me baby!” You interrupt her without even looking at her, holding up a finger. She stops, surprised. Were you mad at her? For what?“I’m not yourrrr baby. I,” you point at yourself, swaying a little in your seat, “have a girlfriend. So I am not going home with you, understand?”

Yeji gapes, her mouth opening and closing several times.

“But, babe, I have the car outside—”

“Stop insisting!” You cross your arms with a huff. “My girlfriend is beautiful, and kind, and selfless, and she’s the best person in my life. She’s strong too, and she’ll kick your ass if she sees you taking to me this way. And I love her a lot, so don’t even try to win me over, because it’s not going to work.”

Yeji’s face splits into a wide smile, and she shakes her head fondly before tucking a finger under your chin and making you look at her.

You go from confused to elated in a split second.

“Yeji!” You throw your arms over her shoulders and pull her into a tight embrace. “When did you get here?”

“I just got here. I was trying to—”

“Well thank god you’re here. There was this girl that was flirting with me and trying to take me home, can you believe that?”

Yeji swallows down a laugh and bites back her smile.

“Really? It’s good I got here on time then. Can’t have anyone that isn’t me taking my girl home, can I?”

You interlace your hands and try to stand up, but stumble a bit. Luckily, Yeji catches you and holds you up. You both say goodbye and wish a happy birthday to your friend and she leads you out of the club, a strong arm around your waist.

She helps you into the car and buckles you in, and you unexpectedly kiss her as she’s leaning over you, checking your seatbelt.

She smiles and pecks your lips a couple more times, and you trace her jawline with your finger. She truly is beautiful. The perfect balance of her handsome and pretty features makes your heart skip a beat.

“You okay?” She asks you, and you realise you’ve been staring into space. You nod and stretch in your seat, your tiredness catching up to you.

You yawn and grab her free hand as she pulls out of the driveway of the club and starts on the road home.

“A lot of people tried to flirt with me tonight, Yeddeong.” Well, perhaps ‘a lot’ is an exaggeration, but you’re drunk and sleepy.

Yeji’s hand tightens momentarily on the wheel.

“Yeah?” You nod and tuck a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

“But nobody was as pretty as you.”

She blushes, and relaxes her grip on the wheel. She doesn’t say anything, but you smile at the knowledge that you flustered her.

“I love you, Yeji.”

She looks at you, her eyes crinkling as she smiles.

“I love you too, baby.”

When you get home, she helps you out of your uncomfortable clothes and into some pyjamas, and wipes off your makeup too. She tucks you into bed and curls up beside you, her arms wrapping around your waist as she kisses your shoulder. You start snoring the moment your head hits the pillow.

She definitely teases you about it in the morning, how you were so drunk you couldn’t recognise her, and you flush red with embarrassment, on top of the pounding headache you have.

She doesn’t torture you about it though, and presses a warm kiss to your temple as she slides a bowl of haejangguk across the table for your hangover.

#itzy #yeji #itzy imagines #itzy x reader #yeji imagines #Yeji fluff #itzy fluff #hwang yeji #itzy fanfic #itzy headcanons #itzy yeji #yeji headcanons #yeji x fem reader #yeji x reader #itzy x fem reader #itzy x you #yeji x you

[applecherry108]

I’m going fucking insane.

My coworker is at Coachella so I’m the sole employee in the office for 3 days. My coworker is really good at faking niceness for strangers and randos, she’s really outgoing, whereas I hit my complete burnout point a few years ago and my autistic ass can no longer humor idiots, assholes, and old people.

Of all the idiots and assholes testing my patience today, it’s an old person that’s the last straw.

This guy will just….come into our office, every so often. Not to buy anything. Not to see the doctor. Just to chitchat. I do not want to fucking chitchat with the old man with nothing better to do than take up a working person’s time with bullshit. He’s nice, sure, but dude get out. I have a thousand things to do and I’m literally buried under files currently.

But I try. I try to be nice and make small talk. But he asks if I’m going to see the new Russell Crowe movie. Which one? The pope’s exorcist? Oh yeah, actually I am—I like horror movies.

OLD MAN SCOFFS AND SAYS ITS NOT *TECHNICALLY* A HORROR MOVIE BECAUSE ITS ABOUT A REAL PERSON. MY GUY. ITS A HORROR MOVIE. ITS SENSATIONALIZING A REAL PERSON BUT ITS 100% A HORROR MOVIE.

Thank god our next patients walk in then and Old Man leaves but like…. Get out. Get out and leave me alone, I didn’t want to chitchat in the first place, but you wanna argue about whether or not the horror movie is a horror movie??? Old Man, at least when people try to make conversation with a barista and they’re forced to play nice, you at least ordered goods and services. You did no such thing here. Get. Out.

#idiots today include: woman who walks in as I’m putting someone on hold on the phone so I ask her to please just give me a minute #‘oh it’s just a quick question!’ 🙄🙄🙄 bitch I #I’m busy. wait your goddamn turn there’s literally only one person here and it’s me. #bitch over the phone ‘I’ve been leaving messages’ she left ONE voicemail yesterday. that I returned. and she tries to talk to me #WHILE DRIVING the other person in the car yells at her to fucking call back BECAUSE SHES DRIVING #and when she DOES call back she snaps at me as I’m telling her how her insurance works bc I used the phrase ‘in genera’ ‘’not in general!! #specific to me!’’ and then the moron family wanting to waste their insurance on coordinating benefits when it’s be better served fully #using both plans but fucking whatever. and this guy wants no prescription sunglasses WHEN HE NEEDS A PRESCRIPTION TO SEE WHAT IS WRONG W/ U #apple talks #to the tune of spam #the rage has boiled over and the scalding water of my anger is fucking up the burner and causing a weird smell

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ❞

❝ PROF GETO BROKE YOUR HEART & NOW YUTA IS HOT ?? ❞

✧ pairing: prof!suguru geto x f!reader (& grad student! yuta x f!reader)

✧ summary: after suguru leaves you broken hearted, yuta's there for you when you're putting your heart back together, and he's not sure when or if he even wants you to tell you how you feel. but what happens when you start to realize your feelings?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, angst, depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader and yuta are grad students, but age is vague, dealing with a breakup, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, art by @ / polariae (who is incredible and everyone should go follow them now!!)

✧ wc: 12,464

Yuta felt as if he was always running late — for everything. 

He had transferred into this university a year into his schooling, he was always running late to meetings, and he was too late when he fell for you. 

But he seemed to have good timing in this moment — as he ran into you, as why was it he could always find you effortlessly without trying, but there was no smile on your lips when you met his gaze, but only tears — if only so he could comfort you. 

He says your name, as he stops you gently, fingers brushing against your shoulders, as your gaze falls to the ground, “What happened? Are you—” 

“Yuta, I’m sorry, I have to go—” but he stops you for a moment. 

“If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s completely fine, but can I call someone?” he says gently, he could see the tears slipping off your cheeks, even as you attempted to wipe them away, “I don’t think you should be alone—” 

And then you’re hugging him, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I shouldn’t—but I—” 

His arms go around you gently, “It’s okay, don’t apologize, I’m here for you,” and he doesn’t know what else to do but stand there with you, as curious gazes of passersby watched the two of you, “come on, let’s go somewhere more private.” 

~~~

When had he fallen for you? It was hard to say, but apparently easy to see. 

“So did you tell her you like her?” And Yuta nearly spits his drink out when Maki asks him that after one of the student government meetings. She sipped at the can of black coffee, nonchalantly, her eyebrows raised at his sputtering. He wipes his mouth, a slight glare in his gaze, “based on that reaction, I would say no,” 

“What are you talking—“ and your name leaves Maki’s lips, and his cheeks flush, ears burning, as he presses his knuckles to his lips, unable to meet her gaze, “was it that obvious?” 

“To a person with eyes,” and his gaze snaps to her, a question on his lips, “no, she doesn’t know,” 

Yuta slumps back in the chair he was sitting in, as he sets his drink down on the round table, “how can I tell her? She has a boyfriend,” 

“One that she doesn’t even see that often,” Maki leans back in her chair, “I’ll give you some unsolicited advice, Yuta — if you keep having these feelings and don’t do anything about it, you’ll regret it,” 

But how could he do anything when he already knew you were struggling? It wasn’t enough that your boyfriend was far away, but he didn’t seem to make time to come see you — even on your birthday — but to push his feelings on you on top of that. It wasn’t fair. 

So he had to settle on being your friend, just your friend. 

“What happened?” He asks again when the two of you get to a secluded corner of campus, a bench far enough away, as you sniffled, wiping your tears and murmuring apologies, “you don’t have to talk about it—“ 

And you shake your head, “My boyfriend, he, uh, broke up with me,” and he stares at you — your voice wavering as you speak, “I just, didn’t expect that to, you know—“ 

Yuta tilts his head, speaking softly, “Why don’t I take you back to your apartment?” 

So he does, taking the quick metro ride there, as your fingers brush his as the two of you walk beside each other. The silence hangs as comfortably as it can, your eyes straight ahead, as he sneaks glances at you. He wants nothing more than to take your hand, to tell you it would be okay, but he couldn’t — he didn’t want to overstep. It had already been hard enough to contain his feelings when you were with someone — and now that you weren’t — he wanted nothing more than to love you as you deserved to be loved. 

But it wasn’t his love you wanted — and it wasn’t what you needed either. 

You needed a friend, not a lover, more than ever. 

“Thank you for bringing me home, Yuta,” you mumble, shaking your head, “I’m sorry, I’m such a mess — I’m not being—“ 

“You don’t have to be anything, you’re fine,” he says softly, as you fumble with your keys, “do you want company?” 

You give a terse chuckle, as you unlock the door, “I’m not the best company right now, Yuta,” 

And he could have told you that you were the company he always wanted, the company he never would say no to — good or bad — but he couldn’t. So he said something else. 

“Then I guess I’ll have to make up for it by being very good company,” and you give a watery laugh, shaking your head, as you hesitate, glancing over your shoulder. 

“Are you sure?” And he only steps past you into your apartment, as he smiles. 

“Come on, I’ll order us dinner and you can put on an…interesting movie again,” and your lips quirk up as you step past him into the apartment. 

He couldn’t be more than a friend — not now — but maybe at some point. But he would be happy to just be in your life. 

That was enough. 

~~~

He wasn’t enough, Suguru sat in the train, the sun long set on Tokyo as he watched the city fade into the distance — as he leaned his face against the glass of the window. He had taken a late train back to Kyoto — one of the last — he could have taken an earlier one, but he had lost track of time. 

How long did he stand there? 

It felt like hours — minutes had ticked by as such, but he knew it was long enough for him to miss several trains by the time he had left for the station. It was long enough that he saw you disappear in the distance, Yuta assumedly in tow. 

It was right — it was what was necessary. That’s what he told himself as he watched the scenery move past him in seconds, but it felt as if time had stood still. He could hear the soft snores and quiet murmuring of the sparse passengers among the train, the footsteps of others as they walked up and down the aisle, and the steady shudder of the train as it ran along to its destination. But still, it felt as if he was still trapped behind glass in that moment, he watched himself drop your heart, watched it shatter beneath his feet, and he didn’t go after you. 

Why didn’t go after you? 

He asked himself again and again — but the only answer amongst the buzzing white noise that had only served to numb his mind to the pain was that it was necessary. 

He had always known you had a bright future — you could anywhere, lecture overseas, do fellowships or a Phd program, or even become a professor elsewhere. But when he had spoke to Yaga, it had solidified in his mind even more so — he wasn’t giving you what you needed and he was holding you back while he was at it. 

And the worse part was he knew you would never blame him — not for a minute. You would try to make it work. Long distance, giving opportunities up, or even choosing him over yourself. And he couldn’t abide letting you give up what you wanted for him — even if it wasn’t what you would have chosen. Because he knew you would always choose him. 

So he had to be the one to choose you. 

He needed to leave you behind, just as he had left Tokyo. He had made his choice, and now he had to live with it — and live without you. 

It was necessary. It was right — he shut his eyes, leaning against the window beside his seat, tears burning at the corners, as a tear rolled past hidden behind his hand  — so why did it feel so wrong to be without you? 

~~~

You didn’t want to wake up.  

You pulled the comforter over your head, finding refuge underneath the plush duvet, and wondering if it was possible to stay under here long enough for your problems to disappear. But you knew the pain would remain, but even so, you sought the sweet escape of sleep — if only for a few hours, you didn’t have to feel this heartache, you didn’t have to remember this. 

You didn’t have to remember him. 

And then there’s a knock on your door, a persistent knock that draws you from the arms of your only oasis under your sheets, and you drag yourself from bed, your eyes aching from your tears from last night. 

Fuck, you rubbed at your eyes. You glanced at the couch, finding no one there — when did Yuta leave last night? You couldn’t remember — and you’re dead on your feet as you find your way to the door, opening it without a thought. 

And your breath caught.  

“Suguru?” you stared, as he stood in front of you, bouquet of flowers in hand. You stumbled over your words as gracefully as you had gotten out of bed, as his arms wrapped around you. You stood motionless for a moment before melting into his touch, tears burning at your eyes yet again, “what are you doing here? Why—“ 

“What do you mean?” he murmurs, running his fingers through his hair, “you know I can’t stand to spend more than a few hours away from you,” and you’re burying your face in his chest, biting back the urge to sob then and there. 

You kept your tone as even as you can manage as you pull away, “Suguru, you said—“ 

“I know I’m early, but we can just spend some time together before we head out—“ 

And you’re shaking your head, “Head out where?” 

He furrows his brow in confusion, a chuckle escaping his lips, “Did you forget? You’re the one who insisted that we should be early — you kept saying we couldn’t be late,”

“To what?” 

“Our engagement party,” he takes your hand gently intertwining your fingers to show you the ring you wore — and you’re staring at it, as he presses sweet kisses to each of your knuckles, “now shouldn’t you get ready? Or are you the one who’ll make us late?” 

“Suguru—“ and his lips find yours in a gentle kiss, warmth blooming from his touch alone, your fingers finding purchase on his shoulder. For a second, it’s real and it’s right — Suguru has found his way back to you. 

Right? 

And his lips part from yours, his fingers brushing your cheek, “I love you,” he murmurs, saying your name again and again and—

A hand brushes your shoulder and you jolt awake, your hand slapping whatever had touched you away, as your fingers grasped at your comforter. You blinked, as your breath slowed, and you had found yourself in bed—

Again. 

And another mutter of your name snaps your gaze up to find Yuta standing a foot from your bedside now, his brow wrinkled, holding his hand in the other—

Fuck. 

“Oh my god, Yuta, I’m sorry — I was having a—“ you cut off a moment, you didn’t know whether to call it a dream or a nightmare, “just, I’m sorry,” you cover your face with your hands, “I barely remember getting into bed last night,” 

He waves you off, “It’s ok, I know you had a rough night,” he offers a small smile, “I had to help you into bed — you were a little out of it, so I just stayed on the couch,” 

You groan, wishing you could burrow into the Earth and never emerge, “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again—I’m sorry I made you stay—“ 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, “I’m your friend — I’m here for you,” and you swallow, tears burning at your eyes again, “s-sorry, did I?” 

And you shake your head before slipping out of bed and hugging him, “Thank you, Yuta, really,” and he wrapped his arms around you tentatively, “I think you’re my best friend,” 

You were so lucky to have him — especially when you needed someone the most. 

“Of course,” he murmured, and you didn’t not know his heart was aching ever so slightly, “you’re mine too.” 

~~~

“Do you want to talk about what happened with…your boyfriend?” Yuta knew the only way you would be able to heal is by talking about it — and that’s the one thing you had avoided doing all weekend. Sure you talked — but about the movies you were watching, about classes, about anything — then what had happened.

You hadn’t brought it up since that morning, you had washed up and it was as if he had imagined what had happened. You made breakfast, you put on a movie, and you joked about his allegedly questionable restaurant choices. But not a word about your dream or about your breakup. 

But he knew he had to ask. 

You were just coming off laughing at something that had happened in the rom-com you had switched on, and your lips fell into a seamless frown, as if the facade of happiness melted off with his words. 

Your gaze falls, arms tightening around the cushion in your lap, a bitter chuckle falling from your lips, “does anyone ever want to talk about their breakup?” 

He furrows his brow, “Bottling it up won’t help you heal from it — the only way is to let it out, and I can’t tell you what to do but—“ he bites his bottom lip, your eyes never lifting to meet his, “I know you need to let it out, one way or another,” 

You pause a moment, as you press your face against the cushion, “It hurts too much, Yu, I don’t know if I can,” 

“It doesn’t have to be now, I just want you to—“ 

“We were long distance,” and he’s opening his mouth to cut you off, but you shake your head, “you’re right — if I don’t talk about it now, I never will,” 

So you told him. Told him how you both had gotten together right before your boyfriend had received a job offer that required him to move, how the two of you decided to date regardless, and how you continued to be long distance even after he started. 

“It just got harder to see each other, and he ran late on my birthday but I didn’t care—“ and Yuta tilts his head, “I mean, I did care — but I knew it was temporary. I was going to graduate and move to be with him—“ and your nails dig into the soft fabric of the cushion, “but it didn’t matter. He thought it was for the best — for my best interest — that we break up,” 

He furrows his brow. This, the crying and heartache, was for your best interest? “Why—“ 

“Because he thought I was limiting my options, that he wasn’t a good enough boyfriend — one that I deserved,” you shake your head, tossing the cushion aside on the couch, “but he didn’t understand — I just wanted him—I knew it would be different when we were together—“ your voice breaks, “but he didn’t want to wait.” 

Yuta lets you talk and lets you rant and cry — until you’re asleep after lunch, taking a nap on the couch beside him. And he wonders if this is helping, but at least you’re sleeping now — he spotted the bags under your eyes when he saw you wake in the morning — as if you had spent the entire night tossing and turning. 

Was this okay for him? He wasn’t expecting anything — aside from your friendship. He didn’t think you were going to wake up and fall in love only because he did what a friend should do. But was it okay for him to be here? 

Because he couldn’t quash the little bit of hope that inched its way into the crevice of his heart that maybe you’d heal from this — maybe you would be able to get over this and you’d see him, as more than a friend or a best friend. He wanted to think he would do this even if he didn’t have feelings for you — it would probably be easier if he didn’t. 

But the facts stand that his motivation was corrupt — he chuckled, fuck, even the philosophy you had dosed him with, during your meals and student government meetings, was infecting his mind. Motivation mattered — because if you know or expect a reward from doing something, no matter how hard you try, your motivation will always be just that,

And his eyes slide to you — fast asleep as he grabs the throw blanket on your couch and gently places it over you — but he wouldn’t mind being corrupt, if it meant he could stay with you. 

~~~

“She broke up with her boyfriend?” Maki raises an eyebrow, placing her drink down, “and you still haven’t told her?” Maki’s judgment pierced through Yuta, even as he couldn’t quite meet her gaze, biting his lip, “what are you waiting for? For her to get back together with him?” 

“Maki, I can’t make a move so soon—she’s vulnerable—“ 

She sighs, leaning back, as she crosses her arms, “Well, you’re a good guy for that, but you need to do something, even if it’s not confessing. You should try spending more time with her, encourage her to open up more—“ 

“I don’t know — I don’t want to overstep—“ 

“Yuta,” Maki cuts him off, “you’re a good guy and you deserve to be happy — you spend a lot of time worrying about other people, and not enough time thinking about yourself. If she’s not ready right now that’s fine, but she might not realize she’s ready until someone helps her to,” she tilts her head, her fingers beginning to toy with the straw of her drink, “I just don’t want to see you regret hesitating,” 

Yuta’s phone went off — your name flashing on the screen, hey, are you free to hang out and watch a movie tonight? Finally finished working on my thesis proposal for the night! 

Maki glances at his phone, raising an eyebrow, “just don’t wait too long, “or you may end up alone, either way.” 

~~~

“I told you we should have gotten dumplings tonight,” you grumble, as the two of you take your takeout back to your apartment, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, “I can’t believe the sushi place was closed,” you pout. 

And Yuta bites back a smile — his cheeks burn — god, you’re so cute. It wasn’t fair. He knew you were just mostly teasing — only so you could have the pick of the movie tonight — which you knew he’d give you anyway. 

The two of you had settled into these weekly movie nights on Fridays, which had a 70% chance of devolving into a weekend of hangouts amidst work for your programs. It had been weeks since your breakup — and your sadness seemed to ebb with each passing day, normalcy seemingly returning. 

“We could have gone there—“ and you give a long, over dramatic sigh, shaking your head. 

“It’s fine, but if this food sucks, I will be holding this over your head,” you bump him with your shoulder, a smile on Yuta’s lips, and right then someone calls out Yuta’s name. The two of you glance back, and Yuta blinks as he spots his friends. 

“Toge, Panda,” Yuta greets them, Toge’s hands raise as he begins to sign— 

Hey, who’s your friend?

Yuta replies, before gesturing to you, introducing you by name, “we’re just headed back to watch a movie—“ and he points from the shorter one to the taller one, “this is Toge and Panda,” Panda flashes a knowing smile, adjusting his leather jacket, head tilting as he gives you a small once over. Toge’s lips are covered with his face mask, his dyed silver hair brushing against his forehead — 

Panda grins between the two of you, “Ah it’s good to meet you — I heard about you from Yuta, and Maki," he adds, while Yuta shoots him a look that he hopes that you don’t notice, “how’s the work in student government? I hope Maki isn’t working you too hard,” but you seem oblivious to it, only smiling between the two of them. 

“No it hasn’t been bad, and Yuta has made it really easy. He’s been a really big help—“ and Panda before leaning over to whisper in Yuta’s ear. 

“You have a chance with her, don’t mess it up,” Panda’s elbowing him, before clapping him on the back, his arm slinking around his shoulders, while Yuta tries to will his blush to leave his cheeks, “well we should let them get going, right, Toge?” and Toge nods, and Yuta only knows Toge has a smile hidden under his mask as well, flashing a thumbs up out of your line of sight, while you glance between Yuta and Panda, “you two love birds have fun!” 

And Yuta stammered, “We’re not together like that,” he’s shooting a glare at Panda’s back as the two of them walk off, waving. And his eyes snuck a glance at you, but you seemed unfazed, only tilting your head — and shit, his head was spinning, heart doing its best to exit via his chest by banging against his ribs. Did you know? Was it obvious? Was this it? 

“I didn’t know you knew sign language,” 

And apparently it wasn’t. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I learned when I met Toge in high school,” he offers a forced smile — but relief isn’t the only thing that floods his system, disappointment comes in waves — because again, here he was, right back at the start. 

The two of you continued to chat on the walk back to your apartment, his fingers curled tightly around the handles of the takeout bag as you pulled out your keys, wondering how many more times would he do this — how many more times would he think you realized his feelings only for it to remain unspoken? He was more than okay to stay your friend, but — he watched you open the door to your apartment — would he regret not taking a shot at being something more? 

And as you glanced back at him, a smile on your lips, he knew he would. 

~~~

You didn’t think it would — but it had gotten easier, easier to be without Suguru. 

There were days you still had woken up crying, there were other days you had almost forgotten.  

Almost. 

But now in hindsight, adjusting to life without Suguru hadn’t been much different than being with him the last few months. Not when the two of you had barely seen each other. You had put away his things, tucked away the memories, and picked up the scattered parts of your life —even though you couldn’t find the piece he had taken with him. 

But even so, you had finally felt as if you boarded up the love the two of you had built, one that he had set on fire and burnt the insides to nothing but ash and smoke — the same fire that had you coughing up the broken pieces of your heart — throat burning with his name on the tip of your tongue. 

Even so — your fingers found the dragon pendant under your shirt, some things were harder to let go than others. 

But it shouldn’t be hard, right? Love shouldn’t present so many obstacles — it should be simple, easy — not difficult and tenuous. And that’s all your relationship had been — only due to circumstance, but sometimes that was enough. 

And in your case, it had been too much.  

But you knew you couldn’t have made it through without Yuta. Your eyes slide to him, his face illuminated only by the glow of the TV — lights turned off for the best movie night experience. Or at least not as quickly as you did. He was leaning back against the couch, his head leaning towards your side. 

You bite your lip. Your mind wanders to what Panda had said — love birds — it hadn’t been the first time someone had commented on the two of you together. How many of your friends had made some comments about Yuta, even the ones in student government (Maki in particular had been dropping not so subtle hints)? How many of them had you brushed off without a second thought? 

But now — ever so conscious of his weight beside you on the couch, of every twitch of his fingers, shift of his limbs — you had second thoughts. 

You had tried your best to play off Panda’s comment, and Yuta did the same, the two of you had grown used to dancing around this topic. And before you hadn’t thought of Yuta that way in the slightest— not with everything going on — not with your mind still full of Suguru. 

But now…His eyes softly lit by the bouncing lights of the movie, until they found yours, and somehow growing even softer, as his lips curled. 

“Need something?” When was it that Yuta could make your heart flutter with only a smile? He was a friend — right? Just a friend, but now—

He leans over, your heart squeezing as he does — your eyes nearly fluttering shut, his hand brushing your cheek, only for the barest of touches. And your cheeks burned in the dim light of the TV. 

“You had something on your cheek,” he explains, and you nod, biting your lip — as you snap your gaze away, and a small chuckle on his lips, “What is it?”

What was it about him now? His smile was just a smile, his eyes were just eyes, and his presence was only comfort. And now — his smile made your stomach bloom with butterflies, his eyes were depths you wished to swim in, and his presence gave you comfort but in the loneliest of ways — the gap between you both a cliff you stared down, unable to jump. 

So you shake your head instead, “It’s nothing,” you smile as you press your knuckles to your lips. 

Maybe your head was full of someone else for once. 

~~~

“Do you want to grab dinner tonight?” You ask Yuta — a routine for most other weeknights, as you grabbed your bag, as you wait for him outside the conference room as the student government meeting ended for another week, “I heard this new restaurant opened up near my apartment, and we could hang out at my place after—“ 

“I—“ 

“Yuta?” A cute girl comes up to Yuta, and he smiles as he greets her, she pulls Yuta aside, as he chats with her just out of earshot, her hand grazing his shoulder. 

And your stomach turns, a twinge in your heart as you watch the two — you don’t remember Yuta mentioning her, but then again, Yuta rarely talked about himself, even when you asked. It was like pulling teeth — and now here he was. Now, he was smiling at a girl you knew nothing about. 

What was this feeling? You shifted from foot to foot, restlessness settling over your body as you purse your lips as if to prevent unnecessary words from spilling from your lips. Why did you feel so...helpless? Your arms crossed over your chest as if that would hold you together — keep your heart from falling back into the pieces you had meticulously put back together. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

You watched them talk, as the girl finally seemingly said her goodbye and flashed a small smile your way before disappearing down the hallway. 

“Sorry,” Yuta walks back over, a smile on his lips, but you knew that smile wasn’t for you. Not like before, “yeah let’s grab dinner,” 

And you weren’t the same either—

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you force your lips to curl, as you walk past him, “let’s go,” 

—because you were jealous.

~~~

“Yuta, have you thought about dating?'' Your question comes seemingly out of nowhere one night, right after midterms, and Yuta has to stop himself from spitting out the sip of his tea he had taken, forcing himself to swallow. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you, your eyebrow raising, “you good?” 

“Y-yeah sorry,” he clears his throat, hoping his cheeks weren’t flushed red from that, “why do you ask?” 

“I was just curious because we’ve talked a lot about my dating life, but nothing about yours,” it was late, or rather early—nearly 3 AM on a Saturday night, the two of you were half asleep on the couch, stuck in a stubborn battle of not wanting to sleep quite yet, “you don’t talk a lot about yourself,” 

“There’s not much to say,” he shrugs, and your raised brow tells him you’re not satisfied with his reply, he relents with a sigh, “there was a girl I liked when I was a kid — Rika, we met when I was in the hospital,” and your lips twist into a frown, “I was sick a lot when I was little, and that’s when I met Rika. She lived with her grandparents — her parents both had passed when she was even younger. We were inseparable—“ he gives a soft chuckle, “but then she…” his voice wavers. 

“You don’t have to—“ and he’s shaking his head. 

“We were playing and she went into the street to cross when a car sped by—“ and he shakes his head, “she didn’t make it,” your fingers knit together, before one of your hands finds his.

“You didn’t have to share that if you weren’t ready,” and he’s offering a weak smile, squeezing your hand. 

“I wanted to,” he sighs, as he rubs at his eye, “there’s not much I wouldn’t tell you,” and you supposed that was the difference between him and Suguru — communication that wasn’t limited, a conversation that wasn’t one sided, and honesty — without a price. 

“So there’s been no one else since Rika?” you tilt your head, and you swear you see a twinge of red across his cheeks, dusting his features even in the dim light. 

“Why are you asking?” he says slowly, it feels as if he’s caught you, as your gaze snaps away, a pout on your lips, as you press your knuckles to your lips — and it’s as if he got a hold of your thoughts, “is it because of Kirara earlier?” 

“Oh, that’s her name?” Yuta has to bite back a small smile at your narrowed eyes, unable to meet his gaze, “how do you—” 

“She’s a friend from high school — and she’s dating another old friend from high school,” he adds, and your eyes snap to his, “I don’t like her like that anyway — she’s just a good friend, and likes to give me unsolicited advice on my fashion sense,” 

Your lips curl, “Well you are a little basic in your—” and he cuts you off with a look, and you’re shifting your body to face him fully, “so if it’s not Kirara, you don’t have anyone in mind? Not even a crush?” 

Your question feels like an answer in and of itself — along with the look you’re giving him — the same one he had always given you, when you weren’t looking — longing. But what if he was wrong? What if he was projecting? But he could spend his whole time wondering, and never knowing — or he could take the leap. 

He chews on his bottom lip, and he steels himself, his gaze turning back to you, “and if I said there was?” 

Were you ready for this? Would you ever be ready for this? Suguru still lingered in the back of your mind collecting cobwebs, on the tip of your tongue like a curse unspoken — and yet your forefront was filled with nothing but Yuta — his kindness, his honesty, his straightforward nature — all things you hadn’t gotten from Suguru when it mattered, when it counted. And it would be easy — there would be no complications — other than the complications that always came with relationships and emotions. 

But that was far simpler than what you and Suguru had to deal with. 

“Then I’d ask you,” your fingers reaching across a line that was meant to be crossed, but one that perhaps you shouldn’t anyway, “what are you waiting for?” and your hand finds his — his hand smaller than the one you’re used to, but warmer and softer. 

“I don’t want to rush—” and you’re shaking your head, as your squeeze his hand, fingers laced together, as your thumb runs over his palm. 

“We don’t have to,” you murmur, your gaze finding his, and he’s leaning closer to you, as if with a magnetic pull — and you find yourself attracted and not repelled to his pull, “we can take our time, can’t we?” 

And his lips curl into a small smile, his dark eyes nearly consumed by the shadows underneath them, but somehow as soft as they always were — “Is this a dream?” he murmurs, whisper like, as if his words would ripple across the surface of reality until it disappeared within its depths, “I wanted to tell you for so long — but I didn’t know it if was too soon or if—” 

“I know,” it had been three months, three months since you had your heart broken, but you were tired of wallowing, of trying to put your heart back together by yourself — you may have filled in the cracks, but maybe you needed someone to cement the parts back into one — and maybe Yuta was the one, “and maybe it is, but I want to try,” you admit, “is that wrong?” 

And how could he say it was — when it was all he wanted?” 

“No,” his fingertips brush against your cheek, “maybe it’s just right.” 

~~~

He shifted in his sleep, a warm body pressed against him, his arms slinking around your own, your face buried in his neck in the best way he could imagine. Your fingers raked through his jet black locks, you pressed a sweet kiss to his neck, and a soft groan left his lips. 

“Baby, finally awake?” your lips press a smile against his skin, your finger drawing a circle against his chest, “we have to get up soon, we’ll be late,” you murmur, “and I know how you feel about being late,” your nose brushes against his jumping pulse, “Sugu?” 

Suguru groans softly, burying his face in your hair, “Five more minutes,” and you chuckle against him, his favorite sound that graces his ears, his eyes fluttering shut again, as he surrounds himself in your scent — the notes of lavender and rosemary from your shampoo, “just want to spend a few more minutes with you, sweetheart — I need you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

You hum, rubbing his head softly, fingers curling around one of the locks of his hair, “I don’t recall you gracing me with five minutes when I was late on that first day,” 

He groans, shifting only to bury himself in your chest, pressing soft kisses to the valley between your breasts, nose pressed against the hollow of your throat, the cold metal of the dragon pendant against his cheek, “I wasn’t your boyfriend then,” he’s leaning back only to press a sweet kiss to your lips, again and again — it always felt so right being with you. 

“But you’re not my boyfriend now,” and he pauses, before glancing up at you, your eyes glassy with tears, “remember?” your fingers ghosted over his cheek. 

RING. RING. RING. 

His eyes don’t bother to open as he reaches for his phone, turning off the ringer, before his hand reaches for you, only to find an empty space beside him. He flutters his eyes open, glancing over, and finds your absence beside him. 

It had been months, but you still haunted him—and he would spend the rest of his life running from the ghost of what could have been—and pretending it doesn’t hurt. 

He turns on his side to look away from your side of the bed — even though it still did.

~~~

You stared at the outfits laid out on the bed — practically your entire closet threw up your complete wardrobe, and even so, you couldn’t find a single thing you wanted to wear. Or rather— 

You tossed another blouse onto the pile— you couldn’t find a single thing that didn’t remind you of Suguru. One of these he had said brought out your eyes, the other he had picked out for you, and the other he had taken you out on your one month anniversary for a surprise date. 

There were too many memories — and too many that you didn’t care to relive. Especially today, as your phone goes off — I’ll be on my way over soon. Are you almost ready? 

Fuck. Yuta was on his way almost and you hadn’t even finished picking an outfit. 

By almost ready, do you mean not ready at all? You bite your lip, I know it’s silly but I can’t decide what to wear. 

You dig two outfits out of the bottom of the pile — and stare at them — you didn’t like to wear new outfits on a first date, but maybe this would be a fresh start for you. One where you could leave behind some of the memories tied around your ankles like anchors, dragging you down the depths of waters you didn’t want to explore any longer. 

Your phone goes off again — You’d look amazing in anything — I’ll be there soon. 

Your lips curl at the sight of his text — you choose a dress, tugging your shirt over your head and your shorts down, before pulling the dress down. And you adjust your hair in the mirror, before looking closely at yourself — a glint catching your eyes. 

Your fingers ghost over the dragon pendant — you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to take it off. But maybe it was time — and your hands reach around unclasping the chain before placing it in the palm of your hand. 

Your fingertip traces over the rainbow colored gems — and he wondered if he even still thought of you like you thought of him. It was so easy for him to leave — so did he put you out of his mind while he was at it? You held the necklace over the trash bin next to your vanity — your fingers squeezing at the chain and pendant, as it dug into your skin — should you toss it away like he had with you? 

No —you pulled your hand back — no, you couldn’t. You placed the necklace in the box it came in, tucking it away behind some things. 

You heard your phone go off again, as you spared one last glance at the vanity, where the box was hidden away— 

Because it still meant something to you. Even if it didn’t to him. 

~~~

“You complain about my movies, but the one you chose was much worse,” you say as you unlock your apartment, “that plot line made little to no sense,” 

“If you suspend your disbelief—“ 

You stop, your key hanging from your door, as you stare at him, “I can believe that supernatural powers exist in that universe, but why would the universe entrust these powers to the stupidest people alive?” He snorts, as you continue unlocking the door, as you spare a glance at Yuta who is still fidgeting near your doorway, “you gonna come in?” 

“I-well, I thought since this our first date, maybe I shouldn’t since you wouldn’t do that one a first date,” and you blink, your lips curling, as you watch him trip over his words, cheeks tinged pink, “not that anything would happen if I did come in—but—“ 

You step closer, silencing his words, seemingly stuck in his throat, “You really thought a lot about this, haven’t you?” and your fingers brush his, slowly intertwining with his as you bridge the gap, “I really appreciate it,” 

He bites his lip, eyes sliding sideways, as he does, before he’s tilting his head again, “I just don’t want you rush into anything, and I don’t want us to still feel like—” 

“Just friends I know,” you smile, “well then why don’t we leave it here for tonight, but call me when you get home?” He slowly nods, but he still isn’t leaving, “Yuta?” 

And he steps a little closer, your breath catches, stuck in your lungs, as your chest squeezes when his fingers find your cheek, “Can I kiss you?” And your answer comes before you know it as you nod wordlessly. 

His lips curl into a smile, as he leans closer and your noses bump, a small chuckle escaping your lips before his lips find yours. 

It’s chaste, at first, until his lips find yours in a firmer kiss. He tastes faintly of the salt and butter of the popcorn he just had, and you can feel him smile against your lips, before you both part. 

Your lips curl, “Well that is definitely something I never do with a friend,” 

“You sure?” He murmurs and you hum, as your foreheads press against the other’s, as your fingers intertwine and you tug him inside your apartment. 

“Maybe just the ones I really like.” 

~~~

“You look happy,” Maki notes, as Yuta shows up early to work on a project for student government — it had been a few days since their first date, and Yuta had just gotten a text from you asking if he was coming over tonight. His lips quirked upwards as he told you he’d be there after he finished his work, as his eyes flitted up to find Maki’s, “don’t tell me you actually got the balls to ask her—“ and his eyes won’t quite meet her own, a smile on his lips, “fuck, don’t tell me—” 

“We had our third date last night—” and he earns himself a hard punch to his shoulder, as he jolts, staring at Maki, “ow! Why—” 

“Three dates and you tell me now?” and Yuta’s rubbing his shoulder, as he frowns, “what’s with the face? My punch didn’t hurt that bad,” she takes a seat, and leans back in her chair, as she rifles through the paperwork, 

He shakes his head, “I wasn’t sure if I should be going around telling people — it’s new—” 

“Wouldn’t you be happy to talk about your relationship?” And he’s hesitating, and Maki’s chair legs clack against the floor as she leans forward again, “what are you so scared of still?” 

What was it that he was scared of? That it wouldn’t work out? That he’d lose you before he had even truly had you? That he’d hurt you? And it was true, he was scared of all of those things, but it wasn’t those things holding him back— 

“I saw the way she talked about her ex, the smile she had when she would come off talking about him,” he leans against his hand, elbow propped up on the table, “she always had this smile on her face — just this look that I don’t think I’ve ever seen her have with me—“ 

“A look doesn’t make or break a relationship, Okkotsu,” Maki says with a sigh, “and she was already in that relationship for who knows how long at that point?”

“I know, but—“ 

“I can’t tell you how to run your relationship but you have to decide whether you’re in this or not — because if you keep comparing yourself, you’ll never be happy,” and Yuta nods, before glancing at her, “what?” 

“How do you know so much about this?” Maki crosses her arms, a slight blush on her cheeks. 

“You’re not the only one with a social life—“ but she cuts him off before he can ask more questions, “but this is about you, not me,” she leans forward, “you need to focus on your relationship now, not her old one,” 

And he nods — he needed to trust you, otherwise this would never work with his head stuck in the past or looking into the future. Otherwise, this insecurity would seep like poison into his present — and he would lose you anyway. 

“You’re right, thanks Maki,” and his phone goes off again, another text from you — I miss you — come soon. 

Maybe he just needed to trust you — and himself. But even so, as he typed his reply to you — I’ll pick up dinner on the way. I’ll be back soon. Promise — but why was it so difficult? 

~~~ 

“Ah, Yu,” you murmured against his lips before swallowing your words completely, you were even prettier breathless than he had imagined. Well, more like than he had dreamt. He had resisted the urge to fantasize about you, thinking it would be disrespectful, crossing a line that wasn’t meant to be crossed. But that didn’t mean he could control his subconscious when he would slip into the embrace of sleep. 

He’d see you beside him on the couch, and you’d lean over and simply find his lips as if you’d done it a million times before. And he’d melt into your touch with such practiced ease, his fingers skimming over your sides, and he was desperate for more, more, more. He would only slide his hands up your thighs, fingertips brushing against the fabric of your panties before he’d wake in sweat soaked sheets and his cock straining against his boxers. 

This was so much better. 

It had started on the couch just like his dream, the two of you lying together, cuddling on the couch as the two of you half watched a movie. 

“Are you sleepy?” He asked softly, tucking a strand behind your ear, and you shake your head, as you shift closer to him, half of your body pressed against him. He did his best not to shift much, as you move even closer to him, nearly lying on top of him, “what—“ 

His breath catches as you lean closer, “can I—“ and he’s nodded without a second thought, as your lips found his, and his fingers found your hips. His tongue grazed the seam of your lips before slipping inside, and he eagerly steals your breath from your very lungs. And you’re moving, now lying squarely on top of him, your hips pressed against his, as his already hard cock throbs against your cunt. 

He bites back a moan when he feels just how wet you already are, soaking through your shorts and drenching  his sweatpants, “Fuck,” he murmurs, as your lips both part for a breath, as he cups your chin, only to press hot kisses to your burning skin, “baby, you taste so good,” 

And that’s where he found himself now. 

Your tiny gasps and murmurs of his name, as his lips explored what skin he could reach, while his hands slid up and down your body, now warm palms resting above your hips, toying with the hem of your shirt. 

“Yuta, please,” the whine in your throat makes the heat grow thicker been you two, the movie fading into but white noise, as he cards his fingers through your hair, “don’t tease me,” 

And he’s swallowing thickly, his dick twitching at the thought of taking this further — the two of you had done everything but this step, your hands had grazed under the other’s clothes, grinded against each other as you made out, but one of you would end up stopping it for one reason or another. It was a game of chicken, one or the other seemingly daring the other to take that step — but neither of you had. 

But now — as his thumb dragged over your puffy, kiss ruined lips, “Do you want to?” he asks an unspoken question, his resistance weakening to your touches, your fingers ghosting up his chest before one of your hands finds his cheek. 

“I do,” you answer, but bite your lip, “I’m just…a little nervous,” and his lips press a sweet kiss to your forehead. 

“We can always wait — I never want to make you feel uncomfortable, baby,” he’s featherlight in his touches now, “it’s up to you,” and it was — he would wait for you, as long as you wanted him. 

You smile at him, finding his lips in another kiss — he didn’t know it was possible for someone to be this soft, or feel this good — he could taste the sweetness of ice cream you had ate earlier on your lips, but you were so much better than any dessert. 

Your fingers rake gently through his hair, “Let’s move to the bedroom?” 

~~~

You wanted Yuta — you did. You had for the weeks the two of you had dated. It had been almost two months, and the two of you hadn’t had sex yet. There wasn’t a reason to rush, but there wasn’t a reason not to. The line had been edged to the brink of insanity — for the both of you. There was always seemingly a reason to stop — an early class, a late night, stomach upset — and it always felt like timing was just off. But it wasn’t always just the timing. 

It was also you. 

Every time you and Yuta got close, each time you felt even an ounce of pleasure, the guilt of Suguru would claw up your throat, again and again. And you were sure Yuta had noticed. But even if he had, you didn’t know a way to explain without making him think you were still in love with Suguru — which you weren’t. 

You didn’t think you were. The guilt lingered, like blood dried from a still open wound, scabbed over but not healed, easily reopened with even a scratch or a step. And it felt like with each step you took away from Suguru, you bled more and more — but you didn’t know how to stop the bleeding. You couldn’t stem the bleeding at its source, not when the person you had cut it open didn’t even give you a chance to speak. 

And you couldn’t talk to Yuta about it — not when you still hadn’t explained who Suguru is — and what exactly he does for work. Or much of anything else and you didn’t even know how to begin that conversation or why it would be necessary. Does he need to know all of that when you would be graduating soon enough and Suguru would be only a distant memory. 

But you hoped Yuta wouldn’t be. 

Your fingers laced with his as you led him to your bedroom — as you pull him inside, shutting the door behind you. You gently guide him onto your bed and have him sit while you stand, your fingers cupping his face, as his breath hitches at your proximity. His lips parted ever so slightly, as a pretty pink settled over his cheeks. 

“Baby, are you sure?” His lips are half twisting in a frown, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips and back again, “I don’t want—“ 

And your lips find his in a soft kiss, pressing yourself between his legs, as your hands find purchase on his shoulders, “I want you, Yuta,” you murmur, you were tired of letting the past dictate your present — you wanted to move forward, “don’t you want me too?” And your lips ghost over his jaw up to his ear, as you whisper in it, while leaving kisses that make his body shiver, wondering if you’ve turned his blood to ice or made it turn to steam with how his skin burned. 

“You’re not playing fair” he mumbles, as he buries your face in the crook of your neck, and you laugh, your fingers skimming the back of his neck. 

“I’m here to win, we never said anything about fair,” you twirl the black locks resting against his neck, your lips press another kiss to his cheekbone, “you still haven’t answered my question—“

 “Of course I want you,” he looks up at you, his need like a spark catching fire on your body, “I always have,”

“Well I’m right here,” you murmur, you tilt his chin up, fingers threaded in his black locks, “what are you going to do about it?” 

~~~

Yuta was going to lose his mind — but it’s just as well, you already had his heart. 

At your words, he’s tugging you even closer as he moves back on the bed, gaze hot as he watches you move, sitting on his lap — knees on either side of his waist. Fuck, you felt so good against him, plush thighs pressing into his hands already sliding down your lower back and grazing your ass to press you impossibly closer. 

“Good boy,” you murmur, and his blood flees his cheeks to his cock, twitching against your clothed cunt, and you smirk, a giggle escaping your lips, “you like that, huh?” you breath against his ear, “my good boy,” 

And in an instant, you’re pinned under him, and you’re blinking up at him, smile exchanged for parted lips, as his hands slide up your sides, and he’s leaning down to kiss you. His mouth burns against yours, tongue teasing the seam of your lips, before they part for him. 

“Now who’s being good for who?” he murmurs, as he pulls back with your teeth catching his bottom lip between your teeth. He groans, grinding against you, the length of his cock grinding against your clothed slit, “you won't let me have a moment, can you?” He murmurs, a red flush on his cheeks that makes you grin. 

“Not as long as you’re with me, Yu,” and god, that nickname for him makes his head spin— it’s already so much — the picture of you spread so prettily for him, your thighs parted under him, shirt riding up, just asking for him to slide underneath, and your bodies pressed together in all of the right places, as if neither of you could get close enough. 

And apparently you couldn’t, as you guide his hands to the hem of your shirt, and you’re helping him pull it over your head before tossing it onto the floor. And he sees nothing underneath, your nipples pebbled and hard under his gaze, so pretty for him. 

When his fingers twitch, you chuckle, “touch me,” and your words melt away his reservations, as his hands find your breasts, warm palms squeezing and teasing the soft flesh. He leans down and presses a kiss to one of your pert nipples, his tongue flicking the pert bud, drawing a small gasp from your lips, a pretty noise he wants to make fall from your lips again and again. Your head falls back into your pillow, as he switches sides, teasing the one with his lips, while he rolls the other between his index and thumb. 

“Fuck, Yuta,” he smiles against you, as his lips begin to kiss down your body, starting with the valley of your breasts before trailing wet kisses down your stomach, until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. And his eyes are flicking up to meet yours to ask silently, and your nod is all it takes for his fingers to dip in and tug the thin fabric down your legs, fingers dragging along the dips and curves of your legs as he does. He bends down to steal kisses to your swell of your hips and the crown of your knee. 

“S’pretty,” he’s mumbling, as his eyes find the wet patch on your underwear, fabric messy and soaked through as it cling helplessly to your hard clit, “how are you this pretty, baby?” 

“All for you, sweet boy,” you’re murmuring, as you hiss when he’s teasing your clit through your panties, “Yu, fuck—“ he could cum just listening to you — he doesn’t know what he’ll do once he’s inside you—

But one step at a time. 

He’s leaning down to press a kiss to it, before he’s slipping two fingers into the elastic to tug it down, with a nod from you. He’s pressing kisses and nips to your inner thigh, relishing in the marks he leaves on you — ones that he and you would only see. And finally you’ve kicked your underwear off, fully bare for him. 

“How do you smell so sweet?” he’s whispering, as his eyes drag over your exposed folds, and a whimper escapes your lips, he can’t wait to make you moan. And he’s bending down to drag his tongue over your dripping cunt, a thick stripe that has you gasping, fingers winding their way into his black locks, nails digging deliciously into his scalp. 

And you taste even better than he imagined — so good that he's already lapping at your folds, tip of his tongue flicking over your clit — and he hears the wrinkle of the sheets as your toes curl into them. He’s rutting into your mattress, ready to cum in his boxers at how good your pussy feels — dick nearly bursting at the thought of having your cunt around him. 

“Fuck, baby,” you’re swearing under your breath, as your body tenses under his tongue, he begins to slurp at your juices. His hands find their way under the soft flesh of your thighs to tug you flush to his lips, “Yu, so good,” and all he can hear are the lewd sounds of his tongue buried in your pussy, working your walls open, pretty walls fluttering around him, “feel so good, ngh, ah—” your eyes find his, and it’s enough for him to blow his load then and there — eyes blown out with lust as they meet his own, your lips parted in lovely pants and moans. 

And he knows you’re close, can feel it in the way your walls shudder, and he’s burying himself in your cunt, fucking you open with his tongue while he rubs your clit in quick circles. 

“Yu, I’m cum—“ and you cut yourself off with a moan, back arching as you cum hard, his name on your lips, and he’s eating you out through your orgasm, greedily drinking every bit of release you give him. And it’s only when it’s too much, your body slightly shaking, as you gently pull at his hair, that he eases off. 

You watch him with half lidded eyes as he pulls away, still between your thighs — lips and chin glossy and drenched in your release. He licks his lips and chin clean, watching you come down from your high, fuck, the way your walls clench around nothing makes him want to bury his face back in your folds. 

“So good, Yu, s’good for me,” you’re panting, sweat slicked against your skin, as you’re gently tugging at him, and he obliges, keening at the praise as he slips up your body until your lips find his. You moan, tasting yourself on his lips, a sloppy, messy kiss that leaves him breathless. 

And you’re flipping you both over, his eyes dilating at the sight of you, eyes raking over his body, eager hands thumbing at the hem of his shirt. 

Your lips in a smirk that leaves his dick throbbing, “my turn, Yu, let me make you feel good,”your hands make quick work of his shirt, tugging it up and over, tossing it in the growing pile of clothes in the corner of your bedroom. 

Your lips press sweet kisses all over his chest, fingers teasing his chest, but you have bigger intentions in mind, as your fingers quickly find their way to the waistband of his sweatpants. And with a nod given, you’re deftly tugging it down with a raise of his hips to pull the fabric off and kicked away, leaving him only in his boxers. 

You bite your lip when you see the large wet patch from his pre, your fingers teasing his slit through the fabric, drawing a hiss from his lips. He swallows, watching your pretty lips bend down to press a kiss to his cock through the fabric. And it’s enough for him to lose his mind completely, “please,” he whimpers, and you smile down at him, dragging your thumb down his lips. 

“Please what?” you ask innocently, for someone whose fingers were grazing his erection the way they were, he swallows as he watches your finger trace up and down his clothes cock, “what do you want me to use? My hand? My mouth?” 

And he’s shaking his head, “Anything, just please I need—“ and your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers, snapping it against his skin, a yelp escaping his lips that makes you giggle, “that’s not nice—“ and he’s gasping when your lips press a hot kiss to his hip, your eyes lidded with desire. 

“Who said I was nice?” 

~~~

You were going to be the death of him, and with the way your fingers tug down his boxers — finally freeing his cock, slapping against his stomach as it does — it would be a sweet death. 

“Didn’t know your cock was so pretty like the rest of you, Yu,” and it was, so long and thick, pearly precum dripping down his flushed length, veins that ran up and down the length that you were far too eager to trace, “can’t wait to taste you,” you’re murmuring, as your tongue flicks down against his slit. 

“B-baby, please,” his hand is covering his face, but you reach up to pry it away, seeing the lovely red that settled over his cheeks, lips parted in need as he painted, “please—“ 

And your fingers wrap around his dick, thumbing the slit and working the precum up and down his length. And he’s moaning your name on his lips again and again, as you kiss his tip sliding your fingers down to his base and squeezing. And when your lips part for him, sliding his length in your mouth, his head falls back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut as he can’t help but roll his hips into your mouth. And when his tip brushes the back of your throat, it’s enough for him to cum right then and there, but he doesn’t want to — not yet, not until he’s inside you. 

He’s easing you off, watching strings of pre and your spit connect you to his aching cock, as you look up at him, and he’s pulling you into a messy kiss, tasting his own pre on your lips. 

“I need you,” he’s murmuring, fingers finding your hips, “baby, please,” 

You smile, parting from him, “how do you need me?” And he’s swallowing, cock twitching, and he knows he’s one stroke too fast from bursting — so he needs control. 

“Lie on the bed, baby,” and you do, easing from between his legs, and onto your back, head against the plush pillows. He parts your legs for you, warm palms squeezing your flesh teasingly, drawing a whine from you, he presses your thighs up, letting them hook around his back, as his skin meets yours. And god, you’re perfect, “how did I get so lucky? You’re so perfect, so pretty,” and he’s slotting himself between your thighs, fingers lining up his cock with your dripping slit, his curiosity getting the better of him as he drags the head up your messy folds still slick with your release, and groans as he watches your walls flutter around nothing, “so good for me, are you ready, baby?” 

You’re nodding, “please Yu, I need—” and his tip is sliding into you, his length stretching your walls far too well, and it’s enough for him to cum right there — as your cunt adjusts to his size, dragging against you as he pushes past your entrance. It’s enough for him to cum right there, but he wants it to be good for you both — wants you to hear you praise him again, wants to hear you say his name again and again until you fall apart on his cock. 

And finally he’s bottoming out, a moan from both of your lips, your walls fluttered around his length, your head lolls back a moment, before your eyes flutter open and meet his, “S’good, Yu, please, move,” and he’s cupping your cheek, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, before he begins to fuck you slowly. 

The echoes of your skin meeting his rings in hie ears, needy walls pulling you back in even as he tried to pull out, sinking deeper and deeper each time he fucked you. 

He’s burning, ready to melt at your very touch, putty in your hands to bend and shape at your will, even as you swallow him whole, he’s ready for you to consume every inch of him with your being. 

“Feels s’good, Yuta,” you’re moaning, legs around his hips pulling him impossibly closer, “such a good boy,” and his cock twitches, your mixed releases forming a ring around the base of his length, “s’good, need more,” 

And he’s groaning, as your wet squelches fill the silence between both of your moans and pants — and you’re close, as he gives a particularly deep thrust that finds the spot that has you seeing stars. Your head falls back, lips parted in his name, “Yu, I’m close — ngh, please—“ and he’s smiling, his cheeks surely flushed blood red, panting, as he reaches between your bodies to find your clit. 

“Cum f’me, baby,” he’s murmuring, and you’re nodding, as you fall apart for him, toes curling as you cum hard around him, making him groan your name as he spills his warm seed inside you, pumping slowly as he does. His body slows as you both come down from your highs, and he slowly rolls off of you, running fingers through your hair and pressing sweet kisses, “are you okay?” he murmurs, eyes soft with affection, but laced with concern. 

You smile, “I’m more than okay,” you press your face into his chest, and he’s shivering at your touch, pulling you even closer, “I’m with you,” and his fingers run up and down your cheek, before leaning down to meet your lips in a soft kiss. 

That’s right, he smiles as he kisses your forehead — he was with you. And the past didn’t matter — when he was in your present. 

“I’ll always be with you,” he mutters against your lips. 

And hopefully in your future. 

~~~

“What are you doing, I thought you were almost done,” Yuta mumbles against the soft skin of your neck, pressing sweet kisses that did nothing but sap the need for productivity from your very veins — leaving only behind thoughts of his touch behind, “baby,”

“Yu, I promise I’m almost done, I just have to send this email about my thesis and you’ll have my undivided attention,” you both had been stuck in the end of the semester rush, trying to find time for each other — leaving you stressed out and Yuta a little needy. That’s what this night was supposed to be for — a chance to reconnect, and yet here you were working. But you had to send this thesis out or you knew Yaga would have your head for delaying your work on your outline for so long — something you would be spending next semester fleshing out into a full thesis you’d be presenting. 

He nods, but continues to pepper you with kisses, your skin nearly molten under his touch as his arms wrap around your waist to pull you further into his lap instead of beside him on the couch, “After all the work I did to snag Professor Yaga as my thesis advisor, I cannot let the department head down with my draft,” 

He hums, vibrations making you nearly shiver, “I know, I’m really proud of you. I know you’re going to have something really special by the end of the year,” and you shake your head. 

“I just hope I make it past the defense — it’s the most nerve wracking part,” you sigh, “a room of my peers and professors staring me down while I discuss the work I’ve done,” you proof read the email for the millionth time — scanning for any errors and make sure the attachment is the correct attachment — and finally click send, and sigh before relaxing into his arms. 

“Can I come to your defense?” Yuta asks, perking up, and you smile, leaning back against him. 

“Are you sure you’d want to come? It’s going to be just me rambling about my thesis and answering a bunch of questions,” you kiss his jaw softly, nosing the small hickey you left blooming on his pale skin last night, “might not be the most exciting thing,” 

“I want to support you, as long as you want me there,” and you can’t help but wonder — would Suguru show up to your defense? The thought makes your stomach churn at the thought of them watching you present, eyes flitting from one to the other. You had doubts he would show himself there — but the only catch was if Yaga would twist his arm. And then what? You had nearly blown your relationship wide open once before when you had ran into Suguru in front of Yuta—

You couldn’t risk it again. 

“Let me think about it, ok?” You nuzzle your nose against his cheek, as he frowns, “I just think if I have you there, I might get too nervous—“ 

He shakes his head, “Whatever makes you comfortable, either way, we’re going to celebrate right after,” and you tilt your head. 

“What if I don’t pass?” And he shakes his head. 

“If hell freezes over, I think we’ll have bigger problems,” and you snort, “but on the very off chance you don’t, you still accomplished something incredible—“ and your lips find his, and he melts into your kiss after a moment. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, “I’m so lucky to have you,” and he curls his lips into a sweet smile. 

“I’m the lucky one,” and his lips press against yours this time, meeting yours again and again, until you’re placing your laptop aside, and turning to sit in his lap, “baby,” heat rolls off his body in waves, as your fingers trace down his chest. 

“I heard someone wanted my undivided attention tonight,” you smile, before taking your phone and placing it on ‘do not disturb,’ “well now what are you going to do with it?” 

He smiles, “Don’t know if we’ll have enough time for everything, but,” he presses a kiss to your jaw, “we can try,” and the two of you are making your way to the bedroom soon enough, unaware that you had gotten an important email that night—

From: Suguru Geto 

Subject Line: Regarding Your Thesis Advisor

~~~

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you’re adjusting your hair as you sprint your way to Professor Yaga’s office. This is what you get for staying up far too late with your far too tempting boyfriend. And now you woke up thirty minutes before the meeting, with barely enough time to make it on time, much less breath. Yuta gave you a kiss goodbye, but that’s all he had time for — before you were out the door. 

But you finally reached Yaga’s door, catching your breath when you took a second to regain your composure before knocking. You blinked — weird, his door was usually open. And the door opens, but it isn’t Yaga—

It’s Suguru? 

It’s Suguru. 

You stare at him, wondering if this is another twisted nightmare you had ensnared yourself in, but no — it isn’t. Because even your subconscious couldn’t make a scenario this twisted. His lips parted to say something, but you beat him to it. 

“If you’re meeting with Professor Yaga, I can come back at a different time, Professor,” the title slips from your lips without barely a thought, but it carries far too much weight. A flicker of emotion catches on the corner of his lips and in the glint of his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. 

“You’re on time, but I still you did not have the time to check your email before this meeting,” he tilts his head, as you blink slowly, “please come in and have a seat,” 

And you do, taking a seat across from him as he sits on the other side of the desk, you shift in your seat, as you take him in for the first time in months — his hair was still long, black tresses brushing against his shoulders, hair half up in a neat bun near the crown of his head; his eyes tucked behind his glasses for once, but you could see the burgeoning beginnings of dark bags under his eyes; and his clothes were meticulous as always — and you spot the tie pin he has — it’s the one you had gifted him near the beginning of your relationship — a joke that you had made about pinning him down in class turned into a gift. 

And that makes your neck feel all the more bare. 

“Is Professor Yaga ok?” and Suguru sighs, running his fingers through his hair. 

“He’s fine, he is sick at the moment — and receiving treatment,” you sigh in slight relief, “so he’s decided to take the rest of this semester off, as well as next semester,” and you sigh, leaning back as you cover your lips with your hand. 

“Is he going to be—” 

“He has a good prognosis, and his son’s with him, looking after him, so it should be fine,” he says softly, and his lips curl in a small smile, as he flips through the papers on Yaga’s desk. 

“What’s with the smile?” and he shakes his head, as he rifles through the stacks of paperwork, until he seemingly finds what he’s looking for. 

“Nothing, just noticing that your habit of worrying about others before yourself hasn’t changed,” and you glare slightly at him, pursing your lips, as he slides a stapled stack of papers to you. 

“And what’s this—” 

“Your thesis proposal,” and you take it, flipping through and grimacing at the red pen, “and my thoughts on it,” you scoff, as you see the familiar picture of his scribbles and notes in the margins of your work. 

“It looks like old habits die hard for the both of us,” as you finish flipping through, but your brow knits together as the pieces of news start to fit together like a puzzle — with a very mortifying picture, and your eyes meet his, slowly — the news going as well over as a lead balloon, and crashing down on your head like one, “so does this mean—” 

His lips curl in a small smile, “I’ll be taking over as your thesis advisor — for the rest of the year.” 

✧ a/n: it was supposed to be the last part and now! we have. one more part since i decided i wanted to flesh out the final arc a little more! one more part of this and it will be all done...:)

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @difficultdomains , @diogodxlot , @that-goth-bisexual , @dazailover1900 0, @aliyalala , @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri i , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @maddietries

#sab [mlist] #sab series [prof suguru] #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x you #geto x reader #suguru geto fanfiction #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuta okkotsu fanfiction #geto suguru x reader #yuta okkotsu smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction

[danveration]

That no-good-first-man-on-earth

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: Alastor opens up to you (kinda). You confront him about his cane being gone, asking what happened after the early extermination attack.

Word count: (Around) 1154

Warnings: Mention of Adam dying, mention of death, mention of Al taking someone’s soul, ummm.. yes I think that’s about it!

A/N: YES I MADE IT !! the ending might be a bit rusty but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless! :’)

It was a week or two after the early extermination attack. The hotel has gotten a bit more residents and attention due to Charlie and the original residents protecting hell and successfully winning. The hotel has gotten an upgrade, that’s for sure. Lucifer now approves of its looks, so that says something.

During the attack you noticed how Alastor disappeared for a while and came back when it was all over. It made you question what happened when he went up against Adam. He was fine, physically. But you noticed something in his eyes that changed. Of course, he still smiles the same as before.. but it doesn’t always seem like he wants to. But the biggest, most obvious thing you noticed is that his staff/cane is gone. Nobody really seemed to question it but it set off an alarm in your brain because, well, he always has it on him.

You’re currently sitting in one of the lounge chairs in the lobby of the hotel, when you see Alastor confidently stroll in. He gives the lobby a quick look all around to see who’s all in there. In which, right now it’s just you.

“Hello, my dear!” He says, smiling and starts walking towards you.

“I must say, it’s rare that it’s empty in this area. Peace and quiet is often something I don’t have the luxury in experiencing, especially now that the hotel has gotten the attention that Charlie desperately craved.” He laughs.

He’s now standing beside you. You look up and smile back at him.

“Yeah, I’m happy for her though. She seems very overwhelmed, you know? But in a good way.” You say.

“Mm yes, she does, doesn’t she?”

You want to bring up how he doesn’t have his cane anymore, but you don’t know exactly how he’ll react. Though, he hasn’t ever snapped at you so you think it won’t be bad. Knowing him, he’ll probably just avoid the question by saying, “that’s for me to know.” As he does whenever someone brings up why he was absent for 7 years.

“Hey, Al?” You say, looking at him.

He raises his brow in question.

“Hm? What is it, dear?” He asks.

“I have a question.. you totally don’t need to tell me but I’ve just noticed that your um.. cane? You don’t have it anymore.”

You notice as you bring it up, Alastor tenses up and smiles more, darting his eyes away from you. You can feel that this was something he didn’t think you’d bring up.

He doesn’t seem to be saying anything, so you continue. “I was just wondering.. why is that? You usually keep it on you at all times. And also I’ve noticed that you’ve been a bit different since-“ You are stopped suddenly by Alastor using his shadow magic to teleport the two of you to his room.

You are caught by surprise, looking around disoriented, but than you realize where you are.

“Uhm- Al?” You question.

You assume he took you two to his room because he didn’t want anyone to hear the conversation, so you don’t question it. Which makes sense, he doesn’t want anyone else questioning his motives.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He opens his eyes and looks at you. “That is for me to know.” He says in a neutral tone.

Wow such a surprising statement.

“I knew you’d say that. Listen, you know you can talk to me, right? I’m here for you.” You assure him.

He looks at you weirdly, as if he is waiting for the joke line to happen. But it doesn’t. You care for him. That’s definitely new. Sure, Alastor has friends. Or, acquaintances, as he calls it. But you seem to deeply care for him and what happened.

He isn’t sure exactly how to react. “How amusing! That’s very kind of you.” He says and chuckles. You notice something in his eyes that doesn’t align with the emotion he is trying to project.

“Alastor, I’m serious. You don’t need to put on a show for me.. I want to know the real you.” You say, looking at him.

He debates if he should continue with his charades, but knows you’ll just see past it. He never ever would be this laid-back with anyone else accusing him of “putting on a show” or accusing him of having alternative feelings. He would’ve surely taken their soul or.. well, killed them by now. But you and his relationship has always been good. You guys always chat about whatever nonsense comes to mind, he showed you around the place where he records his radio broadcasts, and even let you attended once. He always had a soft spot for you. You never had a fear of him and never liked it when Husk or other people badmouthed him. He once caught you ranting to Niffty about how much you adored him. It made him smile.

Alastor squints his eyes and thinks of what to say.

“Well, my dear. You know that no-good-first-man-on-earth? Adam, I believe his name was.” He emphasizes the word “was,” seemingly to be very happy and satisfied now that he’s dead. He laughs continues, “he used his no-good angelic waves to break in half!” He says.

You’re in shock. Not because you thought his cane was indestructible or anything. It was because he actually told you what happened. You guess he trusts you more than he lets on.

“Oh..” You look at him sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, Alastor.”

“Mm, yes. Me too. But no worries, dear. I can live without it.” He says trying to cover up the fact that he cares quite a lot.

Without thinking, you place a hand on his arm trying to give him comfort. He slowly moves his head to look at your hand. He doesn’t mind one bit, in fact, he feels the complete opposite of how he usual feels when people try to touch him.

You quickly remember he doesn’t like physical touch very much, so you move to pull away.

“No.” He says quickly.

You’re confused and question what he means.

“No, what?”

Your hand on his arm felt like a new sensation he hasn’t felt before. He quickly became embarrassed of his sudden outburst decline of you not taking his hand on his arm.

Something inside him snaps and his persona cracks, and he then does something that you’ve never expect.

He hugs you.

Your heart feels warm and you have butterflies in your stomach. THE Alastor, the radio demon is hugging you. You don’t see him as those labels though. You see him as HIM.

Despite your incredible shock in what is happening, you hug him back, wrapping your arms around his suit jacket.

“I do apologize.” He mumbles while hugging you.

“You don’t have to apologize, Alastor. This is what I wanted. For you to open up.” You say softly and smile.

He doesn’t pull away yet, and you don’t mind one bit.

A/N: IM THINKING OF MAKING A PART TWO WHERE THE READER MAKES HIM ANOTHER CANE AS A SURPRISE. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!!!

#:alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon x reader #alastor altruist #alastor imagine #alastor x reader hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor episode 8 #my works #alastor fluff

[paperultra]

back of house.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,113 words Warnings: Mild swearing

If it weren’t for his principles regarding women, you’re fairly certain Sanji would’ve throttled and strung you up to dry by now.

“I … I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he says with a bright smile, though under the swinging lights of the kitchen it seems more out of pain than pleasure. “You managed to burn water.”

Your cheeks flame as you peer into the blackened pot with him, all traces of the water you’d been tasked with boiling completely gone. Vanished. You have no idea how or why.

“I’m sorry, Sanji.”

“No need to apologize. Everybody makes mistakes –”

“Sanji!” you hear Zeff before you see him round the corner. “Why the hell do I smell something burning in my kitchen?”

“None of your business, old man,” Sanji snaps immediately, murmuring a quiet excuse me, dear to you before taking the pot by the handle and heading to the sink. He twists the faucet open and running water roars like thunder in your ears as he thrusts the pot underneath. “I have it under control.”

“Under control, eh?" Zeff says. He suddenly turns his squinted gaze upon you, and you shrivel. “This your doing, missy?”

“I –”

“Leave her alone,” Sanji interrupts. “I didn’t give clear enough instructions. It was my fault.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Eyeing your guilty and defeated figure next to the stove, Zeff shakes his head with a sigh and points you to the door. “[Y/n], go out and wait tables for the rest of your shift.”

Immediately, you make a move to remove your apron. “Oka –”

Sanji makes a noise of dissent and turns the faucet off. “Wait tables? She can still chop the vegetables and help me plate.”

“You’ll do that yourself. Front of house needs the extra person, anyway.”

“I’m her mentor.”

“And I’m the damn boss.”

The rest of the staff roll their eyes and carry on while the two men argue in the middle of the kitchen. You swallow and take your apron off, balling it up in your hands. This isn’t the first time they’ve butted heads over your incompetence, and watching them now cuts at your last shred of dignity.

Clearing your throat, you grimace when Sanji’s head whips around to look at you.

“Zeff’s right,” you tell him. “Dinner rush is coming up soon and I’ll just be in the way, anyway.”

Zeff grunts with satisfaction.

The expression on Sanji’s face reminds you of a kicked puppy. “But …” he begins to protest.

“Oi, you heard what she said. Get back to work! We have customers waiting!”

Sanji blusters about before heading back to his station, casting you one final, forlorn look as he does so. You imagine that your own face looks just the same when you turn to leave.

—

You take orders and serve customers for the remainder of the day, as promised, and help with cleanup after closing time. And then, long after the sun’s dipped below the horizon, Sanji joins you on the upper deck with a steaming bowl of seafood fried rice.

“For the madam,” he says with a smile, offering you the bowl.

You accept it silently and take a bite as he sits down next to you. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach. You’ve never known a home quite like Sanji’s cooking.

His eyes remain fixed on you as you eat all of the rice, scraping the bowl for every last grain and setting it down beside you once you’re finished.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. I figured it would cheer you up.”

“It did.”

It did, and yet, your lips tremble and your throat closes up. You clench your hands into fists in your lap.

Sanji’s hand immediately presses your shoulder as you sniffle. “Are you alright?” he questions worriedly.

(His attentiveness strikes you like a hot iron sometimes, even now.)

“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” you whisper.

His brow furrows. As if it’s obvious, he answers, “You want to be a cook. A lady’s wish is my command.” Sanji pauses. “And I can’t call myself the greatest cook in the East Blue if I can’t teach others to be great cooks as well.”

“I think you’d be the greatest regardless.”

You glance at him through watery eyes in time to see his face flush a deep red. He looks away hastily, chuckling with feigned modesty. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”

Your shoulders lift in a shrug as you look back down at your hands. You reach up to blot away your tears.

How could you not think the world of Sanji? Or the world of anyone at the Baratie, for that matter? When you were kicked off the merchant ship you’d stowed away on two years ago, you had been sure that you’d be banned from setting foot in such a fine-looking restaurant. Years of scorn and slammed doors had not given you the chance to think otherwise.

But Sanji spotted you on the docks, called you madam like you really were one, cooked you a meal in the kitchen and talked to you. Zeff gave you a job and a bed of your own. The staff gave you a family.

“We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll figure out something that’ll make everything click for you, and you’ll be a proper cook in no time.” Sanji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and winks up at you. “I promise.”

As always, your heart skips a beat.

“Okay.”

Maybe, you realize suddenly, you don’t necessarily want to be a cook so much as you want to love the way Sanji does.

“That’s my girl.” Standing up, Sanji takes your empty bowl in one hand and offers the other for you to take. “Now, shall I walk the madam to her room, or does she wish to stay out on the deck for a while?”

You allow yourself to grin, considering. “The madam wishes to stay out here and …” you hesitate but then decide to soldier on, “and possibly chat with a dear friend for a few more minutes?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Sanji’s eyes widen a bit. Then he blinks, and then he smiles, drawing his hand back and quickly sitting down next to you once more.

“A lady’s wish is my command,” he says.

He takes out a cigarette, making a quip about Patty while he lights it, and your combined laughter rings out across the Baratie. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach.

Indeed, this is home.

#opla #one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #opla sanji #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #fem!reader #this one's for the girlies who burn water #look i came into opla thinking i'd be a 100% zoro stan but something abt opla sanji got me all <3 #like bro. who gave u the right to smile like that ;( #so i made a reader who adores him just as much as he adores them :)

[verstappen-cult]

I would LOVE a part two of the birthday drabble if ur open to that? maybe how max tries to ask for reader’s forgiveness? maybe asking Charles for help but he’s just like “no u gotta figure it out on ur own this time buddy” bc he’s mad at him too?

PART ONE. Max totally blanks on your birthday plans and it’s not pretty.

Max is pacing around the kitchen when you wake up the next morning. When his gaze snaps up to meet yours, you can see the bags under his eyes. You think about reaching for him when you remember what happened, so, you simply walk past him to make some coffee.

“Good morning, schat.” He whispers, looking down. You’re still very much hurt but seeing him like this breaks your heart. 

Maybe you’re being too mean, giving him the cold shoulder and not even meeting his eyes, but you also think about what your best friend said last night when you called her crying. He needs to sort out his priorities and give you what you deserve. And you also need to stand up for yourself, you’ve let Max get away with similar things in the past and it’s time for that to stop. 

“Good morning,” Charles says as he enters the kitchen. He looks at Max but doesn’t say anything when he sees his eyes filled with tears. You’re hurt but he’s angry. “Want me to drive to your appointment?” 

“Mmh.” You nod, taking your cup of coffee and going back to your room. 

Charles opens the fridge and tries to look busy waiting for Max to get the fuck out of the kitchen. But that doesn’t happen and he is forced to close the door and face his boyfriend. 

“Have you talked to her?” Max asks him, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Yea’,” Charles simply answers, trying to choose between an apple or banana for breakfast. You or Max are the ones always cooking because Charles just can’t do it, but you’re not in the mood to make breakfast and he’s definitely not gonna ask Max. “I’m not the one who fucked everything up.” 

“I’m sorry, okay? I just—I didn’t forget, but there were—”

“I don’t fucking care, Max. It was her birthday! It was supposed to be special but instead of enjoying the one day—the only day she really asks for our attention, she cried all the way home.”  

Max feels like crying again. He feels awful but doesn’t know what to do to make things better. 

The Dutchman opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Charles holds his palm up, shutting him up. 

“I won’t tell you what to do, you need to figure that out by yourself.” 

Charles storms out of the kitchen, leaving a sad Max behind. 

You don’t say goodbye when you leave but Charles, at least, tells him that they should be home by eight, to not wait for them because they will be having lunch together. He doesn’t ask Max if he wants to join. 

Max doesn’t know what to do. 

You’ve never been this angry before. Charles is a different story, they’ve been racing their whole lives together, so, he has seen parts of Charles you don’t even know. 

Max thinks about calling his mom to ask her for advice, God, even calling his sister, but rejects the idea because he knows what they will say. 

It’s all his fault. Stupid Max, stupid SimRacing—

Max gets up from the couch, he doesn’t know how much has passed since you left, but the sun is already sitting down. 

When Max enters his streaming room he wants to cry again. And he does. 

He cries as he disconnects everything. He cries when he smashes the camera onto the floor. He cries while throwing a chair across the room, crashing against the wall. He cries looking at the mess he made, the mess he is.

Max falls to the floor and cries, and cries, and cries, until he feels two strong arms around him and soft words spoken into his ear. 

“Max, breathe with me, please,” Charles begs, caressing his back and lifting his chin up with his free hand. Max’s gaze focuses on his face as he imitates his boyfriend, inhaling and exhaling slowly. It takes some time, but Max eventually stops shaking. “Oh, Max. What did you do?” Charles sounds so broken and disappointed, Max doesn’t want him to feel like that. He’s done so much already. 

Max starts crying again. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Charles wipes his tears and kisses his eyelids. 

Max doesn’t deserve this. 

“Hey, love.” Max turns his head around at the sound of your voice. You crouch down next to him, a soft smile dancing on your lips. “Would you drink this, please? For me?” He doesn’t need to be asked twice. You guide the glass to his lips and he drinks the water — with a little bit of sugar you always add when you’re not feeling okay. 

Max wants to talk, he wants to apologize again, he wants to scream at you and Charles for being so attentive with him when he doesn’t deserve it. But he feels so tired, all he can do is lean into your touch when you cradle his face with both your hands, palms comfortable against the stubble on his cheeks. 

“We’re gonna buy new things and me and Charles will help you set everything up, okay?”

Max wants to scream. Instead, he barely has the voice to say, “I don’t want any of this. I fucked up because of this stupid shit.”

“Max,” Charles calls his name, moving around so he’s sitting next to you. “You love it.”

“I love you more.” He simply says, looking between you and Charles. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…” He lets silent tears fall down his cheeks. 

“I know you’re sorry.” You lean to leave a kiss on his forehead, then, you look directly into his eyes. “I’m still hurt, Max. I won’t lie. We need to have a long conversation, the three of us, but I don’t want you to quit something that you love and enjoy so much. I just,” You notice you’re crying when Max wipes the tears with his thumb. “I want to be a priority in your life.”

“And you are!” He wants to smash his head onto the floor. “God you,” He takes your hand, lips quivering. “and you,” He takes Charles’s hand then. He guides them to his chest, just where his heart is. “are the most important people in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

There’s still so much to say but, for right now, you just want to be as close as possible. You’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to go from here.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱ #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lestappen x reader #f1 imagine #poly!f1 #f1 grid x reader

[fckoffjakegyllenhaal]

regina’s puppy (1)

// regina has a soft spot for you, but when she refuses to accept why, someone else might swoop in and take your attention away from her. //

warnings: mean!regina (not to reader), protective!regina, oblivious/innocent!reader, pinning, mutual pining but reader thinks it’s one-sided, use of “y/n”.

regina george definitely has a soft spot for you. if you ask her, she’d refer to it as a weak spot; resembling more like an invisible bruise inside of her that only you could see. you’d push and push it, til it bruises some more. until she’d sickly do just about anything you ask. it wasn’t a secret either; regina could be in the middle of being the worst human being on campus, and you’d just walk up to her with those big eyes of yours.

“hey gina!”

“did you see the new shake flavor at sonic? wanna ditch and go?”

“i stayed up all night reading the bell jar!”

regina would shift her undivided attention onto you within a millisecond, and you didn’t even realize it. you were so obliviously innocent. you didn’t have an underlying reason for getting close to the queen bee, you just caught her reading a book one day and started talking her ear off about it. the blonde, who got pure joy out of making girls like you cry, for some reason didn’t have it in her to tell you to fuck off or call you a dork. there was something about you that regina couldn’t quite place; it was something that made her heart flutter in her chest.

maybe it didn’t fully hit regina just how bad she had it for you until junior year. it was the middle of fall, and you had rushed up to her with a pair of sad eyes. “hey gina.” you greet her, but it isn’t your usual eager greeting. regina looks away from the mirror in her locker, looking at you. her brows furrow and a wave of concern washed over her, as she realizes you appear upset. “what’s wrong?” she demands, not even bothering to say hi back. “stacy matthew’s said i can’t be in debate club. she says i’m really nice and that’s not what they’re looking for.” you admit, and regina can feel the rage course through her before she slams her locker shut.

“where the fuck does stacy matthew’s get off telling you that you can or can’t be in debate club? she’s a fucking dork. come on.” she grabs your wrist and your eyes widen, shaking your head in protest but the blonde is already set on giving the raven haired girl a piece of her mind. nobody was going to make you sad and get away with it. “gina it’s okay i—“ you try but regina is already turning down the hallway, making her way up to a random group of students. they all go quiet as soon as regina is near. “where’s matthew’s?” regina questions demandingly, causing one of the students to nearly begin to tremble.

“st-stacy? she’s in the library i think—“ regina doesn’t even let the poor girl finish before she’s dragging you in the direction of the library. you weren’t really sure what you were expecting when you told regina about why you got rejected from the debate club, but this certainly wasn’t it. you weren’t expecting her to storm into the library. “everyone out.” she commands, and just like that, every student in the library is scurrying out. “not you.” the blonde hisses as she glowers at stacy who was in the middle of gathering her belongings. you watch the girl tense up, freezing, and a part of you feels guilty because of how terrified she looks.

“so it’s come to my attention that you think your dorky little debate club is too good for y/n…” regina trails off, and stacy’s eyes widen as her gaze flutters over to you. “don’t look at her for help, look at me.” regina snaps her fingers in stacy’s face; her behavior should cause you to be horrified, yet you can’t deny the heat at the bottom of your belly that comes from watching regina defend you. “it’s not— i didn’t say we were too good, i said she was too nice, regina. you know it too, that’s why you’re here debating for her.” stacy’s comment causes you to look down at your shoes, knowing she isn’t wrong.

“y/n is smarter than you will ever be. her gpa is higher than yours, and she had better exam grades last year. she doesn’t need to be a cunt to debate, she just has to be right… and she always is. you didn’t deny her a spot in your club because she’s too nice. you’re afraid she’s better than you.” regina hits her right where it hurts, and the way stacy’s face morphs into an ugly angry expression causes your eyes to widen. you had actually believed stacy when she said you were too nice for debate club, but now as you watch her react to regina’s accusations, you realize she only said that because she didn’t want you in the club at all.

“i’ll give you the rest of tonight to reconsider giving her a spot on the debate team. if you don’t, i have no control over whether or not the club gets banned… i mean, considering my parents are the ones who fund it.” regina puts on her best falsified sorry expression, and it causes stacy’s eyes to widen at the threat. her eyes lock with yours before regina clasps a hand around your wrist. she drags you out of the library, muttering angrily as she does so. “ugh, the nerve of that fucking bitch.” regina sounds genuinely upset, and you frown.

“you didn’t have to do that…” you whisper, barley being able to find your voice. she comes to a stop, turning around to face you with a deadly serious expression etched onto her features. “i did because you would’ve just let it go. she can’t just act like the queen of debate club; even the cheerleaders started being inclusive!” regina rambles a bit, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling. “yeah but i’m pretty sure debate club is all stacy matthew’s has. it’s fine. i mean, it’s not fine, but it’s clearly more important to her.” you shrug easily and regina huffs in clear frustration.

“that’s exactly why people think you’re too nice! you can’t just let people do or say whatever they want to you, and just let it go! just twelve minutes ago you wanted to cry about it.” regina points out, and you press your lips together. “if i held on to it every time someone upset me, i’d be a really sad person.” you confess lightly, but this does nothing to ease regina’s anger. “well, i’ll hold on to it for you. she’s going in the burn book.” regina mutters the last part, making you a quirk a brow at her. “the burn book?” you question, and she purses her lips tightly, realizing she might have said to much.

“it’s just this thing the girls and i have been working on…” regina’s demeanor shifts, and your brows knit together. “you and the girls? as in gretchen and karen? can i see?” you ask hopefully, and regina shakes her head quickly “no way.” she answers, and as soon as she sees you deflate, a look of disappointment taking over your features, she relents. “it’s not finished yet, and it’s kind of a secret…” she trails off, “i promise i won’t tell anyone! at all! not even riley.” you promise, mentioning your best friend who’s being home schooled this year. regina chews on her bottom lip; she’s well aware the burn book is just a harsh joke her and her friends came up with. but she isn’t sure whether you’d think it’s funny or not.

though regina can’t seem to be able to tell you no. “okay, but most of it was gretchen.” she lies as she begins to lead you towards the exit of the school. karen and gretchen furrow their eyebrows in clear confusion as they watch their best friend leave with you. even though school ended almost half an hour ago, usually regina would opt to hang out with the plastics. sometimes she even just stayed after school to “ogle” the football team during practice. but here regina was, leaving school with you. sure, her friends knew about her weird tolerance of you… but now you were hanging out?

“wait are we going to your house?” you ask uncertainly as you both approach her expensive car. she flashes you a look that says “duh”, “that’s where the book is.” she states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “shouldn’t you call your mom and ask her for permission for me to come over?” you inquire timidly, and although the butterflies in her stomach flutter due to how adorable you are, she rolls her eyes feigning annoyance. “she doesn’t care. get in, loser.” she commands, and you immediately obey; getting into the passenger side.

regina’s car smells like her perfume, and the backseat is messy. “your moms so cool for letting you drive by yourself with just your permit.” you say out loud and regina shrugs, “she’s alright.” she mutters as she hands you her phone. “pick a song.” she insists and your cheeks flush. “o-okay.” the way you stutter causes you to mentally facepalm, but regina finds it hard to stifle a smile at how cute she finds you. you put on a taylor swift song, and she snorts, “so cliche.” she says, her eyes unusually soft, as the sky and your heart does this pathetic little lurch at the sight of her smiling. regina looks so beautiful when she smiles; it almost makes you forget how she almost made stacy matthew’s piss herself a little while ago.

regina’s house is even bigger than you imagined. you knew her family was rich, but you didn’t think they were this wealthy. your eyes are as big as dinner plates as you look around the house. as soon as you walk in you can hear regina’s little sister in the living room; practicing dance routines in front of the tv. “ignore her that’s my sister kylie. everything she does, i did it first.” regina retorts simply, and you raise your brows as you follow her through her house. “hi honey! i made lunch— oh, who’s this?” a woman who you assume is regina’s mom comes out of the kitchen.

she’s wearing tight leggings and a top that barely covers anything. regina grimaces at the sight of her mom, “this is my friend, y/n. we’re gonna be upstairs for awhile. don’t bother us.” she warns harshly, and you offer the older woman a bashful smile. “it’s nice to meet you, mrs. george.” you let out before regina pulls you up the stairs, and towards her room. “your mom seems… nice.” you say as nicely as you can, and she scoffs. “she’s totally embarrassing. she lives vicariously through me.” she deadpans as you both walk into her bedroom.

her room is exactly how you imagined it. it’s pink and girly; there are various posters of celebrities on the walls. her bed was huge. “your room is so cool!” you exclaim, and she tries to fight the grin tugging at her lips. “it’s okay. i’ve been meaning to redecorate it, but i’m gonna make gretchen do it.” regina snickers and you giggle. “that’s mean.” you halfheartedly respond, and she tenses up. she wonders if you’ll laugh that way when you see the burn book. even though you aren’t in it, she isn’t sure if anyone you know is.

“so where’s the book?” you ask curiously as you take a seat on the corner of her bed. regina’s smile falls as she keeps her back to you, she reluctantly disappears into her closet, only to reappear with a big pink book in her hands. your eyes light up as she makes her way over to you, and sits by you. “you have to promise you won’t leave after reading this.” she states stringently, making you pause. you look at her in confusion, “it’s just… this book is like a fucked up version of the year book. we make fun of all the girls from school in it.” she admits hesitantly, and your face falls.

“am… am i in it?” you quietly ask, and regina shakes her head rapidly. “no! no, you’re not.” she promises and you nod. “okay, so why would i get mad?” you question, and regina sighs as she opens the book. you begin to read all of the cruel things her and her friends write about other girls. when you get to the part where regina makes fun of becky martin for getting a bob freshman year, you involuntarily giggle. suddenly there’s this lightbulb that lights up above her head.

“y/n, you should sit with me at lunch tomorrow.” she says, and you tense up, prying your eyes away from the burn book to look at regina. “you mean with you and the plastics?” you ask uncertainly, and regina rolls her eyes. “why does everyone call them that?” she mutters, and you shake your head. “because you’re all perfect like plastic barbie dolls.” you answer simply, and this causes the blonde to quirk her eyebrows to her hairline. “you think gretchen and karen are perfect?” she asks with a scoff, and you nod quickly. “duh! you’re all so… pretty. everyone knows girls like me don’t sit at the “it” table.” you half joke, and regina rolls her eyes.

“i decide who sits at that table, and i’m deciding you’re sitting there with us from now on.” regina stringently states, her tone indicates she’s up for no debates. “we’ll start by giving you a makeover.” she declares, as she gets up. “come on, we’re going to the mall.” she adds, and you throw her an “are you serious” sort of look. “gina… i really don’t think that’s a good idea.” you try, but she pulls you off the bed, and onto your feet. “i’m already picturing how cute you’d look in bellbottoms.” she says, as she drags you out of her bedroom, the burn book long forgotten.

“i can’t buy bellbottoms! they’re like forty bucks a pair!” you stress, as regina leads you down the stairs, never once letting go of your hand. “i have my dads card, relax.” she assures you easily, and you frown, but don’t protest. you know better than to try and argue with regina, especially when you’d let her get away with anything and you think she knows it.

regina ends up spending over four hundred dollars on you, much to your dismay. no matter how much you protest, or try to secretly put items back, she was hellbent on giving you a makeover. thankfully regina claimed you had flawless features that didn’t need makeup, so you avoided the makeup stores altogether. when regina drops you off at your house, you have a hand full of shopping bags and you have to rush to your room in secrecy. fortunately your brothers are too transfixed with some horror video game, and your older sister was nowhere to be seen.

as soon as you’re in the privacy of your bedroom, you let out a little breath. today was the strangest day ever. you were used to your strange friendship with regina, but it was usually only a few meaningful conversations here and there. regina george was never full on “queen bee” around you for some reason, but she had never defended you like she did today. a part of you felt bad about telling regina what stacy did, but the way the blonde threatened the debate teams captain for you made your heart flutter.

tomorrow you were having lunch with regina and “the plastics”; you had to pick an outfit before you went to sleep which was out of the ordinary for you. you’ve never been the type to get ready for school, but there’s this insistent need to impress regina that you suddenly have. the way she ogled you when you had tried on the out of character outfits made your stomach tingle. the nerves in your body only increase as you think about it. as you stare at the various shopping bags, you know there’s no going back now; you feel indebted to regina george.

#regina george #regina george x fem!reader #regina george x reader #regina george mean girls #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #renee rapp x fem!reader #regina george x reader angst #mean girls #regina george x y/n #regina george x you

[munson-blurbs]

Headcanon: Eddie is a boob man. Best friend Eddie would one day notice your boobs (maybe in a bathing suit or a low cut top or something) and they become his new obsession hehe

Us? Projecting? Never.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unwanted boners, semi-public masturbation (m), Eddie's a perv but he's not thrilled about it, Reader has boobs but no size is given (Eddie loves all boobs, let's be real)

WC: 1.3k

Divider credit to @saradika

Stupid D20. 

Stupid Dustin for tossing it so far across the table. 

Stupid low-cut shirt that exposes your chest when you lean over to collect the die, giving Eddie a stupid boner in the middle of Hellfire Club. 

“Hey, Ed!” Gareth calls out impatiently, snapping his fingers in front of the Dungeon Master’s face. “You wanna tell us if we defeated the demogorgon, or are you just gonna stare off into space?”

Eddie clears his throat. “Sorry. Right.” He tries his best to proceed with the campaign as usual, but all he can think about are your boobs and how grateful he is to be sitting down right now. 

When he adjourns the meeting, he’s still too hard to stand without someone noticing. “I’m just gonna, uh, hang back and brainstorm for a few,” he lies as smoothly as he can. 

“Can’t wait to see what sadistic shit you come up with,” Mike says. The rest of the guys slap him five in agreement as they clamor out the door. 

The only people left in the room are you and Eddie. 

Of course. 

“You don’t have to stick around, Sweetheart.” He tries not to sound too dismissive, plastering a smile on his face. 

“You’re my ride.”

Shit. “Oh. Right.” He hedges a nervous laugh. “I’ll be ready in five.”

You nod. “No worries. I’ll run to the girls’ room while I wait.” Before reaching the door, you notice that Lucas’s character sheet has fluttered to the ground. You reach down and scoop it up, revealing the tops of your bra-covered breasts. 

“Sinclair owes me,” you chirp, placing the paper back on the table, remaining utterly oblivious to the way Eddie is straining against his zipper once again. 

To Eddie’s credit, he tries to stop thinking about them. He really, truly does. 

You’re his best friend. He doesn’t want to constantly think about your boobs, or the way they’d feel pressed against his bare chest, or whether your nipples would harden if he sucked on them, or—

“Mr. Munson!” Ms. O’Donnell’s shrill screech snaps him out of his breast-induced stupor. “Is there a reason why you can’t be bothered to listen while I’m trying to teach?”

“N-No, ma’am.”

She huffs out an irritated sigh. “Since you must know everything already, why don’t you come up and solve the problem for us?” She taps the piece of chalk against the blackboard, leaving tiny white dots in its wake. 

Eddie shakes his head, feeling his cheeks burn red. Humiliating himself when he can’t figure out the value of x will be bad enough, but to fail while his sail is at half-mast? He’ll never recover. 

Fortunately, the old bird relents and turns back to the board to continue her lesson. 

Crisis averted. 

Except…is it?

Because the only thing—things, rather—on Eddie’s mind are your tits. And he isn’t supposed to be imagining himself caressing them while you’re bouncing on his cock, moaning his name, saying that only he can make you feel that good…

He’s racing out of his seat the moment the bell rings, making a mad dash for the Hellfire room, relieved to see that it’s unoccupied. The door barely closes behind him before he’s ambling towards his DM throne and frantically tugging down his jeans and boxers. 

“Fucking Christ,” he whispers, inhaling sharply as his cock is free of its denim restraint. He wraps his hand around it and squeezes in his desperation for an ounce of relief. Pre-cum already leaks from his red, angry tip, and he knows from experience that this is not going away without some…intervention. 

Eddie reluctantly lets go of himself and spits into his open palm. He bites his lower lip to stifle a burgeoning moan as he slowly works his shaft, fingers tightening to simulate what he imagines to be the way you’d feel. 

“Thassit, mmmf, feels s’good.” He closes his eyes and rests the back of his head on his chair. He needs you underneath him so he can watch your breasts jiggle with each snap of his hips. 

“Bet you want my cum, huh? Where do you want it?” Eddie keeps his voice low, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Want it on those pretty tits of yours? Yeah, you fuckin’ do.”

His fist flies over his hardness, choked whimpers escaping his lips. He feels pleasure begin to build and moans your name to bring himself over the edge. 

“Yeah?”

Eddie’s head snaps forward, taking a moment to let reality seep in. He’s not buried deep within you; he’s jerking off in a dark room where he plays Dungeons & Dragons, and you’re standing in the doorway. 

“Eds? You okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. ‘M fine,” he lies, silently brainstorming ways to tuck himself back into his pants without you noticing. 

You arch a disbelieving brow. “You sure? Lucas said he saw you running down the hallway—”

“I’m fine!” He insists louder this time. Shaking his head, he bites his lip and attempts to collect himself. 

The two of you have been friends for too long; you know that he’s far from fine when he raises his voice. You walk to him, determined to figure out what’s wrong. 

And then you see it. 

Eddie says nothing, fully focused on covering himself as best he can and avoiding eye contact. 

It doesn’t take long for you to put the pieces together: semi-hard cock in his hand, sweat beading on his forehead, the pleading mentions of your name. 

“Eddie.” You let your fingertips brush against his shoulder. “Did I interrupt?”

He only nods in response. 

“What were you thinking about?”

Eddie exhales a long breath before answering. “You,” he finally answers. “And th-that shirt you wore yesterday.” His cock twitches at the mere reminder of it. 

You grin knowingly. You’d bought it at the mall specifically because of its low-cut neckline, hoping it would catch Eddie’s attention. 

Apparently, it very much had. 

“You liked it?” 

“Loved it.” He starts stroking himself again, almost unaware of his own movements. “Want you to wear it every damn day,” he adds with a hoarse chuckle. 

Swiping your tongue over your lower lip, you lean in and whisper in his ear, “What if I didn’t wear one at all?”

With that, you lift your shirt over your head and unhook your bra, letting them both fall to the ground unceremoniously. Eddie’s eyes widen, gazing at your exposed chest. 

“Oh, baby,” he breathes, his free hand reaching out to touch them. His thumb grazes one nipple and he gives your breast a gentle squeeze. “Baby, they’re perfect.”

You smile, using your hip to nudge the table away and get on your knees in front of him. “Keep going, Eds.”

He nods again, shifting forward a bit so you’re between his legs. “Gonna…gonna cum all over these perfect tits,” he grunts. “Please. Please, I gotta…”

“You can cum on them, Eds.”

And, fuck, does he. Thick ropes spill out of his cock, painting your chest in a sticky film. He’s crying out your name as he does it, milking every last drop. 

He floats down from the high, staring at your chest and admiring the way he’s claimed you. “That…wow,” he manages, laughing nervously. “Let me clean you up.” He reaches for the tissues, wiping whatever is still leaking out of him before sopping up the mess on your breasts. 

“I don’t know where we go from here,” he admits sheepishly, wadding up the Kleenex and tossing it into the trash. “Like, do I take you on a date? Bend you over the table?” He says the second option teasingly, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t turn you down if you agreed to it. 

You re-clasp your bra and shrug on your shirt. “We could try a date,” you say as casually as you can. 

“Dinner and a movie?”

“I’ll wear that shirt.”

--

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #smut #requests

[pathologicalreid]

Can you write bau!reader who is pregnant x spencer, they have an argument and spencer gets really angry, snaps at her and then leaves, and she ends up going into labor early

brilliance | S.R.

in which reader goes into labor after a fight and spencer is nowhere to be found

who? spencer reid x fem!pregnant!BAU!reader category: angst content warnings: pregnancy/labor, hospitals, premature birth, possible medical inaccuracy. word count: 2.41k a/n: thank you for the request anon! this one kind of got away from me so it's a little long. i feel inclined to tell you that my place holder title for this request was "womp womp"

You followed your husband into the bullpen, he was on a tear, and unfortunately, you found yourself on the receiving end. “Spencer, slow down,” you pleaded with him, walking as fast as you were able in order to catch up with him.

He spun around and looked at you, “You shouldn’t even have been in the field, Y/N! What if something had happened to you?” He dropped his bag on his desk and glared at you, you hated seeing that fire in his eyes, but you needed to stand your ground.

“I was not in the field, we happened to be nearby, and a crime was being committed,” you corrected him, “Luke went in. I stayed in the SUV, Spence.”

Spencer shook his head like he was trying to tell you that your answer wasn’t good enough, “You are thirty-four weeks pregnant, you should have stayed here.”

Frustrated, you threw your hands up, “That’s not the deal, Spencer. Non-dangerous field situations, remember? It’s worked until now.”

“The point I’m trying to make is that any non-violent situation can turn violent,” he told you, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Shrugging, you stepped towards him, “You’re right, but-“

“Then how could you be so stupid? Putting yourself in danger like that?” He said, cutting you off.

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of your lungs. You opened your mouth to respond when Rossi came out of his office, oblivious to the discussion the two of you were having, he went to Spencer and asked him if he wanted to check out a lead they had on the case.

To your surprise, he went with Rossi, leaving you in the bullpen, staring after him as the elevator doors closed. “Hey,” a familiar voice said next to you. “What do you say we go visit Penelope?” JJ asked you as she set a comforting hand on your arm, not waiting for an answer as she led you out of the glass doors and towards Penelope’s office.

You covered your face with your hands, “Did everyone just see that?” You whispered, horrified.

“I wouldn’t worry about that right now,” she said, knocking on the door before Garcia invited you in. JJ grabbed chairs for the two of you and you gratefully accepted.

Slouched in the chair, your eyes burned as JJ recounted the story for Penelope. “He called her what?” You shifted uncomfortably in the chair, a dull ache in your lower back preventing you from getting comfortable.

It seemed inevitable; you married a guy with six degrees. You were always bound to be the less intelligent one in the relationship. You just never thought Spencer would be the one reminding you of it. It's one of your biggest insecurities, and he broadcasted it for the entire BAU to hear.

“Oh,” Garcia said, “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. I cannot believe he said that to you!” She waved a pen in the air, which was about the extent of her anger. “And then he just left?” She groaned, “Men.”

“Amen,” JJ concurred.

You didn’t answer, you just wiped a tear from your cheek and took a deep breath, the pain in your back subsiding.

Garcia looked at you and smiled, “he’ll come back, and when he does, I highly encourage you to call him stupid.”

Halfheartedly, you smiled at her, “Thanks, Pen. I just…” The ache grew in your back again, “I wish I knew what was going through his head.”

“He’s probably nervous about being a dad,” JJ admitted. “It’s something he’s always wanted, and years ago he had kind of resorted to the idea that it wasn’t going to happen. Then you got married, and then you got pregnant, and things changed again.”

You gripped the arm of the chair and tried to ignore the worried look that the two blondes exchanged.

Penelope leaned forward, “Are you alright?” She asked nervously.

Nodding, you winced, which definitely gave you away. “It’s just Braxton Hicks,” you said, waving away her concern.

JJ raised her eyebrows, “Are they coming consistently?” She asked, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out her phone.

“Uh, maybe? I haven’t been timing them. They’ve been coming all morning… Wait, hey! No, I can’t be in labor,” you said, you were only thirty-four weeks.

Helping you stand, Garcia looked at you, as serious as you’ve ever seen her and said, “It might be a good idea to get checked out anyways, okay? It might be nothing.”

She didn’t have to say it for you to know, it could be nothing, but you could also be having a baby today. You hadn’t picked godparents, you hadn’t picked a name, and you didn’t have your hospital bag with you. “I’ll go tell Emily,” JJ said, rushing out of the room and leaving you with Penelope.

“There has to be something about this room, this is where JJ went into labor with Henry many moons ago,” Penelope picked up her things.

Tears pricked your eyes, but you swallowed them down, “Will you call him for me?” You asked her, watching as she quickly dialed Spencer’s number on her phone.

She failed to hide the way her face fell when he didn’t answer, “I will- I’m going to keep calling until I get an answer.”

Phones weren’t allowed in the room, so JJ sat next to your hospital bed while Penelope tried to reach Spencer. “If he misses this, I’m going to throttle him,” JJ said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“If he misses this, it’s going to crush him,” you whispered, watching the monitor you were hooked up to. He might’ve hurt your feelings, but missing the birth of your baby? That was something he couldn’t get back. Your doctor had tried to stop your labor, but you kept progressing anyway. “Did she try Rossi?”

JJ nodded, looking out into the hallway as Penelope paced through the hallway, her heels clicking on the hospital floor.

You took a deep breath, “I’m worried they’re in trouble, or something happened. Oh my god, JJ. What if something happened?”

Vaguely aware of how your heart rate spiked, JJ grabbed your hand, “Hey, don’t worry about that. They would’ve called for backup if they were in trouble.”

Nodding, you leaned back into the pillows, the number of machines you were hooked up to made it hard to get comfortable. That didn’t even account for the contractions. “I’m glad you’re here because you know what’s happening. Even though we’re on an active case,” you told her.

“And you’re in active labor, of course I’m here,” she told you.

The doctor came back in to check on you, and when she told you that you were nearly there you cried. You had been with Spencer for years, at some points it genuinely felt like you had gone to hell and back together. One bickering match at Quantico wasn’t enough to stop the two of you.

From the hallway, you heard Penelope shout, “Oh my god, David Rossi!”

You watched as Spencer rushed through the hospital hallway, his shoes squeaking as he turned to face you in the doorway. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t know where to begin.

“Hey JJ, can you give us a minute?” You asked, reaching out to squeeze her hand. After assuring her that you were going to be fine, she walked out of the room, neglecting to greet Spencer on her way out. “She’s mad at you,” you explained. “Garcia too,” you finished, your eyes following him as he sat down in the chair that JJ had previously occupied.

Slowly, Spencer slowly approached your bed, his eyes flicked over to the bassinet that would soon hold your baby before his golden irises studied your face. Taking a deep breath, he reached over and held your left hand – the one that brandished your wedding ring. “They’ll live,” he assured you, “but what about you?”

You hummed, “Maybe on a different day, I’d be mad at you. Not today though. You hurt my feelings, but I’m not mad at you.” He tenderly kissed the back of your hand as another contraction roiled through you.

“I’m sorry,” he told you earnestly, “I’m so sorry.” He looked around the room, “Only you would go into labor and not realize it. How’s your pain?” He asked, immediately jumping into his role.

Smiling softly, you tilted your head towards him, “You always said my high pain tolerance would get me in trouble someday.” You shifted slightly in the bed, “I’m good, Spence, honest.” Of course, the epidural helped immensely. “I just wish I had the bag,” you admitted.

He grinned, “I have it.” Reaching behind him, he grabbed the bag and lifted it up to show you. The two of you had packed the hospital bag together, and fortunately had the foresight to pack it early.

“I love you!” You blurted, laughing despite yourself. “Oh, I was so upset, Spence!”

Leaning forward, Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, your skin was clammy, but he didn’t seem to mind. “We were on our way, but I knew you’d want it. In between encouraging me and berating me, Dave stopped so I could grab it from the house. I felt like I needed to bring it as reparations.”

You shook your head, “I’ll get my reparations. I’ll get them in the form of you changing diapers and waking up in the middle of the night.”

He laughed slightly before the smile faded from his face. “You know I think you’re brilliant, right?” Spencer whispered, his expression serious. “Genuinely, Y/N. You’ll say I’m the genius, but your ability to keep up with me is unmatched. It’s one of the reasons I love you so much.”

You opened your mouth to respond but groaned as a contraction hit you.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, “You’ve got this, love. You’re doing incredible.” As the pain subsided, your eyebrows furrowed, and he noticed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Taking a deep breath, you looked up at him, “I want to push,” you answered.

He nodded and stood up, “I’ll go get the doctor.”

Before he left, he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Spence,” you whispered, “You’re going to be a great dad,” you told him. You were thinking about what you had talked to JJ and Garcia about earlier, about Spencer being worried about being a dad. He could worry all he wanted, you knew Spencer Reid, and you knew he was going to be an incredible father.

Smiling softly, he responded, “You’re going to be an even better mom.” He assured you that he’d be right back before he went into the hallway.

Small.

She was so small. Just under five pounds, but to your relief, she came out crying. She'd need to spend some time in the NICU, but for now she was with you.

She had been measured, wiped down, tested, and fed, and now she was asleep on your chest. “You’re hovering,” you whispered, sparing a glance over at your husband. He was slightly leaning over the bed with his chin resting in his hands. The two of you had named her Lucie, after a character in your favorite Dickens novel.

“Get used to it,” he whispered back at you. Reaching over and pulling your daughter’s blanket further over her tiny shoulders. Moving his hand up to you, he swept an awry strand of hair from your face, “How are you?”

You felt like your body had been put through a laundry wringer, but you just closed your eyes and hummed, settling back into the pillows even more. “Sore, but happy. Exhausted, but exhilarated. I also kind of feel like bursting into tears,” you said, keeping your voice low. “And don’t lecture me about my hormones, or I will burst into tears.”

Spencer smiled slightly, “You should rest. Do you want to put her in the bassinet?” He said, the bassinet was right next to your bed so you could easily access it.

“Why don’t you hold her?” You asked softly, studying his body language. “She’s your daughter, there’s nothing to worry about,” you tried to comfort him.

He shook his head, “That’s exactly why I’m worried.”

You waited for him to continue. Over the years, you had seen him with Henry, Michael, and Hank, he handled them all very well, but he seemed unnerved by your daughter. “Are you upset that she’s a girl?” You asked, looking around at the pink balloons in the room.

“What? No, definitely not. It’s not that she’s a girl, it’s that she’s my girl,” Spencer said, speaking with his hands as he clarified what was bothering him.

My girl. Your heart clenched at his words. “Here,” you said, adjusting the baby so you could hand her to her dad. Lucie’s mittened hands flailed slightly but she didn’t fully rouse, quickly settling onto her father’s chest. “Spencer, you are not your father,” you told him, keeping your voice firm.

He pressed his lips together in a thin white line and nodded, “I know.”

“Do you? Because I really need you to know that,” you insisted. “You’re not your father. Do you know how I know that?”

Spencer closed his eyes, and a tear streamed down his cheek. “Because you’re brilliant?”

You grinned and shook your head, “No, Spence. It’s because I know you. Your loyalty knows no bounds, and sometimes you say stupid things, but I know that you love me. I know that you love our daughter, and I know that you’ll never leave. I promise never to take advantage of that so long as you promise to never change.”

He seemed to think about your words for a moment, looking down at the sleeping newborn in his arms. “You are brilliant,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“You said that already,” you whispered. Really, Spencer had apologized so many times that you had lost count.

Spencer sighed, and you could almost see the tension leave his body, “’You have been the last dream of my soul,’” He quoted to you. “I was scared. No amount of fear can justify what I said to you.”

You watched as Lucie wriggled in Spencer’s arms, “Maybe not, but you have the rest of our lives to make it up to me.” In the quiet hospital room, you heard a bubbling sound, “You could probably start by changing her diaper.”

please reblog, comment, and/or like if you enjoyed 💛

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #margot's asks #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #reid #reid x you

[floswife]

SORE LOSER - T.N X READER

Pairing: Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Theodore and Y/n learn how to better focus their hate for each other

Warnings: SMUT, oral, dubcon..?

Author’s notes: this is my first time writing smut so I honestly apologise for how inevitably bad this will be 💀

Y/n didn’t know what it was about seeing the anger flash before Theo’s eyes when she’d taunt him, but it honestly was her main motivation when competing against him.

Like now in this quidditch match as she threw the quaffle threw the goal hoops once more, she had to turn to look at Theo for a split second just for the sake of rubbing salt into the wound. She would like to lie and say she was ashamed of her pettiness but what’s the point in that?

She had been out to get him ever since he made her cauldron explode in potions, which prompted Snape to hate her even more than he usually did with Gryffindors. Which was quite a feat, she wasn’t on a Harry Potter level of hatred but on the other hand Snape didn’t have a perpetual hard on for her mother either so that probably helped her too.

In hindsight it was a petty reason to name someone your sworn enemy, but his smug smile when he saw her turn to glare at him was enough to set her eleven year old brain off. Plus she just really liked being a hater for no reason.

After successfully winning the game she went over to Theo who was leaning against the wall, looking like a kicked puppy, she couldn’t lie, seeing him like that really did numbers on her but she wasn’t about to let that get in the way of her favourite thing to do with Theo, gloat.

“How does it feel to lose yet again, Nott?” She called out cheerily, the broad grin he loved hated so much painted across her face.

He groaned in annoyance at the sound of her voice, “leave me alone, l/n, I’m not in the mood.”

He had always been a sore loser, she laughed in amusement “or what? I’m sorry but the last I checked you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Theo glared at her as she stood in front of him, both of them still in their quidditch uniforms, he towered over her but she did well to push that thought to the back of her mind as she had been doing ever since he annoyingly hit a growth spurt in third year. She remembered how ranted about it to her friends later on, pretending to ignore her friends knowing smirks as she’d feel a rosy blush rise to her cheeks every time she had to crane her neck to meet his cold gaze.

“Why do you always have to be such a brat?” He sneered at the girl.

“Oh I’m the brat? I’m not the one sulking like a child because I lost a match.” Y/n’s continuous retorts just made him snap.

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her to follow after him, practically dragging her, and took her under the quidditch stands.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She rubbed her wrist in annoyance at his harsh grip.

“I’m gonna teach you how to shut up.” He pushed her down to her knees and she looked up at him in shock, she looked forward and saw the prominent tent in his trousers, “now be a good girl and listen to me for once.” His voice was slightly whiny as he said that, like he was begging her.

Y/n gulped, really beginning to question her morals, but all her internal monologue silenced when he unzipped his trousers and freed his member from its constraints with a throaty groan, wetness pooled between her legs at the sound and just the sight of his pretty cock. Merlin he was big.

He rubbed the tip along her lips, the salty taste of his precum invaded her tastebuds.

“Open your mouth and put that mouth to good use.” He demanded, she did as she was told and tentatively kitten licked the tip, he threw his head back in satisfaction and let out a whimper? She then wrapped her mouth around his tip and sucked.

He moaned her name out even louder, making her moan around his cock at the sound, she took as much of him down her throat as possible, she gagged when he hit the back of her throat but she powered through, bobbing her head up and down and using her hand to pump at the parts of his shaft that couldn’t fit in her mouth.

“Fuck! Just like that. Taking me so well.”

He was groaning loudly, and she suddenly gained awareness that they weren’t exactly in the most private of places, she tried to pull away to tell him to shut up but he just wrapped a hand in her hair and pushed her back down, he began thrusting his hips and fucked her mouth, tears ran down her cheeks and saliva dribbled out the corners of her mouth as he used her as he pleased. The thought of how blatantly he was using her as just an object couldn’t help but arouse her.

“Being such a good girl for me.”

He held her head down on his cock and she struggled to breath, he twitched before releasing down her throat, he pulled out and tapped her cheek, “swallow.”

He tucked himself away and she got up and stuck out her tongue to show him she swallowed.

He now smirked, “it wasn’t that hard to listen now was it?”

Y/n was still in a haze as she tried to compose herself and have the decency to at least pretend to be embarrassed and tried to pull away but he firmly placed his hands on her hips and pulled her right back against him again, “Shut up, Nott.”

He raised his brows teasingly and she couldn’t help but grow frustrated at how he had switched the tables on her so quickly when she was so clearly set up for a win.

“That’s not how someone who just had my cock down my throat should be speaking, now is it?” His voice was mocking, condescending.

She get that familiar heat pool between her thighs once more and she remained speechless, he smirked.

“Such a shame, you were gonna get a reward for being such a good girl.”

She tried to gain her composure as she scoffed, “like I’d want it.” She really did want it

He leaned in, that stupid lazy smirk on his lips again, “so you’re not soaked right now?”

Her eyes widened and he then inched his hand from her hip to under her waistband, as soon as his fingers touched her wetness that had completely soaked through her panties she moaned lightly, her eyes rolling back at the contact she was yearning this whole time.

“Theo!” She gasped.

He pulled his fingers away just as quickly as it came he pulled his finger and he brought it to his lips to suck her juices clean from it and he hummed, “so sweet.. on second thought, let’s continue this tonight, room of requirements?”

“What-“

And just like that he left her there, needy for his touch.

She really did hate him.

But he was so hot.

Looks like she had plans for the night.

Part two?

#harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fluff #harry potter smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fic #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott smut #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott fluff #theo nott fanfiction #theo nott fic #theo nott smut #lorenzo zurzolo #lorenzo Zurzolo x reader #lorenzo zurzolo smut

[dark-tides-in-faerun]

I have poor blood circulation and on cold nights look like a stereotypical vampire. Could you write a humorous, SFW fic of someone seeing Tav's bite marks and pale complexion and telling Astarion to keep his bloodsucking friend on a tight leash? (Tav can be GN or female, either work for me).

Thank you so much for requesting ilysm! So I realized that I’ve never written anyone in a fit of laughter before (possibly for a reason LOL) but here’s my best attempt 🧡

The Vampire in the Tavern

sfw Astarion x you story!

Astarion is angry.

He’d finally managed to get you to himself, a night at last without the others vying for your attention, and some peasant woman keeps looking over at you from the bar, dark eyes sliding up your body in a way that he knows all too well.

It’s possessive. It’s proprietary. And it’s pissing him off. 

It had started as just mildly irritating, a glance here and there. But she’d been at it for at least an hour now, and not only does that wretch have no right to eye up his partner, but the implication that she finds you more appealing than she does him is vexing. Extremely vexing. And it doesn’t seem to matter how many times Astarion touches you. How many times his fingers lightly graze the line of your jaw or brush against your hand, that godsforsaken woman won’t stop staring.

And you’ve not noticed, of course. For a formidable warrior and your party’s fearless leader, your lack of awareness of your surroundings is astounding, especially where Astarion is concerned. It’s a trait that exasperates and exhilarates him in equal measure. He could do without it on the battlefield, but in a social setting, he delights in it. The way that just catching your eye can cause words to die on your lips, whatever conversation you’d been in briefly forgotten with just a little glance from him. He slips his hand a little higher up your thigh just to prove it to himself, and when your breath catches in response, he smiles.

If only that bloody woman would stop staring, this had the beginnings of a very promising night indeed.

You clear your throat, cheeks flushed and put both hands on the table, pushing yourself to your feet. Astarion frowns but you shoot him an apologetic smile that’s meant to reassure and it does, sinking through his skin and warming his unbeating heart. It’s adorable.

“I’ll be right back. Nature calls.” You say, by way of explanation, and though you’re trying to keep your voice steady, he can hear your desire, thick and sweet as it sticks in your throat. Delicious.

“I’ll be waiting, my sweet.” He lets the words fall from his lips in a way that’s sultry and intentional, staring up at you from beneath dark eyelashes, and you actually shiver. Astarion grins, delighted with himself, as you flush and turn away. His eyes dart back to the woman, and his grin dies on his lips, mood immediately souring again as her beady little eyes fix on you as you make your way to the bathroom.

The absolute fucking audacity.

You see the cords in her throat working as she swallows, biting her lip, and the she does something even more audacious than simply looking at you. As soon as the latrine door swings shut behind you, she rises to her feet and starts to walk over to the table.

Astarion glares up at her, not bothering to hide his irritation, as she comes to a halt at the edge of the booth. She looks uneasy, calloused fingers pulling at the threads of her road worn shirt, and Astarion swears that if she so much as asks for your name he’s going to rip her throat out where she stands, witnesses be damned.

She hovers for a moment, not speaking, and that serves to only annoy him more.

“Yes?” his voice is tight and cold, and she flinches at the harshness. Good.

“I-I’m sorry to interrupt you sir, but…” She trails off into silence and he grinds his teeth.

“Yes, well how sorry can you truly be, given that you have interrupted me.” He snaps and Astarion frowns as he realises that she’s actually shivering. What in the nine hells. He knows that you’re good looking, but this is a bit much. “Come on then, spit it out. I haven’t got all night.”

“I… I’m sorry, but I couldn’t just – I couldn’t in good conscience sit by.” She says and he raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink. A strange way to approach the topic of wanting to snatch his date from him, but at least it was a start. “Sir, you’re in grave danger.”

He splutters, spitting wine over the table in a most undignified way as she stares back at him, wide eyed and fearful.

“I’m sorry, what?” He manages, when he stops choking long enough to speak. His voice is too loud, and the people at the next table look over, but it’s like he’s lost control of his faculties. This is not how this conversation was meant to go.

“It’s true, sir, and there’s not much time. You must leave, now.”

“And might I ask why?” he asks, incredulously, and then immediately recoils in disgust as the woman shoots a fearful glance in the direction of the latrines and slips into the booth beside him.

“That… thing that you’re with.” She whispers, and he has to fight the physical urge to push her away as she grabs his hand between hers. “It’s not a person. It’s a vampire.”

His mouth drops open, but he doesn’t respond. He can’t. The ridiculousness of this situation has actually rendered him speechless. She wasn’t staring at because she fancied you, she was staring because, because-

An uncontrollable feeling rises in his chest.

“You’re not serious.” He gasps, and his voice doesn’t even sound like him.

“Please sir, I’ve seen their kind before and it’s unmistakable. The pallor of the skin, the coldness of the touch.” She’s actually shaking now and it’s too much. He can smell the fear on her, the dampness of her palms as they press against his, the pounding of her blood as it courses through her veins. “They stalk these taverns looking for people to drain dry in alleyways, and that one has its sights set on you, I know it. You have to leave, now!”

He tries not to, he really does.

But he can’t help it.

He fucking cackles in her face.

“Fnnff.” He gasps, grabbing his hand away and covering his mouth, to try and stop the uncontrollable passage of the hysteria that’s flooding from his lips. “Excuse – snnf- e-excuse me.”

“This ain’t no laughing matter, that’s a vampire, in there, I’m sure of it.” The woman cries, wringing her hands, and she looks so earnest that he simply can’t.

“Hah!” He chokes, barely able to draw breath before the next giggle explodes out of him and the woman, for her part, looks appalled.

“I mean it, sir, you’re in danger.” She says, the first hint of annoyance seeping into her voice, and that just sets him off again. He crumples over on the table, hands digging into the wood so hard it buckles beneath his fingers. He almost feels sorry for every time he’s every used Tasha’s hideous laughter on someone, because this is bloody awful. His stomach hurts, tears are leaking from his eyes, but he still can’t stop. Of all the fucking accusations.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the door to the latrines swing open and you step back into the tavern. He turns to get a good look at you. To see the fearsome night stalker in the flesh, the unholy fiend that has this poor woman so terrified, and when he meets your eyes the expression in them is equal parts bemused and concerned and he fucking wheezes.

You, a vampire.

The woman spots you too, and she stumbles to her feet eyes wide and bright with fear. Astarion throws his head back and lets out a guffaw of laughter so loud and embarrassing that it’s almost enough to sober him, but unfortunately, it’s made you, the object of this woman’s abject terror, jump.

He can’t cope.

“Is everything okay?” Your voice is amused, but a little concerned and Astarion can barely nod as he clutches his stomach. He sees the woman’s eyes slide to your throat and the marks of his bite shine accusatorily back at her in the tavern light.

“Vampire.” She breathes, pointing at you, almost falling over herself as she backs away from them and Astarion collapses onto his side, tears streaming down his face as the woman shoots him one final, terrified look and then turns on her heels and flees into the night.

You stare after her, thoroughly confused now and Astarion is barely able to contain himself enough to move over to let you sit down.

“What in the hells was that about?” You ask, as you slip into the recently vacated spot and Astarion swallows down a giggle, barely able to breathe as he grins at you. It would appear his laughter is somewhat infectious, as you let out a little laugh of your own and touch his face with a bemused frown. And it’s only then that Astarion realizes just how much attention his little display has brought to you both. The people of the tavern are all staring at them and it’s not a friendly look. No doubt they heard the word ‘vampire’ and that, finally, is sobering enough for him to get himself under some semblance of self-control.

“That is a story not for here, my blood sucking friend.” He gasps, stifling another giggle as the look on your face is almost enough to set him off again. He nudges you gently out of the booth and grabs your hand, pulling you towards the tavern doors. “But don’t worry, if I manage to survive the journey in your company, I’ll tell you all about it when we get back to camp.”

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate #astarion fanfiction #bg3 astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #my writing

[hs-is-loml]

Another Pawn in Your Game. (c.s)

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Capitol!Reader

Summary: you felt betrayed by coriolanus and lucy gray's act in the capitol zoo. or coriolanus coaxes you into thinking what he did was okay.

Warnings: minor felix ravinstill x reader (one-sided). angst. manipulative snow who knows all the right words to say. they stay together in the end. UNEDITED

a/n: if you have seen my post about coriolanus before reading this, my stand does not change. and i am not trying to justify anything. that being said i do find him an interesting character to write for with his complexity!

masterlist

You couldn’t believe your eyes from the act that Coriolanus and Lucy Gray were pulling in front of Lucky Flickerman. Introducing her. Holding hands with a district. You felt eyes of pity land on you from around the table as you were with Arachne, Felix, and Clemensia.

“Did you know that he was going to do that?” Arachne hounded on you.

Clemensia added, “Is that not cheating?” 

“I wish I knew,” you scoffed, continuing to look at the screen of Coriolanus staring at Lucy Gray with ​​narrowed eyes. “He didn’t tell me anything.” 

“Maybe it’s time you realize you can do better than Snow,” Felix grinned while you all watched as the peacekeepers dragged away Coriolanus. “Always more options around…”

“Felix, I would love for you to say that to his face,” Clemensia snickered at his poor attempt at flirting.

“Oh, please. No one would ever dare,” Arachne rolled her eyes at the two and began to get up as the bell rang. 

You walked alongside the group with Felix on your side. You felt him place a hand on your back and leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Let me know when you get tired of him, will you?”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Y/n!” Sejanus called your name from behind the group, walking quickly to catch your arm before you walked through the doors while everyone headed in. “What was that with Felix?”

He held a concerned expression, and the grip on your upper arm began to tingle. “Sejanus,” you tried to move your arm and he finally took notice, dropping his hand and muttering apologies.

“I didn’t mean to grab you that hard. I’m sorry.”

Taking a deep breath in you explained to him, “Coryo wants to make a fool out of me. You saw what he did in the cage. Felix is simply taking his chance.”

After Doctor Gaul had left the room, you neglected Coriolanus’ attempts to have a word with you, and you continued to keep a conversation with Sejanus. You felt the irritation that radiated off his body when he noticed that you were purposely ignoring him.

“He looks like he is going to murder me if I keep talking to you, Y/n,” Sejanus quietly pointed out as he looked back and forth from you to Coriolanus. 

“He’s lucky if I don’t murder him for what he pulled,” the blank expression that was written across your face mildly scared Sejanus not knowing how you truly felt. 

“At least acknowledge him or something, Y/n,” he pushed.

“And why should I?”

“Because, because this is unlike you and Coryo,” he tried to explain but failed to give any valid reasoning to you.

You turned to your other side and looked at him with darting eyes, “Hello, Coriolanus,” you articulated the entirety of his name. It felt foreign on your tongue. 

He met you with perplexion at your sudden coldness, “Y/n/n. Dearest. What is the matter with you?” He knew that he had said or done something wrong as you gathered your things and went to Dean Highbottom to be excused. 

“How was your little songbird, Coriolanus?” Arachne teased and was aware you could still hear them before you walked out of the room. Livia continued, “Fragile, little thing she is. I do hope her death is rather quick.”

“She’s okay.”

“Did everyone hear that?” Arachne looked around the room to those who were interested in where she was taking this. “Coryo made sure his songbird is okay.”

 Coriolanus had no time for games as his mind wandered back to you, “Arachne. What is the point of all of this?” he snapped at her.

A smirk planted visibly across her face, “Is your Dearest okay, though?” she mocked him.

The realization was evident as it spread to his face. He looked over to Sejanus who avoided his stare by pretending he was focused on his paper instead. 

“Felix, you know he has no shame in going after you once he sees this,” you mentioned knowing the rather possessive tendencies that Coriolanus had to the boy who followed you out. 

Felix hid his nervousness with a chuckle, “What could he do? I’m the president’s son.”

“I’m just warning you,” you went through your bag to look for the rose Coriolanus had given to you this morning. 

“Y/n. You don’t deserve what he did to you,” he tried to reach out for your hand but you had pulled away before he had gotten the chance to. 

Having found the rose, you glanced around for a trash bin to toss it in, “Oh, believe me. I know.”

“Isn’t that one of the roses that Lucy Gray had in her hair earlier when we saw her on the screen?” Felix observed the rose in your hand and noticed it was the same pure white as the one that was in Lucy Gray’s hair. “Is that from him?” he made the connection with the frown you held.

“Yes.” 

He bellowed another laugh as he realized the Coriolanus was found in even more mistakes. “That bastard.”

Coriolanus was searching for you throughout the academy grounds once the bell had rung. He found no luck in finding you until he passed a hallway he had never seen you go into before, and there you were standing by a pillar with Felix Ravinstill standing too closely for Coriolanus’ comfort. Though he could tell that you had not reciprocated Felix’s intentions, it didn’t help the rising jealousy that was consuming his mind. 

For a moment, his vision was red as he saw Felix take his Grandma' am’s rose out of your hands. It had taken everything in him to not launch himself at Felix as he didn’t want to be convicted of murder before the Games even started. He was already in too far. 

Your head turned as you heard a call of your name from Coriolanus, “Y/n.” Through the tone of his voice, you knew he was not asking for you but rather commanding.

Before you started to make your way to him, Felix caught your hand and pulled you back for a moment whispering in your ear while making direct eye contact with Coriolanus, “Make him pay for it, yeah? And don’t forget my offer will always stand for you.” Coriolanus stood there with a tense jaw and flared nostrils as he watched.

Felix smirked at him, seeing you walk towards his direction but going pass him, “Come along, Coriolanus.” 

The silence was starting to get to the both of you as neither of you chose to speak a word before arriving in front of your house. Your parents rarely being home helped your situation because you figured that an argument was going to begin right as the door was closed behind you. 

That’s how it always was. The picture perfect couple in the public eye to keep appearances up than a cracked frame when it was just the two of you. 

“What was that about, Y/n?” he fumed the second the door was shut. You ignored him as you went to put your bag away in your room. “You cannot keep avoiding me here. And don’t think I am going to let go of what you did today.”

“What I did?” you talked baffled.

“You are making a joke out of us-”

“Is it fun for you?” you interrupted him, finally meeting his burning stare.

“Is what fun?” he gritted his teeth at the lack of specificity in your question.

You began to laugh maniacally and spat out, “Making a fool out of me. You already made me a laughing stock for everyone to see.”

 “Is this about-” he started but you didn’t give him a chance to finish.

“Of course, this is about her, Coriolanus!” you proclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hold her hand? And for goodness sake, a district girl from 12 of all people! You are the one ruining us.”

“She is my tribute,” he defended.

“YOU GAVE HER A ROSE!” you yelled at him in frustration. “How do you not see a problem with that?”

“The rose is nothing compared to what you let Felix do today,” he said, enraged, taking steps closer to you, but your hand met his chest, keeping him at arm's length. “You are mine. Not his.”

“And what? She is also yours now too?” you closed your eyes as they welled with tears that you had tried to blink away. 

He moved your hand and grasped it as he stood in front of you. He cupped your cheek with his other hand and softened his tone, “She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“And how am I supposed to trust your word?” you threw at him and saw a look of hurt flash on his face but it had left just as quick. “Everyone told me it was a mistake to be with you.”

“Do you believe it was?” he blanked, tightening his hold on your hand. 

“I do not know what to believe anymore.”

“It was an act. A farce. She needs to win,” he stroked your cheek with his thumb. “I need to win.”

Your body was tense with vexation and you spoke through clenched teeth, “Am I just another pawn in your game as well? The easiest one you can sacrifice?” It felt like your heart was ready to burst from out of your ribcage waiting for his answer. 

He brushed a piece of fallen hair away from your face and uttered, “No, you are My Queen.”

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #fanfic #angst #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow fic #president snow #young coriolanus snow #thg #the hunger games #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow fluff

[alisonwritesimagines]

Count On Mom ~Batfamily Imagine~

Summary: The kids try to get Bruce to get away from the computer. Luckily, there is always one person who can take his mind out of anything including Batman duties. You.

Author’s Note: Haven't posted much in a while and I kept seeing a lot of Batfamily stuff at the last convention I went to so here we go!

BatFamily Masterlist

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: boob flashing, hint to smut

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

Three of the batkids stared at their adoptive father as he had been stuck in front of the screen in the Batcave. None of the moved as they watched Bruce in some kind of trance.

“How long since he moved?” Dick asked Cassandra and Jason.

“A day,” Cassandra monotonous answered.

“I think he blinked a minute ago, does that count?” Jason asked.

“It’s official. Alfred called it. He said he’ll bake cookies if we can get Bruce to stop working,” Duke said as he walked into the batcave.

"Step aside," Jason said as he cracked his knuckles. "This will be over in no time."

As the kids began to try to get Bruce to move away, no effort was made to moving Bruce.

"I got an idea," Dick said as he took out his phone.

You felt your phone ring, making you put the groceries down onto the kitchen island so you could answer your phone. You had just gone to the store to grab some ingredients to make dinner for tomorrow's dinner.

“Hello?”

“Hey mom! Are you and Damien almost done with grocery shopping yet?”

“We just got home. Why?”

“We’re trying to pry Bruce off of the computer in the Batcave and Alfred said he’d make us cookies if we get him away from the screen.”

“I’m on my way,” you say with a chuckle at the end.

"Already began to bake the cookies. I know you'll be able to get him away," Alfred told you.

"Of course I can. That's my superpower in this family," you joked.

When you got to the Batcave, you saw your husband tiredly staring at the screen in front of him. The dark bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep made you upset but you knew there was one thing you could do that would always get his attention.

"Aw my poor husband," you say.

"You got this mom?" Jason asked you.

“Step aside kids and close your eyes,” you tell them as you walked over to your husband.

“What are you going to do mom?” Dick as as he covered his eyes. The rest of the kids quickly covered their eyes to avoid to see what you were going to do.

You climbed onto Bruce’s lap before lifting both your shirt and bra in front of him. Bruce quickly snapped out of his daze before looking up at you with a smile.

“Tempting me my love?”

“Maybe,” you smile as you pulled your shirt and bra down.

“Let me have my cookies and you can have me,” you whispered into his ears as you stood up.

“Okay kids. Enjoy Alfred’s cookies,” you say as you headed out.

The moment the kids uncovered their eyes, they watched in shock as Bruce already began to make his way towards you.

“Leave it to mom for getting Bruce to do anything other than his Batman duties,” Jason said.

"I wonder how she does it," Duke says out loud.

"Because dad's got it bad for mom," Dick tells him.

By the time Bruce got to you, you were eating your chocolate chip cookies that Alfred had made with Damien. You winked at your husband as you kissed Damien’s head.

“Alfred, why don’t you and the kids go out for a bit? It’s lovely outside,” you tell him.

“Of course,” Alfred said before walking over to get the rest of the kids. You began to head upstairs to your room, knowing that you had stirred something in Bruce.

“You coming Bruce?” You called out. You smirked as you heard Bruce’s fastened footsteps.

You let out a laugh as you felt him pick you up. You held onto him as he rushed over to the bedroom.

“I owe you some alone time don’t I?” Bruce asked you with a smile.

“Yes you do. Now, while everyone is out of the house, why don’t you make it up to me?” You asked him.

“I plan to," Bruce said before kissing you passionately.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman imagine #batman #dc #dc imagine #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #wayne family adventures #alisonwritesimagines

[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter two -

I might kill my ex, not the best idea

Eddie warned Robin that a game of never have I ever was a bad idea, and you should know better than to go snooping where you don’t belong.

warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking (hey it’s a summer time barbecue in the midwest), you thought there was a lot tension the last chapter? baby, you haven’t seen nothing yet. jealousy, spicy things are revealed about all of them during a drinking game.

wc: 9.5k

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

It’s been one week.

One entire week without even so much of a glimpse of that permanently messy head of hair, and god, you hated how much it bothered you. Ears perking up every time you’d catch the cadence of his voice through the receiver of Robin’s cordless phone the few times he called her to check in. Like an unwanted guest who wasn’t taking the hint, his broad shoulders and full pink lips that somehow always look like they need to be kissed haunt your unsuspecting dreams at night. 

You hate it, you hate him, and you try not to spiral about why it feels like the opposite.

“We’re going over to Steve’s tonight,” Robin practically hums around a mouthful of fruit loops, completely unaware of you already stewing about the boy whose name just rolled off her tongue this early in the morning. 

“What?” You snap, tearing your eyes from the slow pour of the coffee maker in front of you, grouchy and wound up from a dream about his big hands pulling your legs apart so perfect white teeth could nip at the inside of your thighs.

“Steve, you know that guy you told me you’d try and be nice to. The one who’s fixing your car?” Sarcasm drips from her tone as she scoops up another bite, “We’re going to his house.”

Of course.

“That’s cool with me.” You muster up enough effort to twist your lips up into a smile that feels more like a grimace. The smashed rainbow Robin reveals in her mouth when she laughs tells you it is.

“Do me a favor, and never go into acting.” Swallowing loudly, she drops her spoon back into her bowl with a clank. “I do appreciate you trying to pretend like you’re okay with it, though, and in all seriousness, we haven’t gone this long without seeing each other in like, forever. He says you're keeping me hostage.”

“I’m keeping you hostage?!” You scoff with a roll of your eyes, turning your back to finally pour yourself the cup of coffee you’ve waited so patiently for. “He’s the best friend stealer.”

“I’m not going to lie, I think I like you two fighting over me,” she laughs, looking a little too smug for your liking as she brings her empty bowl to the sink, Garfield slippers scuffling across the tile, too lazy to pick up her feet from the floor.

“Yeah, 'cause you’re sick.” A real smile curls up into your cup, inhaling the rich scent into your nose. “What are your plans to torture me with his presence this time?” 

Robin narrows her stare at you in a silent warning, pulling herself up to sit on the counter, orange cat covered feet dangling freely as you meet her gaze with softened eyes in a silent apology.

“Eddie’s off tonight, so we’re having a little reunion barbecue, and Steve’s gonna grill.”

Choking on your coffee, you sputter your sip back into your mug, turning her freckled face sour.

“Since when does Steve know how to cook, let alone grill?”

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you know you’re skating on thin ice, but all the built up tension that tightens your muscles, and buzzes incessantly at your fingertips makes everything feel impossible to control.

“He’s not seventeen anymore - “

“Really? He had me fooled shoving his tongue down some pretty blonde’s throat at Rick’s the other night.” 

“That’s - come on, you know that's not fair. He didn’t even know -”

”Why stop at just the four of us, let’s invite Vickie, make it a real party.”

The name of your best friend’s ex leaves your mouth before you can stop it, instant regret making a heavy home in your chest that feels like it might cave in when her mood shifts with glassy eyes and it’s completely your fault.

“I take back what I said, I need you to start acting again.”

Jumping off the counter, you set your mug down so you can grab her arm before she can take those few steps out of the kitchen. 

“Hey! Look, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” 

She doesn’t put up much of a fight, even though you deserve it, the blue in her eyes turn to ice when she looks at you.

“I’m sorry.”

She holds your stare until she can tell you actually mean it, melting glaciers with a heavy sigh. 

“It’s fine, I get it.” 

Her words come out soft, just like the lines that smooth on her face.

“I know this is weird and like totally against friend code or whatever, but I think that just goes to show how much he must mean to me or even a testament to how much he’s changed if I’m even asking you to just try and do this. Just try, that’s all.”

“No, you’re right,” you fluster, doing your best to reassure her in a shaky voice, “I just slept badly and had a really weird dream. It just threw me off a little. I’m being so awful and I’m sorry.” 

Flashes of the way his hands gripped your hips and the dirty things he whispered in your ear has your palms start to sweat, making you loosen your grip on her arm before she can notice. 

Robin searches your face for the reassurance that she needs before a small smile finally tugs at the corners of her lips.“This is why you’re my best friend.” She pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“Only if you tell him that.” 

Snaking your arms around her waist, you let out a shaky laugh, silently preparing to see the man who hasn’t left the crevices of your mind since you stepped foot back in Hawkins.

———

It feels like you’re back in high school the way you can’t stop looking at yourself in the mirror, the nerves still feel the same.

Your gaze wanders up and down your reflection, turning from side to side, overly critical eyes take in your curves that are on display a little more than normal and you wonder if Robin will notice. Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, better yet you wonder if Robin will notice and have something to say about it. 

“You’re certainly spending a lot of time on an outfit.” Your best friend whistles low as she leans against the open bedroom door confirming your fears with a cross of her arms.

“Just trying to remember what I brought is all.” You don’t engage with the amusement that hides in her tone, smoothing down the short black skirt that flares over the tops of your thighs, before adjusting the straps on your matching tank top.

“Riiiight,” she snorts, earning the kind of glare that has her raising her hands in defense before a shit-eating grin cracks wide across her face. “I’m going to need you to hurry up, though. Do I need to remind you that we’re walking?”

“I’m done!” You huff, sock covered feet digging into her cream carpet as you make your way toward her, “I just need to put on my shoes.”

“You’ve got twenty secon-” she agonizes before three hard knocks on her front door cut her off. Her cheshire smile falters as she turns confused.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get to finish that sentence,” you warn in a harsh whisper, grabbing your Converse that had been haphazardly kicked off earlier in the corner. 

Robin puts a ringed finger to her lips, like the possibility of a kidnapper being on the other side is extremely probable, and it’s her turn to glare when you roll your eyes at her dramatics. Following her out to the living room, you plop down on the couch, watching her slowly creep to the front door. Both her hands find the blue painted wood pushing up on the toes of her Reeboks to look out the peephole.

“Steve?!” 

The name makes your stomach flip, a shaky breath pushing its way through watermelon flavored lips because you thought you had more time than this. Keeping a poker face, you take your time tying your laces as she swings the door open. Head down, your eyes keep their focus on how the dirty white strings move between your fingers. 

You’re not ready to look at him. Not yet.

“After taking you to school at 7am every day after I graduated, you really thought I was going to let you walk?” The smile in his voice is evident, a fond memory you’re not a part of but you can still feel the warmth inside it by the way he speaks. 

“Thank god,” she starts, the insinuation of the words that are going to follow making your eyes snap up, narrowed and shooting daggers at your best friend, catching Steve’s attention in the process. 

“We were going to be late.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, his gaze claiming yours and holding it against your will, the beginnings of a smirk playing on his full lips and suddenly it’s so much warmer in her living room than it was two seconds ago. “Why’s that?”

He somehow looks even better than the last time you saw him, a bad habit you’re quickly learning that he has. The honey colored tips of his chestnut hair curl at the ends, sticking out of the sides of his backwards baseball hat. A well worn black cotton shirt with the sleeves cut out has the arms that you’d dreamt about on full display. The summer sun somehow dotting even more freckles across his shoulder blades that flex everytime he spins his car keys around his finger. The dark cherry red basketball shorts he wears hit the bottoms of his hairy thighs, the red mesh even more vibrant against his tan skin, just like the white leather of the Nike Cortez’s that cover his feet. 

“She’s just being dramatic,” you grumble, finally tearing your eyes from the dark moss that covers the chocolate inside his, doing your best to ignore the heat of them wandering the bare skin of your legs as you finish tying your shoes.

“You changed your outfit like sixty times!” 

This is the moment that you decide you’re going to kill Robin in her sleep tonight.

“Well, I’m ready so you both can stop being annoying now.” Standing, you tug down the bottom of your skirt that suddenly feels even shorter with his full attention on you like this.

“Wait, why am I annoying? I just got here.” Steve argues when your words finally sink in, snapping him out of his daze, catching the keys in his palm. 

“You’re always annoying, Harrington,” you sigh, hoping your deflections are working, but the small smile that never leaves his lips tells you it’s not.

“Shotgun!” Robin calls out like it’s something you would have argued over. Your shoulder brushes with his as you push your way out the door, sending sparks to the tips of your fingers and making your hair stand on end. Steve and the summer heat warm your skin. 

“It’s all yours,” you concede with ease, ignoring the butterfly wings that wreak havoc in your rib cage when the spice of his cologne makes its way into your nose.

It was going to be a night.

Steve keeps the windows rolled down, the muggy air making your bare thighs stick together and to the hot leather of his backseat. It drowns out the music as he speeds down the back roads, making the conversation between him and Robin upfront almost inaudible.

You don’t worry about what they might be saying, not even when they both start gesturing wildly with their hands. Taking advantage of the time left alone, you put all of your focus into preparing yourself for the next few hours, doing your best to push the lingering thoughts of your dream deep down to a place that no one can find. A task that proves to be much harder while avoiding his gaze that dares you to meet it in the rear view mirror the entire way. 

The memories you have of the back of his car don’t help either.

Pulling into Forest Hills trailer park, you’re surprised at the facelift they finally gave it after all these years. Lush green grass grows where the yellow and brown shrub used to be, and a wooden gazebo that looks like it’s missing a finishing coat stands tall, replacing the picnic table where you and the metal head used to smoke. Even the gravel that paves the road looks new and gray, not the dirt brown mud that it used to be. 

It’s still a struggle to wrap your head around the fact that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, the former king of Hawkin’s and Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson not only work together, but live together too. You would have laughed in anyone’s face if they told you this five years ago. 

The BMW’s tires crunch loudly against the rocks as Steve pulls into the driveway of a hunter green trailer. It sits in the back of the park, almost touching the edge of the woods behind it. A faded white line running along the length that matches the metal railing of their front entrance and the overhang that covers it. The paint peels from parts of the metal in the heat, revealing spots of the gray hidden underneath. A worn in deep maroon couch sits on the porch just like the dirty brown one at Wayne’s trailer, and you already know Eddie spends his mornings there. You internally groan when you catch yourself wondering if Steve does too.

“Home sweet home,” he hums, cutting the engine off and pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You dare to meet his eyes for the first time since you left the apartment when Robin jumps out of the front seat, and you immediately regret it. He smiles wide, finally catching your attention, those perfect white teeth baring themselves at you as he pulls off his hat to run a hand through his sweaty bed head. The long strand he’s always at battle with falls through the opening in the back when he puts it on again, because, of course it does.

“Good to see you finally slumming it with the rest of us, King Steve,” you snort, pulling on the handle to let yourself out, ending any chance of conversation.

If it wasn’t for your Eddie barreling out of the front door to greet you and Robin with a big dimpled grin and a freshly rolled joint, you would’ve thought a little harder about the way Steve winced at the nickname.

The Munson/Harrington Bachelor pad anomaly isn’t exactly what you expected it to be, but even then you weren’t entirely sure what that was. It’s cozy just like how Wayne’s used to be but where there’s hand me downs that have been through the short line of Munson men’s hands, there’s an equal amount of obviously perfectly well kept new. Like the shiny big TV in the center of their living room, and the well-loved lazy boy in front of it, that still had cigarette burns from its previous owner, next to the rich tan leather couch right by it.

It smells like it has just been cleaned, a sanitizing lilac still lingering in the air, trying its best to cover the smell of all grease stained clothing in their hampers and the smoke from joints like the one Eddie’s about to put out in an ashtray full of ones just like it.

He sits at the head of the table with a lopsided grin that pushes up the apples of his cheeks and reveals the deep dimples in the center of them. Droopy lids frame his bloodshot eyes that meet your own. Orange and pinks paint the darkening sky through the sliding glass door behind him. 

“I still can’t believe you’re actually here,” Eddie chuckles with a fond glint in big brown eyes leaning back in his chair that squeaks under the redistribution of his weight.

“Back by popular demand,” you smirk, pointing at Robin, who sits just on the other side of the table, glassy eyed with an unwavering smile. 

You try to ignore how the empty chair next to her bothers you, or they way your eyes keep looking toward the kitchen through the small opening of their little island, giving you the perfect view of Steve prepping dinner. His thick eyebrows are furrowed as he digs through spice racks and drawers, front teeth digging into the plushness of his bottom lip deep in thought.

“I think this calls for a fire,” Eddie announces loudly, bringing you back to the conversation with a slap of his palms on the wood of the table and the kind of smirk that tells you that you’ve been caught.

“We told Janice next door weekends only after last time,” Steve’s voice startles you, making his presence known, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. 

“It’s Thursday. Practically the weekend. Besides it’s a special occasion, look who’s here Stevie boy.” Something in Eddie’s tone makes Steve’s eyes narrow in a silent threat that only makes the metal heads' lips twist up into something more devilish. 

“You have to put it out before bed then, I’m not dealing with it like last time.” Steve accepts defeat quicker than anticipated, “And if she calls or comes over to complain at all, that's all on you too.”

”Deal,” Eddie agrees with five fingers across his heart, the silver of his rings catching in the low light of their trailer.“I think she’s got a crush on me anyway.”

“She’s married,” Steve dead pans with a deep sigh, taking his hat off to run another hand through his hair and you hate the way it has your thighs meeting under the table. “Who’s helping me with dinner then?”

He knows better than to look at you, so his gaze falls onto his roommate and best friend.

”Don’t look at me!” Robin argues, raising her right hand to show off the faded scar on her palm. “Last time I tried to help, I had to get stitches, remember?”

”The fire’s a full time job I’m afraid,” Eddie shrugs, standing up. Not missing a beat, they both look at each other like they're in on some secret that you and Steve aren’t apart of before their eyes land on you.

”You know I’m not a good cook,” you whine, refusing to meet the heat of Steve’s stare that burns against the side of your face.

”I’m sure Steve’s more than willing to help teach you, princess.” Eddie grins, and it makes you want to slap the dimples clean off his face.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine, I can do it by myself,” Steve interjects with a sigh before you have a chance to respond with something that he knows will just egg the metal head on and get his ego even more bruised.

He’s not expecting the way your eyes snap to his, or the way they narrow with something fiery deep inside them.

”We’re grown adults, Steve. I think I can handle helping you cut some vegetables or whatever it is you need me to do.” Standing up with a shove of your chair, he doesn’t even attempt to argue about how that’s the exact opposite of what you just said.

”There we go! Problem solved.” Eddie’s grin is mischievous, and so is the wink he throws at his roommate before opening the sliding glass door, ushering Robin out and leaving you both alone.

The tension inside the kitchen hangs thicker in the air than the humidity outside weighing down your shoulders, making the words stick in the back of your throat as you try to navigate the close proximity to Steve. Neither one of you is sure of what to say first, and the sound of Eddie and Robin laughing outside filling the silence between you somehow makes it worse. 

The weed twists the knots in your stomach tighter, and the cedar that always seems to linger whenever he’s around turns suffocating without an escape. You lean against the sink across from him while he digs through the icebox in the fridge. Shoulder blades moving with the motions of his wrist, plastic crinkling loudly every time he moves a bag out of the way. Muttering to himself, you watch goosebumps rise on his tan skin from the cool air, muscles twitching from the shock.

This was a mistake. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you tear your eyes away in hopes it will stop the dull ache between your legs from getting worse when you’re brought back to the way those same arms caged you in while his hips pushed you deeper into the mattress in your dreams last night. Looking out the small window at the beginning flames of the bonfire, a shaky breath pushes past your glossed lips, and you wipe your palms on your skirt before turning around to wash your hands.

”You don’t have to help, you know?” His voice comes out just loud enough for you to hear over the running water, the small smacking sound of the fridge closing behind it, “If you’re that uncomfortable, I can do it.”

Cutting the water, you shake your hands in the sink before tearing off a paper towel from the roll next to you. Working up enough courage to finally turn around to look at him, you finish drying your hands with a softer expression.

”No, I can help.” 

He holds your stare, silently giving you another out while his fingers make quick work of unwrapping a head of lettuce, an onion, and a few peppers from their plastic confines. No matter how much you want to look away, you don’t, standing firm in your choice despite everything inside of you screaming to run away, and it’s enough for him to nod his head. The slight twitch of his lips while he rolls the bags in his hands doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I just need you to cut the onion into thin slices for the burgers, and same with the jalapeños.” He instructs, turning his back to you to throw away the wrappings. 

The sudden movement has the deep cut sleeves of his shirt fluttering open, giving you a glimpse of the thick patch of hair on his chest, and how it tapers off and down past his belly button. Your thighs find each other again, and you look up to the ceiling silently, trying to regain all the strength you thought you’d just found. 

“And the lettuce - uhh, are you okay?” Steve’s confusion makes all the blood in your body rush to the apples of your cheeks as you try to hide your internal struggle with a smile.

“Yeah, we’re good. Never been better. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you ramble, brushing past him to the station he’s set up for you.

“…Right,” he starts with a pause before choosing to leave it alone, “I just need you to kind of rip the lettuce up, you can cut it if you want but I think bigger pieces would be better.”

You aren’t expecting his voice to come from right behind you, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against the back of your neck. Your own goosebumps rise, dotting across exposed skin and you hope he doesn’t notice but the way he lingers in your space for a little longer despite the nod of your head makes you think otherwise. The spice of his cologne grows faint along with his footsteps against the tile floor, finding a home on the other side of the kitchen, busying himself with what he had started before.

Eddie turns on the radio, easing some of the tension from your muscles, and relaxing your shoulders as you get a good grip on the handle of the knife.

You could do this, easy. 

You really start to believe it too when you cut all the jalapeños, even humming along to an old Judas Priest song that you and Eddie used to blast in his van after school. Peeling the onion, you pretend that you don’t see the reflection of Steve staring at you from the glass of the microwave as you sway your hips and bop your head to the beat.

“So, New York huh?” He finally breaks, and your eyes flutter to the reflection to see him putting away all the spices he’d pulled out while you were smoking. “You likin’ it?”

Your movements freeze for a second, and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth with all the things you’ve dreamed of saying to him. Years of coming up with all the ways you’d tell him how much better you were without him. A recurring fantasy of a ten year reunion where you’d show up with your famous screenwriter husband you’d met on the Subway, turning your nose at him and whatever Hawkin’s girl he’d managed to knock up. But instead, the universe has you here five years too early, and Steve isn’t the same guy you’d left even if you don’t quite trust it yet.

Picking up the knife again, you roll your shoulders with a quiet breath before cutting into the onion once more as you search for the words to answer.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s big and it can be a little scary sometimes but I can be myself there,” it comes out a little quieter than intended but you still twist your hips to meet his gaze from across the kitchen where he stands with crossed arms giving you his full attention. “No one really cares what you do.”

“Who are you trying to be out there?” He asks like he has no idea what small talk is, the greens in his eyes shimmering against the last bit of sunlight that shines on his face.

“Someone stronger than who I was in high school,” you whisper, turning back around to focus on the task at hand and not your ex trying to dig into the depths of your soul while you cut onions.

“You were always the strongest person I knew,” he counters, and you can practically hear the shrug that you know follows his words.

”You certainly liked to test it.” 

It comes out before you can bite your tongue, your knife slicing right into the center of the onion and hitting the cutting board roughly, adding dramatic effect.

”Ouch,” he hums with a small laugh, silverware clanking against the metal of the sink behind you as he finishes cleaning up his mess, “I guess I deserved that one.”

“Steve.” You stop cutting, dropping the knife to look at him, unintentionally swiping your eye in the process, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that. I promised Rob- oh fuck!”

The burning in your right eye becomes unbearable, the tears spilling freely down your cheek blurring your vision with a harsh sting.

”Oh, oh no. Did you touch your eye?!” Steve sounds panicked, sneakers scuffling against the tile as he hurries to grab a washcloth from the drawer. 

“It was an accident!” You whine, closing your eyes as tight as you can, willing the burning tears to stop, the sound of water running from the sink filling your ears, “God it hurts so bad, Steve.”

”I know baby, I know,” he coos in a soothing voice, and in your panic you almost don’t catch the old nickname that slips off his tongue with ease. Long fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer to him, “Let me see, stay still.”

The coolness of the rag provides instant relief when he presses it gently to your eye. Taking a deep breath, you feel the warmth of his palm rub up and down your arm soothing your irritated nerves more. The sting doesn’t fully go away, but it subsides enough for the tears to slow down as he applies a little more pressure before removing it to wet it again. Blinking past the burning, you finally realize just how close you are to him now. 

Chests practically touching, you can see the beginnings of stubble lining his jaw despite being able to tell that he shaved today. The vampire bites on his neck that used to be your favorite to kiss taunt you for what feels like the millionth time this week. With cedar and musk filling your lungs, it feels impossible to breathe.

He cuts off the water, turning towards you again, and you aren’t prepared for the depth in his eyes meeting yours from this distance. They’re soft when they look at you, the chestnut inside them warming gold as you stare back at him a little dazed. Calloused fingertips stop their path up your arm to gently grab your chin, tilting your face up to his so he can get a better look at the damage. He’s sweet with the way moves your head around, the pad of his thumb smoothing the skin under your irritated eye.

”I think you’ll be okay, I don’t see any seeds or anything trapped inside,” he whispers, thumb never stopping its movements while his gaze flicks down to your lips that pout on their own, something electric charging in the air.

The sliding glass door opens behind him before you can answer, Robin and Eddie making their presence known in a loud burst of energy. Snatching the wet rag from his hand, you’re quick to put distance between you. Placing the cool cloth against your face, you make your way out of the kitchen before anyone can ask you anything about what happened. Muttering a “thanks Steve '' on your way to assess just how ruined your makeup is in the bathroom. 

Your heart pounds in your ears feeling the ghost of his touch everywhere, chest tightening because your body won’t stop screaming for more.

You stay in the bathroom long enough for the burning to subside, mumbling words that resemble some kind of pep talk while scrubbing your hands. Fingers that still shake with nerves fix your smudged mascara, listening for the moment their voices go quiet behind the sliding glass door before you decide to finally venture out. The sound of Steve’s laugh catches in your ears, as you make your way through the empty trailer, the corners of your lips curling on their own as you tug on the handle that separates you from them. The humidity is quick to turn your skin sticky despite the sun disappearing behind the trees. 

”There she is! I heard Harrington tried to blind you,” Eddie chuckles from his place crouched in front of the fire. A half smoked cigarette dangling lazily from the side of his mouth as he ‘stokes’ the flames, the crackling wood competing with the buzz of the cicadas that surround you.

”Riddle me this, Steve, why is it that whenever someone ’helps’ you cook, they end up in the hospital or worse, almost BLIND!” 

From her spot sitting on one of the many faded red plastic lawn chairs they have circled around the pit, Robin doesn’t hesitate to turn it into a dog pile with dramatics that could rival an Oscar winning actress.

Steve rolls his eyes, the warm light from the smaller flame of the grill glowing underneath him, highlighting his sharp features. His gaze meets yours, ignoring his friends, and you swear even from here, you can see the green inside each eye shine. You know there’s a million questions he wants to ask but there’s only one that comes out, and it’s soft just like the way he touched you inside.

”Are you okay?”

It’s hard for you to look anywhere but his face, remembering just how pretty it was up close. Your eyes trace the straight line of his nose, and the curve of his full bottom lip before finally meeting his eyes. The small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth reminds you that you haven’t answered him yet but he doesn’t say anything. He lets Robin’s low whistle do all the talking.

”Uhh, yeah, I’m good. Crisis averted,” you mumble, snapping out of it, cheeks warming up enough to compete with the fire pit you stumble around, landing in the seat next to your best friend. “No jalapenos on mine, I think I’ve had enough for today.”

Steve laughs again, just like the one you heard on your way out and the sound burrows in your heart, making it swell, giddiness roiling deep in your gut. You ignore Robin’s obnoxious toothy grin next to you, doubling down even more when she starts to wiggle her eyebrows. The two beer cans at her feet tell you everything you need to know.

Without a cloud in an almost completely dark sky, you start to see the twinkling of the stars you’ll always miss begin to appear. They battle for your attention against the fireflies that flicker through the tall grass and into the woods. Lighter fluid stings your nose when Steve squirts more onto the burning coals, switching from hot dogs to burgers like he’s been grilling for a family of four his whole life.

A couple of beers calm your nerves that threaten to give you away, watching Steve in his element like this, the holes cut in his shirt showing off every flex of his muscles as he flips the patties. Cheese melting over the burger meat, just like your body that sinks further into the lawn chair that sticks to the backs of your thighs. He throws you a knowing look, making you clear your throat. Straightening your posture, you try to join in Robin and Eddie’s conversation like you hadn’t just been caught. Taking another long swig of the bitter semi cold liquid, you hope it’s enough to get you through dinner.

It’s not.

Steve takes the seat across from you when he’s finished cooking, manspreading with his paper plate in his lap. You fight the urge to look at the tan line of his inner thighs that are revealed by his loose fitting shorts, laughing a little too loud at Eddie’s jokes, desperate to keep your struggle hidden. Even going as far as acting interested when Robin starts talking about her reasons why she likes to buy certain things from the three different grocery stores in town. 

It’s when a dribble of ketchup lands on top of Steve's hand after a large bite that you lose your cool. Right between his thumb and index finger, he hums with cheeks full of food before those full lips of his wrap around the spilled sauce, cleaning it with a flick of his tongue.

”I’m gonna throw my plate away, is anyone else done?” You squeak, standing up abruptly, your chair nearly falling backwards in the process. 

“Jesus, easy tiger,” Eddie snorts, finishing off the last of his beer before crushing the tin can in his hand, tossing it on his empty plate, “The trash isn’t going anywhere.”

“Just trying to be a good house guest is all,” you lie, making Eddie quirk an eyebrow, the dimples in his cheeks coming out to play again.

”Uh huh.” He smirks before handing you his plate that Robin quickly piles hers on top of. “Sure.”

”That’s very sweet of you,” Steve chimes in, with a lopsided grin on his face that makes you want to punch the air and get out of here. 

“She’s pure class Harrington, get it right,” Robin comes for the save with a knowing wink that only makes the heat growing in your cheeks worse.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble quickly turning on your heel, feeling all their eyes on you as you make your way to the back door of the trailer.

”Hurry back. We're gonna play Never Have I Ever,” your best friend calls out over her shoulder making you wish you could just stay inside when the sliding glass door closes behind you.

Embers spark and pop from the fire before they disappear into the night sky, the full moon’s white glow stopping just along the dark edges of the trees that surround the backyard. The four of you sit around the pit with fresh beers in hand. The buzz of the alcohol turning Steve’s gaze heavy as he stares at you from across the flickering flames. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth you look everywhere but his direction, and hope he doesn’t see the way your thighs press under the heat of it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea Robin?��� Eddie whispers, big brown eyes glancing between the both of you, and your bouncing knee.

”It’s fine, they’ll be fine. Right guys?” She waves the metal head off, nudging you with her elbow, completely unphased.

”Of course we’ll be fine, why wouldn’t we be fine?” You snap, tugging the bottom of your skirt down, all the built up tension turning into aggression. Steve smiles into his next gulp.

“Whoa, whoa. I was just asking, but you do seem a little tense.” She raises her hands in surrender, both her eyebrows disappearing behind her shaggy bangs while Eddie distracts himself by poking the fire.

“Relax, it’s just a game,” Steve sighs, settling deeper in his chair, the warm amber in the flames bouncing off the mischievous gold in his eyes that keep their hold on you. “Besides, we’re friends now, right?”

Your gaze narrows, the grip on your beer tightening enough to hear the pop of the metal.“Yep,” you manage to get out, shooting Eddie a glare when he snorts.

“If you guys say so,” he starts, ignoring your scowl while getting cut off by Robin who’s practically vibrating in her seat now.

”Let’s have fun already. I’ll start.” Robin shushes him before acting like she’s deep in thought, turning to face you with the kind of grin on her face that tells you she’s up to no good, “Never have I ever…let some Wall Street douchebag go down on me in the backseat of his Rolls Royce.”

“That’s weirdly specific- oh wait! Damn! Princess!” Eddie whoops when you take a swig with a roll of your eyes, flipping Robin the bird. 

“Gotta try everything once, right?” You shrug, holding his gaze with a smirk, not even trying to hide that you’re taking great pleasure in the way Steve’s jaw clenches at the new found information of your life outside of here. “He had a nice mouth when he wasn’t using it for talking.”

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose, the mossy greens in his eyes turning dark as you lean back in your chair smugly.

“She’s a wild one, I’ll tell ya,” Robin giggles fondly, passing the baton to you with a proud smile.

Maybe it was the beer or the incessant way Steve’s presence drove you to the brink of insanity by rageful lust. Or even just the way he sat across from you with his legs spread wide like he ruled the world, whatever it was, that's what’s to blame for the question that rolls off your tongue.

“Never have I ever taken someone’s virginity.”

Robin’s jaw drops, guffawing with a harsh slap on your leg, mouthing a ‘you said you’d be nice’ but the buzz of the alcohol keeps a lopsided grin on her face. Eddie drinks, nervously watching the staring contest going on between you and Steve. Like a dog and its owner trying to establish dominance, both of you refuse to be the one who looks away first. Taking two gulps for good measure, he smacks his lips loudly when he’s done, wiping the foam off his upper lip with the back of his wrist. Raising his eyebrows at you in a silent challenge.

“This isn’t awkward at all,” Eddie grumbles, taking another sip of his beer to help the uncomfortable tension that threatens to settle over the circle.

”Who’s next? Who's next?” Robin urges with a flick on your knee, forcing you to fold and give her your attention with a blink of your eyes and it feels like the first time in hours that you finally look at someone other than Steve. 

Your teeth clench, grinding at the thought that even after all this time he’s still got this kind of hold on you, and it has you riding the thin line between wanting to give him a black eye or have him take you for a spin in his beemer for old times sake. 

“Eddie,” raising your can in his direction, he meets you in the middle with a cheers that doesn’t quite touch before slinking back in his chair with an exhausted huff.

“Hmmm, what do I want to reveal about myself?” He hums deep in thought, metal rings clinking against tin in a familiar tune as he taps his fingers around his beer can, “Never have I ever… been in a threesome, despite being titled ‘freak’ of Hawkins.”

“Really?” Robin seems genuinely shocked, making you giggle.

“Yeah, I know. It’s crazy to me too.” Eddie shrugs, with a knowing grin that doesn’t quite sit right in your gut.

That’s when you see it. Steve taking a drink.

”WHAT?!” Your best friend squeals practically jumping from her seat, clearly something that's not common knowledge being revealed.

Jealousy is an ugly monster, and it finds a home deep inside your chest tonight, turning you green with it. Your half empty beer can crunches the more your fingers dig into the tin, eyes narrowing when he just responds to Robin with a coy smirk and a shrug bringing his attention back to you.

”Gotta try everything once right?” Steve mocks, full pink lips curling up at the corners as he takes another sip.

Your heart sinks with your stomach, the muscles in your face doing the same before you have a chance to stop it. Visions of red nails and pink lips that don’t belong to you dance through your head, and the smug smirk he probably wore while his big hands gripped their hips taking turns making them moan his name. The sound of your can completely collapsing in a loud crunch gets everyone’s attention, and you ignore the softened expression on Steve’s face trying to capture your gaze again. Eddie clears his throat, throwing you a life line before opening a new can of beer with a suggestion you’ve never been more grateful for.

”Alright Steve, your turn.” 

Steve nods with a tight lipped smile taking one last glance in your direction before sitting up in his chair with an idea that makes his cheeks push up and his eyes sparkle against the light of the fire. “Alright, never have I ever pretended to not only have a driver's license but also own a car that actually belongs to my best friend so I can hook up with a girl in the backseat.”

A quiet sigh escapes your lungs, shoulders relaxing just a little when Robin groans loudly at the attack that’s clearly focused on her. Oblivious to the fact that you’re hanging on by a thread next to her, you stare fixed on the way the flames lick up into the night. 

“Look, she was a college senior, okay? I was only a sophomore and she was way cooler than me. Judge me all you want, but it worked didn’t it?” She argues, lifting her beer to the sky before taking a sip proudly. “No regrets!”

Her smile is contagious, easing some of the tension when you and Eddie giggle meeting each other's eyes from across her honey blond waves. You can feel Steve’s stare burning a hole in the side of your head, the heat of it in direct competition with the fire that thrives off the light breeze that rustles through the trees. 

“Aright, alright, never have I ever faked getting off.” She wiggles her eyebrows with a toothy grin, looking at Eddie specifically who gives her a dead stare in response, clearly something told to her in confidence. 

Biting your lip, you really weren’t going to add more fuel to the fire but when you finally meet Steve’s eyes that have been begging for your attention this whole time, you can’t help but douse the flames with the whole can of gasoline. Another flash of different shades of lipstick staining the freckles you loved to kiss so much sending another wave of rage down to your core.

”I can think of a few times.” You snort loudly, holding his gaze and pointedly stealing everyone else's attention before polishing off the last of your crumpled can.

Steve’s jaw clenches hard enough that you swear you can hear his teeth crunch together. Nostrils flaring with a gaze so dark it threatens to swallow you whole, all traces of honey and warmth gone, leaving you chilled to the bone.

”I think we’re done with this game Robin,” he grunts, standing up with a kick of his chair and for once his eyes don’t search for yours as he stomps across the yard towards the yellow light of the trailer. 

“Seriously!” Your best friend groans, slinking back in her chair with a hand running down her face, “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

”Yeah, genius! I told you, but nooo, you didn’t want to listen to me.” Eddie scoffs into his beer can, using his free hand to poke at the fire.

”Can you go, like, talk to him or something?” Robin turns to you with an almost pleading look that gets more prominent the more your face turns sour.

“Me?! I have to go talk to him? Seriously? He’s the one who stormed off,” you argue, crossing your arms.

”Yeah, well you clearly hurt his feelings.” She points at his pacing figure through the kitchen window and it takes everything inside of you not to tell her that he hurt yours first.

The two of you stare each other down, the wills of stubbornness at battle until her eyes go soft, big and glassy. 

“Please,” she begs, pulling out the big guns, and jutting out her bottom lip.

You hold her gaze for a few more seconds before surrendering with a roll of your eyes, huffing loudly when you uncross your arms to stand up, making her face light back up.

”I hate you. More than anything.”

Eddie cackles loudly at your lie, digging in his front pocket for a smushed pack of cigarettes.

“We all know you don’t mean that,” she hums with a content smile, leaning over to snatch the freshly lit tobacco from the metalhead’s mouth, waving at you as you start to follow Steve’s path up to the trailer. “Please don’t kill him!”

Closing the sliding glass door behind you, a shiver runs up your spine when the coolness of the air conditioning hits your sticky skin. The sound of running water catches in your ears from the kitchen along with the murmur of his voice under its rush.You can’t quite make out what he’s saying to himself, even when you reach the doorway. 

Hunched over the sink, his shoulder blades flex with every harsh scrub of the pan. His hat rests on the counter, and you can’t help but notice the wild way his hair sits on the top of his head from wearing it all day, sun kissed tips curling from the humidity. Clearing your throat just loud enough to alert him of your presence, you watch the way his whole body goes rigid. It only lasts for a moment before he recovers, shutting off the water with a lazy slap of his hand. Turning around he grabs the dish towel next to him to dry off, meeting your gaze with a little more color in his eyes, flecks of gold trying to shimmer in a raging storm.

Having his full attention on you, alone like this, is enough for your tongue to go numb. The back of your throat turns into sandpaper, making it impossible for words to find their way out. A big hand runs through his hair, fingers getting caught on a knot at the end that he works out with ease, a gentle sigh deflating his defensive chest just a little before he speaks.

“Hey.” 

Anger still boils under all of the attraction, along with the jealousy you aren’t willing to acknowledge.You aren’t ready. You can’t do this yet.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” you excuse yourself, turning on your heel and leaving just as quickly as you arrived.

You ignore the way he calls after you, seeking solace in the place that's become your hiding spot for the night. Fingers wrap around the handle to the familiar room, you stop in your tracks when a warm patch of light leaking out from a crack in a door that wasn’t opened before catches your attention. 

You can smell the cedar from here.

Glancing over your shoulder to see if he followed you, it changes the course of your direction when you discover that he didn’t. Taking a few steps across the hallway, you’re careful not to let the hinges creak when you push his bedroom door open a little more. Your senses quickly become overwhelmed with everything that makes Steve, Steve. You throw another cautious look down the hallway before crossing the invisible line. Closing the door like how you found it, you let your curiosity get the best of you. 

It’s cleaner than you thought it’d be now that he doesn’t live inside the Harrington’s massive house anymore. His bed is bigger, the twin sized mattress that you used to squeeze into traded in for a queen. The navy blue comforter that looks soft to the touch is laid out messy on white sheets, a digital clock with glaring red numbers that read 10:30 pm on the nightstand next to it. 

The carpet under your feet is a heather gray, and you can tell that it’s scratchy even with your shoes on. Patrick Swayze watches your every move from the Roadhouse poster hanging on his wall, the floor creaking as you make your way toward the small work desk in the corner. Your eyes linger on the impressive way all his dirty clothes manage to be in his hamper before they find the framed pictures spread over his desk. 

There’s one of him with the middle school boy you knew as Dustin Henderson perched on his back, only he looks much older than you remembered. The curls still give him away despite the braces free smile. Both of them grin hard enough for their eyes to crinkle in the corners like they had finally stopped laughing long enough for someone to snap this picture. 

You fight back the way your cheeks threaten to push up, not surprised to find one of him and Robin at what looks like Lover’s Lake, both of them striking the same pose with inflatable tubes around their waists wearing matching bucket hats and sunglasses.

The guy in these photos doesn’t seem anything like the one you remember and it’s hard for you to wrap your head around it. They look the same.

”I don’t think this is the bathroom, do you?” Steve’s voice makes you jump, heart stopping in your chest for a split second before you meet his questioning stare with a guilty face of your own. 

His arms are crossed over his chest as leans against the door frame, unintentionally pulling the collar of his shirt down giving you a glimpse of the patch of hair and the gold chain underneath. The softness in his eyes from the kitchen is gone as he stares you down, it’s replaced with something you can’t quite put your finger on but the intensity of it raking over your body has your thighs meeting for what feels like the millionth time tonight. His full pink lips twist into a sarcastic smirk as he pushes off the wood, taking the next few steps into his room.

”Did you really mean what you said out there?” He questions, dark eyes sparkling the more you squirm under the heat of them.

”Mean what? I said a lot of things out there. We all did.” Narrowing your gaze, you try to take back some semblance of control, squaring up your shoulders at him but the dark chuckle you get in response tells you it’s a futile attempt.

“I didn’t say anything about you specifically though, did I?” Steve counters, stopping just a few feet away from you, tongue poking at the side of his cheek, “No, I don’t think I did.”

He hums, uncrossing his arms to mimic your stance in a silent challenge, eyebrows raised waiting on your response.

”I didn’t say anything about you specifically either.” Jutting out your chin in defiance, it's your turn to cross your arms now. Maturity at its finest.

He doesn’t answer you, instead he holds your eyes with his own and it takes everything inside of you not to look away. Your tongue swipes against your bottom lip as he starts to take a few steps closer, broad shoulders making the room feel small when the toes of his sneakers meet yours.

“I don’t think you ever faked anything with me.” He looks down his nose at you, smelling like summer nights and everything you’ve tried to forget.

”You think or you know?” Cocking a brow with a shit eating grin that tells him you aren’t going to fold easy, the backs of your thighs hit the edge of his desk. 

He sucks at his teeth, rolling his shoulders with the kind of laugh that makes the dull ache between your legs turn into a throb.

“I know. Trust me.” He smirks, gaze lingering where the soft dough of your thighs meet before finding your eyes again, “Guess what else I know?”

It's hard for you to catch your breath when he looks at you like this and you wonder if he notices the quick heaves of your chest or the way your eyes glaze over from being this close to him.

”W-what?” Your stutter gives you away, but at least you tried to fight one last time before he went in for the kill.

The whites of his teeth show in the kind of smile that tells you he was hoping you’d ask just that. Leaning in, his palms land on his desk finding purchase on either side of your hips, caging you in. He’s close enough for the tip of his nose to brush against yours, close enough to smell the wheat from his beer on the warm breath that fans against your lips. 

“You wouldn’t still look at me the way you do, if I hadn’t made you feel good honey. And you know what else?” 

His voice goes deep as he whispers, nose nudging at your cheek before his lips hover right by your ear making you shiver, goosebumps making their second appearance of the day. Your hands find the edge of his desk, chest brushing against his in a deep breath feeling the slightest touch of his lips against the soft spot right behind it.  

“I know I can make you cum harder with my tongue than some Wall Street asshole, who doesn’t even know what to do under the hood of that fancy car he spent so much money on.” His grip on the desk tightens at the thought, wood groaning under the stress of it and it has your thighs spreading for him on their own.

“Steve -”

His fingers grab your chin like at the shop with just a firm enough hold for you to pull away if you want to but you can’t bring yourself to do it when his eyes threaten to swallow you whole. You wonder if it's just a mirror reflection of your own as he takes some of the new space you’ve given him, so close now that you can feel the heat of his body where yours screams for him most. His brows furrow when your noses brush and he swears he can taste the watermelon of your lip gloss, and then he knows he can when he feels your fingers curl into his shirt tugging him closer.

“I think,” he breathes into your mouth, hesitating just enough to soak it in a second longer before pulling away with an almost pained expression that he quickly tries to cover up, “I think it’s time for me to take you and Robin home.”

He steps back and out of your space, a nervous hand running through his hair like he did something he wasn’t supposed to do. His eyes meet yours again and there's something apologetic that swirls in the deep forest that watches you tug your skirt down straightening up.

”I’ll uh, I’ll give you a minute while I go wrangle Robin.” 

He takes one last look at you like he really needs to be sure of something before finally walking out and leaving you alone to wonder how the night ended with you here. Skirt rucked up, trying to catch your breath in Steve Harrington’s room.

———-

🌻 beta’d by @superblysubpar

🌻 chapter three

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