#i feel like i barely watched her this year so at least i can spend a night catching up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amaranthineghost · 5 months

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hello!!!

can you do a one shot/ fanfic that Lando has been dating Y/N since they were 15/16, so for a long time, and she just found out she’s pregnant. you can come up with how they would react and how lando would react but i’d love if they were unsure of it in the beginning, but it grew on them as time went by.

thanks!!!!

| OUR WORLD IN YOUR HANDS ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando x reader

ꕥ summary: they hadn't planned for pregnancy, but it changed their life.

ꕥ authors note: enjoyed writing it more than I thought I would honestly. tried to make it so she was more unsure than he was and in the end, I liked it. working on incorporating more dialogue in the future because it is definitely not my strong suit. I'll also alternate between requests and my own ideas so if you requested something, keep it in mind <3

ꕥ warnings: mentions of alcohol, sex, barely mentions thoughts of abortion

TWO RED LINES. her heart had skipped a beat, more like several as she stared at the dark red line and a faded pink one next to it. she couldn't believe her eyes. it couldn't be possible, it repeated in her mind.

but it obviously was. they hadn't been very careful, they're young and dumb and in love. two people so deeply in love that they couldn't care less. at least she thought they did at the time.

staring at the test in front of her shook her whole world, an entirely different branch of her life she'd never expect to take this soon. it was right in front of her.

despite being together for a year or two shy of a decade, it felt too soon. they were still young, had plenty of parties lined up in the near future. plenty of drunken nights running through the streets of monaco barefooted, hands intertwined as the world was focused on them. how they'd escape to the farthest rooftop, drunken makeouts leading to more as they came together under the stars.

they still had time. time to be what they'd missed as teenagers, to make memories. they had time to spend countless nights, wrapped in each other's arms under cold skies on balconies across countries, discussing their future. when they'd get married, where they'd like to live, if they ever left monaco which seemed unlikely, the places they've yet to see, how many kids they'll have and their names.

time for reckless driving through the streets of monaco with the wind crashing against them, hands raised as they cheered. he always drove to the most beautiful sight in the city, but always claimed it would never come close to the beauty she possessed.

time for runs across the beach in tiny bikinis and swim trunks as they raced on the sand. his arms capturing her waist as he tossed her around, feeling the vibrations of her laughter and screams against his skin. a feeling he'd forever cherish.

it all disappeared with a single faded line. everything she knew about their future collapsed with the test barely bigger than the length of her hand. it would affect everything.

it was conflicting. becoming a mother was all she ever dreamed and talked about, when she became older. she'd mention to her curly-haired boyfriend countless times of her dreams of having the mini versions of him running around the house they shared. the longing to see his eyes and curly hair with features of her own on another warm body. their child.

but she wasn't ready. in her mid-twenties, with years of life left to live child-free. tens of grand prix's to attend in support of her mclaren lover, watching 10 feet away from his car. nights to catch up on hours of sleep she lacked from keeping up with lando's lifestyle.

having a kid swept it all off the table. no more late night dalliances, or getting so drunk to the point where lando would have to pull over the car to hold back her hair as she threw up in the bushes.

no more parties at ungodly hours of the night, watching drunk lando stumble his way to the dj booth, giggling over a glass of alcohol at his actions.

no more sleep. she knew she'd be woken up numerous times in the night from the cries of her child, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to give up sleep yet.

and she wasn't sure lando wanted to give up formula one either. obviously, a balance between the two worlds is possible, but she knew he would want to be there with her, and she didn't know if he could.

it scared her. the thought of this changing the dynamic of their relationship on levels she couldn't even begin to think of. she's seen countless videos of how having a child completely changed the way couples worked, good and bad, and she didn't want that fifty-fifty.

she'd sat staring at the test between the tips of her fingers for a solid twenty minutes before she heard a patterned knock she grew familiar with from her beloved boyfriend.

the door muffled his voice just slightly, "darling, you 'right in there?" his hand wrapped around the now cold door handle and twisted it, but it failed to turn as it pressed into his palm.

it was unusual for her to lock the door, she knew he would question it. and she knew she couldn't use the excuse of that she's changing or showering because lando simply didn't care whenever she was. he'd sit and keep her company till she was done with whatever she was doing because it was often what they did. sit in silence, enjoying the presence of one another.

"yeah, I'm fine!" she called out to him in a rushed tone, flinching enough that she nearly dropped the test. she watched as the door knob shook, shoving the stick into the bottom of the trash temporarily. she'd remember to remove it eventually.

she turned on the sink as she hid the box of tests in the depths of the cabinet under the sink. looking at herself in the mirror, she'd wipe away the tears that built in her eyes. she didn't want him to notice, but like always he would.

from the locked door to the second she opened it, he'd watch it. she'd see him leaning on the wall just outside the door, patiently waiting for her to come out to him. he wouldn't question it, he trusted that she would eventually come around to tell him. she always did.

with the frequent trips to the bathroom and the slimmed selection of foods in the fridge, he'd suspect something, but he wouldn't know for sure. not without her word.

because for the time being, it was a secret she kept to herself, as much as she despised secrets. she felt like she was guilty to be hiding something from the person she trusted most in the world.

times when she thought the room was empty, she'd be pacing long ways back and forth with her arms crossed and her face solid. he'd watched her from the doorframe with his arms crossed against his chest, mirroring her position slightly.

times when she'd drop whatever she was doing to rush into the bathroom and spill her guts into the toilet as he held her hair and ran his fingers along the nape of her neck. she claimed it was a stomach bug, but he knew better. he also knew better than to question her words so he said nothing, but made a multitude of soups for her to sip on, taking notice of her now acute taste.

times when she'd cry over the tiniest of things, comforting her in his arms while she sobbed against the fabric of his very worn hoodie that happened to be her favorite.

it wasn't a great shock when she first told him. stuttering over her words as she fumbled with the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt that went well past her fingertips, he could see tears brimming her eyes with her heightened sensitivity.

so when she muttered the words, "i'm pregnant," his world stopped, restarted, reloaded and stopped again when he finally processed the words. though he knew he could've expected it, hearing the confirmation leave her lips left his world tipped sideways.

but he wanted to hear it again, needed to, words breathlessly escaping his lips, "what, love?" he heard her the first time, but he wanted to hear it again. and again and again.

she choked on her words, sobbing out again, "I'm pregnant, lan," he pulled her into his chest, his hand finding it's way to the side of her head as he cradled her, pressing his lips against her hair.

as they swayed, it finally dawned on him, muttering unsure and excitedly against her head, "I'm going to be a dad?" his breathing deepened, his tongue gliding across his lips, then biting at the sensitive flesh. he felt his heart hammer in his chest, nearly comparing to when he first asked the girl out all those years ago. he reminisced the time when the biggest deal he could think of was rejection. now the girl he had crushed on when he was just a teenager just told him she's pregnant. with his kid.

part of him couldn't be happier, they had spent countless nights in bed, lying on their sides facing one another with stupid grins on their faces as they pondered their future together. whatever they wanted, it always had the other in their thoughts and plans.

this was just their plans manifesting faster than they might've hoped, and sure, he wasn't totally certain that it was the right timing after all. but this was their dream, and maybe they just needed time.

time to accept how greatly their life would be affected. he thought about how he'd have to leave her for days, weeks for his career, the few outlying times when she'd travel with him. he knew that would change, leaving her home with a new life to take care of besides her own. he hated the thought of leaving her.

they needed time to think, whether it was together or just by themselves. they needed to figure out how they'd make it through, if they could. which was a question in itself.

they needed to talk because part of her didn't think he would be so accepting of the change life threw them, permanently altering their course of life and the years to follow.

deep inside, they're scared. they knew they would've been, planned or not. it didn't make it any easier. but when he asked such a simple question, it lifted a massive weight that had been carrying on her shoulders. part of her knew he'd always be so accepting. everything is an experience after all.

with every month passed, every growth of the life within her body, he'd mention. he was the nerdy type to compare the size of the baby with fruit. he'd goggle each week with every new development she'd create. it shook his mind to even comprehend. she could make bones, organs and the tiniest lashes of their soon-to-be kid all within the confines of her body. to him, it was sacred.

and of course, he'd tell just about everyone from every team. all the drivers, mechanics, pit crew, team principals, the list goes on and so does his rants about her.

countless photos of appreciation for her on his social media, after all she was carrying his child and he was ecstatic. he'd spent every waking moment he could with her, his hands always somewhere on her, prodominantly on her growing stomach.

when he felt the first kick, he pulled his hand away sharply, looking at her with a dropped jaw and wide eyes, "it kicked me!" he'd exclaim and she slapped his shoulder, scolding him.

"don't call the baby an 'it!'"

"what else am I supposed to call it?" again, earning another slap to his bicep, and he'd look at her with a growing confused look.

"stop slapping me!" he held up his arms in defense as she scowled at him, her arms crossed over her chest. she pursed her lips before sighing as he'd replace his hand on her stomach.

"babe, I don't think this baby likes me," he looked between his hand and her eyes, feeling the movement under his palm. it was a weird sensation, something he'd never expect to feel so soon, or at all.

all she could do was laugh at the stupid expression across his face as he looked back and forth in bewilderment. the warmth from his hand, and the small calluses sent goosebumps across her skin. it incited a smirk to take place on his face, but she slapped it off. he'd expect to feel more of those as the months went by, especially with all the sly comments she'd hear slip past his lips.

with every ultrasound appointment, he'd be there. he'd make sure of it, no matter where he was or what he was doing. she also scheduled them in accordance to his race and where in the world it took place.

every time, his eyes would be locked on the screen that projected his child, a part of him in another life form. a smile always creeping into his face as he held her cold hand. more often than not, he'd get curious and try to become the technician, stealing the equipment out of the professional's hand. his girlfriend would scold him like he was some sort of dog. in response he'd groan, rolling his eyes at her.

he'd still try though, and the technician laughed it off. he'd make comments to her in reassurance, "babe, i've got this," he'd tell him as his hand with the wand came closer to her stomach.

"where's your degree then?" she snapped back, giggling at his sudden pause before he shrugged, waving it off his other hand.

" 's at home."

when the time finally came to birth their new life into the world, god did lando panic. everything he had prepared himself with went out the window when she'd mutter the words he'd been waiting to hear.

"lando," she mumbled as she sat on their couch, turning to him with wide eyes, "I think it's time." her sleeve-covered hands were at her face as she bit nervously on her nails.

he'd stutter over his words, hands in his hair, "you're joking." he'd say repeatedly as he rushed around the apartment, grabbing things. he was the type to grab everything and forget her still on the couch.

she'd call him on her phone when she sees him in his car from the window, through the pain, she laughed at him, "forget something, norris?"

"no, darling, I've got everything-" she'd see his movement pause, his hand returning to his hair, "fuck!"

when he'd come back to help her, she was nearly collapsed with laughter despite the pain she felt through her body.

"stop laughing at me!" he whined but he was laughing with her. nonetheless, they'd get to the car.

she was in labor for hours, crunching on ice chips that he'd fed her carefully. he'd massage her shoulders, hold her hand when contractions got particularly unbearable. he knew not to mumble bullshit words of encouragement, a word of advice from his mum, advice he'd gladly listen to.

instead he'd show her he was there by doing everything she asked until it was time to actually deliver their child they've been waiting 9 months to finally meet.

with a pale face, lando would comment, "I think one kid is fine after all." she'd roll her eyes at his words as she held their daughter in her arms, already seeing themselves in her. she was exhausted and he knew. he put her hair up, cooing words of appreciation to her now that all was done. he took care of her.

he'd remember call his mum later to tell her thank you.

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kooktrash · 8 months

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make a wish | jeon jungkook [ birthday drabble ]

DRABBLE FOR: ROMANTIC DREAMS but you don’t have to read it, this drabble can stand alone

summary: hours before his birthday, his friends force him to come out for a night of drinks only for him to be mad the entire time that you’re ignoring him. he comes home early worried you might’ve left but what he saw instead made his birthday all the better when the clock strikes midnight.

warnings: smut. birthday sex. jk is at the club but misses oc lol. 3.8k words

The feeling he got anytime he came out for drinks with his friends never changed. It always felt suffocating to him from the crowds of drunk people all against each other to the overly loud music he couldn’t even pay attention to. It was overwhelming, to say the least.He hated the looks he got and the way people tried to talk to him. He hated how loud his friends were and how they felt the need to bring him up to complete strangers like any of it matter. It’s his birthday weekend, you wanted him to celebrate with all of his friends and yet he couldn’t care less about any of that. He was more interested in finding out why you weren’t here tonight and why you weren’t answering your phone.

“Come on man, just one drink and then you’re free to crawl back to Y/n,” Jin joked as he patted the guy on the back, “But we want to hang out with you for your birthday at least once.”

“Y/n’s not answering the phone,” Jungkook warned as he was led to the bar, “So I’m probably just gonna head out.”

“Dude, Y/n’s not a kid, you don’t have to watch her every five seconds,” Namjoon asked, “Don’t get me wrong, wanting to spend time with your girlfriend is the bare minimum but don’t you think you go overboard sometimes? It would not kill you to be away from her for one night.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything, his gaze hardened as he eyed his friend closely. Namjoon just shrugged despite how blunt he sounded and that only seemed to annoy Jungkook more. Who was he to say that?

Jungkook does not go overboard, alright?

He trusts you… of course he does… but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still think about you leaving him. Something in his gut tells him that if you ever try to break up with him you won’t tell him, you’ll just leave and he’ll have no clue where you went.

He thinks you’ve finally grown to love him almost as much as he loves you but he just can’t get over the amount of times you told him you were done. The amount of times he’s had to remind you you’re not going anywhere and neither is he.

He’s gotten better too, he no longer has cameras set up and maybe that’s why he always feels so anxious when you don’t answer. All he’s got is your location so he knows you’re at home, so why won’t you answer his texts?

“Kook?” Namjoon called out to him as he stood at the bar as if he hadn’t just yelled at him, “What do you want to drink?”

“Jungkook?”

He yelled at his friend to get him anything, hearing the call of his name but not bothering to turn and acknowledge it. A small poke on his arm made him take a deep breath and turn to whoever was trying to catch his attention.

“It is you,” She said softly, “Oh my god, it’s been so long. W-y-you just stopped talking to me.”

“Do I know you?” Jungkook looked down unimportant. He actually did have a small recollection of her. They met over a year ago and hooked up a couple times but that was it. He was horny and she was easy.

She looked taken back, “Yeah. You do, asshole.”

He didn’t respond to her, simply glanced down at her angry expression and scoffed as he looked to his friends. They were all busy buying drinks and Jungkook did not care about any of that. He’s been with them since he got off work. They didn’t even let him go home to see you and tell you to go out for drinks. They showed up at the shop, hurried him to close and dragged him to the closest bar. He’s tired of it all. His birthday is tonight and the person he wants to spend it with isn’t answering their damn phone and he’s just starting to get pissed off.

“Okay, here’s yo—“

“I’m leaving,” Jungkook told Namjoon, handing him back the drink, “I’m tired and we’ve been out for hours already. I want to go home.”

Namjoon checked the time biting his lip, he was supposed to stall Jungkook from getting home per your orders and it’s been difficult all night to keep him from running to you. He’s never seen his friend so… in love [?], is that the right word for it? His need to know where you are, why you aren’t talking to him, who you’re with, was intense. Namjoon just knows Jungkook is at his limit with you ignoring him. All he could do was nod his head and give up, “Alright, can you drive?”

Jungkook only had one drink and even then he didn’t finish it before they tried getting him another so he felt fine. He was just bothered that you’ve yet to reach out to him.

He made an attempt to call you, one last time, as he got in his car but like before you didn’t answer and he can feel his patience running extremely thin. Why weren’t you answering him?

The first thing Jungkook noticed when he got back to your shared apartment was how dark it was. Usually [especially now that he’s made the place his own now], the apartment had a dark aura to it. It probably had to do with the mixed decor the two of you had up like his black sketches of skulls and serpents next to your framed photographs of Baby’s Breath and lavender. He’s used to it by now but right now… it’s too quiet…

“Y/n?” Jungkook called out and you could hear the growing annoyed panic in his voice. He dropped his things from work down to the ground without any care. He hasn’t seen you since before he went to the tattoo shop in the morning and now it’s almost midnight and you’re nowhere to be seen.

As Jungkook turned down the hallway, he seemed to freeze. Just below his feet where he hadn’t noticed them before, laid a trail of black rose petals. He followed them with his gaze seeing them disappear under the closed bedroom door where he could see a hue of red lighting inside. With a curious tilt of his head, he walked along the petals, twisting the knob on the door and immediately feeling his heart race.

Your bedroom which had become a concoction of gothic knickknacks and floral patterns, was a deep shade of red. His vinyl played one of his favorite Deftones songs, Mascara, and there you were.

He stopped at the door, eyes taking in the sight around him but all he could do was look down at you surrounded by candles littered across the room and music playing softly to set the mood and suddenly he wasn’t angry anymore. You had been ignoring him all night and that drew him insane but seeing you laying in bed wearing nothing but a black lace lingerie set made him forget all about that anger.

“So this is why you weren’t answering my calls?” Jungkook asked despite feeling giddy inside from all of this. Your lingerie was thin and fitted, it hugged you in all the right places and you looked so inviting with your legs slightly spread open for him, laying in a petal of black roses. You didn’t say anything, only lifted a single finger toward him and motioned for him to move closer.

Your boyfriend was never much for the theatrics, he liked doing it too much to wait, so you weren’t surprised at all when he reached for the back of his black shirt and yanked off over his head exposing his muscles, torso and nipple piercings. His tattooed hands unzipped the front of his black jeans and kicked them off immediately before walking toward the bed with a dark look in his eyes.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you said sitting up a little when he brought a hand to the back of your neck after crawling over your body to kiss you, “But you’re always so impatient.”

“You were ignoring me,” Jungkook whispered against your lips as he sighed softly into the kiss, “I don’t like when you ignore me.”

“So you’re not happy with the surprise?” You asked despite knowing the answer. Jungkook has only just now gotten undressed and you can already see the growing bulge in his Calvin Klein’s. Jungkook looked down at your pliant body laying pretty underneath him, unable to help himself from dragging his index finger over the tip of your nipples that peaked through the sheer fabric, “I love it, just dlike nt ignore my texts again, okay?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes even as he kissed along your neck lovingly, his teeth softly nipped at the skin until his tongue was running over the marks soothingly. He was already on top of you trying to control the situation and you put a hand on his chest to move him off. His brows furrowed as you began to say up forcing him to do the same, “Why don’t you lay down and let me take the lead for once, yeah?”

“Bab—“ his words died down when your finger tugged at one the bar piercing on his nipple. He looked down watching your finger circle around it teasingly scratching against him and he was folding. Now that Jungkook had relaxed a little, you took the chance to move him to lie on his back, straddling hips as his hands found your waist to hold you there. He set you down directly over his hardening length, letting you slide against it for a moment’s worth of friction. Jungkook always got so easily turned on when it came to you. He could be at work doing a tattoo on someone and suddenly he’ll remember what the two of you did the night before, how he fucked you on the kitchen counter or ate your pushy in the bathtub. Sometimes it didn’t even have to be about sex. He would think about seeing you fresh out the shower or wearing a shirt of his and nothing underneath.

“Y/n,” Jungkook sighed once he felt you lean down for a kiss. It was an open mouth kiss with your tongue pushing into his sloppily the way he liked it, your hands scratching down his ribbed sides feeling every muscle in their path. When you pulled your lips away from his, a line of drool connected your mouths and dribbled down to his chin when you kissed along his jaw. Jungkook’s hands couldn’t sit still, they needed to feel all of you. Your lingerie bottoms were nothing but a lacy thin thong that left little to the imagination but looked good nevertheless. He slid his hands over your butt, big hands pinching and helping any part of you that he could, occasionally making your covered cored grind against his dick. A low moan left his lips when you sucked on his neck leaving a trail of love bites in your wake, moving down to his collarbone and chest.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” you said teasingly as you lucked over his abused nipple that you had been tugging on. Jungkook’s breath hitched when you circled it with your tongue, sucking softly and nipping at the metal with your teeth.

“Always,” Jungkook sighed, squirming a bit as you kissed between his abs down toward his navel, fingers already sinking into the hem of his briefs, “You always make me feel good.”

“Mhm,” you hummed in content, sliding yourself off his lap until you sat perfectly between his spread, muscular thighs, “You always make me feel good too, baby.”

It’s true too. He’s your boyfriend for fucks sake, even if you used to resent him for being the way he was then; there’s no point in still feeling that way when you really do love him—whether it be healthy or not is still up for debate.

Jungkook tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, playing with his lip ring as you yanked his briefs down with a bit of force that had him groaning at the toughness. He’s not used to you taking the initiative, maybe you’ve done it once or twice but never dressed like this in a red and black room made for sex.

You looked down at his length, not surprised at all by the sight of it. Jungkook was hard, his dick was thick and flat against his navel, throbbing under your stare. It twitched like it wanted to point upward but he wasn’t there yet. He needed a little more attention still.

You placed your hands on his thighs for support as you leaned forward to be face to face with his cock, pursing your lips like you were gonna kiss it before blowing air. Jungkook had to rest on his elbows to be able to sit up enough to see what you were doing, just barely catching the sight of you reaching further down and flattening your tongue against his balls teasingly until you licked the underside of his cock too. Immediately his arms gave way and he was laying back down on the bed, eyes squeezed shut.

You wrapped a hand around his base, angling his cock to point upward before running your tongue along the side once more like he was a melting ice pop. You could see his lip pulled between his teeth and his eyes screwed shut in anticipation making you smirk. Jungkook always knew how to make you feel good and it was a boost to your ego to know that you too knew what made your boyfriend feel good. As his cock stood straight now, you licked along his tip, circling around the head and feeling him throb in your first when you sucked softly against his slit that produced precum.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groaned as he let his head fall back against rhe pillows with his hands tucked under his neck, hips raising with need to meet your mouth and make you take his cock down your throat. You grinned at the disheveled sight of your boyfriend that was caused by a little teasing and lowered your head starting back down over his balls where you knew he liked to feel your tongue first. Jungkook liked things sloppy, a bit rough and nasty. He loved having his balls played with, feeling your tongue swipe along them, sucking one into your mouth and tugging while fisting his cock. It’s exactly what you did tonight, you paid extra attention to his balls feeling his thighs tighten around you when you began to stroke his dick.

Jungkook was in ecstasy, his cock no longer needed your hand to make him stand straight, he was hard enough to do it on its own and you dug your nails into his thighs when you finally began to take him all into your mouth. A loud moan left his lips at the warm sensation of your spit coating his member, making it easier to slide him into your mouth. He could feel you try and relax your throat all around him and although the wanted to let you take your time, he was so fucking horny. He couldn’t help but buck his hips up, forcing you to take more and more of him at a quicker pace.

You shook your head no, cock in your mouth and a hand flat against his pelvis to hold him down, “Just relax, baby, I got this.”

He huffed impatiently, nodding his head as he tried to calm down, lips parting in surprise when you took him all in one go. If your mouth wasn’t full with his dick, you would’ve been smiling at the way he so easily turned to mush underneath you. You wasted no time in teasing him anymore, bobbing your head up and down while your fist strokes whatever didn’t fit in your mouth. Your other hand was fondling his balls avain, squeezing them, massaging them, rubbing them against each other as you made obscene noises with your throat as you fucked him into your mouth. Jungkook’s hands closed in tight fists over the bed sheets, body caving in with how good your mouth felt on him and he was so damn close, “Fucking hell, baby, fuck.”

You could tell he was close by the way he became restless, thighs clenching and unclenching, chest rising and lowering with jagged and fast paced breath, lips drawn apart with moan after moan and it only made you double your efforts. You got rougher, faster, sloppier.

It got to the point where Jungkook had a closed fist over his eyes trying not to overwhelm himself with how good you were making him feel but it had become too much. He couldn’t take it anymore, “Okay, Y/n, there, I’m gonna cum. Come on, need to feel you—oh fuck, baby.”

His head fall back with a loud moan, spurts of thick cum coating the inside of your mouth so suddenly even you were surprised by the amount. Jungkook’s body writhed on the bed, large muscular body twitching with pleasure as he came down your throat. You gagged at the intensity, pulling your mouth away and watching it coat his own dick in it, still softly jerking him off through his orgasm.

“You okay?” You asked lovingly, stroking him as you looked down at the mess you’ve made of him. Jungkook’s eyes were a deep red that made his gaze look darker under the LED lights. His lips looked swollen and cum was all over his pelvis but he was still rock hard.

“Y/n,” his voice grew hoarse, “Need you to sit on dick, right now.”

You smiled, laughing softly as you looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand. 11:59pm.

“Birthday boy wants to cum in my pussy?” You asked surprisingly. The two of you rarely had sex without a condom but you were on birth control and it was his birthday… your boyfriend deserved this. As crazy as he was, he loved you and you… well, you loved him too or else why would you have stuck around? And right now, you were too turned on to care about the consequences.

Jungkook didn’t have to say anything to have you lining his cock work your wet pussy as you slid the lingerie to the side so it wasn’t in the way. As much as Jungkook loved the way it looked on you, he needed it completely off of you.

His rough fingers tugged at the seams, easily tearing it apart as you pressed his thick head between your folds. You gasped in surprise at how easily he tore threw the fabric, yanking roughly until it was in his hands and on the floor, “Baby… I’m trying to be sexy here.”

“You’re always sexy,” Jungkook said not caring about the lingerie as his hands found your hips, lowering you down his length himself, “But I like you better with nothing on.”

“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgement, a small moan leaving your lips as this thick head finally made it past your broken hymen making the slide of the rest of his cock that much easier. Your hands fell flat against his chest for support as your feet pushed against the bed to help you raise your hips, his hands guiding you to bring them back down. It started off slowly, you began riding him teasingly only lifting yourself up a little, grinding your hips against his and doing it all over again.

Jungkook was fine with the pace as he took in the sight of your pretty tits in his face and he couldn’t help but move his hands to grope them, thumbs brushing over your nipples as his hips began to thrust up into yours making the slow ducking a little rougher.

“Jungkook,” you moaned softly as his thick length hit that special spot at the top, rubbing against your open folds and pleasuring you so well you almost forgot this was for him and not for you. He was at the point where he didn’t care about who was supposed to be making who feel good. Anything you did to him felt good and without a care in the world he pulled you down to lay on his chest, your face against his neck as he dug his feet into the mattress and began to fuck you from below. Your body bounced against his and with an arm tight around your lower waist and the other groping your ass, he was fully taking control to bring you to your first orgasm of the night.

“Feels good, baby?” He asked in a low whisper into your ear, cock working in and out of your tight pussy. You nodded your head, kissing his neck between moans as your cunt tightened around him, “So good.”

Jungkook took the lead with ease, grinding you against his aching member, so close to release once more. The clock had strikes midnight time ago and his phone was being flooded with birthday messages but he was too busy to care. All he had wanted for his birthday was to spend it with you and his patience had paid off.

He came home to you dressed so fucking sexy for him and with a promise that he could cum inside and that alone was bringing him closer and closer to his second orgasm, not worried about finishing too soon when he knew this wouldn’t be the last round.

Your teeth nipped are his neck, nails scratching along his nipples as you tightened around him once more, “Jun—babe, I can’t… fuck, please.”

“Cum for me, do it baby,” Jungkook urged you on, lifting a hand only to bring it back down hard on your ass hearing you squeal at the slight sting but your walls tightened all the same. His cock was reaching deep into your count every time you took him all in and all it took was one final spank, for your orgasm to hit. You released a loud moan into his ear, hearing him grunt as you clenched around and finally you felt the warmth of his release flood your insides for the first time ever.

He was left breathless, cock coated in both your arousals as you pulled yourself off of him and you both watch his release mixed with yours dribble down your legs, immediately turning him on once more. You looked up at him, smile on your face from how good your boyfriend looked after sex. You checked the time once more, hearing his phone buzz and you ran a soothing hand over his thigh and pulling some stray black petals off of him, “I’m gonna get a bath going, how does that sound, birthday boy?”

Jungkook smirked, “Sounds good.”

“Okay, I’ll be back, why don’t you start responding to everyone,” you told him with a wink. When you left and he looked down at his phone, a small laugh left his lips.

joon:i hope whatever surprise y/n did for u was good bc u were a bitch to keep distracted

joon: happy birthday

joon: don’t have too much fun with your girl

::.

ugh everytime I tell myself I’m tired of romantic dreams Jungkook I just come back 😭anyways little bday drabble on KooK’s bday 🥺HAPPY 26TH BIRTHDAY

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abibliophobiaa · 7 months

Text

right where you left me;

chapter one: ticket to anywhere

summary: steve harrington is unlucky when it comes to matters of the heart. for years he’s been in love with his best friend, but circumstances have made it impossible for him to make his feelings known. fate seems to have other plans, when you ask him to help you escape your wedding day, with nothing but his hand to hold and a car to drive off in. you suddenly find yourself headed back to hawkins, back to the place that feels so unfamiliar now — back to the place where you first fell in love.

warnings: 18+; smut in later chapters; alcohol mentions; class differences; financial insecurities; purposeful vignette-like/short scenes to cover a larger span of time in this mini-series (11k words).

steve harrington x f!reader || best friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance romance with the town handyman who lives in a cabin in the woods. inspired by this edit from @somnambulic-thing.

masterlist | next chapter

——

October, 1990…

——

Everything is wrong.

It hits you, sitting there in front of the vanity mirror, voices swirling about the room full of your girl friends. Your gown, the colors of the bridesmaids dresses, the venue. It’s too lavish, too over the top. Not the small, intimate feel you imagined ever since you were a little girl, friends surrounding you, watching as you married the man of your dreams.

But then again, the groom isn’t who you imagined either. That’s the first of the many issues with this day that jump to your attention.

Clark is fair haired and light eyed. Handsome, in the way that you can tell he spends thousands of dollars on clothing to do so. More acquaintance than the man you always envisioned standing beside you on this day.

This same man, who you found only moments ago seemingly in a passionate argument with one of your bridesmaids. Both of them touching one another in a way that seemed too familiar, like they’d done this dance, had this same conversation at least once before. She begged for him to leave, to get away now, to back out of the marriage. Pleaded with him to consider love, instead of some business endeavor.

Had reached up and kissed him bruisingly, his hands fisted in her gown. The same wrinkled one that stares at you now as your fingers toy with your bouquet, her sad eyes plastered on your face.

You know you should feel something. Anger, betrayal, hurt, resentment — but instead you feel nothing at all. You’re not in love. Haven’t been. Now your mind only buzzes, someone calling your name bringing you to attention, head lifting slightly.

“Are you okay?” they ask, “can I get you anything?”

And it’s two words.

A name, really, that pops into your mind.

“Can you see if Steve Harrington is here yet?”

——

Steve’s not sure what to think when a bridesmaid he barely recognizes — likely because he’s only met them once or twice before — barrels toward him, an intensity in her eyes that has him worrying something has gone wrong.

Everything is wrong, though. Because he’s here, in this ridiculously huge wedding venue, standing in for those in Hawkins who couldn’t make the trip, about to watch as his best friend marries a man who isn’t Steve Harrington.

And as much as it pains him, loving you means doing anything to see you happy — even if it kills him in the end. It’s all he knows, all he has done for as long as you’ve been a friend to him, two wide-eyed eleven-year-olds sitting in some fancy ballroom as you watched your parents parade themselves around like the elite that they deemed themselves to be.

What he doesn’t expect, however, as he’s practically dragged into a room, is to find you standing there pacing back and forth, beautiful as ever and not at all happy for someone who is about to be married.

“Stacy, a moment?” you ask, lifting your head enough that he can see you fully.

You’re absolutely breathtaking, in a way that’s almost cruel, because after today you’ll officially be a wife. After today, he’ll have to accept that his feelings that are not at all platonic toward his best friend he still harbors all these years later can only ever just be that: feelings.

As the door shuts behind Stacy, you rush forward and slam into his chest, and he’s immediately there to wrap his arms around your waist. You’re a vision in a fluffy tulle skirt, the veil on your head brushing against his chin, and it’s then he feels the frantic flutter of your heart against his sternum. It’s then he can feel your fingers curl around the lapels of his suit — can see the flash of tears swimming in your eyes.

“I need to get out of here,” you whisper hoarsely.

Breathlessly.

“What do y —”

“Please…take me away from here. Anywhere, I don’t care. Please,” you beg, and though he has more questions than answers, he dips his head. Because again, he’ll do anything to make you happy.

Even if that includes helping you run from your own wedding.

With a long exhale, Steve steps back a bit, fingers carding through his hair. He moves to the door, head tossed over his shoulder to glance back your way.

“Give me a second,” he says, slipping from the room into the hallway.

There’s no one in the nearby vicinity, this room far enough away from the rest of the guests that escaping shouldn’t be a problem. His eyes catch on the glowing exit symbol in the distance, and he knows his car is a few blocks away, but it’s better than nothing and will have to do.

When he slips back into the room, you’re wiping your hands along your dress, clasping one around his as he extends a palm your way.

He can’t deny the ache in his chest as you take it, the electric jolt that courses through his body, but now isn’t the time. If you’re going to get out without anyone noticing, you’ll have to do so now — and quickly.

“Come on,” he urges, and you’re both off, rushing down the empty hallway unbeknownst to your waiting guests, the world bursting to life in color as the exit doors swing wide open.

——

“Remind me to never run in heels again,” you gasp out, hand tight in Steve’s as you dart through busy city streets, avoiding bodies along the way.

All around, people honk their cars, citizens whistle and congratulate you as you run on by. And you know it’s because you and Steve, for all intents and purposes, look as though you’ve just married. Him in his suit, and you in your poofy wedding gown, the edges now stained a murky soot color.

“And I want this stupid thing off my head right now.”

Steve pauses on the side street as you come to a halt, his chest bumping yours at the abruptness as your fingers reach up to unclasp your veil from your head. Balling it up in your hands, you toss it into the nearby garbage can. Pigeons scurry away in haste, a squirrel skittering away from its hard earned meal.

“How do I look?” you ask, hiking up the edges of your gown as someone nearly trips on it, making their way towards the crosswalk.

“Like a runaway bride.” He laughs, shaking his head. “My car is another block that way. Let’s go.”

He grips your hand again, and you know you really don’t have to hold it, but it brings you comfort all the same. The further you run away from the wedding venue, the more you realize what exactly you’ve done. You’ve run out on your intended husband, on friends, on your family who has spent the money to make it all happen — and everyone will have something to say about it. Word gets around quickly in your social circle.

But it’s a decision for yourself. The first in a long long time.

There’s something so liberating about it — about rushing after Steve as he loops you around other bodies, as he opens the passenger side door for you and helps push your frilly skirts inside, before dropping down into the driver’s seat and shoving his key in the ignition.

And as he turns the key, peeling away from the busy side street, and heads toward the nearest highway, you know it’s the right decision.

——

Neither of you speak for the first half hour driving. The roads are busy, traffic bumper-to-bumper in the city, Steve’s grip a white knuckled one around the steering wheel. There’s also the suddenness in which your reality comes crashing, dress still on your form, the edges sodden around your ankles, the ring on your finger glinting in the slowly setting sun. Every part of this day has done a complete one eighty.

“We’ll probably have to stop in a few hours,” Steve says, a little more to himself, the hum of the radio spilling into the quiet car, “where do we want to go anyway?”

“I still can’t believe you drove all the way here,” you tell him softly, head turning a bit to take him in.

He’s loosened the tie around his neck, his hair is a little unkempt now, the suit jacket long tossed into the backseat. Those bare forearms of his ripple with each turn of the wheel, your eyes dragging along hair-dusted skin. You’ve missed him; more than you ever could realize, his presence a comfort after being surrounded by people who don’t understand you — not really, at least — for so long.

“I wanted to be here,” he says, “I don’t mind driving, you know that.”

You did. You’d spent many nights circling the familiar streets of Hawkins over the span of a few years once you’d both been able to drive. Those same streets that are unfamiliar now, mere memories in your mind. It had been a few years since everything that happened with Vecna, and a few years since you watched your childhood home grow smaller and smaller in your parent’s rear view mirror, Steve along with it, waving from his parent’s driveway.

“And I wanted to see you,” he adds, glancing your way, those hazel eyes bright in the setting sun.

The idea dawns suddenly, lips moving to form the words before you can think otherwise, “Hawkins. Take me to Hawkins with you.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, a little hesitantly, weariness seeping into his tone. “It's about…a twelve hour drive. I think we can make it to Ohio before getting some sleep for the night. You’ll just need to direct me with the map.”

You answer with a smile, reaching into his glove compartment and pulling out the map, the weathered corners bent like they’d been the last time you’d gone on a road trip with him. After everything had gone to hell at Starcourt, you needed to get away, the two of you taking to the road, a finger swirling around until it landed upon a random state.

It feels like old times, sitting here in the car with him, the windows down, his hair blowing in the wind, and the crisp smell of fall air to greet you.

The drive is quiet for the most part, other than the small exchanges here and there of roads to take, giving him enough time to make sure he’s in the correct lanes and the like.

It dawns on you then how long it’s been since the two of you really talked. Your exchanges throughout the years have been sparse, at best. Always meaningful, but moving twelve hours away has put a strain on your relationship from the get go. Initially you’d aimed for one phone call a week, which had soon turned into once every two weeks, and then down to once a month.

And once Clark had stepped in six months ago, your conversations were even less frequent, and always cut short — Clark never having understood why the two of you were so close.

So you suppose you shouldn’t be too surprised when Steve suddenly asks, “What happened back there?”

“I didn’t want to marry him,” you admit in a whisper, training your gaze ahead at the streets, leaves golden and amber flashing by the passenger side window. “I couldn’t marry him. I didn’t love him — I never loved him.”

It had been an added blessing that it seemed Clark felt the same, his mouth preoccupied with your friend’s minutes before you made your escape out the back door.

“Then why agree to marry the guy?”

It’s an innocent question, but it has your stomach lurching all the same, your lips parting slightly, heart pounding in your throat. “Steve…your parents are like mine. You know why.”

Because it had been arranged that way, Clark’s path pushed in front of yours, the pressures of your parents and their business ventures breathing down your neck. That and Clark had his own goals, as did you, and marrying would help you achieve them.

It wasn’t like you’d ever love him, either.

Love had only been reserved for one man in your life, and he’d never loved you back.

“So you marry some uptight rich guy to make your parents happy? What about how you feel?” His fingers tighten around the steering wheel, voice rising in volume. “And you were going to just go along with it?”

“Stop judging me! It’s not that simple.” His eyes dart to yours, unused to you ever raising your voice at him. “You don’t get it. You gave up that life. I had no choice but to go with them when everything happened the way it did in Hawkins.”

“Yes, because I was tired of feeling like a failure of a son,” he grumbles, carding his fingers through his hair, “tired of being looked at like I was Jonah Harrington’s biggest mistake.”

“You’re not a mistake.” Your fingers reach over the center console, briefly hovering above his bicep before resting there gently, feeling the tension in his form dissolve. “I thought I was doing the right thing for my family. I was trying to buy time and get my inheritance so I could be done with it all eventually. It was stupid, I know. But I’m making this decision right now, running away with you, for myself.”

His hand slides down to grasp yours, bringing the back of your knuckles to his lips to press a kiss there. He’s done it thousands of times over the years, but it has your heart skipping like it does every time, chills dancing along your spine.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, dropping another gentle kiss to your knuckles, “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Me too, Steve.”

——

The moon comes out to play, and the two of you stop at a gas station just as Steve’s watch reads eight at night. The place is dilapidated at best. Neon glowing lights flickering along the top of the pump, the numbers worn away by weather, the inside of the building covered in inches of grime.

You’d intended to grab some snacks and water bottles, but the lack of sanitation efforts has you wanting to wait for the next convenience store instead. So as Steve pumps the gas, you lean onto the hood of the car, skirts spanning around your thighs, thanking someone as they pass and comment on how beautiful you look.

“You do look beautiful, you know?” Steve lifts his head, those corded muscles on his forearm drawing your attention once more. Head shaking, you tip your head up, eyes narrowing on his face curiously. “A shame you got all dressed up for that guy though.”

“Shut up,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him, propping your map up on your thighs. “So if my guesses are right, we’ll be getting to Ohio in a little less than three hours. Hopefully the hotels in Powell aren’t full. I’m already pretty tired.”

“If worse comes to worse, we could always sleep in the car —”

“Steve.”

“What?” He raises a hand in surrender, smiling at the angry furrow of your brows. “Wouldn’t be the first time we camped out in the back seat of it.”

“I’d prefer a mattress after the day we both had,” you tell him, folding the map and tucking it beneath your thigh. “We also need to keep an eye out for a store. Pretty sure I saw a cockroach in the gas station, so I’m not trusting anything in there. Plus pork rinds and jerky didn’t exactly sound appealing to me.”

Steve grimaces in agreement, the gas pump clicking, signaling his full tank. He replaces the nozzle on the holder and pushes the flap back into place, snatching the map from your hand as he passes around the front of the vehicle to slide back into the front seat.

You follow suit, shoving your skirts about your thighs, finger toying at a hole in the hem that you must have made while running through the city streets. The realization of thousands of dollars, all for naught, with the lingering fear of your parent’s disappointment swirling in your gut has your stomach churning uncomfortably. But there’s little time to linger on those worries, as Steve slides a finger along your forearm to draw you back to reality, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Look at me,” he demands softly, hazel eyes glowing in the seedy gas station light that flickers above. Lips twitching, you meet his stare, chest warming under the burn of his affection, “there’s that smile I love. Everything is fine.”

There ends up being a small grocery store at the next exit, a little family owned thing, with very few shoppers lingering inside. You offer to go in alone, but Steve insists you’re in another state and he’s not about to leave you by your lonesome. So you end up standing beside him, him all tousled in his dark pants and wrinkled dress shirt, and you in your dress, drawing the attention of curious customers.

“We got lost on our way to the airport for our honeymoon,” Steve tells one person who wanders a little too close for his liking as you grab bags of chips off of a rack, tossing in a jar of salsa for good measure. “Going to stop at that hotel down on Verdant instead. Really want to go above and beyond and treat my wife, you know?”

The one that looked all seedy, like it was practically falling apart, windows broken and covered with wooden slats. The customer eyes the two of you wearily, offering well wishes, sounding a little uncertain as they slowly but surely back away, not wanting to talk any further.

Nothing quells your giggles at that, head pressing into the bag of marshmallows you found, eyes pinched shut to keep your tears at bay. “Steve, they probably think we’re crazy.”

“Speak for yourself, honey,” he chuckles, reaching over to snatch the bag from you, “why do we need these?”

You pluck it back, pouting. “If you must know, they’re for me. I don’t share with guys named Steve who have too many opinions.”

“If we’re getting marshmallows, we need graham crackers and chocolate too,” he points out, reaching over to grab the other two s’mores ingredients from the end cap you’re standing in front of, tossing them into your shopping cart. “For two adults, it looks like we’re buying for a bunch of kids about to enter into a sugar coma.”

“Look — we’ve had a stressful day,” you huff out, pushing the cart further down the aisle, “we’ve earned s’mores and snacks. Plus we need it for the rest of our trip. I saw a coffee shop next door too. I’ll buy it. I feel bad you drove all the way to the city, only to leave again.”

“If I have coffee now, I’ll never fall asleep,” he exhales, shoulder brushing yours as you meander through the aisle, snatching a package of water bottles for the car off a pallet. “I do think we should grab breakfast tomorrow morning. Maybe do a little touristy stop before heading back to Hawkins. What do you think?”

Time alone with Steve? Time you haven’t had in way too long, if you’re being honest with yourself. Even now, standing in the store with him, getting gas with him before that, you realize just how much you’ve missed your best friend. Things like this, so banal and generally uninteresting, have you smiling until your cheeks hurt, brimming to overflow with excitement.

It’s an easy choice, really. “Sounds perfect.”

——

One room. There’s only one room with a single bed left in the whole damn hotel. You suppose it shouldn’t come as a surprise, because nothing has really turned out how you anticipated today.

Still, you ask the woman at the front desk again, and she arches a brow in confusion — likely assuming you and Steve are already having marital issues merely hours after you tied the knot. There’s no use explaining it to any more people tonight. For now, you’re a newlywed, and Steve is your doting groom.

“Not like we’ve never shared a bed before.”

Steve’s voice is a low rumble near your ear as you stare at your distorted reflection in the silver wall of the elevator across from you. The thing is you have shared a bed with Steve numerous times over the years. As teenagers, when you often snuck over to Steve’s, after your parents left for business trip after business trip. He’d leave the window unlatched, a hand there to grab you as you scaled his trellis, blankets already pulled back on your side of the bed.

But for some reason this feels different. Hours ago you’d been engaged to another man — hours ago, after you’d caught said man in an affair, you’d only had one thought. And it had been this man standing before you; though then again, it had always been that way.

Steve Harrington, your beautiful best friend with a big personality and even bigger heart. Steve Harrington, the one that you always wanted, but also the one that never was.

With a steely sigh of resignation, you watch as Steve swipes the key card, flicking the light on in the doorway. It’s a simple room, not the upscale hotels you’re accustomed to. There are no lavish furnishings, no glittering chandeliers. Instead you’re met with a dresser and a dilapidated television. Against the back wall is a bed, the linens starchy beneath your fingertips, though you suppose they’ll have to do.

Steve whistles, glancing up at the popcorn ceilings. “Could be worse, right?” It’s an awkward chuckle, his hands reaching down to undo the buttons around his arms, hair on his chest visible a moment later as he unbuttons the top of his dress shirt. “Shit — just realized we don’t have any clothes. Should have stopped somewhere.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, because he’s seen you in nearly every state of undress at this point.

In bathing suits over the summer, sitting atop his bathroom sink in your bra after Billy Hargrove had shoved you particularly hard at the Starcourt mall while under possession, your ribs scraped against the hard ground. And you’d seen him the same, beaten and bloodied after his altercation with Jonathan, after the Russians had taken him for questioning and beaten him to a bloody pulp, after the events with Vecna that had left his skin raw and battered.

Though you suppose this is a little different, as it’s the first time he’s going to be undressing you, despite being under different circumstances than those you dreamed of throughout the years. Fantasies you’ve long pushed aside in the catacombs of your mind, to be filed away as ‘things that’ll never happen since he’s your childhood best friend.’

Your fingers tremble as you turn in front of him, exhaling deeply as you mutter out, “I can’t reach the buttons. Could you…please?”

There’s a sense of awareness that settles over you as he approaches from behind. Broad, battle-calloused hands rest at the nape of your neck, drifting lower where they settle on the endless row of buttons there. His breath prickles along your skin, those nimble fingers of his toying with that first button, his inhale shaky as he undoes another, and then another, and another. With each button, more flesh is revealed, the ghost of his touching a phantom along your spine, the dress starting to sag around your breasts, your hands coming up to cup the gown close to your chest.

Steve’s eyes meet yours in the mirror affixed to the wall in front of you — hazel, and sparkling in the ethereal moonlight that pours through the softly parted curtains, tinged with an emotion you can’t quite put a name to. A deep exhale falls from gently parted lips as his knuckles drag along your spine, a delicate line that stops once he reaches the base, freeing you from the last of the buttons. White tulle drops to the ground beneath you, toes kicking it out of the way, leaving you standing there in a cream nightgown, lace detailing around the edges hugging the sumptuous curves of your breasts.

Steve’s throat bobs, clearly not wholly unaffected by all of this, as he peers at you. Your feet carry you backward toward the bed, legs curling beneath your form as Steve moves to unbutton his own shirt, tossing it haphazardly into the corner once it’s free from his torso. He’s the same and different than you remember. All broad chested, a dusting of hair along his upper body, a line from his naval down beneath the dark pants hugging a pair of toned thighs. Scars line his sides where the demobats had bitten into his flesh, his shredded back a tapestry of markings that catch your eye as he walks around the opposite side of the bed and slips in beside you. You avert your eyes, trying to not draw attention to the fact you’ve been ogling, ignoring that simmering ache low in your belly that forms.

If he notices you staring, he says nothing, only settling down on the mattress and shifting so his thighs brush your hips, his head resting on a pillow as he gazes at your profile.

Rolling onto your side, you reach over and trail your fingers along the forearm he tucks under his head, thumb running gentle stripes along the width of it. “Thanks for saving me today.”

“You know I’ll always be there for you,” he whispers back, reaching over your form to turn off the bedside lamp. “Always.”

——

Stones knock against the bedroom window. Rouse you from bed. Head poking up from your pillow, you wander over to the windowsill, hand covering your heart as Steve’s head appears in the opening, body practically thumping against the floor in his hastiness.

Broad palms settle on your biceps, the backs of your thighs pressing into your mattress as he leads you to sit down, hazel eyes meeting yours. Your fingers reach up to glide over his chest — to feel the rapid thump of his heart in his chest.

He’s real.

He’s here.

After worrying for days that something has gotten him too, he’s right here in the flesh.

Alive.

“I saw the news,” you gasp out, swallowing the harsh knot growing in the back of your throat, “Do they really think Eddie Munson did it? Do they really think he killed Chrissy? Fred? Steve, what’s going on? Is it the Upside Down? Let me help you.”

“It’s bad this time. Like — like really bad.” His fingers touch along your temples, poking and prodding, gauging your reaction. Your only reaction, however, is to grip at his wrists, fingers bracelets around his pulse points, head tilting to the side. “Are you in pain anywhere?”

“Steve, I’m fine,” you reassure him, pushing forward to loop your arms around his waist. To push him back against the bed so he can settle down a bit, his thighs against yours. “Your heart is racing. What’s wrong? I’m coming to help next time —”

“You’re not helping this time. Last time was a mistake.”

You’d been driving in the rain one evening back in July and saw Max and El walking on the streets, looking a little dejected, and ended up peering in the window at the Holloway’s when something had gone wrong and demanded the girls tell you what was going on — especially when you were El’s tutor and she usually told you everything. Once you’d found out Steve was missing too, all bets had been off the table for staying out of whatever was bump in the night.

He rolls over onto his side, hand coming up to cup your cheek, smothering your grimace under the softness of his touch. “I can’t…I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you.”

“Steve.”

Your hand rests over his, eyes boring into his, noting the flush on his cheeks, the glittering lower line of his lashes. Whatever this is, whatever he’s dealing with…the weight is crushing him, and your heart breaks with the immensity it.

His fingers reach over to grasp at your Walkman laying on the bedside table beside your bed. He drops it down onto the mattress between the two of you, a pleading look in those hazel depths.

“Put your favorite song on loop. Keep batteries on you at all times, and keep the headphones nearby until I tell you it’s safe.” Your mouth opens to speak, but he continues, “Please, just trust me. It’s safer for you this way. People are dying.”

“Let me help, Ste —”

“Please,” he begs, dropping his forehead against yours, “just trust me, okay?”

You nod, and in the morning, as you start to feel your body coming to wake, his fingers trace your temple. Like he’s trying to memorize every detail, the calluses on his fingers from years of baseball soothing your soul.

“I love you,” he whispers, like he always does.

I love you, in the way he loves Dustin and Robin or any of the other kids.

I love you, in the way he’s loved you since you were eleven.

I love you, in the way you always tell one another you do.

I love you, in the way he always has, but not in the way you always wished he would.

“I love you,” he says once more, and you slip back into sleep.

——

Went to try and find us some clothes. You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you. Be back soon. - Love, Steve.

With a yawn, you roll over in bed, clutching the note to your chest. It smells like your best friend — that warm vanilla scent with something minty beneath. Comforting and completely him. The space beside you is still warm, the imprint of his body a reminder that he’d even been there at all. Popcorn ceilings meet your field of vision as you flip onto your back, holding aloft your left hand, light coming through the window catching on the glittering diamond there.

“Never thought you were one for a rock that needs an insurance policy,” Steve teases, appearing in the doorway with bags of clothes and other products in hand. “Then again, never thought you’d marry a guy named Clark. What is he, Spider-Man?”

“You mean Superman?”

He shoots a mocking glare your way and settles down beside you on the bed, pulling out various articles of clothing.

“It’s not designer, I hope that’s fine.” You shove at him lightly. He’s gone with a pair of black leggings and a chestnut colored sweater for you, along with a pair of boots that’ll be nice for the fall weather outside. “I eyed the shoe size. Hope they fit.” The shoes are a size too big, but they’ll work, and you laugh as he pulls out a bra and a pair of underwear. His eyes narrow a bit your way, “Just wanted to make sure I covered all the bases. I already got judged enough at the store by the cashier, so do not even go there right now.”

You snicker, tucking the clothes against your chest gratefully. Honestly, nothing sounds better than a new pair of comfortable clothes, ready to be rid of the flimsy dress dancing along your thighs.

“This is perfect,” you tell him honestly. Steve himself went for something similar — a pair of dark blue jeans, a black sweater, and a pair of simple shoes. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” he says, stopping you from reaching for your wallet. “You couldn’t exactly walk around in your dirty wedding dress for another day.”

“Yeah, but you’ve already done too much for me —”

“You’re my best friend. Stop acting like you’re inconveniencing me. I asked for this. Plus we haven’t hung out much in…oh, I don’t know, two or three years? That’s a lot of lost time to make up for.” As your features soften at his words, he adds, “Now hurry up and get dressed. There’s a diner around the block that looks nice enough and I’m starving.”

——

Fifteen.

You’re fifteen and it’s a dare.

Tommy and Carol think it’s funny.

Seven minutes in heaven with Steve Harrington.

The room is silent, all eyes on you. And maybe it’s the cheap liquor stolen from Steve’s parent’s expensive cabinet running through your system, but when Carol points at you and laughs that you won’t do it, you grip Steve by the collar of his shirt and stomp off to the nearby coat closet.

Steve’s breathless behind you, body thumping yours as you both stumble inside and the door is shut. Without hesitation, you tug on the rope chain connected to a single lightbulb and squint as your eyes adjust to the orange glow radiating off Steve’s golden skin, flushed by the summer sun.

“Time is ticking and we don’t hear kissing!” Tommy cackles, though it’s muffled through the wooden door separating you from the rest of Steve’s guests.

The rest of the room dissolves into fits of giggles, drowned out by the harsh thump of your heart pounding in your ears. The light flickers up above, and part of you wonders if it’s the only imperfection in the Harrington home. Something so trivial, and yet it distracts you from this nerve wracking moment, in this closet, with this boy.

“I’ve — I never…” you babble, feeling your chest heat, embarrassment choking off the rest of your words. “So, like, if we…do this…I don’t really know what I’m doing. And I think if I’m going to get it out of the way, I’d want it to be with someone I trust, and there’s no one I trust more than you. So, like, why not, right?”

Steve’s grinning. A goofy little thing that grows as he steps a little closer, one of his palms curling around your hips, toying with the belt loop on your jean shorts. “You want me to kiss you, hmm?”

Steve’s different now. He’s grown in the four years you’ve known him. He’s handsome, not that he hasn’t always been. But there’s more of him now. His chest is broader, his hair is longer, he’s popular now. By default, you are too. None of that has ever mattered; as long as you have him, you’re happy. But it’s at fifteen that you really understand the love you feel for him isn’t wholly platonic. In fact, the older you get, the more time you spend with him…it only solidifies in your heart that whatever his soul is made up of sings to your own.

It’s equal parts surreal and terrifying.

“Hey…hey,” Steve whispers, voice a coo that he only reserves for you, “what’s the pout for?”

“You’re teasing me,” you tell him, tipping your head up a bit, the fire in your eyes clashing with the worry in his, “and I already told you I’m nervous. You only have one first kiss and I —”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I'm being an asshole. Let me start over again, yeah?”

You nod, swallowing thickly as he lifts a hand and cups your cheek. The pad of his thumb runs over your bottom lip, parts you for him gently. Shaky breath skitters along your bottom lip, heart thrashing wildly behind your sternum as he takes another step closer and tilts his head down a bit, the warmth of him permeating your thin tank top when his chest brushes yours.

“It’s just me,” he breathes out, noting your trembling, taking another step closer.

His hips bump yours and linger, all the butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. A steady beat of ‘kiss me, kiss me, kiss me’ in time with their wings throbs in your blood.

Steve’s thumb strokes back and forth against your lip, drags it down further as your breath mingles in the middle, as you lean up onto your toes and meet him there, humming into his flesh.

The space between you shrinks and he’s there, warm and gentle against your flesh. You barely have time to register the fact he’s kissing you, because a knock sounds from the other side of the door, signaling your time is up. Both of you jolt apart, a little breathless, your hand coming up to rest against your mouth. He swallows thickly and opens the door, the closet awash in bright light, and though he seems mostly unaffected, a solid realization drops into your gut.

You’ve never loved anyone before, and maybe people will say you’re ‘too young’ to know anything about it, but you know with absolute certainty you love Steve Harrington.

——

Steve’s beaming because you’re glowing. Practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you wander through the park you’d stumbled upon shortly after breakfast, shoes crinkling against fallen leaves as you kick them into the air, glee personified. He wishes he had a camera, if only to capture the way you look right now. You, with your head tipped up to the sky, arms out at your sides, catching the small droplets of rain that began falling only minutes ago on your upturned palms.

He’s already suggested heading back to the car and getting on the road for the remainder of the trip to Hawkins, but the more it rains the happier you seem. As though you’re shedding your old life, a little lighter than you had been hours ago.

He hates that Clark’s ring is still on your finger, especially when he feels the way he does simply looking at you in this moment, but he can only imagine the enormity of the emotions welling in your system. You walked out on your family and your marriage; he knows your family, and knows what consequences might come from your actions.

Maybe you need a moment before popping the bubble and accepting fate? And who is he to hinder your joy? He’d spend every day trying to get you to smile like you are right now, having done so all the years of your friendship, only now it twists his gut tight. A harsh coil, curling around his esophagus, robbing him of his voice and air.

“I love how free and open everything feels here,” you tell him, practically skipping over to his side, shoulder brushing his. “I’ve been in the city so long I forgot what it’s like.”

He knows exactly what you mean. It’s quiet here. Peaceful. For a moment he can pretend you two are the only people in the world. “And soon you’ll be back in Hawkins,” he says, curling an arm around your shoulders, tucking you in close. “Are you excited?”

“A little nervous to see everyone,” you admit, resting your head against his shoulder. “It’s been…”

“Almost three years since you visited.”

He’d come to visit you in the city, on weekends where he could get away and book a plane ticket. But even then, he’d only see you for a weekend at a time. Nothing like before, when you’d spend nearly every day with him, and then once Robin joined the picture, she’d become the third part of your trio.

He can’t wait to have the both of you back together in the same state again.

There is so much he already imagines doing, places he wants to show you, things he wants to share with you.

“Everyone misses you, though,” he reassures you, hating the way your features drop when you whirl around to face him, the amber leaves wrinkling around the edges of your shoes. “They’re going to be so excited. Swear.”

“Pinky promise?” You hold out the sad little pinky, eyes leveling with his.

“We haven’t done one of these since we were seventeen when you asked me to teach you how to parallel park and promised to write my science paper if I helped you pass —”

“Yeah, because I failed the road test and was the only one in our class to not pass on the first try. It was embarrassing.” And you’d been miserable about it. Made it everyone’s problem. He’d thought it cute, the way you’d ripped Tommy H to shreds when he said it was okay you failed because Steve could always chauffeur you around, and you’d flipped the guy off with your favorite finger to throw his way.

Still, he curls his finger around yours and grins, “How do you feel about getting on the road? If we leave now, we should be in Hawkins by dinner time. Maybe we can bother Eddie for a free drink. You know he owns the Hideout now? Expanded it, so it’s a restaurant too now. The owner had passed and trusted Eddie would take care of it. Everyone’s really proud of him.”

You don’t. He’s never told you. It happened the past year, and with Clark entering your life, communication had dwindled a bit. He tried to hide his upset with those first few phone calls. Tried to pretend he never noticed how you’d spoken quicker, as though you were trying to speed up your catch up sessions, as though someone were looking over your shoulder.

It hurt to have the little bits he got to keep of you — the parts he liked to think were for himself — cut even shorter.

Things are different now, he reminds himself. You’re here, with him, heading back to Hawkins.

But for how long…that weary part in the back of his soul whispers. Just as quickly as he has you back, he knows he can lose you now. The thought alone stirs dread within him.

“Do you mind if we stop at a phone booth first? I want to call my family. Make sure they at least know I’m okay.” You’re already gesturing to the booths he can see in the nearby distance, hidden under a halo of golden and flame colored leaves dancing on tree branches.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” He knows them. He knows it’ll be anything but civil conversation.

He watches a grimace flutter across your features. “I think I owe at least that to them.”

——

Calling is a mistake. A huge, unfathomable mistake. The phone booth rests on the outskirts of the park, leaves falling to the ground around you, the fall chill in the air adding to the drop in temperature once you step beneath the awning and dial the number you know by heart.

Steve remains behind you, a comforting hand on your shoulder you accept by lacing your own fingers atop his. There’s a quick greeting, a simple ‘hi’ that spills out from you in a nervous rush, and then the phone blares to life. What feels like dozens of voices burst on the other end. You can hear your father shouting in the distance when your mother says who is calling.

Clark’s voice also appears in the background, and you wonder why he’s with them. It’s not like you ever spent much time with him outside of family obligations.

The relationship had been a ruse, a predisposed desire foisted upon you both by affluent families in want of furthering their ‘prestigious bloodlines,’ a result of societal pressures becoming too much. Many had insisted many married for less, that these arrangements were more common than you were led to believe, that love wasn’t afforded to people ‘like you.’ You hated it — hated all that it stood for.

Your relationship with Clark had never been deeply emotional or physical. A kiss on the brow or a peck on the lips for appearances sake, but you never allowed him near your heart. He was a friend, sure; someone you could talk to, could vent to — but that was all it ever had been.

You were merely upholding the optics your families expected of you both. The plan all along had been to eventually separate after Clark received his promotion within your father’s practice, and you obtained your inheritance before finally deciding what you wanted to do with your own life. Figured it was the least owed after throwing away everything you once knew to play a role you detested as a ‘perfect daughter’ to one of the largest plastic surgeons in the country.

“Where are you?” your father demands, voice a gruff bark, “You must have some grand explanation for walking out and throwing the thousands of dollars I threw into your wedding away.”

“I’m safe,” you tell them, smiling softly to yourself as Steve’s fingers squeeze tight around your shoulder.

“Don’t think we didn’t see you run out with Harrington's son. I had the venue pull the security footage —”

“With Steven?” your mother gasps. “You didn’t tell me that, dear.”

“If this is some affair, you and Clark will deal with it in couple’s counseling. I expect you back here this instant, young lady. I did not raise you the way I did just for you to run back to that hell in a handbasket town —”

“I need time away,” you say, a little bite to your tone you don’t expect, heart hammering away, “I don’t know how long. But I need this, okay?”

“Sweetheart.” Clark’s voice pours through the receiver. It’s fake, you know it’s fake. All appearances because he knows his promotion is in jeopardy. He can’t be sole heir of your father’s practice without the wife needed to secure the deal. “Let’s think rationally here. Come back home, I miss you. Please, my love.”

Steve stiffens behind you, his ear having lowered down to the earpiece. You shake your head and he softens when you tug him nearer by his sweater, relishing in the warmth of his body to block out the cold.

“I only wanted to call to tell you all that I'm okay. And I’m okay. I promise.” Voices start to rise in volume, but the phone slams against the holder and the line grows dead, ready for the next caller. Fingers rise to pinch at the bridge of your nose. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill out. Steve opens his mouth to speak, but you offer a stiff shake of the head, murmuring, “Can we just…go? I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters, sliding a hand down to take yours in his, pulling you from the phone booth. You follow listlessly behind, free hand toying with the edge of your sweater. For someone who always takes up a room with her personality, you seem so small now. Deflated. He hates it. Hates that they hold this power over you, knowing he escaped the same thing years ago now and never looked back. “I love how they still think I’m some shitstain on my family legacy even after all these years. Kind of funny, right, seeing how those people are so miserable, and yet for the first time in my life I’m actually happy.”

You laugh at the blasé nature of his words. He always knows what to say to make you laugh, always has. “I’m glad one of us is.”

He stops, whirling around to cup both your shoulders. “You’ll figure it out too. This will all blow over. It’ll be okay. Do you want me to take you back home?”

The word sinks deep in the pit of your stomach. Home. Is it home, though?

“No,” you mumble, sounding a little forlorn, “no, I want to stay with you.”

“Okay, well…I have one rule when we get back into the car.” His hair dances along his brow as a stray wind picks up. There’s a shadow of stubble along his jaw, and the urge to run your fingers along that new part of him rises up within you. Head tilting to the side curiously at his words, he continues, “Your life back in the city? Doesn’t exist right now, okay? All of that — leave it right here on this walkway. Think you can do that for me?”

You nod, the city laid there to rest on that sidewalk in the middle of Powell, Ohio.

——

Steve visits the first winter after you leave Hawkins. Feels a little out of place as he appears at your parent’s doorway, holding out a bottle of wine he grabbed from a supermarket, in a suit that he knows is ill fitted on his body because he borrowed it from Eddie Munson. Your home is huge; towering white walls, marble floors, a sprawling staircase. But it’s cold and it’s empty and feels empty, without memories to fill it.

Not like your home back in Hawkins, where he spent his days laying on your bed as you studied, or on the couch watching movies, legs tangled in blankets, chairs set around to make silly forts. He misses baking in the kitchen — or rather you baking, while he prattles on about anything that comes to mind as you tossed ingredients together with love and care.

His heart swells as you rush forward, practically leaping into his arms, perfect as you’ve always been. All beaming smiles, melodious laughter, and that incomparable beauty that radiates from within you.

You feel like home — like his; and yet, you’ve always felt that way.

But you’re here and he’s in Hawkins and you’re miles apart now.

And the way your father pulls him to the side after dinner for a not-so-innocent glass of whiskey outside reminds him exactly of that.

“This childhood crush you have — I always thought the two of you would grow out of it. But it’s clear that is not the case.” It’s a dark sound, a sound that has Steve swallowing thickly, fingers tightening around his glass. “We allowed it for as long as we did because it was good for the two of you. Having friends in that town. These are the people my daughter needs to be around. Her peers, her friends, people that she can grow with.”

Steve swallows again. It’s not unlike the conversations he’s had with his own father before his parents left Hawkins. ‘You’re not good enough for her, you’re not good enough in general, you should have scored that hoop, should have won that baseball game, should have gotten better grades, should have joined the family business.’

Should have, should have, should have.

“I love your daughter, sir.”

He’s always dreamed of telling you first. But the moment was never right, sometimes you’d be dating someone, or he would be. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if your feelings were the same. If he learned anything from the knock on his head thanks to Nancy Wheeler, it was that life only passed you by if you waited.

The older man leans back on his chair and sips his drink, the air bitingly frigid, and yet Steve feels hot beneath his clothing. Can feel every wrinkle of fabric against his slick skin. “You know I can’t allow that.”

“Not to be disrespectful, sir, but she’s her own person —”

“That may be true. She has her free will, and both of us are well aware how stubborn she can be, but sometimes that clouds her judgment —” Steve’s mouth opens, but he’s cut off, “What will you be able to provide her? Where are you working these days? That movie shop?”

“I’m — ah —”

“If you were to marry her, how would you provide for your home? For your children, should you have any?”

Steve flounders on the spot. He has his job, and maybe it doesn’t pay what he would like, but he’s also taken up working side jobs with a local contractor. Has started learning how to build, how to fix, has started remodeling Hopper’s old home that he bought off of him when he married Joyce. It’s a fixer upper, but it’s one of the few things he has that he can fully say are his and his alone.

Maybe he doesn’t have everything now, but in a few years…

“Imagine in a few years. You might make her happy now, but what if she wakes up one day and realizes love isn’t enough? When the bills come in and finances are tight — it creates a strain on a relationship, a stress that I don’t think your childhood whims can even sustain. Not forever, at least. She’s used to this.” He waves his hands to the lavish home you live in. “All she knows is this.”

And he cannot measure up. He can’t provide this. Will never be able to reach this unimaginable wealth. Can’t take you to fancy five-star restaurants, still drives the car he’s had for years now, lives in a home that doesn’t have fully functional windows. A home where when it rains he lays out buckets to catch the water droplets that dribble inside through the roof that still needs a ton of love. He has no pension, no fancy 401k, and the barest of savings to his name.

Not enough, he’s not enough, not good enough.

It’s the words that are unsaid that speak the loudest.

He understands immediately what the older man means.

He’s not enough for you.

He’d never been enough for his own family, so why did he assume this would be any different?

“I know I cannot tell you what to do,” the man across from Steve says, a smug grin across his lips that has his blood running cold, “but I would like to make it very clear you will not have my blessing in the matter. Is that understood?”

Steve says nothing, because the door slides open and you’re there in your sparkly dinner dress that likely costs more than what he makes in a week. The differences in your classes have never been so firmly drawn in the sand. You take his hand and urge him inside, smiling at him like he hung the moon, and your father presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Steve, remember what we talked about, son.”

And he’s gone, but his words remain. Swirling, swirling, swirling around inside Steve’s mind. Like little crystalline shards, little daggers, that sink into his skin and twist. Barbs, tangling within him, leaving him reeling and aching.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, brows furrowing, hands cupping his cheeks. “Hey, are you okay?”

You’re warm, stroking his skin so comfortingly, and he smiles down at you, forces it onto his face for your sake. “I’m okay,” he lies, but though you frown a bit at his reply, you smile weakly when he adds, “Missed you, that’s all.”

“There’s a movie playing tonight that I think you’d like. Come with? For old times sake?” Hopeful. You sound so hopeful.

“Sure,” he says hollowly, the mantra of ‘not good enough’ echoing impossibly loud as you walk him down the hall.

——

The rain falls harder now. Thicker droplets that drop against the windshield, little tracks like tears falling down the glass, pushed away a moment later by wipers.

You tug your thighs up closer to your chest, head nodding along to the song playing on the radio. Steve seems far away — lost in thoughts that form a haze over his eyes. Moments ago you’d run your fingers over the backs of his knuckles and he’d offered you a smile, but that wouldn’t do.

“This mountain I must climb,” you sing out, filling the car with your off-key notes, “feels like a world upon my shoulders.”

“What are you doing?” Steve chuckles, head turning your way. There’s a nervousness about him that feels unfamiliar. A conscientiousness that’s usually not there when it comes to him.

Trying to break him out of whatever spell he’s in, your hand splays out, clutching at the sleeve of his sweater dramatically, waving his arm in the air.

“Through the clouds I see love shine —” Another grand swirl of your free hand, and a laugh bursts from him. “It keeps me warm as life grows colder. Come on, Steve!”

“In my life, there’s been heartache and pain,” he mumbles beside you, thumb tap-tapping against the steering wheel. From where you’re sitting, you can see the twitch of his lips, the corners climbing upward. “I don't know if I can face it again.”

You both break into a fit of giggles as the next lines come through the speakers. And then, with your hand against your heart and his waving out in a flourish that teasingly thumps your chest you both cry out in equally as horrendous voices, “I wanna know what love iiiiis. I want you to show meee.”

You turn to face him, staring intently in his eyes, both of you wailing from deep within your bellies, “I wanna feel what love is. I know you can show meee.”

Your head falls against his shoulder, both your shoulders shaking as the song continues around you, eyes following the tracks of the raindrops spilling onto the glass. Comforting, it’s comforting and feels like home.

The chorus blares again and you catch Steve mouthing the words to the song, his eyes a little misty, your heart splintering down the middle.

Trying to break the quiet tension in the car, you tease, “Is that a tear in your eye I see, Steve Harrington?”

He shoves you lightly, though he makes no effort to move you from his shoulder, sniffling noisily. “Shut up.”

“It’s an emotional song. I don’t blame you,” you giggle airily, looping an arm around his waist, the gearshift digging into your middle. You’re about to ask him what has him in his thoughts just as a rectangular object flashes by your side of the car. “Oh! Was that the —”

“Welcome to Hawkins,” he says softly, your head whipping behind you to catch the back of the sign declaring your entrance to your childhood town.

“I’m back?” You breathe out, nose nearly pressing up against the windshield, despite Steve trying to pull you into your seat by the back of your sweater. “Steve?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles breathily, “you’re home.”

“Home.” Endless rows of lush trees fly by, the rumble of distant thunder drowning out the Foreigner song blaring through Steve’s stereo system. “It’s been so long. Still kinda smells.”

“Definitely still smells over here,” he admits, finally managing to get you to rest back against your seat. “Calm down, you dork.”

Wrinkling your nose at him, you suddenly jump, clapping his forearm rapidly with your excited palm. “Oh my gosh — I get to finally see your place!”

“You get to stay at my place too,” he muses, smirking in a way that has your toes curling a bit in your shoes.

You watch as familiar buildings come into view. Different than they were before the town had been devastated by Vecna, but they're all the same. He winds down roads with names you can still remember, weaving along streets until making his way down the path toward where you knew Hopper’s old cabin to be. Only as you pull up, glancing out the window up at the beautiful trees above, it’s much different than you remember. Gorgeous, nestled away as it is in the middle of one of the most peaceful places in all of Hawkins. Larger and triangular on top, with wide windows and a wrap around deck. Beneath a wooden awning are two wooden chairs, facing your direction. A porch light glows with a yellow light, illuminating the deck and the car just feet away from where Steve parked.

“Were you expecting company?” You push the clasp of your seatbelt free, grabbing your things and pushing the passenger side door open. Leaves crinkle and crunch beneath your feet as you step out, rain droplets falling onto your head.

“Looks like Eddie is still here. That’s his fiancée’s car.”

“Eddie’s here.” He nods at your query, stepping in closer, arm there to loop around your shoulders. “Your home…it’s so much different than it was. It’s — it’s amazing, Steve.”

“Figured it needed some remodeling, seeing as monsters had ripped through it.” He grins to himself at your compliment, though, pride radiating off of his form. “It does look pretty great, doesn’t it? I’m proud of it. Mr. Lafferty gets all the credit. He taught me everything I know.”

“Mr. Lafferty…” The name sounds familiar. He’d been one of the few carpenters in town.

“He passed away a few months ago.” Steve grimaces. “But he helped a ton. We expanded the place, added some rooms, and updated it. It’s…well, it’s home.”

“Show me?”

He nods, pulling you along the makeshift walkway beside him. Rocks shift and move as you follow him, shoes tapping against the wooden steps leading to the front door. Steve pushes it open and you’re greeted with high ceilings, wooden beams along the walls, a fireplace set in the far right corner, two gray couches nearby with a wooden table in the middle of the space. There’s a television in the corner, and set back against the far wall is the open kitchen area.

“You are…not at a wedding,” Eddie murmurs, appearing from within the refrigerator, open beer can in hand. “Thought you were getting hitched.”

“Decided marriage wasn’t for me,” you laugh, rushing forward to slam into the man, sighing happily into his chest as arms loop low around your waist. “But Steve tells me you’re getting married.”

“Yeah, somehow tricked a girl into saying yes,” he chuckles, taking a step back to look at you. “You look great.”

“You do too!” His scars look faded by time now, his hair longer than you remember, earring twinkling behind those dark curls of his. “And who is this?”

There, on a little mat in the corner of the kitchen, is a little orange kitten. It peers up at you with honey colored eyes, a little nervous as it pads closer to Eddie. The metalhead scoops the kitten in hand, little kitten limbs spilling over his forearm.

“This is my nephew, Garfield,” Eddie says, rubbing at a tiny furry ear. “Steve found him behind the Hideout. I managed to convince him to keep it. Poor guy is out here living all on his own, it was only a matter of time before he started talking to the trees. As his best friend, I needed to look out for him, you know? So I figured talking to a cat would be more acceptable.”

“Very funny, asshole.” Steve plucks the kitten from his friend, holding it between the two of you. Your eager fingers reach out to pet it, the little head tilting upward to maximize chin scratches, a rumbly purr vibrating against your fingertips. “You fed him?”

“Fed him, cleaned up after him. By the time you have human babies, I’ll be a pro.” Eddie clapped his best friend on the back, giving you another hug. “I should get back. Promised Abi I would grab pizza on the way home. I’ll see you both around. Enjoy your night, kids.”

His ringed fingers waggle and your cheeks burn. “Oh, it’s not like —”

He offers a parting bow and slips out the door, his boots thundering on the front steps, leaving you alone in Steve’s home. Alone again, you take another glance about the space, noting the staircase against the opposite wall.

Raising a finger in the air, you ask, “Your cabin has a second floor?”

“Yeah.” He nods, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs. “Come on.”

Following him, you walk the few stairs leading to his bedroom, taking in the large king bed set against more windows that bleed moonlight into the otherwise dark space, the tan and cream pillows piled high against a dark comforter, his closet in the corner. There’s a woven basket in one corner, various plaid and knitted blankets poking out. To your left is what he tells you is the bathroom, door closed for now.

Even without the fire presently burning in the fireplace, the home feels warm. Like something Steve has put his heart and soul into to make it exactly what he envisioned. Proud doesn’t even start to touch the emotions welling up within you for the man.

All of this. He’s done all of this in the years since you’ve been gone.

“So, uh, you can use the bed? I have a ton of blankets, so I can always sleep on the couch. For however long you want to stay.”

“Steve, no.” He arches a brow. “This is your home. You didn’t plan on hosting. You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Or…” Steve places Garfield down on the edge of the bed, the kitten curling up into a content ball, paws kneading into the comforter below. “we just…share? Again, nothing we’ve never done before. Just like the thousands of other times we’ve done it.”

“I mean. Hell, we did that last night too.” You shrug, because he’s not wrong to suggest simply sharing again.

“Exactly.” Steve watches as you walk around his bedroom, taking in the sights. “I got you pajamas. They’re in the car, so I’ll just have to run out and grab them quickly. We can go shopping for more stuff in the morning. If you’re…planning on staying for a bit.”

“Yeah…I mean, I haven’t thought about for how long, and I don’t want to put you out for longer than I —”

“You can stay however long you need to. Or want to. Not a problem.” Steve clears his throat, hand coming up to run along the back of his neck.

“Okay.” You nod.

“Okay,” he echoes.

That’s that.

And later, as you both curl up beneath the blankets, Garfield lying comfortably near Steve’s feet, you whisper into the darkness.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

You can feel him in the bed behind you. There’s enough distance between you that it feels like a chasm, though.

“I’m cold.”

He exhales a yawn. “Do you want me to throw more logs on the fire?”

“No…” You shift backward a little, your frigid feet touching his warmer ones. “Can you, uh…get closer? Like when we were younger.”

Bandaged knees. Summer slick skin. The smell of sunblock in the air. Bodies huddled together, legs tangled and arms wound right. Nights where you fell asleep against him on the couch during winter, his heartbeat a lullaby. Laying under the stars at Lover’s Lake, losing track of time, and having to rush back home as the sun set to get ready for school, his hair a wreck. Images flicker in your mind, memories of times long ago.

It feels different now. Changed, as his body sidles in closer, a muscular arm coming to curl low around your waist. A hum pours from you as he tugs you against his chest, the feeling of his breath at the back of your neck a comfort that has your head nuzzling further into a fluffy pillow.

“Is this good?” he asks, resting his forehead against the back of your head, the rumble of his chest vibrating along your spine.

“Perfect.”

And as his breathing slows and he starts to drift off to sleep, you can’t help but to think about how warm he feels. About how easy it would be to lose yourself in this fantasy — of staying here, in this home, with the person you love.

Therein lies your problem.

——

please please interact if you like. it means the world to content creators. and as always, i am so happy to share a new story with you all. 🩷

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction

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chronicbeans · 3 months

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Romantic Lucifer x Overly Kind and Sweet Sinner Reader Headcanons

I love him so much OMG. I wanted to play around with this dynamic to lol. Basically the exact opposite of the type of sinner he's probably used to seeing.

TW: Mentions of depression and anxiety, angst and fluff, mentions of past relationships

• Chances are, you're very much a dreamer. Any type of dream, too, not just the desire to strike change in the world around you. Be it daydreams, goals, hopes, or anything along those lines, you're probably a dreamer. Those characteristics in a person are what catches his attention. He used to be that type of person, before everything changed once he was cast out. Although he doesn't necessarily like dreaming, anymore, he can appreciate it when others do it. Now, most of his own dreams are just concerned worries for his daughter's safety, longings to fix his relationship with her, and creating the worst case scenarios for his life. It's pretty obvious why he doesn't like to dwell on his own dreams...

• Your dreams, however, are rather interesting to him. Especially since you are a sinner and were not born into Hell. He doesn't necessarily look at sinners very highly, however, you are pretty different. You aren't a bad person, or at least not as bad as the rest of the sinners he's met. And the things you dream of? They're amazing. It's not that they're something he's never heard of, either. It's just that he's never heard of them from a sinner, before, or anyone else in Hell.

• As odd as it sounds, your dreams, even if they're just stories you've dreamed up or a hope to better yourself in some small way, give him a little glimmer of hope. He lost all hope over the years of him being in Hell, in large part due to seeing the worst in humanity... The sinners. So, despite him feeling different towards you, don't expect him to actually like you. You also shouldn't expect him to actually feel very hopeful just by you being so different. It's more like a little piece of coal that's gotten a bit hot, but hasn't sparked or ben set alight, yet. He barely even notices it's there.

• What you should expect, however, is for him to spend more time around you. He wants to see you fail to change his mind, or live up to the tiny hope that you're different and can live up to fulfill your dreams. He wants to see you slip up and show that you're not really this kind person you show yourself to be, and then be able to go on his way proudly, knowing that his depressive views on sinners are right. He doesn't even have the intention of using it to prove to Charlie, his daughter, that sinners are irredeemable. He just wants to snuff out what little hope he has before it can stand up and hurt him in the long run.

• That's not the case, however. Not at all. Instead, you just keep being kind. You check into his daughter's hotel to try to better yourself. This results in him spending far more time at the Hazbin Hotel, since now you're there, as well as causing him to spend more time with Charlie. He watches you genuinely try to get better, give Charlie pep talks to lift her up when she's down, and even try to get along with Niffty. It's a truly strange sight to behold for him... A sinner who is so kind and relaxed. He's truly wondering why you are in Hell, at this point.

• Though, the breaking point is when he overhears a conversation between you and Charlie. One that involved how you heard about the Hazbin Hotel, how you met Lucifer, and why you decided to try to see if the hotel could help you. Shockingly, you list off the fact that you wanted to see if you visiting the hotel could bring Lucifer over to visit, since you had noticed how he seemed to hang around you, and you wanted to see if it could help him and Charlie spend more time together as a reason for you going to the hotel. That, alongside the generic reasons of wanting to better yourself, needing a roof over your head, and wanting to possibly see if you could go to Heaven.

• In that moment, he tenses up, looks over towards your direction for a brief moment, then pretends like he didn't hear a thing. He doesn't know how to respond to such a thing. It's so overwhelmingly... selfless of you to even think of the fact that you coming to the hotel would also have the chance of helping Charlie and himself. That, and he's also embarrassed of the fact that you noticed him showing up a bit more often in your life, despite you two still being acquaintances. Then again, thinking it through, it should've been obvious. Not only is he royalty, he is the Lucifer. Everybody has probably heard about him, or the whole story about the Garden of Eden. So, the snake and apple themes of his outfit do help people who do not know what he looks like be able to identify that it's him. He was that famous snake. He is Lucifer.

• That's when he finally decides to let himself hope. Not necessarily for himself, for any other demon, for the sinners as a whole... Not even for you to better yourself and reach your dreams. No. He's just going to let himself hope that this you that you portray yourself as is the real you. This likeable person you seem to be may be real. So, he decides to officially consider you a friend. He lets himself loosen up, crack a few jokes, show you his duck collection... Or at least a few of them. It would be difficult to bring his entire collection to the hotel.

• Throughout it all, your kind self stays the same. There are times you seem to be angry, frustrated, or saddened, of course. However, that kindness always shows through, as well as your dreams and hopes. You ramble about those two topics, even acknowledging that while Lucifer may not believe in you, you do and that's all you need. Not only that, but you even show interest in the things he talks about. You point out your favorite rubber ducks in his collection, you listen to him as he plays music, you crack your own jokes in response to his. You even try to fill him in on a few of Charlie's interests to help him understand her better.

• Slowly, overtime, he begins to feel very conflicted... He can tell that he's beginning to feel more romantic emotions towards you. Yes, Lilith has been missing for several years, now. They're practically, if not, already separated. He's unsure of whether or not she's even going to return, much less if she'd be the same person she fell for. He mostly just worries about how Charlie would feel if she found out. Sure, their relationship isn't the best, still, but it's getting better. He doesn't want to accidentally mess it up by having moved on to someone else. Sure, Lilith hasn't talked to either of them in a long time, but he wouldn't be surprised if Charlie still love, cares for, and looks up to her mother. Nor would he be upset. Lilith was an amazing woman, after all...

• However... Lucifer knows all too well, by now, that simply not confronting the problem won't make it go away. He's ran away from many of his problems, or just hid from them, and it hasn't helped him. So, he takes the leap to ask if you are currently looking for a relationship. He silently crosses his fingers, hoping that it's a yes, maybe, you're open to one but not searching... anything but a no...

• And it's a yes! You can practically see him looking relieved as you do so. You can already guess at this point what his next question is going to be, so you decide to pop it yourself, asking if he wants to go on a date sometime. He practically looks like he's about to have a heart attack, having not expected or planned for you to ask him first, nodding happily with a shocked expression. However, he feels the need to wait until he sees how Charlie feels about everything before planning and scheduling it all out.

• However, once you do end up going on your date, it's not what you expected from a ruler of Hell. It's not bad, though. If anything, it's better! You were slightly scared he'd feel the need to be overly stuffy and formal to impress you. Instead, he brought you to his place to have some homemade dinner. It's just you, him, a rubber duck, and some nice food. Yes, he brought a rubber duck with him to the table. It's his security duck. It's so unapologetically him and that's what you love about him. His personality. The moment he placed that duck into the dinner table and said what it was for, all your worries were washed away.

• Your relationship is filled with a mixture of your own interests and his combining in fun and quirky ways, as well as more soft and emotional moments. You love to listen to his jokes and music, he loves to engage in whatever interests you have, and he comes up with amazing ways to mix the two of your interests to make the relationship feel more special. Do you love to write or make art, like paintings, pottery, or drawings? He'll write music based on your works, be it the stories you create or the emotions your art conveys. Do you like to collect something as a hobby? He likes to collect his rubber ducks, so you both can spend time chatting together about each other's collections, or even set them up in cute positions and take photos of them together! Is it gardening you like? Maybe you can try growing an apple tree, then you two can try making caramel apples with them!

• With all those cute moments, though, do come the downsides... Though, you never let them stop you. He has his moments where his fears, anxieties, and sadness do take over. He's scared of losing you, be it you breaking it off with him of, worse yet, Heaven taking you away. He's scared of you seeing any flaws in him. He's scared that you might be upset that, even if he knows he was ready to move on from Lilith, he does still miss her. After all, a relationship may end quickly, but feelings can linger for decades... However, he's worried you might not understand that. Time and time again, however, you still find new ways to shock and lift him up, again. Be it you letting your actions speak for themselves, you talking to him, or you simply listening to him vent about it. It's gotten to the point where you can look at him, and just tell when he's not alright, which you are pretty proud of.

• Usually, when he's upset, you can find him talking to his ducks about it. That, or playing music... usually to his ducks. If you couldn't tell, his ducks are a huge form of comfort for him. They can't judge him, they can't talk back in anyway that makes him upset, and they can't leave him. Plus, he's so used to talking to them when he's alone, that it's just second nature to do so.

• He has a lot of fears and insecurities. Though, he has two major ones. One is that you're going to hate him for still missing Lilith, sometimes. As mentioned earlier, a relationship doesn't just fizzle out quickly, usually. She just left, one day, and he's pretty much stuck dealing with his emotions for her for as long as they last, at this point not even sure if she'll come back to talk to her daughter, much less him. Just because he still misses her, though, doesn't mean he doesn't love you... He's terrified that you might not understand that, though. He's usually reassured, though, by you showing an understanding of his situation and the fact that he does truly care and love for you...

• However... the other fear he has is that Heaven might take you away. Be it an extermination killing you, or what he personally sees as worse, you being redeemed and going to Heaven, or Heaven taking you for some other reason. Sure, you'd be dead if you got killed during an extermination, but at least he'd have the chance to protect you from it. You being redeemed or being taken to Heaven for whatever reason, though? That's never really happened, before. It may or may not be possible, but if it is, he doesn't know what to expect? What if God, himself, comes down to take you to Heaven? He's fought Him, once, and failed miserably. He can't protect you from that, and if you go to Heaven, who knows if he'd see you again? It'd be like Lilith going missing all over, again, but worse because he knows where you are and that he can't join you. You're so kind and sweet that Lucifer can't even use the thought of you being irredeemable to calm himself... Sometimes, actually, he even wonders if God put you in Hell on accident.

• Oftentimes when you hear him talk about this, you try to think of some sort of reply. You are trying to better yourself, yes. You did go to the Hazbin Hotel to try to be redeemed, even if you did leave it to stay with Lucifer. You are also more than aware that you're drastically different from all the other sinners. The only real reply you can think of is that you wouldn't want to leave him, so why would God try to take you away when you care about Lucifer more than Him? You aren't necessarily sure just how much it helps, but it is something, which you hope is better than nothing.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #Lucifer morningstar headcanons #lucifer headcanons

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bokutizer · 11 months

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dada's so pwetty!

Includes : Sakusa, Oikawa, Suna Summary : Just a few daughters being enchanted by their dadas' looks Tags : fem!reader, fluff, domestic bliss pt. 2

You don't know what it is about SAKUSA, but you're sure he must be able to use some kind of sorcery. Because while you usually spend hours of playing volleyball with your daughter in your garden in hopes of tiring her out, reading to her, preparing a glass of warm milk for her before bed- While you do all of that to get your little mouse to sleep, all Sakusa has to do is lie down with her. That's it. Not a single effort needed. You would have kept on hanging onto your sorcery theory if one day you had not been silently standing outside of your daughter's room, the door slightly ajar and allowing you to view her and your husband lying together in her bed.

Sakusa is quiet as he lets her play with the dark curls on his head, his arm loosely wrapped around her back and keeping her close to him. He watches the way the ends of his hair wrap around her chubby fingers, the sight of it probably having an entrancing effect on her by the way her eyes slowly start getting droopier. It's usually like this. And it only takes a few minutes until her hand falls limply beside her head, and soft quiet snores start leaving her mouth. This time, however, Sakusa's able to hear her mutter something under her breath before her eyes fall shut. "Dada's so pretty." It's thanks to the complete silence in the room that he's able to hear it. And as always, Sakusa carefully gets up from the bed, tucking the blanket to her chin, and placing a soft peck against her forehead. Though, he doesn't realise that this time his lips linger there a little longer than usual. No sorcery then. Just love.

Shrieks and giggles resonate through the house as OIKAWA chases after the barely three feet short creature with a Yoda mask. You smile and shake your head absentmindedly at the tramping noises they make while speeding from the upper floor down the stairs, and into the kitchen where you're currently making dinner. You hear your daughter calling out to you for help, and you immediately lower the temperature of the stove before you feel her wrap her arms around your leg, trying to hide behind you. Both, Oikawa and you, smile knowingly at each other before he approaches you and wraps an arm around your waist.

"I see one pretty girl, but I could be swearing we had two of those in this house." Five years and one child later, and he's still the same smooth-talker, you think. But his talking does its work, as per usual, when you feel the grip on your leg loosen. "I'm here!" your daughter yells and slips her mask over her head, letting it fall to the ground. She laughs at Oikawa's faux and dramatic astonishment as he swiftly picks her up and holds her up against his chest, tenderly brushing his nose against hers. Small hands grab ahold of his face, his cheeks cradled in her soft palms when she speaks with an endearingly serious expression. "But dada's also pwetty, right mama?" She turns around and looks at you as if waiting for you to approve her statement. And of course you do, especially once you notice some moisture gathering in Oikawa's joyfully sparkling eyes as you lean over to press one peck on a chubby cheek and the other on one that somehow looks rosier than usual. "Yeah, he is."

SUNA always wonders how they do it. These menaces. These bad influences. These hooligans- The Miya twins. He will never understand why their annoyingly stupid antics are so hilarious to his daughter. So hilarious that she even once claimed wanting to marry one of them when she gets older. (At least she was referring to 'Samu, he thinks.) But as he watches Atsumu hold his daughter's fox plushy that Kita had once gifted her for her third birthday, moving it back and forth while talking in that high pitched voice, he has to admit that the twins can be quite an attraction. His daughter obviously thinks the same as she attentively listens to what Mr. Foxy (the toy - or rather Atsumu?) has to tell her.

Yes, the Miya twins are all fun and games. But there is only so much of excitement and action that a four year old's body can take. And once the exhaustion sets in, triggering her cranky and moody side, the only one she wants to be with are either her mommy or daddy. Luckily, the onigri shop has quietened down, only a few customers left that are finishing their meals. "C'mere." Suna says softly when he notices his daughter's eyes glaze over with sleepiness and she starts rubbing them. He's quick to cradle her against his chest, completely dwarfing her, as his hands rub small circles along her back when she leans her head against his shoulder. "We're leaving soon, then we'll go sleep. That' sound good?" He feels her cheek brush against his shirt as she quietly nods, but before her daddy's light strokes along her back and hair lull her to sleep, she catches uncle 'Tsumu say something to uncle 'Samu while holding her plushy up. "Check this. Mr Foxy looks just like Sunarin." Hearing their snickers, Suna swears he's about to give them a child-friendly comeback until a frail, whispering voice catches him off-guard. "Nuh-uh. Dada's prettier than Mr. Foxy." He's just glad the twins didn't catch it, otherwise he wouldn't hear the end of it.

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lovebugism · 1 year

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✶ ┄ FIX IT !

summary: you thought you were over it, the whole steve-and-nancy thing. spoiler alert: you aren't. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 3.5k warning: angst. gut wrenching angst. with a sort of happy ending. a/n: i'm such a sucker for angst it's gotta be unhealthy at this point. anyway, shout out to all my angsty fic enjoyers. let's read this and cry together <3

Having four roommates and only two bathrooms was worth it if it meant getting out of Hawkins. The apartment was a quaint little thing just outside of Indianapolis — up four flights of stairs with no elevator, cracks in the walls, and a stellar view of an alleyway.

But it was nice to have a place all your own. Sharing it with all your best friends was even better. That was the dream after all, wasn’t it? And being with Steve — that was just the cherry on top of it all.

So you weren’t going to let your mean, green, and envious heart ruin the new life you and your friends were trying to build in this tiny apartment.

You didn’t even think yourself the jealous type. Not until you realized that Steve was going to live under the same roof as his ex-girlfriend. It was dumb and it was irrational and you just couldn’t shake it.

It was probably a whole lot harder for Steve than it was for you, really. Besides, it had been years since they were together. Both of them had moved on, both of them had new and blossoming relationships.

Jonathan was good to Nancy. And to you, Steve was… well he was perfect. More importantly, he was yours.

So it really shouldn’t bother you.

And it didn’t. Not for a while.

Not until Nancy and Jonathan broke up out of nowhere and he’d announced to all of you on movie night that he was moving out.

He said that he missed California too much, that Argyle was getting lonely all the way out there, and that he had a spare room at his place. You couldn’t tell if that was the truth or just some bullshit excuse.

Maybe both.

What made it worse is that Nancy hadn’t seemed all that upset about it. Hell, you were more sad about him leaving than she was.

She told you as much during your weekly designated wine night (the one where you and her and Robin got drunk on cheap wine, while the rest of the boys fucked off and got drunker on cheaper beer).

“It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would,” she’d confessed with a shrug, only slightly tipsy and cheeks pink with it. “We… drifted apart, I guess. Just felt right to end it.”

You and Robin spent the rest of the night comforting her, anyway.

She loved Jonathan, everyone knew that. It sort of came with the whole shared trauma thing. She had to be at least a little bit sad that her person was gone, but she hid it away from the rest of you like it was her job.

But when the days got really bad, and she found herself missing Jonathan more than she liked, she sought refuge in Steve. Your Steve.

And it made sense. He knew her better than the rest of you.

But it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

A sick feeling twists in your stomach when Steve accompanies the girl on a liquor store run without her having to ask. You watch with your heart in your throat when he leaves with her in the dead of night — a swirling bubble of jealousy in the pit of your chest with an ache so palpable you can taste it.

You spend the next several minutes trying not to look as sad as you feel while Eddie can’t stop debating on what the two of them might be talking about.

Nancy had been more reserved as of late, carrying a rain cloud over her as she wandered through the apartment like a ghost — he concludes they’re just going out to spill some hot goss. Robin makes him promise to never say those string of words ever again while you quietly dismiss yourself to your bedroom.

Nancy and Steve have been gone for an hour.

Lying in the dark and staring up at the textured, water-stained ceiling, you start to do the math. Fifteen minutes there, fifteen minutes back with traffic — but the streets are usually bare after nine o’clock. Either way, that leaves a half hour spent trying to choose what alcohol to splurge on.

You’ve seen Nancy try to pick out wine, she’s indecisive and a perfectionist to boot. She could spend hours dissecting each bottle to find the perfect one, if Robin wasn’t constantly over her shoulder rushing her.

Maybe that’s why Nancy had declined when the girl offered to tag along with them.

Or maybe she just wanted to be alone with Steve—

You have to physically shake that thought from your head. But even when you shut your eyes, it’s like the image of him and Nancy making out in the back of her Station Wagon is ingrained in the depths of your mind.

You curl into yourself and bathe in the depths of the dark abyss you’ve created in your bedroom, trying to see your way out of your handcrafted turmoil like a bad cold.

When Nancy and Steve return, they come cradling paper bags in their arms like babies.

Robin relieves the latter of the load in his hands and follows the darker-haired girl into the kitchen connected to the living room, no larger than a decent-sized closet.

Steve notices the lack of your presence as soon as he walks through the door. When he’d left, the three of you were pregaming — a feat that often led to Eddie breaking out his guitar and you and him singing terribly off-key to whatever was playing on the radio.

Now you’re nowhere to be found, and he feels it like a missed meal. He feels the ache of your absence like an empty stomach.

“Where’d she go?” Steve asks Eddie, who’s lounging on the couch and taking up the entire space — legs spread and arms thrown over the back.

The curly-haired boy takes a noisy sip of his nearly gone beer. Then exhales rather dramatically when he sits the can on his thigh. It leaves a damp ring on the denim. “Hey, buddy... Just blow in from stupid town?”

“…What?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, already annoyed and knowing more than he lets on. “She’s in her room, dingus.”

“She okay?” Steve wonders with furrowed brows, uncaring of the use of the stupid nickname because there’s bigger things to worry about apparently.

It wasn’t like you to miss a night of drinking. He gets momentarily fearful that you’d gotten sick while he was away, that he wasn’t around to help you if you had.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Eddie lilts with wide eyes, like it’s a bright idea that neither of them would’ve thought of otherwise.

His sarcasm makes Steve roll his eyes, but he heeds the boy’s words anyway.

Through the short hallway and the last door on the right, he finds you in the darkness of your shared bedroom, illuminated only by the orange streetlight that filters through the blinds. You're hid beneath the covers, a little lump on the mattress.

He idles in the doorway and waits for you to react to his presence.

You don’t.

“Hey, babe,” he greets cautiously after concluding you just hadn’t heard the door squeak open upon his arrival. “You feel okay?”

You mumble something he can’t quite make out. He takes the raised infliction as an affirmative and shifts his weight on his feet because it’s unlike you to be so one-note with him.

“Well, I, uh— I bought some of that wine you like... I couldn’t remember if you liked the blackberry or blueberry, so I ended up just getting both, you know, just in case.”

“Okay,” you respond after several agonizing seconds. Your voice sounds so fragile in the still darkness. Like he didn’t already know something was wrong.

He so desperately wants to pry but chooses to err on the side of caution for now, out of fear of turning the bad, worse.

“You wanna come down and try it with me? If you don’t like it we can always go back—”

“I’m okay,” you interrupt gently, with a tone so soft and coated with so much emotion that it makes his heart sink. You’re anything but and he knows it.

“Okay,” he nods anyway with the hope that he can pull you from this funk you’d managed to fall into. “Do you, uh… Do you want me to stay in here with you?”

He hears your deep sigh and sees the way the wad of blankets rises and falls again. A telltale sign of your annoyance. He knows then that he’s overstayed his welcome.

Your voice remains quiet but loses its kindness when you tell him: “You can do whatever you want, Steve.”

He’s hurt by the way you’re so suddenly short with him, then angered because he didn’t do anything to deserve it in the first place.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you? What did I do?”

You don’t answer. You just sigh again, the same really big, dramatic one that’s more to showcase your irritation with him than anything else.

You’re more than keen to end the conversation right there, but Steve isn’t. Not when something’s eating you away from the inside out and he can’t do anything to help you because you won’t let him.

“Babe, c’mon. I get it, alright? You’re mad at me. Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix it,” you monotone, stifled beneath the covers.

“I can’t fix it?” he repeats with furrowed brows. “What do you mean, I can’t fix it?”

You use your silence as an answer, as a weapon. It’s almost worse than any silver-tongued reply you could've given him. The quiet forces him to think for himself and imagine all the things he could’ve done wrong that he can’t take back. It feels like quicksand.

Did he forgot to kiss you good morning? Of course, he didn’t — actually, he gets mad at you for forgetting — and you were golden before he left. Eddie probably said something stupid, that was likely. Or maybe Robin made a joke that upset you, that was even more likely.

He figures it’s something in between all those. Something silly that feels like the end of the world. He can make it better. He always makes it better.

Steve lifts the lump of covers you shield yourself with and crawls beneath them with the intention of pulling you out of the void you’ve sunken into.

It’s not so comfortable, lying in bed in socks and jeans and a collared shirt, but he doesn’t need to feel good right now — you do. He’ll be content if he can just hold you in his arms for a couple of hours, the rest of the night if that’s what you need.

But he can’t even do that.

He reaches for your arm, fingers just barely trailing across the warm skin there, and you jerk away from him like he’s shocked you.

It startles him, how quick you are to avoid him. It has him jerking back too, because you’ve never denied him the opportunity to touch you. He becomes the same sort of storm cloud that you are now, because he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. Any of it.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks you, less soft than he’d been before.

You sniffle. “I told you I didn’t want you going out alone with Nancy anymore,” you mumble, face still shoved into your pillow. The words are slightly muffled but he can hear the tears that coat your voice.

“That’s what this is about?” he wonders, not as empathetic as you’d hoped he might be, but genuinely confused. With your back to him, you don’t see the smile pulling at his lips while he shakes his head, like it’s funny to him. “Babe, we were just getting drinks. It’s no different than you going out with Robin.”

“It’s totally different! Because I was never in love with Robin. She was never in love with me—”

“Well, I beg to differ,” he murmurs in a soft laugh.

“It’s not funny, Steve,” you retort wetly and then sniffle again. When you turn to face him, he sees for the first time what he’s done to you.

The orange of the streetlight lamp outside bathes you in a sunset shade of neon — your eyes are glassy with tears that gather at your lashes. Emotions glow at the tip of your nose and your cheeks. Your skin would be hot to the touch if he felt you now.

“Do you know how weird it is for me? To watch my boyfriend and his ex go fuck around with me?” you ask him with a scrunched nose and brows, like your trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him.

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Steve scolds. “She just wanted to get alcohol for tonight and had some shit to get off her chest. I mean, she’s been having a really hard time lately—”

“It’s not your job to take care of her, Steve!” you shout before you even realize you’re shouting. You take in a shuddered breath and let it out in a trembling sigh, shining eyes flitted away from him and towards the ceiling as you calm yourself down.

When you start your lament again, you’re quieter.

“You can’t just be this, like, emotional crutch for her every single time something’s wrong. She’ll just get invested in you all over again and…”

Steve watches from beside you, propped up on his elbow, as you trail off. The frown between your eyebrows deepens, a great and inquisitive crevice, while your eyes widen and your mouth falls softly agape — like you’ve discovered something in the midst of your rant.

“Is— Is that what you want?” you ask him then. “Do you, like, need her attention to feed your ego or something?”

He’s too offended by your words to tell you all the ways they aren’t true. “What? No! Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Steve.”

“What is?”

“Watching you and her together!” you admit through a tightening throat. You rise from where you’d been laying down and Steve follows you, settling in front of you as you wrap your arms around your knees. “When I have to sit here, by myself, while you guys spend time alone. When she always knows what you’re up to, and I don’t—”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quietly, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“—It’s not fair. She’s not your girlfriend, Steve, I am. It’s your job to take care of me, not her.”

Steve deflates like a popped balloon. His chin falls to his chest and his eyes squeeze shut at the weight of your words.

It’s like you’re reminding him that he’s supposed to be in love with you and not someone he cared for a long time ago. Like you felt the need to remind him because you thought he’d forgotten somewhere down the line.

It hurts him too. It feels like you’ve got his heart in your hands and you're wringing it in your grip.

“You’re right,” Steve concedes with a nod. “I just... I guess, I never thought about it like that.”

He feels the same way, too, sometimes. When you and Eddie go all buddy-buddy mode and want to spend time together.

When you’re out all night with him at band practice. When you’re attached at the hip and having sleepovers in his room to talk about everything and nothing for hours until you fall asleep when the sun rises. When you both come down at one in the afternoon the next day for breakfast, giggling about the thing you said the night before.

It makes him feel like he’s missing out. Like you’re sharing parts of yourself with someone else and he isn’t allowed to see it.

And sometimes he gets irrational — keeps himself up all night as he imagines you and Eddie making out on his floor after going through all his new tapes or fucking in his unmade bed while he keeps a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet.

Steve concocts waking nightmares for himself whenever you’re not beside him.

But even then, it’s different. Because he used to do all that shit with Nancy. They fell in love, made out for hours because they didn’t want to stop feeling each other, had sex on a twin-sized bed and tried to keep from falling out of it while they did.

You’d never done that shit with Eddie — or with anyone you’re now sharing a home with. Besides Steve.

Because he’s yours now. And you’re his.

But you can’t stop thinking about how he used to be Nancy’s too.

“I don’t need you to tell me that I’m right,” you murmur with the childlike shake of your head, slow and lazy, as you wipe your wet cheek on your shoulder. “I need you to do something about it— I needed you to do something about it a long time ago.”

“I will, okay? I will. I promise. I’ll fix it,” Steve assures you quickly, with wide and hopeful eyes and a nodding head that makes his hair flop against his forehead.

He can see you losing hope in front of him, like a flame going slowly out. You’re slipping away. He keeps fighting to keep a hold of you.

“No.”

“…No?”

“You can’t,” you sniffle. “You can’t fix it.”

“Baby—”

“It’s not fair. To either of us,” you tell him, looking at him through clumped together lashes and heavy, sparkling eyes. “And it’s not your fault, okay? But I can’t keep feeling this like. It’s not healthy— this isn’t… this is what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. It shouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve blinks back stinging tears. He brings his hand to his face and rubs the back of it against his burning nose. He feels a bit like you do now, hopeless. You’re slipping away and he is too and you both just keep on slipping, just going going going.

“You’re not even—” he clears his throat when his voice breaks halfway through. “You’re not even gonna let me try?”

You shrug weakly. Tears burn as they gather at your waterline. You revel in the sting because it’s better than the hole ripping through your chest.

“I don’t know. I think… I think it’s too late.”

“Why would you say that?” Steve agonizes with the shake of his head, looking like a wounded puppy as he gaze at you with brown eyes full of hurt. “Don’t say that. Don’t.”

“Steve—”

“No,” he interjects firmly, stopping the spiral before it can start again.

He positions himself so he’s sitting further ahead of you and holds your arms in his numbing hands, ducking down to catch your gaze when you try to look away from him.

“I love you, okay? I’m an idiot and I’m sorry and I'm stupid, alright? I wasn’t thinking. But we can’t just… It’s not too late. I can fix this. I promise I can fix this.”

Your chest aches at his plea, at the way he still doesn’t understand.

It’s not his fault you feel this way, not entirely. It’s not anyone’s fault and that’s what’s so scary. There’s no one to blame the pain on, no root to cut out and put an end to it. You’re frightened that it’s always going to be there, constantly in the way, forbidding either of you from ever moving on.

“Steve...” you murmur through tears while the boy gathers you in his arms. You try to stop him but your voice gets caught in your throat halfway through. Because you don’t want him to stop. Not ever.

He nurses you into his velvet hold, wrapping a pair of strong arms around you to cage you against him. He presses his nose into your temple while he rocks you back and forth. “I promise. Everything’s okay. I’ll fix it.”

He repeats that like a mantra while you keep your head pressed against his chest — everything’s gonna be okay, I can fix it, I love you.

It’s a promise. One that he’d rather die than break.

You stay there, curled against his chest, while dark feelings ebb and flow in a constant and bitter cycle.

You hope he’s right. That these big feelings are just big stupid feelings that'll pass come the pink and blue sunrise. That everything really is going to be okay and that he really can fix it.

Because even now, all hopeless and full of doom and gloom, you feel soothed in his hold. You’ve never felt safer anywhere else. You’ve built a home in the peace of Steve’s arms and you want to keep on living in them.

“I’m gonna make it better,” he whispers against the crown of your head. If you’ll let me.

He feels you nod lazily against him. “Okay.”

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stevie oneshot #published by bug #st oneshots

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sc0tters · 1 month

Text

Night to Change | Rutger McGroarty

summary: when Rutger is cleared for sexual activity all he can think of is the team physio.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, fingering, oral (fem and m receiving!), underaged drinking, swearing.

word count: 3.87k

authors note: I forgot how much fun it is to write for Rutger! we all have to thank @fantillisdaylight again for letting me bounce this idea off of her. I straight up loved the middle parts of this, I wrote it at like 2 am and got all the chaos that came with it.

The boys were happy to be back.

Rutger felt like he was on cloud nine coming back as the captain of the USA wjc team that won. Not only was the hockey team hosting a party to celebrate the first win of 2024, but it was also their champions that held their medals proudly. For most they were just happy to be back, even if it meant that they were in their uncomfortable beds that colleges seemed to love so much. Yet for Rutger it was like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, being cleared by the physio’s for sexual activity and he was ready to explode “you okay Rut?” Your hand pressed against his back pulling him out of the daze he was in.

His throat went dry as his eyes went wide seeing the concerned look on your face “just need a drink.” He confessed forcing a smile onto his lips, you were the girl he had a crush on since freshman year. You were the sweet student physio for the hockey team who made it impossible for the boy to fall in love with.

Tonight you were in this black dress with your white converse as your hair had been freshly curled “you want some company for that?” Your offer made him freeze watching your rake your fingers through your hair “you can say no Rut.” His silence made you frown causing you to turn your foot wanting to leave him.

The boy however was quick to wrap his hand around your wrist “just didn’t think you’d want to come with.” Rutger confessed seeing your sorority sisters sending you both a smirk as they knew all about your feelings for the sophomore.

It was originally just the mere thought of him being cute and sweet. But when he got injured and was then spending almost every day. It was tough for feelings to not come into place and you were both fools for ignoring the way you felt about each other.

The day had been dreary, rain coated the glass panes of your window. You took the day off after you learnt your boyfriend had cheated on you. The poor weather did little to make you feel better this resulting in you practically rotting under your blankets all day. Or at least that was what you were doing until the sudden sound of knocks at your window caused you to groan.

Emotions served worse than a hang over as you wrapped your blanket around your head looking to where the noise came from. Your jaw dropped seeing Rutger perched on the rose wall that climbed up your side of the house “oh my god.” Your hand cupped your mouth as you held back a laugh pushing off of your bed making your way to him.

You were quick to open your window as it let the rain fall in “what on earth are you doing here?” A dry laugh left your lips as the boy pushed his now soaked hair out of his face “missed you today.” The new year had barely started and preseason training was all that the team had their minds on.

It warmed your heart that he cared “needed some space.” You shrugged dropping your blanket “but come in before you get a cold.” You ushered him inside caring little for the rules of your sorority.

Rutger had never seen your room yet if you had asked him this was exactly how he thought it would have looked “you’ve been crying.” He frowned seeing your bloodshot eyes that brought out the clumps your mascara had sticking to your eyelashes “what happened to ya?” The hockey player asked noticing the empty pint of ice cream that sat next to your bed with an unopened bottle of vodka “Jake cheated on me.” Your star boyfriend of three years and the captain of the wrestling team was disliked by the entire hockey team.

In that moment Rutger wanted to go hunt him down in his frat and punch his face in “are you okay?” Your sniffles reminded him of the fact that you were still suffering from a heartbreak “honestly she thinks she took my man but she just took my problems.” You pointed out sitting on your bed.

The boy let a laugh escape his lips as he sat next to you “I don’t think he ever appreciated you.” Rutger sighed placing his hand on your knee “you know I’ve already been through the pity speeches from everyone else.” You pointed out which made him frown.

His thumb was soft against your skin “because he was an ass.” His nonchalant tone made you laugh “y’know you could have texted me.” You confessed letting out a yawn as the rain soothed your mind.

Rutger shook his head as he raked his fingers through your hair “wanted to see you.” His tone was sickly sweet. It made you crawl to the head of your bed only alarming the boy “come lay with me.” Your words made him worried as he knew he would be a deadman already then he’d also be a loved up man too.

Because of course whilst his intentions were pure, his feelings were powered by love “look I’m already sad so don’t leave me lonely too.” You warned shooting him a serious look to highlight that you weren’t kidding. All he did was nod shuffling up the side of your bed before he was then sat next to you.

He kicked his shoes off allowing him to lay on your bed for less than a second before you practically crawled into him “can I do anything for you?” Rutger enquired rubbing his hand over your back. But as he looking down expecting a response you had already fallen asleep, clearly needing it.

It calmed his mind to see you so peaceful and asleep as you lay there “goodnight y/n.” The boy mumbled leaning down to kiss your head before he lay back in his original position, leaving two hours later as there was no sign of you waking up.

Sentiments of that night echoed in his mind as you smiled at him “always like to be with you.” He surely had to know how his words made your knees buckle “you want to lead the way f’me then?” You locked your hand with his as he nodded.

Rutger didn’t hesitate to pull you through the crowd “now what kind of drink am I getting for the lady?” His voice was louder trying to get over the speaker that was in front of them “whatever you want baby!” You laughed kissing his cheek.

For the reminder of the night you were practically stuck by the boys side “how the hell did she get him on that dance floor?” Luca furrowed his eyebrows seeing the sight of Rutgers hands gripping at your hips as your ass was against his shorts “because she’s hot and he’s obsessed with her.” Ethan laughed as she turned around with a grin on her face singing along to the song that was playing.

Both of you were feeling a buzz as alcohol roared through your systems “fuck you’re so pretty.” Rutger confessed letting his head drop to your shoulder “such a sweet boy ain’t ya?” Your lips smacked together as your fingers ran through his hair enjoying how he moved in your rhythm.

His “mhm.” Sent vibrations through your body making you force your thighs together “been thinking about how much I’m gonna miss you.” The song ended changing into something slower.

You knew you were progressing your career getting into an NHL team as a physio and you didn’t know what the next year held for the boy “you still got me for a couple of months.” Rutger pointed out turning his head up to look at you “yeah but you’re no longer gonna be in the office.” The confession made your cheeks burn.

Part of you hated admitting that you were going to miss the boy more than you were meant to “you telling me I’m your favourite hockey player?” A grin painted his face “you’re my favourite boy Rut.” You corrected him letting your lips hover over his.

Rutger felt his throat grow tight like he could no longer breathe “you are playing a dangerous game.” He warned licking his lips like it was going to help “you gonna stop me?” You cocked your head letting a smirk form on your face as you waited for his answer.

But instead the boy stayed quiet “let’s get out of here.” He offered holding his hand out to yours “mine is just down the road?” He smiled like you read his mind.

It took the two of you less than five minutes to sneak back into the silent sorority building. Not that it mattered anyways, the president already knew she was going to keep her mouth shut about seeing you leave with the sophomore. Rutger did his best to keep his hands to himself until you shut the door to your bedroom “you want to finally kiss me pretty boy?” You ran your thumb over his lip.

Rutger wasn’t ashamed of the whimper that left his lips “please.” He nodded gripping his fingers at your sides when you pulled your legs over his thighs to straddled him.

The air in the room grew hot “you get any special attention in your injury?” You wanted to make him sweat, to make him almost work for the pleasure that the mere thought had your mouth watering. The boy shook his head “only thought about you.” The confession made you smile as your heart swelled doing flips.

Your hand scratched at the nape of his neck “always such a sweet boy.” You mumbled as you kissed his lips. The moment was soft as he melted into your touch letting his lips graze yours “fuck.” He moaned feeling you nip at his lower lip.

You pulled away with a smirk “think it’s about time I give you a reward for being such a loyal boy.” You dropped to your knees going eye level with his aching bulge that had been pressed against his shorts since you two started dancing.

As you licked your lips looking back up at him Rutger couldn’t help but grow embarrassed “you don’t have to.” This was the moment that he was so used to picturing before he wrapped his hand around his cock in his room imagining that it was yours instead.

You shook your head hooking your fingers under his waist band of his shorts “need you to push your hips up for me.” You we’re glad that he was fast as you added as you were barely able to get his shorts and boxers pulled down two or so inches “you’re so big.”You almost complained feeling as though you wouldn’t be able to handle it.

The tip of his cock was swollen with precum oozing from it “please baby just do something.” Rutger begged seeing you stare at him “since you asked me so nicely.” You smirked dropping your head down to send kitten licks to the mushroom head of his cock.

The boy groaned clenching his hands in your duvet “such a desperate boy ain’t ya?” Your hand wrapped around his boner making it almost impossible for him to stay up straight “god you’re gonna kill me.” The hockey player gasped as he watched your lips wrap around him.

Rutgers eyes fluttered at the sight as you began to control your movements letting yourself take as much of him as you could “fuck.” His hands gripped at your hair doing its best to form a makeshift ponytail.

You hollowed your cheeks out allowing yourself to take more of him as your nose hit his pelvis bone “this is heaven.” He moaned as you tilted your head in a way that let you take even more of him into your throat. Gagging noises echoed off of your rooms walls “I’m gonna.” Rutger cried out as you replaced your mouth with your hand.

It pumped the boys cock as his thighs began to bounce to meet your hand as your other cupped his balls “you wanna make a mess?” You taunted pushing your knees up so that you could kiss him “so bad.” Your cherry lipgloss made him feel drunk all over again as his eyes screwed shut.

Rutgers jaw went slack but he couldn’t find a way to get any words out “please.” He begged letting his lips graze against yours “want to to make a mess f’me okay?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer you as you replaced your hand with your mouth once more going back to swirling your tongue around his cock.

Rutger tugged at your hair not knowing how much longer he would last with your new movements “fuck fuck fuck!” He cried out feeling his lip shake as his release shot into your mouth.

You lapped up all of his release as you continued to help him ride out his orgasm “sugar I’m gonna need you to stop before I come again.” His confession make you smile as you let his cock slide from your mouth with a pop.

The boy watched you swallow his release letting slide down your throat as your saliva coated his cock “god that was the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen.” Rutger gasped watching you get up to straddle his thighs “there is plenty more from where that came from.” You teased running your fingers along his jaw.

You loved watching him squirm “think it’s my turn to make you feel good first.” Rutger announced as he pecked your lips “you don’t have to.” You shook your head wanting to focus on him.

Yet that was no match for him as he flipped you over laying your head on your pillow “now I think we need to get you out of some of this.” Rutger pointed out as he kicked his shorts to the floor.

A smirk formed on your face “what do you suggest then?” It took him seconds to pull your dress off “wow.” He muttered at the sight of you in your bra and panties “knew you were getting fucked tonight?” The dark blue lace complemented your skin making his mouth water.

You nodded with a soft smirk coaxing your lips “took a risk.” You joked seeing the boy settle between your legs “such a pretty girl sugar.” There was a new nickname that he seemed to adore going to kiss you.

He loved the way you responded as his lips moulded into your “please make me feel good.” You mumbled spreading your legs open when you drove your hips up to meet his “won’t make you wait any longer then.” The hockey player nipped at your jaw letting a trail of sloppy kisses down the valley of your breasts to your stomach.

He stopped when he was met with the waistband of your panties “been thinking about you like this for so long.” His thumb massaged a circle on your hip “what’s the point in waiting any longer?” You cocked your head as your teeth caught your lower lip.

Rutger couldn’t find a way to say no “want to make you feel so freaking good.” He announced pulling your panties off of your legs letting it add to the pile that was on the floor “god you’re gorgeous.” The boy murmured thinking he was dreaming at the sight of you.

His lips grazed each of your thighs spreading his attention between them both “been thinking about you all through our sessions.” He confessed stopping at each side “wondering if I’d ever get you like this.” The boy gasped propping his face by your cunt “god Rut do something before I-” you were cut off when he licked a stripe up your slit.

It made you jump when you felt his teeth nick your clit “fuck!” You whined making him freeze with concern “you okay?” He furrowed his eyebrows wondering if he had gone too far.

You shook your head “Rut baby how many times have you gone down on a girl?” Your question made his cheeks turn red “you’re safe here.” You reminded him as you sat up straight still with him between your legs.

Rutger chewed at the inside of his cheek “twice but with one girl.” The girl he had slept with in his freshman year was privy to both of those attempts “you gotta go softer baby.” You confessed gripping at his hand.

You weren’t against helping to teach him “you feel this?” You asked pressing his thumb against your clit “yeah.” Rutger nodded watching how responsive you were to his new movements.

He continued with his thumb but then let his fingers tease your cunt as he let them tease your core “just like that.” You muttered beginning to feel your eyes flutter “then you wanna suck where your thumb is.” You explained letting your head drop back to your pillow.

Rutger nodded to himself as he continued to thrust his fingers into your cunt letting your walls hug his fingers “there you go.” You moaned as he swirled his tongue around your clit causing your fingers to latch to his hair.

The boy groaned at the sensation sending shivers through your body “god Rut.” You complained gripping your feet in the sheets as you squirmed against him.

Rutger treated the moment as though it was his last on earth. As you were so focused on the feeling of his tongue against your clit that you didn’t notice him insert a third finger into your cunt “god fuck don’t stop.” You only had your vibrator to help you in the recent months after your break up.

So this was now a welcomed change for you as that device only got you so far “so sweet sugar.” Rutger mumbled arching his hand in a way that let him hit even deeper in your cunt like it was possible.

You watched him through hooded eyes as he smiled looking up when the feeling of your clit against his tongue made his cock grow hard again “I’m so close.” Tears formed in your eyes as your thighs squeezed the sides of his head, only acting as encouragement to push him to go even faster.

Your hands left him and went to your bra pulling the straps from your arms “please Rut I need it.” You begged grazing your thumbs over your nipples as your eyes rolled back into your head. White spots painted your vision as moans escaped your lips.

Your cunt clenched around him in these spurts as you reached your high “fuck that was so hot.” He let his fingers slide into his mouth to taste your release.

Rutger watched as you took a moment to breathe catching your breath “think you could give me one more?” He asked trying his hardest to avoid the sight of your breasts when you reached behind you to take your bra off “lay down f’me and I’ll show ya.” You wriggled your eyebrows making him pull his shirt off of his chest leaving you both naked.

His last act before he went to lay down was reach into his wallet as he grabbed a condom “here.” He muttered handing you the silver package “lay on your back f’me.” This time when you kissed his lips it was soft and almost caring as you ran your fingers against his jaw.

You wanted to make sure the boy was comfortable as he nodded laying his head flat on your pillow “trust you.” His words made your heart grow warm “you’re so sweet Rut.” You giggled as you shook your head.

You went to straddle his lap when your phone began ringing. It was Ethan by the stupid ring tone he had given himself weeks prior just to piss you off “that’s nothing.” You shook your head ignoring it as you went to kiss the boy again.

Both of you tried to ignore it yet as you heard the phone go off again it made you roll your eyes. You reached down to grab your phone quickly answering it “you better be dying.” You grumbled running your fingers along the boys chest.

The Canadian laughed “Luca got into a fight with Jake and now he looks like he has a broken nose.” Your eyes rolled at the news as you looked at Rutger who grew concerned “and what do you want me to do about that?” You asked trying to ignore the way he kissed at your neck.

The junior went quiet for a second “you are kind of our physio and basically the team mom at this point.” Ethan spoke in a duh tone “is his nose still bleeding?” You chewed at the inside of your cheek as you heard the inaudible noises that Luca let out.

Rutger grew alarmed watching you get up “I’ll be there in five.” Realistically you were the only one who could check him out without him getting into any kind of trouble with the actual staff of the team “thank you.” Ethan let out a sigh of relief hearing you hang up.

The American in front of you on the bed however had a different reaction “we gotta go check on Luca.” You explained watching him smile “what?” You furrowed your eyebrows trying to understand what was going on.

But instead he just laughed “it’s cute you care for us all sugar.” He confessed as he got up following suit “so you’re not mad?” You felt relieved as the boy stood almost a foot taller than you.

His hand tucked your hair behind your face “not when I know I’ll get you soon.” Rutgers voice was barely above a whisper as he kissed your lips.

It turned out that Rutger would only get one final chance with you in your sorority. The night before graduation left you desperate to have your way with him.

Yet it seemed that luck was going to be on your side because just as Rutger was starting to settle in to Winnipeg after a year away from you when you traded Michigan for Florida. A job came up you couldn’t say no to “you tell me you’re single but you have never been out with us once.” One of his teammates pointed out making Rutger laugh.

The question came off innocently “got a girl I still like from back home?” He shrugged watching his teammates walk into the locker room as it gave him a chance to think about you “hope that means I still have a chance Rut.” You swore you’d never seen him happier to see you before.

It took him seconds to run over to you before he got the chance to embrace you like a crazy man “Sugar what are you doing here?” He couldn’t help but spin you around with joy upon the realisation that you were indeed real “someone had to come take care of you pretty boy.” You shrugged with a smile more than happy to be back with the boy.

#rutger mcgroarty smut #rutger mcgroarty imagines #hockey imagines #hockey smut #umich hockey #umich oneshot #umich x reader #umich smut #Rutger McGroarty x reader #amber writes fics

280 notes · View notes

h8ani · 7 months

Text

A Gift For You

Pairing: Chifuyu Matsuno x Reader

Anime: Tokyo Revengers

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Nothing really, Emma isn’t really canon in this, Sano!Reader, fluffy cute as shit, her and Emma argue 🤣 lil sister tingz, afab! reader in mind!

A/N - I just wanted to say thank you @kkittycries for proofreading and helping me revise this because I most definitely would’ve trashed this 😭😭

“God, you’re so in love with him.” Emma says before taking a sip of her drink. She watches you stare off with hearts in your eyes beside her as you two sit by Hina at the shrine. Your eyes were zoned in past Mikey and on the vice captain of the first division, Chifuyu. His focus looking up as Mikey speaks aloud to all of Toman, his body straight and center, you could see his hair sway with the crisp fall breeze that came every now and then.

You weren’t listening as Emma spoke to you, barely hearing the giggle Hina let out until she nudged you to get your attention. “Huh- what?” You look at the two girls who were just smiling at you.

“Stop gawking at your boyfriend and listen to me, we need to talk about your party.” Emma says. Your eyes narrow before turning fully to her. “At least I don’t have a Draken shrine in my room.” A gasp leaves her as she sits up, slamming her canned drink on the ground.

“You didn’t!”

“Oh I did.”

The tension rises as you two stare daggers at each other, Hina uncomfortably clears her throat before speaking up. “No family fighting please! The last time you guys fought you two tumbled down the stairs.”

“That was her fault!” You both say in unison while looking at Hina causing her to shrink up at the outburst.

You and Emma were close in age which more than likely reasoned with why you two argued so much. She was a year younger than you and Mikey yet you out of all of the siblings look the most different. You had darker hair like your older brother Shinichiro and you were taller than both of them as well, standing a few inches taller as your siblings were just under you.

Emma and you were very alike aside from constantly bickering and wrestling around from time to time. You both were really sweet, caring about your friends the second you grow that bond, she has a big heart for those she loves and you’re just a bit more reserved. You’d rather like someone from afar while Emma goes and gets what she wants when she wants it.

You sigh and bring your attention back on the blonde boy you were fawning over earlier. You spend most of the nights you come here with Emma and Mikey doing this, staring from afar and not doing anything but thinking of how cute he is. You’ve been introduced to him when you were younger, always knowing all of Mikey’s friends and most of the members in Toman yet you still knew nothing about him. Sometimes you wish you could trade places with Emma, at least she’d know how to catch his attention. “Hey (y/n)?” Hina speaks up, “do you ever talk to Chifuyu?” She asks.

Your thoughts about said blonde were cut short as you feel yourself deflate. “No...” you mumble, tucking your knees against your chest.

“She’s too scared he won’t even know who she is.” Emma teases, “she’s too chicken.”

“Am not!” You whip around, glaring once again at your younger sister who’s snickering to herself. As much as you love her, you want to tackle her down the stairs once again. The bickering between you two never ceases to stop even once the meeting ends and others pass by you sparing glances at you both.

“Just go talk to him!” Emma shouts

“Who does (y/n) want to talk to?” A voice speaks up from behind you, you turn to see your brother walking up the steps of the shrine with Draken following close behind.

Your mouth drops open slightly, how much did he hear? Does he know of the feelings you’ve had? No, he couldn’t. You’ve only told-

“Oh she wants to talk to Ch-” you whip your head around to send another set of daggers at her, a sly smile spreading across her lips before she can finish her sentence. “No one, she doesn’t want to talk to anyone so nevermind.” She smiles up at Mikey, her attention now settling on Draken as she stands up.

Your eyes stay on your sister as Mikey’s stay on you, a smile threatening to form on his face as he says his next words. “I’ll just tell him to go ahead then leave then.” All three of you girls look at Mikey, curious as to who it was.

“What?” Emma asks while glued to Draken’s side.

“Who?” You raise your eyebrows, curious as to who wanted to speak to you.

A small hum came from beside you, Hina’s features riddled with confusion as to everything that’s been happening. Poor girl.

“Chifuyu, he said he wanted to talk to you but I’ll just-”

“Where is he?” You interrupt making Emma snicker and Hina lets out a small gasp. You rise to your feet and look at Mikey who can’t help but let a smile across his face. “He’s waiting by his bike, better go before you’ve made him wait too long.” You’re gone walking down the stairs before Mikey could even finish his sentence, his head follows you as you keep a steady pace trying to walk too fast to the boy who wants to talk to you.

As he watches you a smile stays formed on his face, seeing his 2 minute younger little sister who’s clearly walking like she’s on a mission was heartwarming. You tried to be tough on the outside despite you keeping everything bottled up and being one of the more sensitive siblings; you’re sometimes the spitting image of his older brother and it does something to him. Yes he’s protective over you, that’s what brothers are for, but with the similarities you give he can’t help but give you a push in life and especially in the love department, god knows Shinichiro needed it.

Your thoughts were everywhere as you made your way towards all the bikes, what did Chifuyu want to talk to you about? Why’d he send your brother out of all people? Did he catch you staring at him? No he couldn’t have you would’ve seen him look back at you there’s no way that’s the reason. But what if it is? Someone else could’ve told him and he wants to talk to you and tell you that you’re a creep. You grab onto your fingers anxiously pulling on them as your mind goes in high gear. If you turned back now you could highjack Mikey’s bike and never look back-

“(y/n).” A voice calls out ahead of you. You glance up and see Chifuyu and realize that you made it to all of the bikes. He smiles at you as he’s leaning against his own, his hands tucked away in his pockets, cheeks a light shade of pink, the weather did drop a bit since being out here. God he was just so cute. You were staring again, no words able to leave your lips as you gawk up at the boy in front of you. Embarrassment quickly takes over once you hear him chuckle. “I wanted to give you something.”

“Huh?” The word came out before you meant for it to as you were snapped out of your mindless stares. “I heard it was your birthday.” He speaks again while standing up from his bike and walking closer to you. You blinked standing there dumbfounded as you put two and two together of what he just said. Did he just say a gift?

He pulls his hands out of his pocket and raises a small necklace up in front of you. It’s a small moon pendant with a little green stone in the middle of it. Your eyes widened upon seeing it and he swore he could see the stars in the night sky sparkle in them, a smile graced your lips as you looked closer. The relief he felt once he saw your smile relaxed him a bit. “I know it’s your birthstone but if you don’t like the color then I could always return it-”

“I love it.” You interrupt while clasping your hand over the pendant. “Thank you Chifuyu. I really do love it.”

“Want me to put it on you?” He asks, you look at the necklace and hand it back to him and turn around, pulling your hair to the side so he can clasp it on better.

The necklace hangs perfectly, it’s not too big but not too small either. You turn around and meet his eyes, he smiles seeing you wear his gift.

“So um I’ve been meaning to actually ask you something.” His cheeks deepen in color as he scratches the back of his neck and chuckles. “It’s stupid really and I’m sure whoever told me is just joking.” You tilt your head in confusion but still nodding nevertheless “Do you stare at me like Mikey says?”

Emma is going to only have a sister soon enough.

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chvnnie · 9 months

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I had an awful week😭 is there any chance you can do a comforting dad!han fic? Something short please it’ll really make my day🥺

i’m sorry you had an awful week, love. this dad sung will be rejuvenating for the both of us 🫶🏻

Propped up against the headboard, Jisung rubs soft circles into the infant’s back. His hand is almost the size of her tiny body. She fits perfectly on his bare chest, already asleep though her father doesn’t stop the motion. The more she can sleep, the better.

It’s been a rough few weeks for his family. The baby came earlier than expected — only 32 two weeks and she decided it was time to arrive earth side the most complicated way possible. You were miserable in the hospital, the birth complicated and exhausting. A lengthy stay in the NICU only tacked on to that.

It’s nice to be home.

The shower shuts off in the en-suite bathroom. You’ve been in there a while. Not that Jisung minds, he’ll take any alone time with the little bitty he can get. And it’s nice to be able to give you a break — however hard it’s been on him, he knows it’s been ten times harder for you. It’s truly the least he can do.

Jisung looks down at the baby. A newborn sized onesie is still a little too baggy on her, the tiny hands slipped under the cuffs. The first thing his friends commented on when they met her (via FaceTime — you’re still a little worried about anyone other than immediate family being around her) was how much she looked like him. A full head of dark hair, a small version of his nose. Full cheeks, so much bigger than her body.

Baby quokka, she was lovingly nicknamed. “It fits.” You said, reaching into her hospital crib and adjusting the gloves on her hands. “She really is your mini.”

What in the world did he do to deserve her?

The door creaks open slowly, steam following you into the bedroom. Jisung feels his heart come to a halt when he looks at you — every time, without fail. It did that the day he met you. The day he proposed, the day you got married, everyday in between and on.

“How long has she been asleep?” You ask, shaking Jisung from his awestruck state.

“About ten minutes.” He answers with a shrug. His hand hasn’t stopped moving. It’s practically second nature at this point.

“Why haven’t you moved her to the bassinet?”

Another shrug. “I’m not ready to yet.”

Your smile is so fond. It’s no surprise that Jisung is a wonderful father, but you think this was his true calling. If you could freeze this moment, spend forever watching him softly push his daughter’s hair out of her face, you would. There’s nothing that could make this better—

Expect for the burst of energy that just tumbled through the bedroom door, her hair spilling from the braids she fell asleep in. Though she looks just like you, her expressions are your husband’s. Pouty, eyes narrowed.

“Dada.” There’s fire in her voice. “Didn’t stay.”

Uh oh. You climb into the bed next to Jisung, mimicking your eldest daughter’s glare. “You left her?”

His eyes are wild, bouncing between the two of you. Is he really getting ganged up on right now? “I told you I would leave after I finished singing to you—“

“Nuh uh.” She turns to you. “Dada ‘pposed to sleep in my room.”

“Oh no.” You say dramatically, picking up the four year old and hauling her into the bed. “Isn’t he the worst?”

“Okay now—“

“Is.” She lays her head on your chest, resting on your body the exact same way her sister is laying on Jisung. Making sure her head is turned in her direction, she pouts even more.

It’s a pout that Jisung returns, shifting lower in the bed so she’s eye level with her. The baby stirs from the motion, but doesn’t wake. Perfectly content on her father. “Sprout, don’t hurt my feelings.”

“Hurt mine first.”

Jisung looks at you for help, trying to resist breaking into a smile. Her little pout is too cute to be mad about. You shake your head with a chuckle, untangling her messy hair.

“I’m sure Dada didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” You reassure her, fingers smoothing out her dark hair.

“I’m sorry.” Jisung says sincerely, holding out his free hand. “Forgive me?”

Her big eyes stare at his palm, and he can practically see her little brain spinning. Weighing her options. He knows she can hold a grudge — she is her father’s daughter, after all. After what seems like an hour of careful deliberation, she puts her hand in his. Squeezing it as tight as she can.

“‘Kay.”

Jisung smiles, bringing her tiny hand to his lips and giving it a kiss. He makes a loud “muah” sound, his daughter giggling. The tiny problem fixed with her father’s love.

“Promise I’ll never leave you again, Sprout.”

She doesn’t know how deeply he means that.

#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #han jisung fluff #jisung fluff #han fluff #dad!skz #dad!stray kids #chvnnie asks #dad skz really has a grip on my heart but esp dad sung

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celestialwhoree · 2 months

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🎀🍼

What time is it?! More single mom!reader time!

Someone dropped into my inbox asking for Single mom! getting upset at her daughter and yelling at her and then crying about it. I needed a minute to cook but I'm here now.

"Come on, Lottie." You huff desperately, covered to your elbows in suds and applesauce as you try and fail to get your daughter into the bubble filled tub. "If you take a bath, I'll let you watch Bluey before bed." Has the three year old perking up, albeit barely, still stroppy about some trivial thing or another. She's probably still sour about you saying no to having cake for dinner, despite the fact that you'd relented this morning and allowed cake for breakfast, on the condition that she also had some strawberries to 'cancel the sugar out'.

"I wan' see Riley!" She pouts, stomping a tiny, chubby foot against the tiled bathroom floor. Ever since you'd dog sat for Simon on his latest deployment, Charlotte had decided that Riley was more her dog than his, and despite the fact that you too, absolutely adore Riley, the thought of bothering Simon any more makes you physically wince. "We can see Riley tomorrow." You attempt to bargain, growing more frustrated the longer you sit on the edge of the bath with your daughter looking at you like you're unreasonable. You never thought you'd see the day where you could get genuinely upset at a three year old covered in apple sauce and glitter glue. You've already had to fish a clip on earring from her mess of hair, and now you're at the end of your very, very long, single mother special edition, extra strength rope. "Wan' see him now!" Has you practically on the verge of tears. Today has been one of those impossible days where all you can think of as you're working out how much you have to spend for the month and whether you need to call a plumber out for the kitchen sink, is whether it's all worth it. Sure, going back and grovelling would be shameful, gut wrenchingly so, but at least then you wouldn't be alone.

"Charlotte, get in the bath or I'll put you to bed with no TV time." The unrelenting growl of your own voice feels foreign as it echoes around the tiny bathroom. You hate playing the bad cop, that was never your role, you'd always been the one to pick Lottie up after her dad laid down the law, take her for ice cream in the park or to feed the ducks. Now you're forced to do both. Charlotte, being three and having no care for the fact that she's making your life more difficult than it needs to be, simply sticks out her bottom lip and quivers her chin a little. Which, under normal circumstances, would make you give in and try to chase her down with a wet wipe, or coax her with the mermaid barbie doll that 'lives' in the bath. "Charlotte. Bath. Now." Of course, she'd had to have your spirited nature and unwillingness to give in passed on to her like a flaming torch, like you were Prometheus, being punished for giving fire to man. "No!" She shrieks, and that's enough to tip you over the edge. "Fine, bed then! Go on! Go and get in bed all dirty and see if I care." You snap, fingers pinching frustratedly at the bridge of your nose, trying to hold back the angry tears threatening to spill.

You're too consumed by hurt and endlessly roiling frustration to see where she storms off to, allowing yourself just a moment to sit on the edge of your shitty bathtub and let it all out. It was hardly ever that you got angry at Lottie. It was practically impossible given your situation. She doesn't understand where her daddy is or why you needed to go without him, nor why she can't always go and play with Simon and Riley whenever she wants.

"Charlotte?" Simon is confused and more than a little concerned at the snotty three year old currently stood at his door, cheeks ruddy with tears and little fists balled as she walks past him into his flat. "Wan' play wif Riley." She babbles, toddling through his entrance hall to the living rim, where the K9 gladly greets her with licks to her cheeks, making her giggle. "Where's mummy, Lottie?" Riley is called to heel, told to calm down so that Simon can understand why he's currently got your three year old crying in his lounge. "Baffroom." The toddler mumbles, seemingly perfectly content to get comfortable on his couch with Riley, burying her little face in the fluffy golden scruff of his neck. "What do you mean, bathroom, poppet? Is mummy alright?" "Mummy cryin'." "Did something happen?" In her usual way, Charlotte completely zones out from his line of questioning, too engaged with snuggling his dog.

The toddler wails and kicks when she's hoisted up onto his hip and carried back through the concerningly open door of your apartment, still swinging slightly on its hinges from where Lottie had thrown it open. "Love?" Simon calls into the seemingly empty house, your daughter on his hip and Riley waiting at his feet, wet nose twitching for any smell of the familiar woman who feeds him treats and scratches behind his ears. In seconds, Riley is tearing into the dimly lit bathroom, jolting you from your meltdown, followed rapidly by Simon and a tired looking toddler. "Love? Darling, what happened?" He's crouching at your bare feet as you sit defeatedly on the rim of the tub, your chin in his hands, tilted this way and that as though to make sure you're not hurt.

"Charlotte wouldn't get in the bath and - and" You can barely get your words out before you're wailing into your hands again, hiccuping pathetically at your situation and the fact that such a simple thing has the strength to derail you entirely. "Ah. Wondered why she came round mine all huffy and puffy." "Oh my God, I'm so sorry - You must think I'm awful." "I don' think you're awful. I think you're fuc-fudging amazing. Look at you, are you jokin'? Raisin a kid all alone, startin' a new life just the two of you. You're a trooper, yeah? I've seen soldiers weaker than you." "You don't really think that." You sniffle, inadvertently leaning your cheek into his palm when he reaches up to wipe your tears. "Course I do. You're brave and kind and beautiful. You've done a hell of a job with the little spitfire over there. Don't think I've ever come across a woman I admire the way I do you."

The way his words, aloof, distant Simon Riley's words make butterflies flutter in your stomach should be illegal. The way his eyes are so warm and dark like the comfort of a warm bed after a long day makes your heart pound and your breath catch. You know you shouldn't feel like this, for Charlotte's sake, and his, and yours, and yet you can't stop yourself. For the first time, you're falling, hard. Not for danger or the lure of the unknown. No. You're falling for the safe, gentle domesticity that Simon offers you in the waiting palm of his hand, like feeding a frightened animal in the hopes of coaxing them into the safe warmth of a home.

｡ﾟ ꒰ঌ ✦໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ

I didn't mean for this to be 1.2k oops I got totally carried away 😚

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little-diable · 4 months

Text

New Year's Eve with a Stranger - Modern!Tommy Shelby (smut)

So, this is a bit of a self sufficient fic, since I am spending NYE alone in one of my fave countries, I simply had to write this. Nevertheless, please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves and a happy new year! xxx

Summary: The reader planned to spend NYE on her own in another country, but when she crosses paths with a handsome stranger she can't help but give into the way she feels towards him.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, age gap, choking, soft dom!Tommy, but mainly lots of fluff

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (2.8k words)

picture credit to So It Goes Magazine

She kept her eyes focused on the big window, sipping on her hot drink, barely sparing her surroundings any attention. It was still early in the morning, allowing (y/n) to watch the sun rise above the snow covered mountains, making a smile tug on her lips at the beautiful sight.

Yesterday she had found her way to this hotel, checking in with anticipation thumping through her veins, excited for a few days on her own, solo travelling a country she had always loved. And now, as she was eating breakfast in a quiet, cosy room, she felt all too comfortable, knowing that there were no meetings she’d have to attend, nothing but the plans she had made for herself.

“Is this seat taken?” A gruff voice ripped her out of her thoughts, forcing (y/n)’s eyes away from the big windows, focusing on the features of a handsome man. With a soft smile tugging on her lips, she murmured a quiet “No”, watching him sit down. “I hope you don’t mind the disturbance, but I didn’t want to miss out on this view.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I totally get it, it’s breathtaking.” She allowed herself to study the man for a few seconds as she took another sip. His piercingly bright eyes were hidden behind a pair of round glasses, his salt and pepper hair was slightly slicked to one side, exposing his side cut to her curious eyes. He was at least ten years older than her, but she couldn’t help but let her gaze flicker down to his hand, checking for a wedding ring, unable to find one.

“Have you been staying here for longer? I haven’t seen you at breakfast before.” (Y/n) tried to pinpoint his accent, wondering where he was from, and why he had found his way to this very place.

“No, I arrived yesterday. What about you, how long have you been staying here?” The man took a sip of his coffee, piercing eyes momentarily finding hers. A shudder ran down (y/n)’s spine at the intense gaze, wondering if he picked up on the attraction she oh so clearly felt for him, drawn closer without knowing a thing about the man.

“I come here every year, I enjoy the quietness this place offers. Is it your first time here?” An unfamiliar warmth flooded through her at the interest he seemed to find in their interaction, not used to being treated this kindly by a stranger.

“It is, but I am already in love with this place. Are there any things you’d recommend doing around here?” He pondered over her question for a few seconds, gaze focused on the pink and orange sky, painting a picture so beautiful (y/n) had to fight against the need to take a picture of it, holding onto the need to enjoy moments rather than pictures she took in these moments.

“Well, it depends on what you’re looking for, there are some museums you should visit, a few rather hidden book stores you’ll find in some alleys. If you want to, I can take you to some of my favourite ones.” (Y/n) couldn’t stop a surprised expression from tugging on her features, not expecting him to offer some of his time to her.

“I’d love that.”

……

Over the past hours (y/n) had learned that the handsome stranger is called Tommy, and that he lived in Birmingham, a city she had always wanted to visit. He had taken her to the history museum in the morning, followed by some coffee in a small store he seemed to frequent whenever he came to visit this town, already friends with the owner of the store.

He hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary, and yet he had won (y/n) over within the first few moments of meeting him. The way Tommy treated her was so unfamiliar to her, she wondered if he was real, filled with kindness, respect, and something glimmering in his eyes that filled her with excitement.

“Didn’t take you for a Dante fan, but I have to say, it fits.” Her whispers left Tommy laughing, thumping through the old copy of Dante’s Inferno he was currently holding in the hands (y/n) found herself staring at way too often. Even though (y/n) tried to focus on the endless rows of old books, her eyes were drawn back to Tommy’s frame at any given chance.

She tried to curse herself for being that interested in a stranger, and yet Tommy didn’t feel like a stranger, he had something familiar to him, something that left her wondering if they had crossed paths in another life. Whatever it was that left her feeling like that, (y/n) didn’t ever want to get rid of this feeling, clinging to it like it was her life vest, protecting her from drowning in uneasy waters she had been stuck in for the past weeks.

“Don’t tell this to anybody, but I can recite most parts of it by heart.” (Y/n) shook her head with a grin tugging on her lips, arms slowly crossing in front of her chest.

“Prove it.” A challenging look was thrown Tommy’s way, watching the man’s tongue kiss his teeth as he tried to stop a smirk from widening on his lips. He turned towards (y/n), leaning against the bookshelf with his hand still holding onto the old copy.

“Midway upon the journey of our life, I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightforward pathway had been lost. Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say, what was this forest savage, rough, and stern, which in the very thought renews the fear. So bitter is it, death is little more; But of the good to treat, which there I found, speak will I of the other things I saw there.” With another laugh bubbling out of (y/n), Tommy stopped reciting, letting go of a laugh himself.

“I have to say, I’m impressed. Do you have any other talents I should know of?” He took a step closer, almost touching her, eyes not daring to break contact with hers once. Both were clearly aware of the buzzing atmosphere that engulfed them, wrapping itself around them.

“Many, but I’d rather you find out about them yourself instead of telling you about them.”

……

The next morning (y/n) found herself in the same spot she had sat in the day before, once again watching the sun rise as she ate breakfast. This time Tommy had joined her at the entrance of the room, pulling her in for a hug, allowing (y/n) to inhale the scent of his expensive cologne.

Their day together had flown by all too quickly, ending with a quick dinner before they had parted ways, leaving (y/n) with a heavy heart. She didn’t know what it was, but yet she had instantly missed him the second Tommy had left her side, promising to meet her again for breakfast the next morning.

“I have some meetings I can’t miss out on today, but if you want to, we can try to catch some auroras tonight.” The smile playing on Tommy’s lips left (y/n)’s heart skipping beats, already filled with excitement at the mere thought of spending some more time with him.

“Absolutely, wait, let me give you my number, so you can just call or text whenever you’re ready.” She was too focused on reaching for her phone to pick up on the warm smile settling on Tommy’s lips, watching the young woman fumble with her phone. There was something swimming in his pupils that was all too unfamiliar, even to Tommy himself, she was doing something to him he hadn’t ever felt before, not wanting to leave her behind for even a minute.

(Y/n) reached her phone out to Tommy, watching him add his contact as she finished her drink. Their fingers touched as he pushed the phone back towards (y/n), making shudders run down her spine like bolts of lighting striking her body.

“If we’re lucky we can catch a few before midnight, so we can come back before the fireworks.” (Y/n) had almost forgotten that today was new year’s eve, a day she had always disliked, not one for drinking, partying, and staying up for endless hours. With a smile shot Tommy’s way she murmured a soft “Sounds good”, hoping that today would be another day she’d remember for months on end.

……

The cold wind teased their limbs, wrapping itself around the two as they were sitting on a bench, cuddled into their jackets with their eyes focused on the dark sky. For the longest time it had been (y/n)’s dream to see the auroras dance on the night sky, green and blue stripes of light that almost drew tears to her eyes.

“Worth the wait, right?” Tommy’s soft voice broke the silence, momentarily forcing her eyes away from the sky. He was sitting close to her, arm touching hers, leaving her feeling all too comfortable around the man.

“Definitely. Thank you for taking me here.” Since her eyes wandered back to the sky, (y/n) didn’t pick up on the way Tommy’s eyes flickered down to her cold hands, giving himself a few seconds to overthink his next move before he slowly interlaced his fingers with hers. Her heart skipped a few beats at the touch, making heat rise in her system, eyes momentarily finding his piercing ones.

Both couldn’t stop their smiles from widening, holding onto one another as the auroras kept dancing in the sky. (Y/n) silently prayed that whoever was listening would freeze the moment, not wanting it to end just there and then, not ready to part from Tommy just yet.

“Do you have any new year’s resolutions?” Once her eyes were drawn back to Tommy’s features, studying the man as she thought about his question, a question she had never spared much attention, not believing in resolutions most would forget about after a week or two.

“No, not really. Sometimes I want to be a bit braver, do a few more things to get me out of my shell, take a few more risks. But that’s about it, what about you?” Her breath hitched in her chest as she watched his gaze flicker down to her lips, for just a second, a second (y/n) undoubtedly picked up on.

“What kind of risks?” (Y/n) didn’t understand what was guiding her body, urged on by the unfamiliar tone of Tommy’s voice, moving closer with her gaze set on his lips. The seconds blurring by felt like minutes, hours even, with her heart racing and her breaths stuttering. Would he pull away? Would he stop her from pressing her lips against his?

But Tommy didn’t pull away, one of his hands found her cold cheek, encouraging (y/n) to close the distance between them, softly kissing Tommy. The touch left her panting, not expecting the kiss to make her feel like this. She had never believed in these cheesy descriptions of clashing teeth, fireworks going off in the distance, but now, as Tommy kissed her breathless, taking over the kiss before she could even try to lead, (y/n) couldn’t help but feel just like other people had always described to her.

They didn’t part as Tommy pulled her into his lap, kissing her beneath the colourful night sky, making them feel as if they were reliving a scene from a movie. Neither of them wanted this moment to end, wanting to stay connected till the end of their time. But with shaking heads and aching lungs they eventually had to part, staring at one another with excitement and anticipation laced in their gazes.

“Take me back to the hotel, Tommy.”

……

She had her back arched off the bed, eyes squeezed shut, hands tugging on Tommy’s hair. The man was settled between her thighs, grinning against her naked skin as he ate her out. Tommy touched her as if they had done this numerous times before, careful enough to pick up on the wordless signs her body was throwing his way, though rough enough to let (y/n) choke on her gasps.

“Fuck, Tommy, feels so good, don’t stop, please.” His chuckles vibrated on her skin, leaving (y/n) whining as she tried to hold on, not wanting to give into the sensation just yet. His fingers fucked her fast, curling against her swollen spot whenever he got the chance to. She was putty in his hand, unable to do anything but give into the pull she felt.

Tommy could tell that she was close, about to fall over the edge with his name burning in the tip of her tongue, with her hands balled into fists, and with her lungs struggling to hold onto any air. He held some kind of magic over her, (y/n) had never felt before.

“Look at me, doll, keep those pretty eyes open for me.” These were the last words (y/n) managed to pick up on before she came. Tommy’s tongue kept lapping at her folds, guiding her through her high with a satisfied smile tugging on his lips. A few praises were murmured against her soft skin, fingers lazily fucking into her for a few more moments before he let go of her.

Within seconds Tommy was towering over her once again, lips caught in a heated kiss. They didn’t part ways as she helped him out of his shirt, nails scratching at his skin as he undid his trousers, needing to feel her naked body pressed against his.

“Are you sure you want this? You can always tell me to stop.” He murmured the words against her skin as he kissed his way down her throat, groaning as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her naked cunt against his dark boxer shorts.

“Fuck me, Tommy.” He didn’t need to be told twice, letting go of her to free his cock, grinning as he felt her wide eyes taking in the sight of his twitching length. (Y/n) watched him roll a condom down his cock, aligning himself with her heat before he wrapped his hand around her throat, keeping (y/n) pressed against the mattress.

The eye contact both held was intense, and yet it had something awfully intimate to it, forcing her heart to skip even more beats. Tommy fucked her rough, not holding back as he added more and more speed to his thrusts, fingers tightening their grip around her throat. Her senses were heightened, wondering how far he’d take it with her, and yet she felt awfully safe with him around, knowing that he wouldn’t hurt her in a way she wouldn’t enjoy.

“Such a desperate girl, begging to be fucked.” A whine left (y/n), a sound that made Tommy chuckle against her lips, feeling powerful with her buried underneath him. His lips met hers in an almost rushed kiss as he fucked her, hips meeting hers with every thrust. “You fit so perfectly around me, as if you were made for me.”

“Just for you, Tommy.” A moan left them in unison as her walls fluttered around him, wordlessly begging for more friction, needing to feel his fingers on her clit to give into the sensation threatening to claw through her. (Y/n) felt herself getting lost in his pupils, wide from the lust thumping through his veins, making them appear darker, more dangerous than the piercing colour she was used to.

Both were close to letting go, wordlessly communicating their every thought, knowing that there was no holding back. Tommy let go of her throat to sneak a hand between them, lifting himself to spit onto her pulsing bundle, rubbing her skin with his warm fingers.

With (y/n)’s fingernails clawed into his skin, she came, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. Tommy kept fucking her, thrusts perfectly positioned to prolonge the intense sensation. He watched her fall apart with a grin, unable to stop himself from kissing her again before he came, groaning against her mouth.

The sound of fireworks going off ripped them out of their trance, unable to stop laughing as their eyes found the window. Wordlessly they watched the colourful lights alight the sky, still connected with their hearts beating in sync.

“Happy new year, Tommy.” His eyes flickered back down to hers, lips meeting (y/n)’s swollen ones before he repeated her words with a grin glued to his features.

#Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders smut #modern tommy shelby

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mrslankyman · 4 months

Text

New Years Kiss

Mike Schmidt x (fem) reader

->1.1k words

Music blared through the house. Your friend had decided to throw a party. You honestly didn’t care to be there.

New years around all these people didn’t feel like a good start to your 2000 journey. Why did it have to be so crowded.

You barely knew anyone at the party. Maybe the alcohol was the reason for everyone getting along. It loosened you up. Made you feel like you belonged. Perhaps you should drink. Maybe it help you.

You walked down the small hallway to the kitchen. Passing an open doored room. Honestly you wish you didn’t see the make out sesh going on inside. It simply reminded you of how lonely you were.

Going into the new years yet again without anyone. No amount of grapes eaten under the table or red underwear you buy would secure you a man for the next year.

If only life was that easy.

Mike thought the same. Minus the red underwear. He didn’t really know how to spend new years. Till he got invited to this party. Now he stood in the corner of the kitchen. Watching others talk, kiss, and run off to random rooms to do god knows what.

He felt so alone. He didn’t drink he had to drive home. Abby was off at their grandmas for the night. She always wanted to spend new years with her and Mike. This year Mike opped out of going. He wanted to give this party a try.

He regretted it greatly.

No girl came up to him like these other guys. No girl waved or gave him the eye. He saw so many movies of the girls just coming up and kissing the boy she wanted.

He wouldn’t have that luck. He wouldn’t wanna admit it to anyone but a new years kiss was one of his biggest wishes.

To have someone to hold on new years. Know you’d be with them once the clock hit 12. Secure it with a kiss. Like a fairy tale. It felt like a dream.

Which it was. As Mike knew he was not really desirable. A 25 year old man raising his sister and struggling to make ends meet. Who’d wanna be around that?

You walked into the kitchen. Looking up at the man who stood in the corner. He held a can of Pepsi. Not beer. Which was shocking. You also didn’t drink tonight.

You simply walked up to the small plate of appetizers. Grabbing some grapes. The man chuckled a little.

“Gonna sit under the table and eat them?” His voice sounded teasing but as you looked up his eyes didn’t display the same emotion. He looked tired, worn out but.. some what attractive.

Your face flushed as he had caught on to what you were gonna do. “Yeah. It’s stupid but.. I kinda want to find someone next year.” You looked down at the grapes. 12 in your hand. It had to work.. didn’t it?

He walked closer to you and grabbed 12 him self. “Okay, I’ll give it a try too. I’m wanting to find someone as well. This years been too lonely. Besides 2000 doesn’t sound like a bad year.” He looked at you. you smiled and nodded. He was about the same height as you. Which was cute. Not too tall.. but not terribly short.

“It’s only 11 we can talk under the table if you want.” He nodded towards the kitchen table. You nodded in agreement and headed over to the kitchen table. You both crawled under.

Mike pulled the chairs to cover you two under the table. It sorta felt like just you two were at the house. Besides the music and the sound of people talking.

“I’m Mike by the way.” His eyes flicked up to you. Displaying some new emotion. He seemed intrigued to know you.

“I’m Y/N..” You smiled and looked down at your grapes. “Rough year too?” You asked him not looking up.

“Yeah. Pretty rough. I hope this one’s better. Raising my sister is tough. I’ve never had kids. So.. I’m just praying I’m doing it right.” He sighed and looked down.

Your heart ached. This man seemed so sweet. At least from what he gave off. He seemed like he was caring. Even if his eyes looked dead and tired.

“I’m sure you’ll have a good year. It’s nice you’re there for your sister. I’m sure she appreciates it.” You nudge him gently. Wanting to lighten the mood a little. He chuckled as he looked at the ground shrugging his shoulders.

“I hope she does..” his voice dropped again. You frowned and looked over at him. His shoulders slumped, eyes down and lips in a thin line. He didn’t even seem excited for the new years.

But were you even excited? Every year came with the hopes of something new with the ending of nothing.

You both sat in silence for a few minutes. Though you just met him something pulled you to him. He could say the same for you. Despite coming off as not excited. He quite liked your company. He stared at the floor.

Not because he was awkward , or didn’t wanna talk, but because he wanted to make the perfect conversation. He combed over every possibility. He wanted to talk to you.

You were the first girl at the party to even pay him any attention. For the most part you were the only girl to give him this much attention.

So once he picked the topic it was just a long conversation. He talked about his sister, you talked about your work, he talked about his Aunt Jane and how he disliked her, you talked about how you wished for something great in life.

in a short time you two got to know each. All before the clock hit 11:59.

You learned that Mike longed for a new years kiss once. You told him how you longed for someone to go into the new years with.

And once that clock hit 11:59 you went to the grapes.

You both smiled and popped the grapes in your mouths. Trying to get all 11 in before 12.

Once the clock hit 12 and everyone else shouted happy new years. You and Mike got to your last grape. You stared at him happily. You had done it. You ate all 12 grapes before 12:01.

“We did i-“ Mike was cut off by you leaning in. Pressing a kiss to his lips. He tasted like the grapes. With a mix of Pepsi. He quickly kissed back. His body felt a surge of electric. He didn’t suspect this.

He didn’t realize how tentivly you listened to him as he spoke of his wish. He pulled you closer. Deepening the kiss. Maybe he just met you. Maybe you just met him.

But you had a whole year to get to know each other now.

Maybe the grapes did work.

#fnaf movie #fnaf #mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf fanfic #josh hutcherson #new year

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writingsbychlo · 1 year

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lazy sundays | azriel

summary; you and azriel spend a lazy sunday together.

word count; 3507

notes; just a cute little thing. like, sickeningly fluffy, you will absolutely need a dentist appointment after reading this. based on this little dash conversation between me and @acourtofwhatthefuck last sunday

Stretching your arm out to the other side of the bed as you woke, your sleep-muddled brain could still process the coolness of your mate's side of the sheets. Long abandoned, not surprising. He was always such an early riser, even on the days that he called a lie-in. By the warmth of the sunlight and the placement of the rays across the room leaking in from the crack in the blinds, you’d guess it was early afternoon.

Just how you liked your Sundays.

There were tendrils of smoky shadows twisting around your body, skittering upwards toward your face as they realised you were awake. One coiled happily around your wrist, swirling up your forearm, another brushing lightly over your cheek before moving away, and you stared up at the ceiling. Children were playing outside in the streets, soaking up the cold winter sun, trudging through snow and relishing in the freedom of childhood. Maybe one day, your own children would do the same.

Rolling from the sheets without bothering to straighten them, the air in the house was warm, no doubt Azriel’s doing, the cracking of the fireplace from the living room evident as you padded out of the hallway, tugging one of Azriel’s baggy, wing-accommodating hoodies over your head to cover your nightgown.

You found Azriel in the living room, exactly where you expected him to be, sprawled out on the deep couch, wings drooping behind him, brushing the cold tiles of the floor as he focused on his book. Your favourite pair of his sweatpants sat low on his hips, pale grey and practically threadbare after all these years, leaving every lean muscle and taut line of his chest on display for you. You bit your lower lip, and he chuckled, never looking up from his book.

“Are you going to just stand there, staring, all day?”

Finally, shining hazel eyes left the pages of the book and moved up to meet your gaze, filled with love behind those thick frames, and the amusement in them was evident when you shrugged. “You look like a piece of art, how can I not?”

“Well, luckily for you, my love, you get to touch the art on display,” He raised his brows, just a fraction, something halfway between a smirk and a smile on his lips. He parted his arms, moving one hand with his book, the other patting his chest softly. “Come here, lay with me.”

Your feet were moving before you even needed to command them to do so, the shadows swirling around you both growing closer and closer, until the small swarm he’d sent to watch over you once he’d left the bed was finally reunited with the pack as your knees bumped the edge of the couch. Settling down between his parted legs, his arms closed around you as your cheek met his bare skin, heart thudding slow and steady beneath it, lulling you into a tranquil relaxation the way it always did, the way he knew it did.

“Do you want me to read to you?” He mumbled, lips brushing the crown of your head as his free hand wove into your hair, letting you twist and turn until you were truly comfortable.

“What are you reading?”

“A book that Nesta gave to me.” That sent a spike of amusement through you, an equal one coming surging down the bond to meet it, lighting your chest up from the inside out.

“You’re reading a smutty novel?” You chuckled, feeling the rumble of his laughter meet it underneath your cheek, and the hand that wasn’t holding the book continued to rub at your scalp, fingertips pressing and kneading in a way that made you sigh.

“Not quite. This is a spy book, something she said she’d once read in the human realms, before any of this, and when she saw it again, she said it reminded her of me. I figured the least I could do was actually read it.” He huffed a little, using the thumb holding the book open to try and turn the page single-handedly, and after watching him struggle for a moment, you took one side of it, holding it and turning the page, before letting him take it again.

“Is it any good?”

“It’s… something.” His avoidance of the question made you grin, silently waiting for him to finish his chapter, a finger tracing over the hard and defined lines on his chest, making him twitch and shudder every so often when your nail would scrape. Goosebumps were sometimes left in your wake, and when he finally untangled his hand from your hair and marked the book to put it down, his hands returned only a moment later, skating up your sides lightly. “You make it extremely hard to concentrate, do you know that?”

“I wasn’t doing anything!” He raised a single brow, smirk forming on his lips as his hands hovered over your sides.

“Oh, really? So, you weren't tickling me, on purpose?” His fingers game down, skittering along your flesh in ways that made you squirm and giggle against him, twisting in his grasp as he mercilessly teased you the way you had him, until you breathless, cheeks warm, curling back into him, now with your back to his chest instead. “Are you hungry?”

“For what?” You muse, twisting your head up to kiss at the underside of his jaw, his cheek, anywhere you could reach. Azriel merely hums, arms tightening a little around you in a warning to behave. “I’m craving something sweet. Maybe some cookies?”

“With dark chocolate chips?” There was a note of excitement to his voice as he spoke, and you realised that it wasn’t you who was craving something sweet, but in fact, merely a feeling being blasted down the bond to you since you’d woken up. “And those little caramel chunks mixed in?”

“Of course, would I ever make them any other way?”

You received a kiss to your temple in agreement, before the arms were unwrapping from around you, Azriel shifting below you, prompting you to stand as he followed. He was barely a step behind you on the way to the kitchen, falling into a quick and simple routine as he began pulling familiar ingredients from the cabinets as you sourced equipment, laying them all out in the order he knew you’d need them.

As you began to cook, he leaned back against the counter behind you, watching you work while slowly humming a song, one you’d only recently heard, played by a band along the Sidra when you’d been walking home from dinner only a few nights ago.

Cool fingers swept gently over your skin, brushing hair back from each side of your neck until it fell down your back, one finger twirling around it all to keep it out of your face, a loose ponytail held together only by his touch. Warmth pressed up along your back, soft lips skimming your neck, and you titled your head to grant him further access.

Those featherlight brushes became delicate kisses, placed along your neck and shoulder, chaste affection in the quiet of the kitchen; only occasionally interrupted by the rustle of ingredient bags, the clinking of the mixing spoon on the bowl, or the slightly louder screams of in joy of the children playing in the streets below your apartment. Wrapping his other arm around your waist, you were held securely to his front, that humming reverberating through your entire body as you slowly scooped out the mixture, placing dollops of it onto a baking tray, trying to ensure all portions were equal.

“I love you.” The words came as a whisper, and you smiled, continuing your work, using the edge of your finger to wipe clumps of batter off of the spoon and onto the tray.

“You’re just saying that because I’m making you your favourite cookies.”

“Maybe..” He teased, but he gave a light tug to the hair he was holding back out of your face, a bite left on your covered shoulder, just enough pressure to make you shudder, laughing against him at the act. “Do you remember why these are my favourites, though?”

“Of course, how could I possibly forget that moment?” You finished scraping the batter out, using as much as you could, before using your hips to nudge Azriel back and away from you, a groan falling from him at the press of your ass against him through those sinfully thin sweatpants, and you chuckled, leaving his embrace. “Don’t you start that, you’re the one who wanted cookies.”

“Hush.” He scowled, taking the tray that you pressed into his hands, and wandering away to the oven he’d already pre-heated, setting the tray inside carefully. You hopped up onto the counter, licking the excess batter from your finger, and watching the shift of his back muscles, the twitches of his wings, as he moved, dreamy sigh unstoppable as it left you. “Are you staring at my ass again?”

“Oh, because you're so innocent of that one.”

When the oven gloves were stacked neatly back on the counter, bowls and dishes cleared away to the sink, he finally turned to face you, a wicked glint in his eye. “We have twenty minutes to kill.”

“We do indeed, what could we ever get done in that time?” He rolled his eyes at you, stepping forwards, hips sitting snugly between your parted legs as your arms looped around his neck, playing lightly with the grown-out curls at the base. “You need a haircut.”

“I thought you liked my hair when it was longer?” Warm, calloused hands were smoothing up along your thighs, before finding a resting home on your hips, his forehead coming down to rest on your own as your noses bumped together.

“I do, but this is getting a little bit too long. I feel like I'm kissing Cassian.” He bit your lower lip, a soft growl coming out when you gasped, and you squeezed him in a little tighter to you.

You leaned forward, trying to catch his lips, but he pulled back, making sure he was barely a centimetre from you, but not close enough. “Point taken, hair cut tomorrow, then.” His hands squeezed at your waist, smirk on his lips, before he was finally closing the space. “Kissing Cassian, don’t even think it.” He mumbled, before his lips were pressing against your own feverishly. Your body sparked alight, the intensity of his kiss sent you reeling.

Love and passion and tension, all pouring through his lips, through his heart into your chest, enough of a feeling to make your head spin and you grasped onto him. Fingers pressing into his skin, his hands bunching into the material of his own hoodie as it lay over your body, beginning to make you feel overwhelmingly hot underneath.

He sensed it, as he always did, cooling his kisses just a fraction, pulling back and using his nose to nudge your chin up, pressing sweet kisses along your jaw, until he was nuzzling into your neck, tickling you once again, until giggles were spewing from your lips in a way only he’d ever been able to make you do.

“I wish all of our days could be like this.” It was a deeper confession than you’d expected, the fingers tangled in his hair loosening to free one hand, slipping it to his cheek, pulling him back from your neck to catch your eye.

“Az..”

“I just miss you so much when I’m away, I want nothing more than to be here with you every day, like this, living in this little bubble with you.” His head twisted, fleeting kiss left on your palm, and your fingers twitched against his face in response.

“Not every day can be a Sunday, Az.” His brows furrowed a little, and you pulled him closer, dipping pecks to his lips which he reciprocated happily, sinking into your affections once again. “Some days, are Mondays. The days when I know you’re going away, that feeling of a brand new week beginning, knowing how long until the weekend comes, when I have to pack you up and send you off with a kiss on the balcony.”

“I don’t get weekends like that.”

“It’s a metaphor, Azriel.” You tutted at him, your lips barely brushing as you spoke now, whispered words to only ever be shared between the two of you. “There’s Tuesdays and Thursdays, the middle days, where everything just feels numb, you get on with your jobs but nothing feels special. That’s what it's like when you’re away from me. The days where I get up and go to work, everything is quiet, and it kind of feels like the end is never in sight.”

His hands flexed, an apology echoing down the bond.

“There are Wednesdays, halfway through the week, when you know you’ve made it this far, you’re over the peak and on the descent. Those are the days when you send word to me, that everything is going well, when you tell me you’re okay, you’re coming home soon. The days when you’re away on missions for Rhys, when you finally get that breakthrough, and you know you’ll be home to me soon.”

“And Fridays?”

“Fridays are the days you come home. The days when I can feel you getting closer to me through the bond, when I know you’ve arrived, when I finally see you land on the balcony and step back into my arms.” He hummed, lips puckering in a request you indulged, meeting him in the middle as your mouths fused together once again.

Sun-rays cascaded through the room, warming you from the outside as his love warmed you front he inside, tingling all the way down to your fingertips like it was the first time he’d kissed you, a sensation that had yet to fade, and you hoped it never would. “What does that make Saturdays, then?”

“Saturdays are the busy but fun days, the days when we go for dinner with your family, when we go out for dates and walks around the Sidra, when we babysit Nyx, when we paint with Feyre, when we visit other courts for fun, not work. Saturdays are the days when we go out to Rita’s with more, we dress up and get tipsy and come stumbling home together laughing.” Affection and nostalgia filled you, whether it was from you or him it didn’t matter, it was simply there, shared. “Sundays, are for us. Days for just me and you, just me and you, here, with nothing to do, nobody to see. No responsibilities. But we can’t have Sunday, without all the other days.”

“When did you become so wise, my lovely mate?” Azriel pushed back tendrils of hair to sit behind your ears, gazing at you fondly, and his shadows copied the touch, tracing toward you along his fingertips, swirling lazily between and around you both.

“I’m probably just stealing all my wisdom from you.” Your hands rubbed over his heart, bare skin warmed under your fingertips, he was always so warm. “So, do you want to tell me about your book?”

His eyes rolled at that, shoulders sagging a little in disappointment, and you felt him release the tension, the slight bud of guilt he’d been building, as he got distracted. “It’s.. irritating me.”

“Why, my love?” You gave his own petname back to him, and felt the ripple of a skipped heartbeat from him.

“Because, they’re not good spies!” The words burst from him, bringing a grin to your lips as he frowned., brows dipping together in frustration only a true bookworm could understand. “They’re so obvious! It’s all public fights and big fires and making a scene. That’s not how you spy, these aren’t spies. I should know! It’s terrible, not at all a true representation of the job.” He followed his outburst with a rough exhale.

“Oh, no, my precious spymaster, your reputation will be ruined.” You giggled at the teasing, and he produced a noise somewhere between a scoff and a growl, only making you laugh more at his displeasure. He leaned in, tongue flicking in a lick over your lips before he was silencing you with another fiery kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, tangling with your own, and laughter died down into a panted moan instead, swallowed by him as he insistently pressed on.

“Much better, I like you moaning for me than laughing at me.” His words made you shudder, and he pulled you closer to him, ass hanging off the edge of the counter and legs tightening around him, chests pressing together, heaving with desperate breaths sucked in through needy kisses, heart beating frantically against one another’s chests.

The thread in your chest was thrumming, glowing golden behind your closed eyes as his lashes fluttered against your cheeks, your fingers tightening in his hair. Your free hand ran down his arm, slowly, squeezing at the thick and solid muscles as he flexed them, until your fingers were wrapping around his wrist, ready to tug his hand up a little higher than your waist. His fingers loosened in the material of your stolen jumper, ready to follow your lead, before the timer on the over let out a sharp beep.

You jumped apart, his back stiffening slightly at the sudden intrusion, before relaxing, threat gone, shadows darting out in jagged lines to flip the switch off and silence the beeping. He was panting, gasping breaths sucked into his lungs, pink splotched across his tanned cheeks, eyes wide and dark, hair messy. One of your favourite looks on him, truly. His hand did slide up, your fingers slipping from his wrist as it bypassed where you’d intended for it to go, rising to cup your jaw instead.

Running his thumb over your lips, he wiped away the residual slickness there, likely swollen and red still, like his own, and he licked over his lower lip, letting it drag through his teeth for a second. “Always so distracting, my love,” He mumbled, and you pressed a kiss to the pad of his finger before it slipped away to rest on your chin, a gentle smile on his face. “How do you still do this to me, after all these years?”

“You still have quite the effect over me too, shadowsinger.” He smiled, and you pressed in, close enough to feel his heartbeat on your chest once again, pressing a kiss to the corner of his eyes, the wrinkles for his smile deepening when you moved to the other. His hands locked onto your waist, lifting you down so your toes could touch the tiles once again, and you hissed at the cool feeling, surging up your body and clearing your mind of the fog.

He left a final kiss brushed on your head, before retrieving a plate from the cupboards, and you slipped the oven mitts over your hands, securing them before opening the door. Warm air rushed out, coating your front as you pulled the cookies from the oven, resting the tray on top.

Together, you plated them up, letting Azriel carry it, leading you back through to the couch the two of you had abandoned to bake, placing them cookies within reach on the small table, beside his evident failure of a book. Flopping back down happily, his wings rustled behind him for a second, adjusting to a comfortable position, before he was opening his arms for you, letting you settle once again against his chest.

You let out a happy sigh as his arms sealed around you, one hand holding a cookie, taking a bite, and groaning happily at the taste.

“You’re always so warm.” You pressed in as close as you could, revelling in the Illyrian heat running through his veins, designed to keep him warm up in those mountains, and to keep to you warm always.

“You’re cold?” You only hummed, eyes fluttering shut, surrounded by his smell, his heat, his touch, never having felt more at home. He shifted beneath you, arms leaving you and reaching behind for the blanket sitting along the back cushions, flapping it out and securing it around your bodies. “Better?”

“Better.” He seemed happy with that, pride radiating from in him waves at having provided, and you settled in comfortably. “Will you read to me now?”

“Of course, but I warn you, this book is wholly underwhelming.”

“Then we can laugh about it, together.” He picked up the book, opening it to the marked page and cleared his throat a little. Only moments later, the timbre of his voice was echoing around the room, deep and lulling as he read the words, tone painting a perfect picture in your mind. So many times you had also wished you could spend more days like this than you got, but your lives didn’t allow it. However, when lazy Sundays like this came along, it made them feel all the more precious.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel/reader #azriel/you #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar/reader #acotar/you #acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger

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