#i was planning to and then as we were talking i realized i had zero investment in the friendship anymore and it wasn't worth the argument | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

predestinatos · 3 months

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we so lowkey - OP81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (x tiny bit of charles at the beginning)

summary: "the game is called truth or dare for a reason" | 5k words. warnings underneath. MINORS DNI.

tags: smut, sort of stoner!oscar, jealous charles to drive the plot, college student reader, dirty talking.

warnings: drugs (weed), cigarettes, (consensual) unprotected sex, backshots, a lot of dirty talking, oral (male and female receiving), double orgasm.

notes: sorry for the delay, i have been on a writing slump (ignore the fact that this is 5k words long...) and trying to enjoy my last days with my bf before he leaves on erasmus!! but i hope you guys like this one. lmk your thoughts and thank u for ur patience always!

"I am not getting drunk today" you said, putting your foot down. "I can take tipsy, but not drunk" your friend laughed at your comment but nodded in agreement, both of you acknowledging the fact that you had to calm yourselves down now that exams season approached. "It's just a small get together either way" your friend replied, shrugging. your clothes scattered across your clean room, an off-putting contrast you couldn't avoid. "You know a 'small get together' usually means at least 30 people" you applied lipstick in front of your closet mirror as you observed your friend through it. "He's here" your friend whispered as you entered the living room of the dorm room heavily decorated with alcohol and LED lights. She needn't say who she was referring to, for the name sounded forbidden yet that's what made it so enticing. grabbing yourself a drink and glancing around the room, you realized it really was a rather small group. it seemed comprised of around 20 people, the girl to boy ratio very balanced. if you didn't know better, you'd say this was planned. the first sip of alcohol touched your tongue and you swallowed happily, moving slowly to the rhythm of the music along with your friend. "Will you hate me if i leave you for a second?" she asked, lips close to your ear in nervous secrecy. you merely looked at her brown doe eyes and smiled, the best answer you could give her. You were both in college for more than grades - you were there for the full experience. the regrets, the bodies, the hands, the flirting, the waking up with a headache - it was all part of this phenomenal journey that lasted around 3 years, and you'd enjoy every single one of them. so as she left to go talk to someone, you knew you'd be fine. Of course you would, because as if he was waiting, Charles approached you, all strong perfume smell and smug attitude approaching you. "Didn't know you were coming" his eyes look down at you as he remains close but without touching you, daring you to make the first move. "Me neither, or I wouldn't have come" you spat, eyes shotting up at his, expression unchanging and unaffected, almost please with the reply. cocking his head to the side he brought his hand to your chin, stroking it softly yet teasingly. "You were never good at that when it comes to me" he said, clinking his plastic cup against yours, mocking you in a frustrating yet attractive way. you we're supposed to be having fun, fucking around and getting to know how other bodies fit in your bed, yet for the entirety of this year Charles Leclerc had been the one fulfilling that duty. It frustrated you, how you were so addicted to how he felt and made you feel, how the two of you had more than chemistry, creating friction during lectures and letting it all out during the night.

You weren’t exclusive, nor did you discuss feelings – something the both of you appreciated, since this back and forth between you two was pleasurable enough and it had absolutely zero strings attached. Breathing in deeply, you decided to simply strike him back the way you two enjoyed “what can I say, I’m a good actress.”

He exhaled through his nose with a smile that recognized your humor and your momentary win, a ‘touché’ leaving his lips in perfect French, attractive enough to make you take another sip of your drink in order to focus on something else.

Minutes pass with the music blasting and you and Charles going back and forth between dancing and teasing each other, your mutual attraction clear to everyone around. Yet, after a while, the volume lowered as someone announce “truth or dare! Everyone gather in a circle on the floor please!”

Everyone complied – easily so, given the fact that there weren’t that many people in the room, making it extra personal and giving everyone a chance to talk and meet each other, something you didn’t particularly do. After around 2 minutes, everyone sat enthusiastically, talking to each other with slightly lightheaded giddiness that only came after the right amount of drinks. To your left sat your best friend, side eyeing you disapprovingly at the person to your right – Charles. “Way to meet new people” she said, ironically. Pretending to be mad wasn’t her forte, as she laughed slightly at your predictableness and you shrugged, “c’est la vie!” “And now you’re speak French?”

The host – a beautiful girl with the most amazing curly hair and prettiest eyes you’d ever seen, sat down and clapped her hands, an “alright!” coming out of her exhale. “We will spin this bottle twice: first chooses truth or dare, second gives the truth or dare. Be interesting, please!” she explained, causing everyone to laugh excitedly.

The bottle spun, landing on a boy who you were sure had had a thing for your friend for the longest time. “Dare” he decided as the bottle spun once again, landing on Charles. “I dare you to text ‘I miss you’ to the 6th person in your contacts” he said smuggishly. Everyone ‘oooh’ed as the boy grabbed his phone and searched for said contact. “Fuck-“ he exhaled, frustrated, “it’s my ex.” Charles merely laughed as he said “those are the rules!” nonchalantly placing a hand on your upper thigh without even a glance. Before you could ask, the boy’s voice exclaimed “done!” as he showcased his screen to everyone in a circle, the hand on your thigh disappearing as fast as it arrived.

A couple of rounds went by, you asking one person about their shittiest sexual experience and more drinks being poured as people kissed each other after being dared to, when, around the 9th time, the bottle landed on the dark brown eyed boy you and your friend always found adorable. His name was Oscar, and he usually kept to himself, coming to these get togethers and hanging out with his own friends shyly, occasionally smoking but never getting too drunk or too high. “Truth” he said, his voice deep and sweet like a caress, contrasting with the way he fidgeted nervously in his seat. For the second time, the bottle landed on Charles, who rubbed is hand in a mockingly villainous way. “Oscar… Who in this circle have you had fantasies about?”

Oscar instantaneously blushes, hand running through his hair nervously with a shy smile across his face, revealing an adorable set of teeth that made you smile as well. “Fuck’s sake…” he exhaled softly, before downing his drink quickly in order to provide him with some confidence to reply. “I’m gonna regret this” he repeats, everyone jokingly complaining about the suspense he was creating. “I’m sorry in advance, Charles” he exclaims, before his arm lifts towards you and your eyes cross. Still bushing but with a darker expression, almost as if reviewing some thoughts he had, his gaze pierced yours making you feel as if he could show you his own thoughts. Everyone ‘oooo’ed once again, clapping and drinking, despite Charles’ body tensing slightly as he said “sorry for what?”

Oscar merely shrugged, “for anything”, an apologetic smile showing up, one you couldn’t ignore.

The game lasted only a few more rounds until the small crowd distracted themselves with each other, getting up to get more drinks and not returning due to slightly drunk forgetfulness. However, even that small amount of time was enough to feel the palpable tension whenever Oscar’s eyes crossed yours, a quick glance away and joke throwing making you almost believe like you had imagined everything. His nonchalant persona combined with the knowledge that he had thought of you in other contexts drew you in, the same way your instant shyness and inability to look away only intensified his desires.

The boy next to you, however, was tenser than you had ever seen him, despite his great attempts at hiding it. Even before you could confront him about it, Charles’ excused himself, claiming that he had an exam first thing in the morning. Eyebrows furrowed, you knew that wasn’t true, but he merely kissed your cheek goodbye and closed the door behind you.

You were frustrated. In more ways than one, your body still very much coherent to take things lightly and carefree. Your leg shook up and down nervously as your best friend sat next to you in a couch, talking to an attractive girl she had her eyes on for a while. Tapping her shoulder lightly, you motioned the ‘gonna smoke’ sign with your hands, to which she smiled in recognition.

Opening the closest window to the balcony that oversaw the city, cold air hitting your lungs, you let your back hit the wall and let out a much needed breath. Grabbing a cigarette, you placed it between your lips as you searched for your lighter, the closeness of the relief imminent in your veins. The technicolor lights shone bright, cars moving like fireflies dancing to the rhythm of the song.

It was white noise that calmed you, the muffled sound of the music restarting in the house as you took more drags of your cigarette. You were so immersed in the sheer act, as if it was a meditation technique, that you barely noticed the light brown haired boy opening and closing the window, placing himself next to you, with a respectable distance between your bodies.

“Have some light?” he asked, and you jumped at the sound of his voice, the realization he was there. You nodded and handed him your lighter, and he thanked you as he lit up a perfectly wrapped blunt. “Sorry, by the way” he exhaled, along with the smoke that got out of his mouth, eyes roaming through the landscape in front.

“No problem, I get startled easily” you replied, admiring his side profile. His features were both hard and soft, eyes shining brightly in such a relaxed expression it mesmerized you, the way he let out a soft chuckle at your response. “I’m not apologizing for that,” he started, filling his lungs once again. “I’m apologizing for earlier.”

This time, he turned his head towards you, and you noticed his flushed cheeks, slight embarrassment still showing even as his body and mind relaxed. “For saying you fantasize about me or for saying sorry to Charles?” you asked, daringly. It had offended you, hurt you, even, that he had apologized to Charles as if the guy owned you, as if that answer needed to pass some sort of approval from him before becoming valid.

Oscar merely shrugged, “both, I suppose.” His eyes seemed a bit sleepier already as they rather shamelessly roamed your body, followed by his head resting against the wall as he looked up. You felt the tension, electrifying both your bodies already, shivers invading your body – maybe from the cold, maybe from the sheer presence of his indifferent frame.

“Was it true?” the question hung the air for a few seconds after it left your lips, your cigarette now almost over. “Depends on if you want it to be true or not,” a dazed giggle mixed between his words.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t” you crossed your arms in front of your chest after putting out your cigarette in the ashtray next to the balcony. His gaze turned to yours, lowering towards your chest before moving back to your eyes. “The game is called truth or dare for a reason” he answered, leaning sideways against the wall so he could look at you fully.

You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm, though you couldn’t deny how attracted you were to how he played out this nonchalant persona, the indifference contrasting with his words making your body burn.

“And that,” he started, the hand holding the blunt pointing towards you, in a upwards and downwards movement. “That’s exactly why I have them.” Confusion invaded your mind as you failed to understand what his words meant, although his brown eyes remained on you as if revisiting every thought he ever had. “What?”

“You’re a tease without even realizing it,” he started, closing the distance between you a bit more, eyes glued to your lips as if fighting the urge to kiss you. “Describe them for me” you whispered, using your closeness to your advantage.

“How about I show you?” he whispered back, breath hot against your ear as his index finger ran along the exposed skin of your neck. Though you tensed, feeling your entire body respond to his suggestion, mouth watering, you wanted to play a bit more.

“What about ‘sorry, Charles’?” you mouthed, irony laced all over your smirk as you looked up at him lustfully. Oscar’s gaze scans the inside of the apartment quickly, more figuratively than literally, before turning back to you. “I don’t see him here now, do you?”

His index finger brushed your chin, forcing your gaze towards yours once more. “If I were him I would’ve made sure you only craved me.”

“How?” your voice was hoarse and breathy, your thighs slowly clenching at the need for touch. “Let’s just say my name would be the only thing you’d be able to utter.”

Your eyebrows raised and your breath got stuck in your throat as his lips brushed against you. You felt almost embarrassed at the effect his words and demeanor had on you, requiring little to no touch to get a reaction out of your entire body. This was not the Oscar Piastri you knew from a couple of shared classes, who sat at the back and always left first, who remained in his own zone at parties, interacting with a couple of closest friends. The fact that he was showing a more daring, direct and sexual attitude towards you felt like a compliment, exclusivity being silently attributed to you.

“Didn’t take you for such a fuckboy” you commented, almost as if making sure that this wasn’t actual his usual move, something everybody knew but didn’t talk about, a party trick he commonly used. He chuckled slightly, so close to you that you could see his throat bobbing up and down in though and feel his scent – some very light perfume that faded slightly due to the smell of the joint he was now finishing. “And I’m not,” he smiled, “I just know what I want. And I’ve been wanting you for so fucking long…” he trailed off, his eyes scanning every inch of you with lust, dropping to your lips for a few seconds longer than anywhere else, before returning to your eyes.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, ravenous and hungry for you. Your hands were on his soft hair, tugging it ever so slightly as his tongue teased yours and his breathing increased. Gripping your waist, Oscar pinned you against the balcony wall, the people on the other side of it disappearing from both of your minds as soon as you touched. His kissed matched him so well – so careless yet not aggressive nor bad, just confident and slow paced, as if possessing all the time in the world to enjoy every part of you. You couldn’t help but moan at the novelty of it, how different he was, how his touch left your body burning with freezing need for more.

His lips curved into a smile upon hearing you, an aroused gleefulness displayed in between kisses, fueling an ever growing necessity inside both of you. One of his hands rose to your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek sweetly, that touch so opposite from his grip that claimed you as his for a moment.

As soon as that moment came, it went away, his face distancing from yours, one of his hands attempting to fix the mess you had made of his hair. “I need you so bad right now” he whispered, cursing to himself at the loss of composure he ensured he had built. You merely stared at his disheveled look, frustrated desire written across his body as his brown eyes seemed to darken as time went by. You did not dare to speak, afraid no words would come out, brain foggy from sharing the absolute same wish as his: to continue what you started, to finish it completely.

“My dorm room is literally right above this one” he said after a few seconds, steading his breath in order to seem calmer, more relaxed and casual about the clear tension between you. You knew what he meant and knew he wouldn’t be elaborating any further. Knew he would simply go to his room and wait, watching tv as if you showing up – or not – wouldn’t influence much of his night. Like whatever was happening wasn’t happening, like he didn’t just say he needed you.

You replied with a nod as he opened the door and climbed inside, knowing that when you entered that kitchen he wouldn’t be there anymore. You waited a few more minutes, smoking another cigarette as you considered your options, tried to clear your head and think rationally, yet it was hard as every part of your body ached for more of him, your legs weak just from the kiss you shared on the balcony. Finishig your smoke, you climbed inside the kitchen, where people remained unaware of what happened outside, as if you belonged to two different channels that now intertwined.

You searched for your best friend, wanting to let her know where you were going, reassuring that she needn’t worry but that you’d be just one floor above in case she needed something. Finding her was harder than you thought, minutes passing with you growing more nervous at the prospect of Oscar having given up on you, thinking you had done the same with him. Had he more options? Was he this open with every woman he found attractive? These thoughts clouded your mind as your eyes crossed with your best friend’s and she ran towards you. Tipsy, but not drunk. Good. You both filled each other in on what you had missed during the short time you weren’t next to each other, promising to be close if any of you were in need. Her good luck wink gave you all the approval you needed to leave that dorm room and head towards the upper floor.

The floor vibrated with the music underneath – Oscar wasn’t lying when he said it his room was right above – every beat pulsating with energy that matched your own beating heart. Your nervous hands knocked on the door, your mind too aware of your stance, wondering what would be considered normal in a situation like this. But all those thoughts evaporated your mind as the door opened and you were greeted with the mesmerizing view of the boy you had just made out with.

His hair was slightly damp, indicating that he had taken a shower, or was in the middle of one, as you noticed some droplets running across his smooth skin and a towel lazily wrapped around his hips. You felt hypnotized by his slight smirk and unpreoccupied appearance as he step aside to let you in. “Was starting to think you wouldn’t come” he commented as he pointed towards the sofa in the middle of the apartment, sitting casually next to you. “Hence the look” he continued, giggling slightly.

You were too aware of how naked he was and how little he seemed to care about it. He kept a comfortable distance between you, as if allowing you to stand up and leave were you to change your mind. But that wasn’t even an option to you as his eyes landed on your lips, lingering in there before he gently shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “God, you have me wrapped around your finger” his tone was half joke, half truth, as if he couldn’t believe it himself, how you seemed to so effortlessly produce such an effect on him.

“Well, I was promised something” you shrugged teasingly, your confidence growing as you realized how much he craved you, how this was something he actually wanted for a while. With your comment, his eyes shot back to you, and his body quickly followed, hovering above yours, droplets of water falling delicately on your face as he looked down at you, hands placed on each side of your head. You couldn’t help but bite your lip hungrily, crossing your legs tightly trying to relieve some of the need you were feeling.

Oscar’s eyes remained on your face as he stopped your legs with his own. “No” he whispered with assertion. “You want me to show you want I imagine doing to you, then you’ll have to play your part and look pretty while at it.”

You were shocked at his words and actions and how they affected you, making it so the only thing you could do in response was nod. Your eyes wanted to wander to where the towel threatened to unwrap himself, but Oscar’s soft finger lifted your chin towards him. “Eyes on me” despite it being a command, his voice indicated anything but that. It was calm and reassuring, confident but not cocky.

His thumb grazed across your lower lip, fondling it gently before opening your mouth subtly. He inserted his index and middle finger inside your mouth, pushing smoothly against your tongue. You took it upon yourself to wrap your lips around them, sucking on them, your tongue playing with his skin as you maintained eye contact. “Fuck” he cursed, muscles trembling from trying to keep his position and composure.

After some seconds, he removed his fingers from your mouth, replacing them with his own lips, hungrily possessing you. As he did this, causing your brain to go lightheaded and register little to nothing at all apart from his touch and tongue caressing you, his hand slid down your exposed stomach to the inside of your jeans. Your arms were around his neck, trying to pull him closer despite the impossibility of it – but you needed more. More of him, of his touch and of his body on yours.

His finger caressed your clit softly, satisfying your needs in part, but simultaneously leaving you more frustrated. You couldn’t help but whimper, trying to grind against his teasing hand, hips moving almost instinctively, which caused a sensuous chuckle to leaving his lips. “You sound even better than what I imagined,” his finger dipped lowered towards your entrance, teasing it, playing with your own desperate hunger. “And you’re wetter, too.”

You moaned at his words, and despair invaded your brain, your hands rushing to unbutton your pants and giving Oscar all the liberty of movement, a silent plea for the feeling of him inside you. Your walls clenched around nothing when he pulled your top up, revealing your exposed breasts. His eyes lingered on them as he tasted you, placing his fingers in his mouth while his other hand removed the towel from around his waist.

Finally, you thought, throwing your own jeans on the floor, red lace panties covering little to nothing of the lower half of your body.

His erection sprang free as he dropped the towel as well, the tip glistening with pre cum, its entire length throbbing. His hand wrapped around it as he took the entire sight of you in, eyelids revealing a drunken thrill as his breath became more irregular.

“I thought about this so many fucking times” he started, not with longing but with a primal urge to have you, a matter-of-fact tone in his voice that caused your whole body to erupt in need. “Come here”

Oscar positioned himself on his knees at the edge of the couch, continuously stoking himself as you moved towards him on all fours, not daring to look away from the sheer sight of him. Pulling your hair, he directed your face towards his erection, pressing it against your lips. You opened your mouth and enveloped him slowly, savoring the salty taste of him as your tongue explored his length. Each one of your caresses made him groan and sigh in pleasure, your head bobbing up and down underneath him.

The sight of you was beautifully overwhelming to him, especially as you started grinding your hips against nothing at all. “Fuck, if I knew you wanted it this bad I would… I would’ve done this earlier” he struggled to say, mesmerized at how your eyes looked up at him, ecstasy-filled.

You moaned against his cock, vibrations traveling throughout his body as he jerked his hips up, deeper into you, more than what you thought possible. You teared up with the suddenness of it, though it made you dizzy with pleasure.

That pleasure was short-ended as his hand pulled your hair softly, an indication for you to stop. As he removed himself from inside your mouth, a string of saliva connected you both, your lips now swollen and red, shiny with spit.

Oscar lowered himself in order to kiss you while laying you on the sofa once again, his mouth leaving wet marks all over your body until it reached the area underneath your bellybutton. He blew softly on your skin, and goosebumps invaded your body as he pulled your underwear down and off of you, hands now placed around your thighs, opening them with fervor. Before you could register the coldness hitting your now exposed skin, his face buried in between your legs, licking you softly as his damp hair touched the skin on your thighs.

The warmth of his mouth contrasted with his still-wet hair, your mind clouded by wanting to wrap your legs around him and the instinct to pull away from the cold. He grinned against your wet pussy before sucking your clit, your hands flying towards his hair, pushing him against you.

“So needy…” he whispered, readjusting himself so he could bury two fingers into you and keep his attention on your clit, devouring you. His tongue sent your body into frenzied shivers, his name escaping your lips incoherently. His fingers intensified their pace, sliding in and out of you and curling inside you. “Fuck, you taste so good” he mumbled, “and my name sounds so good when you whimper it” he now looked at you intently, analyzing your pleasure with so much attention it almost made you blush – were your cheeks not red due to the heat of the desire. It was all so much, so much you couldn’t focus on it all, your body erupting into an orgasm, walls pulsating around his fingers, his gaze adoring your body and all of its movements.

Your chest rose and fell almost as fast as your heart beat, and you giggled, actually giggled, from how lightheaded you felt. “I need to see and hear that again” he stared, more than asked you, although he remained in place, only his hand slowly pulling out from inside you, covered in your juices. He wasted no time in wrapping it around his own erection, now even more visibly hungry for something – someone. You.

“Please” he pleaded, suddenly looking so greedy, so needy and desperate. For some reason, this reignited the desire within you, and although your body was still recovering from the intoxicating orgasm, you were ready to do it all again.

“Do I keep going in your fantasy?” you asked, voice hoarse and breathy. His eyes widened slightly, the pace of his movement as he worked himself up increased as he nodded. “Then why are you asking me?” you told him, the fact that you consented implicit in your tone, your legs spreading apart for him to gawk at.

He barely needed two seconds before positioning himself between your legs once again, the tip of his cock rubbing against your entrance. “You’re soaking” he tried saying, stumbling across some vowels due to his own excitement. “I don’t know if I can last much” he slowly entered you, savoring as every inch buried deeper inside you, “you drive me fucking crazy.”

Your eyes rolled the back of your head at how he filled you up, at his praise as he did so, at how good he sounded when incoherence and pleasure laced his words. His hips moved, at first in a slow, consistent, pace, which quickly changed after some seconds, along with his breathing.

His eyebrows furrowed as your nails dug into his back, the sudden pain feeling so thrilling when mixed with the pleasure of being inside you. “Turn around” he said, pulling himself out of you for less than a second, giving you only time to lay on your stomach with your ass in the air.

That position allowed for him to go even deeper inside you, to hear you scream in pleasure as your own hand touched your clit in desperate need for more release. “You like that?” he asked in between breaths, knowing he could barely hold it any longer.

You tried saying the word ‘yes’ but even that failed you, your vision cloudy and your head foggy as you felt him close to release. His moans increased in loudness and intensity, your name being one of the few coherent things he could say before pulling himself out of you and orgasming, his cum spread across your back.

You couldn’t do anything but succumb to your own pleasure erratically, the simultaneous nature of your orgasms driving you into your own craziness.

Your body collapsed on the couch as his pressed tightly against you, both of you trying to gather your thoughts. Lying on his back, his head now looking at the ceiling, Oscar turned to you softly. “Want to sleep over?”

Your plan was not going to work.

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barcaatthemoon · 1 month

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serial heartbreaker || leila ouhabi x reader ||

leila comes back to barcelona after you figure out that she cheated on you in manchester.

it became obvious that something was up whenever your teammates started acting weird around you. alexia and mapi were the first, but ona, pina, and claudia quickly followed suit. ona began to outright avoid you, which hurt pretty badly. almost as badly as whenever you finally realized what was going on.

you sat with your suspicions for several weeks before they were officially confirmed. leila was careful, but she got sloppy. it was in the back of someone else's instagram stories. your eyes had zeroed in on your girlfriend making out with another girl in the background of a video that one of her teammates had shot.

it was hard not letting on that you knew anything, but you weren't nearly as good at it as you thought you were. alexia could see that you were hurting, as could more of your more perceptive teammates. the one who had shocked you was lucy, who had snapped at leila whenever she came back to spain for a visit, claiming to have missed you dearly.

"get the fuck out of here," lucy had practically growled at leila. the woman had planned on surprising you, and at lucy ruining that, leila got pissed. the two of them were at each other's throats, and it took mapi and alexia leading leila away for things to calm down a bit. you couldn't hear them at first, but soon the hallway was full of your two barcelona teammates yelling at leila in spanish. "are you okay?"

"yeah, i'm fine," you answered quietly. lucy kneeled down next to you and put her hand around your shoulders. "how long have you guys known?"

"ona told me about it a few months ago. i didn't want to have to be the one to tell you. i'm sorry for not mentioning it earlier," lucy said. you nodded as you pulled her into a hug.

"it's okay. i probably wouldn't have believed you for a while. i couldn't, leila promised she'd never do something like this," you said. lucy understood how you felt. ona had been livid with the other spanish player whenever she had found out, to the point where lucy was certain they hadn't spoken to each other since. "when do you think they'll be done? i do have to talk to leila at some point."

"just tell her to get the fuck out of here, please? i know that she means a lot to you, but you can't go back to her. ona said it herself, leila will do it again," lucy pleaded with you. if it had been anybody else, you probably would have ignored the warnings, but lucy didn't like to get involved with people's lives like this.

"i'll try to," you promised. lucy pressed a kiss to your head before she helped you up to your feet. the two of you walked over to where alexia and mapi were still tearing into leila, who looked both ashamed and angry. lucy pulled your teammates away to give you some privacy with leila.

"amor," leila started. she moved towards you, but you held your hand up to keep her away from you. "please, let me explain."

"there's nothing to explain, leila. you cheated on me, it is that simple. you can blame the distance, your loneliness, the fact that you're just so affectionate. you can say anything that you want, but that doesn't change the fact that you cheated on me," you told her. "so go ahead and explain yourself because i'd love to hear whatever bullshit you've been telling yourself, but once you're done, i want you to answer all my questions."

"i missed you, and i was angry because i told you not to come with me. you offered to come to manchester, but i told you to stay here instead. i was all alone, and it was my fault, so i took it upon myself to be less lonely. it was just hook ups at first, i swear, and then there was this girl on the training staff. we hit it off, things are going great, but she's not you," leila said. all her words did was fill you with rage. she had confirmed that this had been going on for a lot longer than you knew, and worse than that, she was still with one of the girls she had cheated with.

"get the fuck out of here. if i never see you again, it'll still be too fucking soon." you turned on your heels and walked right out of the room. leila tried to chase after you, but lucy was right there to stop her. you walked into the locker room and went straight to your locker, beginning to pack up your things to go home.

"(y/n), are you okay?" mapi asked as she sat down next to you. you weren't crying, it was far past that, but you were obviously pissed. you didn't mean to direct it at mapi, but the glare you gave her had the woman backing away from you instantly. unfortunately for you, alexia wasn't as easily scared by you.

"i'm sorry that we didn't do something before," alexia said as she pulled you into a hug. her embrace was tight and comforting, but you didn't let yourself relax. most of the girls looked away, but you could see ona standing across the room looking at you longingly. she had been avoiding you for months, and it killed her to not be by your side as your best friend.

"come here oni," you told her. she raced over towards you, both of you dissolving into fits of tears as soon as you were in each other's arms. her apologies were scrambled in between sobs and spanglish, but you knew that she meant it. still, a part of you couldn't forgive her for what happened. she had known since the beginning that leila had cheated on you, but she hadn't said anything to you.

"do you need a ride home?" alexia asked once you and ona had calmed down a little. you nodded as you picked up your bag. the team didn't miss the way that you ignored ona as she said goodbye to you. the anger you felt for leila was starting to spread around the team, and if it wasn't for the fact that you needed alexia for support, you'd probably shut her out too. "it's not an excuse, but none of us knew how to tell you about leila. you seemed so happy, and i knew she'd do this when she started talking about switching teams. i didn't think it'd get so out of hand."

"were you listening to us?" you asked. alexia nodded her head as she started driving. you knew that she wasn't taking you back to your apartment. "did you know it was with so many girls?"

"no, it's never been that many before," alexia muttered. you could see that she wasn't just angry. "you were supposed to be different for her. i believed in her not to do this again. i'm sorry, if there's anybody you should be mad at, it's me, not ona. i'm the one who knew about this pattern. don't ruin a friendship with someone who doesn't deserve to be caught in the crossfire."

"it's hard right now. all i can think about is that she knew," you admitted. alexia sighed as she squeezed your hand. "i could have done the same thing to leila, but i didn't. why did she have to do that to me?"

"sometimes, she's careless about things that she shouldn't be. she was careless with your trust. it's hard, but try not to think about her. don't give her a second thought, because eventually, the pain will subside along with your feelings for her," alexia said. you tilted your head to the side as you realized that she was speaking from experience. "do you want to be alone right now or can i come inside too?"

"don't you have practice?" you questioned. alexia shrugged.

"not if you need a shoulder to cry on," she told you. "let me know what you need, and i'll do my best to get it for you."

"i want you to come with me, and maybe, when practice is over, we can call ona," you told her. alexia nodded as she got out of the car. she got your bag for you, and for a moment, it reminded you of the way that leila had been with you in the beginning of your relationship. the only difference was that alexia didn't look at you like leila did, as if she knew that you were already head over heels for her.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #leila ouahabi imagine #leila ouahabi x reader

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avatar-anna · 3 months

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Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

April 2016

“Thank you for meeting me.”

Y/n settled into the seat across from Harry. Her hands curled tightly around her mug, apprehension seeping into her bones. “Of course.”

She had been surprised when Harry called her, asking to meet at the Beachwood Cafe. She hadn’t heard from him in months, not one call or text, not even an email. Not that Y/n really expected much when One Direction finally went on hiatus, but after zero communication, she wasn’t quite sure why he’d called her all these months later.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Harry asked.

Y/n’s eyebrows raised a bit, but she answered him anyway after taking a sip of her coffee. “Fine, I guess. You?”

“Good!” Harry said excitedly. “Taking a break the last few months has been…I don’t know. Peaceful, but odd, you know? I’ve never had so much time to myself before.”

“Must be nice,” Y/n said, trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

“Yeah, but I realized that I kind of miss it,” he said. “I knew once we decided on the hiatus that I wanted to do my own thing, but I thought I would take a longer break, but I feel like I’m…itching to get back to work.”

That definitely seemed like Harry. Y/n had worked for him for years, and even when there were breaks between tours, he was hard at work—writing, going to Fashion Week, collaborating with other artists, vocal training, even trying new recipes in his state-of-the-art kitchen, which led to a phone call at one in the morning where Harry asked Y/n to come over and see if his macrons tasted "fluffy enough." It seemed only right that he rested for mere months before starting a new project. She could practically picture him at either of his homes in LA or London, scribbling in his leatherbound journal or playing new melodies on his guitar or piano (and the occasional late-night pastry party). As long as she’d known him, Harry had been a hard worker through and through. A little on the wild side when he had some tequila in him, but when it came down to his career, he was focused, determined.

“Good for you,” Y/n said, meaning it. She always thought he was capable of more. “So what comes next for you? Have you recorded songs already?”

“Not quite. I’m planning a trip to Jamaica to write and record there. It’s remote, serene, a good place to get away. So we’ll have to start booking flights and places to stay and—”

“I’m sorry, ‘We?’” Y/n asked, her brow furrowing with confusion.

Harry matched her look of confusion with one of his own. “Yeah, I mean—I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

The sentiment warmed Y/n’s heart for a moment, but his immediate assumption that she would drop everything just because he asked her to brought the irritation swarming back. “Mr. Sty—Harry, you know I don’t work for you anymore, right?”

“What do you mean? Are you talking about the hiatus? I just thought we could all use some time off, but…I guess I just thought—”

Harry didn’t finish his thought, but his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Y/n would’ve found it cute if he hadn’t been so dense. Resentment still circled around her like a fog, and she wouldn’t let it go so easily, she couldn’t.

“I was employed by your management, Harry. To be an assistant to a member of One Direction,” Y/n explained. “I was let go. I had to quickly find another job doing something else.”

“Oh.”

Y/n supposed she should’ve anticipated being fired, but she didn’t. There was a lot of information that she was privy to that most people weren’t, secrets that were tightly bound by an NDA when she was first hired, but talks of the hiatus was very hushed. She knew to suspect that somewhere down the line the boys would finally take a break, but it came a lot sooner than she was prepared for, and she was left jobless before she had the chance to line something else up. Y/n thought that Harry would give her the courtesy of a warning, but he said nothing about it to her, didn’t offer much except a side hug after One Direction’s last performance.

So yeah, she was a little bitter.

“I’m—I’m really sorry, Y/n. I know it doesn’t make up for…all of this and everything you went through, but I am truly sorry.”

“Thank you.”

Y/n believed him, believed that he was sorry for everything that went down, but it still hurt to know she wasn’t someone he was close enough to talk to about all of this at the time. She was Harry’s assistant, she knew that, but they’d been through a lot together. But he was ever the professional it seemed, and it was her job to remember that, not his.

When she realized her coffee was finished, Y/n stood up. “Well, it was good seeing you, Harry. Good luck on your next project. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“Wait, but—you’re not—you‘re leaving?”

“I have to run a couple errands before work," Y/n explained. She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “But really, no hard feelings. I wish you all the best.”

She left Harry at the table, heading for the front of the cafe and toward the busy street beyond. Her heart felt heavy as she walked away, but she tried to shake the feeling that she was walking away from more than just her boss. Former boss. Like her mother always reminded her, she couldn’t be a personal assistant forever.

“Wait!”

Y/n turned on instinct, eyes widening as Harry jogged after her, his little bun bouncing with each step. He skidded to a stop in front of her, green eyes wide and searching. For what, she wasn’t sure, but the heat of his gaze was enough to make butterflies stir in her stomach.

Putting on her best front, she raised her eyebrows, waiting for Harry to say whatever he needed to.

“I wasn’t kidding earlier. I need you, Y/n,” he said. “I—You’re the only one who really knows me, who I know will have my back no matter what. I need a familiar face in my corner.”

I need you, Y/n. Those words were her kryptonite. Year after year, Y/n heard Harry's voice over the phone as he roused her from sleep, read the text messages while she was getting her nails done or watched TV in her hotel room, or on the rare occasion she went on a date. But she had to hold strong. Y/n had been devastated by her sudden layoff, but now she had a life, and she didn't want to get sucked back into Harry's very alluring web of charming smiles, cheesy jokes, and endless adventure. That was his life, not hers.

“I have a job, Harry. I can’t just drop everything and quit because you suddenly want me to—”

“What are they paying you?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

Harry pushed on. “What are they paying you? I’ll double it.”

Scoffing in disbelief, she said, “It’s not about the money—”

“Triple,” he countered. Harry took her hand in his and squeezed it. He looks desperate, Y/n thought.

“I can’t just quit my job because you remembered I existed,” Y/n said quietly, pulling her hand out of his. She clung to her resolve, hoping Harry would make this easy and just let it go, let her go. “I—I deserve more.”

More of what, she wasn’t sure, but Y/n knew it was true. Harry only reached out because he needed something from her, and that hurt more than she cared to admit.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Harry said, looking down at his shoes. A pair of scuffed Chelsea boots he wore practically everywhere. Y/n had bought him a pair of Vans one year, an attempt to switch up his wardrobe, but he still chose the boots nine times out of ten. “Just—At least think about coming to Jamaica. Please?”

“Harry—”

“Not as my assistant. As a guest. A friend,” Harry amended. “We’re planning on staying at a huge villa, and I want to make up for being an idiot. Just—Just think about it. Please.”

Despite everything, Y/n found herself wanting to say yes. It was that magnetic pull she felt toward Harry that had kept her working for him for so long. He was an important person in her life, and up until he’d all but ghosted her after the hiatus, she thought she was important to him too. In spite of his misgivings, Y/n still wanted to believe that she was.

It was so stupid, but it felt good to be wanted by him. She was an idiot, she knew that. But her friendship with Harry was legitimate, he'd just acted like a complete idiot. She'd known him long enough to know he was very capable of acting like an idiot. So even though she shouldn’t, even though she had carefully lined up her reasons not to in a little line, she started to cave.

But she couldn’t make the decision now. Not when Harry was looking at her with pleading green eyes and his sad little puppy dog face, his cologne dizzyingly lovely. No, she owed it to herself to really think about what she wanted. If getting sucked back into that whirlwind was worth it. Worth getting her heart properly broken when she knew he would never feel the same about her.

"I'll show up at work, you know," Harry said. "I'm not above it. You might think I am, but I'm not."

Y/n had no doubt in her mind that he would. Along with being an idiot, Harry was very stubborn, and very persistent. She had years with him to know that. Did she really need Harry Styles showing up at her place of work?

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” she finally said, trying to pretend like her heart was screaming to just agree. But her heart was an impulsive little shit that was bound to get her in trouble.

Harry’s face broke out into a wide grin, one that displayed those famous dimples and lit up his entire face. It was hard to feel like he didn't think she was the only person on earth to exist when he looked like that, like he was convinced she’d already said yes. “I’ll take it.”

#harry styles #harry styles x assistant!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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sheisjoeschateau · 2 months

Text

"Oh, so we DO love Steve... | PART VII

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER VII WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, ruthless banter, mentions of death, injuries, end-of-the-world terror talk, newfound shared codependency (but like it's healthy imo also it's valid lmao) jealousy. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this chapter is honestly a gahdamn MF feast. a favorite of mine NGL, for a multitude of reasons. Murray high key pops the fuck off like the boss bitch he is and takes us on a long lecture of a journey to visit the lordt of truth bombs. Eddie has zero chill. Robin is the bestest-best-fwend and platonic-with-a-capital-p soulmate to our boy. Dustin is a dingus. LUCAS BE SEEIN' THINGS. Hopper is Joppering. Nancy and Jonathan get a clue. Mama Steve and the kids are in full swing. We get a cutie cameo from Harrington's signature yellow sweater.

And our lovebirds finallyyyy......well.....say the magic word that they're feeling hehehe:)

ISSA LONG ONE. PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve knew he would have to face downstairs again at some point before the morning. Definitely before everyone else went to bed. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Not yet.

Because right now, you were fast asleep in his arms. Laid carefully on your back for the sake of your bad shoulder, with your head turned into his chest. Steve was propped up on an elbow, facing you with his other hand gliding his fingertips to trace your arm draped across your chest. He drew shapes up your arm, now adorned with his yellow crewneck, up to your jawline so that he could tuck your hair behind your ear.

And all the while, he just stared at your chest – comforted by the steady rise and fall. It kept him sane. It kept his eyes open. It kept him from letting the nightmare return. You slept so peacefully, he might never have known you’d been dead in his arms earlier that day.

“You are beautiful, Steve Harrington.”

Your words from last night ran through his mind on a loop, like a VHS tape on replay.

“I can’t stand you.”

You’d said it in the warmest voice Steve had ever heard in his life. Somehow, those words meant more to him than I love you. Because when he said it back, he realized it meant the same thing.

“I can’t stand you either.”

I love you too.

Steve carefully placed his forehead against your temple, eyes fluttering shut and breathing you in. Something danced inside of his stomach. It ached, it burned and it warned him of all the things he feared feeling the most for anyone except the girl downstairs who had made love seem lost. He never wanted those feelings to return again for anyone else but her – Nancy. And yet here he was: every one of those feelings rushed back tenfold, for the girl upstairs in his guest bedroom lying beside him. The girl who had ruined the chance at a life for him with Nancy Wheeler. The girl he swore was the reason he was robbed of all things good. Robbed of love. True love.

But he no longer loved Nancy Wheeler.

Steve Harrington loved you.

Downstairs, everyone is quiet but productive.

Joyce is organizing the last of the stashed supplies. The kids are eating some bowls of hot soup, served up by Murray. He had to stay busy and shake off the frayed nerves. Otherwise, he’d go berserk. Completely berserk. Joyce gently helped him but knew better than to baby him. She was surprised to find Erica walking over, offering to help serve up some glasses of water or sodas for everyone. To everyone’s surprise, they operated well. Like chef and sous-chef. What an unlikely duo.

Hopper and El were talking in the living room about the potential new plan, and Mike moved from the table where he sat with the kids and teens to join them.

Steve could hear them all down there, the ambience muffled on the other side of the closed door separating you both from the rest of the world outside of each other's arms. He could have fallen asleep right there with you if he let himself.

But a soft knock on the door made him crane his head to look towards the source of the noise. With one last look at you, he carefully slipped his arm out from underneath you. You never stirred, the rhythm of your breathing still intact and your mind lost in sleep.

Steve wasn’t sure who to expect on the other side of the door. But as he ran a hand through his hair, he found himself not caring.

Turns out, it was Murray. He stood with two bowls of hot soup, now staring into the eyes of Steve Harrington — who he begrudgingly noted still looked dashing, despite his towel-dried bedhead and tired eyes.

Seriously, no one should make a t-shirt and sweatpants look that good.

Your uncle cleared his throat. “Uhh, I made some soup.”

Steve gave him a timid but grateful nod, taking one of the bowls. Glancing back over his shoulder, Murray followed Harrington’s gaze — back at you, sleeping in bed.

“She’s still out,” Steve told him.

Murray nodded. “I’ll keep hers warm downstairs.” An awkward silence fell over Murray and Steve, but finally your uncle continued. “Listen, why not come down? Let her rest, get yourself some water or — a sandwich maybe, to go with the soup. Erica says she’ll make them but I'm reallllly not feeling confident about that.”

Steve allowed himself a soft chuckle at that, biting his lip and glancing back at you.

“She’s alright,” your uncle assured Steve. “Trust me. I keep having to remind myself that, too.”

Steve was glad that the two of them could relate on that — endlessly worrying about you. He was also glad that your uncle wasn’t giving him shit for it, and honestly Murray was extremely pleasant when he wasn’t being an ass. It took Steve by surprise. No wonder you two were related. With a reluctant sigh, Steve agreed to follow Murray downstairs for some more grub.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Steve’s eyes first landed on Nancy sitting with Robin and Joyce. She looked over at Steve with her big blue eyes, which danced with longing. Steve’s doe brown eyes didn’t return it, but he lightly smiled in her direction anyway. Robin immediately perked up, jogging over to Steve from her seated position on the floor. She grabbed him for a tight hug, and he made sure not to spill his bowl of soup.

“Sorry sorry, I’ve just — been worried sick.”

“S’okay, Robs,” Steve murmured, appreciating the comfort. She pulled back to look at him, giving him a sad smile. She wanted to ask him a million questions, but knew it best to save it for later.

“C’mon,” Robin told him, tilting her head towards the kitchen. “Let’s go grab some crackers or something to go with that soup, which you need to eat. Don’t even think about not eating, Steve. I’m serious, okay?”

Steve listened to her keep rambling on as they walked into the kitchen, where Erica and Lucas were bickering about PB&J’s, and Murray stepped in to take back his title as head chef. Eddie and Jonathan were sitting at the dining table, clearly in deep conversation but ceasing once they noticed them walking in. Jonathan gave him a pitying look, while Eddie flashed a dopey grin to try and hide whatever serious talk was just going down.

Dustin, Mike and Will all rounded the corner as Steve moved to sit at the bar. They all sat next to him happily. YAY, MOM’S HOME.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair absentmindedly as he sipped on his soup and stared down at his spoon. Erica was shoving a very haphazard looking sandwich in front of him while Lucas told him he’d spit it out after the first bite, which sent all the kids into a frenzy of bickering, lighthearted insults and witty comebacks. Steve sighed, content as he ate several mouthfuls of the sandwich while listening to his kids squabble.

Jonathan was shaking his head over in the corner, observing this. “Guy’s a hero to those kids,” he murmured, only loud enough for Eddie to hear.

“Babysitter turned full-time mom turned hero,” Eddie smirks, amused. “Dude’s a legend.”

Jonathan scoffs, amused but also not. “Wasn’t always...”

Eddie clocks what he means by that. He knew King Steve, too. But Eddie can see a twinge of something else in Joanthan’s eyes, surprised to see it. Jealousy. It’s subtle. Not toxic, or even remotely a threat.

That is, until Jonathan sees Nancy moving to take a sandwich from Erica — her eyes wandering over to Steve and the kids. She looks enchanted, melancholy. Is she sad? Why is she sad?

…why is she sad looking at Steve?

Jonathan’s brow furrows. Eddie decides he better speak up and interrupt whatever he’s thinking. Because he sees it too. Uh oh.

“Trust me, he was a dick. I know. Told him so myself.” Eddie tries to make light of it, grinning. “But I think sometimes…some folks just need a big thump on the head. Shit, I did. I used to run away from alllllll my problems. Hell, I…I’ve even had my share of making others feel small, just so I can feel big. Not in a bad way, though. Never mean. Just…immature. Y’know? Point is, I’ve been there too. Maybe not as big a dick as Harrington…” He snorted. “No pun intended.”

Jonathan whipped his head in Eddie’s direction. What did that mean?

Eddie quickly tried to cover up his reference to the Hawkins High heartthrob’s manhood. “I just mean, I just mean — like — we’ve all been dicks. You know? Big ones. Small ones. Medium…sized…ones.”

He counted at least 5 perplexed blinks from Jonathan. Eddie sighed, exasperated with himself. “The point, the point. We uhh…we live and we learn. Right?”

Jonathan finally let his tense shoulders loosen up at that, but he glanced back at Nancy – who was still watching Steve as she got herself a glass of water and letting Robin ramble to her. And Jonathan also watched Steve, who was now telling Dustin to share the box of crackers with everyone and not hog them from everybody.

It began to click for Jonathan. The longing stares. The unusually strained affection between him and Nancy, ever since he got back. He knew that was partially his fault, if not entirely his fault, given him pulling away from her after moving to California. But then he got back to Hawkins, and realized the second he saw her that he’d been a fool to think he would ever be better off without her, or convince himself that she could be better off without him. One look at her made it all go away. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and Jonathan was definitely aware of that now.

But had it made Nancy’s heart grow fonder, too? For Jonathan?

…or had distance made her heart grow fonder for someone else…

Someone else who she had distanced herself from once before, when she found love and comfort in Jonathan Byers’ arms. Harrington had been away from Nancy when she was around Byers, and then Byers was away from Nancy when the world went to shit again, putting her back around Harrington again. No Byers in sight.

…was this karma? Jonathan Byers was beginning to wonder that. Was this what he got for so confidently whisking Wheeler away from Steve back in high school? Is this what he got for thinking he was safe?

…maybe that is what Steve meant when screaming at him earlier, as they tried to pump you back to life.

“DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING STOP.” Jonathan would never forget the way that Steve’s sounded as he spewed at him. Broken, anguished and betrayed.

“IT’S NOT WORKING,” Jonathan had wept bitterly. “IT’S TOO LATE.”

When Nancy had chosen Jonathan, Steve never got mad. He never got mad at either of them. He told Nancy he got it; that it was okay. And he never said anything to Byers about it. Next time they ran into each other, it was just tense silence. Steve might have picked a fight with Jonathan once before, that damn morning in the alleyway when Will was still missing. But that was 2 years ago now, and it felt childish compared to everything that had happened since then. Steve’s anger then was so subdued to what it could have been, and he never explored anger towards Jonathan once he had successfully managed to take his girl.

But the way that Steve Harrington looked at Jonathan now, while you were dead beneath their hands, was fueled by anger. Red hot and flaming. He looked ready to finally unleash on Jonathan, ready to blame him for his existence and how it only brought Steve grief. For once, Steve Harrington looked rightfully angry with Jonathan Byers for being the source of his pain. Steve looked ready to punch him square in the jaw and beat him up the way he’d had his own face beat up by not just Byers, but also Billy Hargrove and the Russians.

“DON’T SAY THAT. NO ONE GAVE UP ON YOUR BROTHER, YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST GIVE UP ON US NOW? THINK ANY OF US WANTED TO STOP WHEN WE THOUGHT IT WAS TOO LATE? FUCK YOU, BYERS. FUCK YOU.”

Jonathan deserved it. He completely deserved it. All of it. It had been a long time coming, and while it was over 2 years past due…he took it. All of it. Even what was still left unsaid. Jonathan let Steve verbally rip him to shreds before Eddie took over and brought you back to life with Steve instead of him.

And that’s why now, as Jonathan watched Nancy catch him staring at her — looking caught as she tried to give him a smile — he let it happen. He just gave her a reluctant smile back, accepting his fate. Because now, after what he had seen today, he realized that Steve wasn’t even a threat. Maybe a month or so ago, he would have been. But that wasn’t the case now, which he only knew after seeing the way that Steve clung to you and sobbed uncontrollably over your lifeless body – then afterwards, when you were alive again.

Steve no longer pined for Nancy Wheeler. He pined for you.

Not for long, though. Honestly, it was as clear as day that whatever was going on between the two of you was mutual. The way you held Steve earlier, comforted him — assuring him that it was alright, you were alright — and how you stroked his leg in the living room before he helped you upstairs and disappeared for a couple of hours into your assigned guest room… Jonathan knew, along with Eddie, that Steve Harrington’s heart was in your hands, and yours was his.

It’s what Jonathan and Eddie had brought up at the table. Not the whole “why hasn’t Steve unleashed his anger on me until today” aspect of things. But the fact that you and Steve, who seemingly could not stand each other, now seemed like a pair.

Nancy moved to sit next to Jonathan, who awkwardly poked at his soup bowl and did his best to fake a smile. Eddie watched them, knowing. Man, he could really use one of his guitars right now to pluck out the tension…

Lucas was saying something about Max needing to be checked on upstairs, which made Steve quickly shove the last of his sandwich into his mouth so that he could come help him and Erica along with Will, El and Mike. They all made their way up, and Dustin stayed behind. He moved over to the big kids table, bringing the box of crackers over with him. He plopped down next to Eddie, who was grateful for the comic relief after the tense talk at the table. Robin moved to bring over fresh cups of coffee, sitting between everyone.

“So uhhh, we gonna talk about it?”

Dustin’s question made everyone freeze.

Robin cocked an eyebrow, leaning onto her elbows to sip her coffee. “About what…?”

“About Bauman and Steve, and how we all clearly did not see it coming.”

Robin choked on her coffee. Nancy stiffened next to Jonathan, which he didn’t miss — considering her hand was resting on his forearm. Eddie drummed the table awkwardly while nodding and staring straight ahead at absolutely nothing.

“Yeeeeeee-up, caught me off guard,” Eddie said. “I’m normally good at picking up on that shit.”

Robin was still working on clearing her throat. “Look, we don’t know anything yet —”

“He’s literally your best friend, Robin,” Dustin accused with an eye roll. “If any of us know, you do.”

“Well my strange, tiny friend,” Robin quipped wryly, “I’m afraid I’m just as in the dark on this as you are.” She sighed, leaning back in her seat with a flash of concern in her eyes. “I really should have seen it coming, though. I was so sure he was just gonna keep on hating her guts.”

“I still don’t understand why he hated her at all,” Dustin said, adorably naive.

Eddie smirked, uneasy. “Meh, not important.”

“Seriously, they got along just fine whenever we fought the demodogs,” Dustin continued, oblivious. “And at the snowball, but then after that he just – went at it with her all the time, even though they would both still hang out with us. Like an old married couple.”

Nancy listened intently, trying to keep up and put the pieces together. Because truly, she herself had been wondering what changed. But she had been so focused on her life, in her own world with Jonathan and their jobs, she really hadn’t paid much attention to the fact that you and Steve had gotten along at the start, then not at all, and now…well…

Robin puffed out a breath of air. “Maybe they’ve just…gotten closer. You know, found a way to get along. Murray’s an ass, and even though she’s not and I love her, Steve’s not exactly the easiest to get along with even though I love him —”

Dustin scoffed. “Robin. He kissed her.”

Eddie clicked his tongue, trying to think of Metallica lyrics and avoid looking in Nancy or Jonathan’s direction.

Robin stared. “What?”

“When?” Nancy’s voice startled the room, and Jonathan seemed to cringe at it.

“Dustin,” Jonathan sighed.

“Today,” Dustin kept talking. “Whenever we…brought her back. He — he kissed her. He literally bawled on top of her and wouldn’t let her go.”

Dustin’s eyes lost all of the annoyance, now looking sad as he thought back on it all. Robin stared at him along with Nancy, barely breathing. Even Eddie looked over at him.

“I’ve never…I’ve never seen him that upset,” Dustin murmured. “Steve’s never sad. Not like that. I’ve never even seen him cry. Not once. Robin, did he ever cry while you both got tortured in the Russian chambers?”

Robin thinks back on that, gnawing at her lip, deep in thought. She shook her head, realizing… “No. No, he didn’t. Just – panicked, but not…he didn’t cry.”

“Exactly,” Dustin says. “Because he’s awesome. He’s brave, and cool, and awesome. Steve doesn’t cry. Today? He bawled.”

“Seeing someone die in front of you does that, man,” Eddie pointed out, melancholy. “I know I did whenever Chrissy died… You cried today. I did. Byers did.”

“Not like that,” Dustin insisted, voice firm. It made everyone go quiet again. “Not like that,” he repeated. “That’s how I would have cried if…like, if Suzy died. Or how Lucas did when Max died before we got her back. How Hopper and Joyce would. How Jonathan and Nancy would.”

That made the present couple go stiff. But Jonathan nodded, eyes boring a hole into his coffee mug. “S’true,” he mumbled. “If that were you, I would.”

Nancy looked at him, eyes guilty. Of course, it was the same for her. But she couldn’t focus on that right now. Not now that her collective thoughts and observations were confirmed. Now that she knew for sure…

“It’s not a matter of if they’re into each other,” Dustin kept going, certain. “It’s a matter of when. When did it start and how were we blind?”

But no one could answer that. Robin couldn’t, and she was shocked that she couldn’t. She knew her best friend all too well. How had she not seen this coming? How could she not have sensed that his never ending hatred towards you was slowly developing into liking you? Maybe even loving you…?

Eddie had only started sensing it that day. Until then, he had been the one to encourage Steve to go after Nancy. To get her back, win her over. But that stopped whenever Jonathan came back into the picture, of course. He knew better than to cross that line. Still, he knew that Harrington loved her and pined for her. He also knew why Harrington couldn’t stand you, along with Robin. They adored you, hoping at some point that you both could just become friends who tolerated each other. Eddie never thought it would become more than that: a civilized friendship.

And Nancy felt something heavy sit on top of her chest that she really could not seem to accept yet: the truth. She lost Steve.

“Alright, guessing game is over.”

Murray’s voice rounding the corner made everyone jump, and he eyed down everyone at the table as he walked in with his empty soup bowl. He made for the sink, turning on the faucet with his eyes still glued to the five people seated at the dining table, who stared back awkwardly. Finally, he looked down as he washed his dish.

“Take it from the witchdoctor of love: those two had it coming.��

Eddie cocked an eyebrow, completely amused.

Jonathan, however, was not. This was so karma.

“...had what coming?” Dustin asked.

Robin shot him a look — bless his little naive heart.

“Psh, c’monnnn,” Murray said, rinsing the bowl. “The sexual tension. The incessant arguing. Harrington’s personal utmost disdain towards her.”

Nancy spoke up, unable to help herself. “But…why though? She didn’t do anything wrong. Why would he have disdain towards her…?”

Jonathan hated how irritated Nancy’s question made him feel towards her. It irked him deeply, but he just let it fester quietly as he sat there staring down at his cup of black coffee and having no choice but to listen.

Murray looked at Nancy with the most condescending expression, uncensored as fuck. “Honey…really?”

Off Nancy’s clueless expression, Murray rolled his eyes in the back of his skull as he slapped the faucet off before whirling to face them.

“Once upon a time, two years ago: you and Jonathan came over to my bunker — uninvited — waltzing your way into my business, along with my niece’s. Thankfully, to our benefit, you helped us crack the case and — not so much to our benefit — onboarded us into your mess. But rewinding back a few slides, you two stayed over because of the vodka coursing through all of our veins and tried to convince the two of us — AKA yourselves — that you two were just friends. Which was the biggest load of unbelievable bullshit you both could have told me, and that’s after you told me everything pertaining to the absurdity and pure insanity regarding the upside down. But really, it was a great belly laugh for me and my niece, so thank you. Thennnn, my niece offered to let you both take her bed — not buying a lick of it, and suggesting you both stop being in denial. On top of that, as a former student at Hawkins High, she knew King Steve very well. She knew how Wheeler and Harrington both started dating, and how much closer the two of you —” (he gestured between Jonathan and Nancy) “— had gotten since Will Byers went missing then got rescued. Because my niece isn’t stupid. She could’ve been class valedictorian if she’d wanted to, but — being like her cynical uncle — she didn’t wanna. She’s a street-smart annnnnd booksmart cookie. She knew you both were bound to let the trauma bond get you both together, and that genuine love had formed between the two of you way more than it had between her and Steve. So she called it out, after being fed a bunch of coo-coo-bananas nonsense from you guys in my casa about being 'platonic.' "

Eddie's jaw was practically touching the table. This was literally the best story he's ever heard, and it had just freaking started.

Robin felt like she was watching a movie in her mind, one in which her best friend was the main character and she was rooting for him like life depended on it.

"Fast forward to the lab, El’s grand return, Will’s exorcism, the demodogs, the Snowball, and our little house party that followed —” (he pointed at Dustin) “— you forgot that part — turns out, Jonathan Byers can’t take his liquor, so what does he do? He goes over to my niece, who’s standing in the kitchen — like so,” (he gestured to himself) “ — and starts profusely thanking her in a string of loud, slurred, drunken words, about how he was chosen one, and how he got the girl, alllllll thaaaaannnksss toooo myyyyyy niiiieeeeeccccce."

Nancy's blood ran cold. What?

"And because it was such a small house, no offense Henderson, unlike Casa Harrington — the king himself heard it all. Every lick of it. So of course, who’s he gonna hate with a fiery burning passion more than he ever could hate Jonathan Byers for stealing his girl? The person who told him to do it. Myyyyyy niece. Because he can’t hate Nancy Wheeler, never-ever-ever could he hate the girl he swore was the love of his life. And he couldn’t even hate Jonathan, because what had he done except be the victim of King Steve’s incessant bullying and his horrible posse of friends in high school while his brother was missing in another dimension? But Steve had to hate someone. To loathe someone, blame someone, more than himself. So he chose her. He chose my niece — and by extension me, but mainly her. Because she was a part of the gang now, and around way more than I ever have been around you kids. Which is to be expected. So blah-blah-blah, hate-hate-hate, fight-fight-fight — soooo muchhhh traaaauma.”

Murray paused for dramatic effect, soaking in everybody's faces, then continued.

“...and what happens when there is trauma?... bonding. Trauma bonding. Forced alliance. The need to put aside your differences, so that you all can just get along and survive. And that leads to talking…which leads to more fighting…eventually, tears. Lots of ugly words that can’t be taken back. And then…suddenly…” Murray snaps his fingers. “Common ground.”

No one has made a sound, hanging onto Murray’s every word.

“Vecna ends the world. At least, Hawkins. We all somehow manage to survive it. We all need somewhere to goooo…and we wind up here. In a house, all underneath the same roof. Forced to coexist. Therefore, newfound respect and understanding is acquired when in close quarters. Just as the two of you, Ms. Wheeler and Mr. Byers, found in my bunker. Steve and my niece found themselves forced to live with one another, the space between them closing in. Gap by gap, inch by inch…until…”

Murray made a gesture that looked like that of a magician, everyone’s eyes following. “Magic.” He walks closer, slowly. “Some small talk becomes bigger talk. Some childhood trauma that decorates the walls of Harrington’s house becomes the topic of conversation. My niece just so happens to be a really good listener, and Steve happens to be in need of one. They both discover they’re the only child in both their families. His parents are absent. Hers were barely ever present, before surrendering her to both mine and my mother’s care. But she doesn’t mention that yet, no — why? Because she’s listening. Relating. Understanding. Meanwhile, Steve feels heard. Seen. Relevant. Important. Like maybe whatever he has to say matters. Fast forward some more, blah-blah-blah…some more co-parenting later…which honestly, is the only reason those two maintained some sort of peace in the first place — aside from the inevitable perils that we all have had to face and be paid to keep our mouths shut about…”

Murray points to Dustin, who stares at him — agape.

“You kids are the damn glue holding those two doomed enemies-soon-to-be-lovers together. Not that you knew that. You’re kids, and you don’t know that shit yet. Which is good. And they love that. Steve might hate her, but he’s not gonna make you kids hate her. And she finds him infuriating, but she isn’t gonna let you all know that by persuading you to feel the same. Because he loves you rugrats, and you all love him…and you rugrats love her, as she loves you. Fast forward to a night when all the kiddos are fast asleep, and the adults get a night to themselves with some cups of chilled vodka that fuels everyone’s laughter and newfound liquid courage — but just enough to give a light buzz, rather than sloshed drunkenness — the enemies, who’ve now become somewhat of friends…realize that they feel more. Or at least, that’s what I observed. Grilled my niece about it, that night before bed — and next thing you know — she is the victim of Uncle Murray’s love-talk lectures. Just like you two were. She’s swearing up and down that she cannot stand Steve, and that he cannot stand her. She insists they are mortal enemies. That he hates her. Will forever hate her. And then…that rambling turns into truth. Admittance. Denial, still. But it’s enough to go off, allowing me to paint the picture and speak the truth into the world out loud: WE DO LOVE STEVE.”

Nancy freezes at that, eyes wide and heart blue. She swallows thickly, and Jonathan feels sick.

Murray's conductor waving hands settled down, ready for the grand finish.

“...someone had to love Steve. But it wasn’t you, Ms. Nancy Wheeler. Not forever, anyway. Not in the desperate, novel-esque ways we all read about or see in the cinemas. But it was her. You liked Steve, so that she could love Steve. And he loved you, so that he could hate her…only to realize that he loved her. Deeply...madly...and truly.”

Murray leaned back, letting his rant come to a full stop. The air was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Mouths agape, brains fried and heartbeats racing. They were stunned into shocked silence. With a sigh, Murray made for the fridge.

“Do me a favor…” He grabbed some juice, along with the vodka, pouring himself a cup. Then, with a severe look in his eye, he faced the group again.

“Don’t make a damn fuss about it yet, yeah? Not yet. Not to them. Wanna do it with each other, go ahead. But maybe lay off them for a bit, will you? Hmm?”

Everyone was surprised at the uncharacteristic parental tone in Murray’s voice and the look in his eyes. They felt parented now.

“Maybe let the shock of this newfound realization they both just came to accept barely before my niece stopped breathing today…I dunno…simmer down a bit, yeah?”

Dustin gulped, nodding. Robin did, too. Eddie had pretty much bitten his nails down to stubs at this point, and Jonathan had shrunk so far down into his chair he was practically on the floor now. Meanwhile, Nancy looked like a heartbroken child who’d just been told that Santa Claus wasn’t real. With that, Murray raised his glass of jungle juice and exited the kitchen — vanishing, leaving the group to sit there in their own unsettled energy.

So when Lucas, Erica and Steve all shuffled back down the stairs, it alarmed them. Robin stared at Steve and the kids, while Eddie rose to stand and grab the box of crackers from Dustin. Jonathan swigged his coffee. Nancy just stared at Steve helplessly.

“Alright, who needs more food before we all turn in for the night?” Steve asked as he moved to put away the sandwich fixings with Erica.

Nobody spoke, making Lucas look at them with a quizzical expression. Erica did the same, stopping as she went to put the sleeve of bologna back into the snack pan. Steve had been busy picking up discarded bowls and plates before he finally looked at everyone, too. He cocked an eyebrow, confused.

“You, uhhh…you guys okay…?”

Robin tried to speak, choking on air. Steve squinted at his best friend. Finally, she found her voice. “Sorry. Got the jitters. Too much coffee.”

She stood up hastily, collecting everyone else’s cups — even Jonathan’s, who was mid-sip. Robin avoided Steve’s gaze as she dumped them into the sink with a very fake, wide toothy-grin. She hummed while rinsing the cups, and Eddie clapped his hands together when rising to stand himself.

“Better, uhh, go re-dress my, uhh — dressings.”

“I got you,” Robin said, splashing the hot water and dropping the sponge so that she could hurriedly dry off her hands and follow Eddie out of the room – giving Steve a quick kiss on the head. He watched her go, curious.

But then he saw Jonathan and Nancy sitting over at the table still, along with Dustin — who was staring back at him sheepishly. The curly-haired kid stood up, clearing his throat and shuffling over with the now very-empty box of crackers. He whistled while tossing it into the garbage and moved to finish the dishes. That definitely made Steve raise an eyebrow. But he figured it was out of pity, so instead he just gave the kid a pat on the back and ruffled his hair before going back to tidying up the kitchen.

Nancy felt queasy. Really queasy. And looking at Steve was not helping, especially being seated next to Jonathan. She rose to stand, making him look at her back with queasiness of his own. He watched the back of his girlfriend as she started to turn to look back at him…and when she couldn’t, it made his heart sink. She walked towards the living room, disappearing behind the wall. But not before passing by Joyce, who made her way into the kitchen to give Steve a motherly touch on the arm.

“Dr. Owens will be here first thing in the morning,” she told him, reassuringly. “Real early. Probably 6AM. Hopper’s letting Murray know.”

Nancy refused to let herself cry that night about Steve Harrington and her newly unrequited love.

Jonathan watched his mom comfort Steve, and while it made him grateful it also made him sad. Steve sighed with relief as he thanked Mrs. Byers, and when his mother began to help him find some temporary pain medication that Dr. Owen’s instructed her to give you, he decided he couldn’t listen anymore and left.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with her, do you?” Dustin asked. “You know, heart-wise or anything…?”

“She’s gonna be fine,” Joyce told him sweetly, rubbing Steve’s back as he leaned against the kitchen counter with a tense back. “Her heart, her shoulder, her mind. Everything.”

Steve took deep breaths, and Erica would have hugged him if she weren’t so profusely against giving anyone any sort of physical affection.

Lucas, however, did move to squeeze Steve’s shoulder next to Joyce. After all the comfort he’d gotten from him after Max died, then got brought back…and still received, with her being in a coma…Lucas understood Steve’s pain.

No one knew it, but Lucas had secretly caught onto Steve’s feelings for you whenever he went to visit Max in her room one morning but heard you both sitting in there. Selfishly, he’d stayed behind the cracked door to listen in…and it made him freeze in place. They way you and Steve bonded, despite all the rivalry between you both. The way you both spoke to one another in Max’s presence, like she was keeping the storm at bay despite being asleep. Lucas felt as though he was listening to a conversation taking place between two fighting parents, who were finally finding common ground. He had secretly listened like a little kid, leaning against the wall, giddy and heartbroken at the same time. Lucas wasn’t sure why, but he knew. He just knew. You two were crazy for one another. Maybe because he and Max had their struggles, too. Maybe something about the way Steve pushed you, and you pushed Steve — maybe it reminded him of them, just as older teens. Steve was his hero, and you were Max’s. He would give anything to talk with her about it, to hear whatever she had to say about the two of you…the unlikely duo…

But he didn’t say anything about it. He felt it best not to push anything. Not yet. When Max woke up, he would. But maybe now, he wouldn’t have to. Because Steve had been faced with the possibility of losing you. And if he was gonna mess that up, then that's preposterous. Then Lucas would say something.

***

That night, Steve crawled back upstairs and ran into Robin coming out of his bedroom, having just discarded Eddie’s only wound dressings in the hallway bathroom and changing into her pajamas. She was staying in Steve’s room, per usual. And she wondered if she might have just caught him coming upstairs to sneak into your room and not his. At this rate, nothing was a surprise anymore. Thanks, Murray.

“Hey, dingus,” she grinned. Steve grinned back.

“You gonna finally get some sleep?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, gesturing to the blankets in her hands. “Was just gonna go give Eds some fresh blankets.”

“Lemme know if you need help with that, seriously. His wounds, I mean. I’ll have Dr. Owens check on him tomorrow too, whenever he comes to check on Bauman.”

Robin nodded, biting her lip. God, she wanted to ask him so many questions. Hug him. Tell her best friend to spill the damn beans. Demand him to cry, to break down in front of her. To scream. To laugh. Anything.

“Robs, you good?”

“Steve, I love you,” Robin blurted. “Like – love you to death. Best friends forever. Just — just…” She bit her lip some more, trying really hard to think before she speaks. Steve waited patiently, a bit nervous. Robin sighed. “Just know that…I’m here. And I’m always gonna be here. Supporting you, with…whatever you need. Even if that’s to shut up and just help you with something and not ask you any questions. Alright…?”

Steve’s eyes sparkled, and he stitched up the distance between them to give her the tightest of hugs. His best friend of a soulmate. Platonic with a capital P. Robin hugged him back fiercely, dropping the blankets. She sagged with relief. Thank God.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Steve mumbled into her hair.

“Cool.”

“Bed’s all yours. Spread out. Starfish. Steal all the covers.”

Robin snorted into Steve’s shoulder, squeezing him tighter. “Okay. Cool, yay.”

Steve chuckled too, squeezing her to death. He really did have the best friend in the world. They swayed a bit like that for a moment, content and comforted in each others’ embrace. Then finally, Steve pulled back and Robin ruffled his hair. He rolled his eyes, swatting at her lightly as she grinned wide. Scooping down to pick up the blankets, he handed them back over to Robin. She smirked.

“Is she a cover hog, too?” Robin teased.

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t ask questions?”

Robin saluted, making her way towards the stairs. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Steve could finally breathe for the first time all day, aside from whenever you were safely in his arms. Knowing that he had his best friend on his side without needing to have a full blown conversation about anything yet…that really helped lighten the load a bit. He exhaled deeply, letting the relief seep into his bones as he made his way to his bedroom door.

***

Once inside, Steve felt his heart swell. There you were, tucked in bed still, sleeping peacefully. Steve walked over to crouch over and kiss your forehead, gently stroking your hair. He noticed you seemed to still be in the same position. Almost like you hadn’t moved at all. He looked at the clock. It’s…been hours. Several hours. At least 4. He looked back down at you, seeing how still you were in the dark.

His heart stopped. Were you too still?

Steve placed a trembling hand underneath your nose, too shaky to be able to tell. But when he felt nothing, he frantically grabbed your wrist — yanking it off your chest to feel for a pulse —

You moved, stirring awake and looking at him groggily. Steve just about collapsed, clutching your hand and bringing it to his lips as he sunk down onto his knees.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and another to your palm.

You groaned lightly, moving to turn towards Steve and yawning. He melted.

“How long have I been out…” you asked him sleepily.

“Hours,” he told you. “Which is good. You need sleep.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering tiredly. “M’hungry.”

That made Steve grin ear to ear. “I can fix that. Want me to bring it up here?”

A grin slowly made its way onto your face too, and you nodded gratefully. Steve squeezed your hand, leaning forward to peck your forehead and your nose and your lips before promising you he would return.

When he did, he came back with the bowl of hot soup that your uncle had kept warm for you along with water and some pain medication. You were sitting up now, leaning against Steve’s chest as he sat with his legs caging you in and leaned up against the headboard. You had just taken the medication a few minutes earlier, now sipping on the hot soup and a tall glass of water that Steve held onto for you.

The little bedside table lamp cast a soft glow in the Harrington’s upstairs guest bedroom, and the sound of light rain outside of the window filled the room along with the plink of your spoon against the soup bowl. Steve felt grounded as he kept his arms around your waist, circled around you as he held you close. His chin sat on top of your head, and the scent of his lavender shampoo in your hair filled his senses with peace.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Steve’s question surprised you as you slurped another spoonful of soup, but you swallowed and felt the corner of your lip twerk up into a little smile.

“Yellow.”

Steve felt himself smile at that, squeezing you a little tighter. “Guess this shirt was a good choice, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m glad you bought two. Rich kid perks ain’t so bad.”

There was lightheartedness to your tone that Steve found himself adoring. Craving, and yearning to hear more of – should time be on all of your side, in this godforsaken town.

“I wonder if Vecna’s rockin’ my other one down there.”

“Nah, the dogs are.”

Steve snorted, giving your hips a little squeeze and pressing a kiss to your temple. You sighed against him, sinking back and placing the bowl of soup onto your lap.

“What’s yours?” you asked him curiously, watching the shadow of the raindrops on the ceiling as they slid down the window.

“Blue. Sky blue.”

You hummed, placing one of your hands that sat on your stomach onto his and interlacing yours fingers. “Like a pretty, non-upside-down clear blue sky?”

“Schyeah, that.” Steve rested his chin back on top of your head as he glanced out the window, the black sky and rainfall sending a shiver down his spine. He wondered if the world would ever feel normal again…

Steve decided to ask you more normal questions, wanting to pretend that none of the dystopian reality just outside his house was real — just for one night. He asked you what your favorite movie was, shocked to find that you loved romcom’s. Especially Endless Love, Pretty in Pink and Working Girl. He wasn’t sure why he thought you’d say dark movies, or maybe sci-fi hits. Maybe Steve didn’t know what he expected you to say. But regardless, your answers fascinated him. He loved learning why you thought Sigourney Weaver’s character was misunderstood in Working Girl, which led to you both discussing women in the work force and how they should receive higher pay – equal to the men. Steve agreed with you, liking how passionate you were about it yet graceful and humble at the same time. You were smart, but somehow underestimated. It was strange. You were strange. Turns out, he loved ‘strange.’

And it also turns out, Steve liked not only action flicks — but dramas, too. Footloose and Baby Boom were on his list of guilty pleasure movies.

“Baby Boom??” you asked incredulously. But you weren’t mocking him, rather genuinely intrigued and amused.

“Hey, it’s adorable,” Steve defends himself with a fake scoff. “She adopts a damn baby and raises her as her own. Be nice.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, tilting your head back to look at him. “God…no wonder you love those kids so much. You’re a natural born mother.”

“Okay but seriously, since when did I become mom and not dad?”

“Apparently, I’m dad.”

“Again: since when?” Steve's tone made you chuckle deeply.

You and Steve talked until your tongues were tired, eventually having moved to lean back onto the pillows. He rested his head into his palm, propped up on an elbow and stroking up your side as you both enjoyed innocent pillow talk. Softly spoken voices, hushed just enough to hear one another. Real hearty laughter that you both muffled into your palms, or each others’ necks, so that you wouldn’t wake anyone. Sweet confessions about food preferences, least favorite holidays, questioning religion while wanting to believe in a god. How Steve thought that vodka was the kiss of death, while you found cigarettes to be disgusting. Steve craved strawberry ice cream, while you were a sucker for plain old vanilla. He loved diners, and you did too. He swore pancakes over waffles, and you made it very clear that French toast was the clear winner. It was a give and take conversation, and you both found it resulted in far more agreements than not. It was the loveliest conversation that either of you’d had in years. Maybe ever. Not just with each other…but with anyone at all.

“So…six kids and a Winnebago, huh?”

Steve’s eyes danced in the moonlight, looking at you with pure adoration. Shyly, he tucked your hair behind your ear, slowly nodding. “Heard that, huh?”

You gave him a little smirk. “It was a pretty small Winnebago.”

He shook his head fondly, then — “Yeah. Turns out being an only child gets to you.”

You nodded sadly. “Yeah. It does.”

Steve hated that you knew that same loneliness. But then again, was that what made you both see each other so clearly? Is that why you knew his deeply rooted longing and misery better than anyone else? Is that why maybe, just maybe…in telling Nancy to run off with Jonathan…you were protecting him? He wondered these things as he looked into your angel eyes, not knowing how in the world he could have not looked at them like this before…especially right when he met you.

You told Steve how you’d always wanted a dog growing up, which led to his immediately confessing he wanted a lab or golden retriever. You nodded eagerly. Yes. Those, or a border collie. A dog that felt like a true family member. Even a stray mutt who needed a home. You both laughed at the funny names you both wanted to name them as kids. Winston, Jeffery, Petunia, PeeWee, Pumpkin, Count Duku. When Steve suggested pancakes as a name, you had to literally turn your head into the pillow to keep your laughter from roaring through the room and waking the household. Even Steve felt like he’d pee himself from laughing so hard, watching you laugh so hard.

God, you were beautiful. You were so beautiful.

…when you smiled up at Steve, bashfully, he realized that he’d said it out loud. “So are you,” you breathed.

Steve shook his head. “I’m not, though.”

Your brow creased. “Yes, you are. You know you are…and if you don’t –”

“I don’t.”

“Well, you are,” you said simply.

Steve pressed his lips together, self-conscious. How had he felt so damn confident all those years in high school, even middle school, but not now? You reached up to push back some of his perfect hair, caressing his cheek.

“I haven’t been,” he confessed, almost in a whisper. “Not to you. I’ve been ugly. Really ugly.”

You looked into his guilty eyes, but Steve couldn’t find any anger or sadness in yours. Just understanding and forgiveness.

“I was, too,” you admitted.

“No,” Steve shook his head, adamantly. “Not like me.”

“Steve, I wrecked your life. Well, your love life. But still, I wrecked it.”

“No, you only wrecked it when you left it,” Steve confessed, bitter at the memory but not at you.

Never at you. Never again.

“Telling me I deserve better, and I…told you that you deserved…nothing.” He visibly winces at his own words. “God, I’m so sorry —”

“Steve,” you stopped him softly, cupping his cheeks. “Don’t. I’ve forgiven it. Really. You didn’t know. You were hurt.”

“Doesn’t make it right,” Steve whispered, looking at you with those beautiful doe eyes that shone in the moonlight. “I actively made a point to stop hurting people, and I did it again anyway. Worse. Way worse than my stupid King Steve days.”

You shrugged, trying to make him smile again. “King Steve was pretty amateur compared to the hard ass you became.”

Steve bit back a laugh, maybe even some tears. Still, he let the joke land. You crane your neck up to nuzzle his nose, making him sigh and return the eskimo kiss. Then you hissed in pain, letting out a little groan.

“What's wrong?” he asked worriedly, brow pinched.

“Stupid shoulder,” you muttered. “My ribs, too, damn…”

Steve looked down at your ribcage sadly, splaying his fingers there against your skin underneath his yellow crewneck. He sighed. “That’s because of me,” he confessed sadly. “Pounding on you nonstop today with the compressions.”

“Well in that case, I’ll take it. Pain’s good.”

You winked at him, and Steve tried to let that comfort him. It did, for the most part. Your oxygen intake really made it worth it, in the end. He leaned down to press his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as you did the same.

“I don’t know where we’re headed,” Steve whispered against you. “Hawkins. The country. The world.” He paused, breathing you in. “Just know I want you there. All the time.”

You smiled, eyes still closed, heart fluttering. “Good. You’re stuck with me, Harrington. Bothering the ever-living shit outta you.”

“Bother me till I go insane,” Steve breathed, nuzzling his nose against you and grinning like an idiot. He felt happy. Absurdly happy. Who thought that was possible?

“...Steve?”

He opened his eyes slightly, finding yours were already looking into his. He waited, pulling back nervously. Which is stupid, considering you’d just told him you felt the same way. That you wanted to stay by his side, no matter what happens. So why was he thinking that just changed within a 3-second timespan? Why was he suddenly worried that you —

“I love you so much.”

19 years flashed before Steve’s eyes at that moment. His childhood. His pre-teens, and all the teen years that followed. He thought back to every single I love you that had been spoken to him. It hadn’t been many. At least not many that meant anything to him. He could count on one hand the amount of I love you’s that meant something to him over the course of 19 years. But now, he could count on one finger the one that meant the very most to him.

“I love you so much, too,” Steve breathed, eyes glassy and mesmerized as they looked back into yours. “God, you’ve no idea, I…”

Steve felt overwhelmed. He scrunched his eyes shut, resting his forehead to yours again and caressing your cheeks. He pecked your face, every inch of it, slowly. Little kisses peppering your face. “I love you so much.”

He could have bawled on the spot if he weren’t so completely entranced, swept up in the tidal wave of joy that splashed across his heart, mind, body and soul. Steve could bawl about it later. Right now, he simply leaned into your touch and vowed to never let you go.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

bless Murray and his impeccably uncensored madness. about time he set everyone straight, damn.

as alwaysssss, thank u for reading :) this series is so much fun. please comment, it always makes my day.

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writella · 9 months

Note

hi, sweetie! Hope you’re doing well. I just had the cutest thought that I wanted to share. And maybe if you want to add on to it as a drabble or something please feel free:) if not, then please just enjoy todays shower thoughts lol.

I’m thinking about a friends with benefits! reader and Daryl who find themselves travelling by canoe for whatever reason. And how they might get into some petty argument or even play fight that ends with them flipping the boat and the two of them just stand in the water, soaking wet and staring blankly at eachother with disappointment. Bangs sticking to your both your foreheads as the canoe slowly floats down the river along with all your dignity.

Take care! xoxo

Rocking the Boat

Synopsis: Daryl has been back home for weeks; the first attack against the Sanctuary is complete; Alexandria, the Kingdom, and the Hilltop are on their way to freedom; but nothing is the same as it was, especially not with you and Daryl. Maybe a house boat side quest will break the ice, or really, make some waves.

Details: This is set during the beginning of season 8, it includes violence, smut, a fwb relationship but feelings are involved, mutual pining, a little bit of switch Daryl and reader, and some sweetness because I think it’s just my thing at this point. ♡

A/N + Response: Hello, lovely miss T ♡ what a fun idea!! I love the imagery you set with the canoe tipping over, especially the bangs so cute— it was one of my favorite parts to write here! This is probably a bit unrealistic and much longer than I intended, so I think I might consider this a full one-shot as well as a concept, and… it’s also a bit sad? Just a little until we get to the good stuff, I promise ;) Anyway I hope you like it; let me know what you think!!

Daryl sat on Rick’s porch, his back against the poles, reloading his guns as you sped up the steps, “I think we should go back to the boats. Now.” Your voice was hurried, you had run all the way from your house, but he didn't even look up at you.

“Why would we do somethin’ stupid like that?” His voice was low, and annoyed. You didn’t expect to be greeted kindly, but at least he sounded like anything other than emotionless to you since the first time you saw him again; since the time he escaped the Sanctuary.

“There’s no one there. I saw it before I got back home. There were people with guns sitting outside the first time we saw it, but now there aren't.”

“A couple of guns ain’t gonna help us.”

“There had to have been a reason they were guarding it before.” Your words were urgent and your eyes pleaded for him to look up. “Any amount of guns could make the difference, Daryl. You know that.” You stare at him, waiting for nothing as he doesn’t respond. “Did you and Rick even find anything before you got back?” You cross your arms, “Cause it doesn’t look like it. And I think I just did.”

You had gotten separated from the group after the first attack against the Sanctuary: you ran without thinking, just trying to get away from the army of walkers stampeding the place. Straying off the usual path to Alexandria, you accidentally reencountered a place you and Daryl only saw once before. It was a time before Negan, before the Saviors. But now, remembering their jackets, and their weapons, and how their bikes looked parked at the shore, you realized those were three Savior cabin boats— fairly sized, a bit rusty, they had a shack like feel, but it was big enough to stand and sleep in. Maybe something of use could be in there, and at least it was something to do while you waited for the final attack.

Similar to Rosita and Michonne, you also got hurt by the scavengers— day zero of the war, when Sasha died— but the girls left you here, they didn’t even tell you they were going, you didn’t even see them leave. But you needed to get out too; you needed to help. “I’m going with or without you.” Your anger started bubbling at his indifference, “And I saw you talking to Tara, I know you’re planning something, so if you want to go off with her and complete your idiot side plan-”

“You’re the one with the dumbass plan.”

“- then that’s fine!” You glare at him, his eyes still so evasive, it infuriates you. “My objective is to find more weapons, before the final attack.” You lied, you both knew your objective was to rest before the final attack, “So I’m gonna go do that.”

You begin to walk briskly. You knew he was going to try to stop you. You knew he was going to come with you when he realized, yet again, he couldn’t stop you, or… you hoped he couldn’t… Sometimes you forget how much stronger he is than you. You had a smart mouth and you knew how to get a reaction out of him, or at least you did in the past, but he could pinned you down with one hand, making you completely immobile— it’s happened before. The thought makes you walk faster, heading for the nearest car. You were trying to make a point although you weren’t sure what it was. You were just tired of sitting around, tired of his treatment— mistreatment, actually. You knew he had reason to act curtly, what he went through was unspeakable, but you were still there for him, waiting, but he never came to you. Not even late at night. Not even to simply sleep.

Just as you’re about to reach the car you feel his hand wrap around your arm, you almost let it yank you. Your breath is a heavy mix of fear and excitement as he does so. Maybe you finally got something out of him. Maybe you still have it. Maybe you still have him. “We don’t got time for this,” he hissed. Then his jaw clenched, it almost looked like he was chewing on something, “but you’re forgetting the boat.”

“It’s a canoe.” You were pushing it with the retort, he was coming.

He grunts as he lets go of your arm, it slapping down to your side. You wait for him by the car as he retrieves the canoe and paddles from one of the house garages. You guys had found it a long while ago, never knowing when it would be of use. That time was now.

The ride toward the waterfront was irritable and depressing to say the least. You wanted to be around Daryl, you wanted to stop him from going off plan with Tara, but most importantly, you just wanted to talk to him; finally and for once. You all were on the biggest missions of your life, in the biggest war of your life… who knows where your fates would lie after this, but he has yet to say anything to you that didn’t involve fighting the Saviors, and even with that, he didn’t say much. He wanted to win. He was ready to do it fast. Whatever it took. That was all.

He kept shifting in his seat, short, low grunts coming out of the side of his mouth— he didn’t want to do this right now, but he knew you were just as stubborn as him, especially when it came to him. As dumb as he felt this was, it wasn’t time for another person he cares about to get hurt.

“Stop fuming,” you muttered.

He snapped back, barking your name, “We’re in a war! We could be doin’ better things right now and got me here for what?”

“Maybe so you don’t kill people we need alive right now?” You were talking about Dwight, you did more than just see Daryl talking to Tara.

His following grunt truly said typical. “You always got your nose where it don’t belong.”

You ignore him, “We should follow Rick’s plan.”

He shakes his head, ignoring you this time. He’s tired of talking about this. He’s going to go on the boat, see if there’s weapons, get Tara, and use whatever you two find to complete his own plan at the Sanctuary. This needs to be done.

“At least it’s a little over 5 miles off the out-post the Kingdom took out,” you reason, “that must be why no one is there anymore.”

Still no response. Typical, it’s your turn to think it. You let go of talking to him for now. The rest of the drive was silent as well as when you get to your destination, starting to put the canoe on water.

You look at the three small, now unguarded, boats. Only one bike was by the land and there was blood splattered on the middle house, the biggest one. Maybe the Kingdom took out the guy that was there, but there were no boats or canoes around, no way for someone to get close enough inside.

You two get in, starting to row. “There better be somethin’ good in there,” Daryl huffed. You hoped so too. Uncertainty started filling in with the reality of your awful plan. There really could be nothing in there and you really could have spent your day doing something that mattered to the cause. If these boats held anything important, why wasn’t a Savior there already? But even worse, the realization that you were acting out of desperation just because Daryl had been acting so cold… felt even more terrible.

You knew Daryl was scarred, far more than before and you were trying to be patient. You were going to let him come to you. You knew he needed time, and he was at the Kingdom for a little bit anyway, hiding out from Negan. You couldn’t even talk to him if you wanted to because of that. But now you had been planning that first attack for weeks, you were sleeping in the same place together again, but not in the same room, not touching. And again, you understood why, but then again… you didn’t. It was so hard to gain his trust, for him to open up to you, you thought that was something you gained for keeps; but now he wasn’t even allowing you to have a friendship anymore, let alone this in-between relationship you used to have. It made you upset how much power you realized you let him have over you. You missed him so much, and now you weren’t even sure if he missed you back, or if he had reason to. Maybe it was just a fling after all.

War feels long, but it’s only a short time in truth. Nonetheless, a short time that can define who you are thereafter. This could be him, and maybe it always was. And this could be how you two will always be. Forever.

You decide to break the silence again as you row, your thoughts becoming insufferable: “That’s actually not the right technique,” you stutter, “if- if you’re curious.” You start to row based on what you taught yourself, the canoe going just a bit faster now, “I read it in a book from Deana’s old library.”

“So you read somethin’ in a book and now you think you know everything?” His eyes were annoyed. “Hmph.”

Your voice raises, “Well just because you’re so experienced in the wilderness or whatever doesn’t mean you know everything either.”

“I’m doin’ it fine.” He wasn’t. “You don’t even know how to swim.” You didn’t. “So maybe just be glad you ain’t dying today.”

You repeat yourself, “Still- doesn’t- mean- you know how to do everything… You expect me to think Merle took you canoeing? Of all things?” You cock your head, “Pretty sure he was out finding the next score.” You knew it was a low blow to bring up the dead brother, but you were upset. No talking and now insults? You could be cold too, even colder, even if you didn’t like it.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

Then you screamed. A walker with gills, swimming in the water approached your boat behind Daryl. Your voice made him turn around to see it. You take your paddle to try to stab it in the head, but the walker’s hands are along the canoe rim, coming closer to you, it makes you accidently hit Daryl with your swing. “Oh- Sorry!”

“Fuck!” He yelled.

“I’m sorry!” A realization comes, “Is this the guy?”

“If it was he’s been dead for a while.” Daryl shouts, taking out his gun and you take out your knife. He’s trying to shoot the walker in the head, it’s closer to your side now. But you’re thrashing and water is flying while you try to jab them in the head with your knife. The walker has one of your arms and you’re trying to pry it away with the hand that has the knife. Neither of you have a clear shot at getting the thing, all three of you rocking the canoe far too much.

“Stay still!” He yells at you.

“Im trying!” You shout with the same force, the same annoyance, “He’s not making it easy, Daryl!”

Daryl has a chance to shoot the walker in the stomach, and he takes it, but it does nothing. The walker’s hands on you do not quit. The two of you just keep yelling at each other, riling the walker up. You can hear the biting sounds they’re making near your arm.

He shoots again, but you and the walker are still moving too much and Daryl’s loosing balance. The walker is tipping the canoe with their hands, water splashing inside. The next bullet goes into the wood, making a hole.

Their starving mouth continues to try to bite at you. You pull using all your strength to get their mouth away, trying to use your other hand to slice into their head. You two have never seen a walker like this: they can swim and they’re so strong.

Water now fills the boat from the hole as Daryl moves forward on the canoe, pushing your head, his hand quite literally covering your whole face to shove you out of the way, getting a clear shot at the walker and firing at their head. He clicks twice: Boom. Boom. Guts and water fly everywhere.

The splashing of the water and the firing of his gun overwhelms all your senses. The weight of Daryl is on your side now, neither of you have balance; both your weights pull the canoe over the edge as it flips over entirely with you under it.

You scream, but your voice is muffled. You thrash around, trying to use what little experience you have. You come above water for a few seconds, wailing, and Daryl grabs you.

“Hey- Hey- Hey!” his words snap, rough like barks until he gets you to look at him, gripping your face so it’s forward. “It’s okay,” he’s breathing almost as heavy as you are. His voice becomes even now, “It’s okay.” You realize he has you in his arms— it really was okay.

Feeling he might make a comment about you almost drowning, you force yourself to speak through water filled lungs, “Don’t. Say it.”

So he didn’t. He just holds you tight, you even feel his thumbs squeezing into you at the waist now, and through half lidded eyes, you see his arms tense, working hard to make sure you never fall, but it’s at a half arm's length, his elbows bent. You blink rapidly, your wet eyelashes still flapping shut until you’re able to open them better. You can see Daryl more clearly now.

You try to swipe some of the hair out of your face. The baby hairs at the crown of your forehead stayed slick in place while some parts of your hair started to lightly form your wave or curl pattern, but in all, you were absolutely drenched.

Your hands now hold onto his forearms just as tight as his below. It was one of those rare moments where you remember just how blue his eyes are. Their narrow shape and the way his hair lays always hides them away. But the sun was behind you, casting its light directly on him and his hair was now slick to his head as well: only some of it resting on his forehead.

If someone were to describe Daryl’s looks, they would probably say something typical like dark and rugged. They don’t see what you see. God, you forgot how uniquely handsome he was.

His hair changed colors in the light, it wasn’t as dark brown anymore, flecks of it were a more golden brown in the sun. And you loved the mole that was just above his lip and facial hair. Almost no one else in the group had something like that. And now, there was the way his button down stuck onto his skin. The color was dark enough that it wasn’t see-through, but you saw every indent, every line of his bicep and tricep as you looked at his arms, trying to avoid his face, trying to avoid his chest or anywhere lower.

On the other hand, Daryl was trying even harder to avoid looking at your soaked body, failing even worse. His eyes couldn’t help but linger on how your chest huffed as you tried to catch your breath. Your collarbones are now exposed as your shirt slides down just a bit further, the light color almost see through because of the water, and your bra didn’t help much either. It was one of those without the padding, it was the only one that fit— your supplies, food and wearable, clean clothing, were running dangerously low at home. The thin material of both top garments showed how your nipples perked up now. And the way he had to grasp tightly on the smalls of your waist, feeling your stomach inhale and exhale as you calmed yourself down didn’t help either. It was like he felt your hold body moving… similar to a way he used to feel it.

It all makes him realize now how he hasn’t gotten the courage to look at you directly in the longest. God, he forgot how pretty you are. How lovely it was to hold you. Even if it was to escape death.

Your eyes are so big as you hold on tightly to his arms, you’re still shaken up. Trying to paddle your feet like you’ve seen on tv and in videos in the past. It’s adorable.

He didn’t dare look any longer, but part of him wondered if you were looking at him the same way. And you were. Specifically, the way you could see every line and ripple of his abdomen with his button up now glued to his body. As you let your eyes trail just a bit more form his arms, you noticed how magnified his chest looked, how his nipples were just as pert as yours.

It all made you feel something warm down below and it made something inside him twitch, but this wasn’t the time. He had been feeling so many things since he returned that he didn’t even know which ones to act upon first, so he reverted back to saying nothing, or at least nothing that had to do with how he really felt, how he really felt about you that is.

In the end, “You better hope I can make one of those shits run or we’re fucked,” was all he decided to say.

He moves your hands onto the back sides of his waist and he starts to swim. Your legs are off to the sides and he tells you to kick as he is and hold on tight as he swims you both to the middle boathouse, the one with the blood.

You hold onto the ledge as you finally arrive, allowing Daryl to go in first, checking for walkers at each boat. He does the side ones first. No one is there. Finally, he goes to the middle house: out of all of them, it’s the biggest wreck. The place is filled with pictures, Polaroids, scattered all over the place. It’s of the Saviors. And there’s all kinds of guns scattered on the floor, but he can’t help but to stare at the faces. He knew some of those faces.

You call his name, but he doesn’t respond. “What was in the other two?” You yell for him again, but nothing. You decide to go in the middle one as well, your eyes are amazed by the mess of guns on the floor. There were even ones still hooked up to the wall. There were knives and daggers too. Even glass cases with various bullets, you wondered what they did. Was this the emergency weapons stash? Had you reached it before a Savior could? “Why aren’t you picking this stuff up?” You look up at him impatiently, shaking your head and huffing, you’ll do it yourself you guess.

Daryl continues to look around, picking up a frame. The only framed picture in the boat. It was cracked on the ground: A Polaroid of Negan.

He takes the picture out of the broken glass to look at it closer. As if this wasn’t already the attitude of much of the Saviors, whoever lived and protected this place must have worshiped him. Negan stood proudly in it, his bat on the side of his shoulders, a big rifle strapped around his back on the other. His hair and beard was all black, and that notorious, all encompassing grin plastered his face from ear to ear. Daryl turned the picture over: the words, ‘Negan — The First Savior. My Savior,’ was written on the back.

It fired him up. It made him think of the dark, of that cell, of the food that probably wasn’t even food, when he was kicked and jumped by those Saviors in the parking lot, and that damn song— the saccharine melody would live on in his brain like a siren. There would never be silence inside him again. In fact, there never was. It was only louder now. So loud and so angry he feels it in his throat, traveling to his tongue, beneath his eyes, as he can no longer keep it in anymore; but he tries, and tries, and tries, quietly holding everything in while you keep collecting weapons, putting them in bags you find. The picture crumples in his closing hand, his fist turning red as he grips tightly, ruining the shining paper.

He slides down against the boat wall, sitting on the ground biting his tongue, stopping the feelings until you're done; until you two can leave and he can do what he needs to do. It’ll be without you, without Rick, without anyone. This needs to be done. He’ll do it.

“Daryl,” you call out, not facing him, collecting the bags. “I think I counted 32, but it could be 40… I think there’s smaller ones by the wheel and I didn’t even get the swords yet. If there's about the same number on the other two, there could be maybe over 100 new weapons,” you gasp with disbelief. “Were the other two like this?“

You we’re relieved, you knew it was a dumb plan, but you came out of it with a win; it was worth it. “Daryl, come on-” you turn to him now, “oh.”

You almost couldn’t see his eyes with how much more narrow he made them, they were practically closed and his face was down. You wondered if this was the moment you would first see him cry: his lip quivered, his face was as red as his fists, and he wouldn’t look in your direction, his head was basically to the wall as you started to walk to him.

Your movements are slow as you kneel down to the corner in which he sat. You place fingers along his jaw until your whole hand wraps around the area. Your strokes are gentle, feeling the bristles of his beard on your palm. He had been so angry since he returned, hell bent on war and death, but you remembered… he must have also been so sad, so depressed too. Poor boy, you thought. Poor boy, you forgot; in some ways, he still was just a boy.

You turn his cheek to face you, but his eyes don’t dare meet yours as a few tears start rolling out. Your own emerge too. It’s heartbreaking to see him like this.

You put your forehead to his, your nose rubbing against his own, “I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

You come even closer. Your lips lightly touch his, you’re tentative at first, not knowing if it was right, but then you feel his brush against yours just as light. You decide to move in, your lips parting his own as you kiss him.

Your tongue goes into his mouth, your hand raising his chin, you’re so delicate. He holds your shoulder, you lean into his bent body and your other hand slides against his chest. You’re both still wet and cold, but his heart beats warmly.

His head leans up against the wall as you push yourself further onto his lips. You hold his shoulders and he allows you to slide him down.

You look up at him, your hands on his shirt. This is not how you expected today to go. “Is this okay?” You ask softly. His nod is just as soft, you almost don’t see it, but his hands are lightly on top of your own as you unbutton his shirt, he lets you. It’s okay.

He’s unbuckling his belt now, pushing his pants down and your top goes over your head. He starts to unbutton your own jeans. It’s quiet except for your breaths, and the clinking of belts, and the undoing of zippers.

You pull him out a little more from the corner so you can straddle him. You start grinding your hips down into him and he pushes into your clit with his finger, circling it. The bit of warmness you felt below before is now almost pooling out instantly from just the littlest touches. Your back arches, you haven’t felt him in so, so long. You gasp and it accidentally turns into a moan. You’re so needy for it, but you remember: you want to help him.

Your hands move down to his stomach, your lips kiss his neck as your hands travels up to his chest and then back down, you start kissing him everywhere there as you do so, breathing him in, it makes him fidgety, little gruff sounds irruption from his throat, he’s trying to keep it in. Then you got even lower: you kiss down his cock until you’re at the tip. You lick at the pre-cum there. You put just a little bit of him inside your mouth, sucking, stroking the rest of it. His exhale comes out as a shaky gasp, he whimpers slightly.

Finally, you move back up and line yourself up with him, sinking down slowly as you look him in the eyes. You can’t help it, you start to ride him immediately thereafter. The stretch feels so good and so big and full as if you’ve never felt him before. Your moan is light and airy, you missed him. And he groans, “-ugh, fuck” and moans, “uh- mm- argh,” right after you do so. He missed you. You know that now, it makes you smile.

You lean up against him slightly. His mouth parted and you speak into it, your breast brushing against him as you rolled onto him, your stomached touching a bit. “I’ve got you,” you pant into his mouth, he’s panting too, “always.”

He holds onto your hips as you go faster, you’re holding onto his shoulders. “Does it feel good?” You kiss him right after you ask, his tongue going to the top of your mouth, sliding in wet and deliciously, it’s everything you’ve waited for. He hums into you as a response. You feel his dick twitch as your pussy grips on him tighter.

You feel like you both could be close until he starts kissing you more fiercely. His tongue only slipping in slightly as he pecks your lips, he bites down slightly, then kissing you deeply again. Then he turns you over. You’re under him now. His hands go right by your ears, flat on the ground and he thrusts into you. Hard. It almost hurts, you can’t lie. He’s grunting, short and quick, but his rasp, and his hair flying as he quickens the pace, and the fact that pain is slowly turning into pleasure… you’re fine with it. If this is what he needs, you’re fine with it.

His next grunt is almost a yell, it’s like a battle cry. He’s angry and you know it. You hold onto his flex arms tenderly, caressing him, silently telling him you’re there, but you allow him to continue.

His movements are faster now. More irate. His body comes closer to yours, but his movements do not stop their force. His thrusts feels like poundings, you feel like the floor is moving, maybe the boat is rocking, the bags jump with it.

He looks at your screwed shut eyes as one of his hands comes to touch your chest. Trailing your breast, then to the bottom of your stomach, staying there, pressing down, feeling himself inside of you has he shoves himself up and in, he’s deep, so deep. “Mmm,” You’re whining now, “-uuh.” It makes his eyes lighten, he’s humming, low and gruff and continuous, stuttering into you, eyes open waiting to see you come so then he can. It’s right there for him, but he wants to see you, he needs it.

Your moan mixes into a whine, “Daryl please,” you beg, “Daryl please- it’s- it’s too much, it hurts,” it makes him go even faster, and he can’t help himself as he comes in you first, sighing as he does so, but it’s exactly what you need to come undone yourself.

You grab the back of his neck, holding it close to you as you squeeze your arms around him and he does the same to your waist.

You both try to calm your breaths, “Never leave me again,” you say into his ear, breathing roughly. “Please.”

“Never.” He looks at you right in the eye when repeats it, “Never.” He wipes the tears from your face as you both nod, affirming a new promise to each other. “We’ll win. Together.”

After laying for a few moments, just looking at each other, he goes to the bathroom to find a washcloth, warming it with water, helping you clean up. He takes your hand so you can start doing it yourself and he kisses your forehead before he starts to get dressed. “I’ll be back.”

Soon enough, you hear the engine in the front start to rev up. He got it to work.

“You can drive a boat?”

“Gonna learn.” He turns to you, pulling you in front resting your hands on the wheel while he stands behind, his arms over your own. “We both are.”

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x afab!reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd smut #twd fanfiction #wonders with writella #wonderings with daryl #💌 ask answered 💌

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stevesjockstrap · 7 months

Text

Eddie Month day 8

prompt: rockstar & confident

Eddie looked up into the most beautiful face he’d ever seen.

“Hey there, easy, don’t try to get up yet. Can you tell me how many fingers you see?” The beautiful man came more into frame. There might’ve been a couple of him.

“Eight? Or maybe six?” He answered confidently. “Are you my husband?” The man sucked in a breath and looked away, searching for something. Eddie didn’t like that. “I don’t care how many fingers you have, gorgeous. That doesn’t matter at all to me. The more the merrier-“

“Get someone, I don’t understand why they don’t have medical or someone. He’s definitely concussed. Because I know, okay? Just, ugh, stop arguing with me and go find someone in charge. Or try to flag down someone on stage.”

Eddie had no idea what was happening, but his very hot husband seemed to be handling everything. He laid back and continued to stare up at him. There was a sharp pain on his temple and a dull ache in his head and his left wrist, but that couldn’t matter much.

“Forgive me baby, but I seem to have forgotten your name.” He smirked up at him. He reached a hand out to the middle person as his vision swam. That was fine, too.

The beautiful man knelt back down next to him and took his hand. “I’m Steve. You didn’t know my name before, though. We sort of just met. You fell off the stage during a sound check. And no one seems to give a fuck that you’re hurt and probably have a concussion.” That seemed like a lot. His temple pulled tight and he hissed when he tried to frown to think. “Don’t worry, though. I’m going to take care of you.”

“I’m not worried, Stevie.” He pulled their connected hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of his husband’s. “You always take such good care of me.”

“Oh man,” he heard him sigh. They were so in love. Eddie smiled and closed his eyes. It hurt to try to focus on the multiples of Steve and the people moving around behind him.

“What’s going on?” Someone with a stern voice made him jump some time later. He opened his eyes and saw Steve was still kneeling with him, so he closed his eyes again. He didn’t have to worry, Steve would handle it.

“He fell off the stage and hit his head. No one even came to check on him. He’s out of it and confused and probably concussed. He’s seeing at least double and he thinks- um, he thinks he knows me and he doesn’t.”

He perked up at that. “Well I think I would know my own husband!”

The new guy blinked at him then turned back to Steve. “Okay. An ambulance is on its way. Do you think we can get him over to the parking lot? It’s going to be a mess to try to get a stretcher through the crowd.”

Steve mumbled something under his breath that sounded like a combination of very creative swear words and Eddie chuckled. His husband was such a hard ass.

“We can try but if he gets dizzy or worse we’re stopping and you’re just going to have to do something to get a stretcher here. How do you plan a festival with zero medical staff? This is fucking ridiculous and-“

“It’s okay, baby, I can walk.” He sat up quickly and the crowd spun around him. “Woah. Maaaaybe not.”

“Exactly. Okay, lay back down. I got you.” Steve’s other hand came around the back of his head to guide him as he leaned back. There was a rolled up shirt or something he hadn’t realized had been tucked behind his head. Probably Steve’s. He was such a good husband.

There was a bunch more talking above him and he didn’t really listen. Steve’s voice got louder and more stern and then calmed down. A female voice came and Steve seemed to calm down even more.

“I love you so much, Stevie. Taking such good care of me. Gunna suck your dick so good when we get home.”

Steve made a choking noise and someone giggled next to them.

“Eddie!” A familiar voice called. “Eddie what the fuck?”

He opened his eyes to see Gareth and Jeff hovering over him. “Oh hey guys,” he greeted them. When he tried to sit up a hand pushed his chest back down. “Stevie here is taking care of everything. I guess I hit my head?”

“We thought you just disappeared. They finally got Chrissy on the radio to tell us you fell and they’re waiting on an ambulance. What the fuck, dude? And who is Steve?”

“Steve, my husband? Obviously.” He waved their conjoined hands for emphasis.

He looked up to see Steve wince and Gareth and Jeff share a puzzled look. The hand on his chest left.

“Sorry. Hi, I’m Steve. I was just sort of here, when he fell. He’s confused. I think he has a concussion.”

He watched them all shake hands, the guys now looking more concerned than before.

“Shit, man. If we don’t play we don’t get paid. We need this.”

“We can stay with him, if that’ll help. Can you go on without him?” Steve offered.

The guys shared another look. Jeff shrugged, “I mean, we probably have to. We can swap out some of the songs where he’s the lead-“ he looked around. “We need to go talk to Chrissy. Gareth, give him your number so he can keep in contact with us. We really appreciate this, Steve.” Jeff disappeared and he watched, confused, as Steve handed Gareth his phone. Why were they acting like they didn’t know each other?

Before he could question anyone, there was a stretcher and people in uniforms helped get him onto it and wheeled him through a crowd of people. He kept his eyes on Steve who stayed beside him and held his hand the entire way.

“You riding with us?” The EMT asked Steve after they locked the stretcher into the ambulance.

Eddie answered, “Of course, this is my husband.”

Steve sighed. “Yes and no. I’m coming. I am not his husband, though. He’s concussed and we just met.”

The other EMT raised her eyebrows. “Alright then. Glad you were around.”

Steve settled onto the seat next to him and took his hand again.

Eddie settled back and looked up at him. “Me too.”

@eddiemonth

#Going out of order because my brain wanted to do this instead of kinktober today #Eddie month #eddie month fic #Mine #Steve’s a concussion expert #Steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #stranger things #stranger things fic

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sevensoulmates · 15 days

Note

I’m interested to hear your thoughts on Tim saying in that recent interview that the choice to bring Marisol/Edy back was Ryan’s. We’ve seen how deeply Ryan understands Eddie, so I’m wondering why he specifically wanted that character back who has less than zero chemistry.

Mmm. Well, there's been a lot of talk going around about storylines being switched up. Apparently, both Buck AND Eddie were in talks for this coming out storyline (which--I'm still mind blown that this is info we even know). So obviously, there had to have been SOME conversations with Ryan about it.

It seemed to me like Tim's original plan was Natalia because he said he wanted to do something with her (not necessarily keep her around for a while, but give them an ending story arc). When the actress declined to come back, I think his second plan of action was Lucy. Okay, Lucy comes back and what? They explore a relationship? Idk. But when the actress ALSO couldn't come back and Tim was looking for someone else, I think the idea of bringing Tommy back led to a question for Tim: do I have him with Eddie or Buck?

Tim also says in the latest interview that he couldn't just have both of Buck and Eddie's love interests fizzle out over the hiatus, which says to me that Tim probably wasn't all that interested in Marisol either. I think that if Natalia had stayed as originally planned, Marisol would've been the one written out.

Lou said that from his first call with Tim, he was aware that his character was going to be gay and getting with one of their two main single men. I think that probably their earliest conversations was about him being with Eddie. And if Tim was talking to Lou about Eddie, I'm nearly positive the conversations had already happened with Ryan.

I think that the original plan from Tim was to have Eddie's arc this season be getting with a man, Buck's being with Natalia, and maybe having Lucy come in to once again throw in a wrench. But no Natalia led to Lucy possibly being his main LI. But no Lucy meant that now Tim was in a lurch with Buck. What can he do with him? Well, if the plan was always to get Buddie together eventually, and to have both characters have a coming-out arc at some point, they can do a switcheroo.

I think most likely Ryan suggested Marisol because he was aware that they were in a lurch for Buck, and probably because he felt the storyline fit better into Buck's story at the moment than Eddie's.

Tommy can get with Buck, and have Buck be the one to realize he's queer first. It makes sense because while Buck may be oblivious to his own feelings, he's not repressed like Eddie.

We still have Marisol around so we can use her as a backup and as a vehicle to have Eddie continue to deconstruct his compulsory heterosexuality, which in the end, Ryan probably realized was a story that needed to take its time to be scrutinized and handled well. He's aware that all of his past love interests (Ana and Marisol) have been "filler" in his words. He probably wanted to suggest that Marisol finally be given a bit more so that Eddie can actually LEARN something from these relationships instead of just the unending cycle of date random woman -> break up with random woman, ya know?

So, to answer your question, no. I don't think Ryan specifically asked for Marisol to come back because he particularly loved the character and wanted her around in his storyline. I think he recognized that there was somewhere his character could go with Marisol that would be interesting and fit his character arc and so he suggested it and Tim agreed.

#911 abc #speculation #press #911 press #buddie #eddie diaz #ryan guzman

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kitthepurplepotato · 10 months

Text

MWRMI Part 7

My Weird Roommate, Midoriya Izuku

🍼 Week 4 Part 1 - Deku’s daycare 🍼

~•🥦•~

Summary: You are added to a secret group chat.

Bakugou forces Midoriya to take a holiday, Midoriya looses his mind and so are you.

Midoriya realizes why does Y/N feel different than his other friends.

(Author is sleep deprived but it’s Izuku’s birthday, so ignore the mistakes and enjoy the early content. 😂 HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!)

Warnings: Swear words, Katsuki saying inappropriate things.

First part Masterlist

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Midoriya was barely home this week. He left with everyone the next day after the get-together and didn’t come back until late in the night, and even then, he only slept a few hours and went out again. There was a massive villain group on the loose around town so the two main agencies; Deku’s and Dynamight’s; barely had time to sleep before they were needed again.

To be honest, you needed some time to think so you really didn’t mind having a few days without the cuddly greenette but after a while the urge to see him got stronger than your common sense so you ended up asleep on the sofa just to be able to hear Midoriya’s mumbles for a few minutes before passing out again, finding yourself in your own bed the next morning.

You still don’t remember too much about that night; you know it was important and you know you are missing an important piece of the puzzle, but the memory is lost between the daydreams of soft lips and scarred hands. Your feelings are so tangled you can’t seem to see the end of it; you are stuck between feeling adoration for your favorite hero and being in love with one; adoration sounds too shallow but love sounds too fake; you are nothing but a lucky fan, so “love” is out of the game for you; Midoriya Izuku might be an affectionate, loving person but even with a big heart like his there is no way he can see you in a romantic way, so you try your best to keep your romantic feelings at bay; clearly failing at it, but you are indeed trying. Hard. Really hard.

You are quirkless and weird, you look okay but you are nothing out of the ordinary; you are not a model nor a genius, there is nothing about you that stands out enough for you to be even considered as a romantic interest.

Also, you are his flatmate. Even if things go the way you want them to, things can get weird really quickly; It’s risky business and you’ve had enough of those in the last few years so even though it hurts like hell you decide to take a step back. It’s not worth it to throw this beautiful thing between you and him away just because you can’t keep it in your pants, because honestly, the way Midoriya’s treating you is already more than what you could’ve ever asked for; he’s loving and affectionate and even you with your zero confidence can see how fond he is of you. You just need to put your stupid fluffy feelings aside and enjoy his company when he actually comes home, then get ready to have your heart broken when a better person takes your place in his heart.

It will be fine. Everything will be fine, eventually.

~•🥦•~

When you look at your phone, you are surprised to see a bunch of notifications on it; apparently, you were added to a group during the night. The group is called….

— Deku’s Daycare! —

*Bakugou added you to the group*

*Bakugou changed your name to “Freeloader”

Pikachu: Welcome to the group, Y/N! This group was made so we can keep an eye on Zuku when he’s too busy to reply to all of us!

Kacchan Sugoi: No, this group was made to talk shit about shitty Deku, because he’s an asshole who can’t even respond to messages.

EMO bitch(Jirou): No, I’m quite sure this group was made so we can all laugh at Deku’s shenanigans. Like how he said sorry to a lamppost the other day, because he bumped into it.

Piggy 🐷 (Mina): I thought this group is for surprise party planning? 🎈 💃

Glasses 👓: Guys, don’t confuse Y/N. We are all here because we worry about our friend and this way we can always get information from Bakugou-san about his well-being. As you live with our friend you will also be able to talk to us if something bothers you and we can also ask you about him when we are worried. Please, feel free to mute the group chat if it’s too much for you and we will contact you in other ways.

Kacchan Sugoi: With that said, you’ll have a long week ahead of you.

Freeloader: ? @Bakugou

Freeloader: Thank you guys for having me, it’s a pleasure to be here! Nice to meet you… Glasses?

Glasses 👓: I’m Iida Tenya. You might know me as Ingenium. Nice to meet you too.

You have no idea what’s Bakugou talking about, but the group looks really fun and you are really thankful to be a part of it. It’s still extremely weird to be involved with so many of your favorites on such a personal level, but you are getting much better at handling this.

~•🥦•~

You make your way out of your room around 10 AM to get a head start on your new commission. Midoriya’s next free day is in three days, so you don’t even bother putting on more layers; you are in shorts and a breezy tank top, your hair up in a messy bun. You do a quick stretch before sitting down at the table, your top riding up to your belly button, when you hear something falling on the floor in the living room. Ahh, your buddy is being a menace again.

“All Meowt, I told you not to sit on the coffee table! What did you…”

Midoriya stares at you from the sofa.

“Break…”

A random ball-shaped stress toy rolls on the floor until All Meowt snatches it and runs away.

“…this time?”

“Uhm… Hi.” Midoriya mumbles with a flushed face, and awkward smile decorating his pretty face.

“IZU-IZU!”

All your stupid thoughts are thrown out of the window as soon as you see the adorable greenette; you missed him so fucking much you actually had withdrawal symptoms at one point.

By the look of it, Midoriya went through the same thought process and met you halfway in the living room, hugging you tightly. Thanks to the breezy tank top his hands end up on your naked skin, sending shivers down your body; he moves his hands away while a barely audible “sorry” leaves his mouth.

“I missed you.” You look into his green eyes with a fond smile; from up close you can see how the outside of his irises are darker than the rest and it gets lighter and lighter by the middle. You also realize his eyes are absolutely huge; it’s really hard to stop staring into them.

“Stop looking at me like that.” The greenette sighs as he presses his forehead against yours; the word stops again and there is nothing but you and him in the middle of the living room.

“Why?” You mumble cheekily, a mischievous smirk appearing on your face.

Hey, it’s just two buddies having fun, okay?

“Y/N, can I kiss you?” The greenette spurts out, then pales; he almost THROWS you away the second he finishes his sentence. You stumble backwards from the strength of the push, staring at the red faced hero, waiting for an explanation. He did not say that, did he?!

“I mean, in a friendly way! On your cheeks or your hair, I’ve been thinking about it quite a lot, oh my god that was such a bad timing, wasn’t it, it sounded like I want to kiss you on your lips, not like kissing you on your lips would be a problem, I mean, you are really pretty and cute and you smell so nice, OhMyGodWhyDidISayThatOutoud, please, I really meant it in a friendly, affectionate way, oh my god I think I’m going to throw up, Y/N, what have I done, I need to go to the bathroom.” Midoriya then runs, his face changing between ‘white as a sheet’ and ‘red as a tomato’ as he hurries towards the bathroom, retching on the way.

You stare at the door for a few seconds before you burst out laughing, hysterically. There is no other way to get through this trauma than to laugh about it. Honestly, what the fuck was that?

“Don’t laugh at me, Y/N!” Midoriya whines from the bathroom. “This is so embarrassing!”

“You are an absolute idiot, Midoriya, but I fucking love you for it.” You yell in between two laughing fits as the hero emerges from the bathroom with a sad look on his face.

“Hey husband, come here.” You coo at the red faced greenette with a shit eating grin. Wow, you can’t believe you can bully your favorite hero like that. You do feel bad about it, but you can hate yourself later, now you just want to have fun.

He slowly moves closer but doesn’t look up; he just stares at the floor, mortified. You take his cheeks in your hand and give him a huge kiss on his forehead, then move down to his cheek; it’s so soft and so warm under your lips, your heart skips a beat. You can feel the blush creeping up on your face but fuck it; there is no place for a sad Midoriya in this household and if he wants kisses then he gets kisses. “Better?” The greenette just nods and pulls you close to hide his face in your neck, which seems to be his favorite thing to do with you as you guys usually end up in this position every time you get close to each other.

You don’t like the fact that he feels like he needs to hide from the world, but you appreciate the sentiment anyway; you really hope you can cure him out of this habit by the end of the year though. He’s such a great person and such a handsome guy, he really shouldn’t feel so self-conscious about himself.

“Now will you tell me why are you at home today or do I need to call Mama Katsuki?” You stroke Midoriya’s hair, his curls bouncing under your palm.

“Kacchan forced me to take a holiday. I hate holidays.” He murmurs, his face still hidden in your neck as he sighs by the end of the sentence.

“Bruhuhuh, you’ll need to be with me for a whole week? How terrible!” You act offended, pushing the green haired moron away. He looks at you with his puppy eyes and runs back to his hiding place while your heart skips another beat; this week will be awesome.

~•🥦•~

This week… is not awesome.

Midoriya has lost his mind. Completely.

The first few days were amazing; you watched movies while cuddling on the sofa, made food together and all that typical roomie jazz. The problems started when you realized you need to finish three commissions in a few days because there is a hero convention on the weekend you really want to go to and you asked the greenette to leave you alone for a bit so you can get a head start on them. He left for a day to see his mum, then came back with a bunch of homemade brownies. You managed to finish one of the commissions by the time he came back and also was able to start the other one. Great stuff.

…But this poor guy has zero hobbies. He tried to take care of the garden; he ended up overwatering everything so you left your drawing and went over to help him out; telling him about how much water the plants need, about what to cut and what not, while the hero looked at you like you just told him how to cure cancer and insisted to watch another movie while cuddling “to thank you”.

Then he tried to make dinner, almost burning the house down when he accidentally left the paper towel next to the open flame. Needless to say, you had to abandon your project and help the guy out with the rest of the cooking. He looked at you with his puppy eyes again and insisted to cuddle, because he was “really sad and lonely”.

You gave him a quick cuddle, but you really had to finish your commissions now; Midoriya moaned but he let you go. It only took him 2 hours to sit down next you and start giving you harsh feedback on every single flaw on the picture. For the next three days, Midoriya did nothing but sat next to you, sometimes touching your skin out of boredom and making you ruin a line or apply too much pressure on the paper, making a certain area darker than it was supposed to be.

This takes us all back to the present; You have 2 days to finish these bloody commissions. Two. Fucking. Days. You still have a full picture to do.

You need help. Goddamnit, you need help.

“I need to get another pencil from my room.” You stand up quickly, leaving the utterly bored hero sprawled out on the table. You fish your phone out of your pockets and start typing.

— Deku’s Daycare! —

Freeloader: Please, for the love of All Might, help me

Kacchan sugoi: You all owe me 5000 yen.

Pikachu: No way!

Freeloader: ?

Pikachu: Katsuki said you won’t last the whole week with Deku in your ass but we said you definitely will. :(

Freeloader: I’m not done with him or anything, I just need a few hours to finish a commission, that’s it really. He is indeed attached to me 24/7, but… I don’t have a problem with that part until my work is done.

Kacchan sugoi: Liar

Freeloader: Okay, he is a bit much when he’s bored.

Kacchan sugoi: There you go.

Shitty hair: Don’t worry Y/N, I’m on it!

By the time you come back with the same pencil you already had just in a different brand, Midoriya’s phone rings.

“Kiri? … yeah, I can! … that’s fine, see you in a few minutes!”

Midoriya jumps up from the table and runs to his room to change into his streetwear then runs towards the door without a single word. That’s just rude. You might wanted him to leave, but this is unacceptable.

“Not even a goodbye?” You ask, offended, with your hands on your waist.

“I’m so sorry, Eijirou asked me to come over for a bit! I really want you to come but you are busy and probably really done with me by the frustrated look on your face, so I thought I’ll just leave quickly…” Midoriya rambles without taking a single breath as he always does.

“Midoriya, I’m not done with you but I do need to finish these drawings. Stay safe, okay?”

“Will do! Bye!”

… aaaand he’s out of the door.

~•🥦•~

“Okay love, let me repeat what you’ve just said.” Kirishima looks at the disheveled greenette in front of him. “You feel rejected, because you asked Y/N if you can kiss her and she laughed.”

The other hero whines and slams his head into the table, leaving a dent in the furniture.

“Oi shithead, we just bought that fucking table!” Katsuki yells from the kitchen, rocking his all might apron while putting a batch of freshly made cookies into the oven.

“She laughed at me, yes! Like, it was a full on laughing fit! I felt like an idiot!”

“You are an idiot.” Katsuki grumbles from the kitchen; he really tries to make it look like he doesn’t care, but by the look of it, he really does. Kirishima thinks his roommate is adorable.

“So what happened after?”

“She kissed my forehead.”

Kirishima is really confused.

“So she laughed at you but then she kissed you, just how you wanted it. Am I missing something?”

“I don’t understand either!” Midoriya yells, looking like he’s having problems with his bowel movements. Maybe that’s the problem. Midoriya just needs to take a big old dump.

“It’s quite obvious, if you ask me.” The blonde comes in with a box of freshly made cookies after putting the timer on for the next batch.

Is it?! Is Kirishima missing something?

Yeah, Kirishima is indeed missing something. It only takes him one look at his best friend, who’s trying to talk to him by telepathy to understand the issue here.

“Izuku, my clueless, adorable friend.” Kirishima sighs, taking his friend’s hands into his own, slowly caressing the skin to calm the green haired man. “You do know you have a massive fat crush on her and you probably are just sad because you wanted her to kiss you somewhere else, right?”

“What? I do not h-have a c-crush on her!” Midoriya pulls his hands out of Kirishima’s grasp. “She’s my flatmate! That would be absolutely inappropriate!”

Katsuki didn’t like the way Midoriya has said that so he slams his hand on the table, leaving another dent. Oh well, it doesn’t matter anyway, it was already ruined by Midoriya only a few minutes ago so he might as well just explode it to pieces.

“Look into my fucking eyes, you dickless moron and tell me you don’t want to fuck her in those pajama shorts.” Katsuki looks deep into Midoriya’s eyes who swallows dramatically.

“Let me translate.” Kirishima smiles, clearly done with this shit. “Hypothetically… let’s say Y/N misunderstands you and kisses you on the lips. Passionately.”

Midoriya pales then gets red as a tomato, looking away into the distance while he thinks. After a few silent minutes, he starts to mumble.

“I have a massive, fat crush on my adorable flatmate in her adorable pajama shorts.”

“There you go, buddy.” Kirishima pats his head a few times, proud of his work.

“Now take these fucking cookies with you and fuck off. Invite her to the convention on the weekend as your plus one.” Katsuki slams the box in front of his friend aggressively. “What are you waiting for?! Get out of my fucking flat and bother someone else on their free day, goddamnit!”

Midoriya mumbles a few random words and quickly leaves through the window like the weirdo he is.

“Use the door, you stupid fuck! You do this every single time!”

Katsuki is in a mood. Nothing is funnier than Katsuki being in a mood when he’s wearing an All Might apron like a cute house wife.

“You are so cute, Kats.” The redhead looks at his flatmate dreamily.

“I fucking hate you too.” The blonde scoffs and retreats to the kitchen again.

Kirishima smiles to himself; he absolutely adores his friends.

— Deku’s Daycare! —

Kacchan sugoi: Midoriya stepped on my fucking window seal again.

Piggy 🐷: how dare he.

EMO bitch: Wow, so edgy.

Kacchan sugoi: No cookies for you.

EMO bitch: NOOOOOOOOOO

Piggy 🐷: NOOOOOOO

Glasses 👓: That’s indeed inappropriate. I’ll talk to him the next time I see him.

Kacchan sugoi: I’ll leave the cookies on your desk tomorrow.

Piggy 🐷: …

….Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato rambles:

- So a lovely reader asked me about Katsuki’s funny story that haven’t been told in the last chapter of the story so here it comes!

Katsuki was in his room and he was quite angry; Denki made fun of him for not trying to play around with his snake yet as everyone else had already did (don’t ask why were they talking about this…) so Katsuki decided to give it a try.

His control of his quirk wasn’t the best back then and by the end of his shenanigans, his palm exploded. He thankfully moved away quickly from his willy but ended up exploding his sheets and Kirishima ran in to check up on him after hearing the explosion, and there Katsuki was, covered in his FLAMING sheets, looking like an an absolute idiot. Needless to say, Kirishima took a picture and fled the scene, knowing the blonde can’t possibly run after him with a naked ass. Well… he certainly did. They both got detention after.

Thank you for listening 😂

- Deku wanting to throw up every time he’s about to kiss someone is so fucking funny, I can’t 😂

- Midoriya does have one hobby, it’s hero analysis but he kinda ran out of people to analyze at this point. All Meowt doesn’t like to be petted for longer than 5 minutes so he was also not helpful.

- How did Katsuki force Deku to take a holiday? I have no idea this is a fanfiction shut up

- I managed to accidentally buy another figurine yesterday. This time, it was Kirishima. I’m not sorry. At all.

- I managed to break one of my colleagues today by telling them my real age. They thought I’m 20. Fuck, I wish.

See you next week!

Kit 💜

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated as always 🥦💚

Taglist: @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @momothemasocist

#midoriya x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku x reader #pro hero deku #deku x reader #deku x you #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #midoriya izuku x you #happy birthday midoriya #im too tired to tag #are these my usual tags?#I have no idea #midoriya izuku

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melanieph321 · 5 months

Text

Ruben Dias x Reader - Brotherly Love Part 5/6

Summary - The sequel to The Houseguest where Ruben and Reader have been dating long distance for a year. The two of them finally plans to spend a holiday together, but to Readers suprise and disappointment, Ruben brings her brother Bernardo with them.

Enjoy!

Ruben was giving you the cold shoulder after your argument the other day. The worst part about that is now Bernardo really had him all to himself. You felt like the silly little sister, having a crush on her brother's best friend. And yes, of course you still had feelings for Ruben. To you he was the love of your life. Perhaps that's what disappointed you the most, the fact that Ruben didn't fight for your love.

"Y/N can I talk to you for a minute?" Thomas asked, urging you to take a walk with him in the backyard.

"What's up?"

Believe it or not, it was the first time Thomas had adressed you by name during your entire stay at the villa. For the most part he had been avoiding eye contact with you and acted quite anxiously whenever you were around you. Which was odd because despite how strange it was that your sister was dating your first love, you had zero problems with it. Their feelings for each seemed real which was a miracle in itself considering how cazy Anita was.

"I wanted to ask you somthing?" Thomas said as the two of you paced in the backyard, away from the villa.

"Ask me what?"

"Well...usually I'm meant to go to your parents for this question but to me your opinion matters too."

"Okay... my opinion of what? Why are you being weird Thomas?"

"I'm not being weird I'm just nervous."

You chuckled. "Nervous about what?"

He took a deep breath.

You frowned, realizing what a train wreck he actually was. "It's okay Thomas, you can tell me." You reassured.

He nodded. "I want to ask your sister to merry me, but I won't ask her unless it's okay with you."

You froze, stupefied by the question. Such a big question.

"Thomas I....I don't think...."

"You don't have to give me an answer right now. I'm not planning on doing it until we get back home. But I want you to at least think about it. And perhaps not tell Bernardo about it."

"Tell Bernardo about what?"

Just then he wandered into the backyard, Bernardo, with grocery bags in his hands. You could see Ruben by the car, unloading more bags.

"Tell me what Thomas?" He said, putting down the groceries. He had overhead your conversation or at least the last part of it.

"I....I was talking to your sister."

"Yeah, I know. But you said my name didn't you?"

"I did but...."

"What we were talking about is none of your business Bernardo." You defended.

It was true, Bernardo was terrible at keeping secrets. You understood why Thomas wanted to keep his plans to propose to Anita exclusively between the two of you.

"But if he told you he could tell me, no?" Bernardo argued, like the child he was. Needless to say his behavior often rubbed off on you too.

"What he said has nothing to do with you."

"Great, so why does it matter if he tells me or not?"

"Because."

"Because?"

"Yes, because...it's none of your business period."

"What's going on?"

You drew back a little as Ruben came into the backyard. Thomas noticed this and shot you a blank stare.

"It's Y/N." Bernardo blamed. "She and Thomas are keeping secrets, saying it's none of our business."

"Oh." Ruben's faltered gaze shifted between you and Thomas.

"It's not like that. We were just talking." You said.

"About what?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don't start Bernardo."

"Women." He sighed and left with the groceries towards the house. Ruben lingered a bit longer, appearing to want to say somthing to you. He hesitated though, following Bernardo into the house.

"Are you two good?" Thomas asked.

"No. No we are not."

Your mood was gloomy for the rest of that day. Seeing Thomas and Anita during dinner didn't help. They were laughing and making jokes. Under the table their hands were intertwined and their feet nudging. A couple in love.

"Y/N, pass me the salt honey."

"Y/N?"

"Huh?" Your attention was brought back to the table. Your parents were looking at you expectantly.

"Is everything alright?" Your mom asked.

"Um...yeah, sure." You passed your dad the salt. He took it skeptically.

"You don't seem fine."

A hand was brought to your temple. You groaned. "I'm fine mom. I assure you that I don't have a fever."

"What is it then, you've been quiet all night."

Everyone's attention was brought to you. You glanced up to see Ruben looking at you with furrowed brows.

"I see." Your mother mumbled. "Well your brother and Ruben will be back for the next holiday. In the mean time I'm sure you and Ruben can arrange to see each during the weekends. It's not that far for you to drive down from university to Lisabon, right honey?"

"Right."

You took a bite of your food. Your parents were the only once oblivious to your current relationship status with Ruben. Everyone else seemed to have picked up that there was trouble in paradise.

"When are you leaving son?" Your dad asked Bernardo.

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" You exclaimed, spitting a few food crumbs onto the table. "But that so soon."

"Well we have to get back to training."

"We?" Anita chuckled.

"Okay, Ruben has to get back to training. I have to get back to...you know." He mumbled.

You shot a glance towards Ruben. He kept his eyes on his plate. A part of you thought there would be more time, more time to make things right between you.

"Y/N, wait!"

It was after dinner. You were on your way back to the pool house when Ruben came running.

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay." You frowned. "Why didn't you tell me that you were leaving?"

"I wanted to tell you, but then our fight happned and..."

You shook your head. It was pathetic, you were already crying. "Will I see you again?"

Ruben stepped up to you. "Of course. You can visit me whenever. My home is your home Y/N." His hands rubbed your arms, shielding you from the nights cold. So much a simply touch could do. You were ready to throw yourself back into his arms. There was only one question.

"Where is Bernardo staying during his suspension from the team?"

"Y/N." Ruben sighed. This practically answered your question. "You know he's staying with me as long as he needs to."

You nodded. "Then I guess there's no room for me."

"Y/N."

You wiggled out of his grip and continued towards the pool house.

"Maybe you should stay with Thomas!" Ruben shouted. "Since the two of you seem so close to each other again."

"What did you say?"

You paused and turned back around.

Ruben stood by what he said, his arms crossed before him.

You approached him with angry steps. "You don't know the first thing about..."

"Enlighten me then."

You snorted.

"Bernardo told me that he overheard the two of you talking. What does Thomas want huh? Does he want you back, is that it?"

You shook your head, a smirk on your face. "I can't believe you're dumb enough to trust anything Bernardo says."

"Oh, so I'm the dumb one? At least I don't go kite surfing when a splash of water makes me seasick."

You slapped him. It was an unexpected reaction from you but your hand left your side and swiped across his face. Ruben took it well though. He might have seen it coming. The silence that followed was one of the most painful moments you've ever experienced.

"Y/N I..."

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "Please don't speak."

"Y/N, I'm sorry I..."

"Ruben please." You cried. "Don't ever speak to me again."

You left him standing there whilst you ran back into the house. You ran upstairs not caring who you woke up. You knocked on the bathroom door knowing she'd be in there going through her many nightly routines. The door opened. She looked back at you with a startled expression. Nevertheless, seeing your tears, Anita knew not to ask too many questions. She pulled you into her embrace, letting you cry in her arms. It was one of those rare but universal moments between siblings. When all you needed to do was be there for one another. And right now all you needed was your big sister.

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #bernardo silva

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maaarijaaa · 1 year

Text

Mine ❦ Sherlock Holmes Part Eighth

Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: Sherlock Holmes, the most famous detective in the world. After finishing a case, he decided to visit Enola and his mother. On the first day of the visit he laid his eyes on a beauty, you

Disclaimer: I do NOT allow for my work to be translated or posted anywhere else on this app or other platforms. English is not my first language so let me know if I made any mistakes!

Words count: 1.5k

A/N: I am finally done with this story🫶🏻The prologue would be posted in a few hours to see their married life with some kids maybe👀 This part might be bad but I have tried my best❤️‍🔥

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated🫶🏻🫶🏻

Its been a week since you have sene each other.

A week of both of you crying, not sleeping and worst of all, not eating.

Your own father could not recognize his own daughter. He was there for you the whole time and you were thankful for that but you were still angry at him for even trying to set you up with Mycroft.

While you and Sherlock were heartbroken, Mycroft on the other hand was very happy. He knows that soon or later you will be his and your father and him would finally start a business together.

You did not know this but Mycroft was coming over to your fathers house to chat. What you also did not know is that Mycroft brought a red velvet box with him, with your engagement ring being inside of it.

What Mycroft did not know was that a little bird was watching him while he prepared the ring in his study, that little bird would be Enola who would later tell her other older brother,Sherlock, before its too late.

Mycroft gets out of his carriage and sees that your dad is waiting at him at the porch of your house.

“Nice to see you again, Mycroft” your father spoke.

“Well its been a week since I last saw you and your beautiful daughter so I thought why not visit you” Mycroft spoke.

They walked into the house and later on into your fathers study room.

“Before we talk about some business I wanted to show you something.” Mycroft spoke to your father.

“I have brought your daughter a gift and wanted to ask for your permission…”

You father first stared at the ring then Mycroft.

“To take her hand in marriage. I love her deeply.” Mycroft knew himself that it was the biggest lie he has ever told your father but, business is business.

You father was in the disbelief, he did not expect that.

“You know, she is going thru a hard time but maybe you should ask her the question, you have my permission. I want what’s best for her and I think you marrying her would be a great idea.”

While Mycroft was happy that he got your fathers permission to marry you, Enola struggles to get Sherlock out of his bed.

He was very angry at himself for hurting you.

He was not getting very much sleep or eating very much. All he could think about is you.

Your beautiful face, your soft lips that stretch into a beautiful smile whenever you lay your eyes on him and your eyes that he always found beautiful.

While Sherlock was lost in his thoughts, Enola successfully got her brother out of the bed by pushing him and Sherlock falls on the floor.

“Ouch! What was that for?” Sherlock asked his sister

“Well since you did not wanna listen to me, I had to do it the harder way!”

Before Sherlock could even say a word, Enola cut him off

“If you don’t do anything, Mycroft is going to marry Y/N!”

Sherlock’s eyes widen at what Enola just said.

“What do you mean he is going to marry her?” He asked his sister.

“He went to visit her and her father this morning and brought a ring with him!!!”

Sherlock looked at his sister before rushing off to get ready. He needed to fix this.

While getting ready he wondered why Mycroft would marry you. Mycroft had zero interest in you and then it him.

The woman that was flirting with him at the event came with Mycroft and saw her around him few times. He formed the dots and realized that it was Mycroft’s plan all along.

“That son of a bitch!” He mumbled

After getting ready, he rushed down the stairs and ran to your house.

Meanwhile you were getting ready, you heard the voice that sounded too familiar.

Mycroft.

You rolled your eyes. He just loved destroying your life at every chance he got.

You dad knocked on your bedroom door.

“Honey, are you awake?”

You quickly grabbed your robe and put it on before shouting

“Yes father, I am awake! You can come in!”

Right after you said that you see your father entering your bedroom with no other than Mycroft him self.

Your father came up to you and hugged you.

“My only daughter, you have grown into a smart and beautiful woman. I am becoming old and when my time comes there will be no one to take care of you.”

“Father, what are you talking about?” You shed a tear.

“This morning, Mycroft came up with a wonderful request.”

You looked at your father and then Mycroft who was pulling out a red velvet box and was getting on his knee. You stopped breathing at that moment.

“Today is one of the happiest days of my life. Today I came to ask your dear father to take your hand in marriage and to my surprise he agreed. So will you, my beautiful Y/N, be my wife?”

He then opened the box and reveled a beautiful ring with a diamond on it but you knew you could not accept it. Your heart still belong to Sherlock.

Just as you were about to open your mouth, you heard someone running through the door.

“Y/N!!!” Sherlock shouted.

You then ignored your father and Mycroft and ran down stairs.

There he was. He finally came for you.

You ran into his arms and kissed him passionately.

Mycroft was pissed to say at least while your dad was more confused.

“What are you doing here Sherlock?!” Mycroft asked angrily.

Sherlock pulled away from you and looked at his brother.

“I came here to see the love of my life and I also came here to make something clear. Don’t you have anything to tell, Mycroft?”

You and your father stared at Mycroft slightly confused.

“Where is your friend Vanessa by the way, is she destroying other relationships and marriages now?”

You stared at Mycroft and then you too collected the dots. This was one of Mycrofts shitty plans.

“It was one of his many plans. Enola searched your office this morning and found out that it would be easier for you to make money and become businesses partner with her father by simply marrying her. When he passes everything that he would leave for her would be given to you. You found about our relationship and decided to use ur friend, paying her to play my so called “mistress” so that you could end us, but you know what?”

Just then, Sherlock put his arm around your waist and pulled you to his chest.

“Even if you tried it a million times, you would not succeed because my love for her and her love for me is stronger.”

Just then, Mycroft leaves the house, throwing a tantrum outside your house.

Sherlock pulls you close and presses a soft kiss on your lips.

“What now?” You asked him

“Well, do you want to get married. I don’t have a ring with me so I can not really propose you in a traditional way but..”

Sherlock could not finish the sentence since you cut him off with a kiss and said

“Being your life would be the best thing that has ever happened in my life.” You said while pressing your foreheads together.

You then turned around around and saw your father smiling

“I am sorry I wanted to do what’s best for you. And you Sherlock, have my full permission to marry my daughter.”

You and Sherlock looked at each other, smiling before kissing again.

You could not wait to get married….

Tag list requests are closed since there are just too many requests❤️ turn on you notifications to get notified🫶🏻

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storiesbyjes2g · 3 months

Text

3.73 Solidarity

Dub sent Maia a text, presumably asking if they had dinner plans, or maybe asking how much time they had before boarding the train. He said he was cool to hang, so I told him the restaurant had a strict dress code and I was going to pop over to Dad's house to shower and change. But after the words left my mouth, I realized I didn't know where Dub came from or how long it would take him to get there, so I invited him to come and freshen up if he wanted to. He looked kind of relieved. Did he think I'd leave him or something? Weird.

He looked around and grinned, seemingly impressed with the restaurant, which pleased me because I got at least two aspects of the tour right. Once we were seated, I channeled my mother and wasted zero time getting to the bottom of his relationship status.

"So...this Maia...are you two..."

He may have rolled his eyes, but he never stopped grinning.

"I knew you were going to ask!"

"I mean, you only brought her up 87 times. How could I not?"

"Ha ha," he said, flatly. "Anyway... I don't know, man. I mean, I can see us together for sure, but she dropped something heavy on me today."

"Ouch."

I don't know why, but I remembered Yasmine telling me about her open relationship lifestyle. I was so put off by it, not because I wanted a relationship with her, but I thought we were going to have fun for a little while. Knowing that made me want to hang with her a lot less. Hopefully Maia's news was nowhere close to what Yasmine told me.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "Do you think you can recover and move past it?"

"I think so."

I was very glad to hear that. She sounded like a good sim.

"I like her. A lot. So what she told me shouldn't matter, but still... On top of that, there's this other girl from back home. She popped up on my Social Bunny today and is now on my mind again. But she's off limits, so...I don't know. I'm sorry, dude, I'm rambling. I didn't mean to drop all this on you. I don't have anyone to talk about this with. Anyway, how about? Do you have a girlfriend?"

I felt for him because he reminded me so much of myself. Why couldn't life ever be simple?

"You're good, man. Seriously. I actually don't have any men in my life to talk to either—except my dad. I've enjoyed your company today."

He nodded. A half smile spelled his relief.

"But yeah, I have a girlfriend. Actually, I've been thinking about...well, that's why I was out here today. I've had a lot on my mind too, and I thought a walk around the lake would help."

"How long have you two been together?"

"Officially? Since early winter, but...well...long story."

He chuckled.

"Complicated, huh? I'm very familiar with that."

"What about you? How long have you known Maia?"

"Sometimes it seems like I've always known her, but it's been like a week. Weird, right? My dad once told me that's what it feels like when you're in love. But how can I love someone I've only just met? My parents have an incredible marriage, so I know he knows what he's talking about, but it's crazy."

Gosh, he sounded just like me a week or so ago. At least he could get all of this figured out early in life. At halfway through my young adult stage, I felt like I wasted a lot of time being confused and scared, and I was glad to see him asking these questions and searching for answers.

"It is crazy, but you are not crazy," I said. "I know exactly what you mean because I felt the same way when I first started talking to Sophia. I didn't understand it until recently, but I think your dad is 1000% correct."

"So that's her name. I was wondering. What's on your mind that's got you walking lakes in the middle of the day? Unless that's too personal..."

"No, it's cool. We've had a lot of serious conversations about the future lately, and I think maybe it's time things stopped being hypothetical...if you know what I mean."

"I think I do."

"Yeah... Big movies, man."

He nods in agreement.

"Big moves."

Wade Banks by @mysimsloveaffair

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #wade banks #y'all know I was screaming when he got that whim!!#that wasn't the only one...#banks crossover

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billyhargrove-s · 2 years

Text

One Too Many

relationship: billy x reader

warnings: underage drinking, minor minor argument, fluff (also I think I used some female descriptors, so I apologize for that but it's late and I want to get this posted).

request: can you make a billy fic where billy gets drunk and the reader tries to get him to slow down and he ends up snapping at her and he feels bad and apologizes.

word count: 2.3k

____________________________________________________________

“Carol’’s having a party tonight.” Billy said, sliding into the seat next to you. You sat in chemistry and were doing your best to focus. It was your hardest class but one of two you had with Billy, and no matter how hard you tried your boyfriend always seemed to gain your attention rather quickly. He threw his notebook on the table and a pencil that was on its last leg of life.

“And?” You asked, waiting for him to continue you on. Mr. Blake droned on and on about balancing equations and jotted down the notes on one half of the board before he erased it to make room for more.

“I was thinking we should go, just for a little bit.” He told you. You knew if you looked to your right, you’d see Billy staring at you with his ‘puppy dog eyes’ as you called them.The ones he used when you were more than likely to say no.

“I don’t know, we have that test on Monday that I should really study for.” You said. “And, she just threw one last weekend.”

“Baby, that’s on Monday, it's Friday.” Billy reasoned, grabbing your hand in his. “We can go tonight, spend the night together at yours, and study all day tomorrow and Sunday.”

He put up a good argument, and admittedly Carol’s did sound kind of fun. You shake your head, laughing as you realize you were giving in to his sweet talk and puppy eyes.

“Alright, but I don’t want to stay for long okay?” You told him, grabbing onto his hand and squeezing his knuckles. “And we can’t get too plastered if we plan on studying. I know you and if you get hammered we’ll be in bed all day and zero studying will be done.”

“Deal.” He said, bringing your knuckles up to his lips and placing a delicate kiss on them. “Just one hour, I promise.”

“One hour?” You asked just to confirm.

“One hour.”

___

That night, Billy picked you up in the Camaro. His engine and radio both roared as he pulled into your driveway, knocking on the door. He gripped your hand in his and walked you to his car, opening up the passenger side door before walking around and getting in the driver's seat. He was wearing his red button down, the one he was wearing during your first date that felt so long ago. Just the sight of that particular shirt gave you butterflies. You still couldn’t believe that you had made Hawkin’s most wanted guy yours.

He pulled up to Carol’s, music could be heard from the street as he opened your door once more. You’d become somewhat of a passenger princess since dating him. He always drove, and always was a gentleman about you in his car. Taking your hand in his, he led you inside waving to those who called his name and leading you straight to the punch bowl.

“You want some?” He asked and you shook your head.

“I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow.” You said and he shrugged, downing it on his own and refilling it before taking you to mingle with your friends.

“Hargrove!” Tommy said, practically glued to Carol’s side. “Bout damn time you showed up.”

“You know me,” he said with a grin, taking another sip of his drink and slinging his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer.

“Come on, I kept the keg ready for ya!” Tommy patted Billy on the back and led him outside where a group of your peers stood around a keg where a boy was already doing a keg stand, by the looks of it, he wasn’t up there for long only lasting about 17 seconds before he was being brought down.

Billy noted this and grinned, fully ready to show the poor kid who was the real keg king of Hawkins. He simply handed you his drink (which was a sip away from being empty) and nodded at Tommy to help him up. Supportively you clapped for him as the people around you began to chant his name.

“Billy! Billy! Billy!”

After 44 seconds, a new record for him, Billy finally came down cheering triumphantly. He grabbed his cup from your hand slamming the rest of it and offering you a sloppy kiss. His breath smelled like beer and you crinkled your nose as you kissed him back. He threw his arm around your shoulder and led you back into the house.

“Fuck yeah!” Billy yelled as the crowd cheered after him. His legs were already wobbling and he grabbed another cup of punch.

“Are you sure you need another one Billy?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. At this rate he was already slurring his words.

“Last one, I promise.” He reassured you, pressing a kiss that was much slower than the first one on your lips. He gave your side a squeeze before the two of you found Tommy and Carol once more.

“Dude that was fucking awesome.” Tommy said, reaching for Billy’s hand and patting him on the back.

“Always the life of the party.” Carol spoke.

“Someone needs to be, and I gladly accept my title.” Billy said, throwing his arms out in a dramatic flare. “And remind everyone while I’m at it.”

“Please, nobody could ever forget about you being King.” Tommy said. “Especially with Queen Y/n by your side. You both are Hawkins royalty.”

“Tommy, you're the only one who calls us that.” You told him laughing as you rolled your eyes.

“Everyone calls you that.” He argues back.

“You’re delusional.” You counter.

“I’m right though.” He laughs. “Just look at those freshman girls, they’re staring at you like you just turned water into wine.”

“Or they’re ogling over my boyfriend.” You suggested, reaching to pat Billy’s cheek. Billy was behind you, holding you at the waist tightly against him as you leaned your head back on his body.

“You’re too humble y/n.” Carol laughed. “Just admit it, you’re amazing.”

“Thank you Carol.” You said with a small smile. “I’m going to go use the bathroom real quick. I’ll be right back.”

Reluctantly, Billy let your waist go, but a kiss placed on his pouting lips and a promise to be back in a minute he was back to his usual self, laughing with Tommy and Carol. The bathroom wasn’t far, but there was a small line. When your turn came you quickly took care of your business and made your way back to where your friends were standing, only to find the spot vacated.

Assuming they just went for a smoke you looked around outside only to spot them in the kitchen through the window. Where Tommy and Billy were doing shots, then chasing it with more punch. You frowned, so much for “one more.”

Walking inside he grabbed you and pulled you into a big hug, throwing his head into the side of your neck, kissing it. “Baby I missed you, you were gone for so long.”

“I was gone for two minutes Billy.” You told him, taking note as Carol and Tommy intertwined hands and began to head towards her room. “Maybe you should slow down a bit okay? You’re pretty hammered.”

“I’m fine Y/n. No need to worry about little ole me.” He winked, and began to dunk his cup in the bowl once more.

“Billy I’m serious, you promised me one more drink, three drinks ago.” Your patience was wearing thin. “Besides, we said one hour and it’s well past time to go home.”

“Jesus Y/n! Why do you have your panties in such a twist?” He said, bringing the cup up to his lips. “I’m just trying to have some fun.”

“Excuse me?” You asked, jaw dropping.

“I said I’m just trying to have some fun.” He shrugged. “You should too, loosen up a bit.”

You grabbed the cup from his lips, drinking the rest of it for him and throwing the empty cup on the ground. “Happy now? Can we just go home now?”

“Why are you in such a rush to leave?” Billy asked, grabbing another cup to fill. “God you’re so fucking uptight tonight.”

“Billy you’re cut off, you’ve had too much.” You said going to grab it from him, only for him to raise it above his head, just out of your reach.

“I don’t need you to take care of me, I’m a big boy. If I knew you’d be like this I would’ve just come alone.” He slurred, and you made one more reach for the cup, only for some drunken freshman to knock into Billy’s back. He stumbled forward on his feet and fell into you, sending the cup of punch down the front of your shirt. You bit your cheek and closed your eyes, counting to three. Billy, already on edge, turned around and yelled at the boy. “Watch it you fucking dumbass!”

“Alrighty then. Since you’re such a big fucking boy, find your own way back tonight. I’m going home.” You turned on your heel and left, not even gaining his attention from the boy he was currently cussing out until you were at the door.

You felt guilty for leaving him, but Hawkins was relatively safe, minus the events of the year prior with Will Byers going missing, but he was much younger and found in the woods. Billy would be fine on a short walk home.

With your arms crossed and top wet with punch, you took Billy’s keys out of your pocket and got in the driver's seat of the camaro. The engine roared to life and you noticed your boyfriend's curly hair stumbling out of Carol's front door. Rather than leave him, you sat with the car in park. Waiting for him to make his way over. You didn’t look over, only gripped the steering wheel and stared at the dim street ahead.

“Fuck,” Billy mumbled to himself. He knew he should’ve listened to you, and he knew you had every right to be mad. Still he had a hard time admitting when he was wrong. Old habits die hard and all that. He opened the door, practically falling into the passenger seat. “Fuck baby, I’m sorry I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I love you, but just be quiet Billy.” You muttered. Surprisingly he listened, staring at the street in complete silence. The car was tense as you pulled into your driveway and shut it off.

“I understand if you want me to sleep on the couch in the basement.” He slurred defeatedly and you laughed quietly to yourself.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch Billy.” You told him, opening the car door, walking into your house. “I just wish you’d keep your promises when we compromise. I told you I was worried about this test, and that I wanted to be home early tonight and it's nearly two in the morning. One night, all I asked was for us to cut one night short so we could study. ”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you I swear.” He followed you out of the car and into your bedroom.

“I don’t want you to swear, I just want you to hold yourself accountable for the promises you make.” You peeled off your wet shirt, throwing on your pajamas after wiping the sticky residue of alcohol off of you with a washcloth. Even though a shower sounded nice, all you really wanted to do was go to bed and deal with it in the morning.

Billy took his own shirt off, leaving him in his jeans and made his way to you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He smelled like beer and cigarettes, but somehow you found comfort in that. You held him as he apologized once more.

“I’m sorry baby. You have every right to be upset with me.” He murmured in your ear. “I love you.”

“I accept your apology, now get in bed before I change my mind about the couch.” You told him, pointing at your full size bed.

“Yes ma’am.” He whispered, taking his jeans off immediately and occupying his side of the bed. You found your spot in between his arms easily. “I love you, and I’m sorry you have to put up with me all the time.”

“I love you too Billy, and I wouldn’t change that for the world.” You reassured him, reaching up to take his face in your hands. “Now go to sleep.”

He kissed you once more, pulling you into his chest and tucking your head under his chin, and within moments you were out like a light.

____

True to his word, he made Friday night up to you. On Saturday he helped you study, and on Sunday he did the same, even bringing you dinner from your favorite restaurant when you lost track of time. By the time the next Friday rolled around Mr. Blake was passing out graded tests as students exited the classroom, a bright red A- sat at the top of your paper and you let out a sigh of relief. “Thank fuck.”

“Look at you.” Billy said with a grin. There was a solid B on his but he didn’t put nearly as much effort into studying as you did. He only retained the information that he helped you with. It was a win in his book that he didn’t fail. “Got any plans tonight?”

“None that I can think of, why?” You asked.

“Well, Tina’s having a party…” Billy said, scratching the back of his neck. “If you’d rather stay in that's fine too.”

“We can go to Tina’s,” You tell him. “On one condition.”

“And what's that?” He blinks, staring at you with a playful smirk on his lips. You neared your locker and he leaned against the one next to it as you put your chemistry book inside.

“You take care of me this time.” You said smiling.

“Always dollface.” Billy promised, capturing your lips in a kiss. He removed his lips from yours and gave you a wink as he began to walk to the gym for basketball. “I’ll pick you up at 9!”

#billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things #billy hargrove imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #x reader #billy hargrove fic

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